#i had to gingerly wake my dog to put my ear to her chest to remember the sounds lmao

[hballegro]

taking a short break from writing to tell you all i love having MASH conspiracies that dont matter and i dont care to prove.

episode where hawkeye hurts his finger and it plays 0% into any of the plot was because alan alda hurt his finger and they had to roll with it.

instances where hawkeye juggles or does a handstand happened solely because alan alda went 'guys watch this' and then did it.

hawkeye singing all the time because alan alda has a musical background and he just kept doing shit like that so the let him have it.

anytime bj or hawk wear something that isnt their usual attire [like the blue/purple cardigan, and the flannel that shows up like twice], its because thats what they showed up in and the costume department said 'hey that looks good on you. wear it for the episode today'

bj's got converse because mike farrells bigass feet meant they didnt have any other shoes on-hand that were the right size [other than boots] so they just told him to wear his everyday shoes in the show.

bj's robe fits so horribly because its actually his wife's robe and shes 5'1", as mentioned, so theres a reason why man has his hams and calves out all the time cause otherwise its just mike farrell being too large again.

fr mulcahy's cross gloves [croves, if you will] and cross socks [crocks, if you will] are just the beginning and he has many other things adorned with crosses for fun, such as undershirts and briefs.

hawkeye and a partner, usually bj, are always winding the same red yarn but hes never knitting it, so hawkeye is unwinding it every night penelope-with-the-suitors style so that they constantly have something to do to break the boredom and hangout.

hawkeye is afraid of mice, but not guinea pigs, so its not all rodents, ergo it might have been a dissection in school that put him off the little bastards

thats all off the top of my head but yeah. head cannons, conspiracies, i dont care i had to get em OUT

[talkfastromance4]

a weekend away--Luke&Lily oneshot

A/N: just a cute little something and a catch up on our flower family🙂

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: talks of pregnancy, a lot of cute baby stuff

Masterlist

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Enjoy!☺️

••••••

“I don’t think we should go,” you tell Luke for the hundredth time while you’re packing your weekend bag. The girls’ bags have already been packed along with their swimsuits and other pool toys. 

Luke’s arms fell slack into his suitcase, he was in the process of folding his favorite red caravan t-shirt. He looks up at you and you admire him for a moment ahead of your worry. His hair is pulled back in the middle of his head in a bun, a few strands frame his face. He’s kept his beard for a while now you can’t even remember what he looks like without it. 

“Y/N, we’ve discussed it with Dr. Wilson, Oliver is where he should be. His heart is strong,” he moves in front of you resting his hands on your tense shoulders. “His oxygen levels are good, he’s eating and sleeping longer through the night. And we have the pediatric staff near the compound in case we need them.”

“I just want to make sure he’s safe,” your fingers play with the hoodie strings hanging in front of Luke’s chest. 

“I know, lovie, I do too. We’ll be with him the whole time.”

“What if someone asks to hold him? I’m not ready for that yet and I don’t want them to think I don’t trust them,” you shake your head vehemently. 

“I know, I know,” he hushes and starts to rub at your shoulders. His fingers rub up to your neck and below your ears, twisting at the tension placed there. “They’ll understand, lovie. Besides, Violetta will be there and I’m sure Cory and Ella are looking forward to some adult time.”

You sigh and close your eyes letting him continue his ministrations on your tense muscles. 

“I know you’re right, this is the first time he’s going to be away from home since we brought him here. And it’s only been a few months. All of his stuff is here.”

“We’re going to bring it along. Crystal made sure there’s beds for the girls and bassinets for the babies. We’re all a family,” he smiles and kisses your forehead. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, then wrap your arms around his waist. He hugs you to him tightly and you find comfort easily in his embrace. Your body relaxes but your mind is going haywire with any and all outcomes that could happen. 

**

“Mama look!” Posy shouts when you’re all at The Big Bearian. She ran to the wide glass sliding doors and pointed out the window of the pool below her. There were already floaties moving lazily around in the water. 

“And a slide!” Lily exclaims joining her sister, their noses pressed against the glass. 

“A slide? I call going down first,” Ashton says, dropping his and KayKay’s bags on the floor. 

The rest of the adults shuffle in behind you with Luke bringing up the rear carrying Oliver in his car seat. He slept the whole way here. 

“Me too! Me too!” Posy claps her hands and jumps up and down in her spot. 

“First, we need to have lunch,” you say standing in between your girls. You brush your fingers over their hair lightly. “Then we need to find your rooms, my babies.”

“Then can we swim?” Lily pouts up at you. 

“We’ll see,” you smile. 

All of you split up for the first few hours getting rooms situated while you  got lunch sorted with the help of Lily. When you cut up the vegetables, she placed them on the plate by color. The rest of the family entered the kitchen, Posy was in Ashton’s arms and Luke sidled up next to you, his hands on your waist.

“How is he?” you ask, watching as the others go down the food line you assembled for sandwich making. 

“He was starting to wake up a little but it’s almost his lunchtime, too,” Luke grins, picking up a plate. 

“I’ll go in there soon and feed him,” you sigh, watching everyone. 

Crystal is holding Violetta in her arms, bouncing her lightly and kissing her cheeks. Violetta is three months old and she really looks a lot like Ella, but you can see Cory in her face as well. Then you remembered the bassinets Crystal had promised.

“Is he in the bassinet? There is one in the room, right?”

“I kept him in his carrier for now and yes, it’s right by the bed. Try to relax this weekend?” he ducks his head down to give you a soft kiss. You melt into him.

“I hope you guys are using protection. Give yourselves a break before baby number three comes along,” Calum teases taking a big bite out of his sandwich.

“Cal,” Luke sighs, pulling away from you.

“Protection of what?” Lily looks up at her favorite uncle. 

You, Luke, and Cory all shoot glares at Calum whose eyes are wide. Cory is closer to him so he smacks the back of his head. 

“Ow!”

“Thanks for that,” Cory shakes his head then turns to Lily. “Mommies and daddies need to be careful sometimes before they have a baby. You don’t have to worry about it though, okay Lils?”

“Okay,” she chirps, then moves to the table to sit next to Ella. You, Luke, and Cory exchange looks of relief that she dropped the topic so quickly. 

**

“Mama can we swim noww?!” Posy whines.

“Eat your last grape,” you nod to her plate and she pops the small triangular cut piece in her mouth. 

“Thank you. Now we need to find your swimsuit,” you say trying to stand but you just started feeding Oliver. He was tucked to your breast under the wrap you had around yourself. 

“I got it lovie, you're busy,” Luke touches your shoulder gently then lifts Posy in his arms. “Let’s get you changed my little fish.”

“I not a fish!” Posy giggles when Luke tickles her belly and leaves the kitchen/dining area.

“Do you want to go swimming, Lily?” you ask her.

“I can pull you in the unicorn floaty,” Cal smiles and her eyes light up.

“Okay! Can Olly come?” she asks, looking at you.

“Oops, we need to put Vi down,” Ella says as Violetta lets out a mangled and tired cry. “I might take a nap myself.”

“I’ll come with, I’m beat from driving,” Cory stands then stretches his arms above his head. He kisses Lily’s head when she skips past him to stand in front of you.

“He’s too small to go swimming,” you explain gently to Lily. “But we can sit and watch you in the water.”

“Okay mama, I’ll show him how I can swim underwater!”

“Go ask dada to help you, okay?”

“I’m already in my suit so I’ll meet you all out there,” Ashton stands. “Coming babe?”

“I’ll help Crys clean up,” KayKay shakes her head. “You guys have fun.”

“Guess I’ll go change,” Cal sighs and leaves the room.

Crystal and KayKay start gathering plates and then Michael sits next to you, he gives you a small smile.

“How’s my buddy doing?”

“Good. I was nervous to come but Luke convinced me.”

“I’m glad he did. It wouldn’t have been the same without you all here,” he folds his arms over his chest in a makeshift hug. He looks to Crystal and KayKay who are chatting by the sink. 

“What’s wrong?” you nudge him with your elbow being careful not to jostle Oliver.  

“Nothing, nothing,” he shrugs, shaking his head but his eyes are still on Crystal. 

“Mike,” you give him a look and he sighs heavily.

“Crystal and I are trying to have a baby,” he informs quietly.

“Really?! Oh, that’s so exciting!”

“Yeah, it was at first,” he winces, his eyes a sad green. “We thought she was pregnant but it turned out to be a false positive.”

“When did you start trying? If I can ask.”

“Of course, you can ask, you’re the leader of most kids around here,” he chortles and scratches at his scruff. “Um, I think a few weeks ago? Yeah, the end of last month.”

“Sometimes it takes a few tries, Luke and I tried for months for Oliver and nothing was happening. And now look,” you glance down at his small form beneath the wrap. Michael smiles at his nephew. “Is Crystal stressed about it?”

“I don’t think so, just me.”

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Just...enjoy the process.” You both laugh awkwardly. “Sorry for the talk of your sex life.”

“Please, I’ve heard enough about yours, it’s only fair.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, Luke wouldn’t shut up about it when you first started dating.”

“That’s embarrassing,” you mutter, then rub his arm affectionately. “It’ll happen when it’s supposed to, and when it does, you two are going to be amazing parents.”

“Thanks Y/N.” 

You adjust Oliver from under the wrap and rest his head gingerly on your shoulder. Your fingers tap on his back.

“I’m going to have a talk with my husband,” you say absentmindedly.

“Don’t mention my name.”

“I’ll blame Cal. Oh! There’s a good burp, baby boy.”

“He’s gotten bigger since the last time I saw him.”

“He’s eating a lot more now, too,” you boast proudly. 

“Is he going to nap now that he ate?”

“Probably, so he won’t be that entertaining.”

“I’ll go see if Crystal needs help.”

He leaves you be and as you’re in the process of shifting Oliver back in the crook of your arm, he spits up a little.

“Oops, ate a little too fast, huh?” you reach into his back for a burp rag when you hear Posy’s excited shouts. They must be on their way to the pool. She runs past you through the back door but Luke or Calum aren’t anywhere in sight.

“Posy! Luke!” you shout trying to stand up but your feet are tangled in the bag and then pairs of hands are on you. You look to see Crystal holding you and Michael’s hand is cupping Oliver’s small head. “Posy is by the pool by herself--I need to--LUKE! Take him!”

You hand Oliver off to Michael and run out the door taking the stairs two or three at a time, you aren’t sure but you’re flying. On the last step your ankle rolls a little and your heart is pounding in your ears, adrenaline pulsing through your veins. 

Posy is screaming. You’re screaming. Luke is screaming behind you and then he collides into you when you turn the corner to see Posy in Ashton’s arms. She’s giggling and Ashton looks up at you like a dog with his tail between his legs. 

“Hi mama!”

“Posy Mae.”

She stops giggling, her dimples disappear at the tone of your voice. She knows it’s the ‘I did something bad’ voice. Ashton moves through the water to the edge of the pool where you and Luke are standing. The two of you kneel on the deck and Ashton hands Posy over to you. 

“Posy Mae look at me,” your voice shakes from fear of what could have happened. Posy looks up at you, her lower lip jutting out. “What are mama and daddy’s rules about the pool?

“Can’t be by myself,” she whispers through a sniff and you wipe at the round tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Don’t you do that again. You wait until me or daddy, Uncle Ash, or Aunt Kaykay or anybody are with you, okay?” you cup her face so her eyes stay trained on you, she nods. “You scared mama.”

You pull her into your arms and she latches hers around your neck tightly.

“Sorry mama.”

“We don’t want you to get hurt, bug,” Luke strokes her cheek delicately. 

You give her multiple kisses to the side of her head and cheeks before pulling away. You smile at her.

“You stay with Uncle Ash while we get your floaties now, all right?” You give her one more kiss before handing her over to Ashton again. 

“Good thing I was already down here,” Ashton says and sets Posy onto his back. He holds onto her hands that are under his neck. 

“I was going to jump in if you weren’t,” you exhale then turn to Luke. “What even happened?”

“She got too excited about the unicorn and floaty and ran off before I could catch her. I was about to jump over the rails and break my neck for her,” he shakes his head. 

“Yeah, I almost broke my ankle on the last step,” you flex your foot and wince at the slight discomfort. You take Luke’s hand and start up the stairs again where you see everyone is standing. 

“What happened?” Calum asks. 

“Is she okay?” Michael asks and you smile at the sight of Oliver in his arms. 

“She’s okay, Ashton’s with her,” Luke sighs. “Do I need to check your foot, lovie?” 

“I’m fine,” you shake your head and move into the house to get Lily and Posy’s floaties.

***

The rest of the day was spent by the pool and you couldn’t find it within you to take Oliver away from Michael and Crystal. They would switch off holding him and from what he shared with you earlier, it warmed your heart to see them loving on him. 

Crystal would rub at his soft peach fuzz hair and Michael would talk quietly to him when he was nestled on his chest. Lily and Posy were having a blast in the pool with their uncles and not too long after, KayKay joined them. 

Posy loved running her fingers over KayKay’s buzzed haircut because it “felt fuzzy and tickled.” Lily would chase Calum in her unicorn floaty and when she caught up to him he would pull her as fast as he could through the water. 

You and Luke sat next to Michael and Crystal, your foot you rolled rested on Luke’s lap as he rubbed it. 

When dinner rolled around, the guys prepared the grill food while you and the girls made salads and cooked the rolls in the oven. Ella had Violetta wrapped around her torso while she worked and you smiled each time Violetta peeked her head up. 

After dinner it was only customary to have smores on the upper deck where the fire pit was. Oliver went to bed just as the sun was setting but you had the monitor next to you while you helped Lily with her marshmallow. She shared her sweet treat with Calum while Posy sat on Ella’s lap. 

“For you my love,” Luke holds a smore in front of your mouth. 

“Am I supposed to take a bite?” you laugh.

“Yes,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth and take a big bite, graham cracker crumbs tumble down your chin and you feel melted chocolate on your lips. Luke takes the seat next to you and takes his own bite, a big grin on his lips. 

“Good?”

“Messy,” you nod.

“C’mere,” he motions you forward. He rubs the chocolate and graham cracker from your lips, licks it off and then captures your lips with his. He tastes like chocolate and is a little sticky from the marshmallow but it gives you butterflies nonetheless. 

“Don’t you two ever keep your hands off each other?” Calum groans from across the fire. 

“You’re just jealous,” Ashton scoffs. 

“I am, have some pity on my single heart.” 

Your laughter breaks the kiss you and Luke are sharing. After a while, when Lily and Posy are asleep in Cory and Ashton’s laps respectively, you and Luke decide to take your girls to bed. Posy is half asleep when you change her into her pajamas and Lily crawls into the small bed they’re sharing very slowly. 

You and Luke kiss your girls goodnight, leave on a nightlight and then move next door to your room where Oliver is still fast asleep. 

“What an eventful day, huh?” Luke yawns loudly, settling into your bed. 

“I hope this is all that happens.” 

“Knowing our big group, I highly doubt that,” he smiles and pulls you to his chest. 

“It’s going to be a long weekend.”

“Maybe we can leave the kids here and go get some massages.”

“Mm, that sounds nice.”

“A weekend away with you is always nice,” he kisses your forehead and soon you’re fast asleep.

****

Taglist: @calumance  @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower​ @mymindwide​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Inyez

Rating: NSFW Length: 5331 Pairing: Male Bat Creature x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

Winter comes early up in the mountains, but I'm used to that. I like to sit by my living room windows and look down into the valley where I work, enjoying the way the city lights give the snow a warm glow. I figure myself lucky; I come from a happy family, I have a good career in a field I love, and I've managed to make a home out of the old observatory that sits like a squat little guardian at the top of a hill twenty minutes from the city.

My job gives me incredibly flexible hours, so I work whenever I'm awake and sleep whenever I want to. I've ended up with a mostly vespertine sleep schedule, which means I get to watch the sunset while I break for lunch. I'm a workaholic, though, so this "break" usually means that I step away from active work and focus on replying to emails from clients or looking up resources and reference images for my latest project as the sun goes down, and this time is no different.

I don't even notice the dark settling around me until I realise that I've been squinting at my laptop for the past half hour, and by then, the only source of light is its screen. I have outdoor lights, sure, and there's a street lamp or two on the way up the hill, but they amount to nothing unless they're on or nearby. I sigh and close my laptop to give my eyes a break, waiting for my vision to adjust properly to the lack of light around me.

I'm just contemplating making myself another cup of coffee when the window beside me explodes, and I have no qualms with admitting that despite being over six feet tall, I scream like a frightened squirrel. Instinct takes over and I find myself taking shelter behind my chair, waiting for the glass to settle before I risk peering around it. Adrenaline has made my vision sharper faster, but there's only so much I can make out in the darkness. I know I heard something heavy hit the floor after the crash, but nothing moves in the shadows, so I take the risk and scuttle over to the nearest switch plate to flick the lights on.

There's blood on what's left of the window and the scattered glass, and wide smears of it left in skid marks across the floorboards. Whatever has bled on my flooring is crumpled halfway behind my couch between me and my kitchen, cutting me off from any makeshift weapons I could use to defend myself. I creep around the other end of the couch with all the exaggerated stealth of a cartoon cat burglar, getting my first real look at the thing. It's dark and huge—about the size of a very large dog, at least—and even as my fingers grope for something to defend myself with, I don't take my eyes off of it for a second.

I approach the wounded creature with a skillet in one hand and a broom in the other, using the broom handle to prod gingerly at the thing that seems to be bleeding out on my living room floor. The first few pokes don't garner any reactions from the beast, and so I grow bolder, sending a silent prayer up to whatever gods might be listening that the thing doesn't have rabies or worse. I feel myself grimace as I lift one large, leathery wing to see more of the creature, only to snatch the broom handle back and away.

Whatever it was was awake, and it had been staring right at me with large, luminous eyes.

It takes me several seconds to work up the courage to repeat the action, and only then do I notice that those eyes are dazed and unfocused, shock settling in as blood dribbles down along its flat face. The creature murmurs when I prod it again—nothing I understand, but definitely something meant to be words—and that's when I realise that the thing on my floor is not a what, but a who. I swear and pace in my kitchen while keeping the thing well within sight at all times, but eventually my conscience wins out; I can't just let them bleed to death in front of me. Even knowing this, I know I don’t have the skills for what I need to do, so I pull an earpiece on and dial my cousin on my cell phone, grimacing when I glance at the time on my oven.

The phone rings a few times before there’s a shuffling on the other end, and then her groggy voice mumbles, “Hello?”

“Hey, Maraia,” I say, taking my first aid kit from beneath my sink and slipping a chef’s knife into my belt just in case. “I need your help.”

“Cuz? Do you know what time it is? I just got to bed an hour ago!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s an emergency.”

I hear more shuffling, and then Maraia’s voice is much more alert. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Some sort of bat crashed through my window,” I say, hurrying over with my first aid kit and kneeling in the blood beside the lump on my floor. “It’s hurt real bad. Blood everywhere. It won’t make it to the vet if I don’t do something now.”

“You’re treating a wild animal?!”

“Maraia. It’s dying!”

“Fuck,” my cousin mutters, slipping back into her role as an ER nurse. “You owe me. Okay, tell me what you see.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, and try to turn off my anxiety as I listen to her expertise. First and foremost, I rush to apply pressure to a particularly ugly wound on the creature’s pelvis and thigh, cleaning and bandaging it up as best as I can once I’ve stopped the majority of the bleeding. This is about when I bump into the creature's, er, fiddly bits, barely hidden by a thick patch of fur. I work around them as I wrap him up in long bandages.

Per Maraia’s guidance, I check the creature's eyes and find wide, fixed pupils that indicate significant head trauma; it doesn't seem like he can see me, or even sense that I'm here. Still, I speak softly to him as I work, carefully picking glass and small twigs from open wounds and doing my best to clean and close them with a combination of butterfly closures and careful stitches. He whimpers and whines very softly when the discomfort is too great, but for the most part he hardly makes any sound at all, which Maraia and I agree is more worrying than if the creature were screeching and struggling with all his might.

Finally, after what feels like hours, I sit back on my legs with a sigh, certain that I’ve gotten to every wound that there is to be found. “I don’t think I can move it,” I say to Maraia, wiping my shaking hands clean with antibacterial wipes. “Not without popping something open.”

“You can’t keep it there with you,” she replies, using the same stern, reasonable tone that she uses on her children and patients. “Bats have rabies. What if it bites you?”

“I don’t think it can. I don’t even know if it will survive the night. For all I know, it’s haemorrhaging somewhere and this will all be for nothing.”

“All the more reason for you to take it to a vet! They can treat it there, maybe put it down if they have to. Whatever they decide will be better than what you can do at home.”

“I know,” I murmur, packing away my supplies. “Thanks, Raia. I’ll take care of it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Maraia sighs, and I can hear her exhaustion creeping back into her voice when she says, “Alright. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will. Sorry for waking you.”

“Oh, bull,” Maraia scoffs. “You were scared and came to me. That’s a good thing. Love you, kiddo.”

I can’t help but smile, despite my weariness. “Love you, too,” I say, and hang up once we’ve said our goodbyes. It would be cruel to leave this poor creature on my living room floor, so I haul my inflatable mattress out of storage and set it up in my bedroom, grateful for the large amount of floor space in the converted observatory. I check on my guest several times during the time it takes the bed to inflate, and then I carry him into my bedroom, careful not to jostle him too much when I place him on the air mattress.

I watch the shallow rise and fall of the creature’s chest for a moment before I look up into his elongated face, taking in his small, black, dog-like nose and the sharp teeth that I can see peeking out from behind parted lips. Two large, velvety ears poke up from the thick fur on his head, motionless in his unconsciousness.

From what I can tell, whatever this creature is appears to be around four feet tall, with long curled toes on each slender, delicate foot and sharp claws on the tips of his hairless fingers. He's barrel-chested from the musculature needed to support both arms and wings, with a slightly narrower waist and wide hips that lead to lithe, muscular legs. The majority of his body is covered in a short, dense layer of dark russet fur over deep brown skin, perhaps a shade or two darker than mine.

Whatever he is, I've read enough books and watched enough movies to know with certainty that I can't take him anywhere—not without possibly endangering him further. The last thing I want is this creature ending up dissected in a lab somewhere, or worse. I scrub my hands over my face and get up to go clean my living room, taking one last glance at the creature in my bedroom before closing the door behind me as quietly as I can.

The first night is harrowing. Batty—as I've taken to calling my guest in my head—has his first of three seizures shortly after I finish taping garbage bags over the hole in my window. I drop the duct tape and run to him when he lets out an unearthly wail, all of the air in his lungs being forced out by seizing muscles. There's nothing I can do but make sure that he doesn't hurt himself further, sitting vigil beside him until his convulsions die down and praying that he'll still draw breath when they're over.

He's unconscious for the entirety of the next day, so thoroughly insensate that I risk calling out a repairman to replace the broken window so that the cold stops seeping in. Other than supervising the appointment, I hardly dare to leave Batty's side, taking my laptop into my bedroom to do as much work there as I possibly can. I clean him up when he messes himself in his sleep, though I worry about him dying of dehydration. To prevent this, I pulse ice cubes in my blender and carefully feed him ice chips at first, being mindful of his body temperature by keeping him thoroughly bundled in blankets.

By the third day, Batty makes as if to swallow, and I drip water into his mouth in an effort to keep him hydrated. I don't know what he eats, so I climb into my car and make the drive into the city, buying a variety of potted baby foods with what I'm sure is a wild look in my eyes that keeps the cashier from attempting any small talk with me. I make it back to the observatory in record time, and though Batty doesn't stir when I waft different foods under his nose, I still manage to coax him into swallowing mixtures of meat and vegetables.

He runs a temperature that night, and I spend most of the early morning hours before dawn wiping him down with a cool cloth and stroking my fingers along his brow when he starts to shiver and mumble in his sleep. His fever finally breaks the following afternoon, and in the fading light of sunset, his eyes crack open. He's still exhausted and disoriented, though, so he only blinks sluggishly at me when I ask him gentle questions, eventually fading back into unconsciousness again. I figure it's progress.

Batty recovers slowly. For a long time, I only hear his voice when he mumbles in his sleep or when he whimpers as I tend to his wounds. Eventually, he begins to communicate with me using little humming noises, or he summons me from other parts of the house with plaintive chirps that break my heart. I carry him into the bathroom and find that he's fascinated by the toilet after startling at the sound of the first flush, though that's nothing compared to his awe when I decide to show off the shower. He's visibly disappointed when I deny his peeping requests to be carried under its spray, but he seems to understand when I explain that we should wait for his stitches to come out.

He gets a little stronger every day. After a couple of weeks, he's able to sit up for short periods of time as long as he's propped up with pillows. He holds his water bottle by himself a few days after that. Eating still takes more coordination than he's capable of, at least when it comes to utensils, but he's happy enough to nibble at the fruits I cut up for him. I take him out to the living room with me when he’s well enough, and there I play nature documentaries for him and keep him warm as the snow falls outside. He stares at the television in reverent silence when the voice of David Attenborough warbles through my speakers, and he spends the majority of the day curled around a couch cushion in a nest of blankets.

I learn that he’s as omnivorous as I’d hoped he’d be, and so I go to the store and get him a few different meats. I cook them with little to no seasoning at first, feeding him like one would a dog, but it isn’t long before he begins showing interest in my own meals, too. This urges me to start buying healthier food for myself; I figure that if I wouldn’t feed it to Batty for fear of his health, I probably shouldn’t be eating it, either. That doesn’t stop me from indulging in the odd treat, and his face when he tastes my favourite soft drink is priceless before he spits it out in shock, smacking his lips and looking at the bottle as though it’s bitten him.

“What?” I chuckle, taking the bottle from his hands and offering him a cloth. “Don’t like the fizz?”

“‘Fizz’?” Batty echoes, and I nearly drop the bottle before I can get the cap on.

“You can talk?” I ask, and I feel my eyes widen when he nods. “All this time?”

Batty hesitantly shakes his head, claws gently scratching at the cloth on his lap. “Don’t know,” he slowly replies, brows furrowing over his big, dark eyes. “I remember some. It’s hard.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, reaching out to stroke between his ears in a way I’ve learned soothes him. “You took a bad blow to the head. I’m sorry that I couldn’t take you to someone who could treat you better. I didn’t want someone bad getting their hands on you.”

Batty nods his understanding, sighing deeply and nosing up into my palm to guide my hand along his muzzle. “Wanted to say all this time,” he murmurs, his soft, fluting voice growing weaker. “Thank you.”

I smile; my heart warms. “I’m just glad that you’re okay. I’ll take care of you for as long as it takes. Do you have a name?”

He frowns again, briefly closing his eyes. “Inyez.”

“Inyez,” I murmur, testing the name in my mouth and finding it fitting. I introduce myself in turn.

Inyez’s face relaxes into a small, sleepy smile. He echoes my name, and doesn’t resist when I tuck him back under the covers.

“Rest,” I whisper, brushing my fingertips between Inyez’s eyes. They flutter closed and don’t open again as he lets exhaustion pull him under, and I turn down the lights to let him fall asleep to the sound of whale song.

Once I know that Inyez can speak with me, I go a little bonkers with the need to provide enrichment for my guest. It’s been a while since I’ve had the company with which to play games, so I’m at once overwhelmed and exhilarated when I stand in front of the tabletop game section of the city mall’s toy store. I grab classics like Jenga and Parcheesi, but I also pick up games like Tokaido, Wingspan, and Betrayal at House on the Hill. Inyez fawns over the beautiful illustrations and pretty trinkets needed to play each of the games, and he’s held rapt by the game mechanics and advancements.

I can’t help but mirror his delighted smiles, watching him delicately place tokens on the boards with his slender fingers. The furrow in his brow as he puts together jigsaw puzzles is incredibly endearing, and he’s quick to summon me from where I’m working to show me his accomplishments. “Come!” he cries. “Hurry, come see!” My name on his tongue is the sweetest sound to my ears, and I look forward to hearing it in that cheerful tone throughout the day.

I buy an extension for the desk in my office and give Inyez his own space while I work, though more often than not, he ends up watching my monitors at my elbow, marveling at my work and asking countless questions. At his urging, I show him my digital portfolio, where I have most of my character designs, logos, and even a few structural blueprints and landscapes.

“Where is this?” he asks, hardly daring to tap my monitor screen with a claw.

“Nowhere,” I say, enlarging the image so that he can drink in the details. “Nowhere real, anyway. It’s a fantasy world.”

Inyez frowns. “A fantasy world? But it looks so real.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, I specialise in realism. There’s a lot of research that goes into it.”

Inyez doesn’t look entirely mollified by this response, but he subsides for the most part, only murmuring, “You even got the horns right.”

I turn my head to look down at him where he’s resting his cheek against my arm. “The dragon’s?”

“Yes.”

I can’t hold back my surprise. “There are dragons? They’re real?”

Inyez looks up at me, and I briefly get lost in his eyes. “Of course they are. They’re rare, though. Rarer than most everything else.”

“Rarer than you?”

Inyez bares his tiny sharp teeth at me in a cheeky little grin. “No. I’m one of a kind.”

I laugh, helplessly charmed. “That you are. Maybe I’ll draw you sometime.”

Inyez’s mouth drops open, eyes growing wider until I can just about see the whites. “Would you really? Me?”

“Why not?” I pull up a new canvas on my illustration programme, sketching up a quick little scene from the memory of looking down into his upturned face. He gasps softly at my side and shifts to cling to my shirt, murmuring in his strange language and making soft little cooing noises as I add colour and detail.

“Do I really look like that?” he breathes, looking from my face to the screen and back.

