#i love how all the mirrors in our house are antique silver-backed mirrors

[hearditinapastlife2019]

we finally got our antique dresser set up and the place is feeling more and more like home every day! the mirror needs resilvering but that’s a job for a more financially stable time. she was free anyways so we can’t complain! we also finally got curtains up in our bedroom today and we’re getting a dining and coffee table next week. ok i’m going back to reading bye bye!

[oneshotnewbie]

Hiiii! So, since it's allowed to send some requests in..I have an angsty one (I think i mentioned it months ago) 😁 Alex Danvers x reader. They are childhood sweethearts, now happily married, reader is not part of the DEO tho she knows everything. Somehow, another Alex from different Earth comes through a portal, having lost her own wife. She is kinda mean though. She temporarily disables "our Alex" and kidnaps reader, taking her to her Earth, leaving the Superfriends look for them in order to bring reader back. - happily ever after or not, I'd leave it up to you 😁 thank you! 😊

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐃𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Authors note: Originally I wanted to write something completely different but my hands and mind led me to something else 😂 Hope you like it and have fun reading ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The day was filled with a rare clarity as Kara flew her way through the lush landscape. The villa, an architectural masterpiece of bygone times, sat majestically on a hill, surrounded by a lush garden framed by magnificent trees. The last rays of sunshine of the day bathed the scene in a golden light as the blonde took in the silence and atmosphere of the nature around her.

You outdid yourself in choosing the location for celebrating your fifth wedding anniversary with Alex. The old, vine-covered, red-brick house with its large, bordered green park was glorious in the summertime and brought out the bright colors you have carried in your heart from the day you met the redhead.

A gentle wind blew through the treetops, carrying with it the quiet hum of birds. Kara arrived on the ground and immediately climbed the stone steps to the entrance, where the massive doors stood wide open, welcoming her warmly. A faint hint of nostalgia hung in the air in the spacious entrance hall. Antique furnishings filled the room, from silver-plated mirrors to a grand, curved staircase that led elegantly to the upper floors.

A soft murmur and the quiet clatter of tools came from outside. She followed the sound and found herself on a balcony. The vantage point offered a breathtaking view of the garden and surrounding countryside. Down there, the workers spread all over the white gravel road and seemed busy as they were making some arrangements and put the finishing touches to the decorations.

The hammering and knocking mingled with the humming of the bees buzzing around in the garden's blossoms. Elegant tables and chairs were arranged, garlands were artfully draped and bright, yellowish lights were placed in the trees. It was as if the place itself was preparing to have an unforgettable evening filled with people you both loved.

Kara leaned against the railing of the balcony and watched the hustle and bustle below her. It was impressive how each move seemed perfectly coordinated with the next. It was clear that you worked for your anniversary with a passion for detail and beauty.

The blonde could not be present at the preparations for your wedding, she was busy saving the city from a dangerous alien. But this time she enjoyed it much more intensively, knowing that both her sister and you could not be happier than at this point in time. The people her sister had dated were nice but could never compare to you. You brought forth something in the eldest Danvers that no one had done before.

In the midst of all this hectic activity and her deep thoughts, you suddenly appeared behind her, a bright smile on your lips, your hair slightly disheveled from work. She could tell right away that you wore a smile that was full of anticipation and mystery. "Kara!"

“Y/n, it looks really spectacular. Alex will be thrilled." The blonde exclaimed with a mixture of excitement and relief, walking the last steps that separated the two of you to wrap you in a tight hug. After a while, you separated yourself from her and stepped next to her closer to the edge of the balcony. You nodded vigorously, unable to take off your wide grin. "I hope so. I have all of her favorite things here, and the guest list is also full of all our friends and family. It's going to be an evening full of joy and memories.“

Kara gently placed an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to her. "Believe me, she'll love it," with a kiss on your temple, you rested your head on her shoulder and joined her in surveying the final preparations that were being completed, ready to reveal the secret of the evening and mark the beginning of an unforgettable fifth anniversary.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sunlight slowly dipped towards the horizon and the first stars began to twinkle lightly in the sky. Kara´s bedroom glowed with a warm light coming from the numerous candles on the surfaces of her furniture and the fireplace. A soft scent of vanilla and red roses hung in the air as you eagerly prepared to head off to your own anniversary party with Alex. Kara had suggested that you get ready at her place so that Alex wouldn't see you beforehand. After all, everything should be a surprise - including what you wore.

In her bedroom, a happy melody floated through the atmosphere as you stood in front of the large mirror. Your dress, an elegant, long evening gown in a shimmering burgundy red, hung on the door behind you. With a hint of excitement in your eyes, you gave yourself a smile in the mirror as you began your makeup.

The sounds of jazz music came from your phone, where the playlist for the evening was already rehearsing. The memories of five years of ups and downs flowed through your mind, and a warm feeling of gratitude spread through your heart before you prepared to sit at the dressing table, surrounded by a fine selection of lipsticks, eye shadows and perfumes.

You opened a bottle of your favorite scent, which even the redhead found hard to resist, and let the floral scent fill the air. The sparkling silver earrings Alex gave you for your first wedding anniversary were waiting on the table to be put on.

As you were applying your makeup, you suddenly felt a strange energy flowing through the room and heard a soft, magical hum. With a brush in your hand, you walked confusedly towards the door that separated you from what was happening in the anteroom. “Kara?” you asked, unsure about your sister-in-law, not actually expecting her here at this time. The blonde had promised you that she would look after the location while you got ready. “Is everything okay? I thought you wanted to-"

As you poked your head through the crack, you saw a glowing portal open in the middle of the room. Out of the shimmering light emerged a figure that seemed familiar at first glance. It wasn't until you took a second look that you saw Alex, appearing in a swirl of colors and sparks. "Babe, are you okay? I thought you were on your way to Sam," you asked with a mixture of fear and surprise, narrowing your eyes as you looked at her closely. The clothes she wore were strange and definitely not something she ever seemed to wear. The redhead seemed worn out and there was no love or happiness shining in her eyes like it used to. Just a dark shadow, while the features of her face seemed unnaturally hard.

"Y/n," she spoke in a voice that cut icy through the night and sent a shiver down your spine. She walked towards you with slow steps and a mischievous grin and you immediately sensed that something was wrong. "You have to come with me. Right now."

You took a step back, gripped by an inexplicable unease. You stared at the person who was acting differently than your partner, feeling a strange feeling arise within you as she continued to walk towards you with slow and dangerous steps. "Why? Where do you want to take me? And who are you anyway?"

Alex twisted her face into a mocking smile and snorted contemptuously. "I'm your wife, silly. Just from another dimension. My wife is lost forever and now I'm here to take you with me." she spoke delicately, a devilish smile slipping across her black painted lips. Her hand placed itself on your shoulder and gently moved down until she reached your wrist and gripped it painfully. You winced, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to suppress the flash of pain in your forearm. "You can't just show up here and expect me to come with you. You're a stranger."

She glared at you with reddish, shiny eyes, that sent shivers down your spine. Her grip on your wrist tightened, her cold fingers wrapping around your bare skin. She was angry. Very angry, but you could see a hint of sadness in her icy eyes. And despite the unpleasant situation, you felt a mixture of sympathy and irritation. "I may be able to help you, but not if you treat me like this. I'm sorry you lost your wife but I won't go with you. My Alex is here and I won't leave her.“

"But I am stronger, smarter and more determined while your Alex is weak and naive. You would be better off with me than with anyone else who only shares their physical resemblance with me." With a quick movement she raised her hand and released a beam of crimson energy at you. "You will follow me whether you want to or not. In my world there are possibilities that you cannot even imagine."

Without waiting for an answer, she violently pulled you through the portal. Reality blurred and a light briefly blinded you. As the veil lifted, you stumbled through the swirl of color, dazed and with a sharp pain in your head.

"What have you done?" You whispered, staggering and trying to focus on your surroundings. Disoriented and irritated, you looked at the dark, distorted version of National City as you knew it. Dark Alex, as you had already called her in your head, smiled triumphantly and looked down at you as you got on all fours, still trying to free yourself from the spinning dizziness that was taking over you. "Welcome to my world, my darling. Here we will see how strong you really are and whether you can do justice as my wife."

You felt trapped in a strange, hostile and cold dimension. Ignorance of what was going on and burning concern for your real wife led to a mixture of fear and determination. But what you didn't know was that your real Alex, left on her own Earth, was locked in a box somewhere far away from the city, temporarily switched off by unconsciousness and magical chains that rendered her unable to move even the slightest.

You knew that a battle would begin to rage between dimensions to determine your whereabouts.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The festively decorated hall was filled with a lively murmur and the clinking of champagne glasses as Kara, the Superfriends, and other guests excitedly waited for you and Alex. The room glowed with a warm light in the darkness of the evening as the candles flickered on the tables and soft melodies floated through the air.

The blonde, in an elegant dress, walked nervously through the crowd, her super ears alert to every noise, while Lena, Winn and Sam stood at the entrance of the hall, looking for you. The anticipation in the air gradually faded as the minutes passed and neither of you showed up. "It's unusual for these two to be so late," said Winn, looking worriedly at his watch and swaying nervously on his feet.

Lena frowned her brow in worry. She also found it strange. You were particularly punctual in everything else you did. "I tried calling y/n but it only goes to voicemail. Maybe they're late or stuck in traffic? I really hope everything is okay."

The mood among the guests became increasingly nervous as more time passed and the two of you still didn't show up. Kara felt a vague unrest inside her, as if something had gone terribly wrong. She decided to investigate the situation and set out to look for her sister and sister-in-law.

In the meantime, a tense silence filled the hall. The guests whispered worriedly to each other as the music in the background grew quieter and quieter. Lena, Winn, Sam and J'onn tried in vain to call any of you, but all attempts to contact failed.

Finally Kara returned, her face expressionless. The tension between the superfriends was palpable as the blonde walked sternly towards them and addressed the concerned guests. "I couldn't find her. Alex isn't home and y/n isn't in my apartment. However, her dress is still hanging untouched in my bedroom and-" she paused for a moment, pulling a small electronic device out of her jacket pocket. "This is y/n's cell phone. The music was still playing on it when I got to my apartment but she wasn't there. Something is wrong."

A hint of unease crossed the crew's faces. The anniversary celebration, which was planned to be full of joy and celebration, turned into a worrying situation of waiting and uncertainty. "What do we do now?" Sam asked questioningly.

"We have to find out what happened. I'm going to work with J'onn and fly to the DEO. Maybe we can find something out there," she replied with a firm look on her face, the growing concern for the both of you only increasing. "Winn and Lena, can you please go to my apartment and see if you can spot any alien activity?"

The Superfriends nodded solemnly as Kara headed off with J'onn to take action. The once happy atmosphere of the day was tinged with worry and anxiety as everyone hoped that you and Alex would return safely to celebrate your anniversary.

The night fell like a dark cloak over National City as Supergirl flew through the streets with a worried look in her eyes. Her super senses were at their peak as she searched for signs of her sister. The unsettling thought that something was wrong made her heart beat faster by the minute.

On a quiet side street, a faint sign of life pierced her super ears. Supergirl slowed her trajectory to locate the source of the sound, her X-ray ability sweeping over the abandoned factory before breaking through the light metal garage door. In a flash she landed next to a dark box, ripping the lid off the nails, seeing her sister lying there with iron chains and a purple aura surrounding her. "Alex.."

Her hands shot out to check the redhead's pulse. The heartbeat was slow, almost imperceptible. She immediately contacted J'onn and the DEO through the comms she had set up before her flight. But the chains made it much more difficult for her to bring the young agent to the DEO. The metal magically burned through her skin upon contact. She had to hurry up. "J'onn, I found Alex. She is unconscious and her heartbeat is extremely weak. I am taking her to the medical department immediately."

Meanwhile, Winn and Lena were already in Kara's apartment, looking for clues to your whereabouts. The room was in pristine condition, but the sight of your abandoned dress on the bedroom door worried the two of them. Lena held it carefully between her fingers and examined it as Winn used the DEO's technology to search for alien activity in the area.

The two continued searching the blonde's apartment when suddenly Winn's detectors picked up on some unusual, changing air. They looked at each other as they noticed that the particle sensors in the air were revealing their presence in the apartment. "I knew something was wrong. She would never abandon us without a reason. Especially not Alex."

"That's strange," Winn muttered, pointing to the display on his monitor as he rapidly typed something on the keyboard. "There are some alternate dimension particles in the air here. That suggests a portal was recently opened here. Lena frowned. "A portal? Here? But how is that possible?"

Winn re-examined the readings and discovered some kind of energetic pattern in the room. "It looks like a portal was active here, but it's been closed. It seems like y/n went through a portal."

"But why? And who could be responsible for it? After all, she has no ability to open such a portal," the black-haired woman speculated and Winn looked up. "Good questions that unfortunately we can only get answers from y/n."

As the two desperately tried to search for answers, uncertainty hung over them. A mystery seemed to be unfolding, and those who knew you best sensed that something big was afoot. They stayed in the apartment with the feeling that a strange, mysterious world had forced its way into their lives and taken one of them with it. The magic of the portal and the unsolved mysteries about your stay hung like a shadow over the two of them.

Meanwhile, Supergirl had arrived at the DEO with Alex. The doctors immediately took over medical care while Supergirl waited nervously nearby. J'onn walked up, his eyes worrying. "What do you think happened?"

"I don't know. But what I know is that something serious must have happened,“ she said with a sigh. Her shaky and slightly sweaty hand cupped her forehead and laboriously brushed away the wrinkles that appeared as she frowned. "Have Winn and Lena at least found out something about my sister-in-law yet?"

"Yes, they did. And you won't like it," he replied, putting his hands on his hips. He watched the expression on her face, the panic that overtook her, even if she didn't want to show it on the outside. "They found particles that Winn was able to trace back to a portal."

As the Martian continued to show her more details about the discoveries in her own apartment, the redhead slowly began to regain consciousness when the DEO's resources were used to successfully remove the iron chains from her. She struggled to sit up in bed against the doctors' wishes, still very dizzy. "What happened?" Alex murmured, her memories slowly returning. She was able to piece together some fragments of her memories, but she hoped for a complete answer, which she still lacked. She held her head, which hurt badly from the attack and her attempted self-defense.

"You were found unconscious. We don't know exactly what happened, but we're looking for y/n. She's missing," Kara explained to her, gently stroking her disheveled hair.

She looked at her sister with wide eyes, fear and terror crossing her face. Her pupils dilated rapidly, making her eyes appear darker, as she tried to rip the vein access and electrocardiogram from her body. Kara stopped her. "There was someone who came into our apartment through a portal just as I was getting ready."

Supergirl and J'onn perked up their ears. "Who was it?"

"She looked exactly like me. She threatened to take my wife away. After that there was a fight, she overpowered me and then..." she stopped talking, knowing what happened next. Alex from another dimension had carried out her threats.

Kara nodded slowly, slowly pushing her sister back into bed. She promised to bring her sister-in-law back safely into Alex's arms while the redhead rested from the attack. After all, she had been attacked with an energy that did not exist on this world and could produce side effects that did not come from earth.

As the mystery of your disappearance deepened and unraveled, Winn and Lena continued to work with the DEO to trace the portal particles and alien activity. J'onn mobilized all of the DEO's resources to find out which dimension was responsible, while his best agent and your friends remained in the dark, not knowing where a family member had disappeared to.

[bertytravelsfar]

First Sentence(s) Game

Thank you for the tags @khorazir and @discordantwords - you’re both delicious!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Only Yesterday   On nights like these John walks.

This Time    Sherlock spots him immediately - new jacket, barely touched tea, has been running his hands through his recently trimmed hair.

Camels, Straws and Backs   "Sherlock!" John is usually very aware of Mrs H living below them - it must be hard for her, and he and Sherlock should really be paying her a lot more than they are for the kind of crap that they put her through on a weekly basis.

Love Like Ours   He’d already been on his way to the tube station when he realised he’d forgotten his blind date’s number. Molly had written it on a torn off corner of a lab chart for him, so John had trudged all the way back and been upstairs looking through the pockets of his other jeans when he heard them come in.

The Gag Gift Recurrence    John Watson is too old for Valentines - he's a grown man, for goodness sake -  a doctor, and a war veteran. The bathroom scales tell him he should not have chocolates, he has no need for overpriced roses and he's never, ever seen a heart-laden greetings card that hasn't made him feel either faintly nauseous or horribly patronised. 

The Happily Ever After Hypothesis     John? Where are you? SH

Smiling to himself, John wonders when exasperation and sporadic, demanding text messages became what love means to him.

If There Were Any Time For A Miracle        "Sherlock?" John pops his head around the bedroom door and finds the madman half-dressed and investigating the silvering on the back of his (probably) antique mirror with a manicure set. The strangest thing about this is that John doesn't find it strange at all. Not anymore.

Chances Are      At first it’s blinding light and a wall of pressure, like being lifted and shoved aside by a massive, invisible hand. In an instant the heat registers: suffocating, rolling and fierce, it scrubs at his flesh and roars in his ears with a stabbing pain that doesn’t recede

.Dunk Drialing    “The think… thinking…  thing … is…”

Sherlock pulls the phone away from his ear and checks the name on the caller ID again. No, no mistake. He would not have picked up the call if it hadn’t been for John’s name – he prefers to text.

“John? Are you alright?”

“Wha? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m good thanks.” There’s a short pause. “How are you?”

The House on Rue des Boulangers    “I could have sworn it was on here,” Mme Hudson mutters for the third time. She peers at the offending collection of keys in the light from John’s phone and tuts.

Lots of people already tagged, so I’m tagging anyone who wants to play who hasn’t already - PLEASE come and show us what you’ve got.

[priestessofspiders]

My Son's Reflection Is Wrong

I have always been afraid of mirrors, ever since I was a young child. I knew it was irrational of course. I never was afraid when I would see my reflection in a puddle or on the darkened window of a shop as I walked down the street. It was specifically mirrors which made me uncomfortable. I always feared that I would see something other than myself looking back at me.

This explains why I was less than thrilled to find the large, antique silver mirror in the bedroom of the house I was renting. Were it my own place I would have thrown it out then and there, leaving it on the curb and relying solely upon the mirror in the modern and well-kept bathroom for all necessary reflective purposes. Alas, I didn't think my landlord would think too highly of his tenant tossing out expensive antique furniture, so I contented myself to simply move it into a spare room.

I had moved to the house for the simple reason that it was fairly cheap and I didn't have much other choice. My husband passed away earlier that year due to a heart condition, leaving me simultaneously a widow and solely responsible for the care of my son, Chester. Fortunately, my husband's life insurance policy turned out to be reasonably generous, but I still needed to downgrade our living situation if I was to take care of Chester without another source of income. Beyond the obvious fact that I have now been left to raise a child without the assistance of a spouse, there is another reason why I cannot supplement my funds by taking on a job; Chester is autistic.

I want to make it very clear, I'm not an "Autism Mom". I loathe the self-absorbed whiners who spend every spare second complaining about the immense burden of raising an autistic child, who bellyache endlessly about how difficult their lives are. I hate all the videos of exasperated parents recording their child's meltdown on camera, to show to all the world how difficult it is for them. I am disgusted whenever I see some selfish moron recommend ABA "therapy" to keep unruly autistic children's more unconventional behaviors in check. My son is not a cross to bear, not a weight on my shoulders. He is my child, and I love him.

I won't deny it can be difficult sometimes, but I can only imagine how hard it is for him. I find the terms "high functioning" and "low functioning" are relatively useless descriptors. Like most things in life, it is a tad more complicated than that. Chester is, generally speaking, nonverbal, and I've never known him to say more than 20 words in a single day. In addition, he tends to get overstimulated quite quickly from loud noises, and often flaps his hands as a form of stimming, especially when he is having some difficulty expressing what he wants. The only behavior of his which ever actually frustrates me is his elopement, which in the context of autism means that he has a tendency to wander off or run away whenever he feels stressed. We work around these traits, and I think generally I've been able to make life quite comfortable for him.

Chester has always shown quite an aptitude for reading and writing, despite his relatively young age of only 9 years old at the time we moved. When he needed something that cannot be articulated through gestures or single words, he would write it down on a whiteboard I've given him for this purpose. To help with his sensory issues regarding loud noises, I purchased a set of ear plugs for him, the same sort that one would wear at a gun range to prevent hearing loss. These generally aren't necessary within the confines of the house, but on those occasions when we do go out in public, I genuinely think they help him quite a bit.

Given his condition, combined with the relative isolation of our new rural home, it has been necessary to homeschool Chester, though that hasn't really been any sort of a problem. Before I got married I spent a few years teaching elementary school, so I already have the required skills. I've always believed in a somewhat more active approach to learning than some of my peers, and since our new home is located directly next to a forest, this was fairly easy to accomplish.

The house itself was rather old, built in the 1920s if my landlord was to be believed. While recently renovated to a more modern standard at some point in the preceding decades, it still has an air of oldness to it, something in the angles and general structure of the place. The main feature that seemed significantly out of place was the wrought iron fence that surrounded the house, a far cry from the traditional wooden fence I was used to from a life in the suburbs. There was no formal gate that led out to the forest behind the house, just a gap in the fencing with a small pile of rusting iron posts nearby. I never asked the landlord about it, but judging by a stump outside the boundaries of the backyard, I assumed a tree must have fallen down and damaged it.

Children don't want to sit still and be lectured, they want to be outside, to run around and be active. I'd always try to teach Chester his lessons in a way that connected to the forest. I'd lift up logs and show him all the squirming creatures underneath so I could teach him all the differences between them. I'd have him count the rings of a fallen tree and teach him about the things that happened in the tree's long and storied life. I know that sometimes he would get bored, while I do believe kids love learning, I'm not an idiot. I know that sometimes children just want to run and play, but I genuinely do believe he got more out of our lessons in the woods than he would have gotten from a traditional school environment.

Even outside of the context of Chester's lessons, we spent a lot of time in those woods, slipping out through the gap in the fence into the forest beyond. There was something so peaceful about that place, it felt remarkably untouched by the civilization that bordered it. I'm not sure exactly how far the forest extended, but it always seemed to go on forever, like if you just kept walking you could go the whole rest of your life surrounded by trees. I always kept a fairly close eye on Chester when we were out there. As much as I loved the place, I did often worry that he would simply run off, but there was never anything stressful enough in the woods to make him do so. The only real concern was to make sure he took of his shoes once he got back to the house, as otherwise he would track dirt inside, making quite the mess.

Things went on the way I described them for about a year after my husband's passing. In between my caring for Chester and all the mundane errands of modern life, I attended therapy and worked to move on from the loss. I began to make peace with the fact that he was gone. Chester and I celebrated his 10th birthday out in the woods, moving to the backyard once night fell so we could finish off the evening roasting hot dogs over the firepit while I read him some relatively tame ghost stories. Chester didn't like scary movies or violent video games, but gently spooky stories, the sort that send a pleasant chill down your spine, made him quite happy. I believe I was reading out The Mezzotint to him when we heard the music.

It was a soft, strange sound, a faint piping emanating out from the forest beyond, gentle yet eerie somehow. The faint notes reminded me of the sound of panpipes, but not quite. If I listened very closely, I could almost discern a faint drumming as well. Chester looked out into the darkness beyond the fire, flapping his hands gently. He didn't seem upset or scared, just faintly awestruck. "Fairies", I heard him whisper.

I felt somewhat uncomfortable as we both looked out into the blackness of the forest. The sound of crickets had died utterly as soon as the piping began, and we sat in silence, listening to that peculiar and otherworldly performance. It felt like something out of a dream, and I don't think it would be possible for me to recall the melody in any real detail. It was ephemeral somehow, slipping through the cracks of my memory like water through a sieve even as I listened.

At some point the music ceased, and the crickets returned to their chirping. I led Chester back inside and tucked him gently into bed. I've never been especially afraid of intruders, given how far away we were from any major population center, but that night I double checked that all the doors and windows in the house were firmly locked.

