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itsohh · 1 year

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Can Live Without Him

A/N: G/N reader, once again, square brackets mean speaking in Spanish. Alejandro is endgame in this, it an’t ending well for Graves.

Summary: After finding catching Phillip in the act you end things much to his despair. Years later, your job unknowingly for you brings you to Las Almas. The city you have somewhat acquainted with due to your current fiance, Alejandro. Yet, things get a little messy when your ex shows up.

Word count: 4078

Warnings: Angst, canon-typical violence

AO3 Masterlist

In all reality, you couldn't help but feel dumb. You didn't yell, you didn't scream. You leaned on the doorframe with your arms folded. Your eyes glid over them. She was young, so young. You wouldn't have been surprised if he was her first. In all honesty, you felt a bit sorry for her. The wedding ring twirled on your finger all the meanwhile she moaned louder.

Then she let out a scream, one different from the breathy moans. Her clawing at his bare back turned into pushes and she practically shoved Phillip to the side in preference for the sheets. He followed her gaze and his eyes met yours. You watched him swallow and your eyes flickered down to the ring that rolled between your fingers. He whispered out your name and she frantically looked between you, unsure what to do.

"No aftercare? At least give the girl some water." Your tongue ran over your teeth and your eyes narrowed.

"Who-"

"-Leave." He interrupted the girl and she practically sunk into the bed. Terrified.

"Tsk tsk, that's not very nice of you." You pushed off the doorway and picked up some of her clothing. Your steps were nonchalant as you made your way over to her. With a kind but pissed smile, you gave them to her.

"Get dressed honey, you deserve someone better." She nodded at your words and franticly started to get dressed.

"I- I'm sorry I didn't know." Her voice was small and scared.

"It's not your fault. Im sure it just slipped Phillip's mind that he's married hmm?" You leaned into her. "Don't worry about it. How old are you anyway?"

"Twenty." She started to get her pants on and you leaned back. Her sandals were quick to get on and you followed her to the door which she practically sprinted from. Her tears started to fall and you could see her shoulders shake and you could only hope she could get home safely.

The door closed with a click and you spin around to see Phillip standing there, uncertain how to approach you.

"You put pants on. A good look for you." He spoke your name, head tilting and he took a step towards you.

"What's up, Phillip?"

"I know you're angry, it was a moment of weakness and I-"

"A moment of weakness!" You bitterly laughed. "Let me guess, I'm never around. I'm always at work, you're always at work. Spare me."

"I love you I do, she didn't mean-"

"Come on Phillip if you loved me you wouldn't have done it. Simple as."

"It's not that simple-"

"I literally walked in on you fucking some girl and you think words can solve this?" You took a step forward with a bitter laugh.

"We can fix this-"

"Fix what? I didn't do jack squat."

"Just tell me what you want me to do, what to say." He pleaded. You licked your lips and took a step towards him.

"Tell me you love me, tell me you will do anything for me to stay. Tell me you will never do it again."

"Yes." He swallowed with a breath. "Yes, I do- I love you." You found a strand of his hair and focused on fiddling with it as he continued. "It was a mistake, I promise you I'll do better. I'll never do that again, anything you want. I'll make it happen."

"Good." You cooed out. Then a sudden hard snap in your entire tone and body. With a hiss, you continued, "Now tell me you will sign the divorce papers."

A groan left your lips as you followed Soap up from your seat. "Dunno why Laswell even had me come. You guys can handle this." You stretched as the bright morning sun hit you through the windows.

"Maybe it's because you speak Spanish or because you know Mexico."

"Um excuse me, Mexico's a pretty fucking large place. Just because I know a small area doesn't mean I know the whole damn place."

"I don't know, maybe because you know the people?" She shrugged.

"Perhaps attending the briefing would help answer your questions." Ghost spoke up and you let out a huff.

"I was busy okay. Your lucky I made the flight at all. Also you-" You elbowed Soap next to you. "-I know maybe like twenty people total in this country. The likelihood of me actually interacting with them is so fucking low-." Your eyes met the man waiting in front of you and a smile spread across his face. You wiped a hand over your mouth and walked a few steps back inside the plane for a moment before you circle back next to Soap.

"Not a fucking word more." You hissed and he shrugged.

"Problem Doctor?" Ghost barked next to you.

"Negative sir." You swallowed.

"Alejandro, nice to meet you." Soap greeted the man with a curious look on his face.

Alejandro made his introduction with Ghost but paused when it came to you and you could see the debate going on in his eyes.

"[Good to see you again darling. Should thank Laswell, didn't think I would see you again so soon.]" He smirked and you let out a breath.

"[Christ save me, at least try to be professional.]" You muttered and he let out a laugh.

"[I'll try anything for you my love.]" His eyes glanced back to your squadmates. "Introductions out the way, shall we?"

Ghost started to speak about the plans and you raised a brow.

"We working with mercs?" You leaned over to Soap and whispered.

"Oh no you don't, you gotta tell me what happened there with Alejandro first." He grinned as you got into the vehicle in the middle.

"He's my fiance." You mumbled as quietly as you could.

"What was that?" Soap laughed, eyes wide with slight disbelief.

"You heard me. Now spill."

"Shepard got some outside help to get past red tape. Gonna be our backup for this."

"Fuck I hate working with mercs."

"Why's that?"

"Never trust a loyalty you can buy."

"Ah, never heard something so agreeable." Alejandro's eyes met yours as he looked over his shoulder and it became painfully aware that everyone had been listening to your conversation. Your eyes met Rudy's in the rearview mirror and had it not been for the current circumstances you would have strangled him for his snickering.

God, you knew that voice. You fucking knew that voice well. When that voice came up on the coms you kept your mouth shut. As shut as it could be. You focused on the job and getting out alive. No one questioned why you were quiet the entire time you got Hassin out.

Never in your life had you been so thankful for sunglasses and the mask over your lower face. "Do you speak Arabic?" Hassins voice came.

"The Doctor does." Soap spoke and you felt eyes land on you. "Shame it's time for their break. They never did like interrogations."

"Or torture." You added in, voice muffled by the mask. You made sure to keep your eyes off Phillip. No way in hell could you look at him, in all honesty, you prefer to look at Hassin. At least then your anger seemed reasonable to everyone else.

"Take a walk Doctor." Shepard's voice came clear through the laptop.

"Don't need to tell me twice."

"Ghost a moment of your time when you're not busy." In the side of your eye as they got prepared to release Hassin.

"Free now. Is this about you and Alejandro?"

"Huh? What? No, that wouldn't be an issue. It's uh about me and Graves." You looked away from his gaze and eyed everyone around you.

"Graves?"

"Is my ex-husband. I stress the importance of ex."

"Will it be a problem?"

"On my side? A bit awkward but no. Graves is an unknown entity. I'd prefer to keep my identity discreet while we work with them."

"Understandable, I'll tell Soap to refrain from using your name. Will the Los Vaqueros give you away?"

"Negative, I don't think that any of them have used my name for a long time now."

"Tell me if the situation changes."

"Will do sir."

"Can't we stop after we get into the base?" You groaned and got out of the car. The thought of a nice warm shower already plagued your mind and standing out in the cold was not your ideal situation. There was a shift in the air and you slid your glasses up. Your eyes went to Ghost's who made strong eye contact with you. Be on alert.

