#and my christmas letter becomes a frantic too late thing

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

The nice thing about actually writing a letter (rather than sending a text/e-mail/message) is you have to actually have to go and mail it. That gives you plenty of time to go “Oh, shit! I shouldn’t have said that!” And starting over.

The bad thing about actually writing a letter is you actually have to go and mail it. That gives you plenty of time to go “Oh shit! I shouldn’t have said that!” And starting over. And over. And over. And over. And over. And….never actually mailing the dang letter!

[sewrb]

Enjoy some klausper fan fiction ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

He faded away, Just like that, without even saying goodbye. Jesper never understood why Klaus just vanished, and his mind could never wrap around what he did wrong. Did Jesper hurt Klaus? Was Klaus sick and he just died? How could the man never know? Each thought making his mind think that jesper was the issue, making jesper hate himself more. What is the issue? Did he genuinely upset Klaus enough for him to just leave everything behind and run away. It couldn't be that true, could it? Jesper fixated on these thoughts for 2 weeks after what happened, then it soon became 3 months, 6,9, and more. Each passing day Jesper spent his time in the cabin.

He never got the chance to confess his feelings so he just stayed there in Klaus's smell and atmosphere. Every day he walked around feeling the small toys that were left behind, walking up the stairs and looking at the postures left over. Jesper even stared at Lydia's photos hoping Klaus was with his true love. That's something he hated losing about himself, taking Klaus away from his Lydia. Jesper sighed and picked up the picture frame, his eyes glued to Lydia. They then moved to Klaus, he looked so young and happy. Their height is still somewhat funny to jesper.

Jesper gently sat the picture down before leaving it as he walked off. He always hoped Klaus was back with his love, even if jesper loved the man. He knew they weren't meant to be, and at some point he was okay with that, even if it hurt. Jesper walked to the fore place and posted water on it, watching the smoke rise up through the chimney. He then turned and went to Klaus's old chair taking a seat, their size baffled him, but at this point he didn't mind. As it is true , late jesper yawned more, even if he was tired his body was sadly used to it, he barely slept, he just couldn't.

But, some nights he got lucky and ended up falling asleep in the chair. It's not too comfortable but he still likes resting in it, it reminds him of Klaus and it makes him happy. Through the days he finds himself growing more exhausted, his body just staring at the family tree, or what was supposed to be the family tree. It hurts him to look at it, but most days he just stands there, watching it, wishing Klaus got the family he so wanted.

Each day grows longer and more drawn out. Most days staying a dull grey, with a freezing breeze. This cold weather never worried him, any time it snowed bad, he'd be safe in the cabin. Even after the weather jesper would still stay hidden, Jesper eventually stopped taking care of himself, eye bags growing darker. His face got droopy and his skin wasn't as smooth due to his incoming facial hair. Jesper completely let himself go and there was nothing he could do to help himself. The male was tired and he just stopped caring.

At one point he pushed everyone away, they stopped visiting him, and Mogens even started to help post the letters due to jespers absence. This didn't help anyone, and their worry grew, but due to jespers moods he let everyone know how he felt. Letting the townspeople understand he doesn't want anything to do with them anymore. This hurt them, but they decided it would be easier to abide by his wishes and leave him fully in the dark.

During the night jesper stayed up, his body wrapped in Klaus's large winter coat, the smell of trees and firewood circling around him. His emotions out of control and his fear growing more tears started to fill his chocolate eyes. A small sniffle coming from the complete silence around him. Jesper finally let things out and showed how exhausted he was. Thick and heady tears rolled down his cheek and he let all his kept up emotions go as if they were nothing. His body stayed rolled up in a ball, his knees pressed to his chest. Jesper reached out and grabbed Klaus's pillow, wrapping his lanky arms around it.

Jesper layed there just letting the tears hit the pillow, his face buried so deep he almost couldn't breath. This comforted him most nights but nights like this were different. Christmas time was always different, especially for the blonde male. He tried not to think about it but his mind made him feel worse about the holidays. Each night getting close he found it harder to sleep, hoping Klaus would come back to him, only hoping… Most years he would sleep through everything, just to make things easy, only to regret it when morning comes.

Jesper looked out from the coat and sighed as he felt cold air blow on him. He tried to ignore the feeling but soon gave up and slowly got up. His feet hitting the cold floor causing the man to shiver, he picked up the coat and wrapped it around his body. It was heavy but it was fuzzy so it worked well enough for him. Jesper walked to the window and peared outside, the snow softly falling, the reindeer cuddled together in their stable. He sighed and almost closed the window before hearing bells. Jesper froze then quickly poked his head out the window looking up at the sky. He quickly heard a familiar laugh.

Jesper slammed the window close and sprinted out the room heading to the living room, his heart stopped as he froze. In front of him Inna night red attire was Klaus, his Klaus… his cheeks red as a rose and his white hair covered with snow. The ex post man just stared waiting for the other to turn around. Once he did, Jesper wanted to run to him but his legs locked up and he collapsed to the ground, tears flooding his eyes. Jesper sobbed and Klaus quickly walked over picking the other up bridal style.

Jesper thought this was all a dream, or some wicked nightmare to mess with him, either way his arms were quickly around the other. His face buried into his chest and hugged for dear life. Klaus moved over and sat in his chair remembering the feeling. The older man gently rubbed jespers back "shhh it's okay jes.. I'm here" he muttered letting jesper calm down when he was ready. They stayed like that for a while, letting each other cuddle and show their affections through silence.

Klaus looked at jespers face from a side glace, and a small frown on his face as he noticed all the changes. Jesper looked tired, and worn out, he felt kinner too. Klaus knew this was just felt, especially after leaving him so suddenly. It hurt Klaus but he couldn't do anything about it, right now he was just worried about being near jesper for the small time they have together.

Jesper slowly looked up and cupped Klaus's cheek "a-are… am I dead.. " he muttered looking up at Klaus. The male chuckled and shook his head "no.. You are not dead jesper.. You're very much alive.. I'm just here with you" the older male smiled and gently kissed jespers forehead for reassurance.

Jesper just stared at Klaus, his eyes widened. A small blush formed on his face, he then looked down before speaking "where… Where did you go..? " he muttered, not wanting to see Klaus' sad expression.

"I.. Well.. It was my time jes.. And I had to leave. " he frowned "I didn't want to leave so. Soon.. But I say Lydia and.. Well.. I followed her. " he gently brushed away the jespers' tears. The blonde male looked up at Klaus "you.. You're back with her? " he smiled softly, he wouldn't be hurt if he was, Klaus needed to be with his lover, not some Postman

"Well.. Kinda.. We will always be together but Lydia wants me to be happy.. And she knows I'm happy with you.. Of course I still Love her.. But I love you more jesper.. I wasn't able to tell you before.. But now I can" he smiled looking into his eyes.

Jesper smiled and let his tears fall, right now he was too tired to think and stop his emotions, he just let go and melted into Klaus's touch. He finally felt comfortable and happy, but he knew this time would be over before he knew it. He was upset but he accepted it. Klaus then looked at jesper "I need a favor from you jesper.. " the other quickly looked up "what is it?.. " he muttered, wiping his tears.

"I need you to keep going.. I've been watching over you.. And I've seen how you're changed. I can even see it on your face" jesper looked down embarrassed while facing the truth, Klaus quickly made jesper look him in the eye "please.. Promise me you'll continue.. I know things are hard right now.. But I need to know you'll stay just a little longer.. Stay and have relationships with Alva and the townspeople.. Let them help you.." Klaus furrowed his eyeBrows hoping for a response.

Jesper obviously froze at this knowing how hard it would be to gain everyone's trust back, but he knew Klaus was right.. And he knew he had to get them back. The male then nodded his head gently "okay.. I'll try my best to stay.. And I'll get better slowly.. I promise Klaus" jesper softly smiled, gently nuzzling their noses together. He cared about klaus and wanted to show that he would take his words too hard. Jesper will get better, and he becomes better he'll make Klaus proud.

"Thank you jesper.. Now.. I know you aren't ready.. But I need to go.. " Klaus frowned watching jespers expressions change "go.. Go where… you just got here" the postman said frantically, he wasn't ready for Klaus to leave yet, he still wanted time with him. Jesper clung to the other and hid his face on the other's neck. Klaus sighed and stood up

"I know you don't wanna see me go this soon.. But I have other houses to get to… and I want you to stay with me forever, but it ain't your time yet.. It won't be your time for a while. " he gently put jesper on the chair "I will always be with you.. And I'll always love you… you mean so much to me jesper.. And I'll never stop thinking about you." Klaus gently kissed jesper.

The other just sitting there not wanting to cry any more tears "I.. I love you too Klaus… and I'll miss you.. So.. So much" jesper wiped away his tears " I promise I'll get better.. Then you can come back and be proud of me.." Jesper grinned and quickly stood up just to embrace Klaus. He'll make Klaus proud and he'll show he can get better.. Not only for him, but for everyone else.

" I believe in you dear.. And I know you can do it.. I'll check on you every Christmas.. I'll see you anytime I can.. I promise " Klaus looked at jesper as tears flooded his eyes, they shared one last kiss before jesper was back alone in the living room. The male was confused and sad, but he promised Klaus and he wanted to keep true to that promise.

It's going to take a long time, but it will be completely worth it.

[fandomlovingfreak]

Mrs. Weasley, Dear (11/?)

George Weasley/Reader

Word Count: 1444

Rating: E for everyone ( trigger: pregnancy )

MasterList Link I AO3 Link

Summary: After their whirlwind romance, including a Pureblood Marriage Contract with a special clause, confessions of love from both, and a quick wedding, everything seems right in their world. Domestic life seems like it was meant for them.

Notes: Sorry for the very very very late chapter update! School has become increasingly more stressful due to finals coming up! 

Besides that, there will be maybe one or two more chapters of this series and then it will wrap up! I will be working on finishing up my Charlie Weasley/Reader (Incidentally In Love) series and then hopefully starting up a Fred Weasley/Reader series!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, for reading and commenting such lovely things on these stories. The support means so much to me. I love writing more than I can describe and sharing my passion and imagination with you and others means so much to me. I love reading what you have to say! Thank you so much!

Enjoy

Their child comes at the most inconvenient time, naturally. He gets an Owl from his mother at noon on a Wednesday that (y/n)'s in labor. George immediately feels the flush of emotions one would be expected to feel: fear, anxiety, excitement, and maybe a tiny bit of nausea. 

After rushing to tell Oswald the news, he apparates to St. Mungos, immediately rushing towards the Witch at the front desk to ask which room is (y/n) Weasley's.

"George!" He whips around to where his mother-in-law is standing, "This room, dear." He thanks the Witch at the desk, shaking her hand like a mad man, before scurrying towards where Missus (y/l/n) is standing.

"Have I missed anything?" He asks, feeling rather frazzled by the entire situation. He hasn't felt this nervous since his wedding day.

"No. We've just got here," she reassuringly pats his arm. He appreciates that she's rather calm. It's a nice contrast to the frantic buzz he's feeling.

(y/n) is pacing the room with Molly following behind her. She's got a hand on her protruding stomach as she does one of the breathing exercises with his mum.

"(y/n)!" He's rushing to her side in an instant.

"Oh, George! You made it." She's grinning at him, clutching his biceps.

"Are you comfortable? I shouldn't have gone to work today--"

"I'm fine. And obviously, you weren't aware this would happen today. It's fine, darling." He kisses her quickly. "What was that for?" She asks, grinning.

"Because I love you."

"You're so sweet--" Her face contorts in pain, and she grips his arms a little tighter.

"What's happening?" He looks around at the mothers in panic.

"Just contractions, dear. It's normal." Molly says.

"I'm fine" (y/n) squeaks out, "honestly, it's not that bad."

He cups her cheek, "I've known you since school, (y/n). I can tell when you're lying."

"I'm putting on a brave face," she laughs, releasing her death grip on his arms. 

***

Their son is born in the early morning after hours of exhaustion from his wife. He has worshiped (y/n) since the moment they heard the baby's first cries, showering her with words of admiration and adoration. The woman was much braver and tougher than he could ever claim to be. He'd told her that multiple times as well, getting a little giggle from her and a thank-you.

"You honestly amaze me." George hasn't put the baby down since (y/n) handed him the little bundle of blankets. He swears he could hold the little guy all day and never get tired of it.

"Yeah?" (y/n) laughs.

"Yeah. I don't know how you did any of this, (y/n)."

"Honestly, me either. That was awful." She teases, "You can do it next time."

George chuckles, "Next time? We're already thinking about the next one?"

"Nope. Nevermind me saying that. That's a maybe and a very weak one at that."

"What're we gonna name him?" George asks suddenly. He's only thought about it a million times over. What would they call the small human being they'd brought into the world? This choice would dictate so many parts of his life. How others would address him, which letter his grandmother would put on his handmade sweater every Christmas, his nicknames...

He glances over at his wife. She looks radiant in this new phase of her life. Merlin, he's so proud of her and so grateful that she's brought their child into the world. 

"How do you feel about Fred?" (Y/n) suggests with a small smile.

George looks up at her, "really? You wanna—" he can't help the tears that spring to his eyes as he looks down at the child.

"Of course. Don't you think it fits?"

"Fred Weasley the second sounds good, doesn't it?"

He leans over to kiss her, "it does."

(Y/n) holds her hands out for him to place little Fred in her arms, which he does. He takes his place on the bed next to his wife, cuddling close to her side.

"How do you feel about it, Baby Weasley?" she brushes aside the little hair the baby has, "do you like the name Fred?" He yawns widely, stretching his little fingers up towards his parents. (Y/n) brushes her fingers in the tiny palm of his hand. Little Fred wraps his miniature fingers around it. "I think he likes it." (y/n) looks up at George, beaming.

"Thank you," he whispers, watching the baby, the tears still fresh in his eyes.

"For what?" she glances up at him.

"For making me the happiest man alive."

***

"Where's my grandbaby?" Molly comes into the room, followed by Arthur and his siblings. 

"You all decided to come at the same time?" He looks over at (y/n), who's rocking the baby.

"We wanted to see the baby," Ginny grins, walking towards where (y/n) is sitting. "He's beautiful (y/n)." 

(y/n) grins, looking up at her, sister-in-law, "Thank you, Gin."

George notices Charlie for the first time in the back of the room, "Charlie! When'dya get in?"

"About an hour or two ago," he practically calls over the heads of the rest of their family. George squeezes through the crowd to embrace his brother.

"It's good to see ya."

"Congratulations, George. I haven't seen him yet, but I'm sure he's cute."

"He's perfect." Perfect was the only way to describe the infant with his ten perfect tiny fingers and toes. He can't help but gush over his son. Besides knowing he was a father for the past months, there was something different about holding his child. The moment he saw the baby, it felt different. He felt different.

"Does he have a name yet?" Ron joins in on the conversation.

"He does." I hear (y/n)'s voice over the chatter of our family. Everyone settles down a tiny bit, ready and eager to hear the newest edition to our family's name. "We've settled on Fred."

"Fred?" Molly comes nearer to (y/n)'s side. The entire room seems to wash over with emotion; everyone's eyes are a little tearier than moments before.

"Yes. Fred Weasley the Second," (y/n) looks down at our son, moving his yellow blanket away from his face. George glides through the others to get to his wife.

"It was (y/n)'s idea," George leans down to press a kiss to the woman's forehead. 

"Fred would've loved it--" Molly's choked up, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Do you want to hold him?" (y/n) asks. She passes off the baby to Molly, who cradles the infant in a practiced way.

"He's so beautiful." Arthur's leaning over his wife's shoulder. (y/n) holds George's hand in hers, her fingers brushing against his knuckles lovingly as they watch the new grandparents coo over their grandchild. 

Molly passes the baby to Arthur, who passes him to Bill. Bill and Fleur cradle the baby for a few minutes before passing him to Ginny.

"You have to let me babysit soon," she says, moving to show Harry the baby.

"He looks so much like (y/n)," Harry comments.

(y/n) laughs, "You think? I think he favors George just a bit more." 

Charlie looks over Harry's shoulder, "I dunno (y/n), he definitely looks a lot like you." 

"So that's why you keep calling him beautiful, eh?" George jokes.

"Oh definitely," Charlie grins at the both of us.

"Charlie!" Molly swats her second eldest son's arm.

"Sorry, mum," he chuckles, "Clearly, the baby gets its looks from George."

Ron snorts, "Clearly."

"Hey!" George butts in, "We're siblings, you know! There's a good chance if I'm ugly, the rest of you are too." The room erupts in laughter, scaring the poor baby who erupts into tears. 

"Enough, you three!" Molly shakes her head fondly as little Fred gets handed over to his mother. (y/n) hushes the small child as he wails. The rest of the family holds their breath as they watch (y/n) with interest. (y/n) runs her fingers down the baby's miniature facial features. He calms soon, falling into a deep sleep in his mother's arm.

***

"Charlie!" George calls to his brother before he can slip out of the room with the rest of the family.

"Yes?" Charlie turns back around to face them.

"Can we talk to you quickly before you leave?" Charlie nods, coming closer to the two of us.

"Charlie, we wanted to know if you'd be Fred's godfather" (y/n) looks up at George.

His brother looks shocked for a minute before asking, "You want me to be the godfather?" 

"You've done so much for me, Charlie. There isn't anyone else I would want to be my son's godfather." Charlie embraces him.

"Of course, I'll be Fred's godfather. I'm honored that you've thought of me."

[furblrwurblr]

Moppet!Douxie x GN!Reader, Soulmate AU | Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Warnings: Fire/Explosion, lots of crying, self esteem issues, misunderstandings cause a lot of emotional turmoil

Note: This is my first fic! I know fics have it worse than art, but if you'd consider leaving tips in the comments, I'd be super grateful! Thanks for taking a look!

It was springtime in Camelot, near the turn of the season. The sun was high, the birds were singing, and you... were late. As a magic user, your life was in constant jeopardy regardless of your employment as the Crowmaster, Crowlord Corbin’s apprentice, penning and sending letters for the kingdom. And in this kingdom, tardiness was not appreciated. Racing through the castle halls with the king’s letters in hand, you noticed movement on your forearms.

“I wonder what color their eyes are. I bet they’re lovely.”

Your lips curled in a tender smile at the curling words that appeared on your skin. Similar musings crossed your soulmate’s mind daily, not leaving your body free of the enigmatic “ink” for years.

No one, not even the renowned Merlin Ambrosius, knew the precise nature of the words that would mark people’s skin, only that they were your soulmate’s thoughts about you. Soulmates were a fickle thing, their connections varying with different cultural beliefs and changing as countries developed. In England, the written words made finding your soulmate a tad difficult as one couldn’t know if their other half was paying any mind when they tried to share personal details. It was said that once you know them wholly, you’re complete in all things. Whatever that means.

You’d once been impatient to meet your own, to know what it means to be complete, but after years of black markings coming and going, covering your body in kind words of admiration, you deemed them worth the wait.

You were shocked from your reverie in a flutter of parchment. You’d bumped into someone, the king’s letters falling to the ground right into… was that slorr juice? You didn’t even apologize to the raven-haired young man whose spell material you’d just gotten all over the floor. You were far too panicked.  Knowing your animal magic was of no help here, you scrambled to salvage what you could.

Hisirdoux was in trouble. Merlin would have his head when he told him he lost the slorr juice to another bout of soulmate pondering, and have it again when he discovered that said juice is the reason the king didn’t receive his news regarding the upcoming royal summit. Douxie leaned forward to help but instead opted to frantically search his brace for anything that could help the poor apprentice in front of him.

When he’d finally found the rune, the Crowmaster had just finished shaking off what liquid they could from the sensitive documents. He quickly dried them hoping to save the ink on them as best he could, long fingers flitting over each. In a hurried frenzy of apologies and farewells, the hallway was emptied.

