#The loneliest thing one can do is convince themselves | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

capnjay21 · 4 years ago

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Brink 6/?

But this woman was neither mermaid nor Brave, radiant but fierce — and the cool touch of steel to his skin reminded him of the sword she had pointed at his throat.

“My name is Emma Swan,” she said, in answer to the question he had yet to give voice to, “and I’m here for my son.”

Season 2 Canon Divergence; Hook never escaped Neverland, and once the curse breaks Pan comes to collect the loneliest lost boy of them all - the one in possession of the Heart of the Truest Believer.

one | two | three | four | five | ao3

A/N: and here is chapter six! this one goes out to @carpedzem because she is amazing and sweet and lovely and has been INCREDIBLY patient in me getting this out :D a fair warning to all - Hook gets a little dark in this chapter, but bear with him. as we all know, he’s turning it around! Rating: T

my teeny tiny lovely taglist: @carpedzem @superchocovian @optomisticgirl @phiralovesloki

If anyone else wants to be tagged with updates for this fic (which could be helpful, given how sporadically I drop them I’M SO SORRY) then just let me know!

***

It was a simple enough plan; the difficulty had been in laying it in near total silence, so as not to alert the boys sitting at camp of any unusual rustling nearby. One of the nets Starkey often used for hunting was easily, conveniently, wide enough to cover the form of a boy – and given the look he and Hook had shared one he’d given the thought a voice, Emma chose not to think too closely about what its previous uses might have included. The idea was to tie it aloft in the dark canopy, then lure one of the boys away from the camp and trap him underneath it. All, ideally, without him alerting the others to his predicament.

Her heart hammered against her ribcage at a steady pace, a symptom of the near constant state of anxiety she had been in since Henry had walked out of her arms and disappeared back into the trees, but adrenaline coursed through her with a nervous energy. The bravado of her intent aside, it didn’t change the fact that she was gearing up to kidnap a child.

Even after everything Hook had told her about the Lost Boys, and after meeting Pan himself, it was difficult to see them as anything except that – boys. If monsters were all they were, surely Henry would not have believed he could make a home with them. She trusted his judgement above all else. It didn’t sit well in her gut, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now.

The trap was just about set. At the side of the clearing stood Hook (no, Killian – damn, it was hard to try and disassociate) readying himself to creep as close to the camp as he dared, before figuring out a way to split one of them away from the pack. Emma was just searching for her own hiding place, when their plans were entirely derailed.

Out of the undergrowth stumbled a boy, a head or so larger than Henry, staring at his shoes as he went, clearly not paying any attention to where he was going. Starkey and Noodler immediately darted into the brush, and Hook gesticulated wildly for Emma to do the same, but she reacted a second too slowly.

The boy looked up, clapping eyes on her instantly. He froze where he stood, his eyes growing wide as saucers, lips parting in confusion. He was thin and lanky, in the way that boys in the early teens often were, and an angry, scarlet scar had been drawn across his right cheek – and it looked like it was still fresh. As he stared, Emma stared right back, frantically wracking her brains for a way out. She couldn’t spare a glance at Hook or his men without giving away their position, but one cry from this boy would draw the entire hoard towards them. Emma made to grab for her sword, but something stopped her.

He didn’t seem – well, he certainly didn’t look threatening. If anything he appeared fascinated by her, blinking as if he were sure in a split second she might vanish from sight. He took a halting step toward her—

There was a heavy thunk, and he collapsed down into the dirt. Hook stood over his motionless form, brandishing the hilt of his cutlass aloft.

Once Emma recovered from the shock, she gaped. “What the hell are you playing at?” She felt an urgent sort of indignance at the bump she was sure would begin to form on the back of the boy’s head.

Hook (shoot, Killian) merely arched an eyebrow.

“Did you want the boy or not?”

Starkey quickly set about dismantling the trap while Noodler hauled the boy over his shoulder, and their troupe scarpered before their good fortune had the chance to change its mind.

Hook led them a few miles east at a punishing pace, wanting to put as much distance between them and the Lost Boys’ camp as possible. It wouldn’t do them any good to begin questioning the boy somewhere near enough to the rest of his number to allow them a rescue of some kind – although Hook assured her that without Pan’s direction, they almost certainly couldn’t coordinate well enough to pull off such an attempt. Given Pan’s penchant for omnipotence, Emma didn’t find that exactly reassuring.

Pan was connected to every living thing on the island, or so Hook had told her, and it wasn’t hard to believe. She had felt�� something, from the moment she got here. It yearned for his touch, breathed for his blessing; they were the trespassers here. Even the trees themselves appeared bent towards each other, the rustle of leaves now the harshest of whispers eager to give them away.

Shit, she had been on this island way too long. She was starting to sound like H—Killian.

Killian. Killian Jones.

She just couldn’t see it.

They settled in a small clearing, tying the still unconscious boy tightly to a tree so his head lolled down onto his chest. There was little else to do except wait for him to come to, but even those few moments of stillness began to make Emma restless. It was the first move on the offensive she had made since she arrived on the island – but it was about time she stopped reacting and started acting.

At their captain’s instruction, Starkey and Noodler disappeared into the undergrowth, panning out in different directions, just to make sure they hadn’t either been followed or accidentally stopped a little too close to something far worse.

“So,” Hook mused, shirking off his duster and folding it carefully atop a rock. At this time of day the heat was at its most oppressive, and Emma could spot the sweat glistening from his brow. She herself was doing her best to stop her hair from sticking to the back of her neck. “Now you have a Lost Boy. What exactly are you planning to do next?”

Truthfully, Emma hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. She had a vague idea of what she wanted from this, but the means hadn’t come to her as quickly as she’d hoped they would. To be perfectly honest, she was surprised to not have met with any resistance from Hook before now.

She let out a long breath, and decided to be honest. They’d agreed to trust each other, hadn’t they?

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Get him to talk? Take us to Henry, maybe?”

Hook – Killian – did not look convinced. “Sooner the sun would rise in the west, I expect.”

“I can be persuasive.”

He gave her an appraising look, one that lasted a beat too long and, if she wasn’t mistaken, lingered rather indelicately on some of her assets she knew men found particularly persuasive. She only realised the incidental dual meaning in her statement a few seconds too late.

To her surprise, he didn’t take the bait.

To her greater surprise, that almost irked her a little.

“I’m sure you can,” he continued brusquely, turning to glare at their captive against the tree. “But these aren’t ordinary boys.”

Emma followed his gaze. For a split second, she thought of the boy’s wide eyes as he took her in for the first time. He’d seemed almost – curious.

“He doesn’t have to be our enemy,” Emma pointed out. “Pan’s a monster, right? And he’s still a kid. Maybe he’s been waiting for an opportunity like this.”

Hook eyed her closely, tilting his head to one side.

“You hesitated.”

Emma blinked. “What?”

“Before, when the boy came across us. You went for your sword but you hesitated.” He peered at her carefully. “Why?”

Her lips parted – had she? She didn’t really remember, it had all happened so fast. He’d tumbled out of the brush almost right in front of her, freezing in place once he saw her. All she could really recall was thinking how – just how –

How young he looked.

How nothing like she’d imagined a Lost Boy would look up close, after everything Hook and his crew had told her. He was just a kid.

And she’d been a kid like that, once.

She was spared from fumbling through a response first by a loud sniff, and then a groan from the opposite side of the clearing. Both she and Hook immediately turned to look at their captive, the boy beginning to stir against his bindings.

“He’s coming to.”

“Alright, just leave this to me,” Emma said, injecting far more confidence into her tone that she felt. Gripping the hilt of David’s longsword, but keeping it in its sheath, she started in the direction of the boy.

“I’d never have pegged you for such an optimist,” Hook muttered, but kept his distance all the same. Emma chose to ignore him. Seeing as the pirates and the Lost Boys were apparently brutal enemies, it was probably for the best that he stayed out of the way.

The boy lifted his head, blinking blearily against the light and made to move his shoulders, before realising with alarm that they were trapped at his side by the rope. He immediately began to struggle, attempting to rip himself free but the knots held fast – then his gaze shot up to his surroundings. His wide eyes flickered first to Hook, then Emma, and his expression crumpled in fear.

“H—help!” he hollered, perhaps hoping to draw the attention of any nearby allies, “Help me, help! Peter!”

“Hey, chill out!” Emma hissed.

“Help, anyone – they’ve got me, I’m here!”

Trying to think of something to shut him up, Emma reached for the buckle of her scabbard and scrambled to take it off. Once she held the sword in her hand, certain she had his attention, she dropped it onto the ground and lifted her arms in an open gesture. Perhaps if he didn’t think of her as a threat, she could at least get him to stop crying out. The last thing they wanted was to draw any additional unwanted attention.

“Look – I’m not armed. Just calm down, alright?”

It had something of the desired effect, and he momentarily stopped struggling to survey her warily.

“I’m sorry about that bump on your head too, that’s gotta kill. What’s your name?” The boy’s lips tightened, as if he were reluctant to talk to her. “I’m Emma.”

“Are you a pirate?”

The boy’s gaze flickered down to the sword lying on the ground, so Emma nudged it a little farther away with her boot.

“No, I’m not a pirate. I’m just looking for my son.”

“Your – your son?” The boy’s mouth dropped open, agape. “You’re a mother?”

Given everybody had one, Emma was beginning to find this fascination that mothers could exist from the inhabitants of Neverland pretty damn irritating.

“Yeah, I am. I’m Henry’s mom. Henry?” Recognition flashed in the boys eyes, but he quickly tried to suppress it, schooling his features into something a little more neutral. Emma didn’t buy it for a second. “You know him, right? Can’t be that many new kids on the island.”

The boy kept his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You’ve got a terrible poker face, kid,” Emma pointed out, “so you might as well just tell me. Where is Pan keeping him?”

“Pan doesn’t keep any of us,” the boy spat. “We want to stay. We want to be here.” With a force Emma would not have attributed to him, he suddenly lunged as far forward as he could, the rope tightening and groaning in protest. “And when I get out of this I’ll make sure you know why.”

“Look, I’m not your enemy.”

“Oh no?” The boy’s eyes were wide, his lips trembling as his pupils darted back and forth between her and Hook. “Then what’s he doing here?”

Clearly referring to Hook, Emma spared him a glance. His mouth was set in a grim line and he stood a little straighter, shoulders squared. For a moment she considered sending him away, if only for a few minutes so she could get this boy onside – the bad blood between the pirates on the Lost Boys was clearly very, very mutual. After a beat she dismissed the idea. She had nothing to be ashamed of, especially not working with Hook. He was putting himself more at risk with every moment he spent helping her. He’d given her weapons, food, allies; and she wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to see what she had promised him in return, let alone use it.

She was the dishonest one here, not Hook.

“Hook is my –” She stumbled on the word. Would ally alienate this boy completely? In her moment of hesitation, Hook’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “He’s helping me. And so will you, if you know what’s good for you.”

The boy threw back his head and howled – fully, howled – with laughter.

“And why the hell would I do that?” he wheezed out between breaths, but his jovial demeanour was not enough to make her forget just how much the boy was straining against his bonds. His wrists were turning white with the effort. Emma had always heard talk about the strength of a sailor’s knot, and she hoped it would hold up here against the brat stood before her.

“You want to be on the right side of this when it all goes down,” she said, far sharper than she had been intending to be with him.

The whole point of this, her entire angle was that he was just a kid – and she couldn’t believe that a kid was capable of all the wrongdoing Hook had laid at their feet without a shred of remorse, without even the smallest desire for things to be different. She would know. She was a kid like that, once. And her lonely heart had yearned for a better life, even as she convinced herself it would never be possible.

But then Henry had found her. And now she was determined to grab that life by two hands, and fight to get it back.

“And, look – I know you must have had a family once, and maybe one day you stopped believing you could get back to them. But I’m here, I’m here for Henry but I can help you too. All of you. I can help you get home – if you help me get my son back.”

Even before she’d finished speaking the boy was shaking his head, lips curled in disbelief. Emma tried not to let her heart sink at the vehemence with which he immediately rejected the idea out of hand.

“Don’t you get it?” he spat. “I’m here because I don’t want to go home. None of us do.”

Emma let out a noise of frustration. “But Pan’s a sadist – just look at what he did to you.” She gestured vaguely at the scarlet scratch underneath his right eye.

The boy’s expression lit up with a savage delight, and Emma had to force herself not to take a wary step back.

“Oh, Pan didn’t do this. Henry did.”

***

“Oh, Pan didn’t do this. Henry did.”

Emma didn’t move a muscle. Even from where he stood a few paces away, Hook could practically see the cogs whirring behind the jade of her eyes – weighing up the odds of truth against a lie, that her boy had been the one to scar the Lost One in front of them.

Hook would put his wager on truth. Pan didn’t lure them onto the island to stay nice little boys, and he’d yet to meet one that wouldn’t immediately stab one of his comrades if he thought it might elevate himself in the eyes of their leader. That was why only the nastiest, the most vicious, took their places close to Pan. Felix, Rufio – they had bloodied their hands more times than he could count with not just his men, but those within their own ranks as well. And there was no doubt about it; this Henry was a special favourite to Pan, no matter how little time he had spent in Neverland.

But then, he didn’t know the lad. Emma seemed perpetually convinced of his innocence, of his goodness. Perhaps he couldn’t be so easily persuaded. After all, there had once been another boy who had resisted Pan’s influence.

Well, most children think they’ve found paradise when they lay their eyes on Neverland’s magic. Why else leave home in the first place?

I came so a family I loved could live.

The memory rose, unbidden, from the crust of his weary heart. For the first time, he realised the startling parallels between when he had first met Baelfire, and Emma and Henry’s brief but devastating reunion those days ago.

I have to give you your best chance.

Perhaps there was a chance her lad was made of sturdier stuff – the courage that had carried Baelfire, too.

“You’re lying.”

Emma’s rebuttal cut sharply across his musings. She still hadn’t moved an inch, but he spotted the hand clenched into a fist at her side, the stiffness of her jaw. It wasn’t exactly news to him that she couldn’t always maintain a tight lid on her temper, and Hook was wary of the results it might wrought.

“I don’t need to!” the boy laughed maniacally, clearly delighting in the effect his words were having on her. “He’s a Lost Boy now, he’s one of us! Henry is one of the most vicious recruits we’ve had in ages!”

He spotted Emma flinch, with every word so carelessly flung at her causing more damage than the last, and a swell of anger began to rise in Hook’s chest. The brat probably was lying, just because Emma was giving him everything he wanted. She was playing right into his hands, was allowing herself to get smaller and smaller as the boy’s arrogance and amusement grew, and he couldn’t believe – frankly, he was irritated – that she was giving up on her lad so fast. That she was so quick to believe the drivel this boy was spewing.

In the wake of the inerrable faith he had endured from her for days, he wanted to shake her by the shoulders and tell her no, her Henry was better than that, he had to be. It was ridiculous to believe anything to the contrary.

It couldn’t all be for nothing. It just couldn’t. Not after she’d come so far.

And then the boy spat in her face.

The movement was sudden, unexpected, like a snake suddenly recoiling and striking harshly, and Emma stumbled back in surprise.

It only took a second for her to recover.

Letting out a strangled cry, she flung herself at the boy who, for all his straining against his bonds a moment earlier, was now shrinking back into the tree trunk attempting to get away from her. Hook was at her side in a flash, his right arm around her waist hauling her back from doing any real damage.

Emma struggled against him, sharp nails and fury, but Hook held fast.

“Stop! Swan, stop.”

“What are you doing?” she spat, but he was asking himself the same question.

Why did it matter to him if Emma hurt the boy? He cared not a whit for him. It was her stupid idea in the first place to take one as a hostage when he’d much rather gut them for all the injury they had caused him and his crew. He’d been acting purely on instinct when he lunged for her, but for some reason – for all he’d like to see that boy with his eyes gauged out, the idea of Emma Swan doing the gauging was just – it was just –

You went for your sword but you hesitated. Why?

Hook already knew the answer to that.

And, he realised, he couldn’t bear to see her forget it. Not like he had.

“Let me talk to him,” Hook said harshly, after feeling her slow against him. He loosened his arm. “Let me do it.”

Please, let me. Let me do it. I couldn’t bear it if you did it.

Emma stopped struggling, breathing heavily as her eyes met his head on. “Do… what?”

He could tell from her hollow tone. She already knew.

He was a survivor. This was how he had survived.

He could feel Emma’s eyes on him, but he pushed her from his mind. She was nothing to him, and no one. He thrust it all into quiet, all thoughts of her, of Henry, of Bae.

Calmly, but with the familiar ache of old bones, he touched every angry part of him, every dark night or hallowed breath, every ugly thought or thoughtless act; he let it all flood his senses until there was nothing else left. When the alternative was to feel helpless, he chose this, he always had, and he probably always would. He would rather be darkness, he would rather be the fury that roiled within him, the Neverbird’s mournful wail and the storm at the centre of the harsh sun above. He was Milah’s dying gasp and Rumplestiltskin’s hoarse cackle. Pan’s sinister fury. Silver’s blithely tossed coin and Brennan’s promise of courage before the last light went out.

He was all of it and he was nothing pure.

This boy was not a boy. He was a Lost One. And he had just spat in Emma’s face.

“What’s your name, boy?”

His approach was slow, delicate. His boots crunched on dead leaves underfoot. All the bravado the boy had boasted evaporated in the space of a few seconds, and he tried to make himself as small as possible. The trunk at his back prevented him from shrinking any further, and his gaze dropped fearfully to the hook that swung dangerously at his side.

“N – Nibs.”

Stupid fucking name for a boy.

“Nibs?” The boy nodded quickly, huffing out a panicked breath. “Now tell me, Nibs, do you remember Rufio?”

Rufio had been the cruellest. Rufio had split his crew apart in a raid in the dead of night, had sent an arrow through Jukes’ throat, had carved his name into Bones’ shoulder with his teeth. After Noodler had grabbed him from behind, Rufio had sheared off his hands and laughed while he did so, a terrible and piercing thing. Hook hadn’t heard worse from men twice his age.

“Do you remember what I did to Rufio? No?” The boy didn’t move, only kept his eyes fixed squarely on Hook as he reached him, trying almost desperately not to breathe. “Well, let me take the opportunity to remind you. You see this hook?” To illustrate the point, Hook lifted it to Nibs’ cheek, letting the round curve of the tip brush against the boy’s cheek, who flinched as its cool touch made contact. “I shook his hand with it.”

He brought it down the side of his face, letting the sharp point linger on his neck.

“And then I plunged it into his gut and ripped him open until his eyes wept tears of crimson.”

Rufio had screamed, and Pan had ended the game there – had called the first truce. Had grudgingly accepted the losses on both sides to be fair, but not before he had hauled Noodler, weeping from his place on the ground, and reattached his hands while the man screeched in agony. It was a warning, for them both. Pan had never let his boredom run away from him again, nor had he tried to provoke Hook in such a way since.

Nibs’ breathing had turned heavy, and scared.

“The lady would like to know where her son is. I intend for her to discover it. Now,” Hook reached his hand into the boy’s hair and squeezed tightly. Nibs gasped loudly. “Think carefully before you answer; how helpful would you like to be?”

Nibs kept his eyes shut as he gaped through an answer.

“I – I can’t.”

Hook pulled a little tighter. “That is not a helpful answer.”

“I don’t know!”

“Hook.” Emma’s voice drifted distantly from behind him, but he ignored her.

“I don’t believe you,” he hissed.

The boy babbled quietly between whimpers. “It doesn’t… it doesn’t…”

“Speak clearly.”

“It d-doesn’t matter,” Nibs whimpered, “it doesn’t matter w-what you promise, or what you c-could do to me…” His eyes finally opened, and Hook could see them shining with unshed tears. “It’s n-nothing compared to – to what He w-would do to me, if – if I –”

“Hook, stop. Stop!”

He didn’t realise when she had approached, but both of Emma’s hands were suddenly on his right arm, one at his elbow and the other wrenching his hand free from the back of the boy’s head. In surprise, he let go – and then realised her face was coloured a deep scarlet, and she was trembling. Nibs sobbed with relief.

“He’s just a kid!” she cried, and the wave of Hook’s fury crested into indignation.

She had let him do this. Had wanted to do it herself, in fact, and would have if he hadn’t bloody stopped her. Only now was she remembering her saintly act, wanting to hurl some holier-than-thous about the true meaning of innocence when she didn’t know a damn thing about it. Emma Swan had been in Neverland for a matter of days. Hook had lived there for over two-hundred years. It had taken so much more from him than her, and he had never let himself be ashamed of the measures he took for survival.

But one glance from her was like shining a light on all its ugliness.

Hook quailed under that kind of exposure.

“Do you want your son back, or don’t you?”

“I –”

“This, Swan – this is the only language they understand!” he thundered, and he couldn’t work out why he was so angry with her. But he was. He was vibrating with fury.

For Noodler, for Bones, for Jukes, for Mullins and Kits and Carter and Clyde, for Skylights. For Baelfire.

For Liam.

“I am tired of watching you flail about aimlessly, making this up as you go along – either you buck up and realise what needs to be done or you can forget about saving your boy!”

Hook wrenched his arm free from her grip, and started walking.

He didn’t care which direction, he didn’t care how far. He hated the island, hated the trees and the mist and the dirt and the magic, even the sea – he hated all of it.

