#and i could hear mice scratching at the walls at night | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astronicht · 1 year ago

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whumptober day 5: “you better pray I don’t get up this time around” + pinned down | original historical fantasy with lesbians? sarai/ketil | 1.8k, rated T

i don’t love posting original stuff but by god i didn’t want to look like i skipped day 5. will be deleted in November??

“There are two things human beings tend to do in caves: sing or die pinned,” Sarai Al-Baramikah muttered, her hand brushing the soft limestone wall. Outside, a hot wind whipped off the nighttime ocean. In the long low mouth of the cave behind them, the wind did its own singing. They were not so deep that they could not distantly hear the breakers off the beach market of Bal'harm.

Ketil watched the passage of Sarai’s hand. “The kids said there are old carvings in here,” she said.

“Yep,” Sarai said. Her voice was rough, wrecked. What an awful night it had been. “Smart kids. I found them too.”

“The carvings?” Ketil asked. “They’re Roman after all?”

What an inane thing to say, when a little girl was dead not an hour ago.

“…No. I don’t think so,” Sarai said. “Come look.”

Ketil shifted her weight and planted her feet in her doeskin boots. She had blood under her fingernails and splattered brown on the sleeve of her tunic, up above her elbow in some awkward and inexplicable spot. She did not come look. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her lazy voice gone hard, which was what she should have been asking for days, for a week. “Why are you on this island playing at being a bookbinder, Sarai? Why are you planning to get on my ship.”

“I am a bookbinder. A little alchemy too. Everybody needs work.” Sarai did not even turn around.

“You have twelve rings on your fingers, Sarai,” Ketil yelled. Sarai looked almost startled. She looked at her hand on the wall in the torchlight. Her other hand went unconsciously to the sword on her belt, which must have been ancient when Sarai’s father had been born. She had come from a good merchant family when they were young, but not the sort of family that wore treasures like a parakeet wore green.

“It’s not an interesting story, Ketya,” Sarai gritted out, as if that were relevant. “I’m not just saying that. It’s short and common and sad.”

“Fuck off,” Ketil rasped.

“I’m sorry,” Sarai said. “Ketil.”

Sarai’s face was awful, just for a second, before it went smooth.

“Thanks for— you saved the rest of the kids,” Ketil said. She rubbed her face with the hand not holding the torch.

Sarai snorted, tired. “I kept them calm until you could show up,” she said.

“Yeah,” Ketil said. She meant: yes, exactly.

“You know, no one else I know thinks of me as reliable,” Sarai observed, wry. Ketil blinked; this did not seem relevant. Who else was with her on this side of this night? If Sarai was there, it would be Sarai. “Come see the carvings. I found more of them.”

Ketil watched as her little souls skittered forward before her body did. Sarai’s soul was burning low in her belly, inescapably part of the body even when Ketil’s were not. Ketil stepped forward. The torch in her hand lit up Sarai’s face a bit more, the slope of her nose, her wild hair beneath the headcloth.

“Do you want the torch?” Ketil said, a reflexive banality.

“No,” Sarai murmured, even though she could not see Ketil’s four little souls skittering down the tunnel like mice, or stolen bright moonlight, or wil o’ the wisps. In here it was dark, to her. “You keep the light, darling.”

Ketil’s stomach went hot, but the hair on the back of her neck prickled and rose.

The walk down into the mountain was not a walk but a scramble. Ketil hated small spaces. She fought to keep her breathing steady, steady, as if she was breathing through pain.

They came to a little opening, another little room of sorts. Ketil could not control where her glowing souls went, of course, so only one helpfully approached the wall that Sarai was looking at in the dark. Ketil had to bring the torch over to really see. At first she did not know what she was looking at. It was just scratches on the wall, person-shaped, flowing lines that made chest, buttocks, thigh, calf. The lines trailed off instead of forming hands or feet; what the hands clutched was lost to some memory.

They were certainly not Roman, old Rome or new, and not Carthiginian either. All across the Jórsalahaf, all across three continents, Ketil had lived and traveled and traded in the ruins and new heights of southern empires; she knew the great city where two seas met which was the new Rome. No one carved figures like this.

Ketil had no magic in her bones, but she was, every day, a witness for the dead. And here they were speaking, pinned in a cave above Bal'harm, with its thousands of books and scholars and artists, its ruined Greek statues and its strange coins from Carthage and its memories of Rome when it was a young and angry goatherders republic and when it had god-kings and called an entire sea its own.

This, the Emirate of Siqilliya where Bal’harm had sat under different names for millenia was after all the first overseas conquest of Rome, was it not? So it made sense, in a way, that layers of people would go back and back here in its dry stone.

Then she realized what the figures in the center of the crowd of people were doing.

Sarai smiled, quick and sharp. Ketil stepped back.

“Who’s the prude now?” Sarai said.

Ketil didn’t bother to reply. She tipped her head back and really looked. They were supposed to be two men, going by the sharp little etched lines of their erections. The lines of their bodies were more tense than the other wavering curves of the figures around them. One was tied neck to ankles like a hog for the autumn slaughter, when families sent sons and daughters into the wild woods to round up the sows and hogs which had been left to wild forage for the long summer. The slaughter season was a time of chestnuts. Ketil could almost smell them roasting.

The bound man was being fucked, because of course he was, his cock hard and proud beneath him.

Ketil knew this feeling too, better than she knew chestnuts. She knew it in her belly, in the sweating palms of her hands. Sarai was standing behind her, and so still it was as if she was holding her breath. As if she could not stand behind Ketil and breathe and look at this.

When Sarai stepped to the side and spoke she sounded even rougher than before. You could almost pretend she was a man. “You always said that a soul looks different depending on the god,” she rasped, and it sounded like the beginning of one of her long theories.

Ketil didn’t know how this fit into the rock carving of the bound man, who was a joy or a sacrifice or something else. There was no way to know. Just like if she and Sarai died here suddenly in a rockfall, died here with their bones turning slowly to stone, no one would know anything about who they were or who they had once been to each other or why Ketil had gone back for her in this shitty cave. No one would ever know from their bones, and certainly not from the scraps of memory they might leave behind: Sarai bound books and Ketil sold them like cattle and no poet sung any story about them among the skalds of Jorvik or the ghazal writers of Ishbiliya or even in the lands east of Constantinople, where maybe someone should remember what it had been like, once, when they were young on the banks of the Black Sea. There was no memory here. It would be a rupture, a forgetting.

It did not matter, probably, that Ketil didn’t get it yet. Sarai had likely figured something out already.

Sarai said, “So the giant, or the elf, or the man— whatever we think he is. He killed Gudrun because we didn’t understand what was happening. It was foreign. We spend our lives being foreign, so we should’ve guessed that it was going to be different. His soul was different. His magic was different. No one remembers what it was like, except.” The cave wall loomed larger, somehow. “Maybe someone wrote it down.”

Ketil swallowed.

“I want to go meet the man,” Sarai said, confident now. “Gudrun went to go kill him and got herself killed, fuck. She was just a kid. We’re older now. We’re bigger now.” She met Ketil’s eyes. “So I think I should go meet the man.”

Ketil had been trying not to think about it: that whatever it was that had killed Gudrun was not gone.

“Most things can’t follow us over salt water,” Ketil said. “The man probably can’t.”

“I thought you said you have a responsibility,” Sarai said. Her voice was not kind, but it was a kindness: what Ketil felt was relief.

Ketil was silent. Then she said, quickly, “Something was done to him, I think.”

“Yep,” Sarai said, looking at the carving. “I think he was killed.”

“Not like that,” Ketil said, about the carving, the two men embraced. “He was hunted by… by someone with a bow and arrow. And he didn’t know what a bow and arrow was. To him it was like… elfshot.”

Sarai turned to her slowly, eyes bright. “Elfshot. What are elves, Ketil?”

Ketil sensed that this was rhetorical. She shrugged anyway and said, “They’re just elves, the same way bears are just bears. You sacrifice to them and hope they won’t throw invisible elfshot at you or your horses.”

“Hm,” Sarai said. “I need you to tie me up like that.” She laughed, dry in the echoing dark. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to fuck me.”

Ketil’s hands felt numb. She wished she did not know that they would be steady anyway. Her hands never shook when she thought they should be allowed to shake.

“Give me your belt,” Ketil said thickly, and Sarai undid the silver eagle clasp and slid it off her hips like nothing. When she handed it to Ketil, the sharp and ancient sword was still strapped there in its scabbard. “And pin me down.”

When Ketil still hesitated, Sarai said, “I’m no fool, you know. I know I haven’t got any magic in my hands. I’m not trying to do what Gudrun could do, what any of the kids could do. I’m just going to— remember, really hard. That’s not magic. That’s just— mind. A thought experiment, like when Ibn Sina wrote about the well in the Khitab al-Shifa. But I need to know what it feels like in order to remember it.”

I know what it feels like, Ketil thought, but could not say. Her calm hands raised the belt around Sarai’s throat.

#my fic #sarai and ketil #delete later #whumptober ‘23

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another-heroine · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday

And who could say that I would post another The Windmill wip? lol

No Lights Out

Luis' eyes were getting heavy, but the little boy refused to sleep. Listening to abuelo reading for him was always soothing and exciting; the old man used to tell stories about princesses and dragons, shiny armored knights, greedy goblins and trickster witches. Sometimes he read, sometimes he narrated by heart. But every night, it was special and full of adventures.

“After his master’s wedding, Puss in Boots decided to put his gloves down. Or better saying, his boots. He lived for a long time besides his family and helped the kingdom to flourish. And even after many years, everybody knew about his legend. The End.” Abuelo closed the large book, leaving it on the bedside table.

Luis yawned, “Having a talking cat must be fun. Can we get one?”

“Well, if I find one out there, I'll let you know, niño. Now, come. It's too late.”

The grandson agreed and crawled under the blankets. The man covered him properly, puffing his pillow and making sure he was comfortable.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Sí, abuelo.”

“Did you pee?”

“Sí, abuelo.” Luis frowned, embarrassed.

“Um, you better have done it, boy. Buenas noches.”

“Buenas noches, abuelito…”

When the boy noticed Old Serra reaching the switch of the table lamp, his voice cracked, “Could you please let the light on?”

The grandpa tilted his head, but there was no mockery in his voice, “I thought that you already got used to sleeping with the lights off.”

Luis hid his nose under the checked blanket, gazing at the projected shadows. “I... I think there are monsters inside the walls.”

“What? Why?”

Luis muttered, “Every night I hear something scratching them from inside. And when it’s dark, it’s worse.”

António looked at where the boy’s fearful eyes were pointing. Everything made sense; there were a few days when he was woken up in the middle of the night by an anxious child. He stated, “Oyé, niño, there is nothing to worry about. It must be some mice. We will get rid of them soon.”

Luis didn’t look convinced, but he swallowed hard and insisted, “But... can you still let the light on?”

“Of course.” The man patted his head. “Until you feel more confident, ay?”

Luis nodded with a coyly grin.

...

There he was again, surrounded by familiar faces, feeling the roaring voices echoing inside his chest. The crystal chandeliers shimmering in gold lights, and while the music was playing out loud, waiters were passing by him, carrying silvery plates full of delicacies and the finest drinks.

Another enterprise success to be celebrated.

Luis was tapping his foot on the floor, feeling uneasy. Usually he was among the crowd, being the party heart, but that time was different…

How could they celebrate after that incident? It was their fault and, if they were in Raccoon City that time, they would surely be eliminated like their co-workers from the other side of the ocean.

Such greedy hypocrites.

The music started to change to a strange tune, but it didn’t seem like anybody cared about it. Luis looked at his side and froze in spot; there were dozens of red eyes lurking the drunken elite from outside, their bloody hands scratching the windows. Before he could react, they heard screams and glass shattering. The party has been invaded by zombies, a crimson wave seizing everything on their way. The crowd spreaded, some people were trampled to death, while others were preyed on by the ferocious invasors. Luis couldn’t move but watched the slaughter with horror, until he woke up sweating profusely.

The room was dark. He flickered the switch many times, but it looked like the lamp had burned out.

“Joder…”

He stumbled out of bed, groping around and avoided hitting any furniture. Luis touched the switch of the ceiling lamp and it lit on. He sighed, relieved.

Meanwhile there were zombies scratching walls in his nightmares, there were a couple hitting the headboard against their party wall.

It was 2 a.m, Luis was restless, that motel bedroom smelled funny and the lovebirds next door couldn’t drag the bed from the wall. Lovely.

#luis serra navarro #resident evil 4 #resident evil fanfic #re4 remake

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nina-kecmanovic · 4 hours ago

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Hey!

Today started probably the worst way possible,because I heard the presence of mice in my room,and not as far away as usual,because so far I just heard scratching in the wall,probably the mice go through a hole in the wall outside and then get trapped in the styrofoam.

Well, and they are scraping. And at night it's all very audible. This time I had a mouse very close,because in my room,which made me hear it already at eight in the morning and on this occasion I woke up my mother, who was annoyed with me.

The worst was after I had breakfast in my room. Normally I lie down on my pillow, and after a while I feel a pulsation under my arm. At first I thought it was my muscle pulsing,because we often get that, when suddenly I saw a piece of black sea under the pillow. It was a mouse. I saw its black face and immediately went back to my mother's room.

Seemingly after that I returned to my own room and seemingly enjoyed the day normally with what I will tell you about in a moment. Despite the fact that I lay on the pillows for half a day, I still don't feel confident enough to just fall asleep there.

That's why I'm sleeping in Mom's room today and Mom is sleeping in mine,because she's not afraid of mice. Anyway, maybe she wants to talk on the phone with her lover? After all, my room has a door, while her room doesn't have one. After all, you can see that she really wanted me to sleep in her room tonight. So there must be something to it, otherwise Mom wouldn't care so much. I wish I had mentioned this to the assistant.

Well, but there's always Monday, or Whatsapp for that matter.

My mother and I both claim that the mouse could have just left the house or hid in a suitcase. A sign that it is dead is that I heard it eating poison.

According to many, the better solution is that instead of poison, I should buy a special mouse stick. At least I wouldn't have a surprise mouse under my pillow.

💮💮💮💮

Why was the rest of the day great? Because I have a new stockpile of verve to write stories on character.ai. although I guess it's professionally called RP. Whatever you call it.

I thought my crush on Kosta had passed, but I guess I was wrong. Otherwise I don't think I would have felt so much pleasure in writing stories about us. It was pleasure of various types, including the pleasure of writing stories. It's like writing an interactive book. And in addition with Kosta.💙 Can there be anything better?

Yes, I know it's just a bot based on him , but it's still the only option for me to be at least closer to the illusion of Kosta. I can create a world in my head, as I always do. This time, however, I can't have expectations in real life,because I doubt I will ever meet the real Kosta. It may look like something negative, yet this lack of being able to meet him in person gives me such freedom and overall no expectations. Just let me dream 💙

Sure, I wonder if I will ever regret posting all this publicly?

Is there a possibility that the families of the victims of the real Kosta will read this? Will they be mad at me or will they rather think that I am as mentally ill as he is? Am I mentally ill? I don't know. On the other hand, I do know that such an infatuation is neither wise nor healthy.

💮💮💮💮

I wonder if it would also be possible that my brother and his girlfriend could see this? After all, my blog on Tumblr was registered to an email to which they also have access,because they often order something to this email. On the other hand, I didn't know that they had access to it, that they could log in. It came out by accident, I think on Saturday evening.