"This is a sizable covert facility and I admire it. So I'm taking it." You swore under your breath. You knew he was a bastard, you knew he couldn't be trusted. But this? Betray his own allies? That was a new low for him. Your hand subtly found your pistol, the Shadows were too focused on keeping an eye on Ghost to notice you. Graves continued to talk and your eyes silently communicated to Ghost. His eyes caught a glance of your gun and he tilted his head ever so slightly. You weren't supposed to have that on you anymore. Good thing you did though.

"Now that makes me wonder what else I don't know about your affiliation with a drug lord." Alejandro looked over his shoulder for a moment and his eyes met yours only for a second. It felt almost shameful that you used to be with Graves and your mind couldn't help but wander to what if you never caught him that day.

With each and every second that passed by you couldn't help but become more aware of how outgunned you were. You guys needed to retreat. This was not a fight you would win. Soap eventually stepped back which lowered the tension ever so slightly. That was good, he was further from their reach. His eyes locked with yours and Ghost.

"Your men have been…" Your heart dropped as horror spread through you. Did he execute them? "Detained." Oh, thank god.

Your relief wasn't felt by everyone as Alejandro charged at Graves. All hell broke loose and you raised your pistol. "Alejandro!" You called his name and three sets of eyes fell on you. Alejandro, Graves and the Shadow next to you. Alejandro moved just in time for the bullets to pass him and hit Graves in the chest. It wouldn't kill him but it wouldn't be painless either, there was only so much a bulletproof vest could do.

The Shadow next to you immediately dived for you. You jumped back in time but they managed to rip the mask from your face in their attempts.

Ghost was there to back you up with a knife in the Shadow's neck. Your eyes locked with Graves's and recognition washed over his face. Gun in your hand you fired again and Graves was instantly snapped out of his frozen state. That and the punch from Alejandro. Ghost slammed you back against the car out of the way of gunfire while Phillip hit Alejandro over the head.

On the other side of the car, Soap used a Shadow as a meat shield and you tried to cover him but your gun clicked empty. "We have to get out of here." You breathed to Ghost." He dashed to the side of the car and you threw your pistol at a Shadow that charged you. The Shadow fell back but you didn't have the time to flee after Ghost and suddenly there was a hand on your wrist.

"Let go you fucking bastard." You hissed and when you turned to look at the Shadow you discovered it was Graves who had latched on to your arm.

"Don't think I won't shoot." He aimed the gun towards you. It was a bluff you couldn't afford to call.

"Ghost get Soap outta here!" You called out which earnt you a solid smack to the side of the head. Knocking you out instantly.

A groan left your lips as you woke. "Fucking cunt."

"Oh, you're alive. I thought they had brought me a rotting corpse as entertainment."

"V-Valeria?"

"So they speak! Ohhhh, I know you. You're the Colonel's little plaything aren't you?"

"Fuck Valeria give me a second my head's killing me." You looked down to find yourself stripped from your kit and left in the most basic of clothing. She rolled her eyes at you and slowly you gathered yourself off the floor.

You stretched out your body and blinked a few times. Valeria looked rather smug sitting on her chair. "Alright I'm now awake, you can commence whatever mocking you want to do."

She laughed at your tired voice and leaned back. "A fun one aren't you?"

"How the fuck do you even know about my relationship with Alejandro?"

"I know everything about Las Almas. Especially when some big hotshot surgeon starts visiting. One thing I couldn't find out, what rank are you, Lieutenant, Sergeant? Captain? Nobody seems to know."

"Doctor. My title is Doctor."

"Mmm the military doesn't work that way now does it-"

"No rank they give me will trump Doctor. Besides it reminds people ultimately my job is to save lives."

"And yet you take so many. Hypocritical oath?"

"Prevention is the best medicine."

"And are you going to prevent me?" She leaned forward.

"No. I'm not a judge or a jury, I don't have any orders with you Valeria."

"Oh? What a good little thing you are, Alejandro must love that in the bedroom-"

"-Why the fuck is my sex life the topic of today. What about your life eh? What was his name, Diego? Did you let him take charge or treat him like a dog like the rest of your employees?"

"He was a tool, nothing more." She has that mocking tone to her voice before she laughed." He wished he could have seen even an ounce of my skin."

"Shit Valeria maybe that's why you're so pent up, sounds like you need a good dicking down." You hissed back at her. Before she could open her mouth the large metallic door to the shipping container opened. Valeria’s eyes were on you with interest as you put distance between you and the door. Graves.

“Come with me.”

“Are you letting me go?” Your voice came without hesitation as you sized up the single guard with him.

“No, figured we could talk somewhere more… private.” He huffed.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. You can’t fucking hold me, you can’t occupy this base. The second that it comes out an American has taken a Mexican base your fucking over-”

“-I can do what I want.” His teeth pressed together. “Now, come or I will make you come.”

“Actually I think they have a point,” Valeria smirked, amused by the situation.

“Excuse me, this is between me and my spouse.” He snapped at her, stress obviously taking its toll on him. Valeria's head fell back and she let out a bitter laugh.

“You? Spouse?”

“Ex.” You corrected with hatred in your eyes.

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense because I mean. I don’t see Alejandro here now do I?” She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Pardon?” His eyes fell from yours to hers with the tilt of his head.

“You didn’t know?" She faked surprise at Graves and turned to face you. "How many months have you been visiting Las Almas? Years even? That's why they sent you no? No one plays nice with the locals like you do.” Her head weighed on her shoulders rather proudly as she spoke.

“Really? Alejandro? That's who you left me for?” He stalked towards you, obvious that his previous intention had been put on the back burner.

“I didn’t leave you for anybody Phillip. You fucked our relationship down the drain. You know what? Shame I didn’t stay with you 'cause I only got half of your shit but hell if I stayed I probably would have got all because you're going to be fucking dead before the end of the week. Hell, I'll be surprised if you even last a day out here.” At your words, he went to grab you but you dodge back and put Valeria between you and him.

Yet your options weren’t looking great when the Shadow who had been silent the entire time came into play. He approached you intending to grab you as Graves had. His arm came for you and you grabbed it with one hand. With your other hand, you went for his throat, the hidden blade between your fingers went to work and with one quick smooth swipe, you ran it across his throat. Directly across his artery, the balaclava over his face did everything in its power to stop the blood from making a mess, but still, a spray of it washed over your face.

Graves used your momentarily distracted state to grab the arm that had been on the Shadow. You went to swipe at him with the blade but he was careful and hit the side of your wrist. With a strong grip, he wrapped his other hand around it while his eyes bore into yours. “That was my man you just killed there.”

“Should have listened and fucked off. Cunt.” You brought your head forward and with a solid smack, it hit him dead in the middle of his head. It hurt, a lot. But not as much as it hurt him. Graves staggered back and let go of you. Done with your shit, he pulled the pistol on his hip and aimed it at you.

“Do it. If your gonna fucking shoot me, don’t let me stop you.” Your chest heaved while red dripped off you.