- - -

I didn't sleep well that night. I'll admit I'd still not gotten used to sleeping alone, and often had difficulty falling asleep, but this felt different somehow. It seemed that whenever I was close to finally falling unconscious, I'd see a shadow pass across the wall, or hear something just on the very edge of my perception, something that reminded me faintly of music. Whenever I'd jolt up in bed, looking or listening for what I thought had disturbed me, there was nothing there. At some point I must have finally fallen asleep, because found myself blinking out the daylight from my uncovered window, groggy and irritable. My skull throbbed with a terrible headache. My alarm clock hadn't gone off, it seemed to have become unplugged in the night. Possibly in my tossing and turning the cord had somehow come out of the socket.

It was in the late morning, far later than I usually woke up, and Chester was frustrated because he hadn't had breakfast yet. He didn't say anything, but he seemed glum and looked at me with justifiable annoyance and hunger. I did my best to prepare him some scrambled eggs and bacon, but in my pain and fatigue I managed to burn the bacon and cook the eggs to an unpleasant, rubbery consistency. I deeply regret what happened next.

I swore about the bacon, the eggs, the pan, the stove, the landlord, my dead husband, anyone and anything that could conceivably be even somewhat to blame for the ruined breakfast. I know it was wrong to react like that in front of my son, I know it was immature, but I was tired, in pain, and just wished desperately I could go back to bed.

When I'd finished with my profanity-laced rant, I heard the back door closing and looked out the window to see Chester fleeing out into the forest, visibly distressed.

"Shit," I muttered to myself, and ran out the door after him, calling for him to come back. I tripped on one of the fallen iron fence posts and fell to the ground, knocking the air from my lungs. When I recovered enough to stand up, Chester was long gone, vanished among the trees.

I looked through those woods for hours. As I've described earlier, I don't know how large the forest behind my house is, but it still feels odd that in all that time I never saw him. Chester's only 10 years old, he isn't some sort of Olympic sprinter, and the foliage isn't so thick that I could have lost him that easily. I kept wandering among the trees, shouting out Chester's name with increasing panic. Sometimes I thought I'd hear a branch snapping or a child's giggle, and I would turn about, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the sound's source, but there would be nothing there. It was fairly far along in the afternoon when I finally decided to head back and call the police.

Despite how long I'd spent in the forest, it was a remarkably quick walk back to the house. It felt almost as if the walk into the woods was somehow further than the walk out. I opened the door and started moving to the bedroom to get my phone, when I suddenly saw Chester sitting on the couch, reading a book.

I nearly wept with relief and rushed to hug him, apologizing over and over for scaring him and asking if he was okay. I was so happy to see my son again I wasn't even angry with him for running off.

"I'm alright mom. I'm really sorry for running off, I was just scared. I won't do that again, please don't be angry" said Chester, tears welling up in his eyes.

I froze.

Chester rarely spoke more than a single word at a time. His longest sentences I could remember before this were maybe 3 or 4 words long at most. This was utterly unprecedented, and I had no idea how to react whatsoever.

"Mom? Are you okay?" he asked, looking at me with a confused look on his face.

- - -

The next week went by very strangely. To be very clear, autism isn't something that just goes away. It's not a disease, it's not something that can be "cured". And yet, Chester no longer showed any signs of his previous behavior whatsoever.

His personality seemed intact. The sort of things he now spoke aloud seemed relatively in keeping with the sentences he would have previously written on the whiteboard. He still had the same love of reading, the same interest in ghost stories, he still played with the same toys. In all respects he was the exact same boy as before, simply now he was neurotypical.

He didn't have to wear earplugs out in public anymore, and true to his word he never ran off when under stress. He didn't even flap his hands, he just kept them calmly at his sides. It was totally surreal.

One day I was teaching him his lessons out in the woods, and he told me "Mom? I think I want to go to regular school. I want to be with the other kids." I was completely taken aback. Chester had never showed even the slightest interest in going to a public school before this, and on the few occasions he'd had to interact with other children, he'd been far too shy to play with them. Of course I told him I'd be happy to send him to school, what else was I supposed to say? That night I sent off emails to the nearest schools in the area, asking about late enrollment.

It was the second week after Chester's sudden and unprecedented transformation that I began to notice something else that was strange. Despite the fact that we were spending a decent amount of time outside in the woods, Chester never left any dirty footprints in the house anymore. It wasn't that he had suddenly become more careful about taking his shoes off, he was still running inside with his sneakers on the same as he always had, but there was never any dirt or mud. I just assumed at the time he must have been wiping his shoes off while I wasn't looking, and in all honesty I didn't pay it much mind. It's only in retrospect, knowing what I do now, that this sticks out in my mind.

He also didn't eat very much anymore. He didn't snack at all, and whenever I prepared him his meals, he only ate very small portions. He never showed any signs of weakness or that he was losing weight, so I didn't bother him about it, there would be no point in forcing him to eat more than he wanted to, but it did strike me as very odd.

It wasn't until the incident with the mirror that I realized that it wasn't my son.

I was looking for some books I'd packed away in cardboard boxes in the spare room. There wasn't a lot of space on the bookshelf in the living room, so I tended to switch out the books on a semi-regular basis for ones kept in the spare room, aside from a handful of mainstays. It was while I was doing so that Chester walked over to the doorway and asked me where I had put his toy robot. I looked up from what I was doing to answer him, when I caught something out of the corner of my eye, something deeply wrong. It was the old silver mirror, pointed towards the doorway. It wasn't reflecting my son.

I turned to look closer, my words dying on my lips as I gazed at the figure in the mirror, the old terror I'd always felt looking into such things resurfacing suddenly and violently.

The thing was dressed in Chester's clothes, but that was about the only real resemblance the thing bore to him. It was a crude marionette, carved from untreated and unpainted wood, clumps of bark still clinging to it in places. The mouth had a jaw like that of a ventriloquist dummy, albeit with crooked teeth made from sharp flints jammed into the wood. I saw bits of old food stuck to the teeth and mouth, remnants of meals I had cooked earlier in the day. The eyes were simple holes with bits of colored glass, like marbles, held within. It was suspended above the ground by an inch or two by thick brown twine, like the sort one would use to close a package in days before packing tape.

I stared in stunned silence at the mirror before turning around, only to find Chester standing there, head cocked slightly in confusion. "Are you okay mom?" he asked, with concern in his voice. I turned once again to the mirror, seeing the horrible puppet thing once again. I wanted to vomit as I watched its jaw work up and down mockingly. "I'm sorry, I'll find it myself, I didn't mean to bother you" it said, before jerkily "walking" down the hallway to Chester's bedroom.

- - -

That night I watched "Chester" carefully in the bathroom mirror when he brushed his teeth, but there didn't seem to be anything strange about him at all. He moved like a person, not a puppet, and when I gently squeezed his shoulder I felt flesh and bone underneath the fabric of his clothes, not hard wood and bark.

I didn't sleep. Creepy as it may sound, I just sat in Chester's room and watched that thing lay in bed, snoring. It seemed to be asleep. I stayed there all night, just watching, until it woke up the next morning, asking me what I was doing. I didn't respond, and left without making breakfast. It's not like it would have needed it.

I wasn't even sure where I was going at first, I was just driving to clear my head. I eventually realized I was en route to an antique store the next town over. I'd visited the store a few times before, looking for bits of furniture and the like immediately after moving. I didn't know why I was headed there now, but it felt almost as if I were being drawn there somehow. I pulled into the parking lot and left my car, pushing through the shop's door with the tinkling of a bell.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for, I just wandered the store in a daze, looking around all the various bits of junk and knick knacks with disinterest. The whole store reeked of musty books and wood polish, the smell lulling me into a sort of trance as I meandered among the shelves stacked with discarded history. Eventually though, I found something that struck my eye. It was a small old hand mirror with the telltale tarnishing of real silver. It seemed to call to me somehow, and in my numbed state I didn't even fear the blank-eyed reflection that looked back at me. I picked it up and looked at the price tag. 50 dollars. More than it was worth, but not too unreasonable. I picked it up and brought it to the counter, paying in cash.

The store's proprietor, a thin old woman with graying hair and enormous spectacles, chuckled at me as she rang me up. "Planning on making a vampire hunting kit ma'am?" she asked.

"What?" I replied, the completely bizarre question startling me out of my stupor.

"Just a little joke. Halloween's coming up, and once a few years back I had a gentleman come in here and buy up all sorts of strange stuff. I asked him what he needed it for, and he told me he was going to dress up as Abraham van Helsing for the occasion. He said he was making a vampire hunting kit. One of the items he bought was an old hand mirror, rather like this one. He asked me if it was real silver, and I told him yes, but asked why that mattered, I figured silver was always the sort of thing one would use for werewolves, not vampires. He told me that the reason why vampires didn't show their reflections in mirrors was that in the old days they were made of silver, and that silver was a symbol of purity. He said that if vampires were real and walking about nowadays, they'd be reflected back just fine, since nearly all modern mirrors are made with aluminum. Doesn't tarnish I suppose."

My mind flashed to "Chester" brushing his teeth in the bathroom mirror, face as normal as could be reflecting back at me, before recalling the terrifying thing I'd seen in the old silver mirror. The old woman must have noticed me go pale, she asked me if I was alright. I nodded and left with the mirror, driving back home.

I got back at around lunchtime, and the thing that pretended to be my son asked me if I was okay, and if we would be having lunch soon. I angled the mirror so I could see its face, and saw that crude puppet mouth wagging in vague time with its speech. I told it to wait at the dinner table, and that I would be with it in a few minutes. It did as I said, sitting down and pretending to read a book with its glass eyes.

I reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out a pair of butcher's scissors. With the scissors in one hand and the hand mirror in the other, I walked up behind the puppet thing, carefully angling the mirror so I could see where the strings connected to its wooden body. I looked to see where the strings led, to see if I could get a glance at the puppeteer, but it just seemed to extend impossibly into the ceiling, passing through the plaster like a fishing line through water.

It didn't notice what I was doing until I'd already cut the first string, one connected to its left arm. It screeched in what sounded like pain, a horrible distorted cry that was a mix of mad piping and a child's scream. It swiped at me with the right arm, but I was too fast for it. After all, it was only wood and strings, and I was alive. I cut the other arm free, and both now fell limp at its sides. Next I went for the legs, snipping the strings both in quick succession. Glancing up from the mirror, I saw what looked like my son floating in the air slightly, mouth wide open as it screamed. I cut the strings connected its jaw and head, and the thing collapsed to the floor in a silent heap. The illusion had been broken, and all that lay before me was a broken puppet. Far away in the distance, I could hear the sound of pipes playing faintly in the woods, a haunting melody which I cannot quite recall.

- - -

I knew I couldn't go to the police with any of this. Who would believe a woman who claimed that her son had been replaced by a puppet? I'd be institutionalized at best, arrested for child abuse at worst, and that's assuming they ever managed to find the real Chester. I spent the rest of the day frantically researching on the internet, typing inane phrases like "child replaced puppet music pipes" or "puppet mirror child double" into the search engine, getting almost nothing useful in response, until eventually I came across some old website detailing European folklore. Specifically, the page on changelings.

I read about medieval peasants convinced their children had been replaced with those of fairies, how their real children had been taken to the woods to be raised by the monsters which stole them. I read of the ways one could protect oneself from the so-called "fair folk", of their hatred of iron. I remembered the wrought iron fence that surrounded the house, the conspicuous gap where a tree must have broken through as it fell.

I've written this in case I don't come back. I've written this so that if I'm never found, they don't think I just performed a murder-suicide in the woods out of grief. I love my son dearly, and I am going to save him from the monsters that took him from me. I can hear the hideous music of their eldritch pipes drifting through the trees, mocking me. I'm taking one of the broken iron posts with me. The tip is sharp as a spear.

[diamond-coral]

The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave  a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down. 

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America. 

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.” 

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot. 

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through. 

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”

[mariniacipher]

Gone In Sparks And Light

My gift for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange - this was written for @genderqueer-turtle. I really hope you had a merry Christmas and that you will enjoy this gift! 

Summary:  Looking at an artefact he's stolen from the archaeology lab, Remus finds a way to travel back in time, to a place where he might belong- to the people who could be meant for him.

WC: 3,830

Ships: Remus/Virgil/Logan, ment. Roman/Janus 

Warnings: mentions of resurrecting dead animals 

ao3 

~

Remus leaned over the examining table and fiddled with his microscope to examine the shard of periwinkle glass. There had been runes carved into them, and the archaeology lab was being so possessive over it. Something about him destroying the delicate work. As if he’d ever be so careless with something so delightfully strange!  

He scoffed and let his scalpel run over the glass without leaving even the hint of a mark. “No, I wouldn’t,” he muttered, looking back through the lens of the microscope. He’d stolen it after hearing about the commotion they’d all made- he just had to take a look at it! 

Remus startled as he finally recognized the marks on the glass. Fiddled with the microscope’s lens. Examined the piece of glass again. Cursed. 

His scalpel traced over the last rune in a sequence of antiquated letters and numbers and signs that could’ve come from his own lab, if it wasn’t for the fact that whoever had carved this had gone even farther in the convergence of spatial displacement with interplanar conjuring than he ever did. And he’d already revolutionized the field with his out of the box ideas. 

His hands started shaking where they still traced over a small mark in the glass. A small mistake had been made there that set the equation off, a single line missing to turn it into the very formula he’d dedicated his life to discovering after he got his doctorate. 

And now he was just one line away from finishing it, thanks to whoever it was that had carved the periwinkle glass. A laugh escaped him, hysterical and hopeful and disbelieving, shaking his body and- the noise of this scalpel scratching the glass was almost inaudible, but to Remus’ ears it sounded deafening. 

He’d perfected the formula, he realized a moment later. He’d perfected it! He’d finished his life’s work at 27, all thanks to that mysterious soul, that mysterious carver of periwinkle glass whose body must’ve left a trace of DNA on this glass. Who had to be replicable and revivable. They had to be! 

Remus was ready to take apart the glass and grind it into molecular pieces to enlarge and search through, looking for any trace of DNA he could give the necromancy department and bring them back to life, or get the spectral summoning folks on the case- anything! 

This person, this carver-of-periwinkle-glass, they were the only one who could be his match, in a field filled with industrious dimwits and lazy, narrow-minded geniuses. And this shard of glass could lead him to a person with whom he could share his lab. A person who was actually his match, who knew what they were doing just like he did. 

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment and murmuring the formula to himself, recognizing the inherent rhythm in it- a spell��s melody. Wrapping his arms around himself, he rocked back in his chair, almost hearing the symphony of magic meeting its capturing, of strings weeping and rejoicing. 

Without noticing, he raised his left hand in the air, as if conducting the magical energy with the scalpel he still held. The tight bracelet around his wrist started to glow, indicating magic to be near him. Remus didn’t notice that though, too focused on repeating the discovery- their shared discovery! After so many years of solitary work, he’d found a worthy partner, perhaps even a potential friend. No matter that time and space had tried to separate them.

He couldn’t imagine what their life had been like, what they had lived like- if they’d been just as lonely, just as severed from the world around them- if they’d wished for a companion just as much as he did. 

His wish, his desire, sent the magic innate to him outward, and the formula gave it a direction. They twisted together and converged to create a beautiful braid of light and sparks, green and dark blue and purple combining with silver thread to hold it all together. It circled in the air, being woven into a circular tapestry that flickered between aether and reality. The silver sparks reflected the light like mirrors, before showing- everything. 

Worlds and universes and planes he’d never imagine before and some he had, so different and bright Remus’ breath stopped as he saw it. 

But he kept repeating the formula, kept thinking of how its creator must’ve lived, and he saw how the silver mirrors showing the growing portal’s destination shifted, narrowing down their focus: First to only showing images of their plane, then to running back in time, then to finally showing him a small village from hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Remus could almost see himself there, could almost taste the air and feel the breeze and hear the rain that was pattering down from the sky. 

And just as his yearning reached its zenith, the silver sparks started to migrate into the centre of the circular tapestry, moulding and growing it. The portal turned into a single image of the small village, each raindrop glittering silver, framed by a braid of blue, green and purple that bled together at the edges. Remus stopped for a moment to admire it, the breath stolen from his lungs. 

Then he took a running start and jumped through it. 

~ 

Virgil rightened the wool cape over their shoulders and fidgeted with the broad scarf they’d wrapped around their shoulders and head. They were still drenched to the bone, the rain not giving them any hint of reprieve. The wool weighed heavily, damp and disgusting against their skin. Why did the market have to be so far away? They’d left their village when dawn had still been streaking the night sky with pink and purple stripes, to find the parts that Logan claimed he needed. 

Now, hours later, they were weighed down with a heavy bag filled with scrap metal, it was almost dusk and they were more than ready to let their husband hang up the woollen layers they were wearing and detangle their hair to braid it out of their face with warm, calloused hands afterwards. Their tired muscles ached for Logan’s familiar touch, to kiss and hold-

Why was Roman outside?

The rain and the darkness would usually drive him inside, to work on his costumes or his lines, and besides that Roman had been glued to Janus’ side ever since they confessed. And the snake was nothing if not consistent in their distaste for anything that went against their hedonistic desires. Virgil would know, they loved to watch them pout as they were dragged out of their comfort zone by Roman, pretending not to enjoy it, just like Roman pretended to dislike it when Janus forced him to take a break. If it didn’t devolve into them making out half the time, they would’ve even called the couple cute.  

But Roman seemed to be alone out here, and in what had to be a new costume- it was a stark white robe that shone against the drab houses the storm had turned their village into. It went down to their shins, with a similar white shirt underneath, and Virgil cursed under his breath. Light fabric was expensive, and if his friend had gotten in over his head for his creative vision again- 

“Hey, whatcha watchin’ for, hot stuff? You wanna get a piece of this?” The person- not Roman, not at all Roman- grinned, so wide it looked almost painful, shaking his hips in a way that was probably supposed to be suggestive but just let Virgil worry about his thin figure. There was a weird tension in his frame that Virgil couldn’t name. 

They frowned, hauling their bag higher up their arm to cross them before their chest. “I’ve never seen you here before, are you passing through?”  The white robe wasn’t protecting him from the rain at all and Virgil hoped he had friends in town to take him in. 

But the man shook his head. “Yeah, you could say that…,” he paused, before perking up with sudden enthusiasm. “Would you happen to know any scientists?”  

Virgil mouthed the strange word to himself before shaking their head. “No, I’ve never heard of that- what language even is that? I never… you’re not part of a cult, right?” They changed their grip around their bag again, this time to have a sharp piece of metal in arm’s reach. 

“No! I just- wait, let me think how you’d call it… maybe I should have studied history a bit, before- well, too late now.” The stranger hummed to himself. “I’m looking for a person who’s researching magic! Trying to understand and tame it, all that!” 

Virgil sighed. Of course, the maybe-cultist would look for someone of Logan’s profession; they ignored the curiosity the stranger had piqued within themself. “Then come along.” They led the way up their village’s main street and discarded the potential weapon in their bag. “My husband and I’s house is on the edge of town, and I don’t want you to freeze to death because the others think you’re possessed or something.” 

The stranger followed him, an obvious bounce in his step. “Does that happen often? I heard about possession, but never managed to get it right! I called on so many serial killers, you wouldn’t believe- the whole ritual is so disgusting, imagine how it’d look if it actually worked!” The smile on his face was positively gleeful. “Everything I read sounds positively horrid, absolutely gruesome and-” Virgil bit back a grin at the other’s open excitement. It’d been a while since they’d let themself be so excited about the more macabre side of magic. 

“Oh, you should’ve seen the reception at our wedding. I had gotten a bunch of emus and charmed them to come alive again, to carry some drinks. You should’ve seen the faces of the guests, man, it was great. And they were way better at serving the drinks than the chickens Logan wanted-” Virgil cleared their throat, suddenly growing aware of what they’d said. “Just so you know,” they added, grumbling, shoulders hitching up. 

Remus’ grin didn’t soften, but they perked up, finding the other to mirror his own interest in the dirty parts of magic and science. He leaned forward as he caught up to them with an expectant smile. “I do know now,” they said, “but you didn’t mention what spell you used at all! How am I supposed to reanimate my own flock of emus? Let alone my own flock of geese!” The scientist cackled at the idea of unleashing a flock of geese onto the archaeology department. It would be glorious and he had to get back to the present to do it at least once!

Virgil snorted, imagining their own friends’ reaction if they had to cope with a pack of wild geese. “I think you’d be run out of town for that one,” they muttered, but they were unable to hide their smile, small as it might’ve been. 

“Oh, like that hasn’t happened before! Do you know I’ve been banned from a different mall on each of my birthdays since I turned 13?” Remus bounced on his feet, rubbing his hands together as if he were a supervillain about to explain his devious plan, just to do something with them. 

“I’m Remus,” he added, a moment later, “and I’m pretty sure you’ve no idea what a mall is.” 

Virgil shook their head, but they were smiling. “Nah, but like, they can’t be that good, if they’d throw you out.” 

Remus froze, turning distinctly pink. “Okay. If you say so.” It wasn’t like he didn’t know what flirting was; in the monster romance books he secretly read there was a lot of flirting! He just. Hadn’t really ever been on the receiving end of it. But… looking at the stranger and their smile, their eyes shimmering with mirth, he’d really like to learn. 

Virgil cleared their throat, blushing too. The darkness thankfully did its best to hide it. “I’m Virgil,” they said and hoped they could convince Remus to stay a while. “And my husband’s name is Logan- you’ll love him, he’s great. As long as he’s not forcing me into a storm for his experiments, at least.” They chuckled, more fond than bitter. 

Remus nodded eagerly at the reminder of what had brought him here. “You mind telling me about those?” He leaned forward, “I’d love to hear about it.” 

Virgil laughed, “don’t tell me you’re another one of those logicians- I’ve already got enough with Logan and his attempts to anger the spirits.” 

Remus sputtered. “I don’t want to anger them! Just… get to the bottom of them. Are you honestly telling me that you’re happy with just accepting the ways they work? Just like that?” 

“No, I just- c’mon, we’re almost home, talk to Logan about your attempt to get struck by lightning.” But their smile belied the disinterest of Virgil’s words. Just what they needed, really, another person to anger the ones above and below. 

The two of them had arrived at the top of the hill the village stood on and could look below: the cliff coast, steep and jagged, the grey sea crashing against it, with a small cottage standing at its edge. The thatched roof was dark with rain and the garden around it seemed to be filled with herbs and flowers, some of which Remus had only seen in archaeological texts. 

The scientist ran forward as he spotted those, gasping as he cradled the bloom of a dark blue lily that had supposedly been used to dye clothes with its blooms and season potions with the dried leaves. Remus was almost cackling with glee as he imagined what the people at the archaeological department would say if they heard about missing out on this. 

He turned around from where he’d crouched down on the ground to face Virgil, not paying attention to the house. “What’re these?” 

“My mother always called them gunny’s blossoms,” came the reply from behind him, and Remus could see Virgil roll their eyes before turning around and standing up to face the other man- Virgil’s husband, most likely. 

The man was short- shorter than Remus and definitely shorter than his spouse, wearing a too-big woollen coat that probably belonged to Virgil, under which Remus could spot embroidered robes. He could’ve sworn he recognized some of them from either his textbooks or the designs still so popular in churches and temples, but they were covered up by the man’s crossed arms. “And what should I call you?” 

“Remus!” he introduced himself with a bow, exaggerated and clumsy, but he carried it with confidence. “I cannot say how happy I am to meet you- is it right that you are working with making magic make sense? Your spouse mentioned, but- I’ve got to be sure.” 

Logan looked over at Virgil, face creased with confusion. His spouse merely shrugged. “I am working on capturing the powers that be into clear, replicable form, yes. Are you in the field as well?” 

Remus laughed at the question. “In the field, yes- pioneered a good deal, back in-'' he looked around himself as if fearing to be struck by lightning when speaking his breaking of the laws of time and space aloud. “Can I come in? I’d love to talk to you- you both.” He rocked back and forth on his heels; this was the furthest he’d come in making new frien- acquaintances, right now, he reminded himself, even though it hurt- and he was weirdly jittery. Nerves firing and pores excreting sweat. He would’ve been delighted at the grossness had it been any other time. 