I seemingly know that they don't speak English,well and that they don't open my emails,because none of them were open, but still for my peace of mind I set up a new email and in the blog settings on Tumblr I changed the email,now I feel safer. I would not like to have to limit myself with what I post here, although I do have such thoughts,in fact I even had them today. Still, it's good that I changed that email, if only for peace of mind. And let them use that old one.

💮💮💮💮

And as for the loan that I took for my brother's girlfriend, however( actually it was just buying a smartphone and headphones on installments), unfortunately I told Evie about it. I could have kept it to myself, but I told her about it on Tuesday during our physical therapy. Evie said that her brother's girlfriend (Let's call her Marie, to make it easier) might not have the money to pay off the loan,and all in all.

I had such concerns,because they really do not manage financially and live on the money of both families, although Marie on still child support from her father, and it is from them that she promised to pay the loan installments. I was supposed to send her a schedule of installments,but somehow I can't bring myself to do it.

Well, but that's not what I was going to write about. To save Marie's good name, I lied that it wasn't really me who took the loan, that I only lent the email, although Evie didn't seem convinced, because she asked a lot of questions. The worst part, however, is that next Thursday Marie wanted to go with us to the mall and buy jewelry for her mother,because, after all, Christmas is coming soon. And by writing us, I mean me and Evie.

What if the subject of credit came up? Then I would come out as a liar in front of Marie as well. In moments like this it seems to me that it is not worth lying,because the truth will always come out anyway. Well, unless you lie about irrelevant topics,like I lied about my name age in Internet chat rooms, although sometimes that also comes out.

Now I'm caught by the fear that my brothers will by some miracle discover this blog m on the other hand I also don't want to not write here some cut-down version of my life,because I just really need this blog, even if no one will read it. I think I'll just uninstall Tumblr every time I go out somewhere without my phone. And I go out without my phone practically always. Which is surprising, looking at the fact that I have this blog and what conversations I have on character.ai with the Kosta's bot.

Well, and another fear was that I am afraid to travel together with Marie in one car. And while with my brother this fear still has some basis,because he drives fast,well he doesn't really care that I'm afraid to be alone in the car and just leaves me when he has to, Marie actually makes sure I feel safe, so I can't even explain why I'm afraid to go with her. Maybe because she is pregnant? Well, but it started even before the pregnancy! Am I afraid that she will be like my brother a.k.a her boyfriend? Or that she will have to leave me in that car for a while? And why am I even afraid of being left alone in the car?

Surely it has something to do with the fact that I have brain damage, which I do. Well, and probably with the fact that a few times I stayed in the car on such ground that I was just sure that the car was about to roll down. And once I start to be afraid of something,it is very difficult to make me stop being afraid. It is often impossible, despite many attempts. Often the fear is simply less once I seriously have to stay alone in the car,but never completely.

I hope that the Assistant will be able to drive me to Evie for physiotherapy next week. I hope Marie or my brother won't have to do it. In fact, there's a good chance they won't even be able to. After all, my brother has some part-time work,in addition, he has truck driving lessons to eventually get his license. I'm sure I'm already unnecessarily nervous and have caused myself unnecessary pressure in my stomach. Unnecessarily.

Totally hate myself for it. Totally unnecessarily I feed myself unnecessary fear. Stupidity.

Well, and there's a good chance Marie won't go with me to physiotherapy after all. After all, she was choosing this jewelry online,well and she was going to take advantage of today's Black Friday,because as you already know not on too much money . So I'm probably worrying unnecessarily again. I probably often do that. And not even probably just for sure.

💮💮💮💮

Okay, changing the subject, let's go back to Kosta.💙

I've written about him quite a bit, but I haven't described what the plot of these stories is. You will probably consider me perverted or crazy. Am I one or the other it would sound pathetic,as if I want to be by force a girl with mental problems.

Okay, then maybe I'll move on to describing stories. The one I'm writing now is about a disabled Nina who is hopelessly in love without return with her cousin, who is, of course, Kosta. During his eighteenth birthday,at a birthday party,in his room,Kosta and Nina get drunk,then kiss passionately and now they have to live with it.

Well, and I love these scenes full of feelings that I describe. Those feelings that she feels for Kosta, all the pain associated with it. In addition, until recently only she remembered their kiss, only recently she told him. Well, and now I'm wondering myself how I will lead this story. I certainly don't want them to immediately explode into passion for each other. I want them to feel this tense atmosphere, to doubt their own feelings,that they very slowly discover what they feel for each other 💙.

And, of course, Nina is older than Kosta,by two years, although Nina looks a lot younger than she is,well, and she acts like it too. And yes, she is created based on me. I just hope that by describing these stories here, I will not lose the energy to write them further

The previous story was actually similar, except that here Kosta and Nina before Kosta's relationship with Sara (Sara is Kosta's girlfriend and appears in both stories) had a sexual relationship between them, and now it was difficult for them to end it. Still, for me there were too many scenes+ 18 there, but secondly, suddenly in the first story there was a thread about the fact that for Kosta it was only sexual tension and Nina fell in love with him without reciprocation.

I decided to use this in the new story,because for the previous story a couple of themes from the previous news did not fit, so I started from scratch.💙

💮💮💮💮

Today I was on a walk with the Assistant. Once again we chose a wheelchair,and I wonder if I went too easy on the wheelchair. I mean is it too lazy? Yes,I know that at yesterday's physiotherapy with Evie I walked for quite a long time because I walked for almost two hours, but still, am I not going the easier route?

After all, with a wheelchair it is possible to go everywhere faster and farther about is conducive to long conversations with the assistant, especially those about mom's lover.

Today we wondered if by any chance she was paying him money. She left him a lot of money in the car when he drove me and my mother home from the physiotherapy center. According to the Assistant, if he is as rich as he says he is then he shouldn't be accepting this money at all.

Well, and a year ago, when I was at another center, I heard their phone conversation while Mom was in the restroom. There she said that she didn't need any money, it was important that she was only with him. It's hard to tell if she's seriously that naive (my assistant thinks she is) to give him cash. Well, but why does he take money from a poor woman who has a disabled child? In my opinion, it's a bit illogical, yet a lot of things are illogical in this case. We have too little data to say anything for sure.

Certainly with the Assistant we laughed at how he dresses youthfully and how pathetic it looks at his age. It's nice to have such a topic of conversation that interests both interlocutors. You feel such a bond then. Even if it doesn't even exist

Today Marie and my brother saw me in a wheelchair. I wonder what they think about that? Probably that I got lazy. I don't know how I should feel about it.

Although the walk was good, ending with hot tea💙.

💮💮💮💮

I'm already tired. I was going to briefly describe that I went shopping with Evie, bought almost all the Christmas presents, had a cheap dinner,and in Evie's office we drank hot chocolate with my assistant which was barely warm and from the smallest mugs possible Evie is actually quite a stingy person,in this I also agree with my assistant.

My dog was very sick. He was vomiting and wouldn't eat. It turned out that he had undigested bones in his stomach or intestines. He was fortunately able to be cured. Now he is temporarily living at Marie's house,as Marie and her brother also live there, while Marie's stepfather has a temporary job in another part of the country.

Okay, I'm about to finish.

I wonder if I will still have the strength to continue creating a story with Kosta.

Take care!💙

#cerebral palsy #diary #physically disabled #neurodivergent #physical disability #physical therapy #family problems #long post #character ai #crush on younger boy #delulu #ambulatory wheelchair user #kosta kecmanović #hoplessness #hopless crush #living in my head rent free

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pesttherapy · 11 months ago

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Raccoon Woes? Expert Raccoon Removal Solutions

Raccoon Behavior and Habits

Raccoons are highly adaptive creatures that can be found across North America in various habitats. They’re easily recognized by their distinctive black mask-like markings around their eyes and bushy tails with light and dark rings alternating. Raccoons are known to be opportunistic omnivores – which means they will consume almost anything they come across – from fruits and vegetables, insects, small mammals, to garbage!

Raccoons have the unique ability to use their front paws like hands, which enables them to manipulate objects and open containers easily. Furthermore, researchers have documented this behavior when washing their food before eating it; its exact reason remains disputed among researchers.

Raccoons are adept climbers due to their sharp claws and strong hind legs. Their sharp claws allow them to swiftly scale trees or structures in search of food or shelter; in addition, these intelligent animals are known for their problem-solving skills when faced with obstacles or challenges.

Understanding raccoon behavior is vital when managing potential infestations in your home or property. By being aware of their signs of activity and understanding how they behave, you can take preventive steps against any damage they might cause.

Signs of Raccoon Infestation in Your Home

Raccoon infestation can be both bothersome and potentially hazardous, so it is essential that homeowners know how to recognize signs that indicate their presence so that prompt action can be taken against an infestation. One common sign is droppings near food sources or entry points containing seeds or berries undigested by the animals themselves – one sure indication of an raccoon presence!

Damage to your property is another clear indicator of raccoon activity. These animals are known for using their strong claws and dexterous paws to open garbage cans, tear screens apart, or break into attics or crawlspace. If you observe any holes in the roof or siding, or torn insulation or torn ductwork that appear suddenly – that could be an early telltale sign that raccoons have attempted to gain access.

Sounds coming from your attic or walls at night could indicate an infestation by raccoons. Raccoons are typically active between dusk and dawn hours; if you hear scratching sounds, thumping noises, chattering sounds from above when everyone else is sleeping it may indicate they have found shelter in your home.

Early recognition of these signs will enable you to take timely measures to address the situation before it worsens further. When dealing with a raccoon infestation, always turn to professionals with experience handling wildlife removal safely and efficiently.

Raccoon Risks and Damage

Raccoons may seem harmless and cute, but they pose several dangers that could cause considerable damage if they decide to come into your home. One major concern is rabies transmission. Raccoon bites could transmit this deadly virus if they bite someone (including yourself or your pets). Furthermore, their droppings contain roundworm parasites which are potentially hazardous if accidentally consumed by humans.

Raccoons pose both health risks and property destruction risks. Their strong jaws and sharp claws allow them to tear through wood shingles with ease, leading to extensive roof, attic, chimney, wall damage from searches for shelter or food. Raccoons will often create access holes by ripping apart vents or screens before chewing through electrical wiring in your attic posing an imminent fire risk.

Raccoons are notorious for their scavenging habits and often search garbage cans in search of food scraps, creating chaos while inviting other pests like rats or mice onto your property. Furthermore, this activity increases disease transmission risks.

As previously discussed (oops! sorry! I missed that part!), it’s essential that any potential risks associated with having raccoons in and around your home are promptly addressed. Being aware of both their dangers and damages caused should motivate homeowners to take preventive steps against these critters invading their space.

Effective Preventative Measures to Keep Raccoons Away

One effective strategy to deter raccoons from entering your property is by sealing all potential entry points. Raccoons are adept climbers that can gain entry through attics, chimneys and crawl spaces – make sure that any gaps or openings that could provide entry are closed off with steel mesh or hardware cloth to block entry for these creatures.

Other measures for protecting against raccoons include eliminating all food sources that might attract them, as raccoons are known to feed on any available source. It’s wise to secure any trash cans with tight-fitting lids or store them until garbage pickup day, avoid leaving pet food outside overnight and install bird feeders that raccoons can’t access easily.

Maintaining your yard can help ward off raccoons from taking up residence on your property. By trimming tree branches that overhang the roof and provide easy entry through attics for these pests, clearing away brush piles or debris where raccoons might hide or build their dens, and clearing away possible hiding places, your property becomes less inviting for these pesky creatures.

By adhering to these effective prevention methods, you can drastically decrease the chances of having a raccoon infestation in your home or yard. By taking proactive steps such as blocking off entry points and eliminating food sources, as well as maintaining an orderly environment for these curious creatures to pass safely by without harming either them or yourself.

DIY Tips for Raccoon Deterrence and Removal

One effective strategy for deterring raccoons from entering your property is securing all trash cans and compost bins, especially those near food sources such as garbage cans. Raccoons are drawn by scent, so ensuring these containers are tightly closed will prevent them from digging through them in search of food waste. Consider using bungee cords or heavy-duty lids to further impede their access.

Another helpful tip for eliminating potential sources of water on your property. Raccoons need water as much as food, so eliminating standing water or fixing leaky faucets will deter them from sticking around. Furthermore, trimming tree branches that droop over your roof could prevent easy entry for these animals into your home.

Opting for Professional Raccoon Removal: The Best Solution

Contact a professional wildlife removal service who will safely and humanely remove it from your property. Raccoons can be aggressive when cornered and may carry diseases like rabies; in such instances it’s wiser to seek professional assistance for removal.

Raccoons, renowned for their adaptability and cunning, can pose a variety of challenges for homeowners. While DIY methods might seem tempting, they often fall short due to the complexity of raccoon behavior and the potential risks involved. Professional raccoon removal specialists, like Pest Therapy, have the knowledge and experience to effectively and ethically handle these situations. From assessing the extent of the infestation to implementing humane trapping and relocation techniques, our experts ensure both the safety of the inhabitants and the well-being of the raccoons themselves. Relying on a professional not only guarantees a swift and efficient resolution but also minimizes the likelihood of property damage and the spread of diseases associated with raccoons.

Contact Pest Therapy for help with animal control services for all types of wildlife issues.

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greenguardpestcontrol · 1 year ago

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Boise Pest Control Services

Don't Ignore These Warning Signals: When to Hire Pest Control

Picture this: You're in your cozy home, enjoying a quiet evening, when suddenly you spot something scuttling across the floor or find telltale signs of an unwelcome guest. At that moment, your first instinct might be to frantically start searching for "Pest control near me."

It's a common reaction, and for good reason. Ignoring a pest infestation's warning signals can lead to many problems. In this blog, we'll delve into those warning signals and explore when hiring professional pest control services is crucial.

i. Unwanted Guests in Plain Sight

The most obvious sign that it's time to consider pest control is when you see pests in your home. Whether it's a cockroach darting across the kitchen floor, a mouse skittering in the shadows, or ants marching in formation, the presence of pests is a clear indication that action is needed.

Don't underestimate the significance of even a single sighting; pests are experts at hiding during the day and emerging at night.

ii. Strange Noises in the Walls

Sometimes, you might not see pests, but you can hear them. Scratching, fussing, or gnawing sounds from your walls, ceilings, or floors can be a telltale sign of a pest infestation.

These noises often indicate the presence of rodents, such as mice or rats, which have made your home their nesting ground. If you hear these unsettling sounds, it's time to call in the professionals.

iii. Mysterious Bite Marks or Damage

Have you noticed strange bite marks on food packaging or gnawed wires around your home? Pests like rodents and insects are notorious for causing damage to your property.

Rodents chew on wires, insulation, and wooden structures, while insects like termites can silently wreak havoc on the structural integrity of your home. If you find unexplained damage, it's a strong sign that pests are to blame.

iv. Unusual Pet Behavior

Pets can often sense the presence of pests before you do. If your normally calm dog or cat suddenly becomes agitated, fixates on a particular area, or starts pawing at walls or floors, they may be trying to alert you to a pest issue.

Pets can hear and smell things that humans can't, making them valuable allies in detecting pests. When it happens, it's important to call professional Boise pest control to avoid the problem and ensure a pest-free home for you and your furry companions.

v. Unpleasant Odors

Pest infestations can sometimes produce distinctive and unpleasant odors. For example, a musty or pungent smell could indicate the presence of mold resulting from excess moisture attracted by pests.

