#i have many more novels i love here with me (my suitcase was heavy as fuck bc of them) luckily

[forgotten-daydreamer]

me last week: OMG I can't wait to read The Cloven Viscount again as soon as I'm done with this fucking exam!! I'm going to take ny time and enjoy it like the first (many) times and-

me now, done with the exam, after finishing the novel in about 90 minutes, and seemingly having nothing non uni-related planned for the future:

[xx-like-a-villian-xx]

I'd Love To Watch

You’re forced to share a room with Noah and he wonders what book you’re reading.

This one is for all my dark romance reading babes, stay slay 🥀

My ao3 is HERE

Also let me know if you want to be tagged in anything upcoming posts, (I have so many WIPs)

CW: one bed trope (ugh my fave), mentions of dark romance, fingering, Noah is a MUNCH, squirting, forced proximity (let me know if I need to add any more)

18+ MDNI | Noah Sebastian x Reader

“Are you kidding me?” You groan, staring at the second suitcase in the bedroom that you called dibs on when you arrived at the Airbnb. “Matt, who put their shit in my room?” You call out to your best friend and tour manager who walks towards you, a smug smirk on his face.

”Well Noah kept saying he would take the couch but there’s a California King in there so I told him he should just bunk in with you tonight.” He leans against the doorframe, grinning. “Call it team building.”

”Team building?” You scoff, exasperated.

All you want is one night to yourself without being stuck in a bus full of sweaty guys and Matt thinks it's funny to let the man you’ve been trying to avoid all tour share your room.

Noah doesn’t like you, it’s been clear since day one. Every time he talks to you he’s so patronising and cocky it makes your blood boil but it’s not like you can say much. You’re just their merch girl after all, replaceable. If it wasn’t for Matt you wouldn’t even have the opportunity so you keep your mouth closed and stay out of Noah’s way unless it’s important.

“Does Noah know that we’re sharing?” You fold your arms over your chest, staring at your best friend.

Matt chuckles. “More than aware, he actually seemed fine with it.” Your eyebrow raises in surprise and he laughs. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You watch Matt retreat to his room and get to work pulling your pyjamas out from your suitcase, locking yourself in the bathroom to get ready for what you now know is going to be a hell of a long night.

While brushing your teeth you hear someone shuffle into the bedroom and you groan internally. Spitting the toothpaste into the sink, you gather your discarded clothes from the day and take a deep breath before opening the en-suite door.

Noah is lying spread eagle on the bed, wearing a pair of basketball shorts with no top, scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence when you put your things back into your suitcase. You roll your eyes, grabbing your book to sit in the window seat across from the bed for a while, quietly reading to yourself. The silence is thick and you can hear his heavy breathing, distracting you from your book.

Your eyes flick from the dark romance novel to the man on the bed, eyes trailing over the expanses of ink that cover his toned skin and you feel heat pooling in your core.

”Anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?” His voice breaks you out of your trance and your eyes flick back to the words on the page.

You scoff. “I wasn’t staring, you just breathe really loud and it’s pissing me off.”

He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, sure thing sweetheart.”

The sound of movement reaches your ears but you daren’t look at him, lifting the book higher to hide your red face. Suddenly the novel is snatched from your hands and you scramble to grab it back from him.

”Heartless Heathens?” He hums, holding the book out of your reach as he reads the blurb then flicks through a couple of pages, eyes widening. “Jesus, Y/N. I didn’t realise you were into this kinky shit.”

Your face is tomato red, burning hot as you try to wrestle the book from his hands.

“Noah give me my book back!”

All he does is laugh, eyes flicking back and forth as he reads the page I had bookmarked. “Oh my god! ‘Does that tight pussy hurt when my fat cock stretches it out like this?’ Wow…”

His dark eyes meet yours and you squeeze them shut out of embarrassment, hiding your face with your hands.

”You like that shit, huh?” You can hear the amusement in his voice as steps forward, throwing the book down on the window seat. You want the ground to swallow you up when you feel him staring down at you.

You huff, removing your hands from your face. “Loads of people do, it’s just a book.”

“I mean, do you like that stuff? Guys talking to you like that in bed? Asking you if it hurts when they stretch you out on their cock?”

You laugh, he’s joking right? You look up at him and your mouth goes dry when you see his dark eyes, pupils blown wide with lust.

”I don’t know,” you shrug. “I haven’t been with anyone for a couple of years, I don’t really have the time.”

Noah looks taken aback at your words and his lips turn up into a smirk. “A pretty girl like you? Surely you have guys begging for a chance in every state we visit.”

You chortle, crossing your arms. “Unlike most guys, I don’t need sex.”

He scoffs, picking the book back up. “So you just read this casually?”

”Most of the time.”

”And the rest of the time?”

The hot flush returns to your cheeks, reaching the tips of your ears. “That’s none of your business.”

He starts to flick through the pages again, humming as he reads. “Can I take a guess?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, go ahead.” You throw yourself down onto the bed, sitting against the headboard as he paces, reading.

“I think you like this Corvin guy most, I can imagine you getting all hot and bothered when you read his parts and you can’t help but find yourself fingerfucking yourself in your bunk when everyone is asleep.” His head tilts when he stops to look at you, his eyes searching for the telltale signs of your arousal, grinning when he sees your thighs clench together. “Am I correct?”

You shake your head in disbelief. What’s his game and why is he trying to get under your skin over some book. Your underwear feels damp from the wetness that is pooling at your core from his words and you have to stop yourself from lunging at him, to either punch him or kiss him…you’re unsure which one would be more satisfying.

”C’mon Y/N, tell me.” He sits next to you, pointing at a section where the main character is riding Corvin. “Is this what you get off to?”

You feel all too hot and bothered with him sitting next to you with his shirt off, tattooed skin taunting you as he tries to coerce the secrets of your alone time out of you.

”If I wasn’t in here right now is that what you’d be doing? Getting off over your little dark romance book?”

”What’s your deal Noah? Why do you want to know about all this?” You sit up straighter and he lounges back, eyeing you humorously.

He shrugs. “It’s just cute that you read this horny stuff. I never took you as the type to get riled up by it, is all.”

”You’d be surprised.” You mumble and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

”You read worse?”

”Oh shut up, Noah. It’s just dumb fiction, why are we even still talking about this?”

He turns to his side, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes burning into the side of your head. “Because I can tell how hot and bothered you are right now and it’s kind of sexy, I must admit.”

You gulp at his words, staring straight ahead in a conscious effort not to look at him or all of your resolve might falter.

”So tell me, were you so pissed about having to share this room because you wanted some special alone time tonight with your little smut novel?”

You can feel his smirk and the tension in the room thickens, turning into a storm cloud of lust.

”You can still do it, you know.”

Your eyes finally dart to his smug face and your eyebrows furrow. “What?”

He shrugs casually. “You can still get yourself off, I could read to you if you want?”

Your swallow thickly, your core throbbing at his words. “No, that’s weird.”

Noah chuckles. “Masturbation isn’t we-“

”I fucking know that! What’s weird is you’re my boss and you’re offering to read to me while I make myself cum. Do you hear yourself?”

You can’t lie to yourself, the offer is almost too tempting. It’s not fair that the most attractive man you know is basically offering to help you get your rocks off but he hates you right? He’s always so moody and weird around you. Why is he being like this?

He sits up, scooting closer so your shoulders are touching and he leans close to your ear, his breath tickling the skin of your cheek. “Or I could tell you every wicked little fantasy I’ve had about you since you waltzed into the studio with Matt all those years back.’

Your eyebrows raise and you turn to him, his mouth just inches from yours. “You fantasise about me?”

He laughs, a smug sound that makes you want to punch him. “Oh yeah, my favourite is the one where I get to bend you over and rip apart those fishnets you love to wear, the ones with the lace flowers on.” His eyes darken as he reminisces over the lewd thoughts and your mind wanders.

How would it feel to have his hands all over you, tearing away those expensive tights that you adore? How would it feel to have him buried to the hilt inside you as he pushes your head into whatever surface he can find? Fuck its all too much.

”Noah, we shouldn’t talk about this stuff.” You try to reason with yourself but your resolve quickly disappears when his long inked finger trails up the bare skin of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your silky black pyjama shorts.

“Why? We’re both adults.” He smiles almost innocently.

”Because you don’t like me.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Since when? Didn’t I just tell you that I literally think about how I want to bend you over?”

You roll your eyes. “You literally talk to me like shit the majority of the time.”

”I like watching you squirm.” His smile is cocky and it only sends more electricity to your core because he’s right, he does make you squirm and you like it too.

A lust filled silence lingers in the air as he stares into your eyes, a smirk plastered on his lips.

”So do you still want to get yourself off, I’d love to watch.” He cocks an eyebrow and there it is, the last of your resolve leaving out the window.

”Fine.”

He’s like a kid in a candy shop when he sits up, watching you lie down on the bed. Your heart hammers in your chest as you close your eyes, trying to pretend he isn’t there. You slide the silk shorts down your legs, leaving the black lace thong on and your hand travels over the soft fabric, running over the damp patch that is only getting bigger.

You gasp when you slide your hand between the fabric, fingers slipping between your slick folds, easily finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that's been begging to be touched since you walked out of the bathroom to find Noah sprawled out shirtless on the bed. Oh how you wanted to just climb on top of him, to sink down on his cock like you owned him.

A quiet whimper escapes your lips when you circle your clit, slowly teasing yourself to the images of Noah’s cock buried deep inside your cunt. You feel him shift next to you to get a better look at your movements, how your fingers move under the dark lace of your panties. You hear him take a shaky breath and it sends shockwaves to your sensitive core.

“Does that feel good?” His voice is deep, coarse in your ear and you whine out a confirmation, moving your fingers faster over your clit. “God, you don’t know how good you sound. Do you like it when I talk to you?”

”Y-yes.” You sigh and he chuckles.

”Such a good girl.” He whispers, breath tickling your ear. “Do you want me to tell you what to do, huh? Do you want to be good for me and remove your underwear so I can see how you touch that pretty little pussy? God, I bet it’s so perfect.”

You whimper, using your spare hand to push the lace down your thighs, kicking them off as you toy with yourself. Noah leans forward, a hand landing on your thigh to pull your legs further apart and a feral groan leaves his throat when you spread yourself open for him to see just how wet you are, fingers covered in wet slick.

”Oh fuck, you look so good sweetheart. Show me how you bury those pretty fingers in there.”

You push two fingers into your core, the wet sound reaching your ears. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life. You hear Noah’s breathing quicken as he watches you fuck yourself with your fingers, soft moans leaving your bitten lips.

”Doing so fucking well for me.” The praise feels like heaven when it meets your ears and you speed up, curling your fingers upwards. “Fuck, what I would do to bury my own fingers inside you.”

”Please.” You whine, opening your eyes to look at him, your breath coming out in pants when his lust blown eyes meet yours.

“Please what?” He smirks, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear as you find your clit again, rubbing your soaked fingers over the sensitive bud.

“I need your fingers inside me, please.” You’re so fucking needy and you can tell how much he gets off on it by how his smirk grows into a cruel grin and he holds his fingers against your plump lips.

”Are you gonna suck them for me? Get them nice and wet like the good little slut you are?” Your eyes roll back at his words and he gasps when your tongue swirls around the calloused pads of his fingers, soaking them with your saliva.

He pushes two long fingers into your warm mouth and you hollow your cheeks around them, staring up at him with innocent eyes that make his aching cock strain against his shorts. He pulls his fingers out with a pop and trails them down the valley of your clothed chest, down your navel to where your own fingers are still toying with your clit. Your eyes follow and your hand moves, giving him full access to where you need him most.

”You gonna watch me fuck you with my fingers huh?” He smiles sweetly, sliding his fingers up and down your drenched folds teasingly.

You nod, leaning up on your elbows to watch his slender fingers disappear between your folds, rubbing tight circles around your clit and you gasp his name, your mouth falling open at the immense pleasure. He chuckles, sliding them to your entrance to gather the wetness that pools there, moving back to your clit to play with it all too slowly.

”Please Noah.” You whine and he tuts.

”Be patient, I’ll get there. I want a better look.”

He moves to lie between your legs, pushing your legs further apart to get a good look at your glistening cunt. You can feel his breath hot against you and you could just cum right there without him even touching you, especially with how he looks up at you through those long lashes, eyes black and predatory like he wants to eat you whole.

“You’ve got such a perfect pussy, fuck.” He groans, pushes his long middle finger in, the dark ink disappearing inch by inch inside your cunt and you moan louder than expected, your hand flying to your mouth to keep yourself quiet. “Fuck, it feels so good, so soft.”

A second finger joins the first and he slowly curls them, finding that spot that leaves you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back, your head lolling back on your shoulders. His spare hand grips your inner thigh with a bruising hold and you're sure there will be bruises there tomorrow but you don’t mind, it feels like heaven.

”My mouth is so close to your pussy I can practically taste you.” He growls and your hips buck, pushing his fingers even deeper inside you. He chuckles darkly. “Do you want me to taste you?”

You sob, nodding enthusiastically.

”Use your words, pretty girl.” He hums, kissing your pelvic bone.

”Please taste me.”

He hums, his hot tongue dragging over your folds before his lips close around your clit, leaving you gobsmacked from how fucking good his tongue feels against you with his fingers fucking into you.

You’re close, you can feel that tightness building in your lower abdomen, so fucking close. His fingers curl faster, his tongue lapping over your clit like you’re the last water source on Earth and you’re falling. Your legs shake, a feral groan leaving your lips as your orgasm rips through your body like a fucking tornado. His fingers only move faster as his lips leave your sensitive clit and you're tipping over the edge again just as quickly, gushing around his fingers and the bed sheets below.

”Fuck, good girl!” He grins, lapping your sweet nectar from your thighs. “Think you’ve got another?”

You have no time to protest, he rises to slide between your thighs, fingers still buried deep inside your cunt as he stares down at you, curling them fast exactly where he knows he can drag another orgasm from you. His free hand covers your mouth when you cum again, screaming into his palm, soaking the front of his shorts where his leaking cock strains against them.

”Good fucking girl, well done!” He kisses your forehead, pulling his drenched hand away from your sensitive core to suck his fingers clean.

You stare at him in bewilderment when he smiles down at you. You’re in shock at how much you just came for a man you thought hated you half an hour ago.

”I think I need to catch you reading more.” He chuckles.

”Shut the fuck up.” You roll your eyes, pulling him into a searing kiss.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“So you two didn’t kill each other last night?” Matt smirks when you make your way downstairs in the morning, wearing one of Noah’s shirts with him freshly showered following behind you.

Folio storms past, looking a little worse for wear. “I would’ve preferred it if they did, I need to bleach my ears.” He groans, pouring himself a mug of coffee.

You blush bright red, throwing a grape at the drummer and Noah wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you into his lap.

”Guess my plan worked then.” Matt chuckles, popping a grape in his mouth with a grin.

[jaz-xedarix]

The Return of the Star

So here we are. Finally after sooo many years of hiatus, I am able to go back to the action by translating this amazing work from our beloved Mr. Yoshida. 

I want to thank to the proof readers that helped me checking this English version. As you know, English is not my mother tongue and plus it is not perfect at all, less in this late times that I haven’t talk at all with English speakers as before, as you see I manage to comunicate with you quite well but it is different when one need to comunicate someone else’s ideas XD So there might be some little mistakes in this text, feel free to tell me if there’s something wrong with it. 

As for some words, one of them that is still making some noise in my head is “Hansom”. Usually I use google translate to help me with the job and usually it gives me some words that I have never seen before and that’s why I depend on you guys to help me correct XD So mr.G.Translate said “hansom” is “a two-wheeled horse-drawn carriage accommodating two inside, with the driver seated behind.”. And you can find this word a couple of times in this text, and reading the novel I think this is the best word for it, if there’s another word for it, please tell me. 

Maybe this is the only word I had trouble with. Anyways I hope you enjoy this as I did translating this for you guys. 

Thanks so much to Buffalo Borgine and Lamy for helping me correcting the text.  ❤ Part II is in process, so wait for it soon ❤ So, with no more to say, here it is: 

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

And I have given to them

knowledge of your name, and will give it,

so that the love which you have for me

may be in them and I in them.

JOHN 17.26

                                                              I

 “Aaahh, I can't take it anymore!”

“Why are you whining again, father?” Esther Blanchett asked, in an annoyed tone to her companion, who was putting on a face like a man condemned to death.

 Surrounded by the steam from the train, halfway down the ladder, she turned her slightly tanned face towards her interlocutor.

 “Don't waste your time and come down immediately. If you stay there, you will disturb the other passengers.”

“Esther... couldn't it be possible for me to go straight back on this train?”

 The evening light that was filtering through the stained-glass ceiling of the international arrivals platform had a reddish hue. In the wintry air, hard as a witch's kiss, the station passengers and employees moved busily.

 The one who continued to complain stubbornly was the tall priest with the rebellious silver hair who accompanied Esther. If he had been quiet, it could be said that he was attractive, but he did not leave his miserable expression as he descended from the train with a suitcase in each hand.

 “What is this so urgent that the Cardinal wants? If it's a report, we could have done it in Rome. Coming just here... I have very bad omens. I know something horrible will happen to me again.”

“Father, isn't it a common thing for Her Eminence to scold you? I thought you were used to it.”

 Father Abel Nightroad nodded, still murmuring as Esther shook her long red hair theatrically. After a year of working together, she had already learned that there was no point in reasoning with this complainer. Lifting her suitcase with both hands, the nun started down the platform, expressionless.

 The international arrivals area was packed with people. The participants of the ceremony that was to be held three days later must have been arriving. All the travelers carried large suitcases, and the air was filled with incomprehensible conversation. In the midst of the confusion, the nun began with a steady pace...

“Ahhh...!”

Feeling the night air in her lungs, Esther heaved a little sigh. As if finally realizing where she was, she stopped dead and looked out of one of the station windows.

“Sure... I'm back...”

 The landscape that unfolded before her eyes was not that of Rome, where she has spent the year before. It was neither the one in Byzantium, where they had been until a few days ago, nor the one in Skopje, where they had stopped that day. The city surrounded by gentle hills and crossed by a meandering river was certainly like Byzantium or Rome. However, the twisted capitals and ceramic tiles gave the panorama a personality of its own, it was the landscape that had surrounded Esther for as long as she could remember.

  The city of Istvan, protectorate of the Vatican.

It was the easternmost of the cities controlled by mankind… and the place where Esther had grown up.

“Nothing has changed... nothing...”

 Facing the city that she saw again a year later, Esther heaved another sigh.

She had changed a lot, but her city remained the same. The running of the Danube, the cracks in the cobblestones... The sweet evening light embraced the same landscape that Esther had left back a year before.

 However, even if you thought your city was still the same, could you feel at ease? There she had sad and painful experiences, the memory of which made her suffer. Maybe that was inevitable when one returned to one’s homeland...

“Aaaaah, what did they get me this time?”

 The young woman was now absorbed in her warm memories but she came to herself as a rumbling voice rose like coming from the depths of Hell. Annoyed, she turned, and was met by a long figure who was sighing wistfully. The spectacled priest stroked his hair like a bad actor of tragedy who wanted to convey the idea of ​​bearing all the pain in the world.

 “Have they heard that I've set up a garden at the seminary? Or have they discovered those peaks that I added to the invoices...? Aaaah, Lord, protect your servant! Can't get them to turn a blind eye?”

“I have the feeling that before you became religious you were already a failure as a human being...”

 Lord! That she could not even have a moment of peace being with that companion! Esther sighed deeply, feeling sorry for herself. Come to think of it, it was precisely in that place where she had seen the father for the first time, a year ago. That meeting had been the beginning of the person she had become. Under normal circumstances, it would be a very important memory. Why was she unable to get excited?

 “But the truth is that you have some reason, father…” Esther continued speaking, being careful not to meet her eyes with her companion’s. “Why did Her Eminence make us come to Istvan? Even if they do the ceremony for the fallen, we don't have to attend ourselves… Do she want to hear the report about the Empire as soon as possible?”

“If that's just it, we'll be in luck... To get back to Rome from Skopje, going through here doesn't mean much of a change in route in terms of distance either. But the Cardinal does not like to change plans. That she had given a counter order is extremely rare... Aaaah, they must have caught me on something!”

 At the surprised look of the nun, the priest squatted and clutched his head.

 Two days before, once their mission was completed in Byzantium, they had reached Skopje, capital of the Marquisate of Macedonia. According to the original instructions, from there they were to take the road that go straight to west, to Rome. However, he had received an encrypted message ordering them to change their plans: «Instead of going back to Rome, go to Istvan to participate in the ceremony for the fallen. Report your mission when we meet».

 The ceremony to which the message referred was in honor of the fallen in the battle of Istvan the previous year. It was promoted by the Archbishop of the city, the Vatican's Public Relations Minister, Antonio Borgia, and Pope Alessandro himself were going to be present. As Secretary of State, Cardinal Caterina Sforza was also going to participate, and that is why she was in the city at the time. In that regard, meeting in Istvan to present the mission report made sense.

 What Esther did not understand was something else...

 «Participate in the ceremony for the fallen.» Why had she explicitly summoned them to participate in the ceremony? Those who organized it were the Archbishopric and the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations. Esther, who worked for the Secretary of State, had nothing to do with them. Could it be that there was a new mission? Telling the truth, it looks a little strange

“Well, the easiest thing will be to ask the Duchess of Milan directly… Hurry, father.”

  The agglomeration was considerable. If they didn't hurry out of the station and take a hansom, they would have to walk to the hotel the Secretary of State had reserved for them. To try to avoid it, Esther forcibly lifted her partner. Taking the tickets from the two of them, she headed purposefully toward the checkpoint.

“Staying here raving doesn't help much either. We have to meet with the Cardinal at once and make your report.”

 For security reasons, the international arrivals platform was separated from the outside by revolving doors. Esther showed the officer her passport, which identified her as an employee of the Holy See, and quickly went through the doors to go outside. While the priest went through the same process, she turned to look for a hansom.

 “Sister Esther!!!”

 A brutal, deafening scream rose around her.

 At the same time, her eyes were filled with white lights. She didn't even have time to realize that it was the flashes of a multitude of daguerreotypes. The nun turned her face away as a wave of voices washed over her.

 “Sister Esther! Finally, you are here! A few statements, please!”

 The chorus of voices followed by a crowd of men and women armed with notepads and fountain pens. Dazed by the flashes, Esther couldn't make out their facial expressions, but it didn't seem like those violent voices were directed at her by mistake or that it was all an elaborated joke. Among the mass crowded around the nun and the priest, the flashes continued to shine.

 “Eh, eh?”

But what was happening?

 Esther was stunned, surrounded by the sparkles.

 All those people seemed to be reporters and journalists. Those who carried that heavy tape recorder, were they from the radio? They were of all ages and aspects, but they all wore press passes issued by the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations on their chests. But why would the media be so interested in her?

 Stunned by events, Esther could do nothing but stand there. It was then that a laughter rang out behind them.

 “Heh, heh, heh! Finally, my time has come! At last, the world recognizes my charisma!”

 Abel, who had been just as surprised as she, began to show off with a boastful air, turning so quickly it looked like he was about to break a bone, he offered the cameras the profile he thought suited him best.

 “Hello everyooone! As I see that you are so interested, I am going to tell you some secrets about myself. My full name is Abel Nightroad. I am an itinerant priest of the Vatican. I am Virgo and my lucky number is 13. Regarding my career, I am precisely considering writing some memoirs that… Eh !?”

 With a cry like a toad, the priest was swallowed up by the mass of journalists who huddled mercilessly. Ignoring his painful moans, the reporters began bombarding Esther with questions, who remained motionless in the center of the crowd.

 “Sister Esther, what impressions do you have when you return to your homeland?”

“It's been a year since you finished with Gyula, how do you feel now?”

 Screaming echoed through the clicking sound of the flashes. Unconsciously, Esther recoiled from the throng of journalists and cameras.

 “What... what do you want?”

 When her brain began to function normally again, she realized that the goal of all this was her. But why? What did all those journalists expect of her!?  She was just a simple nun!

 Esther's questions were immediately answered when a middle-aged journalist, dressed in a dirty coat, showed her a piece of paper.

 “Sister Esther, have you had a chance to see the script for this new opera? Do you have any comments about it?”

“Eh... huh...!? I do not have any idea of what is happening... An opera...? What opera!?”

Looking at the paper, Esther stood with her mouth open with the surprise.

 It was a flier printed in high quality paper. One couldn't say that the colorful design or the propaganda phrases were the best taste, but whatever. More than that, what stunned Esther was the central illustration.

 Against the background of a striking cross, a beautiful nun struck down a man with a sword blow, dressed in aristocratic clothes, the fallen one twisted his monstrous face and showed two long fangs between his lips. And the legend of the drawing said:

 «The Star of Sorrow. Next release. Saint Esther and the devil Gyula: An apocalyptic fight!!! ». But what does this mean?!

 “It is a commemorative work for the liberation of Istvan, Sister Esther. It represents your fight against the vampire... Didn't you know anything about it?”

 The journalists looked at her, puzzled, but Esther didn't realize it. She was not for those things. Squeezing the paper in her hands, she tried to put the chaos of her thoughts in order.

“Saint Esther?”

 But where did that come from?!

 “Well, it's a very important work...” continued the journalist, with a certain pride in his voice, as if he were the scriptwriter himself. “Not only the casting, but also the production has had the support of the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations. The script was written by the Archbishop of Istvan himself and a budget of one million dinars has been invested. Tonight is the premiere... Ah! Is it for that why you've come today?”

“Eh? Well, no…”

 At the question, Esther only had the strength to shake her head.

 What was happening before her eyes seemed so unreal that it would be said that she was dreaming it. She wanted to return to her hometown to walk quietly through the streets again, visit the bishop's tomb, go to greet the families of her fellow partisans one by one... As she remembered her plans, a distant noise made her come to her senses.

 “Sister Esther Blanchett,” a monotonous voice sounded over the sound of a horn.

Looking for that familiar voice, she saw that, beyond the mass of journalists, there was a car parked. The face staring at her from the driver's seat was one she knew all too well.

“Father Iqus!?”

“The Duchess of Milan has ordered me to come and find you. Get in the vehicle, please” explained Tres Iqus, Ax Gunslinger's agent, with his hands on the wheel. “Ignore the media and present yourself immediately. Those have been the words of her eminence. Get up at once. The Duchess awaits you at the Opera House.”

“Agree!”

 What was all the fuss about? And what was the Duchess doing at the Opera House?

She had many questions in mind, but she nodded and followed the instructions she had been given. Her superior's orders were clear and Caterina herself would surely know how to explain something more about that bad taste joke.

 “Father Nightroad, get up, we're going!”

“I ... it's my moment... I'm so charismatic...”

 Dragging Abel, as if he were another suitcase since he was still semi-conscious, Esther ran with all her might amidst the rain of flashes and questions from journalists. Without turning to the chasing mass, Esther yelled as she approached the car:

 “Father Iqus, open the opposite door!”

 They had not seen each other for three months, but now was not the time for long greetings.

 “Who they're chasing is me… I'll meet you later, but decoy me now, please.”

“Understood. Request fulfilled.”

The short priest did not hesitate for a moment. Probably, thinking about the possible courses of action, his circuits had reached the same conclusion as Esther. Quickly opening the other door, he added:

“Current time: eighteen-zero-zero. The Duchess of Milan is in the Opera House. Head there as soon as you can. I will mislead the media.”

 Nodding firmly at the cold but confident voice, Esther let her luggage into the back seat and ran out the other side of the vehicle. Just when she had finished hiding behind some construction materials there, she adjusted the bonnet around her head, the car started.

 “Wait, Sister Esther! Some statements!”

The plan worked and the journalists came out in droves after the vehicle that had left behind only the smell of the tires burned. Those who had been so sufficiently farsighted were set up in their own cars, and the other took hansoms. Between the whirlwind of yells and engines, no one noticed the place where the nun had hidden.

“They've already left...”

After checking that everyone had moved away, Esther got up and dusted herself off.

“What did it all mean?” Looking at the flier again, the young woman bit her lip.

«Commemoration of the first anniversary of the liberation of Istvan».

«Saint Esther».

«Devil Gyula.»

 Esther crumpled the paper into a ball and put it in her pocket. Those sensational expressions had left a very unpleasant impression on her chest.

 She had to speak to the Cardinal as soon as possible. She had to talk to her and hear from her own lips the truth about all this charade...

 “Wait, Sister Esther, I still have a question for you”, a hoarse voice stopped her just as she was about to walk.  

 Turning around, she found a man in a soot-stained coat. It was the same journalist who had given her the flier earlier, so he was the only one who had noticed her ploy.

 “I expected no less from the young woman who defeated the Marquis of Hungary. You are very clever. And thanks to that I have my exclusive… Ah, but I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Clement from the Picadilly Gazette in Albion.”

 The man handed her a yellowish business card. Although he was smiling politely, he did not miss the opportunity to scan the young nun with his eyes.

 “I've told you before that I don't know what you're talking about,” Esther replied, somewhat frightened, instinctively turning her face away from that penetrating gaze. “If you want to know more about the ceremony, I recommend that you go directly to the cathedral, Mr. Clement. I don't know anything...”

“No, no, what interests me is your personal circumstances, sister.”

 So the one who smiled slightly mockingly at her on the deserted street was one of those famous paparazzi from the gossip press.

 “I've been investigating your family... I know you were abandoned as a child and that the bishop raised you... Vitez, was her name? Therefore, do you not know who your real parents are?”

“I... I know something about my father...”

What right this man have to intrude like this in her private life? Lifting her face decisively, she snapped:

 “But I only know he was from Albion. Are we finished with the questions, Mr. Clement? I'm in a hurry. We will talk another time.”

“Well, well, you don't have to be like that either.”

 However, the journalist did not seem to be affected by her serious tone. Still smiling, he took a few yellowed sheets from his pocket. They were official documents of the city council, as indicated by the seals with the emblem of the city.

“What do you think this is? It's a copy of your birth certificate, which was filed at the town hall. According to these documents your father was Edward Blanchett, knight bachelor of Albion. The lowest rank of the nobility...”

“But how did you…?!”

 Seeing the documents the journalist had, Esther flushed with anger and her breathing began quickening. She stood up to face him and said:

"Give me that! You have no right to snoop there!”

“If you tell me what I want, I will give it to you soon. It costs me a lot of money to get this copy. I cannot give it to you just like that. So... back to what we were talking about...”

 Clement laughed, satisfied, as if enjoying the fact that he was once again in charge of the conversation. Waving the paper in the air, like a lure, the journalist continued:

“Well, your father was Edward Blanchett, but do you know what kind of person he was?”

“Didn't I tell you that I don't know anything else about him!?”

“Oh yeah? Well, me neither. And I am not the only one. In fact, absolutely no one knows anything about him. Because the truth is that he never existed…”

“Eh?”

 Esther had reached out to grasp the document, but stopped short. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared at the reporter. What did he mean by “never existed”?

 As if enjoying his interlocutor's confusion, Clement continued to speak slowly.

“According to our investigations, there is no trace in Albion of an aristocrat named Edward Blanchett. We have examined the noble records, the files of appointments, even the secret documents of the Institute of Heraldry, but there is no trace of anyone named that.”

“Uh... huh... But that...”

 Hesitantly, Esther tried to find a way to answer him.

The truth was, she had consciously avoided investigating her father. Because of her work, she wouldn't have had a difficult time if she wanted to know more about him, but she was afraid of what she might find.

 However, Clement's words were too impressive to ignore. Had there never been a nobleman named Edward Blanchett?

 “Of course, identity theft or falsification of one's own past are not so rare things either. He would not be the first to arrive in the provinces and say that he is an aristocrat from a distant country... But there is one thing that intrigues me: that he used the name Edward Blanchett eighteen years ago...

“??”

It was clear that it was a trap. Even she is aware that the verbiage of her interlocutor was captivating her, Esther tried not to escape. In fact, she even encouraged him to keep talking with a fearful question:

“What puzzles you, Mr. Clement?”

“Well, now is when you and I can do business, sister.”

 Seeing that his prey had swallowed the hook, the journalist shook the documents again and continued to speak slowly, showing nicotine-stained teeth.

 “Why don't you join me for a moment? It would be better to go to a quiet place, where we can talk without being disturbed by anyone.”

“B... but now I don't have time...”

“Are you not interested in the deal?”

 Clement's gaze narrowed like a reptile locating its prey. With a theatrical sigh, he put the document back in his pocket.

 “Then there is nothing to do. I will publish the results of my research in my next article. «The secret of the origin of the Saint»... Ah, I'll send you a copy when it comes out. Do I send it here, or better to your office in Rome?”

 Esther tensed her face and, instinctively taking her arms to her chest, moaned:

“Are you trying to threaten me!?”

“Ah, I see you have understood perfectly, sister,” replied the journalist, as if enjoying the young woman's reaction. And he added in a threatening tone: “You come with me now and you grant me the exclusive, or your father's secret...?”

“Threatening others using family secrets is not a very respectable hobby, sir.”

The voice that echoed in the twilight was contrasted with Clement's in its serenity. Turning quickly, the veteran journalist encountered a man who was slowly shaking his head.

“And more in the case of an innocent sister like this… Is it that those of your profession don't know the meaning of the word moderation?

“And who are you?”

 Looking up, Esther saw the dark shape of a man.

He looked to be in his early thirties. His shapely face and the black Inverness coat that wrapped him were impeccable. Under his dark hair, intelligent black eyes shone through silver glasses.

 “I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. My name is Isaac Butler. I am a steward of one of the aristocratic houses of Londinium.”

 The young gentleman lifted his top hat with his cane as he bowed gracefully.

 “I did not mean to meddle in your affairs, but I was waiting for someone and by chance I overheard your conversation. Sir… Clement, right? The truth is that I cannot praise your professional ethics too much. Thus violating people's privacy and using it as a tool to threaten others… You should be ashamed.”

 “What does it matter to you!?” The journalist snapped, looking at him with hyena eyes, in a tone that sounded more like a bully than anything else. “If you go where they don't call you, you can get scalded… Besides, I'm not threatening anyone. Here we are just talking without any coercion. I have not done anything bad.”

“Taking unauthorized copies of someone else's birth certificates is a crime,” Butler muttered, raising his hand. Seeing what was in it, Clement was dumbfounded.

“B... but when did you...?”

 The butler showed him a paper stamped with the city hall letterhead.

 Clement reached into his pocket, but… Esther's birth certificate was missing!

“Y… you're a thief! Give me those documents back immediately!”

 The paparazzi paled for a moment and then turned red. Showing the teeth in a horrible grin, he reached for the man to try to forcibly get back the paper... but did not even touch it. There was a thud, and the journalist rolled on the ground.

“Good work, Guderian” whispered Butler to the man who had appeared like a wall between him and the reporter.

He was a somber man with gray hair. He was not too tall, but his body was athletic, and his pupils had a flash of predator gleaming. He made a move to approach the paparazzi, but Butler stopped him with a gesture and politely addressed the fallen man:

 “Good, Mr. Clement. My companion, Mr. Guderian, is, unlike you, a gentleman, but he is also very ruthless. I do not recommend that you face him hand to hand...”

 The butler lit a pipe and began to smoke while he continued speaking indolently.

 “Besides, don't you have anything more important to investigate than disturbing the young lady? For example ... Oh yes! They say that this year the damage caused by the wolves has been extraordinary, after feeding on the corpses of the war last year, it seems that the wolves have begun to attack the cattle and the inhabitants of the place. Isn't that interesting news?”

“...”

Clement sat up, eyes full of hatred, but careful to take enough distance.

“Okay, I'll go... But sir... Butler was it? I never forget a face. We will meet again. You'll see what it means to antagonize with the media...”

“I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again. Until next time, Mr. Clement.”

 As if he had instantly forgotten the reporter who had cursed him, the man quickly turned to Esther. Slightly bending his waist with a smile, he respectfully offered the document which the journalist had used as a bait.

“What a bad night you’ve had, sister!”

“T... thank you very much, sir...”

    Did they know each other before?

 With a strange feeling of having seen the man somewhere, Esther lowered her head as she thanked him and took the document he offered her.

“Lucky you have appeared. I will never forget what you have done for me”.

“It was nothing. Helping a lady in distress is the duty of any gentleman. Oh, and please don't think now that in Albion we are all like that journalist. Most of us are true gentlemen.”

“Are you from Albion?”

 At the hearing the name of the country of his father, the expression of Esther softened for a moment, but at once recovered the tension before. The man had claimed to be an aristocrat's butler, but what was someone like him doing there? Wouldn't that be another trick to gain her trust?

Suspicion was probably written on her face, because Butler gave a sheepish smile and proceeded to introduce himself in detail.

 “You are probably wondering what a poor butler like me is doing here. The truth is that I am looking for someone. He is a friend of my lord, who disappeared a long time ago… Someone who had some problems… He caused a scandal in his youth and had to flee the country. My lord has found out that he arrived in this region and has sent me to search for clues as to his whereabouts.”

“It seems like very hard work...”

Butler's words made sense and he had explained without hesitation. He was probably telling the truth. Esther decided to believe that the man was who he claimed to be.

Butler's partner jerked his pocket watch to him, and the butler snapped his fingers. After putting out the pipe, he respectfully took Esther by the hand.

“What a disappointment! Seems that it is late! Sister, if you do not need us at all, we will withdraw, with your permission.”

“Oh, sure! I'm in a bit of a hurry too... Thank you very much for your help; really, Mr. Butler.”

“Oh, please, I don't deserve that much respect.”

Bringing the nun's hand slightly to his lips, the man smiled and whispered in Albion's language:

“It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again soon…”

As the young woman flushed, the butler bowed politely and turned. The man named Guderian followed half a second later.

Esther was lost in her thoughts, watching the two figures move away down the dark street.

 When she came back to reality, she realized that the streetlights had come on.

“Ah, I have to hurry!”

 She had no time to waste. Clicking her tongue, the young woman ran to the opposite side of the street.

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

So this is it, Stay tunned for next part, we’re having a nice coloring next time. Love you guys! ❤

[bellshells]

Nobody Can Know Part Four

It’s here! The finale of Nobody Can Know! This was actually really emotional for me, 52, 540 words later and this fic has come to an end. I have had the absolute best time writing this and I must send a massive shout out to @hinagiku0 for requesting this in the first place. I do have a bonus chapter in the works set in between parts two and three, but no time frame as to when that will be finished. Thank you to everyone who has come on this journey with me, and thank you to everybody who has liked, reblogged and taken the time to send me your kind words. You’ve made this aspiring writer very happy indeed. Thank you. 

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Slytherin Reader Warnings: Language, Angst, Blood, Smoking, Alcohol, Smut Summary: Christmas has come faster than anyone could have anticipated, but with everything so up in the air; it’s impossible to celebrate. The promise of a break away may give everyone the clarity they need.  Word Count: 17.4k+

“No, you can’t. That’s- no. I won’t let you.”

  George looked at you with a look of utter desperation, it made you ache. You bit the inside of your cheek to distract from the pain in your heart, it didn’t work. He shook his head and wiped at his face as a tear rolled down his cheek.

  “I’m sorry, George. I just need to think.” You whispered, you longed to reach for him, to comfort him; but your mind was made up. “I need some time away.”

  “Why? Love listen, please just talk to me. Tell me what to do.” George begged, he grasped your hand across the table and squeezed tightly. “I’ll do anything.”

You smiled sadly; you knew he would; he would do anything in that moment to keep you there. But was that enough?

  “I know George, I just feel…honestly I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. I just need to get away from everything so I can sort myself out.”   “From me?”   “From you, from the shop, everything!” You answered tersely, you didn’t mean to be blunt with him, you were uncomfortable seeing George distressed. But he needed to understand that you wouldn’t be swayed.   “Do you still love me?” He asked, his face twisted in agony as you pulled your hand away and placed it in your lap.   “That’s never in question.” You stood and walked around the table to where George sat, he looked at you expectantly as you bent down. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll send you an owl when I’m settled, so you know how to reach me if anything happens.”   “Where will you go?”   “A friends.”

