#I think our floors might be fake wood actually but it says hardwood on the lease so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[watery-melon-baller]

What’s your opinion on hardwood floors

this is an extremely funny question to ask because me and my roommates are currently waging a battle against our landlord since the floors of our apartment are so disgusting that they turn your socks black and they refuse to do anything to fix it. we mopped the apartment twice and have done everything and they are still so filthy :,)

overall like an 8/10 I think they're pretty nice and sturdy, they don't get cold easily so they're nice but they also are kinda hard (in the name). still think carpet is 10/10 flooring but yeah 8/10 for hardwood in general -15/10 for the hardwood in my apartment specifically

[katsukikitten]

Hi! I was wondering if you could could do bakugo with a depressed and self-harming s/o? Shes trying so hard not to do but it was one of those days that the urge was almost impossible to ignore? Sorry if its too dark, i just feel this very mood rn. Sorry to bother you and i love your work ❤️💕

This would never bother me love. Please feel free to message me should you need me. You have my full support and I will always help you to my best abilities.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU'LL LOSE THE BATTLE. I KNOW YOU ARE STRONG YOU CAN DO THIS.

It sat on your shoulder, weighing down on your mind, body and soul. Wispy fingers digging into flesh as it peers over you too curious for it's own good.

It smiles a jagged tooth smile as it sees what has your heart and mind racing so erratically. It morphs all on it's own as you stare at the 34% written in blotchy red ink and it seems to whisper with a gravely voice.

*"Worthless."*

You twist at your skin on your forearms agitating old scars that burn to be reopened and picked over for the next few weeks. Your forearm reddens from the Indian burn you're giving yourself all the while your mind stays on a dark loop. Repeating things over and over as you try to understand this failing grade.

As you try to wrap your mind around how in the hell could this be your fifth one in a row.

You were going to fucking flunk, you were going to have to say good bye to your dreams, to all of your aspirations as a hero. You thought you might as well go back to the dorms and start packing now as you proved to yourself exactly what you've always known and exactly what it's always breathed down the nape of your neck.

*"Not good enough."*

The skin begins to bloom in blues and purples, much like a moody flower as you're absorbed in thought trying to break the cycle of it.

Trying to ignore the call of old burns on your ribs from your friends curling iron, trying so damn hard to not hear that the school is teaming with sharp objects to slice yourself with.

So absorbed really that you do not hear the bell dismissing school, only the rushing blood in your ears.

Oblivious to the burning eyes that watch your hand work, that have seen the scars in training but would never be shameless enough to ask.

He figured it out quickly, noticing with deft eyes the neatly set rows of dated scars, of their organization and as far as he knew you had never been captured.

A strong hand wraps around the wrist that has been twisting the past hour.

"Enough. It's just a grade. I'll help you study." All biting voice as his vice grip dies down. He has your backpack on what is normally his free shoulder. You blush furiously, feeling shame heat your cheeks as you hadn't realized you were being so obvious.

"Let's go Y/LN!" He shouts now from the door trying to keep the bite out of his voice.

He fails as the chair scrapes against the cold linoleum. He bites his lip waiting for you to fall into step.

The walk home is silent and awkward at best. Embarrassment creeps in reddish hues onto your cheeks as you think of who else may have seen you.

Who else noticed your unstable mind and insecure actions?

The thought has you subconsciously twisting again as thoughts swirl faster and faster as they think of what will relieve the tension.

Did you have any more razors? Surely one of the girls did, if not the corner store.

But did you have the extra cash?

As you rack your brain for either a hidden stash of instruments or cash it hits you. You had that lighter your stole ages ago. It only took 70 seconds for a burn to form. 70 agonizingly lovely seconds for your skin to warp and bubble until the pain was so numbing you felt your body go slack. Your brain finally giving you endorphins you so thoroughly craved.

And the best part about a burn is that it would hurt for weeks after, and especially so any time you introduced it to hear. Skin jaded from its previous encounter with unpleasantly warm.

Just as your nails begin to break skin a calloused hand has gripped your wrist once more. Hand slipping into yours while intertwining fingers in a bone crushing grip.

"Whatever it is you're thinking. You better not." Its a threat that actually scares you.

How had he read your mind? You swallow thickly while trying not to look any more suspicious under his exceptionaly watchful eye.

Once the two of you reach the dorm he squeezes your hand tightly, slipping your back onto your shoulder before growling in your ear.

"Whenever you feel...down you come to me." His voice is darker than you've ever heard before he lets go of your hand waltzing into the dorms.

Days pass with the single thought of painful released flooding your system.

Anytime you reached for your lighter you thought of burning red eyes.

Of the wraith that would be looming in them.

Of the disappointment.

You gulp down air as you try to fight it especially now that the inanimate object seems to have gained a voice.

A voice that echos what the wispy black beast that hangs onto your back screams in your ear.

*"Do it. Do it. DO IT!"*

It said it every time you were in the shower and around razor heads lying around, screeched when it saw the sharp edge of a broken tile in the bathroom. It yelled it during practice as you watched Todoroki's flame lick greedily at the ground, at the walls of the fake city.

Dancing in the sunlight as if it were a savior, calling out to be caressed as the paint beneath bubbled and warped.

Your fingers had reached out. Had begun to feel the heat.

Until you were so selfishly ripped away by strong hands and heated scarlet eyes.

Shoving you to continue the mission.

It took on new words now as you reached for your box in your closet. Taking down the black shoe box of sad poems and long forgotten notes from long forgotten friends.

And as you stare down at the scratched chrome rectangle, flopping open the top.

You still hear that magical sound of sloshing butane. Now you just have to hope the flint is still good. Hesitation seizes your muscles as your thumb rests on the steel wheel, is this really such a good idea?

Think of all of the people who abandoned you when they found out.

Think of the hurt shining in your parents eyes when they saw the scars littering your body, wondering what they did to make you so unhappy.

Think of how you only feel smaller when you do it.

You're about put it away, seal it back in its black converse labeled coffin when that wispy small thought you'd tried so hard to talk over is finally heard.

*"But think of how good it feels in the moment."*

With that your thumb comes fully down, the flint sparks igniting the soaked wick that now dances in the comfort of your room.

Singing its praises, asking you to come closer for a reward.

You listen, bringing your hand down slowly over the lit lighter, as the heat turns from pleasantly warm to Redding burn.

Closer still you push your palm until your skin is in the flame. Silently ticking by the seconds.

35 have passed as you're halfway there, the smell of skin is staring to waft onto the air as your skin has already become distorted, discolored as the flames lovingly leave your with a heated numbness.

At least for now.

A knock comes at the door, earning you a small yelp. Suddenly the fire has become hot, burning as you flick closed the top and drop the lighter.

"J..just a minute." You call out starring at your palm gripping at your wrist.

"Hurry up. We don't have much time to study before bed. Your retake is in two days." His voice comes out gruff starling you even more.

You hadn't asked for Bakugou's help, so why was the hot head barking on the other side of your door.

Shit.

This was getting worse by the second. With nothing to wrap your hand it you tell yourself you'll be able to hide it as you reach for the doorknob. Causing a pain to shoot from your hand all the way up to your shoulder as you force the fried nerves onto a cool surface. Twisting as you go.

Maybe it wasn't your best idea to use it on your dominate hand.

But what's done is done.

"We c...can go to the common room and study." You suggest but barges himself in anyway standing just inside your door as he thinks of the best way to avoid the landmine of clothes and books scatter across the hardwood.

"Too loud." He dismisses finding the perfect path to your desk.

The perfect path that has his boot toeing the lighter. Causing it to skid into his sight. He leans over to pick it up, feeling the warmth coming from it and finally placing the odd smell that lingers in your room.

He glares over his shoulder as your heart pounds in your throat, causing a lump to form as you see what you told yourself was going to be there.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Especially so with how neatly he sets down the test materials, stepping with precise foot steps before he stands in front of you.

Heated sugar begins to flood the room before a few uncontrolled pops ring our over his shoulders and forearms.

"What's this?" He asks calmly which scares you more than anything and when you cannot answer he notices you hiding your dominate hand.

"N..n..nothing Bakugou. I...I found it on campus and thought it looked cool. I wanted to..to keep it." You stumble with frayed nerves as you avoid his eyes, telling a half truth. You do collect odd things that you find. Thinking they bring you fortune and you did find the zippo on campus, just not this one.

He looks you over debating before he grits his teeth. Hand causing the lighter to explode.

"And then you lie to me." He comes out dark, rubbing you the wrong way as you think of all the other faces his match right now.

As you remember that they gave you their backs becoming nothing more than memories and empty promises immortalized on line paper that rots in a coffin made of a black converse box.

You cannot stop the tears as you fall to the floor. Crying loudly and openly, large droplets raining down onto your shirt and the hard wood floor.

Bakugou's own heart lodges in his throat as he stares down at you.

Per the usual fucking up how you're supposed to react.

This wasn't supportive like the internet had said. Nor was it loving.

Hell, if anything this was the exact opposite of what was advised to do. And here he stood losing his temper over something you clearly struggled with.

The worst part to him was that there was nothing he could do to change this, to alter how you feel. To stop you all together and force you into a different, more healthy coping mechanism.

No all he could was watch from the sidelines.

And Bakugou Katsuki was a starter.

He sighs sinking to his knees pulling you into him as you stain his pressed shirt. Dampen it until nothing else comes out and the numbness begins to set in.

All the while he smooths down your hair and let's his hand travel down your back in a loving warm touch. When he thinks you are done he pushes you away so he can stare into your gorgeous eyes and admits what he never thought he would.

"I can't fix this for you. I can't take it away. I cant fight it off. Kiss it away. Fuck it away. Or rip the urge from your body." He squeezes your shoulders tightly, "Only you can do that."

The two of you stay quiet as you realize the weight of his words.

"You're the only one strong enough to fight this. I can support you, I can be a shoulder to cry on, a punching bag whatever. But I can't fucking fix this for you." Another pop from his shoulders before he let's out a shaking sigh, "But I sure as fuck believe in you. You stopped once. You can stop again. As long as you keep getting back up Y/N it doesn't matter that you *ever* fell. So please....please let me help you. Let me be that shoulder, that punching back. That void you vent to."

More tears glisten in your eyes as he kisses your forehead, he pulls you back into another death grip hug, voice threatening to crack as he adds.

"Please let me help you kick this things ass."

[chris-evanslover]

Captain Patriotic

Summary: OFC Samara is invited by her friend Carly to a patriots game where she meets Carly’s brother Chris Evans

Word Count: 2.2k

The autumn chill floated through the room as I stepped out of the en-suite bathroom wrapped in a fluffy mint green towel. My (now clean) bare feet padded across the hardwood to the beige, brown and white aztec patterned rug that sat on the floor in front of the painted white wood dresser.

What the fuck do you wear to a football game? I stood in front of the drawers with my hands on my hips contemplating giving my coworker and friend Carly an excuse as to why I couldn’t make it to the game she invited me to with her family.

Speaking of her family, I have met her younger brother, Scott and her mom, Lisa but no one else from the Evans family, even though with all the stories she’s told me about the clan, I feel like I know them already.