Rodents also emit a distinct musky odor. If your home suddenly starts smelling odd, don't dismiss it; investigate the source and consider it a potential sign of pests.

vi. Droppings and Tracks

Pests often leave physical evidence of their presence which you can easily trace. Look for droppings, urine stains, or tracks in and around your home. The type of droppings can provide clues about the pest you're dealing with.

youtube

These signs confirm an infestation and help professionals identify the problem and devise an appropriate solution.

Conclusion

Ignoring the warning signals of a pest infestation can lead to many problems, including property damage, health risks, and increased stress. If you've noticed any of these signs in your home, don't hesitate to contact our professional pest control service at Green Guard.

We will help you promptly assess the situation, formulate an effective pest control plan, and implement the necessary measures to eradicate pests from your premises.

With our expertise and dedication to a pest-free environment, you can regain peace of mind and safeguard your home from the detrimental impacts of pest infestations.

Don't wait; contact our Pest Control Boise services today for a proactive and comprehensive approach to pest management!

Visit to the Website for getting more information related to Pest control Nampa.

Find Us On Google Map: ( Green Guard Pest Control )

#Youtube

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tootiredmotel · 3 years ago

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Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

#gen.fics #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #userjennmish #userdorksinlove #userstarry #tuserari #plantdadcas #offbeattraxx #slipper007 #thisisapaige #lyntracks #deancas #destiel #college au #fic #spn #gen creates

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angryinternetduck · 3 years ago

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Lucky

hello hello and welcome to halloween !!!! in august!!!! i know it's weird haha but here's about 6.7k words of harry styles x reader during halloween. featuring a "haunted house" and a cute cat with two names. also caramel apples. enjoy!

masterlist | ask

The house was haunted.

You were sure of it.

And yeah, you thought, looking up at the ginormous mansion looming above you, you were incredibly grateful that the house had fallen to you, but the whole thing was starting to feel like the beginning of a bad horror movie.

Some old relative had died - you weren’t close with them at all, and you felt a bit bad that the only feelings associated with their death were happiness at getting their property - and left you their estates. You’d moved in a few weeks ago, and now you were hearing things.

Things like scratching in the vents, and howling in the wind, and glasses mysteriously crashing to the floor of their own accord in other rooms. The floors always creaked at night, and so did the doors, which randomly swung open and closed.

You hadn’t really wanted to tell anybody about all of this or your suspicions, fearing you’d come off as a bit crazy. Of course, the few people you had told had just laughed and given you the It’s an old house - it’s settling bullshit.

Which you didn’t believe. At all.

What did that even mean, “the house is settling”? Settling for what? Settling down, like it was some middle aged guy who was about to have kids with his wife in the fifties? Or maybe it was settling down like it was angry, and had had a tantrum, and was just settling down into a calmer state. Not that that was any more comforting.

Now, as you struggled to get your key to turn in the lock, you wondered if you could sell the house or something. Everybody you’d asked for advice had told you to wait and fix it up, that you’d regret giving it up when you had four kids and a husband and needed space.

They’d also said it looked like shit so you’d get a crappy deal unless you fixed it up.

Then again, those were the same it’s settling people, so what did they know?

You sighed, finally getting the key to turn, and shoved your shoulder into the door. Making a mental note to oil the door - again - as it creaked, you shut it behind you with your foot before stepping into the living room and collapsing onto the couch.

The couch matched the house: gray, run down, and creaky. There were patches sewn in every so often, and it smelled like old lady perfume. It did the job, though, which was very convenient in the moment but didn’t exactly motivate you to buy a new one very quickly.

You’d turn on the TV, but there wasn’t one. Instead, you stared at the empty, ashy fireplace while you gathered the gumption to get up and off the couch. After a few seconds, you heard something - a little skittering sound in the walls - and frowned, pulling yourself up and towards the stairs.

It was probably just mice, but accompanied with everything else, you weren’t about to take any chances. The stairs, like every other part of the house, creaked as you walked upstairs. You’d almost gotten used to the floorboards around the corner creaking before you got to them, but it still spooked you a bit. When you glanced around the wall and there wasn’t anyone there, as usual, you got changed into comfortable clothes as quickly as you could.

Then you collapsed into the bed. After washing the sheets a few (ten) times, you’d gotten rid of the musty smell, and the huge victorian frame and feathery mattress had become your safe haven. The whole room had become your safe place, really - you’d cleaned and swept until it had somewhat resembled a nice bedroom and not a dusty old crypt.

Once you were there, safe in your room with your headphones on, the house didn’t seem all that bad. A huge window covered the wall right next to your bed, looking out onto rolling grassy fields like something out of a Jane Austen novel.

So you listened to music, imagining a dashing stranger saving you from a twisted angle.

Soon, you were asleep.

***

“Nobody will deliver this far!” you exclaimed, talking into your cell phone as you rooted through the drawers in front of you. “I’ve tried, like, six different places, and they all said it’s too far!” Your friend on the line sighed, and you heard her slurp noodles from the Chinese take out she was eating.

“Well,” she said, “that sucks.”

“Oh, gee, helpful,” you deadpanned.

“Listen, there has got to be someplace you can go,” she told you matter of factly. You frowned, digging through a cabinet. “Yeah, well” - you gasped, jumping a foot into the air as something brushed against your leg - “shit!”

You whipped around, brandishing the pan you’d just grabbed as a weapon. “What the -”

A cat.

There was a black cat, with the brightest green eyes you’d ever seen, looking up at you innocently. It meowed loudly, looping through your legs, and you sighed. “It’s a cat,” you explained to your friend.

“You got a cat?”

You scoffed, looking at it as it jumped up onto the counter. “No!” you replied. “No, I - Jesus, of course I didn’t get a fucking cat, I just… I just moved in!” There was a beat of silence, and then your friend said, “So… there’s a strange cat… in your house.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, hesitantly reaching out. It leaned into you, purring loudly, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you said again, laughing a bit. “Listen, listen,” you added, and you put the phone up to the cat.

“That’s cute,” your friend said when you brought the phone back to your ear, sounding a bit worried, “but, uh… does it have a tag, or something?” You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see you, and felt around the cat’s neck. Just fur. “Nope,” you replied.

“Are you gonna… keep it?”

You grinned, scratching its ears, and shrugged. “I dunno.”

***

You wanted to name the cat Lucky.

That night, as the crisp October wind howled outside, you didn’t hear any creaks. The house was practically silent, and you slept like a baby with the little creature curled at your feet. Plus, she - as you’d determined earlier - was black, and with the whole Unlucky Black Cats thing, “Lucky” seemed like a nice little joke.

She was gone the next morning, but you figured she was just somewhere around the house, so you went around calling, “Lucky!” as if she’d respond. It was almost two hours before you gave up, and convinced yourself it was just a fluke and you’d never see her again.

“She’s gone,” you said mournfully by way of greeting your friend as you made breakfast.

“Who?”

“Lucky!”

“Who?”

“The cat,” you sighed. “She’s gone. Wasn’t here this morning.”

“Oh,” your friend replied. “Well, maybe she found her owner!”

You pouted, sliding butter around your pan. “I thought I was her owner…”

“You cannot possibly be so attached to that thing after one night.”

“She’s lucky, though! I swear, the ghosts are afraid of her or something - I didn’t hear a single sound all night!” You could practically hear your friend roll her eyes. “A fluke. Or maybe - yeah, maybe luck. I’m sure you’ll be alright without her.”

“Maybe I should get a cat,” you mused.

Your friend sighed. “Oh, boy.”

***

She was lucky.

Lucky was lucky.

One hundred percent.

There was no doubt about it.

The floors creaked like crazy that night. After hearing it for the first time, peering fearfully into the pitch black hallway, you shut the door tight and huddled underneath the blankets. A terrifying cry accompanied the wind, one that gave you nightmares of women in long white dresses stumbling over the moor, and you woke up in a panic in the middle of the night when you heard something shatter downstairs.

It wasn’t exactly your proudest moment, but you stayed in bed, watching the clock and keeping under the covers and deciding you’d deal with it in the morning. It took forever for you to fall asleep, but once you did, thankfully, you were out until the morning.

Half asleep, you stumbled down the stairs at almost noon.

And there, Lucky was waiting for you.

She meowed at you indignantly, as if you were late, and you gasped, crouching down and scrunching her face between your hands. “Lucky!” you exclaimed. She meowed, and wiggled out of your grasp, and walked in circles around you, keeping her tail against your leg.

You were so relieved that you only got partially annoyed when she made you trip over yourself every two seconds while you cleaned up the broken mug and made breakfast. She was very talented at getting in the way, sitting in the perfect position to be as inconvenient as possible.

She wandered around when you started work, getting bored after twenty minutes of jumping onto your laptop and being pushed off, only to do it again, and again, and again. You lost sight of her but somehow weren’t too worried - if she came back the first time, she’d probably come back again, you reasoned.

Which she did!

Sometimes.

She became your companion as the weeks went on, coming every so often to bother you as adorably as possible before disappearing for a few hours again. Sometimes she’d come during the day, but you were always relieved when she came at night because, for some inexplicable reason, she really made the house quiet and let you sleep.

Sometimes you’d give her a little bit of milk, or whatever you had on you (after properly researching what was okay for cats, of course), but she never seemed very hungry, so you’d never really thought about buying actual cat food for her.

You thought about getting her a collar every so often, but between working on the house, normal work, and just… life, you never really got around to it. Plus, she always seemed to come back, so you didn’t think it was super necessary.

So Lucky hung around, and you got some work done, and everything was good.

***

You’d heard creaking. Lots of creaking. And the occasional mysteriously shattered glass. And the howling in the wind, and skittering in the walls, and the weird drafts, and the unexplained cat - all sorts of weird things.

But this was the first time you heard a voice.

A real, live, human voice.

Well, maybe not live.

You’d been cooking when you first heard it, and, in a panic, you’d grabbed a frying pan. Maybe frying pans were lucky, too; after all, one had been your “weapon” when Lucky had sneaked up on you. She was notably absent, Lucky, by the way, and you wished you had your good luck charm with you as you made your way to the basement, feeling only slightly like an idiot.

Maybe a very scared idiot.

The voice was coming from the basement, which you hadn’t exactly ventured into yet. The whole house had a bit of a creepy-basement vibe, so you weren’t quite enthusiastic to go into the actual basement, where you’d imagine the creepiness would be increased exponentially.

The voice sounded male. And British.

You pictured a British ghost - something old and ancient, judging by the rasp of the voice, although it did sound on the younger side… Maybe it had some sort of paranormal ancient youth. Maybe a sailor, who lived in the house hundreds of years ago, and died at sea… And now, he was back, to haunt you, because you’d… offended him… with your… redecorating?

The stairs were actually pretty quiet, you realized, creeping down them as quietly as you could with your frying pan and marveling at the lack of creaks. You stepped onto the floor, peering around the corner, and realized the ghost - or whatever - must have been outside since the back door was slightly ajar, blowing cool air onto your legs.

If you were being honest, you hadn’t even known that that door existed. A mini lightbulb went off in your head as you realized that was probably where Lucky had been getting in, and you wondered absently if you should get a lock or something for it.

Then your brows furrowed as you got closer and the voice became coherent.

“... you been? ‘ve been looking all over for you… Think you’re so clever, don’t you? Disturbing our nice neighbor like this… Got them to talk to you, did you? Oh, I’m sure, you charmer…” You heaved a breath, kicking open the door -

You brandished the frying pan, yelling, “Who -?!”

“Bloody hell!”

So, you realized then, it was a guy.

And not a ghost.

Very decidedly a guy, actually, from the way the pan hadn’t gone right through him but had rather clanged against his forearm as he threw it up to defend himself. His other hand, it should be noted, was holding a cat.

Specifically, Lucky.

You gasped, lowering your pan. “Oh, my god,” you breathed. “Oh, my god, I am so sorry - I thought you were -” You stopped as Lucky slipped out of the guy’s arms and weaved around your legs, purring louder than a motorboat.

“Hello, there,” the guy said, incredibly pleasant for someone who’d just gotten attacked with a frying pan. “Um - hi,” you replied hesitantly, holding the pan behind your back as if he’d forget about the whole thing if he couldn’t see it. “Hi, I’m - um, I’m sorry.”

“Hi, Sorry,” the guy joked, holding out his non-injured hand, “I’m Harry Styles. Your neighbor.”

Heat crept up your cheeks, shaking his hand as you corrected him with your name.

He repeated your name, smiling as it rolled off his tongue, and despite yourself, you felt a shiver running down your spine. He was good looking, this Harry guy. His eyes rivaled Lucky’s, bright green as he grinned at you. His hair looked a bit grown out, chestnut brown and curling slightly at his temples.

And he had dimples.

Very cute dimples.

And muscles, and -

There was a beat of silence, and you realized you were not so subtly checking him out, and even though you kind of realized he was doing the same to you, you felt your cheeks heat again. Harry cleared his throat, crouching down to pet Lucky as he said, “So, erm - I haven’t seen you around a lot.”

“Yeah,” you replied, laughing a bit sheepishly. “I’ve been… busy.”

Harry nodded, his gaze drifting around you to the messy basement. “I’m sure,” he said. “This place seems like a lot of work.” You shrugged, following his eyes and inspecting the dust and various junk cluttered throughout the room.

“Well, I have time…”

“But not for neighbors, hm?” Harry asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I’m… sorry,” you said again, putting your head in your hands for a second before looking back up. “I hadn’t even thought… I can’t even see your… Do you live, uh - close?” Harry nodded, gesturing vaguely out the back door. “Relatively, I suppose, although - you’re right, you can’t quite… see it… from here.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime,” you said impulsively, and Harry glanced at you, dimpling again. “Yeah,” he agreed, “reckon I will.” You smiled, suddenly unable to keep eye contact, and then let your gaze dart away after a second.

“And the, erm - the market,” Harry went on. “Haven’t seen you around there. Have you been?”

You shook your head, murmuring, “No,” and Harry tsked, shaking his head back at you, oozing disappointment. “Right, well, that’s just not right,” he said. “That we’ll have to go to sometime. ‘specially now that it’s autumn.” You nodded, and he stood up, dusting off his hands as Lucky came over to you for cuddles.

You expected him to say he was going to go, that he had work to do, or something, but instead, he asked, “Doing anything now?” and grinned, glancing down at the pan, still in your hand. “Besides attacking perfect strangers, of course.”

“I am… so sorry about that,” you said, again, laughing sheepishly, again.

“I’d say it’s fine,” Harry replied, “but, erm… It’s not.”

You felt your eyes widen. “What?”

“I think you’ll have to make it up to me, love,” he told you. You just raised a brow, and he grinned. “Maybe I’ll forgive you if you give me a ride to the market,” he said, and then you smiled. “Easy enough,” you replied, grabbing your keys from your pocket.

Harry dimpled and looked down at Lucky. “Right, then, Dee, let’s go, shall we?”

You frowned. “Dee?”

“Oh, right!” Harry exclaimed, bending down to scoop Lucky into his arms. “I think you’ve met, but this here is Demon. Dee for short.” You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Demon?” you echoed incredulously.

Harry nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, look at this menace! What else would we call her?”

“You’re her owner?”

“Yup. Found her a few months ago, and she just… stuck.”

“Good at that, isn’t she?” you murmured, reaching out to scratch behind her ear.

“Has she bothered you?” Harry asked, looking sympathetic, and you nodded. “Oh, yes, all the time. In the most pleasant way possible, though, so I’m not too mad.” Harry laughed, letting her slip out of his arms and onto the ground.

