#i write it for eleven hours straight i wish it worth it

[cammohu]

Doom mood mood doom plush making detailed guide!

(as it turned out I only lost the patterns of tail and some of clothes so I will make another post lately after I remember how i construct quaternion pants) I design these patterns using metric system! List of materials: White fabric 40x160 centimeter (i recommend use plush or fleece); Small pieces of black, light blue, red, yellow, green and blue fabric for face shade, nose, cheeks and ears (can be dyed from scrapes of main fabric or probably painted on ready fabric details, but it will make fabric rough); 6-strand thread for embroidery (black or dark blue for whiskerks, mouth, legs and tail details, light blue for face shade and red for cheeks); Spool of white thread for magic to be happen; Piece of red velcro for eyes and eyelids (realy painfull to handsew, so if eyelids not neccesary you can use same fabric as for applique); 34 fuzzy wires (four for each arm and leg and two for tail); 9 cotter pins, 18 two cantimeters disks for joints and 18 shim rings (to protect disks from pins abrasion); Not neccesary: clear super glue to secure arm stitches (dont use 5-second type, it soaks really deep into fabric and can ruin whole detail); Toy stuffing (not sure how it properly called at english but i use 100% polyester one) List of instruments: Sewing macnine not really neccesary, i use it only for applique lines, but saves a lot of time if you can do all things with it; Pins or sewing clips (not neccesary, you can use basting stitches as well); Soap shard/tailor chalk/graphite pencil to mark details at fabric (pen or marker can soak into right side of fabric); Pliers to twist cotter pins; Handsew needles, small ones for sewing and bigger ones for embroidery; Fabric scissors or craft knife. (sorry if i dont mentioned something it there, only now i realized how many things it required)

[Note: pattern is A4 size!] Preparing: Arrows shows fur direction for plush or fur fabric; if you use something else you can ignore them, but be careful with fabric direction! Some can be elastic at one direction and none at another, so if you make two details at different directions it can deform really badly when you start stuffing them!

Fold your main fabric right sides inside and lay every detail to make sure you have enough of it; add seam allowance if you decide to sew it in machine! Sewing:

[Note: for handsew i mainly use blanket stitch, except for some parts] [Second note: pin/clisp/bastsew everything before sew it!!!] Head: Starting from ears: cut out inside or ear detail (dont add any seam allowance!) add some one milimeter seam allowance at stripers; then sew all stripes together and after it pin inside of main detail and start sewing it in! [note: you can use this method for cheeks too!]

Start sew inner and outer details from top edge to middle of bottom, them turn it out; for stuffing i use EVA foam details, holofiber is okay too! After stuffing, close the bottom edge with ladder stitch and leave small side gap to sew it in place later! For cheeks i use different technique; first i pin details into place, then sew it with running stitch and after that i lined them with zigzag stich.

[Note: i try macnine finish which takes 10 minutes and handsewing one which takes ?3 hours? cant really say] After that start sew all head and muzzle darts, directing from inside to fabric edge; sew ear into red dart first and only after that close this dart; then sew two details of head at each other, but so far only from muzzle edge to top dart!

Sew muzzle details to each other, leaving flat side open and then attach it to head. Then you can applique face shade (overlay dart) and eyes! For nose i sew with ladder stitch small circle from black fabric (not included at pattern) which ovelray muzzle darts. Connect head details from bottom muzzle to neck dart, then stuff muzzle and after embroidy mouth and dot whiskers with handsew zigzag. For whiskers tie a knot at tread, pull it out into right side of fabric, tie another knot closely to fabric to secure it at place at after that tie third knot to length you want; cut tread off and secure it with superglue (optionally)

After that remove stuffing from muzzle, sew head details together from bottom dart to neck mark and from top edge to cheeks dart, turn head out and stuff it! Add a cotter pin joint at middle of neck line, secure it with piece of rubber so it won't fall inside and close everething with ladder stitch!

Head is complete! It always the trickiest part. Tail: I lost tail pattern, so you need to make your own! Basically it just two long curved details (it can be just thin and long stripe of fabric folded together and sewed)

For idk-how-to-call-it-sorry tie a knot at thread, pull it troughth both seams and return to knot, hook thread with needle, and tie second knot; after that cut thread and secure it with glue.

Hands: [Note: add seam allowance at fingers even if you handsew it!] Most simple parts, but have some moments; sew two details together, but leave enough place on top to work with pliers later:

For fingers instead of blanket stich use very short running stitch! Be sure to do some between fingers! It most important part.

After that trim fingers seam allowance as much as you cant without cutting stitches and secure it with clear superglue (i hear somebody uses for this techique special fabric glue, but i never seen it my city). After glue full dried carefully turn out whole hand. Fold fuzzy wires end twice, so it will not impale troughth fabric and form a skeleton armature and push it slowly into whole arm, make sure it got at every finger; add stuffing on whole arm.

Legs: Similar to hands, first sew two details together, leave bottom edge and some gap at top opened; after that sew feet detail into bottom edge. [Note: you can add some fusible interlining at feet to make it more stability] Method for leg fingers are same as for tail, will make another post if nedeed! Body and assembling:

Body consists of five details: back, two fronts and two sides:

[Note: before start sewing mark watermarks and cotter pins dots at side details!] Dont cut darts from sides, just sew it inside with ladder stitch; sew two front at curve edge and connect thinnier edge to thinnier edge of back! Sew sides, connecting watermarks to corners to middle, add leg pins dots joints and impale them troughth finished legs, bead a disk and shim ring, them start twisting pin dot into a spiral, placing its end at shim ring, not at disk! Twist second at same way at try to rotate leg: if it too loose unbend pin dot and try again!

After all legs have been attached ladder stitch tail and continue sew body to a gap between shoulder line and neck at one side, attach finished arms in the same way as legs, cut circle the size of disks and sew it into neck edge, attach finished head, add stuffing to body and close it with ladder stitch!!! [Note: regural holofiber is slippery and can slip off from neck, i think using small unpolstery foam shavings only at neck be better!]

And thats all for now!

[elvenmother]

Context and Perspective: Sidesteps And Sidekicks

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F Reader Rating: Teen. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood Chapter: 12/15 Word count: 3042

Summary: The newest member of the Heroics has gone missing and as one of the better-known Villains on the scene, you are blamed. Then your sidekick goes missing. You must go after the Heroic’s leader to try to get them back and clear your name.

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. This is my first time writing for We Can Be Heroes and Marcus Moreno.

Part Eleven | Part One

The cleanup from the building collapse had already begun, and as you and Marcus made your way around the area close to Donna’s salon, there was evidence of the Heroics all around. A set of two temporary metal cabins had been placed next to the intersection where the bulk of the destruction had been and all around was evidence of heavy booted foot traffic. It looked like the Heroics had organised for a clean-up crew and builders to help the community get back to normal, which you had to admit was a nice thing for them to do. You heavily suspected Marcus’ hand in that. Massive metal sheet fencing had been placed all around the main collapse, each with the large yellow H of the Heroics on it. You had to hand it to them. They had branding down to a fine art.

Building by building, street by street, the two of you began to search. Looking for clues that could lead to either Chloe or Freefall. A marking, a note, a scrap of clothing, anything. Marcus combed the ground while you took to the air and checked rooftops. But there was nothing.

After three hours of checking the same places and looping back on yourselves, you flew down to where Marcus was leaning against a rundown-looking tech store.

“Anything?” You landed gently next to him. He just shook his head. You could feel his frustration and anxiety. This had been your only lead on Freefall. But more than that, you knew Marcus was worried about Missy.

He’d had to leave her in the house rather than talk to her about what she’s overheard. If you’d been able to find a clue or something, it might have seemed worth it. But you were willing to bet that right now, Marcus wished he had stayed home with his distressed daughter.

“We’ll have to start a spiral out from here.” He said finally. His voice sounded hoarse, almost as though he was forcing himself to speak. “It’ll take time, but it’ll all we’ve got.”

“Right. Tomorrow though. It’s late, and you must want to get home to Missy.” You sighed, stepping closer to him, wishing you could give him some hope. “I’ll-” A noise from your pocket cut you off. “That’s my phone. It might be… my assistant. I mean, she’s not really… she’s my friend. She’s Chloe’s aunt. Hang on.”

Marcus just nodded wearily as you fished your phone out and looked at the new message. It wasn’t from Jada.

Crushing Low has been sent to an address where it is believed FF and C are. Think you should take your new friend there. Coords to follow - B

“It’s my contact in Heroics HQ.” You looked up at Marcus, who immediately stood up straight. “Crushing Low has been sent to find Freefall at a location not too far from here. We should go too in case Chloe is with him.”

“Let’s go.” Marcus began jogging back to his car before leaping in and starting the engine. As soon as you closed the passenger door, he set off. Keying the coordinates B had sent you into your sat nav app, the monotone voice soon began giving directions.

“I don’t understand.” You looked over at Marcus. “I thought you were in charge of this investigation.”

“That makes two of us.” He frowned. “If Noah has been spotted or HQ had a lead, they should have contacted me first.”

“You are the leader, right?” You turned in your seat to face him better, and he shot you a look. “Hey, I don’t mean it like that. I don't understand how the Heroics work. If you’re the leader, even if this wasn’t your case, can Heroics be sent places without you knowing?”

“Technically, yes.” He admitted reluctantly, making a sharp turn onto an unlit street. “We have a director. Ms Granada. She decides who gets assigned to what.”

“What’s the difference between you and her, then?”

“When I retired from active duty, my role became more administrative for a while, but after Ms Granada was promoted to director, I began focusing on training and coordination more.” Marcus explained. “So now I help train the younger Heroics as well as work with Granada on team assignments. Although technically, she’s my boss, I’m still the team leader. All new Heroics have to be approved by me, all assignments have to be approved by both of us.”

“I still don’t fully understand but ok. So, this Ms Granada is the one who sent Crushing Low out tonight?” You were still confused. It didn’t sound like Marcus actually did much leading, and the title was probably just a token one.

“Yes. But it still should have been run by me, and I’ve got no messages.” Marcus chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Granada is a real stickler for the rules. This can’t have come from her. Can your contact find out who ordered this?”

“I’ll ask.” You picked your phone up off the dashboard and quickly typed out a message to B.

MM is concerned. This should have gone through him. Can you find out who sent out CL? - Z

The reply was almost immediate.

Already working on that. Tell him it wasn’t G. - B

“They’re working on it.” You said as Marcus began to pull up outside a dilapidated-looking factory. “But they said it wasn’t G. I assume they mean Granada.”

Marcus nodded as he switched the engine off. As you both got out of the car, you got your first real look at where you were. A sprawling industrial site, long since abandoned, stretched out before you. Nearly all the streetlights were dark, probably broken or without bulbs, and only a few flickering beams of orange lit the area and the maze of roads that made up this huge factory district. If it hadn’t been for the coordinates that B had sent you, there was no way you would have found the right building.

“Moreno!” A voice came out of the darkness, surprising you both. A voice you recognised immediately. A voice that made you instantly on edge and on guard. You recalled a memory of flipping him off and deciding the Heroics were assholes. Damn it.

Sure enough, stepping out from behind a battered-looking shipping container was Crushing Low. His curly dark hair was shorter than the last time you had seen him, and he was now sporting a neatly trimmed beard streaked with grey.

“Liam.” Marcus greeted his teammate, who glared for a brief moment at the use of his real name. “Liam, this is-”

“I know who that is, Marcus.” Crushing Low stopped next to Marcus, looking over at his leader with a mixture of confusion and irritation. “The question is, why are you here with her of all people?”

“She’s been trying to help me find Freefall.”

“My friend is missing too.” You decided to be as honest as possible straight away. If Crushing Low started a fight, then it was not one you could win. His juggernaut powers were one thing, but he also had super speed and super strength. If this got violent, your only chance would be to take off and hope you could lose him in the air. You watched as he raised a single eyebrow. “I know what the media has said and what Heroics HQ is saying, but I had nothing to do with Freefall’s disappearance.”

“Uh huh.” Crushing Low eyed you carefully.

“Liam, listen to me.” Marcus put his hand on Crushing Low’s shoulder. “She has been nothing but helpful. That build collapse yesterday? She helped me rescue people. Liam, please.” Marcus leaned up close to the other man. “Who sent you here? I know it wasn’t Granada. This is my case. Don’t you find this strange?”

“This whole case is strange, Marcus.” Crushing Low chuckled and gestured with his head towards you. “There is definitely more going on here than meets the eye.”

Marcus kept his eyes on Crushing Low. “So why were you sent here?”

“I received orders telling me there had been a sighting of Freefall.” Crushing Low took a deep breath, looking around and finally pointing to a building a little to the left of where the three of you stood. “It said a supervillain was holding him.”

“Who?” You frowned. You already knew what he was going to say.

Crushing Low considered his words for a moment before answering. “You, actually.”

“God damn it!” You threw your hands in the air, exasperated. You were expecting this, but it was still so frustrating.

“The report said you had Freefall, and he was being guarded by your sidekick. Frost Root, was it?” Crushing Low cocked his head, carefully watching you.

“So Chloe and Noah are together.” You looked over at Marcus, who nodded.

“Wait. You know his real name?” Crushing Low shot a look at Marcus.

“Yeah, I went to school with his mom.” You put your hands up as you took a step towards the two men. “I meant to tell you earlier, Marcus. My friend got back to me. She talked to Ashley, and she confirmed that Noah and Chloe met last year at a party.”

Jada’s text from that afternoon had totally slipped your mind. You had been so distracted by Dale and then Missy. You had meant to text Marcus immediately after Jada’s message, but then the phone had rung, and then Dale had bothered you. After that, all you’d been able to think about was how much Dale knew and how long he’d been watching you.

“So he’s not your prisoner?” Crushing Low narrowed his eyes and looked from you to Marcus and back again.

“For fucks sake-”

“Liam.” Marcus cut you off. “No, we’ve been over this. She’s not the bad guy here. She never was. She never has been.”

Crushing Low looked sternly at Marcus. “What are you talking about, Marcus?”

“There’s more going on here that we realise.” Marcus pointed towards the building Crushing Low had been sent to. “But right now, we need to get to Noah and Chloe before someone else does.”

“You think they’re in danger?” You frowned as Marcus nodded.

“I think someone would pin this on you or Chloe, and either of you could get hurt.” He started walking towards a ruined-looking factory. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

The three of you set off towards the factory, with Marcus taking the lead. You could feel Crushing Low’s eyes still watching you intently as he brought up the rear. It irritated you, but at the same time, you understood his point of view. One conversation wasn’t going to undo years of people and the media telling him you were a threat. It had taken a building collapse and speaking to two other Heroics for Marcus to fully believe you. All you could do was be yourself and he’d see you were no villain. Or at least that was what you hoped.

What first caught your attention as you all but crawled through the small gap between the heavily rusted doors was that the building smelt terrible. It was that horrible mixture of damp, dust and piss that hit you in the face like a slap. Behind you, Crushing Low retched as he squeezed himself through the narrow opening.

“Nice place.” You muttered, looking around the dark empty room of what once must have been the factory’s reception area. All furnishing had long since been cleared out, but the outlines on the floor for a reception desk remained along with half the letters for the company’s name.

“Look.” Marcus pointed to the floor, clicking on a flashlight and shining it over near a doorway leading further in. “Someone has been here recently.”

Stepping forward, you squinted in the dark to see what he was looking at. It took you a moment, but then you spotted them on the floor. Footprints in the dust. Crushing Low walked carefully over to them and squatted down, examining them meticulously.

“Two sets.” He said after about a minute. “I’d say one male and one female. So, probably Noah and… Chloe, was it?”

You nodded. That was good. If theirs was the only set of prints, then that meant no one had come after them. Yet. Someone knew they were here, you reminded yourself quickly. Someone had sent Crushing Low, someone who hadn’t wanted Marcus here.

“Let’s take this slow.” Marcus whispered to the two of you. “We don’t want to spook them. Let's just find them and get them back to my house to talk.”

“Agreed.” Crushing Low stood back up. “You take point. We’ll follow.”

Marcus shook his head. “No, I think she should go in first.” He motioned to you. “They are much less likely to run from you.”

“I agree.” You nodded. “You two follow me but not too far. I want them to see me first, then you, but for them to understand we’re all together.”

“All right.” Marcus fell back a step next to Crushing Low. “Ready whenever you are.”

You took a deep breath and headed through the open doorway that led further into the factory. The factory floor smelt even worse than the reception area, if that was possible, with the heavy iron smell of rust joining the mix from the handful of broken machines that still filled the space. You heard Marcus mutter something under his breath as you led the way through the dark assembly floor.

A small light in the distance caught your eye. A dim yellow glow peeked out from under a closed door to the former manager's office. Turning slightly to Marcus and Crushing Low, you motioned to it and started heading in that direction. Reaching the door, you stopped for a moment and listened. Behind the flimsy door, you could hear muffled conversation. Two people in hushed voices, too quiet for you to hear what they were properly saying but just loud enough for you to recognise a voice. It was Chloe. After taking another deep breath, which, thanks to the stench, you instantly regretted, you knocked. The voices stopped immediately.

“Chloe.” You called softly through the door. “Chloe, it’s me. Please, honey. Can I come in?”

There was a little shuffling and the sound of latches being undone before the door opened slowly. Your heart leapt as you saw the worried face of a young woman greeting you on the other side. Chloe.

“Hey.” She sheepishly said your name, her eyes not quite meeting yours. “How’d you find me?”

“I had a little help.” You pointed your thumb over your shoulder, and you watched Chloe’s eyes widen as she recognised who you were with.

“Is… is that?” She stammered. “Are those Heroics?”

“Shit.” A male voice came from behind the door.

“Noah, I take it.” You tried to keep your voice light. The last thing you needed was for them to panic and make a run for it.

A mass of messy brown hair poked out from behind the door, and you got your first proper look at Noah McMahon, aka Freefall. He was around the same age as Chloe, peering over her head almost as if he was hiding behind her. He looked at you but quickly, his eyes landed on someone behind you, and you knew exactly who he was looking at.

“Hey.” Noah started weakly. “I mean, erm, hello, Sir.”

“Noah.” Marcus stepped forward until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with you. “And Chloe. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’d glad to see you’re both safe.”

“Yeah.” Noah’s eyes fell to the floor while Chloe continued to stare at you in disbelief. “Sorry about all the trouble, Sir.”

Marcus held a hand up and shook his head. “There will be time to talk later, but right now, we have to get you out of here.”

“I’m not going back to the Heroics, Sir.” Noah’s eyes shot up, and he seemed to stand a little straighter. “I can’t. I-”

“No, I agree.” Marcus cut him off. “It’s not safe right now. I can’t explain here, but please believe me we need to leave here right now.”

“There’s something weird going on, kid.” Crushing Low offered over your shoulder.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Chloe looked at Marcus and then back at you. “You came here with them?”

“Let's get somewhere safe, then we’ll explain everything.” You held out your hand for Chloe to take. “Please. Someone sent Crushing Low here, and it wasn’t Ms Granada.”

“What?” “Who’s Ms Granada?” Noah and Chloe asked simultaneously. Chloe spun to look at Noah, who shook his head.

“She’s the director for the Heroics. Nothing gets done without going through her or Mr Moreno. If someone went around them, then we’re in more trouble than I thought.” He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “We should go with them, babe.”

You raised your eyebrow at Chloe at the babe nickname, and she shot you a look back that reminded you exactly of her aunt Jada. After a couple of seconds, Chloe rolled her eyes and nodded reluctantly.

“Ok, let's go.”

“Great.” Marcus stepped away from the door and turned to Crushing Low. “I’m going to take them to my house. Report back. Claim it was a false alarm, and you found nothing. Then meet us back at mine.”

“Got it.” Crushing Low started to walk away.

“Wait!” You called out. He stopped and turned. “Please, make sure you’re not followed and don’t trust anyone other than Ms Vox or Blinding Fast at HQ. We still don’t know who sent you here.”

Crushing Low frowned and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll be careful. You all should be too. See you all later.”