Merlin was less than pleased, and frankly, a little concerned. Douxie usually gets so cautious after a mistake that even Merlin feels his stress, but this was the third time this week. Why was he so focused on his soulmate? After a right scolding, Douxie retired to his room to study. Merlin nearly did a double-take at what was written on his young apprentice’s neck.

“He was quite kind.”

So they’d met. Did his soulmate know? Did Douxie know?

Over the next few weeks, you two kept running into one another. A passing here, an acknowledgment there. After about a month you’d come to look forward to seeing the boy trip over himself en route to Merlin’s study. You helped him carry supplies when the Crowlord was away and talked when he dropped off Merlin’s letters to the court magicians across England. For some reason, you found yourself hanging on his every word and smiling whenever you caught a glimpse of his adorable manbun weaving through the streets.

He felt the same. It was never enough to speak to you in passing and he even left long conversations with you feeling wanting. He doesn’t quite remember how he started, but it’d become a habit to watch you work through the large western tower window. He’d admire your tenderness with the crows and was warmed by your bond with your hawk familiar. 

As you left the tower to retire for the night, he always thought you might be cold, but never gathered the courage to walk you to your chambers.

Douxie was concerned. The day was halfway through, winter clouds covering the high sun, and you were nowhere to be seen. He’d watched you enter the western tower at dawn and the candlelight hadn’t been extinguished once. He was principally done with Merlin’s tasks for the day, perhaps he could pop his head in? “just for a minute,” he decided. 

He exited his chambers (Merlin’s storage closet) and rapped a knuckle on his master’s desk, pulling his attention from some blueprints. Merlin didn’t speak, just gave an expectant look.

Douxie ran a near-trembling hand through his tied black hair before cautiously speaking up. “Master, may I have the rest of the day off?”

“Whatever brought this on? After the way you’ve been acting these past months?”

Douxie averted his gaze, suddenly finding his shoes far more interesting. “I’d… I’d like to see someone today.”

After a beat, the master wizard quickly scribbled something down on a piece of parchment and handed it to the boy.

“Finish these and I’ll consider your time served for the day,” Merlin sighed.

Douxie had been sure he would shut down. He quickly snatched the list and ran to the door, uttering a rushed ‘thank you master’ before it shut behind him. Merlin watched him leave, fondness in his eyes.

The sun was just dipping past the high kingdom walls, turning the town a vibrant orange. Douxie hung the herbs he’d just gathered, heaving a sigh of great relief when the last one was in place. He raced across the west side, eager to visit his… friend? Is that who you were to him? He banished the thought as he came upon the west tower, dark eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Citizens, a lot of them, stood in a line from the tower out down the hallway. 

“What’s going on?” he asked a young woman.

“I’m here with my children, the Crowmaster is penning wishlists for Saint Nick. Just a shilling each!” 

Douxie nodded and thanked her, then made his way to the tower. He gently pushed past the mob gathered in the doorway, stammering apologies. At last, he reached the Crowlord’s desk. The man himself was nowhere to be seen and you were alone, writing away at the whim of an excited child. He caught a glimpse of your face, you looked tired. Had you really been doing this all day?

Exhausted wasn’t a big enough word to describe how you felt. The only thing keeping you going was reading the various forms of concern written on your skin. By now, you knew you’d met them, but you couldn’t place who it could be. However, thinking was only making you more fatigued as your aching wrist swept across the parchment.

Douxie said nothing, just pulled out the Crowlord’s chair, and sat down. You looked at him, eyes wide, but the only explanation offered was a kind smile. He picked up a quill and called out for the next person to step forward. You turned back to the young girl asking for a sword, your smile wide and heart swelling.

By the time you two finished, the sun was half past the horizon. The last patron left the tower and you both heaved a sigh of relief.

“I can’t than-” 

“Um, do you think-” 

You looked at one another and laughed, waiting for the other to speak. Douxie hesitated, then took a deep breath. 

“Uhm, do you think you’ve some time? I’d like to show you something,” he asked, lifting his eyes to your face.

“Sure,” you replied, smiling and holding out your elbow.

He beamed, quickly grabbing two pieces of parchment, a quill, and an inkwell. You raised a brow but let him be as he threaded your arm through his and started walking.

The young wizard’s apprentice couldn’t bring himself to speak, he was far too nervous. Thankfully, you found the silence comfortable as he led you up a winding staircase at the corner of the castle. Once you both reached the top, he gestured to the sea. It was breathtaking. The salty breeze floated through your hair as you admired the sun’s glow over the water and the colors of twilight.

Douxie broke the quiet. “I thought you’d like this. Hmm, it isn’t enough light to write by though.” He waved his hand, sending blue wisps to swirl around you both. You watched them float about, eyes finally landing on Douxie who was making himself comfortable in a crenel, placing the supplies he’d brought with him on the merlon in front of him. You settled across from him, reaching for the quill.

His slender hand caught yours and laid in on the stone, gently massaging your wrist. “You’ll injure yourself at this rate. Let someone else write for you today.” His gaze caught yours, hazel eyes full of concern, and… something else you couldn’t place.

A gentle smile spread across your face as you reveled in the sun on your skin and the breeze on your lips. Douxie shuffled his papers around and spoke up again a moment later.

“So! What’s your wish?” Douxie asked, smiling wide.

“What?” you said, puzzled.

Douxie rose a brow, pointing out “All today, has anyone penned you a wishlist?”

“I suppose not,” you said, the smile settling back onto your face.

He beamed and set the quill to the parchment again. “Fantastic. Not that I think it’s fantastic no one’s offered, I’m just glad I get to- oh, I never even asked. I should have asked first, I’m so sorry-,” His shoulders tensed, but he stopped abruptly when he felt your hand on his.

“Hisirdoux, thank you. I’d love it if you did, there’s no need to worry.”

You started telling him things you wanted for Christmas and conversation flowed from there. Teasing banter and loud laughter filled the sky as it turned to night, blue magic floating around you both excitedly in time with your synchronized heartbeats as he finally walked you to your chambers, even offering you his hood. What could he do? He thought you looked cold.

It was just past noon on Christmas day. The ground sparkled a bright white and children’s laughter rang through the air. You took a deep breath of the crisp air and let it out in a contented sigh, taking a sip of the warm cider your master bought you before he left to celebrate with his family. He invited you to join them, but you opted to celebrate it yourself. You placed the cider on the table next to the window you were sitting in and picked up the small wood block you were fashioning into a present for Douxie. The small wooden cat-dragon only needed his hind leg to be freed from its timber prison. It wasn’t perfect, but it’s the thought that counts. As you worked, sentences curled up your arms and swirling letters kissed the base of your fingers. You paused your whittling with a frown. The only feeling behind this gift was love. You’d accepted you loved Douxie after that night bathed in twilight and lonely smiles, but you felt so incredibly twisted about it. You’d already met your soulmate and they thought about you often. Did your soulmate also worry they’d fallen in love with the wrong person? You shook your head, clearing your mind at the sound of wingbeats. Your hawk familiar landed on your raised knee and began to preen themself, looking at you smugly through pristine feathers.

“I can feel you overthinking things from across the castle,” they spoke, masking concern under teasing.

You scoffed, knowing they were right. “What am I meant to do? I can’t go on like this when I’ve got a soulmate out there. I can’t even try, it’s against the law! They know we’re bonded, what if they see me with him? I don’t want to hurt them like that. Not to mention, what if he’s not perfect for me? I want the soulbond to experience all of another person, but should I give that up for love?”

Your familiar shook their head and flew away, leaving you with your question hanging in the air. Watching them leave, you noticed someone walking towards the slorr’s stable. The manbun was too recognizable for there to be a shred of doubt: Douxie was being put to work on Christmas Day. You turned the wooden Archie in your hand and pushed off the windowsill. Just because you love him doesn’t mean you can’t stay friends.

Douxie was in flux. Archie saw the boy’s neutral expression turn sour as he read what he could of his soulmate’s thoughts. They loved someone else? Would they give him up for someone they’d already met? He couldn’t exactly criticize, he was in the same boat. Y/N was so important to him, but if he found his soulmate, could he quell the confusing little thing they had together for someone he barely knew? He decided he’d understand if his soulmate didn’t love him, he’d want them to do the same. He loved Y/N too much to let them go.

He looked up from his arm and startled. You were waiting for him, leaning against the slorr’s gate, your hawk familiar preening themself. While you laughed at his absentmindedness, he frantically rolled his ¾ sleeves down over the words that betrayed his true heart. 

“Y-Y/N! W-what are you doing here? Aren’t you- um, aren’t you meant to be celebrating?” Douxie stammered out as his heart rate slowed. 

You pushed off the gate and grabbed the pail he was holding in his hands that were still light with adrenaline. “I am! I opted not to celebrate with Master Corbin and his family, take the day for myself and see where it leads,” you said, a hopeful grin rising to your lips.

Douxie broke into a giddy smile, his heart afloat. They had all of Christmas to enjoy the town and they were here with him? He couldn’t believe his fortune. “Then I’m glad it led you here!” he exclaimed. 

Archie curled himself around your leg, butting his dark head into your calf. “Are you here to enjoy the show?” he asked with a purr. 

Your laugh was the only thing keeping Douxie from strangling his bespectacled familiar, so he settled for a pout you internally cooed at. 

Both of you paused in front of the gate, reluctant to enter. He swung it open with a bow. “Ladies first.”

“Cheeky,” you said to him over your shoulder.

Archie and your familiar started playing with one another as you two prepared to take on the slorr together.

Hm. This was a mess. The slorr seemed to enjoy the happy atmosphere you’d both created so she was a tad more cooperative, but it took longer for her to calm down. You and Douxie were covered head to toe in the glowing blue liquid, trying to remove what you could into the pail Merlin gave him. Your shared laughter slowed to silence as you noticed him staring at you, eyes slowly roving over your face. Did he look… sad? No, that wasn’t it. Before you could scrutinize him further, you felt it. Gentle fingers caressing your cheek, going up, up… Your breath hitched as he laid his palm to your cheek, thumb slowly moving across your face. You let out a shaky breath and he jolted, noticing your wide eyes fixed on his and quickly withdrawing his hand.

He shook some juice from his hand and gesticulated wildly, stammering through an apology. “You- you had some juice on your cheek, I’m so sorry, Merlin’s tower, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“It’s okay, really. Thanks for getting it for me,” you interrupted. You wanted to say more, but his sleeve had risen in his fervor, swirling lines reminding you he wasn’t yours to comfort. Hisirdoux was such an emotional and empathetic being, he wouldn’t leave his soulmate. Especially since his soulmate would have to be an absolute saint, it’s no less than he deserved. Taking a deep breath in, you looked back at him. “Don’t bite your lips, you’ll chap them. Was that your last task for the day?”

Douxie released his lip, fighting the urge to continue chewing it. “It was, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to use the rest of the afternoon,” he said, watching as his familiar and yours playfully wrestled for a mouse.

Your heart leaped, this was your chance! “How would you like to spend it together? There are tons of things to do in town and I’ve saved up my pay for a while so I’ve some wiggle room. Not to mention, I’ve made you something.”

The nervous cloud around you both dissolved as Douxie eagerly agreed and begged you to reveal what you had for him. You denied him with a laugh, smile widening with his every impatient groan. Your familiars ran ahead of you both, swirling in a frenzy of playful fighting and laughter as you walked out of the castle, arm-in-arm.

The town was a sight to behold. Holly curled around door frames, red berries nestled among twisted wreaths. Mistletoe hung from building corners, tracks disrupted the perfect layers of fresh snow, and children weaved and ducked through throngs of people gathered around street musicians. Snowballs were flying at the end of every street, laughter and song floating in the air with the excited chatter of families buying wares for their families, and lines of crushed berries stained the ground. It was an English tradition to wish to meet your soulmate sooner by spreading holly berries in a line on Christmas as a nod to the Chinese legends of the soulstring, a red string that connected soulmates there. Sure, it made a mess of your shoes but you always found it cute.

The first few minutes were unsure, both of you fishing for ideas on what to do first. Archie and your familiar were already deep in conversation, but you and Douxie were struggling. That is, until, the smell of sweet buns reached him. His stomach let out a mighty grumble, a testament to how he’d been working for longer than you and likely hadn’t eaten lunch yet. He covered his pale face with his free hand, too embarrassed to bear seeing you fight a rising smile. You slid your hand down his forearm and grasped his cold fingers, pulling him towards the source of the heavenly aroma. A fiery blush rose to his ears when he registered your fingers lacing with his while you waited in line. Reaching the front, Douxie’s protests fell on deaf ears as you swatted his hands away, insisting you’d pay. The baker gave a soft smile and handed you two of the high coveted baked goods, bidding you both a happy Christmas. Just two apprentices walking hand in hand, browsing stalls, eating together, and enjoying one another's company.

Douxie heard something on the wind and perked up. Lively music came from the town square and Douxie wasn’t about to miss the chance to dance with you. He pulled you from the daggers you were eyeing, making a note of which you lingered on before pulling you close and weaving through the other partygoers. Soon enough, you made it to the musicians, seeing the space before them where a group was dispersing as the song ended. The vocalist started up again, solo for a few lines until the band swelled. Douxie bounced on his heels, recognizing the tune as The Bear and the Maiden Fair. His excitement sent a wave of courage through him and he slipped his fingers from yours, instead grabbing you by the wrist to drag you to the open space.  Others joined, forming a circle. Claps and stomps interrupted the smooth movement of the ring. Laughter mixed with the joyful notes of the flute. Hisirdoux couldn’t stop looking at your joined hands, sometimes lifting his gaze to your eyes closed in a laugh. When the vocalist reached the line “lifted her high into the air”, Douxie broke his hand away from the person opposite you, lifted you by the waist, and spun. Your clothes fluttered and for a moment, you were weightless. Douxie’s laughter rang in your ears, lingering just like the feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours. His hands were warm and firm on your midsection, the heat replaced with a chill as he set you down. You absently continued the dance, happiness clouding the passage of time. Douxie kept your hand in his, allowing your arms to fall to your sides. You looked at each other, breathless smiles lingering on your faces as the song changed once more. You both walked on, catching your breath and coming down from the high.

A few hours later, you’d both had more interaction with each other than you’d had with anyone else all year. It was a welcome break from the same hallways, the same people, and the same routines. You’d bought each other dinner, talked about everything under the sun, and danced through seemingly all of Camelot, only separating for maybe an hour to buy gifts that may or may not have been for one another.

The day was coming to a close, the sun once again a deep vermillion, the snow reflecting it like gems. As you were heading back to the castle, you passed a holly berry stall. Douxie saw you looking at it, sobered by the reminder you were both promised to complete strangers. Just today, he’d fallen so much more in love with you than he thought possible, and if you wanted your soulmate, who was he to deny you? He tugged on your arm, wordlessly offering a pound to the vendor. The woman raised a brow at your intertwined fingers but offered the small basket of berries without a question. You looked at him quizzically when he drew his hand from yours, pouring a good amount into his hand and giving you the remainder. Enjoying the bittersweet silence, you two took turns placing the berries in a line. Archie swatted your familiar’s eager beak from the line of red that was stark against the slow-melting snow. Once you’d finished, Douxie sent you a sad smile and asked if you’d like to exchange gifts in his chambers. You agreed, once again arm-in-arm, streets quiet except for the soft crunching of snow beneath your heavy feet and the pound of heavy hearts.

Hisirdoux lit all his candles as the sun peeked just over the horizon. Archie made himself comfortable on his wizard’s pillow, curling around a tired hawk familiar. Your own wizard associate preened themselves while you and Doux sat on the bed, eventually opting to preen Archie when they were satisfied. Archie let out a yelp when she preened the edge of his ear, earning a look from you. Douxie pulled out a handful of items from his satchel with a flourish and showed you all the things he’d found one by one. Polish for Lancelot’s sword, a garlic braid for one of Galahad’s more ambitious brews, cooked salmon for Archie, and other things spread out in front of him.

He gave a nervous smile. “Close your eyes,” he breathed.

You smiled as your eyes slid shut. His slim, cold fingers touched your hand, causing goosebumps to rise on your arm as he pressed something small into your palm.

“And… open!” He slid his hands from yours and into his lap, an expectant look on his long face. Looking down, you gasped. There laid a ring that looked to be made of vines, weaving around each other and wrapping around the base of a tiny white flower.

“I found a curltrap in the forest on my last herb run and thought you might like it, so I made it into a ring. It won’t wilt. Um… do you? Like it, I mean,” he asked, brows pinching.

You slipped it on and looked at him in awe. Leaning forward, you softly put your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. “Douxie, it’s beautiful. No one’s ever given me such a thoughtful gift, thank you for making it.” He laid his hands on your back and laid his face in the crook of your neck to return the gesture, hand trailing after when you pulled away.

“Your turn!” You reached into your bag and paused. “Close your eyes.”

Douxie pouted but held his hand out after doing as he was told. He felt something hard and contoured, slowly curling his long fingers around it. He opened his eyes and stared at it in awe. It was wood whittled in Archie’s likeness, complete with small green gems for eyes and tiny glasses frames made of wire. His wings were unfurled, his posture inquisitive. Archie looked at it, speechless.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I played it safe. When I told the carpenter it was for you he offered to inlay the gems for free. You’re more appreciated than you think!” you exclaimed with a smile. He whispered a “thank you” as he turned it over in his hands, admiring the details. In all honesty, he’d already committed every dip and groove to memory, he was just replaying your words in his mind. “You’re more appreciated than you think!” He never thought about the impact he had on others, he was too busy being concerned with Merlin’s opinion of him. That’d be something he’d have to work on if it made you smile like that.

The rest of the evening flew by, laughter and the sound of a lute seeping through Douxie’s chamber door and into Merlin’s study. By now you’d fallen asleep on his bed having drifted off while Douxie softly sang a folk lullaby you’d requested. He lifted the blanket over you and laid down, the blanket layered between you two. He stared at you while you slept, soaking you in. The shadows your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. Your chest rising and falling in tandem with his. The black lines swirling to your collarbone- wait. Douxie watched as a thought appeared on your skin, hidden under your shirt. Archie moved in circles at the foot of the bed and stopped abruptly feeling Douxie’s sudden fear. He was so tempted to look but he couldn’t risk you hating him… it’s just to see what they think of you. To see if they deserve you. Yeah, that was a viable excuse. Archie hissed quietly at his friend, watching Douxie’s trembling fingers gingerly expose the skin towards your shoulder. He looked at the two words, puzzled. “They’re breathtaking.” Did they see you in the square? Had it been when you’d separated? Douxie was torn from his own thoughts when you made a noise, your brow furrowing for a moment and relaxing. His hand still had your collarbone exposed, and he watched in equal parts elation and horror as his own thought scrawled itself onto your skin.

“I don’t know if I can let you go.”

His blood ran cold, breath hitching and mind flailing. 

You were his. You were fated to be his. But you loved someone else.

Spring had returned to Camelot, plants thriving in the sun’s warmth. The flowers were happy, fluttering in the sea breeze. You furrowed your brow when your heart clenched at the thought of such beautiful blossoms mocking you. A shadow passed over your face as you looked to the flower that still curled itself around your finger. It’d been three months since the best Christmas you’d ever had, but the memory was now stained. Douxie and you still talked, but for some reason, he made excuses to avoid you and felt distant when you were able to cajole him into a short walk. At first, it seemed like he was busy with the amulet, but then he was absent even when Merlin said he was stuck and didn’t require his apprentice’s help. You were disappointed and confused, feeling hurt every time he blew you off with some excuse of running errands for Merlin.

Hisirdoux wasn’t feeling any better. He missed you greatly and seeing what you thought of his excuses only deepened his guilt. But wasn’t this what you wanted? Why would you be so disappointed he wouldn’t spend as much time with you if you loved someone else? He chalked it up to the soulmate bond, ignoring Archie’s concern and attempts at advice. His eyes were sunken in and puffy, due in part to crying himself to sleep watching your pain at his sudden distance write itself on his skin. He’d go to bed with swirling lines of magical ink torturing his dreams and awake a blank slate, ready for it to start all over again. 