But Logan nodded, his curiosity seeming piqued as he exchanged a look with his spouse. There was a new light in his eyes and even though this was the first time Remus saw it, he wanted to keep it there for as long as possible. Judging by the softness that gentled Virgil’s expression, he wasn’t the only one. 

“Of course,” Logan finally said, turning back to the door. “You’re free to pick some gunny’s blossoms if you’d like. We have more than enough.” 

Remus made a high-pitched noise at the back of his throat, grabbing a handful of them and holding them to his nose. It coloured his face blue and Virgil snorted, not as derisive as they’d wanted to. 

“It tingles!” Remus rubbed at the pollen and colour on his face. 

“Yeah, that’ll be the rash you’re about to get,” Virgil smiled, as though they weren’t already reaching for one of the vials attached to their belt. “Lo, do you-” 

“Yes.” Logan already stood next to them with a rag, wetting it with the tincture Virgil had brewed for their husband less than a week before. They both led Remus inside with ease and the scientist would’ve looked around himself if he hadn’t been so focused on the couple now sitting him down on a chair that had to be freed of fabric- “Virgil, you said you’d clear another chair- and what if someone sat here? The magic you embroidered into this would be completely corrupted!” 

“Well, you didn’t notice until now, did you?” Virgil shook their head, “I’ll bet you didn’t eat lunch either. Besides, my magic isn’t so fragile-” 

“-It is nonetheless worthy of protection!”  

Virgil grumbled in reply to that, but Remus could swear there was a redness to their cheeks that couldn’t be attributed to the cold outside. They crossed the room, folding the piece of fabric as they went. 

Remus tried to catch a look at what was painted onto it- were those runes pre-roman?- but Logan stepped into his line of sight, holding the same rag as before, but now it was covered with some kind of liquid. It was kind of sizzling the wool but didn’t seem to burn it. 

“Do not worry, Virgil’s version is only so bubbly because it is more fitted to human skin- I’d know, I’ve got it on me at least twice a week.” Logan smiled, fond and soft and so close. Remus watched him, for the first time in his life completely stunned, as the other man gently wiped off the colour from the flowers. He didn’t even notice how his grip on those still in his hands slackened until a few hit the floor. But the wood was already so stained- from potion accidents, runic accidents and cooking gone wrong- that it didn’t make a real difference. 

“You, ah-” Remus caught his breath, looking Logan straight in the eyes. They were light brown- a mundane colour, but, for the first time, it reminded Remus of amber, of acorns in the summer, of wilderness in a seemingly calm form. But only seemingly, as the house around him proved. “What’re you working on?” 

Logan’s smile grew at that, his eyes shining. “Oh, it’s fascinating- I’m trying my hand at abstraction! You might’ve heard of some magicians in the cities doing it, and I’ll admit their research gave me the base idea, but, looking at their works I’d noticed how contained they all were by only using the written word-” 

“-as they should,” Virgil interrupted, but it bore no heat and only caused Logan to continue, louder and decidedly looking away from his spouse. 

“BUT by applying some runes and numbers to it I started to get much further ahead- I’m just trying some thought experiments now.” 

Remus nodded. “Yes! Are you by any chance working on travelling spells? Because I found some, in-” he rocked back and forth in his chair, fiddling with the flowers’ stems in his hands- “some glass with inscriptions of it, and it led me here when I wished for its creator- I’m from the future, y’see, and I,” he smiled, looking around the house again. Looking at the work desk covered in glass and gems and fragile tools, the corner covered in heaps of fabrics, and thread and needles alongside paints and brushes. Looking at an easel leaning against the construction of glass and metal that looked like a telescope, the tapestries hanging from some walls with painted and embroidered runes, words and old spells. He could spy into another room that was filled with vials and kettles, a chemist’s lab from a long time ago, and he wondered if Virgil’s paints were magic in themselves. 

“You?” Logan asked as Remus was captured by the house around him, curious in a gentle way. Remus melted at it, leaning into the hand still cradling his head, despite the blue from the flowers already being gone. 

“I’m from the future,” he replied, and something crashed in the background as Virgil turned around quicker than light. 

“You’re what?” Their eyes were wide with wonder and they stalked over to them as fast as their legs would take them. 

“You have to tell us everything- you said you were working on abstracting magic too?” Logan started flapping his hands as he thought, and the obvious stim made Remus rock again, elated to find the other man was like him. “Oh, would you work alongside me? I’ve been simply stuck at trying to find a way to define a natural element and-” 

“-oh, the Gregorian Dilemma? I solved that just a few weeks ago, but you, you figured out how to travel through time and space- you have to explain your process!”

“How do you- I was just about to finish my fine-tuned carving of it-” 

Remus nodded- “on periwinkle glass?” 

“Yes, how did you-” 

“- I found it! It’s what led me here in the first place.” 

Logan laughed, stunned and delighted and Remus joined him easily. 

Virgil snorted fondly at the display. “But, Lo, you didn’t hear the most important thing yet- he never summoned a thing- they lost it, apparently, in the future. I have to show you how we do it, you would love it-” 

“-Yes!” Logan exclaimed. “And you’d get to use-” 

“- The new tapestry of luminous elation? I’d thought so too-” 

“- “what, like the spirit,” Remus interrupted, and the spouses easily slid into explaining and inviting, just as Remus started explaining and accepting. The three of them didn’t even notice how the time went by until the food Logan had prepared before started boiling over, and they all hurried to the kitchen to clean up the mess and Remus ate slightly-burnt stew with them like it was normal, the three of them making space on the dinner table. 

Remus put away the periwinkle glass, enlarged thanks to the cloth it’d been placed on, the formula he’d see through a microscope just hours before now easily legible. It was a magic he had never heard of before, and as he asked Virgil explained, interrupted by additions by Logan and Remus alike but always listened to. 

And Remus found himself fitting right in. 

[kalimagik]

Becoming a Home:  Journey to Hogwarts - Ch. 8

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: Here is the 8th chapter of our series that has been such a joy in my life. I have enjoyed writing this part so much. There is love and fluff and all sorts of cuteness! Huge thanks to @iliveiloveiwrite​, @heloisedaphnebrightmore​, @obsessedwithrandomthings​, and @firewhisky-kisses​ for reading and helping me come up with ideas for this chapter! I hope you all enjoy <3

Series Masterlist

The portal stood open in front of her. Ana had already hugged the other girls goodbye, they were happy to be staying, but going was just for the best. Hermione may have found the citizenship loophole, but she hadn’t seemed to warm up to Ana anymore.

She looked back at the faces that she loved so much. Who knew that a book club could have led to all of this? Even though Des, Kiara, Ellie, and Mel were there, one face wasn’t watching her - Ron. Ana had told him to stay back at the Burrow. She said her goodbyes to the Weasleys there. Only Arthur was with her now.

“Goodbye, Ana,” Ellie spoke again as Ana took a step forward, waving one more time. She could feel the power of the portal and almost see home. It was such a weird feeling. The room across the barrier was home, she should be happy to be going back. Ana hesitated a second longer - was this the right choice? If it was, why wasn’t she smiling?

“ANA! WAIT! Please, don’t go!” Ron bursted into the Ministry room, pushing through those who were seeing Ana off. He was slightly out of breath, signifying that he ran through the entire building to find her. He didn’t stop until Ana’s hands were in his own and he could brush the loose blond hair out of her face.

“What are you doing here, Ron? I told you not to come.” Ana looked past Ron at Hermione, who was in the corner, making sure everything was going smoothly. Her eyes then drifted to her four friends. Despite all being very different people, they were all romantics. They were watching her with wide eyes and pouts on their faces.

“I couldn’t just let you leave,” Ron explained, drawing his attention back to you. “Ana, love, there is such a connection here. I would be a bloody idiot if I let you go. I would never be able to forgive myself.” Ron’s eyes pleaded with her. “Just give me a chance to make your life here amazing - please.”

“I don’t know, Ron. I-I -” Ana tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words. She didn’t want to seem weak in front of him. She was supposed to be a Gryffindor afterall. The portal still spun behind her, Ron unrelenting, looking for some answers. Ana breathed in deeply. “I don’t fit in here, Ron. I’m in the way,” she spoke confidently.

“What are you talking about?” Ron was still completely confused. He thought that everything had been going off perfectly. He was searching her face, trying to find some sort of explanation.

“Ana,” Hermione interjected, stepping forward from where she had been keeping rather quiet. “I know this is Ronald’s moment, but I know that you- uh, heard me a while back - talking to Ginny. I was rather harsh with you, but I can see how happy Ron makes you and you make him.” Hermione looked down at her clasp hands. Ana could tell how hard this was, but could hear how genuine her words were. “You should stay. I’m sorry.”

Ron turned back to Ana instantly. “Please, will you stay?”

“You really want me here?” she had to reiterate more for herself than anyone else. Instead of responding, Ron drew her face to his, pressing his lips firmly against her own. He conveyed everything he couldn’t say with the kiss, not caring that everyone else was watching. “Okay, I’ll stay,” the girl grinned when she pulled away, lips swollen and face lighting up.

-

Ana stood in front of her mirror, clasping a necklace around her neck. She held the pendant tenderly in her fingers, remembering how Ron insisted on showering her with gifts after she decided to stay. Ana made him return the more expensive ones, but he insisted that she kept the little silver necklace with a diamond in the middle of a star. It was now one of her favorite possessions.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” Ron grinned, standing in the doorway of their bedroom, looking at her reflection from behind her. Ana could feel the blush spreading on her cheeks as she looked over her dress one more time. “Everyone will begin arriving soon,” Ron informed her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “This evening is going to be perfect,” he whispered, placing a kiss on Ana’s temple.

The doorbell rang and Ron went to let in the first guests. Ana and Ron had just moved into a small house together right outside of London. It may have only been six months since Ana decided to stay, but when had anything about their relationship been conventional.

As a hoard of Weasleys entered the little house, Ana thought about how nervous Ron was when he asked her to move out of the Burrow and into a house of their own the month prior.

-

“Ana?” Ron timidly entered into Bill’s old room.

“Hiya,” Ana giggled, pecking Ron’s lips. “What’s up?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

Ana groaned playfully before teasing her boyfriend. “I thought I told you no more gifts. I explicitly said that me accepting the necklace meant the end of your gifts,” she giggled.

“Well, it wouldn’t be just a present for you.” Ron pulled out a little square box. Nothing like a ring box, but just a gift box. “Go ahead, open it.” He placed the little black box in Ana’s hands. She slid the lid off and flipped over the bottom half, a little gold key falling into her hand.

Ana looked up at Ron with a confused face. “What’s this?”

“It’s been a little crowded in this house recently and I had been thinking about moving out for a while, but I was wondering if you might want to come with me,” Ron looked at the girl sitting in front of him hopefully. The moment she stepped into his life, she changed everything and this was the one way that he could think of to show her how positive a change that was for him.

“Move in with you?”

“I know that it is really fast and that we’ve barely known each other a year, but everything just feels right with you. I love you.” Her breath hitched in her chest as her heart swelled. I love you, Ana and I’m not afraid of it.”

Ana immediately reached up, wrapping her arms around Ron’s neck and pulling him closer to her. “I love you too, Ron,” she beamed before kissing him.

-

“Ana! Our favorite girl,” Fred grinned devilishly, hugging her tightly.

“Don’t you look lovely, dear!” Molly exclaimed, pulling Ana into a bear hug before hugging her own son. “The place looks amazing! You really do have quite the touch,” Molly smiled, looking around the sitting room.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Ana, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Molly? Oh, George! Put that down! You are going to break it!” she scolded, turning to the younger twin. Ana chuckled to herself as the people that became her family gathered in her home, well her shared home.

Ana escaped to the kitchen for a moment to check on the dinner. She didn’t want her first big event to be ruined by a burnt ham. She was soon joined by Molly Weasley.

“I apologize for my boys. They are like having a troll in an antique shop,” Molly huffed, stirring the vegetables in the pot.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Molly,” Ana interjected, “You’re a guest tonight!”

“Nonsense, dear. I will always be here to help. Living with Ronald won’t be a walk in the park,” she laughed, busying herself.

“I am feeling a little nervous,” Ana admitted. “I’ve mostly lived by myself, not with another person to worry about and care for.”

“Ana, sweetheart, I can already tell that you are going to be a natural. My Ronald is in love with you, I can tell when I look at him. His eyes have always given it away,” Molly smiled sweetly. Ana could feel the blush rising in her cheeks, Molly’s words made her heart swell.

“I hope you’re right, Molly.”

“I’ve raised more than seven children, I know I’m right.” Molly affectionately rubbed Ana’s arms before pulling her into another hug. The plump woman could not have hoped for a better partner for her youngest son. She could tell when the two still lived at the Burrow that they would wind up with each other even if it took them a bit to figure it out themselves.

Ron was talking with Charlie when Ginny and Harry arrived,  Bill, Fleur, and little Victoire following shortly. “Blimey! Who knew that Ron could put together such a place,” Harry teased, hugging his best friend.

“You know that I did none of this, right mate? Between her charms and creative eye, Ana put this place together in the blink of an eye. I barely had time to offer to help.”

“Don’t forget that you picked out the kitchen counter and paint. It’s honestly my favorite part of the house,” Ana giggled, coming up beside him, greeting both Harry and Ginny.

-

“Ron?” Ana called from the kitchen while Ron unpacked in the bedroom. “What do you think of this color?” She held a swatch of possible paint colors up to the wall over the cracked countertop. The blond woman sighed, feeling defeated. The entire kitchen needed to be redone.

“Darling, breathe.” Ron could see the look and worry across her face, so naturally his wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.. “It already looks beautiful and this is the last thing we have to do.”

“That’s exactly why it has to be perfect,” she explained, holding the paint colors back up to the wall.

“I like that one,” Ron pointed to a very soft gray. “It will go with the dark blue cabinets and brings out the color in the counter I chose last week.” Ana eyed the color a bit, thinking about their previous choices before a smile erupted on her face.

“It's brilliant, Ron!” She turned in his arms to hug him, excited at the prospect of their home finally being finished.

“I can have it painted by week’s end before going back to work,” he promised. He would honestly do anything to see the smile that graced her face and as long as he was the one keeping it there, he would be happy.

-

The bell rang again and Ron went to answer because Victoire had rushed Ana, begging her to play dolls with her. The little blond had taken a liking to Ana after the first time they met and Ana created an entire world of make believe with the little girl.

“Ana,” Ron called, “Your friends are here! And Remus and Tonks of course!” Five couples noisily piled into the home, each commenting on the layout and greeting the entire Weasley family.

“Merlin!” Mel exclaimed, “it’s been too long, Ana.”

“You really should have stayed in London,” Ellie followed, pouting playfully.

“I don’t know you guys, it’s really great out here. It’s quiet, plus, I think you all are forgetting that we can apparate now. I can see you all seconds after I receive your owls,” she laughed, catching Ron’s eye from across the room. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

Kiara clung onto Neville’s arm. “I’ll pass on that,” she shrugged. “Maybe just a coca cola?”

“KIARA JONES? Are you turning down alcohol? I am shocked!” Ana feigned surprise.

“Bugger off,” Kaira chuckled, clinging on to Neville’s arm.

“I guess wanting a coca cola is acceptable,” Ana teased the dark haired girl, “Anyone else?”

“You know I will take one,” Des grinned widely. “Why don’t Sirius and I actually get those for everyone? It seems that you have another guest.” Des pointed to the door. Before Ana turned around to greet her last guest, she looked at all of her friends again - the friends she came to this amazing world with. They all looked so happy, each with someone they loved dearly and Ana could just see it on their faces.

Des and Sirius laughed at the bar, pouring drinks for the room. Ellie leaned into Blaise while she spoke with Tonks and Remus. Draco had his arm draped over Mel’s shoulder while speaking with the twins. She was laughing so hard at whatever the three boys had said. And Kiara and Neville were just wrapped up in each other. Thank Merlin he had given into her.

“Ana?” a soft voice spoke from the doorway.

“Hermione,” Ana smiled widely, immediately hugging the brunette. “I’m so happy that you could make it!” She held Hermione at an arm’s length, looking her up and down to make sure she looked okay. “You haven’t been working too hard, have you?” she chuckled.

“No, I actually went on holiday,” Hermione beamed. “It was wonderful.”

“Good, I’m glad. Everyone is inside, let me get you a drink,” Ana spoke, leading Hermione to where Ginny and Harry were standing. “Thank you so much for inviting me, Ana. Truly,” Hermione spoke quietly before Ana walked to get more drinks.

Friendship hadn’t come instantly, but over the last few months, Ana was really making an effort with Hermione and now they were much closer than they had been. When Ana showed interest in having a housewarming party, she instantly added Hermione to her guest list. Ron couldn’t be happier than his childhood best friend was now friends with the love of his life.

“Need some help over here, darling,” Ron asked, placing his hand on Ana’s lower back and a kiss against her temple.

“If you could take around some of the entreés, that would be brilliant. Thank you, love,” Ana grinned, handing a tray to Ron.

“I’d do anything for you,” Ron winked, taking the food around to all the chatting groups. Des popped by, handing Ana her drink before sliding her arm around Sirius’ waist, joining Ellie, Blaise, Tonks, and Remus.

Ana took in the sight of all the people she loved so much around her. There was life, happiness, and conversation filling her new home. It was exactly how she wanted it to feel all the time. It filled her heart with warmth.

“Auntie Ana?” Victoire tugged on Ana’s dress.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m not you aunt,” Ana tried to explain, bending down to be on the little girl’s level, her navy dress falling over her bent knees.

“Why not? You live with Uncle Ron?” Victoire’s innocence was precious. Ana couldn’t keep herself from smiling at the idea even though she knew that was not coming anytime soon.

Instead of arguing with the little girl, Ana just continued the conversation. “What do you need, love?”

“Do you have any cookies?”

“Mhmmmm, let me think,” Ana pretended to ponder what was in her kitchen. “You know what? I do! But, you have to make sure you eat all your dinner before you can have any, okay? Cookies don’t taste nearly as good if you don’t eat anything healthy before.” Ana laughed loudly at the disgust that appeared on Victoire’s face. “But don’t worry,” she reassured her, “I put a special batch aside for you!”

Victoire’s face brightened as she wrapped her tiny arms as far around Ana as she could before running back to her father and climbing up on his lap. It was adorable. “Someone seems to like you,” Ron cooed in Ana’s ear, wrapping his arms around her waist as if they belonged there.

“Yeah, so much so that she called me auntie,” Ana chuckled, turning in his arms so that she was facing him.

“Mhm, auntie, you say? Maybe we can make that happen one day,” Ron whispered, peppering kisses across Ana’s face, causing her to giggle.

“Not just yet,” she said over her laughter, “Let’s just enjoy this right now.” Ron nodded, kissing her forehead, then her nose, and then her lips.

“I guess I can do that,” Ron rolled his eyes, not wanting to let Ana go.

“Ronald,” she giggled, “we have guests, we should probably get back to them, and-” Ana sniffed, “I think dinner is ready!” Ana pulled away from Ron quickly and he just watched lovingly as she shuffled around the kitchen. Luckily, he was nearby because she nearly dropped the ham after pulling it out of the oven.

Ron placed many tables in a row earlier in order to fit everyone at the dining room table. It was cozy, but no one seemed to mind. Ron hit his knife against his glass after everyone had food on their plates. “How about a toast?”

“Here! Here!” George called, lifting his glass up.

Ron laughed before starting to speak, “I want to thank you all for warming Ana and I’s new home. It’s amazing to see so many people in here. You are all always welcomed like Mum opened the Burrow for everyone, I know Ana would love it,” he paused, looking at his girlfriend, “And, here is to all of the girls that turned our lives upside down when they fell into Hogwarts. I think I speak for all the lads when I say that it is the greatest chaos to ever enter our lives. Cheers!”

Glasses clinked around the table, chattering and eating beginning as Ron sat in his designated seat next to Ana. “That was beautiful,” Ana smiled, nudging Ron a bit with her shoulder.

“I meant every word of it. I love you, Ana,” Ron spoke softly, placing a gentle kiss on Ana’s lips, knowing that he would do that at least once a day for the rest of his life.

-

taglist: @jenniweaslee​​​ @just-an-outstanding-auror​​​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​​​ @ravenclaw-member​​​  @accio-slytherout​

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part seventy nine/

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: enjoy! any feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: language, angst, nikki getting caught in his lies, domestic violence

Taglist:  @brideofdraculana , @aryssav , @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless,  @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy @thanks2pete,  @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001,  @waywardprincess666, @malibubarbievince, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist  @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe,  @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @sleepyjunhong  @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @youretheonlyonewhomakesme, @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991, @xpoisonousrosesx, @cranberrirolls, @m0rnlngstar, @love-struck-aries, @findingmyths, @patheticgay69​, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @sinningsixx, @motleycrueprincess​, @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro​, @makaelahdelvalle​

~January 1st, 1996~

I opened the hotel door, staring at a woman with a food cart, "Good morning Miss Blackwood, I have your breakfast." I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and moved so she could come in.

"I-I didn't order any breakfast..." I mumbled as I watched her put silver trays on the table, taking off the lids before pouring two cups of coffee.

"Well, you were quite adamant about getting french toast when you checked in, however our kitchen was closed at one in the morning." She explained as she also set down the newspaper.

"Oh god. I am so sorry if I said anything out of line to anyone that works here I was really drunk last night. Thank you for bringing this to us....Rebecca." I looked down at her name tag for a split second and smiled.

"Oh no, you were quite the entertainment last night. My coworkers were telling me all about it. You also booked a massage and facial today at three. Our spa room is on the 4th floor. Enjoy the rest of your stay." 

I sat down and started eating, looking up when Clementine came out of the bathroom dressed in her clothes from last night, "Tommy's on his way to pick me up. We have plans with his parents this afternoon."

I glanced over at the clock and saw that it was eleven thirty, "Oh...well thanks for staying with me..." I avoided her glare and continued eating my breakfast, wincing when my stomach started churning.

"Are you gonna call Nikki?" She questioned as I closed my eyes and sat back in the chair, bits and pieces of our fight last night flooding my brain.

"Oh, uh. Yeah I'll call him after while." I took a sip of coffee, "Sorry for last night."

Clementine glanced at me through the mirror as she combed her fingers through her hair, "For what? I had fun last night." She chuckles, "It was just a dumb drunk argument. It happens to everyone. Yours are just a bit over the top, but that's also you as a person."

I chuckled a bit and took another bite, "Thanks for that Clemmy. But again I'm sorry, I know mine and Nikki's fights get out of hand quickly." I shook my head as I pushed the plate of food away from me.

"You know, when we were in New York and you'd tell me about the fights you had with him, I truly thought you were being dramatic. Clearly, I was wrong. That isn't healthy, Van."

I closed my eyes and nodded, "I know, I know." I grabbed my cup of coffee and dug through my purse for a cigarette.

"I gotta go. Tommy said he'd be downstairs at noon. I'll see you back at home later." Clementine came over and gave me a quick hug before she walked out the door.

I took a breath and went onto the balcony, traffic and people yelling coming from below. I lit the cigarette and exhaled, staring at the puffy clouds amongst the smog of the LA skyline. I know the way me and Nikki fight isn't healthy for me or him. It's just like how it's always been, we take three steps forward only to take five steps back. We haven't discussed anything since New York. Us being together, or what the future holds. It's just been pushed to the back burner.

*A few hours later*

"Yeah, keep the change." I spoke kindly to the cab driver as I pulled out a hundred dollar bill and gave it to him. I turned to face the front doors of the house when he drove away.

Okay. Just take a deep breath. He's probably calmed down by now. I've given him space.

I held my heels in one hand and my purse in the other. I opened the door quietly and popped my head inside before Anarchy came running towards me and nudged her head between my knees and went running around the front yard and drive way.

"Mommy!!" Arianna was next to run up to me, I quickly bent down to scoop her up.

"Hi baby! We're you good for Jessie last night?" I kissed her cheeks as she nodded at my words.

"Yes I was! And daddy got me a happy meal for lunch!" I put her down on the floor and she ran to the living room and grabbed a toy.

"Oh daddy remembered to get your toy this time." I pointed at the pink beanie baby dog she had, "It goes with your purple kitty!"