Crushing Low disappeared into the dark as Chloe and Noah gathered their things from their small hideout. Once they were ready, you and Marcus guided them back to his car. Setting off back to the Moreno house, you could feel the tension coming off Chloe and Noah in the back seat. While you had a lot to catch them up on, they also needed to explain why they left. It was going to be one hell of a conversation when you all got back.

~~~~

Tag list: @Anaaaispunk, @littlemisspascal, @galaxyofmando, @pintsizemama, @athalien, @wondercloud, @amoriavelton, @alm0501, @kinda-nobody, @zanzann, @furiousmushroom, @lemonboynsp, @ghostofaboy,

[infinites-chaser]

Librarian! PH. 52 MLQC MC / Victor :)

HELLO ANON U WERE ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE TO RESPOND TO MY LIBRARIAN ASK GAME I’M SO SORRY IT’S TAKEN SO LONG,,, victor is just. hard to write. aLSO I'm doubly sorry since i’ll be combining this with the Victor ask from @truth-be-told-im-lying ​ hope neither of you mind T-T i don’t think my mind could do two victor ficlets akwlfjsdkls

ANyway I love you both LOTS AND LOTS hopefully this attempt at Victor isn’t extremely out of character;;; it’s a lowkey soulmates AU if that counts for anything :> aND this fic gets the special treatment of an actual Title bc True was wonderful enough to help me by typing Victor as an Enneagram Type One

okaaay and without further ado, 

49, 52 + Victor/MC

‘[He] wakes up in [his] bed, determined to begin again.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 49)

‘As [he] pushes through the onlookers to meet [her], he is certain he is the only person moving.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 52)

((pronoun changes in both quotes to better fit the ficlet))

spoilers for Victor/MC’s childhood!

spend my whole life searching

Victor doesn’t believe in soulmates. (After half a lifetime of searching turning up nothing, he doesn’t believe in much.)

Once upon a time, he might’ve. (He wanted to). His heart rate doubled and sped up to match hers— a carefree little girl skipping across the road, too far away to hear his nerves cry danger, too caught up in dreams and fantasies to hear his warning shout. Time slowed down so he could save her, and on that afternoon on the crosswalk, drops of rain suspended in the air, he did.

At that age, he hadn’t had the sense to wonder why a young girl like her had been crossing the street without supervision. Why her smiles had come freely, but had always looked a little sad, a little wistful. Why she’d been so eager to accept his baked treats. Why she’d been at the playground without a parent. Why she’d always been alone.

Now, seventeen years later, he wishes he did. Wishes he’d known something as simple as her last name.

He dreams of her. Of finding her again: the girl whose heartbeat matched his. The girl whose smile had slowed down time itself for him, as if short moments with her could’ve each stretched into a gentle eternity. He’d wanted them to. He’d wanted to capture every moment spent with her, to make them last, to savor them, so they’d pass slow and sweet like honey on the tongue.

Time had passed slow when he’d wanted it to. Those sunlit afternoons had been sweet, they’d been happy.

Only, time is a fickle thing. When he takes his eye off it, it races away, too fast for him to keep up.

The kidnapping. The experiments. The torture.

The escape.

She saves him. He’s too slow to save her.

And even if he can stop time, here’s the thing: he can never turn the clock back.

Still, he wakes up. Every morning, he gets out of bed. Gets dressed and goes to work. The world around him moves on, and demands he does, too, even if his heart’s still eleven years old and clutching her motionless body, eleven years old, the only sound in his ears his pounding pulse, the absence of the accompaniment of hers an accusation more painful than any hateful words.

It’s a recurring theme in his life, time. It’s ironic, really, when he thinks about it. That he can stop time without lifting a finger, and yet, when it comes to things he cares about, people he loves most, he’s always eleven years old again, always too late.

(His Evol’s time control, but perhaps, all this time, he hasn’t been controlling time, it’s been controlling him. He’s imprisoned by a single moment, a memory, a regret. A past that can never be undone.)

Whenever he has spare time, he devotes himself to searching. Resigns himself to the fact he’ll probably never find her, if all he has to go off of is a child’s face, once preserved in his memory, now fading. Hair color. Eye color. Age. A name. Nothing more.

The searches turn up nothing. 

He spends late nights in the office to distract himself, builds up a capitalist kingdom of a company, if only to put off for a few hours more the prospect of returning home to face his nightmares alone.

His father praises him for LFG’s growth over dinners filled with awkward silences. The name Victor Li appears more and more often in business newspapers. Investors approach him. He gets interviews. Gets offers for TV appearances, for sponsorships.

He takes them, these material successes. Wonders if any amount of them could ever make up for the failure from his childhood. If they could bring her back. He tells himself if he finds her, when he finds her, when he brings her back, it’ll be to a more perfect world. One in which he’ll never fail her again. It’s a foolish thought, but it keeps him going. With it in mind, he proceeds to work twice as hard.

Souvenir is what saves him. A small allowance, a self-indulgence, a seed of hope planted in what he thinks is his darkest time.

It’s for her, more than any of his frantic searching ever was. A dream, a foolish one, that one day she’ll step through his memories and through the restaurant’s door, that one day they’ll share a pudding together again, their hearts beating as one.

He doesn’t get to open Souvenir often; his job doesn't let him. He made sure of that, long ago. But when he does, after the last customer’s left, and he’s put up the closed sign, he cooks for two.

(The first time, Mr. Mills had taken a single look at his silent, still face, and his expression must've spoken volumes. The older man hadn't said a word, only helped clean the kitchen after, the normally gentle lines around his mouth pulled taut in a worried frown.)

He sets the second place at the table himself: carefully places fork, knife and spoon beside lukewarm appetizers, tucks a napkin under soup bowls going cold. Watches the empty seat and the untouched meal for an eternity before finally eating his own. His technique's impeccable. It has been ever since he'd aced his culinary lessons, since he'd bought out the school. He'd used the finest ingredients. He always does.

The food still crumbles like ash in his mouth. (It always does.)

Mr. Mills will find him there, nursing a glass of wine long into the night. He knows better not to question it, but sometimes he'll pull up a chair, drink a glass, too. talk of everything and nothing, talk of his parents, his sister's family, of times gone by.

Victor will never admit it, but the older man's presence makes those nights less hard. his stories, his memories — they keep the ice in his heart from spreading any further when it feels like nothing else will.

Ten years stretch into thirteen, into fourteen, into fifteen, into a broken clock, time stopped because does the passage of time mean anything if he measures it, measured it in time with her? If she's gone?

The meals shrink. First appetizers vanish, then entrees too, until all that's left are desserts, puddings that he stares at all evening, puddings a girl had loved once, that he can almost imagine her sitting there eating, her noticing him watching her and her answering blush and smile. His smile back.

Almost, because after all these years without her, he can’t quite imagine her face. Not as she would look now. Not even as she was, seventeen years back.

(He dreams and finds he doesn’t remember what her smile looked like, exactly. Doesn’t remember the sound of her heartbeat mingling with the sound of his.

Memory is cruel. Memory is imperfect. No matter if you can stop time, no matter how hard you try to memorize a moment, when you revisit it, it’ll never be the same as when you lived it the first time.)

Then:

The day starts like any other. He wakes up, gets out of bed, gets ready for another day of work, another night of searching. He scrolls emails while waiting for his espresso machine to heat, then puts his tablet aside when the coffee's done. He eats in silence. As always, he's done five minutes before he needs to leave for the company, the perfect amount of time for him to do a last-minute check in the mirror— his tie's straight, his shirt unwrinkled, not a hair on his head out of place. The reflection that stares back at him is unchanging; these days it barely shows even the passage of time.

He sighs. Shakes the thought off like the piece of lint it is on his otherwise immaculate state of being, and heads for the door, the lock automatically clicking behind him at eight o'clock am, exactly on schedule, exactly as planned.

He's about to take a seat in his car when an inexplicable urge to walk to work takes hold of him. He pauses. Calculates and re-calculates the time it would take (fifteen minutes, not accounting for rush hour traffic making crosswalks slow), and he's about to decide it's not worth it, it's a silly thought, but the urge intensifies.

Do it, the eleven-year-old in his heart seems to be telling him. You won't regret it.

He frowns and rubs his forehead— for a moment, he wonders if all his searching, all his foolish hopes are finally getting to his brain.

He decides to take the walk, anyway.

He regrets it, not nine minutes later, when despite the sun's light shining strong through the clouds, a light rain begins to fall.

Worse still, the traffic lights haven't changed once in the past ninety seconds. He won't be late, he'd accounted for this, but he's stuck in a crowd of pedestrians, and their chatter's beginning to grate on his nerves. He's considering calling the mayor about it after exactly one hundred seconds have passed— clearly, the light's broken, this is far too long for commuters to wait— but then, finally the walk sign flicks on.

He's already across the street when it happens:

First, a phone rings.

Then, the loud honking of a car.

Tires screech.

Time slows. Time stops.

He's back on the crosswalk in a matter of heartbeats, the inattentive idiot in his arms (it's a girl, it's always a girl, hair dark, eyes wide, expression shocked).

"You..." She says, blinking up at him with those wide, almost-familiar eyes. Distantly, he registers the echo of a heartbeat overlapping with his.

"Who are you?"

Who are you? His mind asks, but deep in his heart, he already knows the answer. It can't be.

"Evolver?" He says instead, shoving down memories that threaten to surface: another rainy day, another crosswalk, another heart that had seemed matched to his. He tells himself he's being delusional, that he thinks he can hear her heartbeat because she's in his arms, wide-eyed and fragile, her heartrate skittering back and forth like a fool— this isn't like his careful, methodical searching, this is a fluke beyond flukes, it means nothing, it'll lead to nothing in the end.

But she's in his arms, warm and soft against his protective embrace, she's in his arms and it feels so right it's almost painful, his pulse pulled into a panicked pace to match hers.

He sets her down abruptly, as if burned, and turns to go.

"Someone can't come to your rescue every time."

Around them, suspended raindrops begin to fall. The world, resumed. The world, once again predictable and mundane. Except for her.

He knows, without looking back, she's staring after him, her heart, his heart, still racing.

He allows himself a smile.

He allows himself some small sliver of hope.

(His frozen time starts moving again.)

[aestheticseungmean]

Can you do a idol au for ATEEZ jongho where him and hongjoong have the opportunity to work with a western artist (their main language is English but are learning Korean) and them and jongho hit it off and become friends, until one of them forms a crush 💞 (gender neutral reader please)

I Like You Very Much-Choi Jongho

As an upcoming yet very popular artist, when you suggested to collaborate with Ateez, KQ jumped at the opportunity. It just so happens that the maknae harbours feelings for you.

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: minor cussing

3.4K words

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You were an up and coming artist, sparking interest all over the world with your music. Radio stations and TV shows clamoured to get you into their shows and those who were able to get you, shot up in rating. You talked about all your interests, plans for the future, and the inevitable dating scene. Interviewers often chuckled when you say you are single and not ready to mingle, agreeing with you even though they were all married. The one question that you get asked the most is: “Who would you like to collaborate with on an upcoming album?” The answer is always the same, Ateez. You appreciated the few interviewers who knew the group, but more often than not, you found yourself explaining who they were.

On the other hand, Ateez, despite debuting in 2018, were finding their way into other countries, capturing attention alongside you. They typically get all the same questions from the same interviewers with the same reactions. In one interview, the radio announcer had asked how Ateez felt about you wanting to collab. To which they cheered and wished the same. Apparently, most listened to your music daily, while stretching, working out, lounging around, or even just to create a dance to. An insane amount of pride went bursting through your chest as you listened to them praise you. Ateez, especially, Hongjoong and Jongho, talked excitedly about you, your music, your aesthetic, and overall how you were their favourite English artist.

———————-

Your one year debut anniversary was coming up and you were planning a safe world tour featuring your first songs, as well as the most popular ones. After talking with your company, your plan was to hit a bunch of places, including: America, Canada, Australia, the UK, France, China, Germany, Japan, Brazil, and South Korea to name a few. Many fans sent videos of them showing their support for you. In the same time, Ateez also had a Korean tour as well, performing in some of the same places as you. Just the thought alone exited you. With your trusty manager, Sadie, your language tutor, Mina, and your best friend/personal hype-man, Jake, you were set to go.

Mina sat upon your bed, watching as you frantically pack clothes to practice and sleep in. “You know we have clothes we have to give you? Being famous means you have an image to maintain.” “An expensive one,” you rolled your eyes, knowing that the outfits designed for you were no less than a thousand dollars. “Alright, let’s brush up on your Korean. Sadie said you had the most interviews there so let’s not make a fool of ourselves.” Mina started listing off random words, leaving you to translate them. Between deciphering Korean and remembering what to pack, your brain fried worse than Kaminari after he overused his quirk. Of course you weren’t walking around with a dumb expression but on the inside you were.

Sometimes, you wondered why you released your song on YouTube and why you signed on the dotted line, but so far you’ve managed. Sure there have been haters, but the amount of support outweighs the haters. Besides, when you feel like quitting, you remember all the amazing artists who have encouraged you to pursue your dreams, and your career. With the likes of Lizzo, Ariana Grande, Meghan Thee Stallion, Lewis Capaldi, Billie Eilish, BTS, and Cardi B all supporting your music, you had no reason to listen to the haters. You only need to focus on a good world tour anyways.

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The tour finally made its way into Seoul. With an unfathomable amount of want for the tickets, your company decided to hold four shows, plus the ungodly amount of interviews. This week was sure to be a tiring week, and you might sleep 24 hours straight when you get home, but it’s worth it to see the fans cheering you as you sang your songs.

The first night, you performed your songs and interacted with the fans in your broken korean. The second night was the same, save for a few idols who came to your show. You were surprised to see a few members of NCT and BTS up in the stands, dancing and wearing your merch. The third night was the night your company decided to surprise you with a last-minute duet of your song “Weeping Willow” with Jimin. You two sailed smoothly through it despite the lack of knowledge of whether your voices would harmonize or collide in a train-wreck.

And last, but not least, the fourth night is where you went all out for your final concert. There were colourful explosions of confetti, pyrotechnics, backup dancers, a live band, etc. You were confused as to why the dancers were there, let alone wearing masks during your performance, but the show must go on, right? Through the night, different dancers came up and spun you around on the stage, baffling you at your skill of dancing while singing. Finally, the final chord of your last song ended allowing you to attempt to talk to the fans in your limited language.

“Thank you guys for coming out to see the show!” The crowd erupted in cheers making you smile. “This country has been very kind to me and I can’t wait to come back. I’ll be here for a few more days so make sure to keep an eye out for me on the streets!” You smiled, hoping you could meet a few fans in your last few days, maybe get some pictures with them. “This has been an amazing concert, although, I do have to say, the dancers surprised me,” you admitted, rubbing the fabric covering your legs nervously. All of a sudden, the crowd went crazy, chanting “turn around” at you. So you did.

Immediately, you dropped to your knees, hiding your face. Standing in front of you in the dancers’ outfits, holding masks, were the one and only, Ateez. You had been performing with them for the past few hours without realizing. “Your manager called us, asking if we’d come surprise you for your birthday. We couldn’t resist. I hope you don’t mind.”You recognized the voice as Hongjoong’s. Of course Sadie would do this. She knew how much you loved Ateez, but she went all out this time. You looked up, your eyes watering from crying tears of embarrassment, joy, and anger. A few boys rushed to make sure you were okay as soon as they spotted the tears. On the screen at the back of the stage, you caught a glimpse of your hunched figure, crying. “This is so amazing,” you managed to stutter out.

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After the show, you headed to the back with the boys to find the two managers talking with each other in hushed words. When they noticed you, they stopped their conversation and turned towards you. “So?” Sadie asked, waiting for your reaction. “I hate you…But I absolutely love you, Sadie.” “I thought so. Now, all of you, go get changed, we are going out to eat, company’s treat,” She said, holding up a card which you recognized as the company credit card. In an instant, you were rushing to your dressing room to change, stomach growling loudly.

The van waiting outside for you, was giant. Maybe a twelve seater. All eleven of you piled in, the managers sitting in the front seats while you and the boys filed into the other seats. “Would you mind doing a V-Live with us?” Seonghwa asked, pulling out a phone. “No, but I don’t know what to do.” “Just be you,” he replied, laughing. Throughout the whole ride, you were sandwiched in between San and Wooyoung who wouldn’t stop making you laugh while Seonghwa flirted to the camera. The others talked or closed their eyes for a little rest before you got to the restaurant. Not once did you feel out of place as well.

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It’s been a few months since you met Ateez on your world tour. You kept in touch through texting since San slipped his number into your phone without you noticing. Not that you were complaining anyways. When you mentioned you were working on a new album but struggling, some of the boys offered to call you, to talk of course, not figure out what the next song will be so they can get a headstart on learning it. Eventually, you took them up on that offer and Hongjoong called. You two talked for what seemed like an eternity, talking about concepts and themes.

The call seemed to help you majorly. You ended up finishing two songs and wrote the meanings behind them, a habit you had because you sucked at explaining things. Hongjoong, on the other hand, got some beats done for a few of Ateez’s future songs. You were still on the phone with him when you realized that you were writing the songs to the few beats you heard. “SHIT!” “When did you learn to cuss in Korean?” Your wooden pencil was slammed down on the desk, breaking. “That’s not the problem. The problem is, I’ve been writing my songs to your beats. I mean I know they can be for another beat but the producers are going to ask me how I want to sing it. I’ll just end up singing it to your beats,” You whined.

Hongjoong laughed. “Let’s hear it then.” “Hear what?” You heard shuffling on the phone before a few mouse clicks. “Let’s hear you sing along to the beats,” he said, hitting play on the computer, starting the music. You sighed and sang along with your lyrics, surprised at how well the music coincided. “You know what? I think I’ll send these beats to you. They sound better with your lyrics anyway,” Hongjoong complimented, hitting send. “You don’t have to,” You protested only to be met with the notification that Hongjoong had sent it to you anyways. “Too late. Can you imagine if we collabed on a song, or an album?”

“That would be amazing, but I know I wouldn’t be able to keep up with your dance skills. Even your least skilled dancer is freaking amazing. Oh wait...You don’t have one because who the hell is the least skilled dancer in Ateez?” you complained, yet complimented at the same time. “Please, you could keep up. You are a ball of energy.” “A ball of energy with two left feet, Joong.” You shut your notebook and put it away, cleaning up your desk. “I don’t believe you.” “You don’t have to, just know it’s true. Anyways, it’s 3am here. I need to go to bed.” He shifted in his seat and frowned. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Sweet dreams!” “Night, Joong,” you said before hanging up the phone and throwing yourself on your bed, falling into a deep sleep.

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The producers absolutely loved your songs with Hongjoong’s beats. So much so that the company immediately wanted a collaboration. For the next few weeks, before the release of your newest album, the executives buckled down on getting that ‘magic’ song that would take the world by storm. It wasn’t long before the people at KQ agreed, knowing that the collaboration between Ateez and you would bring media and attention to the latter. And soon, you found yourself on a plane, in business class (because first class was too empty and economy was too crowded) to Seoul.

A few people were eager to see you, but most went to sleep as it was five in the morning. Thankfully, you were granted a window seat so you could look out at the view. Most of the time though, you found yourself entranced in the movies they offered on flight, catching up on the new Tom and Jerry movie. And before you knew it, you found yourself landing in Seoul. Your manager, who enjoyed first class, got off the plane and waited for you. Many fans waited with Ateez signs as you walked by, confused.

On the other side of the crowd, Ateez waited patiently to surprise you with their presence. They begged and begged the company to go get you instead of sending one of their scary bodyguards to. Finally, they gave in, allowing the boys to go get you. Word got out though and that meant they had to keep undercover. Or at least try to, which was not Wooyoung’s strong suit. At one point, Hongjoong threatened Wooyoung to get him to shut up. It worked up until Wooyoung saw you, making your way out of the crowd. He and the others ran up to you, suffocating you in a hug. “Let’s get to the van before the crowd doesn’t let us leave,” Hongjoong commanded.

They rushed you to the van, ushering you in before clamouring in themselves. This time around, you were in between Yunho and Jongho. You greeted them politely, your korean better this time around due to talking with the boys constantly. “So, you’ll be staying at a hotel not far from us. We’ll be sure to always have someone to come get you,” Seonghwa said, relaying the information he had been given. “The whole someone coming to get me is extra.” “Nonsense,” Wooyoung exclaimed. “It’s rude to have a guest and not guarantee their safety. Besides some of our families would have our heads if they found out we weren’t doing the utmost for you,” he added playfully.

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The next day, you dressed in comfortable clothing, not caring about your fashion. The agenda for the day was to write a song with Hongjoong and Jongho. When you first found out you were only collabing with those two, you felt a little sad, but when Sadie told you it was a trial collab, to see how well it would do, it didn’t make it any better, in fact, you felt worse. You protested and argued for the whole group, but all the bosses said was, “If this goes well, you can have an entire album with them.” Sure, the excitement for an entire album with Ateez would be amazing, but what if it didn’t go well?

You thought about that the entire time it took you to get to the KQ building. Only then, it was Jongho who brought you out of your head. “Hey, ________! The studio is this way. It’s my first time watching Hongjoong hyung make the beats,” He said, smiling brightly. You couldn’t help but smile back. “Mkay, Jongho. Lead the way,” You mumbled, following the maknae to a secluded room. Inside, Hongjoong was already set up at the computer, messing with some beats.

You took in the room around you. The lights were dimmed, probably to help hongjoong focus. A sleek desk with a soundboard was pushed up against a wall with glass, allowing you to look into the other room. A few of the spinny chairs were worn down, a sign of heavy usage. In the other room, you could see a typical setup for a sound booth. A microphone stood in the middle, headphones hanging off of it. The sound-proof padding looked fairly new with a few different instruments lining the walls. It reminded you of home. Of the studio you usually work in.

Hongjoong greeted you as soon as he caught a glimpse of movement. “Hey guys! I was checking some different beats and tunes for the song.” “You’re good. Shall we get started?” You asked, pulling out your beat up notebook. “That thing has seen better days,” Jongho joked, looking at the binding peeling off. You giggled and nodded. “I’ve had it for many years. I need a new one, but I haven’t gotten around to it. Besides, this has all my songs. Even the unsung ones.” “So that’s your most prized possession then?”

“I guess you could say that,” you hummed. “But it’s not like I’m playing keep away with it. I don’t care if you guys read it because I trust you. It’s randomly leaving it in public and never seeing it again that I’m worried about.” “Understandable. My flash drive is always with me,” Hongjoong said, pointing to the drive that was sticking out from the computer. “ You smiled softly at Hongjoong and grabbed your pencil. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

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The next few days were tedious with the finishing of the song, the practicing of pronunciation for both parties, and making the beat. You found yourself growing closer to the two boys, even helping write a few of their future songs. In response, they taught you how to make beats and successfully break an apple, although that only happened once and you still haven’t been able to do it again. There was a different aura around them when you hung out. Hongjoong felt more calm and brotherly even, whilst Jongho had a more timid feeling. Like he was hiding something. You pushed it off, thinking it was him being a bit skeptical of you still.

When you finally thought all the hard work was done, Hongjoong dropped a choreography on you. The thing you dreaded the most. Thankfully, the duo were willing to take things step by step slowly with you, guiding you through the most miniscule things. A couple of the days, Hongjoong couldn’t make it, leaving you to practice with Jongho, who became more stand-offish.

Until you had enough of the ridiculous behaviour because it had come out of nowhere. “Are you okay, Jongho? Is there something I’m doing wrong?” You asked, taking a drink. “No, you’re dancing fine.” “I meant generally? You seemed fine in the beginning and now you look like you think I’m poisonous. Do you not like me?” Jongho looked taken aback, mouth opening and closing like a fish gaping for water as he tried to figure out the words he wanted to say. “It’s not that,” He managed. “Then what is it? I don’t want to feel like I have to walk on glass around you.” “Let’s just get this choreo learned okay?” You huffed and got back to practicing, angry that he ignored your question.

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“Okay, one more time,” the producer demanded, signalling you to start your verse over again. You did as he asked and cheered when he praised you. “Jongho, you’re up.” “You got this, Jongho,” you tried to encourage him. He gave you a nervous half-hearted smile and headed to do his part. He sang beautifully, even more than when you three were practicing by yourselves. You couldn’t help the cold chills that ran up your arms giving you goosebumps. “Woah,” you breathed out, in wonder.

You went to praise Jongho again, exclaiming how he was so amazing. An embarrassed smile graced his features making your heart swell. “So cute!” “Quiet, everyone,” the producer said, preparing for Hongjoong’s rap. You turned your attention towards the leader, preparing yourself for his rapping. Jongho took this chance to excuse himself from the room. As usual, Hongjoong owned his rap and you almost felt bad for Jongho missing it, but then you remembered that he could easily hear it again later.

It was a quick session after Hongjoong finished. Just a few harmonies here and there and you were done for the day. All of the boys wanted to go out for food to celebrate. Yeosang offered to go to the chicken place on the other side of town and Mingi agreed. Once again, you found yourself sitting by Jongho, except this time, you were sitting in the pair of seats in the second row, allowing it to be just you two. He pulled out a package and handed it to you, blushing. “I got you this.” You smiled and took the carefully wrapped package.

“Can I open this now or do I have to wait?” “Um, you can now,” Jongho said, his ears turning red. You opened the wrapping carefully to find a new journal. “Oh my god, Jongho!” You opened the cover to look at the pages to find a cute little note waiting. Jongho had written the words ‘I like you very much’ in english, with cute little doodles surrounding it. “Wait? Like-” “Like a crush,” he stuttered. “Well, I like you too Jongho,” you admitted, gaining a few wolf whistles from the surrounding boys that were watching the exchange.

[morgansyorkie]

Too Afraid of Losing You ~ Nolan Patrick

Summary: You’re a med student and you had to graduate early due to the Corona Virus pandemic happening in the Philadelphia area. You have been working insane hours and the exhaustion from it all has definitely took a toll not only on you, but on your boyfriend Nolan Patrick well. You both have come to realization on truly how each of you mean to one another and how much you need one another during this difficult time.

Word Count: 3,660 

Disclaimer: this is my first writing that I am posting, I hope that you all in enjoy it and would love to get any kind of feed back. Thank you :) Also thank you to @quinny-boy-hughes​ and @kravistonecny​ for giving my the courage to write and post this!

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Who would have thought that two months ago your normal life as a med student was going to change, but change in a way you never thought could happen. Sleeping was starting to become more and more difficult nor it never came at all. You frequently found yourself tossing and turning throughout the night or during the day depending on your crazy schedule. The world as you knew it was changing and not in a good way, your school decided to let all medical students graduate early if they chose to due to the pandemic that was happening here in America.  

Sixteen hours...sixteen hours later you were finally walking into your apartment in downtown Philadelphia feeling completely exhausted and worn out. Your shift was only supposed to be from 7 pm to 7 am a normal twelve hour nurse-based shift, but with the amount of cases that were pilling in overnight, your team had to work overtime to make sure there was enough room for everyone coming in. You quickly kicked your shoes off and headed straight to the bathroom so you can remove your uniform and jump into the hot scolding shower. As you were removing your clothing you noticed a note and a single red rose laying on the countertop of the sink. “You’re so amazing and I’m so proud of you” Love always Nolan

As exhausted as you were, you couldn’t help but smile at the little gesture that your beyond amazing boyfriend Nolan has done for you. Nolan is your absolute everything in this world, he has seen you go through so much while attending med school and knowing that your graduating year had to be cut short due to the Corona Virus outbreak put a toll on the both of you. He was looking forward to watching you walk across the stage and finally getting that diploma that you’ve worked so damn hard for. He was looking forward for after graduation to settle down some and enjoy sometime together and maybe start planning your guys future together before you landed your official nursing job at University of Penn. He was even in talks to the guys about proposing to you when the time was right, but now that’s all thrown out the window due to this insane virus that no one has control over.

Once you got out of the shower, you changed into some sweats and one of Nolan’s hoodies that he totally sprayed his cologne with overnight to make sure that it smelled exactly like him. You walked out of the bathroom and was surprised to see Nolan still spread out in your guys bed peacefully sleeping. Must have been a long night of video games, if he is still sound asleep at this time of the day. As much as you desperately needed sleep you didn’t want to disrupt your boyfriend so you headed towards the spare bedroom and crawled under the blankets. You turned to lay on your side but the scarring on your face made you jolt some, but after a while the cooling of the pillowcases felt good against your beat-up face.  

