#i was watching the devils hour with my mum and had to try and explain why i was giggling and kicking my feet everytime i saw him

[thekingofspin]

[bakatenshii]

Rapture

Oikawa Tooru x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

word count: 2.8k

TW: 18+, smut, incest, dub/noncon, mild somnophilia

A/N: I started writing this in my notes bcos I wanted to get out a cheeky Oikawa drabble for his birthday, didn’t wanna commit to a proper fic bcos fuck knows I’ve been writing my first ever fic for over a month. Technically this is my first official fic I finished! So much love for my wife @blahkugo for listening to me sob and whine about this & beta-ing it, also to @lookslikeleese who created this brainchild of Tooru-nii with me. 

rap·ture

/ˈrapCHər/

a feeling of intense pleasure or joy.

(according to some millerian teaching) the transporting of believers to heaven at the Second Coming of Christ

Blood is thicker than water, in all forms and shapes and sizes. The guilt of blood lays thicker, sweaty and clammy, threatening to matte his perfectly coiffed hair. The guilt lies limp on his childhood bed, delicate legs dangling just a hair away from toeing the carpet.

You couldn’t reach when you were younger, he’d always help you down with all the gentleness of a protective mother and its cub. Long slender fingers tucking under your armpits to lift you from his stiff mattress to stand you on the soft carpeting.

Guilt, in the form of his baby sister laying vulnerability-up, presenting to him in taunt, as if it’s a gift from Satan himself. You won’t know, will never know, It promises. You’re out cold, too many cups of trashy house-party drinks in, your night was bound to end up like this one way or another— exposed and defenseless in a man’s bed. You should be lucky it’s your own big brother’s.

He curses himself for still having been awake when you called him at half four in the morning, curses himself for staying up studying tapes of his opposing team. Bad habits die hard. You were loopy, slurring your words, and all he could hear were the warm familiar sound of ‘niichan, niichan’ tinkling through the static. He had the keys clanking in his hands before he even registered the other voices across the line; deep, low, predatory— of men.

The drive there felt like a blur, tunnel visioning only on the number plate you’d sloppily sent him three times, each varying in one digit. It wasn’t even the right address, it didn’t match your location on his phone.

He saw crowds, loud bass reverberating through to his sleek car that stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of beat-up sedans and trucks. He saw limbs, too many limbs, entangling together in a frenzy of sweat and lust; limbs on curves and humps of silhouettes, limbs on your small frame leaning into the corner of the dimly lit room. Then he saw red.

He couldn’t hear the shouts and hollers of his name, crazed fangirls pawing at him for an autograph, a picture, any type of affection from The Oikawa Tooru himself, international volleyball superstar with too many sponsorships under his belt. He reached out an arm towards you, and you clung to him like a magnetic pull, whole body suctioning onto his and tittering out a string of ‘niichan came to pick me up’ and a fit of giggles.

His first conscious breath was taken once he got you in his car. He didn’t want to look at you, didn’t want to assess the damages lest he drove his car straight into the dastardly party if he saw any hint of protrusion. He didn’t; you were fine. You seemed fine, too. You were all-too happy to see him, bragged to him ‘I bet them that you would come pick me up if I called you.’

You told him you missed him, ‘missed niichan so much, he never even bothered to call when he came back to Japan’. Tooru sighed, half part relief, half part guilt. He told you he couldn’t bring you back to his hotel, had to bring you home, because imagine the scandal if he got papped.

It was a lie, he couldn’t give a damn if he got papped, he could easily have explained that it was his own sister; he couldn’t give himself up to the safety of his own enclosed room. His room with no security net of Mum and Dad threatening to barge in, his room where he was free to do whatever he wanted.

He drove you home.

You begged him to pick you up and carry you upstairs, because your feet hurt, they’re so sore from dancing all night. He complied, using all his decade-molded muscles to pull you into his chest and his heart sank to his gut at the realization that you weighed like nothing to him; just like you had when you were younger.

You were bigger now, grown, an adult, but he had grown all the same. It was like a cruel joke— no matter how much you grew, he’d parallel your growth so he would always be just that much stronger than you, that much bigger. The perfect size to protect you. The perfect size to hurt you.

He was directed to his own room rather than yours, with the excuse that yours was too close to the master bedroom, too risky to wake your parents up. His feet moved before his mind could stop him, muscle memory bringing him to the space he’s barely stepped foot in since he was eighteen.

It was too familiar, whole body transcending back to his childhood, back to the innocence of your relationship before he’s tainted it with his twisted perversions. His arms laid you down on his bed, hands finding the straps of your heels to pick off before you thumped back onto his bed, sprawled out and fast asleep.

He’s been staring at your vulnerable placid silhouette splayed on his bed for what feels like minutes, hours. He can’t bring himself to tuck you in, can’t trust his limbs to function how he instructs them to. His skin crawls at the gust of wind kissing the sweat embalming his body, but he doesn’t let himself strip off the suffocating layers. He wants to bask in the physical manifestation of his disgust, nausea, let it remind him of his twisted perversions he can never, ever indulge in.

You shiver, and he jumps. Your tiny body is quivering in chills, begging him to warm it up. He moves with the grace and caution of a robber on the prowl for an expensive jewel, gently snaking his arms under the crook of your knee and top of your spine, lifting you up and away from him like he’s terrified— disgusted, by you.

He lifts the covers and daintily drapes it over the small rise and fall of your chest, pinching the top with only two fingers. A deep breath, a moan, a soft ‘niichan’, and he thinks his heart has stopped completely.

He’s frozen, the hammering in his chest arguing that no, he’s still very much alive, and spares a glance down at you. Your eyelids are fluttering, lips softly pouting, and unmistakably still asleep. He’s mid sigh of relief when he feels a small hand wrap around his arm, and for the second time that night he thinks he’s died.

All the gravity weighing him down disappears as he lets himself be tugged down onto the bed, the weight of his body crushing your tiny one, but he can’t bring himself to move. He’s too scared, he’s horrified.

He can feel two dainty arms loop around his neck and cage his head into the side of your face. He can feel the palpitations in his chest, heart hammering straight into yours, tangling with your soft cadenced beats, reaching in and provoking it to waltz to the same fatal rhythm. He can feel his trousers strain and his blood run cold.

Deep breaths to the count of the tick and tocking of the clock on the wall. He feels blurry, vision blotchy, skin prickling with every flood of blood traveling south. He wills it to stop, begs for it to spare him, he’ll behave, he’ll never let his mind wonder to you ever again, he promises.

God is all merciful, but God has long given up on him. Satan wants to watch his world burn, collapse, and dance in the ashes of his crumbling dignity. It teases him with the hilt of your soft body moving to press into his, crawling into his arms caging you in, willfully entering the den holding a ravenous lion fighting its own fangs.

Your eyes flutter open, gaze finding his with striking precision, and smile. It’s the same smile you’ve given him his whole life, the trust and love carved into every quirk of the lip. It shatters his dignity, stomps on it with childish fervor, and Tooru chokes on the breath coming out.

He feels you nuzzling closer, can feel your hair tickling his chin, and prays for forgiveness to any God willing to listen. None do— he’s too far gone. His hand’s reaching to cradle the back of your head as he plants the softest kiss on your cheek with all the practiced grace of a man begging for salvation.

Your eyes stare straight into his with undeterred conviction, glazed over with equal parts alcoholic daze and pure, unadulterated adoration. There’s not enough oxygen traveling to his brain to justify his actions, no amount of repentance would excuse his sins. His lips press into yours, so gently it feels like a mere ghost of breath, quivering in prayers for forgiveness.

A shift; small warm body squirming under his arms, shuffling closer. It catches the tent between his legs, and his whole body twitches like it’s been stung. He barely chokes down the whimper that threatens to come out.

He can feel your hands locking behind his hair, pulling your body infinitely closer to his, smushing your soft tits into his hard chest as he feels the breath sucked out of him by the Devil himself. There’s no more feigned chastity, all abstinence launched aside as he feels a little tongue prod at his lips. They open to let yours in, sucking on it as if it’ll bring his very breath back.

He doesn’t let himself wonder if it’s okay, he knows it’s not; it’s wrong, so wrong, on so many levels. He’s given up trying to please a Holy deity, Satan can take him whole if it means he can ravish in his sick twisted fantasies. He slots a leg between yours, letting the two pairs tangle and waltz to the symphony of your matching heartbeats, finally synching in a virulent tempo.

Breaths turn to pants, turn to unmistakable moans, and Tooru has to pull back to clamp a hand over your mouth in warning. The imagery of his long slender fingers covering more than half your face sends jolts down his body at the same time he realizes it’s him whining out so desperately.

He looks back at your face, beady, glassy, needy eyes peering back at him in sheer devotion, and he shuts his eyes in pure agony as his heart clenches in pangs of guilt, while his adulterous cock twitches in revelation. The warm soft breaths fan his palm, lips puckering underneath to peck softly at his fingers in hopes of escape; he thinks he might cum untouched.

His hand yanks back in shock, in horror, in disgust. But your hands clasped firmly behind hair pulls him back in, and he whispers out a prayer before a soft, “We can’t.” His eyes bore into yours, begging for mercy, begging you to let him go so he can suffer for his sins.

You don’t respond, not immediately. He feels his face pulled into yours and a distinct moisture building up on his thigh wedged between your much smaller legs. Wet— the suction on his tongue, the grinding on his leg, everything’s wet, and damp, and he thinks his mind might be drowning.

He can hear whines, pitched in desperation, and he’s certain they’re from you this time. His arm moves to grip at your hips, cupping your supple mound to shift it up the sheets and press your cunny against his straining erection. His hips buck on instinct, grazing the drooling slit covered only by a thin piece of cotton.

His mind goes blank, vision patching, and it’s too fast, too much, “please, Tooru-nii”— he’s crying. There’s tears stinging the corners of his eyes while he chokes out a string of ‘no, no, no’. He can’t slow the erratic humps against his lil sister’s cunt, the fingers digging into your hips marking you with patches of blooming purple and green, ‘I love you, niichan’.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction; he yanks his body back, takes sharp inhales of breath, until he can open his eyes to look at you again. Panic and nausea coat his tongue where it once tasted like you, but he’s met with the same look of pure adoration you gave him before he tainted your body with sin.

He realizes your hands are still straining to reach the back of his neck where they were before he wrenched his body away. They’re laying gently on his shoulders, twirling lazily at the strands of his hair curling around the base. Tears are flowing down his cheeks, or maybe it’s one single continuous tear, and his body is wracked with guilty desperation.

There’s no malice in your expression, no accusatory anger, and most of all, no disgust. Your face is painted with bliss, and joy, and love— Tooru snaps.

He’s pushing your shoulders back until they meet his singular pillow, and crawls down to nest in the space between your thighs. Large palms hook under your knees and push back until they touch your shoulders, and he moans when he sees your arms reach out to hook them in place obediently.

He wants to cherish this moment, burn the image into his brain for years to come, however many he’s spared, but his loins burn with years of yearning. He grants himself one glance at your tiny frame spread open for him, revels in the sheer devotion in your eyes, and plunges his face into the drenched cotton covering your core.

You moan out his name in a wanton reaction as he inhales your sweet toxins like he’s trying to drown— he is, he has no reason to live past this moment he sins, no right to live as he indulges in his sick perversions.

He can feel each shake and tremor of your thighs above his head as he sucks and licks at the soaked cotton, rendered nothing but an useless scrap now. Each suck is paired with a deep whine, echoing through his now-barren room. With one swift move he pulls off your panties and let it dangle between your ankles hanging above your bodies. Slick lines drip from the wet rag, stretching to connect back to your drooling pussy.

Five seconds— that’s how long he allows himself to marvel at your leaking slit, lips pink and puckered around the clenching hole. His cockhead drenches through his pants, so painfully hard a soft breath could send him tumbling over.

But he doesn’t allow himself to touch it, it’s not about him; it’s about you. Your devotion, mercy— your sheer, unadulterated, unwavering love for him. It’s about you; you deserve the best, you deserve it all, you deserve someone that’s not him.

He licks up, tongue flat, and slowly follows the dip between your folds until he suctions onto your swollen bud. His lips give it a soft peck, before wrapping around it and enclosing it in the hot heat of his mouth.

He has half a mind to snake his hand up to clamp over your mouth, stop the loud moans and sobs from coming out, but each wail shoots jolts of arousal straight to his leaking dick; he can’t bring himself to shut it down, despite how good you look with his long fingers wrapped around your face.

With every long lap, he pulls more cries out of you, and by the time he prods his tongue into your needy hole, you’re clenching down on him, sucking back on the muscle. You’re close, he can feel it. His tongue fucks into you without any of the mercy you’ve graced him, hips rutting into the bedsheet in tangent to your growing squeals.

The palpitations hammering in his heart synchronizes with the pulse of your cunt, weaving into a fatal rondo before everything stops; his hips, your cries, the air closes in on your writhing bodies as he paints his pants in shame and sin.

He allows his peripherals to roam your body; thighs indented with tiny crescents by your dainty fingers, mouth agape with your cute pink tongue lolling out— he swallows down his guilt, letting it scorch his insides before coating his cock threatening to twitch back to life.

He watches your hands drop down from their determined grip, thumping lightly as they hit his bed. He gingerly folds your legs back onto the flat surface before dipping down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. He can feel your arms shake in attempt to reach out and cuddle him in, but give out to fatigue.

Your eyes flutter closed, lips molding back to that soft smile ever-present in his presence, and he thinks he hears a faint whisper of, ‘I love you, Tooru-nii.’

Placid, limp, he watches as your body loses energy and drains into the mattress below. It slaps him in the face, presents him with a trophy, a golden star stamped with a big fat ‘Sin’ calligraphed on. His world collapses around him, buries him in the debris of his crumbled dignity, and the Devil dances.

[fanficsandthings]

Through the Years, Ch. 6

A George Weasley Fanfiction

A George Weasley x Slytherin reader story.

Each chapter shares events in one year of George and reader’s life together.

Word Count: 4k

Author’s note: This year is going to be split up into 2 chapters, so ch 7 will be more of 6th year. I’m going on a short break after this chapter tho, so ch 7 will be posted April 23rd

Year 1, Year 2, Year 3, Year 4, Year 5 

Year 6:  Camping

The campsite was overcrowded and loud as you pushed your way past wizards decked out in green and white. Making your way past overly decorated and way-too-obvious tents, you kept your eyes out for a certain red headed family. You hadn’t seen George in nearly two months, and you were ready to tackle him on sight. 

As you neared the end of the campsite, you were starting to think that you might have missed the Weasley’s tent and would have to start your search again. A familiar voice caught your attention, and you turned to see a red headed girl coming out of a tent on the very edge of the campsite. Ginny was saying something over her shoulder as Hermione followed her out of the tent. 

“Ginny, Hermione!” you called, waving your hand in the air to get her attention. Both the girls turned to look in your direction. 

“Hey!” Ginny called back as she caught your eye. 

You rushed up to meet them outside their tent. They were both wearing the green and white colors of Ireland. 

“You two been having an exciting day?” you asked them. 

“Hermione taught dad how to light a fire the muggle way earlier,” Ginny told you. “It would’ve taken him hours to light one otherwise.” 

“Wish I could’ve been here to see that,” you said with a laugh. “At least he’s trying to blend in. Some of the wizards here don’t seem to care at all.” You gestured vaguely to the gaudy tents around you; the tent Ginny and Hermione came out of being the exception. 

“I feel kind of bad for the muggle at the entrance, Mr. Roberts,” Hermione said. “All those memory charms can’t be good for him.” 

You thought about how he had been Obliviated after he had said something vague about the events being held today when you paid for your campsite. “I hope it doesn’t affect his memory permanently.” 

A tall figure came out of a tent behind the girls’ tent. His long red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and you could assume that he was another Weasley. 

“Have you met Bill?” Ginny asked.

“I haven’t,” you said. 

Ginny led you and Hermione over to Bill, who was beginning to clean up the remains of the fire. Ginny called his name, and he turned to face the three of you. 

“This is--” Ginny started. 

“George’s girlfriend,” Bill finished the sentence for her. You looked at him slightly confused as to how he immediately knew who you were. “George has talked about two things in the last few weeks that I’ve been home: Weasley Wizard Wheezes and the Slytherin girl that he finally got to kiss after over 4 years of having a crush.” 

You could feel your face burning red at the thought of George talking about you that much. 

“I’ve seen every one of those muggle pictures of you two at least 5 times,” Bill continued with a laugh. “He loves to show them off.” 

“He almost went through two of my camera’s last year,” you said. “Errol got lost delivering one back to my parents, and George was a few hours away from going out and looking for him himself when he showed back up with a letter from my mom confirming that they got the camera.” 

“Hey that photo of Snape asleep at his desk, drooling on his papers would’ve been worth the search if Errol really was lost,” Ginny said. 

“That picture has a place of honor on the mirror in my dorm room,” you said, turning to Ginny. “It gives me motivation to go to potions every morning. I’ve enchanted it so none of the other girls can take it down.” 

“Please let me see that picture sometime,” Bill said to you. “How did you even get into his office without him waking up?”

“That’s a secret between Fred, George, and I,” you told him. You turned to Hermione and said in a whisper, “I printed another copy to give to Harry as a thanks for letting me borrow his cloak. Don’t let me forget to give it to him.” 

Hermione’s face formed an expression you were very familiar with. “How do you know about--”

“Anyway!” you cut her off, turning back to the rest of the group. “Where are George and Fred? I have some words for them.”  

Bill opened his mouth to speak, but a rustling was heard from the tent that he had come out of. Everyone turned their attention to the entrance of the tent as two heads popped out. 

“Is that who I think it is?” George asked as he stepped out. 

“George!” you yelled, half in excitement, half in faux anger. Jumping at him, you both fell hard onto the ground. Luckily, your landing was softened by George. 

George was trying hard to catch his breath as he looked up at you. “I can’t tell if you’re happy or angry.”

“A bit of both,” you said while standing up. “My hair was green for almost two weeks before I figured out the counterspell.” You thought about reaching out to help him up but decided against it. “I helped you invent that potion, you’re not supposed to use it against me. I was excited that you sent me sweets only to end up with that.”

George struggled to his feet, rubbing his shoulder where he had hit the ground. “You look good in Slytherin green, so we thought we’d add a little more to your everyday flare.” 

You turned to Fred quickly. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?” 

“I may have suggested it, yes,” he said, not bothering to hide his smirk. 

“You’re lucky it did look good,” you grumbled, reaching into your bag. Pulling out a photo, you handed it to Fred. “Proof that you finally got it to work. Only took you two and half years.” 

“Perfection takes time,” Fred said, smiling down at the photo. “We’ve figured out green, pink, red, and blue so far.” 

“We’re working on yellow next,” George said as he moved to look over Fred’s shoulder at the picture of you. Your hair was the same color as the winter scarf hanging on the wall behind you. 

“Can I have that back then?” you asked, reaching your hand out for the picture. 

Fred pulled his hand away quickly. “No, we need it to show clients that it really works.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him before rummaging through your bag. “Test it on yourself next time.” You handed the twins the rest of the sweets they had sent you. Two more of the hair changing sweet and five of one kind that you were too afraid to test out without knowing what it was. “Start with that one there. I’d like to see what it’s for.” 

The twins’ faces lit up as they looked at the bag you had just handed them. George’s quickly changed to anger as he took in what was in the bag.

“You sent her the Ton-Tongue Toffee!” George yelled angrily at his brother “We decided we wouldn’t test that on her!”

“Oh boy,” Ginny whispered beside you. 

“Ton-Tongue Toffee?” you turned to ask her, the twins continuing their bickering in the background. 

“It’s an Engorgement Charm stuffed inside the toffee,” Ginny explained. “They actually just tested it out on Harry’s cousin. Mum was super mad. She confiscated the rest of their stock.” 

“She knows the counter-charm!” Fred yelled over his brother. “She’d be fine!”

“We agreed we wouldn’t test the more dangerous ones on her!” George retorted. 

“You agreed to that,” Fred said, crossing his arms. “I never said I wouldn’t” 

“Hey!” you yelled, catching their attention. “You tested this on a Muggle?” 

“Yeah,” Fred said, a proud smile on his face. “It worked perfectly too. Swelled his tongue up to about 4 feet long.” 

“Dad fixed him though,” George continued. “After a bit of arguing with Harry’s aunt and uncle.”

“They’re sure to think all magic users are the devil now,” Fred said, laughing. 

“From what I’ve heard, they already thought that,” you said. “You probably just made it worse for Harry now.”

Hermione cut in to say, “I tried to explain that to them, but they wouldn’t listen to me.” 

“You guys are idiots,” you said, causing the twins’ faces to fall just a little bit. “I’m glad you’re figuring out your stock though. Tell me more about it so I can give you more criticism.”  You walked towards the boys and took George’s hand. Looking up at the sky, you noticed the sun was starting to set. “I’ll have to get back to my family soon. The match should be starting in about an hour.” You started to walk with the twins a little bit away from their campsite before turning back to Ginny, Hermione, and Bill. “I’m sure I’ll see you again after the match. Nice meeting you, Bill.” You gave a small wave with your free hand as George pulled you towards the edge of the forest nearby. 

Once you were out of earshot, Bill leaned down to Ginny. “I like her. Fred and George have a deep disdain for most Slytherin’s but apparently not her.” 

“They taught her their evil ways before the other Slytherins could teach her theirs,” Ginny said, laughing. “It suits her well, I think.” 

The three of them watched you and twins for a minute. It looked like you were shoving one of the sweets in Fred’s mouth, and all three of them held their breath, hoping it wasn’t the toffee. Fred’s hair very suddenly burst into the Slytherin green color, and you and George both bent over laughing. Fred brought out his wand, presumably for the counter-spell, but George grabbed it from him before he could cast anything. George pulled his green-haired brother into an awkward hug as you pulled the camera out of your bag. The twins both smiled widely as you took a picture of them, Fred only pretending to be annoyed. 

Fred finally snatched his wand back from George as he pulled away from the hug and quickly changed his hair back to his natural bright orange. He reached his hand out towards your camera, and you handed it to him. He pushed George towards you, and you wrapped your arms tightly around him. You kissed George quickly on the cheek as Fred took a picture. When you pulled away from George, he pretended to be annoyed with the kiss as he wiped his hand on his cheek. As you shoved your camera back in your bag, though, George took advantage of your distraction and kissed you back. 

The rest of the boys came out of the tent, Arthur telling them that they should start heading to the stadium. 

“Fred! George!” Charlie called loudly, causing the three of you to stop your conversation about the Canary Creams the twins had started working on this summer. “It’s time to go!” 

“Hello, Charlie!” you yelled towards the group, waving. “I’ll stop by after the match again. I’ll see you guys then!” You said a quick goodbye to Fred and gave George one last chaste kiss before heading back towards your own campsite to find your dad and uncle. 

-----------------------------

You were woken by a sudden, loud crash outside your tent, causing you to jolt up in bed. At first you assumed the sounds outside were sounds of celebration, caused by the Irish winning the World Cup and celebrating all night long, but the closer you listened, the more you could hear screams and chaos. 

Your father came rushing in from outside. “Get up, we need to go.” 

“What’s going on?” you asked him, rushing to find your boots and pulling them on.

“It’s the Roberts family,” he said, trying to push you out of the tent. “They’re being attacked. Your uncle went to help them. Go find the Weasleys; you’ll be safe with them.” 

Your feet hit the grass outside the tent, and the scent of smoke filled your nostrils. The sky, once alive with green and white, was now grey and filled with the reflecting lights of the fire. Screams could be heard in every direction, while people rushed by in a panic, not knowing what way to go. You could see the Roberts family being suspended in midair a couple hundred yards away. The tents around them were going up in flames as the masked wizards carrying them incited more fear in everyone. 

Your father started to head in the opposite direction that you were about to go, so you turned to him. “Where are you going? If someone is attacking muggles, they might be after you too!” 

“I’m going to help the other Muggleborns and Muggle spouses. I know more about magic than most of them,” he said, stepping towards you again. 

“You have no way to defend yourself against dark magic,” you informed him. 

He grabbed your hand. “I’ll be okay. I promise. Now go, before you can get hurt.” 

He let go of your hand and ran off. You quickly turned around and headed towards the opposite end of the campground where you knew the Weasley’s tents to be. 

The crowd was hard to get through with people pushing you in every direction, and you lost your balance more than once, barely catching yourself each time. If you fell, you were sure to be stepped on by everyone rushing by. 

By the time you got to the opposite end of the campground, your lungs hurt from running, and your hands were covered in dirt from the ground. The group of masked wizards holding the Roberts hostage were slowly making their way over, and you knew you needed to find the Weasleys and escape into the woods to be safe. 

Searching around frantically, your eyes found the Weasley’s tents, and you ran towards them. Not bothering with privacy, you rushed into the larger of the two. 

“Hello?” you called out, looking around the apartment-like interior, but you heard no response and saw no sign of movement. Taking that to mean they had already left, you rushed over to the girls tent to make sure they were out too.

“Ginny? Hermione?” you shouted as you ran. Looking in the tent, it seemed to be empty too. 

With no one in sight, your best option was to head to the woods, and hope they all made it there safe. Your eyes still searched frantically over the moving crowd as you hurried towards the trees. 

“George! Fred!” you called, hoping to see any sign of bright red hair. You could feel your heart beating frantically in your chest. Your lungs felt like they could collapse at any moment. “Anyone!” Your voice was showing the first signs of becoming hoarse as your breath got caught in your throat as you yelled. 

“They headed towards the trees!” a familiar voice called from behind. You whipped your head around so fast you weren’t sure how you didn’t fall over. Standing a few feet away was Bill, wand at the ready, a mixed look of fear and anger on his face. 

“All of them except you?” you asked, rushing towards him. 