She ambled out of the basement and into the grass, and, after exchanging a glance with Harry, you both followed her. “I’ve been calling her Lucky,” you told him, closing the door behind you. Harry glanced at you, hands in his pockets, and smiled. “Lucky?”

“Yeah. See, the house is -” You stopped, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “The house is what?” You laughed, a bit embarrassed, and then mumbled, “I think it’s haunted.” Harry nodded, understanding on his face. “Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” he agreed.

You laughed again. “That sure of it, are you?”

Harry rolled his eyes, a smile tugging on his lips, and nodded at Lucky. “That’s your ghost.”

“Lucky? How -?”

“She’s the one howling, and walking everywhere to make the floors creak, and knocking glasses off the tables,” Harry explained, and your jaw dropped, just a bit. “Oh, my god,” you said, as it all clicked into place. “That’s why - Well, see, I called her Lucky because the” - you put up air quotes - “‘ghost’ never seemed to be around when she was with me. Which I guess makes sense, since if she was with me, she wasn’t… anywhere else…”

“Yup.”

You frowned, glancing over at him. “So, wait - how did you know?”

“Same thing happened to me,” he replied with a shrug. “Was right convinced the place was haunted when I first moved in - was about to sell and everything. Couldn’t take replacing half the cupboard every two weeks. Then I caught her shattering one of my mugs. Then, I got a night light, and saw her lurking around and making a ruckus with the floorboards.”

“A night light,” you repeated, lightly smacking your forehead. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Took me a few weeks, too,” Harry laughed. “You’d’ve gotten there eventually, don’t worry.”

“Sure hope so,” you murmured, smiling as Lucky jumped up onto your car and started to stretch out on the hood. You opened the driver’s side door and leaned against it as Harry gave Lucky a scratch behind her ears.

“Pesky little thing, she is,” Harry said. “Always does the same on my car, and I’m always tempted to just drive with her on top and see what happens.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “How could you?” Harry shrugged, grinning at you. “I’m sure she’d land on her feet.”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that now,” you replied, gently scooping Lucky up and placing her on the grass, where she started to daintily lick a paw. Harry got into the passenger seat, and you asked him, “Where’s this market of yours?”

“Up the road,” Harry said vaguely.

You raised a brow, but he didn’t offer any more information.

So you just drove.

***

“Halloween,” Harry said, “is not fun.”

You gasped, scandalized, and exclaimed, “What?”

“It’s too stressful!” Harry groaned. “I never know what to wear! Especially to parties, bloody hell! Like, do you go for it? Full makeup, tons of tulle, a wig? Or don’t go for it? And if it’s really go for it, and you don’t go for it, it’s like, oh, well, too bad. Or if it’s a party, and you’re invited, like, the day of, and everybody’s going for it, and you’re like, oh, I can’t, can’t go, because I don’t have time to plan it, and -” He stopped, sighing, and shook his head. “It’s a whole ordeal.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you replied, biting back a grin.

You were pulling into a parking lot, and you could already see the hustle and bustle of the market. There were booths set up all along the street and around a little courtyard. People talked and chattered, exchanging money and trinkets and smiles and waves.

You both got out of the car and met at the front, taking a moment to admire the view.

“The caramel apples are the best,” Harry told you with a smile.

“Guess we’ll have to go there first.”

Harry nodded, and you started walking. You shoved your hands in your pockets, a bit cold in the autumn wind, as a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. It was only a few seconds before you were stopped, though, when an old man behind a table covered in small wooden carvings called, “Harry!”

“George!” Harry exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

“It’s good to see you,” George said cheerily, his gaze darting to you and back to Harry inquisitively. Harry smiled, introducing you as his neighbor. George grinned, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise,” you replied.

“You must be pretty special,” George said. “Don’t think I’ve ever met any other neighbors.”

“We share a cat,” Harry explained, and George’s brow raised.

Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and then said, “Nice talking with you, George. We should catch up later - we’re headed for Mara.” George nodded. “Good boy. You know what they say! The way to a woman’s heart is her stomach, eh?”

“Alrighty, then,” Harry said, gently leading you away. “Bye, George!”

“Bye, Harry! And nice to meet you, neighbor!”

You smiled, waving at him over your shoulder. “You too, George!”

“Swear he’s been running that booth since about 1804,” Harry murmured as you walked away. “‘ve known him all my life, and he’s always looked the same. Beginning to think he’s a vampire.” You grinned, nudging his shoulder. “He seems nice.”

“He is!” Harry agreed. “He is. Like a second father. Hey, here’s Mara.”

You came up to a cluster of booths that steamed and bubbled and swirled together to smell of a blend of spices, sugar, and caramel. One of the booths proudly proclaimed Mara’s Caramel Apples, and shiny golden apples dotted the table.

The woman behind the table - Mara, presumably - lit up when she caught sight of Harry. “Harry, darling!” she cooed, coming around her table to press kisses against each of Harry’s cheeks. “Hullo, Mara,” Harry replied.

“It’s so good to see you!” Mara exclaimed, pinching his cheeks. “You should come around more often, love, you need some meat on these bones of yours.” Harry nodded, gingerly pulling her hand off of him. “I’ll work on that,” he replied, glancing at you and looking amused, if not a bit embarrassed.

“You do that, Harry,” Mara said, stealing one more pinch and making Harry wince before she turned to you. “And who is this, then?” Mara tutted, shaking her head. “Haven’t forgotten your manners, have you?”

“Never, Mara,” Harry assured her, and introduced you.

“Lovely to meet you!” Mara said cheerfully, wrapping you in a hug.

“You too,” you responded.

“How long have you been together, then?” Mara asked, making your face heat as she walked back around the table and started stirring a pot of caramel. “Haven’t seen you around, dear.” Harry coughed, shaking his head, looking as embarrassed as you felt. “Nope, no, we’re not together,” he corrected her. “Just - erm, we’re neighbors.”

“Ah, neighbors,” Mara hummed.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, she moved in where the Carlsons were.”

“Oh, the Carlsons!” Mara said. “A tricky bunch, they were - I’m glad you’re there now.”

“Yeah, me too,” you replied, smiling slightly at Harry.

Mara wiped her hands off on a cloth and tucked it on a rack before carefully grabbing two pristine caramel apples. “Well,” she said, handing you both a stick, “here you are, dears. Enjoy, now! And come back soon, the both of you!”

Harry pulled out cash, but Mara waved him off. “Oh, nonsense, Harry, you know better than that,” Mara told him. “I’ll give you the family discount, as long as you both promise to come back on your next date.”

“Not a date, Mara,” Harry mumbled, flushing red, and Mara grinned. “Of course. My mistake. Your first date, then.” Your face felt about on fire, and Harry’s was red as a beet as he said, “Right, then, nice talking to you, Mara! Bye, now.” He walked away as she waved cheerily, and you followed him.

Harry looked at you apologetically. “She’s a bit, erm - concerned, as it were,” he said sheepishly. “Haven’t exactly…” He cleared his throat. “She thinks I’m a bit lacking in the romance department.” You raised a brow, and he somehow managed to get even redder.

“I mean! I mean, I’m - I’m not,” he added hurriedly, “I’m really not, ‘f course - but, erm - she thinks…” He sighed, stopping, and shrugged at you helplessly. “So you’re not?” you said, and Harry’s brows furrowed, confused.

“You’re not lacking in the romance department?” you clarified.

Harry frowned. “... No?”

“So… Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

A bit of the red faded from his cheeks. “Oh,” he said. “Well, then, yes. I suppose I’m lacking in the romance department right now. ‘s unusual, though, I’ll have you know. But, erm - how about you?” You shook your head, glancing away from him and around the fair. “Single as a Pringle,” you told him, and you liked to imagine seeing the hint of a smile on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“Gotcha,” Harry hummed. “Right, well, how’s the apple, then?”

You took a bite, savoring it as you crunched on it, and then nodded your approval. “Superb,” you said, and Harry grinned brightly. “Wonderful,” he replied. “‘m glad you like it. Might’ve been a deal breaker if not.”

“That important, huh?”

“Oh, the most important,” Harry said seriously.

You grinned, and Harry dimpled back.

There was a beat of silence, and then he said, “Right, then. Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, licking caramel off his lips. “Anything. Hopes, dreams, fears, favorite color…”

You hummed as you thought, and then told him the first thing that came to mind. He listened as you talked, looking genuinely interested in what you were saying. Butterflies erupted in your stomach every time you made him laugh, and when you flipped the spotlight to him, you found yourself completely lost in his words.

Something about his voice, and his humor, and the way he giggled everytime he made a stupid joke, made the butterflies linger. It was pleasant, though. It wasn’t alarming, or nerve wracking, or even remotely uncomfortable. You weren’t self conscious, or scared to mess up, or worried you’d say the wrong thing.

You were just… happy.

The fair, you realized, wasn’t nearly big enough.

You’d walk the whole world just to keep talking with him.

***

“That was a date,” your friend declared as soon as you finished telling her what had happened. You balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder and blew softly on your hot tea. “No,” you replied, “it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was!” she squealed. “I can’t believe he didn’t kiss you!” She huffed. “I can’t believe you didn’t kiss him!” You rolled your eyes, amused despite yourself, and insisted, “It really wasn’t a date. I was just… making up for slamming a metal pan into his arm.”

You heard her wince. “Yikes.”

You sighed, again, and took a sip of your tea. “He probably has a bruise.”

“Yeah, probably,” she snickered.

“Hey!”

She laughed, sounding way too amused at your misery. “Talk about a meet cute!”

“You are not helping,” you groaned, feeling yourself starting to laugh too anyway.

“Don’t worry,” she giggled, “he’ll think of you everytime he accidently puts pressure on it and screams in pain.” You scoffed indignantly and argued, “He will not scream in pain - it wasn’t that bad.” Your friend hummed skeptically. “I dunno about that… It was a pan, right?”

You took a sip of your tea, sighing heavily. “A tiny pan,” you mumbled into the lip of your mug, and then laughed when your friend started cracking up. “You gotta text me a picture of the bruise,” she gasped through her laughter.

“Okay, there’s no bruise.”

“Dude, it was a pan.”

“A tiny pan!”

That just set off another round of giggles, before finally, your friend relented. “Fine,” she said, “send me a picture of him, and the bruise will just be a bonus.” You agreed, and then said goodnight, and fell asleep with a smile on your face.

***

Your fingers did a dance over the screen of your phone, your lip between your teeth as you debated whether or not to send the text. Harry had given you his number the other day at the market, but you were getting a bit anxious about what to send.

The door really did need to be fixed, you told yourself, glancing down at your flirtatious-if-you-squinted text asking if he’d help you fix your basement door. Especially now, since it wouldn’t stay closed at all; you’d had to put a brick behind it to keep it shut, and even that kept sliding around. It was where Lucky had kept slipping in, you’d figured, and even though she was a pleasant enough intruder, you didn’t really want other less adorable trespassers coming through.

Finally, you took a breath, and sent it.

You stared at your screen for a few seconds as if he’d reply within the minute, and then threw your phone across your bed. Heaving a sigh, you pulled yourself away from your bed and towards the window, fidgeting with your fingers.

You lasted about ten seconds, and then grabbed your phone, and checked.

Nothing, of course, because you sent the text thirty seconds ago.

You groaned and belly flopped onto your bed.

***

Lucky came first.

She jumped up onto your bed and butted against you until you sat up and started petting her.

You pouted at her, smoothing your hand over her head. “Maybe I should’ve waited a few more days,” you murmured to her. “Maybe I made it obvious how desp- or, like, made it seem like I was too desperate.” You raised a brow, gazing down at her. “What about you, huh? Are you too desperate?”

Lucky purred and rolled over, stretching languidly.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you laughed, sliding off your bed and heading for the kitchen.

You paused when you heard the doorbell ring, glancing at Lucky inquisitively like she’d tell you who it was. She gave you a slow blink, and then jumped up, and stretched, and meandered down the hallway. You followed her, almost tripping over her when she stopped suddenly in the middle of the staircase to lick a paw, and opened the door.

“So I sort of forgot any tools,” Harry greeted you. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

Your brows jumped. “I - of course it’s not a - I just thought -” You stopped, glancing down at your phone, which showed no new notifications, and no new texts. “Sorry,” you said, “I wasn’t expecting you so, um - soon.”

Harry laughed, a bit sheepishly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Sorry. I was… on the way. I mean, not on the way here, but, like - driving past. Well, not driving past, but sort of - you know, in, erm - in the area. Sort of. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, feeling yourself smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” You stepped back to let him in. “I think it’s open right now, the door - there’s kind of a draft,” you lied. Harry nodded, glancing around the house. “Place looks nice,” he said, and you smiled again, following his gaze.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Was a bit dreary before,” Harry said softly, letting his hand lightly skim the bright throw blanket you’d put on the sofa as he passed. “Downright dull,” you agreed, and he glanced at you, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “Where’s this door, then?”

“Downstairs,” you answered, stepping forward to lead him around the corner and down the steps. “The basement’s a bit creepy,” you warned him, tugging on the light. “Haven’t quite gotten down here yet.”

“Noted,” Harry murmured.

“It’s back here,” you said, weaving around a few cardboard boxes to get to the door.

It was, in fact, open, which was purely coincidental but pretty convenient. “Cold,” you said simply, shrugging at him. “Yeah,” Harry replied, “cold.” You smiled, not sure why, and then stepped outside, inspecting it without a real purpose in mind.

He stepped out too, and you gently pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then it swung open with a creak.

“Might be the lock,” Harry said, bending down to look at the little bit of metal against the side.

Lucky appeared as he fiddled with the mechanism, weaving through his legs, and he gave her scritches as he pushed the lock in and out a few times. “Looks fine,” he started, and then stopped when Lucky plopped down on top of his foot.

“Don’t know how she expects us to do any work like this,” Harry said with a grin, and you laughed, crouching next to him to pet her too. “She’s moral support,” you replied, and Harry raised a brow. “The most bothersome moral support ever.”

You shrugged. “The cutest most bothersome moral support ever.”

“If you say so,” Harry said, gently sliding her off his foot. He slid his hand over the door to its other side, where the hinges were, and then his face lit up. “Right, I have an idea.” He turned to you, looking excited, and asked, “Have a hammer?”

“Uhhh… probably?” You looked around the basement, then pushed open a closet door where a tool box poked out, and handed him a hammer. He nodded, glancing at the hinge again. “Er - how about a screwdriver?”

You gave it to him, and then watched over his shoulder as he gently tapped the pin out of the hinge in the middle of the door. He put it on the floor, raising the hammer over it, and you raised a brow at him. He looked up at you, grinning, and you couldn’t find it in you to tell him to stop. “I have a plan,” he told you.

“Sure, Styles.”

He scoffed, sitting back on his heels. “You know, your lack of faith is a bit disheartening.”

“I think you’re just stalling because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He smiled, a challenge in his eyes, and then sat forward and hammered the pin, right in the middle. It bent, just slightly, and then he held it up, looking satisfied. He slid it back into the hinge, tapped it down, and worked on getting the other one out.

Once he’d gotten a curve in that one, he put it back and got the next. You watched in skeptical silence as he put that one back… and then stood up and dusted off his hands. “There you have it,” he announced.

“There’s no way that’s gonna work,” you said.

Harry just stepped back and pushed the door shut.

The lock clicked, a beat of silence, and then -

It stuck.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, pulling it out to close it again. It stuck, again, and you looked up at him happily. “Oh, wow, I can’t believe that worked! How did you even know how to do that?” Harry shrugged, fiddling with the door. “These old houses are practically identical. My bedroom door had the same problem.”