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

  Cokeworth was probably the most depressing place you had ever set foot in. The industrial town was still dirty from the smoke that the chimney of the old mill had puffed out. While in recent years it had ceased in its emission, the last century’s worth of grime had remained strong. It was a bleak, often sad reminder of the proletariat forefathers of the current upper working-class families who had purchased the many two-bed terraced houses for good rail links to Birmingham and Wolverhampton. You could never have imagined that Professor Snape lived somewhere like that, but really, you couldn’t imagine Professor Snape living anywhere other than Hogwarts. You had seen his office on many occasions, it was to be expected really; full of dusty books and rolled up pieces of parchment. It always smelled distinctly of cedarwood and myrrh, a scent you had almost absolutely convinced yourself that it was Professor Snape himself who smelled of such. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t dwell much on the last few days, instead you would take this time for yourself. You wanted to be kind to yourself for once, to just be you. You weren’t looking forward to the quiet though, your life had never been quiet.

  You walked for what felt like miles, all the streets looked the same, each house identical. It was disorientating, the numbers screwed on to each door seemed to ascend and descend in whichever way they liked. You were about to give up and go back the way you came until a little white sign on the side of a house on the corner of the street caught your eye; it had an arrow pointing in the opposite direction with SPINNERS END  written across it. You breathed a sigh of relief and started off in the direction dictated by the sign. 69, 67, 65- it was 65 wasn’t it? You pulled the crumpled bit of paper Professor Snape left you from your pocket and looked from the words there, to the grey wooden door in front of you.

If you are in need, you need only knock

  You knocked once on the door, you heard a click of a lock from the inside and it swung open slowly. There it was again, that smell. It was almost overpowering as you took a hesitant step into the house. From what you could see, it was immaculately clean. You dropped your suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and removed your heavy cloak from around your shoulders, hanging it over the bannister. The walls of the hallway were a dark green, but this didn’t surprise you. You would have been incredibly shocked it you had entered Professor Snape’s house and the walls had been painted magenta and mustard. You smirked at the idea and followed the hallway round to a room on the right, it looked like it should be a lounge. The walls were lined with books, every surface was littered with them too. There was a well-worn leather armchair in one corner with a drink’s cabinet close by. A table sat in the middle of the room and on the opposite side, a two-seat sofa. The leather of the sofa looked intact, like not a soul had ever sat on it. Whilst you knew that was near impossible, your heart ached for the lonely man who owned this house. Nobody should lead as solitary a life as this.

  You looked for a moment, long the lines and lines of books. Some looked to be incredibly old indeed, some without a dent in the hard spines. There were books in languages you didn’t know and some you recognised as classics in the muggle world. You ran your finger across the spines and sighed, you could imagine clearly that Professor Snape had read each and every one of them. You could see him in his chair, one leg crossed over the other- book in one hand and cigarette in the other. You smiled at the image you had created, you hoped he was happy here. You made your way out of the sitting room and back into the dark hallway, the stairs had a cupboard underneath them, the door painted the same green as the walls. You noticed a glimpse of the kitchen through a door which sat ajar, you pushed it open and stepped through. There were more books, many sat on the small dining table that sat in the corner. It was old, it reminded you pews at Hogwarts in its shape. The kitchen itself was cramped, although it had all the amenities one might expect, the claustrophobic closeness of the cupboards did nothing but remind you of the tiny kitchen in your flat. You walked over to the cupboards and opened them one by one, mugs and glasses, plates and bowls (four of each) and then one full of non-perishables. You laughed slightly at the tins of baked beans and scotch broth, a tin of rice pudding sat further forward on the shelf, as if picked out and then placed back.  

  You opened up a low cupboard next to the fridge and exhaled in relief at the sight of instant coffee, you pulled it out and unscrewed the lid. Giving the coffee a big sniff, you decided it was good enough to drink and sought to put the kettle on. After you had found the sugar and cutlery, you poured the contents of a tin of tomato soup into a pan and lit the cooker. Satisfied with your level of domesticity achieved, you placed your coffee and soup onto a tray and levitated it behind you into the sitting room. You scoured the books for something to read, and finally settled on a dusty black jacketed book called Dracula. The image of the author; a gentleman named Bram Stoker was still and aged, you could but assume this was a muggle book and you secretly relished in the simplicity of it. You settled into Professor Snape’s well-loved armchair and ate your soup quickly, quietly cursing when you burnt your tongue. You devoured the novel, your coffee forgotten until you squealed at the un-dead return of Lucy Westenra. You heart raced and you laughed, having fully immersed yourself in this novel. It was exhilarating. Your coffee was now cold as you brought it to your lips, and you yawned. It was dark outside now, but, in the deep December that could mean it was about five o’clock. Looking over your shoulders as if someone could catch you at any moment, you reached for the handle of the drink’s cabinet and marvelled at the assortment of alcohol stored within. You reached greedily for a bottle of port and padded into the kitchen for a glass, it was then you noticed a scrap of parchment next to the sink.

  (Y/N), it read in Professor Snape’s neat script,

Welcome, if you have decided to stay. I have left some muggle money on my desk in the second bedroom upstairs, along with an almanac of the values of it. There is some food in the cupboards, please feel free to help yourself to it. I am not expecting anybody to arrive, so please do not let anybody inside the house. I would be very much appreciative of that. You may write to me if you wish, I would like to know if you are there. Have a Merry Christmas.

Best,

Severus

  You raced up the narrow stairs of Professor Snape’s house, port and glass forgotten. The landing was small and had three doors that lead from there. One you assumed was the bathroom, you hoped it was as clean as the rest of the house. You continued to the next door along and opened it, Professor Snape’s personal study before you. You walked into the body of the room, absolutely in awe. He had enchanted the ceiling to reflect the night sky, the moon high above and stars twinkled through the heavy clouds. You stood for a moment and appreciated the craftmanship of this, it was silent in this room and the serenity of the night sky filled you with a sense of calm you hadn’t felt for the longest while. By the only window in the room sat his desk, it was surprisingly non-cluttered with minimal books. True to his note, there was an envelope marked Money. It was a curious thing, you peeked inside and found coins but also paper money too. What would muggles do if the paper money floated away? From the cursory glance you gave Professor Snape’s deconstruction of the value of each piece it seemed the paper money, or ‘notes’ as he called them were of greater value than the coins. But the coins together equalled the sum of notes. It was all very confusing, so you popped the envelope back on the desk and opened up the small drawer on top, thankful to find some parchment.

  The feel of Professor Snape’s quill in your hand was foreign and took some getting used to. You wrote two letters in total, one to Professor Snape to let him know you had arrived and to thank him again for his hospitality. He really had gone over and above what you had dared hope, and you sunk further into his debt. The other letter, was to George. Could it really only be a few hours since you had last seen him? You ignored the glassy state of your eyes as you sealed the letter and opened the window. A small silver whistle hung on a chain attached the inside of the sill, it had an owl in flight intricately engraved on the side. It was really quite beautiful, it glistened in the moonlight of the room and felt heavy in your hand. You brought the cold metal to your lips and blew once, but no sound came from the whistle. You looked desperately into the blackness of the street, the only light was the flickering streetlamp; only one was working and that one looked ready to be condemned. You noticed a speck in the distance, it grew bigger as it flew toward you. Your heart leapt at the sight of the black owl that fluttered its wings as it settled on the windowsill.   “This one first.” You instructed the owl as you offered the letter addressed to Professor Snape to it, it presented its leg and you fumbled in the drawers of Professor Snape’s desk for some string. “Fucking fuck fuck, where’s the fucking string?” You cursed, the owl gave an indignant hoot, and you made a face to it. Upon finding the string, you attached both letters to the owl’s legs and watched as it flew into the night.

  You trapsed back down the stairs and collected you dirty dishes and washed them in the sink. You yawned, fuck, you didn’t realise how tired you were until you caught your eyes closing of their own accord as you stood aimlessly in the kitchen. You collected your bag and made your way back up the stairs to the bathroom. You hadn’t expected a bachelor to take such good care of his home; the bathroom smelled strongly of bleach and the toilet was so clean you could’ve eaten your dinner off of it. No shower, you thought. Not a bit of wonder really, especially when you considered how old these houses were. You were thankful though, that Professor Snape must have charmed the brick somehow to keep the heat in, you wouldn’t even know where to start switching a radiator on. You decided against having a bath, it was far too late, and you didn’t fancy accidentally drowning to death as you inevitably fell asleep. You changed and popped your dirty clothes into the empty washing basket in the bathroom, making a mental note to write to Professor Snape and ask for instructions on how to use the washing machine. You felt a pang of loneliness as you walked across the empty landing, you and George never went to bed alone and you had missed his usual night-time burst of energy as you would get under the covers. It usually resulted in you making love for a few hours until you both passed out from exhaustion. No- you wouldn’t think about that.

  You pondered what to do. There was one bed. You hadn’t spared a second thought to the idea that Professor Snape had turned his second bedroom into a study, you cursed yourself as you stood in your knickers and stared at his wide bed. The bedding was black, of course and looked inviting in your sleepy state. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. It wasn’t appropriate for you to sleep in his bed, certainly not. You imagined how enraged he would be if he found out you had slept in his bed. But, he had let you stay here. Surely, he knew you would need to sleep? Maybe he thought you would have a sleeping bag, or even a blanket and you could sleep on the sofa that looked like it had never been sat on. You shook your head and chuckled, what a nightmare. Resigned, you pulled back the covers of Severus Snape’s bed and climbed in. You decided you would find your way to the town centre tomorrow and buy a pillow and a blanket and sleep on the sofa. But tonight, well one night wouldn’t hurt. You had imagined Professor Snape would sleep in a coffin, or perhaps a bed of nails in your youth. You hadn’t considered a large spongy bed, with brushed cotton sheets and pillows so soft your head could sink through them. The sheets smelled of freshly washed linen and you wondered if he had cleaned his house for you coming, you were grateful if he had and impressed if he hadn’t. Your eyes were heavy and closed almost instantly, you pulled the covers tight to your chest and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

********

  You were awoken by the sound of scratching. You opened your eyes and were confused for a moment why there wasn’t a sleeping redhead next to you. It had been three days since you had arrived in Spinner’s End and you felt almost at home now. You had a routine, you would wake up and have a bath, have some breakfast and read. You had managed to find the muggle supermarket and filled the cupboards full to burst. You often found yourself falling asleep in Professor Snape’s armchair. The evening would breach the windows of the living room, and you would drift away. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t particularly exciting either. You felt the same pang of loneliness you’d felt the night before as you sat slowly and sighed. The black owl tapped its beak impatiently on the bedroom window, you rose unsteadily and pulled a t-shirt out of your open bag. The owl didn’t wait for you to let it in as you opened the window, it swooped into the room and landed on the bed, kicking it’s legs, like you hadn’t already noticed the letters tied to it.   “I haven’t got any treats for you, sorry.” You said as you attempted to untie the letters, at least, if the owl stayed still for a second. You finally prised the letters away and the owl flew out the way it had come. The morning air was freezing, more snow had fallen in the night and the whole street was bathed in an eerily white blanket. There were a few children already out in the street, their parents scraping ice from the windows of their cars. People still need to work, you supposed, regardless of how close it was to Christmas. You closed the window and climbed back into bed, it was still warm under the covers and you settled in to read your letters.

(Y/N), the first one read.

Glad to hear you have settled in. Yes, you may help yourself to some of the drinks in the cabinet, but if you touch my Lagavulin with your grubby little hands, I shall know.

You snorted as you read that. You inched deeper into the bed, craving more warmth.

I’ll be in London for New Year, believe me, it’s as much an inconvenience to you as it is to me. So, whilst you are more than welcome to stay in my house, be prepared for my arrival on 31st December. If you wish to stay until then, I will require you to buy food. Please let me know what you decide to do well ahead of time.

Best,

Severus

That was the third time he had signed off by using Severus and not Professor Snape or Professor S. Snape, Head of Slytherin House Hogwarts, Potions Master, Surprisingly Nice Person as you had almost expected him to. So, he was coming back for New Year? Blanket and pillows were definitely on your agenda for the day. You picked up the other letter. You knew it was from George and you felt a sinking feeling in your gut as you fingered the envelope. You weren’t really expecting a reply, you told him you had arrived safe and you’d write him again soon. You weren’t sure what in the letter you sent actually required a response.

My darling, George wrote.

I’m chuffed to hear you’ve settled in wherever you are. I’d like to think you’re being looked after, but I know you don’t need anyone to look after you. I really miss you, gorgeous. I know there’s not much I can say that I didn’t already say yesterday, but I would have felt like an absolute git if I didn’t tell you again. I’m not going to ask you to come home if you’re not ready, but I wanted to let you know that me and Fred are heading to mum’s for Christmas. Couldn’t quite face it in the flat without you. So, if you decide you want to come home for Christmas, you know where we are. I love you, (Y/N). I’ll do anything to show you that.

All my love forever, George xxx

P.S. I noticed you didn’t take any of your tampons with you, just say the word and I’ll send them to you. Wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable, love x

  You shot out of bed like a rocket. Your tampons? Oh fuck. You raced across the landing to the loo and as you sat down, you saw the same sight that had been staring you in the face for weeks.

Nothing. Nothing in your knickers.

You were late. More than late, it had been far more than a week ago since you were due on and yet, with all the stress of the last few days you had forgotten all about it. You sank onto the bathroom floor and cried. Big, mournful tears and sobs that wracked your whole chest. This couldn’t be, this wasn’t to be your life. With a sniff of resolution, you stood from the floor and looked at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t realised how haggard you looked. There were dark circled under your eyes and your face was pale and gaunt. You ran a finger across your cheek and felt the hardness of your cheekbone that jutted out further than it ever had before. Merlin, you were far too young for any of this. In the year that you had spent being George’s girlfriend you had had more strife than you could have possibly imagined. Quite frankly, you thought, you had taken it like a champ. But this just seemed one ordeal too far. You were alone, alone and hiding in Severus fucking Snape’s house from your boyfriend. No family, no friends, nothing.  No, no more.

******

  You hadn’t been to this part of London before. You were quite shocked when she suggested meeting you here, you hadn’t anticipated she was one for the theatre. As you stared up at Her Majesty’s Theatre, the bright still photographs of the show stared back at you. A woman, with long curly hair in a pink dress seemed frightened as a masked man with dark hair loomed behind her. What utter drivel you thought, who would pay money to see this? You rubbed your hands together, now significantly warmer with your new gloves you had bought on your way into London; and scoured the busy street for her. You were starting to think she wasn’t coming when you saw an emerald green cape swish in your periphery.   “There you are! Merlin, I was beginning it think you were taking the piss out of me.” You said as you wrapped her into a warm hug.   “Never,” Pansy smirked, she pulled away from you and gazed intently at your face. “You look terrible mate.”   “Thank you dear, you are nothing if not horrendously honest.” You looked at Pansy with a sly smirk. It felt so wonderful to see her again, her arm entwined easily with yours as you started back toward Leicester Square. “Why did you want to meet in front of that theatre?” You asked.   “Oh, I saw the show last week with my parents and it’s an easy location, tucked out the way a bit yet still in central London.” Pansy seemed to have blossomed in the time since you had last seen her. her hair had grown long and glossy, and she was pretty, very pretty.   “You? You saw a musical?” You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. Pansy rolled her eyes and pushed you playfully.   “Don’t judge unless you’ve seen one yourself. The music is to die for.” She smirked and lead you up a busy street. “Do you want to look at the Christmas Markets?” Pansy asked as she picked up a bauble from a nearby stall and inspected it. You wondered if it was a mistake to meet in such a crowded place so close to Christmas but, as she had reminded you, less chance of bumping into somebody you know.   “Actually Pans, I need to talk to you.” You replied, she nodded and lead you across the square to a café, all of the tables were either taken or dirty. You both looked over your shoulders as you pointed your wand at a table in the corner and the dirty mugs and plates stacked and ended up on the next table over. “What do you want? I have muggle money.” You said as you reached into your purse and pulled out one of the paper notes; you remembered they were worth more than the coins. Pansy looked from the paper note in your hand and to your face and burst out laughing. “What?!” You demanded. Onlookers from other tables began to stare in your direction as Pansy doubled over laughing.   “Oh, fucking hell, (Y/N). You are so clueless.” She managed through her giggles. “You’re going to pay for two coffees with a fifty-pound note?”   “Is that wrong?” You asked bewildered, surely it was right to take the biggest one?   “Merlin, just put that back in your purse before someone steals it out of your hand and I’ll get the coffees.” Pansy replied, you could see her shoulders still bobbing up and down with laughter even as she queued for your drinks. You couldn’t help but smile too, it had been so long since you had seen her last, too long.

  Pansy ended up taking longer than you anticipated ordering drinks. Your stomach began to rumble, and you felt sick. You ran a hand through your hair and sighed, you needed to speak to Pansy about the situation. You had nobody else to turn to. You stared aimlessly out of the window at the last- minute Christmas shoppers frantically move from shop to shop. You wondered if George would have taken the things you had bought for his family back to the shops, or if he would have wrapped them terribly and dished them out. You cringed at the idea of Molly seeing George’s wrapping and thinking it was yours. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of gold and a suitcase whizz pass the window. Your heart raced as you made eye contact with him, Mundungus Fletcher. Behind him he pulled a trolley you saw old ladies carry their shopping in full of tat. He raised a ringed hand up and waved at you through the glass, a sneer fixed on his stupid face. You reached for your wand, but he was too fast, he weaved through the crowd and was gone. You searched for him wildly with your eyes, you craned your neck to try and see further, but it was no use. He had disappeared as quickly as he appeared. You tried to quell the hatred that bubbled under your skin and took a deep breath.   “Who was that?” Pansy asked as she set a tray on the table. She passed you your coffee and a slice of cake and put the tray on the floor.   “Nobody.” You muttered. You thanked her and took a sip, you grimaced as you swallowed it. Muggle coffee was terrible, watery and bland. It made you long for home, the kitchen staff at your parent’s house were always at the top of their game. It had spoiled you really, you had made such an effort to learn how to do everything yourself. You wouldn’t be one of them. You refused.   “What did you want to talk about?” Pansy said as she shovelled a forkful of cake into her mouth. You bit your lip; you didn’t know how to say it. “Oi, you haven’t dragged me all the way to London just for a coffee so talk.”   “I’m late.”   “What do you mean?”   “My period’s late.”

  Pansy’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth; her eyes wide with shock. You tapped on the table nervously and glanced over your shoulder. You would be mortified if you found yourself in another situation like the one of the last few days.   “How long?”   “Nearly two weeks now that I think about it.”   “Shit.”   “What do I do, Pansy?” Your eyes brimmed with tears as you watched your friends face flit between emotions. Pansy’s usually stern face softened, she ran a hand over her beautifully quaffed hair and sighed.   “Have you been to St. Mungo’s?” She asked, you shook your head.   “I didn’t know I had to. I only realised this morning and that’s when I wrote you straight away.”    “Right, okay. So, first thing you need to do is go to St. Mungo’s, you’ll see a mediwitch and they’ll make you drink a potion to see if you’re…pregnant or not.” She whispered, you nodded tearfully.   “Is that it? I just need to go to St. Mungo’s?”   “Well, you need to make an appointment first. Only-” She stopped short, she frowned, and her brow furrowed.   “Only?” You prompted.   “Only, it’s the day before Christmas Eve (Y/N). They’ll be no appointments until after the New Year, I’m sure.”   “Is it the 23rd already?” You asked, “Fuck me, I didn’t realise.” You paused. “So I have to wait?” Pansy nodded and swallowed another mouthful of cake. She pondered for a second before she sat up straight in her chair.   “Unless…”   “Unless?” You asked, you were growing impatient.   “There is the old-fashioned way of finding out. The muggle way, it’s just as effective. My sister had to do it before she was of age and she had it off with one of the Black cousins.”   “Which is?”

******

  You shifted your weight uneasily from foot to foot. You were in Piccadilly Circus waiting outside of a, you think Pansy called it a chemist? She didn’t trust you to not have a breakdown in the middle of a muggle pharmacy so left you to wait outside. It was bitterly cold and the snow had begun to fall harder than before. You watched as muggle pedestrians tried to weather their way through the flurry. How had it gotten to be the 23rd of December without you noticing? How had you let yourself not notice that your period was late? Very, very late, you cursed. You couldn’t help but be slightly angry at Fred and George, you had worked your fingers to the bone over the last few weeks to make sure the sop was stocked to the brim ready for Christmas. You had been exhausted, and still found time to cook and clean for the boys too. No, stop that, you thought. You were just irritable and nervous. You weren’t angry at the boys; you loved the boys; and were so proud of everything they had achieved in such a small space of time. Its natural to have bumps in the road, you just hoped there wouldn’t be a bump of another kind making an appearance.

  You shook your head to try and rid yourself of these thoughts. It was no use to anyone to berate yourself, you placed a hesitant hand on your stomach. You prayed silently to Merlin, to anybody that could possibly hear you. You whispered the words over and over again in your mind, please don’t let me be pregnant please don’t let me be pregnant please don’t let me be-   “Got it!” Pansy thrust a plastic bag in your direction, followed by a handful of coins. You cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Your change,” she announced and placed the money in your hand. “Merlin, you know absolutely nothing do you.” You offered her a tight-lipped smile as she linked her arm with yours and you hurried away from the pulsing crowd.   “Right, let’s go to your flat and get this over with.” Pansy stated, she pointed to the designated apparation point and looked at you expectantly. The thought of going into an empty flat filled you with a dread that quickly turned to sickness, a bile that rose in your throat. You shook your head and slumped against the wall behind you.   “I can’t Pans, I can’t go back there now. Not today, I’m not ready.” You muttered, your hair fell into your face and shielded it from Pansy’s view. You felt Pansy put an arm around her shoulders. She pulled you close to her and enveloped you in a hug. The tears you had been holding in since you left Severus’ (could you even call him that now?) house fell from your heavy eyes as you clutched to your friend for dear life. She rubbed your back and swayed you from side to side.   “That’s okay, we don’t have to go there. Let’s just go to where you’re staying.”   “I can’t take you there either!” You laughed through your tears, Pansy laughed too and brushed her thumb across your cheek.   “Fucking hell, you truly are off grid, aren’t you? Don’t do break-ups by half.”   “We haven’t broken up, Pansy. I just needed some time away. I haven’t been on my own since…since-”   “Shh. I know, I know. I was just winding you up.” She pushed you back gently and held you at arm’s length. “Now stop crying please, you’re making me uncomfortable.” You laughed again and smiled weakly at her. You exhaled deeply and nodded. You needed to pull up your big girl pants and be an adult.   “I’ll owl you as soon as I know.” You said, Pansy’s face fell into a look of concern as you took a step back from her.   “Have I not shown you, you can trust me, (Y/N)?” She replied, she looked hurt and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.   “Yes, of course you have, Pansy. I just- I need to do this alone.” Pansy sniffed in indifference and crossed her arms over her chest. You felt instantly guilty, you loathed to upset your friend, especially when she had gone above and beyond for you; but you needed to do this by yourself.   “Fine. But you should let George know, it’s as much his concern as it is yours.” Pansy said stiffly before she turned away from you and disapparated with a small pop!

  You were still for a moment. The snow had turned to sleet and it seemed to soak you through to your very bones as you stood. How had everything turned into such a mess in such a small space of time? Of course, Pansy was right, you needed to tell George. He had a right to know what was going on as anybody else and another feeling of guilt flooded over your already aching chest.

******

  Desdemona was waiting patiently on a streetlamp as you approached Severus’ house. She let out an almighty hoot as you spotted her in the encroaching darkness, she flew quicky from her porch and nearly into your face.   “Bloody stupid bird,” You muttered as you extended an arm. Desdemona landed roughly; her talons pinched your skin under your winter coat as she offered the letter in her beak. Your heart sank as you took it, it could only be from your parents. “I don’t have anything for you. Go home.” You ordered her, if you didn’t know any better you could have sworn she rolled her eyes before she took off into the sky. You watched her fly for as far as you could see her, her tawny features hard to make out after a while. With a groan, you let yourself in to the house.

  You settled in Severus’ armchair and kicked your shoes off. The letter from your parents held tightly in your hand, it felt heavy and you were anxious yet reluctant to find out what it said. You sank lower into the comfortable leather and brought your knees to your chest and teased open the envelope. It wasn’t a howler, that was for certain. A smaller envelope dropped out of the initial one, and a folded piece of parchment landed on your lap. Ignoring the small envelope, you picked up the note and noticed immediately it was written in your father’s hand.

Daughter,

I understand you have moved to Diagon Alley with your partner; congratulations, I’m pleased you have found happiness. I must admit, this is to be a strange Christmas without you here with us. I will leave your stocking above the fireplace like always. I wish for you to understand that you are always welcome here, this is your home. I am your father. You will always be my little girl. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

Enclosed you will find your Christmas present; your mother gave her blessing for me to send it to you.

Merry Christmas, my darling.

You clutched the letter to your chest as you sobbed. You traced your finger over your father’s words, as if you could touch him through the parchment. You missed him more than words could say, you hadn’t anticipated how much so. In the time that had elapsed since you had last seen him, it was easy to forget the good things, the best things about your father; instead remembering him as the distant man who told you to run instead of protecting you. But he had, from the coldness of your mother, from the sneering remarks of the other noble families as a child and finally from your torment as you sat alone at Christmas.

  You padded solemnly into the kitchen and retrieved the bottle of port and the glass tumbler you had set out the night before. You poured yourself a healthy measure and as you brought the glass to your lips, you stopped. You remembered the white plastic bag you had flung on the floor at the bottom of the stairs when you arrived back, your stomach gurgled, and you bit your lip. What were you to do? Well, you knew exactly what you should do. You should write to George immediately, or better yet, go straight to The Burrow and you could do this together but- there was a part of you that felt that if you were to go to him now, you would be conceding. You would be letting yourself down. You hadn’t run straight into George’s arms the minute Mundungus’ plot was uncovered, if you were to go back now after two nights away from him would make you look weak. You demanded space, you demanded time to think and get away; you deserved it! George had to understand that he had hurt you immeasurably and not everything could be solved by a kiss and a cuddle.

  Regardless, if it turned out you weren’t pregnant then what would have been the need? You would have gone back to him at the first sign of trouble like always, and you weren’t prepared to it this time. If you were pregnant then yes, you would go to him. You would sit down and have an adult conversation over what to do next; but if you weren’t? You could perhaps enjoy this time to yourself before you returned to him. Before you decided what it was exactly you were to say to him. The layers of guilt that had so far weighed heavy on your chest eased slightly, your affirmations to yourself that this was the right thing to do, seemed to have assuaged you some. It was time, you knew it was. It was now or never, and it was most certainly, now.

  You read and re-read the instructions on the side of the box as you sat on the toilet. Your hand trembled as it held the little white stick, you parted your legs and pushed your hand between them; no idea if the stick was in the right position. When you were satisfied that you had done what you needed to, you pulled the stick away and popped the little blue cap on the used end. The box said it would take two minutes to give you a result, so with that, after thoroughly washing your hands, you returned to the living room. You placed the ‘test’ (it was most unlike any test you had ever taken in your life thus far) on the table face down, so you couldn’t see the little window and picked Dracula up from its perch on the nearby shelf. It was then that you noticed the small envelope your father had sent on the arm of the chair. You opened it gently, unsure of what it could be. Onto your lap fell an incredibly delicate silver choker encrusted with brilliant emeralds and littered with small diamonds, given to your mother when your grandmother died. You lifted it to the light and watched how the jewels caught the light. This piece of jewellery had been in your family for generations, You had admired it since you were a little girl, it had sat pride of place around your mother’s neck for special occasions, and you had tried it on- once or twice. Your mother would have been furious if she had found out. Your heart swelled with pride as you traced your fingers lovingly across it, that your mother wanted you to have it. Progress perhaps?

  A thunderous banging on the front door caused you to yelp in fear. You reached into the pocket of your jeans and produced your wand, you waved it frantically across the room and with a puff, all the candles were extinguished. You were plunged into darkness. Your heart pounded in your chest as you inched slowly out of the living room; wand raised- you weren’t sure what use it would be in the dark, but you refused to cast a Lumos. Severus had said he wasn’t expecting anyone at the house, and to not let anybody inside. You swallowed your fear and allowed yourself a second to think. The only people who would know what this house was, would either be one of two kinds. Muggles, probably drunk, banging on the wrong door or the darker alternative. The one you hoped to Merlin it wasn’t. The banging recommenced as you entered the hallway, you flinched at the sound but continued in your progress toward the front door. The early evening had well given way to night, and the only thing you could make out through the panes of glass in the door, was the shadowy figure that once again brought its hand up to bang against the wood. You crept silently along the hallway, with each step your pulse quickened as with trembling hand, you slowly reached for the catch. You felt a trickle of sweat run down your neck as you clasped the metal knob and turned it ever so slightly, you aimed to open the catch and fling the door open to the surprise of the intruder. You hoped to catch them off guard. As soon as you heard the click of the door, you flung it open.   “Stupefy!” You exclaimed, but he was faster.   “Expelliarmus.” Your wand flew from your hand and landed in his, bloodied and shaking. You blinked, unmoving as he reached for you. His other hand grasped onto your shirt as he tried to stand up straight. You recoiled backwards; it was instinctual. You noticed the hand which held fast onto the front of your shirt was also drenched in blood.   “Don’t scream.” He breathed, “Don’t scream, just…help…me inside.” You managed to nod and grasp him under his arm, as with the other he left bloody handprints along the wall. He kicked the door closed behind him as you helped him into the lounge, and with a big heave, assisted him to the sofa. “Why…is it so…dark?”

  In a second, every candle was lit, and you were able to get a good look at his face.   “What happened to you, Severus?” You asked horrified, he had a large gash on his cheek that bled freely. He clutched his side, and you noticed a flash of skin underneath his hands, he was wounded, badly. Bleeding profusely, what the fuck do you do? “Tell me what to do.”   “Dittany.” Severus whispered, “Cupboard in…bathroom.” You raced from the lounge up the stairs as fast as your feet could carry you, you wrenched open the bathroom cupboard and frantically searched for Essence of Dittany. You noticed that your hands were also covered in blood, his blood as you twisted and turned every bottle until you clasped your hand around the brown bottle.   “Give it to me.” Severus said weakly, he reached for the bottle, but you shook your head.   “No, you can’t-”   “I didn’t ask for…your opinion witch, give…me the…bottle.” He wheezed through gritted teeth, his face was a mass of blood now, like he had somehow tried to quell the bleeding but had somehow made it worse. You hesitated for a moment before you handed the bottle to him. He reached forward with a surprisingly steady hand and applied three drops to his cheek, his face contorted in pain as a small puff of green smoke rose around him. He winced as he tried to sit up, “Help me,” was all he said. Again, you supported his arm and helped right him. “My coat, I can’t reach-” You reached for his buttons and swiftly tried to undo them, he writhed beneath you, obviously in a copious amount of pain.   “Sorry!” You breathed as you reached his midsection, you could see clearly now the wound on his side. It looked as if he had been sliced, the blood was thick and dark as it oozed out of him. Tears stung your eyes as you panicked, you felt so very overwhelmed and with no idea how to help him. You tried to gently manoeuvre his arms through his sleeves, his jaw clenched and with two tugs, you managed it. He pulled his shirt up to his chest and granted you a look at how thin he was. You almost cringed at the sight of every rib in the poor man’s body, his stomach and what you could see of his chest were absolutely littered with scars; some old, some new.   “You will have to help…with this one.” Severus said, he looked better, if that was possible. The wound on his cheek shone purple, as if it had been there all along. The only tell-tale sign was the blood beginning to dry there. You rolled him onto his side and took the bottle from his hands, opening it quickly. You placed a gentle hand above his wound, just to the side of where his ribs jutted out. Severus flinched one and then relaxed as you tenderly brushed your fingers against his skin.   “Ready?” You asked, he gave a curt nod and you applied four drops of the Dittany across his wound. Severus, to his credit, let out a groan of pain whilst his whole body shook under the strain of new skin closing the wound. The puff of smoke was larger this time, you held your breath as it passed over your face. You held him in place until his breathing slowed, he looked at you askance and motioned to be helped up. “Do you want some water?” You asked as you pulled his shirt back down, covering him up. Severus shook his head.   “Whisky.” You rolled your eyes but knew better than to argue with him. You stood and brushed your hands against your jeans, you were sticky with his blood and felt uncomfortable. You hurried over to the drinks cabinet and pulled out a bottle of the amber liquid. Severus held his hand open and you passed him the bottle, he pulled the cork out with his teeth and brought it to his lips.  

  You watched him as he took sip after sip of the whisky, the colour eventually returned to his cheeks and you felt satisfied to leave him for a moment. You wandered into the kitchen and doused your hands with soap, scrubbing them hard to remove the blood. You fought back tears as the image of Severus writhing in pain engrained itself into your mind. You had never seen so much blood in your life and shuddered as you remembered the smell of the smoke as his skin knit together. You found him asleep on the sofa as you entered, bottle tipped to the side and his face peaceful. Carefully, you slipped his shoes from his feet and propped his legs up onto the sofa. Your wands lay together on the floor, you retrieved yours and Accio’d his duvet and a pillow, laying the latter under his head as you covered him in the blanket.

  You retrieved your cloak and settled into the armchair, you pulled it up to your chin and hooked your legs over one of the arms. It wasn’t comfortable, not in the slightest, but you couldn’t justify leaving him in his state. Your hand closed around your wand and pressed it against your chest, ready, just in case. For what- you didn’t know.

******

  “Sleep well?”

  You awoke with a start. Severus sat across the room from you, he was upright on the sofa. He still looked weak, but his eyes sparkled with humour.   “Like the dead.” You offered feebly; you arched your back; oh, fuck it was agony. You winced and Severus chuckled, your neck was stiff as you craned it to look at him.   “Nice choice of words.” You grimaced as you swung your legs onto the floor and ran your hands through your hair. You were surprised to feel the ends were dried red. Oh, of course. You shuddered as a fleeting image of the previous night’s bloody work crossed your thoughts. Brushing it off, you stood. “Coffee?”   “Please.” He answered, he looked more tired than you had ever seen as he watched you lazily. You returned a few moments later with two mugs of coffee, his black obviously, Severus nodded in thanks. You drank in silence, neither of you looking at the other. After a while, you stood without speaking. You felt disgusting, you were covered almost head to toe in Severus’ blood, although you had scrubbed at your hands- you hadn’t realised how messy it had been.

  You allowed yourself to cry in the bath. The water was hot and as you sank beneath the surface, you felt pathetic. You sobbed, more than you had in days. Your throat hurt and your eyes were swollen. Your heart hurt, why? Were you scared? Scared that someone might come after Severus and you would be caught in the crossfire? Or guilty that the man who had shown you so much kindness had been so dreadfully hurt and you hesitated in answering the door.

  He was sat in the same position that he had been in when you left him. He didn’t look like he had moved a muscle.   “Are you in pain?” You asked quietly, you felt stupid asking him stood in your Christmas pyjamas, but you were quickly running out of clean clothes.   “Immensely,” Severus answered wryly, he pointed at the coffee table. “What’s that?” Your gaze followed the direction of his pointed finger and your stomach fell.   “Nothing. Don’t worry.” You replied quickly, you snatched the pregnancy test and thrust it into the pocket of your pyjama bottoms. How the fuck had you forgotten about that? Your heart raced; you could know. You could know now, all you had to was look at the little window and it would tell you all you needed to know.  “Is that a pregnancy test?” Severus asked, the whisper of a smile tugged at his lips as you blushed.   “No.” You lied, why would he know what a pregnancy test looked like anyway? Especially a muggle one. Severus shook his head.   “If you say so.” He paused and watched you, your hair dripped big, wet droplets onto your shoulders. “Bring me some parchment and a quill, I need to write a letter.”   “Do you not think you should rest?” His face was aghast as you questioned him, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze.   “I promise not to exert myself too much moving my wrist.” You gave him a look of annoyance as he made a gesture as if he were writing. You rolled your eyes again, he chuckled once and then grasped his side in pain. Good, that serves him right for being a dick. You smirked to yourself as you retrieved parchment and a quill along with the silver whistle and thrust them into his hands.   “Would you like something to eat?” You watched him as, even with the sheer amount of pain he was in, his hand was steady as he wrote fluidly across the page. Severus ignored you as he continued to write. You sat in the armchair and watched him for several minutes, you noticed he brought the feathery tip of his quill to his lips every once in a while, in thought. It was almost hypnotic, watching his hand glide across the parchment, the only sound the scratching of his quill.

  The test in your pocket burned with anticipation. You reached for it deftly, careful not to make any sudden movements so as not to disturb Severus. Your fingers grasped it and pulled it out slowly, you shot a glance in his direction, satisfied that his attention was firmly placed upon his writing. You turned it over and…nothing. You panicked and turned it over, upside down and back to front. The little window that displayed the result was empty- no lines.   “Did you not read the instructions?” Severus called from the other side of the room. You gave him an uneasy look. “It quite clearly states that results disappear after twelve hours.” He hadn’t even looked up from his parchment, or so it seemed. You raced from the living room to the bathroom and plunged your hands into the wastebin in search for the box. He was right, of course he was right. Why wouldn’t he be right? You felt the blood drain from your cheeks as you slowly made your way back down the stairs.   “Idiot.” Severus mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear as you paced the length of the room. What were you to do now? It was Christmas Eve; you couldn’t face going back into the crowds. “I need you to take this to The Leaky Cauldron.” Severus’ deep baritone distracted you from your thoughts as he passed the parchment he had been writing on in your direction. You rose from your chair to take it from him, he had closed it in on itself over and over again until it appeared miniscule in your hand. Some kind of enchantment to dissuade the prying eyes of those unintended to read it, you supposed.     “What is it?” You enquired, turning it over in your fingers. Severus motioned you forward and held his arms out to you.   “You don’t need to know. Help me up.” Severus muttered and as you placed your arms around his back, your chests flush together; you blushed at the close proximity. He placed his hands onto your shoulders and supported himself to a standing position. “I need to go to the toilet.” He took two steps and swayed, he grasped hold of your arm to steady yourself.   “I can apparate us upstairs, Severus.” You stated, he grimaced and placed your arm under his.   “No, I’ll be sick. Help me and I might be able to help you with your problem.” He gave you a strained smirk and you nodded. You wondered what he could mean as you slowly supported him up the narrow staircase. You waited awkwardly outside of the door for a moment while he relieved himself, you accio’d his duvet and pillow and returned them to his bedroom, taking care to clear up the clothes you had scattered around the floor. When he emerged from the bathroom, you noticed his face was wet. He had attempted to wash his face rather unsuccessfully and you suppressed a laugh. You helped him into bed and pulled the covers over him, he seemed to relax under your care; letting you wipe a warm flannel across his face to remove the stains of his blood and hummed contentedly.   “You can do the rest yourself,” you announced. He opened his eyes and regarded you, “You can piss off if you think I’m going to give you a bath.” He laughed at this, a real smile appeared on his face and you smiled back, it was nice to see.   “Agreed. I can manage for now.” He sighed, “How late are your courses?”   “My courses?” You looked at him quizzically, Severus grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose.   “Your period, (Y/N). How late?” You blushed again and fiddled with the hem of your shirt, he looked at you expectantly as if he had asked you a question about the ingredients of a potion.   “Two weeks.” You answered, Severus nodded slowly and looked to the ceiling as if in thought.   “Yes, I think I shall be able to help you. Let me sleep for a while, deliver that letter for me and when you come back, we can eat, and we shall get to the bottom of this.” You sighed; you really didn’t want to go back to The Leaky Cauldron.  “Who shall I give it to?”   “Give it to Tom, he’ll see it gets where it needs to go.” Severus replied, his eyes closed again.   “Am I to say who it’s from?” Severus opened one eye and gave you a dark look, he wet his lips and frowned.   “Obviously.”