“Dad, Percy, and Charlie went to help stop this madness,” Bill informed you. “I heard you calling, so I came back to help. I should go join them now. The twins took the younger ones into the woods to hide. You’ll be safe if you go there too. Keep your wand ready, just in case.” 

You suddenly searched frantically for your wand, feeling stupid for not having it out before now. You found it tucked in a special pocket in your boot. “Thanks for the advice.” 

“A boot pocket?” Bill said, sounding impressed. “I might need to get me one of those.” 

“Comes in handy in situations like this,” you told him. You squeezed the end of your wand in your hand, the memory of the first day you got it suddenly rushing into your mind. It was the day you had met Fred and George. You suddenly looked from Bill to the trees, thinking about the rest of the Weasleys in the woods. “I have to go. Thanks for helping.” 

You hurried off without waiting for him to say anything, too focused now on finding other people you knew. People that you needed to make sure were safe more than you needed yourself to be safe. Hopefully Fred and George were looking after the others, but four bodies is a lot to keep track of. With you there, the three of you could do a better job at it. 

Reaching the treeline, you stopped for just a moment to look back at the chaos in the campsite. The group of masked wizards seemed to have come to a halt from being surrounded by Ministry workers. The shouts of all the people running around you, also looking for loved ones, were too loud to make out any conversation from the large group. 

“Ron? Ginny?,” you shouted into the woods, looking for a clear path to run down. You quickly decided that a path would be impossible to find in this situation, and started stepping over bushes and sticks before breaking out into a jog.

Your eyes scanned the trees around you, hoping to find a familiar face or six. The more you searched to no avail, the more it hurt to breath again. Your breath felt ragged in your throat, whether from the running or the yelling of names, you weren’t sure.

You weren’t paying too much attention to where you were going, besides making sure you didn’t trip over anything. Turning around a rather large tree, you jumped over the roots, but your body came to a very sudden halt when you hit something full force. You fell to the ground, all the breath in your body leaving you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed out as you lay on the ground. 

“Are you alright!?” a familiar voice asked as they reached down to help you up. 

“George!” you shouted, pulling him down to you instead, hugging him. “Did I just run into you?”

“You did,” he told you, pulling back to look you in the eye, “but that doesn’t matter. I know you’re safe now.”

You looked behind him to see Fred and Ginny “Where are Harry, Ron, and Hermione?”

“We don’t know,” Fred said. “They got separated in the rush.”

“But Hermione knows enough to be able to protect all of them,” George added quickly when he saw the panic on your face. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t worry about me, worry abo--” you started, but were cut off by a sudden flash of green appearing in the sky. 

The light lit up the entire woods, and through the trees you could make out the shape of a giant skull. People all around you began to scream again, scattering to run as far away from the light as possible. It was then that you saw the snake coming out of the skull’s mouth. 

“A Dark Mark,” you whispered, clinging onto George’s shirt even tighter. Your body seemed to tense up at the words you spoke, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from the skull. 

“Hey, look at me,” George said, but your eyes remained on the sky. He placed his hand on your cheek and softly turned your face to look at him. “Don’t look at that. Just look at me, and everything will be alright. 

George’s brown eyes scanned your face quickly. You knew he was waiting for you to give any more indication about what you were feeling. The tears behind your eyes suddenly ran down your face. You quickly pulled yourself into George, hiding your face in his shoulder. 

You felt a hand gently pat your shoulder, and you looked up to see Ginny looking down at you. 

“It’ll be alright,” she said softly. You knew she didn’t know too much about your situation, or even exactly what the Mark meant, but you greatly appreciated her trying to comfort you. 

“You and your dad are welcome to stay in our tent for the rest of the night,” Fred offered. “I’m sure dad won’t mind.” 

Finally backing away from George just a little, you looked at his face again. You could tell that he was trying not to cry himself, his feelings for you overtaking him right now. You leaned in and softly kissed both of his cheeks.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him. You turned to the other two. “Thank you so much.” 

“Let’s go see if the campsite is safe now,” George said, standing up. He held out a hand to help you up. You gladly accepted it. 

The walk back was stressful; you were worried that you might run into one of those masked wizards. When you reached the treeline and stepped out into the campground, you could tell that that group was gone, but another group of frightened-looking witches and wizards was beginning to form. They were looking for answers about what had just happened, but having no answers for them, you squeezed through them and made your way back to the Weasley’s tents. 

Your father had shown up looking for you just a few minutes after you had arrived. He was fine, just a little shaken from seeing the Dark Mark again after so many years. He chose to stay with your uncle in their tent, and you promised you’d meet up with them again first thing in the morning. 

The rest of the night was restless, and the hour or so of sleep you ended up getting did little help to make you feel better. The next two weeks before the start of the school year would be hard to get through, knowing that You-Know-Who supporters were becoming active again. 

You said your goodbyes to the Weasleys in the dim light of the morning, telling Fred and George that you would be waiting for them on Platform 9 ¾ in two weeks. 

“You better have those Canary Creams ready for testing by then,” you said, trying to lighten the mood of the day. 

“You offering to be the guinea pig?” Fred asked with a smile. 

“No,” you said, “but I have a few people in mind. We need some form of entertainment on the train.” 

The conversation lulled for a second, and George took the opportunity to grab your hand. 

“Be safe, okay?” he said. 

“You know I never am,” you said, trying to continue to joke. George looked at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, and his eyes pleading with you. “Okay, okay. I promise I’ll be safe. It’s only two weeks.” 

“I’ll see you then,” he said, pulling you into a hug. He whispered softly so only you could hear, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, squeezing him tightly. 

You walked back to your tent slowly, taking in the destruction of the campground and watching the other families pack up. You didn’t know why, but you had a strange feeling in your stomach the whole walk; a feeling that usually only happened when you were absolutely furiously angry at something. You thought you were more afraid from last night than angry, but you couldn’t get the whirl in your stomach to go away. 

The sun was fully peaking over the horizon by the time you made it to your campsite, your uncle having just finished packing everything up. A day that was supposed to be a joyous occasion had turned into the most disastrous event you had ever witnessed. You hoped that the coming school year would bring more joy than anything else.

[torialeysha]

Cold feet - Part. 17

A tailored twist.

Song: Royal Blood - Out of the black

The house was more like a mansion. A lone, vast, Victorian structure that was nestled perfectly by the sea. It’s white painted facade blended seamlessly in to the clouds that decorated the pale blue sky above. The tidy surrounding grounds stretching for miles, and rooted right in front, next to the gravelly driveway was an evergreen, spirally branched monkey puzzle tree. It was nothing less than celestial. A piece of heaven that you could call home.

It was the first morning you hadn’t suffered from sickness and apart from the exhaustion you felt from exploring and getting acquainted with your new house, you felt a lot brighter than you had done in weeks. A brightness which was soon to be disturbed by your anxious thoughts worrying about what was transpiring back in London; What was Charles thinking now you hadn’t returned? Would he have gone to your mothers thinking you was there? You hoped not. Your mother was innocent, you didn’t want her getting dragged into all this.

You tensed when a strong set of arms circled your waist then relaxed instantly when you felt Alfie’s beard tickle your neck as he planted a kiss there.

“Have you managed to get hold of him yet?” You asked him about Tommy.

“Na.” He sighed into your hair. “What about Ada?”

“I tried the hotel but they said she checked out yesterday.” You replied. Disappointed you hadn’t been able to get in touch but grateful that she was away from this spiralling mess.

“Try not to worry, pet. We’ll sort it.”

You nodded faintly, unable to share or find comfort in his resolute optimism. You leaned back into him and pulled his arms tighter around you as if the security of his burly prison would grant you the extra reassurance you needed.

“Shall we go for a walk on the beach?” You suggested a suitable, much desired distraction.

“I can’t today, Yahalom... I’ve gotta pop back to London.” He explained almost casually.

“What?” You choked, turning in his arms to check the seriousness of his excuse.

“I’ve some loose ends I need to tie up and I’ve gotta pick up Cyril as wel-“

“Can’t you get someone else to do all that for you?” You interrupted sharply.

“There’s things that need my personal attention. Signatures and suc-“

“-Then I’m coming back with you.” You told him before he could once again finish.

“No, you’re not.” He scoffed.

“I need to go back!” You insisted sternly. “I need to collect some things. I’m going to need more clothes.”

“I brought all the clothes you left at mine. They’re in the wardrobe. Anything else you need I’ll buy for you.”

“You can’t stop me from coming with you.”

“Wanna bet?” He challenged.

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want me tagging along. You’re going back there to try and handle this yourself.” You surmised with an increasing dread tightening your insides.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He huffed. “I’ve got unfinished business back there thanks to our sudden and fortuitous get away yesterday. So I need to go back and sort ‘em out today. And you coming with me means I ain’t gonna be able to deal with anything because I’ll be too busy worrying about what you’re getting up to.” He stipulated brusquely.

“Oh don’t give me that, Alf. You could still worry about me down here on my own. I Could fall and hit my head. Anything could happen.”

“I’ve thought of that.” He agreed with a nod. “That’s why I’ve arranged for Ishmael and Daniel to come down and keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”

“Babysitters?”

“Peace of mind, pet.” He corrected.

“What about my peace of mind?” You demanded. Alfie returning to London for any amount of time made you feel ill with unease.

“I’m old enough and ugly enough look after myself, in’t I? I won’t be long, a few hours at most.”

The shrill ring of the doorbell interrupted your stand off and stopped you from arguing further.

Neither of you moved to answer it.

“I don’t wanna leave ‘ere on an argument, Yahalom.”

“Then don’t leave.”

He sighed heavily. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.”

The bell rung again.

“Fuck sake! Hold on a minute!” Alfie roared towards the closed front door.

“Please, my love. I’m begging you, don’t go back there until you’ve spoken to Tommy. At least see what he has to say about all this.” Desperately your pained eyes beseeched him to stay.

“I don’t need to run anything past anyone. I handle my own business, right.” He gritted angrily.

“That’s not what I meant-“ You were cut off by the bell ringing a third time followed by knuckles rapping loudly on the door.

“Are them cunts deaf?” Alfie bellowed before turning his broad, slightly hunched shoulders and marching to the front door.

You followed him, stopping at the bottom of the staircase which stood opposite the door.

“Fine, go back without me.” You told him just as he reached for the door handle. “But be Warned, if you’re not back here by dusk then I’ll be on my way to London to look for you.” You threatened, abruptly turning on your heel and retreating up the stairs, leaving him to greet your babysitters. 

Alfie grunted, muttering something in Yiddish as he answered the door.

“What took you so long?” Alfie demanded as way of a greeting.

“Sorry, boss. The traffic was a joke.” Daniel explained.

“I’m gonna be fucking late now.” Alfie moaned. “Listen carefully...” He carried on in a hushed tone. “Don’t let ‘er out of your sight, right. And under no fucking circumstances let her leave ‘ere.”

With a vicious foreboding you observed Alfie leave from the bedroom window. You had purposely bid him a cold and transient farewell in hopes he would realise the purgatory he was subjecting you to and maybe change his mind, but it appeared he was determined in his return. Now without the consolation of a proper goodbye, you watched with choked desolation and worry as he left.

Aided by his cane, he trudged towards his automobile. He opened the car door and hesitated. Turning at the hip, his eyes rose to the bedroom window and connected with yours. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, your sweaty palm pressing against the frame of the window to steady your wavering.

“Please come back to me safely and in one piece.” You implored him quietly.

He winked as if hearing your silent plea and with one last longing look he was gone.

You peeled yourself away from the window once he had driven out of sight and debated how you could occupy yourself over the next few hours so they wouldn’t be longer and more gut wrenchingly painful than they was already going to be. The first thing you decided to do was call your mother to make sure she was ok and to see if Charles had popped by looking for you.

You chose to use the phone in Alfie’s office, the four walls that were predominantly him supplying your heavy heart with comfort from his absence.

Lifting the receiver of the telephone, you asked to operator to put you through.

A mess of papers littered Alfies desk and you tried to put order to them as you waited for the call to connect. A piece of paper scribbled with an address of one of Alfie’s warehouses and a time of 12 o’clock stole your attention.

The call connected the same time as the ring of the doorbell. Your brow furrowed at the unexpected noise coming from downstairs. Maybe it was Alfie having forgotten something. Thinking no more of it, you left it to one of the men to answer it.

“Hello?” Your mothers voice croaked impatiently a second time down the line.

“Mum? Are you ok?” You asked, relieved to hear her voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you ok?” You asked again but her reply was drowned out by a sudden fracas erupting from downstairs. You held the receiver away from your ear to garner more clearly what was unfolding. Two loud, horribly familiar bangs pierced the air followed by silence. You jumped up from Alfie’s desk with a gasp, your mothers questioning voice still tumbling down the receiver that was rattling in your now trembling grasp.

“I’ll call you back.” You murmured quickly and put the phone down.

Resisting the urge, somewhat instinctively to call out and break the deafening silence, you instead left Alfies office and proceeded tentatively downstairs to investigate. Your cautious steps grinded to a harrowing halt as you came face to face with Luca Changretta. Time seemed to stand still as shock sucked the air from your lungs and robbed you of your ability to scream. In your peripheral vision you saw the bodies of Ishmael and Daniel, both covered in crimson and lying motionless on the floor. 

Transfixed with utter disbelief and fear, your wide and frightened eyes focused back on the Sicilian devil and his two minions. Luca removed the matchstick he was chewing on and gave you a discerningly wicked grin, revealing in just a look that he knew everything. Coming to your senses, you turned instantly and flighted back up the stairs away from him.

“Get her.” You heard him order his two henchmen who padded heavily up the stairs after you.

You took the steps hurriedly, two at a time just making it to the top when your foot clumsily clipped the last step. You lost balance, stumbling forward and smashing your head unforgivingly on the opposing wall. Dazed, you tried scrambling to your feet in a last ditch attempt to escape but the blow to your head wouldn’t allow it. With a helpless groan you sunk dizzily back to the floor. Your surroundings became foggy and the chasing shadows blocked out all light as they neared. Any effort at fleeing was now futile but still you persisted, clawing your way desperately along the carpeted floor, not giving up until you felt a pair of forceful hands tug at your waist.

Alfie drove straight from Margate to his warehouse where he had arranged to meet Luca Changretta. He waited a full 45 minutes before a van pulled in to join him. He watched carefully as Luca emerged from the passenger seat followed by his men. Alfie was outnumbered by two, and quickly his mind weighed up the probabilities of him walking out of there alive. He concluded that the odds were in his favour considering what they had arranged in their first meeting; Luca needed Alfie to take one of his men as his second to the fight in Birmingham so they could get to Thomas Shelby and kill him. Making Alfie a indispensable asset - for now anyway.

“You’re late!” Alfie’s voice boomed, echoing through the expanse of the bare warehouse. “Now you better tell me what the fuck this is all about, mate? I mean we’ve made the fucking deal, in’t we? What more is there to say?”

“We made the deal Mr. Solomons.” Luca agreed. “But the truth is I don’t fucking trust you.” The matchstick in his mouth rolled from one side to the other. “Ya see, I’ve heard a lot about the devious reputation you’re notorious for Mr. Solomons. And you selling out your peaky pal, it got me thinking that I need some sort of... insurance, in case that fickle brain of yours is planning on double-crossing me.”

“What the fuck you on about?” Alfie frowned deeply.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Mr. Solomons, I’ll give ya that. No close family, no wife or children. I dug deep looking for some way in which I could feel more secure in our deal but I couldn’t find a fucking thing... But then our mutual friend Sabini told me something very interesting. Ya see, he had the great fortune of bumping into a whore that you’ve been seeing.” Luca removed the matchstick from his mouth and pointed it at Alfie, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “And, well...according to her, you’re not as untouchable as I thought... I just can’t believe it’s been right under my nose all this time.”

Vacantly, Alfie stared at him. “Well it’s fucking big enough, innit. I mean, I’m surprised you can see fuck all with a conk like that...”

Luca’s teeth caught the match he was chewing and bit down on it hard.

“Listen mate, if you wanted to know the size of my cock you should’ve just asked instead of chasing rumours like a headless fucking chicken. Now, why you’d be foolish enough to trust the word of a whore, I don’t know. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I ain’t got a clue what you’re rambling on about. So do us both a favour, yeah, stop beating round the bush with that smarmy fucking arrogance of yours and lay your cards on the table.” Alfie spouted stoically. Although he had begun to feel heavy with apprehension.

“Ok. I figured you’d play dumb.” Luca gave a blasé nod, then signalled to his right hand man. “Matteo! Lay my cards on the table for Mr. Solomons. Let’s see if that will help jog his memory.”

Alfies heart leapt up in to his mouth as he watched with knitted brows, Matteo step to the back of the van they had arrived in and pull the doors open wide. He reached into the back and dragged you from the vehicle. Bound and gagged you could do no more than comply. You were planted on your feet and guided forcefully forward. Your watery, bloodshot eyes bulging as they raised from the ground and fell upon a morosely stunned Alfie. A muffled version of his name erupted helplessly from your throat but was silenced by the material wedged in your mouth.

Alfie stood aghast, seized with an impotent anger. His body trembled from head to toe with an agonising rage that he was struggling to contain. It had finally happened; what he dreaded the most, what he fought diligently for so long to avoid.

“Not so fucking cocky now are we Mr. Solomons.” Luca smirked, strolling to your side.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate.” Alfie started tensely. “Me and ‘er was just a bit of fun, right. She don’t mean nothing like that to me.” His forged confession sounded pitiful even to his own ears but out of desperation for your safety it was all he could do.

“Is that so? Then you won’t mind if I blow her fucking brains out.” Luca mocked, producing a gun from his belt. You flinched when the cold metal of the narrow muzzle landed at your temple.

Alfie growled, immediately whipping his own gun from the waistband of his trousers and pointing it at Luca. Automatically Luca’s henchmen drew their weapons and directed them at Alfie.

“As I thought.��� Unfazed, Luca clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “It’s amazing what good pussy can do to a man.” He hummed, sliding the gun down your tear soaked face to your breasts. When the material of your dress stopped him from going any further he cocked his head disdainfully in Alfie’s direction, his thin lips curling up into a superior smirk.

“It pains me to see you like this Mr. Solomons.” He lied, enjoying the power he had over the squirming Jew. “But your dirty little secret’s out. You might as well put your weapon down and give it up.”

“Let ‘er go now or the deal’s off.” Alfie warned tightly.

Deal? You thought. What deal?

“You’re a funny guy, Mr Solomons, thinking I’m going to let go of something this priceless that easily. This here is my insurance. This here is giving me the absolute confidence that I needed to ensure that you don’t fuck me over.” Luca rasped. “Nothing’s changed, the deal still goes ahead as we planned and I still honour your costs for doing so. Then once the deed is done, I meet you outside of Birmingham and hand back the girl. As I’m sure you can understand, it’s nothing personal, just business... I mean, I suppose it is a lil personal actually considering Y/N’s meant to be betrothed to my cousin.” He glared in your direction.

“Na, that’s not gonna happen, mate - Because trust works both ways dunnit and I know for a fact, right, that you ain’t got no intentions of handing her back, dun’ I?”

“And what makes you say that?” Luca asked, seemingly bemused.

“Well once this deed’s done and I’ve fulfilled my part of it, it’ll make no difference to you if I’m dead or alive, will it? So granted, you’ll meet me outside Birmingham afterwards with the girl but only to put a bullet in my head and hers. So unless we come to some sort of compromise, the deal is off.”

“And what compromise do you suggest?”

“I want ‘er at the fight. I want eyes on ‘er the whole time-“

“-You want me to send her to the fight unaccompanied?” An incredulous Luca interrupted Alfie. “What, so you can run off into the sunset together before Shelby’s been dealt with and screw me over? No, no, no. She’ll need a chaperone at least. Someone I can trust...” He thought for a moment, and while he deliberated your mind struggled to process what you were hearing. Alfie had made a deal with Changretta to kill Thomas. You sobbed, shaking your head vigorously in protest, wishing it wasn’t so, wishing that your life didn’t now depend on it.

“Charles - as her rightful fiancé, he will accompany her.” Luca’s proposition quietened you but your inner turmoil worsened. “I’m assuming that’s no longer the case now though, huh?” He addressed you. “I wonder what he’ll have to say about all this.” He tutted.

“That’s not happening either.” Alfie told him through gritted teeth.

“Mr. Solomons.” Luca sighed exasperated. “You’re acting as if you have a choice in the matter. Be grateful, huh? You requested a compromise and I’ve given you one. Y/N will be at the fight as you wish, with Charles who I trust and who’ll be under strict instructions to behave himself. Then once it’s done he’ll hand her over. However, I want to make myself clear, Mr. Solomons, any funny business before my men carry out their duty, then all bets are off.”

“Alright.” Alfie grunted. “But let me also make myself clear, yeah, if any harms done to her, I will unleash it back on to the lot of you fucking threefold, mate. Make no mistake about it.”

Luca grinned. “Let me assure you that Y/N will be in safe hands. She’ll be heavily guarded until the fight... bare that in mind if your thinking about attempting a rescue, it would be a shame to ruin that beautiful face of hers just because you’ve tried to be a hero.”

Alfie said no more but you could tell he was seething. His furious gaze moved from Luca to you, his eyes softening ruefully. Tears fell helplessly down your cheeks as you stared back at him, your anguished look willing him wordlessly not to go through with it.

“I’ve gotta say it’s refreshing to see this softer side to you Mr. Solomons.” Luca admitted teasingly. “Let me tell ya, if I had a heart it’d be breaking right now - but I don’t, so now we’ve come to an understanding, Imma get this show back on the road.” Luca grabbed one of your shackled arms and tugged you backwards towards the van, pulling harder as you tried to resist, Alfie lurched forward angrily to intervene, stopping when Luca’s henchmen once again drew their weapons on him.

“Remember what I said about being a hero, Mr. Solomons.” Luca Cautioned. “Don’t worry, just a couple more days and you’ll be reunited.” Luca reasoned as he bundled you into the back of the van and slammed the doors.

“Oh, and I have to apologise...” You heard Luca’s muffled voice continue through the metal of van.

“I made a bit of an unavoidable mess in that beautiful house of yours. Just add the cost of the clean up to the bill.”

The van wobbled as the men occupied the front seats

“Toodle pip.” Luca bid Alfie farewell in a mock British accent, and the engine of the van roared, then after a beat the it took off, throwing you forward. Unable to keep balance you collapsed weakly onto your back and just laid there, staring into the darkness. Visions of Luca’s smug mug and Alfies tortured frown plagued your mind, followed by the horrendous, gory image of Ischmael and Daniels expired bodies; their blood spent at your expense. Then your imagination ran wild with the things that hadn’t happened yet. Like the treacherous murder of Thomas Shelby, and the anger, pain and plotted vengeance of the peaky gang for the loss of their leader and kin... But possibly worse than that - due mainly to its imminence, was the dreaded notion of having to face Charles. Luca’s words rung hauntingly in your head

‘ wonder what Charles will have to say about all this?’

You wasn’t worried so much about what Charles was going to say but more so about what he was going to do...

Previous

Tag list: @storm-bjorn @alsheyra @lililolli @jaegers-and-kaijus @lightwoodt @stars-trash-18 @anrm1 @innerpaperexpertcloud @alitheamateur @hardygal69

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Tis the Damn Season

Chapter 6- Last Christmas

Hi all! Sorry she took forever- I edited all by myself, so be gentle!

Plans change. Tickets do too, it seems. Harry's beautiful hope, his gift, it came in handy.

Not in the right way, the intended way. Not because she came to him, ran around the world or even an unfamiliar city with him. Those were dreamy ideas, when she wound up spending all of fall semester in Holmes Chapel. Those daydreams shaded the hospital walls and funeral home with sunny possibilities.

Her father had a heart attack and her mother a breakdown. It was too late, when her mother noticed he'd been out with the dog for too long and the dog was inside whining.

"I knew, in my gut. Day dawned wrong. And then never ended." She'd cried. Her mother had cried in her arms in a reversal Emma felt was way beyond her maturity level.

That hadnt been over the phone. Over the phone had only been muffled sobbing and her dad's name, "John."

Emma didn't call him John, but she could forgive her mother. It was up to her mother's good friend Di to share the news: Emma had always looked up to Di, she'd had some tragic marriage in her youth, and then decided god damned men weren't for her.

At the moment, Emma was of a similar mind.

Emma assumed she'd have a similar life to Di, had planned for it actually. Di had her own house, a thriving career as a solicitor and no children. A life like that, of her own, was Emma's dearest wish before she wished to be able to say yes to Harry.

Now she just wished her dad was still around.

There were so many plans to make, a funeral to finance and a mother to support, to put back together.

It's a wonder Emma wasn't an outright romantic, the way her parents had been, lifelong sweethearts. They still had moon eyes for each other until the very end, could be found holding hands on the couch often. Emma had come home unexpectedly early last year and found her mother sitting on the kitchen counter with her father between her legs making out like teenagers.

It was a lot to live up to.

Emma supposed it was why she kept all her heart eyes and love life in the closet and saved it all up to spend once a year. Just like an old lady's Christmas budget.

This year, she didn't think it would be happening. Harry must have had some rich person thing going on with the ticket, because the minute she decided that rather than ask her mom to buy her a ticket to get home, for the funeral, instead use the one she  had from Harry, he'd called. There was clear excitement in his voice, hot on the heels of her phone call to the airlines. It was August. He was set to embark soon, she'd just got back to Amsterdam. He must have thought she was gonna sneak in a cheeky visit.

"You're coming?"

"What?" She was so disoriented. Coming where? What was going on? Her brain was muffled with plans her feelings kept stumbling over at the knees like a trip wire.

"To see me? I got a notification you used the ticket?"

