#i have finally hoisted myself off the couch goodnight

[chubbychiquita]

drowning myself in fat ☺️

[daniclaytcn]

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

title: quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Summary: “In that warehouse,” Buck says. “I almost gave up.”

Eddie doesn’t bat an eyelash at his words. “I know,” He says, simply.

Buck isn’t sure why he’s saying this. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to confess this to Eddie, why this is something he needs for him to know. He also doesn’t know why Eddie is being so calm about it.

“I almost stopped fighting,” Buck continues, his voice breaking a little. 

“I know.” Eddie says, again. | Post 4x05: Buck Begins.

ao3 link

a/n: i wrote this when i should have been sleeping so it’s probably incoherent...pls excuse me..

tagging some people who may be interested: @malikjavaddzayn @evaneddie @matan4il @prettyboydiaz @firefighter-diaz  please let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list!

Seconds after Buck knocks, the door opens and Eddie is looking at him with an arched eyebrow. "Since when do you knock?" He asks teasingly.

 Buck shrugs wordlessly. The weight of the past couple of days he's had—his parents arriving in town, finding out about Daniel, god, the fire—all had been momentarily forgotten in the time he spent with Maddie after his shift, the relief that came with forgiving her making something that had been unbalanced shift back into place in his heart. However, after leaving her apartment, it had all come crushing down on him again, leaving him shaking and breathless in the aftermath. Before knowing he was doing it, he was taking the turn to Eddie's house instead of his own apartment and now here he was.

 "You're just in time," Eddie gestures for Buck to come in. "Dinner's almost ready."

 "I—I didn't tell you I was coming, though," Buck says, confused. Eddie grins at him.

 "I had a feeling you would." Not waiting for a reply, he turns to go into the living room. "Christopher! Look who's here!"

 Buck is greeted with an armful of Chris when he enters the room and he can't help but laugh, hoisting him into his arms. Pressing his face into Chris' hair and hearing his bright laughter, Buck feels some of the tension drain from his body.

 "Hey, buddy! Hope you don't mind me coming over so unexpectedly."

 Chris giggles as Buck puts him down, as if he's said the funniest thing ever. "Don't be silly, Buck! We always want you around."

 Buck feels his eyes burn with tears inexplicably and he's relieved that Chris chooses that moment to turn around to search for a drawing he wants to show him. Eddie says nothing, instead moving past Buck to leave the room, pressing a warm hand to his shoulder as he passes him.

 Chris takes Buck's hand and tugs on it, leading him to the kitchen. Buck's eyebrows raise at the sight of Eddie pulling a pan out the oven

 "Dad cooked," Chris informs him. Buck chuckles.

 "Maybe I shouldn't have come over," He jokes. Eddie throws a dish towel at him, scowling.

 "It's just mac and cheese," He retorts. "And I'll have you know I've gotten better at cooking over the pandemic. Make yourself useful and set the table."

 Shifting into the usual routine of dinner time at the Diaz household has a comforting familiarity to it, Buck thinks, as he moves around the kitchen, grabbing plates and glasses, knowing where everything is supposed to be without even thinking about it. They sit down at the table to eat, Chris chattering away about his day as Buck listens on, barely suppressing an eye roll when Eddie not-so-subtly heaps two servings onto his plate. God, his best friend can be such a dad sometimes.

 As dinnertime comes to an end, though, Buck can feel the lightness begin to slip away, tension gathering in his shoulders once more and his smiles come less easily, not even Christopher’s cheer being able to bring them out easily. Eddie seems to notice (of course he does) and quickly stands to gather their plates.

 “Chris, I think it’s time you start getting ready for bedtime,” he says and Chris groans dramatically.

 “Dad, can’t I stay up? It’s not even a school night!”

 “Nope,” Eddie hums. “Rules are rules, Chris, you know how it is.”

 Chris groans again but doesn’t argue his point and gets up. “Goodnight, Buck,” he murmurs, and Buck bends down to receive his hug almost automatically, barely registering it. Thankfully, Chris doesn’t seem to notice that anything is amiss and pulling back, grins at him before leaving.

 “Hey,” Buck startles as Eddie taps him on the shoulder and looks up at the barely concealed worry in his friend’s face. “Why don’t you go wait in the living room? I’m gonna go tuck Chris into bed.”

 “It’s late,” Buck mutters. “Maybe I should leave.” He doesn’t want to. It’s almost more than he can stand, right now, the thought of leaving the warmth of Eddie’s house, of Eddie, to go back to his apartment, that has never felt like home the way Eddie and Christopher have. But he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome. He’d once told Maddie that he’s not really a guest in Eddie’s house, but now, with his entire world, with everything he’d ever known about himself turned upside down, he can’t be sure of anything.

 Eddie shakes his head and repeats, a little more firmly. “Wait for me in the living room.”

 Buck goes, helpless but to do as he asks. He looks around at the room as he sits down on the couch, Chris’ homework on the side tables, the video game consoles scattered around it, Eddie’s jacket tossed over a chair—just a few weeks ago, he had been on this couch with Eddie and Christopher, playing video games and teasing Eddie about his newfound fear of technology. Just a few weeks ago, he had been in this same spot, happy and lighthearted with two of his favorite people in the world.

 Just a few weeks ago, he hadn’t felt this overwhelming sense of wrongness and uncertainty, like everything was collapsing around him and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

 Eddie returns shortly, sinking down into the couch beside him, his shoulders pressing into Buck’s; solid and grounding. Buck lets out a shaky exhale, ducking his head as he feels his eyes burn with tears again. He doesn’t want Eddie to see him like this, cracked in a hundred places and this close to falling apart. Which doesn’t make sense, he knows, Eddie has been there during some of the worst moments of his life; he was there holding his hand while his leg was being crushed under a firetruck, he had seen him choke on his own blood during that welcome-back party; there was no end to it. But this—this was just too much. Too vulnerable. Too raw, and open and exposed.

 Eddie says nothing, just sitting there, a line of warmth and stability against Buck, waiting for him to open up. And Buck does, inevitably.

 “I forgave my parents,” He doesn’t look at Eddie while he says it, but can feel him stiffen momentarily before he relaxes again.

 “That must have been hard,” Eddie says, his words so similar to Maddie’s just a few hours ago. Buck shrugs in response, talking about it with his sister had been hard enough, he doesn’t really want to get into the why’s of it again.

 “I just feel like---” Buck stops himself and sighs in frustration. “I feel like this should have brought me some sort of relief, right? Taken some of the weight off my shoulders? Now that I actually have some context to what they did, and why-“

 “Hey,” Eddie interrupts, almost sharply. “Your parents lost a child, and that’s terrible. But them ignoring the two living children they had, not being there for their kids who actually needed them? That is on them and nothing can excuse that. You are well within your rights to feel angry, Buck.”

 Buck shakes his head. “I am so tired of being angry,” He says. “But---I still am. I thought forgiving them would make me feel less angry, but it didn’t. I am so angry that they kept my brother a secret from me, all this time. I am so angry that they forced Maddie to keep that secret, when she was just a child. I am so angry that I was finally, finally, doing better, feeling more secure and good about myself and my life and it took just one visit from them to turn it all upside down!”

 He sucks in a deep breath and buries his head in his hands, shaking slightly. He did not mean to explode like that. Hell, he doesn’t even know where it all came from. He had no idea he was even feeling like that before it all burst out.

 I sometimes hide my true feelings, Buck remembers telling his therapist that one time, and he chuckles hollowly at the memory.

 Eddie lays a hand on his shoulder, the pad of his thumb drawing soothing circles over his sleeve and remains quiet until Buck raises his head again, eyes wet.

 “It’s clear to me, now,” Buck says. “Everything I ever did to try and win their affection, to win their love—none of it mattered. I was set up to fail since the very beginning. The entire time, whenever they looked at me, all they could see was Daniel and I would never measure up in their eyes. How could I compete with that? God,” He scrubs a hand across his face roughly and lets out a bitter laugh. “I’m jealous of a dead person. How fucked up is that?”

Something shutters in Eddie’s expression and he ducks his head for a moment, swallowing. “I understand completely,” He murmurs. Before Buck can really think about it, Eddie is talking again.

 “It was never on you to win your parents’ love, Buck,” He says. “It’s not something that needs to be won, it’s something that has to be freely given. And your parents—they—no matter the loss they were mourning, the way they made you feel like every scrap of their attention needed to be earned was unacceptable. You have to know that. I mean—” He sighs and pauses for a moment. “I have made a lot of mistakes with Christopher, but I can never imagine doing to him what your parents did to you and your sister. It’s unthinkable.”

 Buck manages to smile at that and says, his voice breaking a little, “You’re a really great dad.”

 Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “I hope so,” He murmurs. “At least, I try to be. And sometimes, trying is the best you can do. It’s what every parent should do.”

 Trying, huh? Philip and Margaret Buckley certainly hadn’t. They had given up on Buck the moment he’d failed to save his brother, Buck is certain of this no matter how they might say otherwise. They had given up on Maddie when she married Doug. They were never willing to try when things got hard, instead that burden had been placed on their children and Maddie and Buck had carried it even into their adulthood, without even noticing.

 He had never felt that burden so acutely as he did in the fire, as he relived his entire life, seeing his past through new eyes as he fought desperately to save Saleh from the flames and himself, from giving into all that despair and guilt and hopelessness. And in the end, he hadn’t had to carry it alone, because the 118, his family, stepped in to carry it with him.

 “In that warehouse,” Buck says. “I almost gave up.”

 Eddie doesn’t bat an eyelash at his words. “I know,” He says, simply.

 Buck isn’t sure why he’s saying this. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to confess this to Eddie, why this is something he needs for him to know. He also doesn’t know why Eddie is being so calm about it.

 “I almost stopped fighting,” Buck continues, his voice breaking a little.

 “I know.” Eddie says, again.

 “You’re not—” Buck clears his throat and says, hoarsely, “You’re not…I don’t know—” He can’t finish.

 Upset? Angry? Disappointed?

 Eddie, evidently, doesn’t need him to say it. “No,” He says, his voice impossibly soft. “I know what it’s like. I’ve been there.”

 Oh. Of course, that’s—Buck doesn’t know whether he is referring to Afghanistan or the well, when he was buried under thirty feet of mud. Or both.

 Buck doesn’t ask, and Eddie doesn’t elaborate.

 “It feels easy, to just stop resisting,” Eddie continues. “But then, you remember that you have something to live for. A family that loves you.”

 Buck shakes his head, almost automatically. “My parents—”

 “I’m not talking about your parents,” Eddie says, firmly. “I am talking about your sister, Bobby, Athena, the 118—”

 “—you?” Buck finishes, something in his heart lifting at the soft smile Eddie gives him in return.

 “Yeah, me,” Eddie says. “And Christopher,” He pauses, suddenly looking almost uncertain. “That is, if you’ll have us.”

 If he’ll have them? Buck almost laughs hysterically—what sort of question is that? Surely, Eddie has to know—to have him and Christopher as his family would be everything and more. He wants it, all of it, so badly that it’s almost terrifying. He wants Eddie, in any and every single way possible, no matter how selfish it is.

 “Eddie, you don’t know what that means to me,” Buck says, instead.

 Eddie smiles. “I think I have some idea,” He says, and reaches out, slipping his hand into Buck’s. Buck can feel his breath catch, his heart leaping at the gentle touch, at the way Eddie’s fingers slot so perfectly between his. It is at times like these, that he thinks that Eddie might return the feelings he has for him, the feelings that are definitely not those of friendship. But he can never bring himself to cross that line, too afraid of being wrong, of ruining one of the best things he has in his life.

 They sit in silence for a few minutes. After a while, Buck glances at the clock.

 “It’s getting late,” He says reluctantly. “I should go.”

 “Stay.” Eddie says. Buck’s pulse quickens, he knows that Eddie doesn’t mean it that way, yet—

 “I think—”

 Eddie shakes his head. “Stay. Please.”

 And how can Buck say no to that?

 He nods wordlessly and allows himself to lean into Eddie, his eyes drifting shut. This is slowly exceeding the realm of best friend behavior, but Buck can’t find it in himself to care at the moment, especially when Eddie turns into him, resting his head on his shoulder.

 For now, he can have this.

 For once, he can be enough.

[kyber-kisses]

Southern Nights (3/4)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: a little angst, but mostly fluff🤷‍♀️

Summary: After a situation with the BMoL, Dean finds himself running towards the person he fears for the most besides his brother. But even when he finds her safe and alive, he can see that something isnt right.

A/n: So remember when I said it was gonna be two parts and then I switched it to three? Well now its gonna be four. . .Enjoy!

Part 1        Part 2

There is a split second after the words leave your lips that Dean thinks your joking, but then as he looks at you he can see you are dead serious. You don't make eye contact- instead you focus on the orange tabby still swatting at fireflies.

For  as long as Dean and his brother had known you, you had loved hunting.  You loved saving people. There was a method to your madness when it came  to you constantly being on your feet and finding new cases. Keeping  people safe, making the world better. That was what made you happy.

And Dean loved the hell out of you for it.

The older Winchester watched you with a concerned expression, your eyes   still having yet to meet his. The glassy look in your pupils was the first thing he noticed though, even as you tried to avert your eyes.

You had been quiet because you were finding it hard to find the right words. The words that would help the person you loved so dearly understand. “You know-” You began, swallowing thickly. “I was supposed to leave her four weeks ago. Four. I was supposed to pack myself into my car and head off on a vetala hunt in Montana. I had my bags packed up and everything.” Taking a deep breath, you looked down at your hands, taking in the callouses and scars a lifetime of hunting had left behind. “And there I was- standing on the front steps, keys in my hand and bags at my feet. . .and I couldn't get myself to go. I knew I should, there was a job that needed to be done.” You shrugged. “But I couldn't do it Dean. I called a hunter friend, informed them of the case and went back inside. I guessed I had hoped the feeling would pass, that I just needed another day. But it didn't.”

Dean wasn’t  sure which part broke his heart more, your next words and how your shoulders sagged as you said them or how your voice wavered and the tears finally raced down your face. Maybe it was both- either way it felt like a hot poker had been twisted  into his gut.

“I'm crazy tired, Dean. . .and I think I have been for a long time.” Your voice cracked, eyes looking up from your hands and back to the front yard. “I think I’ve been running so hard and so fast for so long that I- that I didn’t realize how tired I was until I was burning on fumes. As much as I love hunting, I think I need to stop.” Your voice cracking once more before falling silent.

oh, Y/N.