*******

  You hesitated before pushing open the door to The Leaky Cauldron, it was midday, and the pub was filled yet again with people making merry. You fought your way to the bar and waited to catch the attention of the young witch behind it, your neck craned in each direction to catch a glimpse of her. She appeared finally, two large trays of glasses hovering behind her as she began to rearrange the glassware behind the bar.   “Excuse me!” You said as you waved your hand, she noticed you and gave you a smile.   “Oh, hiya!” She said warmly, “Can I get you a drink?”   “No thank you,” You replied, “Is Tom available?”   “He certainly is,” A voice behind you said, you whirled round to be met with Tom’s smiling face. “Can I help you, miss?”   “Yes actually, I was told to give you this.” You showed him the tiny piece of folded parchment, Tom’s eyes flashed from it to yours and gave you a concerned look.   “Is this from…”   “Severus Snape, yes. He told me you’d know what to do with it.” You levelled, he took it from your hand and placed it into the pocket of his shirt.   “I assume there must be a reason why he sent you and not delivered it himself.” Tom replied with a raised eyebrow, you refused to let your mind wander to the events from the night before.   “Yes, but it’s not for me to say so- can I leave it with you?”   “Of course, I’ll see to it that everything is in order, tell him.” Tom replied, “Merry Christmas, miss.”   “Merry Christmas, Tom.” You watched as he withdrew into the crowd, you turned to the witch behind the bar. “Merry Christmas.” You smiled, she offered you a grin in return and waved her hand.   “Merry Christmas.” She replied cheerfully.

  You didn’t want to go into Diagon Alley, but your feet carried you over the cobbled stones to the dismay of your heart. Despite the growing tensions in the wizarding world, the wonky street was abuzz with people; not unlike the shoppers you had seen in Piccadilly Circus with Pansy. There was a long queue outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and you smiled sadly as you approached the window. The display you had spent so long working on looked magnificent, snow fell from behind the glass and tiny enchanted swans swam in a small lake, surrounded by miniature fur trees and families of deer.     “Penny for your thoughts?” You noticed Fred’s reflection in the glass appear next to you. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed tightly.   “I thought you’d still be at The Burrow!” You exclaimed, he laughed and hugged you back. You pulled away and looked into his face, he looked well and cheerful. You had learned the differences between him and George over time, subtle though they were.   “Well somebody’s got to be here to run the shop,” Fred said as he gestured to the busy building, “I’m going back tonight.” You nodded in understanding and he placed your hand in the crook of his arm. “Fancy a walk?”

  Fred led you passed the bustle of the shops and back towards the apparation point.   “You okay, Freddie?”   “Yeah yeah,” He answered quietly, it must be difficult for him to see you- to know what had transpired between you and George. “Look, I don’t want to bombard you with questions or anything, (Y/N). But I need to know; is that you and George done? You left things so up in the air with him, and he’s putting on a brave face don’t get me wrong but…he’s my brother, and I can tell he’s hurting.” You bit your bottom lip, you hated to think about George in pain; but you just weren’t ready to talk about things.   “No, Fred. We’re not done…but he really hurt me, he said some awful things to me; accused me of terrible things and it’s going to take some time for me to be ready to have a conversation about it. Let alone forgive him.” You paused and wiped away a tear that fell onto your cheek. “I suppose I just never expected he could be like that. It surprised me.”   “Bloody surprised us all mate. When George came flying down to the shop floor after you left, ranting and raving- I’d never seen that side of him before. And Merlin, when Snape arrived at mum’s with Mundungus Fletcher, I thought he would wind up with a wand suspension the way he was trying to hex Mundungus.” Fred exhaled with a small laugh, you matched it with a smile. “He’s a good bloke, (Y/N). You mean everything to him. Believe me, I’ve had to share a room with him for the best part of two decades. If you’re not ready to talk about anything, can I at least tell him I saw you today and what you said? I’m sure it’ll make him feel loads better if he knew you hadn’t, you know, broken up with him without him realising.” You considered it for a moment, if Fred told George he had seen you today; it might make him want to find you. He had really respected your space so far and you were grateful for it, but the thought of making Fred keep something like this from his brother was too big of an ask. Plus, you were also keeping a huge secret from him, but you couldn’t tell Fred before you told George- it wasn’t right.   “Yeah, of course, Freddie. Tell him, you can also tell him Merry Christmas and that…I love him.” Fred made a gagging noise and you smacked him on the arm. “I need to go.” You pulled Fred in for one last hug and squeezed enough for him and George. He chuckled as you walked to the apparation point and gave him a big wave goodbye.

*******

  Severus stayed upstairs all afternoon and well into the evening. You couldn’t blame him though, it looked as though he had been through a massive ordeal and he needed time to recover, you couldn’t begrudge him that. You found a magical cooking book in one of the cupboards and coupled with some of the food you had bought at the supermarket, you managed to cook a reasonably tasty meal. Severus made comments about the quality of the steak, but you expected nothing less. You suspected it was only to save face though, as twice when he thought you weren’t looking, you saw him close his eyes and savour the taste of the food. You had served him in his meal in bed, he had managed to prop himself up on the pillows and you sat at the foot of the bed. It seemed quite personal really, but you found yourself savouring the intimate moments you shared with him. It made you feel like he did actually care for you, as more than an ex pupil, as a friend. He asked you about The Leaky Cauldron, who you spoke to, how you got home. After a moment, you felt brave.   “Who did this to you, Severus?” Severus sighed and passed his empty plate over to you.   “Nobody.”   “I find that extremely hard to believe. I need to know if I’m in danger.” You asked him earnestly, he met your gaze with a softness you seldom saw from the man.   “You’re in no more danger now than you have been in the last three days. Please don’t concern yourself with my welfare.” He answered, you suspected he intended to seem sterner than he came across. You wondered if he couldn’t muster the energy to chastise you.   “It’s a bit difficult to do that when I have to take you to the loo every time you want a piss.”   “You’re vile.”     “Pot, kettle, black. I found your blood in my ear this morning. That’s vile.” You laughed and he managed a laugh too. “I’m just glad I was here when you arrived last night.”   “Whether you were here or not, I would have gotten inside one way or another.” He levelled nonchalantly.   “Would it really be so horrendous to just say ‘thank you’?” You let out an exasperated sigh and flopped backwards on the bed. He eyed you with annoyance, but you could tell it was fleeting.   “Yes, actually. For me anyway.”     “Well I’m not surprised. You’re just annoyed I’m working off my debt to you.” You winked and rolled from the bed, you picked up your used plates and took them downstairs.

    You returned when he called for you. You held two glasses of port in your hands and found him in his study.   “When did you get in here?” You asked with a smile, pleased to see him on his feet, if not slightly unsteady.   “I am an enigma of a man, (Y/N). I wouldn’t expect your tiny brain to even begin to comprehend me.” Severus answered with a smirk, you passed him the glass and he raised it to his lips and drank deeply. “Delicious.” It was then you noticed the cauldron bubbling contentedly on his desk. You wandered over to it and inspected the shimmering, iridescent silver liquid, it smelled foul; like rotten eggs and you recoiled.   “What the fuck is that?” You demanded as you covered your nose. Severus had his back to you; he ran a finger along one of the shelves which held bottles of all shapes and sizes and plucked a large green bottle with a jade lid. You watched as he carefully unscrewed the top and dropped a tiny drop of the liquid onto a sprig of lavender. The flowers wilted instantly, and he dropped the whole thing into the cauldron. A great lilac cloud erupted from the cauldron and dissipated as Severus waved his hand.   “This, (Y/N) is a pregnancy test.” Severus replied with a satisfied smile. He beckoned you over to the desk and you sighed as the smell had gotten progressively worse with the addition of the lavender. The liquid had changed from its silver to a dark burgundy, it still held its iridescence as it bubbled.   “Is this what they use in St. Mungo’s?”   “Merlin no, they use a potion so convoluted there you could have had the baby by the time you receive an answer.” Severus sniffed, “This is Enfantin Inventim, it’s old. Really, very old. They stopped using this in everyday practise about three hundred years ago. It’s notoriously difficult to prepare and can often lead to an incorrect result.”   “Should we use it then? If it can give an incorrect result?” You asked anxiously, the last thing you needed was to wait another day. You needed to get on with your life, one way or the other.   “Do you think I would prepare something that would achieve anything other than one-hundred-percent accuracy?” Severus snapped. He had a point; he was a potions master for a reason.   “Okay, what do I do?”   “It isn’t pleasant, (Y/N). Do you trust me?” You considered it for a moment and then nodded, he offered his hand to you, you took it and he pulled you towards him forcefully. Severus winced with the effort and forced your hand open. He quickly drew a pearl-encrusted dagger across the length of your palm, easily opening the flesh. You howled in pain and tried to pull your hand back, Severus clasped it into a fist and squeezed tightly. Blood began to fall from you hand and he brought it over the cauldron, the potion drank your blood hungrily and after you parted with ten drops, the potion began to cloud over.  

  “Stand back.” He commanded, he gave you a scrap of cloth and you pressed it hard into the palm of your hand. “If the liquid turns white, you’re pregnant. If it turns black, you’re in the clear.”   “How long do we have to wait?” You whispered and closed your eyes.   “Not long.” In that moment, you wished George were by your side. He would know exactly what to say, and even if he didn’t, he would make you laugh. You imagined his hand around your waist and his lips pressed to your head in a gentle kiss.   “Severus. If I am…you know. What do I do?”   “I imagine what women have done for a millennia-”   “No, what I mean is-” You paused, unsure of how he would react. “Do I have a- do I have a choice?”   “Of course you have a choice. I can put you in contact with some discreet mediwitches. They’re friendly and would have you sorted in no time.” “Okay.”

  You waited for what seemed an age. You tended to your wounded hand and shot a scowl in Severus’ direction when he likened it to a scratch compared to his. The cauldron continued to bubble, it produced green smoke and spat out occasionally. You couldn’t take it anymore. Severus stirred it dutifully and you told him you’d be back in a moment, trapsing your way to the bathroom. You paced back and forth frantically. You couldn’t stand the waiting idly by, you had fashioned a bandage for your hand out of the cloth and some rolled up toilet paper when you caught your reflection in the mirror. You moved towards it and placed your hands gently on the sink underneath it.   “You need to sort your fucking life out, (Y/N).” You said to your reflection, you stared deeply into your own face. Hardly even recognising the person reflected back to you.   “(Y/N)!” You heard Severus shout from the study. “It’s done.” You supressed the bile that rose in your throat and took a deep breath. You stepped uneasily back into the room to see Severus’ neutral face waiting for you. He stood with his hands behind his back.   “Have you looked?”   “Yes.”   “What is it?”   “For fucks sake, have a look.” He snapped; he shook his head with a scowl as you inched toward the cauldron. Your hands trembled as you peered down into the now still liquid. It was black. The liquid was black.   “It’s-”   “Black.” He answered with a smile.   “I’m-”   “Not. Pregnant.”

  You cried out a tremendous cry of relief. Big tears rolled down your cheeks as you moved to Severus in two swift movements and threw your arms around his shoulders. He swayed with surprise.   “Ow. Careful.” He murmured before he patted you awkwardly on the back. When you pulled away, you beamed triumphantly up at him and he returned your smile. “You can thank me by releasing me.” You complied with a laugh, a genuine laugh. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, you breathed easier than you had done in weeks.   “Thank you, Severus. I suggest you stop being nice to me or I’ll forever feel indebted to you.” You laughed, you noticed Severus’ expression alter slightly. “What? What did I say?”   “I feel like I haven’t been quite honest with you.” Severus said quietly, “Don’t interrupt me, just let me finish, yes?” You nodded and took a step back. You waited patiently for Severus to speak, he seemed to mull the words over before he was satisfied.   “You asked me a while ago whether I’m this involved with all of my old student’s lives, and I think we both know the answer to that. When I returned to Malfoy Manor after I took you to The Burrow, your father took me to one side.” You eyed him suspiciously as he wet his lips before continuing, “He knew what I had done and asked for a favour.”   “Of course he did.”   “Shut up, I’m not finished. He asked me if would be able to keep an eye on you, he knew I had connections almost everywhere, and he wanted reports of your whereabouts. And I agreed.” You stared unblinking at Severus. “He offered monthly payments if I could tell him where you were going, what you were doing, who you were seeing etcetera.” Severus squared his shoulders and took a sip of his port. “He just wanted to know you were safe.”   “So he paid you to spy on me?”   “In essence, yes. I never accepted the money though.” Severus levelled, you covered your eyes with your good hand and sighed.   “That’s why you let me stay in your house.” Severus nodded grimly and gestured for you to sit. You did so and chewed on your lip. You felt a multitude of emotions, not one of them good.   “There is one more thing, (Y/N). That night in The Leaky Cauldron where Mundungus saw you and I for the first time. He was there on my orders.” Your mouth fell agape. No, no absolutely not, that couldn’t be. Severus couldn’t possibly have ordered the hurt that Mundungus inflicted. You stared at him again, stony faced as tears began to trickle down your cheek.   “I heard you though, I followed you into the alleyway when you confronted him.” You said feebly, your lip quivered.   “I know, I made sure you would hear so not to suspect me. I was annoyed at him though, that was never part of the plan. He went rogue, so to speak.”

  A heavy silence descended between the pair of you. Severus, his usual staidness reduced to slumped shoulders and a guilty expression. There was a plethora of things you wanted to say, questions you wanted to ask him, but you couldn’t find the words. He finished his port and hobbled out of the room, your heard him enter the bathroom. You sat still, positively unable to process everything he had told you. Was there anything in your life that you held control over? When he appeared in the doorway, his face was ashen with pain and a thin layer of sweat appeared on his brow.   “Do you have any cigarettes?” You asked him slowly. He nodded and pointed downstairs, you pushed passed him and retrieved them from his discarded coat. You carried the remainder of the bottle of port back with you and sat on the floor. Severus moved slowly passed you and collapsed into the chair, the evidence of his exertion etched into his face. You filled his glass with the ruby liquid and then pressed the bottle to your lips and took three deep swigs. He raised an eyebrow as if to complain but thought better of it.   “Did you ever care about me, Severus? Because if it isn’t already clear, I care about you.” You pulled a cigarette out of the packet and lit it, you threw the packet into Severus’ lap, a little harder than you intended. He winced and lit his own cigarette.   “Of course I care.” You scoffed and took another swig from the bottle.   “And are you going to tell him about this? My father?” You pointed to the cauldron full of Enfantin Inventim. Severus shook his head and took a sip.   “No, I did this for you.”   “Why should I believe you?”   “You don’t have to, I suppose. I can’t force you.”

  You were silent again after that, you took long drags of your cigarette until the heat became too much as it reached the filter and burned your lip. You finished off the port and dropped the stub into the now empty bottle. Severus didn’t remove his eyes from your face, as if he were waiting for you to explode. You had every right to, you could go and punch walls and kick holes in doors, but what would that achieve?   “I’m trying really hard to be angry at you.” You whispered. Severus’ look of surprise almost took you off guard.   “And?”   “I can’t.” Severus sighed and slipped further into the chair, he finished his cigarette and beckoned for the empty bottle. He dropped the stub in slowly, his face contorted with pain as he stretched. You watched as he did his usual action of wetting his lips, his tell-tale sign that he was about to speak.   “I do care about you, (Y/N). There’s a goodness in you that one doesn’t always see when they’re brought up in the circles we frequent. I’m satisfied knowing I played my part in ensuring you got out of it all. You remind me very much of somebody I knew a long time ago, someone I wished I could have done more to help, but it wasn’t within my power. This, on the other hand, was very much within my capabilities. I’m not sorry.” His face settled into a frown and you sighed with exasperation.   “Fucks sake.” You muttered, you rose from your spot on the floor and made your way to Severus. You dipped your head and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You’re an arsehole.”   “Believe me, (Y/N). That is one of the tamer names I have been called in my time.” He smiled ruefully and found your hand and gave it a squeeze.   “If I ask you a question, will you promise to answer it honestly?” You asked, you saw the faintest hint of humour flash across his eyes.   “I shall try.”   “Was it the Dark Lord who hurt you last night?” He looked at you thoughtfully, a smile tugged at his lips. Severus lifted his chin and placed a finger on it and brushed it over his lips.   “Yes.” You didn’t quite know what to do with the information, you weren’t quite sure why you asked the question. You simply nodded and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Please don’t worry about me, (Y/N). I know what I’m doing.”   “Still.” Severus shrugged, he looked to the clock on the wall and then out of the window into the night.   “If you leave now, you could make it to The Burrow by midnight. Bring in Christmas with your loved ones.” He said quietly, you wondered if you saw the slightest twinge of remorse on his face. You cocked your head to the side.   “You want me to go?”   “I think we both know it’s time for you to, what’s the expression, ‘get your shit together.’” You snorted and threw your head back as you laughed.   “You could come with me, if you like; to The Burrow?” Severus shook his head, his hands outstretched in front of him.   “No thank you, I prefer my own company.”   “What will you do? Will you be okay if I go?”   “I have weathered much more serious casualties than this one by myself. I shall be fine. I will travel back to Hogwarts in the morning ready for my Christmas Dinner.”   “Are you sure?”   “Go,” Severus stated with a small smile, “Get out of my house.”

******

  It was five to midnight when you knocked on the door to The Burrow. You didn’t want to just burst in, just in case they were asleep or busy with family time. Your fingers flew to your neck where the intricate choker your father had sent you sat at the base of your throat; it was a special occasion after all. You knocked again and stood back to take a look at the house. There were a few lights still on even at this late hour, you strained to hear any noises on the other side of the wood and were about to knock for a third time when the door flew open. Ginny stood in fluffy red pyjamas, wand raised and a look of shock on her face. You launched yourself at her and she you, you engulfed each other in a vice like hug.   “I knew you’d come.” She whispered, “George is going to wet himself.” She led you through the house where only Molly, Ginny and Ron sat by the fireplace in the living room. Molly clasped her hands to her mouth as she struggled to get out of her chair quickly.   “Oh! My dear!” She said as she tottered toward you, she pulled you close to her chest and rocked you back and forth. “I am so happy you’re here; we can finally celebrate now.”   “Please don’t, you’re going to make me cry.” You said as Molly pulled away and placed a warm hand to your cheek.   “Welcome home.” She whispered. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

  The sound of feet thundering down the rickety staircase made you jump, Ginny arrived breathlessly at the bottom and George immediately behind her dressed in his pyjamas. Your eyes met across the expanse and you opened your arms to him. He crossed to you in a flash and placed two hands on your face and pressed his lips hungrily to yours. You tossed your arms around his neck, and his arms moved down your body and hugged your waist. You pressed your forehead to his and sighed.   “Merry Christmas.” You breathed; a whisper of a smile played at George’s lips.   “Merry Christmas.” He replied, he laced his fingers with yours and beamed at you. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

  Most of the snow had melted in the fields surrounding The Burrow, and you were grateful for it as George almost dragged you along a beaten path to a wooden bench under a tree, a good quarter of a mile away from the house. He pressed a hand to the seat and shrugged;   “It’s not wet, just cold.”   “I can handle cold.” You sat close to him on the bench, his arm around your shoulders as you both gazed up into the crisp night sky. There was something about the way the stars looked from here, like you could reach out and touch them. Lonely clouds like tiny whisps of smoke littered the sky occasionally, and you took turns in those moments where the stars weren’t visible in giving the other a kiss.   “Merlin, I missed you.” George said into your hair, he stroked the side of your face with a gloved finger and you melted into his touch. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”   “There’ll be plenty of time to talk about it, George, but I need to tell you something.” You replied, his gaze softened as he placed another tender kiss to your lips. You sighed contentedly at the feeling of warmth that spread through you, you were home. He squared his shoulders and shifted slightly on the bench, so to face you more.

  He listened intently whilst you told him of everything since you had last seen him. He nodded and occasionally asked the odd question like; “Was the inside of Snape’s house full of bodies?” and “God, I can’t believe you slept in his bed. Was it a coffin?” The only thing you neglected to tell him was of Severus’ attack, you didn’t know how deep the waters were that surrounded his area of his life and you didn’t feel like it was your place to share that information. When you told him of your pregnancy scare, his eyes widened, and his jaw clenched.   “(Y/N),” He said sternly, “You should have told me straight away. That’s not fair.”   “I know love, I feel awful about it. That’s one thing I’m truly sorry for, George. I promise not do anything like it again.” He nodded, seemingly content with that and kissed the tip of your nose. You began to tell him of the plot your father had embroiled Severus in, and George’s hands clenched into fists.   “That fucking snake.” George muttered, “How are you not furious?”   “Believe me, I tried to be,” You answered, “We talked about it and I decided there’s more important things to be worried about. I don’t blame him for what he did and neither should you, okay?”   “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”   “I’ll take it.”

  When you climbed into bed that night, it was nearly two in the morning. The rest of the house was sound asleep as you and George became reacquainted. His hands found themselves tangled in your hair and you moaned quietly as he pulled softly, his mouth lathering your neck in kisses.   “Fuck, I’ve missed the sounds you make.” George breathed into your ear, you tipped your head back and found his mouth with yours. His hands travelled from your hair down to your hips, he pulled you close, and you felt his already hard member as it pushed against his boxers. You brought a hand down and cupped it, he hissed at the contact and bucked his hips forward. “Please let me fuck you, (Y/N). It’s been too long.”   “Yes, oh, fuck yes. Do it, George.”

  He wasted no time in pushing your knickers over your bum, and you wiggled frantically in an attempt to free yourself from them. He pulled his boxers down and climbed between your legs, he rubbed his cock against your folds and spat into his hand, rubbing it along his shaft for extra lubrication. When he pushed into you, you moaned together. It was like for one split second, the earth stopped. Everything stopped. You could hear your heartbeat in your eyes as you pulled George’s head down to kiss his lips. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip, and he shuddered. He rolled his hips against yours, and you grasped onto his shoulders tightly. George pulled out almost completely, before he pushed into you again; fully sheathed inside you. He did this three more times before you cried out;   “Please! I can’t take it anymore!” With a growl, George thrusted hard. His hips snapped backwards and forwards at intense pace, he lifted your legs above his shoulders, allowing him to bury himself deeper within you. You gasped at the sensation of being utterly filled by him, your brow furrowed as you struggled to keep your moans quiet. He continued this pace, his cock now slick with your juices as you bit down hard on the back of your hand. He pushed back slightly and reached a hand in between your legs, parting them slightly as he began to furiously rub your clit. Your eyes rolled back into your head as overwhelming pulses of pleasure coursed through your veins, you moved your hips with his, suddenly desperate for release. George let your legs fall from his shoulders as he grasped your hips, moving you with ease along his throbbing cock. You groaned, as George pressed harder against your mound, drawing from you a string of curses as you trundled towards your orgasm.   “Fuck, I’m going to come, George.” The surprise in your voice was palpable, the swiftness in which George was going to make you come was incredible. You panted hard against his shoulder as with a grunt, his nimble fingers rubbed you to completion, his cock hitting the delicious spot inside you. As you reached the peak of your high, George followed. He groaned as your walls tightened around him and he spilled his seed deep into your quim.   “Sorry,” George breathed, “I couldn’t hold on any longer.” You smiled and kissed him, it was tender and held every ounce of love you had for him. He deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue around with yours as his hand cupped your breast. “I’m going to fuck you so hard as soon as we get to the flat, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”   “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Georgie.” You smirked, he tweaked your nipple between his fingers and brought his mouth close to your ear, his voice deathly low.   “I’m going to make you come, over and over again. You’re going to beg me to stop. Then I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you the way you ought to be fucked. Rough and hard because naughty girls don’t get fucked nicely.”

  Your skin flushed with heat as he nibbled at your earlobe, desire already building between your legs. You cast a look to George, who looked about two seconds away from falling asleep and giggled.   “Do you want to be the little spoon?” You asked, he didn’t answer, instead he rolled his body away from you and faced the wall. He pushed his bum out and you gave it a playful slap.   “Don’t get any ideas.” He muttered and you grinned as you wrapped your arm around his middle. He laced his fingers with yours and hummed contentedly as the room gave way to the quiet of the house.   “I’m so happy you came back.” George whispered; his voice heavy with tiredness.   “Me too. I love you.” You replied with a yawn.   “Love you too.”

  George complained the entire way back to the flat. He had insisted on carrying your bags plus gifts you had received over Christmas, including but limited to; a lovely scarf Molly had painstakingly kitted for you and a hilariously ruffled gilet for George. You couldn’t help but grin consistently as you walked ahead of him up the back stairs to the entrance of the flat, his hat had slipped over his eyes and he lost his footing. Your suitcase lurched backwards, it manged to bump comically every step before it lay still at the bottom of the stairs.   “Right!” George announced, he dropped the rest of the bags and grabbed hold of your hips. You yelped in surprise as George hoisted you over his shoulder, fireman style and proceeded up the rest of the stairs. He near enough kicked the front door open and moved swiftly through the flat and into your shared bedroom, he ignored your giggled protestations and flung you down onto the bed. He was on top of you in an instant, his knee pushed your legs apart and his mouth descended onto your throat. He sucked and nibbled at the sensitive skin and began undoing the buttons of your coat.     “Off.” He ordered as he opened your coat and tugged at the bottom of your jumper. Dutifully, you sat up and removed the offending items of clothing. His gaze was ravenous as he watched as you tucked your hair behind your ears and waited for further instructions. George’s gaze flashed down to your breasts. “Off.” He repeated. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as George removed his own coat and shirt, his hands moved to his belt and he slipped both his jeans and boxers from his body, his already hard cock sprung against his stomach as you followed suit. You threw your jeans across the room and your knickers next.

 “So beautiful,” George commented as he ran a featherlight touch across your cheek. “Such a good girl.” You melted into George’s ghost like touch and shuddered. You kept your eyes on him as he brought a hand down to his cock and rubbed along the length slowly. “Touch yourself, (Y/N) I want to see you make yourself come.” Your eyes widened with shock for a moment before a smile crept across your mouth and you brought your hands to your breasts. Was it a show he was after? Then a show he would get. You placed your fingers on each of your hardened nipples and tugged slightly, your lips parted slightly at the sensation. You heard George as he took a sharp intake of breath as he gripped the head of his cock. You trailed one hand slowly down your body and shuffled down the bed as you lay your shoulders back onto the covers. You reached your throbbing cunt and spread your legs wide for George to see, he moaned as you brought your fingers over your clit and rubbed a sweeping circle of it.   “That’s it,” George moaned, “Let me see you- oh! Good girl.” You watched as George began to pump himself faster, your name fell from his lips as you plunged two fingers between your slick folds. You matched George’s pace as you fucked yourself with your fingers, you closed your eyes and fisted the sheets with your free hand. Pleasure built within you as with each pulse of your fingers, you found your sweet spot. “Come quickly, (Y/N). I want to see how fast you can come.”

  You took your fingers out of your entrance and brought them now coated in your juices and recommenced the rubbing of your clit. You moaned as you rubbed tantalisingly quick circles on the electrified pearl between your legs. Your toes curled as you felt your orgasm build in the pit of your stomach, you moaned, and George answered it with a moan of his own. Your hips bucked from the bed as you pressed harder with each swipe of your fingers until you came, it was fantastically intense and your voice, thick with desire called out for George.   “Come here.” He demanded once you had recovered. His cock was impossibly hard and almost screamed for attention as you crawled slowly over to where he sat. George placed a hand on your head as you took him in your mouth, you placed a tender kiss to the tip and licked the little drops of precum that had gathered there. He sighed as you pushed your lips down the length of hi and relaxed your throat, allowing him a small thrust. His gentle hand became a fist in your hair as he pulled you back, almost pulling you away from his cock; but your hand reached around the base of him and began to pump him. Your tongue swirled around his tip and George’s head rolled back as you wrapped your lips around him and swallowed. You found a rhythm and George’s hand on your head helped you keep time; you could see the muscles in his thighs tense as you hummed around him.   “Fuck. That feels good. Such a good girl.”

  At George’s praise, you sucked him faster, hollowing your cheeks and your grip around his shaft tightened. George’s hips began to lift off the bed as he thrust into your mouth. There was nothing you loved more in this world than to feel this man come undone under your hand, you moaned against him and he slid further into your throat. That was enough for George, who parted with four thick spurts with a cry of pleasure. You swallowed it up and wiped your mouth, you pulled away and gently massaged your aching jaw. You watched the rise and fall of George’s chest as he recovered from his orgasm, arm slung over his eyes.   “I love you.” You whispered, you felt tears sting your eyes and you sniffed. George sat up and looked at you, his face etched with concern.   “I love you too, what’s the matter?” He asked, he pulled you close and bundled you into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you nuzzled your face against his neck.   “Nothing, nothing. I’m just so happy.” George chuckled and hugged you tighter, you popped a leg over his and hummed as happy tears fell from your eyes.   “Me too.”

**********

  “No, those need to go to the stockroom, Fred. I’m not having them cluttering up the flat. There’s already zero room in here as it is.” You gestured around you to the boxes of stock that stood tall in your tiny living room.   “Right, and I’m telling you there’s nowhere to put them. We need more space.” Fred sighed and placed the box full of love potions on the floor. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Angelina appeared from behind a tower of boxes, her face aghast as Fred opened his arms to her. He placed a kiss on her shoulder.   “We’re drowning in all this.” She said, you shook her head at you; a silent communication that the boys had finally lost the plot.   “What do we need to do?” George called from the doorway, he levitated three coffee’s behind him as he held a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hand, a bottle of champagne in the other. You grinned as he rushed to you, he presented the flowers to you and you sniffed them gratefully. Roses, lily’s and daisies. Your favourite.   “They’re beautiful, George! Thank you!” You placed a loving kiss to his cheek and traced a lily petal delicately with your finger as George put the champagne in the fridge.   “Congratulations my love! And happy second anniversary.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a hug.   “This mine?” Angelina asked, she pointed at one of the three coffees suspended behind George’s shoulder.  “Oh yeah sorry, Ange. This one’s yours love.” George smiled and dished the coffees out; Angelina gave George a warm smile of thanks as you sipped happily.   “Where’s mine?” Fred demanded; George patted his pockets sarcastically.    “You weren’t here, mate.” He shrugged, Fred huffed and turned his attention to you.   “Congratulations I suppose, (Y/N). Still think you’re wasting your time being a Healer.” Fred said, Angelina wasted no time smacking his stomach.   “You think I’m wasting my time being a Healer…as we’re about to go into war?” You said, despite the seriousness of your words, a smile tugged at your lips as you knew Fred was just sorry to lose you from the shop. You had spent the last year and a half revising your arse off to be fast-tracked through the training programme. It was the only way you could think of to give back an inch of the kindness you had received. You had received your lime green robes this morning, an immensely proud moment indeed.   “All I’m saying is, you could have been junior assistant manager. I had the badge made for you and everything.”   “Ignore him, (Y/N).” Angelina said as she rolled her eyes, “We’re all really proud of you. Well done, babe.” You handed George the flowers and tossed your arms around Angelina’s neck for a hug.   “Thank you, Ange. What did I ever do without you to help reign dear Freddie in?” You laughed and she laughed with you.   “Think there’s anyway we can back out, Georgie?” Fred whispered dramatically to George who just grinned ruefully.   “Not a chance.”   “Too fucking right. You’re stuck with us now.” Angelina replied, an arm slung round your shoulders. “We still need to work out what to do with these boxes.”   “There’s no room for them in here.” George offered, he waved his wand over your flowers and they arranged themselves beautifully in a vase.   “No,” Angelina agreed, “I think we all know this flat isn’t big enough for four people, couples or not.” You nodded and made your way back to George, he hoisted himself up onto the kitchen counter and you settled between his legs.   “What are you thinking?” Fred asked his girlfriend; Angelina shrugged and sipped her coffee.   “We were thinking,” You replied, “Turning this upstairs flat into a staff room and overflow stockroom. You’re selling so much, so obviously have to have the stock to sell. There just isn’t room for us in here anymore. Plus, I’m pretty sure the staff would love to be able to come up here and have an actual cup of tea on their breaks.”   “We think we should move.” Angelia said, “Separately.” She added softly. George’s hand stiffened around your waist. You wished that Angelina had waited a day or two before dropping the bombshell, but the pair you had spent the last month speaking of little else. You and George needed your own space, and Fred and Angelina needed theirs as much.   “You want us to move away from each other?” Fred asked incredulously, you offered him a small smile.   “Not exactly.”

**********

  The portkey dropped you in the middle of a field. You were on your lunch break and only had half an hour before you needed to be back at St. Mungo’s. George looked stressed as he straightened his tie, you could tell he was nervous. You took his clammy hand in yours and gave it a squeeze.   “You okay?”   “Yeah,” He replied in a strained voice. “It’s just a lot of money to part with.” You sighed and dragged him in the direction of Fred and Angelina who stood waving at you. You approached them with hello’s and hugs and waited.   “What time’s he meant to be coming?” Fred asked as he checked his watch, you followed suit and checked the upturned watch pinned to your robes. Only twenty minutes left.   “Any minute now.” Angelina asked. You all looked in opposite directions, scouring the grassy horizons for any sight of the man in question. What you didn’t expect, was for him to surprise you from behind.   “You can never expect a group of Gryffindor’s to be on time.” You felt a grin widen across your face as you saw Severus fold his arms across his chest.   “Excuse me, I’m one of yours.” You replied, he shook your hand rather formally but gave you a brief wink as he dropped two sets of keys into George’s hand.   “Is it all sorted?” George asked the potions master, Severus nodded.   “Yes, I watched them as they signed the paperwork this morning. All in your names now, though I don’t see why you had to have me do it. I’m very busy.”   “Because I don’t trust anybody else.” You countered, “I needed to be one-hundred-percent sure my parents wouldn’t try any funny business.”   “They were quite happy to get rid of these cottages if you ask me. They have no need for them anymore, especially given that they’ve sold the house in Rouen.” Severus said, he looked up at the old stone walls of the two cottages.   “The price of war, I suppose.” Fred quipped; Severus cocked an eyebrow but ultimately smirked in agreement. You broke away from George and the others and placed your arm through Severus’, wandering a few steps.   “Thank you again, I really appreciate that.” You whispered; your heads close together. Severus placed a hand on top of yours and patted it softly. “Are you still coming for lunch on Sunday? It’s my only day off this week.”   “Are you cooking?”   “No, George is.”   “Yes, I shall arrive at twelve.”

  You waved as Severus made off into the distance, when there was no longer any sight of him. Angelina turned to you, and then back out to the cottages. A pair of great stone cottages with an adjoining garden stood before you. That had been built hundreds of years ago by twin farmers who tended the surrounding fields. They were acquired by your parents in the sixties; and now were to make new homes for you and George, Fred and Angelina. It was fitting really that another pair of twins would live in them all those years later, making new memories.   “How long have you got before you need to be back at the hospital?” George whispered into your ear. You glanced down at your watch.   “Fifteen minutes.”   “Plenty of time.” He breathed, George grabbed your hand and dragged you laughing towards the front door of your cottage. The door slammed behind you as he placed a hungry kiss to your lips. His hands where everywhere at once, slipping your robes over your head and grunting in your ear.   “This is our house, (Y/N). I want to hear how loud you can be.”

Of course, you complied; you wanted everybody to know that you were his, forever.

[chilling-seavey]

There Goes My Life - Chapter One

A/N This is the sequel to my previous novel Anything But Mine! You can read this novel as a stand alone but it will make more sense if you read the original first! Everything is tagged in my masterlist! If you want to be added to my tag list, shoot me a message! Happy reading x

Summary:  It has been 18 years since ‘Anything But Mine’ ended and 19-year-old Clementine is now heading back to university for her second year, now accompanied by her 18-year-old sister, Penelope. Penelope soon notices that her older sister isn’t the same level-minded girl she was while living at home; having a bit of a personality change when living away at school. Things only escalate when a wrench is thrown into Clementine’s life, and she starts to question everything she ever knew to be true, almost tearing apart her family in the process.

Note: This story and the whole Anything But Mine universe, is based off the song There Goes My Life by Kenny Chesney. I recommend listening to it because it’s such a sweet song and sums up Daniel’s relationship with Clementine and his girls so well. 

Saturday, September 4, 2038

The single lane highway was framed with sprawling farmland and full green trees under a clear blue summer sky. It was September 4th and therefore the beginning of a new school year, the silver Audi driving eastward and packed full of two loads of suitcases, taped up boxes, and a few too many bags. Three teenage girls were squished together in the backseat, singing along to whatever song was on the radio. Clementine was on the right, her dark blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, sipping her strawberry lemonade between lyrics. She was ultimately calm, smiling at her little family whom she loved with her whole heart with her arm linked through her little sister’s. Lucy took the middle seat since she was youngest at merely fourteen. She took after her father with her musical talent, her pitch perfect voice filling the car impressively. As they got closer to the urban landscapes, she slid her hand into her middle sister’s who was sat on her left, offering her a gentle smile. Penelope returned it, giving her sister’s hand a small squeeze before looking back out the window; she was more than excited to be starting university with her older sister there to help her out. That was until they pulled up to the old stone campus and reality started to set in.

It wasn’t as busy as it would be since they chose to move in early. Daniel and Florence knew that their second oldest would start to panic with such a quick turn around before classes as well as being thrown into meeting so many people all at once. With Penelope, early was always better.

It didn’t seem to make any difference on her nerves as her family climbed out of the car once they parked outside the residence building but she stayed frozen in her seat, eyes glued to the old stone building towering in front of her. She slowly raised her hand to her mouth and bit anxiously at her fingernail. The car door opening startled her.

“What’s wrong, bug?” Daniel whispered, leaning down next to her as the other girls were unloading the car.

“I don’t want to do this.” Penelope breathed, her voice wavering. She glanced up at him with tears brimming in her blue eyes.

Daniel sighed, crouching down next to her, and pressed a hand to her cheek, “It’s what you’ve always talked about, Penny. You’re going to be featured in the MET before you know it.”

“But I can’t do that without you guys.” Penelope protested. “I-I just can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’re going to absolutely kill it. And you won’t even be on your own…Clementine is going to be with you. You know she’ll be there to help you with whatever you need. And if you really need me on a weekend I can come down and take you for lunch, okay? We’re only a phone call away.”

Penelope nodded, sniffling quietly.

“Just take it one step at a time, bug. Everything’s going to be just fine.” Daniel whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to her head. He unbuckled her seatbelt for her and held out his hand for her to take.

She smiled softly and took his hand, following him around the car to the sidewalk where all the bags were piled.

“Let’s get a move on, Nell. Life won’t wait around for us.” Clementine clapped her hands together a few times through a wide smile, handing over her backpack.

The family of five made their way into the lobby of the residence building with their many boxes and bags. Clementine waltzed right up to the front desk.

“Clementine Seavey, signing in.” She announced proudly.

Her shyer sister stood a little behind her, leaning on her suitcase as she felt like her legs were going to give out.

“Go on, sis.” Clementine nudged her once she received her key.

The lady behind the front desk smiled tightly at her.

Penelope cleared her throat and took a step forward, leaning her arms on the top of the desk, “Penelope Seavey.”

The lady typed her name into the computer and then shuffled through a box of small envelopes before passing her one, “Room 302. The stairs are just down the hall on your right. Welcome to Queen’s!”

Clementine was already halfway down the hallway by the time Penelope turned around.

“Wait for your sister, Clem.” Daniel called through a laugh, draping his arm around his middle daughter’s shoulders as they followed after her.

There was no elevator in the old building so each suitcase and heavy box had to be pulled up the stairs one by one. By the time everything was brought to the third floor, they were all no less than exhausted. Clementine still powered on, finding her room down the hall; 310. Lucy scurried behind her, pushing her four-wheeled suitcase at top speed.

“You’re going to break it.” Clementine laughed, giving her youngest sister a small shove and pulled her bag inside her empty room. “Make yourself useful and go get my other stuff.” She pinched her cheek.

“Do you want to stick with Clementine and help her move in if we take care of your sister, Lu?” Florence asked.

“Sure thing.” Lucy smiled, overloading her arms with Clementine’s way too over-packed boxes before stumbling back down the hall.

Penelope looked down at the envelope in her hands that had her full name scrawled out in cursive handwriting along with her room number. She ripped it open and pulled out the key card, taking a small breath before swiping it in her door. The lock clicked and she pushed it open, stepping inside.

The room was tiny but comfortable with a double bed, a desk and a chair, and a full closet and set of drawers with a window that overlooked more of the residences and the sports field in the distance. Penelope sighed and turned around to rest against the window ledge.