Archie couldn’t take this. For the past week, he’d been pushing his magic through their psychic bond, pouring parts of a sleep spell into his charge, but that would only work for so long. Douxie was destroying himself from the inside out, all because he couldn’t be selfish for once and speak up. The shifter waited for Douxie to leave for the day, telling him he’d find him at noon. Archie stayed in front of the door until the young man’s voice faded. He sighed, whispering an apology. Douxie wouldn’t want anyone to know, but the boy needed an intervention.

“Merlin? We need to talk.”

Merlin had noticed Douxie’s exhaustion and had purposefully lightened his load, but the boy kept working regardless. Merlin thought less work could allow him to spend more time with the Crowmaster (who at this point couldn’t be anyone BUT Douxie’s soulmate considering how quickly they bonded and how much time they spent together), but he’d come back to his study to see the books sorted a different way every week, the suits of armor impossibly polished, and the herb rack overflowing with all kinds of magical flora. As Archie relayed the events of the past few months, Merlin felt his chest constrict tighter and tighter. His heart bled for the boy, growing angry at just how oblivious you both were. And then, an idea. Not one of his best or subtlest, but it’d get the job done fast and serve as a bit of punishment for confusing his apprentice’s heart.

It was that time of year again. The yearly royal summit had you and the Crowlord running circles around one another, both of you rapidly penning and sending letters and the occasional need to coerce the grumpiest crow, Corvus, to carry just one more letter for the day. Between your familiar’s regular several-day flights to Spain, your scurrying around the castle, and the magic you were giving the crows for some extra juice, you were exhausted. Your eyes were sunken, you weren’t sleeping properly, and you missed Douxie. You didn’t know why, but his absence made your heart hurt. Every time you collected letters from Merlin, your throat closed at seeing his apprentice’s chamber door. Catching a glimpse of him through doorways and windows made your mouth dry. Both Master Corbin and Galahad had noticed your change in attitude, asking you to rest and why Douxie wasn’t with you, confused why you were no longer attached by the hip. You were tired. Everything fell by the wayside as you rushed from official to official. The king himself was concerned for you. Well, as concerned as he was willing to be towards a mage. 

Finally, there was a lull. You were able to rest for a while but didn’t dare leave the tower, knowing something would pop up eventually. Sitting down for what felt like the first time in weeks, you let everything go. The “mother hen” of the tower crows, Corinth, coaxed it out of you bit by bit until the dam burst. She preened your scalp while you cried, hot tears rolling down your twisted features. The feeling was comforting, helping to ease your upset. Finally, you were able to speak. 

“...I love him, Corinth. I don’t know how I hurt him and I don’t know how to fix it, but I love him. He isn’t mine and he never will be, I know it, I do, so why does it still hurt so much?”  you whimpered, drawing your knees to your chest.

“Perhaps he’s blind,” she said sagely.

“He can see perfectly well,” you whispered with an insincere chuckle, still not trusting your ability to speak without breaking down again.

Her eyes glinted in the noontime sun. “Stupid, then.”

You laughed, eyes crinkling and forcing tears that were left on your lashes to fall. “Douxie may well be stupid, but he isn’t simple. It’s one of his many charms.” A soft smile lingered on your face, heart lighter than before. “Thank you Corinth, you listen well.”

She shook out her plumage and settled on your knees, cuddling into your bosom. You stroked her gently, the silence pushing in on your curled form.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Poor Hisirdoux was in flux again. He sat on his bed turning the wooden Archie over in his hands. Merlin had left not too long ago and given him the day. Douxie’s hands felt light without a task. Come to think of it, his head felt light too. He couldn’t sleep yet, but he desperately needed a pick-me-up. A sigh escaped him when he realized his basin was nearly empty. He’d wanted something to do so he might as well refill it. Upon picking up the basin he dropped it immediately, water splashing violently across the floor along with the clatter of wood on stone. Archie yowled, shifting into his dragon form. The boy’s eyes were wide in horror as he recalled his reflection in the water. You see, in England, not only are the words of a soulmate tie important, but their placing on the skin holds equal meaning. Douxie had only ever gotten them on his limbs and the base of his skull when he was younger, but ever since he met Y/N, they began showing on his torso and the left side of his chest. But this… this couldn’t mean anything good. Scrawled black lines, no longer smooth and flourished, curled around his throat. They began from seemingly nowhere and writhed downwards in a creeping spiral, the end reaching for his heart. 

“Arch!” he cried. “What’s happening? Why are they like this? What do they say? Arch, Arch, please I need to know what’s wrong!” Tears welled in his hazel eyes as he dragged his hands down his throat, futilely trying to smudge the twisted lines.

Archie felt his fear so strongly his back arched on its own accord, but he found his way to Douxie quickly. He scampered to the boy just as he fell to his knees, his mind nothing but questions. Archie shifted, paws pulling Douxie’s frantic hands into his lap as he curled his wings around the boy’s shoulders. He sniffed and shuddered to a halt, shaky breaths drawing in and out as he lifted his head for Archie to read the swirling text.

Archie’s reaction to your thoughts was well hidden. He knew you two loved each other, but this hurt him just as much as it did Douxie. “...I love him, Corinth. I don’t know how I hurt him and I don’t know how to fix it, but I love him. He isn’t mine and he never will be, I know it, I do, so why does it still hurt so much?” The next bit made him breathe a laugh, but he realized that while it wouldn’t be easy to tell Douxie just how much you were both hurt by each other’s assumptions, it was just the proof he needed. Archie tugged the reluctant apprentice out into Merlin’s study.

Hisirdoux approached the mirror, looking back at Archie before he confronted the letters snaking down his collarbone. He twisted this way and that, heart falling to pieces over and over with every word.

He shifted his hood back into place, fluffing the collar to cast the letters in shadow. One look at Archie’s concerned face was all it took. He sank against the wall, gathering Archie into his arms and burying his face into his familiar’s side. Glistening tears wet Archie’s fur as the cat dragon purred loudly to offer comfort. 

Hisirdoux’s breathing evened out. “Arch, what have I done? What can I do?” he whispered, clutching the familiar ever closer.

Archie placed a large paw on the boy’s chest, near his heart. “You can go after them. Tell them what you know.” 

Douxie nodded after a beat and gathered himself, quickly walking out of Merlin’s tower and towards the western wing of the castle.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

The king and his court mages piled into a carriage in preparation for the trip to the port where they’d depart to Spain for the royal summit. Merlin and Morgana sat next to each other and shared a look when the carriage lurched forward. Of course Merlin enlisted Morgana’s help, she’s a trusted source of chaos. He felt for the Crowlord’s aura in the tower and nodded to her once he confirmed Corbin was away. While Arthur was distracted, they sent their magic out. Tendrils of light bobbed, weaved, and merged to form two fluorescent lime balls. They floated around as if to get their bearings, then flew at the west tower. Nestled just below the ridge leading from the doorway was a sack of Dworkstone, its contents belonging to various trolls imprisoned in the castle dungeons. One ball started to vibrate just before it pushed to the center of the sack, starting the movement needed for a mother of an explosion The other flattened into a shield, curling itself around the sack. And they waited.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

You were still curled on the floor, Corinth in your lap when the crows began to beat their wings against their cages. Corinth was panicked but managed to push what coherent thought she could into your mind.

“The door… danger... hurry…” She struggled, taking off out the window in a flutter of black. 

You felt the disturbance, dread rising in the pit of your stomach. Scrambling to your feet, you barely managed to stand before a loud boom shook the tower. The shield swelled, Trollfire stretching the ward into the room. Your frantic hands undid locks and bonds as quickly as they could, ushering the crows to safety through the large window. The ward began to thin, crackles of green sparks coming undone as the fire fought against Merlin’s magic. You barely managed to throw the last crow out the window before the ward burst into a violent, moving wall of green flames.

You were pushed into the far wall, falling and splitting your brow on the cobblestone. All you could hear was ringing as your vision went white, slowly fading back to normal. You were trapped under the desk and a few chairs, too weak to lift them off. The screech of a hawk sounded far off as your hearing faded in and out. Fire blazed all around you, easily spreading along the hay bedding in the open cages. You coughed, smoke already in the air. Wait. It shouldn’t be this low yet, it’s only been a few moments since the explosion. You quickly sobered into a panic when you realized the wood piled on top of you was burning. Great. Now you were scared and disoriented. A perfect mix for getting out of sticky situations. The only thing to do now was wait.

Douxie could swear he felt his soul leave his body. He was on his way to tell you-- well, everything. You were his everything. He felt it before he heard it. The tingle of troll and human magic filled the air before a loud explosion shook the western tower. The western tower? Fuzzbuckets, you were on duty today! Crows flew from the open window, a whole murder blackening the sky for a few moments. They’d dispersed by the time he made it to the tower entrance. There was a small crowd a few paces back, Lancelot and another knight inspecting the swelling ward full of fire. Douxie pushed through the crowd just in time to see Lancelot raising his sword. 

“No! Everyone run!” he screamed. 

Lance was already going full swing when he heard it, looking back at Douxie in fear. Douxie grabbed the knight and made the best ward he could on short notice before the shield burst. They were all blasted backward, a few serfs’ tunics setting on fire. His dark hair was thoroughly windswept, his entire body frozen in shock on the ground. Lancelot might have been screaming, but Douxie couldn’t hear it. Blood dripped down his pale face, but Douxie couldn’t feel it. He could have been floating, his head was so light. Sure, his ears rang, his hands trembled, his chest heaved, but all he could feel was you. Your confusion, your panic. You were definitely inside. Douxie struggled to his feet and stumbled forward into the tower, ignoring Galahad’s voice yelling for him to stop.

If he wasn’t suffocating before, he sure was now. Douxie brought his hood to his mouth to filter some of the air and began searching for you. It wasn’t a very big room, but between the fire, smoke, and items strewn throughout, it was proving more difficult than he’d hoped. 

You let out a groan, the table pushing splinters into your leg.

He whipped his head towards the source of the sound, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. “Y/N?! Y/N, where are you?” he cried.

Weakly, you spoke through a great cough. “...Douxie? Is that you?” 

He hurried to the large pile of wood and began tearing it apart. “It’s me, it’s me, love. Please be alright, please, please, please, you can’t die. You’re not going to die, love.”

Hisirdoux heaved the table off you just as you slumped to the floor. He lifted you by the arms with a mighty roar, dragging you towards the open doorway. Galahad and the knight from earlier ran to catch you both as Douxie slipped into unconsciousness. 

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Two days. You hadn’t stirred for two days. The sun shone softly through the long linen curtains. Your familiar was perched on the headboard, asleep. Douxie was sat up by your bedside, bandaged hands gingerly holding one of yours while Archie slept on your legs. The boy had gotten burned pulling the debris off of you. He hadn’t left your side, save when the castle nurses forced him to eat, bathe, and sleep. They knew him well, uncoordinated as he was, and it broke their hearts to see him look so tired although the past couple of days were the most rested he’d ever been. He was scared. Everything had gone downhill when he found out you were soulmates and he blamed himself. 

“None of this would have happened if I’d just told you. You could have been away from the tower, safe with me. I was too afraid of losing you. All I knew was you loved someone else and I couldn’t let you guilt yourself into abandoning ‘him’ because we’re bonded. I was on my way to tell you, you know. I saw what you were thinking to Corinth and Archie convinced me to go after you. I-” his voice cracked, fresh tears coming to his eyes. “I love you, Y/N. I have long before I knew about the bond. I hurt you. I hurt us both. If only I wasn’t such a coward…” He was weeping now, head hung low and shoulders shaking. “I love you so much, and I still let this happen,” he stammered between quiet sobs. He brought your hand to his forehead, cradling it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. And to him, you were.

He jumped when your hand slowly withdrew from his. His head snapped up, and there you were. Sun shining behind you like a halo, your eyes glinting in a tearful smile. You wiped the tears from his cheek, just like he’d done to you with the unruly slorr all those months ago, and let out a yelp of surprise. Douxie had thrown his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

“Doux! Your hair tickles,” you croaked, bringing your arms around him. He was crying again, just a little. His chest felt light. You were here. You were okay. Archie had woken when you jumped and was padding up to your face, pushing himself against your cheek. You sat up slowly when Douxie released you and patted the space next to you on the cot. He settled and looked up at you, eyes still sad.

“So, uh. How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” You cupped his face. “Douxie. I didn’t fall in love with a coward. I fell in love with the bravest, most selfless wizard in Camelot. Not to mention his adorable manbun. I love you too, Hisirdoux Casperan. Soul bond or not, I want to spend the rest of eternity with you.”

He brought his hand to yours, feeling the tiny curl trap blossom on the ring he made you. Gently, he took their hand in his, admiring the accessory. “Even after all I did, you kept it on.”

“And I don’t plan on ever taking it off,” you smiled. 

He slowly removed the ring, taking hold of your left hand. His eyes were hopeful and a little scared when he looked up at you, fingers pausing. Tears welled up in your eyes.

“Promise?”

“With my whole heart, love.”

You placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a soft, loving kiss as he slipped the promise ring onto your finger.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Lance had lost his arm in the explosion but was rather excited about his new prosthetic. You two had healed as well, soon going back to work. Every time you passed one another, fingers brushed, kisses were stolen, and smiles were shared. The entire castle ended up hearing about how you two became so close, and soon enough, you were somewhat of a folk tale amongst the townsfolk. Now, every Christmas, soulmates exchange handmade gifts while sharing sweetbuns, now deemed a good omen for true love.

Even now, 900 years later, you’d hide your smiles as Arcadian couples surprised one another with things they’d made while ordering an eclair at Benoit’s. It’d been so long, but it seems some things stay the same, you and Hisirdoux included. Sure, you’d both grown in character, but around you, he was still the same lovesick fool he had been all those years ago. You still had your ring, which he’d embellished a bit on your wedding day. Douxie still thought about you as much as he did then. Today, while you were at your job at HexTech, you smiled adoringly at the words on your wrist.

“Your eyes are such a lovely color. Oh, how far we’ve come from clumsy accidents and runny ink. I love you, darling. More than you can ever know.”

[rose-tinted-juls]

juliana's comfort movies pt.2

posted: 20.07.2021.

scent of a woman (1992) main actors: al pacino, chris o'donnell, james rebhorn short summary (imdb): "a prep school student needing money agrees to "babysit" a blind man, but the job is not at all what he anticipated." why i love it (in a few words): al pacino (as i've already said, i absolutely adore him - he's breathtakingly talented and attractive), interesting plot, dark academia aesthetic, another classic one, i find it heartwarming and wish it didn't end

the holiday (2006) main actors: jude law, cameron diaz, kate winslet, jack black short summary (imdb): "two women troubled with guy-problems swap homes in each other's countries, where they each meet a local guy and fall in love." why i love it (in a few words): i don't even know really, it just makes me feel all happy, and it makes me believe that out of unexpected adventures can come true love. sometimes i just love a cheesy, fluffy romantic comedy

a walk in the woods (2015) main actors: robert redford, nick nolte, emma thompson short summary (imdb): "after spending two decades in england, bill bryson returns to the u.s., where he decides the best way to connect with his homeland is to hike the appalachian trail with one of his oldest friends, stephen katz." why i love it (in a few words): i'm a huge fan of robert redford, i love bill bryson (author) and his books, this movie never fails to make me laugh (even though i know the jokes by heart already), the scenery is *chefs kiss*, it makes me wanna go a long hike, the soundtrack is lord huron songs and it's amazing, true comedy

catch me if you can (2002) main actors: leonardo dicaprio, tom hanks, christopher walken short summary (imdb): "barely 21 yet, frank is a skilled forger who has passed as a doctor, lawyer and pilot. fbi agent carl becomes obsessed with tracking down the con man, who only revels in the pursuit." why i love it (in a few words): young leo (!!!), it's honestly so much fun, i love spielberg's movies *shrug*, so many twists, it's based on a true story (!!), amy adams is cute, never gets boring to watch it

the whiskey bandit (2017) main actors: bence szalay, zotlán schneider, viktor klem short summary (imdb): "a rootless young man in ceausescu's romania crosses the hungarian border looking for a better future. with his back against the wall in the post-socialist turmoil, he becomes the most successful bank robber in hungarian history." why i love it (in a few words): finally another hungarian movie i love, based on a true story (!!), the title is terrible but funny in english (i swear the hungarian original title is a hundred times better - "a viszkis"), it's an interesting look back into communism in romania and hungary

love actually (2003) main actors: hugh grant, bill nighy, colin firth, liam neeson, martin freeman, emma thompson, andrew lincoln, keira knightley, thomas brodie-sangster, alan rickman short summary (imdb): "follows the lives of eight very different couples in dealing with their love lives in various loosely interrelated tales all set during a frantic month before christmas in london, england." why i love it (in a few words): so many incredible actors oh my, adorable plots, so enjoyable to watch, it's a must really, i watch it every christmas, baby thomas brodie-sangster *-*, this movie makes me believe that love actually exists (lol see what i did there), suitable for all age groups in my opinion

the lake house (2006) main actors: keanu reever, sandra bullock short summary (imdb): "a lonely doctor, who once occupied an unusual lakeside house, begins exchanging love letters with its former resident, a frustrated architect. they must try to unravel the mystery behind their extraordinary romance before it's too late." why i love it (in a few words): this one's one of my all time favourite movies, incredible actors, i love keanu and sandra, even more when they play together, the plot is something so unique and well-created, makes you believe in love and that it really has no barriers, some mystery with time

serendipity (2001) main actors: john cusack, kate beckinsale short summary (imdb): "a couple search for each other years after the night they first met, fell in love, and separated, convinced that one day they'd end up together." why i love it (in a few words): it's a truly adorable movie, a lovely romantic comedy, CASSIOPEIA (sorry i just love that scene since i was like 9), makes you believe in love (yeah this one too), but also it gives me some frustration at times when things don't work out like i want them to lol

knives out (2019) main actors: ana de armas, daniel craig, chris evans, christopher plummer short summary (imdb): "a detective investigates the death of a patriarch of an eccentric, combative family." why i love it (in a few words): it's exciting, it has phenomenal scenes (often i laugh so hard my sides start to hurt), i love the actors oh my, the cinematography oh my, THE PLOT, i love detective movies, watched it three times within two weeks (and i rarely do it)

while you were sleeping (1995) main actors: sandra bullock, bill pullman, peter gallagher short summary (imdb): "a hopelessly romantic chicago transit authority token collector is mistaken for the fiancée of a coma patient." why i love it (in a few words): a childhood favourite, watched it like a hundred times (and never got bored), i love sandra bullock, an interesting plot with small twists that i adore, bill pullman's jack is amazing (and his freakin smile), funny and adorable, it's a must for someone who loves romantic comedies

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Eighteen

“It’s him.” Harry says for the second time in such a brief amount of time as he wiped the sweat off his brow. 

Ron stands from his own bed and hurriedly makes his way to his friend, desperate for answers. 

“Was she there? Did you see Hermione?” He asks before he can help it, mentally kicking himself for not checking to see if Harry’s alright. “Are you alright mate?” He hopes it doesn’t sound like an afterthought. 

Harry waves him off, moving to swing his legs off the bed, “Hermione was there.” He admits after catching his breath for a moment. 

“And?” Ron asked impatiently. 

The chosen one shakes his head frantically from side to side, “he got angry with her. Really angry. I-” he pauses, “I felt it.” 

“Why? Why was he angry?” Ron’s becoming panicked as well, his hands roughly grasp Harry’s shoulders as he rocks him back and forth. 

The dark haired boy closes his eyes as an attempt to remember, “half blood,” he breathes, “she called him a half blood.”