“but if you guys need help with this men of letters stuff, I am one hundred percent there-” You quickly added, finally turning to look at him.

“woah, woah, woah hey pump the breaks-” he quickly shook his head as he rose from his spot next to you, only to move and squat down in front of you, his hands on your  knees. “Don’t. Sam and I have got that all under control.”  Sliding his hand into your own, he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“But its not fair.”

Deans eyebrows drew together in confusion as he looked up at you. “Whats not fair?”

You inhaled another shaky breath, trying to find some sort of serenity in those jade irises. “I-”

“Take your time. I’m right here.”

For  a moment you remained stagnant, gripping Deans hand tightly as if it   were a life line. “That I decided to stop while you and Sam are still out there.” You paused when you saw the still clear confusion on his face. “ Dean, I know you're tired too. You even admitted it last night when I brought it up. Its not right that I should get the option to stop when you're in a similar boat. Its not fair.”

Dean couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth. It was almost like you had stunned him into silence. “Are you saying you feel guilty for putting down your gun?”

“Yes!”

“Don’t be. Don’t.” He repeated, shaking his head again. “Sure I get worn out every once and awhile, sometimes worse than others- but I'm okay.” He gave you one of his soft reassuring smiles before placing a kiss in the center of you palm. “Sam and I can handle the monsters.”

“But-”

“No buts okay?” Slowly rising back to his feet, he extends a hand before pulling you up with him. Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulder before you could stop him, the hunter pulling you in close. Despite the still heavy feeling in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of being pressed against him. You sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. “you deserve everything good in this life, Y/N.”

“So do you.” You mumbled, yawning half way through the words.

You're not sure, but you think you can feel Dean smiling against your hairline. Luckily you're correct, your words managing to make something in Dean crack wide open. He lets himself drown for another moment in the complete bliss that is having you in his arm before he prepares himself to pull away, the constant voice in his head reminding him : Arms length away.

Either time had frozen since he pulled you into that hug or you were much more tired than he initially realized, because as he shifted he could feel you sink further into his arms, cheek resting against his chest.

“You falling asleep on me?”

The only response from you was a sleepy mumble, earning a soft chuckle from the older Winchester as he bent slightly to hook an arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up into his arms.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed, Sweetheart.” He mumbled softly against your forehead, placing one last soft kiss there before resting his cheek on your hairline. Using his foot to wedge open the screen door, he slipped inside before softly shutting it behind him. Sam was already passed out on the couch when he passed by, the hunter eventually making it across the living room and into your bedroom before laying you down on the bed.

Dean gifts himself one last look at you before turning to head out the door. He can sleep on the other couch, you deserve to have your bed to yourself even if you rarely sleep in it, plus once again the little voice tells him to not get any closer. Its already hard enough to pull away as it is whenever hes around you.

“Don’t even think about going to sleep on that couch.” You suddenly mumble, face pressed into your pillow, hair already across your face. “Its half the size of you.”

“I thought you were asleep?”

“Nah. I just wanted you to carry me in here.”

That earns a slight chuckle from him, along with a shake of his head. “You sure you want me as a bunk mate? I’ve been told I’m a cuddler.”

“Who the fuck told you that?” You mumbled, slightly confused as to who Dean had been cuddling. You pressed your face further into the pillow.

“.  . . my pillow.” Dean huffed as he toed off his boots and against all his better judgment he allows himself to fall into bed besides you. “But it hasn't complained.”

“Mmm, I wonder why.”

You could feel Deans soft chuckle rumble in his chest as he wrapped his   arms around you and pulled you closer, allowing you to snuggle into his embrace. You should have pulled way, kept some sort of distance between you . . .but you didn't. After a moment you could feel his fingers brushing through your  hair, his attempt no doubt at trying to lull you back to sleep.

“I’m  sorry this life has worn so much out of you, Y/N. I really hope you find some peace here.” He spoke softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“You could too, you know. Find peace here. . . With me.” You tried, twisting your fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt. It was another moment in which you shouldn't have said anything but you couldn't help it. Staying here with Dean? Now that would be heaven on earth.

“Oh could you imagine that? Me, not doing anything related to hunting? I might go insane.”

“Maybe you could do what Bobby did, give other hunters advice ya know?”

“Yeah,  maybe.” You couldn’t see it, but Dean had a faint smile on his lips as  he rested his cheek against your head. He had to admit, that did sound  nice. A calm life. . . And with you? That was a picture of paradise if he ever imagined one.

“I mean, you already got the grumpy old man part down.” You joked, smiling when you heard Dean suck in air through his teeth.

“Oh, not gonna lie. That one stung a bit.” He grinned.

“I’m just kidding, you know that right?”

“Yeah, yeah I do. Now go to sleep.”

carding your fingers through his short hair, you give him one last sleepy smile through the dark. “Good night Mo Ghraidh.”

Dean hums under your touch, unable to stop himself from smiling when you speak. For all he knows you could be calling him some rude name as a long running joke with yourself, (Because lets be real, that is something you would totally do just to drive him mad.) But then again he wouldn't care if you were because the way the words roll off your tongue brings a sense of calm. Its something reserved just for him, whatever it means.

And he loves it.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​ @callmekda​​ @jordangdelacruz​ @orphiceseum​​ @andthatsmyworld​ @marvelfangirllll​ @fandomnerdespressourself​ @gladiosamicitias​ @castielsangelsx​ @lxstgxrl-ck​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl  @totallyluciferr​ @supernaturalenchanted​ @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​ @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​ @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo​ @xoxoaudreymarie​ @greenarrowhead​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​ @brebolin​ @biahblue​ @noahandthegiraffe​ @hhiggs​​ @mila-dans​​ @mrsmaybankhere​ @malindacath​ 

[theothermercedesdriver-main]

Waves

A short story by Me

“You want to join us?” She asks before she knows me.

I shake my head, telling her I’m happier staying inside with Caroline. I say that because it’s the truth. I don’t know that it’s my truth, but it’s a truth. Not that she’ll notice the difference. The excuse washes over her like sand. She shrugs, blows a kiss that is caught by the glass between us, and scampers away, hoisting her surfboard higher under her arm.

I turn away from the window, to where Caroline is crouched on the floor, her green dress splayed in a halo, the blizzard of paper around her coating the grey carpet like a snowfall. She clutches a shriveled blue crayon in one hand, dwindled to below the length of her pinkie. The crayon moves across the paper in front of her in careful strokes; Caroline thinks as she draws.

Tucking my knees to my chest, I sit down beside her and ask what she’s drawing. It’s a foolish question, and I almost expect her to face me with the expression shared by many adults when foolish questions are asked. But Carolina doesn’t look up from her work. “Waves,” she answers, and they are- soft, cascading waves, folding in on each other, one after another. Tame stallions bounding through the water, side by side, before dissolving back into the mist. I enjoy looking at her waves. They do not send spikes of nausea down my spine.

She returns after a couple of hours, sun-browned and shivering with adrenaline. Her ankles are brushed with sand, her hair looks the same, and her feet leave behind ponds of salt water with each tread as she walks through the house. When Carolina sees her emerging from the hallway, she beams, and rushes forward into her mother’s arms. Their smiles are identical. Caroline pays no mind to the dripping wetsuit or rough brush of sand against her skin.

I mop up the trail of water with a towel while she takes a shower, and soon after we sit down to dinner. The evening is brief, dimming as the sun outside burns the rippling water with golden light before plummeting beyond the horizon. Carolina is sent to bed as soon as the sky fades to a dull, deep blue, and her mother follows, confessing that she is exhausted from the day’s activities. She bids me goodnight, but I’m too restless to sleep, so I stay in the living room, curled up on the couch, salty sea air filtering in through the open window. It fills my lungs as if I were inhaling the water itself, and for a brief moment, I don’t mind.

Outside, the moon is the eye of a great beast, holding my gaze, great and pale and luminescent. It casts a silver glow over the ocean, who’s waves have subsided, though the ripples remain. Something catches my eye, so I walk to the window, peering out into the night as much as my diurnal eyes will allow.

The water shifts. It bobs and sways, moving around without any particular rhyme or order. The sound of splashing, distant but unmistakable, pierces the air. Somewhere in my head, an alarm goes off, and it sounds like the pleading shrieks of a child. A child thrashing underneath the pressing weight of a current. A child being pulled down by the cold grip of saltwater. A child about to die.

Carolina.

My heart stops. Then it revives, and it’s a hammer, because there’s blood pounding in my head, stronger and more insistent than any tangible sound in the darkness. I reach the front door, and I can see her now, moving underneath the water. It reminds me of a snake shifting underneath sand in a desert. Tiny, and unseen. But there.

Then I’m running, and I’m not running fast enough.

I force myself to go faster.

Sand coats my feet as I hit the shore.

And faster.

Her screams grow in volume, and I want to respond, to tell her I’m near, but I can’t seem to form words.

And faster until I’m breaking the surface of clear water sliding up the shore. My toes curl around clumps of sand in the cold but I don’t stop moving.

My knees sink underwater, then my waist, then my shoulders. I can feel the panic attempting to claw me back to the shore as my ears threaten to go under, and I shove it down. She’s in sight, but her screams have stopped, which turns my blood colder than the water in which I am submerged.

I don’t know how to swim, but my body is stronger than hers, and I trust it to support us both as I cross the final couple of feet to reach her side. Her hands still brush the surface, though the rest of her limp body is slowly descending to the depths of the ocean. I grab what I can reach of her arms and pull her close to me, forcing her head back above the water. She isn’t moving anymore, nor breathing, but her body is warm, and this information is what carries me back to shore, her tiny frame slung over my shoulder. 

“I’m here,” I tell her, over and over. “I’m here for you.”

[pangtasias-atelier]

An Inexperienced Ghost Agent (unedited story from 2014)

Just to preface this, this is a fic I wrote way back ago when I was still a sophomore in highschool. This was probably like one of my first ever attempts at any type of story. So it's bad. Like, really bad. And it honestly does make me cringe, but it also makes me happy to see my level of writing be way above this. (Not that my current level is far from average lmao) Nothing explicit or bad in this. The worst is the awful like se/me u/ke relationships in typical BL fashion. The last portion is where it gets kinda bad too. Though it's more cringey than anything lmao. But again, happy to see myself move past those stereotypes that had been ingrained in my mind as a young gay still unsure of anything. I remember telling myself that I couldn't be gay cause I'm Mexican lol. Which is admittedly really sad, but like, that's growth there! Anyways, enough about my stupidity, this fic is from 2014 and about the now defunct gacha, Ayakashi Ghost Guild. This work is entirely unedited, so it doesn't even have an ending. I wanted to preserve its age by not altering it in any way. So yeah. I doubt this'll be enjoyable to anyone, but I hope at least someone gets some good laughs over how mediocre this is!

Edit: actually, there are some edits, but it's just me combining paragraphs and cutting off dialogue marked by a lack of a response aka "..." Cause this story actually exceeded the 250 paragraphs limit on Tumblr sbdksnksnslalansma

_______________

"Nnngh. That felt really good. How long was I asleep?"

"For a pretty long time. Trust me I was beside you the entire time." I turn to my right and see that Santa Claus is right beside me.

"Why are you on my bed?"

"Because you're so comfortable." Santa Claus said it so matter of factly.

"Please get off."

"No. I wanna lay down with you, so get used to it." Barely a second goes by and I hear an arrow wiz by.

"Leave Alex alone Santa Claus."

"You're just jealous that I can cuddle with him. Besides, you missed me."

"I never miss my mark. It was intentional."

"Just because you transmigrated doesn't mean that."

"Do you want to find out." Kyu raised his bow and pulled it back; ready to shoot it.

"Stop it you two! Let go of me Santa Claus, and put your coat back on; the Anniversary Event is already over." He's so pressed up to me that I can feel his chest on my back.

"I know it's over. That's why I took it off. I can also take off the rest of my clothes if you want me to." I can't stop the blush on my face. Kyu sees it and he scowls.

"One more remark like that and this arrow is going straight for your neck." Would Kyu really do it? I didn't want to find out.

"Stop it Kyu. And let go of me."

"Sheesh Alex no need to be rough. Of course I'm going to be rough to you later tonight." That last remarks makes me blush even more and before I can make a retort Mira steps in.

"I think it's time for me to step in before Kyu and Claus kill each other." Thank God Mira stepped in! I wouldn't doubt them killing each other either. Wait, she has chocolate on her cheek.

"Were you raiding the fridge for some pudding Mira?"

"Yes master. That's why I barely came." She puts her head down in slight embarrassment and shame. If she's eating some pudding then that means it's night.

"What time is it Mira?" Thankfully Kyu and Claus have finally shut up.

"It's 1:37 a.m."

"Screw it. I'm watching some anime with you Mira." Before Santa Claus can tighten his grip on me I quickly get off the bed and go into the living room.

"I'm going back to my room." Thankfully Kyu left which just leaves Santa Claus on my bed *sigh*.

"Thank god I have such a big house. They'd probably kill each other already if they lived any closer." Mira just laughs at me. When we finally arrive at the living room, Ranmaru is sitting there entranced by the TV. "Why is Ranmaru with you this late?"

"I'm not a kid anymore! Plus I wanted to see if you people correctly got how all of us looked in the Sengoku period. How do they know how we look? Technology sure has gotten far." It takes me awhile to understand everything he said. He's half right about not being a kid at least. When he transmigrated he grew up but he still acts like a kid.

"Wait, they're actually right on how all of you look!"

"Yeah look at me and the cartoon of me on the TV!" Oh my god they actually are.

"Is their depiction of Nobunaga right?"

"Especially him!" I take note of how he looks in case we ever run into him. Mira just sits on the couch laughing at Ranmaru's reaction.

I go into the kitchen feeling a bit peckish. "Do either of you want pudding." I know Mira wants one, so I grab her one on reflex.

"Yes please." They both reply unsurprisingly. Ranmaru being childish obviously would have a sweet tooth.

"Here you go you two." They simultaneously replied with a thank you and I sat down on the floor. A while passes and the show is finally over. Ranmaru and Mira are absolutely hooked on it but I'm just tired to the point I'm tempted to sleep on the floor. The front doorknob starts to shake and I quickly get up out of fear. Then I hear that a key is being inserted into it and then curiosity takes over. Who the hell is out this late. The door opens and I see that it's rat clan boss in his anniversary getup. I quickly go up to him all worried.

"What is it Alex?"

"Your jacket is covered in blood! What were you doing out so late?" I yell even though I didn't mean to. I hope I didn't wake anyone up.

"It's not my blood. Don't worry."