“What do you think, bug?” Daniel asked, setting her suitcase in the corner.

“It’s not home.” she shrugged.

“If it was too nice, you’d never come back to us.” Florence joked. The eighteen-year-old cracked a small smile as she looked to the carpet, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.

“We know you’re going to plaster these boring white walls with pictures within two days. It’ll feel more comfortable soon.” Daniel added, bringing another few bags in from the hallway.

“Yeah.” Penelope sighed, sliding her backpack to the floor beside her desk.

“What else can we help you with?” Florence asked.

Daniel set his hands on his hips, “We can make your bed for you…or hang up your clothes…”

“I’m okay.” Penelope assured them. “I can do that.”

“You’re okay if we head out already?” Daniel asked quietly.

“Yeah.” She nodded tightly, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Florence and Daniel exchanged worried glances.

Penelope’s nose scrunched up a little before she let out a soft sob, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh, bug, it’s okay.” Daniel sighed, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She tucked her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, trying to steady her panicked breaths as he ran his hand over her hair.

“Once you get into a routine, things will be easier.” Florence added gently. “And you’re going to do so well.”

“Make sure you talk to your sister, okay? Tell her if you need anything.” Daniel said. Penelope nodded.

“She’s gonna be just fine.” Clementine said from the open door. “We’re always good together, aren’t we, Nell?”

Penelope smiled and nodded, wiping her eyes as she pulled back from Daniel’s hug, “That’s what 15 years of sharing a room gets you.”

“We’re so proud of you two.” Florence sighed, holding out her hand to the eldest. Clementine joined their little group hug.

“Wow, glad to see I’m the least favourite.” Lucy rolled her eyes as she walked into the room.

“Get over here, Lu-Lu.” Penelope chuckled, pulling her little sister into her tightly.

“I can’t believe you’re both leaving me to deal with high school alone.” Lucy whined, draping her arms over her sisters’ shoulders. “And to deal with them alone.” She nodded towards their parents.

“Hey!” Florence frowned. “What’s so wrong about us?”

“Nothing.” Daniel tisked, grabbing her cheeks to kiss his wife’s lips.

“That!” Lucy smacked her hands over her eyes. “Ugh! I’m just a child!”

“You get to the car before I smack you.” Florence laughed, swatting at the dramatic youngest as she ran shrieking out of the room.

She turned back to the two eldest, pulling Clementine into a hug first to say goodbye, Daniel taking Penelope into his arms again.

“You work hard this semester, okay, Clemmie girl?” Florence whispered. “You always do. You make me so proud.”

“Thanks, mum.” Clementine chuckled.

The girls switched parents, Clementine pressing a kiss to Daniel’s cheek before hugging him tightly.

“Take good care of yourself, angel.” he said, offering her a gentle smile.

“You too, dad. I love you.” Clementine stuck her tongue out at him and he returned it, a little thing they always did ever since she could remember. 

“I love you too, my girl.” Daniel grinned, hugging her once more before the two sisters were left to their own devices.

Clementine turned to her eighteen-month-younger sister and smiled widely once the door closed, “Welcome to Queen’s. Welcome to your whole new life, Nell.”

Tag List: @ur-local-limelight​ ~ @thebestyoullneverhave​ ~ @badbunnypr​ ~ @calumhoodiskindahot​ ~ @sothisisathingforsomereason​ ~ @jocelyntheduckie​

[willofhounds]

Bound to you ch1

A/N this is one of my crazy ideas. Please note this is the Bourne novels not the movies. It is also combined with the soulmate prompt from Tumblr. Will be Gellert/Newt dont like dont read.

Thank you for to @silverynight and @reina1505 for helping me with this fic. It is going to be a fun one to do.

Also the way POV's are written will change back and forth depending on the personality that is in control. I also have changed the date of when the CIA was founded to the earlier 1900s instead of 1947.

Newt's POV

His hands shook at the sight in front of him. The air cracked with his angry magical energy. Burning flesh scent filled the air. Its acidic scent burned his throat. Yet he did not move away or tear his eyes from the sight.

Burned corpses surrounded the barely of age wizard. Newt had only been in the war effort for three months. The entire time he had worked with and loved the dragons. Unlike the humans they didn't judge him.

The eldest dragon took to him as if he was her own. She didnt mind his presence or that he was curious about their behaviors. Every day he would spend his time with the dragons.

The first time his fellow soldiers found them in the pen they about had a heart attack. It wasn't until they saw how at ease the dragons were with him. They wanted him to teach them how to handle the dragons.

Two months it took but each of squad could handle a dragon each. When it came to the female elder only Newt was allowed near her. She trusted him in a way that she trusted no others.

Newt had only left camp for a few hours on a scouting mission. When he returned Ministry wizards were trying to scavenge scales from the dead bodies of his dragons. His fellow dragoniers were being held at wand point. Counting Newt there were only five of them and they were viciously outnumbered by the Ministry.

There wasn't even half a second for him to consider the consequences of his actions. He began a barrage of heavy explosive spells. They were sent with deadly accuracy.

Only one Ministry official was able to get a shield up in time. With the shield he was still sent back several feet. The others were thrown from across the camp unmoving as they landed.

Despite Newt never finishing his formal schooling he could duel with the best. Most people remember him as the strange man with the creatures. Only Professor Dumbledore knew that he had the innate talent for dueling. Under his guidance it was flourished.

In his fourth year Newt mastered the Patronus charm. It's corporeal form was that of a wolf. The surprise on Dumbledore's face would have been hilarious if anyone else had seen it. For Newt it was refreshing and made the boy smile. A rare thing seen by any other than his creatures.

Dueling practice had become tea time afterwards. Newt slowly became more comfortable with the older man.

It was on accident one day that during a duel that a cutting curse hit his robe over his right wrist. This revealed his soulmate mark. Newt wasn't ashamed of his mark; more confused by it. He recognized it from the the book Tales if Beatle and Bard.

At the time his parents had been thrilled. The Scammander family was neutral to dark as a whole. Theseus was on the lighter side of neutral by choice. Newt had been on the darker side of if. Like his parents he didn't care about whether it was dark or light. They taught him that it was all intention.

Dumbledore had gone paler than the ghosts. Immediately he warned Newt to never let anyone see it. That his soulmate was a dangerous man.

Newt took the advice as that, advice. He wasn't one of his classmates who went looking for his soulmate. All he wanted was to look after creatures.

When his parents died in his fourth year Dumbledore had been there for him. A friend where the rest of the world looked down upon him. Well him and Leta.

Leta Lestrange a Slytherin in his year was the only friend his age. She was unsure about him at first. Given that he felt the same about anyone he met then they made a good match to be friends. Outcasts no matter where they went.

Then he had been expelled because he stuck up for her. His only friend his age. It was only later did he find out that she didnt do the same for him. Not that it would have changed anything.

So with a year left to his schooling he was sent home. He was given a suitcase with an undetectable extension charm on it. Dumbledore gave it to him so that he could help creatures. Before he left he took the bowtruckles hiding in the Forbidden Forest with him. They had been tormented by students for long enough.

That's how he ended up on the war front. If he had not been expelled he would not have been eligible to join the army. Following Theseus's lead against his older brother's wishes he had joined. Newt never expected for this to happen.

His attention was brought back to the duel as a sickly yellow curse came at him. A quick wordless shield and it was blocked. Much like himself this man had no qualms about using dark spells.

The Ministry officials that had been blown off their feet were slowly getting up. They had wary looks in their eyes. It seemed they didn't want to try to their luck again.

They went to and from each using powerful spells. Newt could feel his magical reserves deplenishing. If this kept up he would be beaten.

As if sensing his thoughts the man man blocked another curse but did not return in kind. Both stood staring at each other.

The dark haired man began in a low rumble that echoed around them, "I did not know what was going to be done here today. I was only told of some new recruits for an operation I am putting together. It was one of wo things I came for today. The other was to find a Newton Fido Artemis Scammander. If I had known then I would have stopped them."

Newt didn't lower his wand but he was listening. There wasn't an ounce of deception in the other's voice. As far as he could tell the man was telling the truth.

Newt snapped back watching the man's wand for any indication of an attack, "I'm Newt Scammander. What do you want?"

The man replied with an honest look of regret, "I am Lieutenant Colonel David Abboyt from MACUSA's CIA branch. Two months ago one of my platoons went missing. An English platoon with Second Lieutenant Theseus Scammander went to rescue them two weeks ago. Information received suggests that they were captured and killed along with the original platoon. You have my sincerest condolences Corporal Scamander."

It was as if winter had set in three months early. Snow could have been falling with how cold he became.

Thee was dead? The only family he had left in the world was gone? His world was turned on itself. Without Theseus he was all alone in the world.

He was without kith or kin any longer. What was he supposed to do now?

For the first time in his life he felt truly lost. This wasn't even something he felt when he was expelled. Theseus had been there for him and helped. Now even he was gone.

The feeling of loss was quickly replaced by another feeling he was unfamiliar with; rage. If his anger had been a flame before it was a wildfire now. Never before had he felt the need to kill someone. Normally a gentle soul he felt no qualms about finding and killing those who killed his brother.

The members of his platoon began to move away. They wanted no part of the conversation that would ensue. Newt trusted them to take care of the bodies. Just like him they were attached to their dragons. A connection in them had died that night.

Then the word he had overlooked for his name hit him. He questioned, "What operation?"

Abbott's blue eyes sparked with interest. He replied, "You have the magical skill for it but would you be willing to learn to fight like muggle. Not just shooting a gun but hand to hand."

He paused eyeing Newt up and down. The younger man refused to say anything. He would not look weak. Not when he stood around the bodies of his precious dragons.

Abbott continued, "The operation will be known as Medusa. It is made up of the worst kinds of criminals. It will be men from all countries and origins. Training will be given. There would be a few such as yourself who aren't but not many. Remember they wont be your friends. If they get the chance they will kill you. This is not an official operation however. I am in control of it but if you speak to anyone outside of the group I'll deny it. If you get captured there will be no rescue. From the moment you are assigned a team you are apart of it. There will be no going back until the war is over."

There was no hesitation or requiring time to think about it, "If it means going after those that killed my brother then so be it."

Even if he had to become a monster.

[dearlazerbunny]

Jane Eyre AU (untitled, Ch 1 of ?)

Pairings: Kylo x Reader

Genre/Ratings: Jayne Eyre AU

Words: 4000

Summary: someone requested a Jane Eyre AU and for some reason my brain refused to keep it a ficlet. I have very little written for it so far, but many ideas. Currently also untitled, but if I don’t post it to give me motivation I’m afraid I will never finish it. 

I have always thought that carriage rides were much conducive to thinking. The pit-pat of the horses’ hooves, the gentle crunch of wooden wheels on dirt and cobblestone, an occasional punctuating crack of the riding crop. Such intricate monotony lends itself to the mind wandering where it pleases. I have never been apt at daydreaming in times of stress, so my thoughts as of now tend to list towards the more practical- taking stock of my situation and surroundings, and putting my thinking into orderly, manageable rows.

I come to the conclusion that my current surroundings have never been so nice as this. The carriage is functional, but with plush detailing that whispers of wealth and elegance the likes of which I have never seen before. My seat is cushioned and covered in a soft fabric; the curtains drawn to the sides of the windows are velvet, if my limited knowledge of the finer things in life rings true. The scenery passing outside may as well be a painting on some artist’s easel: green grass dotted with the most delicate flowers wave in the light breeze, topped by a sky bluer than a newborn’s eye. Clouds float by lackadaisically, as though they have all the time in the world to get wherever they might be going to, and one would think you could lie back and wish the world away curled amongst their feathery fingers.

I take a breath and marvel at how easy and light the air is this far from the city. It tastes of honeysuckle and a babbling brook; cotton warmed by sunshine on a summer’s day, sensations I have only read about in books or dreamt of in the dead of night. The hour’s journey has already purged the ash and soot of home from my lungs. Indeed, I find it hard to recall what it was like to not breathe so easily, so intrinsically. The matched pair of horses drawing my coach whinny with pleasure, in time to my admiration of the surrounding lands.

My fingers find the worn handle of my suitcase to clutch. I would be lying if I said I did not feel out of place in such an idyllic countryside. I was born to an industrious cityscape, surrounded by brick and stone, coal and human filth. A place where it is nigh impossible to wash all of the grit out of your hair, or avoid the noise of the bustling crowds. My ears ring with the absence of market chatter and factories clanging in the distance- that harsh dissonance is now replaced with birdsong and the rustling of foliage. I shake my head. How abruptly my life has changed in just a few days.

The notice, written on paper much too fine to be tacked onto the warped message board as it was, called for a governess- full time and live-in- for the child of a master I had never heard of. But as I passed, the address caught my eye. So remote, so far from the city and its struggles, and further still from the war and its efforts that continuously cripple the entirety of the country along with its people. I have no formal training, really, and no specific qualifications that would give me the authority to nurture a child. But I read and write as well as anyone, perhaps better, since the time most women my age spend working in the war factories I in turn spend in libraries and my cozy attic, consuming stories and penning whatever thoughts come to mind. I could teach sufficiently, I think, if the pupil would be willing to listen, and given adequate books on various subjects. So I went home and wrote a response, offering my services, posted it to the address stated with a few coins dug from the bottom of my bag, and prepared myself to wait in cautious optimism.

Imagine my surprise when not even the day after next a letter arrived for me, in the same hand as that illustrious address that first drew my attention. My application- could you even call it that, bare bones and plain as it was?- had been accepted. A coach would arrive for me the next morning.

I suppose in that moment it was a strange sort of blessing that I had little to pack. A few sets of clothes and an extra pair of boots; what little writing materials I had managed to scrounge up the past few years. They all fit easily into my little suitcase, with room to spare. My satchel, in contrast, was heavy and filled to the brim with every book I had ever acquired. I refused to leave any behind- they were hard won and much loved, despite most of them having cracked spines and wrinkled pages. Besides, I supposed any sort of teacher worth their salt would most likely arrive with some sort of collection of novels.

And so here I sit, in a carriage I fear I am contaminating with the dust permanently ground into my clothes from the city’s smog, my meager life packed into only two bags, with no idea what lies ahead other than an address and what I could glean from the handwriting of my new employer- which was not much. I never claimed to be a detective, after all. But the view is more exquisite than I had even hoped for; my worries bleed out of my person and mix into the fragrant air. I think I could survive any assignment set in such a place. Should I, god forbid, find myself beaten and bloodied by a madman, at least my soul will rest in a place with lasting happiness.

I scold myself for being so morbid. How bad could this possibly be?

At this very thought, the carriage creaks to a halt. I risk a look outside the window. The manse before me is stately, with rich brickwork contrasting the pastels of the grounds on which it sits. Vines climb their way up to the second story windows, worming their way into the nooks and crannies that have been weathered away as the years have passed. The lawn and its walkways are generally neat, with only a hint of overgrowth beginning to creep through the cobblestone. Balconies dot the upper-story.

In short, it looks like a fairy-tale; the home of a shut away princess condemned to roam the hills barefoot for the rest of her days, or a faerie house magicked to grow ten sizes, large enough for humans to live in. I am sure the house is far from the most impressive in this countryside- I have seen renderings in the papers of castles that could house all of London within its walls- but this estate holds much more character than those extravagant flauntings of wealth. I can practically hear each brick singing with its own stories to weave and whisper into my ear. My fingers are already itching for my pen.

The coachman opens my door, seeing as I have not emerged myself; too charmed by the villa to move. I shoulder my satchel, ignoring the muscles that strain under the weight of my books, and take my suitcase by the handle. Stepping into the fresh air feels as though I’ve dived into a clear river for the first time. My skin prickles as the breeze winds its way around me and lifts the corners of my skirts; a child wishing to play.

“The Master is expecting you, ma’am,” says the driver, and I nod at him in thanks. Rather than lead me up to the door, he simply sits back on his perch and turns the horses away, trotting back down the path we just traversed. All right then, I suppose introductions are up to me. Shouldn’t I feel anxious, as my boots click along the stone path, carrying me towards this unknown new life? That would probably be the rational response to the complete upheaval of one’s life in less than a week. Despite all that, my heart feels at ease and indeed almost at peace- far more than it ever was in my old home. Perhaps some sort of guardian star has led me to this place, knowing that my destiny, whatever it might be, awaits here.

The door is twice my height, with a carved brass knocker the size of my head hanging in the center. I go to let it fall against the wood, but think better of it. If I am going to live here, I will not put up any ideas of pretentiousness or good breeding, as I have none of that and furthermore no use for it. I shall come just as I am, and they will have to decide if that is sufficient enough for them. I ignore the wrought brass and instead rap my knuckles against the door succinctly, eager to see who or what will greet me first on this new adventure I have stumbled into.

As it turns out, it is a boy. He looks to be around ten to my unfamiliar eye, with untamed hair and sharp green eyes that look at me with cautious curiousness. It is a gaze of intelligence, and he holds himself well amongst the soaring architecture. Despite his size, he isn’t swallowed up by the surrounding space. “Who are you?”

Straight to the point, then. I believe I like him already. “Well, my name Jayne Ruth Linton, though you can call me Jayne if you like. Who are you?”

“Ben.” He doesn’t seem to want to offer any further information as he studies me closely, from my scuffed boots to the bag slung over my shoulder and in my hand. His shoulders sag. “He went and hired another one, then.”

“Beg pardon?”

“You don’t really look like a proper governess though. I guess he’s getting desperate.” Loud footsteps approach from further inside the house, and the boy- Ben- turns to address I would assume the person responsible for them. “I’ve told you, I don’t need a bloody nanny! Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Benjamin, language,” a tired voice scolds, as though he has done it ten times today already, and then the door opens wider to reveal a tall man with worry lines furrowed between his brow. “You must be Miss Linton.”

“I prefer Jayne, please.” I shift my luggage to the opposite hand and hold out my right to him. “Mr. Ren, I presume?”

For a moment he looks at my outstretched hand as though it is an alien thing come to life. I am about to apologize for overstepping some invisible boundary when he stands aside from blocking the entrance. “Please, come in.”

The second I do, Ben is off, running to who knows where. I suppose I shall find out soon enough. I study his retreating form. He is by all accounts a handsome boy, and though I’m not sure where serpentine green eyes were inherited from in the family genealogy- possibly his mother?- it is clear that his dark curls, his sharp features, and cool gaze come from the man now leading me further into the house. They must be father and son, or otherwise the younger is some outrageous science fiction clone of the elder. I have to keep myself from giggling at the thought.

We emerge into,  by all accounts, a well-loved sitting room. Books and papers are strewn about, along with oddities that might attract a child’s attention and just as quickly lose it. To my relief, the furniture is not gilded and upholstered in finery- the sofas are meant to be sat upon; the coffee table has scratches at the corners. It is far more utilitarian than one might expect from the exterior of the house, but I find that to be a comfort. At least I have most probably not walked into a place where manners the likes of which the Queen uses are mandatory.

“Please, sit.” Mr. Ren gestures to a seat and after relieving myself of my baggage, I do so. He remains standing, pacing the room slowly but efficiently a few practiced times before he speaks. His spine is ramrod straight, his shoulders back, his footfalls heavy and sure. Military, a voice in the back of my mind says, but the assessment doesn’t make much sense- why would a military man of some obvious rank be so sequestered in the countryside?

“I trust your journey was comfortable?” His tone of voice indicates he most likely does not care, but I answer nonetheless.

“Extremely. The coach was very fine, and the weather is excellent today.” He nods, but does not respond, his mind seemingly elsewhere. After a minute of glancing around the room, noting this and that, I clear my throat. “Well, Mr. Ren, I see you are not a man to mince words. Perhaps we should start with your intention on hiring a governess?”

He sighs heavily, and for an instant, despite his posture, I can almost envision the heavy load that weighs upon his shoulders. “Ben,” he says simply, as though that answers every question a philosopher might ever pose. “He is an extraordinary child, and he needs more than just I in the house. I have my strengths, but giving a child a proper education is not one of them.”

“I see. And I take it you have hired help before?”

Mr. Ren nods. “Several. Benjamin can be… contradictory, at times.” He eyes me wearily, as though these few words will already send me running for the hills. “And he doesn’t take to new people well.”

“Indeed, I don’t believe I should be entirely thrilled for a strange woman to be moving into my house.” I rise and straighten my skirt. “Well, then, if you will point me in his direction, I shall make proper introductions, yes?”

Brown eyes take in my face, as though searching for some unseen agenda. But I am apparently deemed satisfactory, because he simply nods and holds a hand out for my case. “I will take your things to your room. It is down the hall from Ben’s- up the stairs and to the left.”

And so while my new employer turns into the depths of another hallway with my things, I part from him in search of my ward. It isn’t hard to find him- scuff marks and crumbles of dirt lead to a well-worn door that has clearly been slammed one too many times for its hinges. I knock lightly on the wood. “Benjamin? It’s me, Jayne. May I speak with you a moment?”

There is a long pause, then some shuffling, and finally the boy cracks his door just a hair, so that I might not see what lies within. His glare is stony. “What.”

“Well, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I did not mean to upset you.”

Benjamin opens his mouth in order to what looks like give a fiery retort, but the words never pass his lips. “A- apologize?”

“Indeed. Might I come in? Only for a moment, then I shall leave you be.”

Many gears appears to be turning in his head- the gleam in his eyes gives it away- but finally he stands back a little, allowing me entrance.

His room is what I might imagine a wizard’s lair should look like. Books strewn across every surface, shoved onto shelves and teetering in giant stacks in the corners of the room. Lamps are strewn haphazardly in seemingly no order. Tinkering projects- gears and oil smudges on the desk, bits and bobs set about like they have been forgotten- dot the room. The small wizard must dance and turn in order to avoid knocking over this or that covering the floor to get to his bed, which mimics the rest of the room in its untidiness. Still, it has a sort of charm about it, or a coziness- a little hideaway from the rest of the world, full of oddities the owner sees loveliness in. It quite reminds me of my little attic, in fact.

Benjamin sits on his bed, cross legged, and shifts a few times to make himself comfortable. It occurs to me that he most likely does not let just anyone into his sanctum. “I’m quite fond of your room, I must say.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re just saying that. Everyone else just nags at me to keep it clean or to shelve my books correctly.”

“Often I find rooms like these are indeed organized, but rather than by normal methods, by the owner’s specific and unique standards.” I tilt my head, taking in an oddly shaped pile of tomes under the nightstand. “For example… do you know what books lie in this stack? Without looking,”

“Mostly ecology books. Geology and the like. I was studying the rocks I found by the pond.”

I give him a small smile. “See? So long as you know where things are located, I see no reason to upend your personal space.”

“Hm.” He looks down at his hands, clasped in front of him, and I get a look at his features illuminated in the lamplight. I would guess he is eleven or twelve, certainly no more than thirteen. “Maybe you are different.”

“I can assure you I am, even without knowing what I am being compared to,” I tease, and I am pleased when I am rewarded with a small grin. “Different than…?”

“The others father has hired.” He glances at me, and I can see the worry in his eyes. “They were all horribly overbearing. Never leaving me alone, telling me to do this and that and always exactly their way. And most of them were stupid as well. They never listened,” he mumbles, and his fingers twist.

“Well that sounds perfectly horrible. I can see why you were upset.” Holding up my skirts so I don’t trip, I lithely jump from empty space to empty space on his floor until I can reach the bed. He watches me with razor precision. I have a feeling if I were to misstep, some delicate trust that has been forged would all be lost. And so, I do not fall. Instead, I land next to him and pat my skirt, as though the effort was nothing. “Now then, Benjamin- or do you prefer Ben? I would like to make a deal with you, if you will hear my terms. I think you will find them quite agreeable, but I am always open to negotiation.”

“Ben.” He vaguely gestures with his hand. “Go on.”

“Well, Ben. I have been hired to give you an education. Education is important, even when we must study the things we do not like. However,” I say, glancing around the room, “I can see you have already found more than enough interests that please you, and I am happy to explore them with you as our time allows.”

“Really?”

I nod. “In addition, I promise to always recognize that you are your own person with your own boundaries. If we are going to work together, we both need our space from time to time. I will not encroach on yours if you do not encroach on mine. Does that seem reasonable?”

For an instant, I am afraid I have overstepped, because his face is blank and unreadable. But then, in a moment of sunshine, a smile splits his face, and he holds out his hand as though we have signed and sealed an official document. “I think that sounds perfect.”

The handshake is firm. “Excellent. I believe we will get along famously, don’t you?”

To my delight, he giggles, a happy sound that contrasts with his serious face. “Won’t father be surprised.”

“Hm. Indeed he might be.” I give him a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s see if we can make that a habit, yes? He looks as though he could use a good shock every once in a while.”

Ben dissolves into muffled laughter and steals my heart right in the very same moment.

A/N: I’ve imagined the story in sort of a steampunk era. Their technology and society is more advanced then ours of the eighteenth/early nineteenth century, but they still use petticoats and carriages. 

Jayne is named for Jane Eyre and Catherine Linton in Wuthering Heights

[lyricalafrica2]

18/09/2019 On the move again….

I’ve just relocated due to my visa expiring in Zim. With a little nudge from the nest I’d become accustomed to, I booked a bus to Francistown in Botswana and took a night bus to Maun. The preferred destination.

I’m pleased I did. There are only so many times you can wander around a shopping complex and as novel as it was, I didn’t come to Africa for that!

I booked an airbnb for the first night, well, by the time I got there, it was actually 5am. Deliriously tired, having not slept much the night before either. Bots was instantly hot, thankfully there was air-conditioning, but wide legged charlie and having my rucksack take up any legroom made it hard to get comfortable.

I slept for maybe an hour off and on. By the time I made it to the guest house, I managed another 3 or 4 in a proper bed. It was a tentative relevé. Every time I tried to get up, my legs went wobbly in a very numb way. I also had the usual, relocation flu.

I walked up to Maun town with the lady who was looking out for the house. The tap water wasn’t drinkable, but there was a company in town operating a business that sold refillable container and discounts on refilled, purified water. Adamant to keep to my word and drink more, I took note of the location and bought my five litre bottle today.

Maun is a sweet little place, a few good coffee shops, one in particular really does do the best iced coffee! It has various tourist safari companies, a Woolworths (M&S to you and I) and a few other chain stores, pep, spa, choppies etc. You can be fairly self sufficient with the contents of those, then numerous chinese stores that sell the usual paraphernalia that an absent minded tourist might want.

The house was ok, though the bathroom was more of a bucket wash in a bath scenario. The lady who was looking after the property for her friend was shamelessly un body conscious, answering the door wrapped in a towel and stroking her chest in a way that obviously wasn’t soothing an itch. Bizarre, you can’t help but notice these things 😣

The river out front had long but dried up, but I found as I walked around later in the evening zebra frequented the area, several timid warthog and a troop of baboons. I was also promised giraffe too, but they stayed hidden. It was odd walking across the riverbed, houses on one side and a few soccer goals, before the darkened patch of earth adorned with empty mollusc shells and then off into the bush. Some peoples regular work route took them along the edge.

To think, living in the uk and beside the top of the dene is kind of the only thing I can equate this to. You just can’t quite get the idea of a giraffe stalking through Jesmond Dene. Recalling Lampton Lion Park is probably as tropical as the North East got and even that didn’t last too long. I still recall someone telling me about people getting out of their car and setting up their picnic in the middle of the park… Those not in the know, it was around late 70’s!

The landscape was dry and fairly bereft, it’s a crisis that has swept through a lot of central Africa. The dry seasons are getting longer and the rain during rainy season, more sporadic. Another sad indication of climate change. There’s always a seed of hope with me, but I can’t deny the dismay when I walked across the land.

Despite the promise of the wildlife, I’d wanted to feel a little more rooted in nature. Not here the traffic on a busy road. Unless you’re right off into the bush, this can be hard. All the shops in walkable distance, a pleasant hum of activity that would serve me some days, but not now. I have some recovering to do after putting on the exhibition and after the travelling to get here. I wanted peace, quiet, dark skies. As soon as night fell on Botswana, it was hard to get away from that urban orange glow on the horizon. In contrast to Zim, who are almost constantly submerged in darkness due to lack of power, it was an almost dissapointing introduction. Still, I love Botswana no less, and possibly more due to it’s promise of wildlife and friendly people. The gateway to the Okavango Delta no less!

So after a night spent in the airbnb, I decided to suck it up and purchase a tent from one of the chinese shops. Actually, maybe I’ll rename it Hardy’s play den. It’s for all the world more like a childs play den and the quality, well, lets say I can see the sky through the stitching. I daren’t make any sudden moves for fear of tearing it. I share the den with my large res suitcase, the other resides permanently at reception.

I’m still kicking myself for the amount of luggage I brought out here, if only I’d known I was going to be so transient! I find it kind of stressful, a nuisance and a little expensive. I’m currently trying to pare down my excessive toiletries, without leaving myself with nothing.

I noted that my oil paints are rather heavy. I’ve already given away a lot of stuff. My easel, paints, toiletries, clothes etc. I’m in talks with a few charities in Kenya right now and I wish I could have given them some of the stuff. Still hindsight and all!

The site I’ve moved to is a quiet camp, that sisters the more lively backpackers across the absent river. I took a walk there last night and sat watching the last remaining hippos and rather large crocodile, do their thing in the boma that had been erected in an attempt to save them. A relocation is in order and it’s an expensive, complicated business and bearing in mind how territorial hippos can be!…. I hope it’s successful for the remaining few, they’ve already lost a few of the older hippos.

In other news, I took a trip back to town after a rather awesome morning yoga session. A few bits and pieces that I’d neglected to get before coming to the camp yesterday. I’m self catering and finally found somewhere selling hummus, so I figured I may as well stock up. I needed a new padlock, a new charge cable and an adaptor after finding no sockets to use my very british plugs in.

The “cyst” or abscess on my face, continues to dominate my appearance. I’ve tried to ignore and deny it, but it is making me feel rather self conscious. I’ve two options at the moment. Homeopathy or surgery. The doctor I’d have to go to see uses both western and holistic approaches which suits me. It would be nice to know I didn’t have to have a scalpel taken to my face! I really really shouldn’t have put myself through those youtube videos. It’s nowhere near as bad or even infected, but it’s a bit concerning.

At the moment, I’m trying to figure out what to do first. See the doctor, or disappear into the bush. I have this urge to feel really tiny, in a big wide open space. People have tried to put me in my place like that, it’s not quite the thing I was after. I want wilderness, I want nature to take over. Big open starry skies and vast planes, the noise of bellowing lions (not too close….) hyenas, the rustling of porcupines and the stillness of an antelope as it picks up the scent of these other mortals. I want peace, contentment, awe inspiring tinyness to find where my piece of jigsaw fits into the world.

[callboxkat]

Merry (part 3)

Author’s note: I finally have wifi, so I get to post the last part of this! I hope you guys like it.

Warnings: talk of poor family relationships, food mention

Word count: 1451

“Ready to go?” Patton asked brightly. He was standing on the doorstep of Logan’s apartment, wearing his favorite pale blue sweater and a hat with cat ears. Logan, standing before him, nodded.

“Certainly. Would you mind helping me carry out my bags?” he asked as he pulled on his own plain black coat.

“Not at all!”

Patton and Logan carried out the luggage together, loading it into Patton’s car.  This would be the second Christmas that Logan spent with his friend. When Patton had found out the year before that Logan wasn’t going to spend the holiday with his own family, he had invited him on the spot. Logan had been reluctant, but after Patton called his mom and made sure she was okay with it, he had relented.

Logan and his parents didn’t talk. He hadn’t even seen them since he’d left home at eighteen, and he had no plans to see them any time soon.

Patton’s family was much closer-knit. They actually liked being around each other, and they didn’t only get together for holidays out of a sense of obligation. The love they had for each other was clear to see. Logan couldn’t relate.

At first, partially due to his unfamiliarity with most of the family, he had felt rather out of place. Patton’s parents clearly hadn’t known how to act around him, especially since his presence wasn’t anticipated. They had also seemed a little off-put: Logan knew his mannerisms were a little odd, but he couldn’t help it. That was just how he was. Patton’s parents had soon figured this out, though, and things had gone well from there on. And Patton had been so overjoyed to have him there.

Logan had never really properly celebrated Christmas before, at least not in the way that many other families did. In the few days leading up to that Christmas, he and Patton’s family had partaken in a number of activities that Logan previously had thought only happened in sappy movies. They made Christmas cookies, put ornaments on the tree, watched Christmas movies, and even made a snowman in the yard. Logan remembered how Patton had started giggling uncontrollably when he put a business-like necktie on one of the gingerbread men they had decorated.

Logan had paused, the forgotten icing pipet still held aloft, and looked at his friend. “Did I do something incorrectly?”

“No—no no no,” Patton had giggled. “He’s perfect.”

“Oh,” he had said with a relieved smile.

“He looks just about ready to go to the gingerbread prom,” Patton’s mother had joked. “Why don’t you give him a suit jacket to go with the tie?”

Logan smiled at the memory, hefting his heavier suitcase into the car beside the lighter one that Patton had already deposited there. He removed the backpack from around his shoulders and added that as well. Even with Patton’s suitcases and the collection of stuffed animals his friend was bringing home, there was plenty of room remaining.

“I have one more thing to fetch if that is unobjectionable to you.”

“Sure, buddy,” Patton said. “I’ll start the car. Go ahead and make sure you’ve got everything while you’re inside.”

“Thank you.” Logan turned on his heel and walked back inside. He grabbed his phone off the desk, did a once over of the entire apartment, then grabbed a large box and headed back outside.

Patton turned around in his seat as he loaded it in the back of the car, trying to get a look. “Oh, what’s that?”

“I… um…” Logan rubbed the back of his neck, looking into the open box. “I can’t help but feel indebted for your and your family’s kindness, both this holiday season and the last. So I purchased a few offerings to indicate my gratitude for that, as well as for your friendship.”

“You got us Christmas presents?!” Logan could hear the joy and surprise in Patton’s voice.

“Yes,” he confirmed, before shutting the trunk and joining Patton in the front seat, bringing a couple of books with him. It was nearly an eight-hour drive to Patton’s parents’ house, so he’d brought several novels in addition to his textbooks.

“That’s so sweet of you!” Patton beamed.

They were on the road. It was three-thirty in the afternoon, but by Logan’s calculations, it would likely be midnight before they arrived, accounting for breaks. Logan read for a while, bearing with Patton’s chattering at the same time. He had purposefully chosen books that he had read before for this precise reason. Occasionally he would chime in, nod, do something to indicate that he was paying attention. After a while, he got absorbed in his book, and Patton had turned on the radio, probably well aware that it wouldn’t disturb Logan when he was really immersed.

…

“Hey, Logan? Lo?”

Logan opened his eyes and blinked slowly. It had gotten too dark to read pretty early in the drive, so he’d put away the books. He hadn’t meant to actually fall asleep, though.

“Hm? Yes, I’m awake,” he responded, rubbing at his eye and sitting up straighter.

“Did you want to get dinner soon?”

Logan turned on his phone, the light illuminating the car. It was nearly seven at night. A decent hour to dine, as well as a fair time to switch drivers.

“Sure. Is there an exit coming up?”

“Yep. I was thinking we could just grab something and get back on the road.”

“That sounds acceptable,” he agreed, turning the phone off again. He rested his chin on his hand, looking out the window as they continued down the road.

They arrived at the gas station about ten minutes later. Patton agreed to refill the car while Logan picked out food. Patton had said he didn’t mind what Logan got him so long as itd took his vegetarianism into account, and of course, included a cookie.

Logan returned to the car with the bag of their food. Patton was just finishing up paying for the gasoline.

“Hi!” he chirped when he saw Logan.

“Hello,” he replied. “I got you a ‘veggie hummus wrap’—no carrots—and a double-chocolate-chip cookie.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Would you care to switch drivers? I can take over for the time being. I really only need you to navigate for the final hour or so.”

“If you don’t mind, sure,” Patton agreed.

The rest of the drive was rather uneventful. Patton dozed for most of the time Logan was at the wheel, so to him the time must have passed rather quickly. During the final hour, Patton insisted that they put on a radio station playing somewhat obnoxious Christmas music. It didn’t take long before Patton roped him into singing along, despite his perhaps slightly fallacious claims that he ‘did not like to sing’.

They pulled into the driveway of Patton’s house at 11:57 precisely. Patton assured Logan that they could unpack the car after they greeted his parents, who were bound to still be awake despite the hour.

Logan hovered behind his friend on the doorstep as he knocked on the door, right in the middle of the thick, green-and-red wreath that hung there. The entryway light flicked on, and then the door swung open. The smell of peppermint and the excited barking of Patton’s beloved golden retriever greeted them. Logan watched the cheerful reunion between Patton and his parents while the dog did her best to jump in the middle. He smiled at the sight, but then he was pulled into an unexpected hug.

Patton’s mom was hugging him.

Logan wasn’t sure what to do, so he just stood there until she let go. She didn’t seem offended by his lack of reciprocity, just smiling at him through a curtain of ginger curls.

“We’re so glad to have you both here for Christmas,” she said. “I’ll help you get your things inside.”

They had been delighted when they saw his box of gifts, and Patton’s father had admitted that they got him a present, too, having assumed that he would be joining them.

Twenty minutes and a quick cup of hot chocolate later, Logan was lying on the Foster family’s couch, looking up at the ceiling. The Christmas lights, which he had insisted could remain on, cast a kaleidoscope of colors above him.

Logan wasn’t home, this was still true. He didn’t really have a home, outside of his apartment at school. He hadn’t seen his parents in years. But he was here, with Patton, and he wouldn’t rather spend the holidays anywhere else.

Logan pulled the heavy fleece blanket up to his shoulders, turning onto his side. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Tag list: @patton-loves-coloring @starryfirefliesbloggo @purplesoul-at-hogwarts  @lotusthatexists-festivestyle @quoth-the-sparrow @awesomelissawho @amuthefunperson @faithfreedom @heck-im-lost @gayfandomsaremything @bunny222 @syndianites @astraastro @momolinia @captainswan618 @hamilin-manuel-miranda @goldenkiddos @afilhadehades-blog @virgeofselfdestruction @theresneverenoughfandoms @iris-sanders-athena @super-magical-wizard @rainbow-sides @thefallendog @fanficptsd @zodiac-awesome @lookitsthatquietgirl @soft-boy-patton @nerd-in-space @pearls-of-patton @ab-artist @angered-turtle @im-so-infinitesimal @enby-kiddo-with-a-blog @raygelkitty @dr-gloom @whats-going-on-kiddos @spider-parker14 @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @fillyourteacup @kittiebrick

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 1 Pt.1

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Word Count:  2700+

Summary:  An Alfie Solomons Modern Magical AU. (Based in New Orleans and mixed with some AHS Coven characters at certain points.) Alfie Solomons became the vessel for a dark ancient energy. In this universe, each of these energies has a mate and being the owner of a dark energy, Alfie has spent nearly a century waiting to find his light energy match. After a soul awakening of her own, Mae LeBlanc, a natural born witch, as well as a sensitive and kind woman from New Orleans soul finally starts to bloom and calls out to Alfie's, unbeknownst to her. Not believing in supernatural powers, she finds herself thrown into a new existence that is full of things she never thought possible, including magical powers of her own. Faced with a new world full of possibility and potential danger (that also includes the incredible daunting idea of having a soul mate) Alfie takes her under his wing to teach her about her powers. As she grows and learns, so does he. They navigate her lessons together, come to terms with how lonely their lives have been without the other and face these very human emotions together. With a newfound friendship formed out of necessity, will the idea of a soul mate translate from a mere magical meaning to a romantic one?

Warnings/Tags: Language. Spooky Imagery. Mentions of anxiety, depression and death.

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist. 

The year is 2018, a long, long way away from his birth year of 1893. He stands in front of the Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies in New Orleans, Louisiana. A place that had been around longer than he had. This place and the supreme, Fiona Goode had served as a haven and an ally for him for many years. It seemed no matter the type of witchcraft, save for the spat between the witches and the voodoo practitioners, this place could serve as a resting place, a pause in whatever journey anyone with powers might find themselves on.