"Mom, can we watch Goofy?" She asked, staring at me with doe like eyes.

"Of course baby. You go get it it from the shelf and I'll go upstairs and get dressed in my jammies okay? Where's daddy?"

She pointed upstairs, "Daddy said he didn't feel good. He needs to go to the doctor."

"I'm sure daddy's fine babe." I bent down and kissed the top of her head. I walked up the stairs tip toeing as I went down the hallway.

"Arianna! What are you doing!" Nikki yelled, I stood by his door frame seeing him dressed in sweats and a black shirt but he was laying face down on the bed.

"She's downstairs. It's just me." I announced my presence as he deeply sighed. I stood up a bit taller when he sat on the edge of his bed and looked at me.

"You know, I had a real funny phone call this morning." Nikki spoke bitterly, my eyes watching every movement as he walked over to me, rubbing his face and pushing hair away.

"Oh? Who was it?" I questioned staring at everything but him as I could see and feel the rage that was spewing out of him.

"Yeah, my accountant called and asked if my credit cards were stolen because someone racked up a fifteen hundred dollar hotel bill plus, three hundred for room service, and a one hundred and fifty dollar bill for a nice little spa day....isn't that just hilarious, Vanity?" Nikkis voice was rough, my eyes kept closed until he put his hand under my chin and made me look at him.

"Nikki, I am sorry. I couldn't find my wallet. I'll pay you back, it's not a problem."

"Sorry? You're sorry? What exactly are you sorry for Van? Because I know you ain't sorry for spending my money, you've done it before so I'm not that surprised." Nikki rolled his eyes before stepping away from me, grabbing my wallet off the dresser, "It fell out of your purse, I'm guessing after you kicked me in the ribs."

I reached for it when he handed it out for me to take, "I'm sorry for kicking you, I was just mad and-"

"Yeah just mad and needed to throw a temper tantrum like always. You embarrassed me, don't you understand that? You had no reason to act like that at all." Nikki cut me off as I stared down at the carpet.

"Sixx, I'm sorry. I was just-" I rolled my eyes in frustration, "I was upset."

Nikki scoffed, "Upset? Upset over what? You had nothing to be upset over, nothing that would cause us to loose control like that."

I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know. I was just drunk I guess." I took a step back from him when he stepped to me. I looked down as he gently took my hand in his.

"Why were you upset Van? We were having a good time." I shook my head but he gave my hand a squeeze, "Vanity, look at me."

A sigh parted through my lips as my eyes met his, "I saw you with that blonde and I got jealous." 

"Jealous?" Nikki laughed, "Princess, come on." He continued laughing at me as I rolled my eyes and tried pulling my hand away from his.

"Shut up. It's stupid." I mumbled as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest. I rested my cheek against his chest, closing my eyes and feeling him press a kiss to the top of my head.

"Vanity, you have no reason to be jealous at all. You've never had one. I'm all about you, there's no reason to worry. I love you too much to ever fuck it up again. I wouldn't even know what to do with her number, alright?" Nikki explained to me as I nodded in his embrace.

"I'm sorry for kissing that other guy." I told him as I felt his chest inhale with a deep breath before he exhaled.

"It's....fine. It's a new year and we'll leave everything that's happened in the last few months in the past, deal?" I looked at Nikki and smiled.

"Deal." I reached up to give him a kiss but he turned his cheek.

"However, can we please talk about Clementine moving out? It's been long enough and she's never here anymore. She's always at Tommy's." Nikki questioned as he rubbed my lowered back.

I let out a groan and laid my forehead against his sternum, "I'll talk to her about it, okay?"

*a few weeks later*

"Arianna! Put on the damn helmet!" I reprimanded her for the fifth time as she rode around the backyard on her scooter, "I hate that thing. She's fallen three times in the past week. That's how she got that scratch on her chin." I told Clementine, shaking my head as Ari came over to me so I could buckle it.

"You need to wear this baby. I know you hate it, but it's the rule." I told her as I adjusted the straps too.

"It's a 'tupid rule." She grumbled.

"You don't have to ride it at all if you're going to be like that." I told her as she then glared at me before dragging the scooter away and riding it again, "Brat." I rolled my eyes as I got back to my lunch, "Anyways, that art gig?"

"Yes! It's this art exhibit that's downtown and it's next month. I found a clipping for it at this thrift store I went too and got in touch with the person that runs it and she loved my work. And I'll be able to sell some pieces too." Clementine explained cheerfully before taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Oh Clemmy! That's amazing! Let me know when it is and I'll be sure to come. I'm sure Tommy's excited to have an artist in the house." I said cheerfully, not thinking twice of it as I saw her tilt her head and look at me, "What?"

"What's that suppose to mean?" Clementine question as she leaned back in the chair and stared, her could gaze leaving me burned.

"Huh?" A confused expression riddled my face, "What do you mean? I meant like a girlfriend whose an artist since I know he's been trying to explore other creative outlets."

Clementine shook her head and took a sip of the sweet sun tea I made earlier, "But why'd you say it like that?"

"What the fuck are you talking about Clementine?" I laughed, "I'm not following you."

"You said in the house, as if I'm living there." She clarified for me.

"Okay? I didn't mean anything by that. But aren't you kinda living there anyways?" I smiled harmlessly at her, "You're hardly here anymore."

"I'm here all the time Vanity. All my stuff is here. Why? Do you want me to move out?" She asked as I stared at her.

"What? No no. Clementine, I truly am not trying to offend you. It was just a stupid comment." I shook my head and took a bite of my lunch.

"..then what's with that eye roll." She got defensive as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"That wasn't...oh my god. I didn't roll my eyes Clem, can you relax?" I shook my head and glanced over at Arianna playing in the playhouse Nikki had got for her.

"I know Nikki wants me to move out. He doesn't have a quiet voice when he tells you." My eyes darted to her.

"Clem, he's just...he thinks you've been here long enough and that being at Tommy's would be good for your relationship." I explained as she rolled her eyes this time.

"Bullshit. He just wants me gone. He doesn't give a fuck about my relationship with Tommy. He's always wanted me out of the way." Clem expressed, "He's always treated me like the dirt under his boot."

Here we go, "Clementine, no he hasn't. Maybe yes in the beginning when you two first met but he's thankful you've been here to help with Ari."

"Yes he has Vanity!" I stared as she raised her voice, "He puts on a damn good facade for you and treats me nicely to please you. He's a fucking asshole to me when you turn your back."

"And I've told him too cool it and he has." I glared, "He doesn't say that mean comments nor does he give you the dirty looks since coming to live here, why can't you just let it go?"

She shook her head, "Because he still does it when you aren't looking! Jesus Christ, Vanity! He tried paying me off to keep me in New York! I have the check!"

"Wow." I scoffed, "I know you don't like him but you don't need to lie about him. Nikki would never do that. Yeah he's a dick sometimes but he wouldn't go that low."

Clementine laughed as she adjusted in the chair, "..That low? Vanity, the dude has hurt you and fucked you over countless times and-"

"...And that's mine and Nikki's business. So don't bring it up." I warned her, "Just because he's not here to defend himself doesn't mean I won't do it for him, so quit fucking lying about Nikki. He didn't try to pay you off."

"I'm not lying to you, Van! When have I ever lied to you? Or given you a reason not to believe me?"  I looked away from Clementine, seeing the hurt expression in her eyes.

"I know he's rude but he would never. And if he did, he was probably just joking. You know Nikki has a weird sense of humor."

"You never believe when he treats me like garbage, Vanity! You never do! You just let him walk all over me and shut me out unless it involves Arianna! It's like I'm fighting to be your friend!"

I rolled my eyes, "Oh my god, I take your side all the time so don't say that! You're being so dramatic right now Clem! I let you know everything that's going on regardless if it involves Arianna or not! So drop it, I don't get what your fucking issue is with Nikki. He flew you out here, let you move into the house, cleared out a room for you to live in and paint in! He's been trying to make sure you're comfortable here!"

"He didn't want me to come in the first place, Vanity! Stop being stubborn and putting Nikki on a pedestal and listen to me!" Clementine shouted loudly as her cheeks turned a shade of pink.

"Good god, what's with all the yelling?" Nikki came in from the side gate, Arianna running from across the yard to him, "Could hear the both of you from the front. Tell mommy and auntie to put the claws away, angel." He picked her up and gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

"Then go get me the damn check if it's real." I spoke in a hush tone as Arianna walked over to me and pulled herself up on my lap, but best believe she felt the harshness of it. Clementine stormed past Nikki before heading inside.

I closed my eyes and kissed the back of her head as she reached for a piece of fruit off my plate before my glare met Nikki, "What? What did I do?" He asked confused.

"Baby, go play fetch with Anarchy. Daddy and I have to talk about boring stuff." I spoke softly in her ear and tickled her sides, making her squirm and giggle as she got off.

"Can we play mermaids in the pool again?" She asked, pulling on my hand a bit.

I smiled at her, "Yes Ari of course."

Nikki cleared his throat and pulled up a chair next to me, "Wha-what do we have to talk about?"

I ignored his question, eyes narrowing as Clementine came down with a piece of paper between her fingers. My heartbeat was in my ears, matching every step she took until she stood at the table and tossed the paper in front of me, "There's your fucking proof."

I didn't have to take a second look at it, seeing the zeroes and Nikki's signature. I watched as ringed and tattooed fingers carefully reached across and grabbed it, taking a glance before I heard muttered curse words fly out of his mouth.

"Vanity, just let me explain.."

"Why didn't you saying anything, Clementine?! Why did you wait months to tell me!" I raised my voice, standing up from the lawn chair and pushing it back.

Clementine stared, "I-I didn't think you'd believe me and would think I was being dramatic like always."

I shook my head, "I do not think that! Jesus-" I closed my eyes and counted to five, "I wouldn't have let fucking New York if you told me." I said through gritted teeth.

"Van..come on." Nikki spoke quietly as he reached for my wrist only for his hand to be slapped away from me.

"You needed to get out of New York. That's why I didn't say anything Van. Arianna needed her father and you love him and you needed him too..."

I laughed in her face, "I went five fucking years without him! And maybe I'll do it again!" I shouted, my gaze finally landing on Nikki, "We were fine! I'm not made of glass!" I shook my head, growing frustrated with the both of them.

"Vanity, please just let me explain. Please?" Nikki begged as he reached for my hand but I again pushed his hand away from me.

"Explain what?! You tried paying her off to get her away from me! There's nothing to explain!" I shouted at him as he sat in the chair like a scolded puppy, "I'm leaving." I muttered to the both of them before turning my heels and heading inside, both of them following me.

"Vanity, just think for a moment. You can't just leave." Clementine said to me, "You can't just run away-"

I immediately stopped and turned around to look at the both of them, "Run away?!? I am going to calm down before I loose my fucking mind!" I screamed in her face, stepping up to her as Nikki got in the middle, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me back.

"Do not fucking touch me, Nikki!" I shoved his chest, pointing a finger in his face, "I. Am. Leaving." Every word was announced with a shove to his torso until he was out of my face.

I turned my back to him as I walked through the house out a fast paced, listening to them bicker behind me. My hand reached out for my keys in the bowl at the front door until Nikki blocked the door, "Move!" I shouted, attempting to push him out of the way.

"You want to calm down? Fine, but you do it in the house. Just let me explain, okay?" Nikki pleaded with me.

I threw my car keys on the floor, tears of anger and confusion bubbling over as I stared at him, "Explain what Nik?! Why can't you just be good?!" I sobbed to him, voice cracking, "Why can't we just be normal! Why does everything have to be so difficult with us?! How can you justify attempting to pay one of my friends to stay out of my life?"

"Okay...we have little ears listening..." Clementine whispered to me, pressing her hand to my shoulder.

"Why Nikki?" I begged quietly for an answer, staring as he looked at the floor. I licked salty tears from the  corner of my lips as he shook his head, refusing to give me an answer. I wiped my face a few times, eyes now stinging as I turned around and bent down to Arianna.

"I'll be back, okay? I promise. I just have to go run some errands." I told her, trying to keep it together as she gazed at me.

"But mermaids..."

I nodded, "I know baby, I know. We'll play as soon as I get back." I reached for my car keys, "I pinky promise." I forced a smile, holding up my pinky as she locked it with hers.

I kissed her forehead before standing up and turning back to the door, Nikki surprisingly opening it up for me before following and closing the door.

"Vanity, I am so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

His sentence was brought to a screeching halt as my opened palm connected with the his cheek. Our eyes met as he rubbed his face, anger matching anger. His mossy eyes darkening by the second, the jaw muscle twitching under his skin as he burned holes into me. I waited for his fist to come, instead of hitting the wall above me as we argued in my bedroom at the condo I shared with Lucia and Tonya, it was going to be me this time.

"Will you come back home?" It would almost sound loving if his wrath wasn't wrapped around his words.

I ignored his curiosity, turning my side to him as I opened up the car door only for it to be slammed shut and my arm to be held in a vise grip, "I asked you a fucking question, Vanity."

I attempted to yank my arm from him, but Nikki only squeezed it harder, pulling me to him, "Obviously, idiot. Now let go of me." I quickly got in my car, locking the doors before driving away.

*Nikki's POV*

I breathed out, hearing the tires screech as she drove down the street, "God damnit.." I mumbled, rubbing my jaw as it felt hot and beginning to swell under my touch.

I headed back inside, slamming the front door, "Clementine!?"

I looked up the stairs when she came walking down them, "Pack your shit and get the fuck out of my house."  I barked as she stared at me, a chuckle arising out of her, "Do you really find this hilarious?"

She shook her head, "No, but I find that handprint on the side of your face funny." Clementine smirked, "Vanity was going to find out sooner or later."

"Or not at fucking all! Fuck, just mind your own god damn business." I shook my head, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a bag of frozen fruit to put on the side of my face.

"And base your relationship with her on lies? Sounds like a good idea to me." She rolled her eyes.

"What fucking relationship?! We don't have one because of all this shit!" I shouted, throwing the bag across the kitchen and at the wall, "You don't know anything about us! Nothing! We've been trying and now that you go and pull this shit out, it fucking ruins it!"

"Me? Take a look in the damn mirror, Nikki. Whose name is on that check? You decided to do that. You went out of your way to get me out of her life and it still didn't work! You know, she talks up a good game when it comes to you. But she's so god damn naive and stubborn she refuses to think anything else. You take advantage of how much she cares-"

"I do not take advantage of her!"

"Oh yes you do! You keep saying I don't know your relationship with her? Nikki, I listened to her cry over you for a very long time. Everything you got away with! The name calling, the egotistical behavior, oh Vans nice and handy because she'll spread her legs for me whenever I want, she'll get on her knees for me whenever I snap my fingers. For fucks sake, you cheated on her right up those stairs and she still has you so high on that fucking pedestal, it's disgusting and down right abusive."

My eyes darted to hers, "I am not abusive! Don't throw that word around."

"Why because it's true?" Clementine scoffed in disgust as she turned her back to me and started walking down the hall, "The whole dynamic of your relationship with her is toxic."

I knew it was starting to get back into that viscous cycle like how it was when we were younger. I was trying my hardest to keep it from getting there but it's always been a full steamed locomotive between us and we were crashing.

"I'll pack what I can and have Tommy come help me with the rest."

I put my hands on the counter, leaning my body weight into them as I stared at the white marble. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

My ears raised when I heard the little sound of a whimper, "Shit..." I muttered as I saw Arianna peaking from behind the wall, cheeks pink and tears running down them, "Baby.." I took a breath and walked over to her, a loud cry escaping her as she held her arms up. I picked Ari up, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, "Sh, sh, sh, I'm sorry. Daddy didn't know you were listening." I spoke softly, rubbing her back and gently rocking her from side to side as she clung to me.

"I'm sorry, Ari. I didn't mean to yell in front of you." I frowned, feeling her shake and tremble as she cried in my ear.

"I-I want...I want mommy!!" She yelled, making me wince as I walked us over to the couch and sat down.

"Me too angel. But she'll be back in a little bit. Just relax for me." I kissed the side of her cheek, holding her close to my chest, "It's going to be alright, okay? Everything's going to be okay."

I don't know if I was telling her that to make her feel better, or if it was for me.

*Vanity's POV*

I sighed deeply, staring out of the window of a coffee shop on the beach in Venice. I took a sip of my French press before taking a bite of a turkey and Swiss sandwich. I picked up a pack of smokes and chain smoked as I drove around the city before ending up here. I haven't done that in a long time. I tapped my nails against the wooden table, glaring as I thought about Clementine and Nikki. What the hell was I suppose to say to either of them?

I felt like shit after I realized Clementine was telling the truth about the check. And I felt bad about leaving like that after hitting Nikki. Well, kinda. I shouldn't have hit him, but I think it was justified. I breathed out heavily and took another sip of my coffee.

"Rough day?"

I rolled my eyes at the male voice behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing a sharp jaw and shoulder length dirty blonde hair. I did a double take, a light gasp falling past my lips.

"Uh...yeah, you can say that." I told him, watching as he took the spot in front of me and sat down with his own coffee.

"Work? Or someone in your life? You have a mighty mean mug on your face." He smiled brightly as an accent I couldn't figure out rolled off his tongue.

I chuckled a bit, "Yeah, just people in my life that like to stress me out over such stupid crap." I pushed my sunglasses up to the top of my head, "Are you having a good day?"

I watched his eyes wander over me a bit, "I'm having a great day. Even better when I see a pretty girl."

"Do you always talk to sad and upset girls?" I asked him as he nodded.

"If I can make them feel better with just a simple conversation, then yes I do. What's your name, sweetheart?"

"I'm Vanity. It's nice to meet you...Mr. Bon Jovi."

He laughed, "Please, just call me Jon. It's nice to meet you." He studied me for a second, "Now that we know each other, why are you so mad?"

I shook my head, "Is it really that noticeable?"

He nods, "Yes ma'am. Shoulders are tense, eyebrows are tight, so is that jaw of yours and by the way you have ripped that napkin to shreds seems to me like someone really ticked you off."

I breathed out and slumped back in the chair, attempting to relax, "I had to go on a drive to calm down, but that was an hour ago. I'm still really mad, but I have to go home soon and I'm not ready."

"So don't." He grinned, "It's still a beautiful day, and maybe you just need the right company."

His eyebrow arched in a playful manner as I glanced at him for a split second, "Maybe a few years ago I would've said yes, but I have a daughter and I can't be out running around the city with some guy I just met."

His eyes widened a bit, "A mom? Wow, I wouldn't have guessed at all. You're absolutely breathtaking, Vanity."

My cheeks grew warm as I pulled out my wallet and handed over a school picture, "Her names Arianna."

Jon squinted a bit, "Shes cute, looks like trouble too."

"You wouldn't believe it. She gives me and her dad a run for our money." I put the picture away, seeing him bring his cup of coffee to his lips.

"Oh? Are you uh, with the dad? I guess I should've asked if you were seeing anyone first before I started flirting."

I smiled at his nervousness, "No, no I'm not with her father, or anyone for that matter. He's actually one of the people I'm mad at today."

"Do you have a pen?" He asked me and I nodded, digging through my purse and grabbing one. I watched as he ripped a piece of napkin and wrote down his number.

"If you ever have a free moment away from your daughter, give me a call. I wouldn't mind to talk to you again." He smiled kindly, handing it over as I took it, "And if that guy ever needs his ass kicked, I'll be there."

I laughed, "I'm sure you probably could kick his ass. I'll call you sometime Jon."

After while I was back at the house, something was in the oven baking and the house was a tad bit cleaner. I tossed my car keys into the bowl, before I could even take a step, Nikki was in my face with a dish towel in his hand.

"Yeah, I know you're sorry." I brushed him off, noticing red marks on his cheek, I hope that didn't leave a bad bruise.

"I vacuumed the living room and I did the dishes. And I have lasagna in the oven. And Arianna is taking a little nap." He said, wringing the towel in his hands.

"Where's Clementine?" I questioned

"She left. Tommy came and got her, she packed a few bags and said she'll get the rest of her stuff soon."

I nodded, "Great. You got what you wanted." I tried walking past him but he stopped me.

"This isn't what I wanted, Vanity." He spoke softly, "I didn't want it to be a huge fight like this, you gotta believe me."

I chuckled, "What did you expect to happen Nikki? Just that I never find out? Just-what the fuck? I was going to come back to Los Angeles regardless."

He frowned, "How was I suppose to know that? You have a thing for running away." I stared at him as he groaned, "Fuck, that isn't what I mean. I'm sorry. I fucking regret ever offering her all that money."

"You're the worlds biggest bullshitter, Nikki." I tried pulling away from him but just like earlier, he wouldn't let go. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm tired of arguing with you. We're just going in a never ending circle, and I am tired Nikki.  I am exhausted."

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Sympathy for the Devil (John Wick x Reader) 1/4

Summary: Your best friend is getting married and you’re very excited until you find out that your ex is coming to the wedding. After a night of too much drinking and without a date for the big day, you summon a demon to make a deal.

Author’s notes: So this one was loosely inspired by this prompt and it was supposed to be an one-shot but it started to grow, became a small series and it might turn into an universe? Crazy? I know! But I’m in love with the idea of demon!John and how that would change the entire John Wick universe. But that’s a story for another day. For now, enjoy this first chapter. Feedback and suggestions are always welcomed!

Wordcount: 2874

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and inebriation; brief mention of blood

It was routine on Monday for your precinct to have squad meetings every morning. It was mostly a moment to update the team on open cases and for your Captain to distribute new assignments. It usually took a good part of the morning, so you didn’t have a chance to check your phone, but when you finally did, there were five missing calls from your best friend Claire, along with several messages asking you (in all caps) to call her immediately.

The sight of it set your senses on high alert as you looked for a quiet place to call her back. Claire was getting married in a week. If she was so desperate to talk to you there could only mean some kind of emergency.

“You haven’t RSVP for my wedding yet, right?” it was the first words out of Claire’s mouth as soon as the call connected.

“Are you serious? That’s why you were calling? I’m your maid of honor. Of course, I’m coming!” You rolled your eyes even if she couldn’t see you. “I’ll do it right now if it’s that important.”

“No! wait!” Claire shouted and you pull your phone away from your ear at the shrill tone of her voice. “You have to bring a date. Ryan’s coming.”

“What?” Your heart sped up and your breath caught in your throat. “Ryan, like my ex, Ryan? What the hell Claire!”

“It wasn’t me!” She hurried to say. “Apparently Dave ran into him and invited him since we have all these empty seats we already paid for. I’m so sorry.”

You dropped on the nearest chair, rubbing your temple. This could not be happening. You were not ready to face Ryan. You didn’t think you would ever be to be. Not after everything that happened between the two of you.

“How the hell am I gonna find a date in less than a week?” you said with a sigh.

Funny how you always believed to be so empowered but the thought of meeting your ex by yourself on a wedding made dread and panic clench your insides. You could almost picture the grimace in Claire’s face just through her silence. You two have been friends since kindergarten, you knew her like the back of your hand.

“What about that guy you’ve been seeing?” she asked, and it was your turn to wince. Teddy was pretty fun, but more of a fuck buddy than a man you’d want to bring to your best friend’s wedding.

“I’ll figure something out,” you said with another sigh before saying your goodbyes and pocketing your phone just as your partner Jake called you over. You two had a witness to interview.

Work helped to get your mind off the situation, but as soon as you walked in your apartment, dropping your keys, badge and gun on the side table, the entire debacle returned to your mind and you flopped on the couch, browsing your contacts because facing Ryan alone was one of your worst nightmares.

Once up a time, Ryan had been the love of your life, the center of your universe. He was a couple of years older, had a punk rock band, tattoos and felt so dangerous. It had been such a thrill. Your parents hated him and hated who you became when you were with him. Then one night you came by his place and he had just up and left without explanation, without a goodbye.

You remembered running all the way back home, the cold air of the night drying your tears and your heart felt like it would never be whole again. Maybe it never mended right, because even though you had several relationships in the last ten years, they never seemed to last or to feel quite right.