"That makes me all the more worried. What did you do?" While I'm no longer yelling I'm still somewhat raising my voice to him.

"Calm down don't get your panties in a knot. Come with me."

"Wait, what are you doing? Let me go!" He walks up to me and hoists me up to his shoulder and he carries me like a sack of flour. Since when did I start to get pushed around. I'm the ghost hunter here. I fought mostly everyone here and I beat everybody that I fought.

"Calm down. We're going to my room. You can sleep with me for tonight." Before Rat Clan Boss can react Ranmaru suddenly appears before us.

"Oh no he's not. Let him go Nezumi "

"Nezumi? The hell did you get that from; that's not my real name. "

"It means rat in Japanese you idiot. Now let go of Alex." Oh dear God. Ranmaru just drew his sword. This isn't good. Then they'll both fight. I need to stop to them.

"Stop it both of you! And Nezumi I'll come with you if you promise that you'll let me go with you whenever you leave so late.

"Fine I don't see a problem with that but you be careful when you come with me. Now let's go." He starts to walk towards his room. I turn around, embarrassed to see Ranmaru's and Mira's reaction.

"Don't worry. I'll take good care of him."

"Shut up already." Ranmaru is still confused about the situation but I hear Mira calling him over and then I hear whispering. What are they saying? I turn around towards them and they both give me a wink. I blush and turn back around regretting looking at them. Once we're out of sight Nezumi takes me off his shoulder and carries me bridal style.

"How cliche."

"Anything to woo you." He smirks at me. When we finally reach his room, he gently puts me on his bed.

"Get me the blanket, please."

"I thought we were going to have some fun before we go to sleep." Not this again.

"No. Now hand me the blanket."

"Fine. I was only teasing you." He drapes the blanket over me while he changes. I quickly turn around to face away from him.

"Don't care. Just go to sleep. *sigh* I'm tired. And if you sleep in the buff I'm leaving." The warmth from the blanket is making me even more tired.

"Calm down already. I don't. I need to be prepared if someone attacks me."

"What do you mean if someone attacks you?"

"It's out of habit. No need to worry. I feel more comfortable carrying it when I go to sleep."

I wonder what he means by 'it' until it finally clicks with me. "You better not carry a knife with you while you sleep."

"And what if I do." I slowly turn around to yell at him, but I stop when I see him wearing nothing except plain boxers. I quickly turn around out of embarrassment. It takes me a while for me to calm down, but when I do I'm absolutely annoyed.

"I don't want you stabbing me when I wake up!"

"I won't carry a knife then. Hold on a bit." He gets something from one of his shelves and grabs a bottle filled with liquid.

"Are you going to drug me!?"

"It's to clean my piercings so they don't get infected. Calm down already. And quit yelling."

"*yawn* Fine." I'm too tired for anything else so I start to get comfortable.

"Since you won't let me carry a knife while I sleep, how 'bout I hold you for tonight." He laid down on his bed with me and wrapped his arms around my chest. I can feel his bare chest against the light fabric of my shirt. His biceps are pressing into my arms.

"Let go of me! Stop it." I'm so tired that it sounds halfhearted.

"You know you sound cute when you're tired."

"Whatever. I'm going to kill you when I wake up."

"Goodnight." He tightens his grip on me even further. Maybe I should talk to Eisuke how to deal with this tomorrow. I'll look for him at the institute.

"Goodnight." Finding no way to get out I snuggle up to him.

"Someone's getting comfortable."

"Shut up. Now let me go to sleep."

"I wish we didn't have to go to sleep." I shiver from how softly he says it right into my ear. "This is a lot better than carrying a knife. Looks like I'll have to take you from your bed from now on."

"Don't. Now let me sleep I'm tired." I don't care at how whiny I sound; I want to go to sleep.

When I wake up in the morning I see Kyu and Pearce staring at me in Nezumi's arms.

"What?" Maybe I should ask Pearce how to contact Eisuke.

"Get up."

"Do you honestly think that if I could get up that I wouldn't." Does Pearce honestly think I'm that strong.

"Move his arms Kyu."

"Fine."

"Don't. He's a light sleeper. I'll wake him up myself. Just leave the room real quick. I'll be out in a bit."

"Let's go Kyu." Pearce forcefully drags Kyu along with him. At least he listens to me still.

"Thank you. Now get up you!" I start to flail my entire body to wake him up not caring about being nice. I did promise to kill him.

"Give me a kiss first."

"When I'm in hell. And what about Koko?"

"We're not going out. She's just popular with the henchmen. Now about that kiss."

"Never."

"Then I guess you're not leaving this bed." I hear movement behind the door and the sounds of struggling. Most likely Pearce stopping Kyu from barging into here.

"Fine." I give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Now let me go."

"I mean a kiss on the mouth. Now give it to me."

"You just said a kiss. You never said on the mouth!"

"Doesn't matter."

"I can't if you don't loosen your grip!" He completely lets go and before I can risk quickly running away he speaks.

"If you even try to leave before you give me a kiss you're going to be in my arms all day."

I get up to give him a kiss and when my face is right in front of his he puts his hand on the back of my head and he brings my head down to his and he forcefully kisses me. I close my lips so he can't put his tongue inside my mouth but he doesn't get the tip so he bites my lips with his teeth and I open my mouth out of reflex and that's enough time for him to slide his tongue into my mouth. Once he's done I can barely breath from the lack of oxygen and the heat rising to my face. Yet he doesn't stop there, he brings his lips down to my neck and he bites down. HARD. His sharp teeth pierce my skin. I whimper from the pain and I realize Pearce and Kyu are outside the door.

"Pearce help!" He quickly barges through the door and he notices what Nezumi is doing to me. He rushes to the bed and he forces Nezumi off of me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" The way Nezumi says it is pretty scary. He quickly stands up to punch Pearce but I put both of my hands on his arm to stop him before his fist and Pearce's face make contact.

He turns back at me surprised and when he sees that I have tears in my eyes and I'm slightly bleeding where he bit me on my neck. He embraces me in a hug. I don't even want to give him a hug so he knows that I don't forgive him.

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Just let me go please."

"Again I'm sorry." Thankfully Ne- no rat clan boss let me go. As I leave the room with Pearce I turn around to see that he's sitting on the bed silently crying. I quickly run to his side and give him a hug.

"I forgive you. Just don't do it again please."

"Okay I'm sorry." He grabs a handkerchief and starts to clean my tears and then proceeds to clean my blood. "Sorry if it hurts." He hugs me one more time and tells me to do whatever I was going to do.

"Goodbye Nezumi. See ya later. Let's go Pearce. " I wait until we're both out of Nezumi's range of hearing before I talk to Pearce. "Where did Kyu go?"

"He went to go get his bow and arrow." Right after he says that Kyu comes to us running.

"Darn you and your large house master. I got lost again." He sees my neck. "What's wrong with your neck."

"Kyu. Leave our master alone. Let's go Alex." Pearce drags me by my hand and exit out the front door.

"Tell everyone I'll be gone for awhile. Okay Kyu." I close the door and I turn to Pearce. "Thank you. Do you know how to contact Eisuke."

"We need to go to the institute. He's always there at this time of day."

"Let's go then." We quietly walk together to the institute and when we enter I walk up to the receptionist desk. "Excuse me Mrs. I'd like to speak with Eisuke. Is he currently here ?"

"My such manners, and cute as well. No wonder you went with him Pearce. Yes he is here. He is currently in his room. Pearce should know where it is."

"Thank you mam. Have a nice day." How embarrassing! I turn to Pearce and see that he's smirking at me. I turn my head around not noticing the way he frowns when I do. He stands in front of me and he leads the way. When we finally reach Eisuke's room he motions for me to knock. I do so and I hear Eisuke loudly speak.

"Coming." When Eisuke sees that it's me he's surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"We want you to know that we're going out." What the hell is wrong with Pearce!

"Wait what!" Eisuke looks at me wide-eyed.

"Ignore him. I need some advice from you."

"I'll be out in a sec. Come on in." He opens the door further and both Pearce and I enter his small apartment. I sit on the couch and I glare at Pearce. He smirks at me again and he wraps his arm around my waist.

"What are you doing!? Let go of me Pearce."

"You didn't seem to mind when Rat Clan Boss did this to you." The fact that he knows embarrasses me. Oh god Kyu was there too!

"That was different. Nezumi and Ranmaru were going to fight. I had to stop it somehow." I turn away, embarrassed. "Just not a way I preferred."

"Liar."

"Shut up." I face forward again, ignoring the fact that Pearce still has his arm around my waist. Damn his height.

Eisuke, appararently, starts to choke on air at what Pearce said. It takes awhile for him to calm down. Aaaaand he's even more annoyed. Perfect.

"And how am I supposed to help you."

"Do you know a way to control them."

"If this has to do with sex I'm done."

"No it isn't! I just need to keep them under control! How do you keep your Daemons under control."

"I'm not an idiot like you. I honestly don't know what to do. It's your fault." Eisuke has a small grin and he's trying to wipe it off his face.

"Quit smiling or I'll-" I get interrupted by a knock on the door. Eisuke gets up to get it. Pearce and I turn around to see who it is.

"Is Alex here?" All three of us are shocked at who it is. Pearce slightly loosens his grip on my waist; seeing my chance I quickly get up and run behind Barbatos, clinging on to him for dear life.

"No wonder they get aroused." Eisuke turned around after saying that.

"I never said they do!"

"I could make the connection. Especially with the way you're groping him."

"I'm not groping him!"

"I don't mind him groping me. But only because it's Alex."

"Shut up!" I quickly unwrap my hands from Barbatos. "Why are you here." I quickly try to divert the conversation from what just happened. He's amused by the conversation.

"Gargoyle is frantically looking for you. He should be on top of the building by now."

"I'll go right now. Eisuke, how do I reach the rooftop?"

"The daemon can show you himself."

"I don't think- "

"I know how to reach it. That's how I got in."

"Let's go then. Come on Pearce." Pearce silently gets up of the couch and stands beside me. Before he can wrap his arm around my waist, Barbatos wraps his arm around me. Knowing it'll annoy Eisuke further I save it for later. "Bye Eisuke. Thank you."

"I hope you know that this is all your fault."

"I know. Thanks." He closes the door, but not before giving a small chuckle. Once the door is fully closed I yell at Barbatos. "Stop it!"

"I'm just enjoying myself. Being with you that is."

"This is all just a game to you isn't it."

"Maybe." He smirks at me. Once we arrive at the rooftop, Barbatos lets go of me. Less than ten seconds pass by when Gargoyle tackles me to the ground.

"Get off of me Gargoyle." While he can barely talk, he's been getting better at speaking in something other than growls.

"Sorry."

"That's good! You're getting better now. You said it without stuttering!" I raise my hand to pat his head, but he grabs it before I can. In an instant he grabs me in his arms and he jumps off the roof. "Were going to die! What's wrong with you!" I scream all the way until he starts to flap his wings at the very last second. He slowly lands on the ground.

"Y-you okay?" What did my screaming suggest! That I was having the life of my time?! "

"No! That was scary! I'm traumatized because of you!"

"Tra-tra-mu-ti-tized?" While he was able to say it, almost, correctly. I'm too scared, annoyed, and angry to congratulate him.

"Let's just go home." I don't even want to touch the ground. I stay in his arms clinging on to him. As he slowly walks back to my house, I can feel that people are staring at us. Thankfully nobody can notice Gargoyle's wings or horns because they haven't been attacked by a daemon. As he's walking, we get knocked to the ground.

"Watch were you're going you- Oh hey Alex." Great. It's Dora. Just who I wanted to see.

I slowly start to catch my surroundings. Once I do, I see that I'm right on top of Gargoyle. When we make eye contact he gives me a wide grin and brings me down to him. People are starting to gather around now. "Let go of me." He slowly does so. Damn my head hurts from all this. I quickly get up and when I can properly do so he puts his arm around my waist. Why does everyone have to do this?! While the crowd is dispersing, some of them give us disapproving glares. Dora on the other hand.....

"What a couple of idiots." Dora on the other hand laughs at us. Seeing a chance to ask for her help I quickly ask her before she runs off to wherever she was going.

"Hey Dora? Do you know-" I get interrupted by Gargoyle poking my thigh. I instinctively ball my hand and punch him in the shoulder. He ignores it and points behind me. To where Dora is currently running to. So much for that. "Let's go get ice cream. It's almost time to eat but whatever." Gargoyle reluctantly nods his head. He walks behind me this time. Once we reach the place, I order the both of us vanilla ice cream. We sit on the chairs provided outside the place and eat it quietly and peacefully, that is until Barbatos and Pearce find us.

"Enjoying some quality time with Gargoyle are you."

"Quit being such an idiot Barbatos."

"Can I have some ice cream."

"No. But Pearce can." I give him enough money to buy some ice cream.

"Then I'll just have to get some of yours."

"No way. You-" I get interrupted when Barbatos stupidly decides to shove my ice cream on my mouth. "What's your problem!" I reach to grab my napkin, but Barbatos grabs my wrist and kisses me. His grip is too strong to the point I can't even resist him. I start to have trouble breathing until Gargoyle yanks him off of me.

"Get soft him!" As much as I want to laugh at Gargoyle, I'm absolutely livid to the point where I just leave all three of them. I ignore their stares and everyone else who saw what happened.

Once I get back, I'm just relieved that I'm away from Barbatos. I decide to not eat dinner today. I'm way too tired. I enter my room unnoticed and change into my pajamas. I lie down on my bed trying to go to sleep early, until I notice Santa Claus is on my bed.

"So you've come to sleep with me huh. Normally I'd have to put you on the naughty list but I can make an exception for you."

"This is my bed. Go to your room. I'm tired and I want to go to sleep alone." I manage to get off the bed before he can get a hold on me.

"But don't you think that sleeping together is a whole lot better." He pats the part of the bed that I was just on in an attempt to make me go in. As tempted as I am to sleep in my bed I start to walk away.

"I'm going to the living room. Bye." I don't have the energy to deal with anything right now. Much less one of my daemons. I go to the living room and lie down on the couch. I try going to sleep but it's hard when it's cold and with no blanket.

"Good evening Alex. How are you today." Kill me now! Can't I be allowed to go to sleep!?

"Hey Ikutachi. I'm sorry but can we talk tomorrow; I'm really tired."

"Oh, I'm sorry. But why are you sleeping in the couch?" His concern is very nice but I'm tired. I know it's not his fault, so I try to calm myself.

"Santa Claus is in my room and because I don't want to deal with him right now I'm sleeping here for tonight."