Bust most of all, he hated the way Emma Swan was looking at him.

***

The sun had long since dipped below the treeline by the time Emma acknowledged this might have all been for nothing. The early evening was rapidly approaching, and they were no closer to getting any answers out of Nibs at all. In fact, after Hook’s outburst, he had completely clammed up and refused to speak a word to her no matter how she tried to cajole him. She was starting to consider whether it might be worth just letting him go. They were losing light, and time, not to mention Hook was being no help whatsoever.

He had stormed out into the forest for a while, but he’d had enough of a head on his shoulders not to go far, and once he had returned he had focused his attention on reviewing their supplies and checking the perimeter. Once that was done, he had sat down against a large rock at the centre of the clearing, and had taken to tossing stones out into the brush.

It was almost childish, a behaviour which Emma found particularly difficult to marry up to what she had seen earlier.

I plunged it into his gut and ripped him open until his eyes wept tears of crimson.

Had he really done that? To a boy?

He’d warned her that he wasn’t a good man – often enough, in fact. And the way he spoke about the Lost Boys suggested blood had probably been spilled on both sides. It was a conflict she knew nothing about, that had been going on for longer than she’d been alive, probably. She’d told Hook that she wanted to start trusting him, and she believed him when he told her the Lost Boys were dangerous. The way that kid had talked about Henry – it made her fucking blood boil, and without Hook she was sure she would’ve ripped Nibs a new one and not felt a twinge of remorse. She’d even been prepared to let Hook wrest the information she wanted out of him by any means necessary.

But when Hook had his fist clenched in that boy’s hair, she just couldn’t stop imagining it was Henry instead.

These kids weren’t responsible for the way Pan had twisted them all up into knots, were they? And he had already started doing it to Henry.

Mom, I’m going to save magic.

She couldn’t let herself believe that the only way to get out of all this was to resort to torturing kids, not least because her son might never forgive her for it. He wanted her to be good. It had just taken one trembling boy that reminded her too much of Henry for her to remember that. Still, she was disappointed it had driven an even greater wedge between her and Hook.

He sat with his back to her, and flung another stone out into the undergrowth. With a thwack it hit its mark, whatever Hook had been intending to throw it at, and his hand rummaged around in the grass for another one.

Emma decided it was completely ridiculous that they were sat apart, stewing like two kids who had gotten into a fight at recess. He hadn’t just straight up and left her, no matter how tired he claimed to be of her, and that had to mean something. So it was about time they talked.

Leaving Nibs to be watched over by Starkey, Emma crossed the clearing until she stood beside him. From the way his shoulders tensed, she knew he could tell she was there.

“So,” she started, scuffing her boot in the dirt. “You kinda lost it a bit there.”

“I’m not going to apologise if that’s what you’re after.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Please, I’m not in eighth grade. I’m not going to fall apart because you raised your voice.”

Although, come to think of it, it was perhaps the first time she had heard him do so.

Hook finally turned, angling his body so he could look over his shoulder to where Nibs was standing, eyes downcast and motionless. “Is he talking?”

“Hasn’t said a word.” With a sigh, Emma dropped down onto the ground in front of him, so she could still see the boy in her line of sight. “Whatever Pan’s threatened him with, he must be terrified.”

Hook grunted in agreement, before turning his attention to his hook. Over and over, he ran the forefinger of his right hand across its curve, and it gleamed dangerously even this late in the day. Emma had never really thought much on it until now, but he must be able to cause a great deal of damage with it, and although she had witnessed quite a few practical uses for it over the last few days when it came to putting up camp or starting fires, its primary function still had to be as a weapon.

In the stories she’d heard as a child it was almost a comedic device – the character’s name was Captain Hook, so of course he had a hook for a hand. There was no point thinking anymore about it.

Except he had told her his name was Killian Jones.

“Why’d you pick a hook?”

The question was out of her mouth before she’d really had a chance to think about it. Killian’s eyes shot up to meet hers, looking perplexed so she hastened to continue.

“If there’s anything I’ve learnt so far, it’s that all these fairy tales… they started off as ordinary people.” Before anything else, Mary Margaret Blanchard had been a person to Emma, who breathed and cried and made mistakes, just like her. In the end, all Regina Mills had really wanted to be was Henry’s mother, no matter how grotesque the way she chose to go about it. “The Evil Queen, Captain Hook… you said your name was Killian Jones.”

Hook clicked his tongue. He looked as if regretted telling her already. “I haven’t been Killian Jones in a long time.”

“Well, you told me that was your actual name, so it’s more recent than you think,” she pointed out drily. Otherwise why would he have bothered mentioning it? “And I’m asking him. Of all the things, after you lost your hand – why a hook? And not a… I don’t know, a fake hand. Or a dagger.” He lived in a world with magic for God’s sake – maybe he could’ve grown it back?

He looked as if he wouldn’t answer her, and for a long time he was silent. His stare merely drilled a hole into the ground between them, and not for the first time Emma wondered what it really was he was thinking about. Then, after a long moment, his lips parted.

“The Dark One, he…” He gritted his teeth, like it was hard to get the words out. “It was the first thing I had to hand. A hook. I was desperate, I stuck it into his chest – right where his heart should be. And he laughed.” Hook scowled, his expression dark and furious. “I never wanted to forget that feeling. How helpless, how weak I was. I was so small next to him. I wanted to pierce his skin one more time with that hook, but for it to make him bleed – to show him I’d never be that weak again.” He raised his eyes skyward, letting out a long breath. “It’s a reminder – and my penance. The price of true strength.”

“Violence isn’t strength.”

Hook finally looked at her, arching an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”

Perhaps if he’d asked her a year ago she might have agreed. Back then, strength felt like putting on her red leather jacket and punching back at the world. Emma couldn’t speak for the hook, but the way he talked about it made it sound like his own armour.

“Believe me, I used to think the way you do,” she began. A lifetime ago. Before Storybrooke. “I thought I was strong. Then Henry found me and I learnt – I learnt what real strength is. It’s perseverance, it’s belief. It’s seeing the best in people even when it’s hard. And I couldn’t just give up, revert back to my old habits, not after he’d given me this second chance, you know?”

She’d given up on Henry once, before she’d even held him; but he had never, never given up on her.

“He wanted better for me and he kept believing, kept telling me to open my eyes and take it no matter how many times I told him I didn’t want it anymore, that I didn’t need it.”

When you went through the wardrobe you appeared on the side of the street. Your parents were trying to save you from the curse!

Sure they were, kid.

To her surprise, she felt a familiar sting behind her nose and her face began to flush, so she tried to hurry through the rest of what she was stumbling out as quickly as possible. Thinking about Henry like this – it made him feel so close, even though she knew he was so far away.

She laughed bitterly. “He’s still doing it now. Hell, he actually wants to live in a place like this because it’s what he truly believes will make me happiest. That,” she finished emphatically, “is strength.”

Just in case the sudden tide of emotion gave her away, she resolutely did not look at Hook even though she could feel his stare on the side of her face, instead choosing to pick up a stick and stab lines into the dirt. Perhaps he was trying to discern if she was speaking any word of a lie, or perhaps he was about to laugh in her face. It didn’t matter, she didn’t care. She just didn’t want this strangeness between them anymore. Even if he was furious, even if he was scared – if he hated the Lost Boys it was fine, she wasn’t there to judge him. She didn’t want him to think she was ashamed to be near him.

He was just there to help her get Henry back. That was the most important thing of all.

Finally, he looked away.

“I can’t remember how that feels,” he admitted quietly. “To want to – for another person, I mean.”

And all of a sudden, something became startlingly clear to her. So much so, that she was almost annoyed she hadn’t realised it before.

“Gold took more than your hand from you, didn’t he?”

Hook met her gaze, and Emma was struck by just how wretched he looked. It was perhaps the most open she had ever seen his expression, his every thought was written into the downward curve of his mouth, his eyes wide and sorrowful. Of course. Of course Gold had taken something far more valuable. It should have been enough just knowing the kind of man Gold was to realise that.

Now, she decided. Right this second. Without the bravado, without the careless grin. None of the performance he put on from the start of the day. Now he looked more like a Killian Jones.

He stood abruptly, surprising her. Three paces away his duster sat on the rock where he had placed it when they arrived, and he began rummaging through the pockets. For a moment, Emma’s memory flashed back to the drawing she had found tucked carefully between two books in his cabin, and she was sure he was about to pull it out and show her exactly what Gold had taken from him.

Killian did pull out a piece of parchment, but it was one far more familiar than the one she had been thinking of. After he walked back over, this time he perched atop the rock he had been leaning against, and let the parchment fall to the ground between them. Dust and blades of grass blew outwards from where it landed, and Emma felt a spike of irritation rise at the sight of it.

It was Pan’s map.

“What are you doing with that?” She’d left it behind for a reason.

“This is how you’ll find your son,” Killian insisted, pointing firmly at the map. “Not that.” He didn’t need to tilt his head in the direction of Nibs tied to the tree, but his meaning was implicit. “Think about what you just told me. You’re already making progress.”

Emma scowled. “I told you, I don’t want to play Pan’s game.”

“Why not? Henry is.” At Emma’s shocked expression, he barrelled on. “I believe he did scar that boy’s cheek, and what’s more I believe he did it with a longsword.”

Henry is one of the most vicious new recruits we’ve had in ages!

“Stop it.”

“You said it yourself, he’s building a life here. And what is that, really? A scratch?” Killian shook his head. “It’s nothing at all. I’ve seen an alley cat deliver worse. He is doing the minimum of what’s required while he finds his feet here, spilling a little blood so he doesn’t have to spill more.” Either way, Emma did not like the direction of his thoughts, and if Killian sensed her pending denial then he became more emphatic to combat it. “You must realise it. Pan controls everything on this island – what he asks for, he has to receive. And until you acknowledge that you are beyond even my help.”

She didn’t want to. She avoided Killian’s gaze because she knew it would ruin her resolve to not think of things so helplessly. It didn’t seem smart to start playing a game while simultaneously accepting that the result had already been decided – to her mind, it was probably why nothing had changed in Neverland for however many centuries. If Pan controlled everything and everyone then there was no way she could win this. She was as ineffective as a gnat against his skin, and she may as well be one of the gaunt mothers they had seen turning the corners of the Maze of Regrets, wishing and crying out, never to realise they were trapped in a place that never changed, that never could change.

The pirates, the Lost Boys, Tiger Lily and the native tribe. They were all just chasing each other round and round the clock, waiting for the gears to run down but knowing they never would. It was violent and infinite and fuck she just wanted the temperature to cool down for just a second so she could think.

Only she was the rogue element here. Which just proved…

“He doesn’t control everything on the island,” she realised. Pan couldn’t control her, but he could control Henry, making him come to her and beg her to leave him behind. He also gave her that map because he wanted it to show her something painful. “Sometimes he can only control what you see.”

Pan wanted to get rid of her, that much was abundantly clear – and that meant she had to represent something more.

“What are you talking about?” Killian asked, likely exasperated that she was ignoring his advice once again.

“The Maze,” Emma was rushing the words out, her heart beginning to thump rapidly against her ribcage as her excitement grew. “They’re mothers, you said, looking for their kids. You said they’re left there because the boys don’t want to go to them, but what if that’s not it all? What if they don’t know?”

Killian’s eyebrows knitted together. “What’re you getting at?” She stood, unable to sit there waiting for a second longer. “Swan?”

Emma turned to stare at Nibs, still staring at his boots and scuffing them in the dirt.

“I’m going to give him what every lost kid wants,” she said firmly, beginning to march over to him. “A mother.”

Nibs instinctively looked up when she approached, but quickly lowered his eyes, such had been the standard since Killian’s outburst a little while ago. The boy had been determined to stay silent, perhaps hoping they would deem him worthless enough to merit just letting go. Emma was determined to not let it all go to waste.

“Nibs,” she said blithely, “that’s a funny name. You had it all your life?” As expected, the boy did not reply. “Don’t suppose it’s short for anything… like Nabil?”

She’d heard it at the Maze – every sound that had come from there, every pained cry and plea, had remained etched into her memory afterwards. It was good, she’d decided. Good to have a reminder of what she was working for, and what she might become if she gave up. She was going out on a limb here, praying for a miracle and that there was some connection between a name she had heard scattered on the wind, and the little lost boy in front of her.

From the way he looked up at her, gaping with wide eyes, she felt she might’ve hit her mark.

“Wh – where did you hear that?” he asked hoarsely.

Triumphant, Emma smiled. “From your Mom.”

“My… mother?”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t understand.”

Emma tried to think of the best way to convey what she knew. She cast her mind back to Starkey’s maps of Neverland. “You ever seen that big structure, the one at the mouth of the river that comes down from the mountain? The pirates call it Misery Bay.”

Only later had she realised why.

Nibs’ eyes flickered fearfully. His tongue darted out to his dry lips. “We… we don’t go there. That’s where the witches are.”

“Witches?”

“Witches,” he affirmed. “They eat children. At night they cry, thinking about all the meals they can never have. Peter traps them in the Maze of Witches so they’ll never catch us.”

It was such a bald-faced lie that it made Emma furious. Those mothers could have been there for centuries, trapped, and all along their sons had never known that they were there – had in fact been afraid of their grief, as it were a weapon that would cause them harm. Every day the boys got a little more lost, and the mothers lost a little more hope that they would ever find their wayward children; and through it all Pan watched, and laughed, and let everyone around him fall into even greater misery.

“You’re wrong,” she replied gently, “they’re mothers, Nibs. Pan doesn’t want you to know, but moms come back for their kids all the time – I’m just the latest in a long line.” Somehow she’d escaped the Maze’s magic, and although she had no idea why she was grateful. “He wants you to stay lost so you can be soldiers in his war.”

The struggle Nibs was facing in digesting what she was telling him was written all across his features, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The scarlet scar under his cheek appeared to wink up at her, whispering Henry in a way that made her feel queasy.

“Peter, he… wouldn’t.”

It wasn’t easy to start doubting the person you believed in most – she had enough experience of that.

“I’m here for my son. I love him so much, I want to take him home. But Pan wants him to forget all about me.” Even giving the errant thought a voice was frightening. “Your Mom’s in that maze, Nibs. I’m sure of it.”

“Not – not my mother,” Nibs frowned. “She… she was only ever interested in money. She wouldn’t come for me.”

“Sometimes we need to lose what’s most important to us before we realise how much we treasure it. I won’t leave Henry again.”

Determined, Emma circled the tree and began tugging at the knots that kept the boy in place. Starkey let out a noise of alarm, and she could hear Killian scrambling to his feet and reaching for his cutlass in the background.

Even Nibs seemed startled at the development. “What are you doing?”

“I’m letting you go,” she muttered, huffing at the effort of tugging the rope free. Damn those sailor knots and how goddamn tight they were. “Now you can either go back to Pan, tell him where we are and get us killed, or you can go to that maze and find your Mom.”

The last knot loosened and Nibs sprang forward, wincing and rubbing at his wrists. With more than a little guilt, Emma noticed the angry red lines circling them from where he had pulled at the bonds. It only strengthened her resolve, even as the boy stared at her warily. It looked like he didn’t quite believe he was really being released. Killian was the one who had said it – only Lost Boys could enter the Maze. It stood to reason that Nibs would be able to get in there and confirm what she had said for himself.

“Find your Mom,” Emma repeated, “then come back here and help me get Henry back too.”

Please, she begged silently, please, help us.

The boy looked first at her, then over his shoulder where Killian stood, hand poised and ready on his cutlass. Then Nibs stared back at her, expression completely neutral, before he tore off into the forest without a word.

No sooner had his shadow touched the treeline before the boy vanished from sight. Emma couldn’t even hear him moving through the undergrowth, as if he were a ghost or had taken to the air – maybe this was the gift of the true inhabitants of Neverland. They knew how to bend the forest around them like an old friend, they didn’t have to fight against it the way she did.

Dusk kissed the trees now, and the light was rapidly fading. What had once been clear twenty feet away now blurred and ran between each other, and she almost didn’t notice Killian stepping up beside her, staring out at where Nibs had vanished.

He made an uneasy noise. “Now what?”

Emma bit her lip, placing her hands on her hips. “We wait.”

“You’re taking a big risk here, Swan.”

“I know,” she muttered. It was probably a big ask, making Killian put his trust in one of his greatest enemies – but something on the chessboard needed to change. Perhaps she could make this knight a turncoat. “He’ll come back, don’t worry.”

She spoke with far more assurance than she felt, and they both knew it.

Please come back, she begged silently into the sky.

He had to come back.

***

Hook didn’t like it one bit.

Staying in one place for so long was bad enough – he had learnt, through years of skirmishes with the Lost Ones and the natives, that doing so only left you an easy target for an ambush – but the idea of entrusting their fate to one of Pan’s minions was borderline repellent. Emma, unfortunately, could not be persuaded to the contrary. She had insisted on their setting up camp exactly where the boy had left them, and waiting on his return. Hook would merit a lot of shortcomings to Emma Swan since he had met her, but blind faith and gullibility had not been among them. The boy hadn’t even said he would return. He had simply run off into the woods without a single word either way.

Still, despite his misgivings, Hook did as he was bid.

Starkey and Noodler had set about laying the bones of their camp, pulling the canvas sheet out in order to provide shelter. Hook could taste it in the air, rain was coming. Much like the day before he had met Emma Swan, they were due a storm of the like he preferred to endure at sea, as safe as could be weathered aboard the deck of the Jolly Roger. It might not come tonight, but by the end of tomorrow, he was certain. The breeze was thick and moist as it lured the evening closer, and Hook started a fire.

They roasted a hare they had caught for supper and split it four ways, adding a helping of nuts in order to try and assuage any further rumbles of hunger, and Hook had cast a doubtful look at their remaining supplies. They had enough for another day or two, but they would soon need to replenish their load from the Jolly Rogers’ stores if they were to remain inland. Even this many years after claiming her, his spirits rose at the prospect of returning to his ship, for however short a time. It did not suit him to be so far from her bow.

Convince Emma Swan to leave Neverland and I’ll give you what you want most.

It felt as if the longer he spent with Emma Swan, the less he wanted her to fail.

She had impressed him today. Even if she insisted on ignoring Pan’s map, Hook had never once considered that the Lost Ones had no idea the Maze of Regrets existed – not in its true form. Witches. If he had ever wanted further proof of Pan’s wickedness, the fact that the Lost Ones were unknowingly being kept from their mothers was more than enough. Hook hadn’t doubted for a second that it was the ferocity of the boys that kept that Maze alive with sorrow.

Emma, however, had seen right through it for what it was.

I learnt what real strength is. It’s perseverance, it’s belief. It’s seeing the best in people even when it’s hard.

Had he ever been that way? He couldn’t remember now. For so long all he knew how to be was this. The only person he thought to look out for was himself. Hook would have made that boy suffer as much as needed until they got what they wanted – but Emma had pulled apart Nibs’ arrogant veneer, exposed the child underneath and found another way.

He wants you to stay lost so you can be soldiers in his war.

Seeing the best in people, even the Lost Ones. How, he could only wonder. How did she do it?

Gold took more than your hand from you, didn’t he?

Hook’s heart thumped heavily in his chest when he thought back to that moment. It was too much, too soon. He’d wanted to give her something, make her focus on unlocking the map, but he had opened up too far. He should never have told her his name. Even so, when her tongue curled around it, and her mouth let it fall like the gentle droplets of early rain, something fluttered in the pit of his stomach.

Killian.

He took a steadying breath.

Too close.

He was handing her over to Pan, anyway. None of it mattered.

Was he?

Something snapped in the bushes to his right, and Hook’s eyes were drawn immediately to the sound. In the dark he couldn’t make anything out, but rose cautiously to his feet anyway. A glance back at the fire showed Starkey and Emma speaking in low voices. Noodler stood at the opposite end of the clearing, one of his palms flat against a pine. He often did so when he was deep in thought. Nobody else had heard.

It could’ve been an animal, or the wind shaking something loose from the branches of a tree. It could be nothing at all.

It could be Nibs.

Something stuttered to life in his chest at the thought.

Emma’s optimism was wickedly contagious.

No sooner had he reached the edge of the clearing, than his eyes landed on the source of the sound.

A boy, grey eyes sullen, face smeared with dirt, was crouched amongst the brush. In his hands he held a spear with a sharp, inky black point Hook knew must be dreamshade, and he doubted he was alone. The boy stared back at Hook, defiantly, the corner of his mouth curling upwards.

Fuck Nibs.

Before Hook could raise the alarm, a shout came from behind him.

“Captain!”

From the other end of the clearing, a wall of three Lost Ones had emerged, brandishing wooden swords and bows, arrows already notched in place. When Hook turned back to the boy he had seen, he realised four more had lifted themselves up from the ground, fierce spectres of youth and darkness. A glance all around confirmed that which he’d already suspected.

They were surrounded.

“I expected this from you, Emma, you’re new here. But I’m especially disappointed in you, Captain.”

Pan’s voice was positively dripping with malice, stepping out of the dark until his expression was illuminated by the firelight, his eyes black and dancing with amusement. Hook let out a long, aggressive string of expletives.

Noodler and Starkey were standing with their swords raised, trying to work out which boy to settle on as their target – but Emma’s blade was pointed squarely at Pan. As the boys in front of Hook advanced, he allowed himself to be herded back over to join the others.