It was something you avoided thinking about it and were mostly successful since you’ve been putting your career as a detective for NYPD as your biggest priority. You shouldn’t let the ghost of a ruined relationship you had when you were a teenager affect you or ruin your fun at your best friend's wedding.

That was easier said than done though because as soon as you set foot on your hometown you were hit by this overwhelming sense of nostalgia that settled on your chest and seemed unwilling to be shaken off. Everywhere you looked, your mind was flooded with memories and you never felt closer to your seventeen old self.

The feeling was especially strong when you met Claire and your other best friend Lydia at the same store the three of you bought your prom dresses so you could do the final fitting for your dress. Since you and Lydia had pretty much the same body type, she had been standing in for you and this was the first time you would actually try on the dress that Claire picked for you: a burgundy halter neck dress with a side slit that went up to your mid-thigh.

“You look amazing!” Claire gushed as she met your eyes through the mirror. You grinned at your best friend because she was right. It was a beautiful dress and fit you perfectly.

You paid for the dress and the three of you left the store heading to the same diner you used to hang out after school back in the day. You hoped they still served that heavenly chocolate milkshake and fries because you were starving.

By some miracle, your usual booth at the diner, the one right by the glass window, was free and you, Claire and Lydia took your seats, ordering a round of milkshakes and fries as you caught up with each other. Sure, you three talked every other week, but nothing beat being with them in person. It was light and fun and familiar, and you were having so much fun you forgot any worries you had until you saw him.

Ryan stood on the other side of the street and he looked like he was waiting for someone as he talked on the phone. He had changed so much in the past ten years. Gone were the purple mohawk, piercings and ripped shirts. Ryan had gone back to his natural blonde hair; his blue eyes were free of makeup and there was no piercing visible. He was dressed in a simple blue button-down and tan slacks that fitted him quite nicely.

He looked even more handsome than you remembered and your stomach felt queasy and twisted into knots at the sight of him. Especially when a brunette woman that belonged on the pages of a fashion magazine stepped out of the shop and met him. Ryan kissed her cheek and they walked away; arms linked together.

“You didn’t tell me he was bringing a date,” you croaked, glancing back at Claire.

“I didn’t know,” she said with a sympathetic expression. “Are you ok? What do you need?”

“Alcohol,” you declared, dropping a few bills on the table as you stood up. “Lots and lots of alcohol.”

It was a good thing that Lydia and Claire knew about the entire dirty affair between you and Ryan because they didn’t even blink at your request. Instead, they guided you out of the diner and two streets over to the bar you all used to go as teens. It was old and kind of seedy, but the drinks were cheap, there was a karaoke machine and the bartender still remembered your orders, so he kept them coming all night.

You left the bar with your friends around two in the morning, finding your way home and stumbling up to your childhood room, without waking your parents by some kind of miracle.

Once again you were swayed by the nostalgia that sent you into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Sneaking home after too much booze? Could there be something more teenage to do?  

And maybe it was this nostalgia that gave you the brilliant idea of digging out the stupid journal from under the loosen floorboard under your bed. It was an old leather-bound book you found at an antique store. The yellowing pages and intricate design on the cover had caught your eye and you ended up buying it because back then you were obsessed with becoming a Wiccan witch.

Flipping through the familiar pages, you smiled at the “spells” which were mostly badly written rhymes or some verses you found online. A spell to get good grades; another to make your father less annoying;  one to make people fall in love with you; there was even one to summon a demon... You paused at those words, frowning at the page. You didn’t remember this one but it certainly your handwriting.

You got up in an impulse and gathered the ingredients the spell required: silver, ash, and bone. You took an old jewelry box that you found in your room, filled with a handful of your grandfather’s ashes, the black knight made of carved bone from your father’s chess set and the silver necklace your mom had given you for your sweet sixteen.

Once you had everything, you grabbed your journal of spells and the box and headed for the crossroads a couple of blocks from your parents’ house. The entire thing was crazy and the sane part of you kept telling you to go back home and sleep off your intoxication. Another part of you, which was louder, edged you forward.

You put the box in the middle of the crossroad and checked the spell again. There was one last ingredient that you hadn’t added: blood. You took out your hairpin, letting your long hair tumble free over your shoulders as you used the sharp edge to prickle our finger, flinching at the quick stab of pain. Crimson blood blossomed on your skin and you let it fall into the open box before you chanted the words on the journal three times as demanded.

Holding your breath you waited a few moments, but nothing happened except a slow drizzle starting to fall. The cold droplets made you laugh and sobered you up a little. What were you doing? This was ridiculous.

Rolling your eyes at yourself and sucking your wounder finger, you picked up the jewelry box from the dirt ground and turned on your heels to head home. You managed only a couple of steps when the wind picked up speed, making your hair wisp widely over your face, carrying around a deep throaty voice:

“Your Latin needs work.”

---

John was staring out of the window of his hotel room, sipping his bourbon when he felt the call. It had been a very long time since he had received a summoning. In these modern times, witches and warlocks were a rare breed and few of those who dabbled with magic had any actual power to execute a spell like this.

Apparently, someone in this tiny little town was powerful enough to do so and it was out of pure curiosity that John set his glass aside and followed the call. He found himself on a dirt crossroads, under a soft spring drizzle just as a young woman started to walk away from him.

He commented on her Latin to catch her attention, taking pleasure in the way she jumped startled before turning around the look at him, her doe eyes widening in surprise. She didn’t look particularly powerful or special, but there was something strangely enticing about her that sparked John’s curiosity.

“How...? Where...? Who...?” she stuttered too confused to really finish a sentence and John snorted.

“You summoned me here,” he replied with an arched eyebrow. “As for who, you may call me John.”

“A demon named John?” she snorted a laugh and John thought there was an edge of hysteria in her tone that he could only attribute to shock.

“Who were you expecting? Beelzebub?” he asked dryly. “So, what do you need?”

“What do I need?” she repeated a little dumbly and John shook his head with an exasperated sigh. This was starting to get annoying.

“Yes. Why did you summon me here?” he clarified.

“I... Well... I need a date.” she confessed, her cheeks turning a charming shade of red. “For a wedding.”

She quickly explained her situation and all John could do was stare in disbelief. This girl really summoned the powers of hell because she didn’t want to face her ex alone? It was preposterous.

“I didn’t think it would actually work!” she exclaimed, obviously noticing his disapproving expression. “How was I supposed to know I wrote down an actual summoning spell on my book of shadows when I was sixteen!?”

John shook his head, ready to go back to his hotel. This was pointless and he had a business deal to conclude in a few hours. Before he could do anything, he felt the wind changing directions and making him freeze as it brought along her scent.

 It was so sweet and desirable, almost intoxicatingly so and it made John want to bury his nose in her neck. It was the smell of virtue. This woman had one of the purest souls he ever encountered.

“I can give you what you want,” John offered in a low voice, turning up all of his charms and being rewarded by the way she shuddered. “For a price.”

“I’m not selling my soul,” she replied as she took a step back.

John fought to contain his grin at her refusal. It meant he would have to work this in the old way. Corrupt her little by little. It had been a long time since anyone put up a challenge to him. The prospect excited him.

“I don’t always deal in souls,” he said moving closer to her. “Sometimes all I require is a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion and John felt a strange sense of pride. She might be naïve enough to summon him, but she wasn’t stupid.

“You’re learning,” he commented, gently tracing up her arm just to see her breath hitching, her scent changing slightly, acquiring a certain spiciness due to her arousal. “I don’t know yet. Someday I might need something, and you’ll have to give it to me.”

John waited as she thought through his offer. He could tell part of her wasn’t sure if this was really happening or if she was hallucinating due to too much alcohol.

“I assure you, darling,” he said, taking her hand in his hand bringing to his lips for a soft kiss, letting his teeth scrape over her knuckles. “I am quite real.”

“Will anyone get hurt? If I do this favor?” she asked her voice shaky, her cheeks flushed.

“No one needs to get hurt,” he assured, holding her gaze.

“Ok,” she finally said with a gulp. “If you promise no one will get hurt with this favor of yours, I accept. Where do I sign?”

“That’s not how demons seal contracts, darling…” John smirked at her, hand moving to her cheek, cradling her face and tilting her face up with a gentle nudge of his thumb on her chin. He could tell the exact moment she realized what was about to happen because her eyes darkened and her lips parted almost in an invitation.

 John could hear her heart racing and the jumble of thoughts running through her head as he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. He was gentle because he didn’t want to scare her and it paid off because she sighed against his mouth, her hand coming to his chest and fisting his shirt as she pressed her mouth a little more firmly against his and John could feel her urge to have him.

His tongue teased the seam of her lips and she immediately parted them for him, letting John explore and chase the faint taste of liquor and the sweetness that seemed uniquely hers. It was almost addictive, especially the way she responded to him, her own tongue sliding against his, her body pressing closer. John could feel her arousal growing and igniting his own. It had been a long time since he felt this stirring with just a kiss.

He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her steady and her hands timidly moved up to his neck, her fingers combing through his hair softly, almost like she was petting him, and this time John was the one to sigh against her mouth.

He could stay like this for a long time. As long as she wanted.

It was that treacherous thought that broke the spell and John pulled away from her, putting some physical distance between himself and the girl.

John lingered for a moment watching the way she sighed happily, eyes still closed, her fingers gently touching her lips, still caught up in the aftereffects of him charm. He felt a strange urge to return to her, catch her mouth again, but before he could succumb to those impulses, he went back to his hotel, putting some distance between himself and this alluring human.

He was the one doing the tempting, not the other way around. John needed to remember that.

(tbc)

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[bug13underscore]

transmasc Luke anon - I was interested in the scene in which he goes to get the piercings and Reggie's there with him and holds his hand and Luke is like "I can totally do this on my own" while wincing and Reggie's all smiles like "I know you can, baby." anyway, Luke is 100% short-but-will-fight-you transmasc vibes and I love it

You’re correct about his vibes, we love a fighty-boy lol, and this was an amazing idea thank you so much for this Anon!! 

Small disclaimer, I’ve never had my nipples pierced or top surgery so this is all info I got from a few google searches soooo be warned 

“Sometimes it just feels like we’re the grey sisters.” Julie huffed, slamming her lunch tray down as she slid into the bench beside her girlfriends. 

“What the fuck is a grey sister?” Carrie raised an eyebrow, poking at her school lunch. 

“A group of three sisters in Greek mythology. They share one eyeball and one tooth between the three of them.” Julie rushed out, quickly digging into her food.

“Ew, why would you liken us to them?” Flynn whined, resting her head onto Carrie’s shoulder. 

“Cause it feels like we all get to share brain cells. Obviously there’s six of us, and usually us girls have them.” 

“Only usually?” Carrie laughed, elbowing Julie lightly. Before Julie could explain further, the other three of their group come slamming full-force into their lunch table, panting and wheezing. 

“Alex, inhaler.” Julie clicked her tongue, motioning for one of his boyfriends to get into his fanny pack. The two boys were quick to help him get it out, all slowly gaining their breath back. Julie used this moment to shoot her girlfriends a pointed look. 

“Reggie, explain.” Flynn leveled her gaze to the boy, knowing through practice that out of the three he’s more likely to give up the story. 

“We may have been making out in the janitors closet, and they may have walked in on us.”  

“Luke, excuse.” Carrie sighs, tiredly placing her hand against her forehead, the brunette letting his gaze drift towards his two boyfriends. 

“They’re just so cute! Look at their little faces, they just need to be kissed all the time.” The boy reasoned, his arms thrown out dramatically, as if showcasing valuable antiques to a buyer. 

“I don’t know who’s face you’re calling little, munchkin.” Alex snarked, reaching over to pinch Luke’s face. “We’re older than you, in case you need the reminder.” 

“Ow! Hey!” Luke pulled away from the blondes fingers, rubbing at the offended cheek. 

“Alex,” Reggie pouted, drawing Luke into his arms. Luke smirked triumphantly. “Leave our baby boy alone.” The smirk quickly left his lips, replaced with another pout as the group began to laugh around him. 

“I don’t know why you’re laughing, Molina. You’re the youngest here.” Luke snarked, reaching over to poke her nose. 

“Yeah, but I’m fine with being the baby, it just means you’re all suckered into my cuteness.” Julie laughed, swatting at his hand before poking his nose in retaliation. His hazel eyes lit up slightly, his gaze shifting to his boyfriends who were now in a conversation with Carrie and Flynn. 

“Suckered into cuteness you say?” 

Fuck, here we go, Julie thought to herself, what’s he gonna get himself into this time? 

~

Luke, much to Alex’s displeasure, was the only one of the boys who had a car. Luke and Alex both had their licenses, endlessly teasing Reggie about being the oldest without his, but they both knew why Reggie avoided getting one. 

This though, was Luke’s favorite part of the school days. Meeting his boyfriends at his car, getting to spend time with the two where they’re more alone than they are when they’re stuck in the school building. 

“I can’t hang out too long today, Moms still pissed that I skipped physics the other day.” Alex hummed, sliding into the backseat and allowing Reggie to take shotgun. 

“Lame.” Reggie hummed, pulling out Luke’s CD collection to shuffle through and decide on what disc today. “What’re we feeling today?” 

“Something soft?” Alex offered, grabbing his water bottle from his backpack as he took a sip. Luke hummed in agreement, noticing Alex’s slight nerves. Reggie nodded before picking out After Laughter for Alex. 

“It's cool if me and Reggie hang out after we drop you off then? Totally fine if not.” Luke shot him a wink through the rear view mirror as he pulled out of their schools parking lot. 

“Of course it’s fine,” Alex’s voice is soft as he reaches up to give Luke’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, doing the same to Reggie as well. “Just don’t do anything stupid, yeah?” 

“Of course not! We’re not idiots.” Reggie snorted, earning an eye roll from the blonde in the backseat. It’s just a few more minutes before they pull into Alex’s driveway, him only living a few minutes away from their school. Both of his boyfriends make sure to give him a kiss goodbye as he walks up the path to his house. 

As soon as Alex made it through, the door shutting behind him, Luke spun to Reggie with a wild look in his eyes. 

“I have the best idea.” 

~

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Reggie laced his fingers through Luke’s comfortingly. The brunette gives a sharp nod, sliding his phone into Reggie’s jacket pocket. 

“Totally. Doc gave me the green light.” Luke nodded, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself. “Besides, Alex is totally attracted to piercings so this is totally worth it.” 

“I know this, baby, but are you sure it’s something you want?” Their piercer looked between the two of them silently as they sanitized the needle and tools they’d be using. 

“Trust me, hun, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this piercing over the years.” Luke sent a wink to his boyfriend, squeezing his hand as he did so. 

The prepping for the piercing takes longer than the actual piercing, with how Blake, their piercer, insisted on talking with them to ease their nerves for a little while before they got into the piercing part. 

Reggie’s piercing was pretty quick, only getting his left nostril pierced. Luke’s fingers were threaded through his for comfort, although it wasn’t really needed. A little pinch and he was done. 

Luke’s in comparison took a little longer, given he was getting both nipples pierced and Blake had to adjust clamps on him to make the process a little faster and easier. 

As Luke sucked in a few shallow breaths he felt a hard squeeze on his hand, causing him to shift his gaze to his boyfriend. 

“I can totally do this on my own.” Luke forces out in a haughty tone, sucking in a breath as the first needle makes its way through the clamp. His grip on Reggie’s hand tightened, causing the leather clad boy to laugh. 

“I know you can, baby boy.” Reggie teased, giving his hand a gentle and loving squeeze back. “You’re the strongest person I know.” 

Luke shot him a dopey grin, wincing loudly as the second needle pierced his skin. Blake finished up, making sure to wipe at Luke’s piercing and handing them both instructions on how to properly clean their piercing, with notes of their gauge sizes and Blake’s email in case they had any further questions. 

They thanked Blake, following them back to the front of the shop. The couple paid, tipping Blake in the process with plenty of smiles and waves as they exited the shop.

The short walk to Luke’s car was silent, their hands intertwined once again. The brunette stopped Reggie before he could pull away and circle around to the passenger side. 

“Hey, thanks for that back there, it means a lot that you’d do this and say that for me.” 

“Of course, baby, it’s no problem.” The boy grinned at him, the new silver hoop in his nose catching the light. 

“No, no. Really, I don’t think anyone’s said that to me before.” Luke wanted to fold in on himself, not used to the nervous feeling that filled him. 

Reggie pulled the smaller boy into his arms, carefully avoiding getting too close to his chest, letting out a small laugh.

“I completely meant it, you’re definitely the strongest person I know. Well, maybe the mentally strongest I know? Alex does have to lug his drum kit around a lot.” 

“Shut up and get in before I leave you here.” Luke pushed away from him gently, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. Reggie grins and gives him a mock salute before running around the car and climbing in. They begin their trek back to Luke’s house, the boy starling when they pull into the driveway. “Fuck.” 

“Fuck?” 

“I’m going to have to tell my parents about this so they don’t accidentally fuck up the piercings.”

“Fuck.” 

“We’re fucked.” 

“What do you mean we?” 

“Well I couldn’t have legally got this without you there, Mr. I’m-Eighteen-Now.” 

“Yeah, we’re fucked. Let’s hope they’re in a good mood.” 

“You go in first, they like you better.” 

It was obvious that Emily wasn’t pleased with this outcome, but she did ease up once Luke assured her that he had checked in with the doctor beforehand and once they promised—numerous times—that they had gone to a legitimate, well reviewed shop and that Blake had sanitized all of the equipment. 

Finally, after dinner and Emily’s many questions, Mitch being very quiet and mostly indifferent on the matter, the boys made their way to Luke’s room. 

“We’re skipping school in the morning because you’re gonna wake up whining in pain, I already know.” Reggie laughed as they changed into their pajamas. 

“I am so not going to do that!” 

“Luke, honey, baby boy, my love,” Reggie leveled a look to the boy, full of love and honesty. “You skipped an entire week of school when you broke your wrist plus an additional week when you finally managed to convince me to stay here with you. You already know Emily is calling us in tomorrow.” 

“Yeah okay.” Luke conceded after a few moments. “I’m going to whine because I can’t sleep on my stomach or be big spoon right now though, that’s the worst part of this all.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Reggie grinned at him. “Shirtless for both of us, less of a chance for my shirt to catch, right?” 

“You’re a genius.” Luke grinned up at him. “You know that tomorrow when we do our prank, Alex is gonna find out and be pissed, right?” 

“Oh yeah, no for sure. Well just suck up to him after, it’s fine, he can’t stay mad at us for too long. Our puppy dog faces paired with our piercings are gonna win him over forever now.”

“These piercings just keep getting better and better.”

[trassellynn]

SoC AU: The Haunting of Kree Manor - Chapter 2

Ao3 link here Plot: The Crows spend a week in a haunted house.  Undercut, the first part of the first tale.