"You can sleep in my bed tonight. I'll sleep on the floor."

"It's fine Ikutachi. I'll sleep here. Now can you please let me go to sleep. I'm sorry, but I'm really tired." Ikutachi looks sad, but he decides to leave. I feel terrible for saying that, but if he didn't leave in a bit I'd have probably snapped at him for no reason. Thankfully, without any other interruptions I fall asleep within minutes.

I start to wake up later when it gets hot. I feel a blanket over me. A lot of blankets. I'm starting to sweat. I sit up and see that the T.V. is on.

"Who turned on the T.V.?" Ugh I'm still tired from everything.

"It was Ranmaru."

"No it wasn't! It was Yukimura!"

"Stop yelling you idiot." God help me now. I can't deal with the two of them.

"Can you turn it off please?"

"Okay. Let's go." At least Ranmaru is understanding.

"Why should we?"

"Because Alex is trying to go to sleep and we should be polite."

"He should go to his room."

"Why aren't you sleeping in your bed master." It seems that what Yukimura said piqued Ranmaru's interest.

"Santa Claus is in my bed. That's why I'm out here." Ugh, I'm so sweaty. "I'm going to go take a shower." I take off all my blankets, and go into my room quietly. I quickly grab a change of clothes and a towel; I get out of my room and go to one of the bathrooms. I take a fast shower and I dry myself. I don't have enough time to put on all of my clothes, before the door is knocked down. Even though I have boxers on, I cover myself with my towel just in case. Hercules comes in, shirtless as usual, passes me, and throws up in the toilet. I run to the kitchen and run back bringing a bottle of water for Hercules.

"Thanks, but I'm not drunk. I ate some disgusting meat." He opens the bottle and drinks all of it within seconds. "Thanks again."

"Why were you eating so late?"

"I was hungry so I thought about eating something with protein. I walked into the kitchen and found some meat on a plate. Then this happened."

"You shouldn't eat meat that's just lying around. It could have bacteria or something."

"Now that I threw up, the bacteria should be gone. I took a bite of it a minute ago."

"Well you can't be to sure."

"Thanks again." His gaze suddenly goes down when he notices I'm almost naked. "Why are you only in boxers?"

"I just got out of the shower!" I grab my towel from the floor and cover myself. Despite how ridiculous I look, as long as he isn't staring it's better. His demeanor then takes a full 180.

"You know you shouldn't let anybody else see you like that." He cups my chin with his hand. When I try to back up, he uses his other hand to hold me. He doesn't even budge when I resist further. His grip is too tight to the point that it's suffocating. "Any sane person wouldn't be able to control themselves with you." His thumb catches on my lips for a second, before he tugs off my towel. "I know I can't." He presses our faces and he deeply kisses me. I pound my fists against his chest, push him away, and even try to escape. Whether he's purposefully ignoring me or I'm just that weak I don't know. "Come with me." He whispers into my ear and it makes me shiver from fear as to what will happen. He takes me to his room and he puts me on his bed.

"Wha-what are you doing?" I try to sound brave but instead it came out pathetically.

"You'll see." He lies down on top of me putting a lot of pressure. "What happened here." He points to where Nezumi bit me. His voice is really serious and he glares at me.

"Someone bit me." My voice barely comes out to the point even I strain to hear it.

"What happened. Tell me now." He's even more angry at me. His glare intensifies.

"Someone bit me." I'm absolutely terrified as to what's going to happen now.

"Who was it."

"···" The longer I remain silent his glare intensifies even further. He wraps his hands around my wrists.

"You belong to me now." He starts to nibble at my neck.

"Ah! Stop it." I uselessly try to move my neck around but it doesn't work.

"···" His nibbling soon turns into biting. At first it's a bit ticklish but then pain starts to spread around my neck when his biting becomes stronger.

"Stop. Please." I desperately struggle against him once more, but it's as futile as the other times.

"···" His biting starts to hurt even more now. Even when it was Nezumi it didn't hurt this bad. And it hurts even more because he's biting me multiple times. He finally removes his mouth from his neck, and he raises his head to face mine. He gives me a wide smirk. He removes his hand from my wrist and he harshly caresses my hickey. He brings his face down to my neck again and he bites at my hickey.

"Stop! That hurts." With my left arm finally free, I punch him in the face.

"What do you think you're doing!?" His voice is so harsh compared to how it was when we were first talking.

"That hurts! Please stop."

"I would. But I don't want to."

"I said stop it."

"No." He grabs my hands to make sure I won't stop him and he continues to bite my neck. Awhile passes before he stops, but at that point the pain is insufferable. I'm crying heavily from how sore my neck is. He once again cups my chin in his hand. "Don't cry. I just want people to know that you belong to me. They shouldn't take what isn't there's. Now let's go to sleep. Even I won't force you to do that until you're ready." It seems that he still has some sanity left but he still terrifies me.

"O-okay."

"Don't be scared." He wipes my tears away, and he tries to sooth me. It doesn't work and instead makes me more afraid of him at how his attitude changes quickly. "Remember when I saved you at Yggdrasil?"

"Yes"

"You were unconscious when I first met you. You're daemons were carrying you and I thought they were kidnapping you. I fought them and won. When they were tired I took you from them. "

"I know. When I woke up I was scared of you. But you treated me kindly and I trusted you. You didn't act like this back then."

"Don't be scared. I love you. Now let's go to sleep." I don't understand how he thinks love would include forcing yourself on that person, but I don't voice it knowing he'd get angry.

"Okay." He gets off of me; then he pulls me closer to him. "Can I change first please."

"You look so much better like this though. I know what will make you feel better." He gets up from the bed and I hear some rustling. Knowing that's he's undressing and not wanting to wait to see what would happen I immediately get up from the bed and make a beeline for the door. With my hand on the knob, Hercules grabs me from behind and covers my mouth as well. It somehow manages to be even more suffocating than before. He holds me tightly against him as he takes me back to his bed.

When we're finally on the bed he starts to cry. "Don't ever leave me again. I don't know what I would do if you left me." He's holding me extremely tight. I can't even move at all. Neither can I sleep from how afraid of him I am; at how quickly he changes emotions. My neck is in a ton of pain and I can't even do anything to ease it. Finally realizing the futility of it all, I start to cry. "What'd I say about crying? Cheer up. You shouldn't be sad now that we have each other. If you don't stop then I'll cry."

"What's wrong?" Does he honestly not know. "Please tell me. I can't just let you cry."

"···" It's creepy how fast he can go from crazy to loving. I need to get away from him as fast and as far as I can.

"If you don't want to talk about it now we can talk about it later." He brings me right next to him. I can feel him entirely, now that's he's only in boxers. "I just want you to know that I'll love you forever and I'll never leave your side. We'll always be with each other. Goodnight."

"I'm sorry." That's the last thing I hear before losing consciousness.

When I wake up, I notice that I'm back at Yggdrasil. I slowly stand up and notice that I'm near the top of Yggdrasil. I start to check my surroundings and seeing as how no one is here to stop me, I start to achingly run down Yggdrasil. When I go down a floor I see Hercules coming my way. I look around hoping to find a spot to hide, but I find nothing. Before I can go back where I was, Hercules spots me. He drops all of his stuff and he comes running up to me.

"What are you doing down here? Were you trying to escape? Do you not want to be with me?""Answer me!" He embraces me in a ridiculously tight hug and he looks about ready to break down.

"I was looking for you." I force myself to cry to make it more convincing. "I couldn't find you so I thought something had happened." Whether it was because i was convincing or because he's unstable, Hercules believes me.

"Don't worry. I'll never leave you alone." We go to where Hercules dropped everything and I help him carry the stuff. When we arrive to where I was earlier Hercules starts to set up camp.

"Why are we here?" Right now I need to not sound afraid of him.

"This is where my country is. You're going to live with me now. You're going to be my king."

"Wait what!" Just how insane is he? His face changes from happiness to confusion yet I can see a small trace of malice so I quickly change attitudes. "Won't people get upset at that though? The fact that first of all I'm not a bug and second of all I'm a guy?"

"If anyone tries to stop me, then I'll cut them down." He quickly embraces me in another hug. "I won't let anyone separate us. But right now hold on a minute. I still have to get the rest of your stuff. Stay here. Okay." His last sentence is said with such severity that if I disobey it then serious repercussions would happen.

"Okay."  Hercules starts running back down. Taking his warning seriously I patiently wait for him. A few minutes have passed when I hear some rustling from some bushes. I stay quiet, waiting to see what is causing it. The rustling dies down only for Yggdra Leaf to pop out. 

"Yggdra Leaf!" I'm so happy to see someone that isn't Hercules.

"Alex? What are you doing here?"

"Hercules-" I stop when I hear footsteps once more. "He's coming! You have to hide!" Yggdra Leaf looks at me confused. "Just hide! Quickly!" Yggdra Leaf gives me one final look as she goes back into the bushes.

"Who were you talking to?" Despite Hercules saying it kindly, I know the hidden malice behind his question.

"No one. Why?" I put on an innocent face.

"Okay. Let's go." Hercules grabs everything and he starts to head for the bushes.

Why are we going there?"

"This is where my kingdom is." He kicks away the bushes and nothing is there! He presses a button and suddenly an elevator appears! "Come on." I slowly walk behind him when I hear some more rustling from some other bushes. Dread starts to slowly well up in me "Who's there!" Hercules drops everything and puts himself in front of me. He quickly unsheathes his sword and points it towards where the noise came from

"The person who will end your insignificant life. You cockroach. "

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Part VIII - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers

THEN - Day 1

The sun was setting behind the trees in Margot Jones’ fancy neighborhood. This was America. After all the time I’d spent wondering about it as a kid, after the first radio tour we did when we really only saw cities and highways--this was the whole romanticized idea of the States.

Big houses on tree lined streets--green leaves and flowers and driveways and people walking dogs and riding bikes. It was warm and still so light out, even though it was nearly 7pm.

And I wasn’t nervous--despite the fact that Louis felt the need to give me shit in the car ride over. I wiped my hands on my pants as we climbed out of the backseat of the black car that shuttled us places--Maya was the first to greet us in the driveway.

There was a basketball hoop, and beneath it stood a boy who looked about 15--a swooped hair style and basketball shorts. Margot’s brother.

“You actually came!” Maya smiled at Liam, who seemed to lead the way.

“Course we did,” he answered, holding his arms out to let her hug him. “Think we’d blow you off?” She tossed the basketball in her hands to Niall, who barely caught it but seemed to straighten up rather quickly.

“Ben, this is Liam, that’s Niall, then Zayn, Harry, and Louis.” Maya pointed each of us out. Hearing our names in a line like that was typical, but coming from a 13-year-old with an American accent seemed to make the moment seem even more surreal. Ben--who looked rather disinterested--held his hands out for Niall to toss the ball back to him.

“Hi!” Margot’s voice sounded from behind them as she emerged from further in the backyard. She wasn’t wearing the same make up she’d worn before. No eyeliner, no purple shirt. She had a baggy blue sweatshirt on and denim shorts. She looked like the quintessential American girl.

“Long time no see,” Louis smiled at her, she crossed her arms as she walked up to us. Maya grabbed the ball back from Ben and proceeded to launch it at the hoop.

She raised her eyebrows at his sarcasm but made eye contact with me. “Thanks for coming, thanks for making Maya’s life.”

“We did hear that burgers are the best way to really experience America,” Niall shrugged his shoulders.

And I think it was. We sat at a big patio table outside and listened to her siblings bicker. Niall and Zayn played against Ben and Louis in the driveway, Maya seemed pleased to sit on the edge of the driveway and call out different insults at her brother. I wondered what she’d tell her friends in school tomorrow.

Margot--however, was quiet and calm and seemed rather relaxed. It took about an hour, but I finally had the courage to find a spot next to her on the grass.

“I think this is the most American night I’ve ever had,” I told her, crossing my legs beneath me.

She let out a laugh, looking over to me before looking back at the game in front of us. “Burgers, basketball,” she shrugged, “only thing you need is firecrackers.”

I smiled--there was something about her subtle humor that made me feel challenged, almost as if making her laugh or smile was a game.

“So--any tips?” I asked, changing the topic if only to grab her interest. She looked up at me with knitted eyebrows. “For this whole fame thing, I mean.”

She let out a short laugh--sarcastic almost, as if she wished she had a good answer to my question. She was quiet for second, staring down at the nail polish on her thumb to gather her thoughts. “I guess just take breaks--take time off when you need it.”

I nodded. “Yeah--we’ve been good about that so far,” I shrugged my shoulders. Touring was brutal. It was fun, it was busy, it was an amazing experience that we were lucky to have. But it was still work. “Got some time off now, sort of. Finishing up the second album here for a few months.”

She plucked at the grass beneath us, the sun finally slipping beneath the trees. “Where are you recording it?”

“Capitol and then at Silent Siren, in West Hollywood--do you know it?”

Her face lit up--her mood shifted. Whatever trace of anxiety in her voice as she warned me about taking breaks seemed like it had disappeared. She smiled wide and tilted her head to the side. “My producer and Paul are really close--I recorded a song there on my last album. It’s great.”

Her hair, up in a ponytail now, had a few loose strands beside her face. “Good to hear, yeah--we’re excited to be in L.A. for a little bit.”

“You might get sick of it eventually. It’s kind of crowded and busy. You just have to find the hidden gems,” she smirked at me, her eyes on mine and somehow, that made it feel like the other eight people in the yard were suddenly miles away.

The sound of Niall’s high-pitched shrieking brought me back to reality--apparently he was cheering over the fact that Maya had finally made a free throw. Margot’s attention had turned to my bandmate, he hoisted Maya up, garnering laughter from the rest of the crew.

“You could show me some of them,” I said quietly, watching her watch my friends. She turned to look at me when she heard my voice, a small smile still on her lips.

She nodded, only to be distracted by the continued noises of victory as Niall began to take a lap around the driveway.

THEN - Day 14

The first place on Margot’s list was a cafe in Malibu. She claimed it had the best scones around, which she decided was something I--being British--should be the judge of. 

The second was a beach in Malibu--big rocks overlooking the ocean. Point Dume. She said one day she wanted to live near it.

The third place was the empty Greek Theatre. She said it was the best place to come and think if you felt extremely overwhelmed. I think she liked the fact that it was a theatre, it probably felt somewhat familiar, even if it was empty.

I found myself on her couch one night after she’d shown me Point Dume and the Greek in one day. We’d had lunch and I drove a car that belonged to our manager’s friend. She put the windows down and hummed along to the radio.

