#(i almost threw the book out of the window but i was 13 and very bored (still would be

[ladyofmelk]

speaking of novel adaptations, give the french-italian notre dame de paris musical a shot!! its been one of my favs for years

[jae-bummer]

Un-Breaking Up

Request: i’m not sure if your request are still open honestly it’s my first time requesting ever. do you think you could do one of 10, and 13 with changbin, they were exes and something happened either one could say 10 and then they get stuck together, idk this was a big brain fart

Prompt:

10) “Was it worth it?”

13) Oh no! There's only one bed!

Pairing: Stray Kids Changbin x Reader

Genre: Angst (with a happy ending)

Song rec as you read: Top or Cliff - KIM SEJEONG

.

"What do you mean there's only one room left?" you hissed into your cell phone.

"They overbooked for the weekend," Chan sighed on the other end of the line. "We reserved the rooms when you and Bin were still together."

"And I told you I would pay the extra to get my own room," you groaned. This could not be happening.

When you had agreed to go on this friend-cation, you had been blissfully wrapped in the throes of love.

Now, you were stranded at the airport with a headache and an ex-boyfriend hailing a cab.

"It would have been nice for you to tell me he was on the same flight by the way," you scoffed.

"You literally booked the flights together-"

"You said he was going to change them to come in earlier! With you!"

"I thought he was!" Chan gasped. "Look, if you can't suck it up and be an adult for five minutes-"

"It's a twenty-minute drive," you pouted.

"And rooms are already sorted, so you guys are just going to have to figure it out," he sighed. You could almost hear him, miles away, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Can't he like...stay on your pull-out couch?" you hedged. "I'm sure your partner won't-"

"Oh, they will very much mind," Chan chuckled. "Plus, Changbin paid his portion just like everyone else. He's not getting downgraded to my loveseat."

"He's small enough to fit damn near anywhere," you muttered.

"Y/N," Chan said slowly, careful to keep his annoyance reigned in. "We'll see you soon, okay?"

"Just say you hate me," you complained. You knew you were being dramatic, but you were in too deep to turn back now. It really wasn't your intention to be a brat, but you and Changbin hadn't seen each other in weeks. Your friends had inadvertently become children of divorce, so you knew Chan didn't deserve the grief you were giving him.

"If by hate you mean love," he said cheerfully. "Now get your butt here. I'll see you in the morning."

Rolling your eyes, you hung up the call and shoved your phone in your pocket. Turning on your heel, you marched over to where Changbin was shoving suitcases into the back of a taxi.

"Everything okay?" he huffed, pushing the very last of the luggage into the trunk. "What did Chan say?"

"That you've been invited to sleep on his pullout couch," you smiled brightly.

"Y/N."

"They couldn't get us separate rooms," you muttered, crossing your arms. "And we have to make do."

Changbin's eyebrows shot up. "I'll pay the difference."

"Tried that," you sighed. "They literally have no more room."

"They always have more room," Changbin grumbled, yanking his phone out of his pocket. "Even if it's an executive suite."

"By all means," you hummed, sliding into the back of the waiting car. "If you think you can do something literally no one else could, go ahead."

Choosing not to acknowledge your comment, Changbin joined you in the backseat. Careful to keep a sufficient space barrier between the two of you, he informed the driver of your destination before getting on the phone with what you assumed to be the hotel concierge.

No matter how charming he could be, the fifteen minutes he spent on the phone yielded no results. As he hung up, you could see how ruffled he was. Leaning his head against the window of the taxi, he slowly exhaled.

"Let me guess?" you remarked. "No matter how much money you threw at the problem, it didn't work?"

Taking a deep breath, he swiveled toward you. "I was just trying to help-"

"No one asked," you said sharply. "I tried to fix the problem and couldn't. So did Chan. I don't know why you thought you could come in and save the day-"

"You used to like it when I saved the day," he bristled.

You knew you weren't being fair and simply picking at him just for the sake of picking. "I used to like you in general, but here we are."

Changbin closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat. Luckily, the hotel was already coming into sight. Unluckily, you would still be stuck together for the next few days.

.

"Shit," Changbin said, stepping into the hotel room.

Yanking your suitcase over the lip of the door, you made your way into the room, stopping just behind him. "What-"

The words were erased from your tongue as you took in your surroundings. The room was gorgeous, and admittedly, pretty romantic. You were greeted by a small seating area and a low table decorated with rose petals and snacks. Looking further into the room, you could see you had your own private pool outside, intimate and moody with low lighting. The thing you had avoided recognizing though was perhaps the most obvious.

There was only one bed.

"Perfect," you croaked, completely exhausted by this whole situation. "Absolutely perfect."

"I could try to-"

"My guess is," you said slowly. "That they are so fully booked, that they won't be able to move us to a room with two queens."

"But you don't know that for sure," he said with a small nod, trying to convince himself. "I'll go to the front desk."

"Knock yourself out," you sighed, leaning against the wall to begin sliding slowly down it. It was time to accept defeat. "Better yet actually knock yourself out."

Changbin shot you a dirty look as he yanked the door open and disappeared from sight.

Too bad he was back within ten minutes.

"Let me guess," you smirked. "They are fully booked and won't be able to move us to a room with two queens?"

"You don't have to gloat," he pouted, plopping on the edge of the bed. Looking helplessly around the room, his focus landed on the two armchairs in the seating area (very much not a normal, pull-out couch.) "I can just make a pallet on the floor."

You felt a small pang in your chest. As much as you didn't want to admit you had any threads of care left for the man in front of you, you did. And unfortunately, you didn't want to condemn him to sleeping on the floor. "That wouldn't be fair to you."

"It is what it is," he sighed. "And I'm not going to subject you to laying in a bed with me when you don't even want us to be in the same room."

"Stop being dramatic," you scoffed, totally projecting. "We can make a pillow barrier. Plus, I really don't want to hear you complain and make me into the bad guy."

"Y/N," he groaned. "It's not like that."

You chewed on your lip, knowing it wasn't. Changbin had honestly been much more charitable than you had even tried being since the two of you had broken up. You had pinned most of the reasons for separating on him, so maybe he had taken it to heart.

Choosing to ignore his protests, you began to unpack instead. Leaving the top two drawers in the dresser open for him (a habit from when you were dating) you silently moved your clothing and essentials to various parts of the room.

"Do you mind if I shower first?" he asked. His tone was careful, as if he was waiting for you to explode.

You hated it.

"Go for it," you answered.

He moved quietly toward the bathroom, leaving you with only your thoughts as you heard the click of the lock.

Moving toward the bed, you shoved your face into a pillow to let loose a mix between a groan and scream. Sometimes it just helped to make nonsensical sounds when you were feeling frustrated.

It was difficult being around Changbin again. Even though the two of you had broken up, there were feelings there. You had been so desperately in love with him at one point, you just assumed you would be a little bit in love forever. You thought the two of you had been bulletproof, but in one evening of anger, you managed to break both your heart and his (and still clung to the rationalization that it was all his fault).

You knew who he was when you had started dating. Seo Changbin, member of Stray Kids, producer in 3racha, gym rat, and lastly, boyfriend. All of those things came first, and you were so, so tired of being the last checkbox on the list. After being cancelled on for maybe the hundredth time because there was some sort of work emergency, you had had enough. His things were waiting in boxes when he had eventually shown up, and you had endless reasons for why you didn't want to continue forward.

When he begged, you had shut him down. Looking back now, you knew it was because you were afraid. It was easier to have a hard break than admit that you were both flawed people who weren't trying hard enough. It was easier than actually making the effort and being uncomfortable. You werent't ready for that advanced level of vulnerability.

Changbin was one of the softest and squishiest individuals you had ever met, which made it even harder. Any form of neglect he had stumbled into subjecting you to had never came with a hard edge. When he apologized, he was genuinely sorry. He was too good and pure to have to deal with you being upset over something he loved. He dreamt of being an idol before he even knew you existed. It would be the best for both of you if you just stopped interfering in his success.

Maybe the thing that hurt you the most though was seeing how it seemingly didn't affect him. He continued forward like nothing had happened, even treating you as a friend whenever you happened to run in the same circles. That was when you decided you couldn't like him, even if you loved him. It was easier to be annoyed than show how hurt it made you.

It was sick to say that you had wanted him to be just as miserable and lost as you were.

As you heard the water cut off, you pushed your face away from the pillow and took a deep breath. It was just a quick trip. You could be cordial for the sake of your friends.

You heard him before you saw him. With the phone glued to his ear, he was chuckling at someone on the other line. It was difficult not to ogle at the water droplets still decorating his shoulders and collar bone, even though he was technically fully dressed in a tank top and shorts.

"We need to redo the guide," he instructed. "I might be able to break away for a little bit and record something.

Yes, I know I'm on vacation, but we're already behind."

After a few more minutes of arguing, he hung up, and tossed his phone onto the bed.

You couldn't help yourself. "Was it worth it?"

"Hm?" he asked. You knew he had to pull himself out of his own thoughts before he could address yours.

"Was it worth it?" you repeated, crossing your arms.

"The shower?" he asked, lifting his brows and smiling his patented one-sided smirk. "Absolutely."

"No," you croaked. "Working. On vacations, in what's supposed to be your free time. Was it all worth it?"

He plopped on the edge of the bed, keeping his back to you. "We're talking past - past tense here...aren't we? Not the call I was just on."

Your silence was answer enough.

"I like to think it was," he said quietly, tilting his head to the side as he made a hissing noise to reprimand himself. "But as days go by, the more and more I wonder if I was wrong."

You chewed on your lip, not at all knowing what answer you had expected, but that wasn't it.

Looking over his shoulder, he slowly pivoted his body to face yours. His expression softened as he said quietly, "Is that why you hate me?"

Your jaw dropped open as you floundered for one of your knee-jerk, cutting responses. His face conveyed such helplessness.

"...I don't hate you, Changbin," you said quietly. Surely, he had to know that.

"I don't think I would blame you if you did," he chuckled sadly. "I put just about everything before you, didn't I?"

"It wasn't a matter of putting things before me," you said slowly. "It was a matter of putting things before us. We were supposed to be a team."

The old adage that time heals all wounds was at least proving itself to be slightly true. It was definitely easier to speak on how you were feeling now that you had put some space between yourself and the initial confrontation.

Changbin nodded slowly. "I wanted to be better."

You tried to take the ice out of your tone. "I did too."

"Then why didn't we try?" he asked, looking toward you with watery eyes.

You tried to focus on your breathing. If Changbin cried, you were absolutely going to cry.

"I thought...I thought that I had done so badly as a boyfriend," he continued. "And that's why you treated me like I was an inconvenience once we broke up."

"You were an inconvenience," you grumbled. "Only because I was still so upset...and you were acting like everything was okay between us."

"I don't know how to act otherwise!" he contended. "We broke up and I still loved you. Treating you any other way would have hurt my heart, and I'm too selfish to do that on top of what was already done."

"Huh," you hiccupped, feeling the tears come despite your best efforts. "I really goofed, didn't I?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

"I was the one who did the breaking up, Bin," you said quietly. "I tried to tell myself I shouldn't feel bad because it was your fault. You were the one who was always gone, but I didn't try to talk to you about it. I let it become this completely...other thing inside of me. It was like every time you cancelled, I added it to this stack until it finally tumbled over."

"But I should have realized on my own," he asserted, standing up to move closer to you. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he gathered your hands in his. Looking up through his lashes, you could see the toll the last few months had taken on him.

You were foolish to think he wasn't suffering in the same way you were.

"We can blame ourselves all day," you sniffed, finally letting the tears run over your cheeks. "But it doesn't change the fact that we broke up...and now we're here."

"So we un-break up," he mused, saying it as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Un-break up?" you muttered.

"Mhm," he hummed, easing up from his knees to sit beside you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he tucked you into his side.

"It's not that easy," you hiccupped, shaking your head but making no attempt to untangle your body from his.

"Who says it can't be?"

"We're different people now, Bin," you maintained. "Do we even know if we can be that safe space for each other? It ended so poorly last time, and-"

"Because we let it!" he argued. "But we know now-"

"Do we?" you interrupted. "We don't actually know how to fix what happened. We walked away."

"And here we are, walking back," he chuckled, shaking his head. "We can try, really try...if you think it's worth it."

You chewed on your lip, looking toward him. His eyes were still a little puffy from his brief crying episode, but it was definitely the same Bin you had fallen in love with months ago. His dark hair was beginning to dry in its signature messy curls, and his even darker eyes watched you carefully. There was a fire there that had been extinguished for so long, seeing it again caused your heart to skip a beat. Now that you had opened the door, he would push as hard as possible to make his way back in.

"Y/N?"

"I may not be worth it," you laughed grimly. "But I know you are."

"I didn't know we were throwing a pity party," he teased. "I should have bought streamers."

"I take it back," you grumbled. "You aren't worth it."

Changbin's grin was wide as he wrapped his other arm around you and squeezed you tightly. "Of course, you're worth it, silly."

"So we're doing this," you whispered into his bare shoulder. The smell of his shower gel was still heavy on his skin, encouraging you to inhale deeply. For the first time in weeks, you felt at home.

"Hell yeah we are," he chimed. "We're going to do the shit out of this."

You laughed as you pulled away from him. You wanted to look into his eyes. He needed to understand.

"Starting now, we both promise to do better," you nodded slowly. He nodded along, eyes wide. "Which means, do you really have to work while you're here?"

He smirked, letting out a small chuckle. "Starting now, I am going to be so present in this relationship, you're going to get sick of me. You'll be begging for me to go to the studio."

"Somehow I doubt that," you sighed, lifting a hand to cradle his jaw. He tilted his face, nuzzling your palm before dropping a soft kiss there. "But I'm excited to see you try."

[madisonthetimewalker]

Since people like my headcanon so much.. TAKE MORE ADAMAI HEADCANONS AHAHAHAHA

He hasn’t seen the last of me his goofy ass can never escape my death grip

1. Adamai isn’t really know for personality, back then sure he was actually quite social but he never really fit in so he just kinda gave up.

2. This fucker has the WORST social skills horrible even since Adamai never really had friends besides yugo he doesn’t know how to socialize or start conversations

3. He fidgets a lot, although it’s not noticeable he does fidget with his hands when he gets impatient or annoyed.

4. He doesn’t show much emotion he’s very stoic (this is canon mind you) he can handle things like getting yelled at or being talked down he does complain about it later tho.

5. I like to believe Adamai is very oblivious to specific things like social cues and people dropping hints about wanting to surprise him or even be his friend.

6. He’s smart and VERY hyper-aware like extremely hyper-aware although yes he’s oblivious to specific things this fucker can pick up on things very quickly. Example: someone trying to sabotage him? He will immediately know.

7. He is very good at arguments and will go by any means necessary if he wants to win said argument.

8. He can fight, very VERY well this man can absolutely kick your ass.

9. He likes to draw

10. He doesn’t mind the heat or cold, it’s snowing outside? He doesn’t care. It’s 100 degrees? He can’t feel it.

11. There have been incidents where he has accidentally embarrassed himself. (He slipped and fell while restocking shelves, he’s ok tho.)

12. He likes to ride the carts when he’s alone in the store. (He will push them and then ride them he loves it so much)

13. He has a really REALLY creepy smile. (A child has cried, now he doesn’t smile much)

14. He wears a friendship bracelet although nobody knows where he got it from (my insert gave it to him, YES IM ALLOWING MY INSERT INTO THE MODERN AU IM ALLOWED)

15. He sleeps in the closet.

16. He doesn’t like high places, yes he is very fucking tall but he doesn’t like climbing very much.

17. He usually eats take out, he doesn’t like going out to eat a lot.

18. He has a phone but it has this big ass crack on the side of it, he also has a matching phone charm, won’t say where he got it tho (yes I did it again fear me for I have the power!)

19. There are times where he drinks to much water and almost none at all, there is no in between with this man.

20. He likes to play videogames actually he’s pretty good at fighting games as well, look at my gamer boy.

21. He doesn’t like spiders, if he sees one he’s fucking out of there. If it spooks him he’s like a cat with a cucumber he fucking JUMPS

22. He likes walks around the park, he loves the scenery.

23. If you where to go into his room, you will find a shit ton of posters comic books and his windows completely covered in curtains. Although make sure he doesn’t catch you! He doesn’t like people in his room without his permission, remember he’s a very private person.

24. He’s a bit of a morning person, but not all the time there have been times where he has (quite literally) threw his fucking alarm.

25. He’s actually very responsible with his money, he saves up a lot and doesn’t spend much.

26. I like to imagine he’s like a cat sometimes. He sees something shiny? He fucking TAKES IT, sees a red dot? He try’s to fucking grab it (imagine a cat with a red dot laser) his eyes get HUGEEE

27. He’s very cuddling, since he never gets physical affection he’s very clingy and protective. (My insert can agree SEE I DID IT AGAIN)

28. None of the other dragons seem to talk to him, although he doesn’t know why. (Adamai honey you aren’t really up to dragon standards.)

29. He has this really loud fucking laugh, it’s a rare sight to see him laugh his ass off (unless your yugo trying to skateboard then it’s very common.)

30. He has pictures of him an poo I like to think their actually pretty good friends and get along well. They talk about food recipes and fighting techniques.

31. Adamai is a heavy eater (I like to think he has a high metabolism so he eats a lot.)

32. Since he’s very cunning and sly this fuckers ego is so huge it could match that of ecaflip. (But ecaflip doesn’t get his assbeat like Adamai did in season 4)

33. He likes to listen to family drama, sometimes he makes this “oh no they didn’t face” whenever someone drops a crazy insult.

34. He likes to draw comics and paint people (mostly out of boredom and to practice perspective and lighting points.)

I MADE SO MANY OMGMGGMGMM ANYWAYY I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED I SWEAR I CAN MAKE MORE BUT ADAMAI IS MY FAV TO HEADCANON. anyway hope you guys loved these! ENJOYYYYY

[the-badger-mole]

A Gift

Another year, Zuko told himself. Another year and he could put this house, his father and his sister far behind him. He just had to wait another year and he could leave and find a job and start his life. It might be tough, but he'd sleep on the streets if it meant he could finally escape this place. He threw himself on his bed and screamed into the pillows. He missed his mother. He missed his uncle. He missed who he was before everything went horribly wrong. Or rather got horribly worse, because his life had never been right.

"I wish someone would take me away from here," he muttered. His cheek still stung from where his father had backhanded him for some slight or other. It hardly mattered what he did. Ozai would find a reason. The only thing he could do to fight back was to meet his father's eyes with that stoic gaze that infuriated Ozai so much. Zuko had left his father seething with rage as he walked off calmly to his room. Azula had poked her head out of her room when she heard Zuko come up the stairs, and she shot him a look of such contempt, as if he were a pile of dog crap she'd just stepped in.

"How did you disappoint Dad today?" she sneered at him. Zuko just ignored her and locked his bedroom door behind him. He had a bit saved up. By the following year, it might even be enough for a deposit on a crappy apartment. Zuko knew that the chances were better than good that Ozai would throw him out as soon as he was of age, and he had done his best to prepare himself for that since he was 13. Back then, he thought he could move in with his uncle, but that wasn't an option anymore. Iroh had left him some money in his will, but Zuko wouldn't be able to access any of it until he was 21 without Ozai's permission. So he would have to find a way to survive until then.

The wrong brother was dead, Zuko thought bitterly for not the first time. The wrong parent was dead. Everything was just wrong. But there was little Zuko could do to fix it until his next birthday.

Sighing, he reached down and pulled out a well worn book from under his bed. It was a collection of fairytales his mother had read to him and his sister when they were very young and untouched by his father's blatant favoritism. Ozai would set the book on fire if he knew that Zuko had it. Fortunately, he hadn't been interested in setting foot in his son's room in years, and Zuko's mother had kept the book on his shelf. Now it was almost falling apart, and Zuko's heart broke for the day when it would be too delicate for him to open again. Tonight, he opened to one of his favorite tales, about a boy who was whisked away from his evil, unappreciative family and ended up married to the queen of the fairies.

"I wish it was real. I wish someone would take me away from here," he whispered again.

His windows flew open with a burst of wild wind. The curtains fluttered erratically, before settling again. There was someone standing in the window. She was shorter than Zuko by a good half foot, but as she looked down at Zuko from the window, her presence seemed to fill the room and dwarf Zuko. She wore a dark cape with a dramatically flared collar. It glinted in the dim light of Zuko's room, and he realized that there were gems sewn onto it. Her skin was bronzy brown which offset her icy blue eyes startlingly. She was beautiful, the way a predatory cat was beautiful. Zuko was frozen in fear, which only grew sharper when she smiled at him. She looked like she was up to no good. Zuko knew who she was immediately. She looked just like the illustration in his mother's book.

"You're the Goblin Queen," he whispered. She nodded her head once. Zuko took a step backward. "I must be dreaming."

"You're not," the Goblin Queen assured him, her voice was wry and throaty, almost like she was laughing at him. "I heard your wish, Zuko."

"My...wish?" he repeated.

"You wanted someone to take you away from here," she said. "I'm here to deliver." She pointed out the window, but the lawn and the street beyond it were gone. Instead, he was looking out across a browning field of wheat that led to a labyrinth, and in the distance, a castle perched on a dark mountain.

"What?" Zuko shook his head, breathlessly.

"You will go there," the Queen said. "To my castle. If you are worthy, you may stay." Zuko swallowed nervously and looked at the Queen.

"And if I'm not worthy?" he asked. The Queen's eyes glinted in what Zuko couldn't decide was mischief or malevolence.

"You can turn back," she said. "Perhaps your father will let you live to see 18. I doubt it, though." Zuko's nostrils flared and he clenched his fists at his sides, but he didn't otherwise react to the threat. The Queen seemed amused at him. He turned away from her and looked out over the labyrinth.

"You should get started." The Queen came up behind him, running her hands up his shoulders, and murmured in his ear. "It's farther than you think, and time is short." She took Zuko's hand and turned him to face a tree with a ticking clock fixed to it's trunk. "You have thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth and make it to my castle, or you'll be lost forever to your world and this one." The Queen leaned up and kissed Zuko's cheek, then she stepped back, fading into the air.

"Good luck," she said, before she faded completely out of existence.

[idjitlili]

Lurking in the dark.

Not my gif.

Summary:  Jareth uses a disguise to lurk around you before the Labyrinth like he did with Sarah, as an owl. Until you accidentally wish away your dog.

Warnings:mentions of tight pants. Mentions of feeling lonely.First smut...you’ve been warned, well just oral, and a handjob.

Word count:4325

A/n: low-key based in my home country, ah yes England.

Y/d/n=your dogs name, or change it to cat or fake pet.

Though you weren't 16, like Sarah, being an adult, Jareth felt pulled to you. No, he was not a pervert, times were different.  Maybe it was your love of your dog, maybe it's how lonesome you felt, that dog unknowingly brought hope into your life. Yes you did love your family, but sometimes you just got lonely.

Maybe it was your love of films, you could watch your favourite film a million times, yet feel so invested into watching it again. Maybe it was your stack of books, some you already had ,which were your favourite,but had gotten pocket editions or ones with different covers.

How Jareth had found you, well that was a different question, not him dressing down , changing his hair to place the labyrinth in difference book stores , illegally. Yes, that was how he had found you,when he had done that. Soon he had figured out, you regularly went to the book store, after following you home in his owl form.

This particular day had been most stressful, though the rain was calming, being drenched to the point your underwear were soaked, not like that. Frozen, you just wanted to get to Waterstones before they shut, practically running. Not only wanting to get there but also get home quick too.

Rushing into the store , the door closing behind you, the warm air embracing your freezing body, you just hoped you wouldn't get in trouble for being soaked in here. It wasn't like you were going to wipe your clothes on all the books , ruining them.

Then, of course more problems occurred; you could not for the life of you find a book you desired.  Sighing , you pushed your dripping hair from your face, you could only imagine how bad you looked in that moment.

Yet, you had continued your search, with no luck until a man had cleared his throat from next to you.

His hair clearly blond from his roots, the rest a light red colour almost ginger but not. His eyes bright blue, yet it seemed like he had heterochromia, aswell as larger pupil in his left eye. His cheekbones highly defined, his body skinny, overall the man was very handsome.

Turning to face the man, highly embarrassed by your state. "If you don't mind-" this is when you thought you was going to be asked to leave, your stomach dropped. "-hearing my suggestion." Okay, that still found like he was going to ask you to leave, but his voice wasn't aggressive.  "...okay?" You weren't sure what to say, only letting out a quiet word.

The man had reached up to the shelf above you , pulling down a small red book, so he wasn't kicking you out.  His pale hand gently holding the book in front of you, 'The labyrinth.' You had taken the book from him, to look for a summary , yet there wasn't one, nor a publisher or an author name.

"You take that home,on me, if you don't like bring it back."  

"W-wait, you d-" You didn't know this man, you felt guilty getting it for nothing, but he had interrupted you. "You've had a long day,clearly,  now go get home,y/n"  The man simply placed his hands on his hips waiting, his words followed out like water, turning to go do whatever he was doing.

"W-wait." He had spun around , his eyes looked at you in slight annoyance, hurrying you up. "What's your name?"

"Ziggy." You had looked at you watch at the same time, before looking back at the man- but he was gone. Thus, you left.  Hold on , how did he know your name?

Not spotting the owl, that stood on the lamp post watching you...