And they both know Hermione’s the last person to have problems with such a thing, after all, Harry is one himself. It’s Voldemort who’d snap at such a statement. 

“Blimey.” Ron says, hands slipping and going slack from their place on Harry. 

They fall into a tense silence. The pair of them are breathing roughly as the consequences their best friend must’ve paid for such a thing. Harry, though, looks as if he wants to say more. 

“Ron.” He starts rather shakily. 

With round petrified eyes, the ginger looks to him, already afraid of what’s to come. 

“She tried,” Harry pauses to clear his throat, “Hermione, she spoke to me.” It comes out more even than before. 

“What?” He asks bewildered, unsure what else to say. 

The Boy-Who-Lived, exhales, trying to calm himself down before speaking. “This thing between me and him, whatever it is, it works both ways.” It’s hard to explain something you don’t understand yourself. 

“Meaning?” Ron’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. 

“I didn’t even mean to,” he begins but Ron still looks puzzled. “Tap into his mind I mean, it was a theory really. Earlier when it happened, I was  just concentrating so hard on Hermione about what he wants from her and suddenly I was there like I was in the room. I thought maybe if I tried again, it might work.” 

“And it did.” Ron breathed, sounding hopeful, thinking that this could be a good thing, maybe Harry could figure out where she was. 

“Ron listen,” the chosen one begins, seeming to have caught his friend's train of thoughts, “it was hard enough the first time, when it was an accident. It was near impossible the second time, Vol-” he pauses, “he could sense it, he tried blocking me.” 

“So you can fight it.” The ginger argues, “wouldn’t be the first time, right?” 

“I’m not an expert, I’m not even a legilimen. I only got through cause he was caught off guard, I doubt he’d let it happen again.” Potter was skirting around the real reason he wasn’t willing to try reaching out again. He wanted to spare the other boy the details. 

“He wouldn’t expect you to do it again so soon,” 

“Ron-” 

“Maybe if Dumbledore or someone like Snape,” 

“Ron!” Harry snapped, finally shutting him up. 

Wide blue eyes meant guilt ridden green ones. 

“Hermione, she paid for what I did. He didn’t like that I did it, made it worse when she figured it out and tried to take advantage of it.” 

There’s a tense silence for a moment as Ron stumbles back and begins pacing the expanse of his room. “Paid for it?” His voice is shaking. 

Harry sighs, “sometimes it’s like I’m in the room watching, but sometimes, sometimes it’s like I’m him,” their eyes meet before The-Boy-Who-Lived looks away in shame, “this time I was seeing it from his eyes. I could feel him, he was angry, more angry than I’ve ever felt, even before Hermione said something.” 

“What did she say?” Ron asks desperately. 

“She called out my name, said she didn’t know where she was then, Ron,” he paused nervously, “She said your name, told me to tell you something, she never got to say what.” 

Tears stung the corners of Weasley’s eyes. 

“It was so blurry but it was like I was him and one minute he was reeling from what she had said, the next thing I know, he was looking down at his foot. When things focused again Hermione was in a ball, crying in pain. That’s when I lost it.” 

Tugging roughly at his hair, Ron flopped back onto his bed, resisting the urge to punch something. Instead, he buried his face in his hands trying to think of something, anything, to prevent him from being irrational. 

“There’s one more thing.” Harry says quietly, barely audible. 

His blue eyes snap from where they were buried in his palms, pleading his friend to finish. 

“He said if it happened again, that someone was going to die.” 

Fuck.  

...

“Dumbledore told me you know,” Ron breaks the silence that’s been heavy in the hair for a half hour, “about those things,” he drops into a whisper, “horcruxes.” 

Harry nodded, then opened his mouth to speak, until the redhead stopped him. 

“I don’t think we should talk about it. What’s the use right? Only she knows how to destroy them anyway. I don’t wanna risk You-Know-Who cracking into your head and finding out we all know.” He rumbles. 

Ron then notices the look of guilt plastered over his best mate's face at the idea of Voldemort finding out and punishing Hermione for it. Maybe even worse than punishment... 

“Out of sight out of mind? That’s what they say innit.” Ron tries to lighten his tone but it’s hard. 

Harry speaks after a minute, “yeah, you’re right. Good idea Ron.” He praises weakly, still a little ill at the thought of that playing out. 

“I reckon we should go downstairs. They’ve had to have come up with something and we’re no use up here.” Harry can tell Ron’s trying to employ distraction as a tactic to keep his anger and guilt at bay. 

Without a word, the chosen one stands, signaling to the door. As the pair venture from the attic, voices float up the steps, confirming the remnants of a plan being formed. 

“Weasley you can get ahold of the logs down Gringotts can’t you?” Mad Eyes gruff voice asked Bill. 

“Yeah.” He responded. 

“I don’t see what that would do.” Molly protested. 

“Those goblins down there will do anything for a shiny sickle Molly, but the magic in the building logs every transaction. It isn’t by name, but if there’s a big one we may be able to trace it. Could tell us if the Death Eaters are planning on moving somewhere.” Moody tells the group, “just being cautious!” 

At this, Harry and Ron exchange befuddled looks before descending closer to the kitchen, where the noise was coming from. 

“Where’s that letter that came for Granger yesterday? We better check it’s not a fake.” Moody said next. 

Ron had just about enough. He wouldn’t let them check something so personal. 

“You’re one to talk about fakes professor.” His voice broke out angrily, causing all heads to turn. 

“Hedwig’s smart enough. She wouldn’t bring us something like that.” Harry justified his voice calmer. 

“Oh dears, you’re awake, did you rest? Did the potions help some?” Molly asked fussing over her son and Harry.  

The two boys exchanged a quick look. Harry thought it best to not inform them about connecting with Voldemort again. He was worried Dumbledore may not let him try it again or push him too hard. Both would result in pain, especially for Hermione. 

“Yeah, it kept us down for a bit.” The chosen one settled for. 

The Weasley matriarch offered a weak smile, “good, I’ll prepare you boys something to eat.” Neither had the heart to tell her they weren’t hungry.  

Noticing eyes on them, Ron clears his voice, “if we found Dolohov, Lestrange, even any random snatchers, they could lead us to her. To Hermione.” It took all his energy to not let his voice waiver. 

Next to him, Harry nodded in agreement. 

“Death eaters like Dolohov and Lestrange, they’re not easy to find Ron. We’ve been doing double time since the Department of Mysteries, but we’re no closer than we were.” Kingsley informed quietly from a corner of the room. 

“Well we have to start somewhere don’t we?” He retorted. 

“We?” Bill repeated with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Ron’s voice rose with anger,” Harry and I are helping anyway we can, with or without the lot of you.”

“Ron,” Molly turned from the stove. 

“Mum, this is Hermione, so whatever you’re gonna say, save it. I need to do this,” he pleaded with her before turning to the aurors present, “I’ll do anything.” He states strongly. 

Everyone stands silent for a moment until Dumbledore steps forward and eyes him carefully, “you can help by acting as if nothing has happened.” The old man decided. 

“What?” Several voices sounded at the same time, those consisting of more than one Weasley, Harry, and even McGonagall. 

“The plan right now is for everyone in the room to make everyone believe they are going on as they would. If Voldemort knows we are searching mercilessly for Miss Granger, he’s more susceptible to use her as some sort of leverage over Harry. Panic would only ensure her importance.” Albus looked to Harry, indicating to him about the Horcruxes with a simple look. “Until then, all possible leads will be checked quietly. Any snatchers or death eaters in question will be subtly investigated. From there, we can hopefully get leads on locations that may match what you saw Harry.” 

At this, The-Boy-Who-Lived nodded in agreement. He even dared to spare a glance at Ron who appeared red in the face. 

“It is my understanding that the Granger’s are to return from France after the New Year. Besides them, no one who is not within the confines of this house is to know of Hermione’s true reason for absence. Not even your classmates at school.” The headmaster looked at the pair of Gryffindors. 

“School?” Ron spat, how was he supposed to just return like nothing happened? 

“Yes Mr.Weasley. If we are to keep up this guise that nothing has occurred, you are to return to Hogwarts. If anyone asks, Hermione had a family emergency so she’s at her home in London.” 

“Rubbish!” Ron exclaimed, stomping out of the room before Dumbledore could go on any further. 

Instantly, Harry stumbles after him. 

Albus’ lips pulled into a thin line before he turned to Bill, “I feel it’s best that you and your brothers are the ones to inform the Granger’s. I have no doubt both Ron and Harry feel they should deliver the news and you’re the best man to escort them.” It was unsaid, but the Granger’s would be most comfortable with Bill, having met him prior, being on occasion he’d retrieve Hermione to floo. 

And to everyone’s shock, Molly simply nodded in agreement, knowing Ron would want it to be this way. 

“Perfect,” Dumbledore said, “now shall we discuss current leads in Azkaban?”

Elsewhere, Ron and Harry had stepped outside for a breather. The air had become too stiff at Dumbledore’s plan for them to return to Hogwarts. 

Neither has said anything yet, instead just inhaling the cool winter chill, hoping to ease the tension working its way through them. 

“Do you reckon they’ll let us go to the Granger’s?” Harry almost whispers. 

Ron’s head snaps over to his eyes wide. 

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” The chosen one asked. Harry knew he wanted to go, felt it was his duty. 

“It’s not really a question Harry, I’m going, you’re going. End of story.” The ginger said surely, “anyway, if they wanna ship our arses back to Hogwarts, then you can bet they won’t say anything about us heading to London.” Ron knew taking Harry to frolic around the city probably wasn’t wise, but he also knew he could use a visit to the Granger home as a bargaining chip to agree to attend school after holiday. 

“It’s not a terrible thing you know, going back to Hogwarts.” Harry says, not completely believing the statement himself. 

“How’s that?” 

“Well surely we’ll have more access to books, for research,” the dark haired boy can’t help but smile at the words, Hermione would be proud, “you’ll also have time to get things sorted, so that way when Hermione comes home you’re set.” He said the second part stiffly. 

“Get things sorted? What things?” Ron pushed, the statement bewildering him. 

“Well uh,” he gulped, “Lavender.” 

Suddenly, Weasley’s entire body tensed, “right, well, I handled that on the train.” He mumbled. 

Harry shook his head, “I know how you feel, but Lavender she’s a bit uh, persistent. I just mean now you’ll have the chance to really show her it’s done without Hermione scrutinizing the whole thing.” 

Ron pulls his lips into a thin line, Hermione’s disappearance somehow weighing heavier than before, “I still wish she was around though. I’d honestly have her the way things were then not at all.” He admits almost shamefully as he picks on a loose thread on his jumper. 

“I know,” Harry agrees softly, “it’s killing both of us that we can’t fix this and get her back, so what I mean is that if you can fix one thing, then do it Ron. For her.” 

He nods in agreement, looking at snow topped hills, eyes briefly meeting the worn oak tree. At the sight, a cry builds in this throat, but he soon swallows it. 

“For her.” He whispers to no one in particular.

[fuckingthefictional]

Cross my heart- Part 5

Warnings: war related violence (death, murder, injuries, PTSD), swearing.

A/N: this was uploaded a while ago but as of now (3rd jan) it deleted itself and I’ve had to try and rewrite it from memory, so apologies if it’s shit.

“Sergeant Fenton, you will report for duty at 0600 hours tomorrow morning.”

“Yes sir. Who will I be with?”

“Solo Mission Sergeant. You will be flying over a suspected German camp across the battlefield. You will either confirm or deny our suspicions by reporting back to us.”

“Yes Sir.”

She hated solo missions, they were about ten times more likely to end in death. She just hoped to any God that may listen that she was kept safe.

//

“Why’d you have to go?”

“Because they asked me John- I’m not going to be shot up a post for cowardice and disobeying orders”

“Look- just stay safe Liza.”

“I will, you stay safe too- I’ll be back soon I promise.”

She hoped for John’s sake that she did come back soon, even though she had already accepted her own death and was prepared for what was to come.

//

It was safe to say that she was not prepared for this, a simple flight observation task she was prepared for- but not a crash in German territories.

The atmosphere was seemingly black, as the smoke levitated off of the fiery wreck of the plane.

She was disorientated and in pain. It hurt, her leg was leaking warm thick blood. It painted her hands and stained her flight suit.

Her foot was being pinned down by a heavy piece of the planes’ body, while further up her leg there was a deep gash with some jagged metal buried in it. She’d given up with trying to take it out, as every time she tried it pushed deeper into her flesh.

She didn’t know what to do. She was in enemy land with no way of communicating that she was down. She was as good as dead- but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Not if she could help it.

She slowly began to pull her foot from the heavy trap as she bit down on her flight suit to mute her screams of pain.

She felt a release and looked down to see her leg was now free. There was a sense of relief as she shuffled back on her bottom away from the crash site.

Until she felt something hard it her back, something that didn’t feel like a tree. But more resembled a pair of boots and legs, she looked up and towering over her was a soldier.

He’d obviously been the one to investigate the site to see if there was anyone to be found. It was obvious that the German soldier wasn’t expecting to see a girl before him and was apparently in a state of potential shock.

She took the chance while she could, as she took out a pocket knife and plunged it into the mans neck.

She was sprayed in blood. She’d just killed a man- someone who’s parents, siblings, wife and children were probably waiting for to come home. Only for it to be destroyed by her.

She wanted to vomit up her insides, the sight of the older man with dead eyes made her stomach churn uneasily.

But she had to survive. Using her wits, she stripped him of his uniform and swapped hers with his.

She dragged his body to the wreckage and tossed his body into the flames. The fire rose higher with the new sustenance that it had been presented. There- now it looked as if you had died on impact.

//

47 men. 47 people who were never going to see their families again because of her.

The camp was now eerily quiet and it set her teeth on edge. It was now a ghost town and all life was gone- it was silent.

Her leg was numb now and her head had become woozy from blood loss. She had a few more additions to her list of injuries- a bullet wound here and there, she was in unspeakable pain as she found herself stumbling around as the world before her became disorientated and a mere blur.

But she refused to give up, she thought about Harry and John and how she promised them that she would make it back.

The thoughts of her brother fueled her determination, Harry had always said- when in doubt, trust your gut. So she did.

//

Scrape. Pat.

Scrape. Pat.

Scrape. Pat.

The sounds of the shovelling were starting to drive her to a state of insanity. She had been stuck in the German’s tapper tunnel for what felt like a year- but was really only 32 hours.

She threw the soil behind her, as she kept limping forward. Every inch of her ached, it burnt in agony- and all she wanted to do was succumb to the darkness and join the 47 she had murdered.

But she refused, she kept digging as she hoped and prayed for a way out.

Her prayer was answered when she heard muted voices. Pressing her ear up against the compact soil, she concluded that the voices were speaking English.

This only fueled her encouragement, as she begun to dig faster and the dirt walls crumbled away. Finally a dim light enveloped the pitch black that she had been in for all those hours.

She was free.

And then she was thrown against a wall, she struggled against the strong force as her head cracked against a wooden support beam.

She was panicking and this only intensified when she spotted the glint of a silver blade.

She just had time to move her body slightly to the left before the knife plunged into her shoulder. She screamed out in pain.

“I’m fucking English!” She shouted, “Stop!”

The man’s blue eyes had been filled with confusion and frantic frenzy. She could have fucking swore she recognised those eyes.

“Why you wearing a fuckin’ German uniform then?” A different man who was pointing a gun at her head spoke up.

“Look if you go through the tunnel you’ll find 47 dead Germans.” She stammered, “I killed them- there’s also an allies plane, it’s mine I was shot down.”

The men seemed to confer with eachother as they decided to take the trek and see if their ‘captive’ was being truthful.

//

The next time she woke up she was in a bed, bandages wrapped around various parts of her body.

Her entire body ached and it was only when a nurse entered the room that she realised she was in a hospital room.

The nurse informed her of the injuries she’s had, a shattered kneecap, 3 bullet wounds, a stab wound to the shoulder, and gash in her thigh, a near cracked skull.

And yet the thing that hurt most wasn’t physical, it was the news that she had been honourably discharged from her airforce squadron.

She felt worthless, like all her effort and time that she had invested was just gone.

She had written to John and Harry, explaining what had happened and how she felt unsure of the future.

And then she was shipped off to a rehabilitation centre for recovering soldiers. It was nice to get some time away- where she could learn to walk properly and to heal up.

//

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“Miss Fenton, please sit down.”

“It’s Sergeant!”

“Sorry, Sergeant Fenton, Please sit down.”

“You’ve taken everything from me!” She cried, “and your biggest issue is that I’m not sat down?”

“We apologise. It just isn’t appropriate to give you an award for your services.”

“My services? It was not my job to become partially disabled and to nearly get killed.” She began to rant, “You said this would be over by Christmas years ago! And here you all are, sat in comfy offices. As we’re fighting for our country and laying down our lives only to you not giving give a shit!”

“That is enough!”

“It is the fucking truth- and you would be shot for cowardice!”

“We are going to ask you to leave.”

“Gladly!”

It was the letter that arrived two weeks later, that letter was the needle that broke the horses back- the letter that informed her that Thomas Shelby, her saviour, had received extra medals for her services.

//

Harry woke up to the screams again, Eliza wasn’t coping at all. And it broke his spirit to see his little sister struggle like this.

Eliza was beginning to lose sleep as well, she was beginning to lose her functioning side of logic.

That became apparent when John ordered a drink at the bar and it was apparent that Eliza had not heard him.

“Liza?” John waved his hand in front of her face.

Eliza finally came back into the present. It was obvious that she wasn’t sleeping well as the dark circles under her eyes popped out and the pale shade of her skin made her look ill.

“You look shit.” John said bluntly

“I can’t do this anymore- I’m not sleeping, I’m barely functioning.” She began to tear up.

John took her out from behind the bar and took her to the private room, so that his friend could cry in her own space.

She sobbed as John held her frame, he put her on his lap as he rocked them both in an attempt to calm Eliza down. It barely worked but soon enough her heavy sobs were replaced with quiet sniffles.

“Talk to me Liza.”

“It’s Tommy- I’m falling for him and I can’t stop myself.” She sighed and rubbed her face, “but the fucking history between us.”

“What history El?”

She began to unbutton her blouse as she pulled down the fabric to show the old stab wound that ran along the junction between her shoulder and collarbone - It was long and jagged and it stood out against the milky skin.

“He was the one in the tunnel that night, the one who attacked and stabbed me.” She shook violently, “I’m falling for him but every time I look into his damn eyes all I can see is the knife and the pain.”

John just kissed her head, as his own tears began to spike at his eyes.

The door flung open, Eliza didn’t realise how wrong the position they were in looked. What with her hair messy and her button undone all while being sat on John’s lap.

It became even worse when she realised who had just walked in. It was Tommy. He looks furious and betrayed.

“So this is why we couldn’t be together Aye?” He spat, “Because you’re whoring around with me brother. You’re a fuckin’ slag Eliza.” He turned and left as Eliza frantically scrambled to her feet in an attempt to explain.

But it was too late, he had left.

She’d added another injury to her list in that moment- fucking heartbreak.

[violet-knox]

Fairy Tales

Year 6 - Chapter 30

Summary: After pondering on how to get Severus to ask you to the Ball, you decide to flirt a little, hinting at what you desired of him. 

Word count: 2363

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

~

It wasn’t long before you felt the urge to hop on a broom and fly around the castle overtook your thoughts like a virus corrupting your memories, only leaving those of Quidditch untouched. It was all you could think about when you woke up, during class, even as you spoke to Severus, all you wanted to do was drag him out to the underutilized pitch outside and toss around a Quaffle with him. Everyone else had been buzzing frantically about the Triwizard Cup and the upcoming first task. Not to mention the Yule Ball of course. It seemed to you as though you were the only one completely devastated at the lack of sporting events held this year, and that had you feeling all the more bitter.