Pan shook his head in disappointment. “You know better than to ignore my rules.”

Hook said nothing, merely glared back at him.

“It’s – wait, what is that expression you’re so fond of? No, wait, don’t tell me,” Pan affected an expression of concentration. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

One of the overeager Lost Ones loosed a black-tipped arrow, and it sang just past the skin of Hook’s cheek before clattering to a stop on a trunk behind him.

“Oh, that’s it.”

Pan smiled, but his eyes were dark and hollow.

“Bad form.”

#jay writes #brink #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #canon divergence #cs au #killian jones #emma swan #neverland #cs au week #I hope you guys like this!

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celstese · 4 years ago

Text

Gwen cooper gets her groove back

Author: celstese

Rating: teen

Content warnings: Spoilers,swearing,Bilis Manger

Word count: 1511

description: On her hundredth tenth birthday Gwen Williams falls asleep and wakes up knocking Owen Harper off his bed. Being young again is hard. A time travel fix it fic.

(I might continue this later on but this is all I could come up with before I got writers block.)

Ao3

Gwen cooper was ready to go. For far two long for her liking she had been alone. Sure she still had her children as well as good old Andy who lived next to her with his husband Greg to talk to but for her the past twenty years without Rhys was the loneliest she had been in for a very long time. So when on her hundredth tenth birthday she fell asleep Gwen felt ready to die whenever death felt ready to come for her. Sure she heard the story from Jack about what he had seen all the times he had died but figured nothingness was the worst thing to look forward to. For all she knew even Jack's brain couldn't compered what was waiting but she was ready. What she woke to upon waking was unexpected but welcome . She would later realize she wasn't alone but that's not what she jumped to. As she came to she could hear a familiar voice she couldn't place for a while. Then it hit her like a large lorry had crashed into her old wiry body.

“Owen Harper you utter bastard! ” she jolted up, eyes wide open, knocking him off his large bed with satin sheets.

“What was that for?” he rubbed his bare face as he sat upright on the wooden floor.

“Oh my I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that.” Gwen felt sheepish as she helped him back up. She quickly explained her reaction.

“It's just given last I checked you died long before I had my hundredth birthday and I feel so young I'm comfortable blaming the rift. Given the fact I don't remember this so I have to assume it did since I don't remember that day I woke up really old because of you know work.” “Of course, when is it ever something else? It's always the rift. Bloody torchwood.” he was flabbergasted to say the least judging by his face.

“If I am mistaken there are some events I won't let repeat themselves if I have any choice. No child's head should be liquefied for the sake of this planet.”

“You're serious.”

“Why would i lie to you about something like that ?I know I haven't been here at torchwood that long at this point .I don't think I can go back to being who I was at this age. This job opens up a world but not all of it is good. I've woken up screaming more than once. I remember feeling guilt about what we did together and what happened next but when I left has been gone from my head for decades. Alzimers can be a real bitch you know. I could have affected the whole universe by hurting you. I wouldn't be able to tell”

Owen as it turned out probably due to me not caring before had a decent amount of money. He wasn't the richest person in the world but as I recognized that painting on the wall as an original I knew it was more than I realized. The things we notice as we get older can be odd to say the least of them. But I had forgotten long ago he had a car at his apartment building's car park.. It was in a nice shape but It would have gotten him noticed. It was some sports car in a bright red paint job. I turned to him in other bewilderment. His reply was understandable “I'm having trouble finding a buyer. You would think people would want one but nope i've had no luck for 3 years running.”

We ended up getting a taxi instead.

The commute didn't take as long as it should have been during the time of day but at the time I didn't take notice. Later when I heard from Rhys when I got home from work the significance of that morning. It felt to me that night the butterfly effect was a real phenomenon. It felt like I was that butterfly ; it felt daunting to me.

The plass looked the same as it did in my memory they had kept the old look after the explosion to keep continuity. Plus the other idea would have bankrupted the city. I always wondered what happened to the mayor who was in charge just before I joined. I asked Jack once when I was on vacation for me and Rhys' anniversary but he looked funny. There was nothing in the torchwood records or any other place.It was like she had vanished into thin air. It didn't learn what happened but I had a feeling he was involved somehow. He was involved in lots of things so it wouldn't have surprised me.

When we entered the hub I was surprised but I didn't know last time. Jack and Ianto were having a date in the hub. It was some pretty nice spaghetti. I wouldn't have been able to eat it because I'm allergic to cilantro. Jack looked like an owl hooting when he heard what I just told him. He could tell I wasn't joking. Owen's face convinced him something had to have happened even if what he was hearing was only partially truthful. Jack didn't blame Gwen for being hesitant to talk. It was best to keep talking about the possible future on the down low until they figured out what caused this and if she could go back. Gwen didn't think she would stay for long even if she returned. Sure her old body worked but they only lasted so long unlike jack. Jack she thought was unlucky and she wanted to help him if she could. This jack didn't really know her. It felt weird. She couldn't even tell Rhys since he didn't know at this point. It was very frustrating.

I knew if I was around long enough things might change. Then it did. We had found ourselves at a building site where I remembered. Mary was still alive. It was something I did tonight that caused Tosh to meet her. This as far as I knew was not that important in the grand scheme of things. It was important now . Take care of the body then Mary.

It was late at night and the only one at the bar other than Gwen was the bartender. She found that odd. This was not helping her though. She was still feeling the same as she started. Then as she looked to the left by chance she saw the doors start to open. She tensed up. She didn't want to have anything to do with Bilis. He was still bad news whenever he showed up. He sat down to her and smiled.

“Maybe you are the great equalizer now Gwen cooper. Things won't be the same anymore most certainly.” Bilis Manger looked all innocent but she knew better from her own experience he wasn't what he portrayed himself to be.

“So it was you who did this.”

“Well not exactly. By going back you can not return this isn't a swapping bodies situation it's a you died and your soul as humans say merged with yours from earlier. Nothing is set in stone anymore except some things. The more things change the more things stay the same and all that.”

She jumped at him and before she could land a hit he was gone. Gwen wondered what happened but this was a whole different thing than she had in mind. Was it right to have kids right now with what she knew could come. She didn't know if those days had to happen. Maybe someone would. She just had to find someone who didn't have a reason to lie to her. She didn't know if she could name hers the same names again. The thought of that was very painful to her when she thought about it. That she would never see Anwen again hurt very much. Gwen Williams was Gwen Cooper once more.

What Rhys had told me had hit my conscious mind in the bathroom. Harriet Jones did not resign today. The ramifications were huge. I shivered on the white toilet. This didn't mean she wouldn't resign next week but there was a chance Jack wouldn't come back looking the way he did the time he left us all by ourselves to protect Cardiff. I didn't really have a smartphone anymore so I couldn't really check the news from in here anymore. There was a chance that a man didn't come here this time . That prospect was preferable to me than the alternative.

The coffee machine had stopped working and Ianto was exhausted. Sure his body was fine but his mind was a different story. It was getting to the point that the first part became untrue soon.

Jack let out a loud gasp. He stumbled and out in a suv came Gwen and Ianto. Being buried in cement was not pleasant in the slightest but it wasn't the worst thing he had ever felt in his one hundred plus years.

#torchwood fan fests #celstese #torchwood #fanfiction #gwen cooper #ianto jones #jack harkness #Owen Harper #bilis manger #torchwood fanwork #time travel #deaging

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not-poignant · 4 years ago

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Hi Pia, I hope you’re well. Please feel free to ignore this if it’s too personal... but how do you deal with death as a concept when you have the chronic illnesses that you do? Are you afraid to die, and if you are, how do you keep from constantly thinking about how you could die early (so to speak) if your health takes a turn? I’ve had a lot of health scares recently and it’s getting harder and harder to just live without feeling constantly afraid. Thank you for everything you do.

Hi anon!

Firstly, I am very sorry to hear about your health scares. They suuuuuck. They really suck. I’m replying partly out of solidarity, but I don’t know if I have anything that will really work for you, because sometimes I really struggle to find things that work for me, but I’m happy to share what I’ve picked up along the way. <3 And I hope in the meantime that things pick up for you.

The timing of this is pretty spot on, in that I’m going through pretty serious scanxiety at the moment (what we call ‘anxiety around getting scans for cancer’ in my cancer support group that I’m a member of). I had a full body PET scan two weeks ago (no results yet), and I have a head/neck MRI on Friday, for which I can hopefully get the results Mon/Tuesday. But I don’t have my follow up with my Endocrinologist until late July, so I won’t know for about 6 weeks if I have any new tumours in my abdomen.

I definitely don’t want to die from this disease, and it will probably be the thing that kills me. Not any time soon, that’s less likely, but it’s just...likely overall. A lot of the statistics are stacked against me, I have three primary tumours in my head/neck, and there’s no indication that my body is going to stop growing them, and there’s no cure and likely to be no cure in my lifetime.

So yeah, I get anxious. I am afraid to die (I mean in general, unless I’m suicidal, but also specifically the way this disease is likely to kill me: progressively taking my hearing, my ability to swallow and talk, my ability to move my arms and my head and my neck, my sense of balance and ability to walk upright without collapsing, and more - which doesn’t even count metastatic disease - is a horrible way to die). And I live with the knowledge that like, it literally takes one scan result to change my entire life all over again (hence, scanxiety).

BUT, living in constant fear is just...not helpful. It’s understandable, it is an understandable emotional response, but it’s not a helpful response. Because what matters most in these scenarios is quality of life; and you get quality of life (in chronic illness and acute disease) by managing emotional outcomes as vigilantly and with as much self-compassion (and patience) as possible. So these are the things that work for me, if they don’t work for you, that’s fine, some might even feel completely wrong for you, that’s also fine and normal. The things we tell ourselves to cope in this are deeply personal. I hate the phrase ‘fuck cancer’ for example, other people who have cancer use it as a battle cry and feel strong because of it.

***

* ‘Can I literally do anything more than I’m doing to change the outcomes of my illness without hurting myself? No? Then admit you have no control over this and let it go.’ This is something I tell myself when I start panicking. ‘But what if I get this result what if this happens what if this tumour starts growing again what if.’ I just look at myself sternly and say: ‘HOW is this helpful?’ It’s NOT. Knowing the answers to any of those what ifs changes nothing in the moment except my anxiety, distress and fear levels. And then I say ‘so WHAT would be helpful? What do you have control over?’ And then I might wait and think... ‘well...I really like that Youtube channel One Meal A Day I might watch one of those videos’ or ‘well...I might journal about my feelings and give them some space (see further down) and then try and let them go because just cycling around them isn’t productive.’ Sometimes we hang onto anxiety because our brain convinces us it will somehow be helpful. With this stuff it rarely is.

* WORRY TIME. Yay worry time! Set aside 5-20 minutes a day (or every three days, or once a week, but you might need to start with once a day when things are really bad) to write down ALL of your worries about your illnesses. All the irrational things, the logical things, ALL of it, no matter how embarrassing. And omg, chase those worries down. Really sit and be with your worry. Give it space. Let it speak! But do it with the intention that once those 5-20 minutes are over, that’s it. You’re done. If your worries start up again, say gently to yourself: ‘You told me all of this during Worry Time, but if this is new, please save it for tomorrow, I will give you space to share with me then!’ Treat your worry like a little animal that doesn’t know any better, and has to be taught some boundaries. Worry Time becomes the boundary. That doesn’t mean you won’t feel anxious the rest of the time, just if you do, it’s easier to step back mindfully and go ‘huh, I’m anxious right now, that’s really interesting, but I’m going to do something about that tomorrow, and so for now I’m just going to acknowledge it but I’m going to try not to let it ruin my day.’

* ‘Everything right now, this moment, this second is exactly the way it should be.’ This is Taoism, and some people hate it. I use this most often when I’m in excruciating pain, or terrified, or literally in a panic attack. I don’t know why it helps so much, but it does. And I think it’s because it works like this: ‘Everything right now, this moment, this second is exactly the way it should be. Terrible things are happening all over the world. Other people are feeling pain like I am. Animals and plants go on living and dying. Right now everything in this moment is perfect messy imperfection and I am a part of that, a small cog in a huge ecosystem. I am a part of something, I belong in this, and I hate it - I really hate it - but even that is part of that messy imperfection. It just is. And therefore, I can release any attachment or urgency to change the things that I cannot change.’ And then...I will still be in pain, or having a panic attack, or terrified, but it will feel integrated and connected to me. It will feel like it’s a part of something. Still, ultimately, sometimes useless but...even useless excesses of terror are a part of the messy imperfection of life.

This leads onto the second:

* ‘In this moment, I am okay.’ Not like, literally 100% healthy. I’ll never be that. But I’m okay. I’m okay as a person and a human being who deserves love and comfort, and I’m okay to just grab another minute to feel okay. You can pair this with mindfulness meditation, and Smiling Mind has a great free app, and most of the meditations are between 5-8 minutes long. Sometimes ‘I’m okay’ doesn’t mean ‘I feel okay’ - and that’s okay too! I’m not trying to erase my emotions, I’m not trying to make myself never feel afraid of dying, that is an appropriate response to something that literally threatens my life but isn’t doing it urgently right this second. And because it’s not doing it right this second, well, right this second, I’m okay.

* Goals that have nothing to do with your health. For me, probably pretty obviously, it’s my writing and my art and similar. I have responsibilities towards my loved ones and my animal companions. Sometimes just...putting my head down and getting stuff done helps take my mind off things, and that also makes me feel productive and like I’m more than my illnesses. Socialising is a part of this. You are so much more than your illnesses, but you have to live that way too, that’s your responsibility to yourself, to remember that you are more, and then to embrace that in your actions (I mean, keeping in mind spoons/energy levels), even when you’re not always feeling it.

* Look at the things you can control and shore them up where you can. Like, consider writing a will. One of the things I’ve had to do is consider what I’ll do if I get sick so quickly I can never finish Fae Tales or never write anything again. These practical steps can be distressing, but sometimes they can answer background anxieties you didn’t know you had, and put them to bed. ‘I don’t need to worry about this, I’ve already done this part.’ Sometimes it’s just knowing that every time you see a specialist, you’re going to write down your questions, so you no longer need to worry about forgetting them. Things like that seem little, but they add up as background anxieties we do have control over.

* If you can afford it; Therapy. Depending on your illness/es, there may be support groups. Some are dodgy as shit (Fibromyalgia groups have categorically been the worst spaces I’ve ever encountered for genuine support), but generally speaking for serious illnesses, there are support groups. They can be an incredible resource. I help moderate the Australian/New Zealand Para/Pheo Support Group (there’s only one, lol), and like sometimes it’s depressing (people I care about do, on occasion, die), but knowing I’m not alone, knowing I can get advice about what to ask my surgeons or my Endocrinologists or Oncologists, especially for a rare disease? Fuck that’s so invaluable. And being able to help other people advocate for themselves has been really empowering for me.

* Don’t expect to get rid of your fear or anxiety entirely. If you’re alive and you’re human and you like life, you just can’t do that. So remember that when you’re feeling those things, you’re being a normal human being, and you are not alone (even when you feel like the loneliest person in the world, even that’s a part of it). It won’t fix those things, sometimes you can’t. Some days I just give as like, shit days, it happens. June I’ve given up as kind of a shit month honestly. Am I having good moments? Yes. Am I stressed every day about this disease? YES! Fun times. (I won’t be stressed every day if the scan results show that everything is the same tbh, like, then I’ll go back to ‘normal’ where I rarely think about it).

* Don’t write off the day until the day is over. I used to have this habit (and still can sometimes) of writing off the day as being ‘a bad day’ because of a terrible morning. I actually started this habit as a child, because of trauma and abuse, and it was something I kept doing because of mental illness. So this is something I was doing long before cancer came along and additionally kicked my ass. These days, even though I feel so bad sometimes I feel like hell, my entire life is a write off, I try and keep in mind that one thing can change the tone of the day and make it better. And that ‘thing’ can be me and my choices. And the fact is, even if I try some Youtube videos, or to pet my cats, or talk to friends, or whatever and it doesn’t work, at least I can look back and reassure myself: ‘You’re trying so hard, you’re really trying your best’ and also ‘you know this never lasts, it never has, you still have moments where you feel good, which means you’ll have a moment where you’ll feel good again. It’s okay. I’m okay.’

* Dark humour can be a saviour. Oh boy, can it ever. But be careful who you share it with.

* Gratitude for what you have now, and not what you might not in the future, because the future is an illusion, it’s not here now. But you are. I have a journal where I write down something I’m grateful for every day. Even if I’m feeling cynical and hateful and anxious and bitter. And then I might just say ‘I’m grateful for chips’ or ‘I’m grateful for that nice leaf I saw but nothing else’ lol. Just something. I’m grateful I can still hear, I might not hear one day, but I’m listening to a song right now. That matters. I’m grateful I can walk. I’m grateful I can read this post. I’m grateful I can still write my books despite the mild cognitive brain damage I got from radiation. My gratitude doesn’t always feel warm or nice, but I am still, somewhere, deep down, glad I haven’t lost those things.

***

It’s hard, and many of these things take time to learn, and repetition, and getting back on the wagon when you forget. Some days they won’t help, and some days you’ll be so glad of one 5 minute mindfulness meditation it saves the whole rest of the day for you. Sometimes sleeping is a really good reset tool for the brain.

Some people find Buddhism helpful (all life is suffering can become pretty zen when you’re suffering), I found the philosophy of Taoism helpful on top of my regular paganism.

ANYWAY this post is now...2,200 words long fuck that’s longer than some of my university essays I’M SO SORRY so I’m going to stop. Just, please anon, from the bottom of my heart, be gentle with yourself. It’s hard. This stuff is hard. It requires an unfair amount of effort to make it less hard, but that’s all life gives us, because life never promised to be fair or just or compassionate to us. So we must be fair and just and compassionate to ourselves. And that, in its messy imperfection, is all we can do to be a perfect part of this world. <3

#asks and answers #personal #dodgy advice #i have made so many dark cancer jokes with glen #the rule with dark humour is that you can make tasteless jokes about your own condition #but other people who *don't* have it #can't #but they can laugh with you #lol #anyway yeah also just...#get a really good list of things that make you feel better #sad or happy or whatever #youtube vids or fics or novels or art #collect the things and the people #that bring some light into your life #curate your existence with hope and compassion to the parts of you that are so so afraid #administrator Gwyn wants this in the queue #Anonymous

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har-rison-s · 5 years ago

Text

heaven: 3

take it in

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back. A/N: Y'all ain't ready for what you're about to read hHEHEHEHEH. Lmao. I had some huge inspo to write this, so thank god for that! Hope you still like this series, and I hope to do you guys and myself justice with this and the following parts. Happy reading! warnings: smut, feelings, 'heavy stuff'.

word count: 1.6k (surprisingly)

main masterlist

IT masterlist

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gif credit goes to owner, which is not me!

The Losers Club are a mess, that is certain. Only Y/N and Stanley seem to hold a clear sight and a clear mind out of all eight of them. But, they were just as emotional. And in a panic, too. None of them want to die, they're scared of death, their survival instinct is stronger than ever. As much as they can delay the possibility of them dying, they will do it.

Y/N holds Beverly's shaking shoulders as puffs of smoke surround them both now. Beverly's crying as she tells her friends what kind of fate awaits them all if they don't stop IT now, in this cycle. She claimed to have seen all her friends die horribly, and it scared Y/N and her both. She had forgot these sort-of predicaments until now, and Y/N wondered how scared Beverly must be having these images she saw twenty-seven years ago in her mind again.

There is also a hand on Y/N's shoulder. It belongs to Stanley. A comforting gesture, just like her hands are on Beverly, to give her comfort. But there is a difference in Stanley's hold. There's sort of an electricity in it. One that's bound to be released. And they both know when it's gonna be.

When they look at each other, Y/N having to look from below Stanley due to where she was sitting, they can't seem to look away. Stanley's eyes are magnetic and pulling her towards him. Y/N's are inviting, daring and challenging, almost, challenging him to do what he's afraid to. One of the many things on that list. She's asking him to risk everything. And he wants to say yes.

Stanley's a little sceptical of how Bill looks. The man looks dazed, almost drugged. Stanley looks to Mike and he has got a pleased look on his face. The look of achievement. Stanley realises he's convinced Bill with some hallucinogenics. God, they're truly a mess. What lengths does Mike have to go to convince his scared friends. It seems silly that he has to do what he's done. They're his best friends, after all.

Richie and Eddie are ready to leave any second, but Bill convinces them to stay. With great effort, though, the two are set on leaving this exact second and from Stanley's memories, both men are very stubborn. But since everyone is adamant to stay except for Eddie and Richie, they realised they have to stay, after all. The Losers Club can't stop IT if they're not all together. Richie and Eddie know that well.

Mike goes back to the Library for the night, making a deal with his friends that they'll meet before sunrise of the next day at the Library. All eight will need a normal night of sleep before their journey. Journey back to the past to protect the future. But how can they sleep? How can they be at peace, thinking of what would await them.

Insomnia tortures Richie, so he goes into Eddie's room to see if Eddie's awake, too. He is, and Richie's sudden presence scares him a little. They stay up, talking to each other while they play cards, their voices soft. Sometimes their voices die down, sometimes they get higher and sometimes even louder.

Beverly found solace in being awake by going to Bill. They also stayed awake together, talking from time to time. Mostly about memories of Derry and each other. Some things almost lead to other things, almost. Tension is definitely thick in the air in Bill's room once Beverly came in.