You had begun reading the book , as soon as you had gotten out of your soaking clothes , into warm ones. You wondered how Jareth could like a girl with no sense, no you didn't , you thought why she wearing her baby brother hat.

Yet, your dog would not allow you to sit in peace, shoving their toy under the cupboard making you get up and get it otherwise they wouldn't stop crying, or eating all their food and scratching for more. Then, they had knocked your drink everywhere with their toy.

Groaning in annoyance , for the hundredth time. "You know if the Goblin king was real, y/d/n, I'd wish for him to take you for a time out." Of course you handed read that far you didn't know what would really happen to him..

"You know what, I'll just say it, just in case. I wish the goblins would take you away, right now."   A crack of thunder had made you jump out of your skin turning towards it , before turning back hearing scratching on the floor, to see nothing, by this time it's pitch black, only light from a small lamp is seen , your dog is gone.

Suddenly the door crashes open, an owl flies in , before turning into a man. Not that you could see him much. "Uhm, I mean thanks for taking my dog for a time out , but uh thats dognapping, so.." He had only laughed loudly.

From what you you could see his hair was a huge blond mullet, there was glitter everywhere, and those pants...

"What's said is said."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" That wasn't legal, he had broken into your home and stole your dog.

"I have brought you a gift, it's a crystal, nothing more. but if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams. but this is not a gift for an ordinary girl who takes care of the dog.....do you want it? then forget the dog." You had scoffed at him, you could go ebay and get a crystal ball, who was this wannabe Gandalf?

"Sorry, no, I would like my dog." The king, looked disappointed with your answer, did he believe that would really work?

"don't defy me." His voice stern , as he threw a snake at you , but completely missed, coughing out a small laugh, as the man pretended it never happened.

"Y-you're no match for me."

"Stop with all the talk, how can I get y/d/n back?" With that , he had gestured you to come to the window, a huge maze could be seen, well labyrinth, instead of the dark sky. Turning back to Jareth, you realised you were no longer in your room, but outside the labyrinth.

"So, how does this work?"  You could clearly see the man now, known as Jareth , the Goblin king, his eyes seemed very familiar, left pupil bigger than the right.  He had pointed to a 13 hours clock, that had appeared.

"You have 13 hours in which to solve the labyrinth , and reach my castle, before your dog becomes one of us forever, such a pity." And boom he was a gone, not much to work from.

Now finding away into the labyrinth, indeed that seemed easy, of course it wasn't, no entrances , you thought of the only thing you could do... Climb the wall.  By the time you had gotten over , there stood Jareth in the tight pants.

"You know, there was a door. This shall be your only warning." Poof he was gone again, if you continued climbing walls maybe you'd have to compliment his pants. Next time put a bloody door.

Though you had no idea what in gods earth you was doing, you just decided to head straight forward as you could, thus to get to the castle quicker. Not going one away and ending going through the side door out of the labyrinth.

As you could expect, Jareth was not very happy that you were travelling through his labyrinth, like it was your house. In fact, he was angered, so much , that he wanted to pick you up, as if you were a rag doll and dump you to the start. Then again, you’d just go twice as fast through.

So, there sat Jareth on his throne, with your dog upon his lap, his little whip thing in hand. Suit up Jareth, your not Indiana Jones. Staring into the crystal ball, unable to think.

The fact you had gotten passed the sausage dogs without a second thought pushed Jareth over the edge... He had attempted to jump scare you, but of course it had went south. Jareth rarely had anyone not beat the Labyrinth, and honestly you’d think he would’ve improved it.

Jareth hadn’t spoken in your presence, to inform you that he was there, instead he had placed a hand onto your shoulder. What he was not expecting was you to turn around at sonic speed, punching him square in the face.

Stumbling back, him his boots, holding his now bloody nose, he had let out a yelp in surprise. He did not expect that, not at all.

You had reached some sort of lake, with a path down to a small house, when you had punched Jareth anyways.

After you had seen that it was Jareth that you had punched, who else would it be, guilty travelled up your body suffocating you. Almost instantly you had rushed to Jareth, ripping part of the end of your t-shirt, bringing the fabric to his nose. Pulling his bloody hand from his nose, with a harsh grip, since he lead stiff.

Your face was sweating, not only were you scared that he might kill you, but also you had felt bad for him, after the numerous times he had checked up on you. You wondered if he ever spoke to anyone other than the Goblins, you wondered if he could even leave this place without being wished.

Gripping his sharp jaw to move his face, allowing you to make get a better look at the bleeding, keeping the fabric to his nose, soaking all the blood up. You didn’t even know Faes bled.

“J-Jareth, I’m so sorry! You made me jump, I swear I didn’t do it on purp-“ Jareth liked the contact, the anger he felt before had slipped away, your soft fingers upon his skin, your favourite t-shirt now ruined as you had sacrificed it for his nose. Oh, and he knew that was your favourite shirt.

Your pleading e/c eyes staring into his mismatched ones, made both of your hearts beat fast than moments before. It almost made him forget why you were here; but when he did remember his eyes returned harsh. You only felt bad because you were frightened, he knew you’d leave him soon as you had beaten his labyrinth.

Oh how wrong he was.

Pulling away rudely, using his magic to pull a clock out of no where, using his gloved had to skip it forward three hours, smirking. Fake smirking, the quicker this ends the better, he could not bare to fall in love with a silly human girl again, just to be rejected.

Your eyes widened in confusion, your torn end of your t-shirt still in your hand, bloodied. “W-what?” 6 hours left.

Poof Jareth was gone yet again, oh and how he had some plans for you. Stood in brief shock of what had just occurred, trying to forget the tingles that had erupted down your hand, throughout your whole body, like electric shocks. Shaking it off, like you were about to warm up for pe , just like high school. Ew.

You had continued down the path, to the small house, and within minutes you had reached it. Didn’t seem like there was away around, only way was through.

Thankfully, it was unlocked, allowing you straight in. Only for it to slam close behind you, you didn’t think of anything of it, all you could think about in this moment was how your stomach was growling loudly.

The rag now placed into your back pocket, as you searched the tiny kitchen for anything, coming across an overly large strawberry, you didn’t even think before you had devoured it.

In that moment you heard it the door clicked, you had rushed to it testing it, locked, of course. Your feet now suddenly soaking wet , gulping you had looked down the floor covered in soapy water, rising dangerously. Surely he would not kill you?

All the windows now sealed shut, no upstairs , only the chimney , thankfully wide as. You did the only thing you could, your stomach turning, feeling light headed, the water reaching your knees.

You got in it, but the walls were too slippery so you held your breath just as the water got above your shoulders. Swimming up the chimney with the water, not full breast stroke of course, no room for that. The water pressure building at such a speed you ended up flying out the end of the chimney, no idea how that was even possible.

Then everything went black, soon entering a dream world...well no it wasn’t a dream. Now dressed in gown, at a ball, a masquerade, the room almost packed with guests with goblin like masks., all wearing big expensive gowns, or suite like attire. Loud laughter dimmed out by the loud gently music.. what.

Turning every which way, you felt like you were looking for something, just you could not recall what. A skinny man, with a bo dazzled suite, a long blond mullet with stripes of blue to match his suite, a diamond at his next instead of a tie or bow, frilly shirt. He held a similar goblin mask, only when you caught his eye he had pulled it away.

Only you and him without masks, his eyebrows with no ends, h-his strangely familiar eyes , his thin lips, you felt a strong pull towards him.

“There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed

Within your eyes

I'll place the sky.”

All you could do is stare at him, as the song began, mouth gapped at him, your dress that before felt heavy no felt like nothing, as he began walking towards you, through the people.

“Within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart

Beatin' so fast”

Trying to get passed the strange people, to get him, he simply danced with other people that already had partners, I mean, like pressed up against the partners.

“In search of new dreams

A love that will last

Within your heart

I'll place the moon

Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through.” He didn’t even try to get to you as you chased after him, these strange people suffocating you, getting in your way on purpose.

“Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone.” Then he was gone, your eyes searched the room, not seeing him hidden behind a fan behind you, continued your search. As he smirked behind you, oh how he couldn’t stop feeling the way he did about you, he thought it was funny how now you chased him instead of the other way around.

“Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down.” He had continued making his way through the people, in direct view , as you searched still.

“Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love.” Squeezing through the people, feeling panicked, you had no idea what was happening, nor why you felt like this for a strange man, shoving pushed the people that circled you.

“I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now.” You had found him, as a fan moved, he stood sandwiched by two woman.

“We're choosing the path

Between the stars

I'll leave my love

Between the stars” Only then did he come towards you,his face should no emotion, you wondered how you had gotten here. Now with a mans hand out waist and the other in his hand as you danced.

“As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all.” You couldn’t remember knowing how to dance, but you and Jareth done turns in sync with all the other dancers, staring deeply into his mismatched pupils.

“But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling” Jareth-how did you now know his name, now singing along, wow self loving much , who plays their own music. He had every right. Only then, did you feel yourself leaning to his lips.

“As the world falls down

Falling

Falling

As the world falls down.”

Jareth had noticed, leaning towards you as well, you felt your lips connect to his soft ones, as your eyes closed. That’s all it took for your remove your hands from his shoulder and hand bringing them up into his blond hair. Pulling his face towards yours, not allowing yourself to disconnect from him, you both had stopped dance at this point.

His arms now around your waist pulling you both closer together again, one of your hand now cupping his cheek, as you both kissed. Pulling away for a second to breathe, before pressing your lips against his again harshly this time, biting his lip hard, he had almost jumped, letting out a yelp, only then were you able insert your tongue into his mouth.

You both had long forgotten the people that surrounded you both. Jareths grip now tightened, your tongue fighting against his. Only until he had pulled your hair, pulling you from him lips, your eyes slammed shut, your hands now against his clothed chest, as he pressed kisses down your bare neck. A small moan had escaped your mouth, your hand travelling down to his pants. “Can I?” Jareth had looked into your eyes, his other pupil now almost reaching the same size as his other, nodding.

You hand cupping, his manhood, his pulse heightened under your touch, Jareth had groaned loudly, his bulging member against your palm, as Jareths hips had pushed against your hand for friction. Jareth now sucking harshly at your neck, rubbing your hand against him.

You had forgotten about the room full off people;but Jareth had definitely not, he did not want to take you in front of them, at this moment he didn’t care, he had not had pleasure in a very long time. Leaving your neck, Jareth had joined your lips again, biting your already swollen bottom lips, returning to sloppy small kisses, you had wished that Jareth had picked a less poofy dress.

Your hands leaving Jareths body, he had let out a small sigh, he had thought you had remembered, especially when you began to lift the bottom the dress. Only then did you notice the people, wide eye, but they were still dancing, even if they were looking, Jareth touch was intoxicating.

Your calf’s now on show, almost touching Jareth again, how starred down at you confused, as you looked up at him with a small grin, lifting your leg up and over hip. Instantly he had gripped the soft skin under your thigh, your dress now bunched up to your waist, as you wrapped your arms around Jareths neck.

Pressing your clothes core against, his bulging, your core soaking through, jumping up, so that both of your legs were now wrapped tightly against Jareth. Your lips on his, his hands travelling up your legs slowly, all the way to your waist again, wet kisses as your hips began to rock against Jareths stone member. Your stomach turning into knots against him.

Your clit pulsating against him, undoubtedly he could feel it too, your speed quickly increase, pushed Jareth over the edge with a loud groan, you were pressed against the stone floor. Still, you grinned harshly against him, his hands now either side of your head, his only your upper back against the floor.

Looking into his hungry eyes, pleading for him to do something, stopping your hip movements . “J-Jareth, a-are you sure we should do this here? W-with these people?” Jareth had only smirked at you lowering himself to your ear level. “Love, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed about, plus they can only see when I want them too, understand?” Whispering into your ear, that must be why they didn’t even look your way.

“Now, I must ask, do you want this? Definitely?” His face not inches from yours, his eyes searched yours. “Yes, please.” With that Jareth had unwrapped your legs from him, tearing the bottom of the dress, he was a very skinny man, it was a shame ‘twas a lovely dress. Only your underwear covered you bottom half now, your heels now discarded.

Snapping your legs closed in embarrassment, Jareth had lifted your leg by your calf pressed gently pecks all the way up, till he got your thigh, his eyes meeting yours as you sat up on your elbows, you had nodded at him, anyone would’ve been nervous, especially a virgin.

His lips now reattached to your soft skin on your thigh, gently he had pulled your legs apart , your heat had already been dripping from just kissing, but now it was a river. A snap of his fingers and your underwear were gone.

Jareths face now dangerously close, your whole lower parts on show to him, he had grinned up at you, his hot breath on your most sensitive area, sent chills through your core... literally. Jareth had groaned just feeling your thighs shake in his hands, his erection now painfully restricted.

With that he had slid his tongue up your folds one, letting out a gasp, you hadn’t been touched like this ever. He had brought a single figure to plunge into you, swirling it around you for only a second, his other hand now holding your stomach down, from your squirming underneath him. Removing the finger, his eyes locked onto your as he slipped it into his mouth, sucking on it, before pulling his finger out of his mouth with a pop.

His face satisfied with you, whimpering , he had barely touched you, yet you were pooling already, orgasm almost there, “please...” Parting your folds, he had slowly removed eye contact, his tongue now licking you like an icecream cone, your nerves on overdrive, he had plunged his tongue into you, his hand back on your thighs, squeezing as he swirled around in you. Your legs clenching on his head, grinding into his face.

“Jareth!” Considering you were quite shy, with men anyways, the moan of his name, caused Jareth to tighten his grip, tongue from your opening, he rolled your clit gently between his teeth, you hand cried out, your legs thrown over his shoulders, you could feel your orgasm coming. Pulling tightly at his long hair for more, a loud growl had erupted from his mouth, travelling through you, your stomach tightening.

So close to satisfaction, “J-Jareth..” His tongue had attached back onto your clit, bringing his fingers close to you, one of your legs still on his shoulder, the other leg, he had placed against the stone floor, spreading your legs widely, so that he could insert his finger into you. Your back now curved from the floor, adding two more fingers into your wet opening.

Sweat upon your face, like drops of rain water, allowing you a moment to adjust, Jareth had began to his fingers into you, his mouth detached, faster, and faster by the second. Spreading his fingers in you, you couldn’t hang on any longer. Your legs now shaking like hurricane, Jareth knew you was close, your head thrown back, as you finally met your orgasm.

Removing his fingers, as the please hit you like wrecking ball, throughout our lower half, you had let out a loud moan of pleasure. Your hips finally buckled , riding your orgasm in Jareths face. Panting heavily, Jareth had looking up , wiping the remaining of your juices on his palm.

“J-Jareth?” He now laid next to you, how was he still fully clothed? He had hummed in response. “C-can we just start with that for now,” You were worried, that he’d get angry, but instead he had just looked at you with a gently smile. “Of course, love.” Then you noticed, his painfully erected member, bringing your hand to his bulge rubbing him again, groaning in surprise.

“I-I’ve never done anything like this.” Jareth only nodded, as you stroked him through his pants, he wasn’t going to take your virginity not like this. He was a good man- fae sorry, he took all those children from people that didn’t want them. Shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.

Slipping you hand into Jareths pants, you stroked him harshly, rubbing the his tip gently with your thumb when you reached it, before repeating the cycle. Jareths lips upon yours , you could still taste yourself on him. Quickening your pace, soon enough his he had bitten down roughly onto your lip, as he came.

Yet again, you were both laying on the floor, laying your shoulders on his arm, that wrapped around you laying in his chest.

“Can I have my dog back? I mean- if you let me go back, you could come too, o-only if you want to anyways?” You had stuttered out your words , causing Jareth to laugh at you, he had a feeling you still remembered.

“Of course.”

[beatricebidelaire]

netflix masked ball scene

something about the masked ball is judging from everyone’s attire it’s likely expected for people to show up in suits or dresses and wearing a mask, and most people don’t show up with extravagant / elaborate costumes since it’s not a a halloween party kind of thing but a masked ball. so if we make the above assumption, the question becomes who shows up with wing costumes as part of her attire, and the mechanical wings can actually fly with no problem, also they’re huge and probably keeps knocking into people during the ball since it’s crowded. like. who does this? and all the dramatics aside, the wings turned about to be useful when and saved her when she’s being pushed down from the balcony.

but on the other hand, who shows up at a ball and pushes someone down the balcony, would’ve murdered them if the wings hadn’t saved them, when the place is filled with friends and associates of the person pushed down the balcony, that it’s almost guaranteed it’s very hard to escape once committing the crime? it requires either extreme recklessness or arrogance or thinking that getting caught doesn’t matter.

beatrice’s costume is unnecessarily elaborate and dramatic and turned out to be useful when those wings can fly, and olaf’s act of pushing her over the balcony is not a particularly well thought out plan if he cares about the aftermath, if those wings turned out to not actually fly. i know in the show when olaf was explaining things in tcc he said “who knew those wings can actually fly” but is that really the case, or is he just saying that to maintain some reputation, so it wouldn’t look like he failed in that?

case 1: maybe he already knew even before he pushed her, or at least highly suspected, or just expected that it could either fly or that beatrice can pull off some other trick and survive. beatrice wore mechanical wings that can actually fly to the party expecting some sort of move from olaf, olaf pushing her over the balcony expecting that she’d survive anyway. it’s a very continuously back and forth game between them and they plan their actions revolving around each other anticipating the other’s move, it’s a game they’ve been playing since they were kids, getting into fights in the playground, just more elaborate now, more planning, but boiling down to its core they’re just two kids wrestling each other and falling down into the grass together covered in mud and sweat.

case 2: he really didn’t know the wings could fly and didn’t even suspect so, but seeing her brings out a very primal anger and rage that makes him throw detailed revenge plan down the window like he threw beatrice off that balcony, and just went with his instinct. because when it comes to her everything stops being a detailed revenge plan and he just wants to fight her like the way they used to fight as children, two kids wrestling each other and falling down into the grass together covered in mud and sweat. it’s all instincts and no plans and he doesn’t care about escaping from his enemies later because at this moment only beatrice matters, he shoves her off the balcony and he doesn’t really think about the consequences of that it doesn’t actually register to him that she could die but he tells himself if she died it’d be great but is secretly relieved that she didn’t die because he’s never actually expected it to happen so soon she’s not allowed to die until he’s had his revenge, because deep down he wants this back and forth of revenge and attacks on each other to continue forever. olaf in the 13 books of asoue we see he can plan meticulously with complicated and elaborate disguises (sounds familiar? almost like someone else who also has this tendency…) just to get what he wants. he can plan things, no problem, so why would he be so reckless at ball, resorting to such a purely physical and not well thought out way - because it’s beatrice and with her it’s all emotions and no planning all primal instincts, it’s like they’re children again and fighting on the playground ….

regardless if it’s closer to case 1 or case 2, i guess i just wanted to say, no matter how old they grow up to be they’re always, deep down, two little kids fighting and wresting each other falling down together into the mud punching each other with dirty hands and bruised knuckles but then still play together the next day. they know the most random and trivial details about each other that doesn’t even matter but it’s just knowledge one accumulated over the years they know each other’s secrets know the crushes see through each other’s lies meanly tease each other. “you’ll fail” “your mother told me the same thing”. ahhhhhhhh

[songmingisthighs]

[15.08] badboy!seonghwa × reader

⇀ had you known that's why he confessed, would you have accepted him ? Or smack his annoyingly perfect face with your laptop ?

⇁ part 1 / 2

⇁ prologue part 1 / 2 / 3

Things had gone great between you and Seonghwa. You and he would often meet at your dorm or at the diner at least three times a week.

You'd ask him why you both never hung at his dorm but his answer was that he doesn't want the boys to disturb your 'quality time'.

Normally you'd question answers like that, but the way he looks at you and holds your hand made you forget why you even wanna ask that in the first place.

But like all things, everything dissipates with time.

Nearing the end of the semester, group projects lessen and solo assignments accumulate which put a strain between your and Seonghwa's hangout time. You've tried convincing him that you both can hang out whilst doing your solo assignments but you remembered how his eyes trailed after a girl as you spoke at one of your last hangouts at the diner.

Seems like he's lost interest in you too.

Which, it sure hurts, but you both were never official and neither had verbally confirmed to the other about their feelings. It sucks.

But you power through.

You pretend that his silence during class's group discussion didn't affect you, you pretend that when he immediately pack up his stuff to leave the class and only throwing you a polite smile didn't make your heart wrench, you pretend that him ghosting you didn't make you feel both embarrassed and angry at the same time.

You're light and breezy.

Heck, you're so light and breezy, you still go to that diner every Friday all alone. And it's not because you had hoped to see one particular man.

Even though you did.

When he was on a date with some girl who's obviously very pretty.

On the booth you both had 'claimed' as 'your booth' without ever verbally saying it.

"Hi, excuse me," a voice broke your train of thoughts.

You look up from your book to see a really handsome man standing in front of you with a smile on his face. He looks very handsome, definitely mixed-race, and he has this chill aura on him that is honestly refreshing to you.

"Sorry to bother you, but can I sit here?" He asked. You look around to see that there are a lot of other places left in the library where he could've sat.

Sensing your apprehension, the man raised both of his hands, "I'm not a creep or a weirdo, I'm just very particular about where I work,"

He's got a point. So you just nodded, "sure, it's not my table or anything anyways, you could've just taken a seat without asking my permission," he shrugged as he put his things across you, "I mean sure, but you seemed like you don't wanna be bothered and this particular spot has the best walking distance to anywhere at all and plus the secret charging port? Genius," he said, grinning proudly.

You raised your eyebrows at him, "you seem to know your way around the table, mister..." you trailed off to which he immediately caught on, "Hansol, Choi Hansol, but my friends calls me Vernon," he held his hand out for you to shake, "(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and why Vernon?" "My english name, I'm half American,"

And with that, you got yourself a new friend.

Vernon is a computer science major, and the other thing major about him is his nerdiness. And his hotness. Which is a ridiculous combination.

Ever since that day in the library, you both somehow find the other popping up everywhere. Just a day after your first meeting in the library, he came into the café you part-timed at. He came in to order 13 drinks and several pastries, shocking you at first but then he told you he lives in a frat house with 12 other guys and that he's not a caffeine addict.

Then you both bonded over the many sessions in the library which eventually venture out to sitting together during lunch, and then suddenly you both started meeting outside campus.

And this did not go unnoticed by Seonghwa.

"Hey, Seonghwa, how well do you know (Y/N)?" Hongjoong asked, breaking Seonghwa's glare on you and Vernon from all the way across the cafeteria.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him, "(Y/N) from my statistics class?" As if he hadn't considered you as something more at some point, "I'd say well enough as a groupmate, why?" He asked back.

Hongjoong nodded towards you and Vernon with his chin, "Vernon there saw you both working together and he wants to make sure he won't be stepping on anyone's toes when he's making a move on her,"

At that moment, Seonghwa almost choked on his fries. Too surprised with the fact that you've possibly moved on from him so quickly.

It's only been a month and a half since you both stopped hanging out outside of obligation.

Hearing that made his blood boil and he's pretty sure it's not jealousy. Most likely territorialism. HE took interest in you first waaaaay before Vernon did.

The smile and laugh you give Vernon was supposed to be for him. He used to make you laugh so hard at any stupid pun he concocted in his head. No matter how stupid it is nor how much it doesn't make any sense.

To be completely honest, he didn't know why he pulled away from you in the first place. He had been so comfortable with you, never once had he ever let his guard down and just be carefree, not even with his closest friends.

He needs to get you back to him.

No matter what.

So he made his move the next time you both had statistics again.

Unlucky for him though, the professor decided to not have any group discussion that day which threw Seonghwa's plan out the window. But thankfully he still remembered your schedule, you don't have any class after statistics which means you'd be grabbing a simple lunch before your part-time job starts until 8 pm.

So he waited patiently for the bell to ring.

Legs bouncing in anticipation as his eyes flit towards the clock every five minutes.

When the professor finally dismissed the class (10 minutes later than he's supposed to, as per usual), he immediately put all his belongings back in his bag and ran after you. Somehow you've mastered the art of cleaning up quickly over the month and a half without him.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Seonghwa called.

You stopped in your tracks and turn your head to see Seonghwa jogging towards you with that stupid, charming smile on his face.

Damn his good looks.

"Yeah? Is there something wrong?" you asked him when he caught up to you. He raised an eyebrow at you, confused as to why you'd think there'd be anything wrong.

"Ah!" you suddenly exclaimed, "Is this about my part of the presentation? Don't worry, I'm close to finishing it, I should be able to compile it in the PPT tonight by... 9.30-ish? I have to finish my shift at the café," you explained.

He chuckled at you, deep voice that you oh so missed ringing in your ears, "wha- no, (Y/N), I'm not here to talk about our project, I just wanna... talk with you," he said, tilting his head to the side slightly. It somehow made him look both hot and cute at the same time. Which doesn't make sense.

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him while crossing your arms, "why? No offence, Seonghwa, but you've kinda been blowing me off for the past month and a half now, what makes you think I'd have anything to talk with you about?"

Those words coming out of your mouth shocked him. It's not like he didn't expect some apprehension from you, but hostility? Boy, you must've been really affected by his shitty doings.

"I-I- no, (Y/N), I haven't been blowing you off," bullshit, even he knows that, "I've just been really-" "really... what? Absent? Ghosty? Hot and cold? Whatever it is, Seonghwa, you don't owe me any explanation," you tried your best to not roll your eyes at him because honestly, how dare he blew you off and now acting like he didn't whilst hoping you don't notice what he has been doing.