Her parents had greeted us when we came back that afternoon. Maya--upon realizing my presence in their house--immediately asked if I could stay for dinner. Margot’s mother, who’d probably had her fair share of me by now, agreed with a smile.

After the first night of burgers and basketball, Maya seemed to beg her mother every single day to have us for dinner. But every single day on set, when Maya would show up with her backpack after school, Margot would agree that it’d be fun for us to come, to really show us the real American ways.

So now, sitting on the couch with little to no distance between us, her mother and step-father bid us goodnight and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

The TV was on--some sitcom on CBS played quietly in the background. I decided it wouldn’t necessarily be a terrible idea to rest a hand on her knee, so I did it before I could talk myself out of it.

“I had a great day,” I said, speaking slowly to counteract the pace at which my heart was beating. “Good to know the places where locals hang out.”

She smiled, a slight dimple forming in her left cheek. “I’m just glad that being a tour guide is something I could fall back on after the show ends.”

She’d mentioned that this season would be her last--she’d shared the first night in her driveway that she wondered what would come next. She told me at Geoffrey’s that sometimes it kept her up at night.

“I think you’ll be just fine,” I said, hoping to reassure her somewhat. “But at least you know some of the Los Angeles history.”

This gained a bigger laugh, she reached her left hand over to trace lines down my fingers. “You’ll have to come on every single one, though.”

“Happily,” I said, watching as her skin moved against mine.

She was quiet for a second, I think we both felt it. I think we both knew it was coming. Instead of wondering if I should or thinking that I shouldn’t, I just did.

I leaned in and kissed her. That’s when I knew we could make it work.

THEN - Day 1347

I didn’t mean to make an album that made her sound like a twat. It just kind of happened.

Mitch looked at me from his spot on the couch. I was stood, plucking at my lower lip, listening to the words that my own voice sang on the track.

“Have you thought at all about her hearing it?” He asked with his arms folded over his chest. He paused. “I mean--do you think she’ll be pissed?”

I thought for a second and licked my lips. Ryan cut the track and rewound it a few measures.

I shrugged my shoulders and let out a laugh. Did I think about it? Of course I did. I thought about where she’d be, what she’d think, if she’d call. I thought about all of it. And then I realized I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.

“If she doesn’t like what I have to say then,” I paused, not really knowing where I was going. “Then she should look in the fucking mirror.”

Mitch laughed a little, the smile on my face seemed to be permission for the others to be amused by my anger as well.

They’d heard it all--they’d heard the story of what happened and they heard the songs. They heard the lyrics and they’d sat and listen to me explain why I wanted the production to be a certain way.

I wanted the fifth track to be simple with just guitar--the kind of song she always loved. I wanted the last track to have a building bridge with strings--she always used them well in her own music. I wanted the words to hurt her like she hurt me and I wanted the music behind them to make her feel something.

I didn’t even know if she was capable of that anymore.

“I think we should change the background vocal there,” I said, holding up a finger, waiting for Ryan to pause. He looked up, waiting for Jeff to butt in and give his two cents.

Maybe it was petty. Maybe writing an album about her was pathetic or weak or stupid. Maybe she’d never listen.

I didn’t really care. I wanted the production to be familiar to her--familiar enough that she felt as if she’d been a part of the writing process. Because, I guess, in a way, she was.

“Do you know where she is now?” Mitch asked from the couch again. He leaned forward now--his elbows resting on his knees as he looked up at me. I was still stood in the center of the room, my t-shirt still somewhat wet from the rain that had rolled in after lunch. He’d never been so curious about it. In fact, none of them had. I’d get talking and divulge pieces here and there, but no one ever asked specific questions--I think they were worried of what might happen if they did. 

Now, though, it didn’t bother me. Mitch’s questions only seemed to pull words out of me. 

“Dunno,” I said, walking to sit beside him, watching as Ryan pressed a few buttons on the board. “L.A., I assume. Maybe Raleigh. Maybe Antarctica.”

Mitch let out a sigh, turning his head to see me out of the corner of his eye. “She’ll hear it.”

I thought on his words for a second. She might. She might be intrigued and listen and see the headlines. She might avoid it all together. Maybe she made Sinead go through every single social media platform and block me. Maybe she’d never even know the album even existed.

I wasn’t making it so she would hear it. At moments it felt like that--it felt like everything I poured into it would land upon her ears and convey the things I’d never be able to speak. The reality, though, was that it was helping.

Spending my days going over the details, recounting the story over and over seemed to soften the blow. The more I had to think back on it for creativity’s sake, the less power it held over me.

Now--with most of the songs in the final stages of production, I at least didn’t feel like I was constantly ready to explode. There were days where I was more angry than others. Times when I was more sad than I’d been in a while.

At this point though, the sadness had faded quite nicely to a general tolerance. Maybe I wasn’t happy, maybe she still popped into my thoughts or my dreams or I heard myself saying things she would say, but I wasn’t completely useless.

I could have a few beers with the guys and I could socialize and meet new people. I could have a one night stand with some girl and spend only three-quarters of the time wishing it was her. And then I’d get mad about the fact that I was even thinking about her at all.

THEN - Day 309

Margot was sat beside me, the large armrest pushed back to allow us better access. After all, who knew when we’d see each other next.

Her feet were up on the seat across from her, the window shade pulled down to block the sun from streaming in the windows. The hum of the airplane cabin seemed to soothe her--enough to the point where she seemed like she was close to drifting off.

“I wish I could just quit my tour,” she laughed a little, her voice only loud enough for me to hear. Sinead was behind us, likely catching up on emails and doing whatever she needed to do to whisk Margot back to where she was supposed to be.

“You don’t mean that,” I smiled down at her, letting my cheek rest on the top of her head.

“I don’t,” she admitted. A long sigh escaped her lips and I wondered how tired she was.

Sometimes she seemed like she never needed sleep. Sometimes she seemed so excited and energized and happy that I wondered how long she could make it without any shut eye. Maybe it was the fact that we’d been fresh off a long weekend together, she was going back to her last leg of her tour, and soon enough we’d both have a month off.

Flying back and forth was exhausting--early mornings and late nights and time changes led to a bit of frustration at times, but Margot always managed to smile through it. I was thankful for her strength.

I learned a lot from her, really. She’d been around the block a few times and she definitely knew a thing or two about how to keep yourself sane when it feels like the two hours you have to yourself are suddenly claustrophobic. She warned me early on that I’d get to a point where the silence was deafening and I’d wonder what on earth I was good for.

She was the person I called when those moments hit.

“I just wish I could be with you twenty-four-seven,” she laughed, pulling back to look up at me. Her big blue eyes seemed to pull out more emotion than usual--most likely due to the impending separation.

“You’d absolutely be sick of me in three days,” I argued, scrunching my nose at her.

“Would not,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I plan on keeping you around forever.”

The words left her mouth without much thought, that I could tell from the look on her face once she realized the weight of what she’d said.

We hadn’t really talked about that yet. We hadn’t talked long term more than just the next few months. I think, in reality, both of us were probably scared shitless that we’d be another one of those young, Hollywood couples that lasts a year tops and then flutters on to the next. The way her eyes got big and nervous told me that the thought had definitely crossed her mind.

I smiled at her, waiting to see if she had more to say. When it was clear that she didn’t, I cleared my throat. “I love you, and if you want me, I’ll gladly stay forever.”

She nodded, seemingly appreciative of my honesty. “I’d like that,” she said.

And I thought that was it--I thought she’d put her head back down on my shoulder and sleep for the next two hours back to New York. But instead of doing that, she locked her eyes on something in the distance and something inside of her shifted.

“What?” I asked, almost worried by the look on her face.

She shrugged, bringing her eyes back to meet mine--almost as if she wanted to play it off. “I just--do you ever wonder if we’ll be able to handle it?”

I could feel the expression on my face change--I assumed it was now mirroring hers: scared and unsure. “Handle what? Forever?”

She nodded--she looked like she was on the verge of tears, so I reached a hand forward to rest on her leg. I had no idea what to say. How do you tell your girlfriend that yes, you worry every day if you’ll last but still manage to tell her you love her and it’s not her, it’s them?

It’s the magazines and the websites and the people with cameras who scream at you when you go outside. It’s the rumors and the photos and the nosey people. It was never her.

She tried to warn me in the beginning--she told me that she didn’t think it was a good idea. I couldn’t really blame her; I knew people would be wanting to know every single detail. I just liked her too much to care.

“I mean, I worry sometimes about the work it takes, but not about you or me, or us.”

She thought on that for a second, tracing circles on my hand as Sinead got up to use the restroom. “You don’t ever believe the stupid things they write about me online, do you?”

“I don’t,” I shook my head. “I know you better than The Mirror does.”

She let out a tiny laugh at this, something still blocking her from really being present. I could sense that sometimes--she did this thing where her body was in the room but her mind was somewhere else. I mean, we all did it, but Margot did it a lot.

She nodded now--a long, continuous nod as her eyes seemed to well with tears. “Thank you,” she said, “for putting up with me. And for loving me and helping me realize there’s a lot of good in life.”

The tears were on her cheeks now, they seemed to be coming steadily, I reached an arm forward to pull her into me, only because I didn’t know how to respond. “Margot, of course, lovie, I love you so much,” I told her.

“I love you,” she said, pushing her face into my chest as if to hide from the emotions she felt.

“What is all of this about?”

She wiped a hand across her face, only smearing the wetness. “I’m just tired,” she shrugged. “I was really tired at the end of the show and for a while,” she stopped, she held her breath and looked at her hands. She was referring to her TV show. She was referring to when we met--the strange time in her life where she had two choices: keep going or give it up.

“For a while what?”

“I didn’t know if I could do it.”

She meant her job. Music. Tours. Studio. Albums. Acting. Talk shows. All of it.

“But meeting you and the guys and being able to get out of L.A. and have places to go--it made it okay.”

I smiled down at her, touched by her words and her openness and the fact that she was saying this all to me on a private flight into JFK.

“I love you, Margot, forever.”

She laughed a little, likely at her own emotions and then she brought her eyes up to mine again. She said she’d love me forever. I really believed her.

NOW - Day 1701

I found myself headed for her house on a Tuesday afternoon when the sun was shining. I’d had to do a little digging--first I called Niall, he said he didn’t know the address. I called Niall’s assistant, who’d had it written down somewhere. I plugged it into my phone and was on my way before I knew it.

Maybe showing up at her house was too much--maybe I should have called or given a warning. Something about that didn’t seem quite fair, though, seeing as I never got one from her about anything.

Showing up without warning was one thing, but I was showing up in the first place to warn her about something else. The reality of the situation was that Margot was about to be under the microscope again with my album being released.

Whether or not I wanted it to happen, it was going to. People were going to talk about her and about what she said and did and went through and what she was up to now. I’d made my peace with the fact that my album would undoubtedly give her a lot of publicity, even if she didn’t want it.

So sure, maybe showing up unannounced was a little strange, but she was lucky I gave enough of a shit to let her know.

I parked my car at the top of her slanted driveway and counted the twelve steps it took me to get closer to her house before she opened the door. “Hi,” she called out, causing me to look up from the driveway as I made my way towards her.

“Hi,” I breathed out, holding a hand up to block the sun. I picked up my pace to come to the front step. Once I stood in front of her, my throat felt tight. I let out a sigh to try and steady the emotion that I felt bubbling inside of me. “Do you have a second?”

“Uh,” she looked back into the living room like she’d left something behind, but then she looked back to me. I wondered what she did in her spare time. “Sure, what’s up?”

I licked my lips and let a hand rub against the back of my neck. “I just wanted to touch base with you--uh, about the release.” I checked behind me, suddenly feeling like we were being watched--which was likely the same paranoia that she often felt at the end of our relationship.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, stepping aside to shut the door behind us once we were both in the entryway of her house.

We’d texted only a bit after we had coffee--I did that thing--I sent questions just to get her to respond. Eventually she stopped answering.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked around a bit--the floors were marble and met a nice staircase that headed to a private second floor. I could just see the ocean through the window in the kitchen--an open floor-plan was something she’d always wanted.

“I’ve talked with my PR people about different responses--I mean, I figure people will ask me questions about you.” I spit it out quickly, worried that if I made too much small talk she’d tell me to leave or I’d back out all together.

She stared at me, her eyes empty and clear of any emotion.

“It’s fine, Harry, I trust you.”

I didn’t know what to say--I think the words hit me in the stomach so quick that my brain couldn’t catch up. It wasn’t that I expected her to be difficult, but, Margot was the kind of person who didn’t back down easily. I had no idea how she’d want to handle the coming weeks, but her words felt oddly calming to my nervous heart.

She stared at me again, maybe waiting for a response, but she didn’t say anything. I stared back at her.

“You’re thinking,” I said, a bit of a smirk crossing onto my face.

She rolled her eyes and headed towards the kitchen. “I’m always thinking.”

I took it as a sign to follow her, letting out a laugh at her playful words. “I know--it’s your fatal flaw.”

She turned quickly to look at me over her shoulder, causing me to immediately change my expression. Apparently it was too soon for joking about our issues. “Sorry.”

She turned back around and reached up to the cabinet, taking out a box of tea I liked--I wondered if she kept it around out of habit.

I didn’t mean to say it--I didn’t meant to piss her off in the first three minutes of being in her house. Now in the kitchen, I could see a full view of the ocean, her cliffside house was a mix of a castle and a hideaway, I assume she picked it for the latter.

She started the kettle and set her hands on the counter, looking out the window with her back still to me. I wondered if her chest felt as achey as mine.

“I sound like a jerk on your album.”

I watched her--I took in the way her hair fell down her back over her blue sweater. I noticed the hair tie on her wrist and the gold ring she wore on her pointer finger. Eventually she turned around, her eyes settling on mine as if she was hoping I’d say the right thing in response.

“I wasn’t trying to make you sound like a jerk.”

She nodded. “I know you weren’t.”

I wondered if she meant it. I wondered--as we stood staring at each other in her kitchen--if she knew that it took me two whole months to feel like I could smile again without having to force it. I wonder if she knew that I didn’t want to walk out of that hotel room. I wondered if she felt guilty. She probably did--at least a little.

“I was just writing my experience of it. Just trying to be honest.”

She nodded again, dropping her gaze to the floor. “You hurt me too, y’know.”

I waited for her to say more, her hair somewhat shielded her face as the kettle started to make more noise. I hurt her? Sure, maybe I’d said things or done things she didn’t like, but I didn’t understand how she could bring that up when she was the one who left me in New York during the biggest transition of my life. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” She looked up at me, her eyebrows knitted together in anger. “I mean what I said.”