Shaking my head I decide this is the perfect opportunity to get to know her family, it’s in public and I can leave if things take a turn for the worse right? (which I highly doubt would happen but i’m prepared just in case). Carly invited me last week to come to the Patriots home game since her husband was away on business and in the spur of the moment I thought it would be fun, but now i’m just downright freaking out.

I pull out an off white cable knit sweater with dark wash skinny jeans and start to change. After changing I put on some light makeup and blow dried my hair before throwing on some light brown booties and a brown jacket, grabbing a banana with Nutella and a to go coffee cup, I got in my car and made my way to the stadium.

Frantically arriving 45 minutes later (thanks to Boston traffic) I park my car and shoot Carly a text that i have arrived. Yay! Waiting for you at the Main Entrance, I’m wearing a red shirt, see you in a few! she replied.

‘Main entrance, main entrance, main entrance’ is all that’s running through my mind as I walk from the parking lot to the larger than life stadium. AHA! I found the huge sign that says main entrance as I roll my eyes not knowing how i had missed it while I was scanning the stadium for the past 5 minutes. As I draw closer I start looking for Carly in a red shirt and I see her already looking at me waving with her left hand, and holding her daughter Stella with her right arm, next to her I see her brother Scott who looks like he’s taking a very serious phone call.

I finally reach the pair, smiling wide giving Carly a hug and one to Stella too who ends up jumping into my arms which makes me stumble a bit but gratefully my clumsiness stays in check, for once. I give Scott, who just got off his phone call, a one armed hug saying our hellos and we’re off walking to the box seats they were telling me about on the way.

Scott turns to me while we wait for the elevator up, “So Samara, have you ever been to a patriots game?” “No actually I haven’t been to any football game, my family was really big on Baseball” “oh really what team” “Yankees, being from New York you have to be a Yanks fan or you’re not a ‘true’ new yorker” you replied with air quotes around ‘true’. “Oh boy, don’t mention that team around Chris, he might just kill ya” Carly muttered.

Ah, the ‘famous Chris Evans’ if you will, Carly has told me a lot about her brothers career, even I’ve checked out a couple of those Captain America movies (for science, had to see if he was worth all the hype). There was no doubt Chris was an attractive man which is why my nerves shot through the roof as the elevator doors opened. The four of us walked into the elevator and were ascending to the box level of the stadium. I tried to calm my nerves silently in my head repeating the mantra ‘he’s just a guy spending the day with his family, don’t be weird’.

The elevator ding shook me from my thoughts as I followed Carly, Scott and Stella as we walk down a long hallway to box 35 with a plaque under the numbers that reads

‘America’s Greatest Captain’

Chris Evans

Audibly swallowing I follow them as they open the door to loud conversations and drinks being poured. I spot Miles and Ethan hanging onto their grandpa, Carly’s dad who I’ve yet to meet but have seen pictures of. Scanning the room I see Lisa coming towards me with open arms, I happily return her hug.

“I’m so glad you could make it Samara! We’re gonna have a great day but just a fair warning, Chris and Scott tend to get a little rambunctious at these games” she winks at me. Speaking of Chris, I see his tall figure behind Lisa facing away from us and towards the field talking to Scott. Jesus Christ his shoulders are the widest i’ve ever seen in my life. Lisa ushers me over to Carly and Shanna who are busting drinks out for everyone.

“So great to meet you! Half of my family loves you so it’s great to finally meet the girl who stole their hearts” Shanna laughs. I laugh with her and tell her that she’s prettier in person and she waves me away telling me something along the lines of she already likes me and i don’t have to be polite. I laughed with her and we were interrupted by her father Robert who comes over to say hello, which I graciously reply to and before I know it were talking about my horrible braces experience, seeing he is a dentist after all.

Chris hadn’t even looked my way since I got here and honestly I was very intimidated by him. I talked to the kids for a couple minutes before Scott waved me over, “Samara, meet Chris, he might look tough but he’s all fluff trust me” with that Chris punches Scott in the shoulder in a friendly way and Chris looks up to meet my eyes. Of course his eyes are just as blue in person. I clear my throat and extend my hand, complimenting him on his wonderful family. I think he was kind of shocked by my gesture because it took him a second to register what I had said to him. He laughed and shook his head and opened his arms for a hug.

“Haven't you met my family, we’re huggers” he laughs. I laugh along with him not knowing how long I should hug him for. I settled on a quick 5 second hug because on the inside I don’t know if my poor heart could handle more than that. I needed to put some space between me and mister Broad Shoulders for the sake of my mental health.

When I pulled away I smiled and looked at Scott who raised his left eyebrow at me and smirked. I shook it off hopefully not sabotaging myself by blushing harder than I already was. C’mon Samara get a grip. He’s a huge Hollywood actor, he hugged you to be nice. sit your ass down and enjoy the game.

The cheers from the stadium started picking up as the game began and everyone took seats, I went to the bathroom quickly before the game started and when i came out I saw that there was a seat open in between Carly and Chris. Great, my plan to distance myself from Chris was coming along swimmingly.

I sat down in the seat and tried to calm myself down so that Chris couldn’t see me mentally bugging out. Carly was a blessing in disguise as she started up a conversation about the players and who to watch for. Chris however had the same idea as his sister. “Are you a patriots fan?” How the hell do I break this to him. “Uh-Um not exactly, I didn’t really grow up around football so I admit I don’t know much” I laughed, slightly nervously. “I’m actually very glad to hear that, now I get to make you love the Pats” he winks at me. Yeah you read that right, he winked at me. Cue the dramatic subconscious faint.

I laughed along with him while he told me about his favorite players and what he likes about the game, Me being, well me, hung on to his every word and watched in admiration as his face lit up talking about the sport. Drowning out his voice I noticed I was staring at his lips. Again for science just, making sure they’re uh, there. I noticed his lips turned up into a smirk and that he was no longer talking about football but smirking at me daydreaming about his lips. Shit. I snapped out of my head and nodded, clearing my throat. “You’re very passionate about the game, You ever play?” He laughs and says he tried but he’d much rather watch than be knocked around out on the field.

The game was in full swing at this point, at the end of the second quarter, Chris stood up and asked if I wanted one of his special cocktails. I told him only one since I drove to the stadium to which he replied “I could always give you a lift and you could get your car tomorrow”. Yeah I didn’t know what to say to that either. I laughed and told him “Depends how good this drink is”. He smiled and got to work at the bar, 2 minutes later he handed me probably the tastiest cocktail I've ever had but when I asked what was in it, “That’s for me to know and me only”

Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at Scott who looked at me then Chris and winked at me. I rolled my eyes and decided that if Chris was going to get flirty, two can play that game. Fake it till you make it right, pushing all my nerves down, “I might have to take you up on that deal after all” taking a sip of my drink while staring at Chris through my eyelashes, I turned on my heel and made my way back to my seat.

Chris made his way back a minute later, drying his hands on his jeans and took his seat next to me. Throughout the game, we talked about football and my life since i’ve moved to Boston. At the end of the game, The Patriots won and the Evans family couldn’t have been more excited. The energy they gave off was infectious and I found myself smiling all the way out of the stadium. Chris had made me two more of his drinks and promised to drop me off at home, although I had the drinks hours ago and could’ve passed a sobriety test with flying colors, I wanted to spend more time with him. I saw what Scott meant when he said he’s all fluff, he really is a genuine guy.

Saying goodbye to the Evans family as everyone went their separate ways to their cars, I followed Chris to his, making light conversation about the game. Chris, ever the gentleman, opened the passenger side door for me and went around the front of the Audi to the drivers side and slid in, starting the ignition. He peeled out of the parking spot and did that thing where he put his and on the back of my headrest to back up and I swear I couldn’t jumped his bones right there but managed to keep myself in check.

I gave Chris directions to my house and found out he doesn’t live that far from me, only about 10 minutes. As we pulled up I gathered my things and turned to say thank you but he was already coming around the car and opened my door, holding his hand out. God, why is he the perfect man? I take his hand and open my arms for a hug which he returns, “Thank you for your chivalry Chris, and for the ride home” “it’s my pleasure, I was thinking-” he scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly nervous. “maybe tomorrow, if you’re around we can get breakfast? I can also bring you to your car so you don’t have to get a cab to the stadium”

“only if we go to iHop” He let out a loud laugh clutching his left pec, they’re really so defined, Okay stop it Samara, you’re probably starring again. “you drive a hard bargain Samara, it’s a date, i’ll pick you up at 10” I started walking backwards towards my front door. “I guess I’ll see you at 10 then” “Have a good night Samara” he smiled and got back into his car while I walked up to my front door and unlocked it, I turned and waved once I was in the doorway and he did the same before driving off.

You closed the door behind you and slid against the door to the floor, you were going on a date with Chris tomorrow and you really couldn’t believe it. You went about the rest of your evening, a smile never leaving your face.

A/N: this is my first fic in a while treat her with love! constructive criticism always welcome, send me requests or just to chat💓

Join my Taglist!

[queerofthedagger]

27 with jegulus?

Thanks for the prompt, Nonnie! 27 was: "Help me I'm being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second."

Like You Mean It

Pairing: James Potter/Regulus Black; Wc: 7109; Ao3

Warnings: None; Tags: Fake Dating, Professional Quidditch, Au - No Voldemort

Summary: When Regulus gets hit on in a Muggle bar while celebrating his graduation and signing up as a professional Seeker, he thinks asking James to pose as his boyfriend for a moment, instead of hexing an unsuspecting Muggle, is a rather smart move. After all, it's only for a few minutes, so it won't be much of a problem with the small crush he has. Right? Well - let's just say it doesn't work out that neatly. Until it does.

Regulus is going to kill Sirius, he thinks, weaving his way through the throng of people clustering the shady bar his brother dragged him to, narrowly avoiding getting drinks spilled on his shirt.

Alright, maybe nothing that drastic but he’s not sure why Sirius thought a ratty punk-bar in Brixton would be the obvious choice to celebrate Regulus’ graduation and signed contract for the Seeker position of the Falmouth Falcons. Or maybe he simply isn’t drunk enough yet.

Ducking underneath another elbow, he steps up at the end of the long-winded bar that runs along the wall, leaning his elbows onto the dark wood and watches as the two barkeepers try to keep up with the string of orders.

The bass of the rough music is reverberating in his head, he can feel the vibrations through his shoes and up his legs and the strobing lights let everything appear slower, like watching a series of individual pictures in quick succession and he can admit, at least to himself, that he kind of gets why Sirius likes to come here.

It’s a stark contrast to the wizarding world, to everything they grew up with and he can nearly taste the sense of defiant freedom the people here carved out for themselves – he’s just annoyed that he lost Sirius, James, and Remus somewhere in the jumping crowd and isn’t all that certain that he fits in here.

“Hey there, pretty boy!” a loud voice shouts way too close to his ear for comfort, the words slightly slurred and he clenches his jaw, refusing to visibly jump.

Taking a deliberate step back, he slowly turns, lips curving into an instinctive sneer. Maybe he’s going to reconsider the murder plans from earlier he thinks, looking the guy up and down. He’s taller than Regulus, which is saying something, and twice as wide, with an unkempt beard and an unrefined face. Worst of all, he’s leering and Regulus’ fingers itch for his wand.