What did he take you for? One of his brainless bimbos?

Surprised at your words, Seonghwa was left stunned. You waited for a solid 10 seconds for him to say something. Anything.

Literally, how hard is it to say sorry?

Realizing he wouldn't realize what he's supposed to do, you just shook your head at him, "I'll finish inputting and editing my part by tonight, I'll see you in class next week, Seonghwa," you said before walking away.

You would've thought that he'd take the hint and go back to ignoring you.

But now, of course not. He's stubborn and he plays by his own rules. It's an understatement to say that you were shocked when you saw him entering the café nearing the end of your shift.

Despite the shock of seeing him, you pretended like nothing's wrong and do what you're supposed to do to any other customer as per usual.

Heck, you'd give yourself a pat on the back, head, and butt for being so calm whilst handling Seonghwa. You managed to keep that "strictly professional" smile on your face as you take his orders, you didn't fumble when he made small talks as you typed in his orders into the computer (like really, who the heck said "good thing tonight's not cloudly, love the moonlight," ??), and you didn't flinch when your hands accidently touch as you hand him his strawberry frappucino.

Yes, the badboy strictly and secretly drink sweet, fruity drinks.

You'd thought that his presence was merely a coincidence. As he waited in his table, you had assumed that he's waiting for some girl (who isn't you, sadly) so all you wanna do is run out of there as soon as you can.

"Hey, Jaemin," you called your co-worker who's in the middle of sipping his 6 shot americano at 8 pm, "I'm gonna head out, okay? Think you can hold the fort until Yena's here? She said she has to turn in an assignment, that's why she's late,"

Jaemin just rolled his eyes at you, "(Y/N), I'm drinking coffee that's powerful enough to paralyze a horse, I can definitely handle the slow Wednesday night crowd," he said sarcastically to which you laugh.

After getting your things from your locker in the back room, you proceed to go out through the front door.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had followed behind.

You were only several steps away from the café when suddenly Seonghwa caught up to you and grab your hand.

Knowing that it's quite late and it's dark, Seonghwa should've known better. You honestly only feel slightly bad for punching his chest.

Slightly.

Like 2%.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Seonghwa you scared the devil out of me!" You exclaimed after realizing that it was just him, pulling your hand away from his grip. He coughed, trying to ease oxygen back to his lungs after you had brutally knocked them out.

"Guess I deserved that," he coughed out, but he was smirking as if he's amused by your attack, "sorry, I was just- I need to talk to you," he said, looking at you pleadingly.

"Well, it doesn't seem like that for the past month and a half, Seonghwa, you seemed just about done with me," you said while crossing your arms, your expression showing nothing but disdain at him. He seems to feel remorse after seeing how you looked at him. Never once did you showed any negativity nor hostility to him during the time you both spent together.

Seonghwa didn't really know what made him pull away from you. All he was sure of is that he felt something so strongly about you to the point that it scared him so much. He never felt the need to be with someone as much as when he was with you. He found himself thinking about you when you're both not together, he found himself only focusing on you and nothing else when you both are together, and he found his vulnerabilities open for you to access.

It scared him to hell and back when he realizes that there is a possibility of him wanting something more from you.

With you.

The man before you sighed, "I... Have no excuse for how I acted recently but believe me when I said that I regret pulling myself away from you because I'm scared, you're too good to and for someone like me, you deserve the best and I wanna be the best for you," he stepped closer to take both your hands in his, his eyes were genuine which rendered you incapable of being too mad at him, "I wish I could rewind the time and take back what I did, I never should have pulled away from you, I should have just told you the truth," he said.

For a second, he forgot about his image and he just let whatever he was feeling out, he wanted to make sure that you understand how he truly feels.

Both of you stood in silence, just staring at each other as he rubs his thumb on the back of your hand. With the way you're staring at him now, he was sure that your initial resolve had completely melted.

But suddenly from his peripheral vision, he saw Vernon coming out of a bookstore across the road and was looking around.

Remembering what prompted him to get closer to you again, he pulled you in close into his arms, a hand to your cheek and lips just centimetres away from his.

"So? Would you please give me another chance to show you how much you mean to me? Not as just some guy from your statistics class," his words made you chuckle and roll your eyes, "but as your boyfriend," he said before he could stop himself.

Your eyes widened, "m-me? With y-you? Boyfriend and girlfriend?" you choked out, not believing your ears in the first place. You wanted to make sure that he's not kidding, making a joke or making a fool out of you.

Instead of answering, however, he simply leaned in and places his lips softly on yours. The kiss was sweet, it conveyed how much he wants and misses you. For some reason it made you feel comforted, he feels like home and his arms makes you feel safe.

So then and there, you kiss him back as a form of an answer to him.

When you both finally pull away, you both could see dumb smiles decorating the other's face, proof of happiness over what just happen.

Remembering that you're in the middle of the road and there are people around you, you pulled away from his arms first but reached to tangle your hand in his.

"Come on, I believe I owed my groupmate my part of the presentation," you started as you walk, pulling him with you.

But as you walk, you turn your head at him to throw a flirty smirk, "boyfriend" you said, making him grin so wide, it could rival a Cheshire cat.

Maybe you and he isn't a bad idea at all.

All you can do now is hope that he won't break you.

[viking-raider]

The Belle and the Bane - Chapter II

Summary: Living with the Bane is turbulent, at best. But, you do your best to weather the storm of his moods.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,916

Warnings: PG-13 - Fantasy!AU, Dark!AU, Bane!Henry, Dark!Henry, Belle!Reader, Healer!Reader, Curses, Language, Angst, Light Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Very Minor Character Death, Multiple Personalities(?), Possessive/Controlling Behavior

Inspiration: My warped version of Beauty and the Beast.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long! Muse was spazzing from this fic to that fic and this idea to that idea. You know how it goes! Forever and always, thank you to the amazing @wondersofdreaming​ for being my beta, brainstorm partner and encouraging me! Tell me what you think!

You woke that morning with the bright sunlight streaming into your room, as Damien threw the curtains over your windows open, letting the new day stream in, brightening the remaining darkness out of the corners of your room.

“Good morning, Ms.” He grinned at you, standing at the foot of your bed.

“Morning.” You yawned back, sitting up.

“I have breakfast ready for you.” He said, motioning to the table in the corner of your room, by one of the windows. “Also, I have some clothing coming in for you, later this morning. It's not your full wardrobe, but it's a start.” He smiled, sounding happy and chipper.

“Thank you, Damien.” You smiled at him, getting out of bed and pulled on your robe, sitting at the table and looking over your breakfast.

Nodding his head, Damien exited your room and traveled down to Henry's room, finding his master in a similar position you were, but instead of his room being bright with the morning sun, shining off the calm waves of the ocean. Henry's room was nearly pitch black, minus the raging fireplace and a few candles in large candelabras.

“Morning, Sir.” Damien said softly, nodding his head at Henry. “I hope you slept well.”

Henry took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his tea. “As usual, Damien.” He sighed. “Other than that girl you went behind my back and allowed here.” He added, with a lifted brow.

“I simply thought that some companionship would do you some good, Henry.” Damien replied, daring to use his master's first name. “Other than myself.” He added, as Henry opened his mouth.

“What companionship can she give me, Damien?” Henry asked, setting his teacup down and rubbed at his tired face. “Other than physical.” He added with a huff.

“Perhaps you should try and find out.” He replied, making Henry's messy bed. “She loves to read! She's almost completely read 'Great Expectations' and she's only been here a day. I know how much you like to read.” He explained, smiling over at him, his eyes glittering.

“I haven't read a book, in a long time.” Henry countered, his blue eyes darkening at his servant.

“Maybe.” Damien grinned, unbothered. “She can read to you.”

“I don't need to be read too. I can read on my own.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I'm not some invalid.” He growled, his body tensing.

“Of course not. It was only a suggestion, she has a sweet voice, was all I meant.” Damien replied, softly. “Give her a week, Henry. If you don't find her presence wanting by then, I'll send her back home to her father.”

The muscles of Henry's jaw flexed as he contained his fluctuating emotions. “Fine.” He huffed, angrily, then winced at the loud sounding of the door bell. “Who could this possibly be!” He barked, looking at Damien.

“I had a bit of a wardrobe made up for her.” Damien replied, finishing Henry's bed. “She only came with what she was wearing, and I'm sure that wouldn't have met your meticulous standards.”

“Spending my money on her, Damien.”

“Would you rather her look a peasant, or be nude?” Damien countered, lifting a brow at Henry.

Henry sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his back on him and staring at the dancing flame of the candle on his table. Damien half smirked at Henry, and left his room, going down the stairs to the third ringing of the door bell, and pulled it open, greeting the visitors. There were two men, holding several boxes, swinging the door open wide, Damien allowed them to enter the castle and showed them up the stairs to your room. You stood as your door opened and Damien entered with the two men, directing them where to put the boxes, then shooed them out.

“Your new clothing.” He grinned at you, pulling open the boxes and removing several articles, laying them out on your bed. “I do hope you like them. I wasn't sure what colors you would like, so I tried to keep them as neutral as possible.” He explained, pulling out more and more things from the boxes.

You stood beside him as he laid them out, surprised by the expensive quality of the fabrics and their current fashion. They were all so beautiful, you had never seen anything like them. Looking them over, you picked out the outfit you wished to wear for the day, and Damien put the rest in the empty walk-in closet. He smiled as he watched you stand in the full length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at yourself from every side and playing with the flow of the fabric of the dress you wore.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, standing behind you with a smile.

“Thank you.” You smiled back, your cheeks warm.

Henry groaned, stepping out onto his balcony, needing a breath of fresh air, when he saw a shadow move in the neglected garden below. Frowning, he leaned forward on the oxidized railing of his balcony for a closer look. He saw the shadow again, before you rounded an overgrown hedge, your fingers lightly touching the leaves. He watched you as you explored the ruined garden maze he had played in as a child, with his brothers. Biting his lip, Henry turned and went back into his room, throwing open his bedroom door and storming down the stairs, to the back garden.

“Christ.” You gasped, running straight into Henry, like he was a brick wall. “You nearly scared the life out of me.” You panted.

Henry grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from him. “What are you doing out here?” He demanded, glaring down at you.

“Enjoying some fresh air and sunlight.” You replied, staring up at him, your heart pounding. “Is there an issue with that, like wandering around the house at night?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

His hands squeezed your arms, before letting go of you as you gasped, realizing he had been hurting you. “No.” He gulped, relaxing. “But, you do need to be careful, if you turn the wrong direction, you'll end up stepping off the cliff.”

“Why would you design a garden to do that?” You asked, frowning up at him.

“It wasn't.” Henry replied, looking over the cracked and overgrown path you stood on. “There was a very bad storm, several years ago, and part of the cliff gave way, taking the back portion of the garden and a gazebo with it.” He explained to you, brushing his wind blown curls out of his face, then turned away from you, disappearing around a corner.

Blinking a couple of times, you followed after him, turning two corners, before you found him again, standing several feet away from the edge. Henry smiled at you over his shoulder, shocking you with the transformation it gave him, both physically and emotionally, he felt less threatening and harsh. You moved to stand next to him, a rush of strong ocean wind blowing against you so much, you felt the, surprisingly, gentle touch of Henry's hand rest on your back, keeping you steady as you both stood there.

“Damien said you've almost finished reading the Great Expectations.” Henry said, after a long pause of silence.

“I have.” You nodded, biting the corner of your lip. “Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors.” You confessed to him.

“Mine as well.” Henry chuckled, looking down at you. “I've thoroughly enjoyed 'The Old Curiosity Shop'. I've read it numerous times.” He explained to you, looking out over the ocean. “But, it's been some time since I've read anything, but a financial or business report.”

“Why is that?” You asked, glancing up at him, a soft frown on your face.

“Because, life gets in the way.” He replied, his face hardening. “You should go back inside.” He said, moving his hand from the small of your back to your shoulder; turning you away from the cliff. “It's getting much too cold for you out here.”

“And you?” You replied, lifting a brow at him.

“I'll be fine.” Henry answered, in a short tone. “Go.” He barked, pointing back to the house.

Biting your lip, you nodded your head to him and wound your way back through the garden maze, finding your way back through the open veranda doors. You only whiled away most of the morning, before boredom took you, unaccustomed to just sitting around all day. So, you pulled on a coat and went downstairs, you could hear Henry and Damien's voices through the closed study door as you showed yourself out, going back down to the village to check on your father and see if any of the villagers needed you.

“Where have you gone?” Damien asked, appearing in your doorway as you removed your coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “I came to bring you your lunch, and you were gone.”

“I went down to the village.” You replied, turning to him. “To check on my father, and one of the young wives down there was in the middle of giving birth, so I helped her.” You explained to him, unapologetic for leaving the castle without notice, you weren't their prisoner, and refused to be treated as one.

“Mr. Cavill is quite unhappy about it.” Damien replied, pressing his lips together.

“I'm sure, Mr. Cavill can get over it.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “He is a grown man, is he not?”

Damien narrowed his eyes at you and took a deep breath. “Well, be it as it may. If you're to leave the castle, please inform me, or I'm bound to worry you've fallen off a cliff or something.”

“I will.” You told him, your voice tight. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“That's a question I should be asking you.” He countered, a soft smirk tugging on his lip.

“No, I don't need anything from you, Damien.” You sighed, you really just wanted to soak in a hot tub of water, your back aching from bending over as you helped birth the young woman's babe into the world.

“There's nothing you can do for me, either.” He replied, nodding his head. “Yet.” He added, softly, turning and showing himself out of your room.

Sighing and rubbing at your face, you turned towards the bathroom door, stripping off your clothing as you went. You melted into the hot water, up to your neck, eyes falling shut as it slowly eased away your aches and pains, taking your worries and stress away with it.

“If I were to be stuck here for the rest of my life, the only thing I would get used to, is this glorious hot water.” You mumbled yourself, drifting off.

You were awoken in the middle of the night, shaken by your shoulders and the frantic calling of your name. You batted your hands at the ones holding and shaking you, whimpering as you were drawn out from your peaceful slumber.

“What?” You rasped, in a sleepy voice. “What!” You barked, jerking up in bed. “Damien, what in the world! You're acting as if the house is on fire.” You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face.

“It's not, is it?” You added, face snapping to your open bedroom door.

“No, no! The house is intact.” He assured you, no less frantic and antsy.

“Then, what is the rush?”

“It's Henry, he's terribly unwell, and you are a healer, are you not?” He asked in a jumble of words.

“I am.” You nodded, frowning and throwing back your blankets. “What is wrong with him?” You asked, getting out of bed and taking your robe as Damien held it out to you.

“I'm unsure, I went to check on him in his study, he always works very late.” He explained, leading the way down the hall. “He was quite pale, and I'm sure he's thrown up in the bin.”

Your frown deepened with every description Damien gave you of Henry's ailment, your brain shuffling through dozens of different possible illnesses based on them. When you and Damien finally reached the ground floor study Henry spent a great deal of his time in, you found him lying on the sofa, an arm slung over his pale and sweaty face. You knelt down on the rug beside him on the sofa, gently resting your hand on his elbow.

“Henry.” You whispered softly.

“What do you want?” Henry growled, but it sounded more like a pained whimper.

“I've asked her to look you over, Sir.” Damien replied, hovering from the other side of the couch, his face creased with concern and worry. “She's a healer down in the village.” He explained, chewing on his lip.

Henry huffed, but didn't remove his arm. You frowned up at Damien, then stood, going around the couch to whisper in his ear.

“Give me a moment with him.” You said and tilted your head towards the door.

Damien looked between Henry on the couch and the study door, but nodded his head and went out, quietly closing the door behind him. Rounding the couch again, you took up the fire poker and pushed the burning logs apart until they were nothing but glowing embers, then brought the burning candlestick on Henry's desk over to the small end table at Henry's feet on the couch, plunging the study into near darkness.

“You can take your arm away from your face now, Henry.” You whispered softly, kneeling back down beside him. “The light shouldn't bother your eyes so much.” You told him, tilting your head at him, having an idea of what was bothering him.

Henry slowly removed his arm from over his face, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the low light. His handsome face was quite pale, his eyes were red and damp, his curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. He carefully turned his head towards you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“How long have you had migraines?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him.

“Since I suffered that illness.” He replied, gulping thickly. “They're crippling.”

“I can see that.” You replied, glancing over at the waste bin by his desk, where he'd thrown up. “Come on.” You sighed, standing up. “Let's get you off to bed. You need to rest.”

“I have work to do.” Henry protested, slowly sitting up.

“It can wait, Mr. Cavill.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “If you don't rest, you'll end up throwing up more, and probably passing out. Neither is good for your business or your health.” You protested, planting your hands on your hips.

“So, up you go.”

Henry looked up at you, narrowing his eyes at you. Both of you stood there for a long moment, staring each other down, before Henry growled and stood up. Smirking, you moved around the couch, taking up the candlestick and opened his study door. You and Henry went up the stairs to his room, you paused, resting your free hand on his thick arm as he swayed outside his door for a moment. Henry squeezed his throbbing eyes shut, reaching out blindly to open his door.

You set the candlestick aside and guided him to bed, pulling back the blankets and made him sit down, before he fell. Frowning at him, then sighing, you bent down and pulled off his slippers, setting them aside. Henry watched you through half-lidded eyes as you fussed over him, helping him remove his shirt, then piled up his pillows, so he could rest back on them, and covered him with his blankets. Moving away from him, you went into his bathroom, soaking a washcloth in cold water and brought it back to him.

“Put this over your eyes, it'll help some of the discomfort.” You told him, holding the washcloth out to him.

“As you wish.” He smirked, his tone teasing as he pushed his head back and draped the cloth over his eyes with a moan.

“How is your stomach?” You asked him, watching him gulp thickly.

“Like a raging ocean.” He replied, licking his lips and fisting his blankets, then sat up suddenly, his face going pale as a ghost.

You reacted quickly, picking up the bin by his table and thrust it out to him, just in time for him to throw up, wrenching hard. Henry whimpered as the wrenching agitated his throbbing and pulsing skull. He looked so weak and harmless, like a small boy trapped in the body of a man. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you used the damp cloth to wipe at his sweaty face, the scent of vomit was something you had grown used to as a healer. Sighing, you set the now warm cloth on his nightstand, chewing on your bottom lip as you regarded him and thought about something that could relieve the pain of his migraine and the discomfort of his stomach.

“Do you have any willow trees nearby?” You asked, frowning at him, as a solution brewed in your mind.

“Of course, what kind of question is that?” Henry huffed, shaking his head at you, then instantly regretted it. “The whole county is known for them, there's three in the graveyard alone.” He told you, gripping the waste bin, as another wave of nausea hit him.

“Good.” You nodded, getting up. “I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Henry demanded, as you rushed out of his room.

“Is Henry all right?” Damien asked, he had been lingering in the hall.

“He's got an acute migraine.” You told him, rushing up to your room to pull on a shawl. “I need to retrieve some things to help lessen his pain and the discomfort of his stomach. But, I'll also need hot water and a tea set.” You told him, pulling on your shawl and grabbed the sharp letter opener on top of your dresser, before running downstairs and out the front door, into the darkness.

You knew where the Bane's family graveyard was, you had to pass the narrow path that led to it on your way up the castle. The air was bitterly cold and windy, pushing off the ocean and mixing with the late autumn night. The spooky shadows of the trees that lined the path to the graveyard were frightening, but you were far too focused to allow yourself to become scared and paranoid about them. It took some doing, in the dark of the quarter moon, but you found one of the willow trees, near an overgrown, dark stone mausoleum, the names of Marianne and Colin Cavill carved on the sealed doors. You removed the sharp letter opener from the inside pocket of your robe and started cutting into the bark of the willow tree, collecting enough to fill one of your robe pockets, then started searching around it roots, running your fingers through the leafy tops of small plants, until you found the second thing you were looking for, mint. You knew you could find it here, it was how the village of Mintwillow had gotten its name, after all.

Pockets full with what you needed, you raced back up to the castle and into Henry's room. Damien had gotten everything you asked for together. You dumped your pockets out on the table beside them and started breaking up the bark into smaller bits with the mint and dumped them into the boiling water of the teapot.

“What is all of that?” Damien asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Willow's bark and mint.” You replied, stirring the concoction. “Do you have any honey?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him. “Willow's bark can be rather bitter, so the sweetness of the honey will help with that, as well as coat his throat, after all the throwing up.”

“Certainly.” He nodded, rushing back down to the kitchen for the honey pot.

“Thank you.” You smiled, pouring some of the tea into a cup, then adding a drizzle of honey into it.

“You can go, Damien.” Henry rasped, his voice now sore from throwing up and wrenching. “I'm sure she can care for me now.” He said, his eyes on you.

Damien looked between you both, then nodded his head, excusing himself. Satisfied with his tea, you carefully brought it to him.

“Sip it slowly.” You told him as he raised it to his lips, then chuckled. “It's not meant to taste good, just to help.”

“It better.” He huffed, taking another sip of it. “Or I'm going to be very angry.”

You smiled at him, unphased by his mood swings. “I've given this tea to many people over the years, and it's never failed me.” You assured him. “But, I should let you rest. Sleep is the third best thing for a migraine like this.” You told him, turning away.

Henry's hand shot out, gripping your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. “Stay.” He said softly, his tired and glassy eyes staring holes into you. “Just for a little while.” He whispered, so quietly, you weren't sure he had said anything.

“Perhaps, you could read to me? It helps me sleep.” He added, glancing at a book sitting on his nightstand.

You swallowed slowly, surprised by his request, as the heat of his hand wrapped around your wrist, pushed out the last of the cold that had settled into you, when you were outside. This was a side of him you hadn’t expected, and you weren’t sure how it made you feel; perhaps conflicted from when you experienced his normally callous mood. Licking your lips, you nodded your head at him and Henry felt relieved that you agreed to stay with him, it gave some deep part of him a great amount of comfort, so he slowly let your wrist go. You grabbed a chair from his table and brought it to the side of his bed, picking up his book and saw it was 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'.

Clearing your throat, you flipped the book open to its marker and started reading at the top of the page. Henry relaxed against his pillows, sipping the rest of the tea you had made him, before setting the empty cup aside and closed his eyes, focusing on the soft and easy rhythm of your voice as you read aloud to him.

Henry woke several long hours later, his head still throbbing, but not as badly as it had been for the last few days. He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep from them, when he noticed you, book open in your lap, and sound asleep. You had also fallen asleep, while reading to him. Henry smirked and got out of bed, carefully setting the book in your lap aside, and gingerly lifted you into his arms, your head lulling gently against his shoulder as he carried you out of his room.

“Good mo-”

“Sshhh.” Henry shushed Damien, angrily, as he appeared on the stairs. “Don't wake her.” He growled, in an almost protective manner, then tenderly shushed you as you whimpered and shifted restlessly in his arms, hugging you closer to his chest.

“My apologies, sir.” Damien replied demurely, moving out of Henry's way and bowing his head, to hide the smirk on his face as Henry went by.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Henry carried you up to your own room, pushing the door open with his foot and delicately laid you down, your blankets still thrown back from when Damien woke you up to tend to him. He stood above you for a long moment, after covering you up, watching you snuggle and melt into the mattress and pillows, a faint and sweet smile on your lips. But, he quickly turned away as his heart started to pound and his chest hurt, like he'd been punched by a giant.

Leaving you to sleep in your room, Henry returned to his own and felt his head start to throb again.

You woke just before noon and found yourself back in your own bed, figuring Damien had brought you back to bed. Rising and stretching your stiff body from bending over Henry and sitting in a chair all night, you got out of bed and dressed, just as Damien came in, carrying a tray.

“Oh, you're awake!” He grinned, setting the tray on your table, lunch no doubt, since you had slept through breakfast.

“Yes.” You replied, stifling a yawn into your fist as you sat down at the table. “Thank you for bringing me back to my room.” You added, munching on a bit of your food.

“Oh, I didn't.” Damien replied, making your bed. “Henry did.” He explained, seeing your confused expression.

“Henry did?” You replied, slowly setting your teacup down.

“Yes, you fell asleep, while you tended to him and when he woke this morning, he found you sound asleep on a chair.” He explained, fluffing your pillows. “So, he carried you back up here, to bed.” He said it all, like it was the most normal and natural of things.

“Oh.” You gulped, picking your tea back up and taking a large gulp of it. “Is he any better?” You croaked, keeping your eyes on your food.

“He was quite well, until a few hours ago.” Damien frowned, collecting your dirty clothing. “Seems his headache has re-surged.”

“Oh no.” You cooed, frowning over at him, very concerned. “I should check on him at some point today.”

“It could do him some good.” He agreed with you.

After breakfast, you dressed and found Henry hunched over his desk in his study on the ground floor. Even standing out in the hall and peeking through the cracked open study door, you could see the pain Henry was clearly in. He rubbed at his temples at regular intervals as he frowned at the report in his hand, eyes narrowed at the black lettering. Frowning and pressing your lips together, you turned on your heels and went into the kitchen, where Damien had taken the herbs you used the night before to help Henry's migraine.

Finding and filling a kettle, you set it on the stove to boil, preparing the cup of mint and willow's bark, with a drizzle of honey and a splash of milk. Smiling, you set the steaming cup onto a small plate, carefully carrying it down the hall, and into Henry's study.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked, sounding annoyed, as he looked up from the report he had been staring at for nearly an hour.