Ben, as always, is alone. He thinks he's always going to be alone, and is now used to it already. He is his own best friend. He's never felt lonely in his life, but when he knows Beverly is in Bill's room, Ben Hanscom feels like the loneliest man in the world. He pulls out the folded page he's kept in his wallet for years, and looks at it. The light from the street lamp shines through the window and onto the page, making it easier for Ben to read what it says, for the hundredth time. He sighs.

The instant Stanley's room door was closed, they were on each other. All over each other, breathing and taking in one another. Remembering how the other felt, what they liked, how to please the other. They're re-discovering each other, how they were together, how they felt in moments of heat.

Y/N and Stanley are tearing at each other's clothes and skins and lips and hair, they're mad together. They're mad to spend every second of the night together, spend the time given to them wisely. Who knows what the sunrise and morning will bring? Who knows what the next day will bring to them? Not one moment must be wasted.

They don't need sleep, they don't need rest. They don't need anything except each other. And the high they got off the other. The pair could do with only that to survive the rest of their lives.

Y/N can't remember Stanley ever being so bold, so brutal in making love. Sure, they'd done it a few times until he had to leave after high school. But no time was ever as vile and as desperate as this. And she loved it. There were no words, no questions, no hesitation. There was only missed-out love and desperation.

The pair hadn't even undressed completely when Stanley entered Y/N with his cock full of desire. Her head fell against the poor thin hotel door and she screamed. Stanley grunted and tilted her head back in its previous place. So she'd be facing him.

Stanley kept his eyes locked on Y/N while he thrusted into her and she whined and moaned, as well as he kept his hands on her hips. Her hands were taking turns roaming and squeezing his back and the back of his neck, and she tried her best to keep their eye contact. But it was hard. And, damn, Stanley was so hard. Y/N felt like she would die then and there from it, even without going back to Neibolt.

It would be hard not to hear them screwing like complete animals if you were standing at the hotel's entrance. Ben was sure Y/N and Stanley could be heard all over town. Eddie and Richie used the hotel-given ear plugs - with their disadvantages -, and Bill and Beverly decided they should split and spend the rest of the time remaining in their own separate rooms.

But when Y/N and Stanley reached their orgasms, my God, what their friends heard before wasn't even close to being as loud as that was. They had never imagined that Stanley and Y/N, the most shy people from them eight, would be this loud during sex. But Beverly guessed there wasn't just pleasure in those screams. There was terror and desperation, there was hope and praying to a higher power. And she had guessed right.

Y/N stayed held against the door by Stanley. They needed a little while to regain themselves, their breaths, their ever-so-clear minds. Well, their minds were hazy with a thick fog, and would be for a while, and there was no escaping it. An amnesia-like fog that made them ignorant to everything else except the other and the other's touch, and their love. It was love, both of them were sure. It had returned, and it's stronger than ever.

Stanley, now with a bit of a clearer mind, pulled Y/N against his chest and carried her to the hotel bed. He undressed her slowly, completely, and kissed every aching and non-aching part of her skin tenderly. And it made Y/N cry.

She was crying because she now felt what she had missed all her life. Who she had missed, and what he would have given her if they had never separated. What they could have had together, what they could have felt together. How their lives would be much, much better if only they had never parted.

Each kiss he gave her was worth two tears from her. And when Stanley realised she wasn't in fact moaning or whimpering, but that she was crying, he kissed her tears, which meant kissing her cheeks, her lips, her neck, her hair. And he kissed every part. Which only made her cry more.

She cried about the time they had missed, the opportunities left unused, the kisses given to strangers. Everything they could have had.

Stanley held her and, as they both lay there, now completely bare and exposed to the cold, horrible hotel air that reeked of sterilisation, looked in her eyes. He softly pet her hair and held the hand of hers that lay between them on the bed with his other hand. And they kept their eye contact strong, they were sure they didn't blink once.

Even as teenagers, they could stare into each other's eyes for hours without getting bored or getting distracted. They could do nothing else but that. Not many people can. But it was one of their… things. And it was still strong now, almost three decades later.

The moon and the street lamps shone onto the two lovers in the hotel room, to someone's eyes they'd look like a perfect painting in this light. These two lovers in a perfectly-made bed that was hardly touched. They were surrounded by the smell fo sex, the sound of sobs, the glistening of tears and sweat. By the words they want to say to each other, the longing and what-ifs that they want to voice. But they don't want to ruin this perfect moment, and the next, and the next. Y/N and Stanley want to cherish this complete silence and calm, before the storm hits them and hits this perfect atmosphere.

Permanent taglist: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @mrsmazzello @benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @sunshine-stan-uris @radiantrichie

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g @sadhwstudent @shawni-h @gothackedalready @seasidecrowbar @starred-river @raspberryacid @facelessbish @tozierskaspb @plum-duels @whereyoustand

@happy-at-home @kaspbrak-uris

If you'd like to be in one of these lists, please let me know!

#stan uris x reader #stan uris imagine #stan uris imagines #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris imagine #stanley uris imagines #adult!stan uris imagine #adult!stanley uris imagine #adult!stan uris x imagine #adult!stanley uris x reader #adult!stanley uris request #adult!stanley uris smut #adult!stanley uris smut imagine #har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s writings #har-rison-s work #har-rison-s series #heaven series #heaven part three

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wireless-festive-minifest · 5 years ago

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Fest Masterlist

🎀 Collection closed, fest unwrapped! 🎀

Thank you to everyone who participated in our merry little festive edition of Wireless!

We unwrapped all the wonderful presents you sent in, and we are now presenting:

🎁 Wireless Festive Minifest 2019 Masterlist: (alphabetical by title)

🎀 365 Days by FemmeBrulee / @sandalwoodandpine (Mature, 3.7k)

Pairing: Hermione / Draco

Summary: A year after Draco and Hermione are sent on separate wartime missions, only one of them has returned home. In the cheer of Christmas Day, Hermione feels the stinging absence of the man she has come to love. As the day wears on, she starts to fear that the devastating rumours are true.

🎁 A Hippogriff for Christmas by @xanthippe74 (Gen, 6.4k)

Pairing: None (Draco & Scorpius & Harry)

Summary: Draco is desperately trying to fulfill four-year-old Scorpius’ dearest wish for Christmas: a visit with a live Hippogriff. Harry is desperately trying to be left alone, safely tucked away from the attention of the wizarding world as Hogwarts’ Keeper of the Keys and Grounds. It might take more than a father’s persistence to convince Harry to help make Scorpius’ Christmas dream come true.

🎀 About Time by @gnarf (Mature, MCD warning, 671 words)

Pairing: Astoria / Draco; Draco / Harry

Summary: Draco sat on his sofa, anxiously waiting for time to pass, for the day to finally be over, and the clock to tick midnight.

It was a tradition he had kept throughout the years. Many years have passed since he started it, a whole life one could say he thought, grinning to himself.

It happened every year. The clock would tick midnight and Christmas would arrive, together with him.

🎁 All I Want by a_reader_and_writer / @harrypotterfanfictionwriter (Gen, 395 words)

Pairing: Sirius / Remus

Summary: Remus writes a letter to Sirius.

🎀 Baby Please Come Home by @andithiel (Teen, 3.3k)

Pairing: Teddy Lupin / James Sirius Potter

Summary: It’s Christmas time, but Teddy is wandering the streets of Muggle London, feeling miserable and alone. He wishes James were here, instead of on a high-risk Curse-Breaking mission that won’t let him come home to celebrate with his loved ones.

🎁 Christmas at the Burrow by @gnarf (Gen, 541 words)

Pairing: None (Molly Weasley & family)

Summary: Molly looked at her husband before letting her gaze wander over the rest of her family.

The Burrow was bustling with life; her heart felt like it was twice its usual size.

It didn't happen often nowadays, that the whole family was there.

🎀 Christmas Blues by @gnarf (Mature, 1k)

Pairing: Draco / Harry

Summary: Draco looked out onto the frozen grounds of the Manor, trying to ignore the sounds wavering though his closed door.

But no matter how hard he tried, the screams managed to pierce his brain minute after minute. He didn't know who it was, who they had captured this time, he only hoped it was nobody he knew.

🎁 Draco The Red Nosed Auror by donnarafiki / @rose-grangerweasleyisbae (Teen, 2.3k, WIP)

Pairing: Draco / Harry

Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Draco is not sick Potter, thank you very much.

🎀 First Snow by @gnarf (Gen, 2016 words)

Pairing: Ginny / Oliver

Summary: The first snow had always been her favourite. It reminded her of wild snowball fights with her brothers at the Burrow, and racing with brooms over a frozen landscape while her heart threatened to jump out of her chest.

🎁 I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus by a_reader_and_writer / @harrypotterfanfictionwriter (Gen, 471 words)

Pairing: Astoria / Draco

Summary: Scorpius has to tell his father something really important! He saw his mommy kissing Santa Claus!

🎀 Last Christmas (I gave you my cock) by @keyflight790 (Explicit, 3.8k)

Pairing: Draco / Harry

Summary: Last Christmas, Harry and Malfoy definitely did not hook up in the loo, and Harry certainly wouldn't have stolen his friends tea towel to commemorate the occasion. And he hasn't been staring at Malfoy all year, waiting anxiously for this years festivities. Not at all.

🎁 Lonely This Christmas by @gnarf (Explicit, 2.1k)

Pairing: Harry / Charlie

Summary: "I don't know what I could do to feel better. I can't think of anything that could help. It's overwhelming me at times, this feeling of—" Harry fell silent and looked around for some kind of input, but he couldn't find the words to describe what was going on inside his head. "I don't even know what I feel anymore."

Pulling Charlie's jacket tighter around himself, Harry took a deep breath.

"You should come to Romania with me, get away from England. Just for a while."

🎀 Oh Christmas tree by a_reader_and_writer / @harrypotterfanfictionwriter (Gen, 384 words)

Pairing: Hermione / Ron

Summary: The Hogwarts professors decorate Hogwarts for Christmas.

🎁 On the First Day of Christmas, a Pureblood gave to me… by @maesterchill (Mature, 14.6k, WIP)

Pairing: Draco / Harry

Summary: Harry receives a gift.

Of a partridge.

From Lucius Malfoy.

Who's just been released from Azkaban.

There's only one thing for it. He's going to have to ask Draco what the hell's going on.

🎀 Santa Claus is coming by a_reader_and_writer / @harrypotterfanfictionwriter (Gen, 424 words)

Pairing: None (Harry Potter & Teddy Lupin)

Summary: Teddy and Harry visit Santa Claus. Teddy tells Santa his wishes.

🎁 Sleigh Ride by a_reader_and_writer / @harrypotterfanfictionwriter (Gen, 402 words)

Pairing: Hermione / Pansy

Summary: Pansy takes Hermione on a sleigh ride.

🎀 We Wish You by a_reader_and_writer / @harrypotterfanfictionwriter (Gen, 343 words)

Pairing: Hermione / Ron; Harry / Ginny

Summary: Two girls come singing at Ron's door.

🎁 Where Is Blitzen, Baby? by tackytiger / @tackytigerfic (Explicit, 2.7k, WIP)

Pairing: Harry / Charlie; Draco / Harry

Summary: It's the first Christmas after the Battle. Harry is sad, all the time. Everyone seems to be moving on, putting things behind them, and somehow that's the loneliest thing of all.

Hating Draco Malfoy is the most comforting thing in Harry's life, and Malfoy doesn't seem to be moving on, either.

Can they get themselves unstuck?

Featuring a summer at the Burrow, lots of bathing scenes, and hot Charlie Weasley. Plus all the mistletoe kisses yet to come.

🎀 Winter wonderland by a_reader_and_writer / @harrypotterfanfictionwriter (Gen, 439 words)

Pairing: Draco / Ron

Summary: Draco and Ron go walking outside.

🎁 You and Me Here, Underneath the Mistletoe by ringelchen / @lordofthegoods (Explicit, 7.2k)

Pairing: Scorpius / Albus Potter

Summary: All Albus wants for Christmas is Scorpius. (Un)fortunately, the Potters are working hard to make his wish come true.

But behold, there is more!

Or will be.

Prompting for @H/D Wireless 2020 will open on January 1st!

So keep your eyes and ears open for updates! And get thinking of all your favourite Drarry songs.

🎶 Until then the Wireless mods wish you happy holidays and a peaceful Christmastime! 💜

Maester Claus krampus-in-flight Gnarf-the-Grinch

#wireless festive minifest #hp wireless festive minifest #masterlist #fest masterlist #wireless 2020 #hd wireless #hd wireless 2020

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eirenare · 5 years ago

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Okay, so since it seems I can’t get out of my head all of these “Empress Rey & knight/emperor Ben” AUs, I’m just gonna go ahead and share some ideas:

SCENARIO A, aka “Empress Rey & knight/emperor Ben take over Palpatine’s army for their own”. They defeat Palpatine together, Ben doesn’t die in Exegol, and Rey decides to flip the bird to the old raisin: with Ben’s help they claim the throne, pick up what remains of the Sith fleet and use it to help the Resistance by forcing what remains of the First Order to surrender or be defeated in battle (cue here insurrections from inside of the First Order too)

SCENARIO B, aka “SCENARIO A but Rey became all of the Jedi AND all of the Sith, things go to hell, and there’s WBW traveling to fix things”. With time, Rey’s fight with the dark side is getting harder and harder even with Ben by her side as lover and knight. Things end up bad and it throws a shattered Ben, now going by the name of “Ren”, into a journey to the past to try to change things

SCENARIO C, aka “Rey Palpatine has overthrown her grandfather, but has no desire whatsoever to rule the galaxy so she sets out to explore as many worlds as she can at her leisure... and in trying to find herself, she meets a charming, smug young smuggler and Jedi—they fall heads over heels”

SCENARIO D (I have some headcanons for this one already), aka “Rey is sent by her grandfather to negotiate their alliance with the First Order, and her and Kylo Ren’s paths cross”. With every battle that Ben and Rey fight together against the Resistance, the more they know each other and themselves, and the more they crave to just be together so they just give in and let it happen. In the process they find out what they really want in life, and it’s definitely not being puppets for their abusive mentors nor watch the other suffer the abuse

SCENARIO E, aka “Empress-to-be Rey Palpatine falls in love with Ben Solo, stops him from making a bad decision and they learn to be themselves”. Rey has grown up being prepared and trained for her role and the Sith legacy (convincing herself it’s the thing to do, in part by fear and in part because of how monstrous she sees her lineage and herself, and letting the dark side take her because it’s easier that way), but one day she starts seeing visions of this conflicted and kriffing handsome man and she falls in love with him. Rey’s annoyed to no end, and it doesn’t help that seeing his misery starts making her actually think more than she needs about her situation and basically her whole life. So when that stupid Ben Solo boy is about to make a very stupid and bad decision (running to finally join Snoke after 3 decades of suffering? Exiling himself to the loneliest existence ever? ... Something way worse from where there’s no coming back?), Rey all like “NOPE, YOU’RE COMING WITH ME, YOU’RE NOT ALONE AND YOU’RE GONNA BE MY KNIGHT AND ONE DAY PROBABLY MY CONSORT TOO BUT THAT’S FOR LATER”. Ben’s confused, a lot, and also a bit scared, but she seems genuinely worried for him so that leaves him more puzzled than anything—and besides, there’s that weird sensation when they’re around each other that mystifies him. Cue here awkward situations, Dyad bond shenanigans, and actually learning to be human beings past their legacies before they decide enough is enough and kick Palpatine and his Sith cult to oblivion

#Reylo #My art #My writing #Reylo AU #Baby boy Ben Solo #Rey #Ben Solo #Reylo AU idea #Reylo AU ideas #Reylo headcanon #Reylo AU headcanon #Reylo headcanons #Reylo AU headcanons

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g-pctter · 4 years ago

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character biography.

CHARACTER NAME —

Ginevra “Ginny” Molly Potter (nee Weasley) — the youngest Weasley and the girl that her mother had dreamed of for so long, Ginny was named for two strong women — her grandmother Ginevra and her mother Molly. In her name, she carried a heritage of Prewett and Weasley. Making the decision to give up her maiden name (especially after she was already a successful and well-known Quidditch player) wasn’t as difficult as Ginny had always imagined it would be — Harry deserved to have someone he loved who was alive share his last name.

BLOOD STATUS —

pureblood — blood status has never been something that Ginny cared or noticed about her own life; she was proud to be considered a blood traitor. There was definitely a certain privilege that Ginny had and continues to have in her blood status that she can tend to be blind to.

BIRTHDAY —

11 august 1981 — a happy day for the Weasley family; finally a baby girl to fulfill all of her mother’s dreams of pink and frills, though it became quite clear by the time she was a toddler that Ginny was more like her brothers than the stereotypical girl Molly had dreamed of. Still, a daughter was a gift, and Molly didn’t mind that Ginny cared more for playing in the mud than playing house.

GENDER & SEXUALITY —

cis-female (she/her), pansexual — gender has never been something that Ginny really pays that much attention to. To her, it’s all about personality and heart. She falls in love with people – the fact that all of her serious relationships are with men is purely coincidental.

FORMER HOUSE —

Gryffindor — there was never another option for a Weasley, nor for one with the firecracker and stubborn personality that Ginny had. She was proud to join the rest of her siblings in Gryffindor house, and it was clear from the start that she belonged there.

INFECTION —

No, at least to start out. I’m completely open to see what develops and whether that might include Ginny becoming infected.

OCCUPATION —

During her time at Hogwarts, Ginny didn’t think very much about life after school. Sure, she had dreams and passions, but her family was pulled into a war when she was fourteen, and from then on, her main focus (outside of typical teenage woes and worries) was preparing for the fight. But when the war was over and Ginny returned to Hogwarts for her final year and wore the badge of Gryffindor Captain, she was free to dream, and all of her dreams included Quidditch. Upon leaving Hogwarts, she was recruited to the Holyhead Harpies and played for them for many years, even through her three pregnancies, eventually even making team Captain. Upon nearing her 35th birthday, a terrible injury to her rotator cuff pulled her out of the action, but her love for Quidditch was too strong for her to walk away from the sport, so she took on a position as coach, which she still holds to this day.

MARITAL STATUS/SHIPS —

Married to Harry James Potter. I definitely super ship hinny. I think they’re perfect for each other — Ginny is warmth and love that Harry grew up longing for; Harry is steady and rational where Ginny is fiery and headstrong; Ginny is laughter and light where Harry has known so much darkness and terror. Harry is home for Ginny who has always known what home felt like and Ginny is home for Harry in a way he’s never experienced. In all, Ginny is made of the sort of strong stuff you need to be married to the Chosen One.

FAMILY —

Ginny was born the youngest of the Weasley family, and the only girl. As much as her parents delighted in her birth and her family was tight-knit and warm, Ginny’s childhood wasn’t perfect. Their poverty made all of their children uncomfortably aware of a kind of stress that those with wealth never encounter, and it manifested in each of them in different ways. Ginny wasn’t ashamed of her second-hand possessions, and she never went hungry, but she knew what it was like to hide her desire for something because she didn’t want to upset her parents who could never afford it. A watchful child, Ginny saw early on what this poverty did to her brothers – Charlie and Bill were always so much older and already off at Hogwarts that it didn’t seem to affect them that much, but Ginny saw the greed and shame in Percy, Fred, George, and Ron’s eyes, a fact that only grew as time went on.

It was also hard to be the only girl and the youngest child – Ginny sometimes felt that she was always running behind her brothers, unable to keep up with their antics, unable to convince them to slow down so that she could be a part of the fun too. They saw her as the pesky, annoying sister, which meant that a good portion of her childhood was spent alone. But instead of making Ginny into a shy soul, these periods of isolation made her strong. She had a thirst to prove herself and a nerve that meant she always succeeded, whether it was climbing to the highest part of the tree to beat Ron or breaking into the broom shed to steal Fred’s broom when he wasn’t looking. She devoured books and longed for adventure, and got herself into many scrapes with her parents with her tendency to wander off and explore the world of Ottery St. Catchpole outside of the Burrow.

Charlie and Bill were the brothers she looked up to the most, Fred and George were her favorites, and Percy had a way of tenderness about him that was reserved just for her, but Ron was her closest companion. They bickered and fought, played pranks on one another and got into trouble when they took turns tattling to their parents, but Ron was always there, and close enough in age that he couldn’t force her away from his plans like the rest of them did. Ginny knew his heart better than anyone, saw his desire to be different, unique, special, and tried to prove to him that he was enough for her. Her parents were happily married and in love with each other and each of their children, and though Molly had a fiery temper (that Ginny inherited) and Aruthur a few odd quirks, Ginny couldn’t have wished for better parents. Though they were poor in resources, they were rich in love, and Ginny learned the lessons that her brothers failed to see — money doesn’t bring happiness, people do.

HOGWARTS & CHILDHOOD —

Going off to Hogwarts was a dream come true for Ginny. Every couple of years, she saw another brother (or two) sent off to Hogwarts without her, until finally it was just her alone at home. She loved her parents, but the Burrow was always eerily quiet without her brothers stomping down the stairs or bickering with one another. The year between when Ron left and it was Ginny’s turn was the loneliest year of her life, and she reread all of her brothers’ letters home until the pages were soft and worn, longing for the day when it would be her turn.