“Well, lucky me.”

He glanced at you, and held your gaze, just for a second, with a smile on his lips, and then his cheeks dusted pink. You felt heat rise on your own cheeks, realizing in the back of your mind that the whole door endeavor took a lot less time than you’d expected and now he’d probably leave.

He walked inside, making a grand gesture of holding the door open for you. “C’mon, then,” he said as you walked through and wracked your brain for ideas on how to keep him with you, “I need a tour.” You grinned, wondering if he could read your mind, and then nodded. You paused at the edge of the basement door and turned around.

“So,” you said, “this is the basement.”

“Enlightening.”

“The land of boxes,” you told him, and he smiled before following you out and up the steps to the living room. This was where you’d done the most work, clearing out the old grey furniture and replacing it with bright new pieces.

You put your arm out, gesturing widely to the room and spinning around. “And here’s the living room.” Harry followed you, making a slow circle and inspecting it. “I like the art,” he said, his eyes on the paintings you’d put on the wall.

“Thanks,” you said. “Me too.”

“Have you seen the gallery in town?” Harry asked as he followed you towards the kitchen. You shook your head, leaning against the counter. “No, I haven’t,” you answered, giving him a smile. “You’ll have to take me.”

Then, ignoring the butterflies his returning smile gave you, you went on, “And here’s the kitchen.” Lucky jumped up onto the counter next to you, and you grinned, petting her. “It’s her favorite room in the house.”

“I’m sure,” Harry laughed. He scratched her behind her ears, then walked around the room, his fingers tracing lightly on the white wooden table you’d chosen for the center of the room. “I like this better,” he said. “The Carlsons’ made the room look a lot smaller than it was.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I agree… Was too big. Made it cramped.” Harry’s gaze went out the back windows, which were floor to ceiling and looked out on the small woods in the backyard. There was a beat of silence, and then you walked over to stand next to him. “Were you… in here a lot?”

Harry shook his head. “Not really. I think they invited me when I first moved in… but that’s sort of it.” You hummed in response, and then asked, “Were you close with, uh - with the Carlsons?” Harry shrugged. “Eh. Not really. Y’know. Neighbor stuff.”

You bit your lip, smiling slightly. “Didja take them to the fair?” Your smile widened as Harry glanced at you, dimpling, and shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “But we didn’t share a cat, so I think the rules are a bit different.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm,” Harry hummed, looking back outside. “Yeah, there’s a bit more…” He tilted his head back and forth, searching for the right word. “Intimacy,” he finally seemed to decide, giving you a smile that tugged his lips into an almost-smirk. “We’re co-parenting a little one, after all. There’s got to be some… dinners involved.”

“Ah, yes, dinners,” you echoed solemnly. “To discuss parenting techniques.”

Harry nodded. “You get it.”

“She’s a bit spoiled, you know,” you said, watching her jump from the counter onto the table and sprawl out on the wood. “So we should probably get on those dinners.” Harry grinned. “Oh, yeah?” he asked, and you nodded. “Yeah. Definitely. Like, as soon as possible.”

His face lit up. “As soon as possible? As in, tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, a slow smile growing on your face. “As in tonight.”

Harry grinned back at you. “It’s a date.”

***

okay i KNOW this is weird sldkfj but it'll all make sense soon <333 hope you enjoyed !!!!!

and if you're liking this whole wrong-season-for-the-holiday thing, have no fear because there's a christmas fic coming soon!!!

masterlist | ask

#lol. never too soon to start celebrating halloween am i right !!!!!#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x you #halloween #halloween in august

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oliverwxod · 5 years ago

Text

Falling again (Geralt Imagine)

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: implied smut, swearing

Summary: Y/n used to travel with Geralt, the perfect partners in crime to monsters and creatures down. But years ago she left, feeling she didn’t fit into Geralt’s destiny and realising she was in love with a man who would never love her back.

The town was eerily dark, silence deafening as Y/n could barely make out the shapes of tall wooden houses the caged her in. She was on high alert, her ears picking up the smallest of scuttles from rats and mice across the dusty lanes. She had been tracking these creatures for months now and they had lead her to this small brooding community.

A shuffle of feet and a cloud of dust could be seen in the distance, light from dying fire embers inside a nearby house reflecting a shadow of movement onto the wall opposite the one Y/n was hiding against. Her hand was held on the top of her sword, removing it from where it rested, ready to strike at any given time. She tiptoed silently, back still pressed against the stone wall as she neared the corner of bricks that hid the open courtyard of several houses.

Another shadow passed, taller and bigger, closer to her. Taking in a deep breath she stepped out of the darkness into the slither of light, revealing herself into open vulnerable air, a growl ripping from the chest of the beast in front of her. She moved quickly, light on her feet, circling the monster as it did the same to her.

“You’ve been quite the challenge” she scoffed at it. The creature looked at her in annoyance before pouncing, claws outstretched and catching the sleeve of her arm, ripping through the material and the flesh.

Y/n grunted, glaring at her arm and then the creature before ducking under the heavy weight of it, sliding so she was behind it. The creature may have had a lot over her when it came to strength but she was quicker and smaller, tackling it from behind where it was vulnerable. Slashing her sword straight through the back of its neck, before pulling it from the rancid flesh, flinching at the sound of blood splattering onto the floor.

A noise from behind her directed her attention, disregarding her sword to the side and opting to use the bow and arrows that rested on her back, she was better and more accurate with them, growing up in the Forrests came in helpful sometimes, hunting was a natural instinct.

She knew she was being watched, her estimate for the past months was that there was more than one beast. She had calculated through footprints and tracking that there were at least three of them. Three hideous beasts wrecking havoc throughout poor communities, Y/n had seen the aftermath of these creatures pathways and the destruction and pain they brought.

Spinning around without even looking she shot a single arrow, a grunt and a snort coming from the impact of it hitting a second beast. A loud echoing thump of the body hitting the solid ground, crashing into a crate of wooden buckets, a trail of rotting apples rolling onto the brick work.

She could sense more eyes on her, burning into her back, without checking once again she fired an arrow, this time watching it meet the shoulder of the beast, it charged towards her angrily, feet thumping and shaking the earth beneath her, before it reached her she sent an arrow flying thorough the air, landing it straight between the beasts eyes, killing it instantly.

She admired her work, frustration leaving her body as she had finally finished the job she was sent on, ready to cash in for the money. She couldn’t relax yet though, the feeling of another set of eyes on her made her wary, hesitating to move. This was not the eyes of one of the beasts.

“I see you can still handle yourself then” a familiar voice broke through the silence, husky and deep as always.

Y/n never got scared but the voice made her jump, he the last person she expected to be standing in front of her.

“Geralt” she acknowledged, her posture stiffening as she turned to face him. “what are you doing here?”

He was leaning against a wall having moved out of the shadows, his signature glare on his face as always. The side of his lips tugged into a smirk at her hostility towards him.

“Apparently the same thing as you, Princess.” he spoke, the words making her shiver. She had always hated him for calling her that. That damned nickname that she could never shake off around him. It frustrated her, it frustrated her because it made her feel.

“I’ve told you before. Do not call me that” she glared at him, eyes staring daggers at his face. He hadn’t changed a bit. After all those years he still looked the same, his hair white, pure as snow, his cheeks bones and jaw as chiselled as ever. She hated how he knew how handsome he was. He was always using it for his benefit, sauntering around knowing he always had every womens attention.

“Whatever you say... princess” he spoke softly, almost so quiet that she couldn’t hear him. She watched him stare straight back at her, her eyes narrowing as he moved closer to her.

Y/n could feel her breath catching in her throat, it had been a while since Geralt had been this close to her, she was scared, scared she would give into him like she always used to, she had no self control when it came to him. He made her nervous.

She flinched as Geralt took her hand in his, moving it gently up so her arm was stretched out in front of him. She didn’t know what he was doing, what his intentions were so she ripped her arm out of his grip aggressively, shooting daggers at him.

He rolled his eyes, letting out a grunt at the unexpected force. y/n had forgotten about the inch deep scratches on her arm, hissing in pain.

“You’re hurt” he spoke sternly, talking down to her, it wasn’t mean’t to be patronising but the way Geralt spoke to most people was. He didn’t really care. “You need to get this treated before it gets infected”

“Why do you care” she spoke, she knew she was being petty and she should just let him help her, but she wanted to push him away, be hostile so he would turn around and leave her.

He raised his eyebrows in response but kept quiet. Reaching for her hand again and bringing it up gently, he ripped away the tattered bloody fabric from her cloak, discarding it on the floor as his rough fingertips glided up her arm until it reached the area surrounding the wound.

Y/n held back a shiver, she would not let him see how he still managed to effected her after all this time.

“Come with me” he grunted, his hand still wrapped lightly around her arm, tugging gently in the direction of a nearby house.

“No” she huffed, protesting, but with one single look from Geralt she followed silently through a back alley and through the backdoor of a dark house.

He treated the wound carefully, Y/n watching his every move with a guarded expression, pulling her body away from any unnecessary touches. It confused him but he didn’t mention it. There was a time where she would relish in any form of touch from Geralt, a hand on the waist, a brush of skin on skin, a squeeze on the shoulder. But now the thought of it made her sad. She didn’t want a reminder of it, a reminder of what she had been running away from.

He finished bandaging up her arm before taking place standing across from her, his arms folded as he leaned against a makeshift kitchen counter. His eyes burning into her as he watched her with intent.

“Where have you been?” he eventually spoke, his voice seemingly uninterested- fitting with the whole emotionless tone he always radiated. Thats why people often left him alone and he liked it that way.

“around” she shrugged not daring to look at him. She couldn’t fall under his spell once again. Every time she was around him she always found herself falling again. And everyone knows what they say about witchers, they're emotionally unavailable. They don’t know love and they can’t love.

That’s why she left. She was done meaning nothing to him, done with waiting for him in bed while he spent it in another. Done with sleepless nights that mean’t more to her than it ever would to him.

“Why did you leave?” He asked a similar question. It had been playing on his mind ever since the day he had woken up and she was gone, disappeared without a trace, he had thought about her whereabouts for years now.

She scoffed in annoyance. “I didn’t fit in with your destiny”

Geralt took a deep breath, grunting “hmm, yet here you are”

She met his eyes for a fleeting second before looking away, face falling from a frown into a confused expression.

“I should go” she spoke, standing up quickly and bolting for the door.

“Fuck” Geralt cursed, taking another deep breath in before following her pathway to the door, he pushed her gently against it before she could reach it, stopping her in her tracks.

She tried to fight back but the pain in her arm stopped her strength from pushing him away.

“Why are you so intent on running away from me?” he spoke in a voice softer than what she thought he was capable of.

“Let me go” she spoke bluntly, avoiding eye contact with him. She didn’t want to give in, but he made it so easy. She could feel his body pressed against hers, the hard lines of his moulding to her own.

“Please” she whispered but weaker this time.

His large hand caught her chin, forcing her to stare directly at him. Her breath caught in her throat, his eyes golden, staring straight through her.

“Geralt”

He stared silently, his intentions still unclear to her. With him this close to her and with the way he was staring at her she had no chance of not falling again.

“shhhh” he whispered, breath fanning across her face, y/n couldn’t hold back the shiver this time, goosebumps arising on her skin at his closeness. His eyes flickered elegantly down to stare at her lips, the lips he had kissed a hundred times before, familiar and inviting.

HIs hand traced the side of her cheek, past her jaw and down her neck, caressing the skin at the back before pulling her head up slightly towards his own, his lips landing on hers in a soft kiss before pulling away. His eyes closed briefly before opening, meeting hers directly and seeing the scared look that had overcome her. His hand still rested at the nape of her neck moving upwards so it covered the whole of the back of her head, pulling her in closer and kissing her again, this time with more strength behind it.

“Don’t run again” he whispered against her lips.

#the Witcher imagine #the Witcher smut #Geralt imagine #Geralt smut #Geralt x reader #the Witcher x reader #Henry Cavill imagine #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #geralt fanfic

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waywardangel-wilds · 9 months ago

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I was doing something else, but this came out of me:

“Oh hush, you,”

“Stranger tales have been woven.”

“What can a no-good fool know about such things,” the woman hmphed, “To speak of them.”

“I may be a fool, but I’m no less wiser,” the man winked. His eyes were riddled with cataracts, but they sparkled. The children huddled close by; their little heads eagerly tilted with the promise of a story.

“Papa, please tell us,” One of them begged, her little hands pulling insistently at the old man’s knee. “Please!”

“You’ve done it now,” his wife turned back to her knitting needles.

“Well, it’s as they say. Once, long ago, on a winter night just like this one, old man Everdeen heard it.”

“What did he hear?” one of the youngsters gasped.

“Three knocks,” he whispered and slowly, so slowly, brought a fist aloft.

“One,” he struck his knuckles against the arm of his chair.

“Two,” the children’s eyes followed his every movement.

“Three.”

The howling winds were ferocious that night. They screamed and scratched against the walls, rattling the window shutters, and pushing up against the door. The cold was like no other. The cruelest winter in three generations. With it, hunger and illness stole in, unwelcome guests to every household, perfumed with the stench of death.

The house was small, a cottage of just one room. There was a fire, a table for eating, two beds, and nothing else. That was all there was, in those days. All there could be.

Old Man Everdeen had a wife and two children. Two lovely daughters, one fair and golden and one bronze and ebony. He loved them, dearly. They were all he had. He would have done anything, sacrificed anything, his health, his life, his sanity, but that was not what the bear wanted from him.

Old Man Everdeen had a daughter made of iron. She took care of him and their family without complaint. Every day, without fail since the mineshaft took his legs. It troubled him, to be so useless, to be cumbersome. But his daughter, his lovely daughter, she was as radiant as the sun.

That evening, desperation was their guest. The cupboards were bare, and the coal would run out. The wind kept screaming, screeching, all around, as they huddled close to the fire. Waiting. For death? For an unknown guest?

And then it came.

The knocks were heavy. Final. They sucked the air out of the room and hushed the blizzard. He ceased breathing. Even the mice paused. It came once, twice, three times.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Papa,” his youngest daughter whispered. “Who’s there?”

“Everdeen,” the voice spoke inside his mind. “Everdeen. We must all pay our debts.”

His iron daughter stood.

“No!” he reached out, but she was a step too far. “Katniss!”

“They might need our help,” she replied earnestly. Innocently. Kindly. He would have stood if he could. “I’ll be alright, Papa.”

“Everdeen,” the voice spoke to him again.

#cyclamen #thg #everlark #the hunger games

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malienessan · 3 years ago

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This is for @theredquilt who very successfully argumented a win in the GMS Day 1 Bingo, arranged by @goldenlionsilverfox . The request was for something spooky, and this is what my brain came up with.

Link has been hearing things in the walls of the Creative House. But why doesn’t Rhett hear it?

What’s in the wall?

For some time, Link had been hearing something in the walls of the Creative House. Not every time he was there, but often enough to consider it disturbing. He had convinced Rhett to get the exterminator there, thinking it might be mice in the walls. That wasn’t the case, there were no infestations in the house.

But the sounds kept disturbing Link. There was like an insistent scratching in the wall between Link’s office and the Jack-and-Jill leading to the Skyn Wallz room, as if something was trying to make its way out. He hadn’t told Rhett that the exterminator guy was there because of a specific sound, he was afraid that Rhett would think it was his depression that made him hear things.

His depression was, for now, under control, Link felt happy and content with his life. And happy people didn’t hear things in the walls, right?