Nolan rolled over and looked at his phone which had a bunch of notifications that he could care less about, he saw that it was almost noon. He opened his text’s and saw that the last text from you was around eleven in the morning stating you were finally clocking out and heading home. But it’s almost been an hour since that text and he doesn’t understand why you’re not home lying in bed next to him. He got up and walked out of the room “Y/N? Y/N you home”? He asked in a low mumble tone. When there was no response, he got worried, he was about to grab his phone to call you when he noticed the guest bedroom door slightly closed and the bag with your scrubs in it laying out in the hall way. Seeing the bag out in the hall way made his nerves calm down a bit, he softly opened the guest bedroom door and saw you peacefully laying in the bed sleeping. He was glad to have you home safe, but he would be lying if he wasn’t a little hurt for the fact that you were sleeping in the guest bed instead of next to him in your guys bed.

You were finally getting some good sleep for once until you heard the loud ringing coming the night stand next to you. You sat up and rubbed your eyes a few times before answering the phone.  

“Hello?” You answered still half a sleep.  

“Y/N” I am so so sorry to wake you; I know how worn out you must be but I need you to come in for another overnight shift tonight. We just got about another 100 or so cases that rolled in from the time that you left and it’s getting out of hand here. We are going to need all hands-on deck tonight and tomorrow.” Your boss explained to you.  

You had no choice, you had to go in this is what you signed up for. Well not this exactly, but you knew that becoming a nurse meant you were going to have some really tough days and nights.

“Yes, of course I’ll be there for shift change at seven tonight” You said in mid-stretch and getting ready to hop out of bed since it was just pass three thirty in the afternoon.  

“Ugh thank you so much Y/N see you later hun.” Your boss said quickly and hung up

You walked out of the bedroom and headed towards the living room and kitchen area. You might as well start planning on cooking a big meal since you don’t know when the next time you will be able to eat a proper meal next. You saw Nolan sitting on the couch with his gaming headset on, trying his best not to yell into the mic at the person on the other end which was most likely Travis and maybe Carter.

“Dude Trav what the fuck are you doing? You just shot me I am on your team you stupid idiot, such a dumbass, god you are so fucking bad at Call of Duty.” Nolan said into his headset.  

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself and shake your head at the site of Nolan. You walked over and leaned over the back of the couch to run your hand through Nolan’s hair and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading into the kitchen.  

“Hey guys, I gotta go.” Nolan said as quickly as he could before shutting down the game and throwing his headset onto the coffee table.

You’d just finished getting out some pots and pans to start preparing a meal of spaghetti and meatballs when a pair of familiar strong arms wrapped themselves around your torso and a nose nuzzled into your neck.  

“Done your game already.” You said giggling.  

“Why were you in the spare bedroom?” Nolan questioned, as he spun you around so he could properly kiss you.

“I slept in the guest room because you took up the whole bed and you looked so damn cute and peaceful that I didn’t want to disrupt that. It's been so hard for me to even get a good night’s and in this case a good day’s worth of sleep lately so when I was done showering and found you sprawled out, you looked so peaceful. That I didn’t have the heart to ruin your beauty sleep in case I couldn’t fall asleep.”

I appreciate that babe…but I missed you.” Nolan breathed. “Was worried that something happened to you or that something had happened at the hospital.”

“Nah…never.” You insisted. “Not when I have you here to come home to after a long exhausting shift at work.”  

With Nolan’s arms bringing you closer to him and him resting his head over your shoulder you sighed softly.

“Baby, what’s wrong and why are you cooking now? I thought that we were just going to snuggle and relax tonight and order some take out.” Nolan said as he played with your hair

“Plans changed...” You said barely above a whisper

“Y/n? What’s going on?” Nolan asked while stepping next to you so he can get a good read at the expression on your face. He knows how exhausted, worn out and beat up you have been lately. Seeing all of scars on your face every time you walk through that door reminds him how serious this virus actually is, it reminds him how scared he is that you are on the front lines during this time and how he doesn’t exactly know what you are battling every day, hour and minute.

“My boss called...hundreds of more cases came flooding in after I left the hospital, we need all hands-on deck. So, I have to head back down to the hospital later for another overnight shift.” You spoke softly as you pour the pasta into the boiling water and went to the freezer to grab the bag of meatballs.

“Y/n...no you were supposed to have the rest of the evening off, you weren’t supposed to go back into work until tomorrow morning. We were finally supposed have a relaxing night together, I feel like I don’t get to see you anymore.” Nolan said grabbing your hand squeezing it tight afraid that he might never get another relaxing night with you again.

“Patty, trust me I more than anyone in this world want that. I just want to crawl onto the couch and in your lap and just wish this horrible nightmare of a virus away, but it’s not like that. It’s getting worse by the hour and minute it seems like now and I just can’t say no. I just can not just not show up when there are higher doctors and nurses out there who never really get chance to go home and see their families and loved ones.” You said squeezing his hand back and kissing his soft lips to reassure him how much you love him.

“Here why don’t I finish dinner and we can sit outside on the balcony and enjoy some fresh air…” Nolan said picking up the ladle. “Then we can have a little cuddle session before you have to leave for the night.”

“‘Deal.” You said in agreement, while quickly rising up onto your tippy toes to plant a kiss onto Nolan’s lips before grabbing the place settings for outside. Being a med student wasn’t easy, but it was certainly easier with Nolan by your side the whole entire time. Now being a freshly new nurse isn’t easy either especially during this pandemic time, but again it was certainly a lot easier with Nolan by your side.

Nolan brought out dinner and you two just shared the moment that you were in. Eating a great dinner together while enjoying each other’s company and looking off into the cities sun. Every now and then you would glance over and give Nolan an adorable look and smile. He would try to give you the same reassuring glance back, but you knew there was something off with him. His eyes didn’t have that sparkle or shine to them like they normally do and it worried you.

After dinner, you joined Nolan in the lounge chair that he was sitting on and crawled in between his legs so your back was snuggled up to his chest and he could tightly wrap his arms around you.

“I can’t wait for this new normal to be over. I can’t wait to actually get my diploma and hopefully have an actual ceremony or at least party to celebrate my hard work with our friends and family. I can’t wait to see what an actual regular day of work is going to look like, a day where I don’t have to wear protective gear 24/7 and have to social distance myself from everything and everyone that I love.”

“Can’t wait for that too...” Nolan said barely above a whisper

Nolan’s voice alarmed you, you spun around so you were facing him. You looked up at Nolan and could see a sea of tears forming in eyes and a few slightly falling down his face.

“Nolan, baby are you okay, baby what’s wrong you’re worrying me.” You said grabbing onto his shoulder and running your hand through his hair.

“No..I’m not okay y/n... I’m scared...I’m scared as hell.” He said mumbling  

“Scared about what Nols? Baby please talk to me; you’re really worrying me here. I have never seen you like this.” You said wiping a tear away from his face

“I’m scared to death of losing you Y/N. Ever since this virus has gotten more and more out of control it has frightened me more each and every single day. Every time you walk out of our door it kills me not knowing if that will ever be the last time that I get to see your face, hold you and kiss you. I’m so damn afraid that one of these days you aren’t going to be walking through those doors again and right into my arms. I can’t imagine my life without you Y/N, I’m so incredibly proud of you don’t get me wrong you’re a fucking super hero in my eyes but you’re also my girlfriend who I’m madly in love with who one day I hope to make my wife and the mother of my children. It’s like I need that reassurance to know that every time you leave to fight this virus that you’ll be able to come home back to me. It's why I have arguments with my mother on daily occasions about why I decided to stay here instead of flying back home because of the season being postponed. It’s because in reality I could never live with myself if I did that and god forbid something happened to you and I wasn’t here and I couldn’t get to you! It’s why I leave you little notes with a rose in the bathroom so when you come home you know that I was thinking about you the whole entire time you were on the front lines at work. As much as you hate not being able to sleep properly lately, I kind of love it because I can be there to protect and comfort you through it all y/n. I feel better when I have you tightly in my arms, I feel better when I’m able to look at you from a far, I feel better when I can play with your hair and kiss your lips. Over all I’m a better person when I am with you, if you don’t believe ask Travis and Carter, they have heard it all.” Nolan said full on breaking down at this point

You have never seen Nolan this vulnerable before, in all the years that you have been dating. It killed you to see this side of him, you never realized how much this was also affecting him until now.

You grabbed his face with both of your hands and kissed him like you have never kissed him before. You pulled away and leaned your forehead against his and wiped away a few more tears. “Nolan Patrick, I promise you I will always come back home to you.” You said looking straight into those gorgeous eyes that you love so much.

You looked at the clock and saw that it was 7:05 in the morning, you were hoping to run into your boss so she can give you the all clear to head home. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen until a few hours and a break down alone in the hall way later. Your one coworker made sure to give Nolan an update every so often to let him know and that you were alright even though you weren’t. But she didn’t want to worry him anymore than he already was, plus she did it since you were too busy running around and forgot to leave your phone on the charging station to charge.

One O’clock...One O’clock in the afternoon that is the time that the clock read when you were able to finally clock out for the day. An eighteen-hour shift was way more than enough that you could ever possibly handle. You looked into the mirror and could barely recognize the woman staring back at you. It wasn’t you, this woman had dark bruised circles and lines around and under her eyes. This woman had broken and cracked lines on her cheek bones, where her mask had laid and dug into her. The only good thing that is coming out from these past horrific days is that your boss was giving you the next few days off to rest and compose yourself.

You drove yourself home and the moment you parked your car in the garage exhaustion took a new total on you. You didn’t member the elevator ride up to your floor, you didn’t remember walking down the hall to your apartment door and noticing all of the lovely and cute little notes that the children on your floor made for you and hung on the front door for you to see every day. You didn’t remember walking in and taking off your shoes and heading straight to the bathroom to take your routine hot shower. The only thing that brought you back to normal thought and time was the strong arms of Nolan wrapping you up tight into his arms while leaning next you on the cool bathroom floor.

“Shh, let it all out baby. It’s okay y/n I’m here..I’m here. Just please talk to me.” Nolan said while kissing your hair and rubbing your shoulder

“In the eighteen hours that I have worked I have seen way too many deaths than I ever wanted to see in my life Nolan. People are dying alone..because their loved ones aren’t allowed to come in contact with them. Its people of all ages young and old. Some I stood by their side because it broke my heart that they were dying alone. I broke down in a hallway at work, because I don’t understand how we are going to continue to fight this. You aren’t the only one who is completely scared to death, I am too. I am scared just as much as you are about not being able to return home and being able to crash into your arms. Nurses are already starting to get tested for the virus in different departments and floors and I’m so worried that soon we will have to be tested. I’m trying not to think of the worse, but what if I get tested and I’m positive I can’t imagine never being able to see or talk to you again. You deserve so much better”  

Nolan brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, brushed the falling tears away from your cheek with his thumb and turned your face so you were looking right at him. “Don’t think like that baby, you are one strong woman. Each and every single day I find more and more reasons to fall in love with you. This pandemic made me realize to appreciate and love the little things in life more, to hold and adore your loved ones a lot closer. I can’t imagine what you and your staff are going through day in and day out but know that I will always be here waiting for you, so I can ease your mind and try my best to take it all away from you. If anyone deserves better it’s you y/n, I’m just a bonehead professional hockey player. But you, you are a talented young woman changing the world every single time you out walk of this apartment. Here come with me, I have something I want to show you and I think that it will make you feel a lot better.” Nolan said picking you up and carrying you into your guys bedroom and placing you onto the bed.  

Nolan took out his iPad and handed it over to you and started playing a video for you. It was a video that the entire Flyers team put together thanking you for everything that you are doing during this crazy and difficult time. Even Gritty made a special appearance for you in the video which told made you light up and giggle. They even went on and talked about how such an amazing person you are and how much you mean to not only Nolan but to them as well. They were so grateful and thankful for you and it warmed your heart so much to hear them say it. The video ended with Nolan obviously getting emotional about much he is so proud of you and how he can’t believe that you were willing to get your degree early and risk your entire life just to save others without any hesitation.

Once the video ended you looked at Nolan and thanked him, this is what you needed to help you get through these times.

“I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us, if we can get through this together than we sure can get through anything in life together.” You said leaning in and closing the gap between you with a kiss

“As long as I have you in my arms, I don’t care where life take us. I realized that as long as you’re in my life that I have officially won no what matter. You’re my absolute everything y/n and I wouldn’t change it in a heartbeat.” Nolan said cupping your cheek and kissing you passionately  

Nolan was right, as long as you had each other you knew you were always going to be safe and have strong arms to come decompose home too.  

[blairwaldcrf]

The Kids are Alright (Are We?) - Nate/Dan/Blair

ao3... gossip girl au. chapter 1/?

summary: when two children get detention together they never expect to unlock a secret their parents have kept (both knowingly and unknowingly)

i.e. Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf are disaster characters but I love them and so does Nate.

......

Sometimes Dan Humphrey wished he had made his morning coffee an Irish more than others, and this is one of them. Having finally gotten halfway into an op-ed he was supposed to finish by the end of the week, he had thought the day was going great. A phone call from the Principal of his daughter’s private grade school didn’t agree. Clarissa, adopted daughter of Dan and Nate Humphrey-Archibald, was a beautiful tiny nine year old girl with terrifying intelligence and aptitude for trouble. Maybe it was in the name, the ones the likes of Virginia Woolf and Samuel Richardson had waxed poetic on, but she was the kind of force Dan was all too familiar with. It was why he had fallen in love with her at the agency before they had even decided on the age of the child to adopt.

When he and Nate had gotten her a place in this prestigious school Clarissa had been a model student for the first semester. Any layman who had read even just one article on child psychology would say she was trying to prove her worth to her new parents, but when she had settled into the easy enveloping love that both her fathers and the extended Humphrey family gave, she changed. She became more herself, arguing with teachers about the quality of their class material-- at nine-- which Dan’s father liked to remind him was the age Dan had as a child. Before the year had even finished she had tested well out of third and into fifth grade. No longer met with educational boredom, she had instead turned to social approval and pranks to win over her classmates who thought she was a baby in comparison to their ripe old age of ten and eleven years old.

So now, on top of writing op-eds and working on his second novel, he had to volunteer on the PTA committee and make donations about once a week so his daughter wasn’t kicked out of the school that cost him and his husband Nate as much as community college tuition.

This time it was a prank that involved the teacher’s bathroom that required him to drive to the school office and deal with Principal Pipton, quite possibly the most annoying and frustrating woman Dan had ever had the misfortune of meeting. If he lived a different life he would very much wish to have gone into education and ousted her from the school himself.

Nicole, the young front desk attendant for the school, was nice enough to give him a sympathetic smile as she waved him back into the larger Principal office when he arrived. Nate was standing on the side of the chair Clarissa sat in across from Pipton’s desk, but there was an unfamiliar presence of two more in the room. From the look of things, Clarissa had finally found herself an accomplice.

Instagram models would have been jealous of the probable mother in the room, her blonde hair longer and shinier than anything short of a celebrity could accomplish. She was tall even without the heels she was sporting or the fashionable outfit that went along with it, but her and her child looked nothing alike.

The kid was probably the younger side of third grade but had no air of confidence about him as he sat in the chair too large for his frame. Physically, he reminded Dan of a younger version of himself. Mess of brown curls, big brown eyes, and pale skin. He wondered how on earth his daughter had convinced such an obviously straight laced kid to pull off a big prank. God knew that there wasn’t anyone who could have done it to him back in the day.

“Sherry,” Dan greeted the Principal congenially. The woman gave a dazzling smile that betrayed the clear annoyance given in the tight way she returned his handshake. “Let’s get this through, shall we?”

Nate sent him a warning glare at the slight-- it wasn’t Dan’s fault he always came off sarcastic to Nate’s amiability-- but the corners of Nate’s mouth still flickered with the same exhausted acceptance they had reached. Unfortunately Clarissa had caught the exchange and smirked, dark brown hair pulled out of her braid and wild as it always was. Despite the hours Dan had spent learning how to do hair from both his sister and online tutorials. When they both gave her unamused looks she turned back around and ignored them, grinning as she did so with the same charming smile that seemed genetically similar to Nate’s.

“Well normally we’d go through the usual routine with Ms. Clarissa here,” the Principal began. “But this time there isn’t any way she accomplished the feat alone and her dragging one of our star students like Eliot into trouble just isn’t acceptable.”

“Clarissa scores in the top of her class,” Dan replied, the edge not quite out of his tone. “I understand that she can cause trouble but implying that she’s tainting--,”

“What Dan means--,” Nate interrupted. “Was that we agree that her pranks are immature and need to stop, but that everyone should be accountable for their own actions. It would be unlike Clarissa to bully anyone into going along with her.”

Now it was the mother of said accomplice’s turn to talk, and she had a warm voice and a gentle calming hand on her kid’s shoulder. Instead of looking at the principal-- Pipton looked offended by this-- she turned to her kid and gave a small conspiring whisper. “Please tell me you actually let loose for once.”

Staring at his feet instead of any of the adults, Eliot admitted, “Yeah, I helped her.”

The woman grinned, much to Principal Pipton’s dismay. “I’m sure his mother Blair would have something different to say about that.”

Even though it had been years, Dan found himself having a pull in his chest at the name of the first girl to break his heart. Luckily it wasn’t a common occurrence, the name not quite popular. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t also had almost ten years to get over it.

“And I apologize that she’s busy defending a client in court.” Was the suddenly serious response, even if it held a gentle quality. “But since she’s not here, I’m sure we’ll be fine with whatever punishment you deem necessary for a ten year old.”

Nate barely veiled a chuckle as a cough in his throat but Dan couldn’t quite manage to purse his lips enough to cover his smirk.

Principal Sherry Pipton sent them off with detention for the children and heavy disapproval for the parents, and as they walked out of the office and past the front desk Dan does the most impulsive thing he’s done in ages and asks Eliot’s guardian, “What’s Eliot’s mother’s last name?”

She regarded him with confused surprise as most people would, but tentatively answered, “Waldorf. Why?”

Throat tightening as he stopped in his tracks, he gave a fake and dismissive smile. “Just don’t hear the name often.” Nate narrowed his eyes now, holding Clarissa’s hand as they all stalled.

“Dad, come on.” Clarissa complained. “I want to go home and read Dickinson now.”

“You read poems?” Eliot asked her, both kids oblivious to the emotional storm Dan was on the brink of showing. “What kind--,”

“Let’s go, Dan.” Nate interrupted, picking up on the seriousness. “It was nice to meet you all.”

Blair Waldorf . The girl that shattered his heart into so many pieces he hadn’t been able to let anyone pick them up except for Nate years later-- and that was only because he had never expected Nate to begin with. He’s numb as he follows his family out of the school and into the cab, barely making small talk as Nate covers for him by taking Clarissa’s attention. Eleven years. Eleven years had gone by since he had heard her name and now their worlds were colliding again because of their school children? I mean how had Blair even managed to have a ten year old?

Oh.

[allfandomxreader]

I’d Pick You

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader (Barely Billy Hargrove x Henderson!Reader)

Summary: It’s always been you and Steve. Somehow, you always end up fixing each other’s broken pieces.

Warnings: Language, panic attack, mention of death, FLUFF. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything

Words: 4.8k

A/N: This took me SO long to write but I love it more than anything. Sorry it’s so long, I really couldn’t part with anything I wrote and I really tried. As always, I’d love your feedback!! gif not mine

Masterlist

Seven months before

Teenagers push into one another, knocking cups out of hands and liquids spewing to the carpet. You know Tina is going to be pissed tomorrow morning. You eye her from across the room, she’s beyond trashed, leaning against Conner Wilson. Her head rests against his shoulder, trying her hardest to keep up with his conversation. You can’t help but chuckle at her attempts to act sober.

You throw your head back, downing the rest of your drink and head towards the kitchen in hopes to find Carol. When your search is unsuccessful, you find yourself pouring a generous amount of Pure Fuel into your cup.

“Hey, sweetheart. Haven’t gotten the chance to say hi to you yet.” You don’t have to look up to know it’s Billy Hargrove, you could identify his sleazy voice from a mile away. You want to respond with something snarky, but when you look around all of your friends seem to be preoccupied. Tina with Connor, Carol making out with Tommy in the corner, Steve dancing next to Nancy. Company won’t hurt, even if it was from Billy.

“Looks like it’s my lucky day.” You smile, bringing your cup back to your lips.

“I’m Billy, by the way.”

“I know who you are.” You pause watching something flash behind his eyes. Surprise? Anger? Hurt? You can’t put your finger on it. “How do you like Hawkins so far?” You know Billy isn’t one for small talk, he most likely just wants an excuse to get in your pants, but to your surprise he indulges.

“I hate this shit hole.” He admits, “No offense.”

“None taken,” You laugh, setting your cup on the table, officially cutting yourself off for the night. “I can’t wait to leave either.”

“Oh, is that right? Where would you go?” Billy leans against the kitchen island, arms crossing over his chest. For once, he seems genuinely interested in listening to someone speak.

“It sounds cliché, but I want to see the world.” You laugh, “Start in Italy maybe? I’ve always wanted to see Rome.” Your attention is pulled away from the man in front of you, from the corner of your eye you see Steve weaving through the crowd heading straight towards the front door. “Excuse me, I gotta go.” You push past Billy not bothering to listen whatever he says as you pass.

“Steve!” You call stepping into the cold autumn air. Steve doesn’t turn around he just continues to walk straight towards his car. Whether he was purposely ignoring you or just couldn’t hear his name, you aren’t sure, but you do know you aren’t letting him get away that easily. “Steve!” You jog down the steps and reach his passenger door just as he’s unlocking his own. “Where are you going? It’s barely eleven.”

“Heading home. I’m not really in the party mood tonight.” His response is short, almost as if he’s annoyed or angry with you.

“Okay.” You shrug, jerking the door open and sliding in next to your best friend. You casually get yourself situated, buckling your seatbelt and reaching for one of his jackets he always has lying in the back seat to cover yourself.

“What… What are you doing?” He asks, eyeing you with suspicion.

“I’m going with you, what’s it look like?” Steve opens his mouth to protest, to tell you to go enjoy the party, to enjoy your night. “Just drive, Harrington.”

The drive is silent, Steve doesn’t play one of his beloved cassette tapes or even the radio. You desperately want to ask what happened. Steve isn’t one to leave a party early –especially without Nancy in toe.

“It’s bullshit.” Steve laughs to himself.

“What’s bullshit?”

“Everything. Me, I’m bullshit. Our relationship is bullshit. It’s all bullshit.” He bangs his palms against the steering wheel, you can tell he’s trying his best not to cry. “She doesn’t even love me. FuckI was so in over my head.”

“Hey,” You grab his hand giving it a squeeze. “You are most definitely not bullshit.” Steve only scoffs at your attempt to comfort him. “You’re not! You’re the funniest, kindest person I know. And if Nancy Wheeler doesn’t see that then maybe she’s bullshit.”

Steve pulls into your driveway, turning to give you a lopsided smile. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“Anytime. You okay to drive home? You can come in and talk if you’d like, cool down a bit. I’m sure Dustin and mom are already asleep.” You offer, taking off Steve’s jacket and tossing it into the back.

“I’m okay, I’d rather just go home and wallow alone.” He turns away, you know there’s no use in trying to change his mind.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” You ask stepping back into the night.

“I’ll talk to you then.”

Six months before

Steve sits outside your house, trying to build enough courage to speak his mind. “I’ve been thinking a lot, mostly about you. I like the little things, like hearing your laugh, like watching you answer questions in Mrs. Thompson’s class. I like how you always try to pay when we go to diners when you know I’d never let you. I like you.” He rolls his eyes at how cheesy it is. He’s never been very good with words, but he promised himself he wouldn’t use a sports reference.

He repeats the phrases over and over as he makes his way to the front door trying his best to mask his disappointment when Dustin answers. “Harrington!” He cheers, ushering him inside. “I already have some movies picked out, if you’re not into the movie idea we have boardgames on the table, Y/N made some snacks, ma left a twenty for pizza.” Dustin talks a mile-a-minute, already throwing off Steve’s overly rehearsed speech.

“Movie sounds nice,” Steve responds, absentmindedly looking around the house for any sign of you.

“Steve!” You sing, bouncing into the living room. “You know I love you and would do anything in the whole entire world for you, right?” You say, offering a toothy grin.

“Yeah, yeah, spit it out. What do you want?”

“Could you please watch Dustin tonight? I may or may not have a date.” You don’t mention it’s with Billy, you know you’d never hear the end of it. It’s that moment Steve realizes your makeup and how you’re wearing your only pair of nice jeans. You don’t catch the falter in his smile at your words. “Promise I’ll make it up to you, dinner on me Thursday?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been dying to watch the kid. I needed some guy time anyways. Hanging out with you makes me soft.” He wrinkles his nose in pretend disgust as you roll your eyes.

“Whatever, I’m not leaving yet so sorry to crash your party.” You flop down on the couch as Dustin plays a movie and sets up a game on the coffee table. Steve sits across from him picking out whichever piece was green, ready to play.

You sigh once the clock hits nine, you’ve ignored the boys’ sly comments about your date being a no show for the past two hours. Billy proved them right.

Steve stands from the floor, brushing off his pants before sitting next to you on the couch. “I’m sorry.” He says quietly, careful not to disturb Dustin who’s dozing off on the sofa across from you.

“It’s okay, between you and me, it never would’ve worked out anyways.” You shrug, trying your best to mask disappointment.

“Want me to beat them up?” He jokes making you laugh harder than it should’ve.

“Yeah, and have him kick your ass again?” You scoff sinking further into the cushions, choosing to ignore the disgust written across Steve’s features.

“Billy Hargrove? That’s who you were going out with?”

“Spare me the lecture, Harrington. I’m really not in the mood.” You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I wasn’t going to give you a lecture.” You roll your head to the side facing him for the first time in the past hour.

“Yes. Yes, you were.”

The room is silent for the first time tonight Dustin finally asleep, you and Steve captivated with your own thoughts.

“Can I ask you something?” Steve asks. You quirk a brow signaling him to continue. “Why’d you want to go out with Billy in the first place?”

“You know,” You begin with a sigh, “Through all the years I’ve been friends with Tina and Carol, I’ve been lost in the shadows. Guys have always flocked towards them, never giving me a second thought. And when Billy came into town Tina already had her sights set on him. And he picked me.” You trail off with a shrug. “I guess I just liked the idea of having something they wanted and couldn’t have”

Steve wishes he still had the courage from three hours ago. He wishes he could say, “I’d pick you. Now, tomorrow, yesterday. I’d always pick you.” But he can’t, and he doesn’t, he tells himself right now isn’t the right time.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a million times better than Carol and Tina combined.” His words bring a smile to your face as he stands. You watch as he grabs his keys from the coffee table, making his way towards the front door.

“Hey,” You call, making your way towards him, trying to shield yourself from the cold air as he opens the door. “Thanks for being here tonight. I don’t know how –or why the universe always puts us together when life is falling apart. But I’m glad it does. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

Steve offers a small smile and reacts to your words before he can even stop himself. He leans in, pressing a small lingering kiss on your cheek, then forces himself to turn away. Leaving you standing in the doorway with so many words left unsaid.

Three weeks before

You find yourself trudging up the steps to one of the only places you find comfort. You bang on the door trying your best to calm your racing heart. When nobody answers, you press the doorbell way too many times trying to gain his attention.

You see Steve through the glass window beside you, he picks up the pace when seeing your disheveled state. “Sorry, I knew your parents weren’t home.” You say, pushing past him as soon as the door opens.

“It –it’s fine. Are you alright?” He asks walking back the same way he came, no doubt towards the pool.

“He just makes me so angry sometimes!” You say, following him through the halls of his home and out the back door.

Steve rolls his eyes as he sits, feet dangling into the water. Thank god you didn’t see. He’s kept his opinions about your relationship to himself for months. Steve thought Billy was the biggest dick he’d ever met, and it wasn’t just because he liked you. He never understood why you went back after he stood you up. According to you, “He had good reasons”, but Steve thought you deserved better, even if it wasn’t him. He just didn’t want you with Billy.

You seemed happy though, and at the end of the day that’s all that mattered to Steve. So, he buried his feelings for your sake. He listened to you gush about Hawkins bully, he let you cry on his shoulder when the relationship got rocky, he welcomed you into his home when you were angry and needed to vent.

“What happened this time?” Steve asks, watching his feet slosh in the water below.

“He wanted me to choose.” You state as if Steve had any idea what you were talking about. You sit next to him following his actions and submerging your legs. “He was going on and on about how I’m always spending time with you when I’m not with him.” You sigh, leaning back onto your hands and staring at the sky. “He asked who I would choose if it came down to it.”

Steve turns to you, unsure if you broke up or if it was just a hypothetical question. Either way, a small part of him feels like he won. You’re here with him and not Billy. “What’d you say?” He questions only earning a laugh out of you.