He'd been drawn to New Orleans, his inner voice, his darkness kept pointing it out to him, whispering it to him. It'd all started about a year ago, only growing in intensity since. Once the odd dreams had started, and for the life he had lived, odd was saying something. Once they had started, his usual blackness, an endless, timeless void that lay before him in his unconsciousness, there started to appear small specks of light.

Nightmares were eased with more pleasant thoughts and memories that were not his own. Once he felt his darkness recoil from the light in his dreams he knew something had changed, something was different. He'd heard of awakenings like these from others of his kind but it'd been so long that he'd been alone in his own dark soul that he had thought that he would be alone there forever.

Fiona stands with her hand on her hip in the doorway after opening it with an unenthused swat of her hand. "Alfie Solomons." she grins, looking him over. "Look what the alligator dragged in." she scoffs as he walks past her into the house with his suitcase. "And what do we owe the pleasure of such a powerful being coming to visit us?" her tone as always sounds sarcastic, but she meant it. She liked Alfie just fine, he'd never done anything to wrong her or her kind. He mostly stopped in and hid out, only a handful of times over the years she'd been Supreme and even before that, former Supreme’s had never had a bad word to say about him. Mostly stay out of his way, his kind is best left to solitude when they are aloof as he was.

"'Ello." he gruffs out, brow as heavy as ever. "I'm gonna stay here for a bit, yeah?" he says, looking around the stark white interior of the old plantation style home. "I believe I got some business to handle down here. Need to figure it out and I suppose here's best. Hotels don't like it when you muck up the room 'n all." he shrugs.

"Doing some work are we?" she asks, shutting the door behind her.

"Yeah. Somefin' like 'at." he frowns.

"Same room as always is open." she says, saunter in front of him and back towards the drawing room. ------ "'Ello, luv." he says to Cordelia as he sits down at the long table for dinner.

"Hello Mr. Solomons." she says with her kind smile and a polite nod of her head.

"Alfie, Alfie, please." he insists.

"What kind of name is Alfie for an immortal powerhouse like you?" Madison snarks, arms crossed, still mad at him tossing her against a wall for coming onto him earlier in the day.

"The kind of name me mum gave me so ya best shut ya fuckin' trap." he points a stern finger at her.

The clinking of silverware fills the room, the girls not chatting like usual, he knows he's the cause but he certainly doesn't mind the quiet.

"What brings you to us?" Cordelia asks.

"Something about a dream." Nan says, narrowing her eyes.

Alfie smiles at her. "You've got a rather spectacular noggin there little one." he praises. "Picking up on thoughts like mine."

"Well, I'm the next Supreme so..." she says sassily.

"Ah! My apologies." he grins and looks back to Cordelia. "I am here because of dreams, yeah." he nods. "Gotta do some work, figure out what they mean." he says thoughtfully.

"If there's anything we can help you with, let us know." her trademark soft and gentle approach as always.

"Ah, I'll be alright luv, I can handle meself." he gives her a wink to comfort her worry he can sense. He'd be worried about a dark soul like him in the house if he was her too. But he and his darkness were old friends at this point, having beaten each other up for almost a century now. For the most part they cohabited the space of his soul and mind in an unconventional harmony. ----------- The first night he slept in New Orleans his dreams became more vivid. To know it is not a fluke, he waits until the next night before trying any spellwork. Surely enough, his dreams are brighter, lighter, full of sounds of nature. But the sounds of nature humans like to hear, sounds of life. He could hear birds, smell the heat of the summer sun off of skin, coconuts, and flowers. These were not nature sounds he was used to. His were more glugs of swamp water, thick algae scratching apart and separating as his body disturbed it when he submerged. The smell of mold and decay of animals. These spaces of the earth and their inhabitants of cold-blooded reptiles were what he had dominion over. He oversaw the darker recesses, the dead and dying. But these dreams were not that, and he knew he was getting close to something.

That next night he locks himself away, preparing for a dream walk. He covers his body outside and in with powders and pastes of pulverized animals and minerals to connect himself with both living and dead. He sits with eyes closed in front of the fire. The fire wasn't necessary to the work but on the nights he'd spent alone in the wilderness in seclusion after taking in the darkness he'd gotten used to doing his work in front of flames. He lets his darkness free, let's it wander the city, the tops of buildings and into sewer systems, searching for what was calling to it.

He feels a jolt. A prickle up his spine as a warm yellow light takes up his field of vision. The images come in flashes, the smells waft by him like their on a breeze. He sees sunlight through rustling trees, flowers at eye level, big beautiful and absolutely teeming with life. Their almost psychedelic color palette, the sturdiness of the stems, the softness of the grass and dark dirt around them. He feels a sense of pride, a sense of calm, a sense of belonging. The visions turn to something else, a woman. He hears a feminine laugh, hears the purr of a cat, dark bouncing curls and tan skin warm from the sun. A soft exhale, then a sharp gasp. The happiness fades, giving way to darkness, but not his darkness. This was an emotion, a feeling.

He sees a female silhouette in front of a fireplace alone, an arm reaching out to find nothing but cold sheets and an empty bed. He felt loneliness, anxiety, a longing that led to sadness and confusion. He see can see a bed of deep jewel tones in a sea of blankets, the curve of a hip, traveling over the broad swell of it, noting bright yellow fingernails on a small hand, he becomes too desperate in his search, too intense to find what was calling out to him, so intense it wakes her and with a jolt it's all gone.

He emerges with a groan. -It is her.- His darkness whispers.

"Who?" he whispers into the fire.

-The one we've been waiting for.-

He didn't know if he believed it.

-Believe it. I can feel her light calling to me. It is she. It is the other half.- it's voice growing in intensity with its need. -She is ripening.- it hums in pleasure. -We have been waiting for millennia for her.- it whines. -She is ours. We are hers. We are us now.- it moans. -Join us. Complete us. JOIN US! COMPLETE US!- it starts to scream.

He shakes his head hard, rubbing his temples. "Yeah, yeah, mate that's what I'm tryin' to fuckin' do." he growls. "We'll try again tomorrow night, yeah?" he mumbles to himself.

They do it again the next night, after having a stern talk with himself about not getting too excited because it would scare her off and he'd find out nothing. His darkness was too excitable about finding it's mate. He personally was thrilled it seemed to be a lovely woman who harbored the light soul to compliment his dark one. He knew this wasn't going to be an easy task to take on, but inside he and his darkness both felt a strange tingle of happiness that wasn't something that existed before.

They were not soulmates in the way romance novels would portray them. These were ancient energies, beings that had no form, but were forced to dwell in human souls to enter the world. Every end a beginning and every beginning and end. A reaction and an action, a cause and an effect. There was a light to his dark, an equal to his energy. Some energies came organically, as he was guessing this woman's did. They were born with them. Others, like him, they were given to them. But when they joined, their powers were unstoppable. A perfect merge of life and death, as a ying-yang symbol with one-half black and one-half white, intertwined and in harmony. Without the match, the powers were less stable, not as powerful as they could be. And his darkness was starving for the stability and wholeness that they had been following all the way down to Louisiana.

This night his darkness hears her call easily, she might be curious about him as well. He finds himself in a garden, green and lush and overflowing with life. The air is thick and muggy, the sun is hot and feeding everything in sight. He sees a woman on her knees in a flower bed. He approaches her slowly. She's a beautiful little thing, he thinks. A headful of thick dark bouncy curls that spring as she digs and plants. Her light brown skin shining with sweat, two large thighs from little red shorts, a fitted tank top of orange wraps around her torso, drops of sweat falling onto it, gliding down her collar bones and cleavage. She's humming, drawing flowers out of the ground happily with an invisible force with her fingers. Big light hazel eyes with freckles scattered across her cheeks, her lips flushed and pouting as she sang to herself. She freezes and so does he. She doesn't raise her head at first, but her eyes dart around the garden. She slowly raises it, her big doe eyes meeting his own uncertain and blue ones.

"Is that you, luv?" he whispers out in a breathy, needy voice.

Her eyes widen in fear, a deep gasp before they both wake up and lose the connection.

-She is weak. She does not know what she is.- his darkness says.

"We scared her." he says with a sigh.

-She is weak, afraid.-

"We don't want her to be bloody afraid of us." he says angrily.

-She is afraid. Anxious you call it.-

"Fear of the unknown will do that. Strange men appearin' in your dreams 'n all." he shrugs and rubs his face as he lets out a heavy sigh. ------ The next day he finds Cordelia in her office. He explains he's looking for a local girl and since she might have powers, he wondered if they had records on her. She gives him access to the hard copy files. He tells her she seems to like flowers if that helps. She pulls files specializing in growth and life powers and leaves him to it. He was far too distracted to have company it seemed. He sorts through them with a heavy brow, each a disappointment until he reaches on. He feels his fingertips tingling. He opens it and inside is a Polaroid of her, although it must've been more than a few years ago.

-Ours.- his darkness whispers.

"Mae." he says with a sigh. "Perfect name for her, yeah?" a half smile appears on his face.

-OURS!-

"Yeah, yeah." he shakes his head hard. "Most recent record..." he says, finger scanning the bottom of the page. "Address unchanged. Owner of Green Goddess Flower." he lets out a thoughtful hum. "That explains all the flowers." he smiles, a finger tracing over her picture.

-Go to her.- he hisses angrily.

"Yeah." he nods, closing the file and moving fast to gather his things.

Cordelia is speaking with Fiona in the corridor as Alfie comes hastily through, suitcase in hand, walking past them briskly.

"Where are you off to?" Cordelia asks.

"I'm going to find my girl." he says without looking back.

She nods with an open mouth, not sure what he meant by his specific choice of words.

"Well, that's over." Fiona snarks, taking a drink.

"What is it that he's going to do exactly?" her daughter asks with a tilted head as her mother starts to walk away.

"He's going to go find his mate, I believe. Something his kind does." she says with an uninterested shake of her head. ---- He throws the suitcase into the trunk of his black Cadillac Coupe Deville. He enters in the address of her shop into his phone, setting up the directions.

-Yesssssss.- his mind hisses while it vibrates with anticipation.

"I'm gonna need ya to take a backseat for a bit yeah, gotta handle this delicately."

He hears it makes a disgruntled noise. "No."

"You can come forth and scare her, we're going to frighten her, doesn't matter if your missing piece is in her, we have to get the human to accept us first. You understand?"

Another disgruntled noise.

"Right." he nods. ------- He pulls onto the street of her shop. He can feel something shifting inside him, something different from the usual nuisance of his darkness. He wonders if she can feel it too. Shutting the door behind him, he clears his throat, taking wide steps, seeing a cute little shop with big glass windows coming into focus. There's a large mural of a green woman surrounded by plants with leaves for hair.

"Green Goddess Flowers" he hums to himself, looking up at the sign first, lovely polished cursive print. In the windows is a big beautiful display of her work. She really was full of life and talent, everything was not only aesthetically pleasing but lush and bright. He looks behind the foliage, seeing no one in the shop. He hopes he hasn't missed her, but as the sign on the door still reads, 'OPEN', he stands with his hand on the handle, feeling as if he should try to remember this moment, it seemed like it would be important. His darkness begins to hum and vibrate again. He pulls over the door. A little bell rings, almost making him jump with the anxiety he felt. Or was he feeling her anxiety? Or both? He didn't know her well enough to know the difference. He stands, feeling raw and unsure, things he hadn't felt in decades.

"Hello!" he hears called out from the back, he feels his heart palpitate, not that it's beating pattern really mattered any longer in regard to keeping him alive. She has the sweetest voice, like a bird singing in a summer breeze, it hits his ears and sends a warm shudder down his spine, his darkness is practically purring inside him. She walks around the corner, a pleasant face replaced with a shocked one instantly. Her eyes are wide, her jaw tight.

"Mae? Mae LeBlanc?" his voice is gruff and deep. She swallows noisily. "That you, luv?" he asks.

She lets out a nervous laugh, mouth open as if she was going to speak, but instead, her eyes roll back in her head and she passes out.

"Oh, fuckin' hell." he groans, moving fast to pick his soul's mate up off of the floor.

Ch. 1 PT. 2

@jaegeeeeer @negansdirtygirl22 @brianaisasongbird @hardygal69

[that-buckley-gal]

Powerless - Chapter Seventeen

March 4, 1945

Maybe I lied when I said we would be okay. What the hell did I know about being independent? I knew how to clean and cook. I could also pay rent if the occasion ever called for it, but everything else? I could hold a job, especially since my health problems seemed to disappear once my powers started coming in. Also, Peggy did get me set up with a fitness plan that I figured as long as I kept up with that, I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. Maybe I could actually find a decent job. Obviously none of them would be as flexible and well paying as being Howard Stark’s assistant was, but I’ve been putting all my paychecks in the bank so I think I’d be settled for a short while until I found a job.

What will I do then? Work until I go into labor? Who will watch my baby if I’m going to be working all the time? If I need to watch the baby, how would we be able to survive without a source of income? I had some money saved, but how long would it last? Questions. Too many questions and not enough answers. I have a migraine now. Though I doubt it’s from my train of thoughts. I couldn’t sleep last night. The fight I had with Steve kept replaying in my mind and I couldn’t wait for him to get home and I could apologize a thousand times. I decided to take a few things of sentimental value and leave the rest for Steve to decide on when I finally did get moving. The pictures I was definitely keeping. Bucky’s favorite black coat would now be mine. Those dresses and heels that I can’t squeeze into anymore would be staying here. The maternity dresses I’d have to keep. My socks, the Lord knows I have to keep those. The shield was a gift and I wouldn’t leave it behind. A few more random items get tucked away. I scan the room again and again, one hand on my belly and the other gripping Bucky’s old dog tags and his wedding band. What else could I take? ”I may not have much or be much…I can give you my promise.” The vows. How could I forget them? Walking over to the bookshelf, I pick out the children’s novel titled The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and open it to find two little pieces of paper inside. The papers contained our vows. It was Bucky’s idea to write them down. “What if one day our kids find that book?” He said. “They’ll find these vows and know how in love we are and will strive to find a love like ours. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” “Maybe someday you can read these,” I say, rubbing my belly. With a sigh, I pull everything out of my suitcase and search for the wedding photo, slightly annoyed by it being at the very bottom. I open the frame and stick the vows in behind the picture of Steve, Peggy, Howard, Bucky and myself before shutting the frame again. I eye the group photo that was taken at our reception, smiling when thinking about how happy everyone was that night. This is so hard. I put everything back into my suitcase knowing it was ready to go whenever I was. I slip on Bucky’s old coat and decide to take a quick trip to the base to see if anyone returned yet. Nobody has. Kind of freaked out by the eerie feeling of the almost empty base, I decide to go see what my boss was doing and alert him to the fact that I was going to be going back to New York today after everyone came back. As expected, Howard was slightly put out by my confession and desire to go back to the states, but he said he wasn’t that surprised. “I kinda figured you would’ve left after making amends with Steve,” he shrugged. “No,” I smile slightly. “Something was keeping me here.” “Something?” He pressed. “Something,” I repeat. “Still not sure what.” Howard gives a lazy smile before asking if I could finish up my last stack of papers before taking my leave. A task I was willing to do. Occasionally Howard would ask dumb things about my bump, such as if I was keeping measurements of it, or if it was heavy by itself. In return to these, I would ask even dumber questions about what he was doing. What is this screw for? What are you sketching out? Howard would crumple a piece of paper and hit me in the head in response to such questions. Finally done with all my paperwork, I bid Howard ‘goodbye’ and he says, ‘goodbye for a little while’. The hug that was shared was greatly appreciated and we parted ways. At least until I got to the doorway: Howard pulled me back before grabbing a pen and a blank sheet of paper. He scribbled down an address, which I noticed was in New York, before telling me to go there when I was done with whatever I needed to get done. He didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask, but we both knew what he was saying. Instead I take my leave again and I see the base has filled up. The group of soldiers is less than what left, but much more than I expected to return from the mission. Stopping, I look around me. Everyone who looked at me had those “I’m sorry” eyes and didn’t approach me. And I knew Steve wasn’t coming home. “Excuse me, sir. But do you know where I could find Agent Carter?” I ask a random soldier. “Yes ma’am,” he stammered out before tilting his head to the side. “Over there is where you can find Agent Carter.” “Thank you,” I said and began to look for my brother’s girlfriend. When I do come across her, her face confirms what I already know. Instead of speaking, Peggy just nods once before leaving. I leave too. I go back to the house, take my bags, secure the shield, and go back downstairs. I give the driver strict instructions to get me to the nearest airport so I can get out of here. Once he sees who I am, he doesn’t hesitate to do as I ask. I turn to look out the back of the car to see the housing unit get smaller and smaller until it’s nothing but a dot in the distance.

[infireation]

Serendipity

Prompt (from Anonymous) : A fluffy Jimin scenario where he pretends to have you and eventually he confesses / (author addition) “We both got randomly selected to sing ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ at this karaoke bar AU”.

Word Count: 14,400

Genre: Fluff - because nothing suits this sweet boy more than a nice dose of fluff.

It was not supposed to happen like this. This was not how he wanted to tell you, his tongue sloppy and his words slurred, tasting nothing but the harsh burn of soju when he would have rather been tasting your sweet lips instead.

No, it was not supposed to end up like this. But it did, and that was something Jimin had to live with.

The snow began to fall on a Saturday morning, the air a crisp, bitter cold that you feel in your bones, the flakes creating a field of white across the sky. The clouds were overcast, the fog from Jimin’s breath evaporating into the atmosphere as he walked down the streets of Seoul, wandering from store to store for last minute holiday shopping. Hands stuffed into his pockets, he buried his nose into the comfort of his scarf, shivering as the wind blew. He hustled through the crowds of people, finally able to breathe once he entered the shop he had his eye on from across the street, a quaint little family owned bookstore that he knew you loved to frequent.

Jimin wasn’t great at picking out individual novels, but he figured he knew you well enough to understand the genres you always fell back on and enjoyed. Getting into specifics was more of something Namjoon excelled at. The owner was currently standing at the register, waving to Jimin when he noticed him enter, the ding of the bell alerting him of his presence.

His fingers brushed against the spines of the novels as he wove through the aisles, his eyes wandering over the titles, trying his best to find one that you would truly love. Jimin almost missed it, his shoes skidding against the carpet as he backtracked to make sure his vision wasn’t tricking him - yes, this was it, this was the one. He broke out into a grin, grabbing it from the shelf.

Once he made it to the register, he was met with the warm smile of the owner, someone who had become a great friend over the years.

“Is this going to be all?” He asked, bagging up the book as he accepted the money from Jimin. With a nod, the man handed over the purchase, stopping Jimin from leaving with a clearing of his throat. “You make sure to say hi to Y/N for me, alright?”

Jimin grinned, promising to do so, as he waved goodbye and walked towards the door to exit, but not before he heard the last words of the owner behind him.

“Y/N is going to love it!”

Jimin could feel the blush form on his cheeks, the heat radiating off of him hard to ignore. The bell dinged again as he exited the shop, struck by the cold winter air once more as he walked towards the subway station to travel home.

He had known you for the better part of ten years, first meeting in middle school and now into your twenties, harboring his feelings for you ever since you were in high school. Everyone knew it, everyone except for the one person that matters, as it usually goes. He was playful with you, flirty when the time called for it, but he never crossed that line. He never mustered up enough courage to take the next step, to tell you that you’re always on his mind, that you’re the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up in the morning. It’s your scent that lingers on his clothes, from the countless number of times you borrowed them, it’s your smile that drives him absolutely wild.

Jimin was undoubtedly in love with you, and it was irrevocably eating him up inside.

He was startled from his thoughts when his phone rang in his pocket, Jimin scrambling to answer it before it was too late. He did not pay attention to see who was calling, answering it without a second thought. He smiled when he realized it was none other than you.

“Jimin!” He listened as he picked up onto your frantic tone. “Jimin, thank god you answered. I don’t know what else to do!” Jimin stepped to the side of the street, away from the fast walkers and impatient people.

“Take a deep breath, Y/N. What’s going on?” his mind was racing with possibilities of what could have happened, his thoughts taking a turn for the worst.

“I need you to be my boyfriend for a weekend.”

His heart stopped.

“W-what?” He couldn’t form a coherent thought, telling himself he simply had not heard you correctly, that he was imagining things.

“My sister is getting married next weekend, and my parents are advertently expecting a plus one, and I can’t continue to show up alone at every family function. They haven’t come out and said it, but it’s definitely been implied,” you sighed on the other end. “It’s like they care more about me showing up with someone than my own sister’s marriage, for crying out loud.”

Jimin remained silent, trying to process the words that had just been spewed out to him. He is sure he looked like a crazy person, his fingers running through his hair, the fabric from the gloves causing it to stick up in all different directions, pacing back and forth on the same spot on the sidewalk.

“Are you there?” your voice echoed in his eardrums, his heart about ready to burst from his chest.

“Yeah, I’m here.” his voice was timid, weak.

“So what do you say? Help an old friend out?” Jimin could sense your smile even from a thousand miles away, “Pretty please with a cherry on top?” he could only imagine your eyes growing wide, a pertinent pout on your lips as you would try to win him over. You did not have to try very hard, most of the time Jimin bent over backwards for you without you having to say a thing.

“I’ll do it.”

What has he just gotten himself into?

With his suitcase sprawled open along his bed, Jimin tried to tune out his friends as best he could while he packed, but it was hard trying to ignore six overgrown children all screaming at you at one time.

“Are you serious? You said yes?”

“You are fucking insane, you’ll never pull it off.”

“This is his chance, guys! You idiots aren’t seeing the potential that this has.”

“We do see it, we just don’t think he’ll be able to do it.”

Jimin could not help but roll his eyes, muttering under his breath. “Thanks for the confidence boost.”

It was then that he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, looking up to see Namjoon towering over him.

“I’m serious, Jiminnie,” Namjoon’s tone was soft, “You have a golden opportunity here to confess, finally, how you feel.”

Jimin sighed, running his fingers through his hair as a nervous habit. He continued to fold his clothes, letting those words sink in.

“Just remember, we’ll be going too.” Jin spoke from his left, sitting at the edge of his bed, re-folding a few of his shirts that didn’t seem to be satisfactory to his standards. “So if you need any help at all, we’ll be right there with you.”

That was one thing Jimin could count on, was the fact that all of them were invited too, having become friends with you and your family because of him, naturally being included.

“Yeah, so when you screw up, we’ll have a drink waiting for you at the ready.” Jimin grabbed onto the nearest thing he could find, his pillow, and whipped it in Jungkook’s direction.

“You’re not even old enough to have a drink, let alone hold one for someone else.” Yoongi mumbles, his eyebrow raising as he lifted his feet to rest on top of Jimin’s desk. Jungkook retaliated by punching his arm, but the voice of the oldest of the group put a stop to that immediately.

“That is not the point.” He could recognize the frustration as Jin began to speak, his tone indicating that this argument was over. “The point is that we’ll have your back, no matter what happens.”

“And to be honest, even if you do fuck it up, Y/N will still love you anyway. You have just been too blind to notice.” Yoongi shrugged as he left the room, Jimin staring at where he sat with wide eyes. Hoseok broke out into an ear-splitting laughter, the group in agreement, Jimin seeing many nods and grunts of congruity that were hard to ignore. He had been hearing this sort of thing ever since they figured out he had feelings for you, but Jimin never listened to them.

“This means absolutely nothing. You’re all just crazy.” Jimin shook his head as he shoved his socks into the top zipper pocket of the suitcase a bit harder than he should’ve. “I’m helping out a friend, that’s all.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Taehyung chimed in, a teasing grin on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. The smile fell fast, the look in Jimin’s eyes was one that could kill, Taehyung nervously laughing and raising his hands in a mock surrender.

Jimin roughly grabbed the shirt Jin has in his hands, shoving it inside the suitcase and zipping it closed with an aggravated demeanor.

“This means nothing.”

Jimin comprehended that he had to keep repeating it to himself, but would any amount of times actually aid in helping him to believe it?

Who was he kidding? He was all kinds of screwed.

The train ride to Busan from Seoul was long, tiring, and did not help Jimin’s mental state in any way shape or form. If anything, it only heightened his anxiety, his brain playing tricks on him and having him think of nothing but the worst of any scenario or situation that played out in his head. He wound up sitting next to Jungkook, the youngest having fallen asleep, his head resting upon Jimin’s shoulder. Yoongi and Taehyung were sitting to his right, Namjoon and Hoseok situated in the seats in front of him, with Jin by himself behind him. Jin insisted on a seat of his own, not wanting to “deal with the incessant snoring in his ear from Namjoon again” like last time.

Jimin had his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze stuck in a trance on the landscape as it passed by him in a whirl of colors, his head resting against the back of his seat. He had spoken to you once or twice throughout the week, as you had already left and arrived earlier on considering you were the Maid of Honor, only talking to confirm details and places to be. Other than that, there had been no real discussion on how the both of you had planned to pull this off. You were probably terrified, and wanted to avoid it as long as possible, or so he told himself.

He tried to sleep for the remainder of the ride, but no matter how hard he tried, he was restless, seeing your face at every moment, his nerves going haywire. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, retrieving it with a furrowed brow, noticing it was Yoongi who had texted him. Jimin  moved forward and glanced around Jungkook, shooting Yoongi a confused expression, the elder shaking his phone in his hand, indicating for him to read it.

Grandpa [14:17pm]: Did you get Y/N a Christmas gift?

Jimin [14:18pm]: Of course I did, did you?

Grandpa [14:18pm]: Who do you think I am? A monster? I’m checking to make sure you’re doing this correctly.

Even though Yoongi had a soft spot for Jimin, he seldom held back on his sarcastic retorts.

Jimin [14:19pm]: Doing what correctly?

He heard Yoongi chuckle.

Grandpa [14:20pm]: You have so much to learn. Just don’t give it to Y/N until after the wedding, after you’ve told Y/N how you feel.

That left Jimin puzzled, looking up from his phone and directly at Yoongi, but Yoongi remained with his head down, earbuds in.

Jimin [14:21pm]: I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I’m not confessing. But that would be after the holiday, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of calling it a Christmas gift?

Jimin watched, impatient, as he saw the three dots appear and disappear simultaneously as Yoongi continued to type.

Grandpa [14:22pm]: Trust me on this. If there’s one thing you listen to, let it be this, okay?

Jimin huffed, ready to type a reply but Yoongi was one step quicker.

Grandpa [14:23pm]: Believe me, Y/N will be all over you by the end of this weekend. Keep your head up, shortie.

At those final words, he was more than ready to start a fight, hovering over his seat, glaring at the ebony hair of the older boy to the right; but Yoongi went seemingly right back to sleep, his hat covering his eyes, his music blasting in his ears, but Jimin did not miss the smirk that played at the corners of his lips, before Yoongi’s fingers pulled his mask up again to cover his face.

By the time they had arrived, the sky was pitch black, not a cloud in sight and only the light of the moon and the stars. Jimin craned his neck upwards with a soft, appreciative smile, missing the vast open landscape that Busan could offer compared to the brightly lit buildings and neon street signs of Seoul. With a deep breath, he inhaled the smells of the sea, the cool, winter air, and he was so happy to be home.

He would see his parents tomorrow, they chose to spend the night at home and would drive up for the wedding reception the evening to follow, and he didn’t blame them. Luckily enough for Jungkook, his family home was within half an hour of the venue, so he was able to stay with his parents for the remainder of the weekend if he chose to, but he elected to stay at the hotel with Yoongi and Taehyung in their room on the couch. As for the rest of the group, everyone would be split into adjoining hotel rooms, Jimin staying with Hoseok.

The fiery red hair of his friend came into view, his bright smile rivaling that of the stars, waving Jimin down to tell him to meet him at the check in desk. And with a final parting breath, Jimin wheeled his suitcase in the direction of the hotel, the entrance doors opening on a sensor with his footsteps, warmth washing over him as he made his way inside.

Hoseok threw his arm around Jimin’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. “Let’s go, roomie!”

Jimin threw himself on the bed closest to the window, his eyes fluttering closed when he felt the soft fabric of the sheets against his skin. He hummed quietly to himself, hearing Hoseok begin to unpack his suitcase and put away his clothes between the dresser and the closet.

He could feel Hoseok’s eyes on him, but Jimin paid it no mind, the extent of his exhaustion was finally hitting him and that was all he could focus on at the moment.

All until he felt a pillow hit his gut.

“What the hell?!”

“You need to wake up, sunshine.” Hoseok said, Jimin’s eyes opening with trepidation, the dim light of the hotel room even too much for his sensitivity right now.

“And why would I need to do that?” Jimin rose slowly onto his forearms, his lips forming into a small pout.

“We’re going out.”

Jimin groaned, stretching his limbs across the mattress, wincing when he felt Hoseok ruffle his hair over his forehead, hearing him laugh as he did so.

“Don’t make such a big deal over it, we’re only going to Namjoon and Jin’s room across the hall. Everyone else is in there already, they’re waiting on us.” Hoseok began to pull Jimin upwards, yanking on his arms until he sat up straight.

Now that, Jimin could handle.

Clad in only a hoodie and sweatpants, Jimin followed Hoseok into the hallway, his feet shuffling on the carpet as his hands rested in the pocket on the front of his sweatshirt, his fingers playing with the key card in his grasp. Hoseok was holding a small case of beer, knocking on the door obnoxiously loud, until he was met with a scowl from Yoongi on the other side. It did not stray him from his attitude though, Hoseok charging into the room with a boisterous greeting, Jimin catching the grin on Yoongi’s face when he shut the door. Yoongi could never be upset with Hoseok for more than three seconds before succumbing to a smile.

The rest of the group was scattered along the furniture, Jungkook and Taehyung situated upon the couch, while Yoongi plopped back down onto the armchair, Namjoon and Jin sitting on their respective beds. Hoseok placed the cans down on top the desk near the television, before pulling out the chair and sitting down. Namjoon was scrolling through his phone to pick the playlist for the night, Jimin choosing to sit beside him on the edge of the mattress. Yoongi was quick to grab a can, sipping hurriedly onto the foam that had formed on top before it spilled over. Jin held his hand up, Yoongi tossing him one as well. Anyone who wanted a beer had one in their possession, Jungkook glancing in Taehyung’s direction with a longing stare, Taehyung chuckling at the younger boy’s expression.

“You’ll get there one day.” He mumbled, but before the rim of the can could touch his lips, Jungkook was swift to snatch it away, chugging the remaining alcohol as fast as he could before Taehyung could react. The older boy reached over to pry it from his hands, but Jungkook was strong, easily pushing Taehyung away and wiping his mouth with a satisfied smug smile.

“Ya! You idiot!” Taehyung smacked Jungkook upside the head, causing him to ruffle his hair as he rubbed his scalp, but the grin never faded. Taehyung looked to Namjoon and Jin to handle this, Namjoon merely laughing at the entire situation, while Jin appeared ready to put Jungkook in his place, ears red and cheeks flushed.

“Let him have his fun, it’s not like we didn’t drink before we were legal,” Namjoon pointed out, sipping the beer in his hands. He tapped Jin on the shoulder and the two of them exchanged a glance, a silent conversation that nobody was able to understand but them, Jin’s demeanor changing instantly. Jimin heard him sigh, still disgruntled as he drank his own, but he left it alone. “Besides, it’s almost the new year, and he’ll be of age anyway. He’s in good hands.”

Jungkook’s grin was as bright as ever.

Taehyung shrugged, grabbing another beer and opening it, handing it to Jungkook and taking another for himself. Hoseok offered one to Jimin, who accepted it gladly. He needed to calm his mind for a little while.

“Has Y/N talked to you yet?” leave it to Yoongi to get straight to the point, a teasing smile on his face.

Jimin choked, coughing mid-sip, wiping the edge of his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He shook his head no, allowing Yoongi to continue his interrogation.

“What did you buy for a present?” the rest of the boys were listening now, leaning closer to hear his answer, all eyes on him. Jimin gulped.

“A book from her favorite book store.”

A chorus of murmurs and groans followed his words, Jimin seeing Yoongi shake his head in disapproval, but Namjoon patted him on the back in reassurance. Jimin furrowed his brows, confused as to why they reacted so negatively.

“That’s sweet and all, but you’re going to have to do better than that,” Yoongi sat up, resting his elbow on his thigh as he leaned in closer to Jimin. “It has to be from the heart.”

Namjoon was quick to dismiss him, waving his hand and placing his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “Who says this isn’t from his heart? He knows Y/N loves to read, I’m sure he took care in choosing something special.” He shot Jimin a sideways grin, Jimin exhaling with a nervous laugh.

“I guess so?” He was unsure now, but he did hope that you liked it. Jimin was known for being thoughtful with his gifts to the people he cared about, but when it came to you he could never find anything that fit right. Nothing was perfect, nothing was ever good enough for you.

“You should get her some jewelry, girls always like that sort of thing.” Jungkook chimes in, sipping onto his second beer a lot slower than the first.

Hoseok aggressively shook his head, “No, that’s too materialistic, too cliche,” He hopped up and crossed his legs beneath himself on the chair, “You need to think beyond that.”

“Well what do you think is beyond that?” Jimin used air quotes, growing frustrated with the back and forth from everyone, now second guessing everything.

“It has to be sentimental,” Jin was resting his chin in his hand, his eyes glazing over as he lost himself in his thoughts. He nodded, his head turning to face Jimin. “The gift has to mean something. It has to be important.”

Jimin knew it was not just because of the alcohol as to why his head was spinning. He knew they were just looking out for him, but this was not making the situation any better, if anything it was making it worse. It was confusing him, confusing his feelings, making him doubt everything he had in mind from the start.

One thing he knew for sure, he damn well was not confessing now.

Not that he was going to anyway, right?

Right.

Jimin was rudely awakened the next morning by a jumping Jungkook, said boy leaping onto his bed and placing all of his weight onto his entire body. Jimin yelped, his eyes scrunching in pain, shoving Jungkook off of him mumbling I’m awake as he shifted himself to sit up against the headboard.

“Now that you’re up,” Jimin scowled as the younger boy grinned broadly, “Let’s go eat!”

“You attacked me because of a breakfast buffet?” Jimin rose up to smack Jungkook on the back of his head, but he was one step quicker and ducked just in time to avoid the hit.

“Do you even have to ask?” Jungkook began walking towards the door of their hotel room, which is when Jimin noticed Hoseok brushing his teeth in the bathroom, nodding at Jimin in acknowledgment of a morning greeting. He finished up, throwing on a sweatshirt and sneakers, following behind as the three boys made their way down the hall to meet up with the rest of the group before going to the dining area.

“I can’t believe you let him in.” Jimin muttered to Hoseok, making sure to stay a few steps behind. Hoseok laughed, nudging Jimin’s shoulder as he spoke.

“It was the only way I could wake you up,” Jimin looked at him confused. “You barely twitched when I hit you with my own pillow, so I had to bring in reinforcements.” He jerked his head, indicating Jungkook. “You were out cold, my friend.”

Jimin didn’t realize how deprived of sleep he has actually been these past few weeks until his head hit the pillow the night before. What once would bring him comfort, the faint, lingering smell of your perfume on his sweatshirt, or the thought of your smile before he went to sleep, only brought him anxiety and worry of the weekend to come. He thought about texting you, but he figured you were busy with preparations that he did not want to bother you.

So it came as a surprise to him when his phone buzzed, your name popping up on his screen, a cute smiling emoji as you wished him a good morning, hoping to meet up sometime today before the rehearsal dinner to go over the arrangement.

Wait, rehearsal dinner? Oh fuck.

Hoseok noticed Jimin’s change in demeanor, his eyebrow raising in question. “Are you okay?”

Jimin looked flustered, running his fingers through his hair as he glared at his phone screen. “I totally forgot about the rehearsal dinner tonight.”

Hoseok’s mouth opened wide, an expression of understanding washing over his features. “That will be the first time you’ll be seeing Y/N since she asked you to do this, isn’t it?”

Jimin nodded.

Hoseok clapped his hand on Jimin’s back, “This is when the fun really begins.”

“You’re not helping.” Jimin muttered, shoving his hand away and walking faster to catch up with the rest of the group. Hoseok just chuckled, his hands in his pockets as he shuffled into the dining hall with the rest of them.

Jin and Jungkook already had piles of food on their plates, wide smiles and full mouths as they ate like they would never see another meal again. Namjoon and Yoongi sipped quietly on their cups of coffee, occasionally taking bites of the pastries and bagels they took from the buffet. Taehyung was at the front of the line, eyes bright as he decided on what to eat, Jimin and Hoseok following suit and getting behind him with their own empty plates.

Sitting down next to Jin, Jimin looked at his food with little interest. He played with the eggs atop his plate, everyone noticing that his mood was off. He felt a tap against his arm, looking up to see Jin staring at him, mouth still full of food but his expression was questioning, prompting Jimin to speak about what was troubling him. Jimin waved him off, shaking his head as he took a bite, not noticing how Jin turned his gaze to Hoseok, knowing they were together before everyone met up.

“Y/N texted him about the rehearsal dinner tonight and he’s freaking out.” Hoseok’s lips tilted into a small smile, catching a glare from Jimin who held his head in his hands.

“So that’s what has got your panties in a bunch,” Yoongi set down his cup of coffee, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “You have to talk to Y/N eventually, otherwise none of this is going to work.”

Jimin nodded in agreement, but the scared look sprawled upon his face said otherwise.

“Look, don’t put too much pressure on yourself to be a picture-perfect boyfriend. Just act like you normally do when you’re together, but include a little more physical contact. Put your arm around Y/N’s waist, give her a kiss on the cheek, things like that.” at the word kiss Jimin almost choked on his water, the thought alone giving him butterflies and nervous knots in the pit of his stomach.

Jungkook shot a smile in his direction.

“It can’t be that hard, right? The two of you are already so close, you share clothes for crying out loud, you might as well call yourselves a couple. This shouldn’t be too difficult. You can do this, Jimin.” Jungkook put up his fist, a gesture of encouragement, but all Jimin could think about was the fact that he would probably have to kiss you at some point this weekend, and the idea had surprisingly not even crossed his mind.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the chime of his phone, alerting him of a new text message, seeing your name on the screen once again.

Y/N [11:30am]: Can you meet me at my hotel room in one hour? I finally got away from all of the craziness. We can talk then?

The boys noticed Jimin’s change in demeanor almost immediately, a grin developing on his face and his shoulders relaxed.

Jimin [11:31am]: Sounds good, I’ll see you then.

He placed his phone down with a smile, taking a hearty bite of his breakfast, paying no mind to the eyes of the six boys that surrounded him.

Yoongi chuckled, “You’re going to be just fine.”

You were pacing the floor in your hotel room, your fingers twisted and intertwined as your hands mindlessly moved on their own for not knowing what to do with them. The rehearsal dinner was in half an hour, and despite going through the story that you were to tell your family and friends with Jimin a hundred times by now, it did not make it any easier to know that it was going to become a reality very soon.

You were startled by the touch of a hand on your shoulder, warm and consoling, a touch you knew immediately. It was Jimin, offering you a reassuring smile and a nod, silently telling you that everything was going to be okay. You twisted yourself to face him, pivoting on your heel and wrapping your arms around his torso in a strong hug. His comforting scent of pine and spice calms your nerves, his fingers running through your hair never failing to soothe you. You were so absorbed in the feeling that you did not hear the door opening behind you, your eyes fluttering open when hearing her voice.

“Aren’t you two just the cutest?” You moved yourself away from Jimin, but he kept his hand on the small of your back, a gesture you appreciated. “It’s about time you guys got together.”

Your sister teased you, smiling as she entered the room with her fiancé at her side. You had forgotten that she had a key card, just as you did to her room, in case of emergencies. Clearly she was not abiding by that unwritten rule. Upon her words you separated from Jimin, the blush appearing on your cheeks instantaneously, while Jimin cleared his throat.

“Are you ready to go?” She clapped her hands together, slipping her arm through her fiancé’s grip as she headed out the door, her vivacious energy bordering on

infectious, the joy radiating from her wonderful to see. You knew deep down she was nervous, but it was so nice to see her with someone who was absolutely her other half, no doubts about it. The both of you nodded, checking to make sure you had everything before leaving the room and locking the door.