“Mhm.” I zoom in on the eyes, adding depth and highlights before moving to adjust the shape and fullness of the lips. Inyez goes very quiet for a few minutes as he watches the portrait come to life, only stirring to place his hand at the crook of my elbow to call my attention back to him. “What is it?”

“Do you really think I am so lovely?” asks Inyez, voice very soft and gaze shy.

I’m grateful for my dark skin as I feel warmth creep up into my face. “I do. You’re very beautiful.”

Inyez scoffs, but I can tell that he’s flustered. “You’ve only met one of us. Who are you to say that?”

“Sometimes one is enough,” I murmur, gently stroking Inyez’s small chin with a crooked finger. He makes an odd little twittering noise and hides behind his wings, and I feel my heart flutter wildly in my chest. I'm falling for this creature, I realise, and I can't bring myself to care; as far as I'm concerned, Inyez is the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

“Where do you go when you get into that terrible thing?” Inyez murmurs some nights later when we’re cuddled on the couch, his head on a pillow in my lap and my fingers gently stroking his head.

“In the car? To the city, mostly. To get food and toilet paper and other supplies.”

Inyez shifts to look up at me, confused. “You get food in that noisy place?”

I nod, brushing my hand along his cheek. “Everything we’ve eaten here, I’ve bought there.”

“But it doesn’t smell.”

“Smell?”

“The city. It smells, but the food doesn’t.”

I feel myself frown in thought. “Probably because a lot of it is washed and kept in clean places, or in airtight packaging.”

“I smell,” Inyez mumbles unhappily, tucking himself up in his wings. “When may I wash?”

I hum thoughtfully, rubbing one of his velvety ears between my fingers in a way that he likes. “Probably tonight, if we’re careful. If you really feel that bad.”

“I do.” Big, dark eyes look up from my lap, beseeching. “I don’t want to smell anymore. I want to be clean.”

“Alright,” I say, shifting to gather him up in my arms and carry him to the bathroom. “As long as we don’t scrub too hard or get your wounds too wet. I’ll still need to clean and redress them after we’re done.”

“You’ll wash me?” asks Inyez, a note of excitement in his voice. “Like lovers do! Could we be lovers?”

I can’t help but laugh, startled at the sudden change in conversation; I distract myself by fiddling with the shower controls. “We could be,” I reasonably reply, “if we both felt the same about one another.”

“Then we can,” says Inyez as he slips under the spray, cooing softly at the water’s warmth. “You think I’m lovely, and I think you’re lovely, too. It’s really that simple.”

“Is it?” I ask, dubious, even as I pull my clothing off and over my head to join him.

“Why does it have to be complicated? Is it more for humans? Is it not enough to feel safe and happy and goodness when I look at you? It’s like my heart has bitten a big, juicy apricot—it’s full of sweetness and the juice is overflowing!”

“A heart-apricot?” I chuckle, shaking my head at the silliness of the comparison. “Well, I’ll try to find you an apricot next time I’m in town.”

“Would you?” asks Inyez, burrowing against my chest and sighing. “I’d like that. I like you. Can that be enough?”

I run my hands carefully between his wings, earning myself a sleepy little burble. “I think it can.” I curb my enthusiastic reaction to this new turn of events and focus on gently cleaning Inyez’s fur to his satisfaction, and then I blow dry him until he’s warm and redress his wounds. By the time I carry him to bed—my bed, our bed—he’s limp as a noodle and snoring softly in his exhaustion, and I take great pleasure in tucking him in so that he’s safe and sound.

The next morning, I am kissed awake. That night, we kiss until we drift to sleep. Kisses and affection make up the bulk of my ‘duties’ as Inyez’s lover, and I take to the task of keeping him satisfied with relish. For his part, Inyez is content to groom me seemingly at random, running his small, clawed fingers delicately through my hair and humming to himself as he does so. I get a little less work done, but I don’t mind it if it’s to see Inyez so pleased with himself when he’s decided I’m primped to perfection.

It’s another couple of days before I give Inyez the all-clear to fly after his injuries have healed for a couple of months. We have to wait until nightfall until he takes to the air, but then he’s a dark blur against a darkening sky until I cannot see him at all. It makes me breathless when I realise that he’s lost to the night—what if, I think, he decides right then that he prefers the night and its freedoms to me? What if he misses his family, his friends, his former life. When he lands in front of me, panting and exhilarated and beautiful, I wrap him into my arms and crush him to my chest, burying my face against the side of his neck.

“What’s happened?” he asks, petting fretfully at my face and hair. “What’s wrong? Did you think I’d not come back?”

“Yes,” I say, and the word chokes me, making me realise that I’m crying.

“Oh, sweet one,” Inyez coos, wrapping me in his wings as best as he can. “I would never. Why would I? I am fed and loved and pampered, and you are a very good snuggler. You don’t even have fur, but you are very warm! Why would I leave, mm? Tell me.”

“I don’t know.” I laugh damply. “Missing your family. Your friends.”

“I’ll visit my family when my body is stronger,” Inyez tells me, tutting softly and nosing at my ear. “They deserve to know where I am, and they can come and visit us when the spring comes. They’ll be jealous of my roost and my mate.”

“Am I that?” I ask, sniffling and pulling away to look down into Inyez’s eyes. Inyez turns his face away, however, and I recognise that he is shy.

“You could be,” he murmurs, “but it’s not official yet. To do that, we have to—well, have sex. Hopefully more than once.”

“Do you want to?” I ask him, stroking between his wings so that they relax and rustle softly.

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Inyez says all in a gust, looking up at me plaintively. “I’ve been wanting to have sex with you for days. Weeks, maybe.”

I can’t help but laugh again. “You could have asked.”

“I could have.” Inyez pouts. “You would have said no, because of my wounds. You treat me like I’m fragile.”

“You are fragile, in comparison. But you’re right, I would have denied you. Now I won’t. So, ask.”

Big eyes blink up at me from that small, furry face, hopeful to their core. “Really? You’ll be my mate?”

I can feel myself grinning. “I’ll be your mate.”

Inyez wriggles against me, clutching at my clothing with a sudden fervour. “Mine?”

“Yours,” I assure him, drawing him against me and carrying him back up into the observatory. The next few minutes are a blur as we leave my clothing strewn across the apartment in a trail that leads to the bed, and I manage to find a bottle of lube I haven’t touched in months but mercifully has enough for at least a round or two.

Preparation happens before all else. Normally, this is the part where I would begin to lose interest because my previous partners have treated it like a means to an end, but Inyez is so sensitive and receptive that every little touch I give him sends him into a fluttering little tizzy on the bed. His prick is slick and red when it hardens out of its sheath, tapered at the end and thicker at the base. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I play with it with a careful touch that seems to frustrate and overwhelm the small creature beneath me in equal measure.

I drink Inyez in as he squeaks and squirms with my fingers inside him, watching his claws tear tiny little holes in the sheets as he grips them in his hands and trembles like a taut bowstring. When I finally push into him, he makes a noise like an exultation, and I fight to keep myself from coming right there and then when he wraps his legs around my hips and digs his feet into my ass to drive me in deeper. He wants more of me and I give until there’s nothing left to give, letting him adjust for a moment before I take up a rhythm that rocks the bed against the wall.

I need him, too, and I tell him so as I fuck him down into the mattress, listening to him mew and moan and say my name in a way more beautiful than any I’ve heard yet. He clings to the headboard when I roll him over onto his stomach, breathless and gasping raggedly, wings trembling like they’re weathering a storm.

“There!” he cries when I angle my hips a certain way, one of his hands diving between himself and the sheets to pump away at his hard, leaking cock. “Oh, please, there! There!”

“You want it?” I ask, and I hardly recognise my own voice, so low and guttural it is.

“Yes, gods, I want it,” Inyez mewns, almost sobbing with his need. “I’m close. I’m gonna—I’m—Please—“

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay!” Inyez squeaks, not a hint of hesitation in his desperate tones. “I’ll stay, I’ll stay, I’ll never leave this roost! I swear!”

“Yes,” I growl, pushing my chest down against his back and reaching a crescendo that makes the headboard hammer against the wall. I come so hard and so suddenly that it feels like I get pulled inside out from the toes on up, and my vision whites out to the sound of Inyez wailing beneath me. When I come around, we’re tangled together in the sheets and I have him on top of me, both of us panting heavily and both of my hands buried into the soft, downy fur at the small of Inyez’s back.

“Christ,” says Inyez, and I choke on a laugh, turning my head to cough.

“That’s not an expletive.”

Inyez grunts. “You use it like one.”

I laugh. “That’s fair.”

Inyez takes a long moment to gather his thoughts, stroking the skin of my torso with careful fingers. “Would you be willing to meet my family?”

I blink up at the ceiling. “Of course. How many of them are there?”

“I have six brothers and eight sisters. I’m fifth down in the birthing line.”

My eyes bulge. “How old is the youngest?”

“Tiisa? She’s six months old. The oldest is in her forties.” I can feel Inyez smother a smile against my chest. “Mother says she’s done for now. We don’t quite believe her.”

I laugh, shaking my head up at the ceiling. “I would offer them shelter for the winter, but I don’t think they’d all fit in here.”

“Oh, Mother would hate it here,” Inyez chuckles. “It would be much too quiet for her liking. She likes life with the roost. I’ve always preferred quiet. This roost is perfect for us.”

Us. The word makes my heart swell, and I bury a smile against the top of Inyez’s head. “We’ll figure something out for their visit.”

“Mm,” hums Inyez, sighing softly before he sits up and smiles impishly down at me in the darkness.

“What?”

“Again.”

“Again?” I laugh, wrapping my hands around Inyez’s hips as they begin to rock and wriggle on my lap. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Your monster,” Inyez smugly coos, kissing my chest right over my heart.

[peachesandsweetflowers]

♧Romanice Spice♧

{Venti x Fem Reader}

{It's not sfw the way I like to write it personally}{All characters writen about are 18+}

{Modern witchy Au, same basic story with archons and all that jazz but in a modern setting!}

The moon was full the night was warm and next to you lay your soulmate, the Anemo archon himself.

You wore a soft silk white dress that barely covered your breasts when you moved in certain ways. Normally you'd never wear a dress like this out but tonight was a special date night with Venti.

The full moon was special for magic and you both loved escapeing to a nice space in the middle of the deep woods. Where spirits and seelie play!

On the walk in you were greeted by many seelie who loved to play with you on your usual hikes in the woods.

"How are you feeling?"

Ventis voice came softly in your ear, pulling you from your thoughts. You both had taken a small amount of edibles before laying down together. Opting to watch the stars as they kicked in. Both of you were usually broke but you'd saved up money from tarot readings and Venti's last gig at a cute Cafe to go to the local dispenser for some edibles.

Of course you both always got carded but once they saw your id's being both 25 everything was fine.

You take a deep breath and look up at the stars, you can feel yourself slowly relaxing from all the stress you'd been feeling recently.

"A little while longer I just wanna cuddle." You say as you nuzzle into your lovers chest.

"Works for me cutie, and remember if you end up changing your mind we don't have to" He pets your head. You smile at how understanding he always was.

You both continue to look up at the full moon, enjoying the warm night and gentle breeze. You gaze up and the jewel studded sky with its dazzling moon as it's crowning glory.

The world could wait when you were here, in the deep woods with your own personal freedom. The truama you've collected over your life from the deaths of your parents one after another, to a Cinderella-esque tragedy of having a step mother who abused you.

All of that vanished into the beautiful moonlit night, carried away by the wind.

You blush gently as you start to feel the mood coming on. You gently kiss your lovers cheek before tenderly placing more along his jaw. He smiles and you feel his arm wrap around you gently.

"Just tell me if you want to stop, I'll be nice and slow baby" He comes gently before taking your chin gently and kissing your lips. His warm soft lips pressing lovingly into yours, taking his time, enjoying how much he loves kissing you.

Like a fine wine. That's what you were. When he kissed you he had to savor it, every last moment. The joy and pleasure of just your lips, just one kiss, made his heart race. And yours too, he noticed.

He gently moved the two of you into a sitting position she he could gingerly hold your shoulders as he kissed you. Your hands always found their way to his chest, clutching onto his shirt shyly as he took his time with you.

"Y/N..." He murmured languidly between kisses. He wanted your permission to go a little further.

With a blush and a nod he wraps his arms around you and this time when he kisses you, it's got a little more heat to it.

You welcome his tongue into your mouth, you love the way he firmly holds you with you make out under the moonlight. It always made you feel so safe, so secure.

"V-Venti..." You mewl shyly in delight as one of those mischievous hands has found its way to your rear and is happily giving it a squeeze.

"Ehehe~" He just gives you a grin that's a mix of playful, lusty and shameless all at the same time.

"Sorry love, I just HAD to admire the work of art in front of me thoroughly!" He muses totally unashamed. He just loved you so much!

You huff but giggle at him and push him back a moment. He looks confused before you start to slowly strip off that already thin silk dress.

Hes absolutely aroused and ready as you sit before him on your side.

"Y...you could appreciate it more... if you wanted." You wanted to sound sassy but the shyness got to you.

He holds himself back from ravaging you. Don't scare her, don't scare her. He repeated in his mind. Keep calm Venti, keep your cool, go slow. But oh my God it was hard when you looked more delicious then even the finest wine.

He slowly crawled over to spoon you, his front to your back. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in with a firm hold.

"Little minx" He kisses your neck a few times before beginning to lick and suck on it tenderly. You didn't care much for pain, so he could only leave gentle marks on your neck. He didn't mind one bit. Those mischievous hands of his began to slowly roam your body, one hand on your beautiful breasts, the other traveling very gingerly between your legs.

You loved the way he pet you like this. The gentleness and consideration for your limits. You knew Venti was a horn dog and he was being VERY good right now keeping his enthusiasm in check. Not that he would ever hurt you or force himself on you, just that he was very energetic.

He gently stroked your heat, making you moan from the stimulation. Once he found your "button" as he called it. That's when things got a little more spicy.

You moan out as his hand teases that sensitive button. He was way too good at playing with you like this. He smirked as he used the wind to create a vibration like effect as he teased you, your nectar always flowed the best like this.

Watching you wiggle and move your hips into his hand made him smirk playfully. Using his free hand he gently pushed your face to the side so he could make out with you again while he teased you.

"Oh my precious love" He whispered between breathes "you are more beautiful then any star" He cooed "I love you so much my little princess"

"Oh Venti" you blush looking shy "I live you too! I love you!" You moan out the words before reaching a climax. Venti holds you as you come down from it.

"My sweet love, my most precious one, when you make so many cute noises like that, well it's just not fair! How could I resist such a radiant creature before me?" He teases looking remarkably aroused as he finally removes his own clothes.

You gently lay on the soft blanket, thankful your brought cushens to put under you as Venti crawled on top of you.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you both start to kiss again. God Venti did so love to move his tongue in your mouth, such a sweet taste. He loved this taste more then even wine!

When yoy came up for air he looked at you again and waited for your permission. Once he got it he very gently began to press himself inside of you.

You sucked in a small breath as he slowly stretched you out. He wasn't small by any means but he wasn't a giant either. His member just seemed to be the right size not to hurt you.

"We fit perfectly together" He smiled at you with only love and warmth in his eyes. "We fit together perfectly like a puzzle. You complete me. You are my moon" He couldn't help throwing some beautiful poetic romance at you. These moments were special to you both and he wanted to make your heart flutter like a butterfly!

Which it was! You civet your face shyly and he giggles.

"If you will be my moon, I will be your sun, I will live yo make you shine, and one day I'll help you fix those broken wings of yours" He swears before kissing you again, this time with a passion that only came from a man so truly unconditionally in love.

You pulled him closer, if that were even possible as began to thrust inside of you. His member hitting your core in just the right way to make you sing for him.

"Venti!" You moan out "Venti please-" you cling to him as he continues his pace. "Please what my love?" He groans in your ear. "What do you want your Venti to do?" He coaxed making you whimper in protest.

"A-ah.. a little f-faster" you manage to say as you blush wildy.

Venti covers those cute blushing cheeks in kisses before absolutely follow your orders. He begins to thrust into you faster and a little harder.

You cling to him now, nails clawing gently down his back as he naturally progresses from laying down to you bouncing on his lap.

"I want more" you mewl a little lewdly as the arousal takes over a little. "Take it all it's all for you darling" Venti was such a whipped man for you. He couldn't help but be more aroused when you got on top and let yourself get lost in the pleasure. A pleasure he would never deny you.

"Milk me dry baby~" He licks your earlobe making you twitch as you feel your big climax incoming.

"V-venti VENTI PLEASE!" Ypu begin to bounce roughly on his member and he takes your hips and firmly thrusts up into you, meeting you at every bounce to make the pleasure more intense.

You cling to him desperately as you cry out, riding him into the white hot pleasure of oblivion.

♧♧♧♧♧♧

When you wake from what you thought was just a blissful dream, you find that you and Venti have slept until the sun was high in the sky.

You shoot up in panic, your sex bed head in full swing as you try to wake your boyfriend.

"Venti wake up!! We fell asleep!!" You whine as the musician finally sits up still half asleep. It takes him a second to understand before panicking a little himself.

"Oh crap I hope no one saw you!"

You blush "me what about you!"

"Well if anyone saw you'd I'd have to charge them to see such a magnificent sig-" you throw a pillow at his face.

"Just help me pack I wanna go take a shower I can't believe we fell asleep in the middle of the woods!" You fret and he stifles a laugh as he adds

"Again!"

"AGAIN!!"

[wandsandwheezes]

Wild Child | F.W

Wild Child x Harry Potter AU // 3k words // this is all thanks to @starlightweasley​ for making it happen and giving me the inspiration + plot to do it!!

this whole fic is dedicated to her because she deserves it sfm!!!

taglist ;  @weasleysflowr​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @gcdric​ @theweasleysredhair​ @hufflepuffgirly @whiz-bangs78​ @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @cappsikle​ @minty-malfoy​ @vivianweasley​ @vogueweasley​ @feetoffthetablee​ @thisismynerdyself​ @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15​ @pandaxnienke​

Two months ago the worst day of your life happened. Two months ago your father dragged you, kicking and screaming, to a portkey- ready to ship you off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “Y/N, this is the last straw! I have had it up to here with your pranks.” you screamed back at him, pulling your hand from his grip, “You ship me off to England for what? To replace me like you replaced mom? Real jerk move dad.” The second you laid eyes on the overbearing castle you already knew you hated it. 

You were now laid back against your uncomfortable bed, rolling your eyes, “FYI this place sucks, I can’t even breathe properly with how stuffy these uniforms are and don’t even get me started on the lack of fun and opportunities for pranks. It’s H-E-double L here.” Hermione, pulls a chair up next to your poster bed, resting against one of the posts. “You could at least try and have fun, you know. It’s not all that bad when you forget about the lack of sun and abundant rain.” Ginny looks up from her book, swinging her legs so they’re dangled off the windowsill, “If you’re so desperate to leave, you’ll just have to get yourself expelled - simple pranks and mischief isn’t enough to do it, think bigger.” you sigh pushing yourself to sit up, wrapping your arms around your legs and resting your head on your knees.” 

A debate ensued as the evening grew, Hermione taking herself away from the conversation and to the common room to avoid any chance of getting roped into expulsion with your antics. “If we’re going big with pranks, there’s nobody better to go to than Fred and George.” Parvati suggests, “Even better you could try snogging one of them, It would send Umbridge mad.” Padma adds, Ginny retches at the idea, turning up her nose with disgust but laughing a little “The thought of anyone snogging any one of my brothers is ghastly, but It’s not a bad Idea, from what I’ve heard they’re not looking to stick around with the pink devil here.” You smile softly, looking up at Ginny as she continues, “Let’s get you your ticket home for Christmas!”

Sure you had played quidditch back home but you were only ever a reserve, so when ginny flew down to you, yelling that you had to take her place, not only was your heart beating out of your chest, but you suddenly questioned any and all experience you had on a quidditch pitch. Maybe you didn’t know how to play, maybe your Ilvermorny friends were lying when they said you had talent. Before you knew it, you were whizzing around the pitch, quaffle in hand, ready to score. Gryffindor were ahead 40 points by the time Harry had caught the golden snitch, meaning that not only had you helped in scoring goals, but you were on the winning team! 

“Not bad, Y/L/N, I didn’t know they taught good sports across the pond,” you scoff with a laugh, walking next to the tall, red haired boy as he pushes his sweat soaked hair back and you couldn’t help but think of how attractive he was, he looked down at you, stopping you from waking, wiping a stray bit of mud from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, licking his other finger to move back in to wipe the rest away, causing you to push him away with a laugh, “I don’t want your spit anywhere near me, Weasley” he smiles, “hmm, are you sure about that?” he grabs your wrist, locking eyes for a moment - you swear you could feel the tension surrounding the both of you, so thick that it could be cut with a knife, only being broken away by the sound of a high pitched scream, causing you both to spin to look in the direction of the noise. “I take it Draco found my nice little gift, I always knew he was a proud slytherin.” Fred’s eyes widen, a smirk cracking across his lips. “You didn’t.” you nodded, starting to make your way to the Gryffindor changing rooms, “Oh, I did, just a little harmless charmed shampoo,” you shrug, he follows after you, shaking his head with a small laugh “You’re trouble, you are.”

Seeing Draco walk into the great Hall for dinner that evening was a sight to see, his bright green hair and eyebrows were unmissable, it was truly a look that turned heads, You, Ginny and the rest of the team were filling your boots on the feast before the victory party continued in Gryffindor Tower. “God, if Umbridge doesn’t punish you for that on her lap dog's plea, you’re crazy, Y/N” There were laughs between mouthfuls and cheers, “She’s only learning from the best, isn’t that right?” you shake your head, taking a sip of juice “Freddie, you of all people should know I was trouble before I’d even met you.”

If there was one thing you’d learned, the English love to party and when they party, they party hard. Bottles of firewhisky were cracked open, music blaring from god knows where, there was laughter, shouting, dancing, games and kissing or, as they call it, snogging everywhere you looked. You were high off the win alone, feeling happy for one of the first times in your few months here, you had supportive friends and most of all you had a piece of your home. Your mum was a brilliant Chaser in her time, or so your father had told you. You had lost your mum in the aftermath of the first wizarding war, a death eater seeking her out all the way across the pond and killing her in front of your father. You were only three and although you don’t remember much of her, you do remember the songs she used to sing and just how magical she made your young childhood, much to the dismay of your father. You felt your chest tighten and tears prick the back of your eyes, causing you to run from the wild party.

Fred caught you fleeing the party, even the small glimpse of your sad face breaking his heart a little, never had he seen a girl as beautiful as you cry. He felt compelled to follow you and over some consolation, he was drawn to you like you were tethered by a piece of string, following your every step till he found you crouched in a corner on the floor, staring out across the black lake. He joined you on the cold stone floor, sitting across from you. “It’s not like the wild child to not be out there as the life and soul of the party,” Fred jokes, punching your arm lightly, causing you to look up at him with a puffy eyed scowl, “okay, no jokes then.” he sighs, pulling you into his side, rubbing his hand up and down your arm comfortingly. You open up to him about losing your mother and how you feel absolutely alienated by your dad, listening intently, not daring to interrupt. “I’ll make you a deal,” he speaks up after a long sigh from you, “No more head-fry behaviour, though, I sense it may be your forte” you smile a little, the corner of your mouth turning up into a smile, “I won’t fry your head if you don’t poach my heart.” he smiles tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “an eggcellent deal.” 

As you’re walking through the halls on your way to divination, a pep in your step from a good night’s sleep and a new focus, finally you’re starting to actually feel as if Hogwarts was the place to be and you feel yourself growing happier and happier with every day you spend here. You’re distracted from your thoughts when you feel yourself being pulled hurriedly into a side corridor by your hand, Fred was staring down at you, his hand pressed against the wall by your head as he traps you between the stone and his own body, “How would you feel about a going to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” he asks quietly, “Why all the secrecy Freddie? Don’t want to be caught fraternising with the enemy?” he laughs pressing a kiss to your cheek, “No, I just don’t want Umbridge finding out I’ve broken her six inch rule, but if you’re happy to risk it we can  head to divination hand in hand now.” he grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together, you giggle shaking your head, “We had a deal, no head frying.” he looks behind his shoulder before giving you some space, allowing you to continue your walk, “You didn’t answer me about the weekend.” you spin on your heel to look at him, continuing to walk backwards, “I think it would be eggciting, Freddie.” you spin back around to follow on with your journey, leaving the tall boy blushing and laughing to himself. 

Freddie Weasley was a dime away from being a whole gentleman, he picked you up from the great hall and walked with you side by side to the small wizarding town, “I didn’t put you as a girl who enjoyed walking.” he joked, nudging you with his shoulder, you roll your eyes, “Well, I didn’t expect a flying car or anything,” he smiles, scratching the back of his neck, “well actually, my dad used to own one of those,” your jaw dropped, gasping a little, “As if!” He pushes open the door to the three broomsticks, sitting you down at a table as he shrugs off his jacket, hanging it over the chair, leaving to head over to the bar, he returns with a tray carrying two drinks and a plate. “Here you go, trouble.” he puts the drink in front of you, with you now being able to spot the contents of the plate, “Bread and fries, that's my treat?” he laughs, placing a few of the chips inside the slice of buttered bread, handing you the foreign looking sandwich “If I affect your life in no other way, then allow me this honour, the humble chip butty and a butterbeer ” You gingerly take the food into your hands, looking at it cautiously before directing your attention to the drink, scanning it for a few moments, “Here we go.” you take a small bite, the softness of the bread clashed with the hot chips which had melted the butter ever so slightly, it wasn’t unpleasant but it was definitely weird, “Kind of gross, but I like it.” you pop down the sandwich, taking a sip of the butterbeer. 

After a few moments of talking, you found yourself staring into Fred’s eyes deeper and for longer, as if it no longer mattered what the two of you were saying, as long as you were with each other. “There’s something about you, Y/N,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear “Every moment I’m with you I catch my breath.” your hand presses gently against his chest, balling up the material of his t-shirt in your hand to pull him in closer. Before you knew it, your lips had connected in a soft, gentle kiss and you felt yourself melting into his touch. You were slowly coming to realise that the thing that could aid your leaving may actually be enticing you to stay. The kiss didn’t last long but it left your head spinning. 

You had made your way towards the black lake, sitting on the verge just by the water, a blanket wrapped over both your shoulders, sat talking and watching the sunset as it changed and faded the colours in the sky. You were enamoured by him. Why did you have to fall so hard for him? “I need to tell you something.” he confessed, you lift your head from where it was resting on his shoulder, “What is it?” you shift a little so that you can look into his eyes but he averts your gaze. “George and I, we’re leaving here, to set up a shop down In London, I feel guilty for not telling you sooner but I didn’t think I’d fall for you as hard as I have.” He takes a deep breath, you’re stunned for words. “I’m sorry.” he breathes out finally. You grab his face, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “Don’t ever be sorry for following your dreams, Freddie.” 

In the week or so after your date with Fred, you noticed you hadn’t seen him as much and you wondered If there had been something you’d done wrong. Surely not, he must’ve just been busy planning the perfect exit, so you left him to it, until a whole two weeks had passed. You spotted him turning down a side hall, unmistakable tall, lanky, ginger - it must be him. You hurried down the corridor, yelling after the boy, “Freddie, wait!” hearing your voice made him walk a little faster, your shorter legs struggling to make a gain on him, you stop and shout once more, “Why do you keep avoiding me?” he stops bolt in his tracks, giving you an opportunity to catch up on him. “I’m surprised you want anything to do with such a plain English boy, collecting me like a trophy to brag to your Ilvermorny friends about how easy I was, or was that just another one of your cruel pranks to finally get yourself expelled?” you look up at him, brow furrowed In confusion. “Where did you get that from, Fred? I care about you, I really do.” he rolls his eyes, pushing past you, muttering under his breath, yet still audible enough for you to hear “bullshit.” You run back after him, “Freddie, you’re right, I was trying to get myself expelled, and I knew that being associated with you would do it with how much Umbridge despises you and Gorge, you have to believe that it was a horrible to do that to you at the start but- i've fallen for you.” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “It’s too late, Umbridge is already looking for you, Looks like you’ll get your wish after all.” A tear rolls down your cheek, “Freddie, I-” he cuts you off by pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I’m sorry, trouble.”

The full flood gates open, as you make your way back to Gryffindor tower, tears streaming down your cheeks but your sobs are silent. How had you managed to lose the best thing to happen to you and get yourself expelled? You admire every inch of the castle grounds as you walk, fearing it’s the last time you may see it, when a picture catches your eye, locked in a cabinet full of trophies, medals and awards, you see a reflection of yourself staring back, “mom?” you whisper, pulling out your wand to unlock it with an ‘alohomora’, you grab the picture off the shelf, locking the cabinet again. McGonagall finds you wandering aimlessly, guiding you to Dumbledore’s office, “I have a feeling you will want to speak to him before your Father arrives,” she explains “Don’t worry, he’s expecting you.”

“Ah, Miss Y/N, I see you have found your way into my office,” He speaks quickly, as you come into his view, “I remember when your mother stood not too far from where you are stood before me now; a bright young student, a star quidditch player and not to mention a true hero against all odds. I take you found the photo of her in the cabinet, as you are clutching it so tightly.” you were at a loss for words, “You knew my mom?” you questioned, “Very well indeed, She was one of the best in her year, when word arrived of her death I sent all the help I could give to your father, I told him you would always find a home here at Hogwarts.” you sighed, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “Then why am I being expelled?” you query, Dumbledore pauses for a moment, “You will learn a great many things here in your time, and already I see a change, you have gained knowledge, strength, integrity, good-will and determination. You have proven that you have the capacity to do well here and as I said Hogwarts will always be your home.” you smile, “Then I can stay, can I, Professor?” The old man chuckles “You have a quidditch game to get ready for, go out there and make your mother proud.” he smiles at you, you smile back at him gratefully. “Thank you, Professor.” 