When it finally was Ginny’s turn to go to Hogwarts, she was ecstatic. Proud in a different way than her brothers, Ginny didn’t care that her belongings were all second-hand, and the way she carried herself dared anyone to mock her for her family’s poverty. Ginny had such a vivacious and open personality that it should have been the best year of her life, but a last minute switch on the part of Lucius Malfoy turned Ginny’s dream into a nightmare. The year passed faster than any other ever had, with large chunks of it missing, and Ginny turned in on herself, becoming pale and quiet. Her brothers should have noticed that more was going on, but they were all too wrapped up in their own pursuits to see that their sister had disappeared, to be replaced with someone who was meek and fearful. Instead of making a close group of friends around her, Ginny isolated more and more, until that fateful night when Tom Riddle made her lock herself in the Chamber of Secrets.

When Harry destroyed the diary, Ginny was free, and that summer, she began to regain more and more of her typical personality (though for a couple more years, she reverted back to shy and quaking in the presence of Harry). The next few years were the dream that Ginny had always imagined Hogwarts to be — she excelled in her classes, made an excellent group of friends, found that she was quite popular with the boys, and even made the Quidditch squad, proving to all of her brothers that she was made of more mettle than they gave her credit for. She took the brewing war and darkness seriously, but it didn’t make her turn overly serious, and she faced the future with a grim knowledge that she would fight until they won or she died. Once she had that knowledge, she didn’t obsess over it, accepting it with her matter-of-fact personality.

What Ginny didn’t plan on was falling in love with Harry, this time for real. The few weeks that they spent together were the happiest of her life — it finally felt that someone knew all of her and understood her in a way that went deeper than anything verbal. When he broke things off with her after Dumbledore’s death, she faced it with the same determination she faced everything else in life — she would always love Harry, but they each had their role to play in the war, and some things were just bigger than love.

Ginny fought every way she could in the year that followed — joining Neville and Luna in sowing dissension to Snape and the Carrows’ reign, protecting more vulnerable students when she could, rebelling against the darkness other classmates seemed to thrive in. When the battle was finally upon them, Ginny followed the rest of her family to Hogwarts, unable to stay behind and wait while they all flung themselves into danger. Ginny’s quick thinking and bold fearlessness kept her safe throughout the battle, but the horrors she saw that night changed her for good. After losing Fred, there was a seriousness about Ginny that she had lacked before, one that only comes from knowing deep sorrow. In the months that followed, Ginny did everything she could to hold her family together in the midst of their grief. She returned to Hogwarts because she knew she owed it to her parents to finish her education, and she enjoyed her last year of school, but not with the same carelessness that she had once known.

POST HOGWARTS —

DISCLAIMER — I’m keeping some things a little vague because I don’t know where the harry player stands; I’ll definitely flush it more out later at least for myself

It was a relief for Ginny to leave Hogwarts, to be able to be with her family again and learn what it meant to live in a world with no Dark Lord. Light entered back into her world, but it wasn’t the same untainted light that she had once known, and Ginny knew that she would always carry with her the horrors of that battle. Even if she could choose to wipe them from her memory, she wouldn’t — it would be a dishonor to Fred’s memory.

Still, Ginny experienced much light and joy in these next years of her life. She was recruited to play for her favorite team, she grew ever closer to her family, her world began to fill with nieces and nephews, and she fell back in love (as if she had ever fallen out of it) with the man she wanted to walk beside forever. Eventually, she and Harry were married and started a family of their own. While Ginny kept doing the job that she loved, she found a part of herself that she didn’t know existed in becoming a mother. Her fiery temper and reckless streak didn’t disappear, but were partnered with a tenderness and sense of fear that became constant companions. She discovered that dueling Bellatrix Lestrange wasn’t half so frightening as having your heart walk outside of your body, which was what motherhood felt like for her.

The Potter family settled into a happy little life, finally free from darkness and fear, full of light and life and love. Little did they know what was coming to threaten all of that.

Current:

Ginny was like any child raised in the wizarding world — excitedly fascinated with the idea of vampires, but not really that fearful. They were so rare that they were almost like a fairytale. She never imagined that they would be something that would haunt her adult life, or that her idyllic life would once again be disrupted by darkness, this time a much more unknown and therefore terrifying one.

Ginny is fiercely protective of those she loves and desperate to keep darkness from spreading back into their world — she still feels so keenly what darkness cost her family once before, and she’s determined that there will be no more casualties or suffering among the Potter/Weasley clan. She knows and understands very little about the pandemic that is striking her world, but she desperate to keep it from spilling over, and ready to fight if that’s what it takes to protect the ones who are dear to her.

Plots

— MORE THAN JUST A SCARY STORY — It’s really exciting to explore what Ginny’s feelings are on vampires. There’s so little that’s known or understood about them and I can tell that the plot is very mysterious on purpose, and I’m just really PUMPED to see how Ginny reacts to the darkness converging on the world once more. Obviously she’s going to go into mama bear mode and want to do everything she can to eradicate the darkness, but what does it look like to go up against a threat you don’t understand? This kind of conflict makes blood purity look completely black and white, and how will Ginny fare in a darkness that’s more shades of grey?

— CASUALTIES OF WAR — I would LOVE to explore what would happen in Ginny’s heart and world if one of her family members was infected (which, considering how many of them there are, seems likely). Ginny long ago took it upon herself to be the glue that held her family together, especially after Fred’s death, and she loves her family with a fierce determination not to lose anyone else. What will happen when another Weasley/Potter family member becomes a casualty of a darkness that is somehow more terrifying than the one Ginny has known before?

— SOFTENING THE HEART — I’d also love to see how Ginny’s view on the threat of vampires would change if she came to know one who was good. This is not the same as Death Eaters vs Order members, and not everyone who’s infected has a choice in the matter. Are vampires really that much of a threat, or is the world just afraid of that which it doesn’t understand? What might change in Ginny’s heart with a little understanding?

— THE INFECTION SPREADS — OMG not entirely sure whether this is a set plot I want someday, but what would happen if Ginny is infected in some way? Ginny has definitely got some serious issues when it comes to control — she’s the one who wants to be in control of her life and she thrives in that ability; what angst would it be for her to lose some of that control from an infection she didn’t ask for? Or what if something changes Ginny’s mind and she does seek it out? What would have to happen for that to be the case?

— THE SAME SIDE — I’d love to explore what it might look like if fighting against this darkness puts Ginny on the same side as someone she used to consider an enemy. Will she join Draco in becoming a vampire hunter in an attempt to protect the people she loves? What would it look like for her to put old grudges aside and learn to forgive for the sake of fighting against the darkness? Ginny has some real self-righteousness when it comes to those who fought on the side of the dark — what will her response be to them fighting for the “light”?

— FAMILY DYNAMICS — this is a more lighthearted one, but I’m excited to explore the weasley/potter dynamics at this point in these characters’ lives. Certainly the last 20+ years haven’t been all sunshine and daisies, there had to be a fair bit of suffering and conflict because that’s life, especially in a big family. Which relationships have healed over and which are threatening to break apart? What does Ginny’s marriage with Harry look like, especially now that darkness is threatening their world once more?

OTHER

✨Ginny has a notorious sweet tooth; she needs to eat something sweet at least once a day ✨ Harry does most of the cooking, but Ginny has mastered the art of baking bread, and the smell lingers around their house because of how often she has to stick a new loaf in the oven after her family devours the latest one ✨ If Ginny had her way, she would go barefoot all the time, but since she can’t, she wears sandals whenever she gets the chance ✨ Ginny prefers muggle jeans to wizarding robes, and now that she doesn’t have to basically live in her quidditch robes, she’s most often found in jeans, a sweater, and her birkenstocks – with or without socks (she’s very hip in muggle fashion) ✨ Ginny is not a morning person. Harry has to lure her out of bed with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. When she has to be out of the house really early for morning practices, Harry wakes up to brew her coffee and then goes back to bed once she’s up ✨ Ginny doesn’t really drink. When she was pregnant with Albus, she realized that she actually preferred butterbeer anyway, so she sticks to that. ✨ Ginny has one on one tea with her mum every week, and always stops by her father’s work shed on the way out to see his latest project. ✨ Ginny convinced Harry to let them get a cat, and she promptly named it Minnie (after Minerva McGonagall, of course. Minnie’s become another member of the family. ✨ Ginny loves the ocean, and spent as much time as she could at shell cottage when the kids were all young. Now she makes the family go on vacation to the coast every summer. ✨ Ginny found that after Albus was born, she wanted a daughter just as much as her own mother had wanted her. When Lily was young, Ginny would dress them up in matching outfits and stick her tongue out at Harry whenever he made fun of her for it.

here’s a pinterest board here’s a mock blog here’s her mtbi type here’s her enneagram

#{ about ginny }

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jarryprompts · 6 years ago

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Filled Jarry Prompt :)

Prompt: “Harry waiting for James under the Christmas tree wearing nothing but a big red bow please…!” Author’s note: I wasn’t sure whether or not Nonny intended their prompt as a reunion fic so I kind of put my own spin on things. I hope that’s okay :)… This was also only supposed to be a 1000 word (or below) oneshot but I kind of got carried away… oops. This fic features a fair amount of Romeo and seeing as I started writing this before the most recent episodes exploring his and James’s relationship aired, certain details may not be perfectly in line with particular events on the show (although I did attempt to tweak most of them to the best of my ability).

Words: 10k

Rated: M

Trigger warnings: Nothing overly graphic but a few references to James’s past regarding Mac’s abuse and Donna-Marie.

Mod’s notes: massive thanks to @jarryxox for submitting!!

xxx

Feeling overwhelmed by the surrounding sea of emptiness that marked the approaching night, James stumbled his way desolately through the ill-lighted village with only the distant flickering of Christmas lights to accompany him on his path back home. He wasn’t sure whether it was to do with the day’s overhanging sense of unity and spirit and the way in which this conflicted with his own foul mood but today, walking alone with the image of his father sat across the table from his son at Christmas dinner etched mockingly in the back of his mind, well he felt especially defeated. It seemed that both the misery and alcohol had done a good job of numbing his senses. It’s not that James couldn’t smell the trimmings and potatoes laced in goose fat or hear the distant muffled blare of Christmas music, he just wasn’t fully aware of it. Pulling the freshly-purchased bottle of red wine that he’d been cradling protectively underneath his jacket in further, he noted shamefully how on days such as these, when there was little else to preoccupy his mind, the day would always end for him in exactly the same way in which it had started. How in both the early hours of the morning and the late hours of the night, he’d make a brief trip to Price Slice to purchase another bottle of wine, face always burrowed deeply into his scarf in an attempt to cloak his misery from the many prying faces that often pervaded the streets of Chester. He wasn’t quite sure at which point in his life he’d came to care so much about what the local ex-druggy, Ken Doll or a McQueen thought about him but shielding his face in his scarf’s soft blanket of warmth and security had become common practice for him in recent weeks.

And it always had to be the same scarf too. He convinced himself that the simple reasoning behind this was because it was the warmest, most expensive scarf that he owned but of course this was not the entire truth. This particular scarf was very special to him for two good additional reasons. Not only had it been personally picked out for him by his beloved grandmother Tabby, but he’d lent this particular scarf to Harry on more than one occasion. Often they’d even found themselves having playful disputes regarding the true identity of its colour. “It’s white.” “It’s grey. “I can assure you, as both its purchaser and proud flaunter for ten or so plus years, the scarf is white.” “You must have just gotten it grubby then.”

Sometimes on his loneliest days, he’d pull the scarf in tighter, close his eyes and allow himself to picture himself enveloped in Harry’s embrace. Of course cashmere could never quite replace the tenderness and delicacy of a human touch and Harry’s was more than just any touch. It was soft, deft, solacing, friendly, understanding, warm… but two glasses in and it was almost easy to pretend; almost. James often tried fooling himself that it was never really about the alcohol, never because he really wanted nor needed it. That it was merely an excuse for him to leave his flat on unbearable days such as today, a brief pause in the routine of solitary and sadness that he had allowed himself to slip into. If nothing else, it offered him the opportunity for a chance encounter with Romeo or his mother (even though admittedly they hadn’t exactly been on the best of speaking terms as of late), without having to go to the grand gesture of knocking on doors. But it wasn’t just that. Besides work and his slowly but surely blossoming relationship with his son, his customary rounds to the local mini-market followed by a thorough search down every turning and alley for a particular face, Harry’s face, felt like his only current motivation in life. Sometimes, in his dreams he’d find Harry dozing away in the folly, his face its same perfect, gentle sculpture, sleepy and content, oblivious to the anxiety and disturbance that he’d caused to James and his life. On other nights he’d have a slight variation of this very same dream and find Harry waiting for him outside his flat still dressed in his same sodden wedding clothes, face and body laced with bruises but somehow still smiling that same sprightly, infectious smile. Unfortunately however, when it came to real life, he never once did strike lucky. Some days he hated Harry for doing this to him. Others he simply hated himself for being so grossly lovesick and allowing himself to be demeaned in such a way. His surroundings being so dark and him being so intoxicated, James took extra care to make sure to keep a sharp eye out for any potential obstructions littering his path (which turned out to be everything in his drunken state; even his own feet). Ten steps in however and this particular train of thought was forgotten, abandoned by the realisation that he’d if not both rather unconsciously and selfishly taken the short route back home rather than his usual thorough loop around the village in search for Harry. Turning back and making his way over towards the folly, he could hear the distant rowdiness of a pair of mutual drunks, singing their own special rendition of Jingle Bells. Nice to hear something human, James thought, although the comforting sensation of Harry’s light breathing against his chest was the only sound that truly mattered to him right now. Finding nothing but a discarded newspaper on one of the benches although reassured nonetheless to find no latest headline of “young rent boy found dead in a ditch”, James was left disheartened to find that his unsteady slog towards the folly had been in vain. The passing image of Harry lying somewhere dead, of the lifelessness in his blue eyes caused a figmental headache to develop in the side of his head, so he allowed himself a moment to try and encourage the image away with a massaging hand. Once again however, his efforts proved futile. Willing to adopt any passing thought in order to drive away the dreadful images playing repeatedly in his mind’s eye, James tried inviting a different stream of inessential thought but his efforts somehow always ended up leading him straight back to Harry. Scratching frustratedly at his beard with his free hand, he tried a different approach of focusing his attention on a different kind of pain, leaving him to consider which one hurt him more: his moments spent wandering drunkenly alone in an empty street or drinking alone in an empty flat. At least, he told himself, when things still moved outside life went on. At least that way when he lay passed out on the sofa by half-eight every evening after his third or so bottle, he could trick his brain into believing that, even if only by the off chance, one of the many set of footsteps that he heard trudging by his flat at night belonged to Harry. He tried playing a similar enough game now, straining his ears that had been furiously tinged red by the cold as they scanned briefly towards the direction of each surrounding household. Each one of them an invisible speck in the universe. The Lomax’s. The McQueen’s. The Hutchinson’s. The Hutchinsons. He was sure that if he dared to listen closely enough, he would hear them now, all so harmoniously ignorant, continuing on with their lives without Harry with such careless ease. He tried distinguishing between each voice, tried pairing each one with a face but it was never the face he wanted to see; never Harry’s. In fact, it didn’t take much to make him think of Harry. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling but it was like the constant dull panging of a toothache. If only, James thought, sleep could alleviate this particular kind of pain. He needed a distraction from it. He did consider, perhaps for the fraction of a millisecond the possibility of paying a quick visit to his son over at 4 Oakdale Drive, his father’s current place of residence. That would certainly help to divert his thoughts away from Harry. His father had after all made it his life’s work to make every waking moment of James’s life a misery ever since the moment he’d been born. It would be difficult for him having to face them all at once: Mac, his mother, Alfie, Donne-Marie… but he knew that it would mean a lot to Romeo and at least that way he could show him that he was trying, really was trying… Deep down however, a part of him knew that this was a terrible idea and he wasn’t entirely confident that in his current drunken state he could resist the urge to turf his father’s smug, complacent ass straight out of his chair. Certainly not upon witnessing him attempting to poison his son against him whilst all the while, everyone else around him remained fooled by his newly reformed, frail old man act. Nor did he wish to contribute towards any kind of happy family pretence that they might have had going. Besides… he didn’t wish to give the wrong impression that he had only dared to show his face there for the company. It wasn’t exactly a particular desire of his to look that overtly desperate in front of an audience…

So instead, James resorted to doing what he had always done on his darkest days in youth, scanning over and counting the cracks in the pavement, tiptoeing between them as if they were snare traps as he made his way back home from school as a frightened, bitter teenage boy. He realised how stupid this might have sounded to any outside party but it gave him a distraction from the truth. Took his mind away from counting down the steps until he made it back home to that monster; to his father and whatever beating he might have had planned out next for him. But at least this way, as he invested himself in scrutinizing the concrete for any of its flaws, he could fool himself into believing that it wasn’t really his life, that it was the path to somebody else’s home. Mimicking those same youthful steps now, tracing the ground with those same vulnerable eyes, he even allowed himself to echo one same juvenile thought. It was a silent plea mostly, that if he had to have this life, if Mac had to be his father, if he couldn’t have Harry then he prayed that the sound of his footsteps mattered to at least one person. In the distance there was this disruptive clompling sound as a figure started to approach about to cross paths with him. So heavily absorbed however, in dodging cracks and the sound of his own drunken steps, James barely noticed it. It was only the blunt impact of human flesh, multiple shopping bags and the consequent driving of the sheltering wine bottle into his ribs that tore him away from his current trance and James’s head was left feeling all the more woozy from the sudden startlement.

“Harr-” “Oi! Watch where you’re going!” chided a scornful voice. Still caught off guard from the collision and needing a moment for his eyes to readjust, James opted not to rise to this particular scolding, instead continuing to hold his gaze towards the floor whilst he worked on recovering both his breath and balance. Then, shaking his head in a further attempt to will the fuzziness away, he tried to make out the sight of the figure stood before him. Heels, he could see a pair of heels. Hideous ones at that if you asked him. And a rather odd choice of shoes for this kind of weather, he added disapprovingly as an internal afterthought.

Once he felt fully braced enough to come face to face with the irked figure that remained towering over him, James allowed his eyes to disengage from the inadequately clothed feet and sweep upwards to find a much less than amused McQueen scowling fiercely back at him. “Ughh, Nightingale! Trust it to be you!” The figure fired a disapproving glance at James before thrusting her arms forward in as best an attempt as she could manage at shoving him, despite the number of bags and gifts she was carrying, causing him to re-lose hold of his footing.

Unprepared for this second blow to the ribs, James grabbed instinctively onto his assailant’s sleeve in an attempt to steady himself. “Ahh, Mercedes,” James unthreatened, began smugly. “So there is life on Mars after all. Glad to see we’re not all that far drunk on eggnog, false jollity and uncharacteristical kindness to the extent of being delusional.” “And there were me thinking that people of your kind spent the day with their faces buried up to their neck in paperwork rather than Christmas dinner.” "Actually,” James said, adopting an informative tone “that’s precisely what I’m doing.” “Oh, so who’s that for then?” Mercedes enquired nosily, eyeballing the bottle of wine that was now swaying loosely from James’s grasp. “That really is none of your business,” James responded bluntly, attempting to brush his way past her. “Go on!” Mercedes encouraged, further blocking James’s exit. “I won’t tell anyone. Who’s the lucky fella?” James stood staring menacingly at her for a while before relenting when it soon became clear that she had no intention of moving. “Okay, fine. It’s for me, if you must know. Do you know, it’s not until you walk the vacant streets of Chester alone on a dark December night that you realise how insignificant you really are in the grand scheme of things.“

“Bit of a morbid take on life that, don’t you think love?” “Maybe,” James replied unleashing a sad, ironic smile.“Only slightly.“ “Well if that’s what a mountain of paperwork does to your head, I sure am glad I didn’t choose to become a lawyer.” "Dad! There you are!” a voice intruded in an overly spirited tone. “And suddenly they all come at once,” James observed, hoping that the enthusiasm carried in his voice would help to conceal the uneasiness he felt at his son’s sudden appearance. In fact, rather ashamedly in that moment, he tried to picture Harry. Just the thought of Harry helped to calm his nerves. Not that he blamed Romeo for any of it but he longed for a day where he could look at his son without seeing her; Donna-Marie and that dreadful night. “Dad?!“ Mercedes was scanning Romeo’s face intently with an amused sparkle in her eyes before allowing her glance to slide back to James as if assessing both of their faces for any kind of resemblance. “You kept that one quiet. Full of surprises you are!” She exclaimed now satisfied, hitting James playfully several times on the upper arm.“Anyway, I’ll leave you boys to it. Besides, I’d best be getting off anyway. Mum’s just about to dish up the turkey kebabs!” James simply nodded in acknowledgement at her goodbye, before drifting his foggy gaze back to Romeo. “Romeo… Look, I know what I said about the possibility of the two of us getting to spend some more time together but now really isn’t a good time.” “And I suppose that’s your third bottle so far today is it?” he replied critically, noticing James’s unsteady stance and gesturing towards the wine bottle. “Well don’t look so judgemental. It’s to accompany me and my ever-growing bundle of paperwork if you must know. You know, James Nightingale, hot shot lawyer. It’s kind of part of the job I’m afraid.“ “Paperwork? But it’s Christmas…” “Please, don’t remind me. And tell me, what exactly am I supposed to be doing anyway? Sing carols? Gorge myself on overcooked turkey? Sit around playing Pie Face with my homophobic dad and my treachorous excuse of a mother? That’s the kind of thing normal people do at this time of year isn’t it?” James was playfully spacing his words as if to add impact to his careless derision. Romeo sensing that his father’s confidence was somewhat forced, allowed his voice to soften. “Well, surely that’s got to be better than—“ James cut him off abruptly. “Please, spare me th—“ “And I thought Christmas day without a father was bad enough growing up.”