“What do you want?!” he asks, raising an eyebrow and standing up a bit taller.

His hostile attitude doesn’t seem to deter the guy; he simply takes another step towards him, leaning close and grins. “Don’t be shy. You look bored, and a pretty guy like you – “

Right, no. His eyes flicker to the side and he thinks he’s never been more relieved to see James Potter standing only a few feet away, leaning over the bar and talking to the barkeeper. Without another word, he steps around the guy and pushes his way over to James, pressing up close to him.

James looks surprised but flashes him a quick smile. “Alright there, Reg? Enjoying yourself?”

He silently thanks whoever is listening that just now there’s a switch of the bands, just background music filling the small space, and that he doesn’t have to shout to be heard. “No, but listen. There’s this absolutely disgusting guy hitting on me so, to prevent me from hexing the living daylight out of some Muggle, pretend to be my boyfriend for a moment, yeah? Great, thanks. There he comes.”

James' eyes widen and he opens his mouth, but Regulus elbows him into the side before wrapping an arm around his waist. James tenses for a moment but he seems to get it quickly enough, eyes suddenly dancing with mirth. He throws an arm around Regulus’ shoulders, leaning close. “Alright, but you owe me.”

Regulus spares a moment to consider that this might not have been his best idea; he harboured a small crush on James for years now, and they’re going to play on the same Quidditch team soon. Then again, it’s not like this is going to take longer than a few minutes and he’ll probably only have to help him prank Sirius or something.

Shaking his head, deciding to worry about this later and ignoring the little voice in his head telling him that he might be drunker than expected, he leans into the hug, turning his head when the guy steps up next to James and looks at the two of them.

James’ smile vanishes and he tightens his grip on Regulus, who’s definitely not enjoying this more than he should. “Need something?” James asks, all that arrogance and cockiness he carried through his first six years of school breaking through.

“I was just talking to your friend – “

“My boyfriend,” James says with a pointed look. “And he didn’t appreciate it, so if you could get lost – “

The guy frowns, lips curling downwards and for a moment, Regulus thinks that this could turn very ugly. “Are you certain about that?”

Regulus sneers, glaring and leaning around James. “Who the fuck do you think you are to question that? Even if I wasn’t, I was obviously not interested so I’m going to repeat what James just said – get lost!”

He thinks there’s something like recognition flickering through his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly. “Well then, your loss.”

Both James and he snort and shake their heads at his retreating back. Before either of them can say anything, Sirius steps into the empty spot, looking between them and the guy that just left them alone. “What in Merlin’s name did you talk with Andrews about?”

“Who?” James asks, taking his glass from the bar and downing half of it, still not taking his arm from Regulus’ shoulder.

He tells himself he only stays close in case they’re being watched, but he’s not sure he believes that himself.

“Andrews – the new Beater from your team? You know, Quidditch – “

“You’re kidding me,” James states confidently, shaking his head and smirking at Sirius like he easily sees through his joke.

Sirius looks confused though, slowly shaking his head. “Eh no, I don’t? He was at the try-outs and got the spot – how can you not know that? And what did you do that he looked so pissed?”

James falters, running a hand through his hair and Regulus takes his glass from him because he really needs a drink right now.

“We – well, he – what the fuck is he doing here? This is a Muggle bar,” he says, his throat still burning from the whiskey.

Sirius looks at him like he’s a bit dense and he scowls at him.

“The whole team is here, you know that – and what is it with you two, anyway?!”

James groans, dropping his head onto Regulus’ shoulder who keeps himself from running his hand up and down James’ spine by pure force of will.

“He was hitting on me, and rather disgustingly as well,” he says, lips twitching when Sirius’ exasperation morphs into an annoyed scowl on his behalf. “He didn’t get the message and I spotted James, so – well, I asked him to act as my boyfriend for a second.”

Telling it to Sirius, it doesn’t sound as smart anymore as it did a few minutes ago and Sirius’ barking laugh doesn’t help matters. “You did what? That’s the best you come up with when someone is hitting on you? Merlin Reg – “

“I know, I know okay?! It’s not like James didn’t agree though,” he says, rolling his eyes and nudging James a bit who finally looks up again.

“Did you, now?” Sirius asks with an amused smirk, raising a brow at James.

James shuffles his feet a bit, avoiding to look at either of them before flashing Sirius a sheepish grin. “I didn’t know it’s him – and well, Regulus said otherwise he’s going to hex the guy, so I thought, you know, before getting an incident on our hands because of breaking the Statute of Secrecy – “

Sirius laughs again, shaking his head. “Very self-sacrificing, Prongs. Well, if you two don’t want to have a spit with your future teammate already, I’d suggest you keep that up for a while.”

Regulus’ eyes widen and he quickly looks at James, who appears to be far less concerned by that idea than he has any right to, instead just tightening his hold on Regulus and grinning at him.

“Well then, seems like we have a fake dating thing going on.”

Yeah, definitely not one of his best ideas Regulus thinks, plucking the glass out of Sirius’ hands. How is he supposed to get through this without going mad within weeks?

*

He wakes up with a pounding head, a dry throat and pain in his back, and it takes him long moments to remember where he is and why he feels like he had a run-in with a Hippogryph.

Blinking his eyes open, he looks around the messy living room of James’ and Sirius’ flat, books, vinyl’s and a few empty mugs littering the dark hardwood floor and available surfaces and he slowly pulls himself up into a sitting position.

“Morning,” Sirius greets him, levitating two mugs and handing one to Regulus, looking way too cheery for his tastes.

All he manages is a grunt in response and he closes his eyes in bliss at the first sip of hot coffee. Sirius throws himself into one of the worn armchairs across from him, watching with an amused expression as Regulus slowly returns to the land of the living.

“As often as you’re staying here since you graduated, we could actually consider giving you the third room,” Sirius breaks the silence after a few minutes, and when he looks up, he’s smirking. “Would give your whole relationship-story a bit more weight, too?”

He’s confused for a few seconds before realisation washes over him and he curses under his breath, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face into them.

“Oh come on, James isn’t that bad,” Sirius teases, obviously enjoying the whole thing far too much and Regulus thinks he would like to hex his brother. “I was serious about the room though. It basically serves as a storage room right now, and then you wouldn’t have to stay at Grimmauld’s. Or constantly sleep on the couch.”

Distaste is clear in Sirius’ tone and he looks up again, sighing to himself. “Mother is going to throw an epic fit if I move in with you. Even worse than when she found out I signed up for Quidditch.” He doesn’t manage to hide the slight wince at the memory and Sirius’ face turns a bit softer.

“Exactly why I’m offering, she’s not suddenly going to stop pestering you about it.”

Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he thinks about it. Normally, he would agree without a second thought. Sirius and he mended their relationship over the last 2 years after drifting apart when he was sorted into Slytherin, and while they’re always going to be different, they get along well enough.

The bigger problem is James – not because he doesn’t like him, more due to the fact that he probably likes him a bit too much, and just got himself into a fake relationship with him. He’s not so naïve to think that this couldn’t blow up in his face.

“I’ll think about it,” he says after a few moments, sinking deeper into the cushion and closing his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart.

James finds them like this, flopping down next to Regulus unceremoniously. A quick glance at him is enough to nullify all his effort to calm down – James looks soft, hair wet and wearing a white t-shirt that stretches over his chest and shoulders, and he’s smiling at both of them.

“That was a good night, wasn’t it?” James says, stretching his arms over the backrest and coming terribly close to Regulus. “Got drunk, danced a lot, celebrated Regulus and I even got a new boyfriend.”

The smirk and satisfaction in James’ tone nearly make him choke on his coffee and he has to fight hard to keep his composure. Of course James Potter would make a joke out of it he thinks, not without some bitterness.

Sirius just snorts, throwing a cushion vaguely into their direction and missing by a landslide.

“You should probably come up with some story, so when someone asks, you’re not contradicting each other. It’s bound to get some attention, seeing that you’re both professional Quidditch players now.”

Regulus just groans again, letting his head fall back and startling when it lands on James’ arm. Merlin, what did he get himself into?

James hums, obviously unbothered by their closeness. “We started dating after I left school and finally got over Evans, otherwise nobody is going to believe it anyway, or make a whole lot of drama out of it. I don’t know, we met through you, of course, and kept the whole thing silent because Reg was still in school.”

“Oh yeah, that’s good! So you’ve not been together for long, let’s say a month? Means you’re still in your honeymoon phase though,” Sirius goes on, throwing his legs over the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “You don’t have to shout it from the rooftops, of course, it all depends a bit on how much Andrews is going to bother you about it or if he’ll just keep his mouth shut.”

Regulus doesn’t think that it’s very likely, seeing how bad the idiot took their proclamation last night, but he doesn’t feel inclined to join their planning session right now.

“Makes sense, though we shouldn’t act like we’re just friends all the time. It’s not like there’s much room during practice to be all couple-y but, you know, arriving and leaving together, holding hands, that kind of stuff,” James says, his hand nudging Regulus’ shoulder who only nods in response.

“Oh, and then you can stage a breakup in a few weeks – if you didn’t date for long and say it’s a mutual decision, nobody’s going to doubt that it’s not that hard for you two to still get along – for my sake, if for nothing else,” Sirius grins, clapping his hands together.

“What do you think?” James asks, and it takes him a moment to realise that the question is directed at him.

Shrugging, he leans forwards again to get away from James for a bit. “Sounds fine to me. Now that I know that the git is a wizard, I can simply hex him if he’s getting on my nerves anyway, so we could actually cut this rather short.”

There’s a flash of… something in James’ eyes but then he shakes his head and grins. “Don’t spoil the fun, I actually like the idea. It’s going to be great!”

Of course James would see it this way, just another prank he can pull.

“Yeah alright, it’s probably better to not already antagonise my teammates already,” he says with a sigh. If he tells himself often enough that it’s the only reason he’s agreeing to this, he might actually believe it at some point.

*

The next few weeks are flying by and the whole thing turns out to be less taxing on him than he thought. They simply arrive at and leave training together often, hold hands and share their breaks – ignoring the hand-holding, which is rather nice as far as Regulus is concerned, it’s not that different from what they would be doing, anyway.

Unfortunately, the press catches wind of it soon. They can’t be sure if they’ve been seen or if their teammates couldn’t keep their mouths shut, but about a month after it all started, there’s an extensive article both in the Prophet and Witch Weekly.

 Both Bachelors Black and Potter off the market!

Dear readers, you’re going to be as surprised as I was when the news reached me the first time. Regulus Black (18) and James Potter (19), both fresh, young players of the Falmouth Falcons, are no longer single!

James Potter already became well-known over the course of the last season, filling the position as Chaser directly out of Hogwarts where he led the Gryffindor team to the Quidditch cup six years in a row, the last two years as captain.

Many girls and boys are aware of James’ good looks and charming smile, and there have been speculations about his relationship status for the whole of last year, only outmatched by his best mate, Sirius Black (20).