“I said he couldn’t make me. I can’t choose between the guy I love and my best friend. That’s not fair!” Your voice gets increasingly louder with each passing word. “He kept asking, over and over. ‘Who would you choose? Who would you choose? Just answer the goddamn question!’” You both laugh at your lousy attempt to mimic Billy’s voice. “Such bullshit.” You mumble kicking water towards Steve, splashing his legs.

“Hey now, I’m not the one you’re mad at!” You only giggle as he splashes water back.

You listen as Steve babbles, something about a new arcade game Dustin made him play a few days ago. You know he’s just filling the silence to get your mind off things. You can’t help but laugh as he wales his arms around, emphasizing just how hard the game was.

It’s here, sitting beside Steve, listening to another one of his overdramatic stories, you realize you picked him. Instead of giving into Billy, instead of staying and arguing, or even finding a solution, you left and found yourself at Steve’s doorstep.

You picked Steve. You’d always pick Steve.

One hour after

Starcourt has been closed for hours, the shops have locked their doors, the food court’s lights have been turned off. Bubbly teens and snotty nose children have long since left, the building should be abandoned until they open the following morning.

In the dark, rainy hours of the night, the parking lot of Starcourt is in mayhem. Military men bombard the entrances, firefighters shouting at one another to tame the fire within. You’ve never seen such chaos.

You stand in the middle of the crowded lot, eyes glued to the main doors waiting for your friends to burst through, waiting to see Billy.

Medics try their hardest to get you to sit down, their only concern the open and bleeding gash on your temple from hitting your head when Steve crashed into Billy’s beloved Camaro. Your wounds are the least of your worries despite professionals hounding you about blood loss.

The glass doors swing open. Mike and El run straight into the pouring rain, Will and Lucas soon to follow. Your heart races, waiting for Max and Billy to make their appearance, only Billy never does. Max stumbles into the night, your feet try to reach her but Steve grabs onto your soaking shirt not letting you go near the mall.

Her eyes reach yours, even from afar you can see her cheeks stained with tears. Her lip trembles, an unspoken answer to the question you’ve needed to know the entire night. Billy Hargrove didn’t make it.

Your ears start to ring louder than the commotion surrounding you. Your lungs feel as though they’re collapsing, unable to take in air. The world around you spins, a thin layer of sweat coats your trembling body, your legs feel weak.

Steve catches your body before it plummeted into the wet concrete. Your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt as you scream into the night. Nobody around you could hear, but to Steve, your cries were deafening. His own eyes prick with tears at the sound of your agony, and the worst part: He couldn’t do anything to help.

The two of you sit at the edge of an ambulance watching everyone around you in a daze. You finally gave into the medics, letting them clean and patch your wounds, too weak to protest any longer. You cling onto Steve’s hand as if you were to let go, you’d lose him too.

Both of you refuse to let go.

Two weeks after

The house feels foreign to Steve, it feels as though he hasn’t set foot within the walls for an eternity when it’s really only been a few weeks. He’s seen Dustin on occasions, he’d take him out for a movie or to the arcade when Claudia asked him to.

Today, Dustin wasn’t feeling a movie or a few rounds of Galaga. He wanted to stay home, to stay near you even if he won’t admit it.

Steve lounges on the couch while Dustin munches on whatever snacks your mother left before work. Neither of them speak. It’s unusual for them to sit in silence, the two of them are always boisterous and annoying when together. But in the four walls of the Henderson house, so soon after everything happened, making a single sound seems unfathomable.

“Is your sister here?” Steve finally asks, unable to go another day without seeing you.

“Yeah, she’s in her room. She hasn’t left for days.” Dustin admits quietly. “I haven’t talked to her much. Ma says it’s best not to disturb her.”

Steve thinks for a moment. You haven’t answered any of his calls, Dustin or Claudia always say you’re not home or busy, it didn’t feel right to call them out on their lie.

“I’m going to try and talk to her.” Steve stands from the couch, waiting for Dustin to protest but he never does.

“Steve?” Dustin calls as he’s half way up the steps. “She’s not herself right now. Just—” The boy stops speaking, trying his best to think of advice to give to his friend. “If she doesn’t talk, know that she’s listening. She’s always been really good at that.” Steve nods, offering a knowing smile to your brother before ascending to your room.

He knocks quietly only to be greeted with silence. When he pushes the door open, he notices the crumpled tissues scattering the carpet, the curtains pulled shut, and you.

You sit against your childhood bed frame staring blankly ahead. You’ve done this for days, too exhausted to venture down stairs, too uncomfortable to lay in bed. You don’t say anything as he enters or even turn as he sits beside you, too afraid that if you utter a word you’ll fall apart completely.

Just his scent sends your mind to the same place you’ve been trying to get away from. You’re back beside Steve, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. Street lights and trees in the distance whirl past you, getting close and closer to the blue car speeding head. You try to shout for Steve, to get his attention but the words are lost somewhere inside you. You grip onto the door bracing yourself for the impact.

Steve can see your breathing start to quicken, the way your hands twitch in your lap, your chest heaving. You tremble the same way you did that horrendous night. “Hey, hey, look at this,” He points across the room to an old book out of place and on the floor. “Focus on the book.” You try to look through the blurriness, to see clearly. You stare at the spine, tracing its words. “It’s called A Wind in the Door, can you repeat that to me?”

“A Wind in the Door, A Wind in the Door,” Your voice is meek and turns into a whisper as you close your eyes, still repeating the string of words.

“Can you tell me who the author is?” Steve asks after your breaths become more even. Your eyes flutter open, mouth still moving. You squint, the tiny letters becoming clearer.

“Madeleine…” You trail off to catch your breath, “Madeline L'Engle” You close your eyes once more leaning back onto the cold metal bed frame, wiping the sweat away from your palms. “I see the same thing every time before it happens.” You say, looking towards Steve. He can see the bruise on your temple starting to fade, the cut in your brow starting to close. Even with battle wounds, you’re still the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on. “It’s us driving. Right before we crash Mrs. Wheeler’s car into Billy’s.”

Steve isn’t sure how to respond at first, or if you even want him to speak. He slowly reaches for your hand, allowing you to push him away, but you don’t. “It wasn’t your fault you know.” He says finally, “You couldn’t have done anything differently.”

“I know. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” You nuzzle into his side, content with the comfortable silence that settles in the air.

Three months later

The breeze feels light on your legs, the water from the quarry below hits softly against the rocks. You haven’t been here in a while, a part of you is surprised that it’s still pristine and not tainted with beer cans and cigarette butts from parties.

Steve wanders towards the edge of the bluff, groaning as he takes a seat. “I forget how nice it is up here.” He says as you follow his lead.

There aren’t many nice things you can say about Hawkins. It was far too tiny, there was only one main road, and barely any entertainment, even less now that Starcourt burned to the ground. Downtown shop owners have been overjoyed. At least something positive has come out of losing so much. It’s hard to believe that so much shit happened in one small area.

The rock quarry is one of the only good things Hawkins has ever had, to you at least. The trees stretch for miles out here, you don’t ever feel suffocated by the immense closeness from the town that’s just a few miles south.

For the past few years, this is where you and Steve came to escape. Nobody comes here anymore, not after Will’s disappearance and another boy’s body was found. So, the two of you adopted it as your safe haven.

There have been numerous occasions where you’d come here to blow off steam, to chuck rocks as hard as you could into the water or to scream at the top of your lungs just to hear the echoes. A good chuck of your late-night conversations happened sitting at the edge of the bluff, it’s an even split between here and Benny’s Diner.

Steve dangles his legs beside you, sunglasses on, staring towards the sky. His white t-shirt already stained with sweat from your climb. He looks so at ease, so peaceful. If you didn’t know him, you never would’ve guessed the pain he’s endured from the past three years.

You mess with loose rocks, sprinkling them into the water. You find peace as they make their journey downwards. “Alright, what’s on your mind.” Steve asks, leaning back onto his hands.

“What do you mean?” You ask, taking another handful of rock just to watch it fall, Steve only scoffs.

“You barely said anything on the drive over and while we walked up here… You’re never this quiet, especially out here. You’re always rambling about something.” You both laugh at the truth in his statement.

You contemplate for a moment, trying to find the right words with what you want to say. “I picked you, you know.” He turns to look at you, confused by your sudden revelation. You don’t look back, instead, you find comfort above from the rustling leaves. You hope their sounds could drown out the sounds of your racing heart. “That night, when Billy wanted me to choose between you or him. I picked you.”

It was the words Steve has wanted to hear for ages. He wishes he prepared some sort of speech. But you were never one to like rehearsed things and he was never good at them. You always said he took too many pauses and mispronounced the easiest of words.

“I picked you too.” This got your attention, finally looking at him. “Remember when I was with you that night –when Billy never showed?” He clears his throat awkwardly, the two of you haven’t talked about him much, he never wanted to bring it up. “You said something about him picking you instead of Carol or Tina… I wanted to tell you then that I picked you, that I’d always pick you.”

You can’t help but smile at Steve, you push into his shoulder with yours playfully. “So, what now?”

“Dinner tomorrow at Enzo’s? I’ll pick you up around seven?”

“Oh,” You sing, “Like a date?” Steve laughs, this time pushing your shoulder with his.

“Yeah, yeah like a date.”

Two years after

Steve Harrington has been nervous many times throughout his lifetime. One time in the third grade when he asked Angela Stephens to be his girlfriend on the playground. Another at his tenth-grade basketball game with only seven seconds left to score and the ball was in his hands. Or that time when he told his father he wouldn’t take over his insurance business. Today, however, takes the cake.

You sit next to him, blissfully unaware at the nervous wreck beside you. You don’t hear his deep breathing or even notice his knuckles turning white as they grip the steering wheel. He’s trying his best to play it cool, but he knows you’re able to see right through any one of his pretend facades.

It was weird being back in your hometown. Everything looked the same except the two new restaurants on main street. The two of you wouldn’t be here on any given day, but the second you opened Nancy and Johnathon’s save the date, you knew a trip back to Hawkins was necessary.

It was a beautiful wedding that everybody saw coming. Everyone fawned over Nancy’s grand dress and Johnathon shed many tears throughout the ceremony. You and Steve stood next to your best friends, you held Nancy’s bouquet as she said her vows, with Max, El, and a few girls from Nancy’s university standing beside you. Steve stood between Will and Dustin, Lucas and Mike right beside them.

Steve had known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you for years. Seeing Nancy and Johnathon exchange their rings made him wish more than ever that it was the two of you standing up there.

On the night of the wedding, Steve asked Claudia and even Dustin for their blessing. Two days later, he’s sitting in the car driving down the winding backroads and to the rock quarry.

“Why are we here again?” You ask when Steve finally comes to a halting stop.

“We’re only here a few days, I thought we should soak up as many good memories as we could.” Steve hops out the car and rushes to your door, he’s never let you open it on your own as much as he can, ignoring every single one of your protests.

He pulls out the picnic basket from the back seat that your mom prepared earlier that morning. She had rushed you both out the door, fearing if you saw her tears, she’d give everything away.

“They added a few tables, that’s nice.” You smile at Hawkins attempt for hospitality, to signal safety in their little town. Even then, it’s clear there’s rarely ever visitors.

“Alright, it looks like she packed some sandwiches, some little baggies of those chips you like and… soup?” You both laugh at your mom’s impromptu menu.

You spend the afternoon eating, talking, and laughing. Both of you sharing buried memories of the town you spent most of your life in. You take turns chucking rocks into the water, Steve screams his favorite song at the top of his lungs, happy only you and a few birds were the audience to his off-key singing.

“What do ya say, time to head back?” You ask, gesturing to the sun that’s slowly beginning to set.

“Just a second,” He says, finding a seat at the edge of the rocks. You sit beside him, wrapping an arm through his and laying your head on his shoulder. “You know, the last time I was here I was with you. It was that day right before our date at Enzo’s.”

“Yeah,” You laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

“Do you remember what you said to me that day?” Steve looks at you, he knows you remembered, but for oncehe rehearsed a speech that was actually goodand he wasn’t going to let anything mess it up. “You told me that you picked me. I’ve picked you for a long time, I want to pick you today, tomorrow, –yesterday.”

“Steve,” You whisper, watching as he carefully reaches into his pocket.

A thin, gold band rests between his fingertips. “Y/N Henderson, would you give me the honor to pick you for the rest of my life?”

You grin at the young man, nodding profusely, “Yes, yes! Steve Harrington, I will pick you until the day I die.” Steve gently slides the ring onto your finger. You can’t help but stare at the gold that now adorns your hand.

“She said yes!” He screams into the air.

“I said yes!” You scream after him, hugging and bouncing with your longtime best friend. Only your echoes surround you as his lips meet yours.

Forever Tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40​ 

[writingmyselfout]

Because I Could Not Stop For Death - Chapter Two

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing

Prologue 1

Chapter 2: Wind That's Carrying A Change

Summary: Harry receives magical visitors.

MORNING on Harry Potter’s eleventh birthday dawns with the boy in question wide awake, having barely been able to sleep for the excitement coursing through him. Mrs. Figg had assured him Friday that she had sent his letter out while he napped, then said no more. He had been left to worry on his own whether it would be received in time, and anxious about what the response to it might be. He was afraid to hope he could attend this mysterious school, to hope for something better than what he’d come to know in his short life. So he had received the news delivered to him Saturday morning that not only had the school’s deputy headmistress received his letter already, but that she would be coming to see him on his birthday with a great deal of surprise.

    He was a ball of anticipation the rest of the weekend, incapable of sitting still for long. Time seemed to crawl by, to the point that he was actually happy to be picked up by the Dursleys come Sunday afternoon, as it meant the weekend was basically over, and The Day, as he’d come to think of it, was that much closer. No amount of bullying or teasing from Dudley and Piers could bother him Sunday, no amount of chores heaped on him Monday, and certainly no amount of yelling from his aunt and uncle come Tuesday, could dampen his spirits. He had tried, in vain, to go to bed early Tuesday night in the hopes that if he just went to sleep, time would fly by and he would wake up to find his visitor waiting for him, but it was no use. If he dozed, it was for minutes at a time, for he’d suddenly be wide awake and alert, desperately wishing the sun would just hurry up and rise already.

    It’s how his family comes to wake up to the smell of breakfast. Harry had needed something to occupy his time, and maybe if they’re in a good mood when his guest arrives, they’ll be less likely to be rude. In truth, Harry doesn’t believe that, but he needs something to do anyway.

    It really only serves to make Vernon suspicious, although he only grumbles ‘the boy is up to something’  before shoveling food onto his plate. When breakfast has been consumed, Harry waits to be told to clean up to avoid further speculation.  

    He’s not surprised that no one remembers his birthday or thinks to give him anything. His birthdays were as unlike Dudley’s as was possible; just another day, barely worth noting, and certainly not cause for celebration. Before the Hogwarts letter, he’d hoped for something more, like he did every year. A candy bar would be an improvement to some of the terrible gifts of previous years, when they’d bothered to give him anything at all. This year, all he wants is the okay to go to this school, even if it means that they never again remember much less give him anything for said birthday.

    Once the dishes are clean, Harry sits in the living room, keeping an eye on the window as best he can without appearing as if he’s watching for something. His fidgeting doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and Vernon snaps at him eventually to stay still or get out of his sight. Harry wishes he’d thought to ask Mrs. Figg what time Mrs. McGonagall was due to come, because it’s barely ten in the morning and he doesn’t think he can do this for hours longer. He’s sure he’ll lose his mind first.

It’s with great relief that he hears the doorbell ring precisely as the living room clock strikes eleven.

“I’ll get it!” Harry announces, jumping up to his feet.

    If he were thinking straight, he’d have waited for them to tell him to go open it, as they usually did anyway, but his excitement gets the better of him. As a result, Vernon stands up and grabs him, practically throwing him back onto the couch.

    “Stay put, boy,” Vernon orders him. “You’ve been acting strange all morning. I’ll see who it is.” Then he storms out of the living room.

    His reaction has drawn both Petunia’s and Dudley’s attention from the television, with the other boy looking from his father over to Harry. The cousins share a brief look and then they are both on their feet scrambling for the hallway. It isn’t a fair race, never is with Dudley, and Harry gets shoved into the doorframe  by his larger cousin, practically collapsing into the hall just as the door is opened.

    “Whatever you’re selling, we are not interested,” Vernon announces as he opens the door. His large body blocks Harry’s view so he can’t tell who is on the other side. “Soliciting isn’t allowed in this neighborhood, I’ll have you know.” Harry doesn’t know if he hopes his wait is over, and this is indeed the woman he’d written to, or if he rather hopes it’s not to avoid the embarrassment. His uncle hadn’t so much as offered a ‘good day’ before offending their visitors.

    In response to this rather rude declaration, an older woman’s crisp Scottish accent states, “Vernon Dursley, I presume? If you would be so kind as to let us in, we have come regarding Mr. Harry Potter.”

    “For Harry?” Vernon half turns as he yells out. “Boy! What did you do now?” He spots Harry and Dudley behind him, and his eyes narrow as he opens his mouth.

    What he might have said next goes unheard, because there’s suddenly a gasp of surprise from Petunia, who had followed the boys out of the room to sate her own curiosity. Harry looks at her but her eyes are focused on the doorway where just beyond Uncle Vernon stands a man in a business suit, his long, greasy black hair brushing his shoulders, and an older woman dressed in an old fashioned button down shirt and skirt.

    “You!” Petunia’s voice is a strangled sound, but Harry recognizes that tone of disgust, although there’s some definite surprise in there as well.

    The man does not seem as surprised. “Petunia.”

    “I don’t know who you are, but I think you should leave now,” Vernon announces after this brief exchange, taking a cue from his wife’s reaction that these are people he does not want around.

    “Not until we have discussed Harry’s acceptance to Hogwarts.”

    “Hog-what?” Dudley pipes up, just as Aunt Petunia lets out a small shout.

    “Absolutely not !” Vernon roars. Harry jumps involuntarily, caught completely by surprise by the vehemence with which his uncle shouts, and only used to having that level of anger directed at himself.

    Petunia rushes over to him, ever cognizant of what the gossips might say, and reminds him, “Vernon, the neighbors-”

    “I’ll not have this nonsense in my home,” he announces, ignoring his wife as he then goes to close the door.

    But suddenly it flies out of his hand and is flung wide open. He and Petunia jump back and away as it does. The man standing outside holds a stick in his hand that Harry was sure he didn’t have a moment ago, and he watches him slip it into his suit jacket as he strides in. Petunia and Vernon practically flatten themselves against the wall to get away from him, and the older woman comes in calmly, unperturbed, closing the door softly behind her.

    The two pause at seeing Dudley and Harry. Their eyes flicker over the larger boy, then move onto Harry. He tries not to fidget as they look him over, acutely aware of the second hand clothes he’s wearing that are obviously a few sizes too big. He isn’t sure what to make of their frowns, wondering if they disapprove of what they see and deciding he has to break the silence or he’ll go mad.

    “H-Hullo,” he manages to get out. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as shaky to them as it does to his own ears.

    The older woman smiles at him reassuringly suddenly, reminding Harry of a handful of old teachers whom he’d actually liked over the years. “Mr. Potter. I’m very glad to meet you. I’m Professor McGonagall, and this here is Professor Snape.” She motions to the man who continues to frown at Harry. “I must thank you for writing to me, for I’m afraid we had made some assumptions regarding how much you might already know about Hogwarts.”

    The school’s name suddenly seems to stir his aunt and uncle, as Petunia suddenly steps forward. “Now, see here, he will not be going to that school of-of-of freaks .” Professor Snape’s eyes narrow as he turns to look at her, and Harry watches his aunt visibly shrink away from him. “We-”

    “You what?” he asks. “Think you’ll stop Lily’s son from going to Hogwarts, Tuney ?” He looks back at Harry, then down the hall as if he is looking for something. His eyes narrow and he moves past the boys.

    “Severus, what are-” Professor McGonagall stops mid-sentence as Snape reaches the stairs and walks just past them, stopping at Harry’s cupboard. He swings the door open, takes a moment, and then looks past them all to meet Petunia’s gaze.

    Petunia looks away, her face red as Snape practically slams the cupboard door shut. “She would be ashamed of you.” The words are low, but they carry down the hall, and Harry’s wide eyes move between this man and his aunt, whose entire face and neck are covered in red splotches.

    “Mr. Potter.” Harry looks back at the deputy headmistress, who motions towards the living room area. “Let’s have a seat. I’m sure you have many questions.”

    Harry nods, looks back at the other adults for a quick moment, then follows after the older woman. Professor Snape is only a few steps behind him. McGonagall motions for Harry to sit with her on the couch, and he sits so he’s facing her. Snape moves past them to stand behind Harry, just next to the arm of the couch, facing the doorway where the Dursleys have collected, seeming unsure of whether they should enter the room or not.

    “Now Mr. Potter. Harry. You wrote in your letter to me that you had not heard of Hogwarts.” Harry nods his head and McGonagall continues, “What do you know of your parents?”

    Harry looks from her, to the Dursleys, then over his shoulder at Snape before he answers. “Not much?” he admits, then rushes to add, “I mean, I know they died in a car crash-” Behind him, Snape snorts and Harry looks back at him to see him shaking his incredulously.

    “As if James Potter had the faintest idea how to drive a car.” Snape shakes his head in disbelief

    “Uncle Vernon said they were drinking and we got into a crash,” Harry tells them, looking and sounding confused, before turning accusing eyes on his aunt and uncle. “You lied to me?”

    Snape is also suddenly angry, his wand in his hand again, pointing in the direction of the Dursleys. His eyes were on Petunia again. “You would have him believe that of Lily? She died protecting him and this is what you tell him?”

    “Wait, protecting me? Protecting me from what?”

    “Now, see here,” Vernon suddenly interrupts, seeming to finally find his voice again. “We agreed when we took him in that we’d stamp out this affliction. We won’t have it here.”

    Harry opens his mouth to ask his uncle what he means, but a hand on his shoulder keeps him quiet. “Severus.” McGonagall’s voice is stern, and after a moment Snape puts his wand away. She turns her gaze back on the Dursleys, and her tone is cold as she says, “Let me make something perfectly clear to you, Mr. Dursley. You may be ignorant of our world, but I am perfectly aware of the laws of yours. Having a child sleep in a cupboard alone would warrant a visit by local authorities under the Childrens’ Act of 1989, which is not to take into account what other treatment may be occurring that might negatively impact a child’s development. Furthermore, under our laws, you could very well be prosecuted for neglect and abuse as well.

    “Finally, I am more than certain that the letter left here with Harry explained not only the circumstances by which he came to you, but that he would be expected to attend Hogwarts in the future. I am certain of this because I was here that night. You can no more prevent his attending than you can stop time, so I suggest you leave us be before I am the one to lose my temper.”

    She keeps her eyes on them for a moment, the threat hanging in the air, before turning back to Harry, effectively dismissing the Dursleys in their own home. In a gentler, quieter tone, McGonagall explains to Harry that his mother and father were a witch and wizard that met while they attended school in Hogwarts, and the events that led to his being orphaned and raised by the only family left to him, the Dursleys. He’s famous for defeating the dark wizard who’d given him his lightning scar, and non-magical folks--Muggles--may not know him, but all of wizarding Britain had known his name since that fateful night.

    Harry swallows, not sure he likes the idea of being famous for something he can’t even remember. Especially not when it ended with his parents dead and him an orphan. He’s quiet as he stares at his hands, processing all this new information.When he looks up, he realizes both professors are watching him, and he shifts uncomfortably.

     “So, uh, h-how do I get all the stuff on that list for school anyway?” He makes a vague motion towards the door as he says, “They won’t want to buy me new school supplies.”

    “How would you feel about a shopping trip?” She stands up, smoothing out her skirt and pulling a key from her right pocket. “This is the key to your Gringotts vault. As your father had no other siblings or next of kin, you are the sole heir to the Potter fortune. I don’t know the specifics, but I’m certain there’s enough there for your school supplies.”

    Blinking at the key, Harry repeats, “Fortune?” He’s inherited a fortune ? He stands up and takes the old fashioned key, the weight of it somehow making it all feel more real. “Did the Dursleys know?”

    “Likely not.” Snape answers, thinking if Dumbledore had kept the key this long, he had likely also kept the vault’s existence from Lily’s sister.

    McGonagall nods her head in agreement, half turned as she looks back towards the doorway as if she could see the Dursleys through it, wherever they had retreated. “Severus, why don’t you go on ahead while I speak with Mr. and Mrs. Dursley? I will meet up with you afterwards.”

    “Excuse me?”

    She looks back to meet his gaze, a challenging look in her eye. “I do believe in this, I am the better choice. Don’t you agree?”

    Harry looks between them as her question is met with silence. There’s a long stretch where Snape does not answer before he sighs in defeat. “How, pray tell, do you suggest we get there? I am certain that the fireplace here has not been connected to the Floo network.”

    “I was thinking the Knight Bus,” McGonagall states. She stifles a smile at the audible sigh that response elicits. “You know how the Ministry feels about Side-Along Apparition outside of an emergency, Severus. Besides, it may be a bit much for the boy.”

    Harry frowns, not liking the implication that he couldn’t handle whatever this ‘apparating’ is, but he holds his tongue not wanting to give either adult a reason to cancel this trip either. He’s never been anywhere that wasn’t school or Mrs. Figg’s without the Dursleys, and he’s definitely never been shopping for himself. He’s not sure the Dursleys have ever bought him anything in his entire life, aside from his glasses, and even those had been bought second-hand so as to be as cheap as possible.

    Snape mutters something under his breath, but Harry only catches the word ‘Ministry’. The man looks him over and his frown deepens. He seems like he wants to say something, but doesn’t, and seeming to read his mind, McGonagall adds, “There are some shops on Oxford Street, if memory serves. Could probably get some better clothes for Mr. Potter there.”

    Red-faced, Harry looks down at his ill-fitting, visibly worn clothes. He’d set aside the clothes that fit him the best and looked the least worn, but considering what little care Dudley took of his clothes, knowing they’d be replaced as needed, very little of what Harry received was in any good condition.

    He looks back up when a hand is placed on his shoulder, and his eyes meet the kindly blue ones of the deputy headmistress. “Think of it as a gift. It’s your birthday today, is it not?” Harry finds he can only nod in response, a lump in his throat as he suddenly gets the urge to cry.

    “Very well, then. Come along, Potter.” Snape strides past them and back towards the front door, leaving Harry to run to the cupboard to hurriedly put his shoes on and then out the door after the professor. He closes the door on the sight of Professor McGonagall giving him a small wave before heading down the hall towards the kitchen, presumably to look for his aunt and uncle.

    Outside, Professor Snape is waiting for him by the street. When the door is closed, he pulls the stick out Harry had previously seen and now assumes is his wand, holding it out in the air as if he’s hailing a cab. Seconds later, there’s a loud, almost deafening BANG, and a bright purple, triple decker bus pulls to a stop in front of Snape. Harry stares wide-eyed, too shocked to move for a moment, as a conductor in a uniform the same purple as the bus hops out.

    “Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency trans-”

    Snape cuts him off. “Two to London.” He puts his wand away inside his coat and produces a coin purse from which he passes money over to the conductor. When that’s done, he takes a step as if to get on, then stops to look back at Harry. “Come on, then. We don’t have all day.”

    “O-Oh, right!” Harry quickly follows after, getting onto the bus.

    Snape motions for him to move towards the back, instructing him to take a seat, so Harry moves almost to the very rear, just a few rows ahead of stairs leading up to the higher decks. He sits by the window, wondering what the neighbors might think if they looked outside to see this bright purple monstrosity, and almost wishing he could at least see his aunt’s reaction. The professor is holding onto a pole behind the driver’s seat, speaking with the driver as the conductor jumps back on. With another loud BANG, they’re suddenly on a completely different street, and Harry can’t keep the shock and delight on his face. If he had doubted the existence of magic before, this surely was proof enough to wipe away all doubt.

    Snape finishes his conversation with the conductor, which had amounted to specifying he needed to be dropped off by a clothing store on Oxford street, preferably one where children’s clothes might be purchased, and as close to Charing Cross Road as possible. He starts to head back to where his charge has taken a seat and finds himself stopping halfway to study him.

    He looks incredibly like his childhood bully and nemesis, which he supposes is to be expected considering he is James Potter’s son. His eyes, though, are entirely Lily’s. A bright, disconcerting green he was not prepared to see when he first laid eyes on him, but which coupled with his uncanny resemblance to his father had made him easily distinguished from his cousin. Frankly, Snape had been entirely prepared to hate the boy on sight as soon as Dumbledore reminded him he would be starting at Hogwarts this coming school year.

    Now, he is just deeply uncomfortable with the boy. He looks like his father, but he was nothing like him in manner. Not yet, at least. He also doesn’t resemble his mother either, the Lily he had grown up with, who had been playful and gregarious, entirely familiar with her magic long before she’d heard of Hogwarts or even known what she was. Instead, Harry Potter reminds Snape of himself as a child, the product of an abusive home and not used to speaking with others. He is perhaps less uncomfortable than Snape was himself, it’s hard to tell after such a short time in his company, but there’s a distinct familiarity in the way he seemed unsure as he spoke to them. Even the way he had been embarrassed at the quality of his clothes, though they hadn’t distinctly pointed them out, is something Snape could relate all too well to from his own childhood.

    Strange, he thinks, that this boy seems more like him than he ever thought would be possible for a son of James Potter.