“Oh come on, what exactly is that supposed to mean?!” “You really can’t see it can you? All of this, you’re just punishing yourself. You’ve got months of pent up hatred and anger kindling inside of you. You sit around alone in your flat, drowning yourself in drink, putting on a brave face, pretending that you don’t care and then there’s Harry.” “Do not mention his name!” James snapped, defensively taking a step back from Romeo and crossing his arms protectively across his chest. Romeo far from discouraged by this took another step forward back towards his father, securing a hand around one of his noticeably trembling wrists as a gesture of comfort before continuing on "You sit there telling yourself that you’re over him, yet you’re still blaming yourself. And the only person that’s suffering for it is you.” “That’s it, end of conversation!” Face both reddened from the cold and flushed from the outburst, James snatched his arm coldly away from Romeo’s grasp before turning to walk away. “That’s it walk away from me. I’m not the one that’s alone on Christmas day!” “I can’t believe I’m hearing this…” James began incredulously, before turning back to face Romeo. “Who would ever have thought that a woman with standards as low as…” he paused for a moment considering what would be a fitting enough jibe “Ste Hay’s IQ could raise a child to become such a critic!” “Hey, look back off! I’m just trying to help! I know you’ve both got your differences but I’d appreciate you not talking about my mum like that. I didn’t have to come here you know.“ “And why did you come here exactly?” James demanded, inching forward slightly. “Because if it’s presents you’re after, I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed. Besides what is it that kids your age are even into these days anyway apart from shoes and cheap-smelling aftershave? Love Island? Those ughhh… those spinny things.” “What, fidget spinners? No, they went out of trend ages ago.“ “Ahhh… the ever-changing, vacillating nature of the youth. Anyway, I’ve got to sort out my taxes and you’ve got a family to get back to. Say hi, to Juliet for me.” “Da- James wait!.” Romeo called out desperately after him as James made to turn away. “Surely you could make an exception.” James stopped in his tracks, scoffing briefly before turning back to face Romeo. “What is it with kids these days and never quite being able to get the point?” Romeo watched uneasily as James began fiddling with the contents of his right coat pocket. Then, pulling out a series of fifty pound notes and attempting to force a handful into Romeo’s clenched grasp he added “Look, take this and I will make it up to you at a later stage, okay? “What, no! You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want your money! I heard from Gran how you turned down her offer to come and join us all for lunch today.” "Oh that,” began James, pausing to give a harsh, derisive laugh. “How was it anyway, your nice little family get together? Cosy and snug, was it?” “Yeah, it was nice. Look, I didn’t realise things were really that bad between you two; between you and granddad.” Unable to bring himself to face Romeo whilst discussing Mac, James refocused his attention back to the floor, carelessly unsettling the frost that had began bonding itself to the pavement. “Yes, well… that is a conversation for another day.“ “You know the day’s not quite over yet. You could still come over. Play some games with us.” “I’m already playing a game my dear boy. It’s called harbouring a broken heart and trying to function on less than three hours of sleep. Besides I’d rather die—” “Look, would you please just stop with the sarcastic remarks. Gran said that you were likely going to end up spending the day alone and I don’t know… I thought that maybe you could do with some company but if you’d rather live up to the whole lonely, empty future prophecy that you appear to have claimed for yourself then be my guest!” “Romeo, wait!” James called after him, gesturing towards the direction of his flat. “I’d like that. Some company I mean.” Romeo simply nodded and smiled as James detected a suspicious, furtive look in his eyes before turning back as if to walk in the opposite direction to the one that James had pointed out. “Wait, where are you going? The flat’s this way.” “Price Slice to get some beer.” “Uhh, I think champagne should suffice nicely enough for you young man,” James said, leading Romeo away by the sleeve. xxx

Romeo flinched as James slammed his fist weakly into his front door, eyes narrowed in frustration at his continued futile attempts to cram a little silver key into the lock. “For crying out loud!” James groused before clumsily dropping the metallic cluster into a teeny arch shaped crevice on the cracked floor. “It’s okay”, Romeo said calmly, ducking gallantly to the ground to retrieve the fallen bunch of keys. “I’ve got it.” Flushed with frustration, James began removing his scarf. The cool air nipped at his previously sheltered skin and he shivered slightly. The thought that the cooling touch of night mist brushing against his cheek and now fully exposed neck would likely be as close to any form of physical contact (at least of the human, intimate kind) he would feel tonight made his stomach lurch with longing. Meanwhile, Romeo undoubtedly sober had succeeded in smoothly working the key into the lock on his first attempt and now stood smugly staring at James. This moment of triumph he felt however, was only a temporary pride as he soon found himself left with his own inanimate rival to contend with when the door refused to budge. James watched in unconcerned amusement as Romeo remained there fighting against it for a moment before opting to kindly put the boy out of his misery. “Home dripping with money,“ he began, emitting the sweet jangling sound of metal as he extracted the keys from Romeo grasp. "Victim to multiple break-ins. Streets bestrewn with innumerable criminals and thugs. Do you really think I’d risk leaving my home unattended to without double locking it first?” Romeo blushed as James fiddled around with various sets of keys before holding an individual key up towards the unlit sky, scrutinising it closely with heavy eyes. Satisfied he presented it to Romeo. The door opened offering a welcoming creak. Once both men had crossed the threshold, Romeo made sure to swiftly force it shut in a bid to keep out the uninvited cold. Moments afterwards Romeo turned to find James stood stock-still a few metres away from him. “What is it?” There was a solicitous tone to the boy’s voice. “I didn’t leave the lights on. Somebody’s been here…” “Are you sure? I mean the TV’s still on. Maybe you just forgot.” Leaving the TV switched on whilst the flat remained unaccompanied had only been a recent habit of James’s. Television could never be a true replacement for conversation but it meant not having to go back to a silent flat without Harry there to drain his hot water and leave biscuit crumbs all over his couch. He tried listening now, drowning out the unrelenting pounding in his ears with the familiar senseless sound of a festive family movie playing in the background. Background noise was after all the best company when there was nobody else. He knew that all too well from his solitary days and nights spent inside prison. James laughed bitterly at the thought that his earlier casual mention of intruders had indeed summoned one. “Yes, I’m sure! I’m just the fraction of the slightest bit tipsy, not senile.” He was positioning his fingers in front of him as if pinching the air in order to illustrate the accurate extent of his drunkenness.“I mean, seriously? What is it with people and breaking into my flat?! In fact, who even needs keys when you can just break into your own home? Everybody else seems to have no problem letting themselves in…” Romeo solely shrugged in response, reflecting with regret his own recent commission of this exact crime.

James relieved himself of his jacket, sauntering briefly over towards the kitchen area in order to reunite himself with his deserted, quarter-full wine glass before stroking the side of his nose as if considering something.

Romeo watched uneasily as James reached clumsily over the sink in search of some form of protection before settling his grasp contentedly on the handle of a well-sharpened kitchen knife with a twinkling blade.

“Wow, okay I don’t think that’s entirely necessary,” Romeo discouraged, teasing the knife from James’s loosened grip. “I mean does it appear as if anything has been taken? Seems like a bit of an odd time and place for someone to opt to choreograph a break-in after all.”

“No but that’s not the point,” James said alleviating the wine bottle of its seal before relenting “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe I did leave them on and I’m just being paranoid.”

Emotionally drained, James allowed himself to collapse into the firm, plush security of his sofa, gesturing for Romeo to do the same. Now would be a good time for him to offer Romeo the opportunity to spill any details he thought worthy enough of mentioning about his day, which James would acknowledge with dishonest interest with a few stray nods and insincere smiles here and there. Silence on his part would, after all, offer him the chance to recuperate and regain internal strength after another emotionally demanding day; that and another few glasses of wine.

Romeo complied, noting with amusement his father’s apparent abhorrent lack of hosting skills in forgetting to offer him a drink despite pouring out himself one. He was in the middle of describing Marnie’s idea of a fitting Christmas gift for a long-lost grandson when they heard the interrupting muffled thud of a tumbling object. Despite the effect of James’s carpeted bedroom floor swallowing the thump in a swift and soundless brutality, the noise somehow still sounded maiming to James’s own ears.

Two sets of ears pricking up in alarm and both heads turning towards the sound in a brusque manner, James got up with caution, firing Romeo a brief scolding glare of trepidation.“I told you somebody was here!” Romeo simply offered him an apologetic glance in return.

“Stay here!“ James ordered, handing Romeo his glass and removing his shoes before skulking his way over towards the bedroom.

Romeo obeyed readily, unsure about how this next part was going to play out.

As one of his hands latched shakily onto the bedroom door handle, James allowed himself a moment to inspect the scarce, suspicious glow falling in below the door. Then, watchfully turning the handle, he steeled himself to meet his latest in a stream of intruders.

A millisecond’s death glance at his trespasser and James felt as if all breathing had ceased. It was as if he had taken a bullet straight to the heart. His body remained taut in the doorway, face as white as bones in the snow regarding the intruder intently whilst fighting desperately to avoid his pleading gaze. He was standing right in front of the Christmas tree that Romeo (at the boy’s own insistence) had assisted him in putting up just two weeks earlier. Scanning straight past the near concealed hunger in the indescribably captivating blueness of his eyes, James allowed his gaze to fixate briefly on the hideous sight of a perfectly positioned, giant red bow tied a little bit too immaculately around the lad’s neck. Shamefully saddened to find that the bow’s perfectly-even trimmed ends were concealing a fair section of his naked chest, the images of them in bed together soon surfaced in James’s mind. Harry quietly observed as James’s eyes covered the entire length of his unclothed body, furtively withholding the urge to gather James in his arms as James remained unnervingly impassive. His jaw, a perfectly sketched outline, left unshaven. No bruises like he had dreamt. Abs still as perfectly formed and unyielding as the last time he’d traced them with delicate fingertips. Down further still, no further trace of clothing right down to his feet.

Harry feeling increasingly exposed at James’s hardening gaze and its accompanying silence desperately willed for the moment to pass. Soon enough, as if satisfied, James allowed his eyes to fall briskly towards the floor.

"James?” Harry took several tentative steps forward towards James. An extensive involuntary smile tugged at Harry’s lips. For a blissful moment, Harry allowed himself to replay his desired imagining of their reunion, of James falling bonelessly into his arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck in order to re-familiarise himself with the consoling cloud of Harry’s boyish scent. But James could barely bring himself to look at him. This was not how it was supposed to go. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction he’d been expecting exactly. Not that he could exactly blame James for opting to mask the conflicting emotion of pain and yearning with a hard-hearted silence but his rather dispassionate response stung Harry in a way that he couldn’t quite grasp; at least rage would have been something.

For the first time in months, James allowed himself to lock eyes with Harry to which Harry’s own automatically began to sparkle. James’s face was set hard like concrete, with not a single twitch of resentment or longing to betray him.

“Harry? Wha—”

“Dad, is everything okay?” Romeo froze in wordless terror. The boy was left in an apparent paralysed state of perturbation, all apart from his eyes which had darted with overstated eagerness away from Harry and now remained plastered on the ceiling.

Feeling thoroughly humiliated at Romeo’s unexpected arrival, Harry was certain that he’d never blushed this immensely in his entire life. Hands instinctively slipping in a downwards direction to cover himself, Harry repressed the urge to dive straight out of the window and leap onto the next departing plane to Australia, first forsaking his pride before abandoning his disaster of a life and its many chapters to the mercy of the many intrusive villagers (or cockroaches as James would say) that resided in the streets of Chester.

“I thought I told you to stay put,” James reproached trying his best to sound nonchalant, which was rather a struggle given the circumstances.

Numbly his feet carried him towards a small heap of discarded clothes forming a sodden mound carelessly by the foot of the bed closest to James’s side of the room. A jumper, a vest, a pair of jeans, socks, all dripping wet; odd seeing as it wasn’t raining outside. James released a weary sigh, infinitely grateful to find that Harry’s boxers were not in the same saturated condition as its sopping counterparts. He took a moment to quell the lurching pulse he felt at the base of his throat before turning back to readdress Harry, tossing the only slightly dampened pair of boxers aimfully in his direction. Harry smiled ruefully both in acknowledgement and shame.

Out of respect to Harry, James ensured to turn away whilst Harry made to dress himself. When James finally dared to speak again his voice was very low but still full of indecipherable emotion. “Harry, what are you doing here?” he directed to the floor.

“I…” Harry fell silent, his lips forming a soundless shuddering plea: James, I love you. Just take me in your arms and hold me, please. He was shivering.

James could feel the muscles in his hands twitching, still trying to process the sight of his half-naked lover. Whilst his head desperately told him to flee before his guard had a chance to slip and leave his heart defenceless once more, he couldn’t deny the inner compulsion he felt to just hold him. James’s mouth twitched as if intending to say something but said nothing. Instead he began edging his way across the room but only to retrieve an inadequately-sized fleece blanket from a pile of folded linen to wrap Harry up in. A groan escaped from Harry as James secured the blanket around his pale, trembling shoulders. He was slightly thinner than James had remembered which only made the temptation to submit himself to desire and secure him into a fixed embrace all the more difficult to withstand but somehow he managed. As much as he ached from resisting, James could not quite stifle a feeble, defeated moan from escaping his own lips. Harry’s leaping heart now just a hairbreadth away from his own, he was sure he could feel it reaching for him through the cold air, beating hard against him like a little drum. He tried his best to ignore it before leading Harry unresistingly away from the cold surroundings of the bedroom to the living room.

Romeo long departed from the bedroom by this time, was sitting hunched on the edge of the sofa, apparently so far engrossed in ‘The Muppet Christmas Carol’ that it wasn’t until he heard the click and consequent loud steaming of a kettle that he realised Harry sat awkwardly beside him. The blanket enveloping Harry was large enough to just about cover his shoulders but not enough to prevent several abs from peeping through. Romeo was almost certain this had been a deliberate move on James’s part.

Retrieving the hideous, red Christmas jumper that Harry had borrowed from him the previous year (and fucked him in, although he urged this particular thought to fall from his mind), James removed the bow from Harry’s neck before assisting him in shouldering his shivering form into the scratchy, insatiable embrace of the jumper. The jumper was a baggy fit and Harry allowed his hands to disappear into the cuffs. Draping the blanket over Harry’s uncovered legs, James wandered back towards the kitchen to work on making a coffee for Harry in a bid to warm him up further as well as pouring out a glass of champagne for Romeo; as earlier promised.

The dull smack of a porcelain mug on the coffee table signalled James preparing to get down to business, derailing Harry from paranoid thoughts about the possibility of losing James for good in failure of winning around his affections.

Meanwhile, eyes focused and unmoving and ears concentrating desperately on the sounds of the television in a strenuous effort to distract himself from the tense atmosphere, Romeo also started at the sound. When he heard the sound of his own drink smack against the table, followed by the brief scratching of glass against glass as James pushed it close enough towards him for it to be within his reach, he did not waste the energy to lift his head, assuming that his father’s acquired taste in alcoholic beverages would differ vastly from his own. Freeing his hands from the jumper, Harry wrapped them securely around the steamy mug and inhaled deeply, instantly feeling more awakened from breathing in the caffeine as well as alert from the transient sighting of James’s sullen glare.

Both Harry’s modesty and warmth restored, James prepared himself mentally for the gentle method of interrogation he had lined up for Harry, not entirely certain that he wished to know the answers. Restless and unable to bring himself to sit, he began pacing listlessly around the sitting area before planting his feet behind the coffee table, obscuring Romeo’s view of the television. Wine bottle and glass back within reach, he took the opportunity to pour himself out another glass and God he was going to need it. Shuffling as far to the end of the sofa as he could without losing sight of the TV or having to crane his neck to block James out of his field of vision, Romeo remained locked in an awkward position as rigid as a statue until a twinge in his neck forced him to reposition. The sofa’s thick layer of cushions meant that he was already perched awkwardly towards its end, making his position uncomfortable enough already. This as well as knowledge about the probable confrontation that was about to come between the two stubborn lovers did nothing to ease his discomfort. Sighing and surrendering himself to the unwelcome demands of discomfort, Romeo leaned back in his seat. Looking back up at his father, he detected an indication of vexation in his eyes. Maybe the champagne was a good idea after all.

Watching James take a long sip of his drink, Romeo was encouraged to reach for his own glass. Having uttered nothing since his unexpected encounter with a stark naked Harry, the soothing, bitter trickle of bubbles down his throat made Romeo suddenly aware of its niggling dryness. Likening the taste of the champagne to bile in his mind, Romeo forced down the second gulp pulling a discreet expression of repugnance so as not to offend his father.

Meanwhile, Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from James, towering unstably above the two of them as if about to perform a one-person show. Witnessing Harry staring at him as if his eyes were the window into the soul, as if they held the answers of how exactly to earn back the heart of a resentful, emotionally stunted lawyer, James was encouraged to speak.

“What do you want Harry?”James asked firmly, setting his jaw tightly to keep from losing his composure in front of Romeo.

His tone was still surprisingly calm. Usually Harry loved that particular uncertainness about James, like how he could never quite decide whether his eyes were hazel or green but this current unruffled demeanour of his was causing him anxiety.

“What do I want?” Harry echoed softly, pushing the blanket aside before rising warily up from the sofa. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come back to you James.“ James swallowed deeply, only this time it wasn’t enough to quell his anger. “You’ve came back to me? Am I hearing this right?” James disbelieving, began shaking his head slightly as if to clear the buzzing of Harry’s words from his ears. Slowly, the rush in his ears that came with the echo of Harry’s declaration subsided. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these past few months? Anything could have happened to you! For all I knew, you could have been lying dead somewhere in a ditch!”

A shiver coursed through Harry’s spine, the jumper, blanket and hot tea combination offering only an insufficient barrier against the lancing coldness of James’s tone. Harry all but stammered in response. “I know, look I’m sorry… I should have told you where I was… I just… I needed some time alone to just get my head straight. So much had happened and… I thought…”

James lacking both the patience and will to allow Harry to break into his usual long recitation of excuses cut him short. “You thought what? What exactly did you think was going to happen Harry? You thought you’d come waltzing back into my life wearing nothing but a tacky bow and I’d just be standing here with my arms wide open like the fool I am willing to put my entire life on hold for you at the flaccid snap of your fingertips? As I said you’re a child Harry and I’m not about to let my heart be stomped on all over again by a pathetic schoolboy who can scarcely manage to decide what he wants for dinner let alone who or what he wants from life. People move on. Maybe I’ll give you a little moment to try and get your puerile head around that.” He turned as if to walk away but his feet remained planted in the same position by the coffee table.

Harry allowed his head to fall in grudging defeat.

Witnessing this, Romeo repressed the urge to remind James of the little red bow he’d added as a personal touch to the box of shoes he’d purchased for him just a month ago in a desperate bid to win him over; that and the fact that deciding what was for dinner was in no way an easy affair. Bowing his head to conceal the involuntarily curling of his mouth at the memory, he tried contemplating what would be a more delicate approach to assisting Harry in making his father see sense before settling with “Apart from you haven’t really moved on, have you?” “Oh what, so you’ve known me for five minutes and now suddenly you’re an expert on my love life and the inner workings of my mind.” James countered. “Hey! Don’t take it out on him. This is between us!” Harry interjected.

“Oh so what, you’re allies now are you? Friends? Well at least something good has come out of this rather unsolicited reunion.”

Harry felt a hand plant itself unconfidently on the side of his neck. “He doesn’t mean that,” Romeo affirmed, allowing his hand to slide down towards Harry’s shoulder before squeezing reassuringly.

“Oh, don’t I? Won you over like that did he?” James snapped his fingers. “And all it took was a flash of abs and five seconds exposure to his boyish charm.”

“Well he certainly did a better job of a first impression than you did.”Romeo retorted coldly, watching warily as James began eyeing him closely, subjecting each side of his neck and face to a scrutinizing gaze before turning to address Harry despite Romeo being the chosen victim of his incoming remark.

“Well, would you look at that? It seems as though we have a malfunctioning off-switch and just when I was starting to see the appeal. Remind me to find the receipt and ask for an earlier dribbling replacement model. Sons are no fun once they start talking back to you.” Harry lowered his eyes as James began inching in towards him, lowering his stance until his mouth was at level with Harry’s right ear. “That’s if I haven’t already succeeded in throwing you out by then,” he uttered in a low voice with the balefulness he intended.

The taunting made an angry flush rise in Romeo’s cheeks.

Harry on the other hand did not care for James’s games. He was too far engrossed in thoughts of a future where nights with James were no longer something to be craved for, where they no longer had to act on spontaneity, that and the equal possibility of losing it all.

“Yeah, well you needn’t bother with the replacement. I was just leaving” Romeo spat, rising so hastily from his chair that he felt a sudden cramping in his stomach. Harry looked up at him, a desperate pleading in his eyes as if willing for the boy to stay but he’d already torn his eyes away from Harry’s direction to busy himself with locating his jacket. “No, you are not!” James snapped. “Just sit down and drink your champagne!”