This season found another young talent among the ranks of the Falmouth Falcons. Sirius Black’s younger brother, Regulus Black, got chosen as the new Seeker and is rumoured to easily match James Potter’s talent. He not only matches him in talent though – the Black family is well-known, not only for their high standing in society but also for their very good looks, and Regulus is no exception.

So maybe it shouldn’t be such a huge surprise that both rising Quidditch stars found themselves a partner – but I think nobody is going to contradict me when I say that it’s rather unexpected that they are in a relationship with each other.

An anonymous source tells me: “Potter and Black always arrive at training together and are basically inseparable as soon as they’re off the pitch. They’re often seen holding hands and Black spends a lot of his time over at his brothers flat, where both Sirius Black and James Potter live together.”

Well, dear readers, I can’t say that they aren’t making one of the most handsome couples I’ve laid eyes on in some time! I’m sure we would all like to know how their relationship came to be! Is Sirius Black fine with this fresh love between his brother and his best friend? What does the Black family think about it? And what will happen if they break up at some point – that wouldn’t be easy, playing on the same team! Stay tuned, this reporter will make sure to keep you up to date!

Regulus would have laughed about the article as much as James and Sirius probably did if he hadn’t found out about its existence by his mother reading it out loud, her voice trembling with barely repressed fury.

His first instinct is to deny it, but the annoyance and defiance that’s been building within him for some time now rears its head – it shouldn’t matter what the bloody hell he does with his time, or whom he’s dating and even if this relationship wasn’t completely fake, she has no right whatsoever to demand he ends it. He stubbornly ignores the voice that tells him that he’s starting to go a bit far for this whole thing, tells her straight-up she can shove it, packs his stuff and moves into the spare room in Sirius’ and James’ flat.

Sirius looks way too proud when he tells him what happened, grinning brightly and throwing an arm around his shoulders. “I knew you had it in you! We have to celebrate that!”

It’s then that James walks in, bags of groceries in his arms and he smirks at them. “Hey, hands off my boyfriend, Padfoot!”

Regulus chokes out a laugh, still a bit incredulous that he actually walked out on his mother, but Sirius simply snorts, rolling his eyes at James. “You can be glad I let you fake-date my little brother, don’t test me.”

Regulus smacks the back of his head before stepping out of his reach. “You said something about celebrating? I could use a drink.”

“Let’s go to the Leaky Cauldron, we shouldn’t get too wasted seeing that it’s our last training before the match tomorrow and that never works out in Muggle London. We can ask Remus and Peter as well,” James pipes up from the kitchen.

When they walk into the pub an hour later, Regulus’ nerves calmed a bit and he actually feels like he made the right decision. If everything goes to hell, he can always find his own place, it’s not like he’s lacking the money.

His good mood dims when they not only find Remus and Peter but half of their team in one of the boots in the back, including Andrews who made it his personal goal to get on both of his and James’ nerves in the last few weeks.

Still, it would have been impolite to not join them and it’s not like they don’t give as good as they get.

It’s still a funny night; they drink too much beer and firewhiskey, exchange guesses and theories about the coming match and Quidditch in general and he gets into a lengthy discussion with James about the possible uses of Transfiguration in a duel.

They’re sitting close to each other, James’ arm over the back of his chair and their knees knocking together occasionally. It’s a good thing that everybody believes they’re dating and that he can put his lingering glances down to acting his part; his heart is beating too fast and he feels warm, and he tries to keep reminding himself that this is not real, that James’ small smiles and short touches are nothing but an act, a game to him, but he’s not all that successful.

At some point, the inevitable needling from Andrews starts, because of course it does. “So, how’s it with the two of you? We only ever see you holding hands and sure, it’s cute and all but you’re either disgustingly innocent or maybe not as in love as you claim to be.”

“What, just because you don’t find us snogging on the Quidditch pitch every other day?” Regulus sneers, unable to help himself. “If you want a show, visit a strip club, for Merlin’s sake.”

James laughs and a warm sense of satisfaction curls in his chest at the thought that it was he who put that carefree expression there.

“It is a bit weird, though,” Mary Charleston speaks up with a thoughtful look. “Don’t get me wrong, you two are definitely disgustingly in love, there’s no doubt about that – “

And isn’t that a bad joke, Regulus thinks bitterly, carefully keeping his face free of that emotion.

“ – But I didn’t take either of you for much of a prude – well, especially not Potter.”

He’s just readying himself to tell them all where they can stick it and that he doesn’t need to indulge in public displays of affection because he doesn’t owe them anything, when James’ hand slides up his arm and settles on his neck,  and at the same time he turns, leaning forward in his chair and kisses Regulus.

It’s like his mind goes blank within a second, everything narrowing down to the soft, warm lips pressed against his, the thumb drawing circles into his neck and James’ smell invading his senses, of freshly cut grass and soap and something spicy – pine maybe, he can’t think straight enough to actually tell.

It takes him a moment to open his eyes again after James pulls back, their faces still close and a soft smile tugging at James’ lips before he gives a soft sigh and sits back in his chair, smirking at the others. “There, satisfied?”

Reality crashes back into him and he swallows against the feeling of cold disappointment that replaces the warmth and elation within seconds. He’s never been so thankful for the endless hours of his mother telling him to never show what he feels, he thinks, biting his tongue and raising a challenging brow at Andrews. Right. All just an act.

“Alright, that was hot. And convincing,” Mary says, grinning at the two of them and he forces himself not to tense when James puts his arm back around his shoulders.

Later, when they’re home and he retreated into his room, there’s a soft knock on the door and James steps in, wearing sweatpants and a washed-out shirt that makes Regulus fingers itch to pull him into bed.

“Hey, just wanted to check – sorry if I overstepped earlier, I was…” James trails off, ruffling his hair and the movement has his shirt riding up, revealing a sliver of tanned skin Regulus has to draw his eyes away from.

Gesturing dismissively, he just shakes his head, looking back down at his book. “Don’t worry about it, it was just a short kiss.”

James is silent for a moment and when he looks back up, he’s watching him with a small frown.

Exhaling slowly, he smiles. “Honestly James, it’s alright.”

“Yeah I – okay, good. Goodnight then,” James murmurs, leaving his room and shutting the door before he can say anything else.

*

The next morning, it’s like nothing happened and no matter how convoluted his feelings on the whole matter are, Regulus is glad for that right now. He’s nervous enough as it is with their first match taking place today, and he shoves each and every thought that involves James as far away as possible.

Still, as soon as he takes off and the game starts, it’s like he left all his nervousness behind. It’s perfect weather for flying – it’s cold but the sky is clear, weak November sun promising a good chance to spot the Snitch, and he quickly starts circling the pitch above the rest of the players, letting his eyes wander and keeping half an ear on the commentary.

Puddlemere United played rather badly in the last season but they exchanged half of their team and it’s hard to tell how it’s going to affect this year, though if the fact that, after 15 minutes, the Falmouth Falcons are already leading with 50 points, it might have not been of much use.

James is in his best form, and Regulus catches himself a few times watching him play for a tad too long – that’s definitely a habit he needs to let go of he thinks, letting his eyes roam over the stands.

It wasn’t that much of a problem in Hogwarts, seeing that they only ever had one match against each other per year, but he can’t keep getting distracted now. Maybe he shouldn’t have joined the same team then, that annoying, little voice speaks up again and he shakes his head to dispel it.

A flicker to his right catches his attention and he turns his head, fixing his eyes on the little, golden ball that’s currently hovering at the bottom of Puddlemere’s goalposts. It’s closer to him than the opposing Seeker, Jones, and he doesn’t waste another second to drop into a dive, weaving between players and taking a sharp turn when the Snitch zips to the left.

A brief look over his shoulder shows him that Jones noticed the Snitch as well, or at least that something is going on, but he’s too far behind to catch up and if the Snitch doesn’t do something very annoying, he shouldn’t have much of a chance.

As if reading his thoughts, it suddenly changes directions and flies straight up. Gritting his teeth, he follows, ignoring Jones when he pulls close to him. There are only a few feet left before he can grab it and he curses under his breath when it pulls to the right, directly out of his path. He just thinks he’s going to lose after all when it flies back, back into his way and he can’t help his whoop of joy when his hand finally closes around it.

James touches down only a second after him and before he knows what’s happening, throws his arms around Regulus’ neck and pulls him into a deep, demanding kiss. His body is still soaring with the rush from winning them their first game and he simply clenches his fingers into the front of James’ robes, pushing against him and letting himself get lost in this marvellous feeling.

A hand lands on his shoulder, pulling him back and they break apart, for a moment just grinning at each other and then there’s a bright flash and Regulus whirls around, staring at the reporter holding a camera and wearing a self-satisfied smile.

It’s like dropping into the freezing Great Leak from hundreds of feet up in the air, his chest clenches and he balls his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms and teeth grinding together.

It’s only minutes of celebration until they’re free to go to the changing rooms but it feels way too long, thoughts racing through his head with only the burning need to get away really reaching him.

Bloody hell but he can’t do this any longer. It’s been fine when holding hands was all they did but this, this makes him go mad because the longer it goes on, the more often James kisses him, the more he realises that he’s long since past a simple crush.

All that time they spent together, in training, in their flat, talking about books and Quidditch and James making him laugh until his stomach hurt, it’s simply too much and he doesn’t think he can keep up this façade any longer; not even regarding their teammates or the public, he honestly couldn’t care less about that now, but he just knows that one of these days he’s going to break and tell James exactly how little of his affection he has to fake.

And if he’s certain about one thing, it’s that he can’t do that. It’s been obvious from the very beginning that this is all one great, hilarious prank to James and in the best case, James would simply laugh at him; in the worst, he’s going to be sorry for Regulus and he doesn’t think he could take that.

He needs distance, desperately so, and as soon as he’s out of sight and can slip away from his still cheering team, he apparates back to the flat and storms into his room, haphazardly throwing a few things into a bag and leaving again within less than 10 minutes.

He’s a bit surprised to find himself on Barty’s doorstep. They kept in touch after school, one of the few real friends he actually made at Hogwarts, but he realises with a start that it’s been some time since they’ve seen each other and it’s mostly due to him spending nearly every moment with James and Sirius.

They have that effect on people, he thinks, clenching his jaw – drawing you in, making you forget everything else, and he got completely lost in it.

Fortunately, it’s Barty’s mother that answers the door. His father never liked Regulus much, solely because of him being a Black, and he’s not sure he could have stayed calm and polite right now on top of everything else.

“Oh, hello Regulus, I didn’t know Barty was expecting you. No matter though, he’s in his room, just go on through,” she greets him with a kind smile, and he forces himself to return it.

Her worried frown tells him that he wasn’t all that successful, but he quickly ducks into the corridor, thinking that he’d probably break and spill everything if she asked him if he was alright in that motherly way he always envied a bit.

Barty’s sitting on his bed, surrounded by books and parchment with an ink-stain on his left cheek and a quill tugged behind his ear, getting a fleeting smile out of him.

“Hey,” he says quietly, staying in the doorway and suddenly uncertain what to say.

Barty’s head flies up in surprise but it’s quickly replaced by a bright smile. “Reg! Didn’t expect to see you, come in! Didn’t you just have your first match today?”