Slowly, you found yourself leaning into the comfort of keeping Severus company and eventually, any thoughts of Quidditch melted away, replaced with the thought of spending time with him instead. Like nature taking its course, all the free time you received migrated from Quidditch to reading or talking with Severus. Surely there was some benefit to be gained from your shift in schedule this year or perhaps the change in your school routine was some mystical sign coming from up above. Whatever it was, it definitely grasped your attention, pushing you to notice just how flirtatious Severus seemed to be around you. Funny how you couldn’t remember feeling so flustered around him before. 

Was it your overactive imagination, fooling you into thinking he’d lean in just a little closer as you read together, or that he’d find any excuse to hold your hand? That his touch, skin cold in contrast to yours, was so feverish it sent shivers through your entire body. The look in his eyes enchanting you when the corner of his lips twitched into that subtle smile he gave each time he saw you.

It was hard not to doubt your instincts that told you he returned your feelings for him, brushing them off as hope. Still it didn’t keep you from living in this fantasy world where you imagined him harboring something for you rather than the logical fact that you merely felt this way because you had been spending too much time around one another. But reality, never letting you enjoy the glimmering world in your head for too long, always kicked you awake each time you heard whispers of excitement for the Yule Ball, or mummers exchanged at lights out in your dorm.

It had become especially difficult to fall asleep lately, conversation of dresses, shoes, flowers, dates lingering in your mind as they died down, the girls from which they steamed floating under their sheets, finding sleep within mere minutes. Christmas seemed worlds away to you and yet that feeling settling in the depths of your stomach had you feeling panicked. You couldn’t show up stag, not when it seemed half the school had a date and how would it look, the sixth year Gryffindor Quidditch Captain with no date.  

“He hasn’t asked her yet,” you turned over in your bed, staring blankly at the red curtains encapsulating your figure. Just one night of rest is all you’d asked for, one night filled with silence rather than these endless, meaningless discussions exchanged between some of your dormmates. “But apparently he’s had his eye on her since he arrived.” You recognized the girls voice, she’d been babbling on about the same rumor the last few nights, but you could never place her name.  

“I hear she’s a Hufflepuff on the Quidditch team,” her friend sounded almost excited as if she could be referencing herself. Odd seeing as how she is neither on the Quidditch team nor is she a Hufflepuff.

“No, I heard it’s a seventh year Ravenclaw.”

Shaking your head, you roughly pulled the pillow from under you, plopping it atop your head and enclosed your hands over the silk fabric, hoping it would muffle the sounds of chatter around you. What did it matter who the Durmstrang Champion asked to the Ball? All these rumors were a pathetic verbalization of the dreams of shallow Hogwarts students hoping for Prince Charming to arrive at their footsteps and whisk them away into a life full of nothing but love and joy. Didn’t they know, life, real life, is no fairy tale.

A frustrated groan escaped your throat as you tightened your hold on the pillow; the conversation was clearly far from over and you were no doubt in for another restless night. You tried to think of something else, anything at all, but the idea of the Ball had been sewn into your brain so well, it was hard to find a loose seam to pull. When you’d bought that dress from the second-hand store back in Cokeworth as instructed by your Hogwarts letter, you never imagined this is what you’d be using it for. You thought perhaps the sixth years were invited to the graduation ceremony for the seventh years, or perhaps some sort of celebration was put in place for your successful achievements in your O.W.Ls and the beginning of your N.E.W.Ts. Never did you imagine yourself pining over the need to find a date for such a luxurious school event.  

The reality of your situation was really what stung you most. Not the fact that no one had asked you yet, but because you knew it didn’t matter if they did. There was only one person you wanted to accompany you to this Ball, and you weren’t even sure if he wanted to go, never mind with you. Nerves overcame you, your courage always cowering in the corner whenever the thought of bringing it up with him lingered in your mind. You had once asked him to Slughorn’s party as friends and he used it as an opportunity to seek out time with Lily. But if he’d had any inclination of asking her, he would have mentioned it now, would he not? He never turning down an opportunity to talk about her, not until recently anyways. But if he wasn’t going to bring up this Ball, then that burden had to fall on you. You had to either swallow your fears and take the risk or accept the possibility of spending Christmas alone.  

What words would you mutter when talking to Severus? You couldn’t ask him to go as friends, this wasn’t some celebration thrown by a professor, this was different. This Ball was a once in a lifetime event, an opportunity to pull your fantasy world into reality and make your debut as a couple. 

  The next morning, you found yourself walking to the astronomy tower with Severus, pondering over the conversation you overheard in your dorm last night. As your thoughts wandered, your imagination running wild as the image of accompanying Severus to the Yule Ball fluttering to the surface of your mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling up at him. You knew that dream was well out of reach (at least for now), but a girl can dream, can’t she?

Finally stepping outside the gates enclosing the courtyard, you quickly took a look around for any prying eyes. At least in seclusion, if you made a fool of yourself, no one but Severus would witness it.

Testing the water before diving head first, you brushed your fingers against his, holding them steady as you waited for a reaction. Your fingers danced around his as he curled them with your movement, giving you the boost of confidence you need to start the conversation you’d been dreading to have the last few weeks.

“So, have you thought about who you’ll take to the Ball?”

Well that was bluntly horrific, but your emotions got the better of you as you eagerly and nervously awaited his response.

“Umm,” Severus shifted his gaze to the ground nervously, his hand tapping out of the little game you’d been playing as it lay lifeless to his side. Swallowing hard, praying you hadn’t just ruined two years of friendship, you made your way up the stairs of the tower, “I’ve-I’ve thought about it.”

“Oh?” Your head shot back at him in surprise. Did this mean there was someone he hadn’t told you about, or that he’d simply avoided telling you about his plans to ask Lily or… “Who are you thinking of asking?”

You carefully watched him, examining his expression and body language, hoping that if he didn’t answer the question, you could at least extract some sort of response from him.

Severus let out a puff of air before lunging in front of you, sprinting the last few steps up the stairs and held the door open, waiting for you to step through as he bowed his head, allowing his hair to hide his flushed face. You smiled at him as you step inside the room and made your way over to your usual spot. 

You couldn’t see his face through his hair, but you could tell your question had him flustered. Deciding to spare him the agony of embarrassment, you steered the conversation in a direction a little less exasperating.

“My dress is second hand,” you said, “I’m trying to update the style a bit with a few different charms, but it’s taking longer than I’d anticipated.” 

Severus began suggesting a few spells as he took a seat beside you. Listening to his husky voice, you smiled, unable to really focus on the charms he mentioned while he opened his bag and retrieved some books to begin studying. Some of the spells he spoke of you’d already used and some you recognized the name of, but it didn’t really matter, you’d only used your dress dilemma as an excuse to keep him from feeling put on the spot. The last thing you wanted was to push or pry, especially now that you he’d given you such delicate information. Perhaps there was hope after all.

Taking his queue, you reached for your own bag and opened up your Transfiguration book, but the words on the page were lost on you. Your mind once again wandered, grasping a that fantasy lingering at the back of your head, tugging it forward as if it would push it into reality. It felt wonderous to be immerged into this world you thought had a chance of seeing the light of day, like you were setting up the scene, preparing yourself for what was to come. But Severus was so reserved, so shy. He’d been in love with Lily for how long now and he’d completely neglected to make any sort of move. He had to be afraid of rejection, of ruining your friendship. It was the only explanation you could come up with for his attitude. If only he could see the thoughts flickering in your mind right now, he’d know he had nothing to fear.  

If it came down to it, you would ask him yourself, but you had to give him the chance. You couldn’t let this fear always get in the way of any possible growth, he had to overcome it and step out of his boundaries. Plus, you just weren’t sure you were ready to run the risk you’d read him wrong and he in fact had someone else in mind.

The time for breakfast came rather quickly, you’d naturally made no progress on the paper you had due in a few days, spending the better half of the morning enveloped in your thoughts. Severus quickly stood up and offered you a hand, helping you off your feet as well. You knew he would never do such a thing if you were in the library which, you guessed, was why he had insisted on moving your morning study sessions to a more secluded location, nothing you minded of course. It was rather pleasant having such a spacious area all to yourself.

As you gazed up at him, gripping his hand, you suddenly noticed the want in his eyes. Has his eyes always sparkled like that?

You felt your heart pump faster as you pulled him in and gave him a quick kiss on the check. When you stepped back, making circles on the back of his hand with your thumb, you noticed that the small smile that had been present on his face had faded and was instead replaced by the same flushed face you knew he wore earlier that morning. His gaze locked on yours and you wondered if you’d stepped too far, if your little act of encouragement was a mistake, but nevertheless, you held your ground and tightened your grip on him as you guided him out of the door. You didn’t let him release your hand until you had left the tower, knowing he would be uncomfortable if anyone saw you holding hands. 

Severus walked closely beside you, wondering why you had decided to peck him on the cheek like that. Could she feel the same way?

“I’ll see you in class,” you said, slowing your pace as you arrived at the Great Hall.

Severus couldn’t help as his lips twitched into a small smirk, loving the gentle tone in your voice. “See you,” he said as he made his way over to the Slytherin’s table. It was second nature for you both to eat meals apart, but as he’d come to know you, to fall in love with you, for the first time, he found himself wishing the school houses would disapparate and let him sit beside you.

You sat down at your own table, making sure to face Severus, both of you carrying the clear intention of stealing glances from on another throughout breakfast. You ate silently as you played over your little fantasy scenario in your head, the idea now expanding to spending nights together with you held in his arms, your study sessions turning into little dates. How glamorous would it be to date your best friend, how mesmerizing would it be to show up to the Yule Ball with nothing but love and devotion between you both. A dream made for fairy tales, one you could only hope would come true.

~

Next Chapter

~

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin @trashandshook @gbatesx @sneezy-s @emsdroid @leah-halliwell92 @dellightfullydeceitful @xxaamzxx @sparklingkeylimepie

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Broken Glass Diamonds

Word count: 2943

Warnings: Minor Character Death, Blood, Google Translate Spanish

Description: Roman dreamt of becoming a hero for his entire life. Given a chance to fulfil his dream he joins one of the many hero organizations in an attempt to prove himself.

AO3

Roman remembered the first time he saw a super in action vividly even after all these years. He was five back then. Five and naive, with thousand dreams and wishes for his future. Astronaut, cowboy, actor, detective and, of course, like probably every kid his age, superhero.

But the first super he saw wasn't a hero. It was a villain.

The Dragon Witch, people would later call her. Whispering the name in fear that even just mentioning her aloud would summon her.

Roman remembered that they had been at a mall on that day. Mamá had bought them ice cream. For him Chocolate, for Remus Banana and as always they had let the other have a little bit of their own because Mamá liked it when they got along and the combination of both Chocolate and Banana was great.

He remembered almost running into a woman with a floral print dress and stuttering out a 'sorry' and then the glass ceiling collapsed. Shards of glass rained down. People screamed. The flowers on the woman's dress were shredded. New, red ones grew on the bright fabric and she fell to the floor.

Roman looked up.

A giant dragon landed in the food court. It had brown scales and yellow fire puffed from its nostrils.

Remus grabbed him and pulled him back behind a corner and they both peeked out from behind it. Remus didn't let go of his hand. Neither did Roman.

Mamá had told them to stick together if anything happened. To protect each other.

"Un dragón", Remus whispered and Roman couldn't tell if he was excited or scared. "Un dragón verdadero."

The dragon began to shrink and shift until all that was left was a woman with scales on her arms and face and wings standing in the middle of the broken glass.

A few people had fallen. A lot more were hiding just like the twins were.

The Dragon Witch said something. She spoke loudly but Roman couldn't understand her. She was speaking English and using too many words he didn't recognize so that even the few familiar ones sounded foreign in the mass of unknown gibberish.

"Donde esta mamá?" Roman asked. Mamá always told them what the words they couldn't understand meant but now Roman couldn't see her anywhere.

"No lo se," Remus shrugged.

A young man grabbed a roasting spit and ran at the woman with a shout. Her wing hit him before he even reached her. He was thrown through the air and crashed into the wall just next to the twins' hiding spot.

Looking back Roman was pretty sure that at that point he had been in shock.

The young man didn't get up from his position slumped against the wall. Something red tickled over the dark skin of his temple and from his lips.

Police sirens cut through the air suddenly, making Roman jump.

But before the policemen could make it into the building the woman had already turned into a big red dragon and as she flew up towards the hole in the roof thousands of coins and jewellery flew towards her like metal to a magnet and stuck to her body until she was fully cooper and gold. In a twisted way, it was beautiful.

Paramedics checked over the people and at some point, a blanket found its way over the twins' shoulders. They sat on the steps in front of the mall, still holding onto each other, neither having spoken a word since the Dragon Witch had disappeared.

"Donde esta mamá?" Remus asked quietly after a while. His voice shaking.

Roman looked around. There were many people on the steps, most of them crying a few looking for others. Then he spotted a familiar head of black hair pulled up in a bun.

"Mamá!" he called and tried to stand up but his legs gave out underneath him and he plopped back down.

She turned at his voice, spotted them and came running towards them.

"Roman! Remus! Estas herido?" she hugged them close, pulled back and frantically looked them over. "Oh, mis hijos."

"Nosotros estamos bien!" Roman told her and burried his face in her shirt.

For a long time, the three of them just sat there, holding on to each other. Roman wasn't sure when he and Remus had started to cry.

It wasn't a day he liked to think off. It haunted him. To this day, despite being an adult now, he felt anxious in malls and under glass roofs.

Over the years people became less afraid of the Dragon Witch. A hero showed up, calling herself Lauda and fought against the Dragon Witch time and time again. By the time Roman was ten, there were no casualties mentioned on the news anymore and his dream to become a hero himself was cemented even further. When he was thirteen his friends began to talk about how the hero and the villain should hook up and he told them that they were being stupid. A hero and a villain couldn't fall in love.

"Have you watched the news lately? They are sooo gay for each other!" Lauren laughed at him.

He hadn't been watching the news. At least not the fights. Seeing the Dragon Witch still stirred up too many bad memories. Mamá had sent him and Remus to a therapist a few times after the incident but hadn't been able to afford it for long. As soon as Remus and him went to school she had to make the choice between proper meals or therapy and she choose the food.

When the twins were fourteen they presented with abilities. Remus made the rat in the kitchen cabinet obey his every will and Roman burned bright and hot without ever burning himself. Mamá was proud of them, helped them figure out their abilities as well as she could without having one herself and whispered in that she had always known that they were extraordinary.

When Roman turned fifteen he started carrying out newspapers and picking up every job he could cramp into his schedule or that Remus hadn't gotten to first. He lost most of his friends during that time. Both of them did even if Remus hadn't had many friends, to begin with.

"We never hang out anymore!"

"Come on! Come to Henry's party with us! It'll be awesome!"

"You don't do anything besides working and studying!"

Roman always wanted to tell them that that wasn't true. He did have hobbies. He was part of the drama club. He wrote stories and poetry and even sew if you could consider patching up ripped clothes a hobby. He never did though and on Christmas Eve he realized that it was just the three of them again. Him, Remus and Mamá.

But he'd be a hero one day and then things would be different. They'd move into a nice house without mould in the kitchen that never got cold in winter because as bright as he could burn the house could burn too and he knew that that would mean their death, and they'd have a big meal for holidays and he and Remus wouldn't have to put their money together to buy Mamá a nice gift. He'd save peoples lives and they would love him for it.

So he curled up under his blanket, tried not to shiver as snow fell outside and held onto that dream.

Remus move out as soon as they graduated. He only let them know that he had gotten a scholarship somewhere but wouldn't tell either of them where and what for. He let Roman help him pack his bag, hugged him, gave Mamá a kiss on the cheek and then he took the next train to somewhere.

Roman applied himself to the nearest T.L.I.H. program.

"You really want to try out for being a hero?" Mamá had asked and looked so damn tired like she hadn't slept in years.

"Yes, and I will make it", he told her.

Mamá had sighed tiredly but smiled.

"It's supposed to be extremely hard", she just said as if he didn't know.

"I will make it."

When two weeks later a letter came telling him that he had been accepted to the program he couldn't believe it.

200 spots, over 35000 applicants and he had gotten in.

Of the 200 people 10 would become heros at most.

And Roman would be damned if he let this chance slip through his fingers.

He didn't have the money for a gym membership but he and Remus had found ways to work out anyway over the years. After the third fight you begin to learn how to fight.

The T.L.I.H. program started in October and for months Roman did everything in his power to prepare himself.

On October 4th, standing in front of the address they had sent him - a tiny hotel that didn't seem like the right place o train future heroes at all but maybe that was the point - he had nothing but a bag of worn clothes, a crumpled twenty, an old burner phone, an old notebook with a pen and his mothers blessing. His knees felt weak and he couldn't tell whether the nausea was because of nerves or because he hadn't eaten since yesterday.

If this didn't work out he'd have no back-up plan. The chances of being accepted to the program twice were lower than being struck by lightning three times, three years in a row on the same day while wearing the same clothes.

Failure wasn't an option.

Mamá was counting on him.

Roman pushed open the hotel door and made a face when it squeaked loud enough to ring in his ears.

The lobby was grey, lit by two neon lights. One was broken. At the counter, a teen sat, a few years younger than Roman and looked up from re-doing his eyeliner, obviously bored out of his mind. The kid looked like a stereotypical emo. Lauren would have been jealous of that eyeshadow.

"I'm here for the T.L.I.H. program", Roman told him confidently.

"Figured that much", the kid - Julian DiCaprio, according to his nametag - mumbled and his voice sounded slightly too feminine. "Name?"

"Roman. Roman Rodriguez."

Julian tipped around on the ancient computer keyboard, nodded to himself and stood up to get a key off the wall behind him.

"Follow me", he ordered and sauntered towards the elevator like he owned the place.

"I think I can find the room on my own," Roman tried but Julian acted like he couldn't hear him and pressed the 4 a couple of times until the button finally lit up.

"What's your shoe size?" he asked instead catching Roman off guard.

"My- My what?"

"Shoe size. What is it?"

The elevator arrived and slip halfway open. Julian slipped through the gap and Roman followed him.

"I don't know? 18, maybe?"

"Shirt size?"

"Wha- Why do you want to know that?" Roman sputtered. He had the sneaking suspicion the kid was going to make fun of him. He knew that his shirt was too big, damn it.

Julian looked him dead in the eye.

"Do you know how many people get in here just because they're rich?  They are pretty good but they never would have reached that level without money. About 90% of the candidates are rich kids according to Mama. Do you know what they will do with you if you show up looking like this? They will tear you apart like chickens."

Roman was quiet for a moment.

"Chickens aren't threatening," he then said. "They only eat seeds and worms."

"Wrong. They eat anything. Once saw a few chicken tear apart a steak in under a minute. They are mini dinosaurs, those feathery beasts."

Roman frowned and looked down at his stained and torn jeans.

"Few years ago a guy showed up looking like that," Julian continued. "He was good. Could control gravity. Heart in the right spot. They drove him to attempt suicide within half a year. Mama doesn't want that to happen again so she makes sure that people like you get something presentable. If you don't know your sizes we'll just have to measure."

A tiny smile spread over Julian's black lips at the last few words.

"Do you like measuring out?" Roman asked.

"With guys," Julian said and the elevator finally came to a stop. "Most of you are ripped as fuck and I'm gay as hell."

Roman hummed in acknowlegement.

"How did you know I wouldn't beat you up for that?" he asked following Julian down the hallway.

Julian looked back for a moment, eyes wandering down and then up again.

"I have awesome gaydar. Besides, I doubt Mama would've let you in if you did that."

"Who is your mother?" Roman asked. She must be an important person to be able to make all those decisions.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"

Roman raised an eyebrow as Julius unlocked one of the many doors.

"Really? Quoting Vines?"

Julius shrugged and let Roman into the hotel room.

It was just as shabby as the rest of the hotel but warmer than his room at home and there were no bugs so he could deal with it.