Her brain was muddled, like an egg in a hot pan, what? How did he do that? "No, Harry, umm I'm not coming. I don't even know where you are right now." She barely knew where she was.

"Whose fault is that?" There was a tiny edge to his voice that would cut her if she could even notice. "You could have answered my calls."

"Harry," she sighed, she had been avoiding him a bit. Mostly because she had an evergreen memory of his disappointed face when she told him going on tour was too much, that she simply didn't have the time. She was glad she couldn't see his face when she said the next bit. His voice was buoyant with hope, she was about to pop that balloon. "I need the ticket to go somewhere else." She couldn't bear to say it, was biting her lip hard not to think it, the liquid memory brimming anyway.

"Yeah, ok. Well, Happy Christmas I guess. See you in four months, maybe." The bitterness in his voice was like an old lemon and she didn't even have time to sweeten it with truth when his phone clicked off.

That made her resentful. How could this truth be sweet in any way? It got worse over time, the resentment just nestled among her other griefs.

Then he wouldn't answer her calls. She supposed that was giving her a taste of her own medicine and it was a quick wash down her throat with no water after the other jagged pill life had just forced down her throat.

And it didn't get better. Though, she had to scoff at herself for even having a square of heart for Harry to break leftover.

Break it did though, when she heard he had a new girlfriend, a blonde, a model, a French blonde model.

Of course.

Emma couldn't help but stalk her instagram. His was useless, ill used, so when she'd finished a day of running the house she'd been a child in while taking care of her grieving mother, she'd torture herself some more and watch stories where the beautiful blonde played in a pool, or made jokes, or showed the big mirror over her bed.

That one hurt most. She'd never seen Harry's bed, nor he hers. The little devil voice inside her head whisper shouted that he much preferred the one he was in now, with the mirror and the model to the tiny inn room they'd spent all their overnights in.

She didn't hear from him, and she never called to explain herself either. What would she say? My life fell apart and I needed your ticket, but it hurt to much to say it out loud and you were to much of an asshole to let me say it.

Harry wasn't an asshole, not really, he was hurt. Emma was stunned she had that power, though she had admitted to herself there was more between them than mistletoe kisses and holiday fucks.

She'd admitted it was more to her.

He acted like it was more to him, unless this was just a bruised ego. She didn't like to think that. Harry had every reason to have a giant head, figuratively to go with the oversized cranium he actually sported, but he'd never shown it. He was cocky at times, just enough to be sexy. All of that was a veneer over a sweet vulnerability that made everybody want to be around him, protect him, love him.

Did she love him?

No, she didn't think so, but given more time, the potential was there, like a rock at the top of a hill, all it would take was a push.

Which, time on tour with him would have been. If she could have went. Which she couldn't. She wanted to explain all of this to him as soon as she has the chance- which she would in 6 hours.

Her promises to herself were that she would not cry and that she would accept his new relationship. His real relationship. Emma would not try to touch him, or kiss him, or confess her almost love to him.

He was probably in love himself, from her internet stalks, she was halfway there, with both of them. Harry edged it out by being perfect in person. Camille, that was frenchies name, could only be half as perfect as Emma made her in her head.

"Do I wear the sweater?" She asked her reflection. She'd had to become her best friend the last six months. Emma might have called her mom her best friend, just based on time spent together, if their relationship was reciprocal, but at this turn of the road, she was supporting her mom as she grieved and got back to herself. Emma could see glimmers. She had hope.

She however wasn't sure she had hope for herself. Was she really contemplating wearing the sweater Harry gave her last Christmas to his mother's Christmas party? How pathetic was that? She was rolling her eyes at herself. He'd had a big year, and he bought lots of gifts, probably for his new girl, so her thinking he'd remember felt narcissistic.

Plus, it was her favorite, which mostly had nothing to do with the fact it was from Harry.

Emma really didn't want to go, but Gemma was expecting her. And she really needed to see her, have her support. They'd been texting, a lot. Gemma had heard about her dad and reached out. It was the only emotionally connection Emma really had, those texts, and she needed to see Gemma, honestly. Even if it meant seeing Harry.

She might have wanted to see Harry.

To explain, and maybe just to see him. Make sure he was happy, feel his warmth, steal him back.

No, that was unlikely. See if he was happy and wish him well.

She wore the sweater.

The house was cozy when she arrived, like it always was and it thawed her heart enough for it to ache a bit. For something new. Her heart ached a fair bit off and on, then went numb. It was the only way she'd survived lately. Emma knew she was putting off really feeling her major loss.

It was a strange pleasure to mourn something as minor as heartbreak.

The hug from Gemma made the trip through the snow and down memory lane worth it. And the people all around her and their laughter were invigorating.

The alcohol helped as well. Their house was pretty dry but had been especially when she started to notice her mom was unconsciously developing a bottle a day habit. When it wasn't there she didn't mention it though, so Emma didn't buy it, except for special occasions.

She was merry, and felt held. Her hand was in Gemma's. She'd stayed away from the back bathroom and the kitchen, even come in the front door.

Emma felt like she was getting away with it.

Harry wasn't there, with girlfriend in tow or not. So all her pontificating about checking on him was all for naught, and she was getting all the crosses. She certainly felt like today was a plus.

Until she heard a tone of elation issue from Anne's happy voice that only motherly joy could produce.

Harry was here.

"Fuck!" Came out of her mouth, and Gemma looked at her sharply.

"What?"

"Nothing, guess I'm jumpy, your mum's shout made me spill." Emma thought she shouted an excuse me while she hurried up the stairs to hide, find a place farthest away from Harry and his happiness. He might be alone, but if he was glowing like a brand, the way he did when they holed up together only slightly dimmed by their parting, now because of it, from some other lover, Emma couldn't stand it.

Plus, she thought she'd heard another name connected to his over her own rated r exclamation.

She was coming out of the bathroom. Emma had suppressed her tears ruthlessly and her bottom lip might bruise from the brutal teeth marks she employed. She'd have given herself some words in the mirror, affirmations helped, but what was she gonna say. "You're happy for him."

She wasn't. She was happy with him.

"Fuck this." Emma decided the only course of action was a straight line to her parents house. her mother's house, she mentally corrected and gave herself a more legitimate reason to cry than over a boy. Even if that boy was Harry Styles.

Who she barely stopped herself from running into as she kept her head down and rounded the bannister to head down the stairs.

"Jesus! You gave me a fright!" She dramatized and kept a hand over her heart and her tear stained face down.

"Emma." His voice was flat, and not cold, but the warmth that snuggled around her name was absent and she shivered. "I wondered if you'd be here." Not Hoped, she noted. "What are you doing up here? Don't your usually use the back bathroom?" There was just a bit of heat in that statement, but it didn't warm, it burned. Was he being mean, that wasn't like him? "Nice sweater." Ok, definitely mean.

Her face came up with that thought, it shocked her out of the sense of control she was exercising.

He did look hard, mean, for a moment, but soft around the edges like a melting popsicle when he caught her face.

"Are you crying?" His hand came up and he stopped it mid air before it wiped away her tear.

Emma felt her body lean into him and another tear slipped out when his warm palm and always chilly finger tips touched her cheek.

God she'd missed him! While she was bolstering her mother, she'd needed support. He was supportive, or would have been. But he wasn't taking her calls, and she couldn't bring herself to text, "my dad died". Then, it was such old news, she figured he'd have heard from Gemma.

He took his hand away like she was a hot cooktop.

He pushed his hair back off his forehead with the hand probably damp with her tears and bravely changed the subject. "How long you in town for this time? Jetting off to some climate refuge hotspot soon?"

Emma flinched. Oh- he didn't know.

"Un, no, I'm living here." She didn't elaborate, maybe saying it out loud was as hard as texting it. "I was actually just about to head home to check on my mum. The back bathroom was in use, and the cold makes me need to pee." What the fuck was she talking about, he didn't need that information.

His dimple pressed in just a bit and he went to say something, but Emma just couldn't. She couldn't look at him anymore, or tell him about why she lived there, or about the ticket he seemed to have been hurt enough to move on over. She definitely didn't want to see evidence of his movement, especially not his upgrade. "Anyway, nice to see you," the words shot out of her mouth, impresonal and true. "Bye Harry."

"Wait Emma!" She thought she heard, but she just kept going. She'd tell Gemma she was sick.

She nearly was when she saw Harry's girlfriend hugging her closest friend in the living room.

"Oh god."

Luckily, when she got home, her mum was awake and feeling chatty, not blue. Emma focused on her and the special she was watching. Let the warm sound of her mother's once common laughter wrap around her as a blanket. It was more comforting than a cup of tea.

She waited until later to cry herself to sleep.

The next day was Christmas- the first without her father. She dried her rightful tears before she saw her mom, though she would have had all the standing in the world for them and she felt better about them than those she's shed the night before. She knew though that her wet face would cause a cascade event, the first drop in a waterfall, so she dried them up.

They had traditions to get through.

And get through they did. They each wrapped a gift for her father that they left under the tree and held each other right before tucking into a late brunch and preparing a boozy and sweet laden Christmas dinner, Emma contributed the puddings.

They were very much her mother's favorite, and she broke out a scandi recipe she'd enjoyed the last several years.

She Skyped her university friends, they exchanged the small gifts she'd mailed them and them her. She missed them something awful. She missed school horribly, so much she even emailed her advisor. All of her heart hoped to return after the winter break.

Emma thought the feeling of missing something was a bit like a paper cut and losing your keys combined.

Harry called late Christmas Day, just a few minutes shy of Boxing Day. That more than stung, it was a gut punch, or a knife plunge, though she'd never had either.

Emma ignored the call from Harry. What was there to say?

Boxing Day, well, Emma wasn't much of a drinker, but it was basically a tenet of British culture to get obliterated while watching the queen.

For the last several years, Emma had been off her face on Harry. This year she chose savingnon blanc with her mum. Two days, then they'd go back to a dry house. Tradition was tradition, and she couldn't think about the one she'd started and ached all over for.

What a pale imitation of ecstasy drunkenness was, though she supposed they both left a hangover, a residue.

Her bed, when she begged off to it early was warm and fragrant, but it smelled all wrong. No sandalwood or black coffee, not even the mint she'd come to associated with the comfort of love, or something like it.

It was worse, because when she closed her eyes, having seen Harry's someone in person, she could see him snugged up to her, so cozy. It was in their place, their room at the Boat's Head.

It was over, Boxing Day, when she puked.

She had another missed call from Harry. 11:59 Her personal witching hour.

The next day was a little bit better, either because she had her literal hangover to tend, or because she'd ripped the bandaid off her hurt and let the wound air.

"Hiya!" Gemma's voice and face were bright, unlike the gray day.

"Hello." Emma smiled and her voice held it, she held onto it. "You're merry!"

"Yeah, I'm at the pub. Everybody is at the pub," she flashed the phone around so Emma could see the waving swaying people, "we wanted to get you outta the house, you made such an effective Irish exit the other day you've let your people down, we need to see your smile. You feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you." Emma thought about it, there was a pull to the pub. "Um, maybe I can swing over."

It only took a few minutes to throw on jeans and a jumper, not her former favorite. The walk was a little longer.

When she found them, her first comment was "Im not drinking!" Over a grimace.

"Too much wine with old Elizabeth, huh? " Gemma Laughed

"Yes! Did you know my mum has a long pour?" Emma shared with a laugh.

"No, but mine's gotten more heavy on the booze with me lately, they must like the new stages. Daughters as actual friends and drinking partners. Mum is thrilled!" Gemma grinned.  "So am I! Harry's a little jealous."

Emma tried to catch her grimace before it stomped across her face. Gemma kept talking and she thought she'd got away with it.

"He wants to be one of the girl's! He came down last night and mum, Camille and I were sharing wine and mum was showing her atrocious pictures. You'd think he'd be mad or embarrassed! He was like, 'Where's my glass?'" Gemma was staring at her while she chuckled.

Emma had less success not responding. Her face was a picture she was sure, a jealous one. And then she heard herself asking, "what's she like?" She gulped down the g word she almost voiced. "Camille?"

Gemma made a funny face, then looked at her again. "Um, she's silly and kinda quiet and I think she's worried my mom will care she's posed nude."

She wouldn't. That wasn't Anne's style. And if she did have an issue, she'd never voice it. She was really big on respecting her kids choices. Even some of the stupider ones Harry had made.

Was she ranked among those now?

"Why do you ask?" The gentleness in a Gemma's voice told Emma she knew more than she was saying.

Emma couldn't explain, she was still in such a tender state, like a fissured piece of glass, she knew she couldn't go over it. "I just hope Harry's happy."  It was the only true thing she could say.

And Gemma, bless her just looped her arm through Emma's and said like she was holding a cracked egg. "He is." She left it at that, before she stood, pulling Emma after her. "And we need another drink." Apparently Emma was drinking, she needed it.

They spent another couple hours at the pub and Emma walked home through the soft snow. Her nose was stuffy, and her eyes were leaking, and she was drunk. Least she realized she must be, cuz she was crying. She really hated crying.

She was still weeping under her breath when she got home and found Harry on her doorstoop.

"You're still here?" She boggled. She assumed he'd taken his girlfriend to his big London home Emma had never been to, since she wasn't ever his g word.

"Yeah." He rubbed his hands over his corduroy flares. She'd consider what that might mean, but the pants distracted her. Those were new, must be getting fashion influences from new places, mew people. Those pants were roomy for him. He looked good in them. He looked good, happy.

"Did you need something?" Seeing himwas ripping her guts out and she could barely keep more tears at bay. Her insides were dangerously close to the skin now, tender and exposed. She hoped the distance between them and the weather and, well, maybe his rose colored glasses brought on by loving some other girl, he wouldn't notice her crying.

Over him. At the moment.

"No, I, um," he swallowed. "I thought we might talk." He made those green eyes at her and she hated it. Cuz they were soft and for someone else these days.

"I think we've said it all."

"We haven't said anything, not really, in a year."

"Yeah, well actions over words mate." Good, she was angry. She tried to go around him, into her door. Out of the cold and this situation.

"Emma, wait." He caught her shoulders and her blood froze in her veins but her tears were hot on her cheeks. "I'mso sorry about your dad." He choked up too.

She looked at him and let hurt run down her face, didn't even bother trying to stiffen her upper lip. When he opened his arms, she went to him and cried in a way she really hadn't let herself, into the comfort of his scent, the hurt of his presence.

Emma wasn't sure how long she cried, they wound up siting on the cold stone bench when their knocking knees froze.

"S that why you used the ticket?" He whispered against her hair sometime later.

She nodded. Sniffed up her tears and his pain laced smell.

"Why didn't you call me?"

She shrugged.

"I would have understood. And I would have come, to be with you."

Her tears apparently hadn't run out. She knew that, but she was hurt, by his hurt and his expectation.

She looked up at him. Her lips were so close to his, the outer edge that felt so plush and lovely.

That was a Liberty she didn't have. Maybe never a right she had, like him just expecting her to drop her goals to go to him.

"Where's your girlfriend?" She said the word like the four letters it felt like it was to her.

"Um," he stumbled over the subject change . "She was tired."

"You tell her you were coming to see a girl you used to fuck?"

"What?" He looked at her with a frown and Emma supposed she was being mean, mean but honest. "Don't say it like that. That's not what we were about."

Emma quirked a brow at him. "No?"

"Listen, why are you being like this?" He swallowed and looked like the wronged party when he was the one who assumed the worst of her, then abandoned her, moved on, and showed up, she could only assume, to rub it in her face.

The last year had been the worst of her life, and he'd been part of that. Mostly his absence.

Whoever's fault that was.

"Look, I don't need your pity or your condolences. Or your forgiveness. You just assumed I was taking advantage of you like you didn't know me at all. Which I realized is true apart from knowing what I look like naked, right? Let's be honest Harry? Huh, I'm just the girl you used to fuck over break. Your Christmas bit of fun. Til you found your next model. Who you couldn't wait to come home and show off, right in my face. So if we were more, you're a heartless asshole." She was crying over him now, but half the tears at least were angry and her face must be bright red.

The kicked puppy look on his face was so genuine and felt so false to her she could scream. "Why would I even think you would care if I had a girlfriend or not? If anybody was just the person the other thought of as a holiday fling, it was you about me, Emma."  He huffed, took down the finger he'd stood up to point at her. "I tried for more, asked for more?"

"When?" He'd asked for more, how'd she miss that?

"What'd you think the ticket was for? That was me asking you for more, at least more time?"

"I don't have extra time." She countered. Emma supposed that was some mealy mouthed passive way of saying you wanted to spend time with a person at least.

"And I do?" He yelled that before taking a big breath and muttering sorry. "Listen, I know what you're about, and that you are very serious saving the world, but I'm just as busy as you, more, and I would have made time for you."

"Why?" She stood up into his space. "So I could just miss you more, fall more for you and not get to have you in any real way? To torture myself?" And there is was. Emma knew the ache of the first weeks without him, and she'd always counted their brief time together as worth it. Subjecting herself to more just seemed masochistic. "Have more time with you so I have to get over you all over again multiple times a year."

"Who says you would have had to get over me? We could have been together!" Both of their voices had escalated past the bounds of polite disagreement.

"Together in every way except literally?" She threw her hands out at her sides. "What's the point of that?"

"The point?" He huffed. "The point is that I wanted you and you wanted me, and we could have had each other, but you're too busy," he sneered, "and couldn't talk to me."

"I couldn't talk to anyone!" She screamed. "I was supposed to text you that my dad died and I needed to use the ticket that was supposed to be a gift but was more like a curse, to take care of my mom. That my dream was at best on hold while I made sure my mum could get out of bed?" He looked a little slapped. "While you were off what? Being a rockstar? Having a record breaking year? Moving on? Out of spite?!" She didn't want to think that, but she'd wondered. She knew she was giving herself to much credit. "Why you made sure to bring her to Holmes Chapel? You take her to the Boar's Head too? Or just fuck her in your mum's powder room?" The words were explosive, the cadence like charges lighting off each other. Emma felt like a powder keg.

He was shaking his head. "Stop it. No, no, I didn't move on, not until I thought you were done with me."

"Oh, when I needed you and you wouldn't answer my calls?"

He looked at the ground then. When his eyes came up , the lovely green of them was even more vibrant, due to the tears crowding around their ages. "Emma, I'm so sorry about that. I'll never forgive myself."

His sincerity softened her, though the anger she'd wrapped around herself like a coat was all that was keeping her ribs together.

"I'm so sorry, I know the last year has been more than anybody should have to bear, especially alone." He took  a big breath. "But Camille, I didn't, it's not," he stumbled over the words like they were glass edges, but Emma had a feeling she was the one who was about to get cut. "Um, she and I just met and, well, we, we get on." That was a kind way to put it. "I wasn't looking for somebody else. But I was lonely and she's," the changes on his face ripped through Emma. "She's lovely. I brought her home, because I wanted mum to meet her." That told Emma everything.

"You love her?" She already knew the answer.

He ran his hand through his locks, avoided eye contact until the last second, "yeah, yeah, I think I might."

Emma was nodding, biting her lip to gatekeep the fresh round of tears threatening. "That's good Harry, I'm," she breathed, "I'm happy for you."

He looked at her then. "Really?"

"Course, I care about you, your happiness." That brought on the tears and he reached for her and she had to throw up her hands to keep him away. "No, no, please don't touch me."

His phone rang, he was the only person she knew who actually kept their ringer on. Well the only person under 50, it made her smile. Then cringe, the weird personal knowledge she had because of how much of an almost they were. From his face, Emma knew it was his actual calling.

"Um," he shady buttoned the call. "I have to go."

"Yeah," was all she could respond with, she already knew that. "Well, have a happy nee year Harry. You sticking around?" God she hoped not. May have to convince her mum to go to London if so.

He shook his head, "Um no, we're going to Paris." Ouch. Emma tried for subtle when she wrapped an arm around herself. "Sorry, I'd like," he always looked so genuine lately, in every interview she'd watched to hurt herself, his heart on his sleeve, in his eyes now. "I'd like to hug you, think you could stomach it?"

Emma nodded and went to him for the barest second and then concentrated on the pressure behind her eyes while he kept her close. "I'm so sorry Emma, for everything. I'd really like to be friends," he'd pulled back to hold her eye line at that.

She nodded, she wasn't sure how she'd handle that, but at best it was a couple phone calls, and no weekends away, they hadn't mentioned that in their middle state, she didn't think it would be to hard to keep him at arms length when they had continents between them most times. "Yeah, ok, friends. You take care of yourself, Harry." Emma was a strong girl, woman now, she could handle some texts and a phone call or so.

He kissed her cheek, a continental affectation she closed her eyes over and turned to go. He was almost out of the gate when he turned back. "I'd never take her to the Boar's Head, by the way, that's our place. I'd never take anybody else there." Before she could even think of a response he looked away quick and started to go. "Take care of yourself, Emma. Happy New Year." That came back to her on the wind.

Blew away like the hold she had on the heart she'd given him last Christmas. At least he was someone special.

[bonniebird]

Constantine x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

Warnings: smut and angst

Reluctantly you followed the officer through to the jail. You’d been called an hour earlier but needed to finish up at work. You could hear John ranting to himself as he paced. As soon as he set his eyes on you he leant against the bars of the jail.

“You are a sight for sore eyes sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. Do it again and I’ll leave you here.” You said firmly.

“Whatever you say Love. Now you couldn’t do me a favour and get me out could you? I’d call Chas but you know, the duty of a parent calls and I promised I could get by without him.” He frowned as he finished speaking. An odd look crossed your face, panic followed by pain and maybe guilt. 

“I’ll help you but you’re going straight to wherever you came from.” You snapped and frowned at him until the officer cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry Ma’am but if you bail him. He’ll need to stay with you until the charges are dropped or they’re looked into further.”  The officer beside you explained.

“Fine. I’ll call Chas for you. There, a loophole.” While you fumbled for your phone he cocked his head, watching you through the bars. As you pulled your phone from your bag he cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows.

“I promised Chas I’d stay out of trouble. I would hate to break my word.” He pressed.

“Funny. I thought that was your only schtick.” You sighed before turning to the officer. “Fine. I’ll take him.”

It took a while before all the papers were signed and money was handed over. By the time you were done Constantine was strolling out with his trenchcoat on and a cigarette tucked in his mouth.

“Could do with a drink after that.”

“Absolutely not! No drinking or smoking in my house!”

He frowned but didn’t answer as you got into your car. When he looked in the back there was a booster seat. The way he raised his eyebrows told you he had questions but got the sense he’d pressed you enough and he was very close to being tossed out. When you pulled up in front of a nursery school you started to get out of the car but paused.

“Stay here. Do not talk to anyone. Lord knows it was hard enough getting him in here I don’t need you Johnning it up.” You said so sharply that Constantine raised his eyebrows and gave you a nod in silent agreement.

He waited in the car, noticing couples and people rushing around the carpark. He observed them without much thought until he spotted you. A woman spoke quickly with you, two boys toddling along behind you as you paused to finish chatting and turned to the car. The boy took your hand and looked quite gleeful as he talked. You didn’t look so happy. As the child got closer Constantine realised why. The child couldn't be more than four or five but there was no mistaking whose it was. He had soft touches of you in his face, in his dimpled smile. But his looks came in broad strokes of curiously accession eyes, cheek and devilment. 

“Ok. You clip in?” You said as you helped the boy into the booster seat and clipped him in.

“Yup! All safe!”

“Ok, we’ll go home and have a snack.” You started to say as you got into the car yourself. “Then I have to help my friend who's visiting, ok?”

“Well young master.” John started cheerfully, hoping to smother out the conflict he’d been feeling since he set eyes on the child with sarcasm and carefully worded denial but stopped when you glared at him.

“You remember when he had to move and uncle Chas came to help. Well he is a friend of uncle Chas and we’re helping him because Chas can’t.” You explained quickly. The child was quiet for a moment. When Constantine glanced in the rearview mirror he could see the suspicious glare he gave him. Not quite as withering as your but it got the point across.

**************

You’d made up a bed for Constantine in the small side room downstairs. Your son had eaten his snack while carefully observing the changes. Constantine was sure the boy had stared at him at the same time, being sure to glare at him, even when magic tricks were offered up to make peace. His eyes had widened and a delighted fascination flooded the boys face until you slapped Constantuine’s arm and hissed at him to stop. Your son watched the interaction and decided even magic couldn’t buy his affection, as long as it didn’t by his mothers.

You’d settled the boy in the living room with a cartoon playing on the tv. John had watched it for a while before going to find you. He watched you for a moment, humming to yourself as you started to cook. He’d had so many feelings before he hadn’t quite dealt with them. Now he was more than annoyed. “So. Am I supposed to ignore the obvious or do we pretend you have a type and the last time we saw each other wasn’t four and half years ago?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You answered. He watched you paused for a moment before returning to chopping vegetables.

“You’re right. I’m just off my rocker. There isn’t a chance the young lad looks like me now is there. No just me seeing things.”

“John… I. He’s my son, I have to keep him safe.”

“From me?”

The pain in his voice was clear and you felt the pang of guilt again. Chas had told you to give John a chance to prove himself. But you hadn’t been willing to bet your child’s life on John. You could have given in and you begged Chas to keep your son a secret because if you’d seen him. You knew you would have taken Chas’ advice.

“I need to finish dinner.” You answered and turned away from him. He sighed and shrugged off his coat.

“The least I can do is lend a hand while I’m here.” Constantine offered as he rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie.

Neither of you spoke as you cooked together, bar the few short instructions. As the two of you almost danced around each other it was hard to the feelings that had never quite gone away. “Can you help him set the table? I usually help him but this is almost ready.” You asked as you finished up, keeping an eye on the counter that was tickling down on the stove clock.

“I can do it.” He said until you sighed.

“He likes to help.” You insisted firmly and he nodded, heading to the living room.