~~~

OXFORD street is almost overwhelming for an eleven-year old boy used to being left behind before such excursions. For the first time in his young life, Harry Potter can actually take in his surroundings without having to worry about somehow stepping out of line and getting in trouble with his aunt and uncle, or somehow inviting his cousin’s violence. He’d been too engrossed in watching the world speed by, and too intimidated by the serious professor, to ask Snape anything on the trip there, but as the Knight Bus disappears with what he thinks should be an audible bang, he notes that no one looks over.

    “How did they not see the bus?” Harry asks Snape.

    “Spells,” is the simple response he receives. Snape looks about, notes the large store they were dropped off, and moves towards the store. “Come. Stay close. I would rather not have to search for you in this crowd.”

    Harry hurries after the man’s longer stride as he heads for a store named Marks and Spencer. Inside, they find their way to the children’s section and Snape instructs Harry to start looking for clothes that seemed likely to fit him. Having never actually worn clothes that fits him, Harry has no idea what size he is, and after a few minutes, looks hopelessly lost. Snape stifles the annoyance he feels, finds a store clerk a section over putting things away, and enlists their help by flat out lying. He tells the woman his nephew’s recently lost all his possessions in a house fire, and could she assist them in replacing his wardrobe? He was sadly unfamiliar with the boy’s size and could use the help of an expert.

    In moments, the woman has Harry trailing after her as she goes and grabs a few basic things before directing him into a dressing room. Once his size is found, she chats amiably with Harry, putting him at ease as she determines the colors he likes best, all the while creating a small pile of clothes. In the end, there are five pairs of jeans, three pairs of shorts, some slacks, half a dozen T-shirts, another half dozen polo shirts, and a two button down shirts, all in mostly neutral, darker solid colors with about two plaid patterns, and the only white shirt being one of the button downs. Two packs of half dozen underwear, a new pair of sneakers, and a pair of dress shoes top it all off.

    “If you’re anything like my boys,” she says, ringing it all up, “you’d be a right terror on light colors.” She adds to Snape in a low, conspiratorial voice, “Don’t think I want to know where even half those stains come from, to be honest.”

    Harry ends up changing into a pair of jeans and a blue plaid shirt, while the rest is bagged away and his formerly ill-fitting clothes unceremoniously tossed into the closest bin. If it didn’t seem likely to annoy the professor, Harry thinks he’d jump for joy. He grabs the bags with his new clothes, almost like he’s afraid that if they’re out of sight, he’ll never see them again.

    “Can you manage?” Snape asks, an eyebrow raised skeptically at seeing the small eleven year old juggling the numerous bags. At Harry’s nod, he adds, “We will be walking to our next destination, nearly two kilometers away.”

    “Oh.” Harry still looks reluctant, but he relinquishes some of the bags over to the professor to carry.

    Snape takes most of them, noting the boy’s reaction. He considers trying to comfort him for a moment, decides against it, and instead prompts him to follow. The silence that ensues feels awkward, so after five minutes, he finds himself asking him if he has any questions about Hogwarts.

    “Loads,” Harry admits after a moment.

    They pass the next twenty minutes of their walk with Snape telling Harry about the subjects he’ll be taking the first year, being sorted into a House the first night of the semester, and a little about each House, explaining who the head of each House is as well. Of course, Harry asks what House his parents belonged to, which then prompts him to ask if Snape knew his parents well.

    Uncomfortably, he admits, “Your father and I were never friends, but Lily and I were friends before starting at Hogwarts. We...grew apart…”

      Before he can ask for Snape to elaborate, they reach a broken-down shop front whose better days are, clearly, a distant memory. To the side of a door sits a tabby cat who, at their approach, starts to walk towards them and changes, mid-stride, into Professor McGonagall. She’s no longer dressed in the button down shirt and skirt he’d originally seen her in, instead wearing long black robes and a pointed witch’s hat. Harry stares, wide-eyed, and she gives him a small grin.

    “You’ll learn about it in school,” she tells him to head off any questions, then motions at the bags between them. “I see clothes shopping was quite successful, Severus.

    Harry flushes, remembering that the professor had paid for it all. “Yes. You said there’s a bank? I’ll pay it back,” he offers immediately, looking up at Snape. It’s hard to gauge whether the man likes him or not, as he seems to never smile unlike Professor McGonagall, but as someone who once knew his mother, he hopes to at least stay on the professor’s good side. Given the change, he’d like to find out more about his mother. Even a little bit about when she was a kid would be a vast improvement on the complete lack of information from his aunt, his mother’s own sister.