“If you're so determined to sit with this drug lord here fine. I’ll be back.” He wiped the blood from his head and made his way to the exit. Two men came into the container a moment later and you thought they would go for you but instead, they retrieved the warm corpse on the ground next to you.

The door closed once again and slowly against the side of the container you slid down against it. Clap. Clap. Clap. Your eyes looked up to see Valeria smiling at you, clapping. “Bravo, what a show. Such a fire. Real barracks bunny aren't you.” A piece of you wanted to tell her to shut up but instead, a tired sigh left your mouth. You really wanted that shower now.

“So what did he do? There's obviously no love left on your side.”

“Why should I answer you?”

“If you would rather to sit in silence be my guest.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“But we don’t know how long the pair of us are going to be stuck here. There's no need to be hostile.”

“God your a fucking bitch.” You hissed under your breath and let out a sigh. “He cheated.”

“And no second chance? No trying to fix your marriage?”

“Why would I? I know my worth and it's more than what he has to offer.” Valeria crossed her legs, her arm balanced on the chair as she listened to your reasoning.

“You fit Las Almas well. You're an interesting one. You know, if you looking for employment…”

“You fucking joking right?” You leaned forward and she laughed.

“Of course, I simply wanted to see your reaction.”

“Christ.”

Lying on the bottom of the container, Graves didn’t try to talk to you again. You had to admit, even if she was a bitch, idle conversation with Valeria wasn’t too bad. “Prision going to suck for you.” You yawned out and your head turned on the floor to face Valeria. “Like this is boring as hell and you're going to spend the rest of your days like this right?”

“It's cute you thought I wouldn’t be walking out of her by the end of the day.”

“You really think Graves is going to keep the end of his deal and let you go? You're insane. He's not a man of his word. Maybe if one of the boys was here sure but him? He couldn’t keep his word to his allies, his own goddamn partner. I think it's cute you think he will keep it for you.”

“I’m counting on something else.”

“What's that? Your cartel won’t be able to take on the Shadows.”

“No, but your boyfriend won’t let a man like Graves take his home.”

“Alejandro won’t let you walk out of here.”

“He won’t like it but he's a man of his word.” A loud banging on the side of the container had both of you look towards the door. You got up from the floor and exchanged a look with Valeria.

“Valeria!” It was Alejandro. Immediately you rushed to the door and banged back on it.

“Alejandro!” Your voice came and a couple of moments later the door opened. Disbelief was written on his face, and his eyes went wide. Without hesitation, Alejandro accepted the embrace you rushed him with.

“Good to see you, Doctor.” Your head snapped toward Gaz who you blinked at. “Price we picked up another package.” He spoke into his com.

"What's that?" You heard the voice and Gaz offered the mic to you.

"Good to hear your voice again sir."

"Is that the Doctor that I hear?" Soap's voice broke through the coms.

"Affermative on that." Gaz clicked.

"Had us worried when you weren't at the prison with Alejandro." Soap laughed, the mood had certainly lifted.

"Stick with Alejandro and Gaz. We'll get this shit sorted." Price's voice came.

"Copy." Gaz patted your shoulder and you smiled at him.

“So, Gaz what are you lot doing here? Thought you were in Holland.”

“Not anymore, Shepard burnt us all. I’m here correcting that.” You pulled back and spared a glance towards Valeria who hadn’t made any attempt to move. A smile on her face. Gaz continued. “Are you alright, your covered-”

“It’s not mine.” You turned to face him and flashed the surgical spare blade between your fingers. “Graves wanted to talk, I made an example of his Shadow that I didn’t want to.”

“Ex’s don’t normally like hearing no do they?” Valeria laughed and you shoved the door closed. Alejandro gave a look, one that was also on Gaz’s face.

“Graves is my ex-husband. Trust me there are no conflicting feelings there. ” You huffed and both of them looked at you in surprise.

“Well, that explains why he kept you here,” Kyle spoke.

“Yeah, not my favourite topic.” You walked over to one of the dead Shadows and picked up their gun. “What's the plan?”

“Ghost, Rudy and Soap are after Graves. Price is air support.” Kyle explained.

“We secure this spot. Are you alright?” Alejandro handed you a handkerchief which you used to wipe your face.

“Aside from having to room with Valeria? I’ll live.”

“Good, I’ll secure the outside doors.” He nodded and there was a look on his face. One that told you that he wanted to say more, do more. Yet this wasn’t the time. A few seconds later he left you to Gaz. There was a look in his eyes, hard to tell with the mask on.

“So…you and Alejandro huh?”

“And how did you figure that out?”

“You willingly hug anyone?”

“I hug Soap all the time.”

“No, Soap hugs you all the time. There's a difference with that Doc.” He laughed and pulled you into a half hug. One you accepted without complaint for once.

“Shuddup Garrick.”

"Good to see you too."

#alejandro x reader #graves x reader #alejandro vargas #phillip graves #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #call of duty

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romione-trope-fest · 7 months

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Love and War

Fic Title: Love and War

Author Name: Be11atrixthestrange

Selected Trope: Cockblocker Harry (+ future fake not dating)

Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione shared their first kiss during the Battle of Hogwarts…. Or at least that’s what everyone else thinks.

Word Count: 4078 (Chapter 1 of 3)

Rating: T (Will likely be upgraded to M for future chapters)

Any Trigger Warnings: Mention of character death

Chapter 1

-The Burrow, Summer 1997-

Most summers at the Burrow were busy, but the summer of 1997 could only be described as chaotic. After a dramatic escape from death eaters and an intense week of mourning Mad-Eye Moody, the Weasley clan set out to bottle up their grief like freshly-brewed butterbeer and transform their homestead into a wedding venue. Normal Weasley things, really.

It was a hot afternoon, and Ron just needed to be alone. Well, maybe not totally alone, but solitude was better than the frantic state of his home. The bustling Burrow provided the perfect opportunity for Ron to lie low. When he was certain Molly Weasley was distracted, he crept up the stairs, tiptoed into his room, and eased the door shut, breathing a sigh of relief for an empty space. He was desperate for a moment of rest, and couldn’t risk his mother spotting him finishing a chore just to assign him a new one.

He plopped into his bed and buried his head into the pillow. Ron couldn’t help but feel his tasks were superfluous. He had only spotted one gnome during an entire morning of de-gnoming the garden, and as soon as he returned to the kitchen for a drink, his mum appeared with another chore — cleaning the downstairs bathroom. That wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t assigned to him for the third time that week. Mrs. Weasley, being the worrier that she was, probably just wanted to keep her children occupied.

Ron jolted at the sound of a knock on the door. “Erm, come in?” He jumped to his feet and grabbed a dirty shirt from the floor. Having something in his hand might make him look busy.

To his relief, it was Hermione who cracked the door open.

“Hello.” Just like Ron, she shuffled across his room and collapsed onto his bed.

He had to admit that he liked the way his bed looked with her on it. “Aren’t you supposed to be putting away laundry?” he asked.

“Already finished,” she said as she fluffed a pillow under her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the bathroom?”

“All done.”

“I reckon we should ask for another task then.” She shifted over to the side of his bed, and to Ron, it looked a lot like an invitation.

He laid down next to her and rested his head on the pillow beside hers. “Nah. This is good,” he said, as he motioned to put an arm around her. She responded by sliding closer to him and placing her head on the front of his shoulder.