I closed my eyes tightly--willing myself to swallow the anger that was growing inside of me. She always did this--she made these sweeping statements and expected me to know exactly what she meant. I reworded my question in an attempt to quell the tension. “Can you explain what you mean, Margot?”

She paused for a second, almost as if she was questioning whether or not she should say any more. “You never called me when I was in rehab.”

I watcher her eyes linger on my face for a second before searching the floor once again. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

She scoffed at this--apparently that wasn’t the right answer. “I didn’t know I had to tell you that’s what you should have done.”

I let out a sigh and shook my head. I knew she’d have a lot to say. I knew that just having coffee wasn’t going to be enough. I knew, as I left our meeting at Geoffrey’s the other day, that there’d inevitably be a time where all of it would actually come up. I didn’t know if I was ready for that moment to be now. “Margot, I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Why did you come, Harry?” She spit the words out quick, almost catching me off guard. Why did I come here? Why did I want to see her so bad when I was still so angry?

I crossed my arms. “I wanted to see how you were doing knowing that it’s coming out.”

“Doesn’t seem like I have any option, right? That’s pretty typical. Grin and bear it, Margot.”

I shook my head, more annoyed with her now. I walked around the island and sat on a stool, resting my head in the palm of my hands. What was I supposed to say to that? Yes--she’d had a tough go of it. She was expected to put up with a lot and sometimes I was one of those people who expected it. I figured, instead of addressing the larger themes in her life, I’d settle for responding to her initial accusation. “I didn’t call you because I had nothing to say. I didn’t want to break up, you know that.”

There were tears in her eyes now, the emotion on her face immediately shifting my anger to a desire to hold her. I almost hated the power she had over me.

She did that thing where she ran her tongue along the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you, just so you know. I didn’t like breaking your heart.”

“I didn’t say you did,” the kettle started to whistle. “But I still don’t really understand why you left.”

THEN - Day 1169

The sound of the door shutting behind me was the only thing that let me know I was still alive. My entire body, from my head to my feet, felt numb and distant and simply not real. In fact, the entire hallway seemed to have a bit of a fuzz to it as I stumbled towards the elevator.

I needed to do something to make me actually feel something. The numbness was so terrifying, I almost worried that I’d never feel normal again.

I walked right out into the lobby, down a hallway towards the service entrance we’d been ushered in and out of. I didn’t care who saw me and who knew. The cold air was jarring, at least it made the skin on my face sting--it dried the tears on my cheeks and somehow promised that the world was still spinning.

As soon as I picked up my pace, my feet hit the pavement in a pattern than felt comforting. One, two, one, two. Each step signified more distance between us. Inches, centimeters, I didn’t care. The thought that with every step I took I was farther away from whatever version of reality she was living in felt safe. It felt good.

My chest was tight and my body was heavy--my head was filled with the words that she didn’t say. I strung together different combinations of different phrases that would have made sense.

It would have made sense if she didn’t love me. 

She didn’t say that. 

It would have made sense if she needed space. 

She didn’t say that.

It would have made sense if she told me I’d fucked something up. 

She hadn’t said that.

My lungs were tight, maybe from the tears on my face--or maybe just from the running. The movement felt better than sitting idly in my hotel room, wondering where we’d gone wrong. Movement made it hurt less, at least for a second.

[vinniehatesyou]

heart to break.

i found the video, and the thing is - it’s not the video that broke my heart. it was filmed before we even knew each other. i can’t really be mad at what happened before me. we all have a past.

but i could tell you’re trying to fill the void. let me love you. let me fill the void that only true love can. but yet you’re pushing me away so hard.

--

months ago, we were in your kitchen, naked - in Stockholm. we were making dinner when you started.

“i don’t know why it’s so difficult with you. i love kissing you. holding you. being with you. i just don’t know why i can’t get hard.” you clamored.

“do you think it’s because you have feelings for me?” i asked.

“i don’t know what I feel for you. i don’t know why i’m not sick of you yet, or why I feel this way.”

“have you ever had sex with someone you’ve had feelings for?”

“no....what does it feel like?”

“it’s different. good different.”

You went for a cigarette on your balcony as I finished chopping the onions exactly like how you instructed me to do - first horizontally and then vertically.

you came up from behind me and put your arms around me, crying. I could feel your tears on my back.

“thank you for coming into my life. i never want to lose you.” you sobbed.

“don’t cry. i’ll never leave you. whatever happens, even if we don’t end up together. you’ll always be dear to me.”

that night it changed. that night everything worked like it should. everything was perfect. i thought maybe we had finally fixed your Madonna-Whore complex.

--

Then I left for New York.

--

And when I came back to you three months later, you were disgusted by my touch. You pulled away and pushed me off every chance you got.

You broke my heart that night. My first night in London. I flew across the ocean for you, and you broke my heart.

“I think with time I just because sure I didn’t want to be with you. I know myself and I’m a super sexual person and I just have no sexual attraction to you.” you said.

“Walk me through this, because the last time I saw you you were crying in my arms and now you’re telling me you’re not sexually attracted to me and that you don’t even want me near you? I worked out non-stop for the past three months so when I saw you again I’d be buffer than I was before! You even noticed it!” I said.

“Thing’s changed. I can’t help but feel like I led you on. Maybe I just thought you were so endearing how much you wanted me, that I could try but...” 

“Fucking walk me through this Jimmy.”

“I thought what we had was really special, and then as the summer wore on I thought about you less and realized that you weren’t that special.”

“What the fucking hell. No. I don’t accept that. It’s you and me! In the end! It’s you and me!”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I just don’t want to be with you.” 

“No. Get over your fucking self. We have baggage. We all have baggage, you just don’t want to work on unpacking yours.”

We went to bed, next to each other. The way we would sleep for the rest of my nights there with you.

--

The next day was your birthday. It was abysmal.

My heart had just been broken, and now you were upset that I was quiet.

“I hate it when you’re quiet. Please talk to me.” you begged.

“I’m just processing. I’m okay with saying goodbye to you on Sunday, but let’s try and make this a good weekend at least okay?”

The day dragged on. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I saw you looking at me from the corner of my eye, your eyes watering. Would I care if you cried now? I don’t know.

We went to the museum, we had lunch with your friends, I bought you that Calvin Klein coat you wanted so badly. I took you to a Michelin Star restaurant. On top of my original birthday present - a ticket to Tokyo. 

We were supposed to go together, remember?

We tried to clear the air but we couldn’t.

We got into bed.

“Goodnight!” you grunted.

“What is it Jimmy? Just tell me.”

“Today was awful, I know I just hurt you but it makes me hurt to see you like this.”

“Well then that’s a Catch 22 isn’t it? Don’t be selfish. You’re telling me to stop being sad so you can feel better about yourself. You just fucking dumped me and I’m still sleeping in your damn bed.” I quipped back.

“I don’t know what’s worse - the dread of having you near me or the guilt I would feel if I asked you to leave.”

I started to cry.

“I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t! Everything I have ever done was to make you happy! You said you needed space, I gave it to you. You said you weren’t done being single, I let be free. You wanted that fucking Calvin Klein coat - I bought it for you. So you know what? You figure out which of these you can live with and I’ll do it. I’ll try and find a place tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. It came off wrong, I didn’t mean it like that.” you apologized.

I went to bed.

--

The next morning you turned over.

“I’m sorry I put you in this situation. Because I was in it too. I know what it’s like.”

“Tell me about that, Jimmy.”

“I went to New York, and a guy kicked me out. I had no where to stay, and then angel saved me.”

“Who saved you?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“You did.”

“That’s right. I gave you a place to stay when you had no where else to go, and the irony is no that you’re kicking me out after I saved you.”

I got ready and left for the day. I didn’t want to be around you, and I know you didn’t want to be around me.

I went to meet up with a friend and walk around Selfridges when I got a text from my sister.

I began to cry profusely.

I quickly found my way to the Korean dessert shop we went to that first night I arrived, on our double date with Willis and Ailton.

There in the corner, I facetimed with my mom and sister. I began to cry uncontrollably.

“He was different, He was like Alex.” I sobbed.

My family knew what that meant.

“We know. We felt it. You haven’t been like this about a guy since Alex. We’ve never seen you cry in your adult life, so we know the kind of power it took to break a heart like yours.”

I went back to the house, shortly before your party guests arrived. 

We did a line of cocaine and smoked a cigarette on your balcony.

“What did you do today?” you asked.

“I went shopping, facetimed my family, cried in Selfridges.”

“Tell your mom I’m sorry.”

“Tell her yourself.” I quipped “You can tell her at our wedding, about the time you broke my heart when you were 27.”

“You’re so sure it’s me - why? I think you like the idea of me, or that we’re good on paper.”

“I could go on about why I want to be with you, and just you. But not tonight. For the record, we’re not good on paper. We just make a cute couple online. Joey Kim and I are good on paper. You and I are good because you make me a better person, and deny it all you fucking want but I’ve changed you too.”

The doorbell rang and people started to come in. 

You began your duties as party host and left me to the sidelines. I didn’t care, I can handle my own in a crowded room. I didn’t work in PR for nothing.

I met Nathan, a former fling turned friend.

“It’s not you, you know. It’s him.” Nathan whispered.

“What?”

“It’s Jimmy. He has blinders on right now, he has a one track mind and can’t see what you’re offering. I know you see the crack in his wall. I know you’re sitting there waiting for it to come down. It’s no way to live your life - but know that you mean something more to him than any guy before. I’ve heard about you from the beginning. You’re different, yes. But you can’t wait for him.”

I felt comforted, but still broken. 

The night wore on and we ended up at that club. 4 of your friends made their move - telling me how attractive I was, feeling me up, and eventually going in for the kiss.

I did it just to make you jealous. But I suppose you didn’t care.

The party moved to Matt’s house, where we all got so high. You, in particular, dropped out.

I had had enough, I was taking you home. It was 8:30 AM. the party was over.

Unable to walk, I hoisted you over my shoulder and carried you out to the Uber, you throwing up on the way. 

You put your head on my lap and held my hand.

“Thank you for treating me like a Princess.” you slurred.

“When will you realize that I’m your White Knight? When I told you I loved you, I meant I would love you unconditionally. Despite the shit-storm you put me through, I will always protect you.”

I carried you up the stairs, put you in bed and took off your clothes. I crawled in next to you and wrapped my arms around you. For once, you didn’t push me off. You held me, wedging yourself into my nook. I always loved how perfectly you fit in there.

Then the high wore off, and you pushed me away again.

My phone went off.

“How as last night?” Nathan texted.

“Um.”

“Want to get lunch and talk about it?”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

Nathan and I went some local diner he loves, where I poured my heart out. About our entire relationship from start to finish and all the troubles along the way.

He had a lot of insight, including the fact that we never really had a chance to start normally. we were long distance from the start which puts a lot of pressure from the beginning. Or the constant need for attention and validation. But his most poignant question left me speechless:

“Do you think he can’t see you sexually, in addition to emotional commitment, is because you’re Asian?”

I wanted to say no. But, you did grow up in Stockholm, the only Chinese kid in a sea of white blonde masses. You only moved to London a year ago. You lived your life among all whites. I didn’t know.

I left and went home, and saw you and some of your friends. We hung out for a bit until they left and you and I were on the couch watching movies. I moved my arm around you and you whined. 

“What the fuck Jimmy?”

“What are you doing? Don’t cuddle me. There are friends I just don’t touch! I don’t touch Olaf!”

We got into it. We hashed out everything, I was leaving tomorrow and didn’t want to do it then. We talked about your change of heart, why it happened, what happened. I told you why I believed why you were the one, and why we should try again after you’ve unpacked some of your emotional baggage. And most importantly when we live in the same city.

 But then I asked the question that had been on my mind all day.

“Is it cause I’m Asian?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” you said.

I don’t know who I felt. It was a fair response. It was an honest response. But it was also an answered filled with self loathing and lack of self worth - which made everything so clear. Your behavior towards me, the video I found, your weird comments about my ex’s being so attractive that you felt flattered you were in their league. 

“You need to fucking unpack that shit.” I demanded.

“Don’t try and cuddle me tonight.” you said.

“I’ll try not to.”

--

The morning came, and my flight was in the afternoon.

I put my arms around you and slid my hand into the waistband of your briefs. I stroked you until you got hard and removed your underwear, and proceeded to work my mouth down to your ass.

“Are you saying goodbye to my butt?” you asked

“I’m going to miss it.”

I slid two fingers in until you told me to stop and turned over. I asked to blow you and you rejected my offer.

So we just lied there - naked in each others arms. 

“Don’t ever fucking tell me like I’m Olaf ever again, cause you and Olaf would never get as far as you and I just did. Also, you’re able to get hard - so what the fuck Jimmy?”

“I haven’t cum in 4 days and I’m always horny in the morning.” You replied.

‘Why are you fighting so damn hard against me? Why are you pushing me away?”

It got quiet.

“I believe you when you say you love me. Your love is so selfless.” you muttered.

“I won’t stop loving you. But I know you need to figure out how you love. So fall in love, and figure that out. And when you’re ready to be loved by me, I’ll be back for you. I’ll give you everything I promised - the fancy measuring cups, the guesthouse for your mom to live with us, and our two kids making fun of our outfits.”

You began to cry. I could see your pillow damp with tears.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m just thinking about how much love I could give to a child.”

“One day we’ll know together.” I kissed you and we got up. I was running late for brunch.

By the time I came back I had packed up and was ready to leave. You gave me a hug goodbye.

“This isn’t goodbye” I said. “I’ll see you again. I know I will. Unpack some baggage and I’ll be back for you.”

You nodded and kissed me.

“Be good to your mom, she loves you.” you said.

"I will, because one day she’ll be yours too.” I replied.

You pulled me in tightly. I begged for one last kiss - you were reluctant but gave in.

--

I came back to New York. My feelings were all over the place. I was broken, but I realized it was not me. You’re so complicated. You’ve got tons of baggage. I know we just scratched the surface, but this is a journey you have to take yourself. I can only hope you grow out of this, or you learn to love yourself. I know your parents are difficult. I know your trauma.

If we accept the love we think we deserve, I hope you know that you deserve love. And if I should be so lucky, to provide that for you one day.