“You wouldn’t mind helping me set the table would you lad? Not quite sure how your mum likes it.”

“I know how!” Came the cheerful voice. He emerged with a determined look and took Constantine’s hand, leading him to the cutlery draw. He carefully counted out each piece that was needed and handed them to Constantine who had a wistfully fond smile on his face. He crouched down and listened to the explanation as to why he didn’t need to get the spoons out. Then he followed obediently as your son climbed up on each dining chair and set the knife or fork in place. Once done they high fived. Hiding the slight smile you returned your attention to the food, starting to plate it up as your son picked his seat.

He warmed up to John as he ate, asking him where he was from because he sounded different. Before John could finish his long winded answer the conversation had moved on to the best toys and colours. After dinner Constantine was dragged off to see said toys and you were left alone. Taking a deep shaky breath you started to tidy up and thought about calling Chas. Watching from the doorway as John played with you son you felt another wave of guilt. They looked happy. You couldn’t recall John ever looking that happy.

You left them together until a good hour after your son’s bedtime. When you returned to inform him there was a chorus of disappointment and pleading for more time. Ultimately he relented to Constantine reading him a story, a few extra hugs goodnight and Constantine’s mean eggs. As long as they weren’t so mean he couldn’t eat them.

As the story was finished you smiled, watching John pull the blankets tighter around your son who had fallen asleep before John had gotten halfway through the book. Eventually he joined you in the doorway, looking back at the sleeping boy. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” you said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it. All the creeps and ghouls after me, you just tried to keep him safe.” Constantine answered quickly. His face gave him away as he spoke, gently shutting the door as he turned back to you.

“I almost told you. A few times.” You admitted, walking back to the living room to clear up there. John watched you thoughtfully, hands in his pockets as you went quiet before adding. “I wanted to but I just couldn’t… risk.”

“You were protecting him. Did a better job than I could have done on my own.” He answered, leaning against the wall as you stood up and smiled. Something in your stomach fluttered and you felt nervous, the way you had the night you’d slept together and he vanished before morning.

Trying to ignore it you moved past him and started to head to your room. He followed you out into the corridor and paused at the room you’d set up for him. “It’s good to see you again sweetheart.” He said softly.

After a brief pause you turned and grabbed him by the tie, pulling him towards your bedroom as  you kissed him. There was a fumbling of clothes and desperate moans as the two of you moved. In a blur his head was buried in the crook of your neck, you straddled him as the two of you moved together. His hoarse moans were muffled by the kisses he scattered over your soft skin. He rolled the two of you and kissed you roughly. Five years of pent up emotion flooded through the both of you and soon enough he was panting beside you with a satisfied smile on his face.

“Will you stay this time?” You asked quietly. He didn’t answer, moving so your head lay on the crook of his shoulder, fingertips gently stroking your back so lightly that he pulled you to sleep. The last time, he’d turned up at your place battered and bruised, begged you to help him. He knew how you’d always been enraptured by his presence. He could always see it in your eyes, the way they lit up as he flirted with you. It had been one of the few normal nights he'd had in awhile. An emotional oasis. Had dinner, watched tv and you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. You’d woken while he was tuking you into your bed and heading back to sleep on the sofa. He knew he could have listened to the way you called out for him, his voice cracked with sleep, he could have stayed and listened to it every morning.

You seemed nervous as you reached for his hand and spluttered out words, babbling until he’d smirked and made a joke. His smile dropped into playfulness as you slid his hand up your shirt and gave him a pleading look. He wasn’t sure if you’d grasped the chance to have your current infatuation or if he’d cracked giving into indulgence. The two of you barely left the bed for two days. Bar a takeaway on the second evening. For a night he lived the normal life, no demons or monsters. It took every ounce of self control he could muster not to wake you as he kissed you on the second evening, dressing and leaving you asleep in your bed, not daring to look back because he would leave if he did.

He was doing it again. It was almost cruel to both of you. But you were better off without him. You’d taken care of your son for so long on your own. Not a demon in sight. He thought as he kissed your forehead. He dressed quietly. In the kitchen he paused, stopping long enough to make the breakfast he promised, wrapping it in tin foil and leaving it on the side as he crept out of the house.

Chas had found him the next afternoon, sorting through books back at the water house. “Are you ok?” He’d asked.

“Oh I’m fine mate. Better than fine. Didn’t I tell you I'd be fine.” His voice didn’t sound right. It was straining. Guilt had permanently lodged itself in his chest and it heaved with each breath. He hadn’t felt guilty for leaving you last time.

“You’re being awfully quiet and… not yourself. What happened this weekend?”

“Oh you know. Got arrested sorting out a demon and got bailed out by the girl I should’ve probably ended up with but I, as she put it, Johnned everything up. Picked my son up from school for the first time, helped cook dinner… had a great time. Read him a bedtime story. Then urm. I had sex with (Y/N), remembered why I abandoned her the first time and decided to leave without so much as a thank you for paying to bail me out. Oh. But I did make breakfast before I left, just like I promised. How was your weekend?” 

“Oh… it was fine. I had a nice time. Do I need to call someone. A lawyer? A therapist? Are you ok?”

“Not really no, Chas mate. But there isn’t much I can do about it now.”

“You could call (Y/N)... or I could drive you back?”

“And ruin the tradition of turning up every four and a half years and seducing her? No Chas. Besides I have demons to hunt down and send back to hell.” Constantine gave an awkward no in Chas’ direction and he turned back to the books on the table.

“I’m going to check in with (Y/N). Then I’ll find us something strong to drink.” Chas muttered, mostly to himself.

[maggotmouth]

          hillo sexthy legends !!   i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !!  x o x

     * CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER  | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS  like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

—   born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

—  its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

—  margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

—  for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

—  at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

—  she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

—  a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.  

—  she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away.  it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

—  after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.  

—  she works at summer camps coaching  junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

—  enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment. 

—  she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

—  used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

—  was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

—  nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

—  has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

—  she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

—  calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

—  stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

—  lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it  off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

—  constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

—  frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you,  indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you,  a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine. 

TLDR:  angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 21: The Burrow

It was a homey kitchen, that was the first immediate apparent thing. Even after they'd all landed it didn't seem to disturb the already hectic nature of the place any.

The stove was still full of the warm smells of a feast of a breakfast, to which the Marauders at once began helping themselves to. Dishes in the sink were scrubbing themselves to a polish, and someone had left a deck of self shuffling cards on the counter, just above a drawer filled with all sorts of Muggle things Frank wasn't sure of. He thought that may have been a battery peeking out, but wasn't positive.

There were over a dozen chairs scattered about the room, all of various types, a careworn cloak hung over one at the head of the table which was oblong, with a few burn marks imprinted in the wood, and some things carved into the legs, initials perhaps. Hanging proudly in the center of the wall behind this was something resembling a clock, but instead of two, it carried nine hands, and no numbers were present, instead such things as 'work,' 'school,' and, 'mortal peril' were around the face. Strangely, the hands weren't pointed at any of those, but all trailing aimlessly about the circle, the clockwork as lost in time as they were.

Fighting back a shiver so as not to think of that, he put his attention out the window, his eyes skipping right past a wilted feather duster, where a hedge hinted at a garden just out the backdoor, and what could be a chicken coop paces away from that, with gentle hills rolling on for miles beyond this.

Despite being stuffed to the brim in this tiny room, Frank was amazed how open it all felt. He couldn't help but compare it to his own kitchen at home, where his Mum had everything perfectly outlined for its place, four mirrored straight chairs around one symmetrical square table. Even the lake he could see from a very similar window was usually steal gray, the wide expanse looking more threatening with its deep waters.

He looked down when someone gently took his hand and was unsurprised to find Alice, a stack of marmalade and toast in her hands she'd braved from the depths of the Marauders hogging the food. He couldn't help but grin lovingly at her, bending down to give her a kiss on the temple before beginning to nibble on his breakfast as the older Black began. They had no idea why a Burrow would be mentioned, wasn't that were animals slept? At this rate though they truly wouldn't put anything past the ability of Potters kid getting into something.

The two tried to sit on the ledge in the early morning sunlight, but disturbed the feather duster, which came to life as an aged owl, ruffling his feathers at them and blinking slowly. Alice offered him a bit of toast, and he accepted this in his beak before hobbling to a perch. Frank reached over and pet it for a few moments in thoughtful silence.

Between ripping up bacon and shoving that into his mouth, Sirius eagerly kept going with the now lively story of the Weasley's arriving, especially those twins! What brilliance they were, knowing how to pick muggle locks!

Of course Harry's escape couldn't be all fun, Vernon had to come and muck everything up, but honestly picturing the look on his face was almost worth all that had happened. Didn't stop any of them from hoping Harry never had to go back to that Muggle dwelling.

Lily couldn't help but think the same, just silently, to herself at the far end of the room. She was trying very hard to resist the sausages sizzling away in protest that this wasn't their house! They shouldn't just be helping themselves to anything they liked! Frank and Alice weren't helping, even Regulus was picking over some eggs.

She'd already tried to leave from the room to stop further temptation, but found all ways out of the room barred. Just behind her, she was sure that was a washing din with a room beyond that, and at the other end was a crooked staircase leading to more. A promising swinging door even could have led off to a living room, or she even would have preferred to go out into the garden. Nothing, all blocked like always.

So now she was forced to listen in protest of the Weasley's catching Harry up to speed while he in turn told them of why mail wasn't going around. The idea that it was Malfoy's house-elf was, realistic, but even she couldn't see Malfoy doing something so stupid as to try stopping Harry getting back to school by using his elf as a prank. Besides, she was sure of Dobby's sincereness, the warning he'd given.

"Awkward," Peter stage whispered when they reached Ron's home, the house they were presumably in, and Mrs. Weasley came out to at once give her kids a stern dressing down.

"Makes me real grateful to my parents," James agreed with a chuckle as he speared another fried egg and shoved it in his mouth whole. He still had his eyes on Evans the whole time, as usual, and was growing worried about her. He hadn't seen her eat anything since this started, and they'd been at it for hours by their own internal clock he was sure. So he grabbed a plate of fried potatoes and tomatoes and made his way over to her. At first she just narrowed her eyes and glared away from him, clearly more annoyed than anything he somehow knew her favorite breakfast.

"Here," he dug a galleon out of his pocket and left it purposefully on the table. "Will you please eat something now?" He offered her the fork and plate.

"I don't need your money, or pity," she snapped.

"I'm not offering you that," he agreed, wafting the plate as near her nose as he could. "I'm offering you some delicious food that's just hanging around this kitchen that Harry's certainly eating away."

"He was invited here, we were not," she grumbled, but her resolve was wavering as much as her mouth was watering. She'd skipped lunch to do a Transfiguration essay she was behind on, and she really was hungry...

"I'm listening to the fact that she had no more clue Harry was arriving than he did, and yet she dumped a plate of food on him. I'm sure if they were here this second we'd be offered the same while explaining ourselves," he wheedled.

By this point in the book they'd already finished breakfast, and the kids were going to do a punishment of de-gnoming the garden. There was no telling where they'd end up next, and it was being made perfectly clear how welcome Harry was here...surely that would extend to just one plate of food on her part...she made the mistake of glaring at him, determined he'd walk away, but was caught off guard by the sincerity of his concern. She usually didn't take the time to bother reading his face, she was usually to busy giving it the pure disdain it deserved for picking on every student in that school, especially her best friend. Her guard was down though, without Sev around, and for the first time she realized he had hazel eyes. Very open, wide eyes that were currently a genuine peace offering for some food.

Without even realizing she was doing it, she accepted the plate. The brilliant smile lighting his face was like none she'd ever seen before, from lips that usually were just throwing curses around. What was even more spinning than that was, he walked away. He didn't pester her anything further; brag he'd known this would work or point out he'd known what she would like, offer her a seat at the table, or even compliment her. He just went back to his friends, who had somehow wrangled Regulus into their conversation of bragging about how far they'd managed to throw gnomes, which apparently were out in the Forbidden Forest. She stabbed a potato and chewed slowly while looking back out the window, her mind scoffing at her caving like this while her stomach happily rumbled to shut up and enjoy.

Mr. Weasley turned out to be a delight, Sirius hadn't even known about the Muggle things around the house! He stopped pestering Regulus to give details of why he'd been in the Forest at any time and got up to go inspect the drawers, Frank watching him rummage through them without care suddenly making him understand why Evans had been so put off with their helping themselves to food. Clearly the Marauders were growing braver by thinking they could do anything they liked around here, though he was personally sure they'd be the same way no matter what the situation. He seemed as delighted as Arthur to find such things in here and called Lupin over to him to have a few things explained, abandoning the book in the middle of Mrs. Weasley chastising her husband for that car.

It took his friends several tries to convince him to leave the lot and finish, but his enthusiasm had vanished Regulus' good mood, he was looking about this house with such pure disgust they could have been back in Privet Drive. It made Frank a bit sad, how conditioned that kid must be to hate all things that weren't like his family, to even hate another pureblood family simply because they enjoyed Muggle things.

"I wish we could see Ron's room, and the twins room, and the rest of this place," Alice quietly said beside him, her eyes on the ceiling with curiosity.

"Perhaps we shall," Frank offered without much enthusiasm, personally he was just hoping this madness would end before they wound up trapped somewhere much less hospitable. That Devil's Snare was still weighing on his mind, and he already had a bad feeling this Potter kids life wasn't going to get much better from there, even if this chapter did end rather nicely for once.

[bangtanmythology]

In The Name Of Song. Truth Uncovered.

About: Y/N finds out the whole story of what she has become and who those around her are. Her training starts and her and Jimin become the siblings he’s always known they were.

Brother!Jimin x Reader, Mermaid!Jimin, Angel!Yoongi. BTS Supernatural AU.

Words: 2.9K

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“I understand the parent’s side of things. My Great, Great Grandmother betrayed a group of witches by having an affair with the head witches’ husband, who was a human and had a child, so they cursed her. The curse meant that she would never be able to marry a regular human or another mermaid, if she did fall in love with any of these then she was destined to kill him with her voice. Right? So, when she sang a lullaby to her baby, the husband died. The baby, who was my great grandmother, ended up marrying an nasty, rebelling mermaid, their female baby was born half mermaid, the other half became what was known as a siren because the baby, our grandmother, used her powers for evil things, she’d lure sailors in, killing them and using them, never falling in love but instead simply killing them. When we use our siren form to lure people instead of making them fall in love, we will simply kill them. Grandma used the sailors and ended up having a baby with one of them, she abandoned this baby and another mermaid raised mum.” You rambled,

The story was beyond complicated, your head spinning round in circles as Jimin stared at you, nodding every so often with a focused look on his face. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on your ankle, in the few hours that Yoongi had left you alone with Jimin you came to realise that he was an extremely clingy person.

“Yes, that’s all correct and then you know the story with mum and dad, we are now indebted to the reapers but the devils and angels work along side these reapers and when an angel falls, instead of becoming a devil, they are stuck wandering around the earth however they retain some of their angel powers. Yoongi is a fallen angel because he betrayed Michael, the archangel. He has not told me what he did to this day. He is stuck on earth, he begged the reapers to kill him again, to take him from this world and place him as a devil in the next but they would not do it. He begged for a purpose, for something to do, for something to protect, they told him that his debt would be payed off if he spent his life watching over our families. They told him that when we turned 18 he had to bring us here and watch us, make sure that we weren’t causing harm to the reality that we were in, this is the 7th Reality, we’re from the first reality which is the main reality. He had some other mermaids brought here to train me, our grandmother is here, she’s going to help you, along with me, we’re going to train you.” Jimin’s voice was soothing, his words somehow sinking fully into you and making it seem as though maybe all of this would be okay. 

“Right, so he is a fallen angel, a bad one? He stares at me funny.” You mumbled, looking down at Jimin’s hand that was now gently running over the smaller grazes on your calves. Jimin looked up at you, shaking his head and laughing,

“He’s not bad, he was kicked out of the angel realm, that’s all, he’s grumpy, I mean he basically looks after this world all alone, the reapers went extinct 9 years ago and nobody else was sent to care for everything. Half of this world is dead, only magical creatures and hybrids live here. There’s human’s who are sent here to repent their sins, a lot of the creatures and hybrids feast on them. Werewolves and vampires are the worst, we have those in our reality too, they are aggressive, dangerous cannibals who feast on people and kill them. Of course, the werewolves and vampires here take care of those who are criminals. Quite often the ones sent here are either humans who commit serious crimes that they get put into life imprisonment or death row. We also have monsters who fight amongst themselves sent here. This is basically a training ground for a lot of people who are supernatural. We only stay here for a coupe of years and then we go back to the reality we are from. Originally, Yoongi was going to be sent to the 2nd reality to purge it, it is a hell reality, everything burns there, everything is crime and corruption. Of course, that would have been an awful place for us to be seeing as we’re weak to fire after all.” Jimin was rambling, his head now on your thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair, petting down the stray hairs that always seemed to stick up around his face.

“Well, if we’re weak to fire, what actually are our powers and what exactly am I doing here? How long will I be here?” you were looking around the cave, the water placing you in a trance as your eyes focused and unfocused on the shapes beneath it.

“Well, our skin is like that of a fish, of course when we are in our human form it doesn’t look like it or feel like it, but it definitely still is. You will notice that you’re now comforted when you are in the water, in fact if you really need to you can actually manipulate the water, nothing intricate, we can’t make patterns or anything but we can make ripples, waves, if we work together in groups we can even cause tsunamis. The ocean is where we are the strongest. I read a few books that say that if we meet another being, we can give them the ability to breath underwater which is obviously one of our strengths. Fire burns us severely, even the slightest touch will scald our skin and burn us, fire will kill us 3 times faster than it will kill anything else. When we sing, we attract others, they become enchanted by the sounds of our voices and we can lure them in, make them fall in love with us. I’ve done so with many girls, that’s why I have a bit of a reputation,” His voice trailed off at the end, his tone turning into a cheeky, playful tone that had you chuckling slightly. The small, adorable guy who was currently half asleep on your lap did not seem like he could be seducing anyone. His cheeky, lazy smile put doubt into you when I t came to his adorable clingy personality and you were sure that he could be a scary person when needed.

“I highly doubt that you are luring any women in with this clinginess Jimin, plus I haven’t sung a day in my life, nor will I, I sound like a trampled cat when I sing and it really isn’t pleasant,” Your voice was full of laughter and playfulness, mimicking his tone. The fever you had been burning up in had since disappeared and Yoongi explained that it was because he dumped you straight into the water as soon as you got here and you had transformed into your mermaid body, the reason behind the cuts, bruises and scrapes across your legs. You had not remembered anything because apparently it had been excruciating and Jimin convinced Yoongi to erase your memory of the pain.

“Hey! I lure plenty of women in I’ll have you know,” Jimin mumbled. You gazed down at him, a loud laugh escaping your mouth as his cheeks burned bright pink. He was half asleep, a huge smile of his face as your fingers continued carding through your hair.

“Y’know, both of us were left with parent’s that knew what we’d become, they’re humans who come from special families, protectors, they take in orphaned supernatural children and babies. I hated them when I first went there, I was 6, I understood what was going on, I wouldn’t talk to them, I lashed out, I did not want to be there. I wanted to go back to you, I wanted my little sister, I’ve known all these years that I had a sister, that I couldn’t contact her, that there was a little girl out there who needed me and I couldn’t do anything, I didn’t try hard enough, I’m a fai-“

“shut up. Do not talk like that Jimin. You couldn’t have done anything, we were separated for a reason, I didn’t know you existed, I was always protected, I never had problems. I used to be different you know, I used to be cheerful and naïve, I had someone in my life, an older brother figure, he protected me. Sure, he betrayed my trust but because of that I became careful, I stopped trusting people, I can analyse people, I closed myself off. Of course, he came back, and he’s kept his promise to this day, but I think something is weird about him. I think he’s like us, he disappears once a month for like a week or so and then he comes back always in a good mood and happy and he’s really athletic, strangely so, he’s really protective as well,” You were rambling, your brain trying to process that Seokjin may be something other than human. That everyone in your life might be more than human.

“He’s not like us, sounds like a werewolf to me,” Jimin sounded angry, his jaw clenching and unclenching to calm himself down, his fingers gripping his sweatpants.

“No way. You said that werewolves are nasty, evil creatures. Seokjin is lovely, he taught me to ride a bike, he took me to my first swimming lesson, he even spoke to my boyfriend when he embarrassed me and broke up with me in front of the whole school,” Your fingers had stilled in his hair, instead resting them on his forehead. Jimin let out a breathy laugh,

“Then he had an ulterior motive, he must have known about you being a mermaid, there is no way he’d do that purely for care for you. He knows more than he is giving up. Also, let me guess, you never saw that guy ever again?” Jimin was looking up at you, dark brown eyes shimmering, luminescent flecks lighting up his iris.

“Well no, I didn’t actually. That’s not like Seokjin, why would he use me for something like that, I knew him for 18 years, you know, I’ll bet that the years that he was gone was because he was here.” Your words were unsure and Jimin’s eyes were scanning over your face, a small pout set on his lips.

“Y/N, you don’t even believe what is coming out of your mouth right now. Anyway, I am sleepy, and I’d rather not sleep now, I’d like to be asleep and not out and about at night because I do not want an encounter with a vampire thank you very much.” Jimin was stretching his legs, raising himself to his feet, stretching his hand out to help you stand up with him. You stood with a groan, your legs protesting, knees feeling as though they were splitting in half from having been crossed for so long.

“How about I teach you how to change into your mermaid form, I mean, we only have a few hours of day light left and if you turn at night, you become a siren, not a mermaid. I’ve never seen one in person, but I’ve heard many rumours, apparently its not pretty, sorry Y/N.” Jimin had a big grin on his face, his previous radiant, happy attitude coming right back.

“You know what, I’d love that.” You smiled, your eyes looking around the cave, then down at your legs, wiggling your toes, patting the slightly damp floor of the cave with the sole of your foot. Your eyes flitted back up to meet Jimin’s.

“I have no idea how this works,” You chuckled, a nervousness creeping into your belly, he laughed and raised his hands above his head, intertwining his fingers and stretching them high above his head, leaning from side to side and then straight down, his hands touching the floor, his body surprisingly flexible.

“Well, first you’re going to need to be naked, there’s no way you can do it with clothes on. I won’t look, I promise, although, it’s not like I haven’t seen a naked woman before you know, and it’s not weird because all the mermaids have to see each other naked and also you’re my sister so I wont look at you in that way.” Jimin was laughing as he spoke, probably a reaction to the disgusted face you were giving him. You shook your head and pursed your lips.

“Definitely not, you need to close your eyes, then I’ll take my clothes off.” You told him, your voice pointed, echoing against the humid grey walls. He nodded his head and turned around, pulling his sweatpants down and jumping into the water, swimming a few feet away and keeping his back to you. You stood still for a moment, ensuring he was not going to turn around and embarrass you. Once he had been facing away from you for a few moments you began to undo your bikini top. Your brain suddenly remembered the words Yoongi had told you.

“Wait. Yoongi said that when I got here, he put me in the water and I transformed, does that mean that I was naked, and he put me back into my bikini?” You mumbled, cheeks heating up as you gripped the material of your bikini top in your hands. You saw Jimin shrug, his shoulders tucking into his neck as he raised his arms up in the air.

“when I got here, you were dressed but you definitely couldn’t have transformed with your clothes on. That’s one thing that Grandma made sure I never did.” He sounded bored and you quickly pushed your bottoms down your legs, stepping out of them and slowly lowering yourself into the water. You sighed as the pain in your legs seemed to disappear, the water seeping into your wounds as the water sparkled and the cuts, grazes and nicks in your skin seem to vanish slowly.

“erm, what’s happening to my legs?” You mumbled, your jaw hanging low as shock set into your body,

“Oh, well this water has been here for years, it’s connected to the sea of life, who even knows I don’t understand it either, this is the only body of water that does that, even the rest of the sea of life doesn’t do that,” He was smiling, you could tell by his tone. His hands clapped together as he mumbled a small ‘right then’ under his breath.

“okay, you need to picture your tail in your head. Close your eyes and imagine a fish, it is a beautiful, shiny fish, it is sparkling and swimming freely, zooming through the sea, it is happy, content with its life. Feel the water graze over its fins, it is warm, flowing in and out of coral and then, it becomes a human, with a beautiful, long tail.” His words are painting an exact picture into your head. You picture an emerald green fish, the colour of Jimin’s tail with golden colouration around its tail. It swam, shining, weaving between rocks, coral and other large fishes around it. The fish became engulfed by a bright light as a sharp shooting pain engulfed your legs and you could hear a faint voice.

“Keep focused, ignore the pain, focus on the fish,”

The bright light faded into a yellow hue, shortly replaced by a turquoise wave that seemed to break directly into your face before the wave disappeared. Small bubbles spread out in the water, a woman with beautiful green hair had her back to you, golden scales over her hips and waist, a large expanse of her back was clear, beautiful skin, the skin merging with the scales on the small of her back. Your eyes moved down to where her legs should have been, the golden scales faded into a beautiful emerald green, the gold returning down the sides of her beautiful, long tail. The bottom fin of her tail was a completely translucent golden colour, shimmering inside of the water. The fin was long, at least a half the size of the tail, split down the middle, two sides forming two curved, soft scalene triangle shapes that fluttered inside the water.

“you did it!”

Your eyes shot open, staring ahead of you. You felt the same, completely normal.

“No, I didn’t. I feel the same,” You mumbled, disappointment sinking into your features. Jimin laughed and shook his head, flicking his emerald tail as he swam towards you, reaching his hands out to grab at your feet, your arms stretch out behind you to balance yourself on the rocks behind you. His eyes glistened a brilliant green as they stared down at your tail.

Tail.