You run out, standing next to Fred, breathless from changing so quickly, “I thought you were getting expelled,” he joked, “As did I, I thought you hated me.” he sighed, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze, “Never. It’s good to have you back, trouble, even though you backed out of our deal.” you laughed, “What deal, Freddie?” you lace your fingers together, “that you won’t fry my head.” you bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Yeah, but you poached my heart.” He smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Good luck out there, trouble.” your heart flutters, “Good luck to you too, Freddie.” 

[breaniebree]

What is your favorite moment of each ship in ASC ?

Hi, nuninho2000!

What a great question! This will take some thought!

Remadora -- I really love the moment he tells her that he's a werewolf and she's like "Duh" and Remus is completely baffled. One of my favourite lines is where Tonks basically tells him she thinks he's freaking out enough for the both of them:

He shook his head, swallowing slowly. Now that he had finally begun he was determined to get the words out. “The man’s name was Fenrir Greyback and he’s a notoriously well known and dangerous werewolf. I’m not notorious, but I am dangerous and… a werewolf,” he finished, lamely.

He tugged his hands away from her, marching into the kitchen, his hands in his hair again.

Tonks watched him march away from her and she followed him, spinning him around and slipping her hands into his back pockets again and holding him against her. “I know that already. So, what?”

Remus simply stared at her. “So what? That’s all you can bloody well say! I just told you that I’m a fucking werewolf!”

Tonks nipped at his bottom lip. “And, I figured that out already. Did you think I didn’t suspect when you always left me on the moon cycle? Your scars? Your possessive nature? I like a little danger, Remus. I’m an Auror.”

“Nymphadora, I am not a little danger! Do you have any idea what a creature like me can do? I can break through doors and walls with my strength! I can track you for kilometres, I can hear anything almost ten kilometres away. Look at me!” he exploded, pushing her away angrily and slapping his hands on his bare chest. “I did this! Me! I lock myself away and if I don’t take the Wolfsbane Potion without anything to hunt or to kill, I claw at myself; scratching my own skin off, clawing at myself in desperation! That monster lives inside of me! The wolf is inside of me all of the time! I am the wolf all of the time! The mask of the man just hides my true face. Do you understand? Why the fuck are you not freaking out?”

She moved towards him carefully. His eyes were wide and amber now, his hair tousled from his hands. He looked panicked, she thought, and even more like the sexy bewildered professor that she fancied. She placed her hands on his abs, sliding her palms along his rib cage, up his chest and over his shoulders.

“I think that you’re freaking out enough for the both of us to be honest,” she said teasingly, kissing the skin below his ear. “I like your mask, but I think that it’s time for you to take it off now.”

Remus stared at her in confusion. “Nymphadora, you’re not even listening to me!”

Tonks put her hand over his mouth. “No, you’re not listening and I’m pretty sure that’s a serious flaw in your personality. Are you honestly standing there waiting for me to change my mind about you?” His eyes flickered in pain before he masked it and her own eyes narrowed. “I’m a klutz, a complete spaz, if I’m honest with myself. I had hoped that I would grow out of it, but obviously it’s something that is part of me no matter what I do. The wolf is part of you and I think that it’s time that you get off your high horse and stop being so bloody ashamed of it.” -- Chapter 95 of ASC

Zeerius - hmm... I love a lot of moments with them. But I think one of my favourites is when he comes home after a full moon with Remus worried that Harry is still annoyed with him for not letting him go and he finds Harry sleeping on the sofa with Zee in the chair. He wakes up and she's making breakfast and wearing his clothes and he's just completely swamped with love over the normalcy of it.

Sirius rubbed his tired eyes as he unlocked the front door to Black Cottage and let himself inside. He stifled a yawn, smiling when Marauder came over to greet him, rubbing the dog behind the ears. “Good boy,” he whispered, “Did you keep Prongslet company all night, good boy.”

Marauder burrowed closer to him, eager for affection and Sirius pat him gingerly on the head, kicking off his shoes as he called Kreacher to him.

“How was he?”

“Kreacher did not stay. Master Sirius’ lady said she would stay.”

“What?” Sirius asked in surprise as his gaze zeroed in on Zee, stretched out across the armchair, his duvet burrowed around her, her mess of dark caramel curls hanging over the back of the chair. “Go back to Grimmauld Place, Kreacher, thank you.”

The elf vanished and he smiled at the image of ‘his lady’ curled up and walked over to her, bending his head to kiss her forehead and then he realized that Harry was stretched out across the sofa, glasses on the table next to an empty bowl of popcorn kernels with Lady Godiva sleeping in front of the couch as if keeping watch.

Sirius stared at the two of them, his heart quite literally swamped with love. He tenderly brushed Harry’s hair out of his eyes and kissed his forehead. He stood up, pulled his jumper over his head and tugged his tee shirt down in its attempts to ride up and then he lifted his son’s legs to plop himself onto the couch, putting Harry’s legs on his lap. He pulled the duvet close to him and punched one of the throw pillows into position next to his head and was asleep in minutes. [...]

Sirius woke up less than three hours later to the smell of bacon. He rubbed a hand over his face, grinning at the sight of boy and dog snuggled on the sofa. He carefully extricated himself from the couch, wrapped Harry up a bit tighter and bent to kiss him. He was so innocent and young looking when he was asleep and his heart ached for the little boy that used to want to sit on his lap and ask for slooches. He kissed him again because Harry was asleep and he could and then he snapped his fingers at Marauder who jumped down, shaking his fur, and followed Sirius into the kitchen. Lady Godiva was still stretched out next to the couch as if keeping watch. He let Marauder outside and then grinned at the image of Zee at the counter frying up bacon and sausage and scrambling eggs in his sweatpants rolled at the ankles and his favourite worn jumper.

He slipped his arms around her waist, kissing her ear and her neck. “How do you look so fucking incredible all of the time?”

She laughed and tilted her head to the side so that he could kiss her neck some more. “With flattery like that, I’ll give you all the extra bacon you want.”

He smirked and blew a raspberry on her neck and she laughed. “When did you get back?”

“Last night. I came straight over.”

“You stayed the whole night with him?”

Zee shrugged, smiling as he held her in his arms, swaying gently too and fro while she continued to fry the meat and scramble the eggs. “Harry and I had a movie marathon and he did some of his homework. I didn’t really feel like being alone and since you had run off all mysterious like, I thought we could keep each other company.”

“Sometimes my wife needs attention, Zee and my kids… I mean, I’m a wanted man.”

She snorted and elbowed him. “I already know Remus is your wife, you prat.”

Sirius grinned and kissed her ear. “Thank you. You didn’t have to stay with him last night, but… thank you. I didn’t really want to leave him alone, but I’m trying this whole ‘he’s not a little boy anymore so I should trust him just a bit’ parenting attitude.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Sirius blew his hair out of his eyes and grinned, his arms still wrapped tightly around her waist. “Well, I don’t have him wrapped in a bubble yet so bully for me. I mean, this school year has been pretty easy going for him, outside of the Dementors, but with these Horcruxes and trying to figure out what the next step is, I just… sometimes I want to just hold him in my arms and never let go.”

Zee carefully put the scrambled eggs onto three plates along with the bacon and sausage before she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes and kissed him deeply.

“You are a wonderful father, Sirius Black, and Harry is very lucky to have someone as amazing as you loving him. But you do have to let him grow up. Even when it’s scary and terrifying and the thought makes you want to throw up at not being able to protect him all of the time, you still have to do it. But, he’s thirteen, not quite a boy, but not quite a man, and right now, you can still hold him close, but you have to learn to let go as well.”

Sirius kissed her, his hands sliding up her back to play with her messy curls, his lips on hers, his tongue meeting hers. He pushed her back up against the counter, lifting her hips to hold her up as he kissed her, hard and soft, long and deep as she sighed against him happily.

“Can you two at least snog in a room where the bacon isn’t?” Harry said, snatching the plate from behind the snogging couple with a grin. “I’d like to keep my appetite, thanks.”

Sirius smirked and cuffed Harry lightly across the head making his son grin. “Brat.” -- Chapter 123 of ASC

Hinny - Like Zeerius, I have so many moments I love with them. I love when Ginny kisses him when he's five and I love when Harry's in denial of his feelings for her. But one of my favourite scenes I've written is the one where they compare scars. I think it really shows the depth of their friendship, their relationship, and I just think it's totally sweet.

Ginny gently brushed his fringe off his forehead. “I remember everything about you, Harry.”

“I thought your parents would never let me back there. I thought Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus would send me away because I did freak things… that’s what… that’s what the Dursleys had told me.”

Ginny tenderly stroked his cheek and down his jaw with her knuckles. “In that memory I saw… you said that they beat you?”

Harry nodded. “That first night when Uncle Siri tried to give me a bath, I guess my whole back was cut up from the belt, it was about a week old, but they hadn’t been taken care of properly and they’d festered a bit. I have a few tiny scars on my back from it, barely noticeable.”

Ginny lifted his tee shirt and he shifted to show her four tiny white scratches that were vertical just under his shoulder blades. She leaned in, gently brushing her lips over each scar and he shivered before he pulled his tee shirt back down and turned to hold her back in his lap.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Ginny told him.

He shrugged, his fingers playing with the tips of her hair. “I didn’t know any different. I just knew that my parents had died and that they were my only relatives. They didn’t want me and made sure to tell me almost every day. I was a burden, a freak of nature, and they didn’t want my unnaturalness under their roof. I slept in the cupboard under the stairs. They’d lock me in the dark as punishment, and they would starve me. I remember being afraid to tell my dads that I was hungry or too afraid to get up in the middle of the night to use the loo… but Uncle Rem and Uncle Siri, they gave me a home and I never looked back.”

Ginny took his hands in hers and brought them to her lips. “Only look back at the good.”

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

She smiled, her hand brushing over the palm of his left hand. “How did you get this scar?”

Harry glanced down at his palm to see the thin white line in the centre. “Broke a glass when I was four and it wasn’t properly treated.”

Ginny nodded and rolled up her right sleeve to show him a small crescent scar on her elbow. “From when I fell off Charlie’s broom when I was eight. I told Mum I fell out of a tree.” At his grin, she pushed her shirt aside to show him the scar on her left shoulder. “And this is where Ron pushed me off the roof of the shed when I was seven and I landed on my arm on the side, tore it open pretty bad. Percy patched me up after I made him promise not to tell Mum, and then he helped me get Ron back by pranking him into thinking there were spiders in his bed. Percy and I snuck into his room in the middle of the night and put itching powder in his sheets so he woke up all red and covered in itchy spots and Percy told him that they looked like spider bites.”

Harry laughed. “That’s pretty evil. I remember that. When I came to stay we had to check every nook and cranny of his room before he’d let me turn out the light to go to sleep.”

She grinned. “Don’t mess with me.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said on a strangled laugh. He stared at her for a moment before he lifted up his tee shirt again to show her the long thin jagged scar in the centre of his back. “Horntail.”

Ginny rolled up the left leg of her pants to show him a tiny scar the size of a sickle just behind her knee. “Gnome bite.”

Harry pointed to the small scar near the elbow of his right arm. “Rogue Bludger.”

Ginny lifted her right arm to show him a tiny half moon scar under her elbow. “Fred clipped me with his toy broomstick and the wood broke and cut my arm.”

Harry bent his head and lifted his fringe to show her a tiny thin barely noticeable red line on the top of his head. “Fell out of the treehouse.”

Ginny pulled her sock off and showed him a small cut on the bottom of her heel. “Stepped on a cactus leaf that KJ snipped off her plant.”

“That’s fresh,” Harry said. “And it’s not going to scar.” He took her foot in his hand and bent his head to press a soft kiss to the cut, making her shiver.

“I ran out of battle wounds.”

He chuckled and kissed her foot again. “We’re we competing?” He touched the lightning bolt on his forehead. “I win — Horcrux.”

Ginny smiled, her fingers slipping under his tee shirt to slide up his chest. “Emotional scars don’t leave physical marks, but I know that you can feel those scars just the same. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Harry, but if you ever do want to talk about it, you know that I’m always here for you, right?”

Harry’s hands rested on her hips. “I know that.”

Ginny’s lips curved slightly before she leaned in and kissed him softly. “We can snog now if you’d like.” -- Chapter 217 of ASC

Romione - I don't write as much Ron and Hermione as I should. But I think one of my favourite scenes with them is when Ron is trying so hard to be the perfect boyfriend and not complain to her like he usually would and Hermione is like who is this? Where is my Ron?

Hermione snuck a glance over at Ron, admiring his tall frame as he walked next to her. She loved how attentive he’d been over the last month and a half. She loved how sweet and caring he’d been and most of all, she loved snogging him senseless. But she found herself missing the less agreeable Ron more than she wanted to admit.

The friend Ron would be complaining by now. They’d been in the bookstore for almost twenty minutes and while she had a stack of four new books that she was interested in, she was browsing without any real purpose, wondering how long she could spend in here before he complained. The fact that he hadn’t complained yet, worried her a bit.

Ever since they’d made their relationship official, he’d been the perfect boyfriend. Attentive and sweet. Affectionate and kind. He still made her laugh and complained about his homework, but he didn’t pick fights with her anymore either. She was making an effort to say things that would normally set him off. His blue eyes would spark in fire before he’d grind his teeth and not respond.

She hated that he didn’t respond.

It wasn’t that she wanted to argue with him. Who wanted to fight all the time? It was exhausting. It was just that fighting with Ron was… well, foreplay. The word surprised her when she admitted it, but she knew that it was true. She liked arguing with him. She liked watching his blue eyes fire up, the way his face would flush and the muscles in his neck would contract. She’d had more fantasies of shutting him up with her lips than she was willing to admit to.

But now that she had the opportunity to snog his brains out when they fought, he never fought back. It was a contradiction she hadn’t expected.

They spent another thirty minutes in the bookstore before she bought the four books in her hand and led him outside.

“It’s so lovely in there, maybe we should browse around a bit more?”

Ron’s mouth twitched. “Or we could go for a walk, maybe hit up Zonko’s?”

“I’d rather go back to the bookstore,” she said, smiling at him. “We can look at the romance novels again.”

Ron looked like he wanted to do just about anything else. “Um, yeah, I guess, if that’s what you want.”

“Ron, stop letting me do what I want!” Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Ron only stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“This! The bookstore! I love it there!”

“I know,” he said. “You love books. They’re like your happy place, I get it.”

“But you don’t like books!”

Ron frowned. “I have nothing against books. I just don’t see the appeal of spending hours looking at them. It’s a colossal waste of time.”

“But you just spent fifty minutes letting me do just that! And now, when I mentioned going back inside, you immediately agreed to do so!”

“Because you said you wanted to!”

“Ron, if this relationship is going to work, you can’t just do everything that I want all the time!”

Ron was looking at her as if she had two heads. “So, you don’t want me to go to the bookstore with you?”

“Of course I do! I want you to do things with me that I love!”

“That’s what I’m doing!”

“But I don’t want you to!”

Ron gave her a confused a look. “I’m not a Seer, Hermione. If you have a problem you have to bloody well say it.”

“You’re being too nice to me!”

Ron looked positively dumbfounded. “What do you want from me? I’m trying here, okay! I’m trying to be the man you deserve and doing the things that you want to do to make you happy! And now you’re telling me that I shouldn’t do that? What do you want me to do? Drag you into Zonko’s under protest? Tell you that I have no desire to spend another minute in that sodding bookstore!”

“Yes!”

Ron shoved his cold hands into the pocket of his coat. “I don’t understand you. You’re mental!”

Hermione gave him a light shove. “Don’t call me mental!”

“Don’t act mental, then!” Ron retorted. He grabbed her arm before she could shove him again.

“Why are you like this?”

“Why are you like this?” Ron repeated. “Merlin knows I don’t know how to act when you become a mental shrew!”

“Daft prat!”

“Sassy witch!”

“Absolute tosser!”

“Mental bint!”

“Wanker!”

Ron grabbed her, ignoring the way she hit his arm and pulled her up against him, his voice low. “Absolutely, when I’m thinking about you.”

Hermione’s face flushed. “Ron!”

He tilted his forehead down to hers. “Why are we screaming at each other? Aren’t we supposed to be done fighting now?”

Hermione slid her hands up his chest, linking them behind his neck. “Says who?”

She pulled his face down to hers to kiss him and he made a growling sound in his throat as he lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he held her and she lost herself in his kisses. A part of her was very aware of the fact that they were only a few metres outside of the bookstore, in the middle of the street where anyone could see them. But another part of her wanted his lips on hers more than she wanted to take another breath, let alone think about the embarrassment of their very public displays of affection. When her mouth moved down to his throat, she felt the hardness against her and she smiled, suddenly feeling more bold.

“Is fighting with me turning you on?”

“No,” he insisted, his hands sliding down to boldly cup her bum. “Absolutely not.”

Hermione slapped his hands off her bum and slid down his body. “Ron, we don’t have to agree on everything. We don’t have to always do the things that I want to do or the things that you want to do. If we’re going to make this work, we have to go back to how we were. My friend Ron would never have let me mosey around a bookstore for almost an hour. He would have cut me off at twenty minutes and made me leave to go to Zonko’s.”

Ron pulled her close again and kissed her. “I guess I’m just wondering if as your boyfriend if I do something like that, you’d stop snogging me.”

Hermione nipped at his lips, a soft smile on her face. “I have no plans of that. Do you plan to stop snogging me?”

“Hell no,” he muttered, his lips moving to her ear. -- Chapter 252 of ASC

Feo - Theo and Finn, they do have a lot of moments together, mostly smutty which we all love (or maybe just me LOL 🤔). But one of my favourite moments I wrote with them is actually one of the smutty ones. I absolutely love the scene where Finn takes him against the window of the study in Norfolk Manor.

But he also didn’t want to leave Finn.

He’d gotten used to waking up wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms. He loved the support Finn gave him; the calming way he had about him. Finn was always assuring him that everything would be okay. He’d gotten used to Finn being there day after day and the thought of going back to school and only seeing him on the weekends was more painful than he could bear.

As if he’d heard him, arms encircled his waist from behind and a warm mouth pressed against the side of his neck.

“How was the session today?”

“Good. Really good,” Theo told him. He turned his head to kiss him. “Did you just get back?”

Finn nodded and began to unbutton Theo’s shirt. “I did.”

Theo chuckled as his dress shirt was spread open and Finn began to work on his black trousers. “Let me take off my Wizengamot robe first.”

Finn’s mouth sucked on his ear so sharply that Theo felt the sensation between his legs as he pushed Theo’s trousers down, followed by his boxers. “No.”

Then his hands were all over and Theo felt a whoosh of magic as suddenly all of his clothes were gone except for the open purple robe. Finn turned him around and knelt in front of him. He started with soft kisses on his thighs, on the back of his knees, and then his mouth was wrapped around him and Theo could do nothing, but hold onto his boyfriend’s hair as he pleasured him.

Finn’s mouth brought him right to the edge before he stood up, kissing Theo’s cheek and turned him around towards the window. Theo groaned when he smelt the oil and then his boyfriend’s hands were doing the most delectable things to his arse.

“Finn...” he begged. “I want to touch you.”

Finn ignored this and Theo groaned when he felt his boyfriend’s finger rock into him. Then Finn was tugging his clothes off and Theo caught a glimpse of his boyfriend’s reflection in the window standing gloriously naked behind him before Finn pushed him up against the glass, and slid into him.

Theo cried out at the intrusion and then there was nothing but pleasure. Finn’s hands slid around to grip him, pumping him in rhythm with every thrust. His thumb stroking under the head, circling and tugging, and it wasn’t long before Theo cried out his name as he came all over the window pane. Finn rode him harder, pinning him against the glass. One hand continued to gently fondle Theo’s spent cock, the other held his hip as he thrust himself forward. Theo was panting, the pleasure building more and more as Finn’s lips brushed the back of his neck and then Finn panted his name as he emptied himself.

Theo sighed in contentment when Finn slid out of him. Finn’s arms turned to pull him into his embrace and they stumbled towards the sofa in the library, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“So, you like my robe then?”

Finn chuckled against Theo’s hair as he snuggled him closer on his chest. “Yes. More than I expected. You look incredibly sexy in it. Proud and confident and it makes me think of all of the great things I know you can accomplish. Then it makes me think of how much I want to be part of your life while you do those things. Then I just want you. All of you. I’m so proud of what you’re doing, Theo.”

“You make me want to aspire to be more,” he said.

Finn gently brushed Theo’s hair away from his face. “I love you.”

Theo smiled and kissed Finn’s chest before he froze, eyes widening as they locked onto his boyfriend’s green ones. “Finn! I think Blaise was in the bloody garden!”

Finn grinned. “He was. He disappeared rather quickly when he caught sight of us in the window.”

Theo blushed scarlet. “And I... I can’t leave that mess on the window for Kiki.”

“Mmm,” Finn said absently, running his hand down Theo’s chest and down to grip him in his hand.

Theo groaned as he felt Finn revitalize him with magic. “I only would have needed a few more minutes, you know.”

Finn shifted him so that he was under him on the sofa. “I know, but I need you in my mouth right now.”

Theo gasped as Finn did exactly that and he again wondered how he was going to survive the whole school year without seeing this perfect man every day. -- Chapter 236 of ASC

Deamus - Dean and Seamus, I did play around with them a lot. They have a lot of moments I like as well. I love how much they are friends first and lovers second which I think says a lot about their relationship. I love writing them playful and teasing the way best mates are, but to still show how passionate they are for each other. I love how they don't just say "I love you" but that it's "I really love you." I don't know, I think that sums them up really well.

“Ditto. I really love you, Seamus. How often can a bloke say that he’s in love with his best mate?”

Seamus reached for the soap to help his boyfriend wash up as he spoke. “I really love you, too.”

Dean smiled as Seamus washed his chest. “I finished Katie and Jason’s engagement portrait last night.”

“You did? Why didn’t you show it to me?”

“Well, probably because you crawled into bed, climbed on top of me, and snogged my brains out.”

“Oh? I did do that, didn’t I? Maybe if you’d tell me how good my new muscles look, I wouldn’t feel so self-conscious.”

Dean ran his hands over Seamus’ flat stomach where the beginning of abs were coming in. His constant workouts with the Gryffindor Quidditch team had really done wonders for his body over the last few months. “You don’t have a single self-conscious bone in your body.”

“Sure, I do! Now, tell me how sexy I am.” -- Chapter 262 of ASC

Bleur - They have a lot of moments too, most are with family. And I know I had a lot of lovely compliments on the last Bleur scene where she basically tells him she doesn't care how he looks because she loves him. But one of my favourites is actually their first kiss. I like the way Fleur is very into him while at the same time being like, I'm more than just a pretty face and you will know that about me and respect me.

“Did you still want to grab some dinner and discuss the new project tonight?”

Fleur smiled warmly at him. “Oui. I caught up on some reading of za history we found in Anguilla ze ozzer day and I might have come up with a new plan to open za cursed box we found in za ship.”

Bill grinned. “Great. I can’t wait to hear your idea. I want to talk to you about the new project the goblins are trusting us with as well. We’ll be heading down into the London Catacombs. Have you ever been?”

She shook her head. “Non, but I was in ze ones in Paris. Zey are very terrible, I theenk.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure going down there isn’t going to be a walk in the park. It’s definitely going to involve some cleanup as well. We’ll talk more over dinner. How does Italian sound?”

Fleur moved closer to him as more people climbed onto the train. “It sounds très bon.”

Bill’s breath hitched slightly as her body pressed into his and her pheromones assaulted him. He saw the man’s eyes change behind her and he immediately wrapped his arms around her in a possessive fashion that surprised him.

“Miss, may I —”

“— No,” Bill growled. “Run along.”

The man’s eyes met his and he seemed to come out of his trance.

Bill looked down at Fleur, who’s blue eyes were staring up at him. “Sorry, I don’t like seeing men throw themselves at you like you’re up for auction.”

“You never do.”

“I never do what?”

“Zrow yourself at me like ze ozzers.”

Bill’s eyebrow rose. “We work together. I respect you too much to allow myself to act like an imbecile.”

Fleur stood on her toes, her lips brushing his cheek. “You theenk I cannot tell ze difference?”

The feel of her lips on his cheek made his whole body tremble in response. He moved his arms away.

“Fleur…”

“I know zat you find me attractive, n’est pas?”

“Of course I find you — you’re beautiful! That’s not the… we work together.”

Fleur smiled seductively. “And zis makes you not want to kiss me?”

Bill stared at her, his fingers twitching at her waist. “No.”

Fleur moved away from him, her eyes flashing in hurt before she masked it. “Je suis désolé, my mistake.”

Bill swore under his breath. Being around her was harder than he wanted to admit. She was incredibly beautiful, that was a given. She smelt like heaven and when she laughed, her eyes danced and her lips parted in the sweetest way. She was smart and creative and her willingness to learn intrigued him. She picked up on things fast and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, was one of the best new recruits he’d ever had.

The fact that being around her made him as hard as rock was another situation all together.

They stepped off the train and Fleur started moving across the platform. He grabbed her arm, roughly pulling her back into his arms. Her lips parted in surprise and her eyes widened as he simply bent his head to hers.

The moment his lips touched hers, he knew that it had been a mistake. Now that he had kissed her, no one else was ever going to make him feel like this; no one else would ever come close. He tugged her closer, his hands moving into her hair, deepening the kiss and when she moaned against him, it was enough to pull him out of his trance.

Her cheeks were flushed and her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes.

“If you think that I don’t think about doing that a few thousand times a day along with a few naughtier things then you’re stupid.”

Fleur’s eyes flashed in anger. “‘Ow dare you call me stupid!” Her fists hit him angrily on the arm.

“I didn’t mean — fuck!” He dragged his hand over his face. “I think that you’re far from stupid, Fleur. You’re one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. One of the bravest as well and the sexiest. I just meant… of course, I’m attracted to you. You’re bloody gorgeous! I love the way that your eyes dance when you laugh. I like watching your little booty dance when you bypass the puzzle piece when we’re exploring. I like spending time with you and I spend most of my time with you trying to convince myself why I can’t touch you. You have men throwing themselves at you all the time, even some women. I don’t want you to think that what I’m saying is because of your Veela thing — because it’s not.”

Fleur stepped towards him, her eyes softening. “I can tell ze difference, Bill. I want you to touch me.”

Bill’s breath hitched. “You do?”

She nodded. “I want you to kiss me again.”

He did. Long and deeply until someone whistled at them and he broke away, smiling at her. “Will you go out with me, Fleur?”

She smiled. “Oui, but if you call me stupid again, I will make you wish you hadn’t, oui?”

Bill grinned widely. The fact that he just found her threat as incredibly sexy as the rest of her made him question his own sanity. “Oui.”

But he couldn’t wait to find out what came next. -- Chapter 189 of ASC

Georgelina - George and Angelina are fun to write because I love the idea of someone loving George for who he is and not comparing him to Fred. I love how when he takes her to the Yule Ball, she knows he's not Fred, but he's afraid to hope because as much as he loves his twin, this is the first time in his life he wants someone to really see him as separate from Fred. Angelina does that. I love her friendship with Fred as well and how she's not afraid to tease and poke at him. But one of my favourite moments with them is still when Molly shows up at the twins' flat and finds Angelina in the closet.

George woke up slowly, the early morning sunlight reflecting through the small dingy window of his bedroom. He blinked a moment before he turned to smile at the woman sleeping next to him. Her dark hair was swept up in a silk head wrap, but he was greeted by the lovely nakedness of her back. He grinned, shifting so that he could plant kisses down her spine. She stirred under his lips and when she rolled over, he merely moved his lips to her breasts.

“Good morning,” he murmured as his mouth continued to plant kisses over her skin.

“Morning,” Angelina said, her fingers moving into his hair. “What time is it?”

“Still early,” George answered, sucking the dark peak into his mouth.

“Mmm, the sun comes up late in the winter, so that’s not true.”

George chuckled and looked over at the clock. “Almost nine.”

“Nine... and you’re still here?”

“I’m closing the store tonight so Fred agreed to open. There were some early deliveries to the Ministry that needed to be shipped off. You look delectable.”

Angelina chuckled as his stubbled jaw slid down her stomach. “I doubt that. But after I shower, eat your heart out.”

George’s lips curved and her thumb reached down to trace his lips.

“I love that smile. The one that lights up your whole face. Especially when I’m the one who gives it to you.”

“You always make me smile,” George told her. “You’re still coming with me on Sunday?”

Angelina tugged his face up to hers to kiss him. “Even if I didn’t want to, your mum would insist on it.”

George chuckled. “She likes you.”

“Well, she thinks I'm a good influence on you because you wrote your NEWTs.”

“But you’re a bad influence,” George finished. “Downright naughty in fact. Seducing her son all over London without a care in the world. Tut tut tut.”

Angelina grinned. “In my defence, her son wasn’t putting up much of a fight.”

George kissed her, covering her body with his. “None whatsoever.”

Angelina’s hands slid down his back and into his pyjama bottoms. “When did you put on clothes?”

“When I got up to use the loo a few hours ago,” George said. He used her momentary distraction to kiss her breasts again.

“It’s not like you have something he hasn’t seen before,” Angelina pouted, her hand wrapping around him

George smiled. “True. But you know how Fred is, knowing that I’m the better looking twin is one thing, but seeing me in all of my naked glory is something else entirely.”