"Here's your key. I'll just go and get the measuring tape," Julius told him and disappeared again.

Roman watched him go. When he entered the elevator again Roman went to unpack his stuff, as little as it was and called Mamá to tell her that he had made it safely. She always got anxious when it came to anyone using the subway and he didn't want her to drive herself crazy.

Julius came back a little later, made Roman write down whatever he measured, took the paper and studied it for a moment before doing that thing again that Roman was pretty sure was Julius' way of checking him out.

"You like floral prints?" he then asked.

Roman shrugged. "I've never worn anything like that."

Julius nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'll get you a few things to try. You can just pick out what you like then. Oh, and before I forget, dinner is at eight on the second floor. There are signs, so you should be able to find it just fine."

Roman glanced at the clock over the door. He still had over an hour. Taking a seat on the bed he pulled out his notebook and began to write. For almost half an hour he wrote and rewrote, completely sunken into the story, before someone knocked again.

He opened the door to Julius and another young man who looked a bit older than Roman. Roman found himself staring at the left half of his face that was a lot darker than the other. Both were carrying two bags each.

Julius pushed past Roman and set the bags down on the bed, his companion doing the same before checking his phone and cursing.

"Fucking hell, I'm gonna be late," he sent a glare over to Julius. "This is the last time I help you with this stuff!"

Then he hurried down the hallway.

"Sorry about my brother. He's trying to start a company or something and really stressed lately," Julius told Roman. "Anyway. You can try on this stuff if you want to, the things you don't want you can just bring down to the counter. If I'm not there just put it under the key wall, okay?"

He didn't wait for an answer and closed the door behind himself forcefully.

For a moment Roman just stood there, stunned, before he slowly moved over to the bed.

He picked out the first shirt and pants he found and pulled them on. A black shirt with red flowers and dark jeans. It fit perfectly. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and realized with a start just how different he looked wearing it. He looked like a damn model or something, with his muscles faintly visible and the rolled-up sleeves. The fabric was soft against his skin.

He looked handsome.

Roman looked through the other bags, looked through all these nice clothes and wondered just how much money Julius had spent on this stuff. He couldn't find a price tag anywhere but guessed that it must've been at least 200$.

So, he brought it back down to the counter.

Julius was painting his nails as he came down and raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong with them?" he asked.

"I can't take this."

Julius' eyebrow crept higher.

"Why not?"

"This stuff is worth a fortune! I could never pay you back for this!"

"You're not supposed to," Julius said calmly and checked if the paint on his pinky was dry. "Look, just take it. It's a gift. No one ever teach you that you're not supposed to give gifts back? Now go back up. Dinner's soon. And don't you dare leave the clothes here."

Roman wanted to argue but Julius sent him a glare and he gave up.

"Fine, I'll take it."

Part of Roman had expected the dining room to be full of others like him but when he came down a few minutes before eight the only other people were a punk couple and an old lady.

A young woman distributed potato soup with sausage at a small counter. Compared to the rest of the hotel it was completely clean here.

Roman ate, watched the punks flirt for a bit ("I'd dismantle the government for you.") and went back up to his room, where he soon fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

[sithroyal]

my muses is dead. tell me how yours is dealing with it.

After everything they had survived, maybe she’d made the mistake of thinking he was invincible. If not him, then at least that one deep part of him that always managed to come home to her, no matter how difficult it was. It seemed silly that after clawing their way out of an overturned ocean liner & the entire litany of experiences since that something like this could ever happened. There were protocols in place, PRECAUTIONS, & yet somehow, someone out there had done the unthinkable & managed to throw Kylo Ren off during an interrogation. tough talk for someone with such a vulnerable little secret. it had been the one time Leia hadn’t stood in his way, letting him leave to race to the house in D.C. except she hadn’t been there. The timing… their entire relationship was founded on such precarious timing & finally it had run out. 

She’d been standing outside on the pavement, barefoot & clutching Chewie’s leash when she’d seen the Jeep pull in, but he hadn't heard her. By the time she realized she was screaming, the house had gone up in flames. She… doesn’t remember all that much after that. The fire, the frantic paramedics. Ben. Ben. He hadn’t made it out - even as they combed through the wreckage, she had already known the truth. Somewhere over the next few days, she’d made it back up to New York, vague promises to check in on her & hollow words of sympathy ringing in her ears that she tuned out, finding her own comfort in the silence of her now-empty apartment.

It was a closed casket funeral. Of course it was - there hadn’t even been enough found in the explosion. She’s not sure what strings had been pulled but despite them not being married, she was allowed to handle the paperwork as best she could, pulling little details from her memory & feeling like she was pulling out pieces of her own soul with every written letter, but it got done exactly as she hoped he would have wanted. He was buried with full honors, & while his mother was present, the flag was presented to her. Then just like that, it was over, & she was alone all over again. Well, not alone. Her place was already cramped before Chewie, but coming home from the funeral she’d found Luke silently lingering in the door & an entire bed constructed with storage for the dog - almost like he knew. This was it, it was the last piece of him she had left. She lets the pup sleep in her bed, just for the night she tells herself, but a night stretches into a week into a month & finally just admits he belongs there.

It took weeks before she even stepped inside his place & even then it took Simon & Alec there, practically forcing her not to run but in the end they quietly moved her things out before the place was sanitized & stripped. By the time his former handler & the team were done, it wouldn’t resemble the place they had shared for three years & she wasn’t sure she could even bring herself to think about it. Simon is chatty the entire time, navigating everything with a sense of ease only someone who has known her twenty years could manage. Alec is dutiful, saying nothing but catching her quietly & letting her borrow his strength when she finds the box in the dresser. She flees down the stairs before she can even look at it properly.

She doesn’t go back after that. 

The boxes stay packed for months, canvasses set up against the walls, paints still sealed & tucked away. ’ they’re looking for someone this summer for the program you love in Maine! oh, Clary, won’t you come over for dinner this week? we’ve missed you. ’ it goes on for weeks, messages piling up. Te words sound foreign to her ears, even mechanical as she calls them back each time, promising oh I’ll look into it. maybe later. I miss you too. maybe it’s reasonable to assume they know the truth, maybe she just selfishly hopes they do without her having to speak it, but the light that had once fueled her entire being, that FIRE that had dominated everything from her passion in the classroom to her art… it had died with him. 

It’s Alec who surprises her, finally. They’re out to breakfast & it’s a pretty enough day. Once she would have loved to sketch a day like this, but she can’t even remember the last time she held a piece of charcoal much less a sketchpad. By the time breakfast wraps up & the others head off to the subway, she’d ready to head home when she catches Alec lingering by the door. ’ he came by the shop, you know. ’ Standing there on the sidewalk across from Central Park, she feels a chill in that late August air. her birthday would be soon, she realizes dimly. She’d entirely forgotten, but Alec is still looking at her with those deeply perceptive blue eyes like he expects a reaction. ’ he did? ’

She’s not prepared for the story by a long shot, hearing how Simon had dragged Ben into the shop, looking for the ring she & Izzy had been fawning over when it came in for inventory. How he had paid cash, had been so ready to find that one moment &– she blinks back tears to see him holding something out in his hands. The ring is exactly as she remembers it, delicate rose gold with twining vines around the band, suspended now on a delicate chain. She takes it quietly, weighing it in her small hands before Alec quietly takes it back & helps hook it around her neck. ’ I know it’s… ’ Words aren’t his strong suit. No, that’s all wrong, she thinks.  Emotions aren’t his strong suit but when Alec WANTS to say something, his words always find home like his arrows find their way to the heart of a target. 

’ I want to tell you it gets better, ’ he says finally, messy black hair falling in his eyes like that might help shield her from that deep gaze. ’ But sometimes it doesn’t. And that’s… it’s okay to miss him. Don’t let anyone tell you there’s a time limit. ’ They’d been sixteen when Max had died, & she still saw that grief every once in while. It was quiet, & he handled it with strength, but she knew it was there. For the first time in thirteen years, she actually, fully understands how lost he must have felt in that moment. She doesn’t say anything, but the next time they go out, she catches herself doodling on a napkin & sees the small, hopeful smiles. Progress. Maybe. 

When Isabelle brings over a plant the next week, she manages to find a place for it. Slowly, so slowly, it’s like the universe balances. No, not entirely. The lows are violent & abrasive - those are the nights she wakes up with a dog heavier than she is bullying her awake so she doesn’t drown in her own physical grief, but the highs…. She can feel them. Color starts to come back into her apartment, canvases stop resting against the walls. She’s not happy, but she’s… at peace. As close to at peace as she can be without her TRUE NORTH there beside her. It takes even more time, but she finds herself going out again - helping Isabelle shop for a wedding dress, helping Alec put together a crib while Magnus smokes on the balcony & pretends he absolutely couldn’t put it together with a wave of his fingers. 

It’s Christmas in New York City, & while she’d like to think a nice, white Christmas might be possible, she’ll take the laughter & being surrounded by friends & family. It’s not perfect, but it’s… comforting. The ring hangs from the chain around her neck, tucked under the ugliest scarf Magnus could find, proclaiming that he didn’t do UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS. They’d done everything - the store fronts, ice skating. All of it as a distraction & she has to admit it’s working. That gaping void in her heart is still there, but it’s become a little easier to bear in the year since he’d left her. Rafe is tugging at Alec’s sleeve, begging his dad for some toy or something in a window & she waves them off, watching the crowd head into the shop as she leans against a streetlight.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket - a familiar if painful number on the screen. She’s only talked to Leia a handful of times since the funeral, but this time she answers instead of letting it go to voicemail. How are you holding up? It’s her first Christmas without him, & just like that the cold takes on a sharper bite for even just the briefest of seconds. I just wanted to call and tell you I was thinking of you. She can’t not think about them, think about what they could have had. Seeing Alec & Magnus with their kids hurts enough but she’d always had enough love in her heart to see through the pain & be happy for them, even knowing the totality of what she had lost, what Leia knew that not even her own mother had figured out. The conversation is brief, & by the time she sees everyone coming out of the store, she’s already hanging up the phone, preoccupied enough that this time she’s the one who misses the scream. 

It’s five hours before they can get to her but they lose her in thirty minutes, the car having hit black ice in the rush to get home for the holiday & slammed into the curb. Each minute that ticks by is like a vaulting step back in time, & when she finally feels her eyes close, there’s a radiating warmth instead of the chill. She hears the drops of water, that rising sense of panic at being back there, but then… those all too familiar footfalls as she’s lifted out of that cold, dark hell & settled into strong arms. Her lungs hurt, speech just barely beyond her grasp but she makes herself look up into those deep brown eyes. ’ you came back for me. ’

[snarkystarkybby]

:sweet like honey: Peter Parker x oc /one/

Hey lovelies,

here’s chapter one, i hope you all fall in love with this story as much as i have. i honestly really love Honey and she is so different to all my other OC’s.

let me know what you think and send me requests, xo

isabella

Honey smiled as she sat at the vanity getting ready for the day, Morgan sat by her side copying her every motion. The seven-yr. old girl had been shadowing Honey’s every move since the second she arrived in the city year since they’d seen each other, and Morgan loved the older girl.

Morgan only had two blood-related cousins Honey and Bea, the little Stark idolised both of the girls since birth. Every birthday, Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving Morgan would follow the girls until pepper would force her to leave them alone for even just 5 minutes. So, when she found out Honey was going to be living with them for the summer she almost exploded with excitement.

Honey had offered to look after her younger cousin for the summer, of course, Pepper and Tony assured her it wasn’t necessary. They could see the longing for distraction in Honey’s eye as she begged and agreed on the premise that she took at least a few days a week for herself which seemed to be a fair compromise. So, Honey spent her days playing dress up and spending every dollar she owned on Morgan’s new complete family set of build-a-bear’s.

One her days alone Honey scoured the city in secret for apartments and jobs. Which was becoming increasingly difficult, seeing as she couldn’t let her Aunt find out what she was doing? Honey was determined to do this alone. Her entire life she had never done anything herself, every moment of her was planned for or by Bea and her parents by not this.

College was her fresh start. Not a single person at college knew about Bea or how her parents had become after she was gone. Nobody would send her pitying glances and mutter insincere “I’m so sorry” when really, she just wanted to forget.

The day she received her letter from Columbia with a full academic scholarship was the best day of her life in the worst year possible. Pepper had been so excited when she called and found out her niece was moving to the city, and out of the tiny town which Pepper knew was destroying the girl from the outside in.

The entire town was painted with memories of Bea. Honey had spent seventeen years living as a half, and then in the blink of an eye, she was alone. Sometimes the fragility of life had a way of sneaking up on you. It was barely three weeks into the summer before senior year when Bea was rushed into the ER. Stage 4 Leukemia, treatment was possible but almost undeniably inconclusive. She remembers lying in the creaky hospital bed arms wrapped around her sleeping sister and listening to the soft sobs of her mom in the hall on the phone to Aunt Pepper. It felt wrong. This kind of thing didn’t happen to people like her. The warm air and sounds of cicadas were suddenly eerily unnerving.

On the last day in the hospital Bea made Honey promise to help her escape, and so with a not so carefully executed plan they sisters escaped the hospital and made it to the small lake outside of town by sunset. Later that night just after 7 Honey tried to stay strong as she held Bea’s hand and watched her parents sniffle silently as her sister took one last trembling breath.

Pepper hated seeing the effects of Bea’s death on Honey. The blonde girl sat in the spare room- refusing to even enter her once shared bedroom, in such a catatonic state that it took Pepper hours to even get her to eat a few spoons of soup and shower.

Honey didn’t move for the remainder of the summer, her mother barely dragged her out the house for the funeral. Getting out of the town was the best possible thing she could have done.

Currently, Honey and Morgan were walking hand in hand both holding an ice-cream in their empty hands around central park. Honey had learnt from when Morgan was very young that surprisingly Central Park was one of her favourite places. Tony and Pepper had a busy day of meetings and such before tonight Honey would finally be meeting the famous Peter Parker.

Tony’s all-but-actually-adopted-son who worked for him in the labs. Pepper had promised that Honey and Peter would get along great considering they were the same age. Although Honey was worried, she had never been good at meeting new people. Although due to peters absence for the first three weeks of summer Morgan seemed excited to see him.

From what Honey was able to find out about him, Peter had gone backpacking around Europe with his long-term girlfriend MJ as soon as they had graduated. It seemed exciting, Honey had always wanted to travel but she could never go alone- the thought alone terrified her.

Morgan spent all day telling Honey about Peter, to the point where she almost didn’t want to meet the guy.

“Ooh, one-time peter and I went to the movies and he dropped all the popcorn on the floor and when he was trying to clean it up, he slipped and fell over”

“Dad and peter tricked mommy and she got so mad that peter fainted”

“dad keeps a playlist of all the times peters done dumb stuff and FRIDAY filmed it”

Peter this peter that.

From what Honey could gather Peter was a clumsy, nerd type who she could image probably wore sweater vests and broken glasses. Something told her they weren’t going to get along. As much as Honey was playfully teased that she was a nerd by Bea, she had never gotten along with the above-average intelligence types.

In high school honey still had really good grades but she was also a cheerleader and typically stayed in the more popular crowd, thanks to Bea. So forgive her for being a little presumptuous, nerdy type just thought they knew everything as usually attributed her blonde hair and pom-poms to her being nothing but an airhead infatuated with lip gloss and boys.

So when tony had announced peter was coming for dinner she was less than impressed, but of course, put on a happy face for him. It’s the least she could do.

Tony was kind of the dream uncle every kid wanted. He always showed up to family events late, with extravagant gifts in hand and a super cool excuse. Honey couldn’t remember the last birthday or Christmas when she hadn’t gotten the latest and greatest toy or anything else, she could imagine. Her favourite memory as a kid was the three weeks, she and Bea would spend with Aunt Pepper every summer, but eventually, once Pepper moved in with Tony he would be there too.

By mid-afternoon, the girls were back at the tower and were currently tiding up Morgan’s room by order of Pepper and the oh-so-scary-early-bedtime-threat. They cleaned up and whilst Morgan was watching TV, honey went upstairs to grab the small shoebox from underneath the bed and place the small memorabilia from the day inside.

Each summer, since she was child Honey, kept her summer box. She kept everything in there- photos, receipts, movie tickets, dried flowers, friendship bracelets, notes she had passed at camp- essentially anything. Today it was a receipt for the ice-cream in the park and a small polaroid the girls had taken under a tree where they had lunch.

Morgan was complaining he was bored and since they still had almost two hours until anyone would be home Honey suggested they baked some cupcakes to have as dessert.

When pepper arrived home to see Honey and Morgan dancing to Disney music in the kitchen, the icing on both their faces and sprinkles lining the floor she couldn’t help but smile and run her finger through the neon pink icing before plopping it in her mouth.

“mmm this is really good, what’s the occasion why the cupcakes and kitchen parties” by now Morgan and jumped into peppers arms to welcome her home and tell her all about the day and Honey took the chance to finish icing the cakes before tidying up.

“Hey, where’s Tony?” Pepper who was listening to Morgan’s story about the crazy duck lady at the park to answer,

“oh he’s gone to pick peter up they should be here soon- maybe ten minutes or so” Honey was frantic, ten minutes??? She was covered in icing.

“oh my god I have to get changed, I have icing in my hair” Pepper laughed and called after her that it was okay-Peter wasn’t going to care. She refused to meet the boy for the first time with neon pink icing in her hair and workout leggings on.

So she frantically washed out the icing before drying just that one section of hair, quickly reapplying her makeup and chucking on her favourite jeans and a floral crop top that was nice but still casual enough. She ran a brush through her hair before pulling it back into a loose half-up style, then bouncing out into the hallway.

She was tense, Honey hated meeting new people and meeting new people in the presence of adults- that you knew- was even worse. So, when she walked into the open style living/dining/ kitchen area and saw the curly-haired figure whose back was to her was almost sure she would faint. Its been known to happen.

“ah here she is, Underoos… Meet Mine and Pepper’s niece- Honey”

“uh hey I’m Peter, Peter Parker” her mouth went dry and her throat felt like it closed completely but somehow, she managed to choke out,

“its nice to finally meet you, Morgan’s told me plenty” he smiled at the mention of the girl who Honey only just noticed was practically standing on his feet. If his dorky smile and smooth caramel-like voice weren’t enough to make her freeze the tight light wash jean cut-off’s and well-tailored and perfectly well unbuttoned navy-blue shirt sent her mind into a frenzy. She was screwed. He was gorgeous- and taken.

This was just her luck.

[serenity-writes]

Hide and Seek (IkeSen Masamune)

What’s better than a scavenger hunt on your day off? One that promises a very sweet reward.

A merry Christmas to the most awesome and spectacular @canismajorflowershop!! I consider myself lucky that we’re friends and am so happy to have had the honor to write this fluffy fluff for you ♡ 

In the morning, Masamune awoke alone. He rolled over, seeking the heat of his beloved but was met with nothing. No weight, no sweet scent, nothing. “Kitten?” His eye was open by the next second. He pushed up, a slight panic settling into his stomach as he found himself the sole occupant of their futon. She hadn’t mentioned having any sort of previous engagement, so where the heck was she?

Then Masamune noticed a white letter balanced upon her pillow, with a familiar scrawling script that spelled his name. Ahh… His girl was up to no good, was she? He smiled, curiosity and amusement replacing his surprise as he picked up the letter.

Dear Masamune,

Sorry for not giving you your morning kiss in bed today. But I promise, you’ll still get your kiss! You’ll just have to find me first.

I’ll give you a hint. It’s not an angel but…

Love you always!

Your kitten.

Closing the slip, Masamune let a laugh fill the empty space. Of course. Leave it up to her to find some way to keep things interesting on this spring day. When had she even planned this? “I’ve been teasing her too much. She’s learned how to keep a straight face,” Masamune said to himself as he got up, walking to his day-clothes to change. “But I’ll find her. I always do.”