“Damien said, your migraine returned.” You replied, carefully setting the cup down on a clean corner of his desk. “So, I brewed you another cup to help.” You told him, smiling at him sweetly.

Henry set down his neglected report and stared at the steaming cup of tea, the muscles of his jaw flexing as his mind roiled with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, before huffing and picking his report back up. “You can leave.” He hissed, not looking back at you, with a cold aura rolling off of him.

“Um..” You floundered, then let out a soft sigh and excused yourself from his study.

You made it halfway up the staircase to your room before a wave of tears hit you, no one had been so rude and cold to you as Henry was, and you had encountered some stubborn people in your practice. Taking a moment to get a hold of yourself, you continued upstairs to your room. But, it was an hour or two later that Damien appeared in your doorway with a note in his hand.

“This came from the village for you, Ms.” He said, holding it out to you.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking the note from him and breaking the seal. “Oh no.” You gasped, reading the note.

The note was in your father's own hand, but wrote about one of your patients who suffered from a chronic illness, telling you that he had turned for the worst and you needed to hasten down to the village before it was too late. In a flustered rush, you grabbed your cloak and the bag you kept your herbs in and rushed down to the front door, your heart pounding and mind racing, praying that you made it back to the village in time.

“Where are you going?” Henry's voice boomed, aided by the echo of the vast foyer.

“One of my patients in the village needs me.” You replied, startled and out of breath.

“No.” He snapped, shaking his head, rage burning in his blue eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“What!” You snapped, gobsmacked.

“You heard me.” Henry hissed at you, his body tense. “You aren't to leave this house, unless you have my say.” He told you, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “And you do not. So, go back to your room, this instant.”

You stared at Henry wide eyed, shocked and dumbfounded. How could he refuse to allow you to go down to the village to tend to one of your patients, one so critically ill. Surely, being someone that has lost loved ones to such a crippling illness would understand that need and haste of trying to cure someone with something so life altering. Who did he think he was? Your warden, keeping you in this dark and oppressing castle, cut off from those you loved, with only his hot and cold tempers and Damien the rest of your life.

“No.” You replied, your voice a mixture of stubborn defiance, shock and outlined in fear of what he would do with your disobedience. “He'll die.”

“Then, he can die and you'll have one less obligation.” Henry answered, his voice cold as ice. “Now, do as I told you.”

You gulped, watching him practically grow with his rage and impatience towards you, and your hand still resting on the handle of the front door, gripped it tighter. Henry saw the small action, like a wolf seeing the small twitch of a rabbit's body, readying itself to bolt from the reach of its mighty jaws. You had the door open by the time he took a step towards you and felt the brush of his fingers against the fabric of your cloak as you bolted out the door and into the bright light of the early afternoon sun.

Running several yards, and expecting Henry to catch you at any moment, you realized he wasn't and paused to look back towards the castle. You saw the outline of his tall frame standing just before the threshold of the doorway, unmoving to dash after you and drag you back inside. Henry just stood there, fuming with rage and shaking with something far more complex as he battled to go after you. But, after several long moments, he disappeared, the door slamming shut with an echo.

“Such a strange man.” You panted to yourself, before turning back down the path towards the village, wasting no more time to reach your patient.

“Sir?” Damien frowned, hearing the crash of the front door slamming closed from the other side of the house, and came running to make sure nothing nefarious had occurred.

“Damn that girl!” Henry roared, storming into his study.

“Has something happened to her?” Damien asked, alarmed for your welfare.

“Not yet.” Henry replied, angrily pacing the room. “She's left, after I explicitly told her not too.”

Damien's brow creased for a moment, then it dinged in his mind. “Her note, of course.” He nodded, smiling to himself.

“What note?” Henry growled, stopping his pacing to look at his servant.

“She received a note about twenty minutes ago, from her father.” He explained to his master. “One of her patients suffers from a chronic illness. Her mother cared for him before her death, and she's picked up the patients, in her wake.”

“You read the note?”

“I might have glanced at it.” He replied, smiling softly. “But, the rest of it, she told me herself.” He added, he had grown quite fond of you.

“Why didn't you tell me she received it?” Henry hissed, his lips pressed into an angry line.

“I didn't want to bother you.” Damien gulped, biting the corner of his own lip. “I know you've been very busy lately. Especially after one of the ships go-”

“I want any correspondents she gets, I don't care who they come from!” Henry barked at him. “I'll determine whether or not she'll receive them or not. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir.” Damien nodded, nervously licking his lips.

“Clear this away.” Henry huffed, waving a hand at the tea cup still on his desk as he sat back down.

“Right away, sir.” He rushed over and picked the empty cup up.

“Close the door.” Henry called as Damien started to leave.

Nodding his head, Damien closed the door behind him and took the cup into the kitchen to be washed. With the door closed, Henry leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips to his temples. His migraine had gone away after drinking the last cup of tea you had made him, but now it started to come back, his anger with you disobeying him and leaving the house, and him not going after you, to bring you back.

“Why didn't I bring her back?” He growled at himself, pressing his fingers harder into his temples. “Why couldn't I go after her?” He panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the throbbing pain in his skull.

You sighed as you stepped out of a hut in the village, exhausted from the run to the village and the struggle to help your patient. A warm hand rested on your shoulder and you didn't need to see who it was, before you turned into the warm body it belonged to, enveloped by iron hardened arms that clasped you to an even warmer chest.

“You did your best, little lamb.” Your father's rough voice whispered into your ear, his hot breath warming the cove of your cold nipped ear. “You did your best.”

“Ma would have done better.” You mumbled into his tunic.

He smiled into your hair and brushed it out of your face, before cupping your cheeks in his calloused hands. “Your mother would have done all the same things, little lamb. She taught you well.” He assured you, before gently kissing your forehead. “I should walk back with you, it's getting too dark for you to walk alone.” He said, letting you go.

“I don't want to go back, papa.” You frowned, not willing to let him go. “Please, don't make me go back to him.” You begged, looking up into his eyes. “He's so cold and mean to me.”

“Has he tried to wrong you?” Your father frowned, a flash of anger in his eyes.

“No. Thankfully. But, all I do is sit in my room and read or stare out the window. The only person I have to talk to, other than myself, is his servant, Damien, who is a very sweet and attentive person, it's just..” You paused, your chin dropping to your chest as tears started to overwhelm you.

“It's lonely.” You sniffled.

“I know how you feel, my sweet.” He sighed, huddling you back up into his arms. “It's lonely for me as well. But, things will get better, he'll warm up to you, once you work your sweet charm on him.” He chuckled. “I've seen you melt the icy heart of so many, I doubt Mr. Cavill will be immune to it.”

“I don't know, Papa.” You sighed, fruitlessly dabbing at your tears. “He's not like anyone I have ever met before.”

Your father's roar of laughter echoed in the growing misty darkness. “The man is the richest in the county and among the elitist rich in the country, lamb. He's got airs and graces, self entitlement, ego and everything at his fingertips. He's spent his life with people at his beck and call, doing his bidding and obeying him.” He chuckled. “You've never dealt with a rich person before. But, you'll adapt, you are so much like your mother in that aspect. You are strong, independent, intelligent and like a red hot piece of steel coming out of the forge, capable of shaping and molding yourself to fit into any situation.”

“You just need to show him that.”

“So, you think I should go back to him and his dreary castle?” You frowned up at him, your stomach in knots.

“I do, lamb.” He nodded, but you could see he had knots in his own stomach. “If he ever does anything vile against you or your person, you come home, and he'll feel the strength of my hammer.” He told you, showing where you had inherited your stubbornness.

“All right, Papa.” You sighed, but straightened your stiff back. “I'll go back, for you.”

“Then, let's be off!” He said, taking your bag for you and accompanied you back through the village and up the road leading back to Cavill and his Castle of loneliness. “I'll write to you more regularly.” Your father said, as you both reached the turn on the road leading up to the house. “So, it will seem like I am with you more.” He promised, his voice slightly weak.

“I would love nothing more.” You replied, your own voice weak with tears and emotions, as you reached out and squeezed his hands.

Taking leave of your father, you made the solitary and anxious walk up to the castle, trying not to let the shadows from the trees and sudden animal noises spook you, keeping your eyes forward. Once you reached the front door you thought of knocking or ringing the bell, but knew if you did it would wake Henry and you weren't in the mood and didn't possess the strength for his cold wrath. So, you tried the handle and found it open, which in actuality, didn't surprise you. No one in their right or ill mind would try to rob the Bane, no matter how rich he might be.

You quietly closed the door behind you, before taking off your shoes, not wanting to make the old floorboards creak under their soles. Gingerly tiptoeing by Henry's study door, it was closed, but you weren't willing to risk him being inside and hearing you, before mounting the stairs, pausing with each small noise you or the house made. Only letting out a soft sigh of relief, you weren't aware you were holding, when you reached your floor, no one but you occupied the floor, with the Bane on another floor and Damien sleeping somewhere below stairs no doubt.

But, you lifted a brow at the stream of light coming from under your room door, but brushed it off.

“Maybe Damien made up my fireplace to keep my room warm, while I was away.” You said to yourself, it was something sweet and thoughtful Damien would do. “Has to be, what else would it be?” You sighed at your silly paranoia and went inside.

“So, you came back.”

You yelped, dropping your shoes and bag to the floor with a clatter, pressing your back to the now closed door and your hands to your pounding chest. “What are you doing in here?” You demanded, out of breath from your fright.

“Waiting for you.” Henry replied, leaning forward in the chair by the window, that you usually occupied to read during the days.

“In my room?” You asked, lifting your brows at him and trying to collect yourself, not wanting to give the beast the satisfaction of seeing you off-guard.

“It's only your room, because I allow it to be.”

“How kind of you.” You hissed, finally recovering yourself and relaxed. “I didn't think you were capable of it.”

An oddly sinister smirk tugged up one side of Henry's mouth. “I am capable of a good many things.” He replied, licking his lips and resting his elbows on his knees. “How was your little patient, anyway.” He asked, lifting a brow at you. “Did you cure him with your cute little leaves?”

“Don't mock me!” You snapped, hands tightening into fists.

“I'll take that as a no, then.” He smirked more at you, apparently pleased with himself.

You drew in a shaky breath and let it out, trembling with a built up amount of emotions, before suddenly snapping towards him, in a fit of rage. “You fucking bastard!” You growled, jaw clenched and hands raised.

Henry snapped to his feet, like a flash of lightning, grasping your raised wrists in his hands, instantly restraining you and pushed you up against the wall beside the window he had been sitting next to. “That is fowl language from such a sweet mouth.” He growled, looking into your angry eyes.

“Did your patient break your little heart?” He mocked you, venomously.

He didn't believe for a moment that you had actually gone down to the village for a real patient, that your father had only sent the note as a cryptic message for something entirely different. Like a lover or beloved, trying to plot something to get you away from him.

“What are you talking about!” You yelled, struggling against him, confused and frightened.

“Do you think I'm a fool!?” Henry bellowed back at you, painfully pinning your hands to the wall at either side of your head. “I know that note was a fucking lie! A feign to get away from here, probably to see some peasant lover.”

“What do you care?!” You huffed, even more confused and shocked at him and his outburst. “You'd pawn me off to anything that gave you the chance to do so! You didn't want me here to start with, I know that, the whole village, if not the county, knows that.” You taunted him, hotly.

“Yet, here you are acting like your my scorned lover!”

“Because you are mine.” Henry growled in a low tone. “My possession to do with as I please.”

“Ha!” You laughed in his face. “I am no such thing.” You huffed, shaking your head at him. “I don't belong to you. My only misfortune is being held prisoner here, with a monster as a jailer.”

You yelped as one of Henry's hands gripped your jaw in a vice-like grip, forcing your head back to look up at him. “You belong to me.” He hissed, his face so close to yours now that your noses brushed and his hot breath wafted over your face. “I paid for you. All that money your dear father owes me; for the goods he uses to sustain his profession, for the taxes on the land his forge and house rest on, and so much more.”

“He sold you to me, to have those debts paid for and cleared away.”

The dull nails of his fingers pressed into the smooth skin of your cheeks and you whimpered, pathetically, immobilized by one of his hands pinning your wrists above you, his other hand gripping your head, like a bear trap, and his body caging you in, preventing even the smallest of movements of your body.

Your rage was forgotten in that instance, seeing the true Bane, and fear paralyzed you.

“So, yes.” He grinned at you in a way that made your heart stop. “I am your jailer, and you are my prisoner, and if you ever leave this house again, you will feel my wrath. Do I make myself clear to you?”

“Yes.” You gulped in a breathy whimper, unable to move your head to nod.

“Very good.” Henry replied, tipping his head slightly to the side. “Now, that's settled.” He looked to the clock, then back at you. “It's almost two in the morning.” He moved to stand sideways, but still stood close to you.

“Go to bed.” He ordered you, his tone leaving no room to argue.

Licking your dry lips, you slowly moved away from him, to the edge of your bed and pulled down the blankets, while he approached the door. You gulped, your throat sore from where the heel of his palm had pressed as he held you. “My patient,” You dared to say, as he opened the door. “died.” You informed him, your face hardening against the hurt of losing a patient and the fear that gripped you as Henry turned around.

Henry regarded you with a tired, cold and indifferent face, but his blue eyes gave away to something deeper you couldn't place your finger on. “You no longer have any patients, real or otherwise. So, you should put your mind to other things.” He told you in an emotionless voice, then left.

“Other than you, you mean.” You said to the closed door of your bedroom.

You stood by the side of your bed for a long time, paranoid that Henry was just standing in the hallway listening in on you, which he did for several minutes, before going to his own room, before your turned and went into the bathroom, desperately needing to soak in a hot bath. You needed that delectable heat and steaming water to melt away every ounce of stress, fear and exhaustion that you had coursing through your sore body, and it did just that. You didn't get out of the tub until the water turned as cold as Henry was towards you and it was almost four in the morning. Then, and only then, did you put on a nightie and crawl into bed, using the dying light of the fire in the grate to read your current book and fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon and tree tops.

“Good morning, Ms.!” Damien's chipper voice rang out as he entered your room with breakfast.

You groaned and tossed the blankets over your head, you had only gotten four hours of sleep and weren't in the mood for how happy-go-lucky Damien sounded, especially after what had happened with Henry during the night.

“Oh, come on!” He teased you, setting the silver tray of food down on the table. “It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the wind is hardly blowing and the birds are singing!” He said, trying to infuse his energetic mood into you, coaxing you up and out of bed, as he threw the curtains open and opened the windows, letting in the fresh sea air.

“Not today, Damien.” You sighed, turning your face into the plush pillow with a groan.

“Didn't sleep so well?” He asked, tilting his head at you, as he stood at the foot of your bed.

“You can say that.” Your mumbled reply answered, staring at the thin seam of light at the edge of your blanket.

“All right, then why don't you stay in bed, until you feel ready to get up and meet the day.” He suggested to you, though the concern was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, Damien.” You replied, closing out that thin line of light, plunging yourself in the darkness you felt yourself being swallowed into.

Lingering for a moment longer, Damien quietly showed himself out of your room, silently closing your door after him. You laid in bed for a long time after he left, not moving and barely moving, before letting out a deep sigh and tossed the blankets off of your body with a huff.

“Damn that man.” You growled, staring up at the canopy of your bed. “Damn him to hell!” You shouted, your anger and despair culminating inside of you.

You didn't care if he could hear you, let him hear you and rot for it. You had done him no wrong, you had done nothing to him, other than the misfortune of your father giving you to him to pay a lifelong debt, before you were even born and your father owed his father, before his death.

“Why couldn't all of you died in this miserable house, that's never been a home.” You growled, beating your fists against the feather mattress. “Do this already dismal world a spot brighter for the rest of us.” You raged, jerking your body to sit up and threw your pillow against the door.

You sighed and rubbed at your face, trying to calm yourself, not wanting the Bane to reduce you to this mood and attitude, it was one thing for him to act like it and another for you to do it. Your parents raised you better and would be disappointed in your tantrum. Straightening your back and taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you got out of bed, pulling on your robe and tied it around your waist, before moving over the breakfast Damien had made for you, it was almost cold now, but you didn't mind; your stomach was rumbling like an angry tiger.

Finishing your breakfast, you glanced around your room and sighed, there was nothing to do. But, read, that was.

Getting up, you went into the attached library, since you had finished your last book, The Iliad by Homer. You froze half way into the room, there was a package sitting on the table that hadn't been there the day before. You glanced at the door that led out of the library and into the hallway, it was closed, but the cobwebs that usually covered it, were broken and disturbed.

“Damien.” You sighed, shaking your head, figuring the man was just trying to cheer you up.

Picking the wrapped package up, you touched the delicate, fancy, black and gold wrapping paper, feeling the heft of what was inside and wondered what in the world he had gotten you. It felt like a book, from what you could feel through the paper, and you didn't want to ruin such nice, and clearly expensive, paper. So, you carefully unwrapped it and setting the paper down on the table, it was indeed a book, a hardcover of deep brown leather and gold stamping decoration on both covers and the spine.

Turning it over, you blinked at the cover.

“The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas.” You read off the front cover, before opening it, a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled on it slipped out and fell to the floor, making you bend down to pick it up.

Setting the book down, you unfolded the note, then frowned and shook your head at it, it was written on Cavill Industries stationary. But, the words surprised and shocked you even more.

My actions last night were unspeakable, I do not wish to keep you a prisoner in a place that has become my own penitentiary, nor make you feel fear, while you stay within these walls.

I have my reasons, that are not your fault and beyond your understanding. Take my apology with this gift, I have read it myself, and would love to know what you think of it.

Perhaps over dinner, one night.

If you would be so nicely inclined to have it, with me. - Henry

Your mouth was agape by the time you finished reading his note, having to read it twice over to ensure you weren't misreading it. You were so taken aback and dumbstruck by it, how could this be the same man that had pinned you, bodily, to a wall the night before, telling you of the wrath you would endure if you considered leaving the castle without his permission.

Was it some sick and amusing joke of his?

Was he trying to lull you into some sort of false confidence?

Was he trying to brainwash you into falling into being his good little pet?

Or was Henry being genuine and trying to make amends for his inexcusable and ungentlemanly behavior towards you?

It was all too confusing and made your head throb.

So, you set the note down on the table and picked up the book, rubbing your palm over the orate cover, before moving over to the window seat, settling on its plush cushion, the filtered gray light coming from the cloudy sky came through the windowpane, illuminated the pages just enough for you to read by, and you quickly got lost in the world that inked its pages.

[mojave-pete]

Not one person has been charged with possessing or using a gun inside the Capitol. Further, no one even has been identified as carrying a gun inside the building.

Since the Justice Department launched its nationwide manhunt to track down and arrest anyone involved with the Capitol breach on January 6, hundreds of perpetrators have been arrested.

Most face misdemeanor charges for trespassing or disorderly conduct, but dozens are in jail and denied bond for the thoughtcrime of believing the 2020 presidential election wasn’t on the up-and-up. The acting U.S. attorney general overseeing the investigation promises to apprehend hundreds more, however, it’s been two weeks since authorities have arrested anyone in connection to the probe.

Almost as embarrassing as the bad behavior of a handful of Trump supporters that day is the conduct of the national news media and Washington lawmakers. The country has been subjected to a public group therapy session of sorts wherein grown adults—Republicans and Democrats alike, elected to defend the country at all costs—now recount their harrowing experiences on January 6, which include running away from no one in particular or insisting, without evidence, that they were on the verge of being “murdered.”

The media continue to promote any number of fabricated storylines intended to bolster the laughable narrative of an “insurrection” occurring at the Capitol. The concocted account of the death of Capitol Police Officer Brian Sicknick recently fell apart; the New York Times, after pressure from outlets including American Greatness, effectively retracted its January 8 article claiming Sicknick was killed by a fire extinguisher at the hands of Trump “loyalists.”

So now it’s time to straighten out another twisted tale animating the folklore of January 6: The idea the random chaos amounted to an “armed insurrection.” Hundreds of crazed Trumpists carrying deadly weapons, the public believes, stormed the Capitol to injure or kill senators, representatives, and even Vice President Mike Pence in order to avenge a “stolen” election.

Most news outlets—as they did with the coverage of Sicknick’s death—unflinchingly repeat the “armed insurrection” trope, which can be traced back to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s January 7 press conference. “[Y[esterday, the President of the United States incited an armed insurrection against America, the gleeful desecration of the US Capitol…and the violence targeting Congress are horrors that will forever stay in our nation’s history,” Pelosi ranted.

But like everything else that exits the mouth of the Speaker of the House, her description isn’t only flat wrong but also manufactured for wicked political purposes.

When a thinking person hears the word “armed,” he usually thinks of a firearm, or a gun. Yet here is how the Justice Department describes the trove of deadly weapons seen at the Capitol that day: “During the course of the violent protests, several violent protestors were armed with weapons including bats, pepper spray, sticks, zip ties, as well as bulletproof vests and anti-tear gas masks.” (The zip ties, it’s important to note, weren’t brought into the building by Trumpists but by law enforcement officials.)

I reviewed the charges filed against the more than 200 people arrested for criminal misconduct related to January 6 and found only 14 defendants face any sort of weapons charge. Offenses vary; indictments range from possession of a “deadly” weapon on “restricted” grounds to assaulting a police officer.

But so far, just two people have been charged with unlawful possession of a firearm—and there’s no proof either man “breached” the Capitol let alone threatened lawmakers as part of a coordinated, armed insurrection.

Lonnie Coffman, 70, was indicted by a D.C. grand jury on January 11 with 17 firearms violations. Around 1 p.m. on January 6, Capitol Police, according to charging documents, noticed what appeared to be a gun on the front seat of a pickup truck parked near the Capitol. Cops searched the vehicle and found a handgun, a rifle, loaded magazines, and mason jars filled with material they believed were components to make Molotov cocktails. When Coffman arrived near his vehicle at around 6:30 p.m., he was questioned by police; they discovered two small handguns in his pockets.

Federal authorities threw the book at Coffman, a veteran with no criminal record.

But although he’s been charged with more than a dozen violations of D.C.’s strict gun possession laws, Coffman has not been charged with using his guns, ammunition, or the alleged Molotov cocktails. Further, it’s worth noting that aside from the two pistols found on his person, the other contraband was locked in his truck as the “insurrection” occurred.

The FBI isn’t finished with Coffman yet; agents raided his remote Alabama home on January 26. He’s currently being held in a D.C. jail without bail.

Christopher Alberts was arrested near the Capitol the evening of January 6 after police found a 9 mm handgun and ammunition in his possession. The Maryland resident has been charged with one count of unlawful possession of a firearm on Capitol grounds or building, one count of carrying a pistol without a license, one count of possession of ammunition, and one count of trespassing.

Again, although Alberts was detained near the Capitol, prosecutors do not allege he entered the building or attempted to use his weapon on January 6.

Here is a roundup of the non-firearm “dangerous and deadly” weapons charges:

Zachary Alam, nicknamed “Helmet Boy,” is charged with assaulting an officer with a deadly weapon although it’s unclear if the weapon used was the helmet he found on the ground or his body. (Documents allege Alam “pushed his body up against one of the Capitol Police officers guarding the door.”) Alam was near Ashli Babbitt when she was shot and killed by a still-unidentified police officer.

Richard Barnett, the man pictured behind Pelosi’s desk, faces two charges of unlawfully possessing a “dangerous or deadly weapon,” which, according to prosecutors, was a “ZAP Hike N Strike 950,000 Volt Stun Gun Walking Stick” he carried with him on January 6. He did not use it.

Scott Fairlamb faces a 12-count indictment including assaulting an officer and “entering and remaining in a restricted building or grounds with a deadly or dangerous weapon.” Fairlamb had a small collapsible baton; it’s unclear whether he entered the Capitol at any time.

Robert Gieswien, found with a baseball bat and pepper spray, is charged with “assaulting, resisting, or impeding certain officers using a dangerous weapon.”

Alex Harkrider and Ryan Nichols are being charged together; they face 13 counts, including four related to possession or use of “deadly or dangerous” weapons. Nichols is accused of using pepper spray on an officer—he allegedly sprayed the irritant on a crowd which included officers attempting to secure the building—and carrying a crowbar into the Capitol. Harkrider is charged with illegally possessing an axe on government property. Investigators gleaned most of their evidence from posts on the defendants’ social media accounts.

Emanuel Jackson is charged with striking police officers outside the Capitol with a baseball bat.

Edward Lamb, according to charging documents, “swung, thrusted, and/or jabbed the [baseball] bat at law enforcement officers multiple times” outside the Capitol. He faces 11 counts including three related to use of a deadly weapon.

Patrick McCaughey was directly behind Officer Daniel Hodges when he was crushed in a doorway by the mob. McCaughey faces three weapon-related charges; the weapon was a police riot shield he found on the scene.

Matthew Miller is charged with using a deadly weapon—a fire extinguisher—outside the Capitol. Miller allegedly sprayed the contents toward officers.

Jordan Mink is accused of using a “deadly weapon,” a baseball bat, on “unrestricted” grounds. (Mink is photographed smashing in a window.) In denying bond, a federal magistrate stated that January 6 was “a horrendous crime against our democracy that Mr. Mink not only participated in, but was a very active and violent participant.”