The faint floral smell of her shampoo sent Ron’s mind into overdrive. It brought him back to the Gryffindor common room fifth year, when she suddenly sat much closer to him than usual and he caught a faceful of her hair, a moment that occupied his brain for weeks. He recalled the end of fifth year when she hugged him goodbye and lingered just a bit longer than she used to. And all those goodbye hugs that became kisses on the cheek.

Something was different. He couldn’t have imagined all that.

“Where’s Harry?” she asked, extracting him from his train of thought.

“Don’t know.” He gently pulled her closer to him. “Don’t care.”

“Nor do I,” she said as she nestled into his shoulder.

Ron’s eyes traveled to her lips. What would it be like to actually kiss her? She had to be expecting it, right? They’ve been dancing around a kiss since the end of fifth year. If it wasn’t for that Lavender hiccup they’d already be together right now. Probably. Maybe.

Friends didn’t snuggle in bed together. When friends kissed each other on the cheek, it was firmly on the cheek, not somewhere questionably close to the lips.

Hermione reached for Ron’s hand and interlaced her fingers with his. He traced the back of her hand with his thumb.

Friends definitely didn’t do that.

The moment had to be right. Was this moment right? You only get one first kiss. He glanced at the door to his bedroom. So many people were here, and in a crowd like this, there was no sense of privacy.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Hermione.

Kissing you, he wanted to say.

“What are you wearing to the wedding?” he asked instead. As if that thought was any more innocent than the real one.

She chuckled. “Dress robes.”

“Like the ones you wore in fourth year?” His voice perked up and he remembered how stunning she looked. Even though she wasn’t with him, and he wasn’t supposed to be ogling her that day.

“Different dress robes.”

“Well, I reckon you’ll look beautiful. As always.”

Hermione squeezed his fingers. “Manage your expectations.”

He glanced down at her and could have sworn she glanced at his lips.

“I reckon I don’t need to—”

Footsteps appeared on the landing of the stairs. Hermione jolted away from him and let go of his hand just as Ron’s bedroom door swung open. Harry stood in the doorway, his face red as though he’d just run up the stairs.

“There you are!” he said, panting. “Your mum’s looking for you. She wants you to help tidy the guest room.”

Of course there were more chores. The break was nice while it lasted. Ron glanced at Hermione, who had already risen to her feet.

“And Hermione,” continued Harry, “Ginny needs help getting the tent set up.”

“Right.” she said.

Harry disappeared back into the hallway while Ron and Hermione lingered behind.

Ron turned to Hermione and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Harry’s voice trailing from the stairs.

“Coming, Ron?”

Ron sighed. “I’ll be right down,” he shouted through the door.

* * *

The tent on the Burrow grounds was much larger on the inside than it would seem. Floating candles and cozy tea lights illuminated the dance floor, which nearly vibrated to the beat of the music. Ginny and Hermione’s decorating efforts paid off. They had managed to create an atmosphere that felt separate from the looming darkness and danger surrounding them. The sounds of chatter and laughter were a welcome distraction to what lay ahead. It was likely a combination of music, lighting, and a few cocktails, but Ron felt a lightness and confidence he’d rarely experienced before.

It was probably that confidence that possessed Ron to ask Hermione to dance. There was no need to ‘manage his expectations’ when he saw her in her dress robes. His knees had nearly buckled out from under him and his breath got caught in his throat. He spluttered his invitation to dance, and thanked Merlin that she agreed.

It turned out he wasn’t too bad a dancer after all. Holding her hand, he guided her to the middle of the room and pulled her into his arms. Any other day, the twinkling lights and the clatter of shoes on the dance floor would have been a distraction, but not today. Hermione was the center of his focus.

Dancing with her in his arms felt surprisingly natural, just like he’d imagined it all those times. His hands found the perfect nook at the small of her lower back, and hers wrapped around his neck like a cozy scarf. She looked him directly in the eye, and he resisted the urge to turn away, as if that would hide the rush of color creeping into his face.

“What inspired this?” she asked.

His response spilled out of him without a thought. “I finally had an opportunity to ask.”

It was true. He had regretted not dancing with her at the Yule Ball years prior, and there had never been an occasion to fix it. No dances, no galas, not until now.

“A long time coming.” She was close enough that he could feel her breath on him.

“Too long,” he confirmed, drawing her closer so that her head rested on his chest. As if they had a mind of their own, his lips found their way to the top of her head and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She melted into him, and he could feel her mouth form a smile against his chest.

There remained a small part of him that wondered if they could still be considered just friends. His gut said they couldn’t be, and hadn’t been for a while.

It wasn’t the perfect moment to kiss her yet. It was too crowded, and their first kiss should be in private. He was sure of it.

The moment was coming, and the thought made his heart beat even faster.

~Grimmauld Place, Summer 1997~

As the trio settled into bed in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, it was easy to forget that Bill and Fleur’s wedding was earlier that day. It felt like eons ago that Ron was holding Hermione in his arms, swaying to the music, and imagining the perfect moment to initiate their first kiss.

He had made quite a big deal of insisting that Hermione take the couch that first night, and she had made an equally big deal of rejecting his attempts at chivalry. He eventually won out, and Ron found himself on the floor next to the sofa. His eyes traveled to her hand, which dangled from the edge of the couch as if daring him to reach for it. When he glanced up at her face, he was surprised to see her awake and looking back at him.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked him.

He smiled at the memory of her asking him the same exact question not too long ago. By now, she had to know she was always on his mind.

“You,” he quipped, acknowledging how easy it was to say the right thing when he didn’t let himself think too much.

She smiled and reached down for his hand and snaked her fingers through his.

“What about me?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed, but she never broke her smile.

Ron paused before he answered, wanting more than anything to just be honest.

“You know how I feel about you, right?”

Her cheeks flushed and she nodded, sending Ron’s stomach into knots. “I think so. I hope so.”

“Do you feel the same way?”

Instead of answering she pulled his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. His hand lingered at her mouth for what was maybe a moment too long, but she didn’t seem to mind. He brushed his thumb against her lips before reluctantly drawing hands away and re-intertwining their fingers.

“Good,” he whispered, and those were the last words exchanged before falling asleep, hand in hand.

* * *

The following few days at Grimmauld Place became a dance, with both Ron and Hermione hyper-aware of Harry’s presence, the insurmountable task at hand, and the hippogriff in the room — their admission to each other that first night. It didn’t take long to address the growing tension, but only in the form of glances across the room when no one was looking, or hands brushing against one another under the table at dinner time.

It was during a particularly sleepless night when Ron heard Hermione remove her blankets and tiptoe into the hallway. Ron glanced over at Harry, still sleeping soundly, before extracting himself from his blanket and following her.

He found her in the library moments later, snuggled into an armchair with a book in hand.

“What are you reading?” he whispered from the doorway.

Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice. “Ron!”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing awake?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same question.”

Hermione placed a finger between the pages and closed her book. “I come here to read when I can’t sleep,” she said, shrugging. “Get my mind off of things.”

Ron peered at the book in her hand, Little Women. “Fiction?”

“One can only take so much Hogwarts, A History.”