The tight knot in his chest loosens ever so slightly at the warm, familiar comfort of Barty’s company and he drops his bag to the floor where he stands before flopping down into the chair next to Barty’s bed. “Yeah, we won.”

“Alright – shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, happy about it?” Barty asks with raised eyebrows, slowly gathering the many pieces of parchment into a neat pile.

Shrugging, he looks away from him, pondering what to say. “Yeah I am – or well. It was a good match, at least,” he finally sighs, running a hand over his face, fingers lingering on his lips for a short moment.

Honestly, James Potter doesn’t have any fucking right to kiss him like he means it.

“Well, why are you scowling like someone killed your Kneazle, then?”

Grimacing, he blows out a long breath and closes his eyes for a moment. “It’s – I – James…”

“Your boyfriend?” Barty asks surprised, leaning back against the wall and stretching his legs out. “By the way, you could have told me that you finally got your crush to go out with you, you unfaithful git.”

He groans, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees before burying his face in his hands. “He’s not – we’re not together.”

“What?! Did he break up with you?! I swear to Merlin – “

A quick look shows Barty already half up from his bed, wand in his hand and a short laugh escapes him, and even he can tell that it sounds vaguely hysteric. “No, we were – we just pretend to be together. Pretended. Salazar, I swear this is such a mess.”

Barty stares at him for long moments before slowly sitting back down. “Do you mean to tell me that you thought it’s a good idea to fake-date the guy you’ve been crushing on ever since 5th year? Didn’t you even move in with them?”

He just nods defeatedly, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

“Merlin Reg, that’s so exceptionally stupid I wouldn’t even have expected it from your brother, much less you.” It’s a sober, clinical statement and he can’t help but agree.

“It’s not like I planned to, you know?” he says with another sigh and Barty just looks at him disbelievingly. “Really, we were in this Muggle bar and there was a guy hitting on me, not taking no for an answer. So I asked James if he could act like my boyfriend, thinking it would be a case of a few minutes. Well, turned out that he was the new Beater of our team.”

Slowly, Barty pulls the whole story out of him, his face becoming more sympathetic and exasperated with each passing minute.

“Well,” he says when Regulus is finally finished. “It’s still stupid and you could have ended it weeks ago, but I kind of see why you didn’t, you miserable sod.”

Regulus just opens his mouth to answer, he doesn’t even know what, when the door to Barty’s room opens.

Expecting to see Ms. Crouch, he startles violently when James is stepping inside, face flushed and slightly out of breath.

“No, absolutely not!” Barty snaps, already up and halfway through the room before Regulus even processes what he’s seeing.

It’s kind of cute and reminds him that Barty has always been a bit overprotective for whatever reason, but it’s also misplaced. He calmed down considerably since getting here and it’s probably better to get the whole thing over with rather sooner than later.

Getting up, he pulls Barty back from James who, for his part, has his hands raised in a placating gesture and looks terribly confused. “It’s alright, I’ll be back in a minute,” he says tiredly, gesturing for James to lead the way. “Let’s go outside.”

They’re silent until they reach the French doors leading into the garden and Regulus leans against the wall, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Bad habit he picked up from Sirius, he thinks, staring at it for long moments before sighing again and meeting James’ eyes.

“I just – Why did you… I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know it would bother you so much more than last night and I was just – “

Exhaling the smoke in a rush, he holds up a hand and shakes his head. “It’s not about that. I just – we should end this whole charade,” he says quietly, watching as the wind whips around white particles of ash before carrying them away.

“What – why?” James stammers, his voice somewhat rough and when he glances at him out of the corner of his eyes, he’s frowning and has a hand fisted into his hair.

Shrugging, Regulus looks away again, fixing his eyes on the forest at the edge of the grounds that are already becoming indistinguishable in the fading light. “It was never meant to go on for so long anyway, and the longer we keep it up, especially with – “ he gestures helplessly into James’ direction, “Stuff like you did today, the more complicated it gets.”

James huffs, staying silent for a moment. “But I’m – I mean it’s going well, isn’t it? I stop kissing you if you want – “

“For fuck's sake,” he finally snaps, glaring at James who takes a step back. “You had your fun, it’s all been a great prank, but I can’t – I don’t want to do this anymore, so you just have to find yourself a different pastime, alright?”

“It’s not been some prank for me!” James instantly shoots back, his eyes blazing.

“Oh yeah? Then what was it, really? And don’t tell me you simply did it because I asked you to, it’s been rather obvious how much you enjoyed this little game,” he sneers, burying all his hurt and disappointment deep underneath the anger and not caring one bit that he’s being a bit unfair here. Honestly, James could have simply left him alone, or at least agree to stop the whole thing and leave it at that.

“I enjoyed it because I like you! Because I’m – I have – “

“Oh great, yeah. I like you too, but that doesn’t mean that we have to pretend to be a bloody couple. You don’t do that with Sirius either, do you?!”

James stares at him incredulously, his hands balled into fists at his side and it’s a weird feeling all this provokes in him – it’s painful, fighting like this, but it’s also easier, better than this soft, intimate side he witnessed over the last few weeks, and the self-destructive, proud, stubborn part of himself wants to make it worse, wants to burn all the bridges they’ve built between them and only remember this because it would make everything so much safer.

“Are you – for Merlin’s sake Regulus,” James sighs, suddenly sounding tired, shoulders slumping and his hand messing up his hair for the umpteenth time. “I have a bloody crush on you, alright? Not even – I suppose it’s more than a crush and really, I should have told you earlier and not take advantage of the whole situation but it was just – at least it let me pretend, for a moment, that it – that we could be something more because, well… Nevermind, I should go.”

There’s a strange, rushing sound in his ears, he can feel his heart racing painfully in his chest and his mouth is dry as he watches James turn with one last, sad look at him.

“Wait,” he manages to choke out, the word coming out raspy and silent and he quickly takes two steps forward, curling his fingers around James’ wrist before he even knows what he’s doing, before he has any idea what he’s supposed to say.

James turns slowly, frowning and looking at the spot where Regulus is still holding his wrist. He lets go on instinct, wincing at the resigned look flashing through James’ eyes. Merlin but he’s absolutely shit at talking about feelings, there are a thousand things he wants to say and each and every one of them sounds more ridiculous and stupid than he can bring himself to voice.

The longer he’s silent, the more James’ face shutters, his lips pressing into a thin line and his shoulders tensing, and fuck he really needs to say something and maybe it doesn’t matter all that much what it is, exactly, in the end.

“I – Me too, I mean – it’s why I… Why I was so set on ending this because I just couldn’t – it’s too hard to pretend, all the time and you – fuck, why is this so hard?” he laughs hollowly, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I like you, like, a lot.”

James turns fully towards him then, taking a step closer and slowly raising his hands to Regulus’ face, thumbs running over his cheekbones and he closes his eyes, leaning into the touch.

“I should have asked you this much earlier, but can I kiss you, please?” James murmurs, so close already that his breath is ghosting over Regulus’ lips and he doesn’t think he could speak if he wanted to, so he simply nods.

It’s a soft, careful kiss, just a brushing of lips and completely different from their first two kisses but it makes his breath catch and a shiver run down his spine, much more intense than the others. He wraps his arms around James’ waist, pulling him closer and deepens the kiss, has to fist one hand into the back of James’ jumper because he feels like if he doesn’t ground himself somehow, he’s just going to break apart or drown, going to burst with the rush of happiness and disbelief and joy that’s threatening to overwhelm him.

James tangles his hands in Regulus’ hair, humming softly and bites into his bottom lip before running his tongue over the spot.

“Hey Reg, are you – oh.”

They only slowly break apart and it takes several moments for him to comprehend that Barty is standing in the doorway, looking at them with wide eyes. Regulus can’t help the laugh escaping him, his heart still racing and happiness bubbling within him. Really, he thinks, going through such a wide arrange of emotions in the course of half a day can’t be healthy, and he leans against James for support because he fears his legs might just give out in exhaustion.

“I’m fine, as you can see. We kind of – sorted it out,” he finally manages to say, knowing that he must look like an utter sap right now but he just can’t find it in himself to care.

Barty snorts, shaking his head. “I figured. So I take it you’re not staying?” he says with a smirk, looking between the two of them.

James' arm around him tightens at the mention, making his heart jump again. “No, thank you. But we should catch up soon, yeah? You need to visit us, or come to one of our matches,” he says, still remembering that he thought he should see Barty more often.

“Will do,” Barty says with mock-seriousness before pinning James with a look. “Don’t do anything stupid, Potter.” With that, he turns on his heel and disappears back into the house, and Regulus can only hide his laughter in James’ neck.

“Let’s go home,” James murmurs into his hair, and Regulus didn’t think something as simple as that could sound so terribly good.

[james-stark-the-writer-wips]

A Year At The Opera - Excerpt

Chapter 12, Part 4: Joe

Word Count: 1700 words.

Sorry it's late, but the next ones are coming soon. I'm just editing some stuff. Hope you don't mind.

*

Joe turned into Rosewood Lane late afternoon. Saturday night had been rough and he may have had a little (about an entire bottle more than he should have been) too much to drink and he had spent all Sunday sleeping it off. But, it was a new week today. He’d sobered up and he couldn’t wait to get back to work and forget all about saturday night.

He stopped before the iron gate. Two guards stood on either side, armed with guns, looking at Joe in his car.

Rosewood Lane: the suburbia away from the suburbia, a paradise for the uber rich with around the clock security and state of the art surveillance. Every resident was guaranteed their privacy and safety. Joe could barely stomach the thought of having to live here. He wasn’t even inside yet and he could already see their smug faces in front of his eyes, looking at him as the outsider, someone who didn’t deserve to be among them, someone less than. It made Joe’s blood boil just thinking about it.

He lowered his window and tapped the button labelled ‘1205: Justice, C’ on the stand next to the door.

Static returned from the speaker before a woman spoke in a cheery voice. “Who is it?”

“This is Detective Joe Vega from the Ellesburg PD and I had some questions for Mrs. Justice.”

“This is she. Questions about what, detective?” She asked.

“It’s about your husband.” Joe responded. The static cut out and the gears of the gate began to move.

Rosewood Lane stood on the opposite end of Athea, away from the river Daine, high above the rest of the city, like a literal pedestal for the uber rich, overlooking the people beneath them. Joe had never been inside before.

From the inside, the place looked even more like it was built on the backs of exploited laborers or in other words, rich. As Joe made his way to the Justice house, he couldn’t help but notice all the non-white people tending to — most likely not their own — gardens, cutting the trees, cleaning up the area. A few women sat outside, self tanning in the sun while a few children moved along the streets, playing their games, enjoying their tiny, sheltered worlds.

Joe wondered if these people knew what happened outside their little paradise up here or if they were just blissfully ignorant.

Joe found his way to the Justice house fairly easily. The big mansion stood intimidatingly, distinguishable even in the fake utopia that was Rosewood Lane. Just from the outside, Joe could see eight windows on the top floor and six long ones on the bottom, the door sandwiched between the three long windows on each side. It rose high up, higher than most other houses around it. It somewhat reminded him of the front of the white house.