[bearhugmeharder]

Growing up I was always very protective of my baby sis. I was 5 years older, and when I reached my full height of 6'1, I never had any problems shutting down little twerps who gave her shit. When she came home from college for her first winter break she brought Mason. Not only was he 6 inches taller, he was also twice my size with arms the size of my legs. When he shook my hand it was like grabbing a catchers mitt. The first night after my sis went to bed Mason sat down next to me on the couch to have a beer. He propped his feet up on the ottoman next to mine and I noticed the size difference instantly. About 5 beers later he finally said “You got some small feet, big bro!” I wear size 11 and a half, my feet aren’t huge but no one ever called them small. They were also never side by side a pair of size 15’s. He matched us up sole to sole and laughed when he could curl his toes over mine. Even though he was intimidating, I was still really protective of my baby sis so I had to give him the big bro talk. “Listen man, I don’t wanna make things awkward, but that’s my baby sis and I’ll tear down any guy who hurts her.“ He smirked and said "listen man I know you gotta give me the big bro talking to, but I’m not gonna hurt your sister and no one else will as long as I’m around. No one’s gonna mess with you either, wanna know why?” He stood up, grabbed my wrist and pulled me off the couch before wrapping his arms around me and hoisting me into the tightest bearhug of my life. My toes squirming by his massive calves. “Because any guy who messes with either of you is gonna get scooped up just like you are now, and I’m not gonna stop squeezing till I break their back. And trust me, I’ve thrown around guys bigger than you man.” He said before he squeezed even harder. I could feel myself giving out. “I think it’s time to say goodnight big bro. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll tuck you in.” That’s the last thing I remember before blacking out in his arms. I woke up the next morning in my bed with a note next to me that said “let’s wrestle tonight” and a massive erection.

[thegladelf]

Killian Jones and The Girl Who Lived 5/8

Alright, y’all, this here is my favorite chapter. I hope you guys like it!

Thank you as always to @icecubelotr44 for taking my madness and making it make sense. Shout outs to @jemmingart and @prongsie for being such awesome artists. Make sure you check out jemming artwork and prongsie’s artwork for this chapter when you’re done reading!

Up on Ao3 and FF.net if that’s your preferred platform.

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: G

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

Chapter Five: Christmas

Christmas decorations appeared all over Hogwarts before Killian realized November had come and gone.

Time slipped by you like water through a sieve when you spent every spare half hour in the library looking for information.

They still hadn’t found a single line on Nicholas Flamel. They checked all the usual sources: Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, Notable Magical Names of Our Time, Important Modern Magical Discoveries, A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry and every other promising book the four of them could find.

Between school and this research, Killian was at the point where no sooner did he open a book than he wanted to hurl it at the nearest wall. Mary Margaret, on the other hand, was thriving. She made little diagrams of the library and was crossing off the shelves with gusto as they went through them one by one and found nothing. She seemed just as pleased to cross shelves out as she would be if they had found anything.

That was the only sour spot in his life, though. Not even Liam telling him to sign up to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas dampened his mood.

"You're not upset?" Emma asked as he signed his name right below hers.

"Nope." He grinned.

Mary Margaret eyed the list with a jealous eye. "I wish I was staying. It doesn't feel right, going home to Gran when you three are staying here."

"It's not like we'll be alone," David said around a mouthful of porridge. "Heck, I've still got half my family here, even if my parents are off in Romania."

David's parents sent him a letter similar to the one Killian received from Liam, though his read, "We're visiting Tom in Romania" instead of, "I'm crashing on a friend's couch and it's already tight, so if you don't mind..."

Killian wished Liam could come to Hogwarts for Christmas, too, but since that wasn't possible, he couldn't think of any other people he would rather spend the holiday with.

Not even Regina's gloating could bring down his mood, though he did feel a bit sorry for Mary Margaret, who turned bright red every time someone asked her if she was attending all the Malfoys' grand holiday happenings. The answer was always a firm no as her Gran didn’t approve of the Malfoys. According to Mary Margaret, her mother Eva had been the only exception to this rule—she said it helped that her mother’s family had disowned her.

"Watcher," Hagrid said, narrowly missing the four of them as he hauled a massive fir tree into the castle. "Don't want to knock any of yeh down now."

They were just moving out of the way when a snide voice said, "Quit blocking the door." Regina sneered at Hagrid as she slipped past. "Pay attention, Nolan, that could be your job one day. I'm sure that hut is a step up from whatever hovel your family lives in."

David leapt for Regina. Killian lunged after him, trying to keep him off of the girl.

"NOLAN!"

Everyone froze.

"It's not his fault, Professor Snape," Hagrid said, dusting pine needles from his shaggy coat. "Ms. Malfoy were talkin' trash about his family."

"Fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid, regardless of who started the fight." Snape did his best to look reluctant as he said, "Five points from Gryffindor, Nolan, and be glad it's not more. Now move along."

Regina and her friends smirked as they ran past, covering their mouths as they giggled.

"We should go, too," Mary Margaret said, nudging David with her elbow, "we've got enough time before lunch to search the library."

"What're you folks doing in the library, term’s nearly over? Yeh should be enjoyin' the holidays."

"Oh, we're not working," Emma said, widening her eyes at Hagrid. She might have been mistaken for a Christmas angel with those green eyes and the blonde hair in curling wisps about her face. "We've just been trying to figure out who Nicholas Flamel is."

"What?" Hagrid half-dropped the massive tree, forcing a squawk out of David as he ducked out of the way. "Now I've told yeh to drop this—"

"Oh, we're not interested in that," Mary Margaret lied smoothly. "We just want to know who Nicholas Flamel is."

Emma nodded. "I know I've heard the name and it'll bug me until I can remember where." She paused. "I don't suppose you'd want to save us the trouble, Hagrid?"

"I'm not sayin' a thing. Not. A. Thing." And he hoisted the tree back up and carried it into the Great Hall.

"Well, it was worth a try," Emma said.

"You three will be sure to keep looking while I'm gone, right?" Mary Margaret said. "And make sure you take my list!"

"Yeah, sure." Emma sighed. "I just wish we could get into that restricted section. If whatever is up there is dangerous enough to need all that guarding, it's probably something dark."

Killian nodded solemnly.

All the students who were going home packed off in the afternoon. His and David’s three roommates were lucky enough to spend time with their families, so their room felt all empty and echoey as he tried to sleep that night. He stared up at his canopy, listening to David's soft snores and fighting the restlessness in his limbs. Finally, he got up and crept down the stairs, hoping that maybe a little movement would loosen up his nerves and put him in the mood for sleep.

"Who's there?" a soft voice asked as his feet brushed the bottom step. It sounded like Emma.

"It's me."

"Killian?"

"Yeah." He wished he had his wand. The common room was pitch black, the odd shapes of chairs and tables and couches the only solid things he could see. "Where are you?"

"Over here—No—Oh, hold on… Lumos." A small point of light flared, revealing Emma's pale face, her hair ghosting around her face. She peered over the back of the couch that sat in front of the cold fireplace.

Hands out in front of him, he shuffled his way around the couch. Emma sat up, pulling her feet in to make room for him.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked.

Emma shrugged. "It's too quiet with only me. I couldn't sleep. You?"

"The same..." He tilted his head, thinking. "Well, not quite the same, Dave snores, but it feels...emptier without Archie and Will and Robin."

Emma nodded like that made perfect sense. Like you could feel the absence of someone.

You could. Sometimes, even when they were still there.

Killian shifted to face her, drawing his knees up. His robe was still upstairs, tossed carelessly at the side of his bed—he hadn't exactly meant to set up down here. With a roll of her eyes, Emma tossed one end of her blanket to him, allowing enough slack that he could draw it over his knees too.

"David was horrified when I told him the Dursleys aren't going to send me any presents," Emma said softly.

"I'm not expecting anything from my family, either."

"But that's because Liam can't afford it." Emma picked at a thread on her blanket. "He'd send you anything you wanted if he could. The Dursleys just wish I never existed."

Killian waited patiently. He knew from things she said offhandedly that the Dursleys hadn't been kind, but as Emma whispered about her cupboard under the stairs and missed meals and clothes that were too big for her, he started to think his own upbringing hadn't been so bad.

He almost told her about it. About everything: His mother, what had happened at the beginning of the summer when their mother told Liam she had no intentions of sending him to Hogwarts, how everything fell apart after that. But he couldn't. It didn't seem right to gripe about the minor inconveniences in his life. Secondhand robes and textbooks with notes already written in the margins seem small in the light of what Emma’s stories revealed.

The couch creaked as Emma shifted. "Sorry. I'm talking all about myself. You probably don't want to hear all about my dysfunctional family."

Killian shrugged, then remembered Emma probably couldn't see him. "It's alright."

"What about you?" she asked. "Is it really just you and your brother?"

He opened his mouth to say no, then clamped it shut again. Clearing his throat he said, “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a little while, until Emma yawned so loudly it made Killian jump.

"We should get back to bed," he said softly.

"I guess." She didn't sound eager to head back up to her empty dorm room.

"Hey, if it's silence that bugs you, there are three empty beds and a snoring Dave upstairs."

Emma laughed, deep, from her gut. "I like that idea. Hold on." Light flared at the tip of her wand again and she handed it to him while she gathered her pillow and blanket. He realized she'd planned to sleep down here. She balanced them all in one arm, reaching for his hand with the other.

"We'd better put the light out or Arthur will have a cow."

Killian shuddered. Artie would not be pleased to find them out of bed at this hour, even if there was no school in the morning. They crept upstairs, holding back giggles and stubbing their toes. As they passed Arthur’s floor, both of them held their breath. Killian prayed he kept sleeping. Sending Emma back to that big, empty room just seemed wrong after everything she told him.

"He really is snoring," Emma whispered as they entered. She set her pillow on the bed next to Killian's and crawled onto it. "Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, Emma," he whispered back, "and Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas."

As it turned out, Emma snored, too. It should have annoyed him, but Killian fell asleep with a smile on his face.

He slept peacefully until the next morning when David awoke him very rudely. One moment, he was dreaming of being at home with his family and the next frigid air attacked his hands and his feet and his stomach where his pyjamas rode up. Killian squinted up at David leaning over him, Killian’s blanket in one hand.

"Oi, Killian!"

"What's happening?" It felt like he was talking around rocks. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, pushing David away as he did so.

"There's a girl in our room," David hissed.

"It's just Emma." He glanced over to where Emma was still curled up under the blanket

David thought about it for a minute and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." He threw the blanket back at Killian. "Well, you get to wake her up, because it's Christmas and it's impolite to open presents if everyone isn't awake."

"You shouldn't wait on my account, I won't…" Emma's sleepy voice trailed off as David jabbed a finger pointedly at the foot of her bed. Scrambling to peer over the edge, she gasped. "I've got presents."

"You both do. Honestly,” David said, shaking his head as if they were both daft. . “It's Christmas."

He broke into a big grin as Killian and Emma vaulted out of bed, hurriedly donning their robes. The three of them grabbed all their packages and sat in the middle of the floor as they ripped the paper off without bothering to take turns.

"Oh, look at that," Emma said. "The Dursleys didn't forget me." Giggling, she passed the sad present to Killian.

It was a card with a fifty cent piece taped to it. The card read, We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

David's eyes went wide. "What is that?"

Emma and Killian exchanged a glance, not sure if he was joking.

David continued staring at the coin with eyes nearly as wide.

"It's a fifty cent piece?" Emma clarified.

"Oh, Muggle money?" David's eyes lit up and he practically ripped it from Killian's grasp. "Can I look at it?”

Emma rolled her eyes. "You can keep it for all I care."

"Really?"

Despite their dire predictions the night before, Emma and Killian made out pretty well. Hagrid had carved Emma a wooden flute and David's mom had knitted them both a sweater. A green one with a big gold E for Emma and a bright red one with black K for Killian.

David turned bright scarlet. "Those are from my mum. I told her you weren't getting any presents," he muttered. "She makes us sweaters every year. I'm always maroon." With a sigh, he held his sweater up for them to see.

Mrs. Nolan also sent each of them a box of homemade fudge. Killian swallowed back tears, he remembered being very small and making fudge with his own mum one Christmas, back when she was still halfway present.

They received more chocolate from Mary Margaret, frogs instead of fudge this time. A box each for Emma and Killian.

Killian's last present was a spyglass from Liam. It was old and a bit battered in places, the bronze accents looked a little tarnished, but it still slid in and out with ease. He put it up to his eye and immediately jerked it back down. He hadn't meant to get a near microscopic view of David's nose.

With a spyglass came a note, Killian, Sorry it's not a pair of binoculars, but I thought you could use this to watch the Quidditch matches at school. This way you won't have to share with David anymore. Liam P.S.-It has a setting to see in the dark, just in case games go late.

Killian turned the spyglass over and over in his hand, wondering how many meals Liam had skipped to buy this. Or had he found it in their parents’ things? It was certainly old enough. There was a little ring on the bottom with an arrow. At the moment the arrow pointed at a tiny sun etched in the bronze, but a little moon kept the sun company one notch over.

"Here, you've got one more, Emma," David said, shoving Emma's last package at her.

Emma frowned at the parcel, tilting it this way and that as she studied it. With a shrug, she unwrapped it, releasing a length of silvery material.

David's eyes went wide. "I've heard of those. If that's what I think it is—well, let's just say there aren't many of them."

"Many of what?" Emma and Killian demanded at the same time.

"Invisibility cloaks."

Killian stared at the cloak. It swished back and forth as Emma slung it around her shoulders, like water. He and David both jumped up as everything below Emma's neck disappeared.

"Blimey! It is!" David shrieked.

"Look, there's a note." Killian bent and scooped up the paper that had fallen to the floor. He glanced down at it. "Emma..." Killian paused, showing her the note. "I think that's your father's cloak."

She snatched the paper from his hands, the cloak sliding from her shoulders and pooling around her feet as she stared at it.

"You alright there, Emma?" David asked.

She nodded. "Yeah." Her voice cracked.

Killian understood perfectly, he would give anything to have something of his father's.

They had just enough time to clean up most of the mess before Happy burst into the room bellowing. He, too, wore a sweater with a letter on it, a big grey H on a background of navy.

"Merry Christmas!" He stopped short at the sight of Emma. "Oh. Hello, Emma." His eyes jumped from her to the present on the floor to the blanket and pillow on the bed next to Killian's. "You're lucky you're first years or this might look suspicious." He winked at Killian for some unfathomable reason. "Don't worry, I shan't tell Artie. Speaking of. Dave, you want to come help me force him into his sweater? You know how he gets.

"And then we're going to go wait outside the Slytherin door," he continued, his voice floating down the hall as he and David left the room. "For James. None of that separate tables guff today, our whole family is sitting together."

The rest of the day was wonderful.