INEJ. “The masked figure” Part 1 We arrived at Kree Manor on Friday, late in the morning. We moored the boats at the little dock on the Southern side of the island and, after walking through a thick grove, we finally arrived at a huge garden. There were no gates,n or walls, around the house. All we saw was a large labyrinth, made of hedges with small, dark green leafs, a quiet lake, a dry fountain and many, many statues. And the manor was... it was fascinating and terrifying at the same time.  It was so big it almost looked like a castle. The walls were old and dark, but still in good conditions, and its roofs had pointy, sharp shapes. And the windows... there were so many windows you had the impression to stand in front of a monster with thousands, dead eyes. “Well,” Kaz said, registering every details with his wary glance. “Old style, looks a bit creepy... but it has a lot of potential. Painting the outside walls with lighter colours will make it more appealing. Let's check the situation inside.” I exchanged a quick smile with Nina, who was holding Aenya in her arms. The little girl was playing with her mother's necklace and seemed not to mind the scary building in front of us. “Do you think we can take a bath in the lake?” Nina asked me. “The weather is quite hot, these days...” “I don't know...” “Yes, we can,” Wylan answered, fixing the bag on his shoulder. “The first and last time I met my uncle, he told me he was used to swim every evening in the lake, even in winter. It's definitely cleaner than the sea in the bays of Ketterdam...” “Well, I bet only Kaz's soul is dirtier than the bays of Ketterdam” Jesper giggled, making Matthias nod with enthusiasm. “Do you want to enter the house or are you going to lose your time standing there and saying idiocies?” Kaz echoed, giving us a severe look. Hiding an amused smile, we reached the door entrance but, when Wylan inserted the key into the lock, a growl caught our attention, making us turn around. Trassel had taken a few steps backwards, baring his teeth, his white, large body in a defensive position. Inga and Matthias immediately knelt next to him, caressing his fur. “Trass!” “Hey, mate, what is it? What's the problem?” “He seems to dislike the house...” Kuwei noticed. “Well, I'm sure he'll think differently, when we'll turn it into a luxurious hotel” Kaz replied. “Stop losing time, now.” We went swimming in the afternoon, after lunch. We had no idea how it was possible, but the water of the lake was so clean... I mean, not a single leaf or trace of dirt on the surface. It looked like someone was taking care of it everyday, but... it was absurd, since Wylan's uncle had died weeks before and we were the first ones to visit the house, after his death. Well... at least, it was what we believed... Jesper, Wylan and Kuwei were taking a swimming competition, Nina and Matthias were... well, sharing a moment together and Inga was playing with Aenya, pretending to give her some swimming lessons or placing her on Trassel's back. I dipped my feet in the water, enjoying the refreshing sensation on my skin, then, I turned my head, calling Kaz who was still standing on the shore. He was the only one who was still out of the water and his mind seemed to be far away from there. “Kaz?” His dark eyes met mine. “Go ahead without me,” he replied. “Maybe I'll join you later.” “The water is amazing!” I said, taking a few steps ahead and instinctively looking down. I didn't meet my reflection, on the surface. I didn't even met a face. A dark shape, something that looked like a hooded figure with a white mask was staring at me. The mask had an old design and... and a creepy smile, like an ugly, empty half-moon between the cheekbones. I blinked confusedly, taking a little step backwards and... and then I found myself staring at my own reflection. “Inej, are you okay?” I nodded, without turning my head, and, for a moment, my heart lost a beat when I heard Nina asking: “Hey, who's there?” I frantically tried to individuate the masked figure on the surface of the water, but I soon noticed my friend was staring at the opposite shore. “Who?” Jesper asked. “Where?” Nina pointed at something. One of her arms was still wrapped around Matthias' neck. “I saw a figure, behind that tree.” “It was wearing a mask?” I instinctively asked, the words came out of my mouth before I could even realized it. Nina shook her head: “A mask? No. But it was a woman, I'm almost sure.” “Do you want me to go to check?” Kaz asked. “I'm the only one still on the land...” The young woman hesitated for a while, then, she shook her head: “No, don't worry. I probably imagined it.” Part of me wanted to tell my friends about the vision I had a few moments before. Part of me wanted to tell Kaz yes, please, go to check, I don't feel safe. But... I don't know why, no sounds came out of my mouth. And once I completely immersed into the water, that weird feeling was washed away. At least... until that same night.... I chose an elegant, small room for the night. It was on the third floor and it directly communicated with Kaz's. There were a large, rectangular window, with a thick curtain; a tall, antique wardrobe that I struggled to open, the first time I tried, and... in front of the bed, on the opposite wall, there was a huge mirror. Well, actually there were three mirrors, the larger one was fixed in the middle, the other two were its wings and I could move them, so I could reflect my entire figure from different perspectives. I loved it. I spent several minutes, wearing my nightgown and braiding my hair, playing with the movable parts of the mirror. And when I went to bed, after wishing goodnight to my friends, I decided to let the reflective wings wide open. I fell asleep almost immediately but... I woke up a few hours later. It was almost the four o'clock in the morning. I tried to grab the glass of water on the bedside table, when a sudden thrill ran down my back. Before I could see it, I felt there was someone in my room. I immediately jumped out of the bed, the knife I had hidden under the pillow in my hand. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped, making me shiver, silver clouds of vapour came out of my mouth. For a moment, I told myself I was still sleeping and having a very weird dream. Nothing made sense, in that moment. And then... I instinctively looked at the mirror and, without realizing it, I approached it, my legs were moving at their own will. I have no idea how much time I spent in front of that mirror, staring at myself, my fingers clenching the knife. Suddenly, something moved in the shadow, behind me. Next to my bed, a tall, dark figure raised on their feet. My heart lost a beat: it was... them. The masked person. I see them clearly, through the mirror. I quickly turned around, raising my knife, ready to fight, but... but no one was there. Was it possible I had had a hallucination twice in a day? The air was cold, around me. My skin was filled with thousands, small chills. I turned to the mirror again, I wanted to close the movable wings to hide it. A scream from my mouth: the masked person was there, right behind me. Their hand caught my shoulder and I... I could feel it, I could feel the cruel grip. Sometimes... sometimes I still feel it. My knife fell on the floor and somehow I managed to get free, running to the door that communicate with Kaz's room and almost breaking through it, calling his name. In less than a moment, I was in his arms, he had probably woken up the first time I screamed. “Inej! Inej, what is it?” My throat was like an iced, desert land. Somehow, I managed to tell him there was someone in my room. Kaz let me go, he grabbed his cane and entered my room, his eyes were dark, furious, burning flames. I felt I had to go with him, to help him to find the intruder, but my limbs were frozen and everything I could do was waiting, crouched on the floor. “There's no one, here,” he finally said, coming back to his room and handing me my knife. “I... I hadn't imagined it!” I immediately cried. “There was someone, a tall, human figure, with a white mask... they touched my shoulder, I felt it! It was real, kaz, I know that!” “Hey, hey...” he whispered, kneeling in front of me, touching my skin for a brief moment. “You're... freezing...” “The temperature in my room suddenly dropped,” I sobbed. “I know it's absurd, these spring days have been hotter than usual, but, when I woke up... it was like being in winter, and...” “Do you want to sleep here, with me?” Shivering, I nodded. Kaz locked the door that separated our rooms, then, he helped me stand up, taking me to his bed. We laid down in the same position we sleep in, when we share a bed: back to back, so no one can catch us by surprise. And... contrary to my expectations, I slept well until morning. No masked people came to bother my dreams. For a couple of days, things seemed to go better. There was a lot to do, to check, to tidy in that house, we alternated work with enjoyable activities and this helped me a bit to keep the masked figure out of my mind for the most of the time. But I couldn't help but feel a thrill every time I entered my room. I kept the movable wings of the mirror closed, I was afraid to see again that person behind me, if I dared to look at my reflection again. For a moment, I almost tried to tell myself that, maybe, the masked person wasn't real, that my mind had simply played me a cruel trick. But I soon discovered I wasn't the only one who experienced something scary and weird, in that house. Wylan complained about objects that moved, disappeared and appeared in other places, Kuwei said he heard kids' steps and voices, Trassel was often in a bad mood... one by one, we all became wary and nervous and we tried to keep our minds busy as much as we could. On the third night, I woke up again. I was afraid to see the masked figure, but, somehow, I realised everything was quiet. The glass on my bedside table was empty. I didn't remember I had drunk all the water, but I didn't mind much about it and I went down to the kitchen, to fill it again. The kitchen was on the ground floor, on the west wing of the house. To reach it from the stairway, I had to walk down the ample entrance hall, then, there were two other smaller aisles, the second one directly led to the kitchen. When I arrived at the entrance hall, my attention was immediately caught by something, or better, someone who was lying on the ground, face up, with legs slightly apart and a hand rested on the stomach.   My eyes widened and, for a moment, I almost forgot how to breathe. “Nina!” I gasped, running to my friend and kneeling next to her. “Nina, what are you doing here? Nina, can you hear me?” I frantically checked if she was hurt, if she was still breathing... and I soon realized she actually seemed to be okay, to sleep quite peacefully. When I touched her cheek again, she finally opened her eyes, letting a little moan out of her mouth and blinking confusedly. “Inej?” she murmured. “What are you doing in my room?” “Oh... I... we're not in your room...” I replied. “We're on the ground floor, on the entrance hall... can you see the entrance door?” She slowly moved her head, focusing the environment all around us, then, she simply said: “Oh...” I tried to add something, when heavy footsteps announced someone was coming downstairs. Matthias' voice reached our ears. “Nina!” he called, trying to keep his voice low. “Nina, love?” “She's here!” I replied, whispering. His blue eyes widened and his face became pale, when he saw his wife laid on the floor. “Nina! Oh Djel, oh Djel, love, are you hurt? Are you...” “I'm fine...” she lazily murmured, while we where helping her to sit up. “Take me to bed.” “I found her here” I explained. “Maybe she has walked in her sleep...” “I think so...” Matthias sighed, giving a worried glance in the direction of the staircase. “She... she walked downstairs while sleeping... Djel...” He took her in his arms: “I'll take her back to bed... are you okay?” “Yes,” I showed him the glass. “I was just going to take some water.” “Okay. Thank you, Inej. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.” I stood up, trying to ignore the uneasy sensation that was growing in my chest, and I walked to the kitchen, silence surrounded me. I poured fresh water in the glass, I drank it, then I half-filled the glass again, walking back to my room. I was at the end of the second aisle, I had almost reached the entrance hall, when silence was broken by a whisper behind my back. My heart jumped into my throat, while I slowly turned around, knowing what I was going to see: the masked figure was there, a few metres from me. The glass fell from my hand, crashing on the floor. I tried to face the terrifying apparition, but I was trembling and my throat hurt. “Who... who are you?” I rasped. “What do you want?” The figure didn't answer. They simply pointed at me, with their long, crooked finger, then they started walking towards me, slowly. I picked some pieces of the glass, throwing them at the scary vision, then I fled. Something, in my mind, was telling me to be brave, to face them and fight them. I was Captain Inej Ghafa, I had never run away from an enemy. But... but that enemy wasn't like the others. That enemy wasn't... human. The figure followed me, upstairs. It walked slowly, but it was always behind me. When I reached the third floor, I directly entered Kaz's room, locking every door and sliding into his bed. He was awake. His back against mine was somehow reassuring. “I cannot sleep too,” he whispered. “I'm ready to give a proper welcome to every piece of shit who's haunting you.” I didn't reply. I was trembling, I felt cold. All I wanted to do was falling asleep until morning. And eventually... eventually it was what I did.

[a65232-joshywoshy]

Colorado Crybaby

Warning: The following chapter depicts scenes of violence and may not be suitable for all audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 6

      The sun shined brightly through the bedroom window. Two women were asleep in a bed. 

      “Good morning, Rachael.”

      Rachael jumped. She forgot that there was a person in her house. Who is in my house?! Oh no. I’m about to be raped or murdered.

      Penny spoke more softly. “Good morning.”

      Rachael was awake enough to catch up to what was happening and she remembered all the details again. That voice was Penny. Penny had spent the night. Rachael had only 1 bed in this house right now. So Penny had woken up next to her. No danger. It’s just Penny. Penny is safe. Penny is in my bed. PENNY IS IN MY BED. The thought was partly terrifying and partly exciting. Her co-worker of several years and best friend had slept in the same bed as her. How do normal people act with a hot girl in their bed? A hot girl. Rachael’s mind repeated the phrase again. Why did she say that? Penny had said she was bisexual. She remembered being stunned by seeing Penny in her pajamas last night. Penny was hot. Rachael liked how Penny looked.

      “You’re right, Penny.” Rachael’s voice was a little deeper, having just woken up. “I am bi.”

      Rachael turned over to look at her friend’s face.

      “And I admit now. You, Penny, a girl, are hot to me.”

      “I KNEW it!” Penny smiled and let out a soft squeal. “We could date each other, you know. That’d be fun.”

      Rachael was blushing again. “No. Penny! I’m only just now finding this out about myself. I mean… it would be, I guess, pretty fun to date you…”

      “Exactly.” Penny kissed Rachael gently on the forehead.

      “Palpitations. PALPITATIONS!” Rachael blushed yet again. “We’re… we’re co-workers, though. You’re kind of my boss.”

      “No. Mr. Pendleton is your boss. I mean, I kind of have some influence over you, but… I don’t know. It’s not like everybody has to know.”

      Penny got out of bed.

      “We should get dressed and start the day.” Penny grabbed the bottom of her pajama shirt and slowly started to pull it up. “Should I change... right... here?”

      “Oh my god!” Rachael threw her head under the covers and Penny laughed.

      “You are the most adorable thing. I’m not going to change in front of you... Yet. I would melt your brain for the rest of the day if I did that. Wouldn’t I?” 

      “Why are you torturing me with your beautiful body?!?!” Rachael was still hidden under the covers.

      “Because I know I can now. And it’s fun. I’ll wear my work clothes from yesterday. I don’t think I can fit in your clothes after all. I have boobs. You have less boobs.”

      “Thank you. I only have 2 casual outfits anyway. They’re a little small on me, so you would just…” Rachael daydreamed about what Penny would look like in her white tanktop and denim shorts. “Yeah.”

      From the bathroom, Penny continued the conversation. 

      “My voluptuous figure would pour out of it like champagne? Which is a polite way to say I’m fatter than you.”

      Rachael quickly corrected her. “You’re not fat. No. I didn’t mean…”

      “I’m kidding. I don’t think I’m fat. I like how I look. There.”

      Penny emerged from the bathroom back in her work clothes.

     “We’re definitely going to my house so I can change into more comfortable clothes, and for your sake, less attractive clothes.” Penny smiled.

     “That’d be nice. I’d really like to stop thinking about you that way.”

      “I don’t mind it. You’re pretty, too, you know. You do need to get dressed, though, sleepyhead. And don’t strip in front of me. I’m not ready to have sex with you.”

      Rachael blushed again. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. You told me to change and my brain was like ‘Must obey. Must change.’ You… You can do things to my brain that no one else has ever done before.”

     Rachael picked up her tanktop and shorts to go change.

      “I kind of had a feeling I was able to do that. Even when we first met, you seemed to have this kind of… awe towards me. That’s why I want to see that you’re well taken care of. You’re too precious to get hurt.”

      “Aww.” Rachael was getting dressed in the bathroom now. “Thank you for caring so much about me.”

      “Caring for you has this weird… automatic instinct for me, too. When you got outed in Anaheim I didn’t hesitate. I just ripped you out of there as fast as possible. I had to protect my girl.”

      “That’s one of the many reasons I love having you as a friend, Penny. You’re just amazing like that.”

      Rachael opened the bathroom door. Penny looked over her. 

      “I love it. You look so ‘White girl.’” Penny smiled. “But seriously, though, you are super cute. I can’t remember the last time I saw you in street clothes. We both work too much.”

      “Why can’t I make you melt like you made me melt? That’s not fair.” Rachael started cleaning out her purse so it only contained the essentials for the day.

      “I’m immune to your powers of hotness. Mwa ha ha. We’ll take my car for our shopping trip today.”

      “Sounds good. I don’t like driving much.”

      The two went downstairs to Penny’s car. Rachael locked the front door behind her. Penny’s apartment was in downtown Denver. It was a small apartment near Sloan’s Lake. It was a 25 minute drive from Rachael’s house to Penny’s apartment. They talked for the whole drive. Since they were finally having a conversation outside of the workplace again, they had a whole list of things to talk about. Penny questioned Rachael about being bi, but Rachael’s answers were often just ‘I don’t know.’ Rachael wanted to talk about that topic more with her friend, but she was still trying to process it all internally and needed lighter topics while her mind digested her new reality.

      When they walked into her apartment a few minutes later, Rachael thought Penny’s apartment was wonderful. It was recently remodeled and looked luxurious on the inside. Penny had just the right amount of decoration. It was all tasteful, elegant and modern. Some of the art on the walls was video game themed, but still fit the styling of the other modern decorations.

      “I didn’t know you played video games.” Rachael said, as they toured the apartment.

      “Occasionally. I like the art more than actually playing.”

      “I’m disappointed in the amount of mess, though. You said your home life was a mess. This is a fantastic mess, Penny.”

      Penny pointed at her head. “This home. My personal life. My life choices at home. I didn’t mean my house was a mess.”

      Rachael looked in her bathroom and noticed a dildo on the floor.

      “See? Dammit.” Penny quickly shoved the dildo in a drawer, embarrassed.

      Rachael teased her now. “Oh no. A dildo. Penny has NEEDS!” 

      They both laughed. 

      “Look, kid. I don’t need your sass.” Penny joked.

      They ended the tour in Penny’s bedroom. There was another dildo on the bed.

      “Holy cow. You are the horniest woman I know! Do you have a dildo in every room?”

      Now Penny blushed as she stashed another dildo in a drawer. “I have a high libido, okay? Would you get out of here so I can change, you brat?”

      Rachael laughed. “Yes ma’am.”

      Penny changed while Rachael wandered the apartment, taking in all the sights, sounds, and smells of the private life of Penny De LaCruz. At first glance, the apartment seemed normal enough. A bookshelf in the living room held several books that focused on the artwork of video games. The walls were decorated nicely with stylized video game art. Penny had turned on music in her room. Rachael didn’t recognize the artist, but she heard a strong female vocalist singing. The air carried a hint of coconut and vanilla from wax warmers in other rooms. The apartment was kept clean, an easy task, since Penny was only here to sleep most of the time.

      “There. How do I look?”

      Penny came into the living room wearing denim jeans and a loose fitting short sleeved shirt. The jeans had a tear mid-thigh, obviously designed that way. On her feet were pink and grey sneakers with ankle socks.

      “Beautiful. And I don’t go nuts when I look at you, now! A+. 5 stars.”

      Penny laughed. “Let’s go shopping, then.”

      They left the apartment and drove to a nearby home decor store to begin their shopping trip. This store would most likely have the lamp, nightstands and mirror they wanted. They walked inside and quickly found the lamp aisle.

      “Here you go.” Penny said sarcastically. She pointed to an antique lamp that was brand new, yet looked ancient. “This is adult enough for you, right?”

      “Please don’t put that in my house. Ew. I can’t believe people buy some of this stuff.”       Rachael’s attention was drawn further down the aisle where a large floor lamp with multiple arms branched  out. The small shades over each bulb were brightly colored with bright silver arms going back to its base.

      “That’s pretty.”

      “Penny! I want it! I know it’s not a nightstand lamp, but I want it! I am so getting this.” 

      Rachael loaded the large box into their cart, a big smile on her face.

      They continued to walk around and shop, getting twice as many things as they came for. They were nearly done shopping at this store when a man walked up behind Rachael. 

      “Hey. How are you?” The man said.

      “Good. Thanks. You?” Rachael turned and looked over the man, checking to see if she was supposed to recognize him, but she didn’t.

     “I’m good. I just wanted to let you know there’s a huge sale happening behind this building.”

      He didn’t give anyone time to respond.

     “Let’s head back there and check it out. They have this same lamp for 90% off. We have to hurry, though, or they’ll sell it.”

     Penny tried to cut in. “It’s behind…” He cut her off.

      “Yeah, it’s behind the store. We have to go right now. We can’t miss this deal. They probably have everything in your cart back there. Let’s just go.” 

      He reached out and grabbed Rachael’s arm.

      Faster than Rachael could blink, Penny was behind him and had a switchblade knife to his throat.

      “Let her go. Now.” Penny hissed.

      “Fuck, man.” He dropped her arm. “It’s just a sale, shit. Fuckin’ ungrateful bitches.”

      Penny pointed the knife at him as he backed away.

      “Fuckin’ crazy ungrateful bitches.”

      “Fuck off, asshole!” Penny roared. “Let’s go.”

      Penny put one hand on Rachael’s back and the other hand on the cart. Before Rachael had a second to think, they were at the checkout.

      “There’s a man in this store who grabbed my friend. He said there’s a sale happening behind the store? I think he wanted to take her.” Penny explained what happened to the slightly terrified cashier. Rachael began to shake a little.

      “I’ll get security.” The clerk talked quietly. She picked up the phone and made a page over the intercom. “Cleanup on aisle 42.”

      The store was fairly large, but there was no aisle 42. Within seconds, a security officer was by their side. 

     “Are you ladies alright?” The officer quickly looked at the girls, then around at their surroundings.

     “Yes, sir.” Penny said. “Some crazy white guy said there’s a sale happening behind the store and tried to take my friend. He’s about my height, crazy hair, needed to shave.”

     The security officer quickly got their information from them and escorted them out to their car. He assured them they would check the security cameras and someone would be in touch to ‘resolve the issue’. Penny knew there wasn’t much they could do, but they loaded the stuff and they were safe in Penny’s car again.

      Rachael sobbed.

      “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I know that was scary for you. I’m kinda terrified myself. Are you okay?”

      “I’m *sniffle* I’m okay. *sob* You! You you you! With the knife and the guy!” Rachael continued sobbing again.

      “Me?”

      “My girlfriend is my bodyguard!” Rachael threw her arms around Penny, squeezing her tight.

      “Bodyguard? Girlfriend? I mean…”

      “You were SO BRAVE! You told the mean man to go away and he DID! And you OWNED HIM! You were like WOOSH! And that made him leave! You’re my big strong protector!!!” Rachael sobbed some more.

      “Oh, kiddo.” Penny stroked Rachael’s hair gently. “It’s okay now. We’re okay.”

      They hugged for a few more minutes. Penny managed to pry Rachael off and buckled her up. She drove to a nearby restaurant for lunch and ice cream. They used the drive through and ate in the car.

      “Okay.” Rachael licked her ice cream cone, then let out a shaky breath. She was still reeling from what had happened. “So that happened.”

      “I hate men.” Penny stared into the distance. Her face seemed to suggest she was imagining strangling many different men.

      “Me too.”

      “Are you going to be okay shopping, or do you just want to go home? And what about clubbing tonight?”

      “I don’t want to spoil your fun.” Rachael looked disappointed.

      “Sweetheart, some stranger just tried to grab you and do who knows what. If you want to go home, I have no problem taking you home. We do need to make at least 2 more stops, though. But I want to pack a bag to spend one more night at your house and then get something from one more store.”

      “I still want to go to that club tonight. But I don’t think I want to shop anymore. I’m pretty much done shopping for the weekend. I have groceries being delivered on Tuesday, so that’s already covered. I basically got everything I need. I’m still okay to do other stuff.”

      “Are you sure, Rachael?”

      “Yeah. As much as this whole situation sucked, I don’t want men running my life, either.”

     “Amen to that. Okay, kiddo. Finish your food, then buckle up. We’ve got places to go.”

-----

[mscottontail-stash]

The Downhill Path

All these days will pass; they will pass in crowds Over the face of the seas, over the face of the mountains, Over rivers of silver, over the rolling forests Like a distant hymn for our beloved dead.

Victor Hugo, Setting Suns

I. How it All Works Out

Paris was riveting in the spring.

With the Champs-Elysées in full bloom, the Eiffel Tower shimmering in the clear skies— it gave the heart of France an air of postcard made reality.

She couldn’t bring herself to care about any of it.

Still half-asleep, Céline turned away from the dimming lights outside and tossed in her sheets once more.

Almost a year in and she had never even glimpsed the full sun shining on the City of Love. Had never come close to exiting the Métro near its most popular stops, had not even entertained the thought of approaching the most prestigious arrondissements of Europe’s beating heart. And why would she have?

Crowds of tourists indulging in buttered pastries and snaps of the Louvre Pyramid were the exact things she tried to avoid. Granted, after five years lost in and out of physical existence, she would have thought her appetite for life would have emerged with a vengeance. And emerged it had, simply not in the way someone caged for months should have.

Eyes closed, she tried to pinpoint the exact moment the sun disappeared behind the building blocking the view of the ground floor she lived in. Slowly, her hazel eyes watched the shadows grow on the dried paint, coercing herself out of bed with the promise of black coffee and a lukewarm shower.

She used to claw at the promise of outside, of the sky under her head and the sun kissing her skin, closing her eyes to savor the heat. She would have begged for anything to smell something else than waste and despair— Until these frozen seconds, from life to dust and life once more. And now?

Now the world was just too much.

Too much noise and furious horns in the frantic traffic of the city, with delivery guys ramming their bikes around, with waiters and street vendors and people in a hurry, people, people everywhere. The sun, the heat, the voices— she drowned in it. Like a great wave pulling her under, she had quickly realized she was unable to cope with the furious pull of this sea.

So why did she crave each miserable second underwater?

Humming, she let her right hand stay under the faucet until it turned slightly red. This simple tingling made her want to stay under water until it bubbled, an ugly shade of white searing her flesh straight to the bone.

Calmly, she looked at her untouched skin and sighed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she whispered to the empty room.

Lately, she had taken to being her main critic. It ranged from calling herself a dumb bitch close to twenty-four times a day to strongly staring at herself in the chipped mirror of her bathroom until she felt confident enough to go outside. So far, none of these highly sophisticated methods had managed to chase away weird ideas such as burning a perfectly-working limb.

The woman who had offered consultations at the free clinic down the road had called these ghastly cravings “recurring thoughts”. Invasive images or ideas that popped by uninvited. It came and went, oblivious to whatever she was doing or what state she was in.

She had tried really hard to do the mature thing and deal with her shit properly. The initial appointment with Mrs. Torpe had been okay: they had mostly dealt with paperwork, how therapy was supposed to go and what could be achieved in that timeframe. Fifty euros had seemed like a fair price for someone willing to put up with her twice a month.

By the time the second appointment had drawn closer, she had pictured herself sitting in the same room to talk about things that made no sense; wolves in the snow, mice trapped in ice and bleeding flowers creeping out of the stone cracks… she did not have the courage to think about what would come next. At best, she would be committed. Then her flimsy identity wouldn’t withstand close scrutiny and then someone, somewhere, would know. And wasn’t it how they had gotten to her the first time, the only time? When she had not known she was safe until it had been ripped away from her. Better sleep less and get crazy thoughts if it meant staying alive.

Perhaps she was just giving herself excuses. She wanted to get better, but being a coward had served her well and she did not feel ready to be brave just yet. Healing, at its root, was not a gentle thing; it was exhausting, drawing on whatever energy that was left to burn the wounds away. Did she really want to put herself through these hoops because it was the right thing to do? Nobody could ever decide when there had been enough pain.

She did not know if it made her weak or pathetic to consistently avoid getting into something that she felt was too hard, but she had decided it was nobody’s business but her own if she lacked the stomach to face the truth.

And what truth would she uncover, anyway? Hazy, drug-fueled experiments had a way of making you doubt you’d even been through the things that seared your mind. And even so, maybe it wasn’t the memories she was so afraid of, but to make them real. Using words to conjure up the Wolf and its steel rod, to spin around and feel stone walls suffocating her in the dark.

What if she was told none of it had been real? That she just couldn’t enter a lift like a normal person because she was just fucked in the head and it was no one’s fault but hers, not some made-up prison, her.

Breathing in, she forced herself to reach a spot in the base of her skull. Here, she could feel the piece of missing skin that had kept her sane, the one feeling she knew would always be real no matter what flowed in her bloodstream. There were other ways to prove to herself and the world the unspeakable things that had been done in the name of progress. Each time her mind drew closer to this truth, every muscle in her body would tightens until she cramped. She was too afraid to reach for the space that existed in the pit of her belly; either because she knew the danger it could bring, or because it was no longer here.

Beyond everything, this theft was the loss she mourned the most. They had taken many things from her over the agonizing weeks. Her freedom. Her dignity. The humanity in herself, the belief of something good in each in every person. But to feel the vacant space that once housed that spark, the great bond to something truly marvelous that had been just hers— each time her brain tried to make sense of it she would come back to that crappy apartment more shitfaced that the night before. This was what pushed her out in the streets every night: a chase for something that was gone, and that she feared would never come back.

Humans were flawed in that way; sometimes they simply mourned themselves.

Céline snorted, head facing the showerhead: being gloomy was certainly no cure. She let the water roll on her shoulders some more before slipping out of the tiny bathroom corner, her soaked feet adding to the general mold of the place. Not that she was complaining about this “lovely, cozy flat with caractère” sold by the chain-smoker lady living above her. Her flat was crappy, but it was functional. Not unlike its tenant, she often remarked.

She counted herself lucky to have a roof over her head, especially post-Blip. The surge of population had not made living in the Capital any easier. She could have fallen prey to the marchands de sommeil, sleep merchants that rented terrible holes to desperate people. The only reason she had snatched this place was thanks to some acquaintances at the GRC, citizens stuck in the same administrative limbo she had enjoyed for a while.