She laughed. “Prat. You’re ridiculous”

“And you’re beautiful. I love you, Ange. I love you more every day. You make me so happy.”

Angelina kissed him deeply. “Me too. My teammates say that I’m always smiling and that’s because of you. I love you.”

George deepened the kiss as her hands fondled him just as Fred’s voice interrupted them.

“Oi! You two decent? I’m coming in!”

George barely managed to cover Angelina’s tits before the door to his room burst open. “Fred, boundaries!”

Fred shrugged. “I’ve seen it all before. Right, Angelina?”

Angelina scowled at him. “Walking in on me in the bathroom hardly counts as seeing it all.”

“Which was an accident and I am truly sorry for that, but listen!”

“Who’s running the shop?” George interrupted.

“Ron, nitwit. He’s home for the holiday. Now, I received another shipment of mirrors in and I think that after this batch we’ll be able to sell them. I know with all of the supplies we were making for the Ministry, we got a little backlogged, but this is it, Georgie!”

George grinned. “Yeah?”

Fred nodded, leaning against the doorjamb. “I figure we’ll gift one to Charlie and to Mum and Dad, because that will make us Mum’s favourite, and starting in the new year, VainMuch will be a go!”

Angelina sat up, holding the sheet over her breasts. “And it was important for you to tell us this right this very second because...”

Fred wiggled his eyebrows. “That was just to help cool you off because Mum’s on her way up and I don’t know how much longer Ron can distract her.”

Fred had barely turned around before George and Angelina jumped to their feet and attempted to find clothes. Angelina had just pulled one of George’s G jumpers over her head before George urged her into the closet to hide at the sound of Mrs Weasley stepping into the boys’ flat.

“Mum!” George exclaimed loudly in front of the closet door. “What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here?”

“Hi, George,” Molly said, standing on her toes to kiss her son’s cheek. “Ron and Fred were just showing me the new stock. The store is really looking grand!”

“We told you that we knew what we were doing amidst the explosions and general chaos.”

Molly nodded. “I should have had more faith in you boys. I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Fred said as George smiled next to him.

Molly pursed her lips. “I’m sure that you’ve both heard by now what happened a few days ago in Hogsmeade. Theo is staying with us for the holiday. I don’t want that poor boy to be alone in his grief. He needs friends and he needs family.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” George said. “Want us to come by and cheer him up then?”

“This isn’t the sort of thing one cheers up, George,” Molly insisted. “We just have to be there for him as much as we can be and show him that the world will go on, no matter how much he thinks it may not!”

George nodded. “We can do that.”

“Good. Now, is Angelina still joining us for Christmas?”

“On Christmas Eve,” George corrected, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pyjama bottoms. “I’m going to have dinner on Christmas Day at her house.”

“Oh, but George that means you’ll miss Charlie.”

“We’ll pop by after dinner. Her family does Yule at tea time.”

“Good,” Molly said, her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think that it’s about time you pick up after yourself in here, George? It looks like a pigsty!”

George shrugged. “Just a place to sleep, Mum.”

“Well, this ‘just a place to sleep’ needs to be cleaned. No, not cleaned — decimated!”

George grinned. “Mum, that’s a bit extreme. It’s not like we have mice living about. It’s just some old clothes on the floor. Fred and I moved out, remember? We can take care of ourselves.”

“Hmm,” Molly murmured as she began to move around the room and pick up her son’s clothes. “At least pick your clothes up off the floor. Dirty socks and piles of unwashed clothes and this?”

George swallowed when she pointed to the black and white striped bra on the floor. “Er. I sometimes like to wear those.”

Molly rolled her eyes before they suddenly narrowed at the closed door behind her son. “George Fabian Weasley, are you making that poor girl hide in your closet?”

She pushed him aside and pulled the door open and Angelina managed a small smile.

“Er, hi, Mrs Weasley.”

Molly looked between the two of them. “Do you two think that I was born yesterday? At your age I was already pregnant with my second child. Come out of there!”

Angelina carefully extricated herself from the closet, pulling George’s jumper down a bit. It almost hung to her knees, but it was all she was wearing.

“Are you angry?” Angelina asked, hesitantly.

Molly’s eyes were kind as they looked at her. “No, of course not, dear. You two are no longer children. And considering some of the ways that Bill and Charlie concealed their overnight guests, the closet is kind of funny.”

“You knew about those?” Fred asked from the doorway.

Molly turned to stare at her son. “A mother always knows. Just like I knew about Melinda Cummings sneaking down the drain pipe under your room two years ago, Frederick.”

Fred swallowed. “Blimey!”

George gave his mother a sheepish smile. “I love her, Mum.”

“I know that, too. Angelina, dear, please don’t let him live like a slob. I’ll see you boys tonight for dinner and you too, dear. You’re always welcome.”

She kissed them all on the cheek and then was gone.

Fred stared after her in wonder. “You don’t think she knew about the time Alicia and I shagged behind Dad’s work shed, do you?”

Angelina slipped her arm around George’s waist. “I wouldn’t bet against her.” -- Chapter 254 of ASC

Nevannah - Neville and Hannah are still very much exploring their relationship, but to choose one moment between them so far... I think I rather like the scene where he helps her bake. I think it's so sweet and shows how enraptured he is with her.

Neville licked his lips and watched her get to work. It wasn’t long before the lemon fairy cakes were baking and she started to make red velvet ones. By the time the fairy cakes were cooling, they were making frosting. He watched in amazement as she waved the spatula over each cake like an artist. His own attempt in comparison looked like a small child had stomped on it.

Hannah giggled. “It’s all about the movement in the wrist, like this.”

He watched her again frost a perfect cake and when he tried, he ended up with a splotch of frosting on the table next to him. When she giggled again, he scooped it up with his finger and put it on her nose.

Hannah’s eyes widened in surprise before her own finger dug into the chocolate and spread it on his cheek. It took no time at all before both of them were spotted in frosting. Hannah was laughing as he chased her around the kitchen, his fingers full of frosting. The house-elves were busy chasing after them, mopping up the frosting that they left in their wake, but neither of them noticed. Neville cornered her against the counter by the cupboard and leaned in to steal a kiss.

“You taste like chocolate,” he whispered.

Hannah’s hands slipped up his chest, spreading frosting as she went, but neither of them noticed as her lips met his. They lost themselves in long, slow kisses that left both of them breathless and it was only when the charm rang to signify that the fairy cakes were done, did Neville pull away, licking frosting off his lips.

“I think I rather like baking.”

Hannah’s cheeks flushed as she fumbled to wipe her hands on her apron. “We have to um… the cakes.”

Neville watched her hurry off to get the red velvet cakes out and he grinned. Yeah, he definitely liked baking. -- Chapter 268 of ASC

Perdrey - As to Percy and Audrey, well, I love writing the two of them being naughty and having fun. I think they are both very good for each other, but my favourite moment with them so far is still when Arthur catches them kissing and Percy is amazed at how easily she charms his father. I think that's the moment where you can see he's falling for her.

Audrey ran her hands through her hair as Percy buried his face on her shoulder. “I’m starved, but this was a much better lunch.”

He kissed her shoulder. “You’re going to be the death of me. This is how we’re both getting fired.”

She grinned. “Worried you’ll get caught in a compromising position?” She fixed his crooked glasses. “I’ll protect you.”

“You can’t just send me your knickers in the middle of the bloody day!”

“I can,” she said. “I did. Are you going to give them back?”

“No,” he growled. “Absolutely not.”

Audrey smiled. “So, you do like it when I send you my knickers.”

“Audrey...”

She grinned. “That’s what I thought, Mr Weasley.”

Percy sighed as she kissed his chin. “Miss Mayfair, you will be appropriately punished later today for this misbehaviour.”

“Absolutely, Mr Weasley,” she murmured against his neck. “I may have borrowed a pair of handcuffs from the office.”

Percy grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her mouth back to his for a long, deep kiss that left both of them breathless. They stumbled out of the unused restroom like drunks, giggling and laughing. Audrey had just kissed him once more when he heard a familiar voice clearing their throat behind him. Percy rested his forehead against Audrey’s before he slowly turned his head and grinned sheepishly at his father.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Percy,” Arthur said, his ears reddening. “This must be the lovely Audrey.”

Audrey extended her hand. “Good afternoon, Mr Weasley. Audrey Mayfair, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“And you,” Arthur said, shaking her hand. “I’ve wondered about the woman who has made my son smile constantly over the last few months.”

“I’ve been keeping him to myself, I’m afraid,” she said, smiling up at Percy.

“We’ve noticed that as well,” Arthur said.

“How did you get roped into working on a Saturday?” Percy asked.

Arthur sighed. “I’m woefully behind in my paperwork. I came down here to log in some evidence in the Department of Files and Records. What are you two doing down here?”

“I was working on something for Mr Scrimgeour in courtroom ten. Percy came to steal me for lunch,” Audrey said, smiling up at her boyfriend.

Arthur smiled. “There’s a new deli that opened down the block. I had a corned beef sandwich on rye yesterday. It was almost as good as your mother’s. Speaking of, Ginny and Ron are coming home for the holiday today, Percy. Charlie and Aydin are coming in tonight as well. Why don’t you bring Audrey round for dinner tomorrow? We’d love to have you join us. Molly’s quite the cook.”

“I’d love that,” Audrey admitted, smiling at Percy.

Percy nodded. “Yes, Dad. That sounds… great.”

Arthur chuckled. “Good. We’ll see you then.”

When Arthur turned to head off, Audrey kissed Percy smartly on the lips before she hurried forward and linked her arm through Arthur’s.

“Actually, Mr Weasley, we’re going up to the same floor and I need to grab my bag. Perhaps I could accompany you back to work?”

Arthur’s eyes crinkled. “I’d love that.” He patted her arm gently before Audrey turned to smile back at Percy over her shoulder.

“I’ll meet you in the atrium in a bit and we’ll grab something from that deli, yes?”

Then the two of them marched off ahead.

Audrey smiled warmly at Arthur. “Percy tells me that you run the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. That must be terribly fascinating?”

“It has its moments,” Arthur assured her as the two of them marched off leaving Percy staring after them.

Percy shoved his hands into his pockets, the feel of her knickers there making him smile, and he thought so much for careful planning. Audrey was about to be shoved into the lion’s den.

He was surprised by how much he was suddenly looking forward to it. -- Chapter 266 of ASC

Lavenmae - I think my favourite scene with these two is when they tell Parvati that they are a couple.

“There you two are!” Parvati exclaimed. “Our parents barely said goodbye and you were running off towards the train, Mae. Hi, Lav!”

“Hi, Vati,” Lavender said.

“I just wanted to find a good compartment,” Padma told her sister. She started to get up to move, but Lavender grabbed her arm.

“No, she wanted to come and snog her girlfriend.”

Parvati laughed. “You finally found someone to fall for your charms, Mae? That’s great news! Unless you tell me it’s Li or Bones then we’re going to have words after how those two treated you.”

Lavender slipped her hand back into Padma’s and smiled. “No, it’s… Padma and I are together, Parvati. I’m her girlfriend and she’s… mine.”

Parvati’s eyes widened in surprise as she looked between her best friend and her twin. “You two! When did… Anthony’s party! Of course! I knew something had changed between the two of you.”

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you,” Lavender began. “It’s just that it was new and… it’s still new, but… Parvati, you’re my best friend and I know that this is weird, me dating your identical twin sister, but —”

“— I didn’t say that it was weird,” Parvati interrupted. “Padma, have anything to add?”

Lavender snuck a glance over at Padma and the girl’s dark eyes were smiling at her and then she grinned widely when Padma leaned in and kissed her softly before she answered.

“Kissing her makes me feel like I could be floating without a levitation charm.”

Parvati grinned. “Good. Now budge over and try to keep the enthusiastic snogging to a minimum when I’m around, yeah?”

Lavender blushed, but couldn’t stop smiling. Padma Patil was her girlfriend and suddenly, nothing else really seemed to matter. As she listened to her best friend start talking about her plans for the year, she knew that she still had a big goofy grin on her face and there was nothing that she liked better. -- Chapter 238 of ASC

Gransy - This is a couple I adore writing! I thought it would be so fun to add in two people we don't usually get to see much of, two people who you would never imagine getting together, and I love how many people have grown to love them as much as me. I think my favourite moment with them so far hasn't actually been published yet but it will be in chapter 284. I think it really shows a turning point in their relationship. Otherwise, I love the scene where he finds her the door.

The sound of movement in the doorway made her look up at her husband.

“How was the meeting?”

“Okay,” he said. “Did you remember to eat?”

“Yes. Mitzy brought me a sandwich and a salad.”

Greg nodded, clearing his throat. “Good. Um… I think I found a door for the shop.”

Pansy’s eyes widened. “You did? Where?”

“An antique place in Muggle London.”

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Why were you in Muggle London?”

“I was doing something for the Dark Lord,” he said. “But I found the door. It’s wood and painted a deep turquoise green with gold inlets carved into it. I thought it looked… sophisticated.”

Pansy’s smile widened. “Can I see it?”

Greg offered his hand to help her up and led her into the entrance hall where he had the set of double doors propped up against the wall.

“Greg! It’s perfect!” she shrieked.

It was sophisticated looking and it would make her shop stand out among the vast assortment of places in Apricity Lane.

“Good. I’ll get it installed in a few days." -- Chapter 270 of ASC

Thanks so much for this ask! It was fun to take a trip down memory lane!

[sams-sass]

You Found Me-Epilogue

GIF not mine

Hello! I decided to write an Epilogue to You Found Me because Sam deserves all the happiness in the world. 

Read Parts One through Five Here: 

Part One

Part Two 

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five 

Summary: You and Sam are fucking precious. 

Characters: You, Sam, Dean, Cas, Your friend 

Pairings: Sam x Reader 

Warnings: Fluff. Fluffy and sweet! 

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

You were standing in front of the mirror pulling on your dress. You were nervous, your fingers kept running through your hair and you played anxiously with the neckline of your dress. You walked over to your closet and pulled out a pair of heels, sliding them onto your feet. You went to your jewelry box and ran your fingers over the top lightly. This was your mothers jewelry box that her mother had given to her. There was a metal plate that had a weeping willow carved into it that sat nestled in wood. The box and its contents was the only thing you had left from your parents. You opened the top and gently ran your fingers along the navy blue velvet lining holding the jewelry. Your fathers watch sat in a section of its own, it had long ago run out of batteries. You stroked the face of it with your index finger, cautiously tapping it two times like your father used to. Your mothers gold and rose quartz earrings sat in the earring holes that were raised slightly. Finally, in the other compartment was your mothers necklace. The chain was gold and just long enough to place the stone in between and slightly below your collar bones. The stone was in its raw form and a gorgeous lavender color that sparkled no matter what lighting it was in. It was large enough that it covered about an inch of your chest. Your mother hardly ever wore it, but when she did you always thought she looked so beautiful. Your fingers gingerly grabbed the gold chain and a spark ran through you. You gasped and dropped the chain, holding your shocked hand in the other. Your mouth opened and you slowly reached out again to touch the necklace.

Sam adjusted his tie for the millionth time and let out a large breath, giving himself one final glance over in the mirror. He then left the bathroom and made his way to your shared bedroom. He stood in the doorway, halted by your beauty. You were wearing a plum colored dress that hugged your curves, it was low cut and ended just before your knees. The heels you were wearing made Sam lick his lips when he saw your legs. He was about to say something when you picked up a necklace from the jewelry box your mom left you. You let out a gasp as if you had just been shocked. You placed the necklace on your skin and your fingers did the clasp. A gust of wind blew through the bunker and a deep inhale went into your lungs. Your hair flew around your face and your lips parted. Your eyes shown violet, a light was growing out of your chest and hands. The necklace was also illuminated, a bright light the same shade of violet as your eyes grew out of the stone. Your head tilted back slightly and your breathing came in short and fast breaths. Sam was absolutely astounded by you, he couldn’t look away. He had seen you like this quite a few times now, but he could never get over how powerful you were. He walked over to you as the light began to recede back into you. You gasped again and closed your eyes as you placed a hand on your chest. Your feet faltered and Sam grabbed your waist, pulling you against him to steady you. He grabbed your biceps and pushed you away from him slightly to look you over, make sure you were ok. His eyes were wide and his brow was furrowed as he tried to understand what just happened.

“Y/N?” He asked softly as his eyes connected with yours. You were staring at him with a confused expression on your face. You could feel his confusion and anxiety coming off of him. You threw your arms around his neck and passionately kissed him on the lips. He let out a surprised breath but soon folded into the kiss. You suddenly burst into giggles against his lips and he pulled away to give you a questioning look.

“I don’t have to put walls up!” You exclaimed, overcome with joy.

“What?” He was really confused now, his eyebrows coming together into a line.

“I feel in control! Sam, for the first time since I got these powers I actually feel like I can fully control them. I don’t have to put all these walls up to block everything out, I don’t have to worry about touching someone on accident or when I am not focused because I am in control of my powers!”

“I thought it was getting easier for you?” Sam asked, his hand taking yours.

“It was.” You nodded, agreeing. “But, it was exhausting to focus on keeping them up all the time and when I did let the walls down it was almost overwhelming. So many times you, Dean, or Cas would brush past me when I wasn’t focusing on keeping the walls up and I would invade into the deepest parts of your minds. So many times I would be kin the kitchen baking or in the library reading and would forget to put the walls up and the emotions would surround and completely engulf me in feelings that weren’t even my own. It got easier after I healed you and Dean, but sometimes it was all just too much.”

“I am so sorry, baby. Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asked, taking a step towards you and running his thumb across your cheek.

“I didn’t want to worry you, plus I thought it was just how life had to be so I didn’t see a reason in complaining about it all the time.” You shrugged, tilting your head to the side smiling up at him. “So, now you can’t feel anything?” He asked, you could tell he was disappointed, he had grown to rather enjoy the mental connection you two shared.

“No, I can, that’s what’s amazing! I can still gather all the emotions from everyone just as clearly, its just under my control now so I can judge who and when I gather the emotions. Its perfect!” You were laughing again.

“I love you.” Sam said, looking deep into your eyes. Although he told you everyday it still felt amazing to hear it, a feeling of pure peace filled him every time he said it.

“I love you too, Sam.” You said back, placing a hand on his cheek.

“We are going to be late for dinner, did you remember to pack a bag of warm clothes?” He was serious Sam now, focused and driven.

“Yes.” You replied picking up the bag. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?!” You said, giving him your best puppy dog eyes making him laugh.

“No, now lets go and don’t go picking through my mind either. I want this to be a surprise.” He grabbed your bag and you two made your way to the impala. As curious as you were you listened to Sam and didn’t invade his mind. You were excited to see what he was so excited about. Sam drove to a nice restaurant, you knew about this part. The two of you ate with easy conversation, lingering stares, and shy smiles. You finished and Sam let you change into your warm clothes in the back seat while he kept watch, then you the same for him. He got into the car and you could see him playing with his fingers and nervously tapping his thigh as he drove. He pulled the car into an open field and parked. He got out and opened your door for you before going to the trunk. He pulled out pillows, blankets, wine, and chocolate scones.

“Did you make those?!” You asked, smiling at him.

“I did.” He blushed and sent you a shy glance. You bumped your shoulder against his arm and looked up at him from under your lashes.

“They smell amazing.” You said. You two draped the blankets on the hood of the impala and covered the windshield with pillows. He climbed up first, testing it out. He nodded and you climbed up with him. He spread his arm out allowing you to snuggle into his chest. His fingers twisted through your hair and his lips left kisses on the top of your head.

“The sky is absolutely amazing from here.” You commented. He let out a hum in agreement that made his chest rumble against your cheek.

“Would you like a scone and some wine?” He asked you, you looked up into his face and nodded. He detangled himself from you and got off the hood to get the scones and wine. “I may actually need your help.” He said with a small chuckle. Something was weird, he seemed nervous and excited. His back was to you as he was crouched over the scones. You got off the car and went to stand behind him, he turned still on his knees and lifted his hands to reveal a ring in a small box. You smiled and covered your mouth with your hand, feeling your chin trembling.

“Ok, I know I’m not the most emotional man so please just let me get this out and don’t make fun.” He was staring at you, his dimples were highlighting his smile and the starry night was making his eyes shine. “I knew I was going to care for you the moment you touched me that night with Crowley and showed me how powerful you were. I knew you were going to mean the world to me when Rowena lifted the mark of the witch and you accepted your new responsibility with such grace. I knew that you were the one I wanted to wake up to everyday the first time you kissed me. I knew that I would do absolutely anything for you when I saw you crying that night in the kitchen. I knew I loved you when you nervous baked for me and Dean, showing me how much you cared. And I knew I wanted to marry you and make you mine forever when you healed me. You make me whole, Y/N, you make me the man I have always wanted to be. I will love you as long as I live, will you marry me?” Sam’s whole face was open and honest as he spoke. You could feel the love and adoration pouring out of him. You could actually feel the love he had for you in his heart, almost as if you could see it.

“Yes, Sam, yes!” You barely got the words out before he picked you up into his arms, holding you so tight against his chest. You were both laughing against each other’s lips as you lost yourselves in the passion of pure love.

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

One Year Later

You smoothed down your dress and giggled to yourself in the mirror. Your friend ran her hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and leaned her head against your shoulder. The two of you looked at yourselves in the mirror with wide smiles and hopeful eyes.

“You look amazing, Sam’s gonna die.” She placed her hand on your cheek and you smiled at each other. There was a knock on the door, Y/F/N opened the door to find Cas waiting to do his job. He walked in the room and smiled at you, he was so happy it almost surprised you that he could feel an emotion so deeply.

“You look beautiful.” He smiled at you and gave you a polite nod.

“Thank you.” You smiled back, holding his gaze. Your friend walked out first, grabbing her bouquet on the way. Cas stuck out his elbow and you slid your hand into the crease as the two of you walked behind your friend. She walked gracefully down the aisle in her violet dress that she looked absolutely gorgeous in, you saw Dean stand a little taller when he saw her. You bowed your head and smiled at his reaction before glancing at Cas. He gave you a tiny nod and the two of you started walking towards the front of the church. Your eyes found Sam’s and all you could feel was how captivated he was by you. Dean reached up, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam’s chest puffed out and relaxed as he took large and hard breaths. The ceremony went beautifully, exactly as you wanted it. The two of you shared a kiss that you literally poured all your love and passion into. The two of you busted out of the doors of the church, laughing the whole time. You climbed into the impala with the man who found you a year and a half ago and all the hope for your future together.

“I love you so much.” You said. Sam picked up your hand and kissed your fingers. 

“I love you too, Mrs. Winchester.” He cupped your face and kissed you passionately before riding to the bunker to celebrate. 

Tags: @hunting-the-grievers​ @mrsfortune1306​

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Angel Boyfriend

The pitter-patter of rainfall wasn’t the first thing that had woken you up from the faint sounds resonating around you. 

You had been acutely aware of the sounds of nature coming back through into your ears: the sound of birds twittering and the nearby stream flowing just outside your home.

They were all sounds you had grown to love since you had moved.

The sheets shuffled when you rolled to lay on your side, looking out beyond the ajar curtains that were wrinkled and shone some light through; the drizzle was still letting the sun to come through, and it was still too early to be awake.

Your fingers dug themselves into the sheets and further into the comforter that was heavy to help you lull into a sleep, patting and smoothing over the large space that was usually taken by occupied space.

It was the second thing you had noticed when your eyes had gotten accustomed to the bright light seeping through; your lover was nowhere to be seen.

The door to your bedroom was slightly half-open, meaning that he must’ve left either to go to the kitchen or go run some errands, but you were certain there would’ve been a note left for you, and there was none left in sight.

The tiny mewl came from the bottom of your bed, a white fluffy tail sprang up first before two small pointed ears followed, allowing a beaming grin to flash on your face.

Ceres was your three-year-old Persian that you had adopted from a cat shelter, and before you had met your now-boyfriend, she had been your world. There was always the comfort that was from having a pet that you had always confided in when you weren’t dating or in a relationship, and finally, you could experience love and affection from another.

There were distinct footsteps coming back from you assumed was from the kitchen, heard over the raindrops falling from your roof and when Ceres was scratching at her post; audible sounds that you knew exactly who it was.

The door wasn’t even fully open before your eyes were landing on the soft features of your boyfriend: his warm copper skin and dark chocolate curls that were messy from sleeping were always something that made your heart flutter. Your boyfriend was always truly beautiful to look upon.

“Hi,” you observed from your comfort of the blanket wrapped around your head, head poking out to make you resemble a burrito, always a sight that made Evangelos smile.

“Hey there,” His voice was tender and delicate, always there to lull you into tranquillity, his soft olive-green eyes landing on you as he went to sit next to you on your bed, two cups in his hands, “made you some coffee.”

“Decaf again?” You murmured with a wink, sitting up properly to take the warmed coffee into your hands, laying close to him to feel his warmth. “You never give me caffeine.”

“Only just because you’ve woken up, my love,” Evangelos spoke frankly, taking a sip of his own green tea as he sat taking in the morning. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” you yawned, drinking down a large gulp of your drink, made exactly how you liked it and always perfectly, leaving you to sign in relief, “I just didn’t know where you went.”

Evangelos chuckled at that, beckoning Ceres over and once she jumped up onto the bed, he stroked his bare-knuckle along the top of her furry head towards the back of it. “I had to feed this one, or else I don’t think either one of us wanted to hear her complain.”

You hummed in amusement, stroking Ceres too, watching her stretch to lie between the two of you, purring in appreciation, eyes shut in peace. “Come back to bed, please?”

Evangelos’ look he gave you resembled one full of mirth, “Oh, did you miss me?” There was no arrogance to his tone, nor how he spoke to sound cocky: he was always kind and sweet and there was a reason why from his conception and creation.

You gave him the look that always made him give in to you, the classic puppy dog face with a big pout always made his chest swell with love. Gingerly taking your mug to put on the stand beside, he cradled you close to his bare chest, kissing at your forehead tenderly.

“Anything for my love, my stars.”

It wasn’t long before you were both spooning and cuddling each other, revelling in the feeling of content and peace, the silence had risen to block the sounds of everything going on outside. Ceres was curled around the middle of your intertwined legs, curled in a small ball.

You had your arms wrapped around his neck, stroking his hairline and short curls, kissing his beautiful copper skin in thought.

Evangelos was always quick to notice when you were deep in thought or thinking. “What is it, my stars?”

You always felt giddy at the nicknames and sweet pet names he gave you: my love, my stars, my universe. For someone as empyreal as him, it was always something so lovely to hear.

“Just... I never want these moments to end. To go wake up and go about my day, waiting to come back to my bed to be with you.” Your voice was gentle but gravelly from sleep slinking back into your mind, always being in his arms made you feel so safe, so protected.

“You are so good and brave, and I’m proud of you doing what you must do. You are always someone I wish I could be. And I love you for it, and I love you to the heavens and back.”

You smiled, your heart swelling, and never had he said he was inspired by you for getting up every day; it was something that kept you from not losing your mind.

Fingers hot like melted honey, they traced over his caramel skin, past and beyond the back of his neck and below, travelling past his broad shoulders and over his freckled back, the skin raised and bruised, the skin broken and damaged, with obvious tufts of where wings once spread.

Evangelos shuddered greatly in reaction, not in one of disgust or wanting to not be touched: the skin there had never healed greatly throughout the millennia and it was the only part of his blemish-free skin and body that was scarred.

“I could never be more proud of you, you are everything that I want to be.” You whispered, your eyelids growing heavier as you laid your head down against his shoulder, kissing the flesh there and using him as a pillow.

To Evangelos, you were an angel, and he couldn’ t help but always notice the invisible flutters of pink feathers float around you, the gentle reminders that you were always one of His creations and followers.

“Let’s sleep Evan, I don’t want to wake up so soon.” Your voice was quieting as you fell limper before your quiet snores fell through the room. Evangelos watched with a grateful and broad smile, eyes softened at the sight, before tucking away a strand of your hair as he too, went to relax with you in his arms.

“Good morning, see you when my sun has arisen.”

[eldritch-essor]

the Christmas Switch

Prompt: Satan gets Christmas letters from kids who misspell Santa’s name. 

It’s one strange day in Hell indeed when someone dares to interrupt Satan’s afternoon nap. 

“Ex-Excuse me, Sir—” Satan cracks a single eye open, studying the postman in front of him who’s somehow managing to simultaneously sweat like a broken water fountain and tremble at the near frequency of an electric toothbrush. Rather understandable, the Devil thinks, considering that the poor man’s standing in Hell, directly within blasting range of the ruler of said land. 

“Yes?”

The postman jumps at his voice, lower than usual from his recent nap and twice as menacing, though Lucifer would probably just dump a cup of water onto him. Trembling even harder, he involuntarily retreats a few steps away. Not like it would help him in any way. 

Satan sighs, rubbing at his temples with a clawed hand to ward off the incoming migraine that’s sure to set in sooner or later. 

“What brings you to my domain?” he asks slowly and clearly, making sure not to move too quickly lest the postman gets a heart attack. 

“I— There’s a— no, I mean—” the man starts, stumbling over his words as he frantically roots through his satchel, spilling several letters in the process. Satan raises a single eyebrow as he watches. The postman finally manages to produce a neatly stacked set of envelopes of varying sizes and colours, and Satan vaguely muses at how miraculous it is that he hasn’t dropped any of the letters into the pond of lava right next to him yet. Clearing his throat, the postman starts again, proffering the stack towards Satan with a hand that’s trembling so hard he’s actually amazed the man hasn’t managed to shake the words right off the paper itself. “I mean to say, you have— your post, S-Sir.”