David and Happy did indeed drag James to the Gryffindor table and he seemed to enjoy himself. Even Arthur loosened up, joking with the rest of them as he sported a grey sweater with a bright, crimson A.

"This is the best Christmas I can ever remember," Killian whispered to Emma later that night. It certainly was the happiest, even if he still missed his brother.

A few feet away, she nodded. David was already snoring and she grimaced as he let out a particularly loud one.

"I can't believe Mrs. Nolan sent me a present," she whispered. "The Dursleys hardly even remembered I existed."

Killian nodded. "I was lucky if my mum remembered it was Christmas, let alone to go out to get presents."

It took him a moment to realize what he'd said. He clapped his mouth shut, hoping Emma didn't ask many more questions. She had to know something with how people talked behind his back, but if she did, she knew better than to ask.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," was all she said.

He drifted off to the sound of David's snores and Emma's gentle breathing. He heard her move around a few times and almost asked her if something was wrong, but sleep already had him and he drifted off before his mouth could form the words.

Someone shook him violently several hours later.

"Wha—" he sat up, hands ready to fend off his attacker, but she had already moved to the bed next to him.

"Come on, David, wake up," Emma said, leaning over David and subjecting him to the same treatment as she had Killian. "Killian's already awake. You have to come see."

"No he’s not." Killian rubbed at his eyes and cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't be all high and scratchy. “See what?”

"It had better be a dead body," David muttered. "I don't see what else would be worth waking us up in the middle of the night."

"Bloody hell, David." Killian swung his legs out of bed, groping for his robe as the chill air hit his skin.

"I saw my parents," Emma whispered.

She stepped into a shaft of moonlight and Killian realized that is wasn't darkness cloaking her body, it was the cloak. The hood was thrown back, so they could still see her face floating in midair like some spectre. Nearly Headless Nick would be quite miffed if he could see her now.

"Like in a dream?" David asked.

Emma shook her head. "No. Hurry, you have to see."

David rolled out of bed without further protest and Emma held a corner of the cloak out to each of them. To Killian's surprise, they all fit, it was tight, but as long as they kept their steps small enough to keep their feet inside the cloak, they were completely covered.

They wandered the corridors as the hour grew later, Emma muttering to herself the whole time, backtracking at points, growling in frustration at others. David tried to convince her that they should all go back to bed.

"No, this is it," she said, pointing to a suit of armor.

After checking the corridor, she whipped the cloak off of them and slipped inside the room. With a shrug, Killian followed.

The room was empty except for a tall mirror leaned up against the back wall. High as the ceiling with a gold frame and an inscription carved across the top in a language Killian never heard of before.

Emma stood in front of it, her fingers touching the glass, looking like she wished she could step into it.

"Do you see them?" She spoke low, as you might in a church.

"See who?" David asked. "I just see you."

Her eyes narrowed. "You two don't see anything?"

Killian shook his head.

Emma grabbed his sleeve, pulling him in front of the mirror instead. "There, look."

He obeyed and found that his wasn’t the only reflection in the mirror. He recognized Liam, with that sincere, affable smile. And his mother, looking like he'd never see her, with her hair combed and her eyes bright—shining with happiness as she stares up at someone Killian doesn't remember.

But he knows who it has to be.

It's clear that he and Liam inherited their father's eyes and dark hair. He smiled a close-lipped smile at Killian, full of regret and lost promises. Killian touched his shoulder, fingers on the exact spot where his father's hand rests in his reflection. The other hand hid in the shadows between Killian and Liam, joined to a shadow leading to his mother.

The woman standing next to his father, with her arm slung around his father's shoulders, stumped him. She wore bright red lipstick and big grin. The kind of grin that made you think doing something reckless was a good idea. Her hair was dark like his father's. Killian's eyes darted between the two of them, picking out the similarities. The arch of the brow. The shape of the eyes. He suddenly wanted to write home to Liam and ask if their father had a sister. And what happened to her.

The thing that surprised him the least was Emma, standing right next to him. He wasn’t surprised that she fit.

"Well, what do you see?" David asked.

"It's my family."

"Let David have a turn," Emma insisted.

"I just saw my family. At dinner." Despite his protests, David let Emma drag him in front of the mirror. His eyes widened.

"See?"

David gaped.

"Well?" Emma bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Well, it's not my family," David replied. He touched his chest. "I'm head boy, like Phil. And I've got the House Cup and—and the Quidditch Cup and I'm Quidditch captain..." His voice trailed off. "Does this mirror show the future?"

"It can't," Emma said, kicking at the ground. "My family all died a long time ago."

"Oh, right."

She spun on him suddenly. "What did you see Killian?"

"My family. My mum, dad, everyone. We were together."

A noise in the hallway made them all start and Mrs. Norris poked her mangy head around the door. Killian's heart dropped to his feet, but the cat glared at them briefly and disappeared back in the hallway with no sign of her owner.

"Let's get back," Killian whispered, "before she fetches Filch."

Emma and David nodded and they all ducked back under the cloak.

"Emma," Killian said once they were back in the room.

"Yeah?"

"You were there, too," he said softly. "With my family. You were there, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She sighed. "That sounds nice."

"Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell Liam some of what you told me? About how things are for you?"

The bed springs creaked, her blankets rustled. "What? Why?"

Killian's face felt very hot. "I just thought—I thought maybe you could spend the summer with us. So you don't have to go back to those awful people."

He waited so long for her to speak, he thought she'd fallen back to sleep.

"You wouldn't mind?" she asked in a feather light voice.

"No."

"That sounds nice, too."

When he woke the next morning, Killian got up straight away and dashed a note off to Liam. His brother knew that he and Emma were friends. Killian had mentioned her often enough in his previous letters, but this was the first time he talked about her in any detail. He hoped Liam didn't tease him for spending a whole letter on a girl.

Emma was distracted in the morning. She didn't want to play wizard chess with David or Killian, she shrugged away any mention of Nicholas Flamel. Killian knew she was thinking about the mirror.

"You're going again tonight?" David hissed.

Emma didn't say anything.

"Don't," he continued. "You're going to get caught. Think of the trouble you'll get into if someone catches you just sneaking out of the boy's dormitory...not to mention..."

"Why?"

David's face scrunched up in thought. "I—actually, I don't know..." He glanced at Killian who felt as lost as David looked.

Emma rolled her eyes. "No one can catch me if I'm wearing the cloak."

Despite Killian and David's protests, Emma went again that night, slipping out of bed and disappearing between one moon beam and another. Killian thought about going after her, but decided against it. It would only be worse if the two of them were caught. He waited, giving up on sleep within minutes.

Emma returned an hour later. "I won't go again."

"Good." And he rolled over and went to sleep.

In the morning, she folded up the cloak and carried it back to her room.

[speciesspectrum]

Read the True Stories of All the Animals shared on our Greeting Cards one design at a time! Follow the Species Spectrum™ Blog

A dog named Mungo sat in the animal shelter after Christmas, a rangy adolescent. He had big feet and already weighed forty pounds. He wasn’t the small dog a lot of people were looking for and he wasn’t a charming puppy bouncing in the shredded paper. Mungo was my own dog and part of the inspiration in myself starting Species Spectrum™ . He was one of Species Spectrum’s first greeting cards.

I met Mungo on my very first visit to the Santa Fe Animal Shelter, back when the staff wore blue jeans and t-shirts. Mungo sat leaning against the chain link kennel when a volunteer offered me a slip lead to take him out. I hoisted Mungo onto my lap in the courtyard. He was black and tan with floppy ears and a long, curly tail that looked like a cinnamon roll. I told the front desk “This was the dog for me”.

In the old days of animal shelters, the adoption questionnaires were brief. “Where would the dog sleep?” “Would he be kept indoors or outdoors?”

I was a young college student, hell bent on improving the world. It was before I became cynical and before I found my place in the world. No matter what, dogs would always be at my side. I had been the child who flayed on the floor of the dining room whining and begging, “I need a dog, I need a dog” until finally, I got my own dog.

Mungo would not be like Sadie, the golden retriever puppy I had raised as a kid. She was the typical happy go lucky retriever. Everyone was a friend and she hoped everyone would throw her ball, even a burglar. The golden retriever’s only fears were the vacuum cleaner and my pet hedgehog.

Mungo wasn’t the confident type. On his fist night he slept in a tight ball on the bare floor beside the bed I’d bought him. I hiked with him often and volunteered with the Santa Fe Animal Shelter. I spent Monday afternoons at PetSmart with a friendly retired woman who watched Monday night football and always wore a flower in her hair. Sometimes I brought Mungo because she loved him so much. “Oh” she would say, “Mungo is just beautiful”. Mungo always behaved better in public than at home.

Mungo hiked in the slot canyon of Tent Rocks before dogs were banned. He stayed with me on my dog sitting jobs before dog sitting was in vogue and considered to be “A professional occupation”. Mungo only had a few human friends, but he had many dog friends. He loved for other dogs to chase him. He ran and wrestled in the mountains with a German Short Haired pointer called Hank. Mungo triumphed over his apprehension about staircases at a cabin in Glorieta. If Hank could do it, so could he.

Mungo went with me through all the boyfriends of my twenties and he never liked any of them until I found my husband. Mungo typically bellowed when anyone stood in front of him and leaned forward (unless the stranger had a dog to play with).

The first boyfriend was a ‘dog person’ because who would date anyone that was not a self-proclaimed dog person? It still took Mungo months to get to know another human, but only a moment to make friends with another dog.

The second boyfriend said “You’re dog isn’t right, he’s mean and aggressive like you”.

The third boyfriend cooked special meals for Mungo, but both spent the early days suspicious of the other. I have a photo of Mungo giving that boyfriend the “evil eye”.

Mungo spent his geriatric days with the fourth boyfriend, now husband. Mungo never had a problem and the two got along famously. The test of a good man is one that can understand not only you, but you’re dog too. It was obvious when one had entered the human friendship circle of the ‘Mungo Fan Club’ because Mungo would always pick up one of his toys or a shoe and carry it with delight at seeing someone he actually liked.

No one saw Mungo as a dog of high intelligence, but Mungo’s loyalty was steadfast and he had many skills. Mungo enjoyed launching his big paws onto kitchen counters everywhere. He stole many loaves of bread and whatever else he could grab. He was smart enough to pretend that he really was just passing through the kitchen and had no intention of repeating what he knew was wrong. It only took me saying, “I’m sorry Sir, can I help you?” Mungo would look at the floor and keep walking, only to wait for the opportunity to strike again.

Then there was the joy of shredding a trash bag, this pastime ranks high in the world of dog activities. Mungo could bounce the lid off a trash can with his famous nose ‘pop’. Barrier gates and puppy gates were futile from the beginning. Mungo plowed through and I hoped that the smart heeler puppy would never notice that the power of the puppy gate was only illusory. Mungo was like a T-rex when he wanted to open a door; scratch and plow through until you get your way. So much for all that dog training I preach. Leadership, consistency, don’t baby the pooch, don’t affirm unwanted behaviors.

“Woof woof woof”. When I came home, when UPS was at the door, but they were different woofs. One was “I’m so happy”. The other was “I’m scared, I’m booming, don’t call my bluff”. In the car, “Woof, woof, woof”. Translation: “I’m going hiking!” or “There’s a car parked next to us!”

Mungo was happiest at my side. My Uncle once said, “That dog ‘ain’t’ right, I can ‘git’ you a better dog”. It’s true Mungo wasn’t a cowboy’s dog. Mungo slept on blankets and couches. He wasn’t apologetic about loving his basket of plush dog toys. When I rode horseback, my cowboy Uncle gave Mungo one more chance. Mungo was supposed to emulate a working dog. Track. Hunt. Herd. Sleep in the dirt. Mungo could do none of these things. Mungo just wanted to climb up on the horse to be nearer to me. His eyes grew desperate, even as he partially enjoyed running aside the horse.

One day I went swimming and climbed onto a boulder in the middle of a river. Mungo was never a gifted swimmer. Mungo splashed his paws in panic as he swam out to me, all eighty pounds of him clambering for me to keep him afloat when he realized his paws failed to find terra firma.

I had never needed to teach my golden retriever how to swim. She placidly dog paddled, the tips of her ears resting on the glassy surface as she glided effortlessly even in deep water. But Mungo, the whites of his eyes showed, even as he did manage to keep himself afloat, he didn’t believe he could do it.

Mungo bellowed at strangers and couldn’t swim, but he could climb rocks on the hiking trail with zeal until his knee gave out at age six. Sewn back up he ran again for years more with his crazy border collie friends, Rosie & Gracie. They were almost my dogs because I took care of them for seven years all the time. We did the fun stuff together and Mungo was there. Three dog noses sliming my car windows on the way to the trailhead.

We often hiked at dusk until it was dark looking out at the sunset and climbing boulders. Mungo was with me through every important part of my life until this year. He outlived what many would assume to be an old big dog. He had the genetic diversity of a true mutt giving him longevity and health. As Mungo turned gray, I would kiss his face goodnight and lay with him and feel his heart beat. (What husband?)

The new dog in town, Bravo the Blue Heeler was a diligent caretaker of Mungo. Bravo checked on Mungo every night and every morning, licking his face and telling him it was time to wake up. We pitied the predator that would dare break entry because Bravo wouldn’t let anything happen to Mungo.

Mungo wanted to sleep late as he always enjoyed his sleep. At night in the winter Mungo liked to sleep covered with a blanket.

At the vet Mungo was always well behaved and even there he was remembered fondly. I remember the first day I met Mungo, the whites of his eyes showing in a shelter. I remember the last day Mungo looked at me fourteen and half years later. If anyone could share a telepathic conversation with a dog, this was our moment. It had been a good life together. Years, later we both still had our foibles, but it didn’t matter. We were great friends who understand one another’s idiosyncrasies.

I was channeling Walter Brennan’s “Tribute to a Dog”. Even Walter Brennan cried about “Old Shep”. I thought of how many times over the years I’ve told people the grief will pass and that the joy of sharing life with a dog always outweighs the pain of loss. The grief in saying goodbye to Mungo was surreal and yet I felt like my heart was bigger than it had ever been.

When Mungo went to rainbow bridge on a rainy day in May we drove into the mountains, where Mungo used to hike. Bravo the blue heeler ran like the wind diving into the streams. I too felt fearless and alive. It was a reminder that the best places in the world are in the wild with dogs. I’ll always love my Mungo, one day we’ll meet again in a place just like this.   -JES

Species Stories: Life & Love with a Dog Named Mungo. Read the True Stories of All the Animals shared on our Greeting Cards one design at a time!