“oh my god! I did it!” You were screaming, the noise bouncing off the walls, a musical symphony piercing your ears, your eyes widened as you heard it, sending chills down yours and Jimin’s spines. You looked down at yourself, the beautiful gold and emerald tail you had seen in your mind was yours. Your chest was a translucent, shiny golden colour, it wasn’t scaly like your tail but more like the skin of a frog, glistening and smooth, your breasts completely covered in the golden colouring.

“Wow, this is amazing,” You laughed, a loud, airy laugh as you wiggled your tail out of Jimin’s grasp

[heyyyharry]

Cruel Summer

...in which “summer’s a knife, I’m always waiting for you just to cut to the bone.”

Word count: 1k

Warning: ANGST (yes, in capital letters)

A/N: Here’s to the summer heartbreak I’ve only experienced in my imagination.

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.

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She’d come here with a friend who’d gotten so drunk and ditched her for a stranger. She knew she should’ve gone home. But then the rowdiness of this bar made her feel safer than the dull silence of her tiny apartment. What she would never have expected, was to meet him again.

The moment she spotted his face in the dancing crowd, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, as they normally would when alcohol kicked in. But she wasn’t plastered, and this was real. 

Now he was making his way here. In the back of her mind, she recalled their first meeting by the lake on that summer evening. She had wanted to be alone, to escape from a fight with her mum, and he’d been there to drink his heartbreak away. Then, just like this, he’d walked up to her and said, “hi.”

That one word had turned her entire world upside down. 

“Hi,” she breathed, beaming. A part of her was filled with excitement to meet him again, while the rest of her was putting up warning signs, telling her to walk away as fast as she could. He wasn’t a good idea. He never was.

“What are you doing in New York?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. She had been told that she blinked a lot when she was nervous. She guessed he could see that. He looked up, grinning like a devil. 

She used to think of the devil as a red man with horns and a tail, but maybe she was wrong. The devil could be beautiful, with shiny green eyes, and an intoxicating smile. And she would go to hell and back for him. 

“Got invited to this event,” he said and rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to explain further because she remembered how much he hated formal occasions. 

They talked and joked for a while, mainly about New York and the weather and work — the few things they were remotely interested in. Both of them knew they were only beating around the bush so they didn’t have to mention their past. They were playing the roles of two old friends catching up in a bar, or two acquaintances complaining about their jobs, or two strangers meeting for the first time. But he was playing his role so well that she began to wonder if he was still pretending. What if this was his truth? What if, for him, they were all the above, except for what they really were? Ex-lovers. 

The left side of her chest ached when she realized he might’ve forgotten everything. 

But how? 

Teach her, please. 

To this day, she still remembered it all. She remembered the summer air, the late-night drives, the touch of his hands, the shape of his body, the glow of the vending machine by which he stood with his head hung low and she was shouting at him with tears in her eyes, the words he’d whispered in her ear that nobody knew, the taste of his lips, the promises to return that had turned into lies. Everything. 

But now the indifference in the way he looked at her made her heart collapse. Had he forgotten it all? She almost asked. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but the ringtone blasting from his pocket cut right through her thoughts. He pulled out his phone and excused himself to answer it. As he turned away, unbothered by the sadness in her eyes, she saw the name “Baby” and the photo of a familiar girl on his screen. He’d showed her that photo the night they first met. In fact, they had talked for hours about that girl, the one who’d broken his heart, the one he’d loved more than anything in the world, the one who had brought him into her life. 

She had never wished to replace that girl. Their relationship had started out as a fling that was solely for fun. Both had been single. She came back to her hometown for the summer, and he was on a vacation to escape from his hectic life in London. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, until it did, until dirty jokes turned into love words, until meaningless sex turned to something greater, until he had no choice but to leave her behind, until goodbyes left her crying for months. When she came to meet him for the last time, she’d held back those three words, thinking they would’ve been the worst thing he’d ever heard. But maybe, just maybe, he had almost said them too.

Now she was watching from the distance as he was on the phone with his girlfriend, the one he’d claimed to love more than anything in this world. He looked down, grinning like an angel. And it hurt her to watch, so quietly, she rose from her seat and found her way to the nearest exit door. 

It’d ended how it’d started, with the word “hi” and now she was in the back of her car. But this time, she was alone, drunk, and crying like a baby. While sad music was blasting out at full volume, she screamed the words she’d saved for him, for the day they met again, for the promises he’d made and broken, for what they had once called their unbreakable heaven, for a cruel summer that would never return.

Cruel Summer - Taylor Swift

Fever dream high in the quiet of the night You know that I caught it (Oh yeah, you’re right, I want it) Bad, bad boy, shiny toy with a price You know that I bought it (Oh yeah, you’re right, I want it)

Killing me slow, out the window I’m always waiting for you to be waiting below Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more

And it’s new, the shape of your body It’s blue, the feeling I’ve got And it’s ooh, whoa oh It’s a cruel summer It’s cool, that’s what I tell ’em No rules, unbreakable heaven But ooh, whoa oh It’s a cruel summer With you

Hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine I’m not buying (Oh yeah, you’re right, I want it) You say that we’ll just screw it up in these trying times We’re not trying (Oh yeah, you’re right, I want it)

So cut the headlights, summer’s a knife I’m always waiting for you just to cut to the bone Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes And if I bleed, you’ll be the last to know

Oh, it’s new, the shape of your body It’s blue, the feeling I’ve got And it’s ooh, whoa oh It’s a cruel summer It’s cool, that’s what I tell ’em No rules, unbreakable heaven But ooh, whoa oh It’s a cruel summer With you

I’m drunk in the back of the car And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (Oh) Said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you And I snuck in through the garden gate Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh) And I screamed for whatever it’s worth “I love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard? He looks up grinning like a devil

And it’s new, the shape of your body It’s blue, the feeling I’ve got And it’s ooh, whoa oh It’s a cruel summer It’s cool, that’s what I tell ’em No rules, unbreakable heaven But ooh, whoa oh It’s a cruel summer With you

I’m drunk in the back of the car And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (Oh) Said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you And I snuck in through the garden gate Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh) And I screamed for whatever it’s worth “I love you,” ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard? (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty One, “Timing”

Find all chapters to this story here! 

Check out the character survey from Becky’s POV I did recently! :-)

Warnings: Very brief mention of IVs (needles)

Song Inspo: My My Love by Joshua Radin (Click to listen)

                                    Sneaky Peeeeeeeeeky!

“A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape.

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one inch mark.

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats.”

“No. W-what are you doing here?” I stutter, unable to control my words. Or my thoughts. Or my emotions.

At the drop of my words, Harry’s face falls. His eyebrows. The budding smile on his lips. And the brightness in his eyes. But he masks it quickly. And it escapes my mind when he crosses the distance between us. His black slacks, teal geometric-patterned button down, and curls are a blur in the seconds that follow. Suddenly, his arms are around me and pulling me into him. With sleep still clinging to my mind, and unsure of what to do, I freeze. 

“Please don’t tell me you left work to drive 3 hours to come to Madley,” I confess quietly into the damp shoulder of his black peacoat. Shivering, his fingers run trails up and down my back. 

“Shuddup, I ‘ave a case t’morrow nearby in Wolverhampton . . . Jus’ lemme do sumthin’ nice fer ya,” he says, his soft words drifting over the top of my head. 

“I-I’m sorry. I just woke up and you caught me off guard,” I apologize meekly, feeling myself relax. My arms wind around his waist and lace themselves together over his coat. 

“‘s okay,” he hums. His hands pause and I feel them brush my hair away. “I know ya hadda rough night- well couple o’ days,” Harry murmurs, his lips brushing against my hair. My lungs still and I wait, wondering if he’ll kiss my head. But it doesn’t come, and I try to will away the disappointment beginning inside of me. I’ve become so accustomed to it that it doesn’t want to leave this time. Then it’s joined by the happy disbelief appearing wet in my eyes. 

“Couldn’ stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, an’ figured I had t’ come up ‘ere t’morow mornin’ anyways. Wha’s an extra night hurt?” The first few words do it for me, and there I am spewing tears all over his shoulder. They’re not a waterfall, but the emotions growing inside of me feel that way. And they’re here, because he is. 

He holds me tighter against him, and I feel his cheek rest on my head. Holding on tight to his coat, I let myself and everything I’m feeling melt against him. “You don’t know what it means to me that you’re here,” I confess in a trembling voice interrupted by sniffling. 

“I think I do do, ‘coz you were there fer me tha day o’ tha funeral when I needed a friend. An’ at tha hospital. Ya showed up fer me, Becks, an’ I wanted t’ do tha same fer ya,” Harry reveals softly from above me. My lips bend into a happy smile amongst the tears that come harder at his words. “I brought dinna, ‘cuz I knew ya prolly hadn’t eaten. ‘s luck that I found ya atta vendin’ machine.”

His precious laugh greets my ears as his fingers tickle up my back. The bunches of fabric leave my hands, and I step away to search for those green eyes. After a few seconds, I find them staring down at me. They’re blurry behind the tears, but soon his smiling face sharpens. 

“No mo’ tears, ‘kay? Le’s go eat some dinna an’ find  sumthin’ good on tha telly,” Harry whispers, running the pad of his thumb along my cheeks. Nodding, his hand envelopes mine and we go to find a sitting area.

The halls are deserted besides a few nurses checking in on patients. Familiar medical-sounding beeps sound throughout the hallway. After guiding the way for Harry as I wipe my cheeks, we soon find our dining table. Or rather a sofa with a little table. 

“I hope fish an’ chips ‘s alright,” he says, doubt filling his words. 

“Of course they are. Did you get them from Maggie’s over on Fifth?”

“Yeah, I think so. Li’l shop with photos coverin’ tha walls?” he questions as he unpacks the brown paper bag. 

“Yep, that’s the one. They make the best fish and chips I’ve had. And I would know, because I grew up eating these ones my entire life.”

“Well I guess ya would know then,” Harry relents, shrugging his shoulders with a toothy smile. 

Whispered ‘thank yous’ float between us as we pass each other food and napkins. With two cups of water from the cooler a few steps away, we dig in. 

“No kiddin’, these are good. ‘s always tha family owned shops that make tha best ones, innit?” Harry mumbles with a mouth full of food. I reply with an ‘mmmhmm’, trying not to laugh at the crumbs speckling his chin. 

The crispy, buttery cod melts on my tongue. With my free hand, I grab hold of the gray remote sitting on the table beside me. 

“Hey, ‘s my turn t’ pick what we watch,” Harry whines, stealing the remote from me. 

“Rude!” I retort, but any words I had left to say collapse into laughter. Licking his thumb, he peeks over at me. A sly grin stuck to his lips. 

Shaking my head, I look away and pick up a chip from the paper tray in my hand. When my eyes return to him, a ketchup-covered chip sits in his hand. Meanwhile, his face is screwed up in concentration at the telly. I smile, and then notice his reflection in the dark window on the other side of him. Kicking his foot with my right, he turns to the left to look at me in confusion. 

“Just pick something!” I tell him, my palm turning up to help me talk. His dark curls dance atop his head as it goes from side to side. 

“Oh hush, you. Cantcha letta man think?” he quips before feeding the chip past his cherry lips. 

“No, not when it takes you an hour to pick what to watch,” I reply, yanking it from his hands. 

“Heeeey! I was jus’ gonna pick that episode o’ Friends!” 

“Wait, you like Friends?!” I nearly yell, my head snapping to look at him. 

“O’course! Who doesn’t? I grew up watchin’ that show with me mum an’ sista,” he answers. With those words, my heart does a somersault in my chest. Oh my fuck, I’m falling again. “Wha’? Do ya not like it?”

“No, I-I love it. I grew up watching it, too. It’s like my comfort show - I watch it when I’m happy, sad, mad, excited- you name it,” I reply slowly, engrossed in gathering ketchup onto my chip. When I hear his murmured ‘me too’ from a mouth full of food, the devil and angel inside of me go crazy. For once, they seem to root for the same team. 

“Favourite characta?” his words greet the air effortlessly. He licks the salt and grease from his thumb, and I suddenly regret looking up. The things you do to me, Styles. 

“On the count of 3?” I ask, and his chestnut ringlets bounce with a nod. 

“1 . . . 2 . . . 3.”

“Phoebe!” we both say in unison, sending us into fits of giggles. 

“There’s nuthin’ betta than her on dat show. She’s hilarious, plays guitar, ‘s a surrogate fer her bloody brotha, an’ ‘s gorgeous,” Harry explains, and I’m following with every word. And with each one, I feel the butterflies in my tummy flutter again. For possibly the tenth time already tonight. 

“All of the great jokes and catchphrases from the show are from her: Regina Phalange, Smelly Cat, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, ‘I don’t even have a pla’, Gladys the framed doll, and that stupid taxi. She’s blunt and so funny, but she’s so sweet and would do anything for her friends,” I continue, watching him nod emphatically as he picks up another chip. 

“Couldn’ ‘ave said it betta meself. Oh I love dis episode where they’re stuck at tha beach house. Poor Phoebs findin’ out tha truth ‘bout her mum dat way, tho’,” Harry comments, his mouth falling into a delighted and then sad O. My eyes follow his to the screen of the telly where our attention is held for the next twenty minutes. 

My shoes only stop squeaking when I stop in front of the garbage bin. After tossing the greasy paper bag, I rub a pump of hand sanitizer into my hands. I wince at the awful sounds my shoes make as I try to walk quietly down the tiled hallway. The snoring greets my ears before I see him, but when I do, I smile. With careful steps, I pluck my backpack from the couch before leaving the room. 

“He still sleepin’?” Harry asks, looking up from the Friends marathon from the telly. We scored! 

“Yep,” I answer, plopping down onto the sofa beside him. 

“Good,” he answers, slumping down further into the gray cushions. My backpack drops with a thud to the floor after I got what I needed. “What’re ya doin’? ‘s eleven-thirty, love. Tha’s no time t’ be doin’ homework.”

“I know, but I need to submit an assignment before I forget. It’s due at midnight,” I answer, seeing his nod out of the corner of my eye. 

My laptop wakes with its usual jingle, and I watch my browser load. The audience laughter fills my ears at a humorous line from Chandler. Surprise, surprise. The maroon and navy blue colors of my uni’s website appear in front of me. Within a few moments, I’m on the web page for my course. 

“Wha’s tha assignment?” Harry inquires, his eyes never leaving the telly. A laugh creases his cheeks, making me smile. But I’m not very sad I missed what’s so funny, because he makes up for it. 

“Um, it’s an essay about Thomas Cromwell and his theories and stuff,” I reply, opening the page for assignments. 

“Ah, I see they ‘aven’t changed coursework much from my day. Cromwell ‘s bloody obvious when ya start talkin’ ‘bout British law.”

“I know, it’s like the professor didn’t even try when drafting this assignment,” I comment with a small titter. Relief washes over me when I get a message saying my submission was successful. And something else too from being able to talk to him about law so easily. Something akin to how a hot chocolate makes you feel on a winter’s day.

I glance up and find Harry losing it with laughter. There’s a fleeting temptation to ask him to clue me in. But a laugh tingles on my lips when I find what he’s laughing at. Monica’s crying as she holds onto Chandler’s arm, an ocean scene in the background. 

“Can’ believe Joey actually peed on Monica.” The words leave Harry’s mouth in between chuckles rather sloppily. 

“He was just trying to help!” I comment, unable to stop laughing either. 

“But it doesn’t even help! They say it makes it worse even,” he laughs, rubbing his forehead.  

Shaking my head, my eyes fall to my laptop screen. After a few clicks, lines of text cloud my eyes. My eyes roll into the back of my head at their appearance. I find it nearly impossible to hold back a groan. 

“What’re you gripin’ ‘bout ova here?” Harry questions with teasing in his tone.

“I have to read the entire case of Haughton v. Smith for a test, and it’s so confusing. I mean, working with you brushed me up on a lot of legal mumbo jumbo. But still, a lot of it doesn’t make sense to me,” I huff, my chin falling into the palm of my hand.  

“Alright, lemme see what part yer at,” he says in a quiet voice. I try to ignore the regret budding inside of me at what I said about working at his firm. And how it makes me feel, and probably him, too. I don’t know why I ever bring it up, because sometimes it feels like when somebody else brings up the ex-boyfriend, or something. The sofa cushion dips as he closes the space between us. The angel and demon inside of me erupt into synonymous cheers when his arm goes around me. 

“God, did you forget your glasses or something, Grandpa?” my question sputters from my lips in a cackle, watching him squint at the screen.

“Oh shuddup, an’ I mean it,” Harry quips, looking away for a moment. When I see the reason why, instead of a laugh consuming my thoughts, something else does. For some fucking reason, my heart warms at the sight of him unfolding a pair of mottled brown Pantos glasses. He tucks the brown case into the inside of his blazer, his peacoat on a chair. “Ya ya, laugh all ya want at me an’ me readin’ glasses.” 

But when he looks down at me with them settled on his nose, I don’t laugh. “Why aren’t ya laughin’ anymo’, hmm?” he questions. 

“I think they look really nice on you. They make you look handsome and sophisticated,” I tell him slowly, and it’s undeniable the pink that pinches his cheeks. 

“Well ‘s ‘bout time fer dat t’ happen, only took me twenty-nine years,” he jokes, bringing a smile to my lips. My head goes from side to side as I close my eyes, my cheeks bunching from happiness painting my lips. Yeah, it’s about time for a lot of things right about now. “Alrigh’, lemme look what part yer at fer real now.”

I nod, trying to get comfortable on the sofa. Pitching my head back, I feel it bump into his arm. Nevermind my fucked neck, I return my eyes to the screen to try and forget that his arm is around me. But they immediately refuse and slowly trail to Harry, his face mere inches away from mine. 

Okay, no, stop thinking about his lips and what they could do, I tell the demon inside of my head. 

Becky, you could. You so know you could do it. 

Shut up! He’s just helping me with my homework, that’s all this is. 

Oh yeah? And when are you going to let yourself think about the real reason he’s here, huh?

I can’t do that right now. 

Yes, you can! Maybe if you think about it, you’ll realize how good of an idea it would be to let yourself kiss him. I’m sure he’s thinking about it too.

Just stop!

His thumb and forefinger knead his bottom lip. It bunches together in little waves as his eyes flit across the screen. Whiskers the shade of his curls are scattered across his face. They’re dense atop his upper lip and around his chin. And God, I can’t stop thinking about them. Wanting to touch them. Feel them on my face- okay stop it, Becky. 

“Well yer mostly at tha end, so wha’ doesn’t make sense t’ ya?” Harry finally says, turning his head ever so slightly to look at me. 

“I know, but I feel like I don’t know what I just read. And the verdict is contradicting to me,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders. 

“Well maybe it’d make more sense t’ ya if ya weren’t lookin’ at it at almos’ midnigh’, love.”

“Yeah, well it’s kind of the only time I have lately with everything. I’m afraid to email my prof again saying I need an extension when it’s due tomorrow. I’ve needed a lot of them lately. I just wanna get it done,” I respond quietly, looking to the telly awkwardly. It’s always hard when the truth comes out, and the emotions that hang on to it. 

A spark ignites on my cheek, almost like a tickle. And when I look over, his eyes are glued to me. The tip of his calloused finger brushes a ghost of a touch under my left eye. “I neva knew ya hadda scar there,” he murmurs, running the tip of his finger over the oblong light brown shape. 

“I-It’s not a scar,” I say quickly, but at the same time, at a loss for words. He’s so close his breath smelling of chamomile tea passes by me within a second. And God, those pouty strawberry lips are so decadent, and tempting. “It’s a birthmark. I usually cover it up with makeup, that’s probably why you’ve never seen it.” Finished, I turn my head back to the telly, his finger dropping from the barely one-inch mark. 

“Wha’? Why d’ya do that? ‘s lovely.” As much as I try to drown my thoughts in the scene unraveling before my eyes, I can’t. Because his words, and the tingling under my eye consume my thoughts. The devil and angel inside my head bounce up and down in their seats. 

“Kids used to make fun of it when I was little. They’d call it a worm under my eye, because of its shape. It used to be more pronounced and bigger when I was little, but it’s still pretty noticeable,” I answer, adding in an eye roll that he laughs at. 

“Aww, poor Becks. But if it counts, I don’ think it looks like a worm. ‘s cute on you,” he adds seriously, pinching my cheek. That makes me look over at him, and I already know that I’m blushing. 

A small ‘thanks’ leaves my lips before my eyes dip to my laptop. Close to a minute of silence grows between us before he breaks it. “‘Kay, so Haughton vs. Smith found that ya can’t commit tha crime o’ handlin’ stolen goods, if tha goods they’re talkin’ ‘bout weren’t actually stolen. ‘s an important case t’ know, cuz it was ‘ventually ovaturned by tha Criminal Attempts Act o’ ‘81. Ya’ll neva be able t’ forget tha connection between tha two, issa given. Ya don’ need t’ worry ‘bout that law now tho’, they basically mean tha same thing.” 

“Thanks for explaining it, I hope it’s enough to help me pass the test on it,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest stubbornly. 

“Open tha test, an’ ‘ll help ya with it.”

The second my eyes land on Joey’s body covered in sand on the telly, they whip back to Harry. “Really, you’d help me?”

“‘Course I would. Tha’s what ‘m here fer. An’ it wouldn’t hurt t’ see if I still got it.”

“You’ve been a lawyer for years, and this is pre-law, so of course you do. And not to mention, ranked as one of the best in London,” I reply smiling, clicking open a new tab. I suspect how my words will make him feel, because they fill me with the same emotions. Pride. Happiness. Astonishment. And more pride. 

“Well, I do me best,” Harry titters proudly. A cocky hum leaves his lips as he brushes off his chest. A laugh sputters from my lips that I can’t contain. “Heeeey, don’ be laughin’ at me.”

“Sorry, I just can’t control myself when you start dropping dad jokes,” I respond nonchalantly, clicking on the tab labeled ‘Assessments.’

“Just pull tha bloody test up an’ le’s get it ova with,” he huffs, amusement still lacing through his words. 

“Awww, is it past your bedtime already?” I pout, turning my eyes to him. His lips smush together and I hear the smallest of squeaks get past them. “You know you like my grandpa jokes, don’t lie.”

“Shuddup, li’l one, an’ open tha goddamn test already,” he huffs. If anybody else heard him, they’d think he was mad at me. But even as my eyes cast over the column of tests from this course, I know different. I can hear it in his voice - the joking, the molasses, the affectionate teasing, and the friendship. 

Wow, nice choice of words there, Ms. Denial. 

Shut up, devil. 

“I am not little!” I retort in a high voice, making my two tabs appear as two windows on my screen. Side by side. Cheating time!

“Becks, yer like 5’5, if that.”

“No, I’m not! I’m 5’6, you liar!”

“Ya, cuz that one lousy inch really does a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Harry counters, his voice melting into a goofy one. I respond to it with a hearty laugh that is soon accompanied by his. “Yer still a li’l one t’ me, love.” 

“Fine, Grandpa Harry.”

+

The annoying sound of a laugh track pricks at my ears. Blinking hard, the room around me is blurry. But after a groggy minute of blinking, it begins to sharpen. I don’t remember the lights getting turned off, but the telly screen burns my eyes. Rubbing them, I moan from tiredness. Dropping my arm, I feel it hit something. Looking down, I’m confused. When I lift my head from whatever it was resting on, I find what I was laying on. And well, what was also laying on me. Still is. Her face scrunches adorably before relaxing, nuzzling her head against my shoulder once more. 

Becks. 

After combing my hair off of my forehead, the lock screen of my phone wakes me up a little more. Especially when I see that it reads 1:18 am. Fuck, I need to get to my hotel and go to bed. I have my case tomorrow. But when I hear a noise and find the culprit, all of those thoughts wash away. An incoherent sound runs off of her lips, ones that are so close to me. Fuck, again. But when my eyes scan the rest of my body, I realize that she’s all over me. Well, almost. Her right hand rests on my chest as she leans against the back of the sofa. But her pretty little head of dark hair is laying on my shoulder. My arm is around her, holding her close to me. I can feel her other arm tickling my side. 

Memories float to the surface, and suddenly I’m back at the hospital in London. In December. A phone call woke me from my slumber beside her on the sofa. The both of us curled up on opposite sides. Sleep clinging to my eyes and begging to me to return to it. Her shoulders rising with every soft snore, but it was the most daintiest one I’d ever heard. It felt like my heart was being squeezed tighter with every move I made to leave her. When I draped the second blanket over her. And how much it hurt to move the hair off of her face. To press a kiss to her unknowing head. But nothing compared to the anguish I felt grow with every step I put between us. 

Blinking hard, the dark room materializes around me again. Her precious snores welcome my return to the moment. A smile brings my lips upwards as I watch a crease grow between her eyebrows. She’s too goddamn adorable. And that’s why I came, isn’t it? Because no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist her. I can’t say no to Becky. When she called me crying and a mess worrying about her dad, I didn’t know what I was doing until I was putting the town of Madley into my GPS. I guess The Beatles were right with that one song, and plenty of others. She’s really got a hold on me. And before I could begin to stop myself, her skin is like velvet under my thumb. I rub the crease away with the pad of it, and suddenly my head dips. My lips barely brush her hair when she groans below me. 

“Harry?” she murmurs, lifting her head from my shoulder. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

She yawns, moving away to look around sleepily. But soon she returns back to my arms, cozying up to me once more. And I couldn’t be more thankful, or conflicted. The latter word drills into my mind as I rub a hand down her back, sleep trying to coax me back in, too. 

“We fell asleep,” she mumbles, her honey voice coated in that very word. Fuck, does it make me feel things. Things that I’d much rather not. 

“Yeah, ‘s one in tha mornin’.”

“Shitttt,” she sighs, sitting up fast. Her growing locks pour over her shoulders covered by a crewneck jumper. Faded pictures of balls from different sports are scattered across the heather gray fabric. Like something my dad wore when I was a tot. “You have your case tomorrow.”