Satan nearly chokes on his drink. 

Letters? He wonders, internally backtracking. And for me, of all people? It’s only when the postman replies that he realises he said it out loud.

“Yes, Mr. Sa— I mean, sir.” The postman tentatively takes a step forward, eyes honed onto the Devil for any sign of movement that would presumably send him running like the wind. After detecting no threat — or at least, as minimal of a threat as one such as Satan could pose — he quickly lays the letters down at Satan’s feet, holding out a clipboard and pen towards Satan gingerly. “N-now, would you please sign here to declare that y-you’ve received your mail?”

The second Satan manages to scrawl what should resemble a signature onto the space indicated — it’s not as if he’s ever needed to write, that’s Lucifer’s job as the accountant — the postman snatches everything back and disappears in literal seconds. Satan watches the man’s rapidly receding back and contemplates how he made his way into Hell in the first place.

After he’s certain the postman’s long gone, Satan picks up the stack of letters thoughtfully wrapped in a length of twine string. “Letters for me, huh.” he mutters as he picks apart the knot, dumping the five envelopes onto his lap.

For lack of a better term, they were all covered with the brightest colours that a crayon could conjure. And they were all labeled in the shaky handwriting of children who have just mastered how to write their first letters. 

tO sAtAn, the envelopes proudly declared, in various colors. Unable to hold back his curiosity, the Devil slit open one of the envelopes with a pitch-black fingernail and glanced at the letter within.

dEar saTan, the letter starts. mY name iS EmiLY, aNd i am 6 YERs Od. (It took a few moments to adjust his eyes to the assorted sizes of the letters. ivv bEN a GOOd GIRL THis YER, aN i wOULd ReeLy LUvE a pupy fR CRissmass! pRETTY pLEasE?  YOU COULd COmE OvER aNd pLay wiTH HER, two!   Satan finds his lips cracking into a smile as he decides the brown coloured blob on the bottom of the page is most probably a drawing of a dog. 

Picking up the other letters, he opens them more eagerly, devouring the content within like a man who’s been deprived of water for a long time. Except, he doesn't exactly need water to survive (demon and all) but that’s beside the point. Timmy would like an action figurine (whatever that was), Ann wanted a new teddy, and the other two letters were written in penmanship that the Devil simply couldn’t decipher, even when he took out his reading glasses and squinted at the crayon scribbles so intensely the letter nearly went up in flames. 

And no, the Devil certainly did not accidentally singe a hole into one of the letters in the process. 

“LUCIFER! I DEMAND YOU READ THIS FOR ME, THIS INSTANT.” 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Out of everything he’s put up with over the past few centuries — not that Santa would ever admit that he was ancient — getting ambushed by a cloud of ash and sulphur was definitely a first. And that was saying something, considering how often he’s been tripped up by a devious string of bells wrapped around the kitchen in a childish attempt to catch him out during the job. And just don’t mention the cookies and milk. Santa didn’t know who started the ridiculous notion that he’d like twenty million cups of milk and double the amount of chocolate cookies during one night, considering how they’d forgotten one crucial fact: he was lactose intolerant. Also, who in the world in their right minds would think one man would be able to stomach enough cookies to sustain a small army in one night? Ridiculous.

Well, there was a reason why Santa didn’t sneak into houses via the chimney anymore. Not that Satan seemed to care, that is.

Santa blinks. Wiping the soot off his glasses to the best of his ability, he squinted hard at the figure in front of him, internally wincing at the scolding Mrs. Claus would definitely give him for getting his suit dirty again. That was Satan, all right, with an innocent ‘deer in the headlights’ look that had no business being on his face. 

“What are you doing here, Satan?” he asks, furiously wiping his glasses, as if he’ll be able to banish the sight of the Devil in a crude mimicry of his own outfit. Satan shrugged nonchalantly, with a grin so big Santa half expects to be eaten whole. It certainly looked… ominous. The barely disguised, unadulterated glee behind was even more so.

“I’ve been asked to deliver some Christmas presents!” he chirps, and Santa swears, if Satan’s smile was creepy, Satan chirping was horribly terrifying. Had he managed to overthrow God or something? He should just— wait. 

What?

“Little Emily has specifically requested for me, so you can just move along,” Satan says smoothly, leading Santa to the door. 

Santa finds himself standing next to his reindeer — who are coincidentally having a staring match with Cerberus and Hades, who are somehow perched on the roof — when he finally processes what’s going on — oh no. 

Immediately, he runs back into the house, making sure not to wake up the inhabitants of the house when he proceeds to have a whispering match with the Devil.

“Look, Satan,” he starts, trying his best to be reasonable. “You don’t have to strain yourself like this. I’m sure I can manage to cover the five kids who’ve accidentally written your name on their letter on my rounds. How about you just head back to Hell and, I don’t know, take a dip in one of your lava pools?” He was interrupted by a barely suppressed growl and oh, that was why people don’t usually like Satan; he mused as he was confronted by a rapidly reddening face and glaring red eyes. 

“She wrote to me, Santa.” Satan hisses, waving a piece of paper that’s somehow singed in a corner and covered with crayon but the word ‘sAtAN’ is vaguely distinguishable in the top left corner. “Me.” Satan puffed his chest out in childish triumph. “Not you.”

Santa sighs, pinching his nose with a still soot-covered hand. Of course, this would happen.

“This happens every year, alright?” he says in an attempt to pacify the beast. “Some kid misspells my name, and the post office is usually smart enough to redirect it my way. One of them must have slipped up this year, and that’s why this happened.” 

This, however, seems to be the wrong thing to say, as steam metaphorically — or is it literally? — starts pouring out of the Devil’s pointed ears.

Santa quickly decides that he’s not paid enough to deal with Satan on top of delivering presents to another couple million houses before dawn — and that’s already five minutes he could’ve used to get that done wasted — and so he just roughly jerks the basket out of Satan’s hand before ruffling through his sack — a little girl would probably love a doll or something — when sharp needle like teeth latch onto the hand that was holding the basket.

Satan watches calmly as Santa frantically pries the teeth of the small creature off his finger.

“Down, pup.” he says once he’s decided Santa has had enough punishment — the insolent brat — and the creature obediently lets go, diving back into the basket before Santa can see what it is.

“It’s just a puppy,” Satan says soothingly. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“I suppose.” Santa concedes as he bandages his bleeding finger. “Now, no giving them anything inappropriate, alright? Or I’ll make sure never to let a single letter reach you again, no matter how many typos there are. Deal?”

Santa’s never seen the Devil grin so widely before. And so, he reluctantly allows Satan to leave his present at the Christmas tree. He supervises as Satan carefully leaves wrapped presents that look somewhat safe — a plastic sword, a teddy bear, a few figurines — under others. 

At last, all the houses have been visited and dawn is peeking across the horizon. Santa lays sprawled across a particularly overgrown roof as he watches the sunrise with his reindeer — and never in a million years would he ever imagine — Satan, Hades and Cerberus, who’s still staring at Rudolf, growling.

“This was a good year,” he says, satisfied with his work. After all, he managed to deliver all the presents, and on top of that, Satan didn’t burn anything down! It was an accomplishment in itself. “Next year, if you want, I’ll teach you how to make gifts, so you don’t have to buy them from stores.”

“Buy gifts?” Satan looks at him quizzically. “Why would I have to do that? I’ve practically got everything they could ask for stowed away somewhere in Hell. A sword was just plain easy. I did have to bribe Hephaestus to make some of the figurines, but it’s pure luck that Cerberus’ kit had pups this year.”

Santa feels a sinking sensation in his stomach as he processes this. 

“You did WHAT?!”

-vrei.essor

[nightingiall]

head in the clouds: part iv

{story page} // {wattpad}

Rory doesn’t want to get up. 

Her body is slowly waking from sleep, limbs heavy and sated, and to be quite honest, she’s too comfortable to move. Soft hairs are brushing softly against her arm. A warm weight against her head is shifting a bit. A heart beat is thumping quietly and rhythmically beneath her ear—

Wait.

Rory opens her eyes only to find that she’s not even in her own bed. This, admittedly, happens sometimes, but not often, and she’s about to catapult out in pure horror when she realizes that the bed she’s in actually belongs to none other than Niall Horan. 

She freezes, taking in her surroundings, mortification melting into confusion. She’s currently laying horizontally on the bed, head on Niall’s chest as he slumbers peacefully on his pillow, perpendicular to her. His arm is curled around her head, as though she’d been resting on it and slipped down to his torso instead. It’s only now that she realizes her hand is curled around his wrist, holding his arm close. Next to her is Spike, somehow curled into both of them. 

Rory has...no idea how they ended up like this.

“G’mornin’,” Niall is murmuring, voice raspy and deep from sleep, and Rory has to ignore the voice in her head that declares how absolutely adorable it is. 

“Sorry,” is what she blurts out instead, getting ready to shift out of his space but getting blocked by Spike, who’s watching her with that signature frown. “Am I crushing you?”

Niall chuckles under his breath and it’s all sleepy and impossibly cute and Rory thinks, Oh my god I am in so much trouble, because now she’s gone and gotten too close and there’s no going back now. “No,” he replies, bringing his other arm around her so he’s holding her to his chest. “You’re very warm. It’s nice.” 

She wonders if he actually realizes what he’s doing or if this is just that half-asleep delirium that happens when you’re drifting between that space of dreams and consciousness. But then his fingers start to curl around her hair, his eyes opening slowly as he tries to fight the temptation sleep must be calling him back into, and all she can think about then is how the morning light suits him so well, rays filtering through his window and washing him in hues of soft gold. She’s so distracted that when he smiles at her, she smiles back. 

The memory is coming back to her now, how they ended up here, and she finds herself relaxing against him as she tries to make sense of it. They’d been up late last night, cooking dinner, no alcohol involved. Rory remembers them trying to get Spike to taste something, chasing him all the way to Niall’s bed before they were able to coax it into the picky cat. 

Then they just...talked. About everything. About nothing. Rory learned about Niall’s family—just a dad and a brother—and his plans after the summer was over—take a gap year traveling the world, most likely, but he really wants to pick up more knowledge on baking all sorts of goods from across the globe. She told him about wanting to take a break for a year as well, about wanting to be an artist but her mom wanting her to do something practical, about feeling suffocated and unsure about everything now that college is over. Butterflies flutter in her tummy now at the memory of him holding her hand and looking into her eyes with a look of conviction, reassuring her that they didn’t need to have everything figured out right now, that everything would work itself out and be okay. 

The entire time, Rory didn’t think about last summer, didn’t think about her broken heart. In fact, her heart didn’t even feel broken anymore. The pieces were somehow mended back together, sealed tight with new memories of parties and laughter with Harry and Leslie, of coffee-drenched mornings with Gigi, of scorching lifeguard shifts with Niall. Of friends. Of happiness. Of that beautiful expanse of time in which her heart had quietly and decisively moved on without her noticing. And she learned how to laugh again. She learned how to be Rory again. 

And somehow, in the midst of all of that, she and Niall fell asleep, all wrapped up into one another. And it felt good. 

Now, he’s smiling that sweet smile at her, all sleepy eyes and messy hair, and she feels new and whole and completely content with where she is. 

“Wanna stay for breakfast?” he asks, one hand tracing circles into the nape of her neck and the other smoothing down Spike’s fur. “I make some mean pancakes.” 

And Rory thinks, what’s the harm? Breakfast sounds nice. Spending more time with Niall sounds nice. So she doesn’t have to think about it when she asks, “Got an extra toothbrush for me?” Niall’s smile grows a little wider at her words, and something smooth and warm slinks around in her core at the sight of it.

Oh my god I am in so much trouble, she thinks again.

Because Niall Horan smiles at her and all of a sudden she can’t think straight.

***

Rory thinks blue eyes are probably a bit hazardous. 

Specifically Niall’s blue eyes. Because she gets so lost in them that she’s nearly stepping onto Spike’s tail, and when she realizes at the last second, she ends up tripping over her own feet when she attempts to avoid hurting him.

And if she ends up spraining her ankle and Niall ends up having to give her a piggyback ride home, then his laugh is worth it. Gigi takes one look at her when they get there and Rory knows she will never hear the end of the I told you so’s. 

But there are 35 days left of summer, and...well, Rory doesn’t really know what to do with herself.

***

They’re in the dog days of summer. 

That’s what Rory and Gigi usually say when it gets to that point in the season where it’s so unbearably hot and sultry that even the guests don’t feel like doing much. August has finally descended on them and today, the pool is full of adults just lounging about, cold bottles of beer selling like crazy and everyone soaking up the last bits of sun before the summer ends, even though that is about a month away. Even the children are lazily drifting through the pool, ice creams melting near their parents on the loungers. 

Rory, for her part, cannot get a certain blue-eyed boy out of her head. It doesn’t help that he’s sitting on the lifeguard chair right across from her. He does this thing to stay focused, sings songs in his head, and when he does he always taps his fingers against his knees or against the arms of his chair or against his reusable water bottle to the beat of whatever it is. Recently, she’s been wondering what song is playing in his head, what that beat is that’s helping him stay focused on the people splashing about in the pool. 

But most of all, she can’t stop thinking of those fingers and how they felt when they were tangled up in her hair the other day. She replays the action at every waking moment, can’t sleep sometimes because the memory of warm, nimble fingers tracing shapes against the nape of her neck haunts her, like the ghost of what could be. 

She doesn’t realize that she’s sketching them until that familiar brogue is shouting, “Hiya, Rory,” and her concentration breaks. She quickly brings the sketchbook against her chest in her panic, hoping that Niall didn’t see whatever was on the page, which is irrational because he’s only now sidling up to her chair. “Jumpy today, eh?” he teases, signature grin on full display. “Whatcha drawing?

He reaches out to flip the book over but Rory hugs it tighter to her chest. “Nothing!” she nearly yelps out, voice all high-pitched and veering on the edge of panicked. She clears her throat when he gives her an amused look, amending her tone. “Um. Nothing. It’s uh...it’s not good.” 

He laughs and Rory feels her cheeks beginning to sting with that familiar burn. “C’mon, Rors, I’m sure it’s great.” Those stupid blue eyes glimmer in the sunlight and Rory really hates him right now. Really hates that he can have her feeling like mush just by doing the absolute bare minimum. She must send him some look though because he drops the subject with a huffed out “Fine.” Then he asks, “How’s your ankle?” 

Rory lifts her leg to look at it and, sure enough, it’s gone a bit swollen on her as she was too busy getting all distracted. She should probably get another ice pack on it. “Well,” she shrugs, trying not to flinch when Niall reaches out to gently press against it. “It doesn’t really hurt anymore.” 

Niall looks at her like he doesn’t believe her, grin sliding off his face only to be replaced with a stern line. “You should really get some ice on it, Rory.” It’s only now that she realizes how close he’s gotten. “It’s not going to get better if you don’t take care of it.” 

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Okay, mom,” she says curtly, moving to slide off her chair and head over to her next post. As is customary between them at this point, she ignores his hand of help. Just her luck though, her ankle is still tender, and because she’s so focused on keeping her notebook hidden from him, she steps down wrong and her knees end up buckling under her weight as she hits the ground, Niall instantly reaching out to grab her arms and steady her. 

“You’re so stubborn,” he grits out as he helps her up, and this time he’s the one rolling his eyes at her. “Stay here. I’m going to get you some ice.” Rory watches as he motions to Zafar, who is behind him in the rotation, and Callie, another lifeguard who’s in front of Rory in the rotation, that he’ll be right back and scurries off towards the canteen where there’s a first-aid station. 

She huffs to herself as she tries to walk as normally as she can to her next post, but she probably ends up limping because even Callie is calling out to her asking if she’s okay. She waves her off, managing a smile as she gingerly hauls herself up onto the lifeguard chair, glad to be under the shade of the umbrella now. Her sketchbook, now laying closed on her lap, taunts her. Her fingers itch to open it and resume her sketch, but this is dangerous, dangerous territory. 

“I thought I told you to stay put.” Niall’s looking at her all exasperatedly as he hands her an ice pack. She takes it with a frown, a retort ready on her tongue, but it quickly melts away when she presses the pack to her ankle. The cooling sensation that runs through her is so soothing; she didn’t even realize it had been hurting so bad. “You better go straight home after this and get some proper ice on it.” Niall is crossing his arms at her now, watching her so seriously that it nearly startles her. “You can’t keep running around on it or it’ll never get better.” 

A rather enamored warmth runs through her at the way he so obviously cares, but she masks it with yet another eye roll. “But I was meant to stop by the kitchens to get more food for Spike—”

“Don’t worry about, Spike,” he interjects tersely, and Rory wants to reach out to smooth away the little wrinkle that has settled between his brows. “I’ll figure something out. But if you even think about stopping by with that ankle of yours then I won’t open the door for you and it’ll have been a waste of your time!”

Rory can’t help it. She breaks at that, a tiny giggle escaping her lips, and she can’t even be mad at herself for it because it makes Niall smile. “Fine,” she mumbles, defeated, because she can’t ignore the disappointment that settles over her now. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t look forward to spending time with Spike—and, okay, fine, Niall too—after her shifts. It gave her something to do now that she didn’t hang out with anyone else on the grounds, apart from Harry and Leslie when they’re free and Gigi when she actually shows up at their place. 

Niall notices her mood shift because of course he does, and he reaches out to playfully nudge at her, grinning as he starts to move towards his next post because he’ll get written up if someone important walks by and notices them having a conversation when they should be working. “Turn that frown upside down, beautiful,” he calls out when he’s halfway, winking for good measure, and the blush that burns through her this time is so unbearable that she nearly yells out at him to stop the compliments because she doesn’t know how many she’ll be able to handle. 

Luckily, or unluckily, for her, he swings himself up onto his lifeguard chair, attention returning to the people splashing around in the pool, fingers tapping against his knees as his song resumes in his head. 

As Rory opens her sketchbook to look at the drawing, she groans to herself. 

She hasn’t managed to draw in any distinctive features yet, but anyone with a brain would be able to tell it’s of Niall, lounging in his lifeguard chair, fingers of one hand wrapped around his bottle and the other against his knee, posture and build unmistakable. 

***

There are 31 days left of summer and Rory has got it bad. 

***

“What do you mean you told them!”

Rory is glaring and Niall is watching her sheepishly, pinpricks of red coloring his cheeks. Behind him, she can see Harry and Leslie chasing Spike around, the cat making a sort of indignant sound, Leslie knocking over a picture frame in the process. Rory huffs angrily at the sight. 

“Hey, don’t be upset.” Niall is giving her that wide-eyed puppy dog look and it reminds her of that night when she caught him sneaking around the grounds with Spike in a duffel bag. They’ve come a long way since then.

Rory opens her mouth to retort but is cut off by the sound of Harry bursting into a fit of laughter inside and she rolls her eyes. Niall almost smiles but a group of people loudly file out of the apartment across the street and his face changes into an unreadable expression. 

He cautiously looks around before grabbing her wrist and pulling her inside, shutting the door behind them. “The blokes next door made a passing remark one day that they could hear animal noises sometimes and I freaked out. So I asked Harry and Leslie if they’d stop by between their shifts to check on Spike sometimes to make sure he wasn’t too lonely. I didn’t want to bother you about it. You had to let your ankle heal after all.” He tries to smile at her but it looks a bit like a grimace as he anticipates the way she might look at him, but she only watches him warily. “And plus, Harry works in the kitchens so it won’t look suspicious if you kept going over to get food. This way there’s less of a risk of you getting in trouble too.” 

And, ugh, Rory hated how annoyingly endearing he was. It wasn’t fair! She was trying so hard not to fall for him and was hopelessly failing. And Rory did not like failing.

“Rors,” Niall murmured softly, voice syrupy sweet, like the slow pour of honey over Sunday morning pancakes, like the leisurely melt of ice cream sitting out on a hot summer day. He steps into her space the slightest bit, fingers grazing against hers cautiously, deliberately, before retreating a bit, as though remembering that invisible boundary between them. “Please don’t be angry. You know Spikey likes you best. Nothing can change that.” He seems to change his mind on the fingers front, boundary forgotten, because he laces his into hers for a quick moment, squeezing gently. “And that’s saying something because Leslie brought him toys.” 

Sure enough, Rory looks over to see Spike lazily prodding at a stuffed toy. As soon as he catches sight of her though, he plods over. It seems like the exercise has done him well because he no longer drags his paws as much and is all sidled up to Rory’s feet in a matter of seconds. “Hi, Spikey boy,” she murmurs at him, releasing her fingers from Niall’s in favor of kneeling down to smooth them across her favorite cat’s fur. And also because if Niall said one more word to her with his eyes sparkling the way they were then she would have had no choice but to kiss him and it was better if that didn’t happen. Especially not in the presence of their friends.

Above her, Niall laughs, and she can’t bring herself to look at him but knows he’s glowing. “See. He loves you most.” 

She’s somehow swept inside, Leslie cheering at the sight of her while Harry chastises her for not telling them about Spike sooner. Harry adores cats, always talks about how much he’s wanted one. Which is why when Spike continually ignores his approaches, Rory finds it endlessly amusing. 

“Niall, you’re so lucky you don’t have roommates,” Leslie says while petting Spike’s fur. “I can’t imagine how you’d’ve been able to pull this off with one. The other Shack boys aren’t like you.”

Niall laughs his big, buoyant laugh at that, and the sound of it seems to lure Spike close to him. Rory can understand, it makes her lean in to catch every expression of his too. “Well, I had one at the beginning of the summer but he had to leave and then never got replaced, so…” He trails off, shrugging, and they all lament at how lucky he is to not have to deal with another person in his space. 

By the end of the night, Spike seems to have gotten sufficiently acquainted with these new additions to his life, especially once he sees the way Rory and Niall interact with them. And when Rory gets used to sharing this part of her life that she’d been so protective over, she finds herself relaxing and laughing along too. 

Until there’s a knock on Niall’s door. 

They all freeze at the sound of it. Even Spike’s tail pauses in midair as he picks up on the sudden mood shift between them. Niall glances around questioningly, as though one of them would know who it is, before he gets up to answer. Rory feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, feels as though they’re all collectively holding their breaths as they watch Niall look through the peephole. 

Then he laughs and the tension breaks. 

“I brought snacks!” comes a familiar voice when he opens the door, and when Niall moves aside, Rory is shocked to find that it is none other than her roommate. Sure enough, Gigi grins at all of them, holding up a box of sandwiches that must have been left over from a corporate event and a gift bag that clinks with the unmistakable sound of wine bottles. 

All of them except for Rory cheer when Gigi makes her way inside, heading straight for Spike to nuzzle her fingers against his fur. Harry immediately grabs the wine and Leslie makes quick work of the sandwich box as they head to Niall’s kitchen to get everything opened. Rory, for her part, simply looks at Niall, whose cheeks are already coloring with that familiar rosy tinge, with a look that says, Her too?! Because for something that they’re supposed to be keeping a secret, it seems as though more people have found out in the past three days than in the past few weeks. 

But either way, she’s not really upset. She just likes the way Niall’s blue eyes get all wide as he squeezes her fingers when he tries to console her.

***

“You have a crush on him,” says Leslie when they’re walking home. 

Rory just sighs, because her friends are smiling at her all knowingly, and she knows this is serious because they usually mind their own business. Well, except for Gigi, whose ears perk up at this conversation. So she asks, “How obvious is it?” 

Harry bumps his shoulder into hers, and when she looks at him, he’s grinning wildly at her, dimples pressing deep into his cheeks. “So obvious.” 

Rory looks at Gigi then, expecting the I told you so, expecting the forthcoming round of gloating because she called it. Instead, she receives a soft smile and a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re happy again, Rory.” 

And she can’t help herself when she stops just to pull them all into a hug. Because there are 27 days of summer left, and some moments are meant to be savored.

--

tell me what you think! :)

[shellbilee]

Classic - A Henry Cavill FanFiction

It’s finally here! It will be a bit of a slow burn relationship between Belle & Henry but be patient! Special mention to @tumblnewby​ for her encouraging words and being an absolute sweetheart!

Read, like, comment, reblog! 

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

B x

Chapter 7

Belle's POV:

"Hello my fur babies!" I sang as I stepped through my townhouse door, shutting the door behind me and trying my best to barricade myself against a hyper excited Kal and Kyah, "How has your day been?". I grinned when Kal let out a "woo" sound and bowed down in front of me, his bum wiggling in the air as his tail wagged at a million miles a minute. Kyah barked happily and leaned up against my legs, all of a sudden launching at Kal and tackling him down playfully. "God you two, settle down" I exclaimed with a laugh as I walked down the hallway, shuffling my bags of grocery shopping and dropping them on the kitchen bench. The bears followed like shadows, bringing their wrestling match into the kitchen and quickly crashing into my legs. I frowned and shook my head, looking down at them disapprovingly. "Out of the kitchen" I commanded pointing to the lounge, Kyah and Kal pausing momentarily to look up at me expectantly, "Go on". I rolled my eyes when they ignored me completely and continued with their play fight, shaking my head and turning back to put away the groceries. I started on dinner when I was done with the groceries, pulling a bag of fettuccine from the pantry and laughing when both dogs immediately stopped moving to look up at me. Typical. As soon as they heard the crinkle of the plastic packaging they were all ears for me, sitting down at attention with their eyes focused on the bag in my hand. Of course. "No you silly boofs, this isn't for you" I exclaimed as I shooed them away with my free hand, Kal letting out another 'woo' sound and making me laugh. Initial meeting aside, Kal was one of the most well behaved Akita's I'd ever met, completely different to the wary, defensive Akita's that I'd seen and treated through work. Traditionally, Akita's were very wary with strangers, especially vets, and often aggressive with other dogs. Kal on the other hand listened to commands (mostly) and was nothing but a giant, playful teddy bear when he was around Kyah - clearly a testament to the incredible training he'd gotten from his owner.

"Your dad's coming home tonight Mr" I said as I bent down in front of Kal and ruffled his thick, furry chest, "Are you excited to see him? I am!". I laughed when Kal pushed his head into me and tried to lick my face, Kyah quickly coming over and pushing her way in for attention. Since our video chat on Monday night, Henry had called every night since to check in and see how Kal was going, despite the pictures and videos I'd been sending him throughout the day. After I'd assure him that Kal had been perfect, he'd tell me all about his days filming and I in return would tell him all about work and what I'd done for that day. Every call we'd had had lasted for at least an hour, the two of us quickly losing track of time whenever we'd spoken. The more I spoke to Henry the more I found myself becoming completely enamored with him. He was incredible - polite and intelligent, and so perfectly charming, his sense of humour not at all what I expected. It didn't help that he looked like a chiseled Greek God either, his blue eyes beautiful and intense and his smile effortlessly handsome. Not even two weeks I'd known him and already I was smiling ridiculously at the thought of him, my stomach flip flopping at the mention of his name. Even though the rational, logical part of me told me I was being absolutely ridiculous - he was a celebrity and I was just, me, the hopeless romantic part of me was more than willing to go along with whatever this was between Henry and I.

I smiled and shook my head, patting both Kyah and Kal before standing up and making my way back into the kitchen. Henry had told me during our Wednesday night video chat that he'd be coming home on Friday night - filming would be wrapped by the afternoon and he'd be catching the next flight back to London. He'd planned to come by on his way home to pick up Kal, telling me that he'd be over some time in the early evening depending on his flight. The rest of the week seemed to fly by after that, the thought of being able to see Henry again filling my stomach with butterflies and making my heart race in my chest. I hadn't heard from him at all today - assuming he was busy with last minute filming and such, and had found myself thinking about him much more than I should have throughout my day at work. I smiled to myself and set about preparing dinner, my mind once again wandering to Henry and what he was doing and what he was thinking about, and more importantly, if he was thinking about me. 

---

An hour later I flopped down on the couch having finished the washing up from dinner, glancing down at my watch as I took a sip of tea. 7pm. I frowned and reached for my phone, unlocking the screen and checking my messages for what felt like the tenth time in an hour. Still nothing. I let out a frustrated sigh. Apparently mine and Henry's definitions of early evening were very different. I looked up when I heard Kal let out a heavy sigh, my face softening at the sight of the big furry bear as he lay curled by my side on the couch. "You miss him don't you, big guy?" I whispered gently, reaching out to stroke his soft black face and smiling when he opened his liquid brown eyes to look up at me lovingly, "I do too". Kyah shifted beside me and bumped her head against my arm, letting out a jealous whine as she gingerly licked my hand. "I haven't forgotten about you miss" I reassured, smiling down at her and bending to drop a kiss to the top of her head.

I glanced back at the TV where an episode of Suits was currently playing, absentmindedly patting the bears on either side of me as my mind once again went to Henry. Was he still filming? Was he still in Hungary? Was everything okay? The logical part of me reasoned that yes, of course everything was okay - and if it wasn't he would have called. He was a famous celebrity with a ridiculously busy schedule. Responding to messages was probably very low on his priority list. Still, the other part of me though, the irrational, dramatic part, couldn't help but think otherwise. Henry had messaged me every day since he'd left London - why would today have been any different? I'd still sent him photos of Kal like I had every other day, for him to reply at all was strange to say the least. Surely that meant something was wrong? I let out a heavy breath and shook my head to clear my thoughts, reaching for my tea and taking a long, noisy sip. I'd known Henry barely two weeks and was already thinking about him like he was my boyfriend, sending myself into a spin because he hadn't replied to my text. We weren't dating, not even close -  why was I even thinking like this?

I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair, deciding to at least message Henry to check in and see that every thing was alright. I knew he'd respond when he got the chance, he was clearly just busy and had a million other things to attend to. I let out a soft sigh and reached for my phone, clicking on his name and typing a quick text. 