Robert Sanford, initially believed to be the suspect who injured Sicknick, is charged with throwing a fire extinguisher and striking three officers. (Investigators said the object “appeared” to be a fire extinguisher.) The retired Pennsylvania fireman also is being held without bond.

So, as Joe Biden likes to say, let’s be clear: Not one person has been charged with possessing or using a gun inside the Capitol. Further, no one has been identified as carrying a gun inside the building. Of the hundreds of photographs posted on the FBIs Most Wanted List for the Capitol breach investigation, not a single picture shows anyone with a firearm.

Only one defendant had a handgun on his person outside the building hours after the “insurrection” ended. The other defendant had two guns on his person but investigators don’t allege he was inside the Capitol on January 6.

At least 100,000 attended Trump’s speech that day; fewer than 1,000 “stormed” the Capitol. A few hundred have been arrested and only 14 face weapons charges. Those “deadly and dangerous” weapons include two baseball bats, a can of pepper spray, a walking stick/stun gun, an axe, a few fire extinguishers (one in question), a helmet, a riot shield, and a collapsible baton. And at no time did this random weaponry pose a lethal threat to lawmakers inside the Capitol.

Do the idiots who used any sort of weapon to harm an officer or damage property deserve to pay for their stupid and violent actions? Yes.

Was January 6, 2021 an “armed insurrection” or anything close?

No.

Another hoax is being built to take out Trump voters!

[salazarslytherin]

player, heartbreaker (wolfstar)

requested: nope! written for @acosmis-t ’s writing challenge! send in your own request here

summary: in which sirius breaks remus’ heart- not for the first time, but definitely the last.

prompts: 6. “i love you.”, “no you don’t” 8. “how was i such an idiot, to believe that you, out of all people, could ever love me?” 13. “maybe they were right. you never did change.”

cw/tw: angst, cheating, just tears, and a whole lot of em

word count: 2.4k

🃛 masterlist!

a/n: if you enjoyed this oneshot please consider reblogging and/or dropping me a follow! it’ll help me out a lot :)

I love you.

Those three words meant so much to Remus. Shunned by so many throughout his life, coming to Hogwarts and feeling the warm embrace of friendship and the overwhelming amounts of love that came with it made him lightheaded, feeling as if he were floating on air.

Those three words had made Remus excuse so much. Times he’d gotten in trouble with McGonagall because of a stupid prank Sirius had pulled and blamed on him.

“She’ll pull me out of quidditch for this! You’re the perfect student, she’ll let you off the hook! I love you Moony!”

Remus wasn’t let off the hook, but he never held it against Sirius.

Dangerous and idiotic pranks were forgiven- like the Full Moon Incident with Snape in fifth year. The Black heir had grovelled and apologised, spending many nights on his knees, begging for Remus’ forgiveness.

“Moony I’m so sorry, I was just, infuriated by the sheer audacity of Snivellus. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I love you, and I would do anything to prove to you that I can make it up to you.”

It took another full moon for Remus to forgive him, but he never forgot the heartbreak and betrayal that the incident had brought him.

Yet, he didn’t hold it against him. Because it was Sirius Black.

The first boy to show him friendship, the first boy to show him affection, the first boy to show him love.

⚔︎.

Not long after the Incident, the love between the two had blossomed- growing from a platonic, brotherly love to one that was more complicated.

One was the Prince of Gryffindor; the biggest player and heartbreaker that Hogwarts had seen in decades. Flirting and fucking girls and boys alike, Sirius Black left behind him a trail of tears and heartbreak. Yet he was never resented for it, because that’s just who he was.

Sirius Black, the serial heartbreaker.

The other was quiet. The most unassuming member of the Marauders- studious and always willing to help others regardless of house and year. A Werewolf littered with scars, but the gentlest person you could ever meet. Remus Lupin was the kindest soul you could find, but vicious when you needed him to be. Although quiet, he was charming and outgoing, the kind of person you could have a beer with, but also come to for your troubles.

Remus Lupin, the kindest boy at Hogwarts.

The two were best friends, but perhaps there was always a little bit more.

Sirius was openly bisexual, flamboyant and flaunting of his sexuality, he flirted with anyone and everyone.

Rumour has it he tried to flirt Filch out of detention once.

Remus was gay, but only told others when asked. He didn’t think his sexuality was anyone’s business, perhaps except his and his partner’s only.

As a result of these two polar opposites that were too similar for their own good, there was always an underlying sense of attraction. Remus would watch Sirius from behind a book, smiling at his jokes, laughing at his antics.

Sirius always admired Remus’ scars, equating them with bravery and beauty.

One day, the attraction had just clicked, and the words “I love you Moony” became “I’m in love with you, Moony.”

The stolen glances turned into shared, lingering looks in classes after a make-out session in an alcove- Remus turning red when he realised he was wearing Sirius’ shirt instead of his own, one that was just a tad bit too small for the Werewolf, then vermillion when someone pointed out a hickey Sirius had left on his neck.

Nights were no longer lonely– neither of the two was plagued with nightmares anymore as, much like the year before, many nights were spent with Sirius on his knees- albeit under very, very different circumstances.

⚔︎.

Not long after they had gotten together, Gryffindor won yet another quidditch match against Slytherin, and a Marauders party had exploded in the Common Room. Students from every house, save for Slytherin, partied the night away with bottles of firewhiskey and cake from the house elves, which ended up more on people’s faces than in their mouths.

Remus, not one to “party hard” like Sirius or James, found himself sitting on the window seat, chatting with passersby, sipping on a cup of firewhiskey while watching his friends on the dance floor.

“Hey there Lupin. Not out there with the rest of your marauders?”

Lily sat herself down next to Remus, clutching her own firewhiskey as she watched her boyfriend dance with Remus’, Peter bouncing awkwardly between the two.

“Not really feeling up for it. Why aren’t you out there yourself? Thought you’d be out dancing with James, you two seem awfully close these days.”

A blush graced Lily’s face, coughing slightly to cover her embarrassment as she turned to face her fellow prefect.

“Well, you and Black seem awfully close yourselves. Are you actually dating him?”

From anyone else, Remus would’ve thought the question rude and blunt, intrusive, even. But over the years, he began counting Lily Evans a friend almost as close as the Marauders, so he shrugged, and let it slide.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

The redhead shrugged, looking out onto the dance floor where a Ravenclaw had grabbed onto Sirius, grinding onto his front as the Gryffindor seemed to welcome him, holding his hips close to his own, the pair lost in the music.

“I just worry about you, Remus. I know you two are best friends, and you should always trust the people you’re with, but, we all know what Black’s like. I don’t want to see you become one of the ones he leaves behind.”

Remus clenched his jaw at the sight of Nathan Sulzer grinding on his boyfriend, his heart clenching slightly as Sirius did nothing to stop him.

“I’ll be fine Lily.”

James wandered towards the two of them, pressing a kiss to Lily’s lips as he shoved Remus lightly on the shoulder.

“Alright, Moony?”

Remus felt his heart break slightly as Nathan peppered kisses on Sirius’ neck, the same spots he had kissed that very morning before the quidditch match. James followed the werewolf’s gaze as he failed to reply, his own fist clenching in response.

“Merlin Moony, I’m so sorry. I swear I thought he would’ve changed for you. I love that man but I swear he can be so thick somedays.”

Remus shook his head, feeling tears well up that he willed away, putting down the cup and pushing himself off the seat.

“It’s fine. I’m going to head upstairs first. G’night you two.”

“I love you Moony.”

“Love you too Prongs. Night Lil.”

⚔︎.

That was not the night Sirius Black broke Remus Lupin’s heart for the last time. Later that night, the beater had come up, small hickeys staining his neck and collar overturned as he begged Remus for his forgiveness.

“I was so drunk baby I didn’t even realise what he was doing. Just celebrating, I didn’t even know who I was dancing with! I love you so much Re I’m so sorry. It will never happen again.”

Remus forgave him. He always did.

After all, this was Sirius Black he was faced with.

And if we know anything, it’s that Remus Lupin always forgave Sirius Black.

Later that week, when Nathan Sulzer came to Remus to ask for help with a transfiguration essay, he merely turned and walked away, causing Nathan to wonder what he’d done to earn the ire of the kindest boy in Hogwarts.

⚔︎.

It was the last day of exams in sixth year. Remus and Peter, being the only ones in the Marauders to take NEWT level Ancient Runes, were the last to finish their exams. Excitedly discussing what was to come in the summer as well as the final weeks of school, the two made their way back to Gryffindor tower.

“So what are you doing over the summer Wormy? Have your parents settled on a vacation spot yet, or are you going to finally stay around for once?”

Peter smiled softly, shrugging as he clutched his books to his chest.

“I’m not really sure, but I think we should be around for the last few weeks. You’re staying with Prongs and Padfoot for a while, right? I think I’ll probably be able to join you if you’re still there by the time I get-”

The pair’s conversation was cut short as they ascended the stairs to their dorm, hearing a piercing feminine moan coming from their room.

“Merlin, never pegged Lily for the vocal type.”

Peter frowned, uncomfortable.

“Clearly you’ve not been around the Potter household when she stays with Prongs during Christmas. ”

Shuddering, their soft laughter was cut short as footsteps thundered up the stairs behind them, muscular arms landing on the two Marauders’ shoulders.

“Alright, lads! Finally finished with your exams?”

James Fleamont Potter stood behind his two fellow Marauders in all his glory, making the boys freeze in their actions.

“I- you-”

Remus’ mind was moving a mile a minute, the reality clocking in but he refused to admit it. This had to be some sort of a sick prank.

“If you’re out here, then who’s that in there having sex with Lily?!”

Peter pointed at the door, the confusion and adrenaline running through the three boys making them miss the soft moan of ‘Sirius’ coming from behind the doors.

“What?! Nobody better be having sex with my Lily!”

The heavy wooden doors flew open as James kicked it with all his might, revealing Emmeline Vance naked and on top of the one and only, Sirius Black.

“Padfoot?!” emerged out of Peter’s mouth at the same time as the words “That’s not Lily!” came from James’, before reality dawned upon the two, turning to face the werewolf.

“Get out.”

“Moony I-”

For the first time in a long time, Remus felt a fire rise in his stomach, his temper snapping as he threw his books on the ground.

“All of you, get out!”

The werewolf’s head snapped up at the naked boy on the bed, who was stealing fearful glances at the girl quickly redressing next to him.

“Except you, Black.”

⚔︎.

Sirius had awkwardly finished putting on his clothes as Remus stood beside his own bed, feeling nothing, his previous anger had sizzled out and left him hollow.

“Moony I-”

“I don’t want to hear you speak. I don’t, I just,”

A memory flashed by Remus’ mind, that party after Gryffindor’s first win of the year. Lily’s words echoing in his mind: we all know what Black’s like.

“Maybe they were right. You never did change.”

A cold laugh emerged from the prefect’s lips, looking up at the ceiling he’d become so familiar with over the past year. The one he’d studied night after night with Sirius in his arms, the one he’d memorised when he wondered whether he did anything wrong when Sirius apologised to him for this thing or that, breaking his heart bit by bit, day by day.

“How was I such an idiot, to believe that you, of all people, could ever love me? Sirius Black, prince of Gryffindor. The biggest player Hogwarts has ever seen, the biggest heartbreaker there’s ever been!”

Remus continued laughing his emotionless laugh, one that made Sirius wince and shudder. It was so unlike him, so hollow, so cruel.

Nothing like his Remus.

“Of course I love you Moony. I love you.”

Sirius made his way over to Remus, his calloused hands reaching out towards Remus’ scarred ones.

“No you don’t.”

Remus’ hand was enveloped for a mere second, the familiar warmth begging him to stay before his sinking heart reminded him of the hurt he was pushed under by those same hands, and ripped himself away.

“If you loved me, you would never have done this. If you loved me, you’d never have made me doubt whether you really wanted to be with me. If you’d loved me,”

Remus looked at Sirius for the first time since James and Peter left the room. As their eyes met, Remus felt the tears welling in the grey eyes he loved so dearly pulling at his heartstrings, clenching his jaw before continuing, willing his own tears not to fall.

“We wouldn’t be here. I was in love with you, but you were in love with the idea of me. The chase, the excitement of a relationship you couldn’t flaunt all across the halls.”

Muted ‘no’s and soundless protests were made as Sirius fell to his knees in front of Remus for the umpteenth time that year, but this time out of desperation, an attempt to salvage something that couldn’t be salvaged.

“But you got tired, and you found the excitement in sneaking around with others. Pushing the boundaries to see how far you could get without being caught.”

Tears fell freely from Sirius’ eyes now, clutching onto Remus’ trousers as he cried out.

“That’s not it. Please Re, I love you, I love you so much. You’re everything for me, my home, my only. Please don’t do this.”

Remus’ own eyes flew shut, but he continued, tears escaping as rapidly as the words did.

“And now you’ve gotten caught. I hope it was worth it, because I’m done forgiving you. I’m just so, so done. I’m tired of not being good enough for you, I’m tired of second guessing myself and wondering why you end up in other people’s arms.”

Sirius shook his head fervently, incoherent words and sobs wracked from his throat as he hugged Remus’ legs with more strength than he knew he had, shaking his head at the werewolf’s words.

“You know, I would’ve done anything for you. I forgave you each and every time you crawled back to me. No matter how many times you broke my heart, I turned to putty in your hands every time you told me ‘I love you’.”

Remus’ hands landed on the boy’s shoulders for the last time, a motion so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time, pulling him away. He took Sirius’ chin into his hand, tilting his head up to meet his tearfully hopeful eyes.

“I love you Remus.”

Desperation dripped from the animagus' voice, his eyes searching Remus' face for one last bit of mercy, one last "I love you".

“I love you Sirius. But I don’t want to love you any longer.”

[themaribatpit]

Saturday Challenge: Hurt Without Comfort

Written by: The Maribat Pit This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, they should have done it his way…

Marinette was fighting for her life, while Master Fu tended to her wounds.  All her friends could do was wait, as they gathered around the shop he used as a front.  Jason was absolutely furious with himself for not acting sooner, the person who she tried to save had shot her just before she could capture whatever was controlling him.  Jason shot the akuma and watched as it shattered into several little pieces, he hoped Hawk Moth felt that gunshot too.  Now Jason was trapped in a room with her friends Adrien, Alya, and Nino.  Their little fairy friends were also very quiet, hovering very close to whoever possessed the magic jewelry that contained their power.   

Of course, this wasn’t Gotham City, Marinette had reminded him time and time again.  The people she was up against were being controlled by Hawk Moth or Mayura, whatever damage they caused could be fixed with a wave of her lucky charm.  Oh, how he wanted to believe that was true right now.  Tikki phased through the door and you could tell just by looking at her that Master Fu was still in the process of trying to heal her. 

Moments later, Chloe walked in and the atmosphere began to feel stifling with tension.  She looked around the room at all the people anxiously waiting for news.  “What happened? Where is she?” she snapped, Adrien stepped forward to try and answer her question when her eyes fell on Jason. “You, she trusted you, she thought you were some kind of hero. She thought you were her ‘Red Knight’, but I know exactly what you are” Jason stood up, ready to walk out of the room. He wasn’t going to take this from a spoiled little rich girl.  She threw a small file onto the nearby table.  Jason glanced at it, articles and photos of the Red Hood and his dealings.  He’d almost be impressed that she had access to some of this information, probably the perks of being a mayor’s daughter. 

“So, let me get this straight Miss Bourgeois” Jason growled, “you found information that, let’s be honest, isn’t news to anyone who’s actually met me. I was one of Gotham’s most feared crime lords, still probably am. It probably doesn’t begin to cover what I do to people who break my rules”.

Chloe crossed her arms, “so you won’t even try and deny it?”

“Trust me when I say even Marinette knows a lot more than what’s in those files,” he told her.  “She knows that I killed people who have done things you can’t begin to imagine, some of whom taught me what I know”, he took a couple of steps towards her. “Much like you and your little friends here, I’ve been doing this since I was 13” he explained, “I wasn’t up against magic mind control victims, I was up against people who delight in making people suffer”.

Alya put an arm out in front of Jason, while Adrien tried to hold Chloe by the shoulders, keeping the two of them apart.  “Look everyone, let’s all just calm down and wait til Marinette wakes up” Nino said, trying his best to diffuse the situation. 

“The only reason she’s in there is because she put her trust in someone like you” Chloe sneered, “what makes you so sure she’s going to be fine?”

“Honestly, I don’t know” Jason said in a frighteningly low voice,  Alya looked up and saw that his face didn’t change much.  The stoic glare made it very difficult to tell exactly what he was thinking.   “Your friend is at death’s door, and that’s a dumb question to ask someone who’s been in and out through it,” there was a long silence as the meaning of his words sank in.  Tikki and Plagg exchanged knowing glances, their magic was the very thing that gave birth to the Lazarus pits.  “So sorry if you are just about the last thing I’m afraid of,” he narrowed his eyes at her as he said this.  Jason gently lowered Alya’s arm and brushed past Chloe as he walked away.  He could just about hear what Alya was saying as he left.

“Chloe listen, we’re all worried for Marinette” Alya told her, “but what happened wasn’t Jason’s fault. She knew all that, but chose to see the good in him, just like she chose to see the good in you.”

When he stepped outside, he noticed that the rain was pouring heavily.  Jason sighed, it was almost like he was cursed, bringing Gotham’s atmosphere into this colourful little city.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tikki hovering just beside him.  He sighed and opened one of the lapels in his leather jacket, letting Tikki nestle herself inside before picking a direction and walking away. 

He found the nearest bar and sat down, looking around the quiet room.  Most of the people inside were in their own little worlds, barely paying any attention to anyone else outside of their own table.  Jason took off his jacket and Tikki slowly floated out of the inside pocket, before slumping down behind the beer bottle.  If she wanted him to tell her that Marinette would be alright, he couldn’t be certain, no matter how much he wished it was true.  Jason watched the world go by in that tiny little bar, neither of them said a word to one another.  As far as anyone else was concerned, Jason was sitting there by himself, alone.  He had half a mind to take matters into his own hands and go track down Hawk Moth and Mayura himself.  They were the ones responsible, they didn’t care who got hurt in the carnage that they created.  The only problem was it wasn’t his fight, and that was the very reason that he played by Marinette’s rules in the first place.  She explained that if she could just take back the Miraculous, they would be powerless, and that was a win in her book.  The Kwami would be returned to the Miracle box, and everyone could just get on with their lives.  By the time he was on his second bottle, he looked down at Tikki, her antenna drooping with sadness.  Jason sighed “go back and check on her”, Tikki looked up with a confused look on her face.  “If she wakes up and you’re not there, she’s gonna feel pretty sad.” he explained.  Tikki hovered towards the window before turning towards him, “she’ll be sad if you’re not there as well” she told him. “She’ll know where to find me, right now,” he took one last gulp of beer, “right now I just need to think.” he said.  Tikki hesitated before vanishing through the window in a puff of pink bubbles, leaving Jason alone with his thoughts and some more alcohol.  Jason stared at the yellow glow of the lights hanging from the ceiling, thinking about just how much he had been through.  @jasonette-july-event

[poisonintopositivity]

(My Very Own) Top 20 Sterek Fics

Here is my very own Top 20 Sterek Fics (out of order)

For me, these fanfictions are a “MUST READ NOW!!!” kind of deal. These authors have so much talent, it’s incredible. These stories are just marvelous and deserve LOVE ! So, I decided to share them with you.

I’ve read most of these fics several times and some of them are even my bedside table books (with Harry Potter and the Prisonner of Azcaban and Jane Eyre)

So here we go!

1:  Enemy Lines by @qhuinn -  150k - Explicit - Dystopia - Enemies to friends to lovers - Action/adventure

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

2:  Actions Speak Louder than Words by @isthatbloodonhisshirt - 435k - Explicit - The BEST and slowest burn there is - Spark Stiles/Mute Derek - Friends to Lovers

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.”

That was a bad word. Not found.

Have.

Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment.

One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

3: Radio Tower by @hyperlittlenori - 130k - Explicit - Dystopia - Hope - Slow Burn/Build 

Everything was different. The world he knew was gone. It’d been a long time since he’d started thinking he was probably one of the last humans on earth, that out there the only sentient beings were those that would devour him whole. He wasn’t sure why he continued with the radio broadcasts, continued to talk into nothingness. The only explanation was that there was a spark of hope in him yet that he wasn’t alone. The lonely safety Stiles has built around an old radio tower in the middle of nowhere is about to be broken. Stiles isn’t sure if Derek is a harbinger of chaos or hope at the end of the world. 

4:  The Hollow Moon by @thepsychicclam - 180k - Explicit - Fix-It - Memory Loss - Slow Burn/Build

It's the summer after Stiles' first year of college, and he's working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he's okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn't care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he's just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

5 :  Amor Fati by @alocalband  - 43k - Explicit - Consent is sexy - First Time - Fluff & Angst

When Stiles gets thrown into the bank vault about twenty minutes after him, Derek isn’t even surprised.As it turns out, neither is Stiles.

6 :  (not so) Pure Imagination by theroguesgambit - 33k - Explicit - Shared fantasies - Angst with a happy ending - hotdamn! 

"There is a world where whenever someone fantasizes about you, you can physically feel it, but you have no idea who is thinking it about you."

Stiles knows it's wrong, but he's been Fantasizing about Derek and he can't bring himself to stop. Derek doesn't know who's taken an interest in him, but he's enjoying it way more than he probably should.

7: What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm - 119k - Explicit - Wolf!Derek - Slow Burn/Build - Friends to Lovers

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

8:  Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by @devildoll - 77k - Explicit - Captivity - Feral!Derek - Angst with a happy ending

"Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf." An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

9 :  What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by @isthatbloodonhisshirt - 196k - Explicit - Soulmate - Slow Burn - Misunderstandings 

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!”

Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her.

“What?! What was that sound?!”

“You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder.

“Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!”

“Mike,” she argued.

“Who’s Mike?” Scott asked.

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

10 :  taste your beating heart by @cinematicnomad​ - 112k - Mature - Pack Dynamics - Slow Burn/Build - Stilinski Family Feels

Something was wrong in Beacon Hills. Derek was halfway across the country when he felt a call to return to his hometown, and somehow Stiles had been talked into letting the werewolf stay in his guest bedroom. This could lead to nothing good.

11 :  between the click of the light and the start of the dream by @thepsychicclam 105k - Explicit - Pack Dynamics - Getting Togheter - Fluff & Angst

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void.

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

12:  And You Say You're Alone by taelynhawker - 30k - Explicit - Pack Dynamincs - Bad Friend Scott - Romance

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

13:  Trust Fall by Stoney - 144k - Explicit - Body Swap - Hurt/Confort - Slow Burn/Build

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait...does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit.

****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused.

Of course.

14:  Gravity's Got Nothing on You by @zosofi - 84k - Explicit - Fake/Pretend Boyfriends - Humor - Romance

“Three weeks,” Derek says.

“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.

“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…

“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“

“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.

15:  Every Step You Take by @nokomiss - 49k - Mature - Magic - UST - Secret Feelings

Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super.

16:  Baking My Way Into Your Heart by theSilence - 179k - Mature - College AU/Coffee Shop AU - Slow Burn/Build - Friends to Lovers

Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

17:  Windows by @drgrlfriend - 83k - Explicit - Blind!Stiles - Friends to Lovers - Found Families 

Derek has a new neighbor who won't stop looking.

Excerpt:

“You’re blind,” Derek said flatly, the anger draining from him so suddenly he felt almost woozy. His vision cleared, his claws sliding back into blunt fingernails.

“Thanks for the memo, genius,” the kid said acidly. “I can still fucking defend myself, so don’t take another damn step.”

“Fuck, I...I’m sorry,” Derek stuttered.

“What?!” The kid’s brow crinkled. “I mean — what?! You’re fucking sorry!?” His lips thinned into a harsh line. “What, is this some kinda Hallmark movie where you’re discovering the error of your ways because you don’t want to rob a blind person?! That’s fucking condescending, man. I’ll have you know that —”

“Just, wait.” Derek interrupted what was apparently the start of a convincing argument as to why he should rob the kid after all, feeling his head start to spin. “This is — it’s a misunderstanding. I’m — I’m not robbing you. You’re — you’re safe, okay? I’m taking three steps back. Just — just let me explain.”

“Explain why you came busting into my apartment? Yeah, go right ahead, man, I can’t wait to hear this epic tale.”

18 :  Just to See You Again by MellytheHun (@loserchildhotpants​) - 15k - Explicit - Love Letters - Getting Together - College AU 

A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.

He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.

19:  Chasing Slumber by @hyperlittlenori - 21k - Explicit - Post-Nogitsune - Porn With Feelings - Fix it

Stiles finds solitude and a glimpse at recovering from his ordeal with the Nogitsune in a dingy motel far from Beacon Hills. Inhuman blue eyes follow his silent struggles in the darkness of the room and he can no longer pretend to sleep, pretend he hasn’t been profoundly changed by all that has happened. He can only let his fingers stretch out across threadbare but clean sheets and clench around them, in a failed attempt at not reaching for Derek.

20 :  the thread is ripping by @thepsychicclam - 36k - Explicit - Pinning - Angst with a happy ending - Flashbacks

Stiles is 27 now, with a master’s degree and a career and a house and a serious boyfriend and a life in San Francisco that doesn't include Derek. But then Stiles unexpectedly shows back up in Beacon Hills, and Derek would recognize that scent anywhere.