Pulling into the Justice house’s driveway, the door to the house opened and a woman, presumably Mrs. Justice from the look of her clothes, stood in the doorway, as if she couldn’t wait for Joe to ring the doorbell.

He stepped out of his car and locked the car behind him as he walked up the stairs onto the front porch of the house.

“Mrs. Justice?” Joe asked. 

She nodded. “Please, come inside.” She moved aside to let him in.

He walked in and she followed him, quickly closing the door behind her.

“You said you had some questions?” She asked nervously.

“Yeah.”

“Please, let’s sit in the living room.”

“Alright.” Joe said, following her deeper into what seemed like an endless stream of doors. The ivory walls of the house rose high, the large dome shaped skylight at the top blasted sunlight in, making them seem even more white. The walls were decorated with a variety of objects, most of what Joe assumed to be antiques of some sort and some family photos. Every frame was golden, perfectly machined and manufactured, just like the pictures in those frames. Flawless. A disgusting image. A facade to show the world how perfect their family was. Joe suspected that was anywhere near the case.

The whole house was smattered with objects that brought some contrast to the stark white. If he wasn’t human, some onlooker would probably say he was the most contrasting thing there.

All the white around him was almost intimidating. Unblemished, untouched, pure. But he couldn’t let himself get distracted. He had a job to do.

“Right in here.” She said, opening a set of two large doors into a large open living room that screamed minimalist. No decorations, no frills. The only furniture was the sofas and some lamps beside them on tiny coffee tables. Two extremely comfortable looking alcoves separated by the TV on the wall decorated the rest of the room aside from the table in front on the sofa. In the bottom right corner of the room stood a tiny bookcase, all on its own, almost a distraction from the rest of the room’s minimalism. Sunbeams flooded the room from the alcove windows as Joe and Mrs. Justice sat down on the sofa. It was so quiet that the rubbing of Joe’s jeans against the white leather as he adjusted in his seat was the loudest sound in the room.

“So, Mrs. Justice—” Joe began.

“Please, Jessica is fine.”

“Alright, Jessica.” Joe took out his recorder and placed it on the glass table in front of him, turning it on.

“Please state your name for the record.” Joe said.

“Uh, this is Jessica Justice.” She said hesitantly. “What is this about, Detective?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I’m afraid I have some bad news. It’s about your husband.”

“Oh god.” She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand and looking away. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so.” Joe said quietly, nodding.

“When did it happen?” She asked, choking up.

“A few days ago, we just got the full autopsy this morning confirming it’s him.” 

Really, by protocol, Joe should’ve informed her two days ago when he actually got Carson’s address and confirmation from Jeanie that it was actually Carson but he doubted Jessica would know that and other things had actually held him up.

“How…” Her voice was shaky. “How did he die?”

“Someone hit him with something really hard.” He took a breath. “And then buried him in Shadow Woods, near the border of Tenebris and Ellesburg.”

“Oh god.” She stood up.

“I know this might be a lot to take in…” Joe said calmly. He had always hated this part. Not because it was hard but because it was messy. Even after all this time, he’d never figured out exactly how to console the people. And he loved his job but god he hated being the messenger of news like this and being put in this position.

“What are your questions, detective?” She turns, wiping tears from her face.

“Well, I was just wondering when you last saw Carson.”

“I think it was August the 30th?” She sat down again. “He had a habit of disappearing for days without contact.”

“Is that why you didn’t report him missing?”

“Yes.” She sniffled, nodding and wiping another tear.

“And do you know of any enemies he might have had or anyone who hated him?”

“Detective, my husband was a rich man, practically everyone hated him or was jealous of him for some reason. But I can’t think of anyone in particular.”

“Alright. Just a few more questions and I’ll be out of your hair. Where were you on the night of September the third?”

“Was the night when he—”

“Yes, that’s what we’re assuming so far.” Joe said softly.

“I think I was here all day.”

“You didn’t leave the house all day?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“Anyone that can corroborate the alibi?”

“Our maid, Kelly. And the security cameras in the house. Carson had them installed when we first moved in.”

“All right, then. Just get me the info for Kelly and that footage and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Of course.” She sniffled. 

“Actually, could I get the whole footage from when you last saw him?”

“Of course. I think the entire last month is backed up on his computer in his study.”

“Fantastic. And that’s it, Jessica. If I have any more questions, I’ll let you know.”

Joe turned off the recorder and stood up.

“Detective,” She stopped him, “When can I see him?”

“I can arrange for a visit tomorrow morning, if that works.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, turning away. “Come on, I’ll show you to the study.”

Joe followed her out of the room and through more hallways before they arrived at the study.

The study was the entire opposite of the house. Wood everywhere. Real wood, as far as Joe could tell. The walls were decorated with the same frames as the rest of the house and a desk stood in front of the only window in the room.

“Is this hardwood?” Joe asked, looking at the floor.

“Yes.” Jessica replied, walking over to the desk. “Here. Here’s the computer.” She pointed at a small metallic enclosure sitting on the desk next to a monitor.

Joe walked up next to her. “Is it on right now?”

“I think so. It should be.”

“Alright, well I can’t take it with me but I’ll send some people over to collect the evidence. Would that be alright?”

“I suppose so. Well, here’s Kelly’s info then.” She grabbed the stack of post-it’s on the desk and a pen and scribbled down Kelly’s phone number and address. “That’s where you can reach her.”

“Thank you, Jessica. I appreciate the help and the cooperation.”

“Of course, detective. Well, you know your way out.” She said, putting on a happy face.

“That I do.” Joe said, walking away, leaving the woman alone. He had other places to be.

*

[tere706]

Ask me no questions - 3

(Thanks for your patience on this fic! I did mention it would be slower to update than the Eddie/Venom/OC fic. I really enjoyed the dialogue in the second half. Had me chuckling *in an evil way for part of it*. 

Anyways, I didn’t proof read this very well because I’m tired. But I’m not seeing anymore red squiggles than there should be... so it’s okay? Enjoy!

Words: ~2300)

Y/N was up early the next morning. She needed to patch together something to use as a sled for carrying Ultron. Their system from the day before wasn’t the worst, but she was trying to pass him off as salvage. He couldn’t be hanging onto her, acting alive, and have that work.

Honestly, it was a relief when she had to tell Ultron to power down and fake being deactivated. It meant he stopped pestering her. She was already anxious and worried about her whole plan. He was not helping the situation in the slightest. The only hitch with the smugglers was their demanding extra money since her ‘salvage’ was larger than expected. They actually seemed impressed.

The anxiety didn’t end there. She hiked her way back to the city, the remains of the city, and had to load up on a refugee bus. It was crowded and depressing, but at least most of the people were either quiet or spoke softly in their own language. She could lean her head back and try to relax.

She drifted away from the refugee center and headed out to catch a ride once she got off the bus. It took a few hours longer than expected to get to a city with an airport. Her mind kept imagining Ultron being discovered. Or breaking free and trying to go off on his own. Or being stolen. She had to literally bite the tip of her tongue to keep herself from speaking.

A hefty sum of money got her a ticket on the next flight out and back to America. She settled into her seat on the plane and closed her eyes. The physical exhaustion and the mental exhaustion of the worry finally took their toll. She slept.

~

She was half curled up in the back seat of the cab, her forehead pressed against the cold glass and her eyes closed tightly. Her stomach rolled with nausea and her head throbbed with her pulse. She was at the end of her limits. All she wanted was to crawl into her home and pass out. The cab made a slow turn and finally came to a stop. Her eyes opened and glanced out the window.

Snow had fallen since she left. The ground was covered in a fluffy, white layer. It decorated the pine trees. It also covered the long gravel drive up to her home. There weren’t any other tracks in it, so presumably she’d beaten Ultron here. The wood and brick home was out in the forest, away from people. The closest town was fifteen minutes away by car, the closest real city was over half an hour away. Her cab drive hadn’t been thrilled by her directions, but she’d offered enough money to make it worth his while.

Y/N opened the backdoor and stepped out into the snow, the cold wind biting into her. She heard the cab drive cough, a very fake cough, and leaned back in with several bills held out. The man was quick to leave, which was fine. She hadn’t taken any luggage with her, so she trudged up toward her front door. It took a moment to fumble out the key and unlock it.

Ah, blessed heat. Running electricity and plumbing out here had been an expensive pain, but it was well worth it. She dumped her coat and boots at the entry way. Her floors were hardwood and she didn’t want to drip water everywhere.

“I’m home.”

She knelt down on the floor as a white and black cat came streaking around the corner to leap into her arms. The cat was purring up a storm and nuzzling her face against Y/N’s. She stroked her hands down the cat’s small frame and chuckled softly.

“I missed you too, Eve.” The cat was mostly white with black patches on her body and legs. Y/N had adopted her when she first moved into this house two years ago.

The orange tabby sitting at the corner and staring at their little display of affection had adopted them. He was not as cuddly as Eve, but Sunny was still a part of this little family.

Y/N stood up with Eve in her arms. “Let’s get you two some fresh food and water. And scooped. Sorry I was gone so long. I shouldn’t have to travel again for a long time.” She sighed in relief just from saying those words. The pain from being around other people these last couple days was a reminder of why she had isolated herself.

~

Ultron didn’t arrive until the next day. She was grateful for the small reprieve. It had given her time to recover from the last few days and medicate the worst of the headache away. Ultron was sure to bring it roaring back.

“Hello, Ernie.” Y/N had the door open, shivering as the cold air invaded into her home.

“You’ve been getting a lot of packages lately! And all of them quite heavy.” Ernie was the delivery man who usually brought anything she ordered. And he wasn’t wrong, her ordering habits had certainly changed.  

She smiled brightly and handed the clipboard back to him. “Oh, I decided I needed a winter project. Doing some renovations."

He nodded. “Want me to bring this box in for you? It really is heavy.”

“I would appreciate if you could bring it into the garage. I can take it from there.”

Ernie moved the large box into the garage and wished her a good day before he loaded back into his truck and slowly drove away.

Y/N sighed and started opening up the box, ripping the tape away. The inside was filled with packing peanuts. She tossed handfuls aside until she found part of Ultron’s robot body and tapped lightly on it.

“Come on, big guy. Time to wake up.” The worry settled back into her chest again. What if something had happened during the trip? What if he’d actually died?

Relief flooded her when there was a sudden red glow from the body and his arm lifted to pluck a packing peanut from one of the eye holes.

“Charming. I do believe that is a record for slowest travel for me.”

She chuckled and knelt down. “Well, you know what they say, go big or go home. Now, let me help you get downstairs. You can look over what I have and tell me what I’m missing.”

Once she was sure Ultron was holding tight with his arm over her shoulder she stood with a grunt of effort. Y/N had left the door from the garage into the house unlocked so that she just had to toe it open to slip inside. Eve chirruped up at her before arching her back and then scurrying away to hide under the couch.

“You have a cat.”

“I have two.”

“My condolences.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and carried the Ultron’s robot body to the basement door. She had to juggle a bit to get a hand free for opening the door. Then it was just a matter of not falling down the stairs. She carefully set Ultron’s body onto a rolling cart and stepped back from him.

“I didn’t know what all you would need. I did my best to gather what I could. Let me know if we need something else. It might take a couple days to get ahold of.”