Hey Henry, hoping you're well and everything is okay! Kal is ready to go whenever you're ready. Let me know when you're nearby x

I tapped send and tossed my phone aside, stretching out my legs on the coffee table and reaching for my mug of tea. I knew I'd hear from him soon, I didn't have to worry. He'd contact me as soon as he could. I took a sip of tea and looked back at the TV, ignoring my thoughts of Henry and trying to instead concentrate on Suits. I chuckled to myself - if there was ever someone that was going to distract me from Henry Cavill, it would be the man himself, Harvey Spectre. I reached out to stroke Kyah's silky fur and dropped my head back against the pillows, letting out a soft breath and relaxing into the plush sofa.

---

I awoke with a start as Kal & Kyah suddenly started barking, jolting upright as the dogs jumped off the couch and bolted off towards the front door. What the hell? My eyes widened in alarm and my heart raced in my chest, it taking me a moment to orientate myself as I looked around the living room. What was going on? Suits was no longer playing and Netflix was instead asking if I was still there, my almost empty cup of tea sitting on the edge of the coffee table now stone cold. I'd clearly fallen asleep on the couch while watching Suits, dozing off on the couch with the bears on either side of me. I jumped for the second time in less than a minute when I heard a knock at the front door, Kal and Kyah once again going crazy and barking loudly in the hallway. Henry?

I stood up from the couch and made my way towards the door, glancing down at my watch and frowning when I realised how late it was. 1am. So much for early evening. I rubbed my eyes and paused in the hallway mirror, stopping briefly to fix my hair in an attempt to look like I hadn't just been sleeping for four hours. I felt the butterflies in my stomach as it suddenly occurred to me that I was only moments away from seeing Henry again, my heart racing in my chest at the thought of talking to him without a thousand miles and a screen separating us. I took a deep breath as I reached the front door, shushing Kal and Kyah as they barked and jumped in front of me. "Relax you two!" I whisper-yelled, afraid that I'd wake my neighbours - if the dog's barking hadn't already. I groaned, that's just what I needed, my neighbours complaining to me about noise. I inhaled deeply and reached for the door handle, unhooking the lock latch and pulling open the front door. Henry.

---

Henry's POV:

I barely had time to look at Belle before Kal let out a happy bark and jumped through the doorway, his big, furry body crashing into my legs and making me step back to catch my balance. "Hey bear" I said as I bent to ruffle his huge bear head, chuckling when he tried desperately to lick my face, "I missed you too". I heard Belle laugh adorably in the hallway, glancing up at her and feeling my insides melt at the sight. Belle. "I'd say good evening though I think good morning might be more appropriate. Hello Henry". I grinned and brushed the fur from my clothes, standing up and regarding her properly for the first time since I'd arrived. She was just as gorgeous as I remembered, if not more so, her lips parted in a soft smile as she leaned against the door and looked back at me with her wide, beautiful eyes. 

The apologies that had been piling up on my tongue all day suddenly slipped from my mouth like a broken dam, endless words falling from my lips until Belle put up her hand to silence me. "Henry, Henry" Belle interrupted, shaking her head and smiling at me, "Come in first. It's freezing out here and I don't know about you but I'd much rather sit inside and talk about this than out here on the street". She stepped back and gestured for me to come in, my shoulders deflating with relief as I looked back at her gratefully. I stepped inside and kicked off my shoes, stopping briefly to pat Kyah as she leaned up against my leg panting happily. 

"Tea?" Belle asked, looking back over her shoulder at me as she walked into the kitchen, my mind once again momentarily distracted by her gorgeous curves. "Something stronger if you don't mind" I replied with a smile, tearing my eyes away from her behind and reaching up to run my fingers through my hair, "It's been a hell of a day". Belle laughed and leaned forward against the kitchen bench, "So, tequila then?". I chuckled and shook my head, "Perhaps not that strong". Belle grinned, "Coffee it is". I watched for a moment as she moved about the kitchen, a group of photograph frames on the hallway wall suddenly catching my eye. I stepped forward to get a closer look, unable to help my smile as I looked over the captured memories of Belle's life.

There was a photo of her grinning gorgeously in a cap and gown, holding her veterinary degree proudly as she stood beside an older man that I could only assume was her father. There was another of her holding a very young looking Kyah, smiling happily as she held the small white and grey pup tightly in her arms. Another of Belle standing with a younger blonde girl, their olive skin golden brown with summer tan as they stood smiling at the camera with their arms around each other's shoulders, a warm orange sunset in the background behind them. I did a double take at the photo beside it, Belle standing with two other girls, the three laughing at each other as they stood in bikinis in front of a turquoise blue beach. I lingered on the photo for longer than necessary, my eyes running over Belle's incredible figure in her tiny mango yellow bikini and suddenly imagining her in nothing but lingerie. God yes. I shook my head and mentally scolded myself for letting my thoughts run wild, skimming over the last of the photos before turning and joining Belle in the kitchen.

"Sugar?". I shook my head no and moved to sit on the couch, regarding Belle intently as she handed me the freshly brewed cup and sat beside me on the sofa. "Thank you love". Belle smiled and turned her body to face me, leaning her elbow on the back of the cushions and resting her head against her hand. "So, long day?". I shook my head apologetically, "Belle, I am so terribly sorry. I just---everything that could go wrong, did go wrong". Belle's face softened, her green eyes watching my face intently as she waited for me to explain. I told her how filming had taken longer than expected today, and when we did finally finish and had gotten to the airport, the plane had been delayed two hours. We eventually boarded and finally made it to London, only to find that there had been scheduling issues with landing and we'd had to circle for another two hours before we could touch down on the runway. On top of all that I'd accidentally packed my phone in my luggage and had no way of being able to text Belle to let her know I was running very late. I told Belle how I'd even considered using my assistant's phone to contact her, only to quickly realise that I had no idea what her number was since it was stored in my mobile phone. When I'd finally gotten out of Heathrow airport I'd gotten my phone from my luggage to message her, only to - of course, find that the battery was dead.

"The whole thing really was a nightmare" I explained, shaking my head and taking a sip of my coffee, "And all I could think about was you waiting at home with Kal thinking where the hell is he?". Belle laughed, "It was not at all like that. In fact, I was more so worried that something had gone wrong". "Aw you were worried about me were you?" I asked, raising one eyebrow mischievously. Belle only grinned sheepishly, "Something like that". We continued to talk for a little longer, Belle going on to tell me about her day today before showing me all the pictures and videos she'd taken of Kal during his stay with her. "He was a pleasure to look after, really. He was a perfect gentleman. You've trained him incredibly well Henry". "Thank you Belle. And thank you for taking him. I can't even tell you how appreciate I am, especially knowing that he was in safe hands and not stuck at some day care". "You're more than welcome Henry. As I said he was a pleasure and I'd happily look after him anytime". Belle grinned her gorgeous smile at me and I was momentarily taken aback, my insides once again stirring as I looked back into her beautiful eyes.

I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair, my face softening as Belle let out an adorable yawn. It was almost two in the morning - of course she was tired. She'd probably been waiting up for me this whole time. Damn it Henry! "I'm terribly sorry Belle, it's late I really should get going. I've kept you awake long enough, I should let you be". Belle smiled, "Well I'll agree with the awake part but definitely not the letting me be part". I grinned, "Oh really?". Belle nodded, "Absolutely". "Well, on that note then, before I leave and let you get to bed" I offered as I took another sip of my coffee, "Any chance you're not busy tomorrow? Because I'd really like to reschedule that date that we mentioned". Belle grinned, "Well that definitely makes two of us. I am free tomorrow though, what did you have in mind?". I smiled and shook my head, draining the last of my coffee and tapping my fingers against my mug. "Let's keep it as a surprise for now. I'll pick you up at say 11?". Belle pouted adorably, her wide eyes almost making me reconsider my words, "That's not playing fair Henry". 

I chuckled and stood up from the couch, grinning back at her and offering her my hand. "Maybe so, but I promise you'll enjoy yourself love". She only smiled and shook her head, putting her hand in mine and letting me pull her up beside me. My fingers lingered against hers and I looked down at her for a long moment, her eyes looking back at me and holding my gaze, green eyes to blue. My eyes flickered down to her soft lips and back again, my mind suddenly fighting the overwhelming urge to lean down and kiss her. It was something I'd thought about after dropping Kal off on Sunday, and again after each time we spoken over video chat each night. I was incredibly attracted to Belle - with her long caramel waves, perfect curves and gorgeous, light-up-her-face grin, not to mention her soft green eyes that only seemed to grow brighter every time I looked at her. It wasn't just the way she looked either; she was wickedly smart, kind and incredibly passionate - something that I found to be immensely endearing in a woman. She was amazing and I couldn't wait to take her out tomorrow, if only so that we could finally get to know each other properly, and maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to finally kiss her. I already knew exactly where I wanted to take Belle tomorrow - I’d been thinking about it for most of the week and had the entire day planned out in my head.

I inhaled softly and bent to press my lips to her cheek, pulling away and smiling down at her gorgeous face. "So I'll see you tomorrow?". Belle nodded, "That you will. Are you going to be okay to get home? It is pretty late". I nodded, my face softening at her evident concern. "I'll be fine love". I released her hand and turned to look at Kal, whistling for him to stand and gesturing towards the door. "C'mon bear, time to go". Kal jumped up and ran towards me, Kyah letting out a playful bark and following close behind as we all made our way to the door. "Kyah babe, not you. You're staying here" Belle said softly, bending to pat Kal and ruffling his furry head. "See you big boy! You be good for your dad okay?". I smiled and clipped on Kal's lead, opening the front door and turning to look back at Belle one last time. "Thank you again for having him Belle, honestly it was an enormous help". Belle grinned, "Any time Henry, he - and his owner for that matter, are welcome here anytime". I chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her cheek one last time, once again fighting the urge to grab her face in my hands and press my lips to hers. "I'll see you tomorrow love. Goodnight Belle". Belle smiled, "I can't wait. Goodnight Henry, sweet dreams". 

---

Chapter 8

TAGLIST:

@michelehansel​ @tumblnewby​ @crazy4thewinbros​ @hamianderson​

[toddperrys]

Daylight- “I can’t sleep, can I stay here?”

Read it on AO3 //  Send me a prompt

Kristoff leaned against the window, staring at the sliver of moon that glowed high above the trees as he fiddled with the strings of his guitar. According to the clock sitting on his bedside table, it was 2:37 AM, meaning the world was asleep, except for him. 

Business as usual, he thought. He finished tuning his guitar and gave it a strum. From the corner of the room, a shaggy-haired mutt with wide brown eyes started from his bed and trotted over to where Kristoff sat. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Sven,” he said as the dog laid at his feet. He plucked a few chords absentmindedly as his eyes wandered to the window. The narrow road that ran past his apartment building was dark and silent, save for a single streetlight pouring orange light weakly onto the asphalt. Beyond the street was a wide swath of woods. The trees quivered in the wind and shadows seem to dance just beyond the forest’s mouth. 

He was suddenly drawn from his thoughts by a knock at the door. Kristoff paused and glanced around the apartment. Just when he figured he’d imagined it, the rapping returned, louder this time. He sighed and set aside his guitar. 

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Anna, his neighbor from across the hall, standing outside. “Anna?”

“Hi, Kristoff,” she said. Her auburn hair fell in messy waves down her shoulders and she was dressed in striped green pajama pants and a baggy concert shirt. She had no shoes on, only a mismatched pair of brightly colored cabin socks. 

“What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” Kristoff said, noticing the tension her shoulders and nervous look dancing in her eyes.

“Um, yes--well, kind of. C-can I just come in for a second?” she asked. She averted her gaze and bit her lip.

Kristoff nodded and stepped aside. She hurried into his apartment, closing the door behind her. Kristoff led her to the couch where they settled beside each other.

“What’s going on?” he said. 

She wrung her hands in her lap. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I just--I’m having a rough night. I can’t sleep, can I stay here? I just need some company.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need. I’ll get some blankets and sleep the couch and you can take the bed.”

“No, you don’t have to do that!”

“It’s fine, I--”

Anna burst into tears before he could finish his sentence. Alarmed, Kristoff reached to put his arm around her before remembering the she was only an acquaintance and awkwardly putting a few inches between them. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she managed in between sobs. “I’m s-so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Kristoff said, swiveling his body to face her. “You don’t need to apologize, just tell me what you need from me.”

She finally looked him in the eye. Her cheeks were flushed and tears clung to her eyelashes. “I think I just need to talk to someone. You know, just let everything out.”

“Tell me whatever you need,” Kristoff said. 

Anna hesitated, “You won’t judge me?”

“I live alone, study animal guts for a living, and only spend time with my dog. I’m not exactly in a position to be judging other people’s decisions.”

Anna sniffed and managed a quiet laugh. It sounded like wind chimes singing in a flower-scented spring breeze. Kristoff thought it was the loveliest sound he’d ever heard. 

“I guess just a lot is going on right now with my boyfriend, Hans,” she began. “He’s always been tempermental, but god, never like this. Just every night he comes home in a rage and finds some way to pin it on me.” She paused and chewed her lip for a moment, “Everything used to be so nice, I don’t know what happened.”

“How long has it been like this?” Kristoff whispered, as if Anna were made of glass and speaking at a typical volume might shatter her. 

“Too long.” 

“It’s all right,” Kristoff said. He gingerly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. His heart pounded when Anna met his eyes, glittering in the starlight falling through the window. 

“I thought it was, too,” Anna replied. She stared at the floor. “But then I missed my period. At first I thought it was just the stress of the whole situation, but the days went on and it never came. Finally, I got a pregnancy test from the drug store, and sure enough, it showed up positive.”

She buried her head in her hands as great, heaving sobs wracked her body. Kristoff wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. She trembled against him, her tears wetting his shirt as she cried. 

Emotions rioted inside him. Pain and concern for Anna, anger and frustration at the person who did this to her. He wished Hans were in his apartment so he could give him a piece of his mind. Instead, he focused on Anna and her fragile body cradled against him. Her skin was hot and her hair was soft on his neck. He tightened his arms around her. 

She finally took a few deep breaths her crying faded. Kristoff released her and she sat up, grabbing several tissues from the box on the coffee table and dabbing her face. 

“God, this is so weird,” she said. “I can’t believe I’m sitting on your couch telling you all this. We’ve talked like, what, four, five times?”

Kristoff laughed, “Don’t worry about it. You’re stressed out and everything’s falling apart and it feels like the whole world is on fire. I get it.”

“That just about sums it up. I just don’t know what I’m going to do about all this,” Anna said. She pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees. 

“Have you told Hans?” Kristoff asked. 

“Yep. He threw a fit and walked out on me. That was last week and I have yet to hear from him again.” Anna sighed, “I always wanted kids--I love kids--but I didn’t think it’d happen this way.”

“If it’s any consolation, based on the single hour you’ve spent here I think you’d be an awesome mom.”

Anna laughed again. It rung in his ears and bounced in his brain and lit up every nerve in his body. He’d be satisfied if it was the last sound he ever heard.

“I hope so,” Anna said. “It’s just that I’m still working on my masters and I don’t have tons of money or time right now. My sister and her girlfriend live nearby so they could help me some, but they both work full time so even then it’s limited.”

“If it’s not too weird to offer I’d be willing to offer some help,” Kristoff said. 

Anna met his gaze. Her lips lifted into a smile and her eyes twinkled. “That would be wonderful.”

“Just, if there’s anything you need, don’t be afraid to reach out,” Kristoff replied, fighting the heat rising in his cheeks. 

“Anything?” 

“Anything.”

Anna suddenly smirked, “Then I say you let me sleep on the couch and you keep your bed so I don’t feel guilty.”

“Seriously?” Kristoff groaned. 

Anna laughed and hopped up from the couch, “You should’ve thought about that when you said anything.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes and stood. “Okay then, fine, I’ll keep my bed. At least let me grab you some blankets and a pillow.”