Hermione scooted to one side of her armchair, which Ron interpreted as a signal. Following her lead, he made his way over and sat beside her. His arm draped over shoulder, and the depression of the cushion made her press her body to his. It was a tight squeeze, but Ron didn’t mind.

“What’s it about?” pressed Ron.

“You don’t really care,” she said as she dog-eared the page and placed the book on the nearby table.

“Yes, I do!”

“No, you don’t,” insisted Hermione. She shifted so that she was facing him and draped her legs over his lap. Without a second thought, Ron rested his hand on her thigh.

“I do,” he repeated again, prepared to defend himself against Hermione’s accusation when he saw that she was smiling at him.

“Ron, it’s okay,” she said, and he could have sworn she inched her face closer to his.

Suddenly, his hand felt heavy on her thigh, and he realized he’d been trying hard not to move it. Would it feel too forward if he slid it higher? Would she take it as rejection if he slid it lower? Would keeping it planted firmly mid-thigh be the mark of a man who had no idea how to finally bridge the gap from best friends to more? Was he overthinking?

He probably was. How very Hermione of him. Was she overthinking too?

His gaze traveled to her lips, then back to her eyes. She was looking at his hand on her thigh.

“Is this okay?” he asked, nodding toward his hand.

“Yes.”

Ron’s ears burned hot. The whole world seemed to freeze as Ron contemplated how to proceed. Maybe there was no need to proceed, and he could just stay there forever, hand on her thigh, eyes on her lips. That wouldn’t be awkward at all, right?

He slid his hand a pace higher. Hopefully she didn’t mind. The coy smile on her lips told him she didn’t.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, turning her new favorite question back on her.

She was quiet at first, and the silence was deafening. Her cheeks turned pink and she averted her gaze as if avoiding the question.

Ron waited. “You can tell me,” he urged.

Hermione took a full breath as though summoning her confidence and met his eyes. “I’m thinking about kissing you.”

Ron’s face grew even hotter and he once again became conscious of how close she was. Was this the moment? It had to be. He looked at her lips. She was looking at his too. This had to be the moment.

Ron leaned in, and Hermione met him halfway.

Their lips barely brushed before the sudden shuffling in the hallway brought his focus back to the present. Hermione must have heard it too, because she withdrew immediately and jolted off the chair, breaking their contact once and for all.

Fuck.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” said a winded Harry from the doorway. “I woke up and panicked.”

Ron felt a pang of guilt at Harry’s admission. There was something to be said about sticking together at times like this. “Sorry mate. We just couldn’t sleep.”

He glanced over to Hermione, who seemed to be at a loss for what to do with her hands. She resorted to straightening out her shirt, which had gotten twisted while sharing a chair with him. Harry didn’t seem to think much of it, but Ron stifled a smirk.

“Just glad you both are okay,” said Harry, adjusting his glasses. “I’m going to go back to sleep. Are you coming too?”

Ron glanced at Hermione. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Be right there,” echoed Hermione.

With a nod, Harry turned into the hallway and shuffled back to the drawing room.

“So, that was—“, he began.

“We shouldn’t do that,” she interrupted. “It would be irresponsible.”

“What do you mean?” Ron’s stomach clenched into a knot. The last thing he wanted to do was resist this. If not now, then when? “You were the one who said—”

“It was a moment of weakness,” she huffed. “We can’t let ourselves get distracted, Ron.”

Distracted. The most distracting thing for him would be bottling up his feelings for her.

“Hermione—“

“There’s a war, Ron.”

He knew she was right. Or at least, in this moment, she needed to be right. She had a point. In the past, just a slip of his imagination could pull him straight out of reality. But right now, losing focus meant losing everything.

On the other hand, that almost-kiss wasn’t doing his ability to focus any favors. “It’s now or never, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s not,” she said. “We have time.” Her voice trembled over the words, as if she wasn’t convinced herself.

“Do we?”

“I have to believe that,” she said definitively. “I’m sorry.”

With that, Hermione shuffled back to the hallway, offering an apologetic glance on her way out.

Ron groaned and leaned back in the armchair. The book on the side table caught his eye, and he immediately pictured Hermione cuddled up in the corner reading it. In the armchair. Or at the Burrow. Maybe one day, in his bed. The image sent him reeling. He knew those thoughts would persist until he finally kissed her.

We have time, he repeated to himself, desperately hoping it was the truth.

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, Grimmauld Place felt smaller than ever. It seemed that he and Hermione couldn’t walk through a hallway without accidentally brushing against one another. Every time she entered the room he was in, he would immediately forget his task at hand. He could have sworn she made prolonged eye contact and stood closer to him than normal. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe she was doing it on purpose.

The trio had been planning to break into the ministry to retrieve the locket, and Ron knew this plan could change the trajectory of the war. It would be dangerous, life threatening even. It also carried the risk of alerting death eaters to their entire horcrux plan. If Voldemort caught wind of that, he would go to even greater lengths to protect himself, and defeating him would become that much more difficult.

And yet, kissing Hermione Granger remained the first item on Ron’s to-do list.

He sat in the kitchen alone, staring into a cup of tea, waiting for Harry or Hermione to join him for their daily brainstorming session. The tea brought back memories of third year divination, when he and Harry would try to determine each other’s fate based on tea leaf shapes. If only he had paid attention in that class, maybe his tea could offer some reassurance about what was to come.

“Morning.”

Hermione’s voice brought him back to reality, or at least as much of reality as he was capable of grasping when she was around.

“Morning.”

She wandered to the kettle on the stove to pour herself a mug of tea. “How are you?”

“I’m alright. A bit tired.”

Their conversations had felt terse as of late, but Ron knew exactly why. She was distracted, just like him.

She wandered over to Ron and took a seat next to him. Then, shifted her chair a smidge closer.

Ron chuckled. He didn’t hate the game they were playing, although Hermione would probably protest him calling it a game.

But that’s exactly what it was. Since their moment in the library a few nights ago, they’d fallen asleep holding hands every night. They’d shared hugs in the hallway. He’d caught her eyeing him when he’d changed his shirt, which he’d purposefully done in the same room as her. She wanted to stay focused, but he was determined to make that particularly difficult.

Ron ran his fingers through his hair to fluff it up a little. She always blushed when he did that. Then, he reached for her hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked, without resisting intertwining their fingers.

“Your hand was distracting me,” he said. “So I’m holding it.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

They sat for a few moments in comfortable silence before Hermione spoke again. “So you were so distracted by your shirt you had to take it off in front of me earlier?”

Ron laughed. “Yes.”

It wasn’t just him. Ron noticed how Hermione wore lipstick the other day, in fact, he watched her put it on. And that time she sat next to him on the sofa and undid her hair tie in his direction so that her curls brushed against his shoulder. She even gave him a fucking back rub after he mentioned he was sore from sleeping on the floor. Harry was sore too, but he didn’t get a back rub.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Is it a problem?” he asked her. “Are you having a hard time staying focused?”

Hermione’s face tinged pink, then turned serious. “Honestly? I can’t stop thinking about the other night.

“What other night?”

“In the library.”

Ron didn’t respond, opting to wait for her to clarify exactly what she meant. Did she want to reiterate that it can’t happen? Because frankly, he disagreed.