If you are interested, feel free to check out my Sterek Fic Recs Collections on A03.

On this lovely note, happy reading guys!

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good Epilogue

Not my gif

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a   Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

[Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18]

Warnings: mentions of sex

-

The game had started as a simple distraction while Charlie slept. Back at their cabin in Romania, almost two weeks after the incident in London and receiving confirmation that Voldemort had returned, Charlie and Kate forced themselves to do something they were both terrible at: spending an afternoon doing nothing.

Charlie had managed for the first time in months to take a short nap. 

Kate couldn’t. 

With her wand she had levitated a pillow and was spinning it in the air when another one identical to this one joined in. Her partner had woken up and without saying anything, they started a fight over their heads.

At some point they turned around in bed, trying to distract each other from their target and now they were side by side, with their feet towards the head of the bed.

Every now and then, Kate would look down at Charlie’s bare legs, but it wasn’t enough to lose the fight. Luckily, he was wearing a T-shirt. Knowing this, and taking advantage of the cotton shorts she was wearing, Charlie let his right leg fall on her own.

He saw out of the corner of his eye how she shook her head and before he could anticipate it, Kate twisted her arm so that she could cover his face with the back of her hand. Neither of them lost sight of their flying pillows.

After a while Kate tried uselessly to escape from Charlie’s leg and get the hand he had kidnapped against his chest back. Meanwhile, he decided to keep playing dirty.

Releasing her arm, and taking advantage of her concentration, he slightly pinched her waist.

Her torso jumped like a spring away from him, lifting her light green tank top, but she couldn’t go very far because of the weight of now Charlie’s two legs.

He smiled to himself. Without warning, he began to pinch every exposed skin he could reach, making Kate squirm like a fish out of water.

She was laughing, against her will, and the pillow began to twirl around the room following the erratic motion of her wand. She began to slap his hands away, but it was useless. Sticking out her tongue a bit to the side, Charlie noticed, she gained control over her pillow again and with a sharp motion of her wand it fell right onto Charlie’s face.

The tickles stopped for a second, and Charlie froze in place. The other pillow fell to the floor with a soft thud and Kate held her breath, waiting for a reaction.

Her mouth filled with air, making her cheeks round, as she tried as best as she could to control the laugh that was trying to escape.

Charlie grabbed the pillow and threw it in her general direction, effectively hitting her in the face, and she couldn’t resist puffing her laugh out. It all happened so fast; he was suddenly above her, benefiting from her distraction, and the tickles began again.

Both knew that Charlie was strong enough to stop Kate from moving, yet he let her throw herself on him and anchor him to the bed.

“Stop now if you don’t want a kick on your chin.” She wanted to sound threatening, but the cheeky grin that was plastered on his face made her snort despite herself.

“You started.” She scrunched her nose and pressed it against his, a mocking expression whose sole purpose was allowing her to touch his face. “I like hearing you laugh.” He murmured.

Charlie pulled away some locks of hair that had cascaded over her eyes and appreciated how the light coming in through the window created an almost angelic halo around her head.

“Ron hasn’t written yet?” she asked.

Charlie exhaled and dropped his head back.

“Can we for once not talk about...anything?”

Kate frowned, she was tired of tiptoeing around the theme of Voldemort, of Harry, of Sirius.

Kate had proposed bringing Harry to Romania for the summer, thinking that he would take his mind off his godfather and not have to return to his horrible Muggle family in the process. Everyone refused, including him.

She moved to get off Charlie, anticipating an argument on the subject, but he grabbed her by the waist with both hands, preventing her from leaving him.

“We agreed on one evening. One afternoon without thinking. If it’s not today, you will owe me one.”

Kate reluctantly nodded, knowing that he was right, and leaned forward to rest on his chest. She plunged her face into his neck and stayed there, trying to stop her mind while Charlie hugged her to him.

Why had Dumbledore waited so long to tell her he had the list? Why did no one want her to bring Harry with her? How was he doing? Was Corentin mad at her because she left without saying goodbye? She sent a letter saying she almost died, but he hadn’t replied…

“I can hear you, you know?” Charlie whispered. He felt the faintest of smiles against his skin and then a soft peck behind his ear. 

Sorry

“I don’t think I’ll get used to this. It’s scary listening voices that are not your own.”

“Welcome to the club.” She hummed when his hands started lazy patterns on her back, and despite beginning to feel sticky from the heat, she pressed herself further against him.

His breathing, his chest going up and down, the hand that moved to massage her hair and the soft kisses on her forehead made her start to drift to that promised sleep she hadn’t been able to get that afternoon.

“Am I crushing you?” She was genuinely worried he might have been uncomfortable, but a long and loud kiss to her cheek reassured her.

“You can crush me anytime.” He grinned against her skin and she reciprocated it with a huff so lazy that couldn’t be considered a laugh.

A few knocks on the window startled them. Seeing the owl, Kate pressed her face back into Charlie’s neck and grunted. The bird was insistent and began a series of angry taps to the glass. With a sigh and little desire, he untangled Kate’s body from him, leaving her face down on the bed.

“Katie.” Charlie closed the window after seeing the owl leave and sat down on the edge of the bed. Slowly, and with her eyes closed, she rolled over a few times until she made contact with his back. She came up behind him and on her knees wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss on the top on his head.

“News from London?”

“No. From Durmstrang. And it came with this.” He handed her the letter and a small package with the school’s emblem on its seal. “Maybe it’s from your friend.”

She used her nail with most delicacy, trying to keep the beautiful seal intact, and smiled when she saw Corentin’s signature at the end of the paper. When she finished, she left the letter on the bed and unwrapped the package.

“He says he sent me ‘something that always comes in handy’. What could that be?”

“Hm, I don’t know… I hope hair ties” Charlie raised his forehead challenging her, and she flashed an innocent grin.

Kate took out a delicate bottle with a label from a small cloth bag. It looked empty and foggy, but as she moved it, the contents swayed with it.

Bottled ghost breath.

She threw her head back with her laugh, leaving a stunned but appreciative Charlie staring at her.

“An inside joke?” he asked with a small chuckle. She simply nodded and crawled to her bedside table, where she left her wand and mail.

Taking advantage of her back to him, he grabbed her by the hips and pulled until she was sitting between his legs.

“Hey!”

After some giggles, they sat like this, chest to back, swaying to the rhythm of non-existent music. Kate rested her head back and stared at his lips, asking for something more.

He smiled before the kiss, the kisses, and hummed in contentment.

“In spite of everything... Do you miss Durmstrang? Being a teacher?” he inquired after a while.

“It was fun, yes...”

“I’m sure you were brilliant.” Kate scrunched her nose at that and shrugged.

“I always thought you’d be the teacher... and write a thousand books about dragons, and people would line up to get into Professor Weasley’s lecture and you’d have all the girls behind you...”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” He snorted, making her laugh too.

She put her hands on his forearms and caressed her way to his hands. She placed them over his, aligning their fingers, and started swaying their arms.

“And you will open a hospital, which will have your name and a huge picture of your face. And you will discover cures for rare diseases, and everyone will want to work with mediwizard Williams, and the young trainees will drool over you.”

“Wow, now who’s talking rubbish?” Charlie pressed his face against her neck, silencing his laugh.

Kate looked away from her scar, the souvenir she had brought back from the trip to Durmstrang, and her smile broke. Charlie didn’t see it, but he could feel it so he interlocked their fingers and drew their arms to her middle, hugging her closer to him.

“Do you think we’ll have any of that?” She asked.

He rested his head on her shoulder and nodded. “I don’t doubt it. Although...” She turned her head, a frown forming between her brows. “Although I wouldn’t mind if not that way. My only request is that we’re together.”

She inhaled, letting her heart grow and make even more room for the man behind her. After turning around, she kneeled between his legs and placed her hands on either side of his face.

Charlie grabbed the back of her thighs, pulling her a little closer, and stared up at her.

After searching his eyes for a moment, and satisfied with what she found there, she drew his face near and pressed her lips firmly against his. It ended with a chaste sound that the next shorter kisses imitated.

She moved her hands to his hair and gave a light tug that ignited something between them they had lacked for half a year. And the hasty night in Grimmauld Place didn’t count, they considered, for they weren’t really safe and it only served as a reconnection more than a time to feel with abandonment.

Their lips found their way to each other again, this time allowing the start of an exploration. She hummed into his mouth when the pair of hands that balanced her legs moved to squeeze her bum.

Sensing that the advances were evolving into an inevitable outcome, Charlie ended the kiss.

“I’m hungry.”

Kate started placing small kisses along his neck, “Please don’t mean food…” Charlie chuckled then, and patted her butt cheeks for her to move.

Rolling her eyes, she stood up, murmuring complaints about wasting time cooking all the time.

“No need, there’s some pie left and I’ll make some tea, now come on.” Kate yelped when he lifted her and put her legs around him for support.

“Put me down, you’ll hurt your back.” She still wanted to devour the lips that were now smiling, and she stared at them all the way to the kitchen.

“You don’t think I can carry you? You weigh as much as a fairy.”

“Not true.” She giggled when she untangled herself, and with a small jump she sat on the counter.

She looked around at her home. From the counter, she could see the wooden table where they sat to have their meals and share their days; the two small couches that faced each other, where some tears and laughs had been spilled; the chimney, the place where he last saw her before leaving.

It was their nest, their safe place, and she couldn’t believe she was finally back.

Her father’s letters mocked her from the coffee table. He had sent money, true to his word, but it had remained untouched since Charlie received it.

Dumbledore refused to give her another mission, not that she complained, but a dark voice inside her head told her it would be preferable instead of facing unemployment again.

Now she saw that money with different eyes.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She said when he felt Charlie put a hand on her knee.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want to use that money.”

“Then don’t. We don’t need it, anyway.” She heard him put a kettle on the stove. “Also, that woman, Rhode, paid you for the time teaching, didn’t she? You could use that for your mediwizard training.”

Kate hummed, agreeing, but not entirely convinced.

“I doubt Nougal would accept me in the hospital now. It’s been too long. And I can’t go back whining after resigning.”

She looked at him when he didn’t answer. He was left staring at the about -to- whistle kettle.

“What?” She demanded. After a moment, he talked again.

“I was just thinking that there’s a vacancy in the reserve…”

“No.” She said firmly, shaking her head.

“Just… listen to me.” She crossed her arms, but he was fast enough to grab her wrists, preventing her from shielding herself. “You could apply and work there. Yes, in a tent, don’t look at me like that. It would be less stressful than the hospital, and sure you are overqualified for it, but…”

He brought her hands to his chest and searched her eyes. “But you will have time to study for the mediwizard training, so when you actually take the tests it’ll be a piece of cake.”

Letting go of her arms, he rounded her waist and got as close as the counter allowed.

“Besides, and this is the important part, I’ll have my own sexy healer.” She smirked then, avoiding his stare and making circles on his arm with her fingers.

“The kettle…”

Charlie shook her head and went to the stove. She thought the conversation was over, but he didn’t intend to give it up.

“Imagine: we wake up, we go there together, I kiss you before parting, and then we meet for lunch. You tell me how many burn-healing paste jars you used that day and after working in the afternoon we meet again to go home together.”

“Sounds very good…” She accepted the plate with some pie that he offered and smiled, “I’ll think about it.”

“And who knows, maybe we can get a mission for the Order together this time. Bed or couch?”

“Bed!” She hopped off the counter and followed him to their bedroom with cups and plates in hand.

They ate in silence, each with their own thoughts and blocking the other from hearing them.  Still not speaking, Kate fed him her last bite of pie left on her plate and left it on the nightstand. She closed her eyes.

“Do you remember the Quidditch World Cup?”

Charlie huffed, accidentally spitting some crumbs “How could I forget…”

“You were injured, and I… cured you. Afterwards… I felt terrible…”

“For saving my life? You flatter me, love.”

Kate snorted and turned to her side. Instead of looking up at him, started caressing the hairs on his arm absentmindedly.

“No. After everything calmed down, it hit me… I could have made a mistake with your wound. I could have mispronounced the spell or make a wrong wand movement…”

He let her think her next words but seeing she was struggling he asked, “That’s why you always refused to work at the reserve? Because you’re afraid to harm me?”

“Well, it’s more complicated than that. I shouldn’t be your healer… It sounds dumb when I say it out loud. “

“That we agree on.”

“I think about it more than you could imagine. I’m always torn between ‘I shouldn’t be his healer in case something goes wrong’ and ‘if someone other than me touches you I’ll start blasting hexes’.”

He began laughing then, at first just a cackle, but after a while he had to cover his eyes with his palm. Kate moved into a sitting position and stared at him.

“You are… the most absurd woman I’ve ever met.”

“Well, thanks. You flatter me, love.” She repeated his earlier words, leaving a particular sparkle in his eyes.

“You were Madam Pomfrey’s youngest apprentice, you were the brightest healer trainee in St Mungo while mourning a loss and escaping from your controlling grandfather, you got a job in the best hospital in Bucharest, you just came from the most demanding school in Europe, having worked as a healer and as a teacher.” He counted with his fingers, his voice steady and warm.

“You are many things, love, but not incapable or incompetent. If there’s anyone I’d trust with my health or my life, that’s you.”

Kate sat speechless, digesting his words. A tear threatened to spill, but she didn’t let it.

“You are a treasure, Charlie Weasley. But I can’t be your healer.” She said as softly as she could, hoping he would understand and respect that decision.

“The offer is there.” He paused, a question behind his eyes, she felt, and Kate waited for him to speak. “But let me ask you something: what do you want to do?”

“I want to become a mediwizard.” She stated. Charlie broke into a giant smile and she reciprocated it.

“Then if you know the goal, I’m sure you’ll find the way.”

Charlie sighed dramatically then, and she smirked, anticipating some kind of remark.

“It’s hard being so wise.”

Kate chuckled. “And you?” She practically whispered.

“What about me?”

“What do you want to do?”

He closed his eyes and pretended to think about it. A silly question, she considered, knowing that he knew what he wanted to do with his life from the moment he learned what a dragon was.

“I would... I would love to be a good dragonologist. A real one.”

“You are already that.”

“No, not yet. But someday.” She pursed her lips and with a sharp nod she added, “I think you always have been.”

“Oh, and it would be fantastic to go to China some day! The sanctuaries there are wonderful...”

“Didn’t you mention a story about some secret papyrus?” The sparkle in his eyes made Kate want to shower his face in kisses.

“The Lost Scrolls of Quong Po! Can you imagine? His discoveries about dragons could change how we see the magic world…”

“An adventure for another time.” They were pensive for a while, enjoying the pleasant silence that had been created around them.

Kate considered fondly from where she sat; his arms rested at his sides, shoulders relaxed, his muscular legs were stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. The light coming through the window made the copper curls of his thighs stand out. She didn’t resist the temptation and placed her hand there, feeling his muscle towards his knee, and then caressed her way back to the top of his thigh.

Charlie tilted his head and squinted at her imperceptibly, observing how she played with his soft hairs, her mind drifting away from the moment and sinking deep into herself.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured. Kate inhaled, opening her lips to tell him, but the words she wanted to express were so tangled with each other it was impossible to reorganise the sentence. She lifted one shoulder just an inch, tilting her face towards it in an adorable gesture that Charlie had seen plenty of times before. It lasted no more than a moment, and it was usually followed by a deep and heavy thought.

“I could have reacted the same way as Mer Yankelevich did. I know her pain and her desperation. If I had suspected, back then, that there was a chance, a minuscule one, to bring my brother back… how far would I have gone? We’re not so different, aren’t we? Her and I.”

She looked at him then, searching for an answer. Charlie’s brow furrowed and shifted his eyes towards her gentle hand.

“It’s interesting how everyone around us live the same experiences as we do… and yet we choose very different paths.” Leron Angelov invaded her thoughts. Then Jorgensen appeared next to him, followed by Sheyi Mawut and Mer Yankelevich. Astrid Rhode and Cassandra Steiner materialised at the ends of that line up she’d created, and finally Libor Marek. All of them, so different in shape, sizes and set of mind, were bonded to each other by one single thing: grief.

She didn’t know their backstories very well, and they didn’t know hers, but she was certain now that she could look anybody in the eye and say with conviction: I understand.

“Well, that’s what makes everybody different, isn’t it? Our choices.” Charlie’s voice brought her back to Earth. “I don’t think you would have gone crazy. You already were.” The corner of his mouth raised, and she tsked, lightly swatting his leg. She tried to hide the smirk, but he had already caught it.

I saw that.

“We’ll never know.”

“Oh, I know.” Charlie interrupted, “There’s a possibility, right? Those Deathly Hallows, they mentioned. You figure out if they’re real or not, you find them, and you use them. Would you do it?” That made her frown.

“No.”

His forehead raised, point proven, and interlocked his fingers on his lap. “You are different.”

Kate tilted her head, a soft smile playing on her lips as she stared at him, getting perilously lost in his brown eyes.

“To have decided that it was our free afternoon, we’ve been thinking a lot...” Charlie commented. Kate just nodded. “How about switching to other kinds of activities...?”

“Something that doesn’t require... thinking?”

“Exactly.”

“I’d love to, but now that you mentioned that you want to be a real dragonologist, it reminded me that I’ve yet to see your finished work!”

“It’s a draft.”

“Yes, but a 214- pages -draft. Come on… read it to me.”

Charlie shut his eyes closed and shook his head. “When it’s finished.”

“You’re no fun. I bet you get accepted in that new program in the Apuseni mountains you’ve been dreaming of for months. They didn’t even ask for a whole dissertation, and you did it, anyway. Remember my Christmas gift?”

Charlie smiled then, remembering the night they spent at her grandfather’s house celebrating the holidays, and the exact moment she gave him a letter… a letter from the one and only Newt Scamander, saying that Kate had sent him parts of his unfinished project, he had read them, and he had liked them!

It was still unreal.

Charlie moved then, getting on his knees, and crawled over to Kate, getting close enough to make her lay down. She placed her hands on his biceps and caressed the scar there before going up to his neck. “I’ll read it to you… later?”

“Deal.”

With a smirk forming on her face, she reached down to grab the hem of his shirt and pulled upward just an inch.

“I don’t think you will be needing this.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. In one move he threw his T-shirt across the room. “Where were we?”

“Hm... I don’t remember, we should start from the beginning.”

From that day on, things did not improve, however, their conversation remained engraved in their minds. They would not fight in vain, they would fight for each other, for their future and for the greater good they believed in.

This mission was over, maybe not in the way Kate would have preferred, but that night, with Charlie’s arms around her as he read, she decided she should close this chapter and replenish her strength for what was to come.

--

A/N: Do you want to know what happened that Christmas? Or maybe at the Quidditch World Cup?

Tag List:

@eldritchscreech​

@meteora-fc​

@cazreadsstuff

@the-navistar-carol​

@am-i-space​

[marilynsweet]

WITCH AU: Red

Part 2/3,the first part is “The Witch’s House.”

General warning for PG-13 esque stuff, I don’t wanna spoil too much;;

The gentle glow of the sunrise glimmered through the curtains. The window, closed, kept out the freezing air. The icy chill of late autumn had begun to set in, though there was warmth in the room. Scents of fresh greenery permeated the air.

Asriel’s eyes opened, finding himself staring up at the ceiling. His arms rested above his head.

After taking a few moments to stir himself from slumber, he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

He’d been here for about two months. The lack of such a busy lifestyle had made this place seem like paradise; he’d grown used to the quiet chirping of the birds in the woods, the sound of wind rustling through the tree’s branches, and the sounds of the goats and chickens outside each morning. His injuries had healed to the point where the only thing that irritated them was sudden quick movement. Frostbite trusted him on his own, now, to not hurt himself trying to do too much.

After a quick change of clothes, Asriel made his way out of his room and into the kitchen. The wood stove contained the soft embers of the previous night’s fire. Though it was still warm, a chill had spread through the house. Asriel took it upon himself to add another log and some twigs to reignite it.

His attention was grabbed by the sound of a THWACK! outside. Curious, Asriel took his boots from the mat by the door, laced them, and headed outside.

His breath fogged before him, and icy frost decorated the outside world in white crystals. The grass crunched beneath his feet, and sunlight sparkled through the few remaining leaves upon the trees. Two black goats trotted across the yard, along with a small flock of chickens. The thwack interrupted the air again, and Asriel followed the sound around to the side of the house.

There, he found Frostbite. She had laid her cloak across a stack of cut logs, and her arms had slipped out of her wide-necked shirt, the sleeves tied neatly behind her to keep it in place. In her hands, she held a woodcutter’s axe, and she stood in front of a pile of uncut logs. She had taken one log, and placed it upon the trunk of a long-dead tree.

He noticed black markings and symbols decorating her arms. Her arms themselves were toned by years of hard work and turmoil. She swung the axe, Asriel noticing the outline of her muscles in the movement, and slicing the log before her in two with another thwack!

He shook himself out of his staring, suddenly aware of the heat in his face. He took a deep breath, turning away from the scene to watch the goats, trying to purge the pink in his cheeks.

“You still can’t sneak as well as you think you can!”

Asriel perked, turning back to the scene to see Frostbite facing him, running a hand through her hair. Her breath fogged up quickly, sending clouds into the frosty air as she caught her breath. She swung the axe into the trunk, where she let it rest.

“Just came to see what you were doing!” Asriel replied, watching her retrieve her cloak and untie her sleeves. She slipped her arms into them, and then clipped her cloak back around her shoulders.

“Yeah? Wanna help me feed the goats?” Frostbite asked when she approached, offering him a smile. Her cheeks were flushed from her previous efforts, and she again ran a hand through her hair.

“Sure!”

She walked across the yard towards a small shed. Asriel had helped her build it about a month ago, to store the animals’ feed somewhere other than her bedroom. Following, Asriel watched her drag out a heavy canvas bag, pulling it open.

“Need help?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“I got it,” she replied, heaving it into her arms to get a better grip on it. “I’ll carry, you dispense.”

They made their way over to the wooden trough, worn through years of usage. There, Asriel helped Frostbite lay out a batch of alfalfa, and the two goats came trotting over.

“I’ll have to get more of that,” she murmured, closing up the bag. “They seem to love it.”

They returned the bag to the shed. Their footsteps left prints in the frost, and the sun was beginning to rise further against the tall trees. Beautiful reds and oranges and pinks decorated the sky, along with shadowed clouds.

“I fed the chickens earlier,” Frostbite stated, tossing her hair to move it back in place over her right eye. Her hair was smooth, shining in the gentle morning light. Her amber eyes glowed with that same shimmer. She took the heavy board hanging on the shed and swung it forward over the door to keep it shut tightly.

Asriel shook himself again, blinking as if awakened from a trance.

“You alright? You keep spacing out,” Frostbite asked, though she walked back towards the house. She motioned towards it with her head, indicating he should follow.

“Yeah— Yeah! I’m alright, I… I think I had a weird dream last night. I just… don’t remember anything about it,” Asriel replied, walking after her. “I think it threw me off.”

The kitchen had been warmed in their absence as the log caught fire in the stove. The chilled air was left behind when the front door closed.

“How long have you been awake?” Asriel asked as Frostbite sunk into one of the chairs at the table, stretching her arms above her head. She seemed tired.

“A few hours,” she murmured with a yawn. “That wood wasn’t going to cut itself, it has to be done before the snow comes.”

“I could’ve helped—!”

“No. I want to be sure your neck isn’t going to act up again before I let you exhort that much energy,” Frostbite replied quickly, before he could retort. “I’m not taking the risk of you hurting yourself again.”

Asriel couldn’t think of a retort to that.

“I’m going to gather eggs for breakfast in a bit, then I’ll make something. Bread should still be fresh.”

“I can make breakfast, if you need a break! I know how to make eggs!” Asriel replied, perked and eager to help.

A small smile crossed her face as she leaned back into her chair, running a hand through her hair. She took a deep breath before letting it out.

“Fine,” she murmured, sitting back up to look over at him. “But don’t hurt yourself!”

“I won’t!” Asriel replied, and before she could get up or retort, he had already headed outside.

When Asriel returned, Frostbite wasn’t at the table.

“Frostbite?” He called out, setting the eggs into the designated basket on the wooden counter.

No reply, but he could smell the faint whiff of a freshly lit candle.

Curiosity sparked in him as he looked over to the stairs. In his time here, he had never been upstairs. Frostbite had moved her things from his room to hers once she had made room for them, but he hadn’t been able to help because of his injury. Now, he was curious.

Tentatively, he took hold of the railing and began to climb the stairs.

When he reached the top, he was taken aback by the room. Two walls were entirely covered by bookshelves, upon which rested more than books. Crystals, jars, plants, and small chests. A bed lay on top of a rug on the wooden floor, above which was hung a wooden ring, decorated with feathers and strung with pink blossoms he hadn’t seen anywhere in the village. Above that, a hand-carved moon cycle was hung in an arch. Candles were placed upon the bedside tables, as well as on empty shelves. To his left, a wardrobe was pushed against the wall, in a hollowed out area of the shelved wall. Plants hung in hangers around the ceiling, in strange balls with what looked to be small trees and ivies sprouting from them. To the right, Asriel found Frostbite.

She was sitting on a cushion next to a low table. The table was set against the wall, with an open ornate box sitting upon it. There was a statue of a woman holding a staff, a closed book, a wooden cup, a variety of crystals set into an arch, and a rainbow of colored candles upon the table. Asriel noticed that only the red and pink ones were lit.