“Deal.”

~~~

Kristoff awoke the next morning to sunlight spilling through the sheer white curtains covering his bedroom window and the blaring of his alarm from the night stand. He shot up and shut it off, fearing the noise would wake up Anna. He pulled one his clothes and shoes as quietly as he could and stepped into the main room, where Anna’s snores echoed off the walls. 

Thank god for heavy walls, he thought as he grabbed a protein bar from the pantry and shoved it into his pocket.

He headed for the door, but right as he was about to leave, he hesitated. His eyes went back to Anna. who laid tangled in a blanket on the couch, her hair spilling over the pillow and a bit of drool trickling from her mouth. Kristoff thought she looked like an angel. 

He approached the coach and adjusted the blanket so it covered her body before grabbing a notepad and a pen from the kitchen counter. Balancing himself on the edge of the coffee table, he scribbled down his number and tore the page from the notebook. He placed it right by the tissue box so Anna would see it as soon as she got up. Once he was sure she was still asleep, he slipped out of the apartment, his mind still caught on her fiery red hair, infectious laugh, and the hope of seeing her again soon. 

[imissjoongsmullet]

Caught in the Rain

Pairing: St. Van x reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You and Geumhyuk on your first date, getting hit by a sudden rain shower.

Warnings: you get wet, but not in that way lol

Word Count: 1772

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my absolute sweetheart @silverstonemanor who has been putting up with a lot of my Minghao harassment and really deserves some more Van in her life. Merry Christmas, enjoy baby girl! ♥

►

You’re walking along the narrow sidewalk that runs next to the city park, the streetlights creating little circles of light in the otherwise dark evening. The winter air is cold but your skin feels hot. Your heart sits in your chest, thumping out of control because of the man strolling next to you. He’s a friend of a friend and you’ve just had your first date with him.

Jang Wooyoung had set you up after he’d figured out you liked him. You’d tried to be subtle whenever you were in the same room with Geumhyuk but your good friend had seen right through you. He’d figured it out after a night on the town a few weeks prior and thus insisted the two of you got to know each other a little better.

So far, it had been both the most nerve-racking and most beautiful night you’d had in a long time. He’d picked you up at your place and you’d taken a taxi to his favorite Italian restaurant. You’d been really quiet at first, just like you always were when he was around. You were so afraid of saying something that might turn him off but you’d found, to your great relief, Geumhyuk was much easier to talk to than you’d imagined. He is so warm and attentive, holding doors open for you, asking you questions and actually listening to your answers.

And he looks so handsome. He’s wearing a cream, low-cut, knit sweater that shows off his collarbones a little underneath a red scarf. You’ve been unable to stifle the thought of how nice of a place it would be to nuzzle up against, but you’ve kept that information to yourself.

Now, walking side by side through the deserted city streets, he looks radiant. It’s nearly freezing and the sky is rumbling in the distance but neither of you seem to notice. He’s telling you about his dog, Cash, about how he’s always chewing on his sneakers but he can never get angry because he’s just so darn cute. The way his eyes light up as he tells little stories pulls smiles from you you didn’t know you had in you.

“Do you want to meet him?” he asks, eyes flitting to you hopefully. You can see a cloud of breath leave his lips.

“I would love too!” you reply, immediately regretting how eager the words had come out.

He chuckles sweetly, still not pulling his eyes off you.

The sky gives a sudden deafening crack and within the next couple of seconds, rain begins pouring down on the two of you. You both look up at the same time, Geumhyuk’s hand immediately taking hold of your upper arm and pulling you with him towards the park fence, where the trees would shelter you at least a little. It’s not raining that hard yet but the air feels heavy with the promise of a true storm.

“Here, take this,” Geumhyuk says, shuffling out of the jean jacket he was wearing over his sweater, “to cover your head,” he adds, giving the top of your head a tiny pat before handing it to you.

“No,” you mutter, fingering the jacket, “you’ll catch a cold.”

He shakes his head, smiling down at you. “I’ll be fine,” he replies, taking the jacket from you again and holding it over you.

You’re staring right into his chest because you know if you look up your faces will be so close you might actually pas out. You can smell his cologne, sweet but not overpoweringly so, and oh so inviting. You feel warmer just from standing close to him and you figure you wouldn’t mind waiting out the storm like this. You imagine him putting his toned arms around you, holding you close but then, with another loud bang from the sky above, you come back to reality, realizing he must be getting wetter and colder with every passing second.

“We should find a proper place to hide out,” you suggest, your small voice barely audible over the noise of the rain now.

His head dips down towards you a little, eyes locking.

“My place isn’t too far from here actually,” he shrugs, turning to look out into the deserted street with a pensive gaze. When he turns back to you his lips were pulled up into a little smirk.

“We could make a run for it if you want.”

You chew your lip, thinking about your options but the next moment you feel the back of Geumhyuk’s hand touch yours and all you can think is that you’d follow him anywhere.

“Let’s do it.”

His grin widens as he takes your hand in his and starts to run, not even bothering to stay on the sidewalk because there’s no one around this late anyways. You hurry after him, fingers tangled in his and laughing - you’re both laughing like careless kids, letting the rain pummel down on you. You don’t even try keeping his jacket over your head. Your sole focus is on the man pulling you along like he's known you for years.

He didn’t lie; it’s not far to his apartment, tough the few minutes you'd run were enough to have you soaking wet. Your laughter dies out as you reach his doorstep and, in your case, is at once replaced with a brand new nervousness. It’s a tight squeeze to keep away from the rain while he fumbles with the keys to the front door of the building. You suddenly realize what exactly is happening: you are going home with your crush after your very first date. You are going to enter his own private home; just the two of you. You sincerely hope he’s not expecting anything from you. Not that you think he’d be that kind of guy, but still. You follow him into the narrow building gingerly, trying to still your now out-of-control heart.

You’re greeted immediately with the earsplitting barks of Cash. Geumhyuk shushes the overly excited dog with a loving smile that makes him look more adorable than you’ve ever seen him, and turns back to you.

“He doesn’t bite, look,” he says, petting the now very happy dog.

You smile and crouch down to rub Cash under the chin. “He’s sweet,” you say gleefully.

“Oh!” he pipes up, coming to a stand, “let me get you some dry clothes,” and he disappears through a door on your left. When he returns he’s already changed into a soft, gray hoodie and sweatpants, looking like the human representation of a teddy bear. He hands you the pile of clothes he’s brought with him.

“Feel free to use the bathroom to change,” he says, and you get the feeling his hand lingers just a moment longer on yours than necessary, “I’ll fix us something to warm us up.”

You blush profusely as you watch him walk off into the kitchen, still a little shaken over everything that’s happening. But then you notice you’re dripping all over his hardwood floors and hurry your way into the bathroom.

His clothes feel so nice and dry and soft and warm and they even smell faintly of him and you wonder whether there was any chance you could walk away wearing them. He’s given you a gray hoodie and sweatpants that funnily match the ones he’s wearing. You smile timidly as you look down at yourself. This is nice.

He’s already waiting for you in the living room when you come back out. He’s put on some soft music in the background and prepared a set of steaming hot drinks.

“I didn’t know how you liked your coffee so I made a guess,” he says, his eyes following you as you made your way over to sit down beside him.

“It’s perfect,” you reply quickly, taking the steaming mug in your hands just to have something to hold onto. You’re getting nervous again so you put the mug to your lips and sip slowly, relishing how the hot beverage warms you up from the inside.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks out of the blue and you nearly spit coffee all over his couch.

Swallowing hard, you answer, “yeah, of course,” immediately hiding your face behind your mug again.

He looks gratified and takes a sip of his own drink. “Me too,” he says after setting it back down. A silence falls over the two of you, only interrupted by the snoring of the sleeping dog in a corner of the room. He seems to be thinking about something and you feel your nerves start to act up again. This is the moment, you think. This is the moment the conversation will die out and he will hate you forever.

“You know,” he finally breaks the silence. He’s toying with a loose thread at his sleeve, “I wish Wooyoung had introduced us sooner,” he says and his eyes fall on you again.

You don’t know what to say. All you know is, if he continues to look at you like that, you might actually pass out.

He looks back down at his sleeve.

You know it’s your turn to speak. You take a shallow breath and ask, “why is that?”

You watch him bite the inside of his cheek for a moment before he turns back to you and this time there is something new in his look.

“Because,” he starts and his hand reaches out toward yours, “then I’d have more confidence,” he interlaces his fingers with yours, slowly, making sure you’re okay with this, his expression sweet as candy, “more confidence to do things like this.” He squeezes into your hand ever so gently and it sends a jolt of electricity through you. He seems to notice because he starts grinning.

“You’re so cute,” he says and he pulls his hand back towards himself, letting you fall into him so he can wrap his arms around you.

You can feel and hear his heartbeat against your ear and it’s fast, just like yours. He squeezes you a little closer, letting out a contented sigh. You can’t believe this is happening. Just a few minutes ago you were out in the cold rain and now everything is so warm and soft and comfortable and you slowly feel yourself begin to get drowsy. You don’t want to fall asleep. You want to enjoy this moment. But maybe falling asleep is the best way to enjoy this moment, because waking up in Geumhyuk’s strong arms is definitely something to look forward to.

[squidpro-quo]

A/N: Based on @tchewessah‘s amazing Bungo Stray Dogs’ Soul Eater au! I couldn’t get the idea of Dazai and Chuuya being the best and worst partners :P 

couldn’t resist this inspiration

“How can you be this heavy despite being so short?” Dazai drawled as he weighed the knife in his hand with a frown. Its hilt was wrapped in filigreed leather covered in ornate swirls, the blade was smooth enough to stab through silk with the slightest stroke, and yet his wrist was already aching from just one round with a single witch. If this was the best he could do, then perhaps he should look into replacing it. There were more than a few alternatives, some even willing to help him with his most auspicious goal, and honestly, he wasn’t exactly a knife-wielding type of guy anway.

“Short!? This is a fourteen inch blade, that’s considered pretty long by anyone competent enough to use it right!” Chuuya’s voice rang inside his head, their souls brushing up against each other with a friction that made Dazai set his teeth. 

The witch’s patience had come to an end by then, her giant compact eyes flickering red as she dove out of the sky with the long, thin end of her lance scything through the air. High-pitched whining announced her arrival, grating on Dazai’s nerves even more than his own partner and it was more the instinctual annoyance at the noise than any greater motivation that drove him to dodge out of the way. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t expect much more. You were tiny then, so you’re tiny now.” He shrugged, dropped the knife on the ground and noted that it had landed with enough force to spear itself into the asphalt road. Why he’d been assigned someone so obviously difficult was beyond him, but to add on the attitude problems was too much. He’d been given a task, there was no point in wasting time on useless tools when he could find another way around it, just like always. 

Turning his back on the upright knife, he spotted the witch hovering above and sharpening her stinger for another fly-over, webbed wings blurring into a ceaseless motion behind her as she unrolled her long tongue and blew a raspberry. As much as he’d been evading her jabs, she’d been taunting his own attempts for just as long. Now that he didn’t have to deal with his own difficulties, he could focus on making some for her. 

A hand grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the window of a shopfront, glass cracking from where his head had impacted. A gaze so furious he might have qualed had he cared an ounce, fingers gripping his coat so tightly he was glad he hadn’t made use of the sleeves, and a corona of copper around his partner’s head that could have been the flames of his anger instead of simply his hair. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Chuuya hissed, eyes boring into Dazai’s uncovered one with an intensity reflected in his soul. “Get back here, you’re not done yet.” 

“By the time I manage to stab you anywhere inside her,” Dazai pointed up to the witch, following her movements in the glass, “She’ll have granted me a mediocre and unsatisfying release.”

Chuuya scowled, yanking Dazai away from the damaged storefront instead of answering, and shoving his hands into his pockets as he studied the litter by their feet. 

Straightening his jacket while he gingerly stretched his back in case any of his ribs were cracked, Dazai didn’t bother to smile over his small victory and simply looked up as the witch dove yet again in a swarm of black blocking out the gaps between the buildings. 

Plans circled in his head, alternates and backups and last ditch chances presenting themselves as Dazai spun on his heel and calculated the amount of force he’d need to shatter industrial glass, factoring in that it was already partially cracked and with enough speed he could clear the first wave of attacks until he could trigger the— 

A crushing hand found his for only a second before it morphed, souls shifting and skimming together in a sudden smashing reverberation. Even with his aura’s usual easy atunement, Dazai was surprised to find Chuuya’s soul had changed, resonating at a different frequency than he remembered from before. 

What he found himself holding was different as well, gone was the short, sleek, knife he’d laughed at on first glance and instead he found his arm wrapped in steel plating woven together to form a gauntlet stretching up to his elbow. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the weight. He could’ve been carting a bodybag around for how much strain this would put on his already sore shoulder. 

“You went from a mildly serviceable, if pitiful, reach to no reach at all.” Dazai shrugged, trying to lighten the load to no avail. “I guess your range as small as everything else about you.” 

“Just watch, you puffed up mummy,” Chuuya growled, tightening around Dazai’s wrist. 

Before he could retaliate, Chuuya’s soul began to morph yet again, from the usual bright aura into a seething static, a buzz sounding in the cross section of their souls that would have put the swarm above them to shame. 

Dazai didn’t fight the resistance he felt across their tenuous bond, he’d had weapons with a more strenuous connection or larger gap to bridge and adjusted just fine but this felt different. The static was spreading, swallowing Chuuya’s soul until it almost seemed to be fizzing apart. 

“Are you going to do anything or just stand there with two useless eyeballs!?” 

Spurred into motion by the angry rebuke, Dazai clenched his fist and looked up at the approaching swarm, searching for the figure of the lone witch. Far to the left, almost hidden by the corner of the apartment building, she buzzed in small figure-eights while patiently awaiting their destruction. 

“Why are you backing away? You’re supposed to be attacking!” 

Dazai didn’t bother to say anything in reply even as the gauntlet grew heavier. Just a little bit closer, and it would be the perfect spot. Standing with his back against the cracked glass, he waited for the swarm to close in. Once even the streetlights were obscured by the writhing darkness and the high whine was loud enough to shatter an eardrum, he braced his foot against the window and kicked off.

BOOM

No sooner had he leaped, than a wall of concussive force slammed into his back and sent him rocketing upward, through the first wave and countless small, scraping claws, leaving behind a roiling plume of smoke rising from the store and a shards of glass following in his wake. Letting the spent trigger fall from his fingers, Dazai lost his coat with the speed of their ascent, his tie whipped across his shoulder as the shocked face of the witch loomed within sight, and much more importantly, within reach. 

Perhaps it was the weightlessness that came with reaching the arc of their flight, or that the adrenalin rush from standing with his back to a ticking bomb wiped away any of his exhaustion but rearing back with Chuuya’s full weight was easier than he’d expected. The forceful static of Chuuya’s soul and his own smooth, malleable one found an instant of balance, raucous and harsh, but a balance nonetheless. His punch caught the witch in the chest, his fingers outlined in a raw red that flared in the wake of his motion, the power behind the blow enough to send her crashing to the roof in a crumpled and dissolving mess. 

Dazai landed in a skid, gauntleted hand scraping the top of the building as he slowed down, leaving a groove across the worn concrete like the tail of a comet. The witch’s soul rose from the heap of where she’d lain, glowing against the roiling black fumes emanating from below. Only the static licking at his soul ruined the odd flush of satisfaction that rose in Dazai, something he’d never considered before after a fight, and it’s distorted form finally settled until he felt the weight lifting from his hand. 

Chuuya stalked across the roof without a word of recognition and grabbing the hovering soul, swallowing it whole before leveling an angry glare back at Dazai. 

“Range enough for you?” he asked, hand holding his hat down as the wind picked up. 

Dazai shrugged, smiling at the look of outrage that flashed across Chuuya’s face. Why they’d been forced to pair up by Mori for a rather mundane job still irked him, but perhaps this partnership was slightly more serviceable than he’d first thought. 

“With this unfortunate success, the boss will certainly think this was a good idea of his.” Snapping his fingers, Dazai gestured to Chuuya. “Maybe you’ll finally help me with my ultimate goal!”

“Those bandages must be too tight because they’re squeezing your brains out of your ears. I can’t be a death scythe, if I’m not a fucking scythe.” Chuuya scoffed, leaning out over the edge of the roof to survey the damage done below, hand braced on his knee to keep his balance. 

“No, I don’t need a death scythe. Just death, period.” 

Chuuya glanced back at him in brief bemusement before rolling his eyes. Dazai picked at the cloth covering his own right eye, wondering if perhaps that fleeting moment of clarity, of vitality, at the apex of their climb would come again. With their next job. 

I’m open for requests!

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 12

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4 ; Chap 5 ; Chap 6 ; Chap 7 ; Chap 8 ; Chap 9 ; Chap 10 ; Chap 11

Masterlist : here

AN : Hello ! In this (longer) chapter, you get to sketch and paint Jake, but both fail to really focus on your work... and things get messy. Also features awkward moments, silliness, unspoken words, and a slight bit of angst. As always, I hope you like it, feel free to share your thoughts and/or criticism, thanks for reading me ! (Also, another AN at the end)

Chapter 12 : Would you model for me ?

Around 1 pm Mandy took off, saying she had to go downtown to buy some fabric, taking a reluctant Josh with her with the excuse that he'll help her carry everything. Everything froze when she winked at me before closing the door, letting me alone with Jake. Just sitting together at the table felt awkward, but I was afraid my heart was gonna leap from my lips if I opened my mouth to say something. Jake got rid of his ponytail, helping me putting the dishes in the sink before clapping his hands together.

- Should we start ?

Nervousness began slowly fading away as minutes passed. Quietly, he sat on the chair, legs crossed and hands resting on his lap, intently watching my every move as I was preparing my easel, turning the vises to adjust it to my height. Definitely curious about the whole thing, Jake popped from behind it, handling me my worn out pencils.

- Isn't one enough ?

I couldn't help but smile at this.

- They don't all have the same lead.

Jake frowned ever so slightly and I instinctively took his hand in mine while he let me.

- Look, I said as I traced a noticeable line on his skin. This pencil has a B lead, which means it's kinda greasy contrary to the H leads, that's why it left a mark. See, I explained while tracing another line on his hand with another pencil, this is a 6B, the higher the number, the greasier the lead. For H leads it's the other way around, feel how this one is hard and dry ? We use H leads to sketch and B leads to draw details.

It suddenly came to me that I was rambling and a rush of embarrassment came over me as I let go of his hand, apologizing.

- Don't be sorry, I learned something. And it's really cool seeing you so passionate.

Jake smiled and our eyes met, making me aware of how close he was. Reporting my attention to the pencils and faking being busy, I circled him to open my laptop.

- Since you won't be able to move I'll at least let you choose the music.

I heard his laugh behind my back and let him tap something into the search bar. Soon, the sound of a guitar blared through the speakers as he bopped his head playfully, enjoying his pick. Jake took his seat, placing his hair behind his shoulders and ears and looking straight in front of him, in my direction, dead serious like I was about to take his mugshot. He didn't seem awkward nor stressed at all, taking this way more seriously than his brother did. Standing up from my spot, I came to him in order to place him the way I needed him to be.

- I already have this angle, I mumbled as he let me put my hands on his jaw to lightly turn his face to the left. Let's try this one, please raise your chin and look in my direction.

He didn't answer nor moved, just kept his pose as I started quickly sketching, trying not to think of how powerful he looked. Face halfway turned to the side, chin raised proudly, head lightly titled backwards, a rebel strand of hair resting on his cheek while he looked down at me, unimpressed. He was a really good model, standing still with patience and understanding fast what I wanted and how he needed to pose. I let him took breaks between every portraits, telling him earlier that he could move while I kept drawing the small details on his face that I had left unpolished, so he could rest longer. Jake was feeling at home, and doing so. By the time I finished the last pencil portrait, he found his way to the kitchen, bringing us two beers that he took from the fridge, opening mine for me and placing it at my feet where it wasn't risky to stain any piece of work. Sipping his, he stayed behind me, incredibly stressing me out just by staring at my hand put some more shading on the paper version of himself.

- Damn you're talented, he exclaimed next to my shoulder. Do I really look this good ?

His face got just next to mine, between the portrait and me, and I rolled my eyes playfully to hide my bashfulness. He was too close, too close and too pretty, and too in a relationship.

- Fishing for compliments, Kiszka ? Aren't your ego fed enough with these ?

Ignoring him to report my attention to the canvas didn't cut it because Jake faked having a heart attack and let himself fall on Mandy's bed. Finishing the last details, I took a look at my work, pleased with myself. This day had be great, work wise. Some days your hand just refuse to obey, and others it's the exact oppositive, you feel like you have the power to draw anything that crosses your mind. Jake being the model might have helped with that, because it was fairly obvious (at least to me) that his portraits were the best of the series. There was something to them, they seemed to stand out, to glow while the others looked dull in comparision. And I feared my classmates were going to notice it. Clueless as he was, there was no chance Jake will, though.

- Come on, we still have one to do and I'll set you free.

The December sun had already declined a while ago but even if the day was still young I wanted us both to have a free evening, I couldn't monopolize all of his spare time. Behind me, the brunette still lied unmoving on the bed, playing dead. I couldn't help a smile from tugging at the corners of my lips while I rolled my eyes at the sight, gently pushing his foot with mine.

- C'mon Jake, let's go.

He didn't move, body lying on his side, face buried in the covers.

- Jake ?, I called softly.

Did he fell asleep ? I took a step forward to see but could only notice his chest rising peacefully. Was he that tired ? Should I wake him up or let him nap for an hour ? My hand slithered to his knee, pushing it gingerly, but he kept still. He couldn't sleep here, I didn't know when Mandy would come back, and his sleep schedule might get messed up if he slept too much at once. So I knelt on the mattress slowly, sinking on it as it took in my weight. My fingers wrapped around his bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze.

- Jake.

Out of the blue, the boy jumped, grabbing my hand and screaming at me, making my heart pang with panic. That jerk burst into laughter, proud of his joke while my brain was barely figuring out what just happened. When it did, Jake was rolling on his back with a hand holding his belly, letting me slap his arms repeatedly while I showered him with insults for scaring me, completely unabashed and unbothered. When he finally had calmed down, he grabbed my wrist, starting a battle between us where I tried to make him let go of me, struggling to get my arm back, but it wasn’t difficult for him to handle me. Swiftly, he took my other wrist in his free arm and sat on the bed, capturing my waist and lifting me like I was as light as a feather. Ignoring my complaints and yelling in his ear, he placed me on his shoulder before dropping me unceremoniously on the mattress, making it dangerously bend under both of our weights. Both giggling like madmen, I continued trying to escape his hold but it was all too easy for him to block my legs with his when I kicked, and secure both of my wrists in his hand, making it impossible for me to move.

- Okay, I forfeit ! How can you even do that ?

- I did some wrestling in highschool.

Jake's proud smile nearly reached his ears, cheeks flushed and hair completely disheleved. It instantly calmed me down, replacing my laugh by the infamous fast tempo of my heart beating hard against my chest. My smile slowly began to fade away, nervousness taking its place, a tension I didn't know was there making itself way too present now, filling the heavy and warm air between the two of us. Jake seemed to have noticed too, because he lost his smile. For several seconds we just looked at each other in the eye, exchanging out of breath pants and unsure stares. My legs were still locked around his, and my wrists deeply burried in the pillow above my head where his hand kept them in place. The intimate proximity of his wrestling hold kept us close, connecting his pelvis to mine, the realization sending a pleasant wave of heat through my loins, butterflies fluttering their way in my stomach, making me shiver. It seemed to last forever, and yet it was over in an instant. I felt my hands being released slowly and the next thing I knew he was on his feet, back turned to me, straightening his locks. What the fuck had just happened, my brain kept repeating while I imitated him, mouth suddenly dry.

- Should we do the last one ?, Jake offered.

He was back at his seat, and his bright tone, whether it was forced or not, made me feel less awkward for a moment. It didn't last, though. As I stood behind the canvas with my brushes in hand, the intense staring was unavoidable. He had to look my way, so I had no choice but to endure it, trying to be as quick as possible while painting his eyes to avert being more awkward than I already was. I didn't know what he was thinking about, but his eyes were glaring holes through me, making my fingers shake as I tried to concentrate on the purple lines I was tracing, gulping down my beer to give me some confidence. These hours were probably the longest of my life, as painting Jake's face let plenty of time to my mind to run wild and ask a hundred of questions. The music didn't help at all either, the playlist Jake had chosen reaching its end in the middle of our session, abandonning us to the unwelcoming arms of silence. I was growing more uncomfortable as time passed, and Jake whose job was just to motionlessly look at me must without a doubt have noticed the way my face fell.

- Can I ask you a question ?

- Yeah, of course, you can talk I finished your mouth, I replied without looking up.

- Are you and Josh an item or something ?

His voice seemed to echo in the deafening silence of the room. It actually made me put down my brushes, body stiffening, standing still. Did I hear that well ? My head raised up from behind the easle, studying Jake's features for any sign of a joke. What really put me in a panic state was that he was dead serious.

- I'm sorry ?, was all I managed to say.

Boy oh boy did I needed another beer. Jake looked downright awkward now, shifting uncomfortably on his chair and rubbing the palms of his hands on his jean's.

- Are you like, y'know... dating ? Maybe it's not my place to ask, he added quickly, but I always see you guys together these days and you barely answer my texts anymore so I figured-

- We're not.

Me cutting him abruptly took him aback but he closed his mouth and nodded, taking that as his clue to not pursue this conversation. Jake looked apologetic now and I sighed through my nose, putting down my brushes once again.

- I like Josh, I said sincerely. Like a brother. And I know he feels the same.

There was absolutely no doubt about it, I could feel it. And even if I was wrong, if Josh was interested he would've made his move a long time ago, the boy had plenty of occasions, starting with the first time he crashed in our dorm when we were drunk. Now that I was thinking about it, I was relieved he didn't see Mandy and I as more than friends, and even so thankful that he was this kind and safe boy because inviting someone to sleep over after drinking had not been my smartest idea. Josh may have looked soft and cute, but he was still a man, not a child.

- Sorry I was being nosy.

- It's alright, I see where you're coming from.

And I meant it. In retrospect, Jake had reasons to misunderstand. With the whole « he's taken » situation I started spending more time with Josh and less with him, without him knowing why and just seeing the visible tip of the iceberg. It was no wonder he jumped to that conclusion, Josh was a very touchy-feely boy and it was so easy to give in and mimic his behavior, showing our affection towards each other with gestures on a daily basis. And his flirty self didn't seem to be that popular with the ladies with the exception of Mandy and I who found him and his pickup lines hilarious. Add to the mix the whole situation with Jake's girlfriend and Josh's protective attitude and you'll had the perfect misunderstanding. Briefly, I wondered if any other people saw us like that. Sam and Danny for example, or just students we passed by on the halls while being obnoxiously loud.

- It's cool you two get along so much.

I didn't know what to respond to that except a confused affirmative sound. Now was it just me or was Jake beating around the bush ?

- Okay, we're done, you can come take a look at yourself.

The brunette jumped to his feet, taking a few long steps to stand by my side, admiring my work with a shocked yet delighted expression on his face. And while he studied the painting, I studied him, his happy expression making me smile from ear to ear, eyes unable to look away from his face, like they didn't have enough doing so for the whole afternoon. Jake was excitedly pointing to small details, amazed by the fact that I had caught them, noticing in the process things he never witnessed himself on his own head. His fingers hovered dangerously over the fresh paint so I took his hand away as a reflex to prevent him from messing up.

- Easy boy, let it dry first. Hold on, I said before giving him his hand back, what happened to your middle finger ?

- It's silly, I dropped my amp on it. What's funny is that Josh wasn't even the one worrying about it, it was Sam. He was running everywhere saying we had to call a doctor over, he thought my nail was gonna fall off it made him freak out.

The memory of it made him chuckle, and his cheerful expression warmed my heart.

- You really have a beautiful smile.

Jake's laughter came to an abrupt stop and it was his time to observe me now, probably noticing how fast my face changed color to a darker shade while I realized I just complimented him out loud.

- Oh yeah ?, he replied with a smirk. You really have a beautiful stain.

Oh no, I thought I had been extra careful this time, acrylic painting was a pain to get rid off. My clothes would be possibly ruined now and it was starting to be difficult to find an unstained outfit to wear, as I refused to put on an apron. While I was squirming to find paint on me, Jake took a step closer.

- Here.

The moment I raised my head he booped my nose, making me blink a few times before I realized something wasn't right. The tip of my nose felt strangely cold and if I crossed my eyes I could see a purple stain on it. Fucker just put some paint on my face.

- Oh you wanna play that game with me ?

Next thing he knew, a purple line was crossing his cheek and the glare he gave me at that moment while I could barely contain my laughter made me run for my life. Jake was quick to chase me, wooden palette in one hand, the other dodging the different items I threw his way in an attempt to slow him down. We looked positively crazy, running around the kitchen table shouting and screaming with a mix of fear and excitment. It was exhilirating and some memories of our race in the hallways a few weeks ago flashed through my mind. Jake caught me between the sink and the table, blocking the way out with his body, holding the palette full of several nuances of purple in the air like a weapon of mass destruction.

- You thought you were gonna get away with it ?

- Pleasepleaseplease, I laughed out of breath, not my clothes !

- You're lucky I'm feeling merciful today.

Two of his fingers dug deeply in the paint before spreading themselves on my forehead, other hand keeping my face in place while I slipped to the floor in order to escape. When my butt hit the ground Jake's did the same, smudging the paint on my forehead and even wipping his fingers on my cheeks. Quick to reach the palette, my tainted fingers caughed his jaw area, leaving four distinct lines of paint on his mouth and chin, shaking with laughter as his eyes widen as big as they could. In a desperate attempt to run away, I climbed over his leg, crawling my way back to the bedroom before I felt myself being pulled backwards, crying for help.

He went as far as lifting my sweater' sleeves to mark my arms too, and we laid on the kitched floor completely spent, giggling stupidly and playfully elbowing each other in the ribs.

- I missed it, sighed Jake.

- Body painting ?

- Spending time together.

That made my heart constrict painfully, and my smile drop. Jake didn't see, as we were both staring at the ceiling, exhausted. I never expected that he would enjoy hanging out with me enough to miss it. Guilt invited itself to the party, causing me to shift awkwardly on the ground.

- Me too.

I replied with a low, shy voice, barely a whisper, but I knew he was close enough to hear it. It was sincere, I had missed it every single day. And I could only wish for us to spend moments like these for the rest of our lives. But it remained and will remain a dream. And as it all came with a price, sobs began coming down my throat as soon as Jake had left the dorms.

The week passed quietly, with me succeeding in handling all of my homework to my teachers and earning some praises in the process. We were Friday, after our last lecture together with the twins before Christmas Holidays came in. Lunch took place in the staircase because Josh thought it was an important date or something about returning to our roots before not seeing each other for two weeks or something. To be fair, we didn't care as long as we were together for our last meal of the year, having ordered fries and burgers to mark the occasion, chatting excitedly about our plans.

- Christmas Holidays are for stuffing your stomach and drinking to endure family gatherings, stated Mandy while stealing some fries from Jake before he handed them over.

- And here I thought Christmas was about sharing, to think I did it wrong all those years.

Jake's sass earned him a flying frie that he grabbed and ate while Josh took the opportunity to explain his long list of things he wanted to do, speaking with his hands and nearly slapping his brother multiple times in the process.

- First I'm going hiking, then I want us to play some music at home with our family, he added looking at Jake, then I'll decore the tree and put the star on top, and then bake some Christmas cookies, and OH we'll sing some songs in front of the fireplace, and exchange gifts, I already have Ronnie's one she's gonna love it, you stand no chance in being her favorite brother this year Jake.

Squinting my eyes, I kept listening as he rambled on about some gigantic Christmas market in their city that you have to be careful not to get lost in it, and wearing animal sweaters and drinking eggnog and I just... lost track. Some part of me really hoped Christmas was his favorite holiday and that he wasn't that enthusiastic about every single one because then I'd start sending « get well soon » cards to their family.

- What about you ?, I asked Jake, completely ignoring Josh's endless monologue now a background noise.

A sheepish smile played across his face while he idly played with his food.

- Mina's birthday is around the corner so I already made a reservation at a local restaurant. Then I want to bring her to a spot near the mountains I found one day when we were hiking. If the sky is clear enough we'll be able to see the stars. I'll give her her present there.

- It's the perfect plan !, encouraged Mandy.

- Right ? Last time we spoke on the phone she said she had something to tell me so I can't wait to go home.

I could see we were all uncomfortable and that she was faking cheerfulness for his sake, because none of us were excited about it, not even Josh who took a bite of one of his fries only to immediately put it down with the others. Contrary to him, I forced a smile, not wanting to spoil Jake's enthusiasm. To be fair it was a fantastic date idea, and somehow it made me feel worse. I just genuinely hoped that girl knew how lucky she was.

AN² : Next chapter will be in a week or more because I have some stuff to do work-wise, also to give me time to write more, but mainly so that you really experience that Christmas Holiday without Jake. Now am I a bitch ? Maaaaybe, but I thought it’d be interesting to do! See you!

[empressofmankind]

The Lion in Winter - Part I: Departure - 03. Jaime I

Fandom: A Song of Ice & Fire Major Character/s: Kevan Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Barristan Selmy, Loren Lannister (mentioned), Tywin Lannister (mentioned), Cersei Lannister (mentioned), Tyrion Lannister (mentioned) Minor Somebodies: Brynmor Royan, Jared Swyft, Berick, Mathilde, Karl, Mirbelle, Clerrance Manning, Florance Manning, Tanda Stokesworth, Falyse Stokesworth, Balman Byrch, Lollys Stokesworth, Jacyntha Bywater, Jocelyn Bywater (mentioned), Lloyd Royan (mentioned) Location/s: King’s Landing Premises: King Robert insisted he throw little Kevan a party for his squiring, and what a party it is Mood: Jaime vicariously living through his little brother Warnings: On-the-nose allusions to sex / sexual innuendo (conversation with the Household guards at the barracks), Teen appropriate NOTE: Part I of The Lion in Winter is set shortly before King Robert Baratheon, Queen Cersei Lannister and their family set out for Winterfell. It therefore takes place a little bit before the start of the first book, ‘A Game of Thrones’. The Lion In Winter - Part I: Departure - 01. Kevan I // 02. Loren I //  

O   O   O

Jaime took Kevan back to Maegor’s Holdfast and the royal guest quarters. The grand, red-stone stairway to those lofty third-floor private spaces was worn from thousands of feet across hundreds of years. Carved stone pedestals draped with the battle standards of the Great Houses lined it on either side. Jaime remembered how they had borne statues of dragons on top of their ancient folds.