    “Nonsense,” McGonagall says with a wave of her hand. “I will take care of it. Consider it eleven years’ worth of birthday presents.” Harry thanks her, and McGonagall continues. “Come then. We’ve still plenty to do. I’m sure Tom can hold onto these purchases in the meantime.”

    She motions to the door of the shop front behind her, and as they approach, it seems to change before Harry’s eyes. The sign above the door reads ‘Leaky Cauldron’, and when he is ushered inside, he finds himself inside the dimly lit interior of a pub. They make their way towards the bar, Harry between the two professors, when a booming voice calls out.

    “Professor McGonagall! Professor Snape! Fancy seein’ yeh here.”

    Harry turns and finds himself looking up, up, up into the face of a giant of a man. He nearly falls back trying to see him, and ends up taking a few steps back when the man approaches, as he seems to not notice Harry at first and gets too close for the boy to comfortably look up at him without moving. The movement catches his eye, and after a moment, recognition sparks in his eyes.

    “Why, if it ain’t Harry,” he says, his voice carrying easily in the suddenly quiet pub. “You was only a baby las’ I saw yeh. Look just like yer dad, yeh do. ‘Cept the eyes, yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.”

    Snape groans, as they’ve inevitably drawn the attention of everyone else in the pub. Harry hears his name being muttered, and suddenly many are approaching, trying to introduce themselves and shake his hands. Professor Snape ends up taking his bags and going to speak to the man at the bar, while McGonagall attempts to prevent people from crowding around the child. She throws an annoyed look at the giant man who first saw them, and he seems to realize the problem as he flushes and then loudly speaks over the growing noise.

    “Now, now, that’s enough,” he calls out, moving close to Harry’s other side. The sheer size of the man forces the patron’s crowding Harry on that side to move back and away. “Leave the boy; very busy, he is. Gettin’ ready fer Hogwarts an’ all.”

    He maneuvers them towards the back of the pub, one heavy hand on Harry’s back to push him along. Harry looks over his shoulder to find McGonagall directly behind them. Further back, he thinks he might see Snape talking to a man in a turban briefly, but people shift and his view is blocked. Finally, they’re in the backyard of the pub, and the door is close decisively behind them.

    “Really, Hagrid,” McGonagall scolds. “There was no need to draw attention to the boy.”

    “Sorry.” The big man looks chagrined, but he directs a smile at Harry. “Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts. Be seein’ quite a lot of yeh this comin’ school year, I reckon.”

    Harry finds himself smiling back, already liking the giant man.

    “Speaking of Hogwarts, what brings you from the school?” McGonagall questions.

    Hagrid looks down at Harry briefly, then says simply, “Business fer Dumbledore over at Gringotts.” This causes McGonagall to narrow her eyes, but she says nothing as Snape steps out of the pub to join them. He, too, is now dressed in a robe, much like many of the patrons of the pub had been, and Harry wonders if that’s just normal attire in the wizarding world. “Professor! Good of yeh to join us!”

    “Hm.”

    Snape says nothing else, walking over to the brick wall and pulls his wand out. Harry watches him tap the wall three times, and then a hole appears in the middle of the wall that expands until it has turned into a large archway. Beyond is a cobbled street with more people of various ages in robes bustling about or standing looking into shop windows. He can’t get enough of the sights and sounds, and Harry finds himself following after the adults in a daze, wanting to look in every direction at once and lamenting his inability to do so.

    Vaguely, he hears them agreeing to head to Gringotts, and he brings his attention around as they approach a large, towering white building with bronze doors. Outside is a very short creature, impossible to mistake for anything human, and Harry finds himself wanting to ask but not quite wanting to do so where the creatures will hear him.

    “Goblins,” McGonagall supplies suddenly, and Harry looks up to see her watching him. “They run Gringotts.” Harry nods in understanding, and they collectively make their way inside, to a second pair of doors in silver this time, and then into a marble hall. They approached a counter and McGonagall waves Hagrid forward.

    “I’ve a letter from Professor Dumbledore,” says Hagrid proudly. He searched through the pockets of his large, black coat until he produced said letter. Puffing up his chest proudly, he passes it over to the goblin at the counter. “About the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”

    The goblin reads over the letter. “Very well. Someone will escort you down. Griphook!” As another goblin approaches, the one at the counter turns to the rest of them. “And you?”

    “Mr. Potter needs to access his safe.” Snape replies.

    McGonagall then tells Harry, “Show him your key, Harry.” Harry, who stuffed it in the pocket of his new pants when he changed back at the store, takes it out and holds it out for the goblin. As he’s examining it, McGonagall adds, “I also had some questions regarding the Potters’ last will and testament.”

    Snape seems surprised, turning to look at her and raise an eyebrow in question. She ignores him for the moment, turning to Hagrid. “Could you accompany Harry to his vault?”

    “Course,” Hagrid agrees readily. The goblin passes Harry back his key, directing him and Hagrid to follow after Griphook.

    Once they have left, the goblin looks back at McGonagall. “What question did you have? Be aware, client confidentiality limits what information we can provide to anyone except for Mr. Potter’s guardian and Mr. Potter himself when he’s of age.”

    “That is precisely the question I have,” McGonagall explains. “Mr. Potter’s legal guardians to this point have been Muggle relatives, the Dursleys. Would he need to bring them here with him to hear his parents’ will?”

    The goblin stares at her for a long moment before answering. “They are not his magical guardian.”

    “Who is?” Snape questions, knowing James Potter died with no known relatives, and Lily’s only living relative was her Muggle sister.

    “If a magical child is orphaned and his parents or legal guardians have not designated a guardian in their place,” the goblin states, almost as if reciting from a document, “one is determined for the child.”

    “That is normally their Head of House,” McGonagall says aloud. “But Mr. Potter has not yet started school. Which would make his guardian--”

    “The Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore,” the goblin finishes. “We therefore would require the headmaster’s authorization to release any information from the will to Mr. Potter or anyone else.”

Story Notes:

Chapter title comes from the Christina Perri song "Burning Gold".

Marks and Spencer is a real place.

[cilldaracailin]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

And here we go again!

This is being posted a lot earlier than planned because of my previous post and how I had a good day, I decided to pull my posting date forward and go against my code of writing and posting and not finish my next story before I post this one but I am sure I can cope with that! ;)

I hope you all enjoy this one. It’s a good one, even though I am totally biased.

Thanks so much for all the lovely followers and likes and Tumblr love on all my previous blog posts!

Suze xx

*I do not know Taron but the other characters are all mine!*

1

“A good laugh and a long sleep are the two best cures for anything.”

Robyn stood with her hand on the open car door, a troubled look on her face as she watched Taron snoozing in the front seat of her car, his head rolled to the side a little. He met her with a tired smile and tight hug in Dublin airport just after eleven pm, another apology on his lips as he squeezed her against him. It was late Monday evening, the day before St. Patrick’s Day and even though it was going to be another incredibly short visit, Taron had insisted that he was coming to spend the Irish holiday with his Irish friend.

“It’s such a late Taron flight and you are working right up until you need to be at the airport.”

“I am coming Robyn. I promised you.”

No matter how much she tried to tell him that he didn’t have to come to visit her, Taron refused to listen to her and now sat in her car, asleep, his whole body a little cramped with his position in the front seat.

Taron had taken on some work to keep himself busy between filming, doing some voice over work as well as prepping for his new role which he was thrilled to have gotten and his days were full and demanding and as predicted the screen test for his new role had been the weekend before he was due to come and visit Robyn. He had learnt the weekend previous that he was given the role he was desperate to get, his good friend and director Matthew Vaughan, putting Taron through a tough audition process to make sure he was absolutely right for the part and his Monday had been filled with phone calls and an impromptu script run through as the cast was finalised and Matthew wanted to be absolutely sure with his choices. Taron had to change his flight to the last one that evening so he could still go and be Irish for the day. It meant that once again, he was thoroughly exhausted and once Robyn had driven them out of the airport, he was asleep, Robyn talking away to her friend, not even realising he was asleep until she had been babbling for a while without a reply. She had tried her hardest to talk him out of coming but he was completely insistent and as Robyn now hunched down in front of the open door, as much as she loved seeing Taron, she was wondering if the forty-eight hours they got to spend together was worth it for him as his schedule started to fill up again and his very early starts and late nights started to take their toll on him.

She gently shook his knee and he immediately lifted his head, his eyes opening wide as he looked at her.

“Hey you.”

Groaning, his leaned against the head rest. “All I do is sleep with you.”

Robyn smiled and blushed a little but her grin faded a little as it took Taron a few seconds to realise what he said, his hands running down his face, almost too tired to be embarrassed and it wasn’t like him at all to react so slowly to something awkward he had said.

“I sleep with you too.” She replied. “And cwtch sometimes.”

“I am sorry Robyn. Not the way I wanted what was supposed to be our few days to go. Now it’s barely two.”

Robyn reached into the car and took his hand. “We have said many times before, that we would be happy with even an hour together. I will take our two days Taron. You know this.”

“Yeah I do but wouldn’t it be nice to have a couple of days together? Like New Years? Matthew wanted me to tell you he was sorry that our time was taken away from each other but he just needed to make sure I was suited for the actor playing my dad in the movie, that we connected and had a chemistry of sorts, even though the father son relationship in the movie is a turbulent one. Then once he was satisfied, he had to organise a read through. It’s such a significant and relevant story to the world today and he insists on getting everything not just right but perfect.”

“Taron you never have to apologise to me for your work. I know how important your job is to you and how much you wanted this part.”

“You are important to me too Robyn.” Taron’s voice was serious and insistent.

“You know I know that.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “But sometimes, life throws us a curve ball.”

“That was Matthew, not me.”

“And if Matthew was keeping you from me, then I know it was extremely important. Now how about we put a little smile on this sad face, and we go inside and just get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow.”

“Being Irish?” He asked a small smile on his face.

“And I know a blue dinosaur who has missed you terribly. Perk up rocketman. You got here and have two days to relax a little.”

“I am always tired when I come to see you.” He complained as he got out of the car, his body a little stiff from the position he fell asleep in.

“Not true.” Robyn answered him as she closed the car door. “I was the one falling asleep in the car last time we saw each other.” She opened the back door and took his backpack out.

“I just want one time to come and see you and not be tired.”

Robyn hated the sadness and grogginess she heard in his voice. “Hey Taron, don’t get too caught up in the technicalities we face. We knew we were going to have a hard time in seeing each other. We can’t just go and spend an evening together or go for a drink when we feel like it. We have to plan our visits and I know it’s frustrating, believe me. There have been so many times I wished I could have physically seen you rather than talking on the phone but when it comes down to it Taron, I will take a phone call over nothing.”

“Me too Robyn.” Taron took his bag from her, yawning as he did so. “I am sorry. I’ve been in a shit mood all day. I shouldn’t be taking my annoyance over other things that are out of my control out on you.” Taron was still always so conscious of how his behaviour and reaction to the article had hurt her before Christmas and always made sure now that he didn’t burden her with his worries or if he did need a chat, try his best to keep from rolling his anger and upset onto her.

“You can still talk to me about everything though Taron, you know this.” Robyn locked her car and started to walk towards her front door.

He let a heavy sigh leave his body, following Robyn to her home. “This new film is going be tough and I am overthinking everything at the moment. The script read through this morning was challenging and there is so much to it, I know I am going to struggle with it at times.” Taron was on Robyn’s heels as she strolled in through her front door, going straight to the island in her kitchen to put his bag on it. “I also know it is going to be a very emotionally charged shoot.”

“Have you spoken to Matthew about all of this?” She asked him, as she pulled a cup from her press, placing it on her hot water maker, turning it on so water slowly filtered into the stripped mug.

“Yeah he knows.” Taron came to stand beside her, taking his hat off and throwing it onto the island. “We have a lot of time to prepare though and he is such a good friend and everyone one of the cast is so talented, I know we will do the movie and story justice but it is going to be so tough. Matthew has already told me to use him when I need to, ring him with any question.”

“I am glad you have him to lean on when you need too but even with him working on editing Kingsman, he is still getting ready for a new movie?” Robyn dropped a tea bag into the cup.

“Believe it or not but he is actually nearly finished already. He hasn’t stopped since we finished the re-shoots four weeks ago. He still has two weeks to finish it up completely before we start promotion and then the premier which by the way…” Taron pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and opened it. “Might as well pull these out now.” He handed her over two very crumpled pieces of paper. “Cashing in some vouchers.”

Robyn grinned as she took them from him. She opened the first one and wasn’t surprised to see the ‘go to a premier with me’ voucher in her hands and as she opened the second one, frowned a little. “‘Wear an outfit of my choosing’.” She read. “I think I might regret writing this one.”

It was the first time she had seen him smile since he picked him up from the airport. “Stella is helping me.” He assured her as he put his wallet back in his pocket. He watched as she placed the vouchers on the countertop and moved to open a drawer and take out a spoon. “And I won’t pick a black sack.” He knew she was making him a cup of tea and watched as she stirred the tea bag around a few times before taking it out. “And you have full control over your hair and make-up except that Stella probably will be doing it all.” Taron followed her as she took a few steps to the fridge to get some milk and back again to where the cup sat. “And I hope I have given you enough notice for work. I know you will have to take the day off, maybe even the Thursday before if you could.” Robyn’s silence was starting to worry him and once she had added the sugar and milk to his tea, she picked up the cup and handed it to him. He took the cup from her, the heat from the mug settling nicely into his hands. He blew on the liquid before taking a sip, closing his eyes as once again Robyn made his tea perfectly.

“And I will be there. I have already asked for the two days off Taron.” She replied to him eventually and he hoped she hadn’t heard the sigh of relief he made and he took another drink from the cup, the hot soothing liquid exactly what he needed right now after a long day of work and stress. “And I completely trust you with regards to a dress. Actually, I think I trust you more than I trust Stella and you will steer her clear of plunging necklines and princess dresses.”

“So, no plunging neckline then?” He asked with a light smirk on his face. “Ok I shall have to re-think my thoughts.”

“Taron Egerton I am trusting you with this dress and you need to remember this premier is so much more than Elton’s party or the musical. It is a much larger event and for your movie and is going to attract so much more attention.”

“Hey…” Taron put his cup down and stepped over to her. “I know Robyn. I think I know you well enough now to understand what you like and what you don’t, and I will steer Stella in the right direction too.” He moved closer to her and gently pecked her cheek. “Trust me.”

Robyn stared at him and despite the fatigue in his eyes, they were still bright and held that mischievous glow. “I should have put a voucher in there that lets me dress you.” She replied to him, watching as picked up his tea and he took a long drink from his cup, a smile on his lips. “Maybe I need to sticky tape one in.”

“Not part of the terms and condition chicken.” Taron winked her way and started to walk away from her. “Now where is cwtch?”

Robyn watched him walk away from her, through her kitchen and into the bedroom, laughing as she heard him talking to the blue dinosaur who sat on her bed. She leant against the counter and sighed. Every waking moment, the man currently in her bedroom was in her thoughts. She thought about him when she played the piano, when she took out her guitar, as she lay on her couch and as she stood under her shower, her shampoo still on the right-hand side six months later and lately she constantly thought about the shoulder massage she had given him back in London a few weeks ago, even more how Taron had just her roam her hands all over his chest and warm skin and if she was honest with herself she was desperate to do it all again, praying for the day that Taron produced his back massage voucher for her. She watched his movies with such a different view now and whereas before she would be engrossed in the movie, now she was engrossed in Taron watching how he moved, his facial expressions and his voice. As his work schedule quickly filled up, especially now that he was preparing to work with Matthew once more, time for speaking with each other was becoming a little bit trickier, Taron actually falling asleep on the phone as they spoke to each other last week. Robyn was just as busy and her rehearsals for RENT were lasting longer and getting later as they started to pull the show together, the musical society now adding Monday evening and Saturday to their rehearsal schedule to ensure the show was the best possible it could be and with two weeks to go until opening night, her days were pretty packed.

In saying that though, she didn’t look anywhere near as tired as Taron did. She hated seeing him so exhausted and had tried hard to convince him to stay in London and take his two-day break at home, but he was having none of it. He was adamant that he was keeping his promise and spending St Patrick’s Day with her. Once she saw him sauntering out of arrivals and towards her, her whole body filled with a blush and red-hot heat flushed through her. Taron just had a knack for doing nothing and making her feel fuzzy butterfly feelings in her stomach and she melted into his arms as he hugged her tight in the airport. Her love and affection for him deepened further into her soul each time they saw each other, and Robyn knew that although she loved Taron without a doubt, there was now the little problem she was facing of how she was actually falling in love with him. She enjoyed his company, compassion, and caring nature as well as his terrible jokes, infectious laugh and how he made her feel like the most important person in the room when she was with him.

“Hey rocketman are you hungry? You came straight from your read through, you must be starving.”

Robyn stopped in her bedroom doorway and was immediately met with flashbacks from the first time Taron stayed with her. Sprawled out on the duvet on the right side of the bed, Taron lay on his stomach, cwtch the blue dinosaur cuddled under his right arm, fast asleep and breathing deeply, the right side of his face nestled into the pillow. If she had of been thinking straight, she definitely would have taken a picture, but she was a little concerned at how once again an exhausted man slept on her bed. Robyn knew he was naturally going to be a little run down the busier he got but it seemed to her that at times, his exhaustion or overused muscles were erring on the edge of extreme and it worried her a lot that he was going to get really ill from it all.

She knelt on the floor beside the bed and lifting her hand ran it down his cheek, his growing beard at the longest she had ever seen it and it suited him well, the dark hairs coarse under her fingers. He didn’t stir as she gently swiped down his nose too or even when she moved to place a lingering kiss on his temple. Getting to her feet, she walked around to the end of the bed and a little awkwardly, pulled his boots off, dropping them on the floor. It was bringing back too many deja vu moments for her and she sighed sadly. It seemed morbid but she was ever so grateful that she had met Taron in the way she had and was so thankful to have him in her life, even when he could frustrate her beyond belief, test her patience and good nature but when he looked so innocent as he slept, she only felt her natural mothering nature coming through and wanted to sit with him and just cuddle him tight. His mam’s words still resonated with her since the first time Robyn ever spoke to her and it was that Taron needed someone to look after him, someone he could rely on and she not only wanted to be that person in his life but she felt an overwhelming need to be there for him no matter what.

Deciding she was getting into the slightly uncomfortable staring situation as she usually found herself in when the Welshman was resting on her bed, Robyn left Taron sleeping with cwtch and walked back out to her sitting room and dropped onto the couch. She had literally spent the weekend sleeping and had caught up on many hours of missed rest that she wasn’t tired enough to sleep but shaking her head, Robyn stood back up.

“Gorgeous man sleeping in your room.” She reminded herself and picked up her laptop she had left on her couch before she went to meet Taron at the airport. She made sure all the doors were locked and with Taron’s bag and hat in her other hand, walked back into the bedroom. She dropped his bag in her closet, hat on her make-up table and once changed into some comfy PJ bottoms and a t-shirt, she settled herself on the left side of the bed, turning on her computer to do some browsing for a while. Taron had told her himself, he had a talent for sleeping anywhere and for a long time and having seen it first-hand herself many times, she wasn’t at all surprised at how deep he slept beside her, long soothing and calming breathing filling his whole body but she was still a little worried about him. Pushing her worries to the side, Robyn talked herself out of her reservations about him and knew that it was just a tiredness from working nonstop over the weekend that had him drained. She shuffled a little closer to him, smiling as she could hear his breathes as he slept, grinning as hugged the dinosaur closer to him, his body moving in his sleep to find a more comfortable position, a quiet little sleepy sigh leaving his lips. “Enjoy your cosy duvet sleep rocketman.”

Cwtch was still buried under his arm and he still lay on his stomach eleven hours later and he woke up to a wonderful scratching sensation on his head.

“If only I could wake up like this every day.” He happily moaned as Robyn dug a little deeper into scalp.

“It’s only ‘cos I couldn’t throw the cup of water over you, no matter how much I wanted too. I know how tired you were yesterday so didn’t think it would have been fair to wake you up with a start, especially when your tiredness is not really your fault.” Robyn knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed, her right hand still in his hair. “Though I probably could have gotten away with it by saying it was a traditional St Patrick’s Day tradition.”

Taron laughed. “I think I need to be a little wary of you today. I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of Irish traditions that are not actually traditions.”

Robyn grinned back at him as she took her hand from his hair. “Nope. I will be good. I promise. Only good and proper Irish traditions and the first one is breakfast.”

“Breakfast hash?” He asked hopefully, remembering how good their breakfast out together had been last year.

“Nope.” She saw his face fell a little.

“Full Irish?” He chanced, his stomach rumbling a little at the thought of some food, never mind a full Irish breakfast.

“Nope.” Robyn answered him.

“Oh.”

“But I have pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” Taron lifted his head from the pillow. “I like pancakes.”

“Irish pancakes.”

“Like potato cakes?” He asked, praying she said no. Taron would eat anything but for breakfast, he really wasn’t in the mood for potato cakes.

“Nope. Irish pancakes. Green, white and orange ones.” He was so relieved that he wasn’t getting potatoes for breakfast but quickly became confused again with her answer. “Why don’t you get up and ready for the day and all shall be revealed to you when you come out to the kitchen.”

“So secretive chicken.”

“Have to keep you guessing Taron.” Robyn ruffled his hair a little and stood up. “You know where everything is.”

Taron watched as she walked out, tilting his head a little as he caught a glimpse of her outfit, doing a double take. His Robyn, who always wore jeans, was in a green skirt with tights and knee-high boots. His insides did a wonderful flip and he buried his face into the pillow. “She is not yours.” He spoke to himself. “She is Robyn.” He stupidly inhaled and his eyes rolled behind his closed lids as that comforting scent of Robyn’s perfume and shampoo filtered through him. He was so shattered yesterday as he walked through the glass doors of the airport, that even the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other was a chore and he was starting to think that he should have just listened to Robyn and stayed in London but as her beautiful face came into view, he knew he had made the right decision to travel so late. He had signed his work contract for Matthew and was under obligation now to be available when he was needed and his friend had apologised for the terrible timing for the script read through but Taron was a professional actor and while he committed to his work schedule, he also kept his promise to Robyn and just arrived a little later and a lot more jaded then expected.