Real estate was a mess and no place was easy to grab, yet she had managed that one, probably because her French was good and her manners quiet enough for this neighborhood at the edge of seedier streets. Madame Bruyère had only cared about the duration of her stay, if she was employed and if she was going to bring people in to party and criminal activities of any kind. It must had been a winning “Long enough-yes-no” because here she was now, living in the antiquated building close to work.

It could have been worse. She could have stayed penniless after being processed by the Global Repatriation Council, but the overworked staff had been glad to ship her off to central Europe when she had filled out one single flimsy application. She had lied, of course. Pretended to be shell-shocked by her body turning to dust and reappearing to find herself five years in the future. It had not been a hard lie to sell.

She had come back in the same state she had vanished, a bloody mess in rags on the verge of passing out. A blond man had asked her a couple of questions in broken English, tried to check on her before getting wary of her shrieks. Once he had understood she was in no immediate danger, a nurse had simply shoved her in a corner and waited a couple of weeks to start asking questions. Looking back, she did not know if she was more ashamed by her lashing out than her piss-poor resistance.

She had had time to understand what the hell had happened. Saw the ruined Avengers Compound on the news. Processed that the tundra was gone, the Wolf was gone, and everyone she had cared for was gone. She had watched out for anyone else, friend or foe, but the mednyy devochka, the brass-skinned girl, had been the only thing to ever come back from that particular limbo. Happiness. Bitterness. It all meshed into the same blur that had been the GRC camp.

The only thing that had left an impression were the people that had blipped back alongside her. They had been from all over the world, people on planes and boats, lost and confused, swimming in the same big parenthesis that was the time after their return. Who had left with them and who had remained? What had changed and what was still the same? Five years may have been a moment for them, but it was a long time for everyone and everything else.  

Oftentimes, kin would come to reunite with their loved ones. Other days, some returned would break down under the strain of this new reality. Céline had not known what had been more heartbreaking to witness. She used to have the selfish thought that at least other people eventually moved on, that the faces that came and went all around her changed. She didn’t know if she had improved much from her days in Kiev, but she liked to think so.

The girl in the mirror wasn’t sure either.

Seeing her reflection every day was a necessary pain. She needed to see, to look at herself touching her dark hair and golden skin and not have to repeat that all of this whisper of a life was real, not just a delusion brought by torment and anesthetics.

It didn’t mean reality was any kinder.

She wasn’t “just thin”. Baggy dresses and leather jackets helped to hide the hollow shapes of her body, but staring at her naked reflection had a way of bluntly highlighting her sorry state. Infrequent meals, hard liquor and poor sleep had not really helped her getting back to something more than a bag of bones. As with everything, she was trying, failing, and trying some more; little by little, one beef tacos at a time, six hours of sleep once every week, breathing in.

Her eyes trailed on the little fragments of paper pinned to the frame of the mirror. Bits and pieces of poetry, of articles, of words she liked. She let her fingers linger over John Donne’s No Man is an Island. She mouthed the words, comforting for a reason she couldn’t quite grasp: “every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.”

She didn’t like the way clothes sagged on her, didn’t like the yellow shade of her dark skin, the way climbing a few stairs left her winded. She even missed complaining about her period once every month, because the absence of blood made her painfully aware that her body wasn’t working as it should. That everything was not fine, that progress was slow. Still, she kept trying on her own.

She ended her examination with the same hopeful resignation: She would get there.

Grabbing the clothes she had selected for the evening, she finished her preparation with some makeup and a quick look at the club she had spotted a few nights ago. She had to work from 5 to 10, but the rest of her time was her own. It was easy to forget how good it felt to be able to do whatever she pleased, even if it meant doing nothing at all.

Slamming the door to her place, she exited the tight lobby at the same time her neighbor was doing the same.

An elegant, warm French-Nigerian student with pearls in her box braids, Gloria was a major in biochemistry, sold handcrafted clothes on Etsy to support an association funding single-mothers and led the singing choir of her parish on Sundays. Céline was convinced that by the time 2030 would roll, that girl would either become President somewhere or be canonized. She was simple, pure goodness. It almost hurt sometimes to be near her, to feel her compassion and strong faith in all things good and worthwhile.

They were crossing paths in more way than once; Céline, climbing slowly, on her jagged way to something slightly better. And Gloria, glorious as her name, a bright future ahead of her. That the two of them converged on a single thread in Moineaux Street never ceased to amaze the older woman.

“Hey, you!” Gloria chirped with a lovely French accent.

The onyx-skinned girl had insisted they talk English when she had realized Céline was fluent. Gloria was planning on applying to an Ivy League university next year and she wanted to “brush up” on an already flawless practice.

They exited the building together, chatting their way to the metro where they parted. Watching her disappear, Céline felt envy for the young French girl. Gloria knew without the shadow of a double who she was and what she wanted. She had plans for the next five years, and the means to achieve whatever goal she set her eyes on. No shadows had ever damaged her beliefs. It felt good to talk to someone so anchored in life, and yet it was still a curious thing, to watch life from the sidelines.

She had never been as outgoing and warm as Gloria, but she could still remember a young, hopeful girl volunteering to clean-up after global disasters and aliens fights. She hadn’t known real fear back then, only the aftermath of darkness. She still didn’t know how to feel about the Avengers, only that superheroes had been a part of her world ever since she was a little girl in a strange new place.

Céline still remembered where she had been during Tony Stark’s press conference and the revelation of his identity as Iron Man, and how they had watched the return of Captain America in her cramped dorm room not too long after that. Then the battle of New York had happened and it was the first time she had sensed the world had changed. She had been a 20-something then, fresh out of Canada and itching for a way to make her mark. Her work as a volunteer for the Red Cross had still seemed so small, the search for survivors in the rubble so daunting. Four years later and it looked like catastrophes would continue to happen, this time in Eastern Europe, and by the time she had turned 25 she had been caught into the politics of the Accords. The following years had been nothing but running, her delusions of grandeur shattered in the most painful way deep in a Russian hellhole.  

Now she was supposed to be 35 and she had let her a decade slip away from her, had let shadows engulf what could have been and, much like the world in the aftermath of Thanos’ hubris, uncertainty made her stand still.

Hesitation was a byproduct of fear, but every day she dipped her toe a little further, either found her determination or foolishness to cross the confines of humanity and back. A fine mix of liquid courage, happy pills and late-night despair often helped dissolving this great uproar into oblivion.

Then it was just easy.

There were no heavy burdens. No restraints, no threats. She did not have to ponder over her own existence, wondering who she was and where she was going and if anyone followed. She was Céline, the foreign girl who enjoyed raves and fluorescent lights on plaster. Céline was easy to talk to. She wore long-sleeved shirts because she claimed she was always cold, she loved the strong smell of camellias because it reminded her of home and she fancied Florent, the owner of the youth center she worked at five evenings per week. Céline was ordinary. Céline was safe.

Sometimes even she forgot Céline was not real.

At first she had found it difficult to make a life out of thin air. People had parents and friends, credit cards and social accounts. History. But then almost four billion people had a five-year gap to fill as well, and everything could be solved by six magical little words: I was part of the Blip. In a way, it was ironic that the first thing she had truly belonged to had been a catastrophe erasing half the world population. She didn’t know a single person that the Snap hadn’t fucked in some way or other, and yet Thanos’ decimation had saved her life. And now, to figure out what to do with it…

There was definitely a market for new identities in this world that had been empty for five years. She had been given an exorbitant price for her fresh one, a blank state that would probably be useful to criminals and con-artists.

What languages had she been good at? English. French. Spanish. London had been the easiest flight to grab, so England he had been. Her dark hair, caramel skin and brown eyes had blended well with her supposed identity. She had been Tina Abbott, a shell-shocked girl from Bristol, on her way to an Asian vacation when her body had disintegrated in the commercial plane she made out of thin air. The middle-aged bureaucrat hadn’t cared to poke holes in her stories, ticking the boxes as the story unfolded.

“Tina” had ditched her papers as soon as her correspondence flight to Brussels had landed and paid cash for the next one. Tina became Sarah and Sarah became Céline, transiting from forger to smuggler without staying long enough to make a mark. With the chaos of 3 billion people simultaneously coming back to life, it wasn't like someone was bothering to check on her now that she had settled for a while. As long as she paid the outrageous rent of her borderline slum, she could be a legal alien as much as she pleased. Immigrations services and the GRC in particular had enough problems in the wake of the Flag-smashers’ uprising.

Céline didn’t have much time to ponder Karli Morgenthau’s actions when a sudden concert of shouts alerted her to some commotion inside the limestone building; carefully, she opened the door to the youth center of Belleville.

[tinydooms]

And (if I'm not imposing) a platonic one with ♠️ (one character adjusting the other one's necktie/tie pin/clothes) and Rick & Jonathan? (I'd love something about them being brothers-in-law :o)

You get a story AND a picture! His and hers evening wear:

Marriage, Rick O’Connell was finding, was a series of gives and takes--not unpleasant ones, but sometimes, the give wrong-footed him in a way he found totally unexpected. Take tonight. Tonight he was Taking Evie Out. Normally, this would have included dinner at one of Cairo’s myriad restaurants, dancing at one of the European nightclubs, and a nice walk home along the river, possibly with a little innocent hanky-panky along the way. But no. Tonight they were going out to a fancy party at the Cairo Opera House, thrown by the head of the Antiquities Department, so it was white tie and evening clothes all the way. Rick stood in his underwear in the bedroom, looking down in apprehension at the evening suit laid out on the bed. 

They had taken their honeymoon in Paris, mostly because Rick had figured that Paris wouldn’t hold any cursed objects or ancient corpses (he hadn’t reckoned on the Louvre), and partly because Evie had said to him once that she had always wanted a “Paris dress”, which Jonathan informed him meant a bespoke frock from a big designer. That had been easy enough to arrange--they were wealthy now, obscenely so--but Evie had bested him by ordering him a complete evening kit. It was a beautiful suit, all fine wool and soft silk, and it scared the bejeezus out of Rick. He wasn’t going to be able to eat a damn thing all night for fear of ruining it. 

Carefully, Rick put on the crisp white shirt and coal black pants. He picked up the ivory silk waistcoat and put it on; it crossed at the middle and sat at two sharp points. Okay. So far so good. Rick eyed himself in the mirror. Not bad. 

The door opened. 

“Rick, old chap, have you got a spare tie I can borrow? Mine’s gone walkabout, I’m afraid.”

“In the drawer,” Rick said, gesturing at the dresser. 

Jonathan bounded over to it and began to rifle the contents. “Evie’s asked Selim to bring the car around; I said I’d drive but she won’t have it. Said a fancy occasion needs a chauffeur. I think she just doesn’t like my driving. Ah, here’s a tie. Thanks, old chap.” He paused and looked Rick over. “I say, are you all right?”

Rick gestured at himself. “I look like an idiot.”

Jonathan looked him up and down. “Not really. You’re supposed to button the shirt up to the throat. Where’s your tie? Ahaha, a bowtie, I see. Very French. Here.”

The terrifying thing about Jonathan Carnahan, Rick had learned, was that he was terrifyingly competent when he wanted to be. He took Rick in hand, buttoning his shirt up practically to his chin, fastening on a collar, tying the ivory bow tie. He helped Rick shrug into the jacket. 

“There you are, old chap, you look like a film star,” Jonathan said, and smacked Rick’s back. 

Rick snorted. “Think I’ll fool the nobs?”

“You won’t have to. They’ll all be so concerned about one-upping each other, no one will notice what you’re wearing. Besides,” he added, “The Emersons will be there, and you can always count on the Professor to start bellowing and steal the show.”

Rick laughed at that. The archaeological world was full of what Jonathan called “insufferable prats”, but there were excellent exceptions. He had met the Emersons once before and liked them.

“Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “You’ll like this opera. It’s about the Gold Rush and cowboys and bandits and the heroine saves the hero from being hanged at the end.”

“Seriously?” 

“I’m afraid so. It’s in Italian, mind, so we won’t get half the words, but you’ll like it.”

“We could just go and sit in the cheap seats,” Rick said, looking around for his cufflinks. “That’s how I usually go to the opera.”

“What, and waste all your hard work? Besides, there’ll be excellent champagne at this do. Tell you what, if it gets really bad we’ll steal a few bottles, kidnap Evie, and run away.” Jonathan produced the cufflinks from somewhere and handed them over. 

“Sounds good to me.” Rick stuck his feet into his highly polished evening shoes and took a deep breath. “Think I’ll make Evie proud?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “You already do, you git. You’ll make the House of Lanvin proud, too; we should take a picture and send it to ‘em.”

Rick laughed again. “Okay. Now all I need is that stupid hat--” Jonathan handed him the silk topper that the Parisian shop assistant had insisted he buy-- “and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Evie was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, resplendent in her black and silver Paris gown, her hair pinned up and her eyes lined in kohl. She grinned when she saw them. 

“Look at my boys, dressed up in their party clothes,” she said. 

Rick grinned back, his anxiety (mostly) melting away. He gave Evie his arm. “Ready to go, Mrs. O’Connell?”

“As I’ll ever be, Mr. O’Connell,” Evie replied. 

“And Jonathan,” Rick added as they walked out the door, “the code word for ‘grab the booze and run’ is asparagus.”

“Right-oh, old chap.” Jonathan took Evie’s other arm. “I’ll grab the booze, you grab the lady, and we’ll run away like a mummy’s on our trail.”

Rick and Evie both laughed, and Rick felt the last of his worry melt away. With this family, he could survive anything. 

[shawn-mendes-post]

Aftermath

A/N: Chapter 2 of Just Friends. I don’t own anything. 

VMAs Recap: (Y/N) is not a little girl; she is a woman with many males wanting her. 

This year there were many good performances. However, (Y/N) took the show and left us wanting more.  If you do not know who she is, then let me brief you. 

She was born in Toronto, Canada, in 1997.  She comes from a line of prestige doctors.  It came out a surprise when she would not follow the same path as all her members in the family.  She would follow her best friend, Shawn Mendes, on tour.  Things would heat up with their friendship as people began to speculate romance was blooming. However,  it came to a stop when Shawn and Camila were spotted kissing. 

Their friendship is unknown because the two are no longer spotted together. (Y/N) was busy filming in a tv show and writing songs while Shawn was doing a collab with Camila. 

Next, we hear about (Y/N) is her new single Hands to Myself.  Fans went wild and could not believe sweet (Y/N) could be so....sexy.  She would perform the song at the VMAs. 

She gave Shawn a run of his money with an alluring performance. She wore a seductive dress that showed off her curves.  Hair curled down her shoulders, perfectly framing her heart-shaped face. She even had a male dancer dance with her. The dancer was all over her, and she was all over him.  The two were both joined by another male dancer, and the performance was Hot. Hot. HOT.  

Overall, it was an outstanding performance, and I cant wait to see what she does next. Watch out for my next article about the timeline of Shawn's and (Y/N)'s relationship. 

***

(Y/N) stared at the article, rolling her eyes at how they had to mention Shawn. "Why must people keep focusing on our friendship. I don't even know what goes on in his life anymore," she complains, flipping the french toast.  

Her agent sent the article after the VMAs. He wanted to let her know how everyone loved her performance. He also wanted to check up on her since she has a movie shoot soon. 

(Y/N) finished making her breakfast before she sat down to eat.

 Her plate consisted of fluffy, warm, french toast with glazed strawberries, topped with powdered sugar giving off a heavenly look.

 A side of bacon and eggs with a soft biscuit landed on another plate. Her stomach grumbles before she digs in, not having anything since yesterday. 

Agent 

Don't forget to go to the shooting of the movie.  Also, you have an interview tonight.

Groaning, she gets up and gets ready for the day. 

***

Shawn was hungover because he could not get his mind off of (Y/N). After seeing her at the VMAs, it brought back memories of the two. 

"Shawn!" A 4-year-old (Y/N) yelled, running towards him in her Halloween costume. He lets out an "oof," as she wraps her arms around him. He laughs, patting her back, hoping she would let him go. 

She lets go, glancing at his costume and lets out a squeal. " My prince Eric," she said, dreamily. He rolls his eyes, not understanding why she even had a crush on a cartoon character.  "Yeah, yeah," grumbles, blushing as he sees her Ariel costume.  She was wearing the pink ball gown that he mentioned he liked. 

"Ready?" He asked, holding out his arm for her to take. Nodding, she wraps her arm around his, following their parents out the door. They spent a couple of hours of trick or treating and having fun with each other. 

After, they went to Shawn's house, having a little party. The kids were sent to Shawn's room. Shawn dumped all his candy on the floor and (Y/N) did the same thing, giggling as she sees all the different types of candy. 

The two would swap candies and munch on them, watching a movie on his bed. Time passes, and the parents come in to see (Y/N) head-on Shawn's chest and his arms wrapped around her waist. Both were peacefully sleeping, and the parents took a picture of the two. 

***

Shawn stared at (Y/N) with lovely eyes, finding her the perfect girl. " I will marry you, " the 7- year-old told her. She laughs and shakes her head, " oh Shawnny, we are too young. Maybe when we turn 20. Hopefully, I will be on my way to becoming a doctor, and you are on your way as a famous actor."

Shawn shakes his head, not liking the wait, "let's get married today," making her eyes widened. A chock caught their attention as they see Shawn's parents. Both of them were frozen, not knowing what to say. 

(Y/N) tilts her head, thinking about what Shawn said, and then nodded her head rapidly. " Okay, Can we?" She turns to Shawn's parents making them snap out of their state, looking at both of the kid's pleading face, debating on what to say to the two hopeful kids, before nodding their heads. 

***

The next day the two kids were in the backyard. (Y/N) was wearing a white gown that went to her ankles. Shawn was wearing a tux that made him uncomfortable. 

The two were not able to see each other, and that made it difficult for things to get done. The two would sneak away to meet up with each other, and just spend time together. The parents would have to find the kids and separate them. 

Later, (Y/N) was walking towards Shawn, smiling excitedly. Shawn was glad he was marrying his best friend. Their eyes connect, and both of them could not look away.  It was time for them to exchanged vows. 

"Shawn, you are my best friend and will be forever. I would follow you to the moon and back. I promise I will always be there for you, Shawn. "

"(Y/N) you are amazing.  I want to stay by your side no matter what. I can not see my life without you. I will be your best friend forever."

Then Shawn places a Ring Pop on her ring finger, remembering what his father said.  Then (Y/N) did the same to him before she leans and kisses his cheek, blushing as she pulls away. The parents cheer as pictures, and a video was taken of the two. 

***

Shawn stared at himself in the mirror with tired, dry, and red eyes. His hair was a mess, and that was unusual for him. He knew he should try and talk to her, but after the last encounter, he thought it was best to leave her alone.

But he missed her. He missed her so much that he couldn't even stop his tears when he thinks about her. The smell of her hair because she uses a specific type of shampoo.  The way her eyes lit up when she would see him. A smile always on her lips or the way she giggles at everything he says. "I miss her," he mumbles, placing a hand on the mirror. 

A 15- year-old Shawn was sitting on the couch, running his hand through his hair. He was waiting for (Y/N) and her family to come over for Chrismas, the yearly routine. 

He was clutching the gift he wrapped poorly in his hands, wondering if she will like her gift. 

He spent countless months saving up for her gift because he wanted to make things perfect for her. 

He knew he was busy after he signed the record deal, but he wanted to be there for (Y/N). 

Knock. Knock.

Fumbling, he stands up, cheeks flared, as he hears his family chucking. Opening the door, he was left breathless when his eyes meet hers. 

She was standing in front with a big gift in her hands, perfectly wrapped with a big bow resting on the top. 

"Hi," she said, softly blushing when she saw how handsome he looked. "Hi," he replied, grinning stupidly, not noticing her family.

"Ugh, get a room," her little brother said, disgusted at how they were acting, making the two tomato red in the face as they cough awkwardly. 

Everyone enters the living room, but Shawn takes (Y/N) to his room. 

The two teens sat on Shawn's bed, five feet apart, glancing away from each other. There was a pregnant silence since the teens did not know what to say. "I got-" the two started, but stopped when they realize the other was talking. 

" I got you a gift," she mumbled, shyly giving him the gift in her hands. He carefully unwraps the gift. He opened the box to see different items in there. He took out a pair of fluffy, slippers.  " You need a pair when you go on tour. "

Smiling, he gets the next item, which was wrapped chocolate chip cookies. " I know you love my baking. "

The next item was a jar with notes. Some envelopes read "open when..." making him curious about what they say. 

There were pictures of the two for him to keep when he goes on tour and to have something to remember her since she wouldn't be with him because she was going to study to become a doctor. 

"It's wonderful,"  he kisses her cheek. " I got you something too," he said, giving her the gift. 

She unwraps it, slowly opening the box before she lets out a gasp.  An elegant, silver locket with a vintage moonstone stone set in the center,  framed Victorian floral in an antiqued silver color, laid in the small little box. 

" I can't take this," she says breathlessly, shaking her head. She tried to push the box to him, but he shakes his head. 

" I want you to have it. You mean the world to me (Y/N) and want you to know," he whispers, opening the locket to show a tiny picture of the two smiling. (Y/N) stares into his eyes, tears sliding down her face, slowly leaning closer to Shawn's face. 

Their lips touch in a light kiss, making both of them nervous. 

He places a hand on her waist, brings her closer to him, the other hand on her neck, tilting her head more. (Y/N) has one hand on his thigh as the other is running through his curls, whimpering at his touch. 

Her hand on his thigh rises up and down till becoming dangerously close to his crotch. Shawn's breath gets heavier, heart beating rapidly, blood rushing through his ears, making him pull away from (Y/N). The two were a blushing mess as they breathed heavier than normal. 

"Wow," she said after a while of silence. Shawn chuckles before running his fingers through her hair. " Your right, wow." 

He wanted to kiss her again, and he would if she didn't pull away from him. "We shouldn't have done that," she said, getting up and looking at him fearfully. " Why not?" He asked because it hurt him that she regretted it. 

" I don't want to ruin our friendship, Shawn. We can't be together because you are becoming famous and I'm just me. You are just going to leave me for someone prettier and richer than me. We should stay friends because of the uncertainty of life," she explained, not wanting to but knowing her family would disapprove of them being together. 'You must focus on becoming a doctor,' her mom told her. 'I know we thought it was cute when you were little, but you're not anymore,' her father said about her crush on Shawn. 

Shawn sat motionless, countless thoughts running through hid head before he nods his head. "I understand (Y/N). However, I want you to know I would never leave you for another girl. You are the bewitching girl in the world. It was a heat of the moment," he lied through his teeth. 

"SHAWN! (Y/N)!" Women voiced was heard through the walls. The two teens rushed towards the living room to join everyone else. 

***

Shawn sighs, tired of his confusing feelings. He loves Camila, and she makes him feel alive. But she wasn't (Y/N). He couldn't just mope anymore. He had things to do. He had songs to write. 

***

(Y/N) was off the stage, running her fingers down her off the tight shoulder dress. 

She didn't want to wear something that would bring too much attention.

She was currently a guest on Jimmy Fallon's show to help with the True Confession between John Mulaney and Pete Davidson, two of her favorite comedians. 

" First we are going to need another player, we found a great one you know from Stranger Things, American Horror Story and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, she is also a singer you know well (Y/N) (L/N)!'

(Y/N), gets in motion, she spins, across the stage coming to a stop, and pose.  

She laughs, the audience hollers, at what she did, " coming in hot!" 

Pete was clapping as he watches her impress everyone. His eyes trailed down to see what she was wearing, and he silently admitted she was stunning. 

" Here is how it works. In front of us are two envelopes with confessions. One confession is true, and the other is a lie. Once you read your confession, the other players have 60 seconds to interrogate you, and they have to guess if you are lying or telling the truth." 

(Y/N) nods, grabbing the coffee cup, take a sip, holding back a gag at the taste. " Don't drink that. It's a prop," Jimmy said, shaking his head, trying to reframe from laughing. 

" I had them place coffee in the cup, but I don't like this coffee," she mumbled, making a silent reminder to go to Starbucks after this. 