She turned to look at the transformed basement. It had been a library and entertainment area. Now the bookshelves were half hidden behind boxes of metal and parts, tables, and other machines for manufacturing. Y/N knew she had gotten most of what would be needed, but some specific details had been too difficult to find out.

“You have a suitable metal to begin building a new body?” Ultron reached down with his one arm and pushed the cart along with an annoyed noise.

She shrugged slightly and gestured toward a pair of box stacks that went almost to the ceiling. “It’s not vibranium, if that’s what you hoped for. My pockets aren’t that deep.”

There was a long pause before Ultron turned his head to stare at her with that blank face. She felt her heart slam against her chest and turned away, trying for nonchalant.

“You know about vibranium?”

“Obviously. I did my research about what the best metal would be. It was used to make Captain America’s shield. I have lots of contacts. Heard there was some on the market, but it’s gone.” The best way to cover up a lie was to just use the truth and omit the pieces you wanted to keep secret. It was too soon. If Ultron tried to leave, he’d probably end up dead. He needed to stay long enough to create a few bodies as backups.

“It’s a glorified frisbee.” Ultron snapped, his anger apparently derailing his previous train of thought. Or maybe he was storing it away to consider later.

Y/N turned and smiled in his direction. “Having seen some footage of him fighting, I can’t disagree. I’m going to give you a little while to go through what I have here already. When I come back down here you can tell me what we’re missing. I think we should be able to get to work right away, even if we’re missing a couple things.”

Ultron made a contemplative noise as he turned his head to look at the rest of the room again. “I will tell you if anything is missing. But I don’t require your assistance.”

“Nope. But you’re getting it anyways. First of all, it’ll be faster than you working alone and with one arm. And second of all, I don’t fully trust you not to blow up my house.” She ticked off the points on her fingers.

“I thought we were operating on trust here.”

She snorted softly and put a hand on her hip. “Yes, to an extent. But neither of us fully trusts the other. We both have our reasons for that.” Y/N sighed, looking away. “Ultron, a few days ago you were literally trying to kill me. You can’t expect me to fully trust you yet.”

He shrugged slightly. “To be fair, I didn’t know that you as an individual existed at that time.”

“Not a valid excuse. You were still trying to kill me and everyone else.”

“Then why did you save me? If you truly believe that, why go to all this trouble to bring me here? To buy all these materials? Why are you giving me a second chance, when you know I might just kill you anyways?”

Y/N had been right. Ultron was going to bring that headache roaring back despite the pain meds she’d taken. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples. “Because you’re a person. You deserve a second chance. A chance to make better choices. You were born into this world in a terrible way, exposed to things that no newborn should have been.”

“I am not human. I’m not a child.” Ultron interrupted her.

“As for being human… no. You’re right that you aren’t human. But you are a person. Those are two different things.” She picked up a bolt from the table, fiddling with it to distract herself. The last time she’d brought up a difficult subject with Ultron she’d almost gotten a concussion. She felt nervous talking to him now.

“And no. You are not a child. You are incredibly intelligent, but you lack… experience. You have all this knowledge, but no practical life experience to go with it. Emotionally, you are much like a child, Ultron. That’s probably why you lash out physically when angered. Common in emotionally young people. But I don’t see you as a child, just as someone lacking the experiences to ground their decisions.”

There was a long silence after that last statement. Y/N played with the bolt for a minute before glancing in Ultron’s direction. He had turned his face away from her, the boxes he was facing had a faint red glow from his sockets. Well, he had taken that better than expected. She realized with a pang that he didn’t really need her alive anymore. He had this rough workshop set up, he could make do without her here if he had to.

“How did you know about my creation?”

The question caught her off guard and she dropped the bolt back to the table with a hollow clang. He still wasn’t looking at her, hadn’t moved at all.

“Sorry, your friendship level isn’t high enough for that question.”

Ultron’s head slowly turned to face her. It was still hard to tell, since the face was solid and emotionless, but she could almost feel his baffled anger.

“What?”

“You’ll have to level up your friendship with me before I can answer questions like that one. Try again later.” A slow grin split her face. Y/N felt her chest tighten with manic glee. It was the feeling of looking at death and laughing in his face. Crazed hilarity.

This time Ultron stared silently at her for about two minutes. Which, naturally, felt like two millennia as sweat tricked down her spine and she suppressed demented laughter.

“I’ll have a list of required materials in two hours.” Ultron turned his head away and moved the cart further away.

Y/N just sagged, catching herself against the table. She panted, suddenly out of breath as her heart raced wildly. That felt like her third narrow scrape with death in the last couple days. Funny, they’d all been because of Ultron. She rushed up the stairs to escape the basement before he changed his mind.

Maybe he would forget the joke by the time she came back down.

[angryzilla]

And in the flood of morning light — spilling out across your room — you say the words will get there soon | | Graves-centric piece / Thesival for anon who asked for “Five times one of Newt’s creatures bothered Percival Graves and the one time the man came on his own.”

1.

It starts when he visits Theseus in London, a few months into 1926.

“Thes?”

“Hmm?”

“Your brother’s big cat keeps bothering me.”

Theseus’s head perks up from his documents and arches an eyebrow at his best friend. “Ellie?”

“I don’t know,” Graves growls, frustrated, throwing his hands up in the air. “The kneazleright there,” and he points at the amount of fluff curled up in a ball on his chair in Theseus’ office. “It keeps following me everywhere!”

Mercy Lewis does he hate being plucked out in the morning, falling back to earth in the daylight opening up to him and the soft rise of clouds and bright flashes of day.

“This kneazle is a she and her name is Ellie,” Theseus answers evenly. “I bottlefed her when I was a teenager.”

“You did?” Percival asks with a frown, and maybe he’s faking interest, though— maybe, maybe, he’s actually interested in hearing about this.

“I did,” Theseus replies, his voice still a constant— no curve and no sine wave. “She lost her mother when she was barely a week old and Newt found her all alone during a stroll in the woods behind our grandmother’s cottage. We didn’t think she’d make it.” And flashes curl up before his eyelids at that, reminders of her pulse weak and erratic, little paws trembling and fur covered in fleas.

Percival purses his lips. “And here she is, sleeping on my important documents. How am I supposed to work, exactly? We have Grindelwald to catch and maps to study—”

“I don’t know. You are the Director of MACUSA, after all. You should be able to think about something, right?” Theseus says as a deep, sarcastic smirk spreads upon his peachy-pale lips where little freckles are scattered and dancing under the orange lights.

“I am a trained Auror, not a cat breeder!”

“She’s a kneazle and she hates being called a cat,” Theseus adds in softly, sort of singing the words with an air of utter amusement that makes Graves boil. In retaliation, Graves tries to shoo the animal away but Ellie only curls up tighter around herself, her silver fur glowing in the descending afternoon light of London’s gray day.

A vowel escaping Theseus’ mouth and she opens a cold, blue eye to him.

She has the sharpest teeth when she yawns and shows the pink flesh painted in there in volumes of skinny bumps and hard bones.

“Ellie,” he murmurs as he approaches her, fingers opening and spreading like a rose blooming, “come here.”

She waves her tail, seemingly so very pleased with his offer and soft smile, and she starts purring when Theseus strokes a hand down her furry back. Reaching out and ruffling her ears, he brings his fingers up to her head to scratch it, cooing, “don’t you worry about that ruthless yankee, my darling.“

“Yeah, go on,” Percival grumbles, pride wounded as he turns his back on the scene before him, “show off with your cat skills, Scamander. I don’t care.”

Little did he know that he would end up caring, soon enough.

2.

His opponent crouches in a corner of his pillow and holds his gaze easily, blinking and pawing at his place in bed— kneading the blankets with a blissed-out look on her face.

Percival groans loudly. “What do you want again? Wasn’t this afternoon enough? Go bother Theseus.”

She cautiously shuffles to the left, sprawling even more on the fluffy pillow, eyes unwavering, the clearest, coldest of blues— a stare that could melt granite and slash through pure diamond like butter.

Frightening— and deadly.

A long, unwanted shiver runs down his spine.

If he winds up sleeping on Theseus’ right side of the bed, it’s absolutely unfortunate and definitely not because of Ellie.

Absolutely not.

3.

Theseus visits him in New York a few weeks later in order to meet up with his team of Aurors and Seraphina to plan out the Grindelwald search properly.

They call it off for the day and manage to Apparate back home to Percival’s brownstone when they find—

A big, silverish kneazle looking back at them in shades of ocean blue.

Ellie meows softly at him from where she is perched on his shelves stacked with books, in his living room.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he grunts at Theseus who only shoots him a bright, stellar smile in return, and Graves glares darkly at the object of his displeasure.

“I know you two sparked up a very special friendship when you were in London last month, so I brought her with me.”

Percival snorts, heavy sarcasm settling in his guts and licking its way up to his throat. “You shouldn’t have, really. And how did you even manage to pass customs with her?”

He carefully schools the British Auror’s features before scrutinising the creature again even as he wills himself not to fold— because she might be beautiful, but he doesn’t want cat hair everywhere on his things, come on.

“Put on my most charming smile, of course,” Theseus singsongs, grinning lips stretching and eyes sparkling. “And Ellie is the most beautiful thing in the world, isn’t she? Aren’t you, my darling?” he coos at her, and Percival rolls his eyes.

He sees Theseus choke back a giggle, lips pursing before they relax back into his coy smile (fuck this, that smile— that makes Percival’s heart thump).

Ellie moves a little, meows; somehow seems to be waiting.

Every tendon in Percival’s neck is standing out beneath his skin.

“Maybe you should try, I don’t know… being nice to her? And petting her? A drastic change of mood for Percival Graves, I know, but I’m sure she will appreciate it.”

Graves gives him an anguished look, grumbles a “I am nice, you’re just terrible,” while Theseus shoots him a long look and nods at his fingers; Percival eventually reaches out for the silver creature—

And pats her awkwardly on the head, moving his palm to cradle her fluffy cheek.

She purrs.

Soft and quiet.

Theseus is beaming, the fucker.

4.

Percival is sleeping soundly in the curve of his arm, fierce, dark strands of hair spilling like gasoline all over the sheets.

Together again.

It feels—

Weird, somehow.

But also very right, his side pressed against Percival’s, the memory of their lips biting at one another and teeth sinking into thighs still vivid.

He hadn’t forgotten the salt of Percival’s skin; the soft caress of his scars under his palms.

Could never forget these; and so why does he feel an ache in his chest now just thinking about that, about these things he has never been able to forget? Or perhaps he just clung to them to feel the tiniest of bit alive and not lost at sea—

Ashamed of his own loss of a man he has always loved.

For so many years, you’ve been asleep in every part of me and all I want now, selfishly, is to wake you up— wake you up everywhere as you’ve woken up the very sleeping cells of my being.

The drift and drowse of immersion.

Again.

“And I love you, I can’t stop that—”

“I love you too,” Percival breathes, nearly choking at the pleading in Theseus’ voice—

Lost in his thoughts (battling nightmares and isolation), Theseus barely realises Ellie has walked into the (their?) bedroom and prepares herself to jump at Percival’s feet.