He gave his body a long full stretch, hearing some of his joints cracking as he did so and got to his knees, before climbing off the bed, stripping himself of his hoodie and he walked into her closet and to her bathroom. It was a shower he desperately needed and it not only helped to wash the previous days sweat and worries from his shoulders, but also to wake him up, Taron just standing under the wonderful pressure of the water. Robyn had left two of her soft blue towels on the towel warmer for him and he felt so at home in her bathroom, knowing where everything he needed was, though he was still getting used to the frosted window, not thoroughly convinced it wasn’t see through.

Once dressed, he wandered out to the kitchen and a delightful smell of food met him. Robyn was at the hob, her back turned to him and he stopped walking as he took in her outfit, only now noticing the black cropped top she wore too, the tiniest sliver of skin on show above her skirt. It was a look he had not known he needed to see Robyn in and the pop of colour from her short green skirt, was the perfect tribute to the day that was in it. As he walked over to her, he noticed some green streaks in her hair and as he leant against the counter beside her, his hand immediately went to her hair.

“So, we have moved to green now?” He asked, her hair so soft between his fingers.

Robyn concentrated on not burning their breakfast so didn’t turn to him but still answered his question. “I was inspired by the hair chalk again and sure it is St Patrick’s Day.”

“Any more left?” He asked her.

“There is a some on my make-up table.”

“Another traditional Irish activity?”

“Throwing everything I have your way rocketman.” Robyn carefully placed the last pancake on the plate and turned the hob off, finally turning to face him. “So, you hungry?”

“Do you even need to ask?” He titled his head, trying to read Robyn’s face which was a mixture of shock, confusion with a hint of a smile.

“Taron, what are you wearing?”

“Clothes?” He answered grinning as she frowned at him. “My St Patrick’s Day clothes. You don’t like?”

“It’s very green and don’t get me wrong, green is stunning on you, but I mean, this is a lot of green.”

“Robyn you told me that dressing green was a pre-requisite to be Irish!”

“I didn’t mean everything had to be green though.” She took in his dark green trousers and green check long sleeved shirt under which he wore a light mint green t-shirt. “It’s a lot of green.”

“I am being Irish.”

His reply made her laugh. “Well you definitely pass the dress test.” She took a step closer and ran her hands down his wonderfully fitted shirt. With his strict training schedule on the downlow because he was finished filming Kingsman, Taron was a little less focused on his diet and gym attendance and Robyn was instantly attracted to his somewhat less lean and bulky physic, his shirt sitting on his frame perfectly, his green eyes almost illuminating in reflection from the green thread from the check pattern on his chest. “And I like this. A lot.” Robyn moved her hands from his chest to his jaw. “You growing out a beard?” She asked, his cheeks lifting to a smile under her thumbs.

“Just being lazy. Haven’t really had a reason to shave.” He closed his eyes as Robyn’s thumbs ran the whole length of his jaw.

“It really suits you.”

“My mam had been giving me a little bit of grief over it. Think it makes me look older than I am.”

Robyn grinned, imaging the lecture Taron had gotten from his mam. “Well I like it, a lot.” She confirmed. “Even with all the green Taron and the tiredness, you look good.”

“Well then I have full permission to say so do you.” Taron’s hands came to rest on her waist, his thumbs sitting neatly in the gap that her crop top left. “Robyn in a skirt?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“It’s my go to Patrick’s Day skirt and actually I wear this to work sometimes.”

“It’s not a little short for work?” He asked, trying to keep his blush in.

“I said sometimes.”

“Well, I wish I had of gotten the real memo about the subtle touch to the green though. You are wearing one green thing.”

“May I remind you that you were not told to wear all green. It wasn’t specified all green rocketman and as an official Irish person, I am not obliged to actually wear head to toe green.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep.”

“Another one of those Robyn’s rules?”

“Sure.”

“You have a lot of rules Robyn.” He smirked, his thumbs grazing the skin of her waist ever so lightly.

“Ahh but Taron, rules are meant to be broken!” She lifted his hands from her waist and kissed them both on his knuckles, one at a time. “So, breakfast?” She let go of his hands and picked up the plate of pancakes and showed him. “Green, white and orange.”

On the plate were a stack of pancakes, a selection of each dyed the colours of the Irish flag. He took them from her after she gestured for him to do so and he watched on amused as she pulled a bowl from her fridge full of chopped up fruit, but only fruit in the colours of green, white and orange, kiwi’s, green grapes, melon, mango and pineapple in circles and squares mixed together.

“Is this your normal St Patrick’s Day breakfast?” He asked her, noticing a little tint fill her cheeks. “Robyn, did you do this for me?”

“Maybe.” Her voice was quiet, and she avoided his eyes. She had wanted to do something really special for him even more so when he made such an effort to get to her, ensuring he made it on time too and knowing well, that he wouldn’t have eaten great yesterday, she needed to make sure he had a substantial breakfast.

“For me?” He asked again.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“And this is an Irish breakfast like none other.” Taron walked past her and put the plate of pancakes on the breakfast bar and then took the fruit from Robyn. “Syrup?” He asked with a grin and already knowing where it was, walked past her to get the bottle. “So, are we going to let these go cold?” Taron felt so blessed at that moment in time that he had someone who was willing to go to so much effort just to make him breakfast and as his stomach rumbled hungrily, he was ready to get stuck into his meal of pancakes and fruit.

Without a word, Robyn grabbed two plates she had warming in the oven and once they were settled on the kitchen stools, a glass of orange juice for Robyn, a coffee for Taron, they tucked into their colourful breakfast, Taron almost shovelling the food into his mouth he was so hungry. He hadn’t had much to eat yesterday and Robyn was the queen of making him breakfast and as he soaked up the last of the syrup on his plate with a piece of green pancake from Robyn’s, he licked his lips in appreciation.

Robyn could only watch on as the man sitting beside her, ate every single thing in front him, his hunger fully satisfied as he drained the remains of his coffee. “Good?” She asked him as he reached for the last piece of mango from the bowl of fruit.

“So good.” He answered with his mouth full. He swallowed the fruit. “If this is just a taste of St Patrick’s Day, I am super excited for the rest.”

“Lots planned for today.”

“What you got up your sleeve Quinn?” He lifted his arms to she could take his plate and followed her with his cutlery, putting them in the sink. “I wash, you dry.” He gave her a little nudge away from the sink. “It’s our way.”

Not arguing with him, Robyn left Taron to fill the sink with hot water and bubbles, roll up his sleeves and start to wash their breakfast dishes. She grabbed a tea towel and helped him dry.

“So, chicken what have you got planned for us?”

“Well the parade starts in about forty minutes, so we can walk down to the town to watch that and then the duck race.”

“You get me my duck?” He asked her.

“Yep. Number two two zero two.”

“I am going to win.”

“Yeah you and the other two thousand or so ducks in the race.”

“I have my lucky Irish chicken with me. I am going to win.” He insisted.

“And then we have the ceílí.”

“A ceílí?” Taron stopped washing a plate and turned to her. “A proper céilí?”

“A proper one. There is one in the GAA tonight and I got us some tickets. You can meet some of my other friends, if you would like to go.”

“Of course I want to go. That sounds brilliant and I would definitely like to meet your friends.”

Robyn grinned at his enthusiasm. “Thought after the duck race, we could go to the GAA, have some food and get you your Guinness and then the céilí.”

“Lots of Guinness.” He agreed as he wiped around the sink. “You mind if I use some of that green hair stuff that you used? I feel like I am not quite green enough.”

“Be my guest. You know where it is. I will finish up here.”

Taron made his way back into the bedroom and took a seat at her make-up table, grinning at the green eye shadow that was left open beside a make-up brush. “Robyn’s rules.” He mumbled as he reached for the bottle of green hair colour. Thinking it best he just stuck with the tips of his hair, as Robyn did when she coloured his hair blue, he squeezed the green hair dye onto his fingers and with a generous amount, coloured his hair a dark green colour, making sure he did a thorough job, getting every strand. “Happy St Patrick’s Day to me.” He grinned into the mirror.

“Looking good.” Robyn leant against the door frame watching Taron as he put a thick covering of green dye on his hair. “You up for some tattoos?” She waved a white packet his way. “Temporary tattoos.” She added. “Wash off with water. If you are going to be Irish for the day, you might as well go the whole hog.”

“Definitely.” Taron stood up and followed her into the bathroom, washing the hair colour from his hands. “You going to use some?”

“Of course. I just use the shamrocks though, not the Irish flags, or the ones that say ‘Kiss me I’m Irish’.”

“No?”

“Nope. I have a t-shirt that says that.”

“And you are not wearing it today because?”

“Irish people just get kisses on St Patrick’s Day without needing to ask for them.” She gently pushed on Taron’s chest after he had kissed her two cheeks. “Enough! Enough!” She laughed, pushing him a little harder. “We need to get a good spot for the parade and with this messing, have no chance. Now which one do you want?”

Taron placed the shamrock transfer tattoo on Robyn’s right cheek and after she had done the same for him, he slipped his shirt off asking for a flag on his upper right arm, just above the scar. “I can still have it and keep it hidden.

“Well Taron I don’t think you can get any more Irish.” She said when she had dried off his arm and he pulled his shirt back on. She was a little worried by his wink and giddy saunter back to the bedroom but didn’t pay much attention to him as she tidied up the mess from the tattoo’s in the bathroom.

“Can I be any more Irish now?”

Robyn looked up and her mouth fell open in shock before she started to laugh. “Oh dear Taron. I think I might just be regretting asking you to come over.” Taron had a large Irish flag wrapped around his shoulders and as he walked closer to her, stretched it, the flag a little longer then the length of his arm span. “Any more surprises for me?” She asked as he wrapped her up in an Irish flag hug.

“Nope I am done.”

“For someone who has been working so hard, you have had a lot of time to plan all of this.”

“I have been looking forward to today since you asked me. I’ve been prepared for a while.” Taron replied. “So ready to go? We need a good spot for the parade. I need to see everything.”

“You are going to be bitterly disappointed by this parade Taron. Trucks and children.”

“Trucks and children?”

“You know how small Kilcreen is. Our parade is mainly the school children and trucks from the warehouses.”

“Don’t care. I still need to see it all.”

“Well don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

[clevernewdimension]

Unearthly Delights Finale

Preview, One, Two (M), Three, Four (M), Five, Six (M), Seven (M), Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven(M), Twelve (M) , Thirteen (M), Fourteen (M), Fifteen, Sixteen (M), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Finale

Genre: Drama, Smut, Action, Romance, Supernatural Creatures and Monsters AU

Pairing: JunmyeonxCharacter

Word Count: 4.7K

AN: This is the ending, but not the last I will write for Ava. You best expect some drabbles and oneshots!! Thank you all for putting up with this. It’s been too fucking long coming and I wish I could have made this longer for you all. Thank you thank you thank you!

Rain was falling as I feel Minseok guide me. His hands on my shoulders, holding me. Trying to make me feel safe. I look up, seeing Jongin limping, holding onto Chanyeol as we made our way around Junmyeon’s home. Junmyeon was holding Jaehwa in his arms, wrapped in a sheet we stole from one of the rooms. The rain beating on the windows was all we heard as he gently sets her down on one of his couches.

Yixing sighed, before waving his hands in the air, muttering something in the air.

I see Sehun help Jongin into a chair, his leg completely mangled and ripped up, though it should heal in a few days perfectly fine, perhaps in even less time with Yixing’s help. Chanyeol came out with the worst of it, a cut across his face, damaging his eye. With magic it should be fine, though. Kyungsoo was overall fine. A few cuts, but nothing serious. Sehun was perfectly unharmed, which, given the scale of what happened, would be terrifying if he wasn’t on our side.

The only real damage done was the emotional damage we’ve just experienced. Something you can’t just wish away but have to actively work though. And Junmyeon had it the worst of us all after having to kill his own sister… after being forced to choose.

Junmyeon sets Jaehwa down softly on a couch in his living room, before moving. Silent tears falling from his face, looking at no one. He was moving without thinking. I see him walk outside, the rain pouring down as he instantly was drenched.

Sehun looks at him, looking at everyone else before going to follow.

Yixing reaches out, “Sehun-”

“He’s going to go dig her grave,” He says, looking back, “I’m not going to let him do it alone. Even if he doesn’t want me there, someone has to be there for him, and he doesn’t want Ava there.” He looks at me, a small wince at my pained expression. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” I say, nodding, “I… understand. It hurts, but I get it.”

Yixing was looking over and making magical potions or confections for those who needed them as I just sat down on the floor, knees to my chest, watching out one of the large, floor to ceiling windows. Out in the distance I would see a little light and two figures.

Minseok sat down next to me, a few cuts on his arms and one on his chin. He just places a hand on my knee, not saying a word. He knows nothing could comfort me at this moment. We sat like that for hours, as the sun started to rise. No one left to sleep. Not without giving Jaehwa a proper send off, knowing Junmyeon would eventually look back and appreciate everyone being there.

I see Sehun and Junmyeon walk towards the door. Both covered in drying mud as the rain stopped a long time ago. Junmyeon walked past, tracking mess everywhere before picking her up.

We all follow him out the door. Yixing stops him from placing her in the six foot deep hold as he drops an acorn in. I see it grow into a casket, growing out of the hole and just in front of Junmyeon.

He doesn’t even acknowledge it as he sets her down. The growing root casket shifting back down into the hole, roots tangling over her to create a top.

Chanyeol looks at Junmyeon, “Would you like us to-”

“No.” He says, “Just… don’t.”

He starts to cover her back up, one shovel full of dirt at a time. We stood there the entire time before he was done. Yixing waved his hand, flowers growing around, trying to make her place of rest a peaceful one.

I reach towards him, but he just moves away from me, not even sparing me a glance. As he leaves, I see him manipulate water in order to clean the mud off him. As we go back in, I see him take one of the elevators down.

“The tank,” I said, sadly. “Going somewhere he knows I won’t follow.”

Minseok just softly pats my shoulder.

“I’m sure he just needs a little bit of time alone,” Chanyeol says, “Then he’ll open up like always.”

I look at Chanyeol, who gave me a small smile. I adore his boundless optimism, but I know deep in my heart, it wasn’t true. Junmyeon wasn’t cruel to those he cares for. He wouldn’t just leave to the tank if it was the usual not waiting to see people. He’s doing this because he knows most of us can’t follow him there. He’s going there because he wants to separate himself from us. From me.

The choice he made didn’t lead to a happy outcome. Seeing him walk away made me really wish he would have killed me instead, because maybe he would have been happier that way.

Three weeks later, and Junmyeon still hasn’t spoken a word to me that wasn’t just purely professional or directed to a group I’m also in. Our relationship seems to have suffered irreparable damage over this. It made sense, but it fucking hurt. I worked at the club, but he did everything he could to avoid me. It was driving me crazy. I want to help him, but I know that it would just hurt him.

So, I had to do something. Because I felt like I was suffocating. Not even just from the fact that he’s ignoring me, but because I know I can not heal his heart. I can’t end the pain he’s going through. I know anytime he sees me, he thinks of the choice he was forced to make. Even after I told him I would be fine, that it was ok if he chose her, he still picked me. I still wonder if it was a mistake. If he would have been happier if he would have listened to me. And I know these thoughts are just… so fucked up.

I can’t just sit here and slowly and agonizingly die inside. I can’t sit here and remind him of his pain.

I stayed in his office, waiting for him. The day of work was over, as I heard the door open to the office. I was hidden behind it, watching as he pushed it closed with his back turned to me, taking a few steps towards his desk. He picks up the piece of paper. Officially it was filed a while ago, but I asked Yixing not to let Junmyeon know. He looks up, seeing me. The pain in his eyes hurt me down to my very soul. I hated seeing him like this as he looked back down to the piece of paper again, as if he couldn’t believe it.

My two weeks notice. Filed exactly two weeks ago. I walked over, Junmyeon still looking at me for the first time in three weeks. Not past me, not at something else, but directly at me.

The sadness and pain in his eyes killed me to see.

“You need time,” I say, looking at him. “Away from me. To get your head straight and to heal. And I completely understand that. But I can’t just sit here, being ignored for who knows how the fuck long it will take just... suffocating.” He didn’t say anything, but I could see his eyes fill with tears. “I love you so much, and if I have to walk away and be gone for a while in order to help you, I will. Because it’s the ONLY way I can help you now.”

“I’m sorry,” He says, very quietly. If I was still human, I wouldn’t have heard it at all.

“It’s ok,” I say, smiling sadly. “I understand. I really do.” I look up at him, seeing the pain of losing someone he cared deeply for. The pain of betrayal. “Just… we’ll go our separate ways for now. Learn, grow and whatever. Heal, I guess. I won’t come back to New York. And Minseok will come with me, though he’ll also come back from time to time. I still don’t have this whole vampire thing down, and I need someone there to help me.” I sigh, crossing my arms, “I just want you to focus on yourself. Heal, if you can. Not completely, because I know things like this never do. Just try to seek happiness again.”

He looks at me, tears falling from his eyes.

“I’m not leaving this, the love we have,” I say, “I just… sometimes you need time apart. To grow and understand yourself and the pain.” I smile, “You can still sleep around. Wouldn’t want you getting too rusty before I come back.” I say, giving him a wink, trying to lighten the mood. Making a joke in a time of pain, that’s the Ava way of living. “And we’ll say… two years from today, we’ll meet again. Sometimes all someone needs is time. If you feel like that’s not enough, tell Minseok.” I smile, tears welling in my eyes, “I will wait for you. Be it just these two years or be it two hundred years. I love you, and your well being is worth it to me, even if at the end of all of this you don’t want to be with me.”

I walked to him as he sat down in this chair. I took his face in my hands, pressing my lips to his forehead, “I love you so much. Please help yourself for once.”

“I love you too,” he finally chokes out, between sobs. Shoulders shaking in a vulnerable and pained way I’ve never seen him before. I hug him, wiping away tears for a brief moment. Trying to convey everything I feel for him in these actions because words will never do my feelings justice. I whisper in his ear our meeting place. The time. Hoping after this I’ll see him there.

But it was time. I had to go. But seeing Junmyeon like this, so open, makes me happy too. The first step of healing is to be open and vulnerable.

Seeing the first signs of healing in him is the only reason I’m able to stand up. I turn and walk away as he is crying. It will forever be the hardest thing I will ever do.

Immediately after, Yixing teleported Minseok and I to Paris.

We picked Paris because it was an ocean away, so really unless they get another really powerful fae, Junmyeon can’t just come here instantly. The city was known for having a vast vampire population of all different clans who live in relative peace. There’s squabbles between clans, but nothing like what happened between the Gangrel and the Ventures.

We settled down, getting to know the local vampire population there. The only two Gangrel left. Fellow vampire friends we’ve made like to call us ‘Mutts in disguise’. I learned more about what being a vampire is like. The power that starts to come as you grow in your newborn state. I still wasn’t as strong as adult vampires, but it was just interesting to see the way I was changing. Like puberty 2.0.

I got a job as a bartender while learning the craft under Minseok. Spoke to locals and tourists alike. Sometimes we’d take a weekend trip to other countries close by. We lived in the tiniest two bedroom apartment that we made into a small home. Both of us are not really buying a whole lot of things, just necessities. I learned through Minseok that, after a couple of months, Baekhyun was brought back into the fold. Forgiven after learning that they were using someone against him that was slaughtered in front of him anyways, even after following all their demands. He was a victim of their evil too.

I told Minseok to not give me updates about Junmyeon, and vice versa. We needed to heal away from one another. We can’t do that if we’re constantly hearing how the other is doing. We have to focus on ourselves. I don’t know about how it’s going over the pond, but Minseok has had to put up with a lot of drunk/high crying. My begging to see him in the moments of weakness I had. Thankfully he didn’t listen to me.

One time, Sehun came back with him. He just smiled, sitting at the bar in front of where I worked along with Minseok. He told me Johnny was doing very well at school, making a lot of friends. I never had a doubt in my mind, to be honest. He’s a great kid. Funny and charming. He apparently has grown into a very kind young man, and he even sent Sehun along with small gifts for me. One of them was a small necklace. It was magic, and if you say a word, music will start to play.

I cried after it started playing a small tune Taemin used to hum to me to lull me to sleep. The pain of losing my best friend was something I buried down for so long that, finally, it came to light and I had to actually sort through my emotions and start to really and truly mourn him. On the first anniversary of his death, Yixing teleported me to where he was memorialized in Junmyeon’s garden. Yixing made sure Junmyeon was busy as I just sat there, pouring his favorite and extremely expensive bottle of wine right into the ground where he rests, humming the tune back to him. I remember just speaking for so long to the stone there, seeing all the flowers growing around his resting place.

It’s beautiful. Just as he was. Is.

During my time away, I never had another official relationship. It was more of my old standard. Sometimes I’d seek that out with Minseok, sometimes with co-workers, or even strangers. It helped with sexual needs. Those desires were pretty much fulfilled when I wanted. But not the emotional ones. Sure, I could get someone and bring them home to have them fuck me until it felt like my brains were leaking out my ears, but you can’t make the heart want someone that it doesn’t want. There are times where I just miss Junmyeon’s hugs. How I’d lay on him and fall asleep. The way he would touch me lightly out of worry. The forehead kisses. The small ways Junmyeon would always let me know he was there. His adoration and love for me.

And people wonder why when I’m drunk and sad, I cry about missing him. He is half of my heart. He took most of it when I wasn’t looking. I feel a bit empty without him. The love he has for me made me feel truly alive for the first time in years.

You can’t find that in strangers or fuck buddies. In some ways I find that with Minseok, but that’s more of a friendly way. Not so much the way my heart really craves. Minseok was probably the best person who could have gone with me. Our bond is strong. The pact formed between us, the last two of the clan. He was there for my highs and my lows.

The vampire clans in Europe thought that our relationship was weird. After all, Minseok was the leader of our two person clan. Every other clan we’ve met, the leaders always demanded respect and to have people call them things like sir or ma’am, father or mother or even master and mistress. To Minseok and I that just seems so just… stupid. So we were the odd ones in Paris that the other clans would gossip about but still respect.

Gangrels are a bit like wild animals. Push us into a corner and we’ll fight until we’re dead on our feet. No other vampire clan wanted to mess with that. Especially after Yixing and Sehun came to visit and people could feel the power radiating off of them. We even got questioned on how we made such powerful allies. Hard to make them understand that it’s less allies and more family.