“‘m fine, I already dropped me stuff off at tha hotel an’ got me key,” I tell her, missing the warmth of her against me. And I miss the fact in those words alone of what I’m missing. Her in my arms. “But ya should prolly get sum sleep, too. Seems like ya’ve been missin’ it lately.”

“I’m okay, just lots of homework,” Becky says, running her long fingers through her wavy hair. 

“‘d offa me hotel room, but ‘s half an hour ‘way in Wolverhampton. An’ there’s only tha one bed,” I tell her, unsure of why. I blame it on the sleepy brain. 

“Thanks, but I’m okay. I’ll just sleep on the couch in his room. It’s not too bad once you get used to it,” she assures me. Her arms crack as she stretches them toward the ceiling. I can’t help myself when the baggy jumper rides up, exposing the slightest of her milky white tummy. Fuck. But just like that, it’s gone in a flash. If only my feelings worked that way. 

It’s like she has some sixth sense that I’m thinking about her, because her eyes cast over to me. It’s hard to make out their ocean blue in this dark, but I know they’re there. I can picture them if I need to, because I do it all the time - trying to make myself remember what they look like. The exact shade. The speckles of darker blue amongst the color. 

“Yer welcome,” I return. The tired smile I get in return melts my insides like butter. But that’s how I feel when I’m around her, and that’s how much of a hold she’s got on me. 

Shocks of electricity dance across the back of my hand. I don’t need to look down to know her hand is on top of mine. And how it’s making me go crazy. She’s only a few inches away. I could do it. Before I stop myself, I begin to lean in, and she watches me do it. But with only a few seconds left, we jump apart at the sound of a ringtone. 

Embarrassment covers me like a dark cloud, among other nasty emotions. My head falls, hiding the heat rising to my cheeks. Pulling out my phone to distract myself, it doesn’t do that great of a job as I hear her talk to somebody on the phone. Dammit, I was so close. With a hand in my hair, I scroll through emails. Deleting some and saving others. 

“Sorry, that was Robbie. Just checking in, since I forgot to update him, I guess,” Becky tells me, lifting my head with her voice. 

My head only goes up and down, avoiding eye contact. Because I can’t muster it after what just happened, or what didn’t. 

“‘s late, ya should get sum rest,” I announce, getting to my feet. Picking up my coat, I slip it on before I dare to look at her.

She smiles shyly at me, sleep hanging around her eyes. Even rubbing her nose with the sleeve of her jumper is precious. And her legs jittering in her faded blue jeans. Vans the shade of her favorite color donning her feet. 

“Yeah, you too,” is all she has to say.

Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. For a mere second, I entertain the thought of trying again. But fuck it, she’s so far away right now, figuratively and literally. I can catch a hint of her scent sticking to me, and it makes me sad to realize. 

“Go get sum sleep, ‘kay?” Are the only words I can think of as I walk up to her and pat her arm. 

“Yeah, you too, Harry. Careful driving.”

“Thanks, Becks, I will. Sweet dreams, love,” I mutter, looking at her over my shoulder. 

And I keep walking, and leave her behind. Regrets coursing through my ears, and emotions tugging at my seams. The tiredness coating my every thought and action, only make it all the worse. I’m not sure if I want to wake up more for the car drive to the hotel, because then it will all feel even more real. And discouraging. 

“Harry?” stopping in my tracks, I hear her call my name. Spinning around, I feel her before I see her. Her arms surround around my waist and her head comes to lay against my chest. All within seconds. “Thank you . . . for coming.”

A pain sounds in my chest when I hear the emotion in her voice. And it takes all of me to not echo it, because I know I could. And that I would. Instead I say, “Yer welcome, Becks,” and I do at least one thing I wanted to do tonight. Dipping my head, I smooth down her hair and press my lips to her hair for more than a few seconds. 

The sweet smell of orange blossom greets me, and my smile is havoced by pain. Her warm breaths tickle the skin at my neck as my hands lace together at the small of her back. Her arms squeeze me around the middle before releasing, and she lets go of me. I think about trying again, but the thought is fleeting when she begins to walk away from me. 

And I let her do it. Once again. 

+

The burbling of the running water fills my ears. Well, besides the sound of the football match. Surprise, surprise. And the next sound. His cheering. It makes me smile as I wipe my hands with a paper towel. 

“What’s the score now?” I ask, walking back into the room. His eyes don’t go to me at the question, instead they remain on the screen. 

“Six-two. It doesn’t look too good for ‘em,” my dad replies snarkily, a devilish glint in his eyes. But it’s there, and that’s all that matters. It’s what makes the smile stick to my face. 

“Don’t let your food get cold,” I say, bending over to dig into my backpack. 

“I’m done eating. You can have the rest, Ree,” he replies just as I feel the smooth handle I’m searching for.

“I’m okay, thanks. I was probably going to check out the special in the cafe.”

“Oh so only I have to eat the hospital food?” my dad whines, pouting at me when I look at him. 

With a laugh, I remark, “I’m eating their food in the cafe too, you dork.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, chemo brain,” he replies, tapping a finger against his head. A striped green hat keeping it warm. His arm returns to the white blanket pulled up to his waist. Light shines in his eyes and his arms lift into the air when they make yet another goal. 

Whoops and hollers leave his chapped lips. But this morning, they’re pinker. And so is his skin. If only in the slightest, I notice them. Running the brush through my knotted hair, I yawn as I watch him. A patterned hospital gown covers his upper half, with the sleeves just coming to above the IVs in his left arm. Fluids and meds. The antibiotics. Yippee. 

But the thoughts are mulled over when I look to his plate sitting on the moveable tray beside him. It was scrambled eggs, toast, applesauce, and milk this morning. And he ate nearly half of it, even if it took about half an hour. But I want to blame part of that on the football match his eyes are stuck to. 

“I’m going to see if I can find your doctor. I had a question,” I tell him, dropping my hairbrush back into my backpack. 

“Ree, don’t worry about it. He’ll come by later,” my dad insists, but I stand from my chair regardless of his answer. 

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways.” 

He hums a reply I can’t decode, but I hear his teasing about blocking the telly when I walk by. Over my shoulder, he flashes me a small smile before returning to yelling lazily at the referees. Nurses and doctors pass me, going to and from rooms to the nearby nurse’s station. Tucking a strand of wet hair behind my ear, I search for the shock of white hair of my dad’s doctor. 

But no such luck. 

As I approach the nurse’s station, sounds of beeping, call lights, and murmuring voices fill the air. But another sound stands out from the rest. And I hear my name, or well my last name. It takes me a second to locate where it’s coming from, but when I do there’s a flutter in my chest. And I know I’m in trouble, or maybe that I’m just realizing it now after all of this time. 

But I don’t save him right away, and instead I observe. Confusion sews his eyebrows together over those misty green eyes. One lone curl tickles his forehead, breaking free from his damp hair. His black peacoat is draped over his arm clad in a warm violet blazer. A dusty rose button down peeks out from its collar, and I smile. I don’t even know why. But as the seconds tick by watching him talk to the nurse, I think I know why. 

“Looking for me, Styles?” I pipe up, stepping forward with my hands hidden away in my hoodie.

Harry’s eyes fall from the nurse and pan over to me. A lazy smile works its way onto his face quickly, only interrupted to thank the nurse. 

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, turning to walk towards me. 

“What are you doing here? You have your case today, you said,” I respond, playing with the sleeve of my black hoodie. The cracked decal of Robbie’s old band covers the front. 

“Came t’ bring ya out t’ brekky. Me case doesn’t start ‘til tha aftanoon, bug,” he responds with half of a smile, pinching my arm affectionately. And there’s that nickname, again, I think as my insides turn to mush. “Well jus’ down t’ tha cafe if tha’s alright. I saw sumthin’ ‘bout biscuits ‘n gravy, an’ sumthin’ smelled mighty delicious when I came in.”

“That sounds great,” I say, a smile inching its way up my lips. The wet ends of my hair knock against each other, and my chin. “I’ll just let my dad know,” I tell him, turning around to walk away. 

But after only a few steps, a sudden thought brings me to halt. It wills my feet to turn around and look at Harry. “Would you like to meet him?” I ask tentatively in a meek voice. “He’s doing a little better this morning, but I think that’s thanks to the Arsenal match on the telly.”

With what appears to be a shaky smile, he replies, “‘d love t’. Hope ‘s not me Manchester United boys playin’ ‘gainst ‘em.”

Waving a hand towards me, he closes the distance between us. His leather boots squeak from the last bits of melting April snow. It’s only a few moments before I peek my head into his room, and low and behold, he’s still transfixed by the match. 

Rapping my knuckle against the door, I get his attention before saying, “Hey, can I steal you away from your precious game for a few? There’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet.”

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, adjusting his blankets before the telly’s volume falls. Over my shoulder, I shoot Harry an encouraging smile. He returns it, but I can see the nerves showing through. 

Pushing open the door fully, I walk in and he follows from behind. 

“Dad, this is Harry Styles. My uh, former boss I’ve told you about,” I fumble for words, giving a magician-like wave to him. Well, the right words. “He stopped by last night and brought me dinner. He has a case today in Wolverhampton, and we’re going to get breakfast downstairs before.”

A weary smile curls at the corners of my dad’s lips. Nodding, his dusty pink lips part, “Ah, so this is the fella you were with until all hours last night,” he jests, pulling nervous laughter into the air. “Yes, it’s about time we met. I’ve heard a lot about you, son. Thanks for everything you’ve done for Becky, and for your well wishes. It’s meant a whole damn lot to me, and I know for her too.” 

Okay, dad, let’s not board the emotional bus yet. Or maybe, ever.  

Happy laughs float around the room as Harry steps forward, rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands. “‘s a pleasure t’ meet ya as well, sir,” he rasps, reaching out to shake my dad’s hand firmly. 

“Call me Chuck, Harry. I’m not that old yet, although sometimes it feels that way,” my dad jokes, widening the smiles on all of our faces.

“Yes, ‘course, Chuck. I’ve also heard loads ‘bout ya, all good things, so no worries. Ya’ve been in me prayers an’ thoughts ova tha last 7 months. Sure raised a great daughter, ya should know.” 

A permanent smile warms my cheeks as I shyly look over to Harry. He meets my eyes and smiles back at me. Winking, he shove his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Thank you, son. That’s mighty good to hear, although I’m not too sure about that son of mine sometimes,” he laughs, soon getting a scoff from me. 

“Oh I mean Robbie, too. I’ve only met tha bloke once or twice, but I was impressed. Certainly since I was surprised t’ find out Becky hadda twin,” Harry comments, his eyes burning a hole into my cheek. 

“Yes, I think I’ve heard that story. Their mother and I were pretty surprised to find there was two, also,” he chuckles. “But Ree likes to do that sometimes.”

Shaking my head, I look away and to the Spring sunshine. It seeps in through the cracks in between the window shades. Their soft laughs fill my ears before Harry’s voice does again. 

“Yeah she’s a spitfire, alright,” he comments, and finally I meet his smirking eyes before they return to my dad. “But ‘m glad t’ hear yer doin’ a bit betta. Hopefully they can get a good handle on dis soon, an’ you lot can go home.”

“Thank you. We hope so too,” my dad nods, running his thumb along the buttons of the tv remote. “I truly appreciate you taking the time to be here with Becky . . I know it means more than words to her.” 

Looking away to the floor, his words find the chink in my armor. I feel the lump rise in my throat along with memories of last night. Luckily, the tears stay away and I get away with it. 

“‘Course, ‘m glad I was able t’ come an’ be with her. Dunno if she told ya, but she was there fer me when my grandad was in tha hospital befo’ he passed. An’ well, I know how much it means t’ ‘ave sumbody there,” Harry murmurs, almost giving a reason for the tears to make an appearance. But they don’t, and I’m repeating ‘thank yous’ inside of my head. 

“I’m pretty proud of my little Rebecca Ann, and it only grows more every day,” my dad comments, flitting his eyes over to me. His words make my cheeks tingle with a new blush and because I know another pair are on me, too. 

“Yeah, she makes it ratha easy,” Harry agrees softly, pulling my attention to him. The gentlest smile sits atop his lips, and a sad sweetness twinkles in his eyes. 

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your match. We’re going to grab breakfast before everybody else gets the same idea,” I pipe in, unsure of when and how to sever the moment. But the look in Harry’s eyes does something to me, and I don’t know what to do with it. 

We exchange short goodbyes before I’m following Harry out of the room. The rising volume of the football announcers voices send us on our way. 

“Rebecca Ann, huh?” Harry smiles beside me, the nurse’s station in our rearview mirrors. 

“Go ahead and make jokes about it. It doesn’t even sound like my name, I don’t know. I’ve only ever went by that for forms, when I got in trouble, or like on the first day of school and graduation. And the Ann is just my middle name, I don’t have a two parter,” I explain hurriedly, surprising myself when I don’t hear one of his delightful giggles. Tearing my eyes away from the poster at the end of the hallway, I look to him. And he isn’t laughing, which confuses me. 

“There’s no jokes t’ be had. I think ‘s pretty, yer name. Figured ya were a Rebecca, but wasn’t sure. Nor did I know yer middle was Ann. Tha’s my mum’s name, ‘ve always loved it,” he tells me, coming to a stop in front of the gunmetal colored doors of the lift. The sickeningly sweet look on his face sends the butterflies in my tummy to flight. Again.

“Oh thanks,” I almost blurt, pressing the button to go down. But then as we step into the welcoming lift, more come to me. “It was my grandmother’s name. It always made me feel closer to her, like I always had a piece of her with me.”

“Tha’s nice. ‘ve always liked it when parents carry on family names like dat. It makes me think ‘d like t’ do tha same with me own kids one day,” Harry continues as I watch the doors shut, cutting us off from the rest of the world. If only for a few minutes. But still. 

“Me too.”

“So nobody ever calls ya Becca?” Harry inquires, catching my attention. 

“Eh, not really. Maybe Skye sometimes, and my grandma Ann did, but not much anymore.”

“Hmm maybe ‘ll hafta use it then,” he quips, but then he wears a confused smile he pulled out of thin air. “Eh I dunno, actually. Ya’ll always be me Becks,” he finishes, making my heart do a dance. And fueling the angel and demon having a party inside of my head. 

“Yeah, I agree. Anything else would sound weird.”

“Ya look like ‘im, ya know. Tha eyes, tha hair, and tha shape o’ yer face - bloody spitting image ya are. ‘Specially Robbie,” Harry acknowledges.

“We get that a lot, but thanks, I like to hear it. Sometimes I can’t see it, though,” I recall. “Which parent do you look like?”

“Um, dunno. I get comments ‘bout lookin’ like both o’ me parents. I guess I mostly ‘ave people say I look like me dad with sum o’ my mum’s features. Which sounds wild.”

“Yeah, I can relate with people saying I look like my dad. It’s like, oh thanks for saying I look like a boy,” I laugh. Turning to look at him on my left, a small one sputters from his smiling cherry lips. 

“I know, ‘s weird.”

“I can see it, though. How people think you look like him,” I tell him. When I watch his lips settle into a silent, straight line, I feel instant regret. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“No, ‘s okay. Jus’ hard hearin’ people say ya look like sumbody ya don’ like.”

A small ‘oh’ passes over my lips before I can stop it. My eyes leave him and go to the changing red number above my head. Words bubble up inside of me, and I tell them to stop. But then I can’t. 

“I think I know how you feel,” I murmur, daring to look over at him, her face flashing in my mind. His far away eyes lift from the floor and pan over to me. 

I try not to lose myself in their infinity of green, but it’s worthless. And soon I am, and thoughts of last night leak from my memories. 

I know it’s at the back of his mind too. That almost kiss. The one he tried to initiate, and the one I want so bad. Five months ago, I don’t know if I would’ve. But now in this moment and in this elevator, all alone with him, I couldn’t want something more. 

Or somebody. 

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 4

Harry doesn't like going places without y/n. It's not that he thinks she can't take care of herself or that she should be constantly dependent on him, he just really loves having her around. He loves the reminder that he has a family, a family that he made all on his own. That he's capable of being a part of a family.

He was disappointed when he couldn't go to her doctor's appointment with her. He had planned to, anxious to know what it was that was waking her up in the early hours of the morning to go throw up in the bathroom and heating her up with a fever.

He was buttoning up one of his silk shirts when his phone rang, displaying a picture of a drunk Nick with a flower behind his ear. The photo had been taken at Harry and y/n's wedding.

Harry answered the phone, frowning when he heard how out of breath Nick was. The man was so worked up about something that he barely even spoke to Harry, only shouting, "Need you at the gym right away! Ted Nichols is here!" and then hanging up.

Ted Nichols ran the league Harry boxes for. Harry had spoken to him once, when he was just twenty and Ted had visited the illegal ring Harry was fighting at. Ted was impressed with Harry and offered him a match at his professional league and Harry had accepted. They didn't speak anymore after that but if he's at Harry's gym now, it must be vitally important.

"What's the matter?" Y/n asks, noticing the deep frown on Harry's face as soon as she exited the bathroom. Harry grunts, falling onto the bed with his elbows on his knees. He's rests his chin on his intertwined hands.

"Ted Nichols is at the gym." Harry says. "Nick told me I need to go in."

Poking her head out of the closet, she looks at him curiously. "Wouldn't that be a good thing, love?"

"M'not sure." Harry says truthfully. He hasn't had a match in the past two weeks and he doesn't know why. Nick told him that Ted was just mixing up the schedule and he assured Harry that he'd have a fight soon. Now, Harry hopes he hasn't done anything to make the boss think less of him.

"I'm sure it's great news Harry." Y/n calls out from the closet. Harry pushes himself off the bed and to the closet, leaning against the door frame. A smile tugs at his lips, watching his wife from behind as she hops from foot to foot to wiggle into her jeans. She turns to Harry's side of the closet, pulling down his old Princeton shirt and catching his eyes.

"I don't think tha's yours dearie." Harry teases. She smiles innocently, tugging it over her damp hair and slipping her arms in.

"That's funny," She hums. "because it sure looks good on me."

Harry steps into the closet, grabbing her hips before she can turn to pick out a pair of shoes. Bringing her flush against his chest, he presses a few warm kisses to her forehead.

"Can't argue with ya there."

She giggles, hands sliding up his torso to rest on his chest. Her fingers tickle his skin where he's left a few buttons undone, petting affectionately at the wings of his swallow tattoos. Harry smirks, leaning down to mold their mouths together when a cry crackles through the baby monitor in the room, halting their movements.

"I got him last time." Harry quips, grinning. Y/n rolls her eyes, groaning as she dramatically throws her head back. Harry presses a kiss to her throat.

"And you call us devils." She mutters.

Snickering, Harry steps around her and nudges her to the door with a pat on her bum. She swats at his hand.

"Go get our son 'fore I decide to give you another one!" Harry calls after her, stepping out of the closet in time to see her disappear around the corner.

~

"They trusted us enough to let us stay here and keep an eye on their baby. That's something."

Her mother nods at her words, standing over the edge of the play pen to watch Arlo. The baby is sprawled out on a blanket in nothing but a diaper, happily babbling as he tosses his stuffed bunny around.

"Harry trusted you." Anne murmurs sadly. "Not me. I have a feeling we're only here because of y/n, God bless her. She's the sweetest girl."

"She is," Gemma agrees, changing the channel on the TV even though she's been constantly watching her mom stare affectionately at Arlo. "but you know we wouldn't be here if Harry didn't want us to be. He's just hurt right now."

"Gem," Anne croaks, lip trembling. "you saw him yesterday. I've never seen him that angry, not even that day with Ja-"

"Don't say his name." Gemma interrupts. She pushes herself off the couch and to the play pen. "He was nothing but a parasite mum. He hurt us, hurt you. He took advantage of us when we were at our lowest and he doesn't deserve to have his name leave your lips."

"I've messed up my so bad." Anne says pitifully. Gemma rounds the corner of the play pen and wraps her mother up in her arms.

"It's going to be ok, mum."

"He's my baby boy," Anne whimpers, her voice cracking on the last word. "And he won't even call me mum anymore. I've hurt him, my baby."

Arlo looks up at them, pink lips frowning and eyes squinting in that same way Harry's does when he's observing something or someone. Still clinging to each other, Gemma and Anne smile down at the baby. He eyes them for another moment before dropping his bunny, sticking his arms straight up in the air. Gemma's watched him do the same thing to Harry and y/n when he wants to be held, so she pulls away from her mother and leans to pick Arlo up from under his armpits. Instead of curling himself into Gemma like he usually does, Arlo twists around as best as possible, wobbling a bit when he loses his balance.

Gemma watches him look Anne up and down, frowning as he decides how he feels about the woman that's obviously been the source of Harry's moodiness. Finally, Arlo leans towards her and reaches one arm out.

The smile that lights up Anne's face is both heart warming and heart breaking. It's the purest look of relief Gemma's ever seen, mixed with immense guilt and topped off with such adoration, Gemma could cry.

She lets Anne take the baby boy from her, grinning at how delicately she holds him. It's as if Anne hadn't had two kids of her own.

Arlo rests his head on Anne's shoulder, chubby hands resting on either one of her biceps, just like Harry did when he was child.

Basically reading her thoughts, Anne voices what Gemma's been thinking since she first saw little Arlo. "He looks so much like Harry. Acts like him too, such a sweet, clingy boy."

Like he knows they're talking about him, Arlo gives a toothless grin to Gemma, still hiding in Anne's chest. She gives him a small wave, seeing her baby brother when Arlo giggles and turn his head the other way. Always teasing, just like Harry.

~

Don't worry, it's good news! How's the appointment going?

Biting her lip, y/n rereads Harry's text and decides to not answer until the doctor returns with her blood results. She's sort of relieved, having known that Harry was being to called to the gym for a good reason, but her stomach is spinning with nerves.

She had been diagnosed with a small cold, most likely a side effect of the changing weather and warned about the upcoming cold front because the last thing she needs is to fall even more ill and risk getting Harry or Arlo sick. But after examining her throat, her doctor informed her that her cold shouldn't be giving her any nausea and ordered a blood test.

Y/n had an idea, knowing her body and the way it had reacted the first time around but she was still nervously twirling her hair when the doctor returned to the office, beaming smile and cheering, "Congratulations! You're pregnant!"

Mind whirling as she schedules her check up and exits the doctor, y/n is struggling to keep her excitement at bay when she climbs in the car. Turning the key in the ignition, she pulls out her phone, already planning on how she's going to tell Harry and texts him back.

Everything's fine, I'm heading home now and I'll explain :)

~

"How far along are you?"

Swallowing a sip of her Shirley Temple, y/n smiles around her straw at the fairly new diamond ring on her finger. She turns to Kate, smiling growing. "About a month."

Kate's eyebrows shoot up, lips falling open in shock. "So he really got the job done on your wedding night huh?"

Giggling, y/n shrugs. She turns her gaze forward again, admiring the orange and pink sunset that's casting the beach in a summer glow. She finds Harry, running across the edge of the water with Liam and Scott while he attempts to play football. She giggles again watching him bobble the football that was thrown at him, long limbs flailing about as he drops it. Harry may be extremely athletic, but no matter how hard that poor boy tries, football always gets the best of him.

"We're you guys trying?" Kate questions, pulling y/n away from her pouting husband.

She shrugs again, adjusting her back on the beach chair so she's turned more towards her best friend. "Not really," She admits, cheeks flaming as she thinks of the nights following her and Harry's wedding. "I mean, we didn't like take any precautions but we didn't go out of our way for it to happen."

Kate nods, eyeing Harry with a new found respect. "First try and everything, talk about a jack pot." Kate says, clearly impressed that Harry managed to knock up y/n a month after they got married.

Laughing, y/n smacks her friends shoulder. She takes another sip of her drink, returning her gaze to the mediocre game in front of them. After a moment of silence, y/n clears her throat.

"I'm going to tell him tonight."

Kate gasps, careful to not be too loud so the group of boys don't catch on to their secret chat. "Here?"

Y/n nods, body flushing at the sight of Harry. His hair is frizzy from swimming earlier, fanning out around his face and perfectly framing his dimply, sunburnt cheeks. He's got a Fourth of July necklace resting on his chest, the red, white, and blue stars lighting up and casting odd shadows on his tan skin. He catches y/n staring, lifting his arm up to wave at her just as Liam throws the ball straight into his shoulder.

"Yeah, here." Y/n murmurs, knowing that right here would be the perfect place. Before they can continue they're talk, Nick and Lionel return from their walk to town.

"Fireworks are starting in precisely five minutes!" Nick shouts, falling onto the beach sand with Lionel. Scott, Liam, and Harry call their game quits, y/n standing up to give Scott a seat next to his girlfriend.

Harry jogs up to y/n, shaking out his mess of curls and grinning. "Gonna watch fireworks with me?" He asks, hands settling on her bare sides and hips pressing into hers as if he's physically drawn to her.

"I don't know, was kinda thinking of watching them with Liam."

Harry scoffs, curling down towards her so she can slide her arms around his neck. He begins walking her away from the group, y/n stumbling in the sand from walking backwards. Harry keeps her steady though, giggling with her at nothing and everything.

"Are you too good to sit with us now, H?" Liam calls out accusingly.

Harry doesn't stop moving. He tilts his head back, eyes still staying on y/n and shouts, "I've got a missus now, can't have her sitting on the ground with you dirty lot!"

Y/n laughs and blushes at his words. He grins, pecking her lips once and walking them all the way to the Range Rover that Harry had parked on the sand this morning.

"Can't see fireworks from inside the car, Harry." Y/n teases. Harry shushes her through a chuckle, releasing his hold on her to open the back hatch. It rises up, revealing the dozens of blankets that Harry's laid out over the folded seats.