“I’d sooner drink toilet water!” Romeo bristled, still feeling the presence of its vandalising taste on his tongue and lips. Ignoring Romeo, James went to grab Harry by the shoulder of his jumper, fighting to keep his hold of the fistful of wool as Harry struggled fiercely against him.

“Wait, what are you doing? James, wait no!”

Grabbing onto Harry’s arm to secure his hold, James began tugging him firmly towards the direction of the front door.

“James let go!” Feeling the pull strengthen, out of instinct Harry tried his best to resist, planting his feet firmly at first before leaning backwards to make the act of dragging him across the floor all the more arduous on James’s part.

When James’s efforts failed to seize, Harry tried twisting his body around in an attempt to wiggle his way out of the jumper, which only resulted in a tight readjustment of James’s clasp on his wrist convincing him that the use of words as ammunition was probably a better option in trying to reason with James.

“I’m not going to let you throw me out again! I’m not just going to give up on us!”

Harry felt James’s grip automatically loosen at his words. “Us? There is no-” James returned to eyeing the floor. As Harry filled in what James could not bring himself to finish, a whimper escaped from him.

“James, just listen to me!” Somewhere in the midst of all of this emotional outrage and pleading, tears had begun tainting the natural blue glow of Harry’s eyes. He reached for James, tugging defeatedly at his shirt cuff like a kid reluctant to go to school tugging away at their parent’s sleeve.

“Do not touch me!”

“You said before I left that the only reason I was here was because I had nowhere else to go and do you know what James? You were right. These past couple of months away made me realise, now more than ever, I don’t belong anywhere else or with anybody else. I belong with you! You did this! You made me fall in love with you James whether you intended to or not.” “Oh so now it’s my fault is it?”

“Yes!” Harry croaked with furtive defeat, mirroring with hurt the look of lancing accusation in James’s eyes.

For several minutes, nothing more was said. There was just the unrelenting pin drop silence whispering the truth hauntingly to James into the distance. As much as he wanted to deny it, he could not be without Harry and whilst so much had changed for him since the day Harry had left, the overbearing love he felt for the boy was certainly not one of them.

“You told me to go James! You told me it was over!” With a visible effort James returned to talking calmly. “Yes, and what I meant by that was… Look I was angry Harry, justifiably so. And yes, admittedly everything that I said that night might just have been said in the heat of the moment but that doesn’t change the fact that you married someone else-“ “Yes and marrying Ste was the worst mistake of my life!” James went on as though not hearing him. “Nor does it change the fact that you just upped and left without telling anyone, without telling me! Without any means of communication—” “I know but James, it wasn’t planned. Look, after you threw me out, I went to see my dad and he… he made me realise that… that—” James’s insides constricted at the thickness of vulnerability in Harry’s voice.“That what Harry?” He prodded gently.

“That I’m a disgusting person!” Harry choked out.

At that a lump formed in James’s throat which he tried to coax down unsuccessfully. “Okay wow, when you said you were after an emotional reunion this isn’t exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Romeo drawled, just about done with the day’s events.

James forgetting that Romeo was there followed the direction of the voice, turning briefly to face his son who was now standing in his father’s abandoned spot by the coffee table.

“Emotional reunion? What are you talking about?” James uttered cluelessly.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Romeo shrugged off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Several doubts crossed James’s mind but it wasn’t long before concern for Harry took over, pushing away any thoughts he might have had about Romeo and the questionable innocence of his suspicious passing comment.

Switching his focus back to Harry, James reached for him, planting a hand on his back before moving his fingers soothingly along his arm. Harry who stood with his head in his hands, fingers furrowed deeply into his hair, stirred at the feel of James’s gentle touch. For him the slip in James’s mask betraying his habitual overprotective attitude was just the small piece of normalcy in these past few months of emotional turmoil that he needed.

“Listen Harry, you’re not a disgusting person.”

“Apart from I am!” Harry pulled away. “You’re not seriously going to make me go through the whole bright young lad talk again, are you?” “Look, I’m sorry I should never have come back here. I’m an idiot for thinking this was ever going to work.” “No you don’t.” James caught Harry’s wrist before his hand had a chance to reach the lock. “You’re not an idiot Harry. Arrogant, conceited however, that you certainly are. I mean this, really?” James said, briefly lifting up Harry’s jumper and gesturing the length of his partially exposed body. “You thought you could crush my heart from leaving and just win me over like that?” “Are you denying that you weren’t in the slightest part tempted?” Harry blushed. “I just wanted to surprise you.” “Oh, well you surprised me alright.” “In a good or bad way?” “Well put it this way, even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Harry asked resignedly, sounding disheartened. James lowered his voice thoughtfully in a bid to spare Romeo of any further awkwardness. “If you honestly think I want my son familiarising himself with my sex noises before he’s even had the chance to discover my middle name then you can think again.”

Despite still hearing everything, Romeo let his gaze wander appreciatively over towards his father, finally thankful for an opportunity to leave. “It’s okay, I was just heading off now anyway,” he said, feigning an appreciative smile. “Thanks for the champagne.”

“Oh, it’s nothing” said James, waving a hand in dismissal. “Any time.”

“Yeah, about that…” Romeo began, pulling up the collar of his jacket in preparation for his much apprehensively awaited reunion with the frosty night. “I may have to turn you down on that offer.” Then he turned to address Harry.

“I guess I should probably thank you too, for the…. rather unpleasant sight,” he said, making no attempt to mask the amusement he felt in his voice at the recollection of Harry’s predicament.

Harry looking away but sensing Romeo’s intense gaze boring into his back, shuddered. Hesitantly, he turned towards him nodding a momentary acknowledgment at his words of thanks before remembering something. “Wait Romeo, before you go… thanks for this by the way.” “No problem mate, any time.” James’s heart skipped a beat when he realised what was going on. “Wait a minute. Were you in on this?” “Mostly. Although he might have forgotten to mention the naked part…” Romeo responded rather matter of factly, with total disregard for Harry’s already harmed pride. "So that’s why you were so insistent on cluttering my bedroom up with a tree and cheap charity shop lights.” “I think that’s his way of saying thank you.” “Thank you Harry but I can speak for myself. Romeo… son… I just wanted to thank you…”

Romeo pretending to be underwhelmed at James’s words, screwed his face up as if awaiting more than just a simple thanks for his efforts.

“Wholeheartedly” James added readily if not willingly before opening his arms to offer his son a hug.

“All right that’ll do,” Romeo smirked. “Don’t push it. You’re most certainly welcome Dad.”

xxx

Hearing the door slam behind Romeo, James wasted no time in reaching for Harry in an unconscious act of indulgence. Grasping at the jumper’s woollen neckline he tugged Harry unceremoniously in towards him. At James’s touch, Harry’s composure began to crumble and he allowed his head to fall forward until it rested just below the soothing, incessant flutter of James’s quickened heartbeat. Harry closed his eyes tightly as James cradled his head lovingly against his chest, concentrating only on the sound of James’s breathing and how it calmed at the contact of his touch. It felt so good to finally hold him, to feel James’s warm breathe filter against his cheek, to smell him. Reaching up with his right hand, James brushed his cold fingertips along the fine layer of stubble on Harry’s jaw, around his earlobe and down his neck. Feeling his muscles stir under James’s touch, Harry grabbed a fistful of James’s shirt before reciprocating gentle strokes around the nape of James’s own neck, fingers brushing lightly over the fine mass of hairs there. James lowered his head and at as best an attempt as he could manage at trying to mould the quivering in his voice into something seductive, whispered into Harry’s ear "So, seeing as we’re now alone…” He was interrupted as Harry yanked at his tie, inadvertently tightening it in an attempt to pull James in closer. Harry’s fingers began working eagerly to free his lover’s neck of the long, restrictive piece of cloth but his hands shook so much with the cold and hunger for James’s body that he could not reloosen the knot, only succeeding in tightening it further. After several futile attempts of trying to release the knot, he allowed his hands to fall, inching back slightly as if to leave room for James’s incoming assistance. Smiling down at a defeated Harry, whose cheeks were glowing in frustration in a faded shade of cardinal, James began delicately picking apart the knot with his fingernails. Wearing a self-congratulatory expression, James allowed Harry to do the honours of removing the tie from his neck. Feeling James’s hand slip down towards his waist and cling tightly to him just above his hips, Harry was inspired to speak. “So, tell me… what is it you were going to suggest we do Mr Nightingale?“ he uttered in a low, suggestive voice brushing a thumb gently across his lover’s lips eliciting a broad, mischievous grin from James. "Hmmm, why don’t you go and take these off, put that red bow of yours back on and I’ll walk back in without my sixteen year old son and try to pretend to look just the slightest bit interested.” “I’m not so sure about that.” Harry teased, unlatching James’s fingers from his waist before turning his head mock sulkingly away from him. "After all, you did say that the bow was tacky?” James cleared his throat. “Well…” he began unperturbed. “You know what I said about how some things can be said in the heat of the moment and all.” Reaching for his face, James ran his fingers gradually along Harry’s neck and then down towards his chin, grabbing him firmly by the jaw and turning his face complaisantly back towards him. Looking down, James stared right into the lecherous gaze of Harry Thompson. The lawyer froze. “Screw the bow,” Harry said, heedlessly forcing James backwards into a fortunate soft landing of blanket and pillows. Harry sitting crouched over him, James assisted him in wrestling his way out of the Christmas jumper, relieving his soft skin of its unpleasant scratchy material. Skin exposed to the cold air and chest no longer encompassed in its safe pocket of warmth, Harry began to shiver, not that it at all longer mattered to him that he was cold. What mattered was that he felt an urgent need, one that could not be relieved without the sacrifice of his warmth. He wanted James’s hands and kisses all over him; his admiring touch brushing along every single one of his bones and joints, down every inch and crevice. Harry waited with bated breath as James began the arduous affair of unbuttoning his shirt, buttons escaping fitfully from his fingers at the sense of urgency for him to undress. Every now and then, following a stalled attempt at releasing a button, James would lean in to place a teasing wet kiss on Harry’s neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one undressing me?” James mused aloud. “Only if you want to be here all night.” Harry replied softly, beguiling the time it took for James to rid himself of his shirt by attempting to steady his hands, occupying them with gently threading his fingers through James’s hair. He paused occasionally to inhale its enticing scent. All attempts to rein his excitement were futile and he felt pleasurable shudders of eagerness course through him all the same. Reaching the final button, James brushed a hand over Harry’s sandy sweep of hair, running his fingers to the back of his head before coming to rest at the side of his neck. Forcefully stripping James of his shirt, Harry’s fingers curled instantly into the back of his neck, other hand stroking lightly back and forth across his chest causing the lawyer to swallow a moan. Returning Harry’s affections, James began trailing his thumb down the length of his spine, stroking from the base of his skull down to his tailbone, nosing occasionally behind his ear to plant firm, wet kisses on the edge of his neck. Sliding his hand teasingly around Harry’s back across to the graceful build of his abdomen, James began drawing along the soft indentations of Harry’s ribs before roaming downwards, hand stretching the elastic at the front of his boxers. The taunting touch made Harry arch involuntarily upwards. Nearly headbutting James in the chin, he choked down a relieved sharp breath. Then screwing his eyes shut, Harry exhaled deeply, preparing himself for what was to come. “James” Harry whined, cursing inwardly at the fulfilment he felt at the act of James easing the boxers past his waist, dropping at his knees. James developing quite some determination at the rate that things were moving, at how Harry near melted at his touch began guiding Harry’s fingers towards his belt buckle. James’s hands now clutching at his buttocks, Harry carried out the task of unbuckling the belt in a breathless silence, breathing labouredly through wide nostrils and an open mouth. With his fingers trembling as much as they were and incapable of shifting his position at James’s firm groping of his ass, Harry struggled with the buckle. Witnessing just how much Harry’s hands were shaking, James shifted to help, rising slightly to give a better view of the buckle. “Got it” Harry announced beaming, looking up for James’s approval. James began kissing him for a while in ravenous silence, preventing any need for a response. As Harry’s hands began wandering down towards his zip, a soft sigh escaped from James. Feeling the tug below his waist, James reached for Harry’s shoulder, clutching its supple broadness for support, grip tautening as Harry yanked a little harder at the zip. Feeling the eventual downward slide of his trousers closely succeeded by his underwear, James pressed his face into the side of Harry’s neck sucking lightly, gripping Harry tighter still by the shoulders as the lad began groaning aloud pleasurably. Unlatching James’s tongue from his neck Harry coaxed him back down, crouching over him to readopt their earlier position. James could feel Harry progressively hardening against his belly. Allowing Harry a moment to smother his body in tender kisses, James closed his eyes reaching up blindly to tickle the perfect curvature of his abs. Slowly, Harry lowered himself, pressing his face against James’s chest, caressing its fine hairs with rapture. Harry’s fingers reaching the edge of his hip, James laid his hand over Harry’s, stilling it. Taking a moment to appreciate the youthful softness of the hand, James began running his fingers pleasantly along the thin bones, closing his eyes in tender admiration for the simple promise of the incoming pleasure they offered.

Then unable to resist for much longer, James turned over, pulling himself from underneath Harry’s lithe form. Once again freeing his tongue from the confines of his mouth, James proceeded to cover Harry from head to toe in soppy kisses, silence broken only momentarily for Harry to utter “As if you’re starting with my feet?” “It’s called working my way up…. from the best bits.” As James continued working his way up Harry’s body, Harry tensed even more, clawing at a nearby cushion as he endured the pleasurable scraping of James’s beard against his naked thighs, of the warm trail of drool and breath he left behind. Then, feeling the firm parting of his cheeks, of James’s nose brushing against the base of his spine down towards his crack Harry cried out helplessly, eyes fluttering shut as James prepared to take him.

xxx

They lay cuddled up together on the sofa afterwards, James clutching onto Harry’s hand, unwilling to let go. James having found a larger blanket to accommodate the two of them had pulled it far up until it rested snugly beneath their chins. All resentment and tension in their air was gone and there was only tenderness between them. Naturally, Harry laid in front of James, pressed tightly against him as the smaller spoon, James stooping his face slightly every now and then to nuzzle his face into Harry’s hair. They fit best that way.

Tired out from the steady act of making love to his fit, young lover and relishing in the satisfying radiance of warmth that came as a result of their bodies being pressed compactly against each other, James had seen no reason to move. Harry on the other hand, was pained by the one small inconvenience that came with having his back to James, of not being able to admire his beautiful face.

Eventually resigning himself to desire and using cramp as an excuse to move, Harry gradually eased his way out of the embrace with an opposing James. James remained curled up in a worn out slump on the sofa, content and unmoving as Harry spent a long time looking down adoringly at his face, abrading his skin with his stunning blue eyes.

Pressing a kiss on his temple, Harry ran a finger gingerly across a small cut on James’s lip, not recalling the taste of blood during their rather intense and ruthless make-out session on the floor.

Looking up at Harry’s eyes examining his busted lip James laughed. “Don’t even consider taking credit for that. That was me trying to prevent myself from waking up the entire neighbourhood when you started… you know, sucking…”

Harry remaining silent, smiled proudly at the not-so-distant memory.

“So tell me, is this the best present you’ve ever had?” Harry asked eventually, voice still very much hoarse with lust. “Possibly a close fifth,” James smiled wryly. “Fifth? And what would that be after exactly.” “Hmm let’ see, first, a stolen childhood from my father. Second, a false murder allegation that nearly saw me get a lifetime inside. Third, nearly losing you to that drug addled, tracksuit sporting low life—” James began stating grimly before being cut off by a concerned Harry. “Yeah well you’ll get none of those things from me. I’m never leaving you again.” “Lucky me.” James murmured playfully to himself. “Oi! I heard that. So come on then what was the forth?” “Well, I was going to say a child spawned by none other than the prostitute that my worthless excuse of a father forced me to sleep with but seeing as this particular child in question was partially responsible for this most welcomed reunion with my living, breathing bed warmer—” James stopped briefly as Harry shot him a lurid death glance.

The snarky remarks slipped so easily off James’s tongue. Harry had worked him so hard he was surprised he still had the energy to come up with such things. “And might just be starting to grow on me,” he continued. “I guess we could settle for you leaving me to believe that you were quite possibly dead in a ditch somewhere. "Oh come on James, I’ve already apologised for that.” Harry said defensively. “So…” James added quickly, desperately willing for a subject change. “Tell me, how exactly did your clothes end up soaking wet?” “Well I may have run them underneath the shower in cause things didn’t go accordingly to plan.” “Ahhhh…” James quirked an eyebrow. “You know so that you’d think against throwing me out before I had a chance to explain things to you.” "And you weren’t, you know… living on the streets?” James approached this particular subject softly. “No,” Harry smiled assuringly. “I was staying with Mum." "I see.” James sighed relievedly. Harry was gratified at the warm smile James bestowed on him in response. “Well, I guess now it’s time for your present.” “And what would that be?” Harry winked suggestively at him. “Round two?” “Not quite, although that could certainly be arranged…” To himself only, James questioned whether he would last a second round considering how much his muscles ached. “Although…” James began abstractedly. “Although?" "Although, it might be your turn to-” James trailed off, blushing and Harry rewarded him with a grin laced with promise and determination.

“Anyway, your present…” James rose from his cosy nest on the sofa, pausing both to clear his throat and to retrieve something from his jacket pocket. Then, taking hold of one of Harry’s hands and positioning it so that his palm remained widespread, he planted two small, cold shining silver objects into its surface before placing his own hand firmly on top.

“Here’s your… keys back.”

#jarry #filledjarryprompt #au harry returns #tw past abuse #christmas #submission

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letholojimin · 7 years ago

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Seekers (KTH) | 1

SEEKERS SERIES - PART 1

Gryffindor and Slytherin have been rivals for a long time, but you and Kim Taehyung bring the word rivalry to a whole different level.

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Theme: hogwarts au

Genre: tbh idk but let’s go with fluff and very light angst?

Word Count: 2,704

Summary: You make a bet with your best friend Lisa saying that Slytherin is too easy to beat at quidditch and when Taehyung finds out about it, he isn’t pleased.

GRYFFINDOR QUIDDITCH TEAM | SLYTHERIN QUIDDITCH TEAM HUFFLEPUFF QUIDDITCH TEAM | RAVENCLAW QUIDDITCH TEAM

PART TWO | MASTERLIST

“Y/N!”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by a rather high, distinct voice calling out your name. Your attention is centered on a blonde girl pushing through the crowd of people to get to you, struggling to close the distance. You stand in place, waiting for the girl because after all, there are still a few more minutes to spare before the bell rings for your next class. Lisa finally catches up, placing her hand on your shoulder and you resume walking in the direction you were heading to originally before you’d been interrupted by your friend. “I have a spectacular proposition for you,”

With that, you raise an eyebrow and she continues eagerly. “Hoseok was telling me all about how Slytherin was so full of themselves this year especially since Taehyung got taller, fitter, leaner, quick-“

“Cut to the chase, Lisa.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that she was about to switch to Slytherin because of their seeker or that she was discouraging you.

“They’re so sure they’re going to win against us in the first game of the season because of how much he’d changed physically and since you’re Gryffindor’s seeker, who better to tell about this than you- the only one who can knock that Slytherin boy down?” She blurts out, a large smile evident on her lips as she holds you and waits for you to react. Really? That was what that entire thing was about? At this point, she’d practically forced you to stop walking and you were just on the brink of annoyance with how irrelevant the topic was. At this rate, you were going to be late and this was going to be the reason why.

“You’re unbelievable.” Those are the only two words you mutter as you push her hands off of you. It’s not that you didn’t care- of course you did, you were against him- it’s just that you were gonna be late and both of you should focus on the more urgent things. You start moving again and this time, there’s a hint of hastiness in the way your feet pad against the tiled floor of the hallway. Your best friend, however, refuses to give up and she continues to pester you with the guy who ‘glow’d up’ aka Taehyung. “If you win the game on Friday, I’ll get you whatever you want at Hogsmeade this weekend.”

Her statement makes you finally think for a moment and you reconsider that it’s a done deal since you were the school’s best seeker and you knew that nobody could defeat you. “Even from Honeydukes?” Your mouth waters thinking about the sweets present in the shop in the village.

“Mhm,” She nods, knowing she’s finally getting you to consider the topic no matter how not-urgent you thought it was.

“I’m gonna win anyway you know,” You muse, and Lisa knows she has won. “Beating Slytherin is too easy, especially with Taehyung as their seeker.” You’ve beat him a lot of times before, so beating him another time is nothing.

With those words, the bell rings and you run like hell to your next class. You don’t deny, however, the smirk that has made its way on your lips. Looks like you’re finally getting that big bag of candy you’ve been eyeing for quite some time now.

“Hoseok, guess what!” Lisa whisper-yells as she takes her seat beside the orange-haired boy in her Charms class. “Jesus,” He mutters, dropping his wand to the table in surprise. “You not only made me wait for you but now you’re also distracting me from this damn spell which I can’t seem to get right!”

“Relax…” She drags on, placing her hand on the boy’s thigh. It automatically has the desired effect as his muscles stop tensing under her touch. “We can always ask Seokjin for help later on, he’s the ace for a reason.”