His first stop was the very top of Azuchi castle. He definitely wasn’t an angel, but Masamune was searching for the devil king, Nobunaga.

“Masamune. What, do you have nothing better to do on your day off than to work?” Nobunaga greeted him curtly, barely looking up from the Go board he mulled over. Then a cocky smirk spread over his lips. “If you don’t satisfy your princess with some time together, then I’ll be taking her back.”

Masamune laughed heartily, knowing his lord’s words to be in jest. “Actually, I’m here because of her. Is there a letter or something for me?”

“I’ll give it to you if you best me.” Nobunaga swept a hand over the game, his smirk only growing wider. “A good general must set an example for his men. In war, and in Go.”

Masamune settled down into a cross-legged position. “You’re on.”

Twenty minutes later, Masamune walked out of Nobunaga’s chambers with a loss. But Nobunaga had been gracious enough to give him a ‘loser’s concession’, and so he carried the second white letter.

Masamune,

I hope Nobunaga didn’t give you too much trouble! Though he probably did. Hehe, sorry.

Next hint! What’s sour on the outside, but sweet on the inside?

Yours forever.

“Well, lass, that one’s too easy!” Masamune exclaimed, startling a nearby maid as he hurried off to see Ieyasu in his room.

Lord Tokugawa let out a huff when Masamune interrupted his reading. “You shouldn’t drag me into your useless games.”

“C’mon, it’s a bit of fun. What’s the harm?” Masamune remained ever undaunted by Ieyasu’s prickly exterior.

“The rest of us have actual work to do.” Ieyasu began to rifle through the stack of books on his table. “Though I suppose you’ll be busy enough soon…” He added in a quiet voice.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ieyasu extracted the letter, handing it over to Masamune without a second glance. “Here. Go.”

“Don’t you have some sort of challenge for me to get it?”

“Nope. Couldn’t be bothered. Leave.”

Masamune laughed, clapping Ieyasu on the back. “Alright, alright. Thanks!” He strolled off, wondering how his princess got Ieyasu to agree to this in the first place. She was magical, that one.

Masamune~

Ieyasu just handed it to you, didn’t he? I tried to make him promise to do something special but… Oh well.

Onto the next! You’ll probably want to bring some food when you go see him…

Kisses.

Masamune decided to heed her instruction. He whipped up something quick and tasty for his friend before he headed over to Mitsunari’s room. Or, as she sometimes referred to it, the second library.

“Mitsunari? Are you awake?” Masamune knocked three times, really only for formality’s sake. “I’m coming in.”

There was Mitsunari, sitting as still as a statue in front of a veritable mountain of books, occasionally flipping a page.

“Hey.” Masamune didn’t really expect an answer, but the rice stew he’d prepared had to be eaten. So once again, he seated himself in front of his friend. He scooped wooden-spoonfuls of the delicious meal and held it close to Mitsunari’s lips. It was endlessly amusing when Mitsunari opened his mouth, chewed exactly ten times, then swallowed, ready for the next bite. They continued on in this manner until the bowl was left empty.

Like clockwork, Mitsunari’s hand reached into his kimono and suddenly, Masamune found a white letter being thrusted at him. Challenge… passed?

“Thanks, Mitsunari!” There was no reply, only a slight nod that Masamune could have imagined entirely as he pushed to his feet. “I’ll see ya later.”

My love,

I wish I could take credit for the automated machine Mitsunari, but I really can’t.

Here’s the next hint: He’s the midnight guard of the stars, standing ever vigilant against thieves!

You’re getting close to the end!

I can’t wait to see you.

Stars? This one had Masamune stumped. He scratched his head as he tried to think of who it could be. The only thing he could really conjure up was an old god or some sort of ancient deity. Who would steal the stars in the first place?

“Hey, hey, give them back!”

“Nope, gotta catch me first!”

Two kids ran past the warlord, practically bowling him down in their haste. They were popping things into their mouth, frantically chewing on the colorful bits of candy and—OH! Sugar stars! They only had one resident thief in Azuchi castle, and he had one loyal retainer who kept him in track (or at least tried).

Masamune practically sprinted to Hideyoshi’s door, thoughts of the love of his life on his mind. His morning kiss was fast becoming a late-afternoon kiss, and damn it, he was getting impatient. His lips felt too lonely without her to warm them.

“Masamune!” Hideyoshi was one step ahead of him, clearly waiting for his arrival in front of his room. “Quick, we have to go to the kitchen!”

“The kitchen?” A bewildered Masamune had no choice but to follow the hurried Hideyoshi down the hallway again. “Why?”

“We just had a shipment of konpeito come in, and I know Lord Nobunaga is running low! I have to hide it from him first!”

But alas, when they slid open the kitchen door, Nobunaga already cradled a full container of the colorful candies. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it in the slightest. “Hideyoshi. You’re too late.”

“Lord Nobunaga! You can’t eat all of those candies! What about your health?!” Hideyoshi tried to grab the sugar from his lord’s arms, but Nobunaga’s battle-trained instincts were a force to be reckoned with. He side-stepped Hideyoshi’s hands and past Masamune. He was gone, fleeting with his new treasures.

Hideyoshi heaved a heavy sigh, shooting Masamune a look of resignation. “Sometimes he’s just like a child. But I suppose he would have gotten the candy sooner or later.”

Masamune could only laugh at Hideyoshi’s semi-pout. “Eh. Kids are tricky like that. Just hafta try your best.”

“Even though we failed… Here you go.” Hideyoshi handed his friend the next letter. “Enjoy.”

Masamune only needed one glance at the words to figure out where to go. Where else but the place where they had first shared a sweet kiss? He saw her silhouette by the river a mile away. He spurred the horse on as he raced to her, heart palpitating in excitement. “Kitten!” He yelled, and watched her turn, a smile blooming across her gorgeous lips.

He leapt off his horse, finishing the journey on foot as he took her in his arms. “I missed you so damn much,” he said, leaning down for a kiss.

But she stopped him with the final letter.

“Huh?”

Her grin only grew bigger. “Just read it.”

Hi, love.

I hope you don’t mind that I sent you running all around today! I wanted to make things interesting and give you some practice... Everyone wanted to help out and share in the festivities (even Ieyasu, just a little bit). So why all the secrecy and games? Well. Ask yourself this:

What is our greatest wish?

Hint: it’s come true.

He dropped the letter.

His eye filled with hope as it met hers, then darted down to her stomach. Then everything came together. All the symptoms, all the nausea, the tummy aches. “No,” he whispered, acutely aware that his hands were trembling. “Really? Is it… really?” He reached out, touching her belly with shaking fingers. “Please. Say yes.”

“Yes. Masamune. We’re going to be parents!”

He swept her into an embrace and squeezed with as much strength he could muster before he remembered that he should have been delicate with his love. But his lips were far from gentle as he finally stole hers with a kiss. He poured every drop of happiness into his touch, wishing he could give her half the joy she had just brought to him.

“I can’t believe it.”

She wiped away the tear that rolled down his cheek with a kiss. “Well, you’d better, because you’re going to be a dad.”

“Dad.” Masamune repeated the word, as if testing the weight of it on his tongue. “Dad. I’m going to be a dad.” Another deep breath, a fresh batch of silent tears full of hope and happiness. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Then he knelt, pressing a cheek against her stomach. “Hey, can you hear me in there?” He rubbed so tenderly her heart swelled. “Even if you can’t, I’ll tell you every day. I promise—I’m going to love and take care of you forever.”

[a-corndog-named-schibbs]

Hidge Week Day 6 - AU

Happy Hidge Week, y’all!

I love writing Voltron aus so I was really excited for this day.  This fic is a supernatural au with Hunk as a ghost and Pidge as a witch.  It takes place in the same universe as the Fangs and Fur au, so Vampire Lance also makes an appearance.  It’s meant to be a prequel of sorts to those fics, so Keith’s not in this one.

Enjoy and have a happy Hidge Week!

Pidge’s family had been practicing witchcraft since the middle ages.  Her parents had always taught her to approach magic as a science, with precision, care, and discipline.  She figured she was equipped to handle any sort of supernatural situation.

Then again, she’d never dealt with a ghost before.

Her friend Lance, the local friendly neighborhood vampire, had been nearly frantic when he’d called her.  He’d just bought this lovely two-story Victorian house and had been dismayed to find that it showed abundant signs of paranormal activity, from doors slamming open and closed on their own (“At two in the afternoon, Pidge!  I need my beauty sleep!”), to the dining room chandelier swaying ominously (“It costs more than a car!  What am I supposed to do if it falls?”), to kitchen utensils picking themselves up randomly and being flung across the room in anger (“I know I don’t use that room often, but I’d still like to keep it nice!”).  Over the phone, Pidge had assured her friend that she could handle a simple poltergeist throwing a tantrum, but now she wasn’t so sure.

The moment Pidge stepped through the front door, she could tell something wasn’t right about the house.  There was a heaviness to the air, as though a hand was constantly on her shoulder, faintly but insistently pushing her down.  Why hadn’t Lance noticed when he first bought the house?

“Because it wasn’t as bad when I first bought it!” said Lance, “The incidents didn’t start until I’d been here a few weeks.”

“Huh,” said Pidge, “That late?”

Lance nodded, “So what do we do?”

“Well, most ghosts want something, so I think step one is to contact the ghost and find out what’s upsetting it.  Then we can see if there’s anything we can do to make it happier.”

“Makes sense.  So…how do we contact it?  Do we need like a ouija board or something?”

“Nah, I’ll just MacGyver it.  Do you have any Christmas lights?”

“Sure, there’s a few strands in the basement.  Why?”

“Ever seen Stranger Things?”

Twenty minutes later, the two had hung up the festive, multicolored lights along a bare wall of Lance’s parlor.  Pidge took some chalk from her bag and wrote out the letters of the alphabet beneath each individual light, after swearing to Lance that she would wipe it all off later.  She stepped back and admired her work.  Now all that was needed was to get the spirit on the line.

“Spirit,” said Pidge, projecting her voice so it carried through several rooms, “we’d like to talk to you.  Can you hear us?”

There was no sound.  Then again, Pidge wasn’t expecting any.

“If you can hear us,” she said, “make these lights blink once.”

There was a long, pregnant pause.  Then the Christmas lights on the wall briefly blinked on, then off.  Lance gasped and jumped a bit.

“Now can you make the lights blink twice?”

The lights blinked twice.

“Good, that’s good.  I’m going to ask you a few questions, spirit.  Blink the lights once if the answer is yes, two if it’s no.  Do you understand?”

The lights blinked once.

“Are you aware that you’re dead?”

A singular blink.

“Did you die here?”

Another singular blink.

“Oh, lord, don’t tell me the body’s still here somewhere.” Lance muttered.

“Did you die here recently?”

A long pause, then two blinks.

“Are you a woman?”

Two blinks.

“Are you a man?”

One blink.

“Okay, sir, now I’m going to need you to spell something out for me.  Do you see the letters on the wall?”

One blink, then, for good measure, the lights next to the letters Y-E-S lit up in succession.

“That’s good,” said Pidge, “What would you like me to call you?”

The lights blinked in rapid succession, spelling out the word H-U-N-K.

“Hunk?” said Pidge, “Is that a nickname or are you flirting with me?”

The spirit took a long while to answer and for a moment Pidge worried that she had offended him.  But then the lights spelled out N-I-C-K-N-A-M-E.

“Well, Hunk, it’s nice to meet you.”

Y-O-U-R  N-A-M-E

“You want to know my name?  It’s Pidge.”

N-I-C-K-N-A-M-E  O-R  B-I-R-D

Pidge chuckled, “It’s a nickname.”

P-R-E-T-T-Y  N-A-M-E

“You know, I think this ghost is lying,” Lance whispered, leaning in close to Pidge, “He’s totally flirting.”

Pidge waved him away, “Can you tell us how you died?”

The temperature of the room dropped several degrees.  The string of lights blinked twice.  Pidge gulped.

S-H-O-W  Y-O-U

“Nope, nope, nope, nopeity no,” said Lance, “I don’t trust this one bit.”

Pidge felt something brush her hand.  It was the barest touch but still there.  She felt cold, ghostly fingers slide against her own, barely more tangible than a breeze but still distinct.

The ghost took her hand and tugged it gently in the direction of the stairwell.

“What’s happening?” Lance whispered, “What’s the ghost doing?”

“He wants me to follow him,” Pidge pointed to the stairs, “Up there.”

Lance looked mere moments away from pulling his hair out, “Pidge, this is such a bad idea.  This is like horror movie levels of bad idea.”

“Listen, I think it’s gonna be okay.  He’s not acting aggressive right now and I’ve got salt and holy water on me if that changes.  I’ll be up and back as fast as possible.  If I’m not down in thirty minutes, call Matt, okay?”

“Yeah, but…” Lance sighed, “Okay.”

“Hear that, Hunk?” Pig said, a little louder, “You’ve got thirty minutes to show me whatever you’re going to show me.”

The phantom hand tugged hers toward the stairs, a bit more insistently now, and Pidge followed the ghostly presence up the stairs to the second story and then, to her surprise, led her to the hatch of the attic.  Pidge clambered up into the dim dusty space, surrounded by piles of trunks and boxes. The ghost let go of her hand.

“Okay, we’re here,” said Pidge, “What did you want to show me?”

Across the room, a small memento box flew open with a loud squeak.  Pidge jumped and tried not to yelp.

The ghost’s hand touched her arm again.  This time a feeling of calm and reassurance filled her, emanating from the ghost.  Taking a deep breath, Pidge walked over to the open box.

Inside were newspaper clippings, yellow and brittle with age.  Pidge gently lifted the one on the top to examine it.  The title of the article read, “Henry Garrett Becomes First Colored Man to Own a Restaurant in New Altea”.  The photograph beneath the title showed a sturdily built young man with a round belly, wearing an apron and beaming with pride.  Above him hung a sign that said “Hunk’s Diner”.

“Henry Garrett…” said Pidge, “Is that you?”

A ghostly finger tapped the back of her hand once.  Yes.

Pidge flipped through the rest of the articles.  Most of them were reviews of the restaurant, all praising the excellent quality of the food and the warm, inviting atmosphere of the diner.  What caught Pidge’s attention was the last article at the bottom of the box.

It featured a picture of the house Pidge was currently standing in, but in much worse condition.  It looked like nearly half the building had collapsed, one whole side was black and charred, and smoke poured out into the sky.  The headline read, “Local Chef Dies in House Fire”.

Pidge set the clipping down, trying to keep her hands from shaking too much.

“I think I can help you now,” she said, “I’m going to try getting you to materialize in a summoning circle.  Is that all right?”

One tap to the hand.

Pidge quickly pulled out some chalk and candles from her bag.  She drew a simple summoning circle on the wooden floor and arranged and lit the candles.

“Henry Garrett,” she said in what she hoped was an authoritative voice, “I command you to reveal yourself within this circle.”

A bluish-gray haze began to appear and coalesce into a human shape within the circle.  Legs, arms, and finally a face became distinct.

In Pidge’s professional opinion, Hunk lived up to his name.  He had an open, friendly face with warm, expressive eyes and a square, masculine jaw.  He was quite bit taller than Pidge and nearly twice as wide, partially due to the round belly Pidge had noted earlier, but also due to some impressive muscle mass, particularly on his arms.  He wore a button up shirt and suspenders and kept his dark hair out of his face with a headband tied around his forehead.

“Hunk?” said Pidge softly, not wanting to spook him.

“Hi,” he said, voice low and croaky from disuse, “I guess we’ve officially met now.”

“So,” said Pidge, “I take it this used to be your house?”

Hunk nodded, “Decades and decades ago.  I guess they rebuilt it after I…after the fire.”

“Can you tell me about the fire?  How did it start?”

“You know how you’re supposed to smother grease fires?  I forgot that bit of advice,” Hunk turned his head so that his face was in profile and Pidge fought down a gasp.  Nearly half of Hunk’s face was burned away, singed almost beyond recognition.  He turned toward her again and his face returned to normal.

“I’m sorry,” said Pidge, “You didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“Can you help me at all?”

“I…I want to.  It might be tricky, though.  Usually with ghosts, in order to help them, you have to avenge their death.  But it sounds like your death was entirely an accident.”

“Oh.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s nothing I can do!” said Pidge quickly, “I don’t know if I can help you move on, but I can maybe help you find a sense of peace while you’re here.  Was there something you particularly enjoyed doing in life?  Something that gave you happiness?”

“Cooking,” said Hunk, “I was always happiest when I was cooking in my restaurant.  It felt good, you know?  Serving others, making their days just a little bit better…I lost that when I died.  I thought maybe it would be good to have someone living here again, making sure the kitchen at least gets put to good use, you know?  But it turns out he doesn’t even eat.”

“So that’s why you freaked out.”

“Yeah,” Hunk looked down, “Sorry about that.  Your friend’s name is Lance, right?  I didn’t mean to scare him so bad.  He seems like a nice guy.  I was just frustrated and didn’t know how to tell him what was wrong.”

Like a toddler, Pidge thought.  Out loud, she said, “I think I might have an idea of how to help you.”

“I’ll try anything.”

“If you had a place where you could cook again, where you could help make food for others, would that make you happier?”

Hunk nodded, “Yes.  Yes, that’d be fantastic!”

Pidge smiled, “Then I think I know where we can put you.  My family owns this shop, a sort of café-and-bookstore combo, and I’m sure my mom would love having your help doing the baking in the morning.”

“That sounds great!” said Hunk, beaming, “But…how do I get there?  I’ve tried leaving the house, but I never make it past the yard.”

“It would be a little tricky, transferring you from one building to another.  Luckily, you’ll have the help of the most talented witch in town.”

“And who’s that?”

“Me.” said Pidge, grinning.

“Pidge?” Lance’s voice floated up through the attic hatch, “You still alive up there?  You better not have hurt her, ghost, or I’ll kick the ectoplasm out of you!”

“I’m fine, Lance!” Pidge called, “And while you’re here, there’s someone I want you to meet.  We’ll definitely be seeing more of him in the future.”

She turned and gave Hunk a smile.  Hunk smiled back and took her hand again.  She could see right through his fingers, yet they felt as warm and as solid as life itself.

[vampiricallyinclined]

Prompts: “You’re wearing the Santa hat, whether you like it or not” & “Is that mistletoe?” & “This calls for eggnog” 

Tagging: @supernatural-lover-teamfreewill (requester), @me-my-gifs-and-i

Usually you were filled with Christmas cheer come the beginning of December, but for some reason, this year your excitement refused to arrive. Yes, you helped Caroline decorate as usual, and you pushed Elena out of the kitchen when she burnt a batch of cookies, but you just weren’t feeling it this year. You had tried to keep up appearances, putting on a smile for your friends and acting the part, but you knew deep down that it was all a lie.

It was no wonder what had you feeling this way, there was no denial or questioning it; you had simply been through too much this year. Sure, this was a time of good will, of being with loved ones and sharing moments of bliss, but all you could focus on was the loss, the pain and the never-ending insanity that had become your life of late.

Finally getting a moment’s peace from the rest of the group, you managed to slip away from the makeshift Christmas party, needing just a minute where you could let your barriers down; where the mask could slip away. Taking a deep, calming breath, you embraced the chill of the fresh outdoor air, letting it take you over as it pushed your thoughts from your mind.

“Am I interrupting?” a soft voice spoke, pulling you from your blissful moment as you quickly turned to see Stefan had followed you out into the snow. A small smile played on his lips, bemused by what he had found when he left the house, and endlessly glad to finally see you without a false demeanour.

“Only if you’re here to bring me back in,” you spoke with a small smile, knowing that he had cottoned on to your rouse some time ago, and that you therefore didn’t have to pretend with him.