"Up we go darling." Harry says, hooking his pointer finger in her denim shorts and pulling her towards the car. They climb in together, Harry settling further back and spreading his legs so y/n can sit between them.

She hums, melting into the warmth of his chest and loving the way his rough palm is rubbing the skin of her back that her bikini top isn't covering.

The fireworks start, lighting up the sand in reds and blues and covering the noise of the water hitting the shore. Harry leans over her shoulder, breathing in the smell of cherries and sunblock that lingers on her.

"Give me a kiss." Harry requests, already puckering his lips at her. Y/n giggles at him, meeting his lips for a kiss. Harry smiles, dipping his tongue into her mouth so she can taste the beer and Rocketpop on it.

Heart full, she pulls back enough to look him in the eye. He's soft, looking over her flushed face with dazzling eyes and red lips.

"I've got something to tell you." She whispers, turning into him so she can hold his face in her hands. Harry nods, urging her to continue. Before she gets a chance to second guess herself, she rushes out, "I'm pregnant."

It takes Harry a moment to respond, the fireworks being the only sound for quiet some time and if it weren't for the ever growing glimmer in his eyes, she'd be scared.

"With a baby?"

Y/n laughs. "With your baby."

Harry smiles at that, exhaling in disbelief and eyes filling with water. His hands fall to her stomach, cupping it gently even though she's not showing at all yet. "My baby." Harry murmurs, sniffling.

Y/n nods, her own eyes not full of happy tears. "Think we can handle a baby, H?"

"A missus and a baby?" He beams. "Couldn't ask for anything better."

~

Shivering, Harry enters his warm home, toeing off his boots and hanging his coat on the hangers by the door. He locks the front door, knowing y/n is home and they have no where else to go today.

The delicious smell of chicken floods Harry's nose as he enters the living room, veins heating up with the kind of warmth only home can bring.

He finds y/n in the living room, curled up under a thick knit blanket with Arlo sat on her stomach. She's holding his hands, laughing as the baby bounces lightly on her tummy. Though she's paying more attention to Arlo, 50 First Dates is playing on the TV.

"A rom-com?" Harry gasps, bringing a hand up to his heart. He moves to stand behind the couch his wife is laying on. "Without me?"

Y/n laughs, both her and Arlo greeting him with similar smiles. Harry leans down, pressing his lips to Arlo's head and then y/n's warm forehead. Harry frowns, ready to ask her about her fever when she interrupts.

"Just took some Advil. It's going down."

He nods, still concerned but glad she's taking care of herself. She did however, tell him that everything was fine so why is she still sick? Harry stays crouched down, slipping his hand under her hair to hold the back of her neck. She sighs contently, eyes fluttering shut at his cold fingers on her hot skin.

"What'd the doctor say, darling?"

She hums, eyes staying shut as she breathes out, "It's just a cold, not too contagious either. I just need to keep taking Theraflu and it'll pass over."

"Good," Harry murmurs. "I'll pick up some more tomorrow on my way home."

Arlo gurgles, wanting his mother's attention back on him. Y/n laughs, opening her eyes to watch Arlo while he continues to bounce on top of her.

"Are you going to tell me the good news?" She asks, trying to hold back her smile but failing miserably.

"Absolutely." He grins, butterflies swarming his stomach.

"Gemma was curious too so you better tell her as well." Y/n says, pushing herself up and off the couch. She settles Arlo on her hips, walking around to meet Harry with a kiss on the lips.

"Where is she?"

"Kitchen." Y/n starts leading him to the other room. Harry follows, bouncing on his feet as he recalls the words Ted had said to him.

"Harry's home and he's got news." Y/n sings, gaining the attention of Gemma and Anne. Harry follows her to the bar, pulling out a stool for her. She sits down, him plopping down next to her. Arlo reaches out for Harry and his grin grows. He takes Arlo and places him on his lap.

Harry looks up, coming face to face with his sister and mother. He realizes that it's them that have been cooking dinner and he reminds himself to thank them later. Y/n needs her rest and he's glad they're helping out.

"Are you going to tell us?" Y/n laughs, shaking his arm impatiently. Harry chuckles at her, smiling bashfully at Arlo.

"Every year, the man that runs my league sets up a national tournament. Each league is represented with one boxer and Ted Nichols has asked me to participate this year."

"Oh my God," y/n breathes, jumping to her feet. "that's amazing Harry!"

He barely has the chance to giggle before she's pressing her front to his back, arms wrapping around his neck tightly. She presses her face into his, squeezing him with all she's got.

"So you'll be competing against boxers from all over the United States?" Gemma asks, mouth gaping open.

Harry nods, cheeks heating up and stomach swirling. "S'the biggest tournament of the year." He turns his head to y/n, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

"If I won this, you'd never have to work another day in your life, pet."

She giggles, shaking his shoulders and quietly squealing. Harry's reminded of all the fights she's sat front row, always sporting some kind of gear with his name. All the blood, bruises, tears, cuts, and broken bones she cared for. She's always been his number one fan and now he has the chance to give her the world.

"I'm so proud of you, Harry." She murmurs, keeping her arms around him, fingers stroking over his pounding heart.

"That's incredible Harry." Anne finally says, voice wobbling like she's afraid of speaking to him. He looks up at, not exactly smiling at her but not glaring either.

He imagines a time where they'd be sat here, him gleaming over the news and happily receiving congratulations from his family. It's a time in which he'd still call her mom and he'd hug her like his life depended on it, grateful for her words.

He nods. "Thank you."

She smiles, a bit awkwardly but still warm. "If you need anything let Gemma and I know and if you'll have us, we'd love to be there cheering you on."

Harry's chest aches. He's always dreamed of her being proud of him, of her accepting the fact that Harry was born to be in that ring. He couldn't imagine what it'd feel like to have her support on boxing but he never thought it'd feel like this.

He stares back at her, feeling like he's eight again and inviting her to the school play. "I already told Nick I'd be needing three tickets to the matches."

This time, he's able to return her smile.

~

He feels trapped. His chest and head pound, heavy and tight. He doesn't know what he's mad at. Maybe his dad, maybe the doctors, maybe alcohol. Or maybe his mom, or Jack, or even himself. He might even be mad at the universe. Whatever it is, he doesn't care because he's so angry, nothing else matters besides the desperate ache to hurt someone.

He's reckless, swinging wildly and fiercely at the the boy across from him. He manages to catch the kid in the eye and the nose, two hits he knows he wouldn't have landed if the kid wasn't a newbie like him.

The sounds of the road around him disappear and all he can see is the doctor stepping out of the operation room, breaking the news to his mother. It's like some primal instinct takes over and Harry's lunging, tackling the kid and delivering punch after punch.

He's pulled back, dragged away from the boy's limp body but he keeps attempting to throw more punches. His body tingles, the adrenaline in him feeling refreshing compared to the dull nothingness he's felt for months.

"Chill out kid, chill out." Someone tells him, holding him tight around the chest until the anger has subsided and his surroundings come rushing back.

He's been pulled all the way around the corner, now out of view of the poor boy he just beat. Harry huffs, pushing away from whoever's holding him.

"That was a good flight." The boy tells him, eyes flickering down to Harry's split knuckles. The cuts sting but he doesn't care.

Harry just nods, not knowing what to say. After years of feeling helpless and lost, he finally feels free. He felt in control. He had the ability to protect himself from being hurt and instead being the one to hurt this time. Call him morbid, but the feeling was so fucking good.

"Felt good, hurting him." Harry mutters, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Why?"

Harry stays quiet. He knows why it feels good but he doesn't want to explain it because it doesn't feel valid enough. That kid wasn't the reason Harry's dad was gone. He wasn't the reason Harry's mother has already moved in another man. It's not that kids fault that Harry's house no longer feels like a home.

So he shrugs, looking down at his feet. The pavement is blurry and he growls in anger, hating that he's crying in front of this guy.

"I know you didn't want to hurt him." The boy says, taking a step closer to Harry. "Could tell by the way you fight, you didn't have a target. You were just swinging."

"M'mad." Harry growls. "I'm always so fucking mad and it feels so good to..."

He doesn't know what to say because he's still mad. He's mad because he just beat an innocent kid for no reason other than the fact that he wanted someone besides himself to hurt.

"I can help you." The boy says, knowing Harry couldn't finish his sentence. "I can teach you to fight, I can show you how to get rid of that feeling."

Harry looks up at him. "You want me to fight again?"

"Not out here." He chuckles. "Not in the street like this. You've got the talent to box, you just need help and I can help."

Harry perks up, heart pounding at the offer. He'd kill to not feel like he's constantly on the edge of exploding.

"Me? A boxer?"

The boy nods. "What do ya say?"

Harry swallows, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hands. "Ok."

"Cool." He grins. He looks down at his feet before shrugging. "Get over here and give me a hug, look like you're about to collapse into a puddle."

Harry laughs, blushing a bit but gladly stepping into the strangers embrace. It's been awhile since someone's hugged him and he's not passing up the opportunity to feel arms around him again.

"I'm Nick, by the way."

"M'Harry." He let's out a shaky breath. "Harry Styles."

~

Y/n should've known. He had kept his eyes on her all night, still basking in the glow of sharing his news and grinning.

But there was that glint in his eyes. One that she knew meant he was up to something. And after dinner, as she carried Arlo up the stairs he had been pressed into her back, hips tight against her bum. Even as she changed him into a clean diaper and laid him down, Harry was stuck to her like a magnet.

"What are you up to?" She asks, smirking when he kicks their bedroom door shut and slides his hands under the front of her shirt. If possible, he presses his crotch even tighter against her.

"Just lovin' on ya." He murmurs, kissing her shoulder.

"That's all?"

He hums. "And tryna fuck ya."

She laughs, eyes squeezing shut when his fingers pinch at her stomach. He walks her to the bed, spinning her around to face him.

"What are you giggling for?" Harry grins, rotating them so he can sit on the bed. His hands slip down to the button of her jeans, flicking it open. He kisses her tummy over her shirt.

"Knew you were trying to get into my pants."

Harry chuckles hotly, goosebumps rising on her stomach. He pushes her shirt up, keeping his lips on her stomach. She giggles at him again, taking the shirt he had bunched up over her breasts in her hands and pulling it off.

"Want to thank you." He murmurs, tongue dropping out of his mouth to lick over her skin. "My biggest fan deserves to feel good."

Her toes curl, belly flooding with warmth as he works her pants and underwear down on one go. She falls helpless to him, eyes fluttering shut and head lolling back. His hands snake around her waist and up her back, tickling her skin and reaching for the clasp of her bra. He keeps his lips on her front, sloppily kissing over her pelvic bone and the crease where her thighs meet her hips.

"How come I'm the only one that's naked?" She breathes, hands tangling in Harry's hair. He groans deeply, tickling her skin and vibrating all the way down to her core.

"Get to work then, darling." He drawls, voice coming from deep in his chest. He watches her with a boyish smile on his lips, groaning softly every time she removes a piece of clothing just because he knows the noise gets her worked up.

And it works. By the time he's got her sprawled out on the bed, thick thighs holding her legs open and hands squeezing her plush thighs, she's already dripping for him.

"My pretty girl." He praises, pinching her thigh. She jumps, hips jutting towards him. He chuckles deeply, rubbing his hand up and over her wet core. She sighs in relief, eyes fluttering shut. Harry smirks, nudging her clit with his knuckle. She moans quietly, lips falling open in rough pants.

"So wet for me already pet." Harry coos, rubbing her little button in tight circles. "Don't even need to stretch ya, do I? Ya ready for me?"

"Harry," Y/n mewls, hands fisting the blankets under her. "Please."

He grips his cock in his free hand, giving himself a couple pumps as he watches his fingers work on her glistening lips for a few more seconds. He waits for her leg to twitch impatiently before removing his hand and laying chest to chest with her.

He guides himself between her thighs, rubbing the tip of his cock over her folds so he doesn't hurt her. Her hands grab at his shoulders, eyes opening to look at him.

"Ya alright?" He whispers. "Can I fuck you?"

She nods, hooking a leg over his hip. "Want you to fuck me Harry."

He simpers, pushing into her tight cunt with a low groan. His lips find hers, kissing her sweetly and pulling back so he can rut back into her.

"Love you so much y/n." He grunts, dropping onto his forearms. Her breasts rub against his chest, pulling his attention down to her full chest. He kisses between her breasts.

"Love you Harry."

He groans, hips picking up speed as he licks over her chest. She whimpers when he pecks his lips to her nipple, sensitive from breastfeeding.

"Watch it," She warns weakly.

"Know," Harry shushes, slowing himself to deep thrusts. The tip of his leaking cock nudges the spongy spot in her, her thighs tightening around his. "Just licking darling, not gonna suck on 'em."

He laps at her nipple, brows furrowing when his cock twitches in her and his stomach tightens. She moans, nails digging into his shoulders as he continues to hit that spot inside her.

"Harry," She whines, walls starting to tighten around him. He picks up the pace again, moving to her other breast.

"That's it baby, feel so good." He praises, lips leaving sloppily saliva patches on her chest. Harry moves to the side, digging his teeth into the flesh. He gets the reaction he wanted, her pussy pulsing around him as she comes.

Harry drops his forehead to her collarbone, hips staggering and sloppy. He grunts, chasing his own high and working her through hers.

"Come on Harry," Y/n encourages, voice breathless and syrupy. "want to feel it. I need you to come in me."

His neck prickles, hair flopping with sweat. His prick twitches, tip starting to spurt into her velvet walls. "Fuck," He curses, toes curling.

"So proud of you Harry, you're doing so good." He's not sure if she's referring to him fucking her or the new fighting tournament but he doesn't care because the praise pushes him over. He stills, lifting his head and squeezing his eyes shut as he pushes into her with all he's got. She strokes his neck, leaving wet kisses on his jaw and murmuring how much she loves him.

He pulls out, pressing his lips to hers. They kiss for a moment, tongues lazily rubbing together and noses nudging. His arms get shaky so he falls next to her, pulling her onto his sweaty chest. She runs her fingers through the dips of his abdomen.

Harry's catching his breath, twirling her hair around his fingers when he realizes what day it is. He freezes, opening his eyes and looking down at her.

"Pet?"

"Hm?" She hums.

"Shouldn't you be on your period?"

[marvelhero-fics]

The Best Kind Of Phone Sex

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You have some fun with Tom while he’s on the phone with his family

A/N: This wasn't requested but the idea popped into my head so why not. Enjoy! (also this is super un-edited so if anything is majorly wrong please let me know)

Word Count: 1,939

Warning: SMUT, oral (male receiving), sex, unprotected sex, just a lot of sex, all that stuff. 18+

Your body nuzzled further into Toms, his arm draped over your shoulder with your fingers intertwined with his, as the two of you mindlessly watched a show on Netflix, more preoccupied on your phones than the television.

“What’re we doing for dinner, gorgeous?” Tom asked, his eyes not shifting from his phone. You squeezed his hand slightly.

“I was thinking of making some butter chicken in like an hour-or-so.” You replied, turning to look up at him.

“Sounds perfect.” He grinned, “my mum is going to call soon because the family wants an update on everything that’s happening, sorry it might be a long chat.” Tom explained. He used his arm around your body to pull your head close to him, moving his lips to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

The two of you sat around for a bit longer until Tom’s phone rang and he picked it up, greeted by his mother.

“Yea, I’ve missed you too mum.” He began talking, his fingers absentmindedly playing with yours. Boredom filled the room as the TV volume was muted and Tom wasn’t available. You grinned deviously, shuffling your frame to face Tom. He looked back at you with a questioning look, clearly still listening to what was being said through the phone.

Your hand snaked over onto his lap, rubbing up and down his inner thigh. Tom didn’t entirely understand what you were getting at until you ran your hand up to his member. You jerked it slightly through his clothes, feeling it grow rapidly in your hand.

You continued to palm him through his jeans as you moved your body from beside him, to between his legs. You knelt in front of him, his eyes never leaving you as you shuffled around. 

“No, I’m not busy at all.” He spoke, as your hand gently began undoing his button and zipper. His boner was very evident in his briefs.

“(Y/N) and I are just chilling on the couch watching Netflix.” You pulled his underwear down, watching his length pop out from under the cotton. Your eyes made contact with his, a wet lick drawing across your bottom lip as you lightly began jerking him. A smirk creeping across his lips as your mouth moved to wrap around his cock. You began sucking just the tip, teasing him ever-so-slightly. He took a deep sigh, loving the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around his arousal.

“Yea, yea, I’m fine Mum. Just a bit tired.” He said, his voice slightly raspy, but still very calm. I guess he was a pretty good actor. It didn't take long before your mouth moved to take in his whole length, his tip hitting the base of your throat over and over as you bobbed your head. His eyes fell shut as his head finally rested back on the top of the couch. He kept speaking through the phone, his voice not fluctuating much as you continued.

He began asking his mum about how her past weeks had been. Part of you almost felt guilty for doing what you’re doing. He didn’t get to speak to his parents a whole lot considering how busy he was, and you didn’t want to ruin it for him. You were reassured of your actions when Tom’s hand moved to tangle in your hair. He gently pushed your head to quicken your pace, applying pressure in your mouth to put more force against his member.

He gulped as his jaw clenched tightly, obviously trying to stifle any groans. His hips buckled beneath you, loving the feeling you were giving to him. Sharp breaths escaped his mouth in replacement of his moans. You dipped your head lower, taking more of him in your mouth with shorter movements. You quite honestly thought Tom was going to been thrown over the edge. His breathing became uneven, his teeth biting hard against his bottom lip, and his legs shaking beneath you. It became harder for him to hold proper sentences. He tried to revert to mumbling ‘mhmm’ without his mum noticing something was going on.

His cock twitched in your mouth a few times, causing you to pull back. He looked down at you, his nostrils breathing deeply while his tongue was trapped between his teeth. You grinned. Your hand jerked his length slightly, letting him ease down from his almost-high. You returned your mouth back onto him and began sucking once again.

“Oh perfect, I’m on speaker.” He stated through the phone, though clearly wanting you to know as he looked down at you. He did his best to hold his voice steady. You licked up his shaft, popping his raging pink tip out of your mouth. 

“Want me to stop?” You asked, very quietly, a cheeky smirk covering your face. He simply shook his head, threading his fingers deeper into your hair. Your mouth returned to his length, causing a deep sigh from his lips. You began bobbing your head against him once again. He began melting beneath you, his head falling back onto the couch head rest, his eyes fluttering shut. All he could do was focus on his breathing to not disrupt the call.

“Yea, I found out more about the movie the other day.” He commented, his hand lightly pushing against your head as you thrust his member in and out of your mouth. You hallowed out your cheeks to apply more pressure to him. Clearly having effect, Tom tensed below you, his breath shaking as he continued listening to the phone.

“It’s called ‘The Devil All The Time’,-” He paused, his lips pursing together to hold his mouth shut as a groan threatened to spill. You backed off just slightly, “it’s being directed by Antonio Campos.” He finally added.

He continued to explain the film to his parents over the phone while you continued sucking him off. He was obviously finding it hard to hold it together as he began letting slight hums and whimpers escape him, holding the phone away from his face whenever he couldn't hold it together. You felt his legs tensing sharply as his cock twitched in your mouth, indicating how close he was to finishing. But you wanted to have even more fun. Without warning you dropped his length from your mouth, pushing against his thighs to stand yourself up in front of him.

His breathing was deep as you stripped your shirt from your frame. Your nude breasts popping out from under the fabric. He roughly bit his bottom lip, his hand moved to begin lightly jerking himself off. You slipped your track pants off, throwing them into your puddle of other clothes.

“Uh, yea, Sebastian Stan, Robert Pattinson, Bill Skarsgard, Mia Wasikowska...” he listed, clearly not focused on what he was saying. You turned so your back was facing him, pulling your underwear down your legs to bend over in front of him. Giving him a view of everything. He practically wept. His hand reached out, grabbing your ass firmly. “And some others, I can’t remember at the moment.” He added, his hand rubbing over your smooth skin.

Your body turned back around to face him. Smiling down at him, your hands ran themselves through his messy, brunette hair, snaking themselves behind his head to firmly grip the top of the couch. You moved each of your legs to sit beside his thighs so you straddled his lap.

“Yea, it’s coming out in 2020.” Tom explained, his free hand grabbing your hip, squeezing your skin so tightly. His eyes burning holes as they skimmed over your nude frame.

Your hand moved down to his length to line it up with your heat. He starred at you, grin plastered on his face as you smirked back. You slowly slid down onto his member, your teeth immediately biting down on your lip to stifle the loud moan threatening to slip. Tom’s eyes squeezed shut and he hummed lightly, loving the feeling of your tight core around him. You forced your lips down on his, kissing him passionately as you rode his aching cock. He broke the kiss to speak through the phone again.

“Yea, I’m still coming over on the 22nd.” Both of your hips moved in unison, thrusting his length deeper into you. You bit your lip so hard you thought it might draw blood as you contained every moan. Your head moved so your mouth was right next to Tom’s other ear, 

“That feels so fucking good Tommy,” you whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as a shiver sent through his spine. “It’s so big baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” You added quietly, thrusting yourself harder onto him, your pace increasing. His mouth dropped open, though he didn't let any sounds escape. Of course you didn't want to be caught by his parents, but it was just so fun playing with him like this.

“Yep, (Y/N) is definitely coming.” He spoke through the phone, opening his eyes to smirk at you. A light giggle fell from your lips, being over taken by a hushed moan as his length pounded deep inside you. Both of you breathed deeply, letting your chests rise and fall against each other as beads of sweat formed on your foreheads.

His cock slid in and out of you, rubbing over a bundle of nerves deep inside you that made you want to scream Tom’s name over and over. You couldn't get enough of the feeling as he thrust his hips up, pounding his length into you. His hand still held your waist tightly, helping you move your hips down onto his lap again and again. He loved watching your face as he fucked you deeply, watching your eyes practically roll back into your head and your abdomen tensing. He loved the feeling of his member inside you, how your walls squeezed his tip, making him want to hammer you senselessly. 

It was becoming increasingly harder for you two to stay silent.

“Yea, I miss you too Mum and Dad.” He commented, telling his parents that he had to leave for something, in reality he just felt himself nearing the finish. Your dripping walls hugging his member tightly was absolutely throwing him over the edge.

“Yep, love you guys too,” he rambled quickly, his breath now heaving through his gapping mouth, “yea, I've gotta go, bye.” He quickly pressed his phone, tossing it on the couch beside him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He finally groaned out, his other hand grabbing your waist to help thrust you onto him faster. 

“Tommy... I’m gonna cum.” You whined, tangling your fingers in his messy hair. Your head rolled on your shoulders as you let your orgasm go. Moans tangled with Tom’s name escaped your mouth as you came all over Tom’s member. 

“Fuck, it’s so tight.” He growled out, feeling you clench around him as you rode out your high. Your legs shaking as colour clouded your vision, your body practically dripping with ecstasy. “I’m gonna cum too, baby.” He added, his hips moving with yours to roughly thrust himself inside you.

“I wanna feel you fill me up, Tom.” You whimpered, your arms wrapped around the back of Tom’s neck to hold your frames tightly together. With a few more grunts Tom finally unraveled, blowing himself inside you. There was a moment of silence as you two just held each other close, pleasure oozing around each of your bodies as your muscles relaxed into one-and-other. 

“Uhm, Tom, you still there?” Nikki’s voice filled the room. You looked over at his phone to see the speaker button activated, rather than the end call button. 

Your jaws hit the floor. 

[wmshappen]

Lockdown Learning

If the devil finds work for idle hands, we can only assume from this summer’s Instagram posts that the devil must love sourdough. And the country’s new army of amateur bakers weren’t the only ones using having more time on their hands to good advantage—lots of people looked to learning new things as a distraction.

But first things first - if the only thing you ‘achieved’ this summer was making it through each day, don’t give yourself a single moment of grief. By doing just that, you’ve already done great. However, as time has wound on and those of us working in events swapped fields and packed schedules for staying in, some of the WMSH team have been enjoying learning new skills or taking on new hobbies. We’ve found that focusing on things you enjoy, be that a new challenge, doing something physical, or spending time making your micro-universe nicer, comfier or more tasty, can be great for your mental health.

Check out what we’ve been up to below:

JD

I decided not to let my lack of actual garden stop me attempting to grow some of my own food. I ordered some tumbling tomato seedlings online, and repotted them along with spinach and kale seeds into hanging baskets so they could bask in the sunshine from the SW facing window that basically turns the lounge into a greenhouse from May to October. Moving them into the shower for a drench became part of the daily routine and within a month, they’d started to fruit (and are still going). To accompany them, I started growing micro salad in a seed sprouter, which made my weekend at-home brunches much more Instagram-worthy. 

As a side note - hanging tomatoes make an excellent Zoom background. So many people commented how good they looked and I like to think a bit of greenery brightened those meetings a little.

Stephen

During lockdown I learned how to use 3D projection mapping, with Mad Mapper and Wayne Sables’ excellent online Vimeo course. The introductory lessons were great, and included insightful interviews with professionals from creative industries. As with most things, the real learning came with practice; but after only a few hours I managed to project 10 different video streams simultaneously onto a complex icosahedral 3D sculpture, using a projector, a laptop, and a demo version of Mad Mapper. This technique has been used in art installations, live music and stage performances, outdoor exhibitions and video game demonstrations, and I look forward to finding more and more places to use it.

Alice

I love doing something physical, knowing it will likely take me all day. The garden has been one big and on-going project this year, something that would normally be left untouched while I’m away on-site throughout the summer. However, through watching many YouTube videos, countless calls to my mum, many plant deaths, and lots of back-breaking work, I’ve cultivated my garden to a point where it’s unrecognisable from where it was. I’ve laid turf for the first time, pruned back trees and bushes that I would previously have had no idea what to do with. I’ve built a rockery, a compost heap, and after learning that there are different types of rakes, with entirely different purposes (who knew?!), I’ve brought myself a new one for raking leaves this autumn, which I’m way too excited about.