“Me neither,” he said when she didn’t elaborate. “But, like you said, we need to stay focused. Right?”

“Right,” said Hermione. “But all I focus on is the fact that Harry’s not in here right now.”

An involuntary smile broke across Ron’s face, and he had to admit he loved seeing Hermione flustered.

“What are you saying?” As he spoke, swiveled in his chair to face her.

“I’m saying that I regret not kissing you,” she said boldly.

Ron’s ears burned as he instinctively reached for her waist.

Was this the moment?

“So, no waiting until after the war?”

Hermione looked him in the eye and gently shook her head. “Now or never,” she whispered.

It was impossible to know who initiated but suddenly his lips were on hers. Her body shifted up against his, one of his hands tangled into her hair, the other wrapped around her lower back and pulled her into him. Her lips were soft and inviting, parting just enough to allow him a full taste. She tasted like peppermint tea and Hermione, nothing he could have described, but everything he expected. Her muffled moan sent a vibration down this throat and as a result, his fingers tightened around her hair and he held her closer.

Yes, this was the moment.

Kissing her felt foreign yet familiar, like a dream loaded with deja vu. Maybe because it had happened so many times already in his imagination. In the common room. In his dormitory. In his bedroom. Hermione’s hand traced along the back of his neck and sent pins and needles down his spine. He responded by rising to his feet, pulling her with him and pressing her up against the countertop, not caring that the thin fabric of his joggers left none of his excitement to the imagination.

Based on the faint smile he felt from her lips under the kiss, Hermione didn’t seem to care either.

Time stood still, and Ron had no way of knowing if they had been kissing for a minute or an hour. Nothing could have pulled him out of this. Except…

Footsteps. Fucking Harry.

They began quietly, from somewhere upstairs. They still had time.

One of Ron’s hands slid from Hermione’s hair down the side of her neck, down her waist, and landed on her hip. In response, her fingers dug into the skin on his shoulders.

The footsteps grew louder as Harry descended down the stairs toward the hallway.

Hermione’s arms snaked around Ron’s neck as though she was hanging onto the moment in time. They remained entangled until Harry’s footsteps became dangerously close.

Ron and Hermione broke their kiss the second the door to the kitchen burst open. A flustered Harry entered with a notebook in hand.

“I have a plan,” he announced as he spilled into the room.

Harry glanced from Ron — who had nearly missed the barstool when he sat back down in a hurry, to Hermione — who was straightening out her hair. “Are you two okay?”

“Yes,” said Ron and Hermione in unison.

Hermione cleared her throat. “What’s your plan, Harry?”

Harry slapped his notebook down on the counter between them.

“Alright…first we will need some polyjuice potion…”

As Harry dove into his plan for sneaking into the Ministry, Ron snuck a glance at Hermione. She smiled at him and he felt his cheeks tinge pink.

They were just getting started.

#submission #cockblocker harry #romione

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oneterabyteofkilobyteage · 7 months

Photo

original url http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Atrium/4078/ last modified 2007-09-12 08:55:46

#SoHo #2007 #Explorer6 #WindowsXP #800x600

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mimisempai · 4 months

Text

THE 1001 INEFFABLE NIGHTS -

The blood-red-haired princess and the seven little demons

Summary

It has become a ritual for Aziraphale to read a bedtime story to their twins, Alexis and Cassandra. And Crowley is also an eager listener.

But tonight the children want a short story with a happy ending.

Isn't it time to revisit fairy tales in an ineffable way?

Notes

Inspired by this beautiful drawing by @gleafer here Oh and yes I have no idea what I am doing but I am doing it anyway...

On Ao3

Rating G - 4078 words

"Pa! Dad! We want a story!"

As Crowley made his way to the nursery, he couldn't help but chuckle as he heard the twins calling Aziraphale for what had become an inevitable bedtime ritual.

He knew exactly what sight awaited him the moment he entered Alexis and Cassandra's bedroom. A sight he would never tire of seeing.

Aziraphale was helping his daughter put on her onesie when he replied, "We finished Estelle the Star Fairy yesterday. What shall I read to you tonight?"

"Not a long story!"

"A story with a happy ending!"

"One that doesn't need a book!"

Crowley leaned against the door frame and looked fondly at his family.

"Hmmm, I don't think I've ever read or told you any fairy tales, have I?"

"Oh no! What's this?"

As Aziraphale climbed onto the twins' bed and sat against the headboard, Crowley sat on the floor against the wall and watched as the twins settled on either side of his husband, snuggling up to him. Aziraphale winked at him before wrapping his arms around the children.

Crowley made a small gesture to dim the lights and waited almost as eagerly as his children for his husband to tell a new story.

"I'm going to tell you the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but in a slightly different way. Let's say it's about Rose and the seven little demons."

Crowley frowned as Aziraphale continued, "Like all great stories, it begins..."

Crowley couldn't help but interrupt, "In a garden."

"Dad! It's Pa telling the story!"

Crowley chuckled and let Aziraphale continue.

"Once upon a time there was a queen who tended her precious roses in the castle garden. Everyone came to admire her garden because her roses were all a distinctive yellow, reminiscent of the most beautiful sunsets over the sea.

On day, her attention caught by a butterfly flying around one of her rose bushes, she paid no attention and pricked herself on a rose thorn.

A drop of crimson blood fell on one of the petals, and as she watched the little red spot form a star on the warm-coloured petal, she put her hand on her already well-rounded belly and said softly, "Ah, if only my child could have hair as red as blood and eyes as beautiful as the yellow of my roses".

Some deity must have heard her prayer, because a few weeks later she gave birth to a daughter whose hair was as red as blood and whose eyes were as warm as her precious roses. Needless to say, the little baby was named Rose.

As the child grew in wisdom and beauty, her mother sadly fell ill and died.

Rose's father quickly found a new wife to give his little girl a new mother.

But he hadn't seen the real side of his new wife, who was proud and haughty. So haughty, in fact, that she couldn't bear anyone to surpass her in beauty.

She had a magnificent mirror in her room, which was not only beautiful, but magical, and when she stood in front of it and saw her reflection, she would whisper to it, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this land is the fairest of all?"

The mirror would always reply, "You, O Queen, are the fairest of them all," and the queen would be satisfied, for the magic of this mirror was to tell the truth.

Rose grew and became more beautiful, so much so that by the time she was 16, rumours spread throughout the land that the young princess was the most beautiful of all women.

When the queen heard these rumours, she decided to consult her magic mirror and asked once again, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "You are beautiful among the most beautiful women, but Rose is the most beautiful of all in this country."

The queen, shocked, was overcome with jealousy, and from then on, every time she looked at Rose, hatred grew in her heart, leaving her no peace, neither day nor night.

The day her husband, the king, left on a journey, she sent for a huntsman and told him, "Take the princess into the forest. Kill her and bring me her lungs and liver as proof that you've fulfilled your mission. If you do not obey, I will have your wife and children killed."

The hunter had no choice but to obey and carry out his mission, but as he was about to pierce the innocent princess' heart deep in the forest, she began to cry and beg him, "Oh, dear hunter, let me live! I'll run away into the wild forest and never return to the castle!"