“Back into the comfort and warm when there’s freezing cold snow out here? Why would I do that?” Stefan jested lightly, drawing a hint of a larger smile out from you as he made his way next to you. “Just to be clear, we will go back in at some point, right?”

“At some point, yes, just when I’ve replenished my energy, maybe?” you offered with a hopeful glance to him, smiling softly when he nodded understandingly in response.

“You want to talk about it?” he offered, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his warmth, a deep comfort instantly filling you at the action.

“I just, I don’t know, Stefan, I’m just not in the right mood this year,” you spoke with genuinity, letting your true emotions show as you struggled to keep up with your own thoughts.

“Actually, I have a plan for that,” Stefan smiled softly, leaning against brickwork with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ve been pretending to be the same as you always are at Christmas, and yeah, you seem to have fooled way too many people, but I think it’s time you do something to remember why you normally love Christmas so much.”

“Stefan,” you sighed gently, a sad smile on your lips as you took in his hopeful look. “I’ve been doing Christmassy things, you know I have. It’s just… not happening this year.”

“Ah, but I’m not talking about you just doing something Christmassy, I’m talking about you doing something that makes you feel Christmassy. Like being our very own Santa,” he spoke, his smile slowly but surely growing until it was a full-blown grin. Whipping out a green and red stripped mass of material from behind his back, he showed you possibly the most hilarious Christmas hat you had ever seen. It was easily three feet long, had giant elf shaped ears on the side, a bell on the end and read ‘Santa’s Little Helper’ on the brim in thick white letters.

“Oh, no, no, no. I’ll pass out the presents, but you’re not getting me to wear that thing,” you shook your head, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the ridiculously long novelty hat.

“You’re wearing the Santa hat, whether you like it or not,” Stefan spoke, leaving no room for argument as he carefully placed the hat on your head, making sure not to ruin your hair as he did so.

Your brow furrowed slightly as your focus crept upwards, the hat jingling with your movement. You could barely make it out at first, unsure of whether it was just an unruly piece of ivy that had made its way above you, but when an amused sound fell from Stefan’s lips, you suddenly knew exactly what the odd plant was.

“Is that mistletoe?” Stefan asked with an air of innocence about him.

“Oh, please, this is your house, Salvatore, you know damn well what it is,” you chuckled, lightly hitting his chest with the back of your hand. But nonetheless your hands reached up to the lapels of his coat, surprising him somewhat as you held no shyness in your actions.

“Merry Christmas, Mister Salvatore,” you whispered, your lips mere inches from his, giving him a chance to backaway if he wanted to. But as his eyes flickered down to take in the sight of your lips with a hungry gaze, you suddenly knew there was no backing down now. His hands pulled at your waist, encouraging you forwards as his lips came crashing down on yours.

There was only a hint of the sweet innocence you had expected to find amongst his kiss, passion and intensity almost entirely drowning it out as he made quick work of any pleasantries. It didn’t take long at all until you were moaning into one another’s mouths, your hands moving in a frantic manner, delighting in every touch, yet desperate to feel everything they possibly could before the magical moment was gone. But it seemed fate had other ideas, and before you were even close to satisfied, a bellowing laugh came from behind you, forcing you apart as instantly as if it were an electric shock.

“I told you they’d find my mistletoe!” Damon cheered loudly from the doorway, followed by a racket of laughter from the rest of the group as they quickly pulled him back inside.

“Well, this should be an interesting night,” Stefan chuckled lightly, despite the blush that still sat on his cheeks from having been caught just moments ago.

“Oh yeah, I think this calls for eggnog,” you nodded, a genuine smile remaining fixed on your lips as you took in his dishevelled state. “Maybe we can go searching for the rest of the mistletoe later.”

[saturatedpages-blog]

Suburban Ennui

In the winter, we cannot recognize ourselves dressed in our mother's lace. Shrouded in gold, and you in pearls, we’re whisked away by our fathers cinching, leather grips to the old fishing district. With its nose turned up high on the hill, looking down at the rest our desolate, iced-over tourist town, sits the yacht club. A setting as lively in the summer as it is in winter, where the events held to keep the ennui at bay are disguised as something more-something meaningful. Every wine tasting night, every father-daughter dance, every Christmas dinner all just excuses keeping the townsfolk from their own perilous restlessness until the sun shines over our brimming little beach town again. It’s a place where you and I have to play pretend just to survive. Exploited and used by our families like props and trophies, we’re paraded around like cattle, forced to carve out our widest smiles for the wolves dressed in bow ties and boat shoes. I swear I can still feel the sting, well into the warmer months, from where the old widows slap our hands and hiss “stupid girls! Not like that, smile with your teeth!” Our cheeks would burn, abashed and sore. Nevertheless, we’d comply, too afraid of the consequences that would ensue had we not. With our bare bones exposed, the wolves could carry on gawking, our fathers bragging, and our mothers could breathe poised sighs of relief knowing their daughters were safe for another season.

“There’s something unsettling about their eyes,” You declared one night at a dinner dance, cookie swap, fundraising event or whatever it was at the time. Sometimes we found refuge, hugging our knees underneath tables devoid of any place cards or centerpiece. “It’s like staring into the very nights that claimed their lovers.”

“The widows?”

“If you catch a close enough look, you can see them capsize.”

In spring, we shed our skin between the trees and wash away girlhood in the creek. The world around us is still aside from the trembling in our knees, scraped and laced with diamond pavement and concrete. We’d welcome the season's respite with offerings carried away on the backs of bugs. We’d feast on blood oranges, rip them apart with our nails and wince at the metallic taste. Still, we couldn’t get enough. The entire town couldn’t get enough. The widows thaw back into witches, the wolves suspiciously retreat. Spring was a renaissance, and from high up in the trees-our kingdoms away from home-we had front row seats. I wore mud smeared cheeks well, you wore grass stains better. We used the threads from the tears in the knees on our jeans to reinforce our own loose threads, we used our t-shirts as tourniquets. Naked and raw, running in the woods like infants who just discovered their legs capabilities, all we had to fear then were our mothers. Still numb from the winter, the wolves would run off with their rabbits, leaving them empty nesting, scathing and bitter. They wouldn't like what we got up to in the forests.

“My mom is gonna kill me,” you’d say, with dirty hands mimicking a knife to your throat.

“Don’t joke like that.”

The response to my demand did not pass through your lips. It was not your voice who carried the question, nor was it one that you and I recognized. But we could recognize the feeling it had brought with it, and the butterflies who made their cocoons in the pits of our stomachs began to beat against our insides.

“Who’s joking?”

Come summer, our town becomes overrun like the invasive plants down by the marshes, the ones that swallow you whole lest you got too close. We could never see the tourists coming. It would start with the faint footsteps in late May, only to be heard in symphony with the night owl’s cries. Never bring it up at breakfast, the point would be moot. Even when they get closer and the footsteps began to sound like a stampede, nobody else seemed to notice. Or if they did, they’d never admit to it. We could never see the tourists coming, all we could do was fall asleep to sound of their deafening march and wake up on June first to crowded beaches and congested streets. The mosquitos came with them, moving through the heavy humidity in thick sheets. Bug spray was never enough, but you and I were smart enough to even bother with that stuff, and the witches in the lighthouses were too wise to. We’d make our way through the crowded streets-hiding from more than just the sun underneath the wide brims of our hats-to find them. We’d find them, only after ascending the rusty lighthouse stairs for what seemed like an eternity, concocting spells in the same, casual way that old ladies like to bake. Mud and moss, moth wings and cicada shells, crushed berries that looked less like berries and more like blood. Things we couldn’t quite explain.

“It’s protection,” explained one witch.

“Keep it close, and cherish it like your youth,” said another.

They only ever spoke in metaphors, riddles, or in abstract language that only elicited quizzical expressions from you and me. We’d thank them all the same.

On our way back to town, we’d take the detour route to test out our new protection spells. Far off underneath the canopies of the red cedar swamp where they gathered to store the blood they collect, the mosquitoes avoided us like a plague, disgusted by the vials that hung around our necks.

“If you listen, I mean if you really listen closely and if you stay quiet enough…” You grabbed my hand, trying to quiet me and at the very moment our skin made contact, a blinding thread of heat lightning weaved its way across the sky. Followed by a clap of thunder with all too perfect timing. You simply carried on with what you were trying to say and to this day, you’ve never said a word about the electric hum that followed us home that evening.

“...you can hear the mosquitos whispering.”

I heard them cursing the witches, telling secrets...and I could’ve sworn I heard something about love.

Then came fall, when we’d sit in the graveyards at sunset. There, we’d count the number of new names and unmarked graves, taken by the bugs or the masses. We could never see them coming, but from the graveyards, we had a perfect view of the bridge that guided away the tourists. Oh, how we loved to watch them leave.

“They’re the lucky ones” you’d say.

“Sure are...” I’d solemnly agree, and we’d carry on watching and living vicariously.

You’d inform me of the brightness in my eyes quickly fading, and I’d inform you of the sorry state of your sun-kissed cheeks. As the sun went down over our little beach town, I’d study you closely, thinking in blueprints and escape plans. The trees would shed their own skin, and bend to the will of the wind like skeletons. While the wolves would reemerge, well rested and mean, the witches snuck goodbye letters into our hiding spots by the creek. Ignoring the weather reports that kept our fathers glued to the TV, we’d judge how bad the winter would be by how hungry the wolves were. Our mothers were always far too busy to even think of winter, blind to any impending doom ahead. They frantically packed and prepped our oldest siblings for university, getting ready to send them off, over the bridge with the last of the tourists.

“They’re the lucky ones…” I’d whisper, waving goodbye at the edge of my driveway.

“Sure are…” you mouthed from across the street.

As soon as the minivans were out of sight, as soon as our mothers retreated and our fathers were back inside glued to their TVs, we’d make our way to the creek one last time. Before the ice came to claim it, before our mothers could catch on to where we disappear to in the spring, we retrieved the letters-left by witches and signed by widows, apologizing for what they might do come winter-and left in haste, without any trace to ever tie us to having been there. Come the fall, we fall asleep clutching letters left by witches and signed by widows, holding on to empty vials of what was once protection spell and gripping the notion that one day, we’ll escape ourselves.

“Such imaginations those girls have…”I heard my mother whisper into the telephone one night as she poked her head into my bedroom.

“Isn’t it something?” your mother asked and answered into the receiver.

Pretending to be asleep was both a natural talent and a survival tactic.

[amoristt]

Beauty After All | Audrey x Reader

Anonymous Asked: I noticed that you don't have any Scream on your page! I'm such a huge fan of Audrey Jenson, so can you write about her please? Ca you write that her and s/o get into an argument, and Audrey for some reason suspects s/o is the killer or the accomplice and then the reader actually ends up getting injured? It doesn't have to end happy, lol. It's a little poetic

of course !!!! i love the scream series so much and audrey’s actually my fave character in it owo i love my girlfriend

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this !

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

“Sorry, looks like I’m not home right now. That or I just really don’t care enough to answer. Leave a message or whatever and I’ll get back to you uh… Whenever I feel like it.”

Stomping your foot in irritation, you rolled your eyes.

“Audrey, come on. You tell me to meet you and you don’t even show? I thought you wanted to talk. Call me back when you get this.”

Punching the hang up button, you huffed and shoved your phone into your pocket. You sighed as you took in the surroundings you knew so well- the dank, stone walls, the cracked flooring, and the piles of debris laying in every corner. Audrey had always loved the factory residing just a few miles away from your house, and though you were always personally creeped out by it, she said it had some sort of weird romantic appeal. Though you weren’t so sure what could be romantic about decay and desolation, you didn’t question her tastes.

The factory had become one of your favorite hang outs, the two of you spending hours relaxing atop crates and getting into everything you possibly could. Graffiti littered the walls, pretty much every inch tagged with inside jokes and little phrases you told one another. You could tell the story behind every last color, every last line and letter.

Kicking over a can of beer you’d left there months before, you sighed again. She’d texted you meet her, saying that she wanted to talk, and she had the nerve to not even show.

However, angry as you were, you weren’t entirely shocked. Lately your relationship with her had become less than sweet. You couldn’t really blame her for her paranoia given everything she’d gone through, but hearing her accuse you of all people to be the accomplice, or even the killer, that was terrorizing her and her friends was something that was too hard for you to stomach. Naturally you were defensive and upset, so you called her out on the fact that she herself had been the accomplice at one point, and it was her to brought Piper there in the first place. You left soon after that.

Regret ate away at you with every growing day, so when Audrey texted you after the silence saying she wanted to talk to were entirely on board. But, you should have known she’d pull something like this. Sending you to such a special place was a low blow, but whatever she was trying to get at worked because now you felt even worse than before. You wished you could go back in time and fix this, to avoid it all in the first place.

As you waded in your own self pity, there was a soft sound in the distance. You looked up quickly, turning in a circle and frowning when you found that there had been no one there. Standing in the center of a large room, clear of all machinery other than a few work tables, all you could see were the big, hefty metal doors separating you from the long, dark hallways leading to other parts of the factory. A rational part of you said that it was just an animal, but that still didn’t stop the anxiety from settling deep into your gut. Cautiously, you took a step towards the sound.

“Audrey?” You called, hands tightening to fists. There was another sound, and you jumped, gasping. “Audrey if you’re trying to freak me out because you’re pissed, then stop. This isn’t funny.”

Suddenly a blaring alarm ripped through the silence, and you screamed. However, that alarm was just your phone, and with your heart already having fallen out of your ass you cursed to yourself as you pulled the item from your pocket and glared at the name flashing. Without hesitation, you pressed answer.

“Audrey! You scared the shit out of me, you ass.” You growled. “Where are you? Hiding in the darkness waiting for me to walk by?”

“Not quite, ___.” A voice responded, but it wasn’t Audrey. You froze, blood turning to ice. “Nice little place you got here,” The voice continued. “Cozy, really.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes frantically checking every entrance you could see. “Where’s Audrey.”

“She’s fine,” It hummed. “For now.”

“Let me talk to her, you son of a bitch.”

The voice laughed menacingly. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll both be talking very soon. Question is, will she get to you in time.”

“Get to me in time for what?” You asked, voice wavering.

“Guess we’ll find out,” It chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, ___.”

Just like that, the line went dead. All that remained was haunting silence. Your ears rang as you spun in circles, afraid that at any moment the killer would appear behind you. After staying still for just a moment, you took a step back and made the choice to make a break for it. You picked the nearest exit and made sure to check over your shoulder before taking off, feet thudding against the hard concrete flooring. If you could throw the big metal doors open quick enough, maybe you could escape before something, or someone, caught you. The loudness of your heart in your ears along with the harshness of your breath almost made you miss the faint sound of a voice calling your name, but when it did reach you, you stopped dead in your tracks.

It was so hard to hear over your blood pumping in your ears but you definitely heard it again- a female voice calling out your name at the other end of the room. Audrey.

Without a second thought you pivoted and sprinted towards the sound, and you threw the door open. Ready to throw your arms around Audrey’s shoulders, you were slapped into reality when it wasn’t her behind that door. A looming figure cloaked in black stood before you motionaless, it’s mask’s hollowed eyes staring right at you. In one hand was it’s signature knife, and in the other was a phone, Audrey’s phone, and with it’s thumb it was pressing some sort of button on the screen. Everytime it did so, an audio played of Audrey calling your name. You’d ran into a trap.

The killer tilted it’s head mockingly and threw the phone down, stomping on it mockingly as your knees went weak. When adrenaline finally kicked in, you pushed off your feet and took off back towards the door your were originally going to enter. The killer chased behind you.  It howled with laughter, it’s voice crazed and terrifying. It was faster than you, and in a split second, a hand grabbed tight onto your arm. You were spun, and you found yourself face to face with that mask yet again.

Try as you might to break away from it’s grasp, you couldn't free yourself. The grip only grew painfully tighter, and you cried out as you caught the shine of the sun glimmering off the blade the killer held. You punched, clawed, did everything you could, but it was futile.

Behind the killer, a figure emerged from the doorway you’d been chased out of.

You screamed Audrey’s name.

Everything seemed to suddenly move in slow motion.  

The sting was the first thing you felt. The blade sliced clean against the skin of your gut, cutting clean through the fabric of the shirt you were wearing. Ironically, it was a shirt Audrey had gotten you for christmas.

It wasn’t the pain that struck you the most. It was agonizing, but what hurt you the most was the piercing scream that sounded with Audrey witnessed the scene. Never had you heard her sound so terrified in your life.

The killer let your body drop to the floor with a thud before it took off god knows where. Audrey didn’t chase it, instead she dropped down harshly onto her knees and helped roll you onto your back. Red seeped from the wound, and you realized how truly fatale it was. You didn’t have to lift up your shirt to know it was deep. Dread weighted in your stomach and with shaking hands you pulled your phone out of your pocket, a distressed cry leaving your lips when you realized it was smashed from the fall.

Crimson poured from your wound, and already you were feeling the effects of blood loss.

“Don’t move,” Audrey demanded as she tore strips off the hem of her shirt. She tried to tend to the gash to stop the bleeding but you could feel that it wasn’t working. The look on her face told you she knew too.

Thinking back to everything that led up to that moment, you felt stupid for spending so much of your last time together fighting. You loved her with every last fiber of your being- you wished you could see her happy again, wished you could see her loving you again like she had before.

As your body grew heavy, you started to feel like none of this was real.

But, it was all there, in that moment. Her hands cradled your face but they were so rapid, moving from your cheeks to your shoulders, to the leaking wound nestled now numbly within your gut. You couldn’t feel a thing but you could hear, see it all. Every panicked breath and every broken string of words you could hear, and that fear in her eyes, you could see. If you could feel anything below your chest, surely you’d be writhing by now. Her hand pressed futility against your gash and within seconds became drenched in blood- your blood. It all pooled beneath you, but the only thing you could find yourself thinking about was how it was staining the shirt she’d given you. It would be ruined.

“Hey, hey,” Her voice brought you back from a slumber you didn’t realize you were slipping into. Heavily your eyelids fluttered, eyes focusing and unfocusing on her figure. “Don’t you dare pass out on me.” She sounded to be so mad, and if you had it in yourself to look at her without the fuzzy edges you knew you’d be met with that frown you’d come to know so well. Dazed but determined, you attempted to blink away the fog that separated you from her.

“I should have believed you,” She whimpered. “I should have been there to protect you.”

When you could see her clearly again, your heart ached at the tears she didn’t bother to wipe off her cheeks. You wished you had the strength to reach up and wipe those tears away, but you didn’t. Though she still tried to stop your bleeding, you knew that she knew. It was in her eyes- the loss.

You were going to die, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it.

Miserably defeated, her head dropped, and her shoulders were wracked with chest heaving sobs. She sputtered and coughed and breathed your name, only looking up at you to whisper that she was sorry. You didn’t have the energy in yourself to tell her it was okay.

Silence crept over you quickly, and soon enough those weeping cries were dulled and gone. You couldn’t register the drowning sensation coming over you, just the sudden weightlessness. Audrey wasn’t in your line of sight any longer, the only thing in your vision being the worn down factory ceiling. Now, you could see the appeal she alway prattled on about.

Light from the long since broken windows seeped in and doused the walls, illuminating every crack and dent. Vines crept in through the sides, the partially transparent leaves golden with the late afternoon sun. You felt like you could just reach and out and pluck them, feel the softness against your fingers. 

You could hear Audrey's voice again, but only faintly. She sang and beckoned you, calling to to follow her. The ceiling was gone, replaced with a bright blue sky. You felt like you were floating, the sun encasing you in warmth. Distantly, you saw a figure, and you knew it was her.

Shrouded in light, Audrey appeared as an angel. When she reached for your hand you took it. She kissed you, hands soft against your cheeks.

The edges of your vision started to soften, the sun painting you faded. You were happy, anyways.

She said your name one last time, and then, there was nothing.