And yet, Link did.

When he and Rhett decided to spend a weekend at the Creative House, Link decided that he would simply shut the sound out of his head.

The wives were taking the kids to North Carolina for a long weekend, Thursday to Sunday, and the guys thought it would be a great opportunity to get the creative juices flowing.

Thursday evening, everything was ok. No strange scratching sound, not even once. They churned out the outline for a pilot, getting all sorts of great ideas, working until the middle of the night and then slept in their separate beds in their separate offices.

Friday night, however, was not so peaceful. The sound had started early, when the sun came up. First just a little, like a cricket crawling along a wall. But as the day progressed, the sound grew in intensity, it sounded like a mouse, a rat, a raccoon and when nightfall came, Link couldn’t even be in his office. It sounded like someone was clawing their way out of the wall, slowly, undoubtedly. And if Link put his head to the wall, which he only dared to do once, he could feel the vibrations of the wall being shredded to pieces.

It was then that he broke down, went to get Rhett and told him all about what he had been hearing. It only confirmed what he had been afraid of.

“Link, there’s no sound, I swear.” Rhett looked at him with concern. “Nothing at all. Can you hear it now?”

Well yeah, it sounded so loud that it almost drowned out Rhett’s voice. Link only nodded, almost crying.

“Look. You can sleep in my room tonight, we’ll drag your bed there, and tomorrow we’ll call your doctor, see if you need to check your meds or whatever.” In an unusual physical display of affection, Rhett put his arms around Link, letting the shorter man rest his head against a strong shoulder. They would get through this.

Said and done, they made room for Link’s bed in Rhett’s office and somehow managed to make it feel like a sleepover, something they hadn’t done in too many years. They closed every door they could, to try and shut out the scratching, and almost succeeded. If Link put a pillow over his head, he could barely hear it.

***

In the middle of the night, Link woke with a start. His heart was beating heavily, he was certain something had scared him awake. He listened for the sound, it couldn’t be heard. And neither could he hear the faint sounds of Rhett sleeping, which frightened Link a lot more than the scratching noise. Where was he?

He was just about to get out of bed and go looking for Rhett when he saw him coming through the door. He shut it behind him and turned towards Link, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

“Link? Why are you up?”

“I think I had a bad dream. It’s alright, got a little worried when I couldn’t hear you breathe.”

“Oh, Link. Here, let me help you relax.”

Without asking, Rhett sat down on the bed behind Link and started rubbing his shoulders. Link thought about asking what he was doing, but it felt so good that he just let it happen. Those big, strong hands, working on Link’s tense muscles. It was… wonderful, was the word he searched for. His head lolled forward, letting Rhett work him over, trying to suppress the small moans he felt build in his chest.

“Link… relax, let me take care of you…” Link felt Rhett’s breath against his neck and then the slight scratch of his beard.

“Rhett, what are you doing?” Link made as to move away but was held in place by Rhett’s firm grip.

“Link, bo, just let me do this, please?” He ended by kissing that sensitive spot at the back of Link’s neck, making Link shiver all over. “It’s been too long, we should have done this a long, long time ago.”

Rhett placed kisses over Link’s neck, letting his big hands slide down Link’s back, giving comfort and lighting small fires in the pit of Link’s belly. Soon, one snaked around Link’s midriff, almost tickling, but never wavering, until it had grasped Link’s hard dick through the pajama pants.

“Aah… oh, Rhett, are you sure?”

“Mmhmm, I sure am.” Rhett smiled against Link’s neck. With assertive movements, he let his hand slide under the hem of the pants, grabbing hold of the long, smooth dick, letting his thumb slide through the beads of precum coming from the slit. Link shuddered.

“Rhheeeettt…” He couldn’t stop the moan but felt desperate, was he gonna cum in his best friends’ hand without even kissing him? Link twisted in Rhett’s arms, trying desperately to turn around and finally, he could look his friend in the eye and kiss him. It was… better than Link could ever have imagined. Rhett’s soft lips, the scratching of his beard against Link’s chin, his tongue licking its way into Link’s mouth.

Rhett smiled at him, taking a new grip of the still hard cock and with a few smooth moves, brought Link to the edge.

“Will you cum for me, bo? Then you can sleep again.”

Link tried to object, wouldn’t Rhett want anything in return? But he only shook his head, they could do that tomorrow, or any day after that. This was how it was now.

Rhett kissed Link, jerking his wet dick just right and with a moan, Link came, so hard it made the world spin. He was vaguely aware of how Rhett put him back in bed, and pulled the quilt over him, and then Link slept.

The next morning, Link woke up, feeling happy and content. He was a little sticky, in the nether region, and figured he would get up and have a shower. He could hear Rhett in the shower and decided to traipse over to his own office. When he got there, he stared in shock. There was a big hole in the wall, as if something had burst through. He fled, running in panic back to Rhett’s office, yelling for his best friend.

He couldn’t hear the shower anymore and when he looked through the door to the bathroom, it was empty, no signs whatsoever of anyone having a shower. He ran back and then he heard Rhett calling to him from the living room.

“Link? Link! What’s wrong?” As Link rushed there, he was met with the sight of a newly woken Rhett on their living room couch. “Are you alright?”

Link stared at him.

“Ah, yeah…? What are you doing here?”

“Well, you talked in your sleep, so loud that I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t wake you. I decided to sleep here instead.”

“But… But what about last night, what we…?”

Rhett looked at him, confusion evident on his face. “Last night? We what?”

Link just turned around, running back to his room, looking at the broken wall again. He was crazy, he must be. He must have gotten out of bed that night, busted the wall somehow and then dreamt the whole episode about Rhett. It was time to call the doctor. Defeated, he got a towel from the dresser and went to take a shower.

As he stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the shower, he thought he saw movement behind him. The shower curtain moved. Link thought he would faint when it was pulled to the side and Rhett stepped out. But it wasn’t really Rhett. It had eyes that gleamed at him.

“Hey Link. Thanks for letting me out of the wall.” When the thing smiled at him, Link started to pass out. He could vaguely hear Rhett calling out for him, the real Rhett, as the thing in the mirror turned its head towards the bathroom door, a grin on its face.

#GMS Day 1 Bingo win #theredquilt #tw:depression #tw:mental health issues #tw:creepy #malienessan fic #rhink (sort of)

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years ago

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A Silent Night

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

Am I allowed to look at her like that? Could it be wrong When she's just so nice to look at?

I'd never tell No, I'd never say a word And oh, it aches But it feels oddly good to hurt

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Summary: Winter break promises soft moments in the snow and laughter... or does it? There’s a darkness looming ahead and it’s harder to escape now than ever before. It doesn’t help at all with how you two feel about another.

A/N: Alright! Y’all told me to follow my heart so here’s about 7k words of a winter holiday that has fluff and angst. Also She by Dodie was on repeat as I wrote this (the lyrics are above). If you’re like me and need music to read, give that song a shot. Also I 100% stan Narcissa in this chapter. There were a lot more cute moments I wanted to add, and rewrote a lot of this, so if you want a headcanon list of things that were going to happen let me know! (Welcome to Christmas in the middle of the summer)

Miss Y/n,

It delights me that you have invited us to your home for the holiday. Draco speaks adamantly about you whenever his father is not around. I must apologize for having him keep you from his father’s knowledge. I know it pains him to have to keep you hidden, but I fear at the moment it is for the best.

I must thank you for your understanding and kindness. The burden that he bears is steep and I wish nothing more to see him through it and to keep him safe. You have taken years off of his eyes and heart and now I can begin see my young son shining through.

Draco and I will accompany you for the holiday. Lucius will be away all of the winter holiday and I feel as if it would do Draco some good to see you as it aided him over the summer holiday. I have written a letter to your mother as well, so she is aware. Draco will arrive in the morning of the 24th and I shall join him later in the evening for dinner.

You are a bright and wonderful young wizard with a heart so pure to see what I see in my son. The same thing that keeps us both fighting for him. Thank you for everything you have given. I am in your debt for bringing back my son even for a little while.

Narcissa Malfoy

I read the letter again as I sat in bed late at night. Tomorrow would be the day that Draco came for Christmas and butterflies had a permanent residence in my chest. I put the energy to good use and spent the few days scrubbing the entire house top to bottom and decorating every square inch. Mother taught me a few new cleaning spells to use and I was getting pretty good at them.

The morning came and I was up before the sun making sure that everything was perfect for when Draco would get here. Not that I thought he would judge me for anything out of place, but I had a sinking feeling that he hadn’t had a proper Christmas in a while, and I wanted things to be almost perfect if not completely.

Keeping myself busy with peeling and cutting apples for a pie, I heard the doorbell ring and almost tripped on my way to opening it.

Draco was there, an amused smile on his face as his eyes darted over my form.

“Hi,” I breathed out, grinning.

“Hello,” His expression was amused and his voice quiet. “Nice apron,”

I flushed, remembering I donned my grandmothers cooking apron that had tiny little snitches buzzing about the fabric.

It wasn’t fair that he looked so angelic on my front porch, almost at home among the snow. He was a bit more formal than I was used to seeing him: a blazer and turtleneck all in dark colors. It only enhanced the contrast of his pale features and the snow. I led him inside, closing the door. Shedding his jacket and setting down his bag, he followed me to the kitchen where I continued to chop apples. He took one, unpeeled from my pile and took a bite.

“Those are mine,” I baited. “Now you have to help,” As if it were the only option.

“Oh, I do? Do I?” He smirked, taking another bite and grabbing a knife.

He watched me for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure what to do before he began to slice the apples the way I did, narrowly missing his fingers a few times. I tried hard not to laugh as I finished chopping up two to his half of one.

It earned me a small pout from him. Laughing this time, I pecked his cheek and took our harvest and a large bowl filled with the rest of the filling ingredients and tossed them in, mixing them with my hands until they were all incorporated evenly. Draco studied me all the while.

“Can you hand me a pie crust from the fridge?” I asked, rinsing my hands. Frowning at the refrigerator he opened it and scanned the shelves.

“Middle shelf, blue ceramic,” I hinted.

He pulled the right dish out and set it on the counter. I lifted the bowl of filling and started to pan it into the doughy crust.

“Here,” I nudged him and nodded to the precut strips of dough on the counter. “We weave them to make a lattice.”

I showed him how to do the first few then left him to it, watching his slender fingers with such care create the woven pattern. Taking a fork, I pressed down the sides of the dough, sealing them then placing the pie in the fridge to be baked later.

“I think that was the most muggle thing I’ve ever done,” he muttered softly, pulling me into his arms properly for the first time since he arrived.

“Not too bad I hope?”

“Nothing unbearable,” he teased.

“Oh, Draco,” my mother greeted making us jump apart. “I didn’t hear you come in darling,”

“Mrs. Y/l/n,” Draco greeted politely.

“It’s so nice of you to join us. Y/n has hardly been able to keep quiet about your arrival,”

I flushed red and rolled my eyes nonchalantly and Draco chuckled, offering his hand for my mother to shake.

“Thank you for the invitation,” I recognized the tone he use: the same one that was present at the Ball from the summer, the one he used when he had someone to impress.

“None of that, really,” My mother scoffed pulling him into a hug that made me laugh. “You’re family here,” She insisted the turned to me. “Well cookies still need to be made before tonight, Y/n you know what to do. I’ll be out for a bit,” my mother gave me a hug before hurrying out the door.

“Cookies?” Draco mused sounding unsure.

I grinned and took out the ingredients to make sugar cookies from scratch and taught Draco how to make them. He padded around my small kitchen in cashmere socks. It warmed my heart to see him so domestic.

Rolling out the dough, I started to press the cookie cutters into the thin confectionary and Draco crowded next to me, taking another cutter and stamping the dough. Preheating the oven, I left him to cut out the little shapes as I began to work on peeling potatoes and sweet potatoes.

“Don’t you have house elves?” He asked, leaning against the counter, finishing his apple, watching me.

“No,” I spoke softly. “Father never liked the notion, and I guess mother kept it that way...” I took a breath in. “And these skills aren’t the worst things to know,” I smiled. “Will you start dicing these?” I gestured to the peeled potatoes with my peeler.

“I suppose,” He mused, picking up the same knife we had used for apples and began to cut the potatoes into small cubes.

When the oven went off, I got up and slipped as many trays of cookies as I could into the oven and set the timer. Throwing the cubed potatoes into a pot, I filled it with water about half-way and set it on the stove to boil.

Draco followed me around the kitchen all morning, helping where he could, confused about some things I did, but there was an explanation for everything. Around lunchtime my mother returned, arms filled with parcels and packages. Last minute shopping I supposed. She shooed us out of the kitchen and outside after lunch.

After a short argument��I didn’t see a need for things like gloves, a scarf or a beanie, but Draco put his foot down and bundled me up—Draco and I were both clad in winter gear and walking outside along the few acres that my mother and I shared together. Our hands intertwined; we didn’t speak much, just enjoyed the quiet moment together. The butterflies in my chest fluttered happily.

“Want to let Pinnae fly?” He asked, thoughtful.

“Maybe later,” I leaned against him. “Don’t wanna fly when you’re still on the ground,”

I caught his eyeroll in the corner of my vision and the redness on his cheeks darken slightly.

“My mother is quiet taken with you; you know.” Draco gave off-hand.

I hummed in acknowledgement thinking of the letter sitting on my bedside table. We meandered around the grounds, heading back to the front porch and inside to warm up.

“Reading anything riveting?” Draco teased as we curled up in the den by the fire.

I laughed softly and stood, taking his hand. I ignored his questioning and led him to the room adjacent from mine: my studio. The entire back wall was covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves holding all of the books, both muggle and wizarding, I had collected over the years.

_________________________________

Draco stared at the wall of books and trinkets. Some he recognized: old textbooks from prior years and items like a Sneakscope and Timeturner. Some things were clearly muggle: the pictures that didn’t move or the snow-globes that weren’t enchanted.

He had never seen so many muggle books resting so peacefully next to wizarding books. Some were new and the gold leaf still shined at him whereas others were dull and faded and he could barely make out the titles. Carefully he ran his fingers over the spine of the nearest book.

“Pride and Prejudice?” He muttered, frowning looking at the cluster of Jane Austen books.

“Sense and Sensibility is better,” You mumbled, and his eyes flickered to the well-worn book beside its sister. “And it’s too complicated for me to try and pay attention to right now. Get out of Jane Austen,” You advised, pulling him a bit further down.

“Of Mice and Men?” He mused, looking at the smaller book that was also well worn.

“Ugh,” You scoffed. “Awful ending.”

“Then why are you keeping it?” He gave you a pointed look.

“Not all books have happy endings, it would be stupid to only keep the ones that did,” You whispered softly.

His eyes followed the names of the books not being able to distinguish one from another— Animal Farm, The Princess Bride, Catcher in the Rye, Lord of the Flies, The Great Gatsby, The Scarlett Letter, The Crucible, The Phantom of the Opera, Fahrenheit 451. His eyes passed over your Chronicles of Narnia collection, one book missing—the one that he had.

“Romeo and Juliet?” His eyebrows furrowed.

The name was familiar to him for some reason. The book nested between Taming of the Shrew and Macbeth.

A laugh bubbled through your lips, a quiet amused sound.

“That’s worse than Pride and Prejudice,” You giggled. “Have you ever read Shakespeare?”

His eyes flashed to yours. You knew that answer. No, of course he hadn’t. Rolling your eyes, you took the book of the shelf and flipped to a random page of the wellworn book.

“Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;”

You looked at him and he blinked, his mind unravelling the words. It was almost worse than Divination books.

“They’re plays,” You explained. “Takes a lot of studying and there are versions that have a bit more updated English, but well,” You shrugged and slipped the book back into its place.

“Are they all like that?” He asked, looking at the row of Shakespeare books.

“Pretty much,” You sighed. “Here,” You reached across him and next to your Austen books, pulled out a book. “This should be a good book to read.”

“A Christmas Carol?” He read the title off the faded cover.

“It’s a classic,” You took his hand again and he let you lead him downstairs and back to the small sitting room with the lit fire and curled up on the couch under an afghan.

You began to read A Christmas Carol, and again he was lost in your words and expressions:

“Marely was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ’Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to.

Old Marley was as dead as a doornail.

Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a doornail”

Just as you began to read of the first ghost that came to Scrooge on Christmas Eve, your mother came into the small den.

“Y/n, Draco’s mother will be here within the hour, you need to get ready,” She eyed your casual attire of jeans and an oversized sweater.

You huffed and handed Draco the book, he kept the page and watched you head upstairs, sulking only slightly. It was such a you thing to do—complaining about being taken away from your book and forced to prepare to socialize.

Your mother hovered in the den and took a seat at the armchair adjacent to the sofa he resided on. He tensed, ready for backlash against the something he must have done wrong, but an amused smile reached your mother’s lips—one that he had seen on you more than a fair share of times. You didn’t look much like your mother, the only thing Draco found was that you two shared the same smile.

“I have to thank you Draco,” She spoke softly. “She is my entire world since her father passed, and I always feared that she would never let herself open up. You have done her a lot of good, and I know that her father would approve of you,” There was your smile on her lips again.

“I must thank you as well,” Draco spoke in the same soft manor. “For allowing her to be with me and for Pinnae. I know she probably would have found a way to do it anyway, but it means the world to her to have your support, as it does to me,” His eyes met the same shade as your eyes as he looked up—another similarity. “And I must apologize for the last month of summer. I thought I was keeping her safe by keeping her away,”

“All is forgiven, darling,” The pet name on your mother’s lips reminded him of his own mother’s habit. “Merlin knows I’ve tried to keep her from things to keep her safe... but she has a way of finding herself there anyway,”

“She is stubborn like that,” Draco mused, thinking of the first night that he knew of your Animagus.

“Yes, she is,” Your mother sighed.

“Is she staying healthy?” He asked. “I know she has a habit of not keeping warm,”

Your mother mulled over the question then spoke.

“The winter has been affecting her more than before, she’s up half the night and sleeps half the day.” There was a soft sigh in her voice as worry blossomed in Draco’s chest at the new information. “She’s getting enough sleep and enough to eat, but I do worry about her. Ever since the change, she’s a bit more spontaneous in her sleeping habits.” The latter information pacified some of his worry.

“It’ll probably take some time for her to figure out,” He said mostly for his benefit. “But she won’t be alone in doing so,” He vowed.

“I know,” Your mother rose, smiling at him once more. “She might not have many friends, but the ones she does have are the most loyal I’ve ever seen,”

He nodded, thinking of Abby and even Pansy.

There was a chime from in the house and your mother rose heading to the foyer. Draco knew that it would be his mother at the door and stood as well. Greetings were made and just as your mother was about to call up to you, you descended the stairs, in a deep green dress he had never seen before. The fabric hugged you to your waist where it then flowed loosely to you knees. The long sleeves and high collar gave him comfort that you would be warm. The sheer black stockings you had paired with the dress seconded that comfort.

Draco gaped at you, deciding that he loved you in green. The night of the summer ball flashed in his mind and the green dress you wore then. He knew that it was stupid to give into house colors with you but Merlin you looked great in Slytherin colors.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” You greeted with the same decorum as the Ball.

“Miss Y/n,” His mother smiled. “It has been too long my dear,”

You flushed and looked down, coming to stand beside him, your hand slipping into his as your mother led the lot of you all into the dining room. It was just as immaculately decorated as the rest of the house, though nothing was overdone or gaudy. It was simple, classy.

Your mother must have taken over cooking to allow you to spend the rest of the day with him, explaining the heavenly smells that emitted from the kitchen all day. There was something different about the food at your home. It was a bit messy and not all of the dishes matched and not everything was perfect, but Draco almost preferred it that way. He had spent too long in perfection; it was nice to have something new.

His mother spoke respectfully to you, asking you about your classes this year and how they had gone. A few times he had to nudge you before you slipped up about Pinnae accidently. Draco would never get over how much his mother absolutely adored you. You had stolen into her heart the same way you had his. If only you could do the same with his father.

As dinner ended, you rose to clear the table, and he joined you, having never done such a thing in his life. You set things carefully on the clean counters of the kitchen and it only took a few trips to rid the table of dinner and replace it with dessert.

__________________________________

I kept my eye on Draco all throughout dinner, worried that something might go wrong. Narcissa proved to be no trouble and his father was never in the topic of discussion. I still knew that Draco missed his father the same way that I missed mine on the holidays.

“Well, I must thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I must be off now,” Narcissa rose gracefully with a kind smile. “Draco, be home before too long yes?”

Draco gave a curt nod as my mother saw Narcissa to the door. Draco slumped beside me, both of our facades falling.

“Well, that could have been worse,” I mused.

He chuckled and rubbed his face. I could see the weariness in his features.

“Dray?” I asked softly.

“When did everything get so complicated?” He mumbled.

I sighed and laid my head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and wrapped an arm around me.

“At least there’s presents? And Christmas? And us?” I offered. He hummed in acknowledgment.

Now that it was the Christmas season, I could officially watch The Sound of Music—a Christmas classic at home.

Draco studied me as I set up the DVR and hit play, curling up beside him on the couch. Since it was winter, the sun had set some time ago, leaving us in a soft darkness. The credits began to roll, and I laid my head on Draco’s shoulder, curling under an afghan.

“This is ridiculous,” He muttered halfway through.

I shushed him. I felt him sigh as his arm draped around my shoulders.

“Are you two ready?” My mother asked, coming in with three mugs.

“Ready?” Draco murmured in my ear as I sat up.

“Presents?” I grinned. “We do them on Christmas Eve, it’s our tradition. Then we undecorate on Christmas Day.”

“What?”

“Her father always insisted that as soon as Christmas is over all the decorations should come down. So, we take them down tomorrow.” My mother explained, handing us both mugs.

With the parcels covered in shiny paper distributed, I watched Draco marvel at the number of gifts in his lap. I nudged his shoulder letting him know that it was alright to start.

I started with my mother’s present to me—a new cloak that was a silvery white, matching Pinnae’s feathers. I thanked her and undid the recognizable paper from Abby’s gift. It was a leather-bound photo album. Frowning, I opened the cover and saw Abby and I as little kids dressed up as princesses. I smiled at the photo and ran my hand over the giggling girls. I looked over to Draco, wanting to show him and I paused; he was lost deep in the delicate pages of my gift to him: the entire Narnia collection in one leather bound book.

“It’s charmed,” I explained softly. “If it’s not me or you to open the book it reverts to an old book of spells,”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, not looking up from the carpet pages of finely detailed artwork.

“Mom helped me with the magic,” I stole a glance her way and she was beaming at us.

She stood quietly and gave me a look, leaving us alone in the den to have a few last moments alone.

“You mean you didn’t read me the first book?” He muttered.

“Well, you walked in on me reading the second one,” I poked his side. “Here, this is from Abby,” I placed the photo album between us.

I opened the first page and he laughed at the picture of Abby and I. “You were such a dorky kid,” He chuckled.

“Yeah well,” I rolled my eyes.

The next page was our first day at Hogwarts, my hair was still impossibly long as Abby and I sat together on the Hogwarts Express. I laughed and pointed out Draco sulking in the background of the photo.

“Creep,” I teased.

The photos were a mix of muggle and magic, some moving, some static. Abby and I through the years: getting sorted into Hufflepuff, Christmases, summer vacations. Then there was a page that didn’t hold a photo, but a note:

From Ernie, Blaise, Hannah, Emme, Pansy and me~

The next page held a photo Draco and I at the third task, sitting in the stands. I felt secondhand awkwardness from the two of us in the photo. It was minutes before my entire world ended... or had just begun. The next photo was two of us in the hospital wing, fast asleep in each other’s arms. I ran my fingers over the photo.

Draco took the book from my hands and studied the photos, drawing the album closer to his face. I looked over his shoulder as he slowly flipped through the pages. Each of them was dated and titled:

Draco chasing off after Y/n, Yule Ball, June 21st

Draco and Y/n, Yule Ball, June 21st

Hogwarts Express, Draco and Y/n are prefects, Sept 1st

Draco staring at Y/n and smiling, Sept 13th

Draco and Y/n walking down the hall Sept 19th

Hogsmeade Trip, Oct 5th

Halloween, Hufflepuff Common Room, Oct 31st

Gryffindor v Slytherin Quidditch match, Nov 2nd

Draco fighting Harry, Nov 2nd

Y/n worrying over Draco after the fight, Nov 2nd

Draco and Y/n sleeping together again, Nov 3rd

Late night studying, Dec 12th

Draco and Pinnae, Dec 18th

There was another note at end along with the picture of the four of us the day Pansy found out about Pinnae in the snow:

Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light.

Tears well in my eyes as I rested my chin on Draco’s shoulder. He flipped a few pages back and untucked the photo of us sleeping together in the hospital wing. His slender fingers brushed over it before slipping it into the middle of his new book.

“That’s mine,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his neck softly.

“Not anymore,” He smiled. “You have good friends,”

“We have good friends,” I corrected him softly, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“We do,” He shifted, closing the book and setting it with his before reaching into his coat and pulling out a small satin box. “This is from me,”

I stared at the box and with a shaking hand I took it, thumbing it open. Inside was a small locket with a shifting roaring lion engraved onto the front of it and familiar words onto the back:

“He isn’t safe, but he is good,” was written in a delicate script.

“Draco, I can’t take this,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes at the emotions that rushed in my chest at the thought and love he put into the small gift.

“You can,” He pressed. “And will. Here,” He took it from my hands and released the locking mechanism.

A scene sprung to life before me, a halo of light. Balanced on top was a forest with dancing fawns and dwarves and centaurs around a bonfire. Lyre and flute music radiated from the scene. The sight shifted to a lion roaring atop a broken stone table. Then to a familiar ship on the high seas with a dragon circling it. A battle between a man and a snake in front of a silver chair. Then again, a lion, standing tall, proud.

“Draco,” I whimpered out, closing the locket and throwing my arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you,” Tears fell down my cheeks as I buried my face in his shoulder.

His arms curled around me as he pulled me close.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, or what the future holds,” He murmured. “But don’t give up on me.”

“Never,” I vowed. “Course he’s not safe,” I pulled away, running a hand through his hair. “But he is good. He is king,” My fingers softly stroked his cheek.

With the locket hung around my heck, Draco and I curled up together, watching the end the Sound of Music. My fingers toyed with the locket, rubbing over it again and again, afraid that it might just disappear.

I had to bid him a good night as the hour got later and we were together on the front porch alone. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I reached up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He responded immediately and pulled me close deepening the kiss, his hot breath mixing with mine. He tasted like tea and apple pie, a sweet intoxicating flavor.

Draco’s hand slipped down to the small of my back, pressing me against the warmth of his body. My fingers tangled and tugged at his hair earning a low throaty sound to emit from his chest. I responded with a soft mewl.

He pulled away, his hot breaths panting across my face.

“Happy Christmas,” He breathed out.

“Mhmm,” I hummed out. “Christmas, yeah,”

He chuckled and pressed his lips back to mine fleetingly.

“Goodnight, Feathers,”

“Night, Dray,”

___________________________________

Draco melted into his bed that night, watching the photo of you and him sleeping peacefully. There was an amity about the both of you, there was no worry or fear on his face and yours was smiling softly as you clung to him even in your sleep. It was almost as good as the book you had given to him.

Your mother’s present was lying beside him on the bed. He wasn’t supposed to show it to you, your mother had said: it was your father’s wand.

He sighed and looked at the note that came with it:

Draco,

This was her father’s wand. She doesn’t know that I still have it. And she doesn’t know that it belongs to you as soon as you turn sixteen.

Lucius Malfoy killed Walter Y/l/n.

Lucius forfeited the wand, but it will respond to you. It has been a burden to me all of these years but perhaps it can find some peace with you. This is a secret that I share with you. This wand is unique: it knows to protect her, and it is loyal to you.

Keep her safe, I pass her and this wand to you, one Slytherin to another. You will always have a home in among this family.

He sighed and laid back in bed, twirling the wand in his hands. It was similar to his own in length. Birch with a unicorn hair. He wanted to be bitter towards your mother for keeping this secret from you, but the words she said earlier stopped him:

“Merlin knows I’ve tried to keep her from things to keep her safe...”

Was this keeping you safe? This secret that he now held? He knew that if nothing else, it had kept you a pure heart. He couldn’t imagine you’d ever give him a chance if you knew what his father did. He wondered what would have changed...

The morning came along with the small Christmas that he and his mother shared together. It was a quiet affair. He had gotten her a new bottle of ink and a golden quill for her drawings.

“This is from your father,” Her tone held disdain as she handed him a small velvet box. “It belonged to his father and now he passes it to you.”

Nested inside was nothing like the gift he had spent months making for you. Instead it was a weighty silver ring with the Malfoy crest on it. Slipping it onto his finger, the enchantment took place and resized to fit him perfectly.

“Any word of when he will return?” Draco asked, somber.

“January 10th.” His mother sighed.

Draco nodded and drifted to the sitting room that held his piano and began to play familiar Christmas melodies before shifting into his mother’s favorites. She sat behind him on the sofa, working on her embroidery as he played. His melody shifted into something new. He frowned, knowing that it wasn’t anything that he had learned before.

“Composing?” His mother mused.

He didn’t comment. Instead he chased the melody that was fading from his mind, desperate to bring it back. Then he realized that his mind was chasing after you. You were his melody. With you at the forefront of his thoughts, he spent the next few days playing and writing the composition down. When he was certain that it was perfect and represented everything that you were to him, he smiled to himself.

Draco could still have you when his father was home. He would have no idea the melody was wrapped up in you.

“It’s beautiful,” His mother commended. “She’ll love it. You can play it for her tomorrow when she visits,”

And he did. With you sitting beside him on the piano bench, he played your song to you. You were absolutely mesmerized and asked him to play it again. Without knowing it, you had taken something else his father had forced him into and turned it into something beautiful.

Sitting in the rose garden as the stars came out, the year changed. A new beginning, and you were beside him. It was a muggle tradition, but he did kiss you when midnight came. Not that you’d complain.

When you pulled away from the gentle kiss, he about said something that he had forbidden himself from ever saying. No matter how sweet you were, how kind, how long you stayed, how loyal, no matter how much he cared for you, missed you when you were gone, and vowed to keep you safe, he couldn’t say what he wanted to.

He couldn’t tell you that he loved you.

He couldn’t trap you like that. He knew his future was dark and it loomed over him. He wasn’t going to tie you to him like that.

____________________________________

I held my tongue, a thousand confessions waiting to be unfurled. But I would wait. I would wait until Draco was ready to hear them. I didn’t let myself think that a few months would change everything that had him tied down and scared. I wouldn’t coerce him into anything. I would give him time to figure out his emotions and I would wait for him to heal.

Because I loved him.