Seeing in her one of his daughters, he took pity on the princess and said, "Run away, my poor girl, and never come back."

He watched her go deeper into the forest, then did what he knew best: he hunted and brought back the lungs and heart of a bear to the queen as proof that he had accomplished his mission.

Now the poor princess was all alone in the great forest, and she kept on running, making her way through the thicker and thicker bushes, the thorns clawing at her, her shoes tearing on the sharp stones, but she didn't stop, she kept on running.

Suddenly there were no more bushes, she felt soft grass under her feet and saw a small thatched cottage ahead.

She hesitated for a moment, but exhaustion overcame her scruples and she decided to enter. She couldn't stop herself from gasping, for everything in the thatched cottage was small. Neat and clean, but small even if in a cute way.

The table was topped with a white cloth and had seven place settings, surrounded by seven small chairs.

At the back were seven small beds against the wall, neatly made and looking so comfortable.

Rose was so worn out that she only took a small piece of bread and a sip of water before making her way to the beds. They were all quite small, so she pushed one against the other before dropping down and falling asleep immediately.

It was well into the night when the door of the thatched cottage creaked open to admit seven little demons, so alike they were indistinguishable.

The first lit the candles, the second put wood in the fireplace, which the third lit.

The fourth said, "Someone has bitten into my piece of bread.

The fifth said, "Someone has drunk from my glass of water.

The sixth approached the beds and said, "Someone is sleeping on my bed."

The seventh replied, "On mine too."

They all gathered around the beds, and the first who had lit the candles drew one close to the sleeping figure on their bed, and they all uttered the same gasp of surprise as they murmured heartily, "How beautiful she is!"

"What lovely fiery hair!"

As the young princess seemed harmless to them, they tacitly agreed not to wake her and to wait until the next day.

After a meal accompanied by whispers, they all went to bed, those whose beds were free squeezing in and offering a place to those who had none.

It was a ray of sunlight that woke Rose in the morning, and she sat up briskly before retreating to the wall at the sight of the seven little demons.

But when her eyes met only friendly smiles, she relaxed slightly and smiled back before sheepishly apologising for using their home without permission.

They looked very strange, with their horn-like hair and black-rimmed eyes.

The nearest one asked gently, "What's your name?"

"My name is Rose."

Then, faced with their pressing questions, she told them her story.

"What were the demons' names?"

Aziraphale paused to look down at his son, who had just asked him the question, before replying, "They were all called Eric."

"What?"

Aziraphale nodded and smiled at Crowley's sneer before replying, "Yes. Eric."

"But how did anyone know who they were?"

"There was Eric the Dopey, Eric the Doc, Eric the Bashful, Eric the Sneezy."

"Because he sneezed all the time?"

"That's right, honey. There was Eric the Happy, Eric the Sleepy and finally Eric the Grumpy."

"Like Dad?"

"Hey!"

Aziraphale chuckled and replied, "Absolutely, like Dad in the morning."

"Pa?"

"Yes, sweetie."

Aziraphale looked at his daughter who asked, "Were their horns like mine?"

Cassandra raised her hand to the two small horns on her forehead, around which fell a few curls of the same red colour as her father's.

Aziraphale pressed a kiss to her forehead and replied, "Not quite. No one has horns as beautiful as yours, sweetie."

"Oh, I love you so much, Pa."

Then the two children snuggled up to their father again, and after exchanging an emotional look with Crowley, Aziraphale continued his story.

"The little demons told Rose she could stay with them and wouldn't want for anything, all she had to do was look after the house when they went out to harvest and pick.

But Rose didn't like sitting around doing nothing, so to thank them for their generosity, she decided to keep the house clean and cook for them. Then, when she'd finished her daily chores, she'd leave the cottage and sit on the grass by the little pond where a family of ducks had made their home.

As for the queen, she slept peacefully, believing that Rose was no longer of this world.

But one morning, dressed in her finest clothes, she stood before the mirror and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all?"

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the fairest of all I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons live, Rose is the fairest of all."

The queen was furious when she realised that the hunter had betrayed her and that the princess was still alive.

She thought all day and all night, and when the morning came, she knew what she had to do.

She locked herself in her room and disguised herself as an old peddler whose identity no one could guess. In this disguise, she made her way to the clearing of the seven demons, and when she was sure that only the princess was in the cottage, she left the forest and knocked on the door of the little house.

She saw Rose leaning out of the window and the princess asked, "My good lady, what are you selling?"

"Pretty things for pretty girls, look, I've got lots of pretty satin ribbons for your corset."

Rose was a young woman, she loved fine things, and she thought the old lady was harmless, so she was tempted and bought some blue satin laces from the old lady, who offered to help her replace the old laces on her corset.

The princess went out of the thatched cottage and, with her back to the old lady, let her tie the lace in her corset to replace the old one.

The old woman squeezed the ribbon so hard that Rose was out of breath and fell as if dead.

The old woman leaned over her and whispered in a sinister voice, "Now I'm the fairest of them all," then stomped off into the forest.

Soon after, the seven demons arrived at the house and were shocked to find their beautiful princess lying motionless on the floor.

Eric the Doc, who could see the reason for her condition from his blue lips, asked his brothers to help him turn her over. Seeing that the ribbons were too tight, they cut them and it wasn't long before Rose was back to life.

After she told them what had happened, Eric the Grumpy pointed his finger at her and said, "Watch out for everyone. That peddler was probably the queen."

Rose promised, and that evening the seven demons hovered around her until they were sure she was safe.

The queen arrived at the castle, took off her disguise and stood before the mirror again, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all?"

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the most beautiful of all those I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons dwell, Rose is the most beautiful in all the country".

When the queen heard this, her blood ran cold and she was frightened to see that her plan had failed once again.

Descended from a long line of witches, she fashioned a poisoned comb, then took the appearance of another old woman and once again made her way to the clearing of the seven demons.

This time the princess sat alone by the pond, her beautiful red hair unbound and falling in wavy cascades over her shoulders.

The old woman exclaimed, "I only sell the most precious things. I have just the thing for your beautiful fiery hair. Look at this magic comb, young lady, for just a few coins it'll make your hair even shinier."

Seeing the young princess's suspicious look, the old lady took a comb from her pocket and ran it through her own hair, "Look my child, it's harmless!"

Rose allowed herself to be tempted again and the old lady said in a gentle tone, "Come my sweet, let me comb it for you."

Rose complied, and no sooner had the old woman run the poisoned comb through her hair than the poison began to spread, and it took only a few seconds for the young princess to fall unconscious.

"Who is the most beautiful now?"

The old woman laughed sardonically.

When the demons returned to the cottage, they were astonished to find that everything was dark.

"Rose?"

Only the quacking of ducks near the pond answered them, drawing their attention back to the pond. They ran over and saw Rose's silhouette on the ground.

They immediately suspected it was another of the queen's tricks, and after a few moments found the poisoned comb.

No sooner had they removed it than Rose regained consciousness and soon told them what had happened in the safety of the thatched cottage.

They warned her again and decided that they would take turns standing guard every day.

At home, the queen went to the mirror again and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

It answered as before, "Oh, Queen, you are the fairest of all those I see, but on the other side of the hills, in the heart of the forest where the seven demons live, Rose is the fairest of all the country."