Hoseok nods, seeing her point. “Anyway, what were you saying before you made me drop my baby?” He picks up his wand and runs his hand over the delicate wood. “I’m offended, I thought I was your baby?” Lisa removes her hand from her boyfriend’s thigh and places it under her chin, facing forward to pretend to listen to the teacher.

“Just kidding, love.” He places his hand in her free one and weaves his fingers in the spaces between hers. “You were saying?”

The blonde snaps her head back and delight is seen in her expression. “You know, I told Y/N about those Slytherin students you overheard the other day and how they were bragging about Tae and I simply found a way to guarantee our win.” She snickers as she tells him more and Hoseok is quickly hooked on the story knowing that there’s nothing that can stop you once you’re motivated by reward.

“That’s genius, Lisa!” He accidentally exclaims a little too loudly and the entire class looks at them. The orange-haired boy smiles sheepishly as Lisa hides behind her hands.

“What’s so genius about whatever Lisa said, Jung Hoseok?” The professor slowly approaches their joined table and they both know they’re screwed. Hoseok stutters, trying to reply to the question. “Nothing…” Everything.

There’s a vexed expression on Mr. Flitwick’s face as he stays in front of their wooden desks. “I thought so…”

Both of them think that they’re saved from their misery but the short man turns around once again to face the silent girl. “As for you, Lisa, don’t think I didn’t see you come in late today. If you continue this kind of poor behavior, I’ll barre you from seeing the first game.”

At his words, Lisa’s eyes grow wide and Hoseok snickers until his professor tells him that if he refuses to stop, he’ll be getting the same exact punishment. He shuts up, but he thinks about all the bets he’ll be winning against the green house. Thank god you’re so damn easy to bribe.

Hoseok spots Jungkook, his favorite fifth year and the younger boy notices that he’s more excited than usual. “Jungkookie!” Hoseok yells from the top of the staircase. A lot of people are pushing downwards so Jungkook waits for him downstairs.

When Hobi steps foot on the flat ground once again, he ushers Jungkook to walk alongside him to the dining hall to which the underclassman follows with no questions asked. Hoseok explains the entire plan to the brown-haired boy and watches his face light up.

Though they have only become friends last year due to a similar punishment (Jungkook never dared to try spells that he didn’t master without an adult wizard supervisor after that time), they had quickly become good friends. He was the youngest of your Gryffindor group and you all took him in right away.

“Hyung, that’s great!” The maknae is beaming at his friend who only offers him a knowing smile. “My girlfriend is amazing after all.” Pride is laced in his voice, confident in Lisa’s wondrous abilities to convince others. Sometimes, it isn’t always beneficial to him but he loves the girl nevertheless.

“Kookie, make sure to tell me if you know anyone from Slytherin who’s going to bet, alright? I need my extra money- I want to buy her this rather expensive yet exquisite quill from Scrivenshaft’s.” Hobi waves the boy goodbye after they finally arrive at the entrance of the large hall.

Jungkook may be Hoseok’s favorite fifth year, but Jimin is Jungkook’s favorite sixth year. He just so happens to be from Slytherin.

Jungkook and Jimin have been childhood best friends ever since they were three years old, having been neighbors in a port city in South Korea. They even went to muggle preschool together up until they were both sent to Hogwarts by their wizard parents to learn about the true nature of their families. But Jimin went to the school a year earlier and in that year, Jungkook was the loneliest he’d ever been at the young age of 10. Jimin always wrote to him though and he’d always write back so it wasn’t that bad.

Contrary to what one would think was usual, the Jeons were from Gryffindor and the Parks were from Slytherin so their houses didn’t come as much of a surprise to their parents. In the end, they had stayed family friends and their sons were also really close regardless of the difference in houses.

Jungkook told Jimin about what Hoseok had told him and Jimin merely laughed it off, dismissing the thought saying Taehyung was a ‘bloody beast’ this year and so he never pressed on it. In the end, if Jimin didn’t believe in you, he couldn’t do anything about that except make them all wait for you to make the field your stage once again to prove them all wrong.

“You’ll be surprised- she did say that beating Slytherin would be too easy especially since Taehyung’s still your seeker.” Those are Jungkook’s last words regarding the topic to which Jimin replies with a nonchalant: “Just don’t get hurt on Friday, alright? It’s your first game as a keeper, so I’ll see you on the field.”

And surprised will Park Jimin be.

Your brown boots step on the freshly mowed grass, the scent quickly rubbing off on you. It’s a sunny day and you’re just about ready to shut off all of those Slytherin house losers off their Kim Taehyung syndrome in exchange for those Honeydukes sweets- sure, you’re so damn shallow but who can blame you? You were so confident because you’ve never lost to anyone- not since you became the seeker of the red and yellow back in third year.

Taehyung has less experience than you, having only been able to join the team at fourteen years old during his fourth year at Hogwarts. You two were the longest seekers on their respective teams: Vernon joined the Hufflepuff team last year on his fifth year and Ravenclaw had Daniel who only became part of the team this year as a replacement from the graduating seeker from their house in the previous year.

Few eighth years choose to be part of the quidditch teams simply because of the extensive training and conditioning all of you athletes go through for the house cup tournament. It simply wouldn’t work well with their already hectic schedule of trying to figure out what they’re going to do to survive in the muggle world for the rest of their lives. Luckily for you, you still had two years before that would even enter your concerns.

You barely notice the loud cheers that erupt when you enter the view of your schoolmates but you’re definitely snapped out of your kill plan when the devil himself walks out into the open field from the opposite side of the arena. The front of the stands are a mess of green and silver, scarlet and gold and since this is just about the second most important game of the season since Slytherin and Gryffindor are going against each other on the opening game, you can see hints of yellow and black and blue and bronze.

“Might as well get this shit over with,” You mutter, swinging a leg over your broom and instantly zoom around the large expanse of the field. Soon enough, you’re called back down and you all gather around, Sehun giving the final instructions for the game’s strategy. When he finishes, you do your huddle and take your positions.

“Hello there, Y/N.” A deep voice greets beside you and from the green robe and the brown hair, you automatically know it’s Taehyung. You only spare him a second’s glance but you’re made aware that the rumors were all true- he really had gotten more built and though you’d hate to admit it, he’d become more handsome. No wonder all those girls in your Astronomy class were too busy talking about him rather than focusing on the lesson.

You reply with a mere “Hello,” before the snitch is released and the whistle is blown. Your concentration is shifted back towards the golden ball running wild across the field and quickly speed over to it, eager to get the game done and over with. Taehyung is just as attentive as you though and you’re flying side by side.

The chase continues for a few minutes before the snitch decides to descend downwards, both of you plummeting down to the grass. It’s a dangerous move and both of you know it but since the two of you are well-trained, it’s almost like second nature to fall down that hastily.

You’ve never been one to play roughly but this time you’re forced to, considering Tae was flying too close-by and at this rate you’d never be able to speed up. Because of this, you slam your forearm into his shoulder, trying to tip him downwards but he foresees it and he quickly moves away, giving you the space you were growing desperate for.

There’s a bludger that passes through your side and you’re almost knocked off your feet. The boy’s laughter rings in your ear but he fails to notice the incoming group of your teammates racing towards the brown ball and their momentum makes him lose a slight bit of his concentration, forcing him to tumble down on the field below.

“Fuck!” You barely hear him curse out before you lean forward once more, the snitch within arms reach. You’re straining, sweat sticking to your skin as your house chants the traditional “Fight, fight, Gryffindor!” and you know you’re at a major advantage. Slytherin is watching intently as their seeker scurries to get back on his broom but by then, it’s too late.

A booming voice surrounds the area as your gloved hands wrap around the familiar object, causing your housemates to yell in joy. “Y/N Y/L/N catches the golden snitch! Gryffindor scores a hundred-and-fifty points- Gryffindor wins!”

You make an entire round across the arena, holding up the snitch as Gryffindor students cheer louder. Slytherin is distraught- you hear some of them curse profanities at both you and Taehyung but you’re too happy to actually care. When you finish covering the circumference of the arena, you fly down to meet your teammates who eagerly wait for you while clapping their hands.

“You’re a legend, Y/N.” Hoseok is the first one to speak to you as all of them approach you, forcing you into a group hug. Sehun pats you on the back and congratulates the rest of the team for a job well done. Your teammates high five you and Jungkook envelopes you in a large hug. “I fucking won my first quidditch game! My mother is going to be so thrilled when she hears about this!” You smile at him, knowing exactly how he feels.

On the other side of the field, Kim Taehyung is taking off his gloves and stepping down from his broom. He runs towards the stands, not daring to face Junmyeon knowing he’d let the entire team down. He just had to get distracted, didn’t he? Considering that goddamn angelic face of yours, you sure are a little devil when it comes to seeking.

He’s muttering profanities when the Slytherin team enters the locker area. After a quick talk with Jimin who was a chaser in his team, the boy sits down on a bench and shrugs the events off saying he’ll beat you in the finals.

“It’s alright, yeah, but Jesus Tae- such a shame that we lost considering the bet.” The silver-haired boy leans against the lockers, taking off his shin guards. “What bet?”

What bet was he talking about and why did he not know about it? “Oh you know, the one Y/N made with Lisa. She said beating Slytherin would be too easy especially with you as the seeker.”

“She fucking said that?” Taehyung was trying to keep calm, the revelation triggering his repressed anger. He could not believe you had said that, yeah, but he could not believe that you were right. “Oh shit. Forget I told you anything.”

“I don’t think I can."

IM SO HAPPY THIS IS OUT IM LEGIT SO HAPPY IM SO HYPED FOR THIS HOGWARTS AU AND ESPECIALLY SINCE THIS IS MY FIRST WORK FOR TAEHYUNG I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! unedited sorry

Quidditch Teams: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw

Send me your thoughts about Seekers! I’d love to hear about what you think <3

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adoringdo · 7 years ago

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EXO Theory Pt. 8 - Time to find the spy!

Hoooboy, I did not expect this mv out so soon, but bless it for coming because I was really struggling with coming up with a solid theory just from the Countdown teasers themselves. (Like, honestly, there was just too much going on, and no real story so I just got a bit overwhelmed tbh!) But anyway, this song is a certified bop, MV is amazing and my boys are gorgeous.

Let’s get into this!

<<– First Part | <- Previous Part | * Theory Masterpost

Sequence of MVs:

MAMA/History/What Is Love - Miracles in December - Romantic Universe - KoKoBop - MAMA 2016 VCR - (Parallel Universe) - Lucky One - Overdose - Love Me Right - Wolf/Growl - Lotto - Coming Over - Pathcodes/Call Me Baby - Monster - Electric Kiss - Sing For You - For Life - (Parallel Universe) - Lightsaber - RF_05 - Power - The Eclipse - MAMA 2016 Performance

So for this one, I’m gonna focus on Xiumin to start. IMO, Xiumin’s the most interesting character initially. The first real thing we see of him is him using a video camera, clearly watching (or even recording) someone.

Later in the MV we see that this person is Sehun.

I’ve spoken a bit before about my theory about Xiumin and Suho (x); Xiu specifically is a character known for archiving the experiences of the members as they fight against the Red Forces in this dream plane. As such, I’ve often linked him with D.O, who’s omniscience allows him to monitor the members closely. Unsurprisingly, we’ve seen Soo and cameras linked often.

However, this is the first time we’ve ever seen Xiu in the monitoring position. In fact, you could even claim their roles in this MV are a little reversed, as we actually see Soo very stagnant in the film room - mostly laying down, or propped up only by TV screens that aren’t displaying actual picture.

I’ll come back to this in a moment, but I do think this will link back with the events of Monster nicely.

Anyway, Xiumin is filming Sehun who is opposite him in the apartment building complex area the members seem to be stationed at.

We see both Sehun and Chanyeol have parts like this where they are very personal with the cameras. However, where Chanyeol’s is quite energetic and crazy, Sehun’s is a little less extreme; he’s quite lazily rolling his neck around, and the whole effect is a little more trippy.

Sehun’s IMO resembles some scenes from the KoKoBop MV... and guess who those scenes belong to?

Good old XiuSoo. Of course, it’s not a direct parallel, but I do think the scene is very reminiscent. And I do remember saying in my KKB post that Xiumin is seen interacting with the KKB pills often in the MV, and one of the members Xiu and the pills are seen with is Sehun.

There’s definitely a connection being made between Xiumin and Sehun. I think I’ll have to look more closely at that on a rewatch because I’m a bit lost to what they’re trying to communicate here.

However, I did place this MV just after the Monster and before the Sing For You MV, the second of which Sehun had a very main role.

Sing For You is not an MV I’ve necessarily spoken about before, because it’s a bit self explanatory imo. But it does link in with Sehun. I’m sure you’ve all read the theories about the loneliest astronaut (represented here by Sehun) and the loneliest whale, and how the two are meeting in this MV. IMO, there’s a little more to Sehun’s role overall in this particular story.

Loneliness is a key theme of the whole video, but Sehun is the loneliest because he literally is alone in this story. Originally Tao was Sehun’s counterpart, but he’s now gone from the story. And then in Lucky One we saw Chen and Sehun put together, but tbh... that doesn’t seem to have stuck at all. So... now he’s all alone.

But SFY is a video of dichotomy; members disappearing and reappearing, fighting and celebrating, anguish and joy. The reason I’ve always had it after Monster is because of the revelation of Baekhyun’s traitor double-spy ending, and it shows the members in SFY coming to terms with that betrayal they thought they were witnessing.

And that’s why it’s such an interesting MV, because it’s showing that even though the members fight and get lonely, they can always depend on each other to fight against the RF. And this is echoed in For Life.

Now I might be in the minority, but For Life is one of my favourite EXO songs I just think it’s so beautiful. And the MV is honestly so good, even though there’s only 3 members in it. But think about those 3 members, and their roles in SFY and Electric Kiss.

It’s no coincidence that Kai is echoing ChanHo’s fight in SFY, and it’s even less of a coincidence that these are the 3 members in FL. Kai is the key to getting the Heart of the ToL, Chanyeol has been often partnered up with Baekhyun (even if that slightly changed in EK) and Suho.. well Suho we know is well and truly secured by the Red Forces, so why is he in the FL MV?

Well, because the whole MV is about Kai giving himself up to the RF. Like a few of the EXO MVs this one ends as it starts, with Kai getting the bracelet and driving off into the red mist. The whole journey the girl goes through with Chanyeol and Suho is cyclical, meaning it keeps repeating until the end event of Kai for real leaving the dream state and being captured IRL is completed.

And this never ending cycle is representative of their entire situation. No matter how hard they fight against the Red Forces as they are, it’s hopeless. Most likely because of the spy.

Now we all know that EXO themselves have told us there’s a spy in the Monster vid, and that this spy is the reason that Baekhyun doesn’t have an orb at the beginning of Power. Electric Kiss is them coming to terms with the likelihood of having an actual spy in their midst, and trying to decide who it is. Baekhyun was cleared at the end of Monster, as he was found to be a double-spy on the side of EXO, so it has to be someone else.

And this is why we have Xiumin watching Sehun, because who’s more likely to be a spy than someone who doesn’t have a partnership with any other of the Guardians?

And let’s be honest, Sehun’s probably the only one who’s not had a real role to play in the overall story, so I’d wager he’s at least a little suspicious to some of the others.

Let’s not forget also the time he almost shot D.O in the Power MV, and just who is he talking to on that radio? And in Coming Over being the only member sans BaekSoo who doesn’t destroy one of the Red Forces controlled cameras.

It’s a little suspect, sure, but I don’t think Xiumin comes to this conclusion of Sehun being the spy, ultimately because of Monster. There’s absolutely nothing in that music video to even cast a doubt on Sehun. So, instead, we should be looking at who is strange in Monster.

IMO there are only two possible candidates once we eliminate Baekhyun: D.O and Chen. First I’ll talk about Soo.

Now I actually made a post about why I thought Soo was the spy from the Monster MV alone (x) so I’ll mainly talk about him in Electric Kiss. In Monster we see Soo clearly watching the members through the use of the security cameras that can be construed to also being the Red Forces eyes through a lot of the MV sequence. In Electric Kiss, we don’t get this. What we get, as I mentioned earlier, is Soo relying on Xiumin to be his eyes instead.

We have a history of seeing Soo and Xiumin in particular in connection to monitors, but this is different as the monitors in question aren’t displaying a picture. And in fact, Soo throughout the whole MV seems to be sort of absent? Like he’s not really doing anything, he’s just by himself (with the exception of a small visit from Xiumin) and he’s lying down covered in tapes. It’s as though he’s kind of been consumed by all his watching and it lead him to the wrong conclusion (Baek) and he’s dejected and given up? Either that or he’s lying low trying to distance himself from the confusion of the spy hunt.

The only other really interesting thing here is the scene with Soo facing off with the woman in the other car who’s pointing a gun at him? Now I have no idea who this person is (I really thought it was Chanyeol cos of the hair colour and the transition into this scene but when I froze it turns out nope haha) but this is a weird scene. It could be insinuating something, but I think we need the full version to really figure this out?

So let’s move on to Chen. Boy do I have a lot to talk about with Chen. When I first watched Monster with the intent of making a theory I was kind of convinced Chen was some sort of traitor or something, but as time went on I started to doubt it and decided he was actually meant to be the good character for some reason. But with Electric Kiss now I’m not so sure.

Throughout a lot of the Countdown teasers there was a particular set of glitchy images that was in almost every teaser. In fact, I think it’s only absent in Suho’s?

The images contain a lot of words in various languages, love, paper, personal, the earth, cloud, so on. One word that’s repeated a lot in these teasers is Flower. I’ll come back to that. The images are important too, we get a lot of nature imagery, the sun, teeth, flowers and most importantly this eye motif is so, so prominent.

See, it’s very in line with the Eye of the Red Forces that we’ve heard referenced a billion times. With this eye, pictured in Kai’s teaser, it’s opening from within a sun which represents Baekhyun, but there’s also lightning striking around it. Now, the lightning can be explained by the title of the song Electric Kiss afterall, but then there’s Chen’s teaser, right?

We have extreme closeups of his eye which transform into weird skull imagery, the sun and a lot of red stuff.

That’s not to say it’s definitive, right, because there’s been Soo imagery throughout the story too. Most significantly in the Pathcodes.

Chen acts very odd in Electric Kiss though. We see him running through a corridor and coming across a weird mannequin.

Many of the images in this sequence above seem eerie. I’m not sure why, maybe it’s appearance of the doll thing, but whatever. Especially the 2nd and 3rd images from above seem to be signifying there’s an importance in these actions. The 5th reminds me of the scene from Monster.

And the first reminds me of Soo from pretty much every MV haha.

Let’s jump back to Monster and Chen for a second though.

This was the first thing that really alerted me to a possible traitor Chen. The way he’s defiantly looking at who’s locking them into the car (Baek) as though he knows exactly what’s going on. Lay looks as well, but I kind of expect Lay to look as he was frantic during the whole MV, probably because the MVs centred on his counterpart being the traitor, right? But why does Chen look like that? And the scene where he’s turning amongst the crowd seems to be signalling a similar kind of look too.

Here, too, when the members sans Baek are sitting at this table, only Chen is standing in the centre with his arms resting on two other members in a kind of controlling kind of way. His overall disposition in this MV is just very strange. It’s kind of similar in Lotto too when he’s not reacting to the police coming at him with guns.

Tbh the only real issue I have with believing Chen is the spy is the motive. Like, he and Soo are meant to be protecting the Tree of Life together; they’re the main guardians. And tbh Chen hasn’t seemed to have any indication of even knowing that Baek is the Heart, so how can he be responsible for the orb being missing at the beginning of Power? At least my thoughts about Soo being the non-intentional spy had the backup of that ‘The War’ poster with Soo shooting at Baek’s orb.

But there’s one last thing I can think of that might incriminate Chen.

Well it might incriminate both Chen and Soo tbh. At the end of Electric Kiss we get this montage with all the members in the room, with the image of the eclipse in the background. Baek’s in the middle, and he seems to have been paired with Kai now... which kind of makes sense, as they’re both integral to escaping or trapping themselves with the RF. XiuHo as always OTP 5ever apparently, and Sehun and Chanyeol are all alone why couldn’t they just be together? But importantly, we have the return of ChenSoo who were the OG main Guardians. Now, in this MV and Monster we’ve kind of seen D.O lose his footing a bit, and Chen acting strange. So why have they decided to pair up again?

Well, if you notice, in the room there are two trees. This again points back to the two halves of the ToL from the beginning that I guess ChenSoo were charged with hiding. Now, while Baek is the heart, there’s probably still some significance to the half of the tree that Chen was looking after, but maybe he resents being left with the less important half? More likely IMO is that if Chen is the spy, it’s similar to Soo’s case, with him not really meaning to be a spy in the first place.

Tbh I dunno. It’s one of those two, or both of them. Either way, this MV is about trying to find out who the spy is, and the RF manipulating them by causing such a dissent.. at least that’s what I got from it. Also there seems to be a race going on judging by Suho with the flag but we need the full version. I’ve watched this MV about 100 times over the past 24 hours and like 10 times in 0.25 speed, the Countdown teasers probably more and I’m still confused so like...yeah. I’ll probably do another post about the others at some point, there’s just so much info haha.

I petition for more EXO in black tracksuits, thanks.

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#EXO #Electric Kiss #EXO Theory #Kpop #EXO Text #MyText #Long Post

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