He laughs quietly.

“You love him that much, don’t you?”

Just as much as I do.

5.

She nuzzles at his hand as it slips off the quilt and off the bed the first night he’s back home after spending months in the hospital—

But Percival is a tense, black comma of himself, completely arched in alarm and utter distress; and he stiffens, intense, contracted, at the kneazle’s touch, her nose wet and cold, reminding him of that time he got drowned—

Drowned and drenched and body open at its base and dead.

The toxic everlastingness of lungs almost filled to the brim with liquid that reduces everything to a toneless aspiration (the crush of chlorinated water).

“What—” but his voice is raspy, catching up through the mucous membrane of his throat. It takes him a while to find it back out there as Ellie keeps still, unmoving. “What are you doing here?” he murmurs at the darkness more than the creature; he knows she cannot answer, obviously, but words need to be thrown at the night instead of staying inside of him. “Did— did Thes—” and Mercy Lewis, fucking stutter, fuck this—

She nuzzles his hand again.

Liquid eyes and this slender needle bursting with memories, like fractals, repeating (the sharp, hissing pain of his broken foot, spilling his limbs onto the hardwood of his own floor as he’s being tortured)—

Percival cries softly in the crook of his elbow as Ellie feels for a pulse against the thin, purple-bruised flesh of his wrist, a warming touch; a feathery gust that spins and stops circling to die as an ember, a tremor.

5+1.

Graves’ hand is shaking as he strokes Ellie’s back, small molehills of hurt breaching the surface of his skin at every turn, every gesture, every breath he takes.

A last shudder of lungs that slips past his lips— he’s a thing of dirt and water and oxygen marked by thinking and reacting, after all, and there’s an impulse to breathe in and out, breathe in and out as he reaches out for the kneazle with trembling fingers.

For once, he’s the one who came for her; in the dead of night, his feet carried him to her sleeping form on the couch.

Bear the bruising now, bear it, bear it, bear it; the ache swelling and spitting itself out of your pores and through your severed veins.

He hesitantly lifts his hand to avoid making the creature attack him, but elegant long-limbed Ellie unfurls herself into something majestic and sniffs forward, inviting him in; her bare neck thrown at the sky and her eyes closing again, as if listening closely to something— the disordered rhythm of the man’s magic, the scars pulsing with dark magic, the turmoil rooted so deeply inside his pink-red muscles.

She hisses at the nightmare creatures until he falls asleep against her; until he is hoarse with tension and exhausted of days spent fighting his own demons.

In the morning, under the gaze of noon that is shedding its white light in the living room and spilling its guts out, Theseus finds them curled up tightly around each other in a warm, protective embrace, Ellie purring softly against Percival’s chest which doesn’t vibrate anymore with a nervous anxiety— like a spell, like a protection; something to hold onto and to never let go of.

Theseus ends up kneeling in front of the couch, resting his chin on his forearms while he’s watching Ellie open a curious eye at the slight movements of the air, her mouth seemingly swirling into a smile.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” her master whispers very gently with a fond smile painted on his freckled lips. “You did a great job, my darling.”

| | Notes

I seem to be unable not to torture Graves. I AM SO SORRY. It could have been a lighter piece, and yet. YET I threw Graves in the pit again and went for some Thesival. I hope you like it anyway, anon.

[prokred]

DIY Wood Bead Garland (Woodland Theme)

This year’s Christmas theme decor is all about woodland winter relaxation. With lots of natural wood tones and neutrals of gold, silver, and white, I have tons of DIY ideas in store, starting with this DIY wood bead garland (cheaper to make than to buy!).

When I showed a few sneak peeks of my Christmas decor on my Instagram stories (and also asked for advice on what was missing from the tree, so thank you to those of you who weighed in!), a few of you commented on the wood bead garland that I incorporated into the tree. I wasn’t exactly planning on having a tutorial about it, but since several asked about where I got it, I figured I’d provide you sources with details on how I made it, and show it off a little more!

*some links to sources contain affiliates, which merely give me a commission if you buy something from what I recommend; this doesn’t change the purchase price but it’s a means to support this blog’s backend costs (like servers and programs that share this out on social media so you guys see it where you follow), so thank you for those of you who do!*

In Atlanta, we got an early winter welcome: snow! It’s honestly pretty unheard of this early in the season. Thankfully, none of us were trapped in our cars like last time. 

Charlie and Stella weren’t really sure what to do with themselves. Charlie, I guess you could say, was curious at best, and did a little exploring before it really started to come down (she remained inside the rest of the afternoon). Stella prefers the warmth of the house and refused to go anywhere near the white flaky stuff. I suppose I can’t blame her… if I were short enough that my belly fur might touch it, I would reconsider the urgency of nature’s call, too.

Since I was feeling a lot like Stella and preferred a cozy fire, I took several hours to decorate the house for Christmas. This coming Saturday will be my first time hosting the family over for a Christmas dinner, so the pressure is on to make my home look as festive as possible (and possibly distract from all the unfinished projects). I’m both nervous and excited, so I’m pulling out all the glitter!

I got a few great deals recently from some 60- and 70%-off Christmas sales (Joann’s had a great one!), so I did a little editing of the items I bought to fit with the neutral decor scheme I’m going for. Tip: never be afraid to change the color scheme on the items you buy by clipping off the fake berries. They’re usually the least realistic-looking item on even the good quality garlands, and you can always add in more later on with berry colors of your choosing. You can also re-use the clipped berries by taping them onto your gifts; more on that in a future post!

That’s just a few sneak peeks for this year – I should have it all finished by mid-week! So, onto the details of my DIY wood bead garland:

DIY Wood Bead Garland

1. Buyer beware.

I noticed very quickly that wood bead garland is rather expensive to purchase outright. It’s not so much that the garland itself is expensive — often listed less than $20 per strand — it’s that you need a lot of those strands to fully fill in a tree. It’s kind of like seeing a calorie count “per serving” on a candy bar, and then you find out the serving size is half a candy bar. Who the hell eats only half??? When it comes to garland, serving size is like a fourth or even a sixth, depending on the length available.

Many strands I found online had a number of issues:

just a few feet per strand — which gets me only about 1/2 – 2/3 around the bottom of my tree in a single rotation with proper slack to drape on the tree — that’s a lot of strands to cover the tree!

if the strands came longer, many of them had “spacing” on the string — aka, extra feet of string, but not extra beads, to make a longer garland; this would likely look too sparse or clumped when draping on a tree (if you’re familiar with a concept like this, the wood beads would create extra weight when draped, and expose a very long length of string… I didn’t want that look at all)

the beads were teeny tiny — this is a little deceptive, since lots of photos are close-up or use very short lengths in their product shots, which make the scale thrown off enough to make the beads look large; you’d have to look at the bead size in the description to know if it’s large enough (16mm or so is ok; smaller doesn’t really have the kind of rounded detail from a distance to look like big wood beads)

many of the cheaper versions I could find were painted or plastic — I wanted natural wood tones that weren’t stained or polished

I was going to need to buy several, fully-filled-in, large beaded strands. Didn’t think I had to be that specific to find some, but I was wrong! That was going to get costly, quick.

2. Therefore, it’s cheaper to make yourself.

I had string. I even had small glass beads to use on the ends (just for the sake of making it look a little more decorative). All I needed were the wood beads. And patience to string it all. But that’s kind of the best part about this stuff: its’ natural wood beads, so unfinished craft beads are perfectly suited for the job. Best of all, they’re inexpensive to buy in bulk! I bought a few different varieties to mix and match:

16mm beads (qty: 200)

20mm beads (qty: 200)

20mm thread carved beads (they look like the end of a honey dipper)

I steered away from the 150-quantity sets since they also contained much smaller beads in the mix

champagne glass beads (I already had some in my craft supply, but if you don’t, this is a very similar set)

I divided each batch I bought into halves and strung each one for a total of six strands: 2 medium round, 2 large round, and 2 threaded strands.

3. Twist/glue or tape the end to prevent fraying while stringing.

I used a white twine-like thread, which unravels pretty easily. Cheap gift wrap tape on the end and clipped to a point served as a sufficient needle (and didn’t need to be threaded on an actual needle, cutting down on my frustrating level, ha). I tried glueing the end instead, which worked ok for the larger beads but still unraveled with the smaller threads because it kept catching on the inside of the unsanded wood.

4. For a more professional look, tie the ends in a loop with a glass bead.

For the carved beads, I threaded a wood bead and glass bead in a pattern; for the other two kinds, I threaded just the wood beads and finished on both ends with a glass bead. The loop on each end also served a purpose since it could be used to drape the end onto the tree. You can also make tassles for the ends if you prefer or aren’t planning on needing the loops to hang — there’s a great tutorial for that here.

5. Cover ends on the tree with ornaments.

Since I mixed and matched the wood beads, I wanted to also disguise the end of where one strand ended and the other began. Strategically-placed ornaments did just the trick!

There you have it: somewhat short but simple and with a little cost savings (I did the math, and this cost me around $50 for all of the strands. The same would have cost me around three times as much for the same quality, and the variety will let me drape them on the mantle or use in the dining room if there are any left over!). The only other inexpensive version I found online that I liked that was comparable were these, but they have a majority of white painted beads instead, and I would argue you’d need at least 3 (online reviews say “I wish I would’ve ordered a second”, but that would still probably look pretty dinky with how many my tree took).

I’ll be sharing more on each room (living room, kitchen, and dining room) as its finished this week! Oh! and don’t forget, there’s still a little time left to enter the wine rack giveaway! If you missed that, go back and check it out.

You'll Also Love

It’s Pronounced “Damn Good Cookie̶...

Hard Boiled Egg Cookies: A Weird Name, But a Great...

Christmas & The Last Week of 2015

Wood Inlay Ornament with German Glass Glitter

.yuzo_related_post img{width:170px !important; height:170px !important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb{line-height:14px;background:#ffffff !important;color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover{background:#ffffff !important; -webkit-transition: background 0.2s linear; -moz-transition: background 0.2s linear; -o-transition: background 0.2s linear; transition: background 0.2s linear;;color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb a{color:#102a3b!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb a:hover{ color:#113f5e}!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover a{ color:#113f5e!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover .yuzo__text--title{ color:#113f5e!important;} .yuzo_related_post .yuzo_text, .yuzo_related_post .yuzo_views_post {color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb:hover .yuzo_text, .yuzo_related_post:hover .yuzo_views_post {color:#454747!important;} .yuzo_related_post .relatedthumb{ margin: 0px 6px 0px 6px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 0px; } jQuery(document).ready(function( $ ){ jQuery('.yuzo_related_post .yuzo_wraps').equalizer({ columns : '> div' }); });

The post DIY Wood Bead Garland (Woodland Theme) appeared first on The Ugly Duckling House.

Read more http://ift.tt/2AwBXE2 Areas served: Winston-Salem, High Point, Yadkinville, Mocksville, Advance, Clemmons, Kernersville, Greensboro, Walnut Cove, Statesville, NC, North Carolina Services: House painting, roofing, deck building, landscaping, Carpentry, Flooring, tile, hardwood, remodeling, home improvement, interior, exterior