You let the two of them go ahead of you, staying behind to walk with Jimin. His hand slipped into yours, his thumb caressing the back of your palm, sensing your uneasiness. The small action caused your heart to flutter.

“We’ve got this, okay?”

You squeezed his hand tighter, nodding without saying a word. The next battle would be presenting yourselves to your family, making them believe that you are in a solid, loving relationship. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the thought of it.

The rehearsal and ultimately the wedding were to be located at the venue within the hotel, your heartbeat beginning to pick up its pace once more as you saw your family standing in the room. Due to the fact that your sister was getting married during the Christmas weekend, the decor was reflective as such: fresh balsam trees surrounding the rows of chairs, silver and gold tinsel draped across the branches, blankets of white dusted upon the foliage, the aisle leading up to the altar decorated with a silk ivory runner. It was a picturesque holiday scene, and it was absolutely beautiful.

You noticed your mother speaking to the wedding planner, pointing out details that otherwise would have been left alone had she not been so anal over everything. She wanted her daughter’s wedding day to be nothing short of perfection, and it was appreciated, but you knew how your mother’s ideals and her opinions could get the better of her, and everyone else around her.

“Hi Mom,” you mumbled, your hand rising in a shy wave, feeling Jimin’s presence behind you, observing.

“Oh, hi dear!” she turned to face you with a smile, excusing herself from her previous conversation to walk over towards you. Jimin came up next to you, sliding his fingers along your spine, letting you know he was there.

“Jimin sweetie,” your mother came forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, “So nice to see you again.”

He returned the gesture and pulled away with a gleaming smile, his hand patting her shoulder in addition. “I’m just glad I could be a part of this special day.”

“Oh of course, you are a part of our family just as much as the rest of the boys.” Jimin’s grin grew wider at the mention of the others, feeling the warmth inside his chest listening to your mother’s kind words. Although, her eyebrow raised as she continued to speak. “I have to admit I was a bit surprised that Y/N included a plus one,”

Now it was Jimin’s turn for his heart to drop into his stomach.

“Y/N suddenly spoke of a supposed ‘boyfriend’ that would be introduced to us, but failed to mention who it was,” you instantly brought your hands up to your face, your palms covering your eyes as you exhibited the tell tale signs of embarrassment: your cheeks flushed with a dusting of pink, your skin feeling clammy and your nerves undeniably insane. “I’m shocked that the relationship was never mentioned before, considering.”

It was then that Jimin wrapped his arm around your waist, and tentatively placed a kiss on your temple, hoping to alleviate the pressure of the situation to make it more believable.

“You know how Y/N can be,” Jimin began, noticing the rise to his tone of voice as he cleared his throat, now awkwardly placing his hand over your shoulder. “Very private with these sorts of things.”

You watch as your mother crosses her arms against her chest, her eyes continually moving back and forth between the two of you, an indication that she was making a deduction, one of which you had no idea what she was thinking.

“I suppose you’re right,” she smiled softly, and you tried to make your sigh of relief as inconspicuous as possible, “Well it’s nice to finally meet you.” she stepped away with a wink, ending the conversation, the sound of her footsteps left in her wake as she went ahead and mingled with your sister and her fiancé.

Your eyes shut tight as you released the breath you had been holding, Jimin’s shaky laugh beside you a cue that he was just as nervous as you had been.

“If it was that uncomfortable with just my mother, we have to do a lot better when the rest of the family comes.” you muttered under your breath, your hand smoothing against the back of your neck, trying to ease the tense muscles.

Jimin nodded in agreement, his fingers sifting through his hair as he attempted to calm himself down, his heart racing wildly inside his chest at even the smallest of touches to your skin, his lips feeling like fire when he merely kissed your temple. He had to get a grip on himself, or this would never work out.

He had to tell himself that this was real, that was the only way this was going to be believable.

And you too, had to trust the same feeling; you both had to be on the same page, otherwise this charade would come crashing down, and there would have been no point to all of this commotion, all of this planning, in the first place. You have made it this far, you cannot stop now.

Luckily the rehearsal went without a hitch, save for a bit of disfunction when it came to timing for everyone walking down the aisle, but despite that, the consensus was good; everyone felt confident that the precession would go well tomorrow. Jimin sat back along the first row of chairs, watching with curious eyes as he had not been to a wedding yet in his lifetime. He could see the look of boredom cross your features as they went over the formalities, occasionally creating funny faces in his direction, making it very difficult for him to keep quiet amongst all of the giggling.

Before long it was time for dinner, Jimin hand in hand with you as you followed your family to the dining hall, trying your best to keep your emotions in check. Many were already seated, noticing your father at the end of the table, greeting you with a smile until he ultimately noticed Jimin at your side, a look of surprise upon his face. Your father nodded in acknowledgment, smiling at him, watching carefully as you both sat down. He exchanged a glance with your mother, who merely shrugged with a grin and took her seat next to him.

The courses were served within the hour, your family choosing to keep the event casual and lighthearted as laughs and memorable stories and celebratory drinks were shared amongst the crowd. From time to time Jimin would place his arm around you, and whenever the question of your relationship was concerned, his delivery of your supposed beginnings and kinship highlights were seemingly flawless in your eyes, making it much easier to accept your beguile reality and play along. You would reciprocate as the champagne tickled your coherent senses, touching his thigh or kissing his cheek, taking a subconscious mental note of the way his breath would hitch, or how his face would blossom into a darling shade of pink whenever you would do so.

You would be lying if you did not say the liquor had had an influence on your behavior, but the numbing of your nerves made it manageable, and that much more believable to many curious eyes.

“I can’t help but to ask,” your sister started a new conversation, her hands jittery as her excitement became more apparent as her thoughts spewed out. “When did you finally ask Y/N out on a date?”

Your heart began to pound inside your chest, holding onto Jimin’s hand tighter as you shared a look, the twitch of his lips expressing for you not to worry, but it did not stop you from it. This was something you had gone over too many times to count, but now that it was actually happening, your mind was drawing a blank, and you could not be more thankful for Jimin’s lingering sobriety than right now.

“It wasn’t easy,” he began, an airy chuckle falling from his lips as he addressed your family with a newfound confidence that you had not seen before. “Y/N can be very stubborn,” that comment produced a laugh from the group, knowing you well enough to agree. “But miraculously I was able to persuade her to give me a chance about three months ago, and I haven’t regretted one second ever since.”

You turned your head to look at him, and in that moment you became so absorbed, so lost in Jimin that everything else around you went still. He smiled, and you swear your heart stopped, and this feeling equally terrified and thrilled you.

“Look at them,” in the back of your mind you figured it was your sister speaking, but you did not bother to verify the fact, your eyes still locked with Jimin’s. “That is something you cannot deny is real.”

With those words you jolted out of your daze, shaking your head and facing the table, sighing and taking a breath. What you did not notice was the way Jimin’s smile fell, his arm sliding just a bit further away from you, until it ultimately removed itself completely from your shoulders and went back down to rest against his side.

“I’m going to say it thousands of times this weekend, but I can’t thank you enough, Jimin.” The two of you walked side by side towards the elevators, planning on heading upstairs to your respective rooms. “I know this isn’t easy.”

He opened his mouth to retort, only to close it shut when he realized it would not do any good. He agreed that it was not easy, but not in the way you were proposing. It was not easy, holding his feelings inside, sticking to his promise to himself that he was not going to confess. It was not easy, touching you the way that he was and unable to act on anything with real fervor like he so desired.

What was easy, was how natural it all seemed. How effortless it was for everything to fall into place once it started. And that is what Jimin feared the most, that as soon as the weekend was over, it would go back to normal. As customary as it could get, with the two of you.

“Of course, I’m glad I could help.” He offered a small smile, his hands shoving into his pockets. He watched as you pressed the button for the elevator, hearing the ding as the doors opened, following you silently inside.

Your back rested against the interior of the elevator, your arms crossed over your chest and cradling yourself as you stared at the light when the floors changed numbers, watching them increase. It was quiet, but not uncomfortable, at least not to you. You felt confident, you felt like you could actually pull this off; and yet you could not help the way your conscious was toying with you. Even though this was your idea from the beginning, with the way Jimin was treating you, with every touch there was a spark that was not there before. Every smile seemed like it was made entirely just for you, his gaze focused on you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, and he could not take his eyes off of you. It seemed entirely too real, and your heart was doing backflips and somersaults that you had never experienced before with Jimin.

Everything was becoming brand new, and you tried to keep your tight grip on reality, but you had a hard time ignoring what was right in front of you.

You were jarred from your train of thought when you heard dual chimes fill the air between you, the sound of both of your phones going off at the same time. It was a group chat, the boys texting you and Jimin alike.

Taehyung [20:45]: Are you lovebirds done yet?

At the use of the term, the flush that formed on your cheeks was unmistakable. Jungkook was next to chime in.

Problem Child [20:45]: We need some quality time with you two before you’re whisked away for the wedding.

Jimin rolled his eyes, his fingers quickly typing a response, catching a glance from you beforehand.

Jimin [20:47]: It’s not like you won’t see us, Jungkook. What did you have in mind?

The elevator came to a stop, Jimin stepping out into hallway with you following behind him.

Namjoon [20:48]: Come to our room and you’ll find out.

You looked at Jimin, confusion written all over your face, but a smile nonetheless was present upon your lips. You had not been able to see the rest of them yet this weekend, so you were excited. You could always count on good times with these boys.

Jimin led the way towards Namjoon and Jin’s hotel room, knocking on the door with more of an excessive force than normal, due to the fact that you could hear loud laughter and talking from the other side. The door swung open, revealing Namjoon with a bright smile.

“That didn’t take long,” he said, stepping aside so you two could enter. “We were afraid we’d never see you.”

“It’s not like my sister is keeping us hostage,” you placed your coat down onto the chair near the desk, plopping down onto the nearest bed you saw. “I am allowed to roam free every once in a while,” seeing their smiling faces caused your grin to grow. “Besides, you would see me during the reception anyway, no need to make a big fuss over it.”

Taehyung leaped up from his seat to head over to you, his arms wrapping themselves around you in a warm hug. “It’s Christmas! We have to celebrate the holiday, too.” When he pulled away, you could smell the alcohol on his breath, and laughed as he went back to the couch.

It was clear that they had begun to drink already, now noticing the few stray bottles of soju scattered about the room.

“We’re here now, what did you want to do?” Jimin said, antsy to figure out what they had planned, and nervous at the same time of what it could lead to.

The boys shared a silent exchange, until ultimately out of all of them, Yoongi spoke up and announced the night’s events.

“We’re going to a karaoke bar, so get your shit together and let’s go.”

Surprisingly no one made an attempt to stop it, the lot of you pushing together in the rideshare Jin had ordered, feeling Jimin’s warmth as he pressed against you in the backseat.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, trying his best to situate so he was not as close, but it was of to no avail, Jungkook sitting on the right side of Jimin and Hoseok to your left, ultimately pushing the two of you together. You tapped his leg, a gesture stating that it was okay, because there was really nothing that could be done at this point.

Due to the time of night, entering the noraebang wasn’t as easy as you all had hoped, mainly having issues because the bouncer didn’t believe Jungkook when he claimed he was of age to enter the establishment. Somehow - but in reality it was no surprise - he won him over, smiling in victory as he walked backwards into the entrance, looking forward at the group of you with his thumbs in the air, a gleeful laugh leaving his lips as the rest of you had your IDs checked. Despite it being for karaoke, they still serve liquor at this hour, and extra precaution was needed.

Once you were settled into the room and the drinks were scattered and separated amongst you, Taehyung immediately went up front to grab the microphone, soju bottle in hand, announcing his first of many songs of the night to come. Most of them took several turns, and you were more than thankful that the walls were soundproof, and you were isolated. Nobody needs to hear this insanity.

Suddenly and without warning, you felt yourself being dragged up towards the front by the television, a microphone shoved into your hand.

“Oh no,” you complained. “No no no, this is not my thing, you know this.” you attempted to return the microphone to Hoseok, who shook his head at you with a brilliant bright smile.

“You’re up, Y/N, just deal with it. You nor Jimin have sang yet.” It was then at the mention of his name that you noticed he had been situated right beside you, microphone also in hand, a nervous grin upon his face. He leaned over, his breath smelling of liquor and a hint of mint, whispering into your ear.

“I’ll take over if you want, just have fun with it. Don’t think about it too much.” You could feel the heat become visible from the flesh of your cheeks, the effect of the alcohol doing a fine job of making itself known through the slur of your speech and the heedless ease of your movements. You nodded, silent.

As the music begins to play, you recognize the opening notes of Baby, It’s Cold Outside and instantly your knees buckle, glaring at Yoongi who was snickering in the corner, joined by Jungkook and Jin. They will swear up and down that this entire scenario was random, that the music was on shuffle, it was all for a bit of fun; but in this moment you were too scared to put the finer details into perspective, and you certainly were not in a sober state of mind to bother.

Despite your desire to not sing in the slightest, you began the song anyway when prompted to on the television screen, grinning as Jimin joined in for his respective parts, attempting to keep you entertained throughout; he did not have to try very hard though, as watching him light up was more than enough to make you overjoyed. Albeit, you were glad the bottle of soju was still in your hand, a couple of sips of liquid courage every now and again to make the experience that much more enjoyable.

You could not help the scarlet that danced along your skin, hearing Jimin sing gosh your lips look delicious and almost missing the next verse. He did take the lead most of the time, as he promised, but with a song like this it is impossible not to be sucked into the fickle, amorous sentiment of it all, your heartbeat picking up speed as he threw coy expressions your way when he performed his lines.

The song was over within minutes, Jimin walking with you back towards the couch, the both of you plopping down onto the cushions as Jungkook took the microphone again, Namjoon rushing up to sing along - badly, if you were being honest - but he danced around like an idiot which made it even funnier, and you have not laughed that hard in a long time. It felt great, better yet it felt fantastic, and you were well and truly happy.

Your ears were filled with the joyous laughter from Jimin beside you, causing you to look over in his direction: taking in the sight of his smile, the way his cheeks were flushed and his skin glowed, a radiance that was beautiful to you. It made you grin, the corners of your mouth slowly rising, and you could not help yourself as your hand reached out to move his hair away from his eyes. Jimin did not even flinch, so consumed by watching the boys have their fun. It was instinctual, your mind signaling to your limbs that this was something habitual, something that came easy; you did not have to think twice about it.

What you did not see‍, was that Namjoon noticed every part of this. Even though he was preoccupied, his natural suspicions from the depths of his subconscious were confirmed right in front of his eyes, and that there is in fact something between the two of you that is undeniable; except now, it was clear you were on the very same page, whether you realize it yourself or not.

He had never truly taken into account the way you behaved with one another until now. You both had always been close, that much was obvious, Namjoon very familiar with how Jimin felt and how Jimin spoke of you, but this was different. The way with which you were looking at Jimin right now was full of fascination, curiosity, the light in your eyes hard to miss, all rolled into one. Namjoon deliberated for the next few minutes, screaming his lungs out while internally the gears of his brain were working in full force.

Namjoon feared that there was a chance that he was wrong, that you did not feel the same way after all. It is possible in his drunken condition that Namjoon was imagining things, that everyone was hyping Jimin up for no reason. He worries if he mentions anything to the rest of them, that Jimin would catch wind of it, causing Jimin to do something he would regret in the process. But that train of thought was short lived, knowing Jimin well enough that he would only be his own worst enemy in the end. Jimin would overthink, he would put too much pressure on himself for anything to happen. Namjoon still chose to keep this discovery to himself, not wanting to make things worse for the two of you.

Namjoon just hopes that this wedding would be exactly what you needed to finally be happy the way he knew you both deserved to be.

The night was coming to a close after that, the music fading out and the drinks empty, with you ending up resting on Jimin’s shoulder as you fell asleep once the alcohol completely went to your head. He stood up, careful to hold you in place as he gripped onto your waist to keep you upright, telling the others he was going to leave ahead of them and take you back to the hotel himself and put you to bed, even though he was stumbling quite a bit himself.

It began to snow when you stepped foot outside, Jimin doing his best to hail a cab as you continued to sleep soundly on his shoulder after realizing he stopped moving, his hand rubbing your arm in an attempt to keep you warm. It took less than ten minutes to arrive at the hotel, Jimin slipping slightly on the icy sidewalk before catching himself and walking you both inside. As you left the elevator, Jimin ended up carrying you on his back as you were out cold, after clumsily fishing through your purse to find your key card. He did his best to place you onto your bed as carefully as possible, but gravity was against him, the liquor consuming him, falling on top of your mattress and fighting back his laughter to no avail.

The sound of his voice woke you from your slumber, realizing you were in the comfort of your bed, looking at the boy beside you with a soft smile. He caught you watching, reciprocating with a grin of his own, and a newfound warmth that caused his limbs to tingle and his stomach to be filled with butterflies.

“Y/N…” he whispered, seeing the way your eyes began to flutter close again, reaching out to brush your hair away and tuck it behind your ear. “I have something that I need to say.”

Jimin was not in his right mind, he knew this. He was not thinking clearly, but everything in his body, his heart, was telling him that this was the best thing to do in this very moment.

“Y/N, I love you.”

His words were met with the murmur of your slumber, feeling your body press against his as your arm fell onto his torso.

It was not supposed to happen like this. This was not how he wanted to tell you, his tongue sloppy and his words slurred, tasting nothing but the harsh burn of soju when he would have rather been tasting your sweet lips instead.

No, it was not supposed to end up like this. But it did, and that was something Jimin had to live with.

What he was not aware of, was that you heard every word.

The sunlight shines through the windows like an unwelcome surprise, harsh and unnerving, Jimin’s head throbbing as his eyes flutter open. It feels like a pound of bricks has fallen onto his shoulders and his limbs are aching, blinded from the luminosity and disturbed by the noises currently echoing throughout his hotel room. He hears the faint television to his left, sliding his body upwards in his bed to rest against the headrest. The rushing sound of water from the sink in the bathroom alerts him that Hoseok is awake, followed by the chatter amongst the rest of the boys that appear to be in his room, Taehyung laughing with Jungkook about something. He did not care, he just wanted everyone and everything to shut up for a minute.

“He lives!” Taehyung pivoted on his heel when he noticed Jimin’s movement in the corner of his eye, facing him completely with his hands in the air.

“I am going to need you to not do that right now.” with a voice full of grogginess and a scratchy throat, Jimin attempts to speak. He slides back down into the warmth of his comforter, covering his arms as he allows his eyes to close again.

“Aw, is someone hungover?” Taehyung walked over towards him, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks, and if Jimin did not currently feel like death incarnate, he would kick his ass. The rest of the group soon gathers around his bed, surrounding him like vultures, praying on his every move and every word.

“How was it last night?” Namjoon was the first to speak up, a soft smile on his face as he watched Jimin slowly unfold from the comfort of his sheets.

“You know exactly how it was, hyung. You were there.” Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head.

“And you know what I’m really talking about.”

Jimin froze. Last night. Last night, he made a lot of stupid mistakes, a spectacle of himself. He drank entirely too much and was regretting it right this very moment. Last night, he sang his lungs out and had the time of his life. Last night, he told you he loved you.

He told you he loved you.

The chorus of gasps and yelps that followed startled Jimin, so much so that he jumped upwards, stumbling as he tried to regain his balance onto the bed. He did not understand why everyone suddenly reacted so extreme, only to realize he has said his thoughts out loud.

The following minute was filled with hugs and endless shaking, Taehyung and Jungkook thrashing him around in excitement, Jimin finally getting up from the bed to pull himself away. He scratched the back of his neck, and laughed nervously as he felt everyone’s eyes on him.

“So?! What did Y/N say?” Hoseok came out from the bathroom, a towel around his neck and hanging over his shoulders, his hair dripping wet from the shower.

Jimin shook his head, “She was asleep, she didn’t hear me.”

“You never know,” Yoongi spoke up, the room watching him as he headed towards Jimin, placing a hand on his shoulder. “There have been plenty of times I’d heard many things I’d rather wished I didn’t when I was sleeping around you idiots, and you had no idea.”

Taehyung released a gasp of surprise, his body language indicating he was nervous. “Wait, hyung, what have you heard?”

Yoongi flashed him a smirk. “I hear everything.”

Taehyung and Jungkook alike turned as white as a sheet, their heads falling to face the ground.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, Jiminnie,” he heard the voice of Hoseok to his right. The elder swung his arm around his shoulders, nuzzling into his hair as he gave him a side hug. “You can speak your mind properly later, and make it count that much more.”

Jimin smiled, thankful to have his friends at a time like this. The next few hours were taken up by the boys getting ready in their respective hotel rooms, congregating once again in Namjoon and Jin’s room as they had been doing all weekend. Jimin was adjusting his tie in the mirror, fixing the stray hairs that would not stay in place before giving up entirely and running his fingers through it instead. He was absentmindedly brushing the imaginary dust off of the lapels of his suit jacket, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Would you bring it up? Did you remember anything from last night? Had he just made a huge fool of himself?

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The deep baritone of Namjoon startled him, glancing in the mirror at his reflection when he came to stand near him. Jimin released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, smiling softly.

“The night is finally here, and I guess it hit me out of nowhere. I will never be ready for this.”

He felt Namjoon place his hand upon his shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. “You’re more ready than you give yourself credit for. You already told Y/N once, what’s going to stop you from doing so again?”

Jimin sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. It was easier said than done, and he knew Namjoon was aware of that fact, and was only trying to help encourage him. He appreciates it, but it does not help that his first confession was when you were fast asleep on his chest, and he was lucky if you heard anything at all. When he does it this time, he has to do it right.

Commotion and chaos surrounded you whilst you sat idly in a chair in the corner of the hotel room, your sister the last to get ready, her hair currently being curled while another woman tackled her makeup at the same time. You had been done for quite a while, your scarlet dress draping down to your feet, your hair in an elegant updo and your makeup subtle, your nerves going haywire as you were left to tend to yourself and in turn become lost in your own head.

You propped your feet up onto the table in front of you, not caring if your heels scratched the wood. The rest of the bridesmaids were talking amongst themselves or to your sister, leaving you alone which you were more than happy for. Your head was still pounding, the amounts of water and pain killers that were in your system were probably unhealthy, but you needed to get a good head on your shoulders for the night to come, if anything, to support your sister the way a maid of honor should.

And yet your mind was elsewhere, drowning in thoughts of a confession that you are almost positive you were not supposed to hear, at least not yet, not then.

You had to keep reminding yourself that once this weekend was over, it would go back to normal. Blame it on the magic of the holidays, blame it on the atmosphere of people being in love, blame it on anything but yourself and this haphazard plan you came up with.

Jimin was just a friend, your best friend, and nothing more; but you could not lie to yourself anymore, you could not ignore the way he was making you feel. The biggest problem was that all of this scared you to death, these mysterious and unknown presentiments that were buried in the depths of your subconscious were coming to the surface, causing you to question your entire relationship with Jimin in the first place.

“Have any of you noticed that there are quite a few attractive men here this weekend?” your ears perked up at the sound of the conversation, curious as to whom they were referring to. You had a hunch that it was your friends, considering the guest list was not too extravagant. “Normally with weddings you’re lucky if you can meet one cute guy, let alone the seven that are here. It’s a Christmas miracle.”

“I think I know who you are talking about,” one of your sister’s friends from high school added on. “I always see them hanging around Y/N, too.”

Suddenly you felt the gaze of all of the women entirely on you, eyes curious and their restrained frivolous expressions had you feel as though you were being scrutinized, despite the fact that they barely said a word to you at all. You smiled, unsure of what to do, until your heart started beating rapidly inside your chest at their next comments.

“You know who I think is gorgeous? The one with the brunette hair, and plump lips that I could kiss for hours,” with a light giggle from their end of the room, you ran through the current hair colors of the boys, knowing they changed frequently. Only a few could match her description, and you were waiting on bated breath to find out who they were speaking of, though you had a pretty good idea. “He’s a little short for my taste, but that makes him all the more adorable. What I wouldn’t do to that boy. I think his name is Ji something? I don’t remember.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, your hand rising to curl your hair behind your ear, your fingers falling to your mouth to nip at your nails as your hunch came true. The girls continued to fawn over them all, gossiping and rattling on about which of your friends they wanted to steal for the night, and frankly it made you uncomfortable.

“Jimin!” eyes focused on the source of the voice, you were surprised to see your sister turn in her chair, resting along the back to face her bridesmaids. “His name is Jimin and he’s absolutely off limits. He is happily in a relationship with Y/N, so don’t even think about it. I’m looking at you, Seulgi.” with a teasing smile, she turned back around, allowing the team to continue working on her. Once more all eyes were on you, Seulgi’s lips upturned into a grimace that she tried to hide but was unsuccessful.

A couple of minutes later, your sister was successfully finished, and she looked nothing short of spectacular. A smile came upon your face, linking your hands together as the emotions started to overcome her, laughing as she mentioned how thankful she was for waterproof mascara. She led all of you to the venue, watching as your father took her hand, stepping back so you could walk down the aisle first and take your respective places at the front. Your eyes absentmindedly diverted to the crowd, unknowingly scanning the sea of people for a familiar face, calmed by the presence of your friends, who were waving and smiling bright.

You could not deny it when your heart skipped a beat when Jimin grinned in your direction. His cheeks were flushed a soft shade of pink, his brunette locks neatly styled to frame his features, his black suit fitting him like a glove. You could not deny it when the butterflies formed in your stomach, twisting and dancing along your ribs, your body overcome with an unexpected warmth when he waved to you, his eyes never leaving you.

The ceremony came and went, the room erupting with cheers and applause, the reception starting in the blink of an eye before you knew it; meaning, you had to face Jimin head on. Your nerves came back in full swing, diminishing the flame that had formed inside of your chest, a rush of apprehension washing over you like a tidal wave. The classical music surrounded the entire ballroom, your sister stepping out onto the dance floor with her husband, beginning their first dance. The atmosphere was quiet, respective, and blooming with joviality and love, watching the new couple with adoration. You kept time with the tapping of your foot, counting the number of beats until it was your turn to join her. Exchanging a glance with Jimin, you gave a short nod to signal for him to come as well.

The two of you fell into step with ease, his hands sliding onto your waist, yours resting upon his shoulders. Jimin kept the tempo, leading you into a twirl across the dance floor and pulling you back towards him in one fluid move. Your heartbeat was racing, worrying if your palms were sweaty when the choreography had you switch to your fingers becoming linked, his free hand drifting down to your hip.

You had a hard time looking him in the eye, when normally you would have had no problem doing so. He was making you feel incredibly anxious. Your gaze wandered all over the room, until locking in a stare with your sister, her approving nod and giddy smile only increasing your distress, causing you to take a deep breath. You feel Jimin squeeze your side, trying to ease your obvious tense stance.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, so close to your ear it was impossible to hide the electric chills that ran down your spine. You shut your eyes as you turned to finally face him, noticing the look of worry that washed over his features as you opened them, his brow furrowed and his lips in a soft frown.

He looked so concerned; it was then that you recognized the friend whom you have always known, who is always there for you, was right in front of you. The idea alone brought you comfort, your muscles relaxing when his lips upturned into a smile. You should not be scared, you told yourself. You should not be afraid. He remained silent, his grip holding onto you just a bit tighter than before, a rosy hue glowing dusting his cheeks.

“I got you a Christmas gift,” he chuckled, a shy smile forming. “But after everything, it seems so mediocre.”

His words confused you, but when his lips briefly parted, you realized he was not finished speaking; and yet he remained silent, his mouth closing again as he simply continued to spin you around the dance floor, keeping his grip in place and watching you with care.

The crescendo was close at hand, Jimin picking up the pace as he glided with you along the wooden floor, the spins and twirls making you light headed. The only thing you could hear were the strings, the high pitch of the violins swirling around you as you swayed, the only sight being that of the smiling boy who was holding you so tight, he feared you may slip away. The final notes presented themselves as he dipped you low to the ground, pulling you back up with an idle accuracy, his fingers sliding along your spine and up your back as he adjusts his hold on your frame to bring you back to center with ease.

“My heart,” He panted, “My heart is the best gift I can give.” Jimin still swayed with you, his eyebrow furrowing when he heard your light giggle at his words, because that is something he would say.

“But it’s not a gift if you’ve had it all along.”

It was then that he stopped moving all together. You were lost in his eyes, trapped in the warmth from the alluring brown as the light reflected in them as his gaze held yours with such intensity, you could not catch your breath. Time stood still, your world was spinning around you, but the one constant was Jimin.

It was always Jimin. It will always be Jimin.

Parting your lips to speak, you were rushed into reality as his fingers slid along your waist, slipping from your body as he sifted through his suit jacket, noticing a small, delicately wrapped gift in his hands. He presented it to you with a mild shrug, giving you one last look before you were watching him walk away.

The thunder of applause once the dance was over drowned everything out around you, seeing how the boys were following Jimin out the door, concerned expressions scattered along all of their faces. Your mind was blank, you were frozen.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, turning to find the source, seeing the warm, familiar smile of Namjoon as he gestured for you to leave the dance floor. You caught eyes with your mother as you passed her table, a wash of uncertainty spread across her face. Namjoon led you to where you supposed was his table, guiding you into a chair opposite him, handing you a glass of sparkling champagne, fresh from the bottle for the upcoming toasts.

Taking a hearty sip, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, fluttering them open slowly as you placed the glass back upon the table. Your hands fell into your lap as your grasped onto Jimin’s gift, feeling the frown creep up on your lips, the soft grip of Namjoon’s hand atop your knee in a comforting squeeze.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

Namjoon was taken aback by your question, ultimately grinning in the end. He laughed, leaning back in his chair, nodding in your direction.

“It was obvious,” he began. “To be honest, he wouldn’t shut up about you all the time.” he chuckled, and you gave him a harsh stare, causing him to cough into his hand to try and disguise it, but it was of no use.

“I’m being serious here,” he shifted in his seat, his elbows coming down to rest on top of his thighs as he leaned in close. “As much as we joke and make fun, his feelings are true, and we all want nothing more than for the two of you to be happy, together.”

At the mention of the word together, your eyes lifted upwards to meet his stare, seeing the sincerity. With a sigh, you casually toyed with the ribbon on the package, before tearing a small hole in the wrapping paper. Your fingers had a mind of their own, ripping and sliding it off with no intention, your body working faster than your mind could catch up. Your curiosity was getting the better of you, your heart pounding violently inside of your chest as these feelings were blossoming like wildflowers along your ribcage and twisting around your heart strings. Once the wrapping paper was removed, your fingertips traced over the fabric of the book cover, the familiar title producing a soft smile onto your face, fiddling with the pages until you noticed a small piece of paper fall from the inside and onto the floor.

With hesitation you picked it up, Namjoon watching you carefully, as this was something he was unaware of besides the book Jimin mentioned to all of them a couple of days ago. You unfolded the paper, immediately recognizing the small handwriting of Jimin’s, a letter he had written addressed to you. You started to read, the smile on your face growing as the lines progressed.

Y/N,

I’m not sure where to begin.

I guess I should just come out and say it, but that’s something that’s very hard for me to do. I would hope by now that my future self has had the courage to tell you how I feel, and that you’re reading this with an open mind and an open heart.

You became more focused, reading each and every word with careful precision, holding your breath as you continued on.

This isn’t much of a gift, but I pray that you like it. I saw this at your favorite book store, and I knew you and your grandmother used to read this together when you were little, and how devastated you were when you dropped your copy she gave to you before she passed away in a puddle that horrendously rainy day before first period. I’ll never forget the look on your face. So, I hope this provides some comfort and some happiness, even if it wasn’t what you wanted.

Tears began to form in your eyes, Namjoon gently asking if you were okay, nodding at him while you remained silent. It was just like Jimin to do something like this, and you chuckled to yourself when you read over again that he said it was not much. It was just like Jimin to view his efforts as mediocre when in fact they were treasured, and sincerely one of a kind for the people he cared for.

It was just like Jimin to know you better than anyone else.

I’m sure by now that I’ve become a coward and run away,

Once again, you lightly laughed at the reality of his words, but the next few sentences took your breath away.

but just know that whatever I said to you, I meant it. Whatever I will continue to tell you, I will mean it with my whole heart, because you have my heart, Y/N, and you always have.

I love you.

Merry Christmas,

Jimin

And it was then that you had an epiphany, one that was inside you all along, and the fact of the matter was that you too, were in love with Jimin. You were in love with Jimin, and you always had been; it just pained you that it took you this long to realize it.

Namjoon noticed the change in your facial expressions, smiling to himself as he saw the comprehension wash over you, the aura radiating from you undeniably different.

“You know,” his baritone struck you from your thoughts. “I could see it that night at karaoke.” He could tell you were confused, and continued to speak. “Whether you realized it or not, it was in your body language. You would absentmindedly touch him with affection, and you had this blissful smile on your face that stayed the entire evening.”

The blush that dusted your cheeks and the warmth that you felt caused your stomach to fill with butterflies, the same ones that had been dancing the entire weekend, and that you could no longer ignore.

“I fear it’s too late.”

Namjoon had to crane his neck to hear you, your voice so soft he would have missed it had he not been reading your lips. He stood up, offering his hand to help you with a grin and you accepted.

“It’s never too late.” He twirled you around, facing you towards the door and gently pushing you because your feet remained stuck on the ground. “He’s waiting for you, Y/N. Don’t leave him hanging.”

With a final deep breath, you turned around one last time to look at Namjoon, jumping to kiss him on the cheek in thanks, before racing towards the exit.

As Namjoon watched you run away, his curiosity urged him to take a look at the book, briefly reading over the letter with a proud smile on his lips.

“Well I’ll be damned, Jimin.”

The harsh winter air hit you square in the face as you bolted outside of the front lobby, hoping you would find them out here since you went upstairs to their rooms and nobody was to be found. Your wishes were answered when you heard the voices you were so accustomed to down at the bottom of the steps. All of a sudden you froze, your once enthusiastic attitude dwindling down to the sheepish disposition upon catching your name in conversation.

You recognized the voice of Jungkook, trying to crack a joke to appease Jimin’s feelings, Jin joining along with some of his famous one-liners. Jimin laughed, but it was a half-hearted attempt, still listening to the way he spoke with such melancholy. You saw Yoongi throw his arm around him, talking too quiet for you to hear, but you can only imagine it was something surprisingly encouraging, for he was one that always took you by surprise with how thoughtful he truly was.

“I’m sure it was a misunderstanding,” Taehyung spoke up, his bright smile shining in the moonlight. “Have you tried to talk to Y/N since you gave her the gift and ran off like an idiot?”

A loud groan followed, Yoongi having had punched Taehyung in his stomach, mumbling something about making stupid comments. You had to cover your mouth to mask your laughter.

Jimin shook his head no, explaining how he had come right outside after he had done so, needing the fresh air to help clear his head and give him a chance to breathe. Once again the butterflies arose in your stomach, but this time for a very different reason.

The click of your heels against the cement was loud enough for all of them to hear, six boys turning their heads to find the source of the noise, all of their eyes on you as their surprised gasps filled the air, but your gaze was locked only on Jimin. Your hand gripped onto the railing, carefully walking down the steps until you were right in front of him, sensing the group disperse and giving you two some space. Jimin’s eyes were as wide as saucers, nervously licking his lips as he waited on bated breath for your next words.

“I read your letter.” you mumbled, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Uh, what did you think?” He stuttered, and it was absolutely adorable.

You smiled, stepping closer and noticing his breath hitch. “I certainly read it with an open mind and an open heart.” His lips twitched into an embarrassed grin at your teasing grin, a flush of pink atop the apples of his cheeks as you held back a laugh. You leaned into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and brought him in for a hug. His arms raised upwards, hesitant, before slowly wrapping around your frame, and you felt warm, you felt like you were home.

“I love you too, Jimin.”

You could feel his heartbeat against your skin, rapidly pounding just as quickly as yours. It was silent, but it was comforting, a mutual, wonderful acceptance shared between the two of you. You briefly heard the sound of footsteps behind you, listening as they walked off to the side to where you knew the boys had gone, lurking in the bushes and not doing a very good job at hiding it.

Jimin squeezes you tighter as he felt you shiver, the winter cold starting to seep through to your bones. Tiny crystals of ice melted onto your skin as you realized it had begun to snow, looking up at him and grinning as the flakes were dusted throughout his chestnut locks. It was yet again that in this moment time stood still, Jimin’s hand rising to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against the flush that had formed as he smiled, his crooked tooth all the more endearing in the holiday lights as he leaned in close.

He hovered over your lips, his tepid breath coating your skin as he whispered I love you one last time before he kissed you. Fireworks cannot even come close to describing the way you feel, electricity seemingly inferior; the only way you could describe what you were feeling was nothing but pure bliss, absolute ecstasy flying through your veins and into every limb, tingling your every sense and every nerve. Your arms grasped him tighter, pulled him closer, even if it was not possible anymore, it did not matter.

All that mattered was that right here, right now, you could happily say that Jimin loved you, and with every fiber of your being, you loved him too.

The both of you were startled by the sudden outcries and rowdy cheers that surrounded you, pulling apart as you were bombarded and tackled by your friends, trapped in a large group hug between six very happy boys. Jimin let you go, watching fondly as his friends continued to hug you and shower you with affection, until he felt a tap on his shoulder as people dispersed.

“I told you Y/N would be all over you by the end of this weekend.” Yoongi’s signature smirk appeared on his lips as he spoke, Jimin shoving the older boy with a playful smile, knowing he was right.

You were grateful for the amount of patience your friends had with all of this, it had to have been infuriating at times and downright ridiculous, considering the means to which you discovered your feelings. You stepped to the side, joining Jimin once again and sliding your hand to intertwine your fingers, catching his small smile as you looked at him. You realized within a matter of minutes that the footsteps you had heard behind you were that of Namjoon, who had joined the lot of you outside. He caught your eye, a large wide smile forming on his face at the sight of you two, with you reciprocating and thanking him silently all the same.

It was mutually agreed upon that it was too cold to continue to stay outside, so you gathered together and headed inside back to the ballroom to continue the reception festivities. The lingering headache from your hangover this morning had finally started to dissipate, the additional alcohol being shoved in your direction certainly helped in forgetting the dull throbbing pain. You felt on top of the world, intoxicants aside, the smile never leaving your face the entire night. Namjoon ended up in the middle of the floor, dancing and prancing around like he knew exactly what he was doing, Jin joining in seconds later, until everyone was on the dance floor. The room filled with laughter, clamorous music, and frivolity as it was clear everyone had more than their fill and the celebration wasn’t ending any time soon.

You stood back and watched everything unfold, the laughter building in your chest and the warmth in your heart spreading to your limbs, Jimin’s arms wrapping around your waist from behind, your body easily sinking into his touch. From time to time he would scatter light pecks along your skin, nuzzling into your hair or swaying to the beat, and never before had you felt so alive, so free, as you did tonight.

Off to the side sitting at their designated table were your mother and father, taking everything all in, smiling with pride and happiness as they watched their daughter transition into the next chapter of her life. Your mother’s eyes wandered over to you, a genuine smile and an all knowing look on her face at seeing your behavior with Jimin. She turned to face your father, speaking low.

“It’s about time,” she spoke, gesturing to you both. Your father noticed her gaze, following it with his own, a soft smile upon his face. “I was wondering how long it was going to take them to realize their feelings.”

“Wait, excuse me?” your father was confused. Were not the two of you already together?

Your mother laughed, squeezing his shoulder. “It doesn’t surprise me that you were blind to it. But I could smell that lie a mile away. Only now are they truly together, and I say finally.” He continued to appear abashed, your mother waving it off and laughing to herself.

“Yes,” she mutters to herself. “Finally.”

[chocolatebuttonsandbooks]

Reunion

For day 7 of @freezerburn-week here is a quite long piece that, as always, is an AU again. I have it saved as the airport AU on my laptop but it’s basically a world like ours. Starts off kind of sad but I promise it gets fluffier near the end! Yang hates saying goodbye.

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption.

Pairing: Freezerburn

3285 words.

This was how it always was for Yang at airports.

People who were a part of her life always left her.

Yang would stand, trembling, as she waved goodbye with a smile on her face until they turned away from her.

Her mom had left her more than once.

Uncle Qrow left, but he did come back. Sometimes.