Frostbite sat cross-legged, with her hands in her lap. Upon approaching, Asriel noticed her eyes were closed.

“You should really knock before entering someone’s room,” she said without moving. “I could hear you.”

“What are you..?”

“Meditating,” Frostbite replied, again not moving. “I’ll be down soon.”

Asriel chose not to comment, only staying for a few more moments before heading back downstairs.

The room was quiet, but Asriel quickly set to work preparing breakfast. About halfway through, he heard the padding of footsteps on wood.

“Surprised you went to find me,” Frostbite said, and Asriel heard her moving a chair.

“I could smell the candles — wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“...I assure you, I can handle myself, don’t worry,” she replied, and Asriel could almost sense the smile on her face. “Breakfast smells wonderful.”

“I picked up on a few things from my mother,” Asriel replied, taking two plates from the cabinet. “She taught me how to cook.”

“Impressed, I am. Not many seem to know how, aside from the women in the village.”

“Eh, mother thought I should know, and I enjoyed it.”

Asriel was done quickly - eggs didn’t take too long to cook, nor did slicing bread - and returned to the table. He set a plate before Frostbite, and then himself, before sitting across from her at the table.

“How’s your neck?” Frostbite asked, watching him eat for a few moments.

“It’s fine, better than it was. It only hurts now if I do something like jerk it to the side too quickly.”

She nodded, before divulging in her own food. Asriel took notice of how her ears pricked at the first bite.

“You did very good,” she said, causing a smile to cross Asriel’s face and pink to flush his cheeks.

“Thank you! It’s, ah… it’s been a while,” he said a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I might just keep you around!” Frostbite said with a small giggle, and Asriel perked upon hearing her laughter.

“I’d hope so! I do like it here!” He said, returning to his own food. “I figure I should at least try to do something.”

“You can help me bring water back to the house and stack the logs, how’s that sound, hm?” Frostbite said, shooting him a smile. “You can do that.”

“Of course! But you need to finish eating! Gives energy for hard work.”

Frostbite rolled her eyes, snorting.

“I wouldn’t let such a good meal go to waste,” she joked with a small smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll finish it.”

The rest of the day was busy. Asriel helped Frostbite with the wood, with her cutting the logs and him stacking them up against the side of the house in a way that would keep them the driest. Asriel was in awe of her strength and efficiency, and more than once Frostbite had to remind him that the logs wouldn’t stack themselves. By the time the afternoon came, the final log had been split, and they had a sizable stack against the house.

After the wood, Frostbite took him into the forest, along a well-beaten path she had traveled many times. She carried with her two sturdy buckets, as well as some jars. From the house, she led him deep into the woods, where Asriel was able to take in the fresh breezes and chirping of the birds. Clouds drifted across the bright blue sky, visible through the branches above. Winter was coming - the clouds were gathered in larger and larger clumps.

Deep in the woods, they stopped at a creek. The water was clear and fresh. Occasionally, a fish would swim by. The pebbles were visible in the bottom, along with tall grasses along the banks and stepping stones that peeked out of the water. Frostbite took the buckets and walked out onto the stepping stones, again leaving her cloak behind, draped over a dry rock on the bank. She rolled up her sleeves, crouched upon the rock whilst balancing on her toes, and dunked the bucket under the water. Asriel assumed that to be the deepest part of the creek.

She did this with both buckets, Asriel helping by filling up the jars. Their breath fogged in the chilled air, the cold nipping at their wet hands and making them shiver. After filling their containers, they made the hike back to the house. Frostbite carried the buckets, Asriel asking many times if she needed help, to which she simply shook her head.

At the house, Frostbite dumped the water into an airtight barrel, kept in a cabinet under the stairs, so well-hidden Asriel hadn’t known it was there until she had first shown it to him. Many hikes and many hours later, they eventually had filled four barrels, stashed safely in the cubby.

Night seemed to come quickly with the hard work of the day, the darkness spreading over the woods. An occasional star would dot the sky through the gathering clouds, and the cold sunk deeper into the air.

After a hot meal and a change of clothes, Asriel sat on the floor next to Frostbite’s bed. Frostbite had lit her red candles again, though he didn’t ask why. A few rose petals lie upon her table by the wall.

She had a hand on either side of his head, gently tilting it either way to gauge the healing process. The rope burns had long scarred over, but the internals had taken much longer to heal.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” She asked softly, and Asriel shook his head.

“Feels better and better every day,” he said, feeling her lean his head back.

“You’ve got a leaf,” she murmured, and he felt her pick something from his hair.

“Thanks.”

Frostbite didn’t reply, though she did shift her hands to his neck, and her touch was soft. One of her hands was roughened by age-old burn scars, and the other soft and smooth. He guessed that was because of the glove she wore to protect it.

There was a mild discomfort when she pressed against the back of his neck to feel the bone, but nothing he couldn’t bear.

“You’ve healed well,” he heard her murmur, though her hands let go of him after a few moments.

“That’s good to hear — means I’m not going to be unable to do anything forever!” Asriel said with a soft chuckle, lifting his head to look up at Frostbite. His head was about level with her knees, from where she sat cross-legged on the bed.

He noticed her shifting her hands in her lap,

“Frostbite?”

She wasn’t looking at him, seeming deep in thought. He didn’t like the look of reluctance on her face.

Before he could ask again, she slid off the bed and walked over to her table by the wall. Confused, Asriel stood up, following after her.

“Hey— Frostbite, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, taking one of the rose petals in her palms.

“...You’re going to want to leave,” she murmured after a long silence. “You’re going to want to go back. You’ve healed - why stay?”

Asriel felt his heart sink at the heartbreak in her voice.

He hadn’t considered that. Yes, he had missed home, but he hadn’t been thinking of the day that he’d leave. Maybe every now and then, he’d consider it, but the thought never came to him that it would come to pass.

He felt a tug on his heartstrings. Frostbite was refusing to look at him, running a thumb along the delicate rose petal in her hand.

“...I won’t make you stay,” she muttered. “I’m not going to keep you hostage, force you to live here. I know your beliefs conflict with mine. I know you have family elsewhere. I know you miss home. I just…”

Asriel noticed her hands shaking as she tightened her grip upon the petal, crushing it in her palm. He was lost for words. What could he say that wouldn’t make it worse? However, it was the next words that took his breath from his chest.

“...I love you.”

His cheeks flushed with heat. Before he knew it, she had grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.

Asriel was taken aback. Unable to think, to move, for a long moment. His eyes were wide, and he felt stiff all over, frozen in shock. However, he didn’t push her off of him.

She was soft and gentle, the grip on his shirt loosening.

Frostbite let go of him after a long while, slowly, almost seeming shocked by her actions. Silence fell, once more, broken only by the chirping of crickets outside and the hooting of owls in the distance. The moonlight shimmered through the curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow.

There was a fluttering in his chest he hadn’t felt before. Butterflies filled his stomach in a swarm. He raised a hand, and touched his lips.

Had that just happened?

Frostbite stood in silence, not looking at him, but at a spot past him, seeming to consider her next words very carefully. She bit her lip, trying to find the words.

After a few moments, she began to speak.

“...I’m sor—“

However, before she could finish, Asriel had taken her face in his hands and returned her kiss. Though the butterflies swarmed, though his heart raced, his mind told him one thing, and one thing only:

I love you, too.

Though his eyes closed, he could feel her run her hands along his shoulders, pulling him closer. One of her hands trailed into the hair on the back of his head, the other moving to wrap her arm around his neck.

Though he had to let go of her face to do so, his hands moved to her waist, holding her close as the kiss broke apart. He instead moved to press slow kisses against her cheek, then jaw, neck, collarbone, and then exposed shoulder. She leaned her head back, giving him more room. Every new kiss against her skin prompted her to grip him tighter, hold him closer.

I need you.

Her touch was gentle against him. In turn, her skin was soft against his hands. Burn scars be damned, the feel of soft flesh wasn’t only foreign to him, but it was addictive. He hadn’t felt anything like it. A lover’s caress, a kiss, holding and being held. The way she held him tight, the way her hands traveled across him, the way they seemed to just… fit together. The way her hands ran through his hair, holding him closer, longing for his touch, his kiss. The shivers down her spine when he buried himself into her neck, the feeling of his touch, the need for him.

It was intoxicating. They needed more.

The night had never felt so long, but not empty. Far from it. In the heat of the moment, in the desire, the need, they didn’t want it to end.

However, it did.

In the dead of night, when silence fell and the night grew cold, sleep came quick from exhaustion. The bed felt unusually comfortable, the blankets warmer than normal, the pillows softer.

The room fell into silence, the red candles on the table finally flickering out.

-

Frostbite woke that morning to the sun’s beams peering through the curtains. Birds outside sang their familiar melody, and it took her a few moments to register the morning.

Though, from her position, she didn’t want to get up just yet. It was warm… warm and comfortable. She trailed a hand behind her, feeling the sheets.

“Asriel?” She murmured, rubbing her eyes and turning over.

He wasn’t there.

She shrugged, yawning and stretching in her bed. He’d probably woken early.

It took her a long time to get out of her comfortable bed, though upon doing so, she wished she hadn’t. The air was icy and cold, especially against bare skin.

Odd… He would have thrown a log into the stove. Did he forget?

She picked up her clothes off the floor, with a wince, before walking over to her wardrobe. Everything felt sore from the previous day. It hurt to lift her arms, and her calves hurt from the trekking to the creek.

She pulled open the doors, tossing the previous night’s clothes into a hand-woven basket at the bottom. In the back of the wardrobe, a tall mirror hung, allowing her to take in her reflection.

Her neck and shoulders were covered in small bruises, and her hair was a tousled mess. She tidied it with her hand, tucking strands back into place and combing through it with her fingers. She then quickly dressed herself, hurried by the cold air nipping at her skin.

“Asriel?” She called out again, a bit louder this time, making her way down the stairs after closing up her wardrobe. On the way down, she clipped her cloak around her shoulders.

Upon reaching the kitchen, she noticed that the stove was cold and ashy, no embers glowing inside. The front door was slightly ajar, and Asriel’s room remained silent.

Eyebrows creased, she walked over to the door and shut it. Something was wrong.

Had he gone to the creek, perhaps, and forgotten to start the fire? Why would he leave the door open?

Looking around the room for clues prompted her to spot a torn sheet of paper on the table. She approached the table and took the scrap into her hands.

Her heart sank into her stomach.

Upon reading its contents, tears began to quickly flow from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her hands began to shake, then the rest of her, and it wasn’t from the cold. Her grip tightened on the paper, threatening to tear it.

On the paper, written in hasty, messy handwriting, was one sentence:

God forgive me, for I have sinned.

[acnelli]

A Moment of Truth

My second entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Harry

Rating: T

Prompt 13: A Moment of Truth

Summary: Harry ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. But the Boy-Who-Lived is determined to make it right again.

Thanks again to TheUltimateUndesirable and to the best beta @accio-broom!

This story is kind of a follow up to the fic Thinking About You by Solstice Muse. You don't have to read that story to understand mine, but I highly recommend getting on LiveJournal and befriending Solstice Muse for their amazing stories. Pure talent, believe me! I also got permission from the author to write my story based on theirs.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

Harry wondered if he had ever felt more alone in his life as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he would’ve thought about it hard enough, he might’ve remembered several instances where he felt just as lonely, but Harry simply didn’t possess the strength right now.

Ron left him.

The  thing he would miss the most left him, and the only person he could blame for it was himself. It took the better part of the last two weeks for Harry to realise it and all of yesterday to really accept that ugly truth.

The day Ron had walked out of their flat was nothing but a giant blur. He had drunk himself into a stupor, and if the broken mirrors were any indication, he pretty much had lost it. When he woke up the next morning, violently retching into the toilet, he called in sick and just went to bed again.

Although he had gone to work the following days, he floo called his PR manager, telling Liam to cancel all events for the time being, offering a half-arsed explanation and reminding him that it was  his  job to make up stories for him.

Harry had appeared at work as early as possible and left for home when the cleaning staff threw him out of his office. He didn’t want to return to the vacant flat, Ron-free and, therefore, absolutely miserable. But he was also trying to avoid Arthur, Percy and Hermione. Especially, Hermione.

Harry’s favourite pastime these last two weeks had been to curse and blame Hermione for all of this. She had obviously waited outside that day, escorting Ron to her parents’ place where she lived at the moment. Harry had watched them through their living room window as they walked hand in hand to the next apparation point.

Everything had been fine, after all, hadn’t it? Taking his manager’s advice to feed the monster to protect his actual private life and his loved ones from the press, he had found his celebrity life rather comfortable and even enjoyable. After years of Harry having been announced to be Bachelor of the Year, rumours started to form about why he had still been single. Together with his manager, he worked out a way to lure the press away from the truth, and there hardly had been an instance anymore where Harry wasn’t accompanied by one beautiful witch or another. Events and parties full of photographers did not bother him anymore as long as they only captured him socialising and having fun. Almost every day, the papers had a story to tell about him, but never about who he really had gone home to. Never about Harry being gay and him being madly in love with his best mate.

Most of the time, he concentrated on this feeling of betrayal and silently cursed Ron and Hermione for wanting him to come out officially. Didn’t they see how intrusive and destructive the press had been all his life? Didn’t they see how dangerous this could be for Ron? For himself?

But deep-down, Harry knew it wasn’t like that. Ron would never demand Harry come out. The only thing Ron wanted from him was the freedom to live his own life out in the open. It had been a perfect situation for Harry these past months; working, going to parties and then coming home to Ron.

But for Ron, it hadn’t been perfect.

Harry remembered that horrible night when he came home from some Ministry ball, only to find a note telling him Ron went out with Hermione to some Muggle gay club in London and that he doesn’t have to stay up should he come home earlier than Ron.

Shame and guilt threatened to choke Harry when he thought about his terrible actions that night. Harry had seen red the second he read the words  Muggle gay club, immediately assuming some dirty fuck will try to steal his Ron.

When he finally found them, he watched Ron and Hermione dancing like there was no tomorrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but like they had the time of their lives. He watched Ron having fun, smiling like Harry hadn’t seen him smile in a very long time. He watched as Ron got approached by a very handsome Muggle and Hermione finding herself another dance partner, winking at Ron. He watched Ron turn the man down. And he stopped watching when that fucker ignored it and tried to kiss him. Before Ron had the chance to shove him away, Harry forced himself between them and snarled into the muggle’s face to fuck off, seconds away from beating the shite-eating grin out of him.

Harry knew now that this night must have been the turning point for Ron because after screaming at Hermione for luring Ron into that gay club, he completely lost it on his boyfriend. They had a terrible row that night, but Ron had forgiven him once more.

All feelings of betrayal got soon replaced by guilt. Over and over again, he recalled Ron’s wounded expression every time Harry asked him to not join him for one party or another, Ron’s anger and hurt when Harry exploded on him the few times Ron had gone out for the night without him or asked more than accusing questions afterwards. He imagined himself at these parties, having fun, drinking and talking about Quidditch most of the time. And then he imagined Ron, sitting alone in their flat, waiting for Harry to come home, just as alone as he was now. Ron wasn’t happy anymore, but Harry had refused to listen to his words and see Ron’s misery.

He suddenly hated himself — not just hurting his lover but also his best mate. Harry most likely ruined the most wonderful and perfect thing in his life and probably killed any chance to get Ron back. Maybe he even bollocked up their friendship for good, just like he had with all his other friendships if all the declined Birthday invitations Ron sent out before their break-up were any indication. Hermione always had been very vocal about what she thought about Harry’s treatment of Ron, and he just had been too deliberately blind and busy to notice everyone turning away from Harry.

That’s why he lay in bed. All alone. On his Birthday.

The only guest he had today had been Ginny, bringing him a little basket with some snacks Mrs Weasley prepared for him. She had been smart enough to not wish him a Happy Birthday.

While Ron hadn’t asked him to come out of the closet, Harry wanted to keep Ron inside it. He should’ve known better than anyone what it means to be hidden away for being different from the rest, for a dirty secret not allowed to get out. This comparison with the Dursleys made him hate himself even more.

If he wanted to have a real shot at getting Ron and his friends back, Harry had to clean up his own life first. Slowly, he got out of bed, determined to get a long overdue shower. Before he went into the bathroom, though, Harry summoned some parchment and a quill, writing a short note and a rather long letter (for Harry’s standards anyway).

He quickly delivered the note to his manager’s assistant through a short floo call, telling her it was urgent.

His owl Athena nibbled on some owl treat he gave her while Harry tied the letter to one of her claws. “Alright, Athena,” he said, his voice unusually wavering, “please, deliver this letter as fast as possible, okay? And make sure Hermione reads it.”

*******

Ron was well aware of Hermione’s worrying glances in his direction.

They both sat on Hermione’s bed, with their backs leaning against the headboard as Ron distracted himself with the wonder that is a television, and his best friend unsurprisingly reading a book beside him. He was glad she didn’t force him to talk about his feelings right now.

Over the last two weeks, Hermione had gone out of her way to keep Ron from thinking and worrying about Harry. An impossible task, really, but she did such a great job of trying to cheer him up and even succeeding sometimes that Ron often felt overwhelmed by the need to hug her.

Today though, Hermione knew Ron couldn’t be kept from thinking about Harry. It was the last day of July, after all, and Harry’s Birthday. And it would be the first Birthday since Harry turned 17 that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be with him. It would be the first Birthday in the last four years that Harry and Ron weren’t a couple anymore.

In the moment, sadness and hurt seemed to choke him, and he wondered if Harry had even considered them a couple in the first place. Right at the beginning, when they started dating after some unbelievably awkward confessions of feelings, it had been like a dream come true. Finally, the times of mutual pining had been over, replaced by a sense of such content and happiness that Ron often had woken up in the morning, sure it all just had been a dream. A second later, though, with Harry’s arm around him, reminded Ron that it was genuine.

Despite Ron missing Harry terribly, he knew it was the right decision to move out. For the sake of his own sanity and happiness, he had to leave Harry. Ron knew that Harry loved him more than anyone else. It had taken him a long time to realise that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Hermione wrote a short letter to Harry this morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday. They both signed it, deciding it would be best if they sent one letter together. The other day he floo called Ginny, asking her to check on Harry today because Ron knew that his best mate wasn’t fine. None of all these parties, charity Quidditch matches and Ministry galas could change that. At least, not after two weeks. A very selfish part of Ron hoped it never would.

Ron was about to suggest to Hermione to grab some ice cream when Harry’s owl tapped on the window glass, wildly flapping her wings. Instead of letting Athena in, Hermione looked at Ron with her eyebrows furrowed but with a questioning look directed at him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Ron stood up and opened the window. The owl flew inside, flying straight towards Ron’s opened and still not fully unpacked trunk. Landing gracefully on top of one of Ron’s bright orange Canon t-shirts, she lifted the claw the letter was tied to and hooted loudly at…Hermione?

“Well, it’s yours, apparently,” Ron said, pointing at the cream-coloured envelope. “Maybe he just wants to say thank you for the Birthday wishes.”

“Ron, you know th–“

“Please, just open it, Hermione.”

Her brown eyes held the kind of anxiety he felt too, but she still freed Athena from the letter and gave her an owl treat. Apparently, the bird got the order to make sure Hermione read the letter, as Ron knew that she would’ve been long gone after receiving her treat.

“Are you really sure, Ron?” Hermione asked, looking up from the unusually thick letter, “Will you promise me to not floo over, right away? Regardless of what that letter might say.”

He slowly nodded at her, his gaze fixed on Harry’s letter. This certainly wasn’t a simple ‘Thank You’ note, and the fact Harry wrote such a long letter at all scared him to the point of pure panic.

“Please, open the letter, Hermione.” If it was because of his panicked voice or Hermione’s own curiosity what the letter might say, Ron couldn’t tell, but she finally opened the envelope, took out the note and held it in a way both of them could read it.

Dear Hermione,  

First of all, I’m sorry for any potential annoyance Athena might have caused, but I told her not to leave before you have read this letter.  

What I have to tell you is crucial for both you and Ron. I know you will show Ron this letter right away; maybe he is even reading it with you right now. But this letter is actually primarily for you. What I want to tell Ron, I have to tell him in person, and maybe after today, he’ll give me a chance to hear me out.

Hermione, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for all the reasons you expect me to be sorry for, but I’m also sorry for letting our friendship crumble and fall apart. I had been so angry at you for stealing Ron. Stealing him, like he is some kind of possession to lose. The last two weeks, I was consumed by this unreasonable rage that I thought was gone after Tom Riddle’s soul left me forever. Yes, it took me two weeks to finally realise that you just were a good friend to Ron.  

Because a good friend is what you are. And I know you tried to be a good friend to me for the longest time. I took you for granted. Just like I took Ron for granted and everyone else I turned away from during last year. I turned into a horrible person without noticing it, or rather, refusing to acknowledge it. And because of that, I also turned into an awful friend.  

I could blame many things for my behaviour, like fame or the press or my manager or my childhood. But after taking a hard look at myself, I concluded that I can’t blame anyone or anything for this but me.  

Before I even try to make it right with all of you, before I can look into Ron’s eyes again, I have to sort out my life first. Actually, I’ll start to do this today.  

Both of you have to up your security. Use any charm you can think of. I doubt you will be in any serious danger, but I have no idea what kind of reaction this will cause. It’s best if you stay away from Diagon Alley tomorrow. I won’t mention Ron’s name, of course, but expect journalists trying to corner the two of you for interviews.  

Do you remember the beach cottage we celebrated my 19th Birthday? I will spend the whole day there tomorrow. Would you and Ron join me? I have a lot to say.  

Love,

Harry

A heavy silence fell over Ron and Hermione when they both finished reading Harry’s letter. Hermione slowly folded the parchment and laid it down on her nightstand before looking up at Ron with wide eyes.

Ron didn’t know what to say, let alone what to think of this. Harry did not outright say it, but the indication was clear enough. Whether he’ll write an official statement or give a press conference, Harry planned to come out today.

Wasn’t this what Ron wanted? For Harry to not give a flying fuck what the rest of the world would think about him? For finally being able to live a life out in the open?

But instead of feeling relieved and happy, he felt an old terror creeping up his neck. Like in a trance, he sat down on the bed again and stared at Harry’s letter. Ron ran his hands over his face and groaned from the overwhelming sensation of guilt and anxiety washing over him. Did he force Harry to do this? Did he force Harry to expose himself to the nasty side of the public?

Soft hands tugged on Ron’s arms until he was forced to look up. Hermione knelt in front of him, a determined look in her warm, brown eyes. “What do you want to do now?” She asked, lightly caressing Ron’s cheek.

“Well, the letter was for you…” Ron joked, his attempt to lighten the mood earned him one of Hermione’s trademark eye-rolls. “Fuck, Hermione, I have no idea. What if Harry is just doing this because he’s hurt?”

“Harry always acts impulsively,” Hermione answered in a thoughtful tone, “but his words sound sincere to me. And as he said in his letter, he really needs to sort out his life.”

“He shouldn’t have to come out though for that.”

“No, he doesn’t have to do this. But for his own sake, I really think it’s the right way to go.”

“I can try to get a hold of him and check how he’s doing if you want me to,” Hermione added when Ron didn’t respond.

“You would do that?” Ron looked down at her once more, feeling grateful to have Hermione by his side.

“Of course,” Hermione stood up from her kneeling position to sit beside Ron and took his hand into hers, “But Ron, just because Harry is doing this doesn’t mean you have to go back to him. I’ll support you, no matter how you decide, but please promise me you won’t let yourself get treated like that again. I don’t want to see you getting hurt like that anymore.”

He smiled at her and softly squeezed her hand. “I promise, Hermione. But I think I can’t just continue as if nothing happened. Not so soon, anyway.”

“Good,” Hermione stood up and went over to Ron’s suitcase where Athena still sat, looking expectantly at them, “Come on, Athena. I bring you back to Harry.” The owl hooted at her as if in protest but still flew up to Hermione’s right shoulder.

“Hermione?” Ron said before she could disapparate.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

*******

The press room of his manager’s company resembled a cozy living room rather than the place he held all his important meetings. Aside from the chairs for the reporters and photographers and the speaker’s stand at the front, it was decorated like a room he would suspect to find in some Lord’s castle. It had an impressive fireplace, a golden chandelier and was decorated with several large paintings and fancy looking rugs.

As Harry took a quick look into the press room from the door that led to Liam’s office, he saw that some news outlets had sent their reporters early. They clearly expected big news from him, considering the last and only press conference he gave had been the one right after the war. Harry was sure they thought he would announce an engagement. It was the obvious conclusion, and if he wouldn’t have been in such a grave mood, he maybe could’ve found it amusing to imagine their faces after he gave his statement.

You’ll see their reactions soon enough, Harry thought.

Despite what he was going to do in less than ten minutes, he felt strangely calm. It could’ve been the years of experience handling the press, but Harry knew this wasn’t the case. Talking about the Quidditch Cup final or the latest decision of the Wizengamot was one thing. Telling the world he was gay was something else entirely.

No, Harry’s calmness didn’t come from years of navigating the press, but rather Hermione’s visit an hour ago. She didn’t say much, just that Ron wanted him to know he didn’t have to do this. And she made it very clear this outing wasn’t a safe ticket to get Ron back. He told her that all he had said to her in the letter was true and that he needed to do this for himself more than anything else.