" John, you go first. Pete, what envelope should John open." 

Pete nods as he points to his envelope and then to John's. " Mine or his?" He asked, laughing. 

" His," Jimmy and (Y/N) said in sync.

" Oh, number two," Pete chuckled out. 

" This could be a lie or the truth. We don't know."

John picks up the envelope, "alright." He then opens the envelope, wondering what is going on. "Are we doing this correctly?" 

" Is this mine or his?" Pete asked, curiously. 

" His," (Y/N) mutters, stares at John, she had an idea of John's, tell when he lies.  

" Who am I talking about? You?" John asked, looking at Jimmy. The audience laughs at how they are questioning the game.

 " You talking about you. " 

" Do you get it?" 

" I should read the email." Everyone laughs as Pete covers his mouth.

John clears his throat before speaking, " my neighbor was arrested by the FBI for being a cannibal. "  

" What?" A few scattered laughs were heard. (Y/N) smiles already knew the answer. 

" What year was this?" 

" 2013," John said, sipping on the drink. 

" So cannibalism illegal at this point. " 

" So wait… is this L.A?"

" New York." 

Jimmy and Pete looked at each other and come to the same conclusion. 

"The FBI got involved, but how did you know?  They asked you questions?" Jimmy asked, needing more information. 

" Uh, when the FBI were swarming our lobby and arrested the guy at 6:00 am a raid. 

" Was there any clue he was suspicious or anything?"

" No, he never said to me in the elevator, "Guess what? I might be a cannibal."  (Y/N) watches the interaction between the three, laughing at them. The buzzer rings, and it was time to guess. 

" I say no cause if it was in L.A, I would believe it. "

" I'm going to say its false. "

They turn to (Y/N), and she smiles innocently. " I am going to say it is true." 

" It's true." 

"What! No!"

John then explains the story to everyone. 

It is Jimmy's turn, and he opens up the envelope, silently reading to himself.

" You sure? Two is pretty good." "I like one."

" I once went for a beer with a musician and woke up in a hotel in Nashville.

"Where did the evening start?" "New York."

" Yes. It's true. " Everyone laughs at Pete's declaration. John and (Y/N) agree with Pete, nodding their heads. They begin to ask uninterested questions to fill in the time. The buzzer goes off, and all three said it was true.

" Pete, it is your turn, and (Y/N) will be picking the envelope. " " I pick one."

" Lorne Michaels and I went to Jamaica together on a vacation for New Years," Pete said, trying to not laugh. "

John made a face, not believing what Pete said. "I want that to be a lie. " The three would spend the rest of the time asking Pete questions.

"I want it to be true, but I'm saying no. " " Not true." (Y/N) stares into Pete's eyes, making him laugh. " It is true," she said. " It's true," Pete admitted.

" I am terrible at this game," Jimmy said, getting up from his seat. (Y/N) had her head held high, smirking when she knew how good she was?

" Now, it is (Y/N)'s turn.  I pick two. "

(Y/N) nods, picking up the envelope, trying to remember what it said. She reads it silently before going deathly pale. She forgot she wrote this, but knew she could not change it now.

" I once had a wedding and got married to Shawn Mendes," she told them, silently wishing she was somewhere else. Screams could be heard in the audience, and that made (Y/N) more nervous.

"How old were you?"

" I was six. "

" Where was it?"

" Umm, I think in the backyard of Shawn's home."

" Did you have a real wedding?"

" Not really, we were pretending that we were getting married. I mean, we were only kids back then. "

" Were your families happy?"

" I think so. I knew Shawn's parents were, but mine, I don't know.

The buzzer went off, and it was time for them to guess. " I am going to say no," Jimmy said, staring at her to figure something out. " I think it is true," John and Pete said.

" It's true," she mumbled, cheeks flushing as the crowd hollers. " WHAT!"

" I was six, and he was seven.  We saw a movie about two people getting married and spending the rest of their lives together. He wanted to marry me, and we came up with a kid's wedding. Our parents planned it out for us. There is a video of the whole thing. I'm pretty sure its somewhere in our family things.

" Our thanks to John Mulaney, Pete Davidson, and (Y/N) (L/N)!"

(Y/N) waves before getting up with Pete. She was being interviewed after John, so she was going to wait in the dressing room.

[wistfulcynic]

To Keep It All The Year (4 /4)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!! Okay, it’s a bit early, but have one anyway. 

The final chapter of this Christmas tale for @katie-dub is basically just fluff and magic. Friends and family and Christmas parties and presents and happy endings. To be read wrapped in a warm blanket with a cup of tea. I hope you enjoy it! 

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is a broken man, betrayed by everyone and everything he thought he could believe in. He’s all but given up on life until a fateful meeting with bartender Emma Swan and her son Henry gives him a reason to live again, and a chance to redeem his past.

All it takes is a little Christmas magic.

On AO3 | Tumblr: Part One | Part Two | Part Three

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ at @thisonesatellite​ who is incapable of not being the best. 

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PART FOUR: THE END BEGINNING OF IT

The sun rises at 7.13 am on the 25th of December in the city where they live, but Henry, who normally needs to be prised off his pillows and hauled bodily from his bed, is up well before it. The eastern sky has barely begun to lighten when he comes flying into his parents’ room, leaping onto their bed and wiggling into the narrow space between them, his elbow digging into Killian’s stomach. 

“Ugh,” Killian grunts, shifting to give Henry more room. “Lad—” 

“Get up get up get up!” cries Henry, shaking Emma’s shoulder until she lifts her head from the pillow. “Santa came!” 

“Did you go downstairs already?” groans Emma. 

“I didn’t go all the way down, I just looked to see if Santa came. And he did! Get up, c’mon let’s go!” 

“All right, all right,” says Emma, rubbing her eyes. “I’m awake.” 

Henry scrambles over Killian and runs from the room, off to hover just on the edge of the landing quivering impatiently until the slowpoke grownups got their act together. 

Emma whimpers and rolls onto Killian’s chest, nestling her face into the crook of his neck. “It’s so early,” she whines. 

It’s not far off the time Killian would normally get up, making it a good hour and a half before Emma prefers to open her eyes. He strokes her hair sympathetically. “Christmas morning, love,” he soothes. “It’s only once a year. Tomorrow you can sleep as long as you like.” 

“That doesn’t help me today,” she grumbles, and looks up at him with a still-sleepy smile. “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he replies, kissing her softly. She hums in response and he pulls her closer. 

“Are you guys coming?” shouts Henry from the landing, and Emma snickers. 

Killian grins and combs his fingers through her hair. “Shall we go see what Santa brought?” he asks. 

“The suspense is killing me,” she deadpans. She drops a quick peck on his lips then rolls out of bed, grabbing a fluffy bathrobe to slip on over her pajamas. Killian follows suit and they leave the room together, out to where Henry is dancing at the top of the stairs. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Go on down,” says Emma. “Carefully—” she calls after him as he leaps down the stairs three at a time. 

When they get to the living room Henry is hovering between the stockings and the tree. 

“Stockings first,” says Killian. “Then I think your mum and I are going to need some coffee before we open the rest.” 

Henry carefully takes down the stocking labelled Emma and the one that says Killian, and hands each to the appropriate recipient before diving into his own. They are stuffed full of chocolate and socks as Christmas stockings tend to be, along with one or two more exciting items to make the rest worthwhile. “Ah, yes!” Henry cries, pulling out a Bumblebee transformer. “This is just the one I wanted!” 

Killian and Emma exchange a relieved glance. 

“Santa knows what you want,” says Emma, removing a small velvet jeweller’s box from her own stocking. Within is a silver locket containing a picture of Henry. She gasps and a soft smile curves her lips as she traces her finger over its delicate edge. 

“Indeed he does,” Killian agrees, taking out the antique compass he’s been eyeing for the past few months in the window of a little shop near his work. He didn’t think Emma noticed.  

He looks up to find her smiling at him, her eyes misty. “Since Santa’s not here, I might thank you for this instead,” she whispers, kissing him.  

“Aye,” he growls against her mouth. “And I suspect he may have had some help procuring this compass.” 

“I possibly passed on a suggestion or two,” she says. 

Once the stockings are empty, Henry plays with his transformer while Emma makes coffee and Killian tidies up the first wave of present detritus. She returns with two steaming mugs and a glass of orange juice for Henry, and after all three have taken several strengthening gulps she takes Henry’s glass and gives him the go-ahead to attack the presents beneath the tree. 

Henry makes sure to hand a present to each of them before diving into the largest one of his own, a wooden sled in an old-fashioned style that from his shouts of joy is also just the one he wanted. 

When the presents have all been opened Emma goes to make some breakfast while Killian clears away the wrapping paper and other packaging and sternly ensures that Henry takes all his new toys, books, and other gifts up to his room and finds a place for them. 

Breakfast is pancakes, sprinkled with little red and green M&Ms for Emma and Henry and plain for Killian, who protests that they’ve both already finished the chocolate in their stockings and that’s far too much sugar for first thing in the morning, Christmas Day or no. Emma and Henry exchange identical eye rolls and fill their mouths with huge bites of chocolate pancake as Killian sighs and cuts his into precise squares with exaggerated patience. 

 After breakfast Killian takes Henry to the park to try out his new sled and to give Emma time to take a nap and get ready for the rest of the day. The three of them are due at Belle’s at one for Christmas dinner. Belle insisted, though her apartment is much smaller than their house, saying that Ruby—her new roommate—has gone all-out with the Christmas decorations and she doesn’t want to waste them. She flushed pink as she said this, and Killian had to hide his grin. He has his suspicions about this ‘new roommate.’ 

The park closest to their house has a tallish hill with a smooth slope, perfect for sledding. It’s not too crowded, though there are a few other kids there giving their Christmas-present sleds a test run. Killian keeps half an eye on Henry as he chats to the other parents, marvelling a bit at how comfortable it feels even after all his years of minimal social interaction. Henry calls him and he allows himself to be cajoled into going down the hill on the back of the sled, doing his best to hold on as Henry steers them until they reach the steep dip at the bottom and overbalance, tumbling from the sled and into a snowdrift. He lands on his back and sinks into the snow with a groan, Henry’s shrieks of laughter ringing in his ears. 

After Henry has gone down the hill and back up again to his satisfaction and is thoroughly snow-covered, they head home to find Emma rested and showered. She laughs when she sees them, brushes the snow from Killian’s hair and kisses the reddened tip of his nose as Henry peels off his snowsuit, then takes the boy upstairs to get him dressed and ready while Killian has a quick shower and gets ready himself. 

He turns the water up as hot as he can stand to chase the chill from his old bones, filling the bathroom with comforting steam. When he gets out he swipes his hand across the foggy mirror and for the third year in a row stands in his bathroom on Christmas Day and takes a hard look at himself and his life.

 There are more lines on his face than were there last year, he thinks, but they are lines drawn by laughter and softened by happiness, and though his hair continues to go greyer by the day if ever he dares complain Emma runs her fingers through it and tells him to stop moaning, there are people who would pay good money for highlights like that. 

He no longer works at the bookshop. Instead he is the director of the community library which six months ago Emma inaugurated in the neighbourhood where they used to live, as part of her project to revitalise the area using her money. 

“It’s just so much money,” she said to him with a small laugh one late winter afternoon not quite a year before. “I didn’t really understand how much until I tried to spend it. I bought everything I could think of and it’s barely made a dent. And I just—I feel like I don’t need it anymore. I have my house and my school all paid for, and a car and a college fund for Henry and some investments which just bring more in, and even if I set aside way more than I think I’ll need for savings and retirement and a nice vacation every year there’s still so much left.” She laughed again, with a slight manic edge. 

“So what do you want to do with it, love?” he asked. “I sense you have ideas.” 

“I do,” she replied. “One in particular that I’d like your opinion on. Not because I need your approval,” she said quickly, heading off his protest. “I just want to know if you think this is something I can do.”

He nodded. “Tell me.” 

"At first I thought about giving it to someone else, or even several people. People I knew in our old neighbourhood, to help them escape that place the way it helped me. But then it occurred to me that it would be more useful to make the place somewhere people didn’t need to escape. That would help everybody.” She gave him a hesitant look. “What do you think?” 

Killian smiled. “I think that’s an absolutely brilliant idea.”

“And you really think I can mange it?” 

“Of course you can. You improve everything you touch, Emma. And I’ve yet to see you fail.”  

With Killian’s support and the aid of some skilful research from Belle, Emma started a non-profit foundation for community development and revitalisation. The ink was barely dry on the official forms when she launched herself into her first project. 

She bought out slum lords and renovated their properties, instituted rent controls and long-term tenancies, provided low-interest loan options to people who wished to buy their apartments, and set up co-ops so they could manage the buildings themselves. She offered initiatives to businesses who took over the empty shops and employed local people, and even larger ones to local people who wished to start their own businesses. She set up a fund for the neighbourhood schools for renovations and expansion and salaries for new teachers, free lunches for all students and enough school supplies so teachers never had to buy their own. She endowed a hospital. 

Killian is so proud of her he can barely contain it. 

The neighbourhood is still very much a work in progress, but slowly the vision of what it will be when all that work is done is starting to emerge. New shops and offices open almost daily. The streets are cleaner and the people on them smile when they pass each other, and say hello. A sense of community is beginning to form, one Killian can actually see growing stronger every day in his library among the patrons he has come to know by name. Once again, he reflects, Emma has saved a thing he thought unsalvageable. A broken old sailor one year, an entire neighbourhood the next. And that’s only the beginning.   

The foundation has recently begun to attract attention from the press and subsequently, inevitably, from investors. Emma laughed at first and said she’s still trying to spend the money she has, but when Killian pointed out that with greater investment she could expand to other parts of the city she got a gleam in her eye that’s still there. 

“Let’s get through stage one,” she said. “Then we’ll consider investors.” But Killian could see the cogs turning in her mind and he smiled to himself. There was no stopping his Emma once she got an idea in her head.

He realises he’s still standing in the bathroom staring at his reflection in the mirror and gives himself a little shake. Quickly he dries off and gets dressed in some soft woollen trousers and the new sweater Emma gave him for Christmas. She comes into the bedroom just as he’s pulling it on and when he tugs it over his head he sees her smiling at him. 

“I knew that was just the right shade to bring out your eyes,” she says with satisfaction, brushing her hands across his shoulders and adjusting the collar of his paisley shirt. 

“You have a good eye, love,” he says, catching her around the waist and pulling her close. 

“I’ve still got to get dressed,” she protests feebly as he kisses her. “And if you mess up my hair I’ll have to redo it.” 

“I like it best a bit messy,” he growls, brushing the golden curls aside so he can kiss her neck. She pushes at his shoulder but he can hear her breath hitching in her throat and he nips at her collarbone. 

“Don’t you dare leave a mark,” she gasps. “I can’t wear a scarf with this dress.” He soothes the nip with his tongue and she sighs. “We’re gonna be late.” 

Her fingers curl into his hair even as she speaks the words and he trails back up her neck to capture her lips in a kiss that has her moaning, and breathless when he finally breaks it. 

“Well you’d better get a move on, then,” he smirks. “I’ll go make sure Henry’s ready. 

A fluffy slipper hits the back of his head as he leaves the bedroom and he laughs all the way down the stairs. 

—

They arrive at Belle’s slightly late. “I was just about to call you,” she says mock-severely as she opens the door. 

“Sorry,” Killian says, kissing her cheek. “We got held up.” 

“Hmmm,” says Belle, raising an eyebrow at the flush on Emma’s cheeks. “I bet you did. You remember Ruby.” She indicates the tall and gorgeous woman standing behind her and grinning ear to ear. 

“Aye. Nice to see you again, lass.” 

“And you.” Ruby curls the tip of her tongue around the corner of her lips as her gaze glides slowly down his body. “You look better every time I see you.” 

He returns her expert leer with a very fine one of his own. “As do you,” he purrs, waggling his eyebrows. “That’s one hell of a dress.” 

Belle and Emma observe this byplay with identical half-amused, half-exasperated expressions. “Are you done?” sighs Emma. “I want to see these Christmas decorations I’ve heard so much about, Ruby.” 

“Well you’d better come in then.” 

The little flat is indeed bursting with festive cheer, with a huge Christmas tree in one corner of the living room, tall enough that its star scrapes the ceiling and decorated to the hilt, and every available surface covered in glittering tinsel and blinking lights. There’s even a Santa in his sleigh with all his reindeer, hanging from the ceiling. 

“Wow!” cries Henry “We have got to do this next year, Mom!” 

“Um.” Emma exchanges a glance with Killian. “We’ll see, baby.” 

—

“I know it’s a bit much,” Belle whispers to Killian a few minutes later as they sit together on the couch with Henry playing at their feet. Emma and Ruby are in the kitchen preparing some hot chocolate. “But Ruby’s never had a place of her own before and she was so excited to decorate I didn't have the heart to stop her.” 

“Don't apologise, love,” he replies. “The decorations are charming, and so is Ruby.” He glances at her. “So, are you ever planning to tell me the truth about what’s going on with you two?” 

She flushes. “There’s nothing going on, we’re roommates.” 

“Roommates in the very literal sense of the word,” he retorts. “I had a peek in my old bedroom and it’s basically a glorified closet. If she’s sleeping in there I’ll eat my new sweater.” 

“All right, okay, we’re together,” huffs Belle.  

“Together together?” 

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. But it’s still really new and I don’t want to jinx it, so I didn’t say anything. To anyone, not just you.” She pauses and smiles a soft little smile. “I’m hopeful though,” she says. “It feels really right.”  

He takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “I'm so glad,” he says. “You look happier than I’ve ever seen you.” 

“Do I?” 

“Aye, you do. And you’re wearing two shades of lipstick.” 

—

They spend the afternoon and into the evening with Belle and Ruby, eating and drinking and opening presents, singing Christmas carols and catching up on the latest goings on in their lives. Killian tells stories from his library and Belle from her bookstore, Henry eagerly recounts what he’s learning in school, and Emma talks animatedly about her plans for the foundation in the new year. Ruby works in her grandmother’s diner, she tells them, a job she likes well enough, though she’s getting a bit frustrated with her granny’s old-fashioned style and looking for something new. 

“Have you ever considered opening one of your own?” Emma asks her. “There’s a place not far from the library that would be perfect for a diner.” 

Ruby’s eyes light up. “Are you serious?”  

Emma digs out a business card from her bag and hands it to her. “Absolutely. Give me a call after the holidays and we’ll go have a look at it.” 

As the evening progresses Henry fights valiantly to keep his eyes open but it’s a losing battle, and when he falls asleep curled up on the sofa with his head in Killian’s lap, Emma decides it’s time they went home and calls them a cab. 

The ride is brief and quiet, the three of them cuddled up together in the back seat, and when they get home Killian carries a still-sleeping Henry inside and up to his bedroom. He gets the lad undressed and into his pajamas, tucks him into bed and presses a kiss to his forehead. Henry’s eyes blink open. 

“Killian?” he says. 

“Aye, lad.” 

“Are we home?” 

“We are. Go back to sleep.” 

Henry yawns and snuggles deeper into his pillow. “Can we go sledding again tomorrow?” 

“Yes, if you want.” 

“And Mom can come too?” 

“I’m sure she’d love to.” 

Henry’s eyes drift shut and Killian begins to sneak away, stopping in the doorway when Henry calls his name again. 

“Killian?” 

He sighs. “Yes, Henry?” 

“Are you gonna ask her soon?” 

Killian thinks of the ring tucked away in the back of his sock drawer, awaiting its moment. “Aye, lad, very soon.” 

“Do it soon,” says Henry, yawning again. “I want to call you Dad.” 

He says that so casually, Killian thinks, like they aren’t some of the most precious words he’s ever heard. Right up there with the I love yous Emma used to whisper against his skin when she thought he was asleep, and the shy but certain one she finally said to his face. And soon, hopefully, her I do. 

“I want that too,” he says gruffly. “Now go to sleep.” 

He heads downstairs where he finds Emma with her stockinged feet up on the coffee table, lost in thought. 

“Hey,” he says, stroking her hair. “I thought you were going to make some coffee?” 

“Yeah,” she replies. “I was just thinking.” 

He sits next to her. “About what, love?”

“Christmases past,” she says with a laugh. “About how different everything is now than it was just two years ago, and all the things that had to come together to make it possible. I mean, do you ever think about how unlikely it was that you and I met? Like all the little things that had to fall into place to bring us together?”

“Well, we were living in the same neighbourhood.” 

“Yeah, but our paths never crossed until you came into the bar two years ago. Why did you go there that night when you’d never been in before?” 

“I don't know really. I guess I never noticed it until then.” He frowns for a moment, remembering. “It was the wreath that did it.” 

“The wreath?” 

“Aye. There was a wreath, a Christmas wreath, hanging on the door. It caught my attention and I just decided to go in.” He’s about to mention the identical wreath he saw on the bookstore’s door the following year when Emma speaks.  

“That’s so weird.” She shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’d forgotten until just now.” 

“Forgotten what?” 

“The Christmas party I was at last year, before I went to the bar and found you, there was a wreath there that caught my eye. It had cinnamon sticks on it.” She laughs. “You know how I love cinnamon, though usually I prefer it in my drinks and not on my walls.” Her laugh fades into a small frown. “I actually said that, now that I think about it, to this guy who was there. God, how did I forget about all of this?” 

Killian feels himself go very still. “What guy?” he asks. 

“I don’t know, I never got his name. He was a bit taller than you, curly hair. Eyes kind of like yours, that same light blue. Also an accent. He kind of reminded me of you, actually. Huh.” 

Killian swallows. “What did he say to you?” 

“Not much, just that cinnamon sticks on Christmas wreaths were pretty common in some places. I said it seemed like a waste of good spices and he laughed. He said he’d made that wreath himself and he’d take my advice into consideration in the future.” She shrugs. “I liked him, but it wasn’t a particularly profound conversation.” 

She pauses then, the frown deepening between her eyes. “But then he—he gave me the weirdest look, sort of—fond, and sad. He said that some people believe cinnamon can be used to summon true love and I started to laugh, but then I was suddenly... overcome by the certainty that you were at the bar and that it might be my only chance to ever see you again. So I left the party and went to the bar and there you were. And then somehow I forgot all about all of this until you mentioned the wreath just now. How bizarre is that?” 

“Very,” Killian croaks, his throat thick with unshed tears. He pulls Emma into his arms and holds her tight, too tightly probably but she doesn’t protest. 

“Hey,” she says gently. “Are you okay?” 

“Aye, love. Just thinking about how close we came to missing each other. It’s not a thing I really care to contemplate. If we hadn’t met I just—I don’t know where I’d be.” If I’d be.  

“I know just what you mean.” Her arms tighten around him and they sit for a moment, wrapped in each other and in fate and love and magic. 

Eventually they pull apart, with soft kisses and lingering touches to prolong the embrace. “Why don’t you go make that coffee,” he says, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. “I’ll get a fire started.” 

“Okay.” 

Killian watches until the kitchen door swings shut behind her and then he goes to the fireplace, sinks to his knees on the hearth and lets his head fall into his hands. He is shaking, almost sobbing, tears slipping from his eyes to roll slowly down his cheeks. Sad tears and grateful ones, salty and bittersweet, aching with both loss and joy.

Because he knows now who that florist was, in the little shop on the street he’s never been able to find again. He suspected before but now he’s certain. He has no notion of how or why, and he doesn’t care to find one. Killian has always considered himself a man of science and reason, but this he accepts on pure faith: That somehow, in some way his long-dead brother reached out and gave him the push he needed to pull himself together. To find love and friends and a new family. To save his life.  

He remembers quite suddenly a line from one of his favourite books, one his brother used to read out loud to him each Christmas. “Heaven and the Christmas time be praised for this,” he murmurs, and it is truly a prayer. “I say this on my knees, Liam. On my knees.”

When Emma returns with the coffee the fire is crackling cheerfully and he is calm again. He takes the mugs from her and sets them on the table, then wraps her in his arms, resting his cheek on her hair. 

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he says. 

She snuggles into his chest with a happy sigh. “Merry Christmas.” 

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