Even Ruby left last year. Of course, Yang wanted her to go to a great University and be the genius she was but Yang couldn’t help feeling as if she was the only one stuck in the past. As if she was the only one not to move on to better things.

Now Yang faced Weiss and swallowed the lump in her throat.

“So… I guess I won’t see you for a while.” Yang cursed her inability to say something important, say something meaningful, to say how she felt.

“No. Probably not.” Weiss’ gaze was on the floor. “We can call each other and video chat though.”

Weiss looked up and Yang felt her body tense. There was a sharp pain in her stomach. So many words were close to slipping out of her mouth but she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Bye, Weiss.”

“Goodbye, Yang.”

“Good luck over there.” Yang opened her arms for a hug and, much to her relief, Weiss stepped into the embrace. “You’ll have to let me know if anyone gives you any trouble and I’ll sort them out.” Yang rested her head against soft, white hair and held Weiss tight.

“I can handle myself, you know that.” Weiss let out a laugh and pulled back to look into Yang’s eyes.

“Give ‘em hell, princess.”

“I will.”

Yang returned Weiss’ smile but she couldn’t make it reach her eyes.

All she could do was watch as the woman she loved walked away.

Blake was sat in the corner of the coffee shop when Yang stumbled in, out of the cold, and made her way over.

“It’s good to see you again Blakey.”

“It’s nice to be back, Yang.” Blake treated her with a rare smile.

“How long are ya sticking around for?” Yang asked, as she flung herself into the leather armchair.

“A couple of weeks. I’m doing some book signings actually.” Blake took a sip of her tea.

“Oooh, very nice.” Yang laughed and wiggled her eyebrows at her long-time friend.

“Thanks.” Blake’s eyes lost their playfulness as she put her cup down. “How are you holding up?”

“Holding up? Oh, you mean with… with uh Weiss leaving?”

“Yes. You’ve clearly been in love with her since senior year.”

Yang felt her face grow warm. “Sophomore year,” she mumbled to correct Blake.

“And you still feel the same?”

“Yeah.” Yang sighed. “I couldn’t tell her. I almost did. I almost ran after her.” Yang wrung her hands together. “Blake, I swear when she walked away I could feel my heart breaking. I’m never going to get a chance to tell her now and it’s all ‘cause I was too much of a coward.”

“You sound like a character in one of my novels.”

“Heh. I’m sure I do. Part of me wishes I’d said something but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.”

“You know long distance relationships are a thing, Yang.”

“I know. I just. She’s gonna be asleep when I’m awake and she’s going to be busy and-”

“You’re making excuses.”

“I am.” Yang chewed her lip. “I was still scared I’d tell her how I felt and she’d look at me with disgust. What if she just doesn’t like me that way?”

“If you never tell her, you’ll never know.”

“Well I missed my chance now.”

Blake rolled her eyes. “It’s your choice.”

Yang smacked her laptop a few times until it began to cooperate and she finally saw a pitiful, grainy image of Weiss.

“Hey! I can see you now. I don’t know what was up with it,” Yang explained.

Weiss let out a laugh that crackled out of Yang’s speakers. “Maybe you shouldn’t abuse it so much.”

“Alright. I didn’t realise you were part of my laptop defence squad.”

“I’m the chairwoman.”

“You have time for that in your schedule?” Yang laughed. “What have you really been up to?”

“The usual. Attending important meetings, having posh dinners and trying my hardest to ignore Whitley.”

“So, he hasn’t grown out of his… phase yet?”

“No. I think he’s just like that.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yes, it is.” Weiss coughed. “How have you been?”

“Good. You know, nothing much changes here.”

Their conversation was less awkward after they got over the first few minutes. Yang still managed to make Weiss laugh and if she couldn’t tell Weiss was getting tired she wouldn’t have wanted to hang up.

“It’s got to be late for you now. You should probably go to bed,” Yang suggested.

Weiss sighed before glancing over at her clock. “It is nearly two A.M I suppose.”

“Goodnight, Weiss.”

“Goodnight, Yang.”

Yang was wiping the bar down during a particularly quiet shift when her phone started ringing. She saw the caller I.D and snuck into the staff breakroom to answer.

“Hey Rubes, I’m at work. Are you okay?”

“Oh sorry! I didn’t realise. I’m fine I just have some news.”

“News?”

“Are you sure you can talk now? I can call back later.” Ruby’s voice took up a guilty tone.

“It’s slow today, plus, you’ve got me interested now. What is it?”

“Okay. Well I know you’ve totally loved Weiss since we were at school-”

Yang let out an exasperated sigh. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Yang I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you sleep talking about letting her step on you.”

“I- well. That’s none of your business. Anyway, apart from embarrassing your only sister why else did you call me?”

“She’s sort of dating someone.”

“Who?”

“Weiss.”

“No. I got that. Who is she dating?” Yang’s hand was tightening around her phone.

“I don’t know some guy in Atlas. Her dad’s been inviting loads of people to balls and stuff.  Anyway, she’s young, and an heiress, and she’s not going to wait for you forever Yang.”

“I…” Yang felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “She’s never mentioned any of this to me.”

“I don’t think it’s that serious yet. Yang, don’t you see? You have to tell her how you feel.”

“Well she obviously isn’t interested in me. She must like this guy.”

Yang was sure Ruby growled down the handset at her. “Yang. Maybe she feels just like you but thinks that you don’t like her!”

“Thanks for telling me, Ruby. Look I’ve got to get back to work but I’ll call you later okay?”

“Okay Yang. Loveyoubye!”

Yang laughed at her sister’s speech. “Love you too.”

Yang hopped from one foot to the other. Not long until Weiss’ plane arrived.

And she was totally going to tell her the truth.

Yang held up the sign, that she had spent a sad amount of time designing, with Weiss’ name on it, as she scanned the crowd of arrivals.

She spotted white hair.

“Weiss! Over here!”

Blue eyes met hers.

“Yang!”

Weiss ran towards her and leaped into her arms. Yang inhaled that familiar apple scented shampoo and held Weiss in a crushing hug.

“I missed you so much,” Weiss said.

“I missed you too.” Yang let Weiss back onto solid ground. “I have something important to tell you.”

“Oh, me too.”

“You first, Miss Schnee.”

Weiss let out what could only be described as a giggle and Yang felt a fluttering in her stomach. “Well, I’ve sort of met someone. He’s with me if you want to meet him.”

“I- sure.” Yang’s head pounded at the news but she faked a smile. “So, you’re dating?”

“Yes. It’s nothing official yet but I thought since everyone’s back for the holidays I’d be able to introduce you all.”

“Great idea.” Yang knew she was going to have to master talking through gritted teeth if they were here for a while. “Where is the lucky fella?”

“Neptune? Come and say ‘hi’.” Weiss waved over a tall guy with blue hair.

Yang wasn’t particularly impressed.

“I’m Yang, nice to meet you.” She offered her hand and regarded his limp handshake as proof he was not worthy.

“Neptune Vasilias, at your service m’ilady.” Apparently, he was a flirter too.

“Great,” Yang drawled, “why don’t you grab the bags and I’ll take you both to the car.”

Neptune walked over to the baggage collection point, winking at a couple of female passengers on his way, and Weiss turned to her. “So… what do you think?”

“He seems… nice.”

“Oh.” Weiss’ face fell.

“I mean it. I’m sure it’ll be fun to get to know him.”

“Is it the blue hair?” Weiss ventured.

Yang smirked. “Maybe. Or how freakishly tall he is, like, what do they feed you over in Atlas? Although, I guess you missed out on the super growth food.”

“Hey!” Weiss slapped at her arm. “I may like tall people but I know I’m the perfect height.”

“How do you ever reach stuff on high up shelves?”

“I don’t need to when I can get others to do it for me.” Weiss took on a smug look.

“I let you out of my sight for a couple of months and you’re already letting this heiress stuff go to your head.”

“Good thing I’m back now then.”

Yang smiled, genuinely, and enjoyed Weiss’ return gesture until Neptune hobbled over and dropped a suitcase on her foot.

“Sorry! They’re a bit heavy.”

“Don’t worry about it, pal.” Yang rolled her eyes and grabbed the majority of the bags off the trolley before leading the way out of the airport.

“So… what’s he like?” Ruby threw even more tinsel at the already covered Christmas tree.

“He’s stupidly tall, has blue hair that looks stupid, and he has stupid noodle arms. Like, has the kid never heard of arm day? Not that he’s heard of leg day either…”

“Not all people are buff Yang.” Ruby held up her arm and showed off her biceps. “Not everyone can be as hardcore as us.”

“It must run in the family!” Tai burst into the living room with his arms flexed.

“You guys are cute but we all know I’ve got the best arms.” Yang smirked at them.

“I’m gonna let you have this round ‘cause I know how sad you are about your girlfriend dating some guy,” Tai relented as the doorbell sounded. “Also, she may or may not be at the door right now and I made cocoa for everyone so enjoy.”

“Thanks dad!” Ruby followed him back into the kitchen.

“I guess I’ll get it!” Yang yelled in their general direction as she made her way to the door.

Of course, it was Weiss stood there in an adorable pea coat.

“Hey.” Weiss’ voice was muffled by the thick blue scarf she wore.

“Hey. Do you want to come in?”

“Yang, are we okay?” Her eyebrows were furrowed together as she looked up at Yang.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“You’ve just been acting a bit weird since I bought Neptune back and you keep being busy whenever I try to meet you. If I’ve done something to make you upset will you at least tell me what it is?”

“Weiss. You’ve done nothing wrong, and the last thing I wanna do is make you upset. I’ve been busy with work is all.”

“Okay. I can tell you don’t like him though.” Weiss shuffled her feet. “Can I ask you why?”

“You know me.” Yang shrugged. “I’m protective of those I care about. I don’t know him well enough to judge properly, and I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but I just get the feeling he isn’t as serious about you as he should be.”

Weiss’ eyes were wide in the porchlight. “I’m glad you were honest with me. Maybe you’re right.”

“You deserve someone who will commit to you and will be devoted, Weiss.”

“Well…” Weiss smiled at her, “let me know if you find that someone.”

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled. Do you wanna come in for some cocoa?”

“That sounds lovely.”

The frost of the winter was melting away when Yang next saw Weiss.

Another airport reunion.

“Welcome back!” Yang, Blake and Ruby spoke in unison as they fell into a group hug.

“The gang’s all here and it’s time to party!” Yang pumped her fist in the air. “So, Weiss, how are you feeling about being twenty-one? You looking forward to the party?”

“It can’t be any worse than last year.”

Yang’s face turned serious. “We don’t talk about that.”

“Anyway,” Blake cut in, “who’s invited?”

“Oh, you know, the usual lot.” Yang waved her hand around.

“Did you invite Jaune?” Weiss asked.

“Uh, Yeah.”

“Ugh. That guy was always obsessed with me at school.”

“He’s not the only one,” Blake muttered to Ruby, who began giggling until Yang shot them a glare.

“What did you say, Blake?” Weiss questioned.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Let’s get moving, shall we?” Yang helped Weiss with her bags.

The party was, and Yang never used the term lightly, “Bangin’”, as she told her sister.

“It is,” Ruby replied. “Maybe you should call it quits on the cocktails though.”

“Why?” Yang wobbled as she carefully placed her Strawberry Sunrise back on the bar, only spilling about a quarter of its contents in the process.

“You just need to be able to dance, Yang!” Ruby shouted over the music.

“I got my moves, sis. No need to worry.”

“Yang that’s a lunge.”

“Just stretching.”

“Weiss should be the most drunk on her birthday don’t you think?”

“Now that I can agree with.” Yang completed another stretch. “Where’s she gone?”

“I don’t know but there’s Neptune.” Ruby pointed across the dancefloor.

“Aha! My nemesis.” Yang cracked her knuckles.

“Uh oh. Maybe we should go find Weiss?”

“No!” Yang straightened up and started towards the noodle boy. “I must challenge him.”

“No fighting. Yang. Please! Him and Weiss aren’t even a thing anymore.” Ruby followed her and grabbed onto her arm but Yang dragged her along.

“Blue hair!”

Neptune looked their way and frowned at the sight of Ruby hanging off Yang’s arm. “Yang?”

“Yes. It is I.” Yang drew herself up to her tallest. “I challenge you to a dance battle!”

Neptune’s eyes shifted left and right, and his forehead was shiny with perspiration. “I’m not sure I feel like it right now I uh I-”

“No excuses. Only you, me and the glorious art of dance.” Yang turned to take in the spectators that dragging a teenager across a dancefloor and yelling at someone tended to garner. “Ren- you can judge us.”

He solemnly nodded to accept the title of dance battle judge and they commenced.

Yang was still high on the adrenaline of her victory, despite it being an easy one, when she swaggered over to Weiss. The boy couldn’t dance. Nonetheless, a victory was a victory.

Yang leaned an elbow on the bar. “Well hello there. Can I buy you a drink?”

Weiss mirrored Yang’s posture. “What’s a bar like you doing in a pretty girl like this?

“What.”

“You’re pretty. I will have that drink now.”

“Oh.” Yang’s face felt warm. “What do you want?”

“I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

“Guys!” Ruby rushed over to them. “Why don’t we go outside for a bit- there’s going to be fireworks.”

“But we were about to get drinks,” Yang protested.

“Fireworks,” Ruby replied more forcefully as she took hold of them both.

“Alright.” Yang let herself be led outside.

There was a paved area that was designated as a ‘beer garden’ that many party-goers had gathered in to enjoy the firework show.

Ruby disappeared and Yang turned to Weiss. She was shivering in the cold, her breaths visibly leaving her mouth and her cheeks and nose were tinged with red.

“Weiss, I was thinking we should walk home after these fireworks. You can stay at mine.”

“Great idea, hotshot.”

Yang laughed. “You haven’t called me that since we were kids.”

“You’re still saved in my phone as that.”

“Good.”

“Hey, Yang.” The blonde boy, who seemed to have no buttons on his shirt and was friends with Neptune, approached them.

“What is it, friend of the enemy?”

“Huh?”

“What’s up… brah?”

“Nothing much, dude. Just wanted to let you know how cool this party is and to give you another beer.”

“Ah. I like you.” Yang gave him a high five and took another can.

Yang cracked her eyes open and became aware of just how fast the world was moving.

“Shit…” Her head felt like it was going to split in two.

She opened her eyes again and was grateful that her past-self had thought to leave a glass of water on her bedside table. She gingerly propped herself up against the pillows and sipped the water whilst trying to remember all that had happened last night.

“Uuughhh.” A groan, muffled by the covers, caught Yang’s attention. White hair, that was impossibly messy, appeared next to her. “Yang?”

“Uh. Good morning?”

“I feel like I’m dying,” Weiss croaked out.

“Same.” Yang sighed. “Have some water. Oh, and Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.” Weiss sat up and Yang suppressed a laugh at her messed up hair, smudged lipstick and the large band T-shirt Yang must have lent her. She still looked beautiful.

“You’re looking good.”

“Don’t tease me.”

Yang swallowed. “I’m not.”

Weiss froze with the glass halfway to her lips. “Oh.”

Yang put her hands in her lap and focused her gaze on them. “I wish we weren’t so hungover for this but since I got you in my bed anyway… Weiss.”

“Yes?” Weiss finished her gulp of water and placed the glass on the stand.

“I love you.” Yang watched sky blue eyes widen but she wasn’t finished yet. “I’ve loved you since we were at school together, and waking up this morning has made me realise that waking up next to you is a privilege I’d like to repeat.”

“Yang…” Weiss’ eyes went from wide shock to something akin to anger. “Why did it take you so long?!”

“What?” Yang’s head shot up. “You could have at least given me a clue.”

“I’ve hardly been subtle.” Weiss sighed. “When we left school, I thought I must have gotten the wrong signs off you. You always seemed so confident I was convinced that if you liked me you would have made your move.”

“I can’t believe we’re managing to sort-of argue about this.” Yang rolled her eyes.

“Well I can’t believe I spent the last few years thinking I was losing my touch. I genuinely thought the only person I was interested in was impervious to my charms. I-” Weiss was cut off by Yang’s lips and all the nervous energy that had been between them for so long was thrown into it.

Yang pulled away when she felt her head spin. “I can’t tell if I feel dizzy ‘cause of kissing you or if it’s my hangover.”

“I have that effect on people.” Weiss smirked at her until they burst into a fit of giggles.

“You know the best cure for a hangover?”

“To stay hydrated,” Weiss answered immediately.

“Well yeah but also cuddles.” Yang shifted closer to the middle of her bed and held up her arm.

“I’ll have to test your theory out.” Weiss beamed up at her then nestled underneath Yang’s arm, against her side. “I think this is officially the best birthday ever. Oh, and Yang?”

“Yes?”

“I love you too.”

[thorne93]

Old Flame, New Problems (Part 3)

Prompt: You’re in a serious relationship with Sebastian Stan, when news from your first love informs you that he’s now single and in need of a friend. Will your old flame burn out or will the flames get fanned and consume you?

Word Count: 4427 (I’m not even sorry)

Warning: language, angst, fighting (verbal), cheating, drama

Notes: This idea came to me when news hit about Hayden and Rachel splitting. Of course I’m sad that a long time relationship such as theirs is ending, but it also means he’s single sooo…Also, no hate towards Rachel. I don’t know her, don’t know what really happened between them, etc. It’s a fic and in no way reflects what I think of either of them or their precious daughter ^.^

Beta’d by my #1 gal @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr​ @kaeling

Sebastian Stan Tag: @nedthegay @lostinspace33 @alwayshave-faith @elleatrixlestrange @buenostardissherlock @lenawiinchester @the-red-world-of-jess-chibi @memory-of-a-goldfish @mellsstark

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t think this is working,” Hayden said as he hung his head, his voice incredibly quiet.

“What?”

“Us. You’re always here, I’m always in LA…” he tried, explaining that the distance was the issue.

“Yeah, but that never stopped us before,” you responded, feeling your heart already splintering in your chest. He wanted to break up…

“But it’s getting harder, Y/N. You’re not in college any more. You’re working full time, putting on Broadway shows, selling screenplays to directors, editing, and you’re halfway through your first novel. I’m busy with filming, we hardly see each other any more. I don’t want us to be reduced to a few phone calls here and there and seeing each other every few months.”

You nodded, seeing as the lump in your throat kept you from speaking.

He leaned forward and took your hand over the small table in your apartment. “I love you. I do. But...long distance relationships never work, you and I both know that.”

Again, you nodded.

“We just need some time off from each other. No pressure on trying to make a relationship work. Maybe in a few years when we aren’t married to our careers we can try again,” he offered with a sorrowful, yet hopeful voice. “But for now, I think we need a break.”

A soft voice was filling your ears, and you stirred awake, jumping back when you saw Hayden sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Woah, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said with a chuckle.

Groaning, you put your hands over your eyes. “Ugh. You didn’t. I just...forgot where I was. What time is it?” you asked groggily. You noticed this morning he was in a black shirt and black jeans. One of your favorite combinations on him.

“It’s about 6:30,” he casually stated as he stood up. “Get dressed, we have rounds to make.”

“Ugh. No,” you groaned, rolling over and hugging your pillow. “Why are we up this early?” you demanded in a grouchy tone, your voice muffled by the pillow.

He laughed and walked back over to you. “Because I have animals that need fed and I told you I’d give you a tour of the grounds. So come on, princess,” he teased.

Removing your face from the pillow, you glared at him. He knew you didn’t like when he insinuated you weren’t cut out for heavy work. He responded to your glare with a grin.

“You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Once he left the room, you jumped up, grabbed a pair of light blue jeans from your suitcase, a white tank top, and a tan sweater and pulled them all on, zipping up your boots last. Ready for the day, you whipped your hair into a messy bun and walked out of your room.

“Ready?” Hayden asked as you approached him while he leaned on the eat-in part of the kitchen.

“As I’ll ever be after getting less than four hours of sleep...yeah,” you stated sarcastically.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the door. You followed him as he walked out to a utility vehicle with a small trunk. The sun was just coming up, giving everything a warm yellow glow but it hadn’t quite warmed up yet. He hopped on the driver’s side and patted the seat. You sat down and he started the vehicle and took off.

“Do you always have to come out this early?” you questioned as you glanced over to him. There was a cool morning mist surrounding the property, it wasn’t very thick, as you could still see a great distance ahead of you, but it gave it a more isolated feeling.

“No, usually I’m up around five,” he informed with a smirk, his eyes flashing over to you without turning his head. The little vehicle was moving quickly over tall grass, hitting a  bump here or there.

“Oh, well that’s much better,” you sarcastically replied with a smile.

Finally, you reached the barn and hopped out of the vehicle. The two of you walked inside the impressive structure. Inside were five horses, one in each stall.

“We need to give them their feed for the day,” Hayden informed as he walked forward before sliding open a door to a tack room. “You wanna do the honors?” he asked once he was inside.

“Sure.”

He gave you the right amounts and you reached in their stalls and dumped the food in their buckets.

“What are their names?” you asked as you peered at the range of horses. There was a black one, a tan and white one, a deep brown one, a gray and black one, and a white one.

“The white one is Phillip, he’s Briar’s horse,” he stated while pointing and getting closer to you.

You turned your head to him and said, “Of course,” you remarked matter-of-factly.

“The black one is midnight, this one here is Allistair, this one is Braxton, and that one is Patty.”

“Very cute. And which one is yours?” you asked as your eyes began tracing his face.

“Midnight,” he replied before looking down at you, his eyes filling with a questionable emotion. He cleared his throat. “Alright, now that that’s done, we need to go feed the pigs and chickens and sheep.”

“Joy,” you said with heavy sarcasm.

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

It took a long time to get all of the animals fed and get the cows corralled to a different pasture. By the time you were done, it was lunch time. You had checked your phone several times and there were no messages or calls from Sebastian. You decided to send him a couple of quick texts and there was still no response.

“Alright, we’re done for the day, the farmhands can handle the rest. Want to head back to the house for lunch?” he asked with a happy glow in his eyes and voice.

“Yes, please, I’m starving.”

The two of you hopped back into the vehicle and he took off.

“Want to see how fast this can go?” Hayden asked before looking over to you and giving you a smirk.

“Uh, sure,” you said, not expecting it to exceed 15 mph. But as soon as he hit the gas, you were thrown backwards with a small shriek, causing him to laugh, but he kept on the gas. You straightened up and held onto a handlebar as the speed increased, the field around you escaping underneath your UTV. “How fast are we going?” you loudly asked, loose strands of your hair whipping all around your face.

He looked down then back up at the path in front of him. “About fifty-five miles per hour,” he informed nonchalantly.

“Jesus, Hayden, slow down!” you instructed in a panic. “What if we hit something!”

“It’s an open field, Y/N, calm down.”

“What about a hole?”

“That’s what the roll cage is for,” he stated, tapping it with two fingers and a coy grin.

“You’re insane, you know that?!” you huffed as you held onto the UTV, trying not to fly out from all the bumps and ridges and speed that was making you bounce around.

“And you used to love fast cars. If I remember right, I bought a Ferrari and who was the one that got it up to 180?” he reminded.

“I was young, and stupid, and reckless,” you retorted with a coquettish expression.

Finally, you arrived back at the front door.

“You tried to kill me,” you accused playfully as you got off the UTV and headed inside.

He smiled down at you as he moved behind you while you went inside. “Don’t be silly, if I wanted to kill you, I’d smother you in your sleep.”

You laughed as you rounded the corner to get into the kitchen. “As if. I could kick your ass in my sleep.”

He laughed, the sound so beautiful, you’d nearly forgotten what it was like to hear it. “You wouldn’t wake up if someone dropped a nuke next to you.”

“You’re right, because I’d be dead,” you said before sticking your tongue out.

“Real mature. You okay with sandwiches?”

“When am I not?” you asked with a smile.

The two of you assembled your sandwiches, loaded up on potato chips on the side, grabbed drinks and ventured to the living room where he turned on the TV.

You two were long done eating, about two movies in when it went to commercial and Hayden got up to clear the plates.

“You want a drink or a cookie or anything?” he asked once he was in the kitchen.

“A water and a cookie, please, thanks!” you called back from the couch. You had ended up going from a sitting position to nearly laying down. Sitting up, you straightened yourself and looked around again at all the pictures and memories. You couldn’t help but wonder how many times they’d watched family movies in this very room, colored with Briar, spent romantic evenings here….

Hayden returned with the snacks and was about to start playing the movie again when you stopped him.

“Doesn’t it...bother you? Being here? Surrounded by all of this? Doesn’t it sort of...rub salt in the wound?” you questioned, a deep frown on your face, your eyes pointing to the things you were referring to.

Hayden glanced up. “No. I mean, I built this house in my image and Rach and I shared a lot of happy memories here. This is where Briar Rose grew up for the first three years of her life so...I can’t imagine leaving it.”

In a sense, you could understand that.

“So...who initiated the breakup?” you questioned with trepidation, worried this was a sore subject.

His eyes went down, he bit his lip and slightly nodded before answering, “She did. It was only a matter of time. She was always the one to sacrifice her time for me. She gave up going out, being in the spotlight, being around her friends for me. It’s not like I could ask her do that too much longer.”

“So she’s the one who said it first?” you confirmed.

“Yeah...She came to me, calmly, and said she thought it was time for us to move on and part ways.”

“Did you object?” you wondered.

“At first, I sort of did,” he answered, shrugging, sounding more tired than anything. “I asked her if she was sure that’s what she wanted. I asked her if she had thought it through. When she told me she had and why she felt this way, I understood. I can’t change, and she tried to change for years but...it just wasn’t working.”

You slowly nodded, your stomach in knots. This was hard to hear for a myriad of reasons.

“Well,” you sighed, picking up the remote, “I just wondered.” You played the movie as you nestled back down into your spot on the couch.

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

“I can’t go, Hayden,” you argued adamantly. “I’m needed here. I have a job for the biggest publishing house in the city.”

“I know that, but you can write anywhere, right?” he countered, stress taking over his features.

“I thought I could, but they want me here. I can’t just give this up. I’m the only student at NYU with a job and opportunity this amazing in the English Department. You do realize they want to make my play into a Broadway show, right?” you asked, your emotions starting to run rampant.

“Yes, Y/N, I know that. You realize me starring in Star Wars is a big deal too, right? And I need to be out there, working on it, promoting it, looking for my next job.”

“Then go! Who’s stopping you?!” you shouted, tears threatening to escape as your heart became torn. You had had this argument several times: Who gives up their dreams for the other one?

“You are! I love you! I want you!” he yelled back.

The next morning, inspiration struck, and it struck hard. It was one of those ideas you had to write out or you’d never get it out of your head. You jumped up, got your laptop and charging cable and notebook and pens out, got them all sat up on a little desk opposite of your bed, and sat to work. You outlined and drafted like a maniac. There was so much chicken scratch on the paper it was hardly legible, but you knew.

Hayden assumed you were sleeping in a little, like always, so he made breakfast and went to check on you, to maybe tell you food was ready. Much to his surprise, you were awake and typing and writing with fury. He leaned against the doorjamb, admiring the sight of you with messy hair, pajamas, and all of your writing material around you. He missed seeing this, seeing the muses whisk you away to another land. He remembered how much he loved watching you work your magic. You had two best sellers in novels, three sold out Broadway plays, and an Oscar award winning screenplay. Those were just the big awards, not to mention the numerous smaller accolades you’d achieved in the past fifteen years.

“Inspiration strike?” he asked finally, an adoring smile on his face.

Your eyes never left your screen as you typed and answered him, “Yes, finally.” You finished writing the paragraph and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind. I have a deadline and--”

“Y/N, this is your job. You do whatever you need to do. Breakfast is ready if you want some.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can leave this. I’ve had writer’s block for so long, I can’t leave this now,” you explained desperately, gesturing back to your computer with a half-frown, half-pout.

He smiled in response. “Not a problem. I’ll bring it to you.”

“What?” is all you got out before Hayden disappeared down the hall. “Hayden! Hayden!” you shouted after him before rolling your eyes and smiling. You turned back to your work and five minutes later, he was rolling a cart into your room with toast, jams, butter, biscuits, bacon, eggs, and juice.

You laughed and glanced up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing breakfast to you. This way you can write and keep your mind fueled,” he informed as he grabbed a chair and pulled it next to the cart, opposite of you.

You shook your head. “Alright.” You grabbed toast and began to put butter on it. “Don’t you have to go milk cows or something?” you inquired innocently.

Smirking, he gently shook his head. “Not today, I asked the farm hands to take on a few more responsibilities today,” he informed.

“Why?”

“I wanted to spend time with you. I did call you up for that reason,” he reminded.

“Ah, right, and here I am investing the time in writing,” you commented, feeling guilty. Your oldest friend needed you and you were busy capitalizing on the sensation and sights of his farm. “I’m an awful friend. Okay, I’ll put my writing away and we’ll do whatever you want.”

He shook his head in rejection. “Nonsense. No, you keep writing. I’m happy to sit here and watch and eat.”

“Creepy,” you teased with a goofy smile before turning back to your work.

After an hour of writing, your hands were cramping up and you needed a break before you would go cross eyed. You got up and laid on the bed and Hayden followed suit, falling beside you.

“Care if we just watch TV for a second? I need to sort of drain,” you informed.

“It won’t mess with your flow?”

You shrugged. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got the outline written out,” you stated.

“What’s this story even about?” he questioned, his flawless face turned to yours.

“A boy who moves to the country for a fresh start,” you stated, your nose crinkling at him.

“Oh, so it’s about me?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up, a knowing smile on his face.

“Maybe,” you informed with a playful grin as your eyes drifted to the ceiling. “He falls in love with his neighbor.”

“You better put me down as a source,” he warned.

You scoffed. “You’re merely the inspiration, not a source.”

“Is that so?” he challenged as he turned to you. “I beg to differ.” He reached over and began to tickle your side.

“What are you doing?” you asked just as he started to tickle you.

“Put me down as a source,” he said.

“Hayden, stop it. Stop!” you squealed as he continued to tickle you.

“Put me as a source,” he demanded with a grin.

“Never,” you countered, a playful glare.

“Then you’re asking for it,” he stated as both of his hands now found both of your sides and your underarms and he was straddling you, tickling you mercilessly.

“Hayden! Hay! I can’t breathe!” you tried through so much laughter you were crying. “Okay! You win! Uncle! I call Uncle!” you shrieked.

His assault stopped and his hands rested on either side of you, his body hovering above you, his deep eyes searching yours. The morning glow looked heavenly on his skin and his blonde hair, making him light up like an angel. For a brief moment, you thought you were back when you were twenty-two, when all was perfect between you two. The tension between you two was rising quickly, and it was getting thicker.

A phone rang, yours, and Hayden’s face went from gentle joy to depression as he rolled off of you and you reached over to grab your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Seb? Why didn’t you call yesterday?”

“Oh, sorry. I got up late and had to run to an interview, then the table read, and by the time I was home it was late. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, biting your lip, and closed your eyes. Again, you weren’t the first thing on his mind. “No, yeah, that’s fine.”

“So how’s it going?”

“Great. I’m actually inspired, so I’ve been writing all morning,” you informed happily.

“That’s great, Y/N. What’s it about?” he asked with much enthusiasm.

Your gut dropped. You knew how this was going to sound to him. “A young man that moves to the country...who falls in love with his neighbor.”

Silence.

“Seb? You still there?”

“Yeah...Well that’s good, Y/N. When are you coming home?”

You glanced to Hayden beside you who was playing with his sleeve. “I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “I’m finally motivated to write, so I’m probably going to finish the project here and come home.”

“So...You’re going to stay up there indefinitely?” he questioned, sounding confused.

“I’m not sure, Seb. I just want to ride this wave out. You do want me to get my work done, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah of course...I just...I miss you. I’d like you home.”

“I know. I miss you too. I’ll be home as soon as possible. I promise.”

“Okay...I love you. Talk to you later.”

“I love you too.”

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

Later that night, you were so entranced with your work you didn’t realize it was late evening. Hayden had excused himself a couple hours earlier to go wrap up some farm work before bed and now you were missing him and needing a break. You got up, pulled on your boots, and went outside.

You didn’t have the UTV so you had to walk all the way to the barn, and in the cool air of the night, it seemed a lot farther than normal. But after checking the tack rooms, loft, and stalls and calling for him, you realized the barn was sans-Hayden.

Just as you were about to follow the road from the barn the opposite way of the house, your eye caught an orange glow on the horizon. Like a moth to the flame, your feet carried you there without much thought on your own.

Finally, you reached the orange glow and it turned out to be a very large brush fire, Hayden standing next to it, watching it burn, his black trench coat looking incredibly dapper on him, his hands in his pockets. The glow from the fire complimented his tanned skin and blonde hair, making him look almost golden all over. Even doing farm work he looked like he needed to be on the cover of GQ.

“Whatcha doin’?” you asked as you walked up through the overgrown grass.

“Burning some brush, had to clear it away from the pond in lot five so the cattle could get to the water. Figured I might as well burn it all.”

“To hell with it all!” you joked and he laughed, the sound warming you from the inside. “This reminds me of--”

“Please, for the love of God, don’t say the scene in Return of the Jedi,’ he begged with a smile in his voice.

You grinned and tried to keep from laughing, but instead both of you began laughing a lot.

“Not my fault your character died on a giant bonfire,” you retorted.

“I’ll have you know, I haunted my own death, so there,” he responded.

You rolled your eyes. “Wooh, Mr. Scary Force Ghost. Oooh.”

He bumped your shoulder with his and grinned, looking down. “This reminds me of that time we got stuck in the snow--”

“And had to walk two miles up the road to rent that cabin?” you finished, peering up at him sideways.

“Yes. Oh my god, that night was so…” he trailed off. That night was a lot of things. Hot, steamy, cold, wet, miserable, and magical.

“I know. That damned car wouldn’t start and it was brand new!” you reminded. It was Hayden’s car, he had just bought it that week. The two of you were heading upstate for a weekend getaway, when the car had suddenly died in the middle of a snowy, icy road. No one drove past you for an hour and cell phones were still pretty spotty at the time.

“I remember. I was pissed.”

“At least it gave us something to do,” you noted, recalling some salacious memories.

“Yeah,” he said, turning to you. “Jesus, Y/N, what are you doing out here without a coat?”

You rolled your eyes. “Calm down, Dad,” you teased. “We’re next to a fire.”

He started to shrug off his coat. “Your front is, but your back is positively cold. Wear this.”

“Hay, I’m fine,” you assured, holding up your hand.

“I’m not letting you get pneumonia on my watch because you’re a stubborn ass,” he retorted. “Put on the god damn coat.”

Rolling your eyes, and grunting, you appeased him and slid on the warm coat, the scent of Hayden hitting you and making your head spin slightly.

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

A few days later, you were relaxing after finishing your fourth story. You’d been typing and writing up a storm for the past several days and now you just wanted to watch mindless TV for a bit. Trying to get Hayden to open up was proving to be a difficult task, but you eventually backed off. You were here as a friend, to be whatever he needed. In the meantime, you talked to Seb about once a day, typically first thing in the morning or last at night.

You were laid against the giant, fluffy back pillow of the couch, Hayden beside you, his arm thrown behind the couch, landing behind your head.

“This movie is so terrible,” you commented suddenly. The two of you were watching some B-horror movie on the Chiller channel.

“Are you kidding me? This is quality film right here. Just look at the way that guy acts,” he offered, his other hand gesturing to the TV.

“You’re a dork,” you replied with a small laugh.

“I want to thank you for being here,” he quietly said as he tapped your shoulder once with two fingers to grab your attention.

You turned to him. “It’s no big deal, Hay. You’re my friend. You need someone and I’m happy to be there for you.” You smiled at him, a light reaching your eyes that seemed to mesmerize him.

“You’re such a good person. I am so lucky to have you in my life,” he stated in a deep voice, his eyes piercing yours. A familiar heat started to rise in your cheeks.

“And I you. Really, it’s nothing. You’d do it for me,” you stated, a small nod.

“Yeah...I would. I’d do anything for you.” His eyes were on yours and yours on his, the air around you suddenly tense.

Static.

That’s all you felt between you two suddenly. His eyes were on yours, dancing between your lips and your face. Your breath was halted in your throat as you sat there, unable to move. Your pulse was racing.

Slowly, his hand came up to cup your neck, the sensation of his touch making you shiver. Hooded eyes found his face as he ever so slowly got closer and closer. While you didn’t want this to happen, you didn’t want to betray Seb, you also didn’t want to stop it either. He was actually giving you attention, something Sebastian hadn’t done in eight months. It felt nice to be wanted, to be looked at the way Hayden had been looking at you for the past several days.

He got to your mouth, his lips just a hair away from yours. He stalled there, waiting for permission. Like a fool, you granted it. You closed the small gap and tasted his lips on yours, the faint taste of cigarettes on his lips from the nights he went out to have a smoke or two before bed.

An explosion erupted inside you and you found your hands nearly clawing at him, pulling him ever closer to you. His lips molded with yours perfectly. You grabbed at his sweater as he moaned into your mouth and began to push you onto the couch, into a laying position. Now, he was wedged between your legs, nearly panting as you laid kiss after kiss on each other. Your hand found its way under his sweater to his chest and he began kissing along your jawline, to your ear.

Finally, your conscience woke up from its nap and snapped you out of it.

“Wait, Hayden, stop,” you instructed and he immediately sat up. “We can’t do this,” you softly said, peering at him. “I’m with Sebastian. I love him...You’re still hurting from Rachel...This isn’t right.”

He nodded and sat back on the end of the couch, giving you room to sit up yourself.

“You’re right. I’m sorry...I just….I guess old habits die hard,” he joked half-heartedly.

You gave a sad smile and nodded.

[transcendence-au]

The Manor of Alcor (1/?)

Happy Birthday TAU! It only took 6 MONTHS to finally feel comfortable with how the story should go, but here’s an anniversary present to you. And I’m sorry that a lot of the more recent hc for this prompt couldn’t be added; I started planning and writing long beforehand. Anyway, here’s a murder mystery plot involving Alcor. Or, well, you’ll see…

 Also on ff.net

He checked the time on his phone once more as he continued to walk down the secluded path. 7:00AM. He was still thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Perfect!

Still, after readjusting the straps on his backpack and his hold on his suitcase, Orrie increased his pace. Though this road just on the outskirts of town was assuredly safe, and streetlights brightly lined the pathway, it was still early in the morning and anything could happen to a boy out in the woods alone. So when he saw the bus stop just at the top of the hill he let out a thankful sigh. As he neared, it turned out he wasn’t the first to make the trek here.

Three others sat on the short bench flooded with artificial light. Two, who had to be a couple judging by the way the young woman was resting her head on her husband’s shoulder and how the two of them were dozing, sat nearest the sign. The other man with the incredibly long silver hair and summer trench coat sat closer to the other end, reading a novel. He glanced up when Orrie approached and scooted over some to give the boy a space to sit. Orrie, smiling shyly, took the offer graciously. As he put down his backpack and suitcase, the man closed his book. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Um, yes sir,” Orrie answered, letting his legs rest. The man, which Orrie could now see had some long, pointy ears, frowned only slightly.

“You didn’t want to come with anyone else?”

Orrie blushed. “Well, I’m kinda treating myself to this excursion. An early birthday present.”

“Ah.” The man’s expression instantly brightened. “So it’s also your first time going to the manor?”

“Yes sir. It took me ages to convince my parents to let me sign up for the event. I think they only agreed because they thought I wouldn’t be one of the two to get randomly picked to go. But I’m so glad I was. It’s a really popular attraction, I hear.”

“That it is,” agreed the man, “I chose to go on the waiting list. It was a year’s wait, but I’m not going to complain.” He lifted a brow at Orrie. “You know, I’d never thought someone as young as you would be very excited to visit the Manor of Alcor.”