Hermione had simply nodded and turned around to floo home, but she had stopped in her tracks.

“Be safe,” She said softly, without turning around. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside the fireplace, leaving behind the orange flames dancing inside it.

Hope sparked inside his heart because, obviously, Ron and Hermione still cared and tried to look out for him. Even if he ruined every chance of a relationship with Ron, not all seemed lost considering Harry’s friendship with his two best friends.

“Are you ready?” Liam’s voice came from behind him. The short, grey-haired wizard stepped up beside Harry, looking up at him with his ever-professional mask of indifference.

“Ready,” Harry answered, testing his voice, glad it sounded strong and unwavering.

Without missing a beat, Harry’s manager opened the dark, wooden door, and the two of them walked to the podium. Several cameras flashed already when Harry cast  Sonorous  at himself. The room was filled with at least one journalist and a photographer from every news outlet in Magical Britain.

The news of Harry Potter being gay was going to spread like wildfire.

“Good evening,” Harry started to speak, his amplified voice quieting down the low chatter of the audience. He planned to make this short, wishing to be back at his flat already.

“I’m here to inform you that I won’t be attending any official events for the rest of the year.” The voices grew louder again, but Liam stopped the chatter by simply raising his hand. The way this short man managed crowds never ceased to amaze Harry.

“This is simply a way for me to get my life back on track, and I know I need this time for myself in the upcoming months. I-”

“Mr Potter,” Rita Skeeter interrupted, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill and a parchment hovering in the air beside her, “Does your-”

“Mrs Skeeter, I don’t remember my manager giving you permission to ask questions,” Harry cut her off, trying very hard to not let her admire his middle finger. “And if you wish to attend this press conference until the end, I advise you to not interrupt me again.”

Raising an eyebrow at him but otherwise remaining silent, Rita sat down again, her quill still scribbling wildly. Harry knew he would pay for this. He was just about to give her the perfect ammunition, after all.

“I could just leave it at that. It would definitely prevent my manager from being forced to read through a lot of hate-mail, and it would spare me from having to hide from the public for a while. But these past months, my relationship with the press and official events destroyed everything I really hold dear. And no, I don’t blame you for this. You intruded on my life more than once, but what I have let my life become is entirely my fault. That’s why I have to make the reason for my retreat public. Before I reconcile with the people I hurt, I have to make it right with myself, first and foremost.”

Complete silence settled over the room. Not a single whisper could be heard, and even Rita Skeeter’s quill stopped scribbling, simply hovering beside the witch.

Harry closed his eyes for a brief second as his heartbeat threatened to beat out of his chest. It was now or never, so Harry took one last deep breath, and then, he finally told the world the truth.

“I’m gay.”

*******

A gentle breeze greeted Ron and Hermione when they apparated to the beach Harry mentioned in his letter. The slight wind felt like a relief compared to the stuffy heat in the city. Hermione could only shake her head at Ron for complaining about the hot days, given how rare they were in London.

They could already see the small cottage from their apparation point, the security charms still allowing them to notice it and enter its wards. It was a short walk to the small wooden cabin, but it was enough time for Ron to break out in a sweat.

Yesterday night they had heard about Harry’s press conference on the radio. The news station recited his speech word by word before analyzing it, also word by word, and taking wild guesses on which wizards were most likely to be a past or present love interest of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry’s words kept repeating in Ron’s mind, making him feel guilty, relieved and sad, all at the same time. More than anything else, he wanted to know how Harry felt about all of this, but at the same time, he feared what Harry might expect from Ron now.

With a gentle wave of his wand, Ron alerted Harry of their presence, and a second later, he walked out of the cottage. His black hair looked even wilder than usual, fitting his red-rimmed eyes and the wrinkled shirt he was wearing.

Despite Harry's ruffled appearance, Ron immediately felt a pang of deep longing inside his chest. All he wanted to do right now was to run his hands over Harry's five o’clock shadow and kiss away the dark bags under these brilliantly green eyes.

Instead, he just stood in front of Harry, willing his heart and mind to slow down.

After what felt like an awfully long time of awkward silence, Harry cleared his throat. “Would- would you like to come in?”

“I won't come in with you,” Hermione answered, and before Harry could protest, she turned to Ron, “We'll meet at Neville’s at 7?”

“But Hermione, I want to talk to you too.”

“I know, Harry,” Hermione looked back at him, her lips tightly pressed together, “But I think you should talk to Ron first. Alone.”

Ron could see Harry didn't expect this. He probably prepared a whole speech for Hermione and was now at a loss for words after her announcement.

“We will talk, just the two of us. And I will try to rebuild our friendship, regardless of what Ron might decide for himself.” Hermione paused for a brief moment and took a step closer towards Harry. “But should Ron decide to give your relationship another chance, remember that our friendship will stand and fall on how you treat him. I won't watch one of my best friends hurt the other again.”

And as if to make a point, she took her wand out of its holster, gripping it tightly. Without waiting for Harry's response, though, Hermione quickly squeezed Ron's hand before turning around and disapparating with a quiet plop.

“I really wanted to talk to her,” Harry sighed, weaving a hand through his unruly hair.

“How are you?” Ron asked instead of saying something about Hermione's decision to keep out of this conversation.

Apparently surprised about Ron's sudden change of topic, Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. A second later, though, his gaze softened, and Ron squirmed under the longing Harry's eyes held.

“Better than I thought I would be” Harry took a small step closer.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” Harry quickly interrupted him rather loudly, and with a much quieter voice, he said, “I know. But I wanted to. I needed to do this.”

Ron nodded and stared at his feet, not knowing what else he could say right now.

“Would you like to sit in the backyard? I have some beer and coke in the fridge.”

“Sure. I'll take the coke.” Ron didn't trust himself to not throw all resolve into the wind if he drank something stronger than Butterbeer. Booze combined with Harry's toned legs on full display on this hot summer day? Ron wouldn't take any chances.

Five minutes later, the two of them found themselves sitting on the small porch, overlooking the ocean. The sea was calm today, and the sound of the waves lulled them into a companionable silence.

Ron couldn't tell how much time had passed when Harry finally started to speak. He told Ron about his past two weeks—all the feelings he went through, from fiery anger over crippling guilt to unbelievable longing. He talked about how much he had hated himself and how this feeling shrank to a tiny flame after yesterday's coming out. And when Harry looked at Ron, telling him he was sorry and he was well aware Ron most likely couldn't see a meaning anymore behind his apologies, a single tear escaped Harry’s eye.

Ron wanted nothing more than to brush it away, but he didn't. Instead, he braced himself for what he needed to tell Harry.

“Harry, I-,” Ron sat up a little straighter, making sure to look Harry in the eyes, “I need time. I need time for myself, at least, for a while. I realised that I stopped being my own person in the last months of our relationship, and like you, I have to find my way back to myself.”

“I obviously want you back, Ron,” Harry's shoulders slumped down a little from the disappointment, but at the same time, Ron thought he saw something like resolve shining behind his green eyes, “But I'll be happy as long as you let me be a part of your life. Maybe- maybe we could just hang out for a while. Just as friends. Go to the pub, watch a Quidditch match, stuff like that.”

Ron gave him a small smile. “That sounds good.”

They didn't say anything else after that. The sun wasn't ready to set yet, but its late afternoon glow gave the sea a beautiful reflection.

At some point, Harry's hand that lay between them on the wooden bench accidentally bumped against Ron's. Harry jolted and wanted to pull his hand away, but Ron stopped him. He softly grazed over Harry's wrist with his fingertips, eliciting a small sigh from him. Ron watched as his hand interlaced their fingers; Harry's olive scarred skin against his pale, freckled and equally scarred skin. It was a beautiful sight.

They kept sitting this way until it was time for Ron to go, just staring out into the sea and holding hands.

*******

Resisting Harry Potter had never been easy for him, but nowadays, everything his best mate did seemed to drive Ron crazy.

Christmas was a week away, and a month ago, Ron and Harry started dating again.

One day, after attending one of Ginny's Quidditch games, they had gone to a small, cozy Muggle Café, trying to warm themselves up from the cold November weather. The Polyjuice Potion they used to disguise themselves from the watching crowd in the Quidditch stands had long worn off, but a rather persistent strand of blonde hair on Harry’s head refused to turn back into its usual raven black state.

Ron had reached over their tiny round table to point it out to Harry but instead almost knocked his glasses off in the process. They burst into laughter, and Ron didn't know if it had been the rush of cheering for his sister today or something else entirely, but for some reason, he had chosen this moment to ask Harry out on a proper date.

And it could have been all in Ron's head, but he failed to remember if he had ever seen Harry smile as he had at that moment.

Without further discussing it, they had kept it slow. Their dates had involved a lot of kissing again, but they always had gone home alone in the end; Harry to his flat and Ron to the tiny apartment he currently shared with Hermione since early September.

Now though, they stood just outside of The Leaky Cauldron, which Hannah and Neville reopened today. After taking over the pub from Tom, they had renovated the large terrace, surprising most of Tom's old guests that it even existed.

For the reopening, they had decorated it with fairy lights and some plants that didn't mind the season’s cold weather. High, round tables stood everywhere where the guests could have some drinks and snacks.

Together with Hermione and her new boyfriend Martin, they stood around one of these tables, drinking the most delicious hot chocolate Ron ever had. While Hermione was busy introducing Martin to their friends, Harry was busy running his hand over Ron's arse.

From their place right in front of the wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they were able to observe everything, but no one was able to see how Harry’s hand seemed to have found a new home in one of Ron's back pockets.

After about an hour, Ron finally had enough. Before Harry could sneak his hand there again, Ron grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind one of Neville's monster plants which happened to be the perfect hiding place.

“You noticed all the bloody journalists out there, right?” Ron asked but clearly didn't expect an answer from Harry as he kissed him as he had wanted to all night. Harry didn't miss a beat and pulled Ron tightly against him, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Harry moaned into Ron's mouth when Ron sucked at his lower lip, making him want to apparate home with Harry right away.

As Harry set to kiss Ron's neck, it was now the redhead’s turn to bite back a groan. “Let's- let's- Oh Merlin, Harry.”

“Let's what?” Harry whispered as his hands slowly wandered down Ron's body.

“Let's go home,” Ron said in a breathy voice, lips swollen from kissing, “Let's say goodbye to Hannah and Neville and then go home.”

Harry shook his head as he stepped away from Ron, but tugging at his hand as he went into the direction of the party guests.

“Before we go home, let's show them,” Harry stepped up to Ron again, this time just kissing him softly on the lips, “Only if you're okay with it, of course.”

“But you already had your moment of truth. Everyone knows you're gay.”

“They don't know about us, though,” Harry said, softly stroking Ron's cheek, “And besides, my real moment of truth had been when I apologized to you and our friends. The public outing was nothing compared to admitting I had been a shit friend and partner.”

“You know, I don't care about the press knowing about us, but you don't have to prove anything to me, Harry.”

“I think I do. Let's show everyone the wizard that won over The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said, and without another word, he led them into the crowd again.

Nobody was paying attention to them, despite the great Harry Potter standing in the middle of the expansive terrace, holding hands with his best mate. Mistletoe hung from above them, and Harry grinned at the coincidence.

“Doesn't seem like we have much of an audience,” Ron stated as he observed all the party guests who were too busy chatting and drinking, “But I think one of the fucking paparazzi has spotted us.”

“Do you think that's enough, Weasley? Simply holding hands in front of a paparazzi?”

Ron was well aware Harry was daring him, but Ron had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, after all. Never breaking eye contact with Harry, Ron put his thumb and middle finger inside his mouth and whistled so loudly, everyone startled out of their conversation and turning their heads towards them.

And without missing a beat, Harry put his arms around Ron's neck and kissed him. Ron heard surprised gasps and camera flashes and cheering, but all he could focus on were Harry's lips and his heart beating so fast he was sure everyone could hear it.

As they broke the kiss, Ron put his forehead against Harry's and grinned like the bloody, lovesick fool he knew he looked like right now.

“Take us home, Potter,” Ron whispered, feeling freer than ever before in his life.

They never made it back to the party.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 4)

Summary: The reader enjoys lunch with Jensen as strictly friends but the pair both know something is still there. The reader and her dad end up having a slight argument later on in the day when she tries to give him a few notes...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 3,100ish

Warnings: language, mention of car accident/death

A/N: Please enjoy!

______

“Good evening,” said Jensen, smiling as he popped up behind you in the line for lunch, albeit, dinner break. 

“Hi Jens,” you said, returning the smile he was giving you. “Having fun today?”

“Oh, there’s nothing I love more than being tied to a chair and screaming my head off,” he said. You looked him up and down and started to laugh, Jensen rolling his eyes. “Alright gutter mind, take it easy.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” you teased, getting a hot bowl of soup and bread tonight. You rubbed your arm and Jensen smiled as he threw a few meatballs in his styrofoam container. 

“You uh, want to eat in my trailer with me?” he asked. You looked over your shoulder, most of the tables filled up. “It’s a little cool in here anyways.”

“Sure,” you said, securing a lid on your food and grabbing a spoon. You followed him out of the tent and across the lot. He held the door open for you as you slipped inside. His was certainly smaller than your dad’s but it wasn’t horribly outdated like some of the other ones that were for the rest of the rotating cast.

He pushed some papers off his small table and onto the seat, waving for you to take a seat. You hummed as you felt warm air come out of the vent nearby.

“I love a toasty trailer on a cold day,” you said.

“You know us LA types. Can’t handle the cold,” he chuckled. “I’m glad we’re inside today.”

“It’s supposed to get a bit stormy next week,” you said. “We’ll have to get some heaters on set for night scenes.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said as you took off your lid and dipped your bread in the soup. “I’m sure this is nothing compared to how it was on Freeze.”

“Oh my God,” you said with a smile. “I loved Freeze! I was seven when my dad did that movie. You know the sled dogs? I got to go on a ride with them. It was one of the few movies of my dad’s he let me see when I was little.”

“Well it was a children’s movie,” said Jensen as he set a drink down in front of you and started to eat. “I used to watch it all the time with my brother. We both had the flu once and we watched that thing four times that day.”

“It was a good movie. I was excited because we lived up in Alaska for about two months. I built so many snowmen and I think I dragged my dad sledding every single day,” you said. “I don’t know when he slept.”

“Probably when you were at school,” chuckled Jensen.

“Actually I was homeschooled on occasion,” you said. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “Most of the time it was studio tutors that did the teaching but my dad got all certified to teach elementary school. Up in Alaska I think he did it on his own. I had recess a lot.”

“Ethan is a man of many talents,” said Jensen. “Not to brag but I mean, I can drive a stick shift.”

“He can do that too,” you said.

“Alright. He’s frustratingly good at everything.”

“He can’t sing for shit if that makes you feel better,” you said.

“I can,” he said. You tilted your head and he shook his head, cheeks pink for a moment. “You know, average. It’s really not good.”

“Now who’s the one underselling themselves,” you said. “I thought that was my thing. I bet you sing better than you think.”

“I can’t really do it in front of other people,” he said.

“I understand,” you said. His face returned to it’s normal color and you went back to your meal. Green eyes stared at you though and you looked up through your eyelashes as you slurped your soup. “Something on my face?”

“No,” he said. You caught him staring a few more times, enough that you checked your shirt to make sure you hadn’t spilled anything on yourself. He smirked when you looked down. You rolled your eyes and caught him frown, his body stiffening up while you ate in silence.

“Thanks for letting me eat in here,” you said. You gathered up your trash when you finished, Jensen letting out a small breath.

“You just...look nice today is all,” he said, taking a bite of his breadstick. You looked down at yourself. You thought you looked like crap but whatever. He was free to his opinion. 

“Okay…I’ll see you on set,” you said. You grabbed the bag of trash and left the trailer, hearing a groan as soon as you left. 

“I’m an idiot,” you heard him say. You smiled briefly before you wiped it off your face. You were nothing more than work friends. It was very clear and obvious that would be for the best. 

Which was of course why he completely threw that out the window and said you looked nice and couldn’t stop looking at you. You sighed and heard the door open behind you, Jensen standing there with his script in his hand.

“Oh. You’re still there,” he said. You hummed and quickly hopped off the steps, squeezing your eyes shut as you walked. Great. He’d probably heard that.

You nearly tripped over a cable, your eyes flying open. 

“Uh, you doing alright?” he asked. You gave him a thumbs up and got out of there quickly, your dad whistling as he headed into his own trailer nearby.

“You look like you’re having a day,” he said.

“I am so looking forward to the weekend.”

“Sorry kid,” said your dad in the middle of a scene later on that night. Jensen turned his head and shook it out. “You okay?”

“Yeah. My fault, should have turned quicker,” said Jensen, his cheek probably decently sore after that hit. After the dinner break, Jensen had gone back in the chair and you’d continued with the rougher parts of Hale’s interrogation of Lyle. The movie was going for a PG-13 rating but that didn’t mean it was going to be pretty.

“I was the one off the mark,” he said.

“You guys okay?” you called. 

“Accidentally popped Jay in the face. He says he’s okay though,” said your dad.

“Jensen, you good to keep going or you want medical?” you asked.

“I’m good,” he said, giving a quick thumbs up. You knew he was ready to get out of the chair. He’d been squirming the past half hour and not because he had to use the bathroom. Getting yelled at and fake beat up for eleven hours today wasn’t all that fun.

“Alright, reset. That was good but dad, go harder on Jensen,” you said.

“I was going pretty hard before,” he said with a scoff.

“Pretend some guy killed your kid. How pissed would you be? Do that,” you said. He looked over at the camera, a strange look on his face. 

Oh shit.

He was not happy and you knew it.

“Hey, let’s take a quick fifteen minute break. We’re all due,” you said. “Jensen, you need out of the chair?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” he said even though you knew he’d prefer it. “Just want a little bit of a drink.”

“Alright,” you said, your dad already walking past the cameras and headed outside for the trailers. “We won’t be long.”

“Why’d we break? We just started this scene,” said AJ as he leaned over to you.

“Just give me ten minutes please,” you said as you hopped out of your seat. You turned off your radio and went to your dad’s trailer, knocking a few times. “Dad. Can I come in?”

He was quiet and you rested your head against the door. 

“Dad, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You heard him on the steps and moved back, the door creaking open. He stared at you before he held it open and you stepped up. He went to his couch and took a seat, reading over his script and clearly giving the cold shoulder.

“Wow. You’re forty five years old. Act like it,” you said.

“Don’t give me notes like that,” he said as he stood up. “In fact, don’t give me notes at all. I know what I’m doing. I know your book. I don’t need you to tell me how to play Hale. I have been doing this your entire life.”

“Well sorry. I know you were forced to take me in. I’ll be sure not to give you any notes on caring about children again,” you said, turning to go when his hand caught your arm. “Let go.”

“I have thought about that night a lot and I would pick you over Kim every single time if I was given a choice. Do not try and spin this that I don’t care about you,” he said.

“Well why’d you get so pissed off?”

“Because you almost did die. I know what that feeling is like and I never want to feel it again, even pretend,” he said back.

“You didn’t even know she was pregnant though,” you said. “She was never going to tell you about me. I’m not even supposed to be here with you. Her parents didn’t want to raise her bastard child that the doctors chose over her and that’s the only reason I am here.”

“You know I love your mother, that I love Dani,” he said.

“Yes, dad. I was in the wedding,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “What does that-”

“I love her. She was the first woman I’ve ever truly loved but I would shove her in front of a train for you or Anthony or Ella. Do not ever doubt that I wouldn’t put my children first, ever,” he said.

“Just...forget this happened. Obviously I shouldn’t have said what I did. Come back when you’re ready,” you said, his hand tugging you into a hug. “Dad, it’s fine.”

“I’m still sensitive over Kim. I snapped and I’m sorry. Please give me notes and direction. You’re not a little kid and you’re the boss, not me,” he said. 

“Sorry for being bitchy,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry for being bitchy first,” he said, giving you a smile. “It’s alright. There was nothing wrong with your note, kiddo.”

“Why didn’t she tell you she was pregnant? You never talk about her,” you said after a few minutes.

“We were stupid high school kids that broke up when I moved away. I was out in LA by the time she realized she was pregnant her parents always said. She knew who the dad was and finally told them but she didn’t want me in your life,” he said. “She was probably angry at me for leaving and scared to do it alone. I never blamed her.”

“She got hit by a drunk driver right before I was due. I know you felt guilty over not knowing about me but-”

“I never said that,” he said.

“Well you didn’t have to say it,” you said. He leaned his head back and sighed. “I know you must have still cared about her from the way you barely talk about her.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I remember that night. I’d just gotten my first movie deal and I was supposed to start real soon. I got a phone call though and that all changed. I had to quit, told them my daughter needed me. Bryerson delayed the project for me actually.”

“Studio owner Bryerson?” you asked.

“He didn’t always own it. He was just a junior vice president back then. He liked me. He liked my priorities. NICU baby was hard to ignore,” he said, giving you a smile. “I’ll go harder in there. You’re right. I was holding back. I don’t need to pretend to know what it’s like to lose a child though. I almost lost my first one, more than once.”

“I grew up healthy though,” you said with a frown. “Right?”

“Yeah. That first week was rough though. You survived the car accident and birth but then you were so little. There were a few days where I almost lost you again. But you pulled through and we got lucky you did,” he said, smiling to himself. He still looked off though and you gave him a hug. He held on tight, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Dad? Are you okay?” you asked. He hummed, squeezing you too tight.

“Alright, alright. We got a long night ahead of us. Let’s get back to it.”

“Very good job tonight!” you called out a few hours later. Your dad jogged off set and grabbed his backpack from his chair, taking off quickly as you saw Jensen stand. “See everyone in the morning. Jensen, please hold back a minute.”

He sighed as he walked off set and gathered up his things from his chair, waiting there while you spoke to the AD for a moment.

“Yes?” he asked wearily when you went over to him.

“You alright? Today’s stuff wasn’t easy. My dad’s a veteran actor and I know it got to him a bit,” you said. Jensen stared at you and nodded. He looked exhausted and tired from shouting and crying most of the day. He looked away and let out a breath.

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice sounding a bit raw and scratchy. “I really want to go home and go to bed is all.”

“Don’t bring it home with you,” you said. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Jensen.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m fine. I want to be left alone if that’s okay.”

“For a great actor you make a horrible liar,” you said. Jensen sighed and you grabbed his hand. “Let’s get an early breakfast. My treat.”

“I would rather we don’t see each other outside of work. Simpler that way,” he said. You stared at him and dropped his hand. 

“Jensen, come on. This isn’t...you need to get out of Lyle’s head for a minute. It’s not you. You’re okay.”

“Y/N, I appreciate the concern but I’m fine and I don’t want to see you anymore tonight,” said Jensen. You frowned as he started to walk away. He was still upset but you couldn’t make him do anything about it. Thankfully your dad walked over just then and slapped Jensen on the back, giving him a smirk. Jensen sighed but forced a smile onto his face. “Hey, Ethan.”

“Come on, kid,” he said, throwing an over his shoulders, leading Jensen towards the actor’s parking lot. “Let’s go walk.”

“Where?” asked Jensen quietly. “I want to go home, Ethan.”

“Just come on,” he said. “I’ve been there. I’ll take care of him, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good afternoon,” you said when you saw Jensen get to set the next day around lunchtime. He looked happier and rested, giving you a small smile. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah. Your dad gave me some tips and stuff on dealing with emotional scenes. We went and got waffles at some diner nearby. He told me Lyle’s not me so I don’t have to carry his crap,” he said. You hummed and he kicked at the ground with his sneaker. “Sorry I was an ass last night. I wasn’t really myself.”

“It’s okay. I could tell you were a little off,” you said. He nodded and started to head over to the hair and makeup trailer. You bit your bottom lip and frowned. Great. He was only barely talking to you again.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said as he spun around on the blacktop after a moment. “Sorry for being an ass the night before that too. I shouldn’t have given an ultimatum like that about seeing each other.”

“You weren’t an ass,” you said. “It’s not a good time to do this is all, like you said. I barely remember to eat, let alone date.”

“You know, your dad sort of invited me over for dinner at your parent’s place on Saturday,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “For surviving my first week and all.”

You smiled to yourself. Often your parents had people over, studio executives, producers, directors, actors. A lot of times it was work related. It was rare for them to invite someone over to the house on a Saturday though. Ordinarily those things took place during the week. Saturday meant it was supposed to be fun.

“Jensen, I think maybe we should forget about the not seeing each other outside of work thing. Obviously that’s kind of silly considering the situation. We can be friends though,” you said. He nodded, his features soft. “Friends hang out.”

“Yeah, totally. I’m down for being friends,” he said with a smile. 

“Maybe when this is all over…” you said, Jensen’s face blank, not sure if you should actually try to push it. “Maybe I’ll be ready then.”

“I uh...to be honest, Y/N if you’re not ready for a relationship now, I don’t think two months will change anything. You’re still gonna be busy with editing and scoring and maybe we’re better staying in the friend zone, for both of us,” he said. “No offense. I mean I’d like to and obviously there’s...something there between us but time’s always going to be an issue.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, Jensen nodding and biting his bottom lip. “You’re right. I’m going to be pretty busy for the next few months. Um, I have to run to a meeting. I’ll see you on set.”

You quickly left and rolled your eyes at yourself, your dad raising an eyebrow when he walked by with a coffee.

“Bad day?”

“Don’t ask.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!