As well as gardening - while I’ve always been a bit of a DIY-er - I upped my game this summer by refurbing the kitchen. I even created a Gant chart when I was struggling to figure out the order things needed to happen in, and used a white board to track ‘to do’, ‘to buy’ and ‘snags’, just like I would when managing a festival build site. The refurbing is still ongoing, but so far has included laying flooring and fitting skirting for the first time, and finally conquering my fear of sawing things. I’m still not very good, I can’t cut straight to save my life…but things get cut. One piece of sawing led to another, and I ended up making multiple coffee tables for my new garden oasis, and a footstool to go with the 2nd hand chairs I upcycled. I learned what a ‘pocket screw’ was, which was a bit of a game changer, but I haven’t totally perfected it yet.

Youtuber’s The Sorry Girls , and instagrammer Angela Rose have been major sources of inspiration. Also, my father-in-law, Bob, who’s a DIY expert. He’s always available to give advice, offer encouragement, or send me tools.

 I’ve also spent a little time trying to improve my 3D modelling skills – while I’m a wiz at doing 2D site plans - my 3D constructions don’t always look polished. I took an online tutorial on virtual room dressing and lighting effects for Vectorworks. For practice, I made a room, I put a person figure in it, and set about trying different lighting / finishing options. It’s hard to explain how I got there, but one thing led to another, and I ended up 3D modelling something akin to a bloody murder scene in a movie. Lesson learned – what you, when you’ve not left the house for several days, think is funny…may freak your team out when you show them.

Alice Hunt / @mrsalicehunt

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 95

Chapter Summary -   Tom and Danielle get on with living their lives, paps be damned. But of course, the internet has its own ideas when it saw the two coffee cups, and of course, that statement regarding Tom and Bond.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​​ @nonsensicalobsessions​​ @damalseer​​ @hiddlesbitch1​​ @winterisakiller​​ @fairlightswiftly​​ @salempoe​​​ @wolfsmom1​​​

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle was checking her phone since she heard it go off while she and Tom were collecting Mac. She had texted the kennels the night before on seeing Tom so ill to ask them if it was alright to leave the dog for another night, they, of course, obliged and as soon as the coffee and pastries were finished, the pair decided to collect him. She read the text from Nacelle a second time, trying to see the logic behind it.

“Something important?” Tom came into her peripheral vision as he sat into the passenger seat.

“Nope, but funny as hell.” She showed him the photo that was on the screen of him with the two coffees.

“That asshole was outside the coffee shop this morning, what are they saying now?”

“Well, it is all over the internet.”

“What is?” He asked worriedly.

“Sure, this is the confirmation the world needed.” She giggled.

“What are you on about Elle?” He looked at her worriedly.

“Proof you and Taylor are still together,” His brow rose immediately. “The little ‘Hiddleswift’ fanatics are all over the internet violently arguing that this is unequivocal proof you are still together.”

“It’s a picture of me with coffee?” Tom stated, concerned at the severe lack of explanation.

“No, there are pictures of you running to the café, then with you walking back with not one, but two coffees,” Danielle explained. “Oh, and why did you not tell me I am to be a stepmom?”

“I am sorry, what?”

“Apparently that is why she has not been seen since the break-up, you’re to be a dad, congrats.” Tom looked at her appalled. “Relax, she did a show a few weeks ago, there was no bump.” Danielle laughed. “If she was pregnant, you would know about it.”

“But…”

“Tom, be reasonable, she is twenty-seven, unmarried and already getting too old to hold this fresh-faced teen songstress look, a baby would be career suicide for her now. Relax, this is the same people who are saying she is sitting in this car beside you today, that you are with her, and we both know you’re not.” She smiled.

Tom nodded. “Sorry, I am just a bit off today.” He then shook his head, “My brain is playing tricks on me.”

“You have not seen her since the end of August, it would have come to you before now.”

“I have not…no, it’s longer.”

“Right well, calm yourself. It’s just silly people trying to enrich their lives with speculation because they are looking for something interesting.”

“That’s a polite way to put it. Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Tom, if you were away for hours on end a day, not answering the phone and no explanation, then coming back, smelling of other women and not interested in me, I would have to worry, but you are always contactable, if you’re not, you tell me beforehand and you are not the sort to do something that slimy. I know you are not off fucking someone else and I know that you are not with her, so I don’t care. Let them have their speculation, so long as they are not physically affecting my life, I don’t care. Even after they learn about us, they will still write their stories with you with other real or made-up women and they will comment on things, but I don’t care. It’s not reality. Reality is what we have, we have our friends and family and we are not bothered.” She shrugged.

Tom paid attention to her smile and her genuine expression. “You really have been spending time dealing with this and preparing for it, haven’t you?”

“I have. I am not happy, knowing that some weirdo will annoy me when I am walking Mac, but they will get bored, we will be just like Sophie and Ben, just two people minding our own business, no one knows what they are doing from one week to the next, we’ll be the next ones to be like that.”

“We will,” Tom kissed her hand. “And I understand. Going for the coffee this morning and for that guy to be there, it is annoying, but it is not forever. They will get their fresh blood and the two of us will be too boring and normal for them.”

“I am never boring, excuse you.” Danielle nudged his side. Tom was about to give her a kiss when Mac stuck his head on his shoulder. “I think someone has decided we need to start driving.”

Tom laughed, looking at the dog who was giving him large puppy-eyes. “I think he has.” He turned and rubbed Mac’s head. “Blame her buddy, she’s in the driving seat.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Danielle sighed, turning on the engine.

*

Three days and three public outings later, Tom and Danielle had not been spotted, which suited them. They did not hide but were also careful not to bring too much attention to themselves. They were after bringing Mac to the park, Tom jogging with the dog while Danielle cycled nearby, finally using the bike Tom had procured for her. When they met again at the end of it, Tom smiled and watched as she loaded the bike onto the car. “I forgot to ask,” She turned to look at him. “The situation with your…” He indicated to her arm.

“Nothing since, no cramps, bleeding, anything.” She smiled. “I guess it was just the changeover.”

“So, are we safe to…” he grinned wickedly.

“Yes.”

“For the record, you are not showering alone today.”

“Thanks for the warning, though, since you are back to yourself after your illness, I hadn’t planned to anyway.”

“Using me for my body.” He jested.

*

“So, have you seen them while I was away?” Tom asked as he stirred the pot on the stove.

“No, I haven’t really had time with work, but I was talking to Sophie, she was saying how tired and hectic things have been, I would not doubt her, two in nappies, that’s terrifying.”

“I was born not much over a year after Sarah.”

“I know, your poor Mam.”

“So, not close together then?”

“I am not going to say anything because I will jinx myself.”

Tom laughed in return. He was about to say something more when the doorbell rang. “There’s Luke now.”

“I’ll stay in here so and bring some tea in for you both,” Danielle stated before going to the laundry room.

Tom ran to the front door and opened it for his friend. “Good afternoon.”

“Hello Tom.”

It was notable while he was in the turmoil of the time with Taylor that Luke seldom smiled when he saw Tom, he almost looked fearful, but he grinned widely as he walked into the actor’s home, something that made Tom smile. “Well, what is the gist of things?”

“Well the tour went down well, as we knew it would, and the film, as you are aware, is being well received.”

“So, dare I ask, what is the reason for the afternoon visit?”

“There is a terrible little rumour going around that you are being turned down for the Bond role as you are ‘too smug’.”

Tom frowned for a moment. “But no one has discussed the role with me in months.”

“I am aware, you are aware, the studio is aware, the general public, however, is not, and they are going with whatever story filled their fancy. And some are continuing with the farcical idea that you are some egomaniac with narcissistic tendencies that considers himself a shoe-in for the role.”

“Let them think it, it means nothing.”

“Agreed.” Luke smiled. “Speaking of people’s opinions, how is Danielle?”

“She is fine, she is in the kitchen making some tea.” A moment later, Danielle walked in. “Speak of the devil.”

“Use my Earthly name, you fool.” She hissed. “Honestly, some mortals, they think they can declare your presence to everyone.”

Even Luke had to chuckle at her jestful comment. “He talks too much.”

“No one has suffered with him as you have Luke, you deserve a sainthood.”

Again, Luke laughed. “I was speaking to Tom regarding a rumour that he was declined the role for Bond for being too smug.”

For a moment, Danielle thought he was joking, but when she realised that it was genuine, she laughed. “Well, true fans will know that’s bullshit and the Fairweather’s will not be convinced otherwise regardless. We can’t please everybody, fuck ‘em.”

Tom smiled at Danielle’s immediate dismissal of such comments. “Exactly, then Luke was asking how you are and you walked in.”

“I am okay thank you, I hope you are well. I’m going to walk out now to let you two talk over whatever else needs to be discussed.” A moment later Mac stuck his head in the door. “Get out you lout.” She ordered, but Mac looked at Luke for a moment. “You met him already, he’s not a dog person, so bugger off and leave him alone.”

Mac gave the PR man a judgmental look and left the room with his master. “Her dog just gave me a stink-eye.”

“Elle is the person who raised him, I would not doubt it.”

“You must be happy to finally have a dog, you complained too many times before that you didn’t have one.”

“It’s great, honestly, I love it, he loves jogging and Danielle insists on being the one to clean after him, so I get all the benefits.”

“What happens when she isn’t here?”

“I look after everything. We use kennels when we’re both away.”

“It is very all very domestic,” Luke noted. “And you have never looked happier.”

“I am, I…” Tom beamed. “Life is incredible these days, busy, sometimes even difficult, but incredible.”

“Good, I am glad to hear it,” Luke answered. “I am frightened to ask, but have you heard anything from…?”

“Why on Earth would I contact Taylor?”

“I never stated you contacting her, I mean in general.”

“No, I have not heard of her or from her, thankfully. I have seen online that there is speculation that she is in the UK and that she and I are supposedly still dating according to some, in fact, Danielle informed me the other day that apparently, I am the father of Taylor’s imaginary unborn child in some people’s books.”

“I have seen that particular gem a few times as to why she is not in the spotlight, yes.” Luke nodded.

“There was something though.” Luke looked at Tom with concern as Tom’s tone became somewhat angry. “A friend of hers, Lena Durham.”

“I know of her.”

“Danielle went to the US last week for a job interview. She passed all the primary tests, they were very interested in her…her experience was seen as a downside, considering the lack of it, but what she had done, her references, as well as her extra work was something that they were willing to work with. Elle really was hoping for it.”

“What happened?”

“She was the assistant director, she apparently just looked at Danielle with a sneer and said no. No reason, nothing, and that was it.” Tom’s anger mounted as he spoke. “It cost Danielle a considerable amount of money to go to New Orleans and she didn’t even…” he inhaled deeply. “Because of me.”

“Why, did you go and smear Durham?”

“No.”

“Did you in any way make it that she would do that?”

“Because of everything with Taylor…”

“Tom, it is clear from the way Danielle was looking at you not fifteen minutes ago, that if she really wanted this job, she is not holding you responsible for the actions that led to her not getting it,” Luke stated bluntly. “Yes, you having dated Taylor and the subsequent break-up meant that when her friend was in a position of power over Danielle, she abused it, I am not denying that. But you did not actively bring this on Danielle, and if I am entirely honest, I believe that she dodged a bullet. I have heard it from sources unrelated to all of this that though talented, she is, as the saying goes, a grade A bitch. Danielle does not need such aggravation in her life and can you imagine if she had gotten it, considering. If Durham had decided to insist she get it and work the set, could you imagine what she could do to Danielle?”

“She could have made her life a misery.” Tom realised.

“At the very least, she could have ruined Danielle’s love of her job, she could have made everything she has worked for be for nothing, she would have run back to Suffolk, or even Ireland and the hell away from the career she has worked so hard for.”

Tom looked at him for a moment. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

“Thank you, Luke.”

“anytime.” Luke smiled back at him. “I am glad to help. Don’t let it piss you off, Danielle isn’t.”

“She got a job with Branagh as a result.”

“Where?”

“Here, France and Ireland, some war film.”

“Doesn’t he have one coming out this year on that topic?”

“No, Christopher Nolan directs it, he is only an actor. He wanted to do some sort of story that is effectively the air battle over the Channel and the bombing of London.”

“How is that related to Ireland?”

“Apparently they got bombed once in Belfast, then Dublin was bombed for helping Belfast, according to Elle, plus they have financial incentives to film there and some beach they use that acts as a D-Day beach in most films and documentary remakes,” Tom explained.

“So, she lost one job and got another as a result, how?”

“She is working with this man in the US with regards a flaw she found while studying, something to do with stunt wiring I think, and he has her as a consultant as a result, so they are communicating a lot and she had mentioned the job in the US before to him, but she must have said something about not getting it and then he offered her that, saying he was too busy, but that he recommended her to Branagh.”

“And she got it?”

“Apparently she has first refusal, she and I are meeting Branagh next week.”

“You’re going?”

“More for a catch-up, plus, she asked because I think she is nervous.” Luke made an odd facial expression. “What?”

“If it gets out, some people are going to accuse her of using you to get her the job.”

“But she has it already. She had it before Branagh knew she was my girlfriend.”

“Because of course, that matters to gossips.” Luke scoffed. Tom said nothing for a moment, it was true, they would think it regardless. “This is a time to consider her idea to not care about appeasing others.”

“I know, but I don’t want her to feel resentful for that,” Tom stated.

“Tom, she is big enough to look after herself, I have seen her do it. If she asked you, she has considered it and has dismissed it.” Luke explained.

“I hate you and your job some days, it can really put a dampener on things.”

“I know, I really hate having to see the sceptical side of everything, I really wish there were times I could just smile and not have to. I hate having to think the worst.” Luke admitted.

[blueishfood]

Wind in our sails (Chapter 2)

Fandom/Ship: Maraudrer era in a Pirates of the Caribbean au! Jily, Dobby x Winky, Alice x Frank,

Summary:

“Lily Evans, a young Lady of El Puerto Del Rey, meets Lucius Malfoy for the first time as she is promised to him. Malfoy is one of the few counts of Slytherin Island, a persuasive and revolting man. Miss Evans sees no way out of the nightmare her parents has landed her in.

That is until the infamous Marauder, a known and feared pirate ship sailed by Captain James Potter, attacks The Serpent on their way to her wedding. Lily sees and escape and grabs on tight.

Set sail with Lily Evans as she joins Captain James Potter and his mates in swashbuckling adventures of romance, mystery and lionhearted bravery.”

Warning(s): Only a little bit of fighting, what is pirate life without it?

Words: 2,4 K

A/N: It has come to my attention that people might actually like this fic! Thank you for that, I will now proceed to post all the chapters I have already posted on my AO3 account plus a new one :)

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

------------------------

Lily was lying on her silk bed when the first servants carried in her suitcases. She tried not to let the tears fall, but couldn't stop them when she thought of her near future. She cried till her head was worn out and her eyes were red and puffy. Sometime in between; Winky came in to her room and tried to speak to her.

"M-miss, i must congratulate you on your engagement,", she flinched as Lily sobbed loudly. "M-Mister M-Malfoy is very rich, he will p-probably give you everything you w-want." Lily tried to sit, but settled for looking up at Winky from where she lay. She tried to force a small smile, but could not manage it.

"I hope you two find real love..." Winky whispered very quietly. Lily couldn't help but break back into tears. She already felt exhausted, but trying to stop herself from crying would drain her of even more energy.

"Oh! I-I am s-so sorry m-miss!" Winky was on the verge of tears; terrified that she had gotten her mistress to cry. She tried rubbing Lily's back carefully, but when the misses flung herself at tiny Winky and hugged her tightly, the maid had no idea what to do. Lily soaked both their dresses in tears, and did not recognize Winky's surprise nor her calming whispers.

"W-will you c-come with me?" Lily asked Winky between tears and hiccups. The maid's big eyes widened and she sat back a bit to see Lily's face.

"Oh miss! I do not know if I am allowed." Lily dried her tears with a fleak of the light pink sheets under her and smiled at her maid.

"If I had you with me, I'm sure this would be much less terrifying, and do call me Lily." Winky smiled back at Lily. She stood up from the bed and nodded.

"I will ask the mistress, L- Lily." Lily laughed, her eyes glimmering.

"Don't be afraid of saying my name! We are friends, are we not?" Winky's smile grew to the size of the moon. She had never had a real friend in El Puerto del Rey before.

"Yes! Of course we are friends!" Winky stuttered, her smile wider than Lily had ever seen it. Lily smiled back and hugged her new friend again.

"And do me a favor and ask dad, not mum?" Lily laughed when Winky nodded fast and hurried out of the room.

When Lily once again was left alone to think; she cried until nightfall, falling into a restless sleep in the bed dampened by her own tragedy.

----------------------

Lily stood on the port, looking at the big ship owned by Malfoy. It was better to have Winky there, she had to admit, but she was still afraid that Malfoy was going to force her to bed her first day on the island. But he could not do that... could he?

Lily was seriously considering to run away then and there, but then Lucius saw her. He looked much older than her, she realized, maybe in his forties. Lily shuddered under his stare.

Lucius was standing on deck, looking down at her and Winky with a smirk. He shot them a wink. Lily ignored him, walking on board with her purse tightly gripped in her cold hands.

Every day from Lily was seven years old until she was twelve, she was on board her father's ships; learning everything, from tying ropes to standing at the wheel. She even learned how to use a sword. Her father believed she could do almost anything a man could do. She was surprised by the mere thought of him marrying her off to a random man. Either way, walking on board the ship, she felt more like herself than any other time during the last week.

Lily and Winky's room was not big. It was slightly crammed and much less exquisite than Lily was used to. Still, it was bigger than most rooms on the ship. It had two beds, one small closet, a window and a water bowl that was hammered to the wall. Lily was admiring the view of the ocean when Winky came down to their room and smiled at her.

"It is going to be okay, miss." Lily nodded and glanced at Winky.

"One would think so," she answered, and looked back out. Winky saw the sore spot and changed the subject. She walked over to Lily and glanced out at the glittering water.

"Do you know where we are going, miss?"

"I do. But I would rather go with a pirate than going where we are headed." Lily sighed and were not even amused when Winky staggered backwards. She had not thought of how her friend would react to the word pirate, not many dared say that word.

"I know where it is, yes.", Lily muttered, slowly sitting down on the bed. "He is a cruel man, he lives on an cruel island. We are sailing towards Slytherin island." Winky gasped.

She had heard of Slytherin island, everybody had. It was an island where even the noblest of women drank, and they served the most vile of kings; King Voldemort. They said that he was a king, but everybody knew he was a pirate.

There were good and bad pirates, Winky knew because she had worked on one of the better pirate ships once. King Voldemort was the worst pirate known to man, and Slytherin island was the worst pirate port.

---------------------

After three days on board the ship; Lily was going mad. She could not hide anywhere! Every time she wanted to be alone, Malfoy would come and talk to her to get to know her better. Yeah, right, Lily thought, more like getting to know the underside of her skirt better.

The only way Lily could get away from Malfoy was by talking to the crew, or standing in the birds nest because he was afraid of heights. Lady Lily would stay up there for hours, waiting for the sun to go down and for Malfoy to retreat to his cabin. There was not much to entertain her in the birds nest except from the occasional sailor on duty. Lily often busied herself by singing a song she had heard on a pub she had visited with her father once. He realized his mistake when Vivida attacked him with her sandal the morning after, but Lily had still gotten to experience life outside her boring mansion.

"We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves Drink up me hearties, yo ho", Lily sang, giggling to herself quietly.

"We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs Drink up me hearties, yo ho Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me. "

"Is bad luck singin' 'bout pirates." Lily pushed herself from the railing she had been standing on and looked at the man who talked to her. She had been able to retire back to the main deck after seeing Malfoy return to his quarters. She had figured she would be almost alone at this hour of the evening, but Lily had not been able to sense the man that was now standing before her.

He had a big crooked nose and long black hair, but that was not the most attention seeking detail about the man. He had lost one leg and an eye, in addition to the scars on his face. In short, the man looked like he had been in a sword-fight against ten people, and lost. He was Lily's imagination come to life. The picture perfect idea of an old pirate.

"They sail these waters, all of em. You wouldn't want him comin' after us, now would ye?" Lily shook her head fast, even though she did not know who he spoke of.

"Alastor Moody, pleasure to meet your acquaintance, miss." The man took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Lily Evans.", Lily said, and pulled her hand back to her side. Alastor grinned slightly and asked her if she still held on to her old name.

"I am an Evans until I officially marry Malfoy." She stated stubbornly. Looking back to the ocean bathing in sun, she sighed.

"Not a happy arrangement I wager?" He placed his arms on the railing beside her.

"Not my arrangement.", Lily countered, without taking her eyes off the waves.

Alastor would have given a witty reply as always, had it not been for the fact that he was no longer focused on the miss. He saw a ship in the horizon.

It was not big enough for the normal eye to see, but his eye had been trained for a long time, so he saw it. The Marauder. Filled with the phoenix order; he guessed. The best fighters in the known world, and pirates without qualms of killing. Moody already hated the captain of Serpent's Head, and the crew were terrible fighters. The Marauder would win easily.

But, hey, it would be fun to look at, and Moody would have a front row seat.

"Should we call for the captain?" Lily watched the ship with a careful eye. 'She has good eyes.' Moody thought.

With enough of a warning, the Serpent's Head might be able to out run the Marauder. Moody glanced at Lily, and realized she didn't seem more in favor of Malfoy winning than Moody was.

"Rather not..." he answered after a while. Lily lifted an eyebrow, but didn't call  down to any of the crew.

"I've always been Cap'n of this ship.", Moody explained, "I won't give that title away to some city kid with money." Lily's eyes widened, but she nodded and Moody thanked some foreign sea goddess he wouldn't have to knock her out. He rather liked this girl.

"That title is supposed to be earned.", Lily agreed, and turned back to look at the ever closing ship.

"They have hoisted their colors. It's a pirate ship.", she stated, seemingly not concerned of the fact. Moody nodded.

"Good eye.", he muttered. Glancing down to see if anyone had noticed the threat except from them. A few minutes passed, and now the ship was a threatening shadow on the horizon. A few of the men had picked up on the fact, but they all saw Malfoy and decided not to do anything about it.

"I'll wager they will be able to reach us no matter what now, don't you?" Moody pulled out his telescope and measured the speed of the Marauder. Finally he nodded his yes to the woman beside her.

"I won't bet against you, miss.", he said, as he headed for the quarterdeck. "Better lock up safe and sound, Evans. This is looking to be one hell of a fight." Lily saluted the former Captain with two fingers, and laughed as she heard his commandos echo behind her retreating form.

"Constant vigilance, men! N' give me that bottle o' rum, I'm going to need it."

"Winky!" Lily shouted for her maid as she ran down the slippery hallway. She felt her heart pound in her ears like the boots on the deck above her. She heard shouting and stepped out of the way as five armed soldiers marched past her on their way to the battle. The Marauder had yet to reach them as Lily did not hear any canons, but she figured she did not have much time.

"Winky!", Lily shouted again, more desperate this time than the last.

"Miss?" Lily did not have time to correct her on using her name, she just took Winky's elbow and dragged her towards Timmy's cabin.

Timmy was one of the crew members she had gotten to know better. There were many members, and Lily was certain she had yet to talk to all of them, that was why she figured her plan would work.

"What are we doing here, Miss?", Winky asked, hesitating before stepping into the cabin. Timmy was about 16, he was the youngest worker and therefore had the clothes that would fit Lily the most. He wouldn't be mad if she borrowed some clothes of him, would he? Probably not.

"Lily, what a-are you doing?" Lily sighed, did Winky really not understand?

"Borrowing some clothes from Timmy. Take these on." Lily said, throwing some black breeches and a plain white shirt at Winky. Then she threw on some for herself and sat course for the weapon storage.

"Miss? Why are we doing this?" Winky asked as she tied a belt around her waist and tried to keep up with her Lady.

"Because I want to fight and because we do not want to be kidnapped by pirates." Winky's eyes got big as plates. Thankfully she understood the situation and nodded.

"Right," she muttered, and looked at the closed door in front of them, "armory." Lily tried to open the door, but it was firmly shut. "Damn it," she growled, and tried smashing her shoulder to the piece of wood. Lily found out she did not weigh nearly enough.

Winky shoved her away rather forcefully, and picked a few needles out of her up-do. Lily watched Winky work with a surprised look on her face, but didn't ask. She knew Winky's earlier occupations had been less than honorable.

When Winky opened the door, Lily grabbed the first two swords she saw. She threw one of them to Winky who caught it with ease. Lily stopped only for a millisecond to allow a fraction of a frown to form on her face. She knew that all the workers in her dad's house were trained for emergencies, but she did not know that they were this good.

The two girls nodded to each other and with an excited smile, Lily sprinted up on deck. Winky f on followed on her heals. Cannon shots could be heard over their heads just before they arrived at the scene. Lily felt the ship rock from the force and she could only separate a single shout from the mayhem.

"Board the ship!"

When Lily finally stepped outside, the first thing she layed eyes on were the dead bodies sprawled around. The nauseating sight made her want to puke. Was it really smart to fight grown men? Lily knew she was good, but out here it was life or death. If she lost, she would not get a new chance like she did when she trained with her dad.

Lily snapped back to the reality when Winky elbowed her in the side. Her eyes calmed Lily. She knew then, Winky would be by her side.

Lily for a second wondered what was wrong with her. She knew how to fight, and fear had never stopped her before. She straightened her back and charged into battle. She picked up the hat of one of the few fallen pirates and put it on her own head. Pushing it down to hide her face, she smirked and drew her sword; "Let's fight."