“No way! I love Alcor.” He then laughed, embarrassed. “Okay, that came out so wrong. I mean that I find Alcor a really cool guy.” By now the other couple had woken up and turned their attention to the two. “My grandfather used to be part of a tiny Alcor branch when he was a teenager– you know, back when cults were a big deal. He’d tell me all the times he and his friends would summon Alcor and they’d just do fun stuff like play a real-life version of DD&MD and get the whole town involved, or have music battles in the middle of the street with the local musicians, or tutor kids after school through the use of sock puppets. I mean, they also did other cult stuff, but that was mainly just for formality; most of the time it was just hanging out with Alcor while also helping the community.” He blushed faintly. “I’m not scared of him like others are, though I know I should be.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the man stated gently. Orrie glanced up at him, his blush still present. “You grew up knowing of the kinder side of Alcor, the side most of the world doesn’t get to see. While I myself have grown accustomed to the dark stories involving the Dreambender, I’m well aware he’s not the pure evil most regard him as.” Orrie nodded, his small smile growing. The man held out a hand. “Flynn Fairfern. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Orrie Walter,” answered Orrie, shaking his hand. “May I ask why you’re here?”

Flynn smiled wistfully. “Oh, it’s for nothing important. I just want to test my skills one last time so I can fully enjoy my retirement.”

“Retirement? But you’re young.” To Orrie, the man looked no older than maybe his mid-thirties.

Flynn chuckled. “I appreciate the compliment, but I should inform you that elves are typically twice as old as you think they are.”

“Oh.” Well, that was embarrassing. “You say skills. Are—were you a detective?”

“Yes. I specialized in organized criminal investigations, usually working undercover to gather information. I tried to steer clear of actual confrontations if I could help it.”

“Still, you must have had quite an exciting career,” the young woman from the other side of the bench spoke up, “I wouldn’t envy a bit more adventure in my life.”

Flynn’s eyes went distant for a moment. “Exciting, sometimes. But most of my days were simple if not a tad dull. Honestly, I preferred those days over the exciting ones.”

“I hear ya,” the young man replied, squeezing his wife’s shoulder, “Sometimes it’s nice to just sit back and enjoy the tranquility.”

“Is that why you’re going to the manor?” Orrie asked them.

“Partly, though we’re going to try and solve the mystery too,” the man admitted, “But it’s so far from the hustle and bustle of civilization that even if we don’t Zahia and I have a spectacular scenery to enjoy nonetheless. It’ll be our perfect honeymoon.” They nuzzled each other on the nose before the young husband shook Orrie and Flynn’s hands. “Cliff Lionhart. This is my wife Zahia.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintances. And also congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Zahia smiled at Flynn. The sounds of brisk footsteps grabbed all of their attentions. A fifth member to the party approached, wearing a red coat even longer and far more extravagant than Flynn’s. He had a rugged face and large mustache, and for the oddest of reasons he reminded Orrie of a circus ringleader he saw in those old movies and outdated books. The newcomer dropped his bag by the sign, looking at the lot.

“And here I thought I’d be the first to arrive. Nice to see so many youngsters this time around.” Flynn made nothing of the comment as he and the others introduced themselves. “Siegfried Connolly. And don’t take this the wrong way, lady and gents, but I intend to be the first to solve the mystery at the Manor of Alcor.”

“Oh you do, do ya?” Cliff chuckled. It was obvious he was only teasing, but Siegfried leered at him nonetheless. “You sound pretty confident, Mr. Connolly. I’m going to use my deductive reasoning skills and say you’ve been to the manor before.”

“Indeed I have,” sniffed Siegfried, straightening his coat, “And the last time I came I was this close to solving the mystery.” He brought his index finger and thumb close together. “I’ll admit I was with several of my colleagues last time, though, so I had a lot more help. But I don’t believe it’ll be as difficult for me to find all the clues again.” Zahia giggled as Cliff rolled his eyes, still smirking.

Orrie, however, grew even more excited. “Are they really that hard to find? I mean, if the outing lasts the whole weekend and no one has yet solved the mystery it must be challenging.”

Siegfried grinned. “Of course it has to be challenging. You have to really know your—ah! I can’t say; it’ll spoil the fun. But don’t doubt for a moment that it’s hard. After all, it is no small prize given to whoever solves the mystery.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” said Zahia, “They never did advertise much about the prize, just that there was one if you could solve the mystery. I guess because they want to keep guests more focused on that. I wonder what it is, though.”

“One million dollars,” Siegfried answered, to the gasps of several of them. “Though I’m not supposed to tell. Contracts, remember. But I intend to win it all. No hard feelings or nothing.”

“None taken,” Flynn replied curtly, returning to his book.

“Ditto,” answered Orrie. While the prize’s value was definitely enticing, it still didn’t change his true excitement of just solving the mystery, whatever it may be.

“A million dollars would be nice,” mused Cliff.

More minutes ticked by, the group chatting amiably when the next two guests made their way slowly up the hill. They were an elderly couple, and Cliff and Siegfried hastened to assist them to the bench, where Flynn and Orrie readily offered them their seats. “Oh, you are all too kind,” the old lady smiled sweetly, sitting down next to her husband. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s nothing at all,” spoke Flynn, and the others nodded.

“Are you youngsters going to be solving the mystery?” the old man asked, somehow sounding not at all nosy. When the other guests confirmed they were, he chuckled, a light wheezing sound. “Ah, well, you don’t have to worry about us old geezers. Jillian and I won’t be participating.”

“Why not?” Orrie asked, curious. Jillian set down her cane.

“We just want to enjoy one weekend in a nice place. We’ve never been to an elegant home before, and we heard the manor is an idyllic haven for those wanting to get away for a small while. Jackson and I, unfortunately, may not have much longer together, so we wanted to share one last, happy memory with each other.”

Siegfried nodded respectfully. “Then you won’t be disappointed. The manor is as beautiful as you picture it to be, with its many rooms and scenic gardens. If ever you need anything, the housekeepers will provide.” The old couple smiled warmly at his words.

Heavy panting could soon be heard, and they all turned to see a rather large man struggle to make the climb to the bus stop. He staggered over to the sign, collapsed under it, and snatched a small bag of chips and a water bottle from his suitcase. He immediately downed them both in a matter of seconds. “Too…far…” he huffed, wiping moisture away from his one eye. Jackson leaned over towards the cyclops, handing him a handkerchief. “Thanks.”

“We’re only half a mile away from the nearest town,” Cliff said to the newcomer, a bit of concern highlighting his tone, “Are ya sure you’re up to the task?”

“Of what, solving the mystery?” the cyclops grumbled, reaching for another bag of chips. “I don’t care about that. I’m only coming because I had nothing better to do and my friend offered me xir ticket. Hear the place has some good food, though.” He finished his second bag as he said this. “The name’s Duglas Segal, by the way. Just call me Dug.” The rest greeted him in turn.

It wasn’t long after when the bus finally showed up. The party grabbed their various belongs and made their way toward the small white vehicle once it stopped and opened its doors for them. Orrie silently thanked the person in charge of all this for sending a bus with comfortable seats; the bench had been too hard for him. As the lot boarded, Orrie frowned, counting silently in his head. Disregarding the secondary guests who were allowed to come along with a ticketholder, there should be seven people boarding. At least one person was missing.

“Hey, someone’s still missing,” Orrie said, flashing his ticket before he could board. The driver shook his head.

“Everybody was told the bus would be leaving at exactly 7:30AM and to be at the stop on time. The drive’s nearly four hours long, kid; we’re on a tight enough schedule as it is.”

But it just didn’t sit right with Orrie to leave without the last person; this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that no one should miss out on. “Can’t you hold on for five more minutes? My, uh, my friend told me they were running a bit late and would be here soon.”

“Kid, we got to go. We need to beat traffic if we’re to get to the manor on time.”

“But—”

“On the bus. Now.” Disheartened, Orrie grabbed his suitcase and took a step onto the bus. He could just make out pounding footsteps coming towards them and turned just before his head could disappear behind the door. The last two guests were running as fast as they could, their luggage banging wildly against them as they raced toward them.

“Wait, hold on! They’re right there!” Leaning out the bus, he waved them to hurry up. “Come on, you guys! You can make it!”

“Kid, sit down already.” But the final two members leaped onto the bus, huffing and laughing with relief that they just made it. Orrie helped them get their stuff, guiding them toward the back of the bus. The grumbling driver didn’t wait for them to take their seats, already backing up and driving back down the road he came. Orrie took the seat all the way in the back, the other two taking the row across from him, placing their luggage under the seats in front of them.

“Phew! That was a close one,” the teenage girl grinned, still trying to catch her breath. The boy next to her leaned his head against the window, also smiling.

“For the record, I was ready to go before you even got up,” he said.

“Yeah right. You were in the middle of double-checking everything in your suitcase again by the time dad started the car.”

“I’m just glad you could make it,” said Orrie. At least now he wouldn’t be the only kid going to manor, even if these two were a few years older than him. Perhaps fifteen? “I’m Orrie. Are you two also a couple? Because we have a couple of those already.” He nodded his head toward the Lionharts and Jackson and Jillian. The girl snickered.

“Ew, no! We’re twins.” She held out her hand, which Orrie shook. “I’m Belle. This is my dorky bro-bro Dipper. Nice to meetcha’, Orrie.” Dipper reached past his sister to shake Orrie’s hand as well.

“So did you drag your brother along for the ride?”

“Actually, I—”

“Are you kidding?” the sister spoke over her brother, “Dipper’s the one who begged me to come along. He was one of the lucky two to win a free ticket.”

“I didn’t beg you, I asked,” he retorted, but Orrie wasn’t really listening, his eyes lit up.

“Really? Me too!” And he showed them his ticket. “So why’d you sign up? Are you going to solve the mystery or to relax in an awesome mansion?”

“Honestly, I’m more interested in whatever they have to say about this Alcor legend,” Dipper answered, smirking slightly. “Solving the mystery should be hardly a challenge at all. But I’ve heard nearly every story there is about Alcor, and not once did I hear of him owning a mansion of sorts.”

“I know, right? You’d think if he did it’d be all over the history books and demonology texts. Nah, the only building that frequently pops up in articles about him is the Stanley Pines Memorial Library in Gravity Falls, and I just think that’s a place he visited a lot because of where it is and the amount of knowledge it holds. If you ask me, Alcor doesn’t seem the type to want a mansion of any kind unless it was with, uh, people…” He noticed how Belle and Dipper were giving him odd looks. He coughed nervously. “Er…so I presume.”

“…You seem to know quite a bit about Alcor,” Dipper narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, “For a kid, I mean.”

“I spent hours reading about him, his cults, Mizar, the Transcendence– everything,” Orrie admitted, looking away and messing with his glasses. “My grandfather was the one who introduced me to the subject, being in an Alcor branch when he was younger. The Seekers of Starlight? You probably never heard of them.” Dipper leaned back against his seat, his eyes closed.

“I think I have. Wasn’t it that tiny cult located in a small town in Delaware?” Orrie nodded, surprised the boy knew that. “Its name popped up once or twice during my readings,” Dipper hastily added, sensing Orrie’s look.

“Oh. I didn’t know it was that popular.”

“Oh yeah. They did a lot of interesting stuff, I hear.”

“I wish I could meet him,” sighed Orrie, leaning back in his seat as well. “He sounds like a neat guy. Bringing shelter to the homeless. Defending the defenseless. Fighting evildoers alongside Mizar. If only I could summon him like my grandpa did.”

Dipper cracked an eye open at him. “You do know it’s not a good idea to summon the most dangerous demon known on a whim, right?”

“Oh, I know, I know,” the boy hurriedly assured him, “Grandpa always warned me never to try summoning anything unless in grave trouble. He told me how Alcor would constantly lecture them about that kind of stuff. Still, it’s just…” He paused. He shook his head. “Nevermind, you’re right. Forget it.” The two eyed him curiously, but they fortunately didn’t press the matter further. They spent a little over two hours talking about other things, school and personal life, and Orrie was really starting to like them. The twins—Belle and Dipper Sterling he found out—seemed to be magnets for trouble and adventure, something Orrie always secretly craved in his own life. Between running away from cultists and finding sea demons there seemed to be a never-ending amount of stories they shared with him. “Wow, you guys practically live the life of Montana Martinez. Lucky!”

“Wait, you watch those movies too?”

“You bet! He’s awesome! Did you know they’re rebooting the franchise?” And so that developed into the topic of movies for the next half hour with them ignoring Belle as she rolled her eyes and teased “Dorks,” under her breath. Orrie was having such a great time with them that it didn’t feel like much time had passed when he felt someone gently shaking him awake. He rubbed his eyes gingerly, wondering when exactly he dozed off.

“We’re here,” Flynn said, giving him one last nudge. “You should wake your friends.”

Orrie sat up, looking at the time on his phone. It was half an hour before noon. He quickly turned to his new friends and woke them up, telling them they’d arrived. Belle yawned as Dipper stretched, but it wasn’t a minute later before the three of them and Flynn were stepping off the bus. Orrie gasped in awe.

The manor was spectacular. The three-story structure made of faded tan bricks stood impressively over the wide, open yard of freshly cut grass. The cobblestone pathway cut the massive yard evenly in two, with a miniature hedge maze located to its left and a stone lagoon swimming pool with surrounding outdoor furniture to its right. Nestled beside the manor was a fairly large greenhouse with various plants and shrubs growing inside it (Orrie couldn’t help chuckling at the rainbow pinwheel spinning merrily on top of the glass structure despite there not being a breeze). Men and women all dressed in identical but comfortable attire were gathered around a barbecue and table, and the delicious smell of grilled burgers and corn was making Orrie’s stomach growl eagerly. Orrie looked back, watching the bus drive through the tall metal gates that closed with a heavy slam behind it.

The guests walked silently down the pathway, ending up on the front stairs of the manor. Before anyone could knock, the front doors opened by themselves and an old maid stepped out, beaming cheerily at them all. “Welcome to the Manor of Alcor,” she greeted them before stepping back and bowing slightly. “I’m Ms. Wheatly. Please come in, kind guests.” They all stepped inside, steadily if not a bit slowly making their way to the large foyer that split into several hallways. Ms. Wheatly led them down the one on the far right. “The Master will be with you shortly,” she spoke, opening a door and letting them step inside the room before closing it behind them. It looked to be a parlor room with its numerous chairs and sofas, mantle, and tiny bookshelf. Orrie made himself comfortable in one of the chairs, dropping his luggage down in front of him. Most of the others were inclined to do the same, with only Flynn and Siegfried preferring to stand and pace around the room.

Orrie was beginning to let his mind wander and wonder when they were going to have some grilled food when the lamps in the room began to flicker. He sat up straighter, watching the other visitors glance around to what could possibly be causing the faulty wiring. Suddenly, the lights went off entirely, and with no windows in the room, it was eerily dark.

“…H̛mh̴m,͞ we͠l̀c̵ome̡ t͞o ͝my ́manor͟…” Golden irises flashed in the darkness. Moments later, the lights slowly came back on, and a young man hovered in the air before them, smirking down at them all. Orrie had to give him props: he looked exactly like the Dreambender he always imagined. Cool demeanor, elegant black suit, velvety wings, floating top hat, inhuman gold irises, and an air of dangerous mystery about him. Orrie could see from the corner of his eye the other guests’ reactions. They ranged from stunned disbelief to mild bemusement, the latter mostly sported by Siegfried and Dipper.

In fact, Mr. Connolly stepped up to the figure, a smile of familiarity on his face. “I must say, that’s a better entrance than last time, Mr. Dreambender. Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch.”

‘Alcor'—because Orrie was well aware this was an actor—blinked once before grinning himself. “Oh, I ̶̡re͡member y̴o͏ų, Sie͏g̡fried̕ Conno̶lly. Y̧ou c̵am͏e ̶v̧ery c̷lose to ̧so̵lving my ̀mýs̴ter̀y̵ last time.” His grin grew, mocking. “But you d͝idn’t quite ma͡ke͟ it.”

“Sadly, no. But you’re in better luck this time around. We have ourselves some very bright detectives to help solve your mystery. Assuming you don’t scare them off, that is.” At that, 'Alcor’ smiled mischievously at the youngest members, and Orrie couldn’t stop himself from being just a tad unnerved. Dipper, on the other hand, burst into giggles.

“Oh come on! Are we supposed to be scared? You don’t even look like Alcor!” Belle elbowed him in the side, earning a small wince from him.

“Dipper!” she hissed.

“Well, he doesn’t. Look. Where are the claws? The sharp teeth? The pointy ears? I’ve seen better cosplayers of Alcor at TwinCon. And he does not smile that much.”

Did it really matter? Yes, the actor had some things off—even Orrie had noticed that—but it wasn’t like anyone was trying to prove he was the real deal. This was all just part of the gig. Orrie supposed Dipper could simply be a more passionate fan of the Alcor legends, taking some offense that the professionals weren’t getting even the small details correct.

“Though you got everything else more or less correct,” Dipper finished. 'Alcor’, his grin falling, huffed and straightened his coat. Orrie spotted the small wings peeking from behind his back flutter with the movement. Evidently, Dipper spotted them too. “Let me guess– attached by wire through the back of the sleeve? Cool trick, but the wings should be further down.”

“An̷d h͢o͡w ̕w͢o͢ul̀d ͝y͡ou ̷k͟n͞o͢ẁ so m̨uch a̢bout ̛my appȩár̢anc̕e͏?” 'Alcor’ growled, lowering down to lean over Dipper. Dipper shrugged.

“I read a lot,” was the smooth reply.

“Ţh͢en͞ perha̵p̷s you’ve ̢read̢ th̛a͢t Í can̵ alter͠ m͢y ̷a̧p̕pe̴a͢r̨anc͡e̢ t͝o ̶m̛a̧k̀e myself̀ not l͡o̶o͞k̴ ve͡ry frigh͏t̀e̷ning̀. Mayb͡e I̡ d̨idņ’t ẁan̢t ́ţo̵ terri̷f͏y potentíàl m͏or͝tals w̢ho dec̢i̕de ͝to come ̨to ͢my m̧anor̛ and͞ śo̷lve i̧ts m̛ystery͞.”

Belle very hastily slapped her hand over her brother’s mouth before he could so much as inhale a retort. “So what’s the mystery exactly? I’d like to hear more about it.”

“Same here,” Orrie agreed a little too emphatically, grateful for the change in topic. 'Alcor’ looked more than eager for an excuse to ignore the brazen teen.

“W̴hat͞?̧ Yo͞u͏ have̶n'̀t h̴eard̶̕ i͡t̛?̷” He shook his head, as if ashamed by their ignorance. “Mak̢es m͠e w͡on̶der ͏why ͞y͞o̷u’re ́here͞.̕ A̵s i̡t ̕s̀t͟ands, I ̢do ̵n̴ee̕d śome͞ he͡lp̵, s̵o I ́suppos͝e I'̧ll have t̡o inf̷or̕ḿ you.” He clapped twice, and the lights dimmed again, though they didn’t go out. Dipper, still with his mouth covered, rolled his eyes.

'Alcor’ began the tale, the synthetic reverb in his voice toned down so they could understand him better. “You s̨ee, this̵ ma̛nor̡͞ ẁa̛s͝n't͏ o̕r̷íg̴ina͟lly m͠i̡n͞e. I̡t ̛w̷as b͏ui͟lt b̛y a ͡group of ͟b͞right, gi͢fted, and gr͏eedỳ h̢um̨a̕ns. Ea̡cḩ on̶e so͢u͏ght ͝͝un͟li͟mi̧t͝éd͡ p̛ow̢er fo͟r thei̴r own̕ ńefa͏rious n̶e̢eds, bu̷t͏, b̧ei͝ng hum͡ans, t̕h́ey h̵a͏d no̡ m̶ȩa̧n͠s ̕t͏o ̨́gèt ̡it̀ ou̶ţs̴ide of̴ a d̶eal wi͟th a d́e͟mon. And̵̴ s̢uc͞h a ̕c̶ostl̴y dea̵l̡ it wo̴uld̷ be, ͡too.” He floated over to a portrait of the very manor, the yellowed paper encased by thin glass. “T͞h͏ìs ma̧nor̴ wa̧ş c͡ons̢truct̛ed͏ w͡ít̵ḩ thé inte̢ņt o͝f ̢ca͞p̢tųrin͢g m̛e, fo̧rcing̷ me̴ t̨o cơmp̶ly to th͡e͠i͢r ne̴eds. Its͠ fra̴mes a͟r̛e en͞gra͟ve͠d wit̨h́ an̷ciȩnt runeś. Its͞ walls̀ are marr̨ed̨ with̢ hi̕dd͢e͟n̕ wa̢rd̢s. A͏nd̨ aļl th͏at'̀s not in͞clud̡ing ͏t͏heìr͡ m͏o͝st̷̢ p̨ower͏fúl of̧ co͢nf̵i̧ne͢me͏nt t̡o̡ols͝.”

“But͏ some͡t̨h̶in͞g̵ happȩn͡ȩd ͞t̨he nig͏ht ̀͡b̢e͠fore they ̢tri͠ed̀ t̨o̶ capt͠uŗé͡ m̵e̷. An͠d͝ I͝'̶m no͟t̕ şure̡͡ what. All͟ I do kno̷w͟ i̷ş t̷h̷a͟t six o͞f th̨e ͞sev̶e̡n̷ h̡u̧ma̕n̶s w̛er̵e͡ mu̢rdered, the̕͏ s͞ev̢e̵nţh ͞fleein͢g ͏f̵r̷om th̴i͏s plące be͏fo͏re the͟ý̨ cou̵l̕d ̛̀be ͝arrestéd. W͞hy? I͏ h͟ave̷ m̨y suspic̢io͞ns̵, aś̕ I’m su̢r̢e yơu ḑo as̡ w̢el̶l. B̷ut ͞͝who ͝exactl͢y? I ca̶n’t t̡éll yo͠u, a̡nd t̵ha̵t͢'s̶ w͝h̴a͏t ̕I w͞ant for you t̵o s͏olve. T͠he ide͢ņtity̷ of the s̡ev̛e̷n ͟pȩople̷ wḩo͢ tried̷ to captuŕe me ̡an̢d ́t͠he ͟c̴u͢l͢pr̛it béhind̵͏ th̶e murder͞s͡. Do t͞hat̡ àņd̴ I'l̛l o̷ffe͠r ͝y̕o̴u̢ a g͡e͏n̕e̴ro̡us rewa͢r̵d̡ f̛or y̢our tr̶o͏uble̶s.”

“That seems fair,” Cliff said, rising to his feet. “A luxurious stay and the chance to win a million dollars in return for solving a mystery even Alcor can’t. I’m ready for this.”

“Me too!” added Zahia.

“Of course you know where I stand,” commented Siegfried, pointedly ignoring the accusing glare 'Alcor’ was giving him.

“These youngsters sound so excited, honey,” Jillian said to her husband, who nodded in agreement. “We wish you all the best of luck.”

“A million dollars? You know, I’m starting to appreciate coming now,” Dug muttered.

“We can totally solve this, bro.” Belle and Dipper were sharing mirroring grins.

“I’m ready for a challenge,” Orrie chimed in.

“As am I,” Flynn spoke out.

'Alcor’ chuckled. “Goo̵ḑ͟ to ͏he͏a̡r. B̴eca͟use ͏a͡͞ ch͞a͢ll̴enge i͟s wh̛at̡ t̛his͞’ll b͟e. Y̢o̷u ha̷v͞e̵ u͝ņti̴l̶ n̶oon of the͡ th͢ird̢ da͠y t̷o s̷olve th͟e̛ my͏sterý. If you̡ ma͡na͡ge to succeed̵, the pr̵ize is yours͞, th̨ough͢͡ thos̷e wor͝ki̛ng i̛n̷ gr̴o̵up̴s will h̷av̀e to sp̴lit it. If ͢none͞ o͟f yǫu c͡a͟n sol͢ve the̷͟ m̷y̢s͠t̢eŗy̧ by tha̛t time̶ t͡h͡e͟n yo̡u l̷e͞a̷v̴e w̷it̨h nothin͡ǵ. D̀eąl?” Blue fire engulfed his hand.

“Deal.” Cliff answered for them all, stepping forward to shake the proffered hand. He looked a little nervous when the fire wrapped around his own hand, but didn’t say anything.

“P͞e̕rf͏ȩct͞. I'l͞l͏ l̢e̕av͠e t̕he hou̕se̛kȩe̛p̧ęrs͏ to get͏ yơu a͞ll s̶eţtled into y̷ou̧r r̵oo͠ms̨. In th̴e me͏antíme͠, good̶͟ luck̶.” And with that the lights flickered again, turned out completely for less than a second, and 'Alcor’ was gone.

The grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed twelve.

The doors reopened and Ms. Wheatly stepped inside, holding several white envelopes. “These are for you. They’re where you’ll be sleeping during your stay.” She handed one to each of the primary guests. Orrie took his, noting the masterful penmanship of the calligraphy. 'Orso Walter’ it read. He opened it to find a tiny slip of paper inside. All that was on it was a single word: 'Keller’.

“Please, come with me. Your rooms are upstairs. I’ll guide you to them.”

[frangipanidownunder]

could you do 22 for the prompt thing?? Purdy please

22 I don’t know why I married you.

Angel

This is Rob and Laura Petrie’s second case. Ihave no idea where this came from. It’ a bit weird and no doubt has more plotholes than the spongiest X-File ep. It’s long, so you can keep reading under the cut.

She stood on the thresholdand ripped through his shirt with the pinking shears. The fabric shredded,leaving strands of cotton floating to the ground along with the sleeves, collarand body. When she finished, she turned to the pile behind her and found thedress pants. Charcoal grey, well-cut, heavy. She took the point of the bladesand dug in, snipping a triangular shape out of the crotch.

           “I don’t know why I married you!” she yelled over hershoulder. “You fucking fucker,” she added for good measure.

His footsteps down the wooden staircase were punctuated with the cursewords he favoured. She looked out across the immense front lawn, beyond theupright and sensible white rose bushes, the flowering clematis and trimmedhedges to see the Cartwrights, arm in arm on their own doorstep.

“What the hell are you doing with my Armani?” He grabbed one trouser legand yanked it from her. She held on to the other leg but the scissors clangedto the ground, making a nest in the pile of shirts.

“I’m doing what I should have done years ago,” she hissed. “Cutting youout!”

Fred Cartwright had made it to the front gate, pushed through the ornatemetal and strode to the front door.

“Having a little domestic trouble here, I see.” He smiled and reachedout to take the pants. “Why don’t we head inside and see if we can’t work itout,” he looked over his shoulder as Valerie Cartwright arrived, “privately.”

Scully picked up the pileof clothes and walked them upstairs, placing them on the bed and folding whatwas left into a suitcase. She parked it at the bottom of the closet and headed tothe en-suite for a shower.

           Hot water ran down her back and she relished theslightly-too-hot spray for longer than was ecologically-friendly. There wassomething so satisfying about cutting up clothes and she sifted through hermemories to see if there was a source point for that feeling. She couldn’trecall her mother doing it to her father’s wardrobe. Theirs had been a lovetrue and enduring; she could half-entertain the notion that Tara might havedone it to Bill’s clothes, but she couldn’t imagine him telling her and shehadn’t talked with Tara that closely for a few years. It was a mystery, but anenjoyable one.

           She didn’t hear the door open but she did feel themomentary draught. She turned and rubbed water from her eyes, to see Mulderstanding stark naked in front of the door. He smiled. She shook her head. Hepouted. She rolled her eyes. He opened the door. She stepped aside and took therazor from the side.

“Can I help you with that, Scully?”

“You want to shave me?”

He grinned. “It’s a bit of a kink of mine.”

“You, with kinks, Mulder? I don’t believe it.”

He took the razor and held it up.

“Maybe next time,” she said and pinched it back.

“Always ready to serve you, Scully.”

He laughed, then looked down at her with that expression on his face andshe knew she wasn’t getting out of there without calf-strain, hickeys wherenobody else would see them and at least two orgasms.

He did cook her dinner –one of the many surprisingly good dishes in his repertoire. Chicken filletstuffed with mozzarella and avocado with mushroom sauce on a bed of basmatirice. He poured a pinot grigio and offered her the pepper shaker.

`           “So are the Cartwrights the prime suspects, Scully?”

           “I guess I’d better be on high alert, now that I’ve shownmy true colours, Mulder. Wouldn’t want the neighbourhood to suffer from anunusually high divorce rate, would we?”

           He chuckled over a mouthful of chicken. “No, an abnormallyhigh number of missing persons reports is a much more digestible statistic. Threehalves of couples in five years simply vanishing is more than an anomaly. TheCartwrights, and their neighbour, a Miss Lethbridge, have been here longer thanthe other residents. But there’s never been any evidence against them.”

           The cool wine was going down too well, the comfort ofplaying house, she sat back in her chair and smiled at him, still smug from theshower. “So, what’s the next step? A blazing row on the lawn? Snipping off theheads of the roses?”

           “Only if we can have a very public making-up session,Scully.” He leant forward and planted a kiss on her mouth.

           “I think Valerie Cartwright would have a stroke if shewitnessed that kind of activity. I can’t imagine that pair has so much as heldhands in the past ten years.”

           He smirked. “Then let’s give them somethingstroke-worthy.”

She picked an aqua bluebikini and placed a floppy-brimmed sunhat at a jaunty angle. She donned herlarge-framed sunglasses, slipped on her flip-flops, tucked a Mills and Boonnovel under her arm and stopped at the fridge to pour a glass of sparklingwine. The sun was beating down, the lounger was bright white, the beach towelwas in-your-face red and she’d cranked up the music from the CD player in thelounge room. The French doors were wide open, flimsy nets flying in the breeze.

           The trap was set.

           Two songs in and just as she was getting to the raunchypart of the book, Mulder stalked out, yelling at the top of his lungs.

           “Why are you out here with no clothes on, you floozy.”

           She rolled over and bent one leg up. She tipped hersunglasses forward and winked at him. He tried so hard not to smile.

           “I’ve told you before about this kind of behaviour.You’re embarrassing yourself and you’re embarrassing me. This has got to stop,Laura!”

           He looked out over the fence and back to her, giving hera sly nod.

           “I am proud of my body, Rob. So are you. And I will notcover myself up in my own yard.”

           He bent down and picked up her bikini top, holding upabove his head, just as Fred Cartwright appeared at the gate. He peered overand inspected the situation. When his gaze stopped at Scully, bare-breasted onher towel. His mouth dropped open and she chose that moment to smile.

           She saw out of the corner of her eye Mulder’s tremblinglips and she willed him to stuff that laugh back into his mouth. Fred saved theday.

           “Mrs Petrie, I beg of you, on behalf of the rest of theneighbourhood, to cover yourself up at once. Your shamelessness is astoundingand you are humiliating your husband.”

           By this time, Mrs Cartwright had arrived and she squealedwhen she saw Scully.

           “Fred!” she said, her hands flying up to her face. “Whatis going on here! Why are you looking at this…this tramp.”

           Mulder swung round. “Don’t call my wife a tramp, you oldbattleaxe.”

           Fred’s face reddened with rage. “How dare you insult mywife, you arrogant hypocrite.”

           Scully stood up, her breasts bobbing. It was unbelievablyliberating. “This is my yard and I’ll wear what I like.”

           Veronica glared at her. “You’re not wearing anything.”

           Mulder stood next to Scully, pulling her to him. It wasreassuring in a sexual way and she felt her nipples peak, much to Fred’s utter delight.Veronica elbowed him. “Laura is beautiful, inside and out. You cannot come toour house and say these things to her.”

           “You called her a floozy yourself,” Fred said, his eyesscanning Scully.

           “I can call my wife what I like.” He straightened up,chest puffed.

           Veronica held onto Fred’s elbow as he cleared his throat.“We will not tolerate such louche behaviour in our street.”

           “You and who else, Fred? Are you the deputy? The law?”Mulder moved closer, almost butting Fred’s chest.

           “Mr Petrie,” Fred said. “I’m warning you. There are heavyconsequences for behaviour like this.”

For the fourth time,Scully declined Mulder’s offer to rub moisturiser into her chest to soothe herburnt skin.

           “You need to be careful tomorrow, Scully.”

           “I know, Mulder. How long will you be at the field office?”

           He shrugged. “I need to check those files that are beingsent over from DC. I’ve seen something like this before. I’ll be as quick as Ican but hopefully it will be long enough to see if anyone bites.”

           “Did you see Miss Lethbridge? She was enjoying thespectacle.”

           “You can barely see anything above the monstrous growthof plants in her garden. But she was the one who reported the last victimmissing. In her report to the police she described the woman as an angel whodeserved better.”

           “Did she mean better than Cecilia Burdenstock’s husband?Who was discovered to have had a string of affairs.”

           Mulder shrugged. “Probably. But it’s not about thepartners who remain. I think this perpetrator is trying to save the victims.”

           She looked at him. “By abducting them?”

           “By freeing them.”

She stood in the drivewayand yelled “don’t make me wait until dark to see you again!” and if that wasn’tenough Mulder made sure everybody in the court knew that he was heading out,leaving a tyre streak on the road as he rounded the corner.

Scully waited.

           The knock on the door was light, suggesting that FredCartwright was not her visitor. Standing on her doorstep was Miss Lethbridgewith a tray of cookies in her hand and a kindly smile on her face.

           “I hear you’ve been having trouble with our nastyneighbours. They’ve been telling the rest of us just how awful you two are. So,I’d love to have a cup of tea with you and find out just how awful you are.”

The woman was clearly old– her fingers were arthritic and her shoulders bunched under her loose dress.The back of her neck was unusually downy, grey hairs sprouting out from thecollar. Her eyes were unsettlingly bright.

           “Those Cartwrights are such party poopers. In my day we’dall walk around naked together. No shame. Just freedom.”

           “You were a hippy? On a commune?” Scully asked. Shenibbled the cookie, relishing the sweet white chocolate melting on hertea-warmed tongue.

           Miss Lethbridge smiled and bit into a cookie. “There areso many tales I could tell you dear, but we don’t have much time.”

           “I’d love to hear them,” Scully said. “But you’ve gotsomewhere else to be?”

           “Oh, we both do, my angel. We both do.”

           Scully frowned as Miss Lethbridge stood up. Her visionnarrowed until she saw only black pinpricks. She fumbled for her phone but shecouldn’t see it, feel it or even remember where it might be.

Mulder chatted with thedeputy for a while, went through the files he’d ordered to be faxed to thestation, found what he was looking for and fished out his phone to call Scully.He hated when she didn’t reply. It was an automatic gut-churning response, eventhough most of the time there was a simple answer. He headed for the car andtried her again.

When Scully came to sheknew she was at Miss Lethbridge’s house. What she couldn’t work out was howshe’d got there. The smell of the flowers and plants in the hot-house wasoverpowering, heady and fruity. All around her there were towering grasses withfeathery flowers stretched out and up the roof, like Pampas grass. She was tiedto a rattan chair from which she could easily escape if her arms and legshadn’t felt so heavy and if Miss Lethbridge wasn’t standing in front of her coiledand ready. There was no light, no windows, no air. Scully’s breath came in hardspurts as she wriggled her wrists behind her.

           “My angel, you’re back with me. How lovely you are.” Theold woman ran her fingers through Scully’s hair. The skin of her wrist touched Scully’sface and it felt warm and moist, like it might ooze down her face.

           “Who are you?” Scully asked, her voice thick with fatigue.“What are you?”

           Miss Lethbridge laughed. “I am your saviour. You are myangel.”

           Scully flinched as the old woman stroked her cheeks andchin. Her face felt clammy. “Are you going to save me like you saved theothers? What did you do to them? Where did you take them?”

           “They didn’t have to go far. They are still with us. I ammerely the conduit. I am the giver of life. You are special, Laura. You knowthat. Others have already told you. I am here to make sure their prophecieswill come true.”

           Scully looked around but all she saw was greenery. “Whatis this place? Where am I?”

           “You are in my world of plants, they are the key, Laura.They live for us; we live because of them. What I do is preservation.”

           “What you do is illegal. My partner is looking for me.”

           Miss Lethbridge put a finger on Scully’s lips and shetasted something oily, organic. She tried to twist away but the woman pressedharder, bending to her ear and hissing. “Your partner doesn’t care about you.He only cares about what you represent to him. He cares about the outside ofyou, about what you look like. But he doesn’t care about you.” She wiped her finger down Scully’s chin and something warmoozed down, dripping onto her chest. “Now, if you’ve quite stopped complaining,we’ll begin.”

           Scully whipped her head away and tried to push the chairback. “Begin what? I’m a federal agent, you can’t keep me here. You’ve alreadycommitted a felony and if you lay one more finger on me, you’ll be facing someserious jail time. Untie me and we can end this now.”

           Miss Lethbridge turned away and busied herself behind thetowering glossy leaves of some exotic looking plant. Scully couldn’t see whatshe was doing but a powerful aroma, spicy and piquant, rose on the tepid air. Afew minutes later she brought a bucket and secateurs to where Scully was tryingto free her tired limbs.

           “It’s very satisfying, isn’t it? Ripping and shreddingfabrics, removing the heavy burden of cloth that covers up our true selves.Your husband, Rob, he wore beautiful garments, he is a beautiful man, butinside, where it counts, he was weighed down.”

           She cut through Scully’s blouse, buttons scattering acrossthe floor. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”

           “Shhh,” Miss Lethbridge said. “He went out. In his shinycar.” She cut through the sleeves and let the silky fabric fall to the floor.She pushed her hand into the bucket and brought out a poultice, smoothing it upScully’s arms, over her chest and shoulders and down her back. The smell wasoverpowering and Scully coughed and gagged. “You have so much time left. Timeto fly free.”

           The substance dried and Scully’s skin tingled. MissLethbridge had removed her own clothes and painted her skin and she was holdingher hands up to the heavens, humming and swaying when Mulder burst in. His guntrained on the woman, but his eyes frantically checking on Scully.

           “I’m fine, Mulder.”

           “You’re too late,” Miss Lethbridge said, as the officerswith Mulder launched themselves on her and grappled her to the ground. “She’sgoing to fly high, fly free. Away from you. Away from all this. Just like theothers.”

           Mulder holstered his weapon and freed Scully. He yelledfor paramedics and she didn’t resist. Her body felt sluggish, her skin was onfire, her throat dry. She wanted to vomit and she swallowed the bile down asMulder held her.

           “Scully? Can you hear me?”

           She could, but she couldn’t speak. She let her eyes shut.

When she opened her eyesthere was only bright white. No green, no growth. Just the comforting smell ofantiseptic, clean, safe. Mulder’s voice was dreamlike, outside the curtains.She turned to see if there was water and lifted her arm to reach the plasticcup on the small table beside her gurney. She stared at her arm.

           Mulder pulled back the curtain and smiled that goofygrin, striding in two lengths to lift the jug. “Let me, Scully.”

           “Mulder, my arms…”

           “Here, drink this. Slowly, Scully.”

           She sat up but her head pounded and she sunk back againstthe pillow. She looked down at the gown, falling open to reveal the skin on herchest. “Fuck! What the hell, Mulder?”

           “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay. It’s just cosmetic.”

           She ran her fingers over the down that covered her armsand chest. She felt under the back of the gown and the same soft featherscovered her back and shoulders. “What is this?”

           “Your wings, Scully. Your angel’s wings.”

           “Oh my god. Those blooms in the garden. Were they…?”

           “Cecilia Burdenstock, Maxine Jenniss and Carlos Romero.”

           “How?”

           “The old case files, Scully. There were severaldocumented cases where people believed they could become angels and the plants Lethbridge used for the poulticewere several species from South America renowned for their speedy growingproperties, others for their ability to soften and smoothe skin. Records showedshe’s been importing seeds for years.”

           “So there might be more victims?”

           He offered her water and she drank gratefully. “Maybe.Forensics are going over the property. The greenhouse you were found in wasastonishing. It was under the house,Scully. There were plants in there that may not even be documented. Preliminaryreports say that some of the plants may be hundreds of years old. And the onlyrecords of a Dorothy Lethbridge show that she was born in 1878.”

           “None of this makes any sense, Mulder. I have feathers onmy skin. How is that possible?”

           “She was trying to free you from my evil clutches,” hesaid, sitting on the chair next to her. The vinyl creaked. “You were going tofly with the angels.”

           She reached out for his hand and it felt real and smoothin her grasp. “When I get out of here I’ll have to take you up on your kinky offer,Mulder.”

           He lifted her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss there.“Always ready to serve you, Scully.”