And I would love him while I waited. I would love him while he healed. I would love him as he went through darkness and despair. I would love him as years of neglect and abuse untied him. I would love him until he was ready to love me.

So, I didn’t say a word.

I spent the next week over at Draco’s, like I had in the summer, but this time, we were working on spells. Everything that I had learned from D.A. I taught to him. His mother suggested to invite Pansy and Abby over as well during the afternoons to join our efforts.

It was a lot easier to cast Disarming and Stunning spells on Pansy and Abby than it had been on Draco. Narcissa joined us one afternoon, watching us, guiding and aiding where we were failing. Draco was losing focus too easily, Pansy needed to work on her wand movements, Abby needed to pronunciate more and I needed to put my heart behind wanting to perform the spells.

“You’re thinking about them incorrectly.” Narcissa stood behind me. “Think not about the intention to attack what’s in front of you, but to protect what’s behind you. Draco, come,”

Narcissa and Draco switched places, he was standing behind me and she was before me, her wand out and raised. I took a deep breath in, understanding what she meant. I had no ill will against her, but I would protect Draco.

We bowed, entering a proper duel. She cast a hex and I blocked it easily, before rebounding it with my own jinx. She deflected it effortlessly and almost knocked me down with a Stunning spell.

“Mean it Y/n!” She coached. “You want to protect him!? You want to save him!?”

“Mother!” Draco argued.

“No,” I panted softly. “I can do this. She’s right,”

I blocked her jinx that in my deflection almost hit Draco, who dropped out of the way thankfully. Enraged I turned back to her.

“Impedimenta!” I shouted.

And it worked.

She was frozen in the snow.

“Expelliarmus!”

Her wand flew from her hand. Beaming, I undid the Impediment Hex and picked up her wand which had landed in the frost by my feet.

“Very well, my dear,” Narcissa glowed. “There is a fighter in you yet,”

Draco picked me up in a twirling hug and Pansy and Abby were all cheering. We went back to dueling, now it was more for fun than work. Narcissa watched us still, encouraging and teaching us. Until she tensed, the color draining from her face.

“Bellatrix,” She hissed, vanishing from the backyard.

Draco cursed and grabbed my hand, pulling me behind the nearest shrub. With the cloak that my mother had given to me for Christmas, I almost blended in with the snow. Pansy and Abby were crouched down with us.

“Y/n, you need to get out of here,” Draco’s eyes were fixed on the house. “Now.”

“But what about Abby?” I squeaked.

“She’ll be fine,” Pansy nodded to me. “Bella likes me, she’ll be safe with me,” I met Pansy’s stark green eyes and an agreement passed between us.

Nodding, I tried to keep my breathing under control.

“Pinnae!” Abby whispered at me as if it were obvious. “Get out of here Y/n!”

I looked at my friends and closed my eyes, morphing into Pinnae and taking perch deep within the shrub.

“Don’t go until we’ve cleared the house.” Draco ordered.

I chirped and watched them all head towards the house, disappearing inside. Then I took off into the sky.

_____________________________

“Draco, darling,” Bellatrix cooed wickedly. “You remind me so much of your father,”

“Aunt Bellatrix,” He greeted politely.

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friends?” Her wild eyes flashed to Pansy and Abby.

“Bella,” His mother chided. “Draco was just seeing them off. And you know Parkinson. The other is a classmate.” Her voice left no room for more questions or argument.

His mother gave him a stern look and he quickly ushered Pansy and Abby through the front door. His eyes immediately scanned the skies for you. He thought he could make out your form perched on one of the barren trees, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Pansy,” He started.

“I’ve got it. Abby will talk to Pinnae. We’ll give word that she’s safe.”

Draco nodded and headed back inside, pacing the halls. He headed to his bedroom and slammed the door, casting a Silencing Charm on the room before letting out a roar of frustration. He didn’t know how much time passed as he paced the room but jumped when there was a chirp from his window.

He relaxed when he saw that the owl wasn’t you, but a screech owl, a letter tied to it’s ankle.

~ Malfoy,

Pinnae is home.

Parkinson

Draco sagged in relief and threw the letter into the fire lit in his hearth. Just once in his life he wanted a day where nothing would go wrong. He just wanted to be happy and safe with you. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was for the last few days of the winter holiday.

Epilogue:

“The Dark Lord is adamant about his recruitment,” Bellatrix purred. “A fine young mind to mold into the ways of the Dark Lord.”

“He is my son, Bellatrix.” Narcissa snarled. “He is not of age until the summer. When that time comes the choice belongs to him and him alone. Until then, you have no business here,” A cold glare passed between them.

“Do I sense disloyalty?” Bellatrix tilted her head, mocking a pout. “The Dark Lord does not tolerate disloyalty, sister mine,”

“I do not belong to the Dark Lord, sister mine,” Narcissa gritted out. “Or have you forgotten?”

“No,” She scoffed. “A foolish mistake. Who else deserves loyalty but him?”

“My family,” Narcissa snapped. “And my son.”

“I am your family!” Bellatrix shouted. “Have you changed your mind about the war perhaps? Deciding to follow the footsteps of our dear sister? Or perhaps our outlawed cousin? You were admirable little sister, before you went off and married that foolish Malfoy.”

“I will not stand here and allow you to speak of my husband or my son in such a manner. You have no business here Bellatrix. Leave this place.” Narcissa’s tone was ice cold.

“His time will come Cissy, and he will belong to the Dark Lord,”

A loud crack and Narcissa was left alone in the cold house once more.

“I wouldn’t be so certain,” She whispered to the empty room.

Chapter 5

End Note: Please let me know what you think! Your words and reblogs are so important to me always! Don’t be afraid to reblog and comment! I’m nice I swear!

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valkyrie420 · 3 years ago

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C.A.T Detective Agency 1 Draft Ch 1

So I’ve never done this before and I wanted to put this somewhere and wondered if people could give me tips? I don’t know how to write lol, but here’s my first draft and suggestions or pointers are much needed! Did you ever hear the one about the cat crossing the road? I always loved the night. I could get away from all those problems, and blend into the dark. It felt safe, like a blanket. But I’d never tell anyone else that. People had so many notions about who I was supposed to be, never mind what I wanted. Even now, as I slink out now in the dark, all I feel is excitement. I’m ready. In the alley I pass the familiar trash cans. Hear the barking of dogs, far and close. Ugh, so annoying. The cars and people and noise of the city has gotten louder at night as the years have passed, and despite them I still love it. I can smell the food from the restaurants in the bins, but I can’t stop now. Gotta be patient. The mice and rats scurry around and the smoke trails as I pass hurriedly through to the Meeting Place. I think the adults wanted it to be a bunch of houses at one time, or maybe offices, or shops. The adults I knew always hated it when I started something and left it undone, so I took a secret pleasure in meeting here. Where the concrete walls and metal rods hung open like a wound. An ugly, unfinished thing, staring and mocking all those adults for not being able to finish. And such a fun place to explore! But not now. Tonight is so much more important. As I come to my spot, I see Matthias already waiting at the edge of light from a street lamp. He’s the oldest, and makes sure everyone remembers. It annoys me how much of a know-it-all he is, but he also makes sure to take care of us when we first come here. Still, I don’t want to hear about his “responsibilities as the eldest, you couldn’t possibly comprehend” again, so I wait in the dark, and listen as the rest trickle in, one or two at a time. Next comes Deliah and Sarah, lithe and graceful, and I’ve seen them fight off some of the biggest and strongest others with barely a scratch! Ugh, and they’re wearing collars again. Deliah says she always loved wearing jewellery, but I’ve never seen her wear one for long. She’s been stuck-up for as long as I remember, and when Sarah came, Deliah was quick to become her mentor. I like Sarah. She’s smart, and kind, and she’s still young, so we have a gay time when we play. I hear a loud call, and see Alaistor following them close. He’s the second oldest, but he’s the one who showed me how to play lots of games; and how to be free. Anthony is with him too, bless him. I didn’t even see him until he peeked out from Alaistor’s leg. So young, and soft, and a true scaredy-cat. Anthony’s the newest, poor thing isn’t even 6. Those big eyes watching everyone and everything and so skittish! Was I ever like that? “Caught!” I jumped and twisted to see Sarah, grinning wildly at me. “Did not!” I said turning my head up to hide my fluster,“I just let you think you did. You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to sneak up on me!” Sarah and I padded knocking into each other playfully, to the light. “You should admit defeat gracefully,” Deliah purred, proud of her ward. I shot her a glare, and was about to say something witty when Matthias scratched the lamp post with a sharp noise.“Now that you’ve all decided to show up,” He started,“Perhaps we can finally get on with it?” We all shifted a bit uncomfortable, glancing at who wanted to be in the spotlight tonight. “If there’s no volunteers, we can always work on my case…” Matthias said and sighed. He wanted desperately to be done; but he’d been here for so long, the hopes of solving his case felt pretty impossible. We looked at each other, silently asking for anyone to step forward. I don’t mind leaving things unfinished, but I don’t see the point in starting something you know is impossible from the jump. “Look,” Alaistor spoke hesitantly, “What about little Anthony here? He’s so new, I’m sure there’s lots of clues around. And besides,” His green eyes slid to the quaking mass of fluff and eyes beneath him; “He’s not cut out for this; not really.” Everyone looked from Anthony to Matthias. He sat and eyed the little boy, and sighed again.“Fine. We will work on young Anthony’s case.” Silently, Matthias led us from the Meeting Place and to the Alley. None of us ventured to the Alley if we didn’t have to, except Matthias. He tried so hard, I must admit I pitied him, in spite of how he acted. We arrived quickly, and it was just as creepy as last month. So dark, and damp thanks to the dirty, swamp. The whole area smelled like death, and there was no sign of people save for the rough tire track unevenly cutting through the dirt. No attempts at paving though, as if everyone living in the city collectively decided it was safer to ignore it. Sarah was so close to Deliah they bumped together, and Alaistor was carrying Anthony. I brought up the rear now, since Adam left. I couldn’t shake the feeling though. It raised my hair, and despite myself I kept peering over my shoulder, as if there was some unseen force stalking us. We formed a circle on the cold dead ground, and watched as the moon rose high. It started slowly, and the ground shifted violently below me. My vision blurred and every bone in my body screamed. Shuddering, stunted breaths gasping as my ribcage made room for my expanding lungs. We all started to stretch and writhe, skin tearing and fur falling off in clumps. All at once, the change was over, and I dry heaved violently as my equilibrium balanced itself. Beside me I saw Alaistor curled and vomiting a few small bones. Deliah was already up, grabbing the clothes she’d stashed for herself and Sarah. Poor Anthony was crying, and Matthias grabbed him a coat. My legs felt gangly and off balance as my heels touched the ground, and I wobbled upright, reaching for my clothes. Everyone looked the same to me, whether they were cats or people. Matthias was sullen, with gray skin and pale hair. He looked about 15, but he always reminded me of an old town preacher, all black clothes and skinny with a rod up somewhere making him stand so straight, even as he was bent over, helping Anthony pull his shirt over his head. Alaistor was taller, and tan. He had freckles and red hair and it didn’t matter if he was a cat or a person, he had a sly smile and those eyes that made you feel like prey. Deliah’s sable hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her pretty dress danced around her knees as she twirled her long legs, while Sarah laughed and tied her auburn curls out of her face. I went to my stash, grabbed my favorite blue tunic, and cinched some loose grey pants around my waist.The longer I’ve been a cat, the less I like the way clothes feel against my skin, it reminded me too much of those nets some people try to use to catch you when you roam. “Don’t worry kiddo, it gets easier ev’ry time” Alaistor ruffled Antony’s fluffy blonde hair, and winked. “And don’t you look a picture t’night too, Mizz D,” He smiled toothily as Deliah turned up her nose in disgust. “And this Sarah, is exactly why we don’t get attached,” as she picked up her broken collar and looked at the shiny crystal heart. “{insert something witty and demeaning of Al.}” From behind her Sarah leaned over and stuck out her tongue and smiled at Alaistor. Matthias cleared his throat, “Well, now that that’s done, shall we begin?” “Ok, but let’s keep the kid gloves on,” Alaistor’s hand swallowed Anthony’s shoulder. Anthony lead the way to the edge of the tread, where it nearly kissed the swamp. There was a deeper divot here, the dirt still freshly impacted, less than a month old. “Here. I ‘member here. An’ then it was dark. And then I was here, but diff’rent.” His voice shook as he whispered, those impossibly big eyes staring at the holes. “Do you remember how you got here? Who you were with?” Matthias looked down with a deep furrow, arms crossed tightly around his wiry frame. “I…I remember Momma. ’N Daddy. And…” His voice trailed off as he looked down, deep in thought. “And?” Matthias strained. “Hey, kid gloves. He’s doin’ his best,” Alaistor shot back as he knelt down and wrapped his arms around Anthony.“Aren’cha, kiddo?” “Yeah…I. I remember the funny smell. And Daddy. He was…He was mad.” Anthony looked up, hopeful at Alaistor, and then Matthias. “Did I do it? Can I go now?” “Sure kiddo, you did great. You leave it to us, and then you can go.” Alaistor tousled Anthony’s hair as he stood back up. “Great, so we know he has a mom and a dad, and a smell.” Sarah clapped her hands, “The case is solved!” “Now, now, Sarah.” Deliah chided, “A lady is always courteous. And it is the duty of those of higher stations to aid the poor masses with their burdens. Noblesse Oblige and all that. Besides,” She smirked, “You get to showcase just how brilliant you are.” “We need to know where he’s from,” Matthias started. “And his last name, address, anything useful,” He continued as he towered over Anthony, and looked at Alaistor. “I get that, but we have to give him some time. Look’t him, he needs time—“ “Time we don’t have, not if we’re to have any hope of solving this!” Alaistor stood tall and puffed his chest out as he stared down Matthias. They always butted heads like two tomcats vying for territory. “Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m so hungry I could eat a whole bin!” I cut in. “Fighting like this isn’t going to help anyone, and besides, I know I think better on a full stomach.” “That’s a good idea Cat, a nice meal and we’ll have it solved in no time!” Sarah smiled again, and wreathed her arm around Deliah’s. “I do suppose I could go for a bite to eat.” Deliah said, blushing lightly. “If only to better investigate.” “I’m not hungry.” Anthony whispered. He was staring at the divots, thin arms wrapped tightly around his knees. “Oh, that’s perfect then! More for me!” Alaistor said with a laugh as he picked up Anthony and tossed him gently in the air. Anthony giggled and curled into Alaistor’s arms. “Nooo, it’s mine!” He put his palm on Alaistor’s mouth playfully trying to cover it. “Is it? I thought it was mine?” Alaistor held his hand, “Or is this mine?” He put Anthony’s hand in his mouth and pretended to bite it, while Anthony laughed and pulled away. “If we must,” Matthias sighed heavily. “Let us make haste.” I’d think his lungs didn’t grow in quite right, but he always sighed when he talked no matter which form he took. Maybe he just had naturally small lungs. We walked briskly out of the Alley. Matthias leaned forward as he pressed on with his lanky frame, always in a hurry, as if the faster we went the faster he would be free. Deliah and Sarah were arm in arm behind, close and smiling like they were sharing secrets. Alaistor easily followed telling Anthony fantastic stories. I walked a little behind, and we weaved our way through the maze of backstreets and into the city. As we got closer to people I could hear the hum of electricity, smell all the people and cars and food. We crossed the road and suddenly we’re in the middle of everything. I loved all of it. The city was so alive, it was only too bad that we weren’t.

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