The queen exploded with rage and took a whole month to devise the perfect plan to create the potion from which the young princess would never recover. She dipped a beautiful red apple in the potion, placed it in the middle of an apple basket, disguised herself as an old hunchbacked lady and set off once more to clearing of the seven demons.

Crowley chuckled, "Got to hand it to the persistent bugger."

"Dad, let Pa tell the story. I want to know how it ends before I fall asleep!"

As Cassandra admonished him, Crowley saw their son Alexis spread his little white wings and had no time to react before he found himself with a little angel in his lap. Alexis, the image of his angelic father, said, "Cassie's right, Dad, I want to know the end before I fall asleep too."

Crowley, unable to refuse his son who was giving him the same pleading look as his father when he wanted something, let him cuddle up to him and said to his husband, "Go on, Angel."

Aziraphale blew him a kiss with his fingertips and resumed his story.

"When nothing happened for a month, the demons left Rose alone again during the day, and one day the persevering queen arrived in the clearing, approaching the thatched cottage with a stooped step, carrying her basket of apples.

Then she dropped and cried out, "Help! I'm an old woman! I can't get up by myself."

Despite the demons' warnings, Rose couldn't stop herself from helping the battered-looking old woman. She rushed to the old woman's side, picked up the apples and put them back in the basket.

The old woman exclaimed, "Thank you, my child. How kind you are! To thank you for helping me, I give you this beautiful red apple".

Seeing the princess's fear, the old woman took another apple from the basket and bit into it. Convinced, Rose took the red apple and bit into it wholeheartedly.

One bite was enough for the poison to take effect and the young princess fell to the ground, her eyes empty and all life gone from her face.

"Rose, with hair as red as blood and eyes as warm as the setting sun, not even the demons can wake you this time."

She returned to the castle, rushed to the mirror and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, in this country you are the fairest of them all. No woman surpasses you in beauty."

For the first time in a long time, the queen was able to rest, as much as an envious heart can rest.

When the demons returned that evening, they found Rose lying on the ground outside the house, lifeless, without a breath of life.

They lifted her, turned her over, but found nothing, no ribbon, no comb, they tried everything, but had to face the cruel evidence.

The unfortunate princess was dead.

They built a small altar by the duck pond, covered it with the petals of the young princess's favourite flowers, yellow roses that echoed the warm colour of her eyes, and laid her body on it. For days, they took turns around the lifeless body, weeping and gazing at her beauty, which not even death seemed to be able to touch.

With her beauty still intact, they couldn't bring themselves to bury her body, so they had a glass coffin made and had her name engraved in gold letters so that she could be admired forever.

They placed the glass coffin on the altar by the duck pond she loved so much, and days and weeks went by, her beauty untouched.

Now a bush of yellow roses had magically grown around the altar, and as word spread, people came from far and wide to admire the beautiful princess.

The demons remained heartbroken and continued to watch over their princess.

One day, the young king of the neighbouring country heard the rumour and came to the clearing to kneel before the glass coffin.

He stayed for days, fascinated by the princess's beauty and listening to the stories the seven demons told of their lives with Rose.

Then, even more than her outward beauty, he was fascinated by the beauty of her soul, and went to the demons and asked, "I'll give you anything you want if you'll let me take her with me.

"Even for all the gold in the world, we won't let you have her."

But when they saw that the king would not go, they took pity on him and said, "You can take her with you, for she deserves to be in a home worthy of a princess. Even dead."

The king thanked them and said, "You can visit her whenever you like, the gates of my castle will always be open to you.

The king's men came to carry the coffin on their shoulders, but on the way to the castle, one of them stumbled and the piece of poisoned apple flew out of Rose's mouth. Shocked, they almost dropped the coffin when they saw the young princess open her eyes.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! She's alive!"

They placed the coffin on the ground, removed the lid and Rose slowly sat up, gasping for breath before saying, frightened, "Where am I, what's happened?"

The king sent men to fetch the seven demons and, kneeling before her, told her all he knew.

Rose shook her head and said, "I will never be able to escape her."

The king placed his hand gently on Rose's and said softly, "Come with me to my castle. I promise to protect you from her and her plots."

Behind him, Rose could see the seven demons nodding their heads.

She murmured, "All right. I'll come."

No sooner had she said the word than the prince scooped her up in his arms and set her down on his horse before climbing on behind her, holding Rose tightly to his chest.

The demons embraced as the king and Rose rode off, promising to visit again soon.

At the king's castle, Rose slowly recovered, taking long walks in the palace gardens and having long talks with the king, who gave her everything she needed.

She felt less and less the need to be alone and longed for the prince's presence, missing his pale hair and clear blue eyes, his gentle voice and soft smile.

A few weeks later, just after they had shared their first kiss under an archway of blooming roses, the king got down on one knee and asked Rose to be his queen.

When Rose said yes, the wedding was to be celebrated with great pomp, and couriers travelled to neighbouring countries to invite all the nobles.

Rose's stepmother, of course, received an invitation and dressed in her finest for the occasion. Before leaving, she couldn't resist asking the mirror in her room, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who in this country is the fairest of them all".

The mirror replied, "Oh, Queen, you are the most beautiful of all in this region, but the young queen who is getting married today is by far the most beautiful."

At first she was so angry that she thought she wouldn't go, but curiosity was the strongest and she wanted to see who this beautiful rival was.

When she entered the reception hall and walked down the long red carpet that led to the young couple, it took her only a few steps to recognise Rose, with her blood-red hair and sunset-warm eyes.

Admitting defeat, she ran away, and legend has it that she's still running.

As for the King and the young Queen Rose, they lived happily ever after and had many demons, er, I mean children."

"You lost them just before the wedding, Angel."

"At least they're asleep, that was the point, wasn't it?"

Aziraphale looked fondly at Cassandra, who slept against him, thumb in mouth, while Alexis was slumped against Crowley's chest.

They put the twins to bed, tucked them in and it was only when the two fathers planted a light kiss on their children's foreheads that they both woke just long enough to say good night before turning over and going back to sleep.

Aziraphale had barely closed the door to their bedroom when he felt Crowley's arms wrap around him from behind as the demon rested his chin on his shoulder and said softly, "I see you've taken some liberties with Snow White. I wonder what Eric would think if he knew the role you've given him?"

Aziraphale turned in his husband's arms and wrapped his hands around Crowley's neck before saying mischievously, "Didn't you like my princess with her blood red hair and eyes as warm as the setting sun?"

“So that means I'm a princess?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, "For this story anyway, any problem with that?"

Crowley laughed softly and replied, "No problem as long as you're my king."

Aziraphale drew Crowley's face to his and pressed his lips to the demon's in a tender kiss that lingered until they had to separate to catch their breath.

Then Crowley asked, "So who's the Evil Queen?"

"Metatron, of course."

They looked at each other and laughed.

Then Aziraphale asked, "Shall I carry you to our bedroom bridal style as in the tale?"

Crowley moved away, grabbed the angel's hand and replied, "Don't bother carrying me, let's go together," then, he dragged his husband into their bedroom, where they continued the tale in their own way.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #kidfic

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