“Did that standard belong to King Loren?” Kevan had halted beside a pedestal on their left hand. Amid folds of fragile, scorched crimson a familiar cloth-of-gold lion glistened despite its great age.

“It did.” Loren the Last. The King of the Rock who had bend the knee and risen a Lord. He had lived, though, unlike plenty others. Jaime had never taken much note of the old standards, they’d been a backdrop to his daily routines as much as the throneroom’s dragon skulls had been. Yet his chest swelled with pride when he saw Kevan gingerly touch the lion and felt the chasm to the distant past bridged by that simple gesture. Loren may have been the last King, but he hadn’t been the last Lannister. “I believe your Mother was named for him.”

“Mother wouldn’t have minded being a Queen,” Kevan said. Jaime didn’t doubt that neither would their Father being a King. Kevan turned to him, a grin on his face. “Helaina would have loved being a real princess.”

Jaime chuckled. “She would have, wouldn’t she?”

They continued their way up the stairs and then down the wide corridor at the top, to the bedroom Kevan shared with their little sister.

“A light tunic and sturdy trousers will do,” Jaime said as they entered. The two Lannister household guards that accompanied them filed in after, taking up positions on either side of the door. Jaime saw Helaina’s bed was empty, the sheets tucked in almost straight. She couldn’t have gone far as her toy horse sat on her pillow.

“Helaina?” Kevan called.

“She must have gone to your Mother,” Jaime said. Unlike Kevan, the little girl tended to stay put. Kevan looked from her bed to the open door and back, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “Kevan.”

“Yes, Ser.” Kevan dutifully went to the hutch chest at the foot of his bed. It was a sturdy, wooden affair with a raised bottom. A pride of frolicking lion cubs decorated its lid, their goldwork scuffed and dented. Kevan pushed the lid up, knocking it against the foot of the bed. Jaime waited as his little brother rummaged for clothes and put them on.

When Kevan was finished, Jaime beckoned him to follow. Once more they crossed the covered bridge over the dry moat out of Maegor’s Holdfast. “From now on, you’ll don your armour where our sworn swords do.”

“The barracks?” Kevan’s tone pitched as his eyes widened. He glanced at the man and woman walking behind them, dressed in the boiled leathers and red cloaks typical of their household guard. The woman winked, drawing a grin from the boy. Jaime put a hand on his shoulder, turning him in the right direction before descending the serpentine steps to the lower bailey. The Red Keep was waking up around them. Servants went about their tasks and men-at-arms set to their duties. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted towards them, drawing an emphatic growl from Kevan’s stomach.

“I wonder if there are any bread crusts left?” Jaime said.

Delight lit up Kevan’s boyish face, dimpling his rosy, freckled cheeks. He glanced up and the morning light hit his green eyes just so, setting a sparkle to them as if flecked with gold. Jaime could barely recall the last time his Father’s eyes had smiled at him like that. A small hand touched his lower arm, and he flinched out of his thoughts.

“Jay?” Kevan looked at him, and the thoughtful squint of those eyes made their likeness worse still. 

Jaime forced a smile. “Just the thought of those crusts is enough to stun me.”

Kevan nodded, but the frown remained.

“I wonder what kind they might have?” Jaime stifled the urge to look away. “Maybe there’ll be cake crusts too.”

“Ma doesn’t approve of sweetcakes before breaking my fast.” Kevan’s tone was solemn, and Jaime wanted it to go away.

“Ah, but they aren’t sweetcakes, are they? They are crusts.” To his relief, Kevan’s frown disappeared when his words sank in, and a grin returned in its place as they walked onto the kitchen courtyard. It was busy here already. A butcher’s boy struggled with a hog intent on the garbage two young men were piling onto a cart. Three milkmaids stood giggling further along, evidently as intent on one of the young men as the hog on the trash. Porters carried caskets of Southeron wine, no doubt for the King’s unquenchable thirst. And a young girl, not much older than Kevan, stood with a basket of sweetcakes looking rather lost. No one took note of them, except a scrawny dog that knew a source of pets when she saw one.

The mutt jogged towards them, tail wagging half-mast. She had a dirty beige and white coat spotted like a cow. One ear stood up while the other flopped down, making it seem as if she were surprised. 

“Are you hungry too, Snout?” Kevan let her press her wet nose into his palm and then petted her snout. 

Jaime wasn’t sure if the dog was a stray or belonged to a servant. He looked about the courtyard as Kevan played with the animal. Some distance away, he spotted who he’d been looking for and started towards them. “Come with, Kev.”

Kevan patted his thigh, making the dog bark and bound after him as he ran to catch up with his big brother. 

As they approached, they overheard the royal larder steward scold a kitchen boy. The basket by his feet and the mess of quail scales and egg yolk on the cobbles made it clear what the problem was.

“—for egg-in-a-crust for the Queen herself, young man.” Mirbelle was a short, lean, pale woman in her mid thrice twenties who favoured sturdy trousers over the skirts usual for women of the kitchen staff. She reminded Jaime of the septa Loren had brought with her to Casterly Rock. 

The boy hunched his shoulders. He couldn’t be more than six or seven. “S’cuses ma’am,” he peeped in the smallest of voices.

“That will not unbreak the eggs, Sten.” Mirbelle pursed her lips. “Mind where you put your feet from now on.”

The boy nodded vigorously.

“Run along, quickly now,” Mirbelle said when she caught sight of the lordlings approaching her.

“Good morning, Mirbelle. Trouble afoot?” Jaime said once they reached her. The thought of his dear sister having to forgo her favoured breakfast, amused him. Pity be upon whoever befell the misfortune of having to inform her.

“A good morn to you too, Ser.” Mirbelle shook her head at the mess on the cobblestones. “And none you need spend your valued time on.”

“Hello!” Kevan popped up between the adults, drawing their attention. “Can we have bread crusts?”

“Kevan.” Jaime’s tone was stern but not unkind.

When Kevan stole a glance at him, he indicated Mirbelle with a small flick of his chin and eyebrows. 

Kevan gave a curt nod, then turned back to Mirbelle. He drew himself up, his expression serious. “Can we have bread crusts, please, ma’am?”

“Mayhap. We must ask Karl.” Jaime could tell Mirbelle was suppressing a smile. She indicated a side corridor and inclined her head. “This way, younger Lord Kevan, Ser Jaime.”

They followed Mirbelle into the warren of close-leaning buildings that formed the kitchens. Boys and girls busied to and fro, most of them a few years older than Kevan. She led them through a dim room where women stood beating grain or sat grounding it into flour with rotary querns. They crossed a narrow alley where men loaded bushels of weed from a cart and passed a butcher’s workshop where a large, heavyset man slaughtered an equally large deer. 

Kevan stopped, perhaps wanting to take a closer look. 

Jaime grabbed his shoulder and steered him away. “Ask Lord Tywin if he will show you, next time your parents have gone hunting.”

Kevan dropped his head but said nothing. Jaime wondered if he’d already asked and received a resounding ‘No’.

The sweet smell of sugar and the spiced scent of baking bread reached them long before they entered the bakery. An older man, thin and corded like a whip, stood before a brick oven turning fist-sized round bread that lay baking. A sleek, black cat sat near his feet, lazying in the comfortable heat.

“Morn, Karl,” Mirbelle said.

Karl glanced up as they entered, then resumed his work. “Breadcrumbs for the princeling, yes?”

“Just so,” Mirbelle said. “Ser Jaime.” She inclined her head and left, no doubt to marshal the contingency plan for his sister’s lost breakfast. Jaime had dropped an egg-in-a-crust once on his way from the kitchen and had given it to her anyway. He smiled. That was years ago, now.

Kevan pulled his head back, a hint of a pout on his lips. “I’m not Prince Joffrey.”

“Aren’t you?” Karl turned the last of the bread.

Kevan shook his head vigorously. “I’m Kevan Lannister!”

Karl cleaned his hands and came towards them. He had a face as thin as the rest of him and his dark hair, tied into a neat bun, was streaked with grey. “You seem to have shrunk, Ser Kevan.”

Kevan’s frown acquired that particular look children got when they weren’t quite sure if you were pulling their leg.

“Let me look at you.” Karl sat down on his haunches to be on eye-height with the boy and overacted a good, examining look at him. “Ah! Now I see the son instead of the brother. Then your height is just about right.”

Kevan beamed.

“Tell me, what can I do for the littlest Lord of Casterly Rock?”

Are you taller than Tyrion yet, little brother? We ought to put you back to back when next we run into the Imp. Jaime struggled to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t want Kevan to think he was laughing at him.

“Can we have bread crusts, please, mister?” Kevan stole a glance at Jaime that reminded him of a dog expecting a pat for good behaviour. He inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“You certainly may.” Karl beckoned Kevan and led them to the back of the bakery. A young woman, a little younger than Lady Lynara if Jaime had to guess, sat cutting baked bread into thick slices. She discarded the crust from either end and wrapped the slices into the waxed paper before packing them into a large crate. The bread crusts she tossed into a small, tattered arm-basket that sat next to her on the bench.

“Apologise me courtesies, milords,” Mathilde said as she raised her flour stained hands and indicated herself.

Kevan nodded. “I allow it.”

Jaime suppressed his amusement at the thought of their Father’s face, had he been here. Would you have demanded she gets up instead, little brother?

“Most gracious, weelord.” Mathilde reached for new bread and continued her work. “What can Mathilde do for one so little from up so high?”

“We would like some bread crusts, miss Mathilde.” Kevan’s tone was earnest, but his eyes looked longingly at the fresh, crispy brown crusts piled into the tattered basket. Though it lasted an instant, Jaime caught the look between the kitchen maid and baker. Hers one of displeasure and his rather quelling. She was smiling a heartbeat later, but it no longer reached her eyes.

“And what if I say I have none?” Mathilde looked at Kevan as she spoke, her hands so used to their task they no longer needed her eyes to coordinate.

Kevan frowned and looked from her to the basket with its delicious crusts, and back. “But you do,” he said, his tone indignant. ‘You can give us some!”

Before Mathilde could reply, Karl sat down on the edge of the table and drew their attention away from the young woman. “A bold demand for a Lord so small. Tell me, by what right do you claim these fresh crusts?”

Kevan puffed out his chest. “I am Kevan Lannister of Casterly Rock.”

Jaime and Karl exchanged an amused look. “So you claim,” Karl said.

“So I am! Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard can vouch for me.”

Jaime nodded. “Indeed, this is my younger brother Kevan, son of Lady Loren Lannister of Lannisport and Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock.”

“Ah, Lord Tywin?” Karl frowned as if he had to think very deeply on who that might be. “Warden of the West and liege lord of the Westerlands, yes?”

Kevan nodded vigorously, drawing himself up.

“Though we aren’t in the Westerlands, are we?” A hint of teasing crept into Karl’s tone. “Your Father is no longer Hand to the King. What claim do you have, here, outside your fief?”

Kevan’s expression screwed up in thought. Several moments passed before a grin returned to his small face. “Queen Cersei is my big sister and King Robert is liege of the Crownlands, Storm’s End and all of Westeros. I am the King’s brother-in-law, and you must pay the bread crust tithe, to me, in his name.”

Karl chuckled and ruffled the boy’s tousled curls. “Your Father will be pleased to know you’ve studied your lessons and came up with such a clever riposte so swiftly.” He took a piece of waxed paper and put bread crusts from Mathilde’s basket into it, stacking them end to end. “Here’s your tithe, little Lord.”

Kevan beamed as he accepted the bulging package.

Jaime put his hand on his shoulder. “Come, we must make for the barracks.”

“Ah, it's your big day, isn’t it?” Karl said as he winked at Kevan. “That explains the inordinate amount of fruit cakes on today’s tally.”

At the mention of fruit cakes, Kevan’s grin managed to become a little wider still.

“Go on, now, don’t make Ser Jaime wait.”

Kevan turned to follow Jaime. However, when they crossed the threshold out of the kitchen, Kevan pulled Jaime’s sleeve. Jaime glanced down at him and saw Kevan hold up the package to him. Jaime accepted it from him and meant to remark on making him carry it, but Kevan had turned and ran back into the kitchen. He climbed onto the table and scooted towards Mathilde.

“Many thanks, miss Mathilde,” Kevan said and kissed her cheek before hopping off and hurrying back to Jaime.

Karl and Mathilde watched them leave. “Bread crust tithe? Hah!” Mathilde huffed as she glared at the empty doorway. “Presumptuous little brat, taking what little I have.”

“You’d do better not to say such things out loud.” Karl shook his head. “The boy carries no malice in his heart, but his brother might inform their Father. And very, very, few things in this good world are worth garnering Lord Tywin’s ire over.”

Mathilde packed the last of the bread crusts in her basket, glaring at the dent in the previously modest pile. “I don’t care.”

It reminded Karl she was barely more than a child herself. He took her by the shoulder and caught her gaze. “There is no outcome in these things where you can win, girl. Either you go hungry a day, or you go whipped and hungry a day. Do you understand me?”

She pursed her lips, angry still, but nodded. 

Karl gave a curt nod in return. “Better we amuse the boy, might that something good reach his Father’s ears, too.”

Jaime and Kevan walked by the castle its orchard on their way to the barracks. Women chatted as they picked apples, balancing upon tall wooden ladders with baskets on their arm. Children ran among the trees, chasing a hoop.

“Can I have a bread crust?” Kevan said.

“They’re your tithe, aren’t they?” Jaime unfolded a corner of the package and held it down.

Kevan chose a large one with a thick crust. He took a bite and smiled in delight. “Don’t you want one?” he said, chewing.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” Jaime picked a bread crust as well and wrapped the packaged closed again. They were outstanding. Soft and warm still, their crust crunchy and spiced.

“Sorry,” Kevan said, with his mouth full.

Jaime shook his head. Had he been like that? He couldn’t remember. No doubt it had driven their Father up the nearest wall. 

The barracks were located beside the Tower of the Hand. Though Lord Tywin hadn’t been Hand for some time, the Lannister household guards still garrisoned here. Previously, they comprised a twoscore men-at-arms, there for the Queen to call upon should she require them. However, when Lord Tywin and Lady Loren had arrived last week for the tourney on Prince Joffrey’s twelfth name day, their number had quadrupled. Lord Tywin had taken less than a fifth back to Casterly Rock. The building itself was sturdy and ancient, its wooden beams black and hardened with age, its limestone walls plastered many times anew. Some said that the beams had acquired their distinct colour because Maegor Targaryen had kept his mother’s dragon Vhagar here, rather than confine her to the Dragonpit. 

The noise of the old barracks met them halfway across the training yard: the ring of swords wielded in practice matches, the tinkle of chainmail and the clang of armour plates. Talking, too, and laughter. Men in the red of House Lannister sat on benches or stood about, discussing news and sharing bawdy jokes.

“Bloody Seven, lads, my armour shrank! Again!” Ser Brynmor Royan’s roaring laughter carried above all others at his own jest. The halberdier struggled to find the right fit of his breastplate over his ample stomach. He was a man in his middle five-tens, his skin a leathery brown and his dark hair and bushy beard thoroughly greying. Though he had always been large, build like the Westerland hardwood trees, he had gotten near as wide as he was tall since last Jaime saw him. Ser Brynmor was the half-brother of Ser Lloyd Royan, the petty Lord of Westerbridge, a backwater less than a day’s ride north of Castamere.

“Should have left that last shank alone, Brynmor.” Ser Jared Swyft sat on a nearby bench, whetting his blade. He was of an age with Jaime and had been part of the Lannister Household guards stationed here at King’s Landing for as long as he could remember. Pasty, ill-proportioned and as chinless as his uncle, Jared was the younger brother of Jocelyn if Jaime recalled correctly. One of his sister’s insipid ladies-in-waiting.

“Oh, what’s one more shank on half a dozen?” Ser Brynmor guffawed. “Jousting is hungry work! No, it’s the age, you see.” He patted his belly for emphasis. “Didn’t use to get the chance to stay.”

Ser Jared’s hand stilled for a moment, his dull grey eyes almost managing a glimmer of wit as he looked up from his chore. “Age? Lord Tywin’s your age and gaunt as the spikes he loves so well despite dining better than the lot of us combined.”

“Hah! If I had a comely little wifey half my years with a rear like that, I’d be damn lean too,” Ser Brynmor snorted with amusement.  “Berick, give us a hand, boy.”

“She seems happy to polish the rust off his sword,” Berick Vikary said as he assisted Ser Brynmor, holding his breastplate in place. A pock-marked seventeen-year-old with hair the colour and texture of straw, Berick had overstayed his welcome as Ser Jared’s squire for some time, evidently in no rush to be his own man. “What’s his excuse to be choleric with a keen lady warming his bed?”

Ser Brynmor leaned towards the younger man, miming a confidential tone. “Imagine what he was like before.”

“She ain’t no kitty-cat. I saw her make the Queen feel her claws at the tourney, had retracted them before anyone else saw ‘em, too,” Jared said.

“She’s taken right well to the reigns, she has,” Ser Brynmor agreed with a chuckle. He fastened the straps of his breastplate with effort. The way the leather had been stretched thinner where the clasps sat a testament to their struggle to confine his bulk being anything but recent.  “Those of the Westerlands as much as our benign Liege’s.” 

Ser Jared made a derisive noise and resumed his chore. “I bet she rides him sorer than a courier horse and he has nary a say in it.”

“Be that envy, I hear?” Ser Brynmor gave him a shove as he reached for his surcoat, emblazoned with the silver bridge on blue of House Royan. “If seeding her fields gets too much for him, he only need say and I will provide aid to our Liege in his time of need as is my sworn duty as his loyal banner.”

“He’d sooner die trying, tenacious prick,” Ser Jared scoffed.

A tug at his sleeve as they approached diverted Jaime’s attention away from the conversation. He glanced at Kevan, who had halted. A thoughtful frown creased his small face as he chewed the last of his bread crust. “Why is Mother’s butt important?”

Articulated reason flew out the window the second the question hit Jaime’s ears and his thoughts sped back to the tourney of their own accord. She’d worn that dress, the one with the lions salient and the cloth of gold panels winking between the crimson folds of its skirts as she walked. He distinctly remembered the way the sunlight had caught the expensive cloth as it shifted into view with the movement of her rear. He tried to banish the image from his mind’s eye.  What in the Seven was he supposed to say to that? 

“Ser Jaime!” Ser Jared’s hail freed him of the need to answer the question, for now. “Been a while since you graced us here.”

“I can’t seem to get the red dye to stick to this cloak,” Jaime said with good humour as he gave his white cloak a tug. The two men clasped each other’s shoulder in greeting.

“Kill brigands more and guard fat kings less.” Ser Jared grinned. His gaze fell on Kevan then. “There’s the little knight of the hour. Old Bryn wasn’t lying when he said you came out a billet of the old lion’s mold. That’s right lucky for your pretty mama, what with how quick you came, eh?”

Kevan’s frown creased deeper and he pursed his lips in an unpleasantly familiar manner. “Lady Loren,” he corrected, his tone quiet. 

Ser Jared flinched, Jaime caught it, though the knight tried to conceal it. Ser Jared ruffled Kevan’s curls. “Apologies, little Lord.” 

“Is this proud armour I saw yours, then?” Ser Brynmor smiled his wide, genial smile. He indicted the distinctly child-sized armour on a nearby armouring stand. “I thought it’d be a shade short for Ser Jaime.”

Kevan’s eyes widened. “Real armour?”

Jaime nodded. “You’ll be a squire, no longer a child. You’ll need real armour.”

“T’is a fine little suit,” Brynmor said as he made way for Kevan, who had eagerly come forward to see.

Jaime agreed. With its red lacquered lamellae and matte gilded sunburst rondels it was unmistakably a child-sized copy of their Father’s armour and by the look of it every inch as finely made as the original.

“Lord Tywin spared no expense in seeing you properly armoured up,” Jared said.

Kevan beamed, never taking his eyes off the brand new armour sitting on the too large armour stand.

“Aye, that must have cost a pretty penny.” Ser Brynmor inspected it with a critical eye. The Royans were petty Lords, at best, but the coal mine on their modest fief had brought them some wealth carting the black stones to Casterly Rock’s smelters and he was therefor not unfamiliar with steel grades.

“It comes from our own forges,” Jaime replied. Tailyn, Loren’s queer sister, had overseen its forging. He had known she maintained the arms and armour of his Father, Loren and his uncles and had therefor assumed she must be a skilled blacksmith. The fine quality of the small armour before him confirmed that conclusion. How long did you work on that with Father breathing down your neck? Rather you than me, Tay.

“Still, good steel is good steel, and craftsmanship,” Ser Brynmor said.

Father would still forge that little armour if it needed the last scrap of Valyrian steel in the known world, Jaime thought.

“Can I put it on?” Kevan’s hopeful tone made Jaime smile.

“You have to put it on.” Jaime had barely said it or a whoop of cheer left the boy. 

Kevan clambered onto the bench and lifted his arms up. “Ser Brynmor, assist me, please!”

“You almost have it down,” Brynmor said. “Now say it like you mean it, serious as the Grey Plague.”

Kevan’s face screwed up into a frown. When he spoke again, he dropped his tone an octave and sharpened it to a verbal point.  “Ser Brynmor. Assist me.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Brynmor inclined his head, suppressing a smile as he took the small chestplate off the stand. “Much better. Your Lord Father would approve.”

Jaime didn’t doubt it. He wondered if Lord Tywin had arrived yet. He must have.

Kevan grinned at the knight, stretching his arms higher as the chestplate was fitted around him.

“Hold in that fat fruitcake belly of yours,” Ser Brynmor jested as he fastened the equally little arming straps in place. Jaime watched the household knight armour Kevan with practised ease. He must have familiarised himself with the small suit. It was atypical in its fastenings, more sophisticated, like their Father’s.

Kevan gave Brynmor an askance look, though he sucked in his stomach regardless. “You’re fatter than me, Ser Brynmor.”

“Me? Fat? I’m slender as a breeding sow.”

Once armoured, Jaime and Kevan made for the Red Keep’s throne room where the squiring ceremony would take place. A dozen household guards, including Ser Brynmor, Ser Jared and Berick, followed them as a honour guard. Kevan walked beside Jaime, pretty as a picture in his new armour. Under his arm, Kevan held the smallest of great helms. It was crested with a lion, like his Father’s. However, his was a seated, ruby-eyed cub with its first tufts of mane, a paw lifted in defiance.

When they entered the throne room, Jaime was surprised by the amount of people there. At a glance, he recognised several Houses of the Crownlands, both great and small. A banquet had been laid out upon long tables with crimson runners and golden tassels, rampant lions embroidered on their ends. The centrepiece dish was a roasted dragon fashioned from what looked like the rump of a suckling pig and the front of a capon with the wings of larger fowl sewn on. A glazed bread lion cub sat triumphant beside it. Minstrels performed on a dais beside the Iron Throne. It towered over the gathered crowd, its looming shadow not quite dispelled by the festivities. Jaime avoided looking at the empty seat.

“Ser Jaime Lannister and Kevan Lannister, the Younger, of House Lannister of Casterly Rock!” A herald in the yellow and black of House Baratheon announced as they entered. King Robert had insisted he arrange and pay a fete for his littlest brother-in-law in honour of his squiring. Though it would seem he hadn’t hewn particularly close to Loren’s acquiescence of ‘a small feast will more than suffice’. It was small only by the King’s usual standards. The treasury had been overflowing with gold when Lord Tywin resigned but the new King’s extravagance had beggared the realm. Do you know you’re footing the bill for this, too, Father? Jaime thought. No doubt, Lord Tywin had realised it the moment he clapped eyes on this fine spectacle. Though Jaime saw neither his Father nor lady Loren among the gathered crowd. They must have retreated after his arrival and would soon come down. It was still early.

As they walked down the hall, a woman in a blue and argent gown came towards them. She was tall with deep-set eyes amid porcelain skin and raven hair. It took him a moment to recognise her: Jacyntha Bywater, sister to Ser Jacelyn Bywater, an officer of the City Watch. She wasn’t stunning, but there was something about her. The Bywaters had a modest manse up on the High Street near the Old Gate, in the older and stately part of King’s Landing. Jacyntha lived there with her lady-in-waiting. He’d forgotten her name, a dainty Dornish thing of sweet courtesies. The two maids had been close friends for years.

“My Lords.” Jacyntha courtesied. Kevan made a neat bow in turn. “May I be the first to offer my congratulations and a humble gift?”

Kevan glanced at Jaime, who inclined his head. Go on, little brother. These are the shenanigans our Father has so diligently heeled you for. Show them you’ve learnt, even if they aren’t here yet. 

“You may,” Kevan said.

Jacyntha beckoned forth a servant, who carried a pillow covered by a silk kerchief with the Bywater arms of argent fish above alternating bars of argent and azure. The servant bend his tall frame deeply and humbly to hold it at eye-height for Kevan. Jacyntha whisked the cloth aside with a flourish of her painted nails. Upon the pillow laid a castle-forged dagger, its wooden hilt inlaid with an enamel lion rampant and its keen edge catching the light. Beside it, a scabbard of tooled leather.

A fine gift, no doubt forged to order. Jaime thought as he watched Kevan pick it up and weigh the blade. That will have cost Jacelyn his pay twice over.

“Do give your Lady Mother my best wishes, and those of my brother, Ser Jacelyn,” Jacyntha replied, lightly stressing her brothers name.

Kevan gave a curt nod. “Many thanks, miss Bywater.” As she left, Kevan turned to Jaime. “Can I wear it?”

“You may.” Loren might not approve of live steel, but Kevan was nearly ten and the dagger but a small blade. Jaime didn’t see any harm in it. Berick helped Kevan secure the scabbard properly to his belt as a rotund man in his middle fourties with a whisp of a woman at similar age came towards them. They were followed by a young girl approximately Kevan’s age. She wore a splendid crimson dress with red on red sealions. For an instant, Jaime thought them relatives of Loren’s that he hadn’t met before. However, when they properly stood before them he saw it wasn’t the golden sea cat of Lannisport that greeted him.

“Lord Clerrance Manning,” the man said with a bow so deep and fluid you’d wonder how a man his circumference managed to bend that well at the waist. “And my dear lady and daughter.”

Manning of Clearwater Breach. A fortified watchtower, and that was being generous. Jaime wondered why they were so keen. The old tower keep sat in an inlet of Blackwater Bay, due south of King’s Landing, at the mouth of the Wendwater river and the edge of the Kingswood. A bay within the bay. In older times, it had been a harbour point but had long since been overshadowed by King’s Landing. 

“We too, humbly seek to honour,” Lord Clerrance said. As on cue, the girl who must be their daughter stepped forward from between her parents, carrying a polished wooden box. She made a careful courtesy, holding the box level as she did. She smiled very sweetly when Kevan bowed in turn. Jaime didn’t like the smug look on her Lord Father’s face.

“My name is Florance and I am honoured to meet you and present this gift, Lord Kevan of Casterly Rock.”

Berick appeared at their side once more, this time to accept the box. He sat down on his haunches, level with both children. Florance showed how to open the box. Within it sat a toy model of a trading ship, finely crafted. It had two little flags on the stern. One, clearly the pennant of House Lannister of Lannisport. The other, no doubt of House Manning, with its proud, red sealion on argent.

“Can it sail?” Kevan’s tone was serious, as if discussing a real vessel. He gave Florance a look that expected an answer, rather than her Lord Father.

“Certainly, milord. It’ll float where you will, its sails set proper.” Florance indicated points where the miniature riggings might be adjusted.

“I like it,” Kevan decided with a smile as he closed the box. Berick rose but kept standing beside them.

“We are humbly pleased you do, my Lord,” Lord Manning said. “We are most honoured you allowed us your time. Come, Florance.” They all but bowed their way back into the crowd before turning and leaving. As they left, Jaime noticed Kevan’s gaze trailing the young Lady’s. She stole a look over her shoulder at them.

“Maybe Mother can invite them for supper, some time.” Kevan glanced up at him.

Not bloody likely, Jaime thought. Your Mother will run them off the grounds faster than our Father can hang them for the insult. He better find a moment to inform Loren. Unwilling to dunk Kevan’s mood, he said: “You never know.”

The woman that approached them next, Jaime knew well. It was Lady Tanda Stokesworth and her daughters, and what must be her son-in-law Ser Balman Byrch, a renowned tourney jouster. No children with them. How long had Lady Falyse and Ser Balman been married? Two-years-and-ten? There’d been some noise when Elvia Lantell, a maiden cousin of Loren’s, had a bastard boy. It had put a mark of Loren’s two-score-and-ten nameday tournament and overshadowed her own daughter’s birth.

“Ser Jaime, little Lord Kevan.” Lady Tanda’s tone was genial and familiar, as if she were their grandmother. In keeping with that, she carried a delicate golden basket with hard candy. Caramel drops from far Essos. Easily more expensive than the basket they sat in. Some of Kevan’s favourite, too. Jaime eyed her and then Lollys. Right away, Lady Tanda ushered her youngest daughter forward. It was no secret his Father didn’t want him in the Kingsguard. Would you agree to the match if you learned Cersei schemed to bleach my cloak to white? Jaime thought, amused, as he regarded Lollys. A sharp lesson, indeed.

Kevan’s bow was stiff and his stern expression made him seem older than he was. Jaime didn’t think his little brother had met the Stokesworths before but it seemed he’d caught the scent of incompetence cleaving to them.

“Our beloved Queen once mentioned that you were very fond of these,” Lady Tanda said. Cersei would sooner suck a steer than suffer your company. Lady Tanda held the basket out to Kevan, who didn’t move a muscle, every inch their Father as he watched her face fall. Berick accepted the gift in his stead. 

“How is your dear Lady Mother? And your uncle?” Lady Tanda enquired.

“Lady Loren is well.” Kevan’s tone was measured, reserved. Kevan had many uncles; some as old as his Father, some younger than Jaime himself. However, the boy seemed to know precisely which uncle was meant: the unwed one. “Uncle Damon is sailing the trade routes north.”

Lady Tanda didn’t give up yet. “When might he return?”

Kevan remained silent.  

Trade routes north? Did your Mother say that? It sounded like something Loren would say to as presumptuous a question as this.

“I would love to invite him for dinner.” Lady Tanda added as she clasped her hands together. “Lollys would love to hear his tales of bravery and adventure, wouldn’t you, Lollys?”

Lollys took a timid step forward and courtesied to Kevan. “I would, very much, my Lord.”

Jaime struggled to hide his amusement. No doubt he’s sticking his sword in every bear and wolf he comes across, and them in him. Mighty fine tales for a lady, those will make. 

Kevan observed them and the silence stretched on.

“It was a delight to meet you, Lord Kevan,” Lady Tanda said as she took her daughters by the arm and slunk away. Jaime fondly imagined them as curs with their tails thoroughly between their legs.

Kevan’s gaze wandered to the great wooden doors of the throne room before he turned to Jaime, his hands clasped behind his back. “I didn’t know I would receive gifts.”

“You did well,” Jaime said. Except for that slip of a girl, he thought. Kevan wouldn’t be a boy forever. The look of budding interest on his small face had been unmistakable.

Kevan turned to Ser Brynmor next. “Ser Brynmor, find Lady Florance Manning. I should like to spend time with her.”

Damn it, there you had it. Think quick, Jaime. Jaime’s gaze hunted around the room. Lord Guncer Sunglass. Jenia Buckwell. Ser Trystane Velaryon. Where by the Seven were his Father and Loren?

“Can do, Lord Kevan,” Ser Brynmor said and turned to look for the girl.

Jaime considered outright overruling his younger brother’s command. Lord Tywin disapproved of public dissent. Jaime caught sight of Ser Barristan Selmy just as he was about to countermand. He raised his hand to hail the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. “Look, Kevan. Ser Barristan is here as well.”

Kevan’s eyes lit up as he turned to look. Jaime caught Brynmor’s gaze and shook his head, barely more than a chin movement. The household guard inclined his head and fell back in line.

“Ser Barristan!” Kevan called and waved. He looked back at Jaime with a broad grin.

Jaime smiled, pleased with himself. Not quite big enough yet for girls to eclipse everything else. He should tell Loren. Let her handle their Father.

“Ser Jaime, younger Lord Kevan.” Ser Barristan was a tall man, his long hair and neat beard cloud white since as long as Jaime could remember. His eyes were pale blue as a summer sky, his face creased with age. Though he was only a few years older than Lord Tywin, it made it seem more. The latter’s bushy side whiskers yet retained the ochre hue they’d always had. Though he’d kept his head clean shaven ever since his golden mane had started to thin. A problem Ser Barristan evidently didn’t face.

Kevan’s bow was precise. “Ser Barristan.”

“You look ready for battle.” Ser Barristan smiled as he looked Kevan up and down, appraising his new armour.

“I wish there was a battle. Nothing has happened in an age.” Kevan’s lip puckered as he fingered the pommel of his new dagger.

Barristan and Jaime shared a look. “Take it from an old man who’s seen one too many,” Ser Barristan said. “T’is a poor thing to hope for.”

Kevan’s brow furrowed, his gaze moved to the throne room’s massive doors. “Father says wars are necessary.”

“He’s not wrong,” Ser Barristan agreed. “Sometimes, they are, but they are a sad occasion, always.”

“Yes, smallfolk go hungry,” Kevan said after a moment. “Or die.”  

Kevan’s frown creased deeper at Ser Barristan’s curt nod. Jaime didn’t like how Kevan’s somber mood lingered. I wanted you to distract him, not depress him, Jaime thought. “A diligent squire might win honour at a tourney,” Jaime said.

Kevan’s eyes widened and the eager sparkle that Jaime loved so well returned. “Mother’s nameday is in less than a year.”

Lord Tywin hosted fetes at Lannisport for all their namedays but across the past decade Lady Loren’s had gained pre-eminence.  It was popular with the smallfolk for its public banquet and rich pageantry, and the jousts held in her honour attracted knights from across the Seven Kingdoms. It also featured a grand melee for squires.

“A tight training regime will see you do well in it,” Ser Barristan said. Jaime had no doubt that their Father had already drawn up a schedule.

“Can you teach me?” Kevan’s voice was full of hope as he looked up at the old knight. 

“Kevan.” Jaime caught his gaze.

“I’m flattered, don’t worry, Ser Jaime.” Ser Barristan gave Kevan’s shoulder a squeeze. “Though very busy, as well.”

Kevan’s face fell. “Please?” The shimmer appearing in his eyes reminded Jaime that he was only nine, and that their Father had not quite heeled children’s tendency to beg out of him.

“I have a gift instead, if you’ll accept it,” Ser Barristan said.

Kevan’s expression lit with curious surprise. It seemed to Jaime that he’d forgotten all about training at the mention of a gift from his hero. 

Ser Barristan produced a small pouch, its once rich velveteen worn with age. There was a design on the cloth though Jaime couldn’t tell what it was. Barristan emptied it unto his palm with care. A pendant fell from it, followed by a thin, discoloured chain. “It’s not much but I like to think it served me well,” Ser Barristan said as he lowered his hand to give it to Kevan.

Not much? Jaime stared at it. On the knight’s palm laid a strip of Valyrian steel, its vertical edges irregular. Fitted crookedly in it sat a square cut ruby, larger than a thumbnail and alight with the firelight around them. That is a princely gift, no matter how poor its fitting, Jaime thought. It would easily pay for this modest fete five times over. Surely, he knows? 

Kevan touched it gingerly, a fingertip at a time. “It’s pretty.”

Jaime couldn’t tear his gaze away. Its pidgeon blood luster sparkled with promise. It was almost as large and fine as the twin rubies set in the lioness pendant. It probably came from a hilt or scabbard, by the look of those jagged edges. Jaime tried to imagine the whole piece it might have come from. Small wonder it had been pried into pieces.

“That it is.” Ser Barristan smiled. He went down on a knee to hang the pendant around Kevan’s neck. “Perhaps, it is old wives’ tales, but I like to think it has kept me on the lucky side of safe a few times.”

Kevan pressed his chin against his chest to be able to see the pendant.  “Don’t you need it?”

“I am an old man, Kevan. I’ve lucked out enough. You are young yet, with many a danger before you.”

Jaime squinted. From anyone else, that would have been a threat. However, the old knight smiled still and seemed genuine enough. His stance was open, not just to Kevan but to Jaime, too. Knelt as he was, there was no way he could draw his blade before Jaime was at his throat.

Kevan took the pendant in his hand, watchingt it wink as he held it upside down, tilting it this way and that. “Rubies are Pa’s favourite earthbones.”

Kevan’s understatement twitched the corners of Jaime’s lips up. He remembered well the fool that had given Lady Loren a fine diamond pendant when she wed his Father. Lord Tywin had rather famously remarked that ‘the only use for diamonds was to see if rubies were real.’

A curious look appeared on Ser Barristan’s weathered face at the boy’s choice of words but he didn’t ask. “Wars may be fought for diamonds but the ruby is the king of precious stones.” He mused up Kevan’s hair as he rose. “A gemstone suited to a lion, I should think.”

Kevan puffed out his chest, the ruby gleaming in its queer setting. The dark reds and muted gold of his armour seemed to funnel all light to it.

“It looks splendid on you, little Lord,” Ser Barristan added.

The heavy croak and scrape of massive wooden doors sounded above the murmur. Kevan glanced up as the throne room’s great doors sighed open. His face lit up as he turned to them, and fell so abruptly and completely a moment later that Jaime felt his heart plummet into his guts. He turned just as the herald called:

“His Splendid Majesty, King Robert Baratheon,  First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Roynar and  First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Her Grace, Queen Consort Cersei Lannister, First of Her Name, Light of the West and Grace of the Realms.”

Jaime tuned out as she started listing the children, all their titles, and no doubt a score of prominent courtiers after, and turned his attention back to Kevan. Kevan’s shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the floor as his hand fell from his dagger to hang listlessly alongside him.

“Kevan?”

When Kevan looked up moist gathered around his green eyes, making their light flecks wink as finely as the ruby around his neck. The dissonance of seeing tears gather in his Father’s eyes twisted Jaime’s gut. He pushed the discomfort away for his little brother’s sake. Kevan was barely ten. Jaime put a hand on his slim shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. His little brother. “He’ll be here.”  

O   O   O  

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