My time away has changed me, too. Not so much my style, though. Black remained my go to. The jacket Junmyeon gave me hidden away by Minseok. He’ll give it to me when the time is over. I’ve cut my hair short, let it grow back out. A small silver loop through one of my nostrils was the first choice I made since coming to Paris. After that, more happened. A few tattoos. A half sleeve on my upper arm made of flowers. One for all of the crew at Unearthly, as well as one for Taemin, Johnny and my mom. The only odd one was the ones that stretched out to my collar bone. A purple Nymphaea water lily without the lily pad. The very ends of it were a dark blue, though. The color of Junmyeon’s scales when he’s in the water. Those are colorful even though it’s against my whole style because the people they represent are colorful, vibrant and wonderful. So I thought I’d allow this a pass. I was stronger, too. A ‘baby’ vampire still but getting stronger and faster as each day passes.

That’s not the only way I changed, either. Before I was self confident in just my looks and stubborn. Now I’m willing to fight for myself and what I believe in. I’m confident in my body and my mind now. I’ve always been headstrong, but before I was way too reckless. Now I’m just a little reckless. Still a bit of a wild card, though. Can’t change me completely.

Everyone from Unearthly ended up visiting me from time to time besides Junmyeon. It was nice, being able to show them around Paris and remember why I care so deeply about all of them. It made my heart hurt knowing I was missing time with them. To know that, for some of them, their lives are moving past and I won’t have forever with them like I do the others.

Soon, it was six months until the day. I was excited, wondering what kind of person Junmyeon has become. What’s changed. Then three. Has he healed? Is he ok? Does he finally take care of himself? Then one. Will he remember me? A week. Does he still care? Does he love me? Hate me? What if he never wants to see me again? Will my heart be able to take it? A day. Does he even remember where we said we’d meet? Will he show up?

I was worried that after all this time, he would have decided he was fine without me. But if that’s what makes him happiest, then I will relent and cheer him on as a friend. It would hurt me, but loving someone means you wish to put their needs ahead of your own.

The cold New York air hits me as I, for the first time in two years, am handed my jacket back by Minseok. We’re outside of Central Park as he smiles at me.

“Go on, Ava,” He says, smiling. “You deserve to see what your sacrifice has done for him.”

He leaves, and I just hold the jacket as I walk through. It didn’t help that I was wearing a shirt with thin straps, either. My heart was racing as much as a vampire’s heart could. I walk along, my feet on autopilot. I see the famous bow bridge. Yixing picked the meeting spot, that sappy asshole.

I get the end, looking and seeing, directly in the middle, Junmyeon. He was leaning against the railing, looking out at the night. He looked good. Amazing, even. Healthier. Buffer, too. He was wearing jeans and a coat, hair pushed back. I could sit her and just look at him all day, and I probably would have if he didn’t turn and see me.

His eyes widened, before a big grin broke out on his face. I smile, moving and walking quickly towards him. He met me halfway, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into the biggest hug. My eyes teared up at the familiarity of this hug. At the smell of him. Having him so close after so long. My hands were shaking as he pulled away, wiping at my face. I didn’t even notice tears were falling from my eyes as I see him start to cry too.

We just cried for a bit, hugging one another before we were finally at an emotionally stable state. He pressed his lips to my forehead and smiled, “I’ve missed you so much, Avelyna.” He looks at me, “You’ve changed a little, but still seem quite the same too.” He looks at my arm, “And colors! That’s a shock.”

I point to the water lily, “This one represents you.”

The smile on his face made my heart soar. He smiles, opening his coat and pulling down the neck of his white tee. I see on his chest a black rose with a little bit of red. “This represents you, too.”

I laugh, “That’s why Sehun said it was interesting after he saw them for the first time.”

He smiles, looking at me before looking around, seeing people look at us. “You want to walk?”

“I’d love to. We have a lot to talk about,” I say, nodding. “How about we walk from here to get some dinner. I’ve been craving American diner food for literally well over a year.”

“Anything,” He says, lacing his fingers with mine.

Dinner was great. A small classic diner as I ate human food with Junmyeon. Both of us with a cup of coffee, listening to the stories we both have of our time away. He told me about how he’s completely out of arms dealing now, just running a club while I tell him about the time Minsoek and I were seriously considering if we could break into the Vatican secret vaults just to see what kind of shit they have down there. He told me about how Jongin now lives with him after some weird cult tried to go after all demons and I told Junmyeon about how I got lost in spain and ended up in the VIP section of some of their soccer teams celebrating a big win.

It was just us, talking for hours. Sharing stories of us apart. Of us growing, and healing and figuring out who we are since we lost that along the way. And it was wonderful.

Soon, though, came more serious topics.

“I think we should take this slow,” I say, looking at him. I hold up a finger, “My slow, not your slow because that’s too slow.”

The laugh he let out made my heart soar. He nods, “I understand. We have to… see if this is still there.”

I nod in agreement. “I’m living with Minseok. We got our own place that is about a ten minute walk from the club.” I smile, “We were kind of hoping for our jobs back? If not, then we can just get other ones. We can’t just expect to have them back after all.”

“We could never find people to fill the places left by the two of you that we liked,” Junmyeon admits, “So we’ve had people come and go. The bartender just left, and we’ve been looking for another bodyguard.”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling.

“No,” He says, hand giving mine a squeeze, “Thank you.”

I sit down, the grass beneath me as I look at the small stone. Flowers in bloom, colors all around. Makes me stand out in my all black next to them. I smile, pouring a glass of red wine and sitting it on the ground, putting a stopper on the bottle and setting it down next to me.

“Another year has gone by, and the pain of losing you still feels as if it just happened,” I say, looking at the stone with Taemin’s name. “I never imagined my life without you. You came into my life like a wrecking ball and made your presence unforgettable and irreplaceable, you bitch.”

I feel the tears start to well up, “I… I’m so much better now. I don’t drink. Not even the stuff that can get a vampire fucked up. Shocking, I know. Replaced my booze habit with a soda one. I’m happy, but I feel a hole where you’re supposed to be. I can’t close it. I can’t shove something there and forget the pain. You’re irreplaceable.”

I wipe my eyes, a gentle breeze blowing past makes me shiver. “I just wanted to update you. About my life.”

I smile, “Been almost a year since I’ve come back here. Minseok is like the older brother I never had in a way. Our little clan, just the two of us. I’m getting so strong now, I’m already stronger than Junmyeon and Baekhyun. I keep arm wrestling Jongin to check and see when I finally beat him.” I roll my eyes, “Sehun thinks it’s hilarious that I’ll never be stronger than him. Same with Chanyeol. At least Kyungsoo has the decency not to pick on me too much.”

I feel my face flush, “Speaking of Junmyeon… we’re actually going to… get married soon. He asked me when we were on vacation. Bahamas. Seeing him swim in the crystal clear water from the boat was awesome. His tail looked like gems, it was rad. He asked me on a beach at sunset.” I shake my head, “Little romantic, a bit cliche, but I liked it. Because I know that’s him, you know?” I smile, “I said yes after choking on my soda. The idiot should have known not to ask me when I was taking a drink.”

I frown, “We’re not going to do the whole wedding thing, though. Just us, a few witnesses and dinner after. Having a party like that just feels… wrong without you.” I smile, wiping my eyes again, “Besides, like hell am I wearing a goddamn white dress if you’re not alive to see it.”

I hear footsteps come from behind me, standing still. “We’ve also been talking about… you know, family. A kid. Just one because I’m not sure I could handle more than that because it just seems terrifying having a little like… alien ripping open my vagina, you know?”

I hear a chuckle, and I smile instantly. “Also they're really smelly. But perhaps in like a decade. We still have like… at least a century together. No need to rush.”

I lift the glass, pouring the wine into the soil, “Your spirit better be there when we say I do or I’ll fucking hunt you down in whatever afterlife we get.” I press a kiss to my fingers, placing them onto the stone. “I love ya, idiot. See you next year.”

I stand, turning and looking at Junmyeon. He smiles, his hair in his face and a bit wet as he holds his hand out for me. I slide my fingers and lace them with his, smiling as we walk together. Besides one another, hands holding tightly.

“Ready,” He says, “We’re supposed to meet everyone for dinner.If we leave now, we’ll be early.”

I smile, pulling him to me and pressing a kiss to his lips. He’s shocked for a moment, before pulling me into his arms and kissing back.

I smile, pulling away, “We could be fashionably late instead…”

He laughs, “Perhaps tonight. Damn vampire recovery. You gotta give me a little bit of time!”

I just take his hand, “Fine fine… but tonight I want you to use those handcuffs Yixing gave us as a pre wedding gift.”

I see a blush rise on his face, “Perhaps we can be late, actually.”

I smirk, pulling into the direction of our bedroom, winking at him.

My hand holds his, sometimes still afraid this is all a dream. I squeeze his hand, wanting that reassurance. To know he’s here. Real. And I get it. His larger hand giving me that proof I need. He’s real. He’s with me. We’re in this life together.

And because like hell am I going to let go of him ever again.

[maxgrayarchived]

WIP First Lines Tag Game

Tagged by @shaelinwrites​!! And hers is right here, which you should read, because her writing is amazing and I can’t wait for this book. 

Rules: Share the first line (or first few lines) of each chapter of your current manuscript! Feel free to skip chapters to avoid spoilers, and you can do as many chapters as you want!

It makes the most sense for me to do this for Superkids! So let’s go

CHAPTER ONE: HE FELT POWERFUL 

Virgil couldn’t breathe.

CHAPTER TWO: BIGGER, AND BIGGER, AND BIGGER 

Patton yawned as he shuffled down the school’s hallway. His tummy rumbled. He usually ate breakfast with his dad, but woke up late and didn’t have time.

CHAPTER THREE: NIGHTMARE 

Virgil stood stiff as Derek and Remus got him ready. 

Remus fixed an earpiece on him, bringing his long hair down to hide it. Derek grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard, mumbling for him to loosen up. 

“Okay,” Remus took a step back to look him over, “your dad and I will be there the whole time. I hacked into their security cameras, so I’ll be able to let you know if anything goes wrong.”

CHAPTER FOUR: MALUS 

“It’ll be easier next time.”

Virgil lied awake, staring at the ceiling. His hair was still wet. Instead of going to school, he went to a barbershop to get his hair cut. Instead of the thick, long waves that reached down to the small of his back, the hair he’d been growing out all his life, it was shaved on the sides and his bangs fell in his face. Then, he came home and bleached the rest of the purple out, and dyed it black.

CHAPTER FIVE: TIME FOR OTHER THINGS 

At the end of homeroom, Patton came up to Virgil. 

They hadn’t actually talked since the first time, but occasionally, Patton would shoot him smiles or giggle in his direction, and Virgil would shyly wave back. When Virgil cut and dyed his hair, Patton squealed about it for about five minutes straight, telling Virgil how much he loved it and how much it must have helped his dysphoria. Virgil didn’t feel comfortable enough mentioning he didn’t really have any to begin with, just smiled and agreed.

CHAPTER SIX: DITTO 

When Roman and Patton got to the house Nightmare was hitting, a police car was outside and all the lights were on.

CHAPTER SEVEN: HE’D LOST SOMETHING 

After walking Patton back to her house, Roman wandered around the neighborhood.

He liked going on walks. He always had. He popped in some headphones and just let himself wander. There was nothing like a walk alone at night to get his thoughts back on track.

CHAPTER EIGHT: NO CONTROL 

Virgil stared at himself in the mirror. 

His costume wasn’t nearly as expressive as the others were. Ditto and Catastrophe actually turned themselves into characters, like Virgil thought he was supposed to. Ditto looked like he stepped out of a Disney movie, with a high white collar, a maroon half-cloak, big stompy boots, and a golden crown. It was one of the most extra things Nightmare had ever seen, and he almost felt stupid fighting him. Catastrophe, on the other hand, wore a pastel blue unitard, a pink tutu, ballet flats, and a fuzzy white cat mask. Virgil wondered if he made it the trans colour on purpose. 

Even Malus, they didn’t have all the flair the other two did, but they were at least unique, like some punk motorcycle driver that really liked apples for some reason. They were vastly accessorized compared to the other two, but the black fingerless gloves with the motorcycle helmet, Virgil could admit, was really hot. Virgil wondered if Malus, the real, non-hero Malus, drove a motorcycle.

CHAPTER NINE: SOFT & WONDERFUL 

Virgil watched with a grimace and a black eye as Remus finished installing their new T.V.

CHAPTER TEN: I’M RIGHT HERE. I’VE GOT YOU. I LOVE YOU. 

“I’m telling you, Ro, it’s not gonna work-”

“Just try!”

CHAPTER ELEVEN: ANXIETY CRAWLED 

At this point, nightmares were expected.

Virgil woke up around 4am, panicked and short for breath, guilt sending his head going miles a minute. Then, he looked up at the dreamcatcher swaying above him. He counted under his breath and traced the patterns of the string, the colours of the feathers. He remembered the warmth of Patton’s hug, his kind smile, his soothing voice. 

It helped, but not by much.

CHAPTER TWELVE: THINGS A LITTLE BROKEN 

Roman tiptoed out of his room, stopping at the end of the hall to listen. 

With any luck, Ophelia wasn’t wearing her hearing aid.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: VILLAIN DAYS 

Derek wasn’t happy when Virgil got home.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: GIVE UP 

Virgil still had money leftover from what Remus gave him. 

He was already taking the longer route home from school, so he tried not to make any stops. Derek hated him being late, and had just gotten accustomed to Virgil’s new schedule. But as he passed the cookie shop for just the millionth time, knowing he had the money, he decided to take the risk. 

Some days, risking Derek’s anger for a single cookie was the dumbest idea. Some days, it was worth it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: LOST CAUSE 

“Pat-A-Cake?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: ARE YOU EVEN A HERO? 

“Shh, shh!” 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“You kicked the wall!” 

“Shut up, Roman.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HE REMEMBERED 

Patton pushed around treats on one of the plates, as she had been the last ten minutes, trying to make everything look perfect. Roman watched with a fond smile on his face.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: FELT BETTER, FELT WORSE 

Patton almost didn’t believe him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THEY ALMOST DID 

Virgil walked through the front door, and immediately felt like gouging his eyes out. 

Gross, gross, gross.

CHAPTER TWENTY: ONE, ONE GOOD DECISION 

They didn’t talk much anymore.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: MORE FAITH 

Virgil sunk low in his seat, his mask pulled over his face. His stomach churned as Remus drove them towards Hampton. He wouldn’t tell Virgil what they were doing.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: WHAT KIND OF HEROES 

It was cold outside. Even though the days were passing, and Christmas was a full month ago, the season clung to the Winter. It still snowed a few times a week, a light dusting falling to the grass and concrete and barely sticking. Roman rested his hands on the wet, cold wood of the railing of Patton’s back porch. 

That’s where Logan found him, after everyone had gone to bed and the two of them laid there pretending.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE: PART OF HIM STILL HOPED 

Patton got to school extra early the next day, texting Roman before he woke up saying that he had to talk to a teacher. 

It wasn’t too hard to find Virgil.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR: AND NIGHTMARE LEFT 

The storage shed was fairly small and narrow, just enough room for them to push the dusty boxes to the sides and tie Nightmare to a chair down in the centre.

Sidenote: can’t really tell if that excerpt is a spoiler but? I think it’s fine? wish we had spoiler text like discord lmao 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: YOU WILL BE HAPPY HERE 

Virgil spent the 20-minute drive asleep in the passenger’s seat.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX: ON OUR SIDE 

Logan didn’t remember the last time they were this excited.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: THE INTRUDER 

The moon had risen a few hours ago, and after an extensive while of talking and trying to get a plan together that wasn’t absolute shit, the heroes decided to go to bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT: ULTERIOR MOTIVE 

Virgil set his tray down with a huff, exhaustion making his movements heavy. 

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Lei asked in amusement. 

He scowled. “What’s got you in a good mood?”

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: THE GENDERQUEER VIGILANTES 

Patton couldn’t help but smile.

Okay so that’s only half of the chapters I currently have written, page 206/422+, so if someone tags me again I’ll do the last twenty nine. Some of those chapter starts are kinda weak but I fucking love my chapter titles so whatever. 

Writeblr tag games tag list: 

@writinginslowmotion @energydeficient @notwritinganyflufftoday @clarence-writes @amapofyourstars @connieturnpenny @alextriestowritestuff @smokedstorybara @fantasy-penman @emerysilvertonwriteblr @writingessance

[c-is-for-circinate]

Okay, by popular demand...

(This is not a fic.  This is simply a set of highlights around the prologue/introduction of what would be a fic, if my brain worked and I could write and I actually wanted to bear the shame of having my first an only proper CritRole fic be a crossover with the Dragonriders of Pern.)

There are many, many ways Vox Machina could exist in the 2000+ years of Pern’s known history.  This is what happens when Keyleth of High Reaches Weyr is born, the only daughter of Weyrwoman Vilya, rider of gold Aramenth, and Weyrleader K’rrin, rider of bronze Zephrath, in late fall of the year (or, as they say on Pern, fall of the turn) 998, precisely ten turns before the fifth Pass of the Red Star is expected to send Thread down across the planet for five decades to come.

In 1004, there are four turns to go until Thread is due to fall again, and it feels like forever. 

In the deep tropical heat of Ista Island, Vex and Vax sneak through the deep undergrowth that’s been allowed to spring up in the past two centuries, hide in the tiny narrow places where only a pair of skinny agile little eleven-turn-olds could could go.  They giggle together, and Vex finds the wild redfruit trees and overgrown berry patches, and they sneak back to their mother grinning and covered in dirt and sticky fruit juice at the end of every day. That’s how the look on the day they steal out of the jungle to find an enormous bronze dragon sprawled on the hard-packed dirt around the cothold, and a tall, imposing man they barely recognize talking to their mother in the doorway.  His frown gets even deeper when his eyes settle on them. “I’ll speak to the Lord Holder about seeing that greenery is cleared soon,” the man, who’s bronzerider S’dor, who’s their father, says.  “It’s a hazard that close to a hold, during a Fall.” “It’s not dangerous!” Vax protests, and Vex looks longingly and desperately at their little patch of beloved jungle, and their mother says, “now, children,” and the man who they’ve seen every handful of turns for all their life so far who is their father says, “Elaina, you can’t pretend this isn’t their best chance to become something that matters.” “How do you know they’ll be any good for your dragons at all, if you disapprove so much?” their mother asks quietly, and their father smiles smugly, proudly, and says, “They’re my children.  The dragons will take to them.”

In the high, windy northern peaks of High Reaches Weyr, in the middle of nowhere at the top of the world, Keyleth stands on top of the ridge surrounding the great Weyr bowl, on top of the Eye Rock with her arms raised up to the sky, and closes her eyes, and imagines she can fly. She is not quite six yet, and strong arms catch her easily as she leaps down from the Star Stones, before she can crash and fall.  Her mother chuckles in her ear, and her mother’s dragon chuckles in her head, just as it’s been for her entire life, just as it must always, always be.

In 1005, there are three turns to go, and it feels like the shadows are lurking right around every door, nipping at every heel, hurry-up, hurry-up-get-ready, hurry-up-hurry-up-before-it-goes.

In the tiny little Healercraft cothold outpost a day’s walk out from Telgar Hold, on the edge of the great grassy plains that blanket the middle of the continent, Pike waits for her grandfather to get home with her lip bitten between her teeth and her heart in her throat.  There have been bandits on these plains as long as she can remember--as long as Wilhand can remember, as long as anyone can remember.  What are they going to do when the empty sky opens up and they aren’t safe any more? Pike is fifteen and alone, and she re-labels every pot of numbweed and vial of felis in their stores, and cooks much too much for dinner for even the two of them, and eats almost none of it, and lingers too long packing up the rest to store, and waits, and waits, and-- “Hey, this the one?” asks a deep, rumbling voice she’s never heard before, and there’s a scuffle by the door.  Pike goes to answer it with a bread knife in hand almost as long as her forearm and finds the tallest, broadest boy she’s ever seen, carrying her bloodied grandfather in one arm. “What did you do to him?” Pike demands.  She barely comes up to this boy’s chest, but that just means she’s at good stabbing height for the softer things farther down, and she’s spent half her life learning every detail from her grandfather to tell her what those soft things are. “Nothing!” the boy protests.  “Nothing, I swear it.”  He’s lying, Pike thinks, but there are bruises across his face and he’s slurring his words, and Wilhand is waving weakly at her to put the knife down, and the night is closing in cold and fast. “Well you can’t stay out there,” she says, and sweeps them both inside as if Thread’s due in a few hours instead of a few turns.

In the warm, safe halls of High Reaches Hold, surrounded by fur and velvet and wood and thick, safe stone walls, Percy lays on his stomach under a table in the Lord Holder’s private library, surrounded by scrolls and hides and actual bound-paper books, and reads, and listens, and learns. He is nine, and that is more than old enough to eavesdrop on “Well, if it’s too dangerous even to travel, we’ll never get the younger ones fostered out when they’re old enough,” and lay out his maps of Pern, and plan.  The Smithcraft Hall will be too far to travel overland when Thread starts, if they wait for him to be old enough to apprentice ordinarily.  This safety isn’t forever.  They’ll need to take advantage of what they have while they can.

In 1006, there are two turns to go, and nothing will stay still, not people or dragons or time, not anything.

“Scanlan...” says the Masterharper, exhausted and despairing and not moved one whit by Scanlan’s broad grin.  “Fine.  You’re too good a Harper not to promote you and too terrible an apprentice to let you stay around here and corrupt the younger ones.  You’re a journeyman now.  Go...go journey.  Somewhere.  Anywhere.” “Anywhere?” Scanlan asks, glint of mischief and joy in his eyes.  The Masterharper sighs. “I will make two requests of you, Scanlan, just two,” he says.  “The records all say we have less than two turns of freedom before the Falls start up again, and while the Lord Holders and the Weyrs have been hard at work for a decade making sure the larger holds and crafthalls are ready, the First Dragon only knows what it’s like in the smaller cotholds they’re sure to have lost track of.  When you inevitably slide your way into those little holds, can you please make sure they’re keeping to the Teaching Ballads and understand their duty?” “Secondly, can you check in, just, half a dozen times a Turn, at least, please?” he asks.  “Whenever you come to a Hold or Crafthall large enough to host an actual, stationary Harper, can you send word that you haven’t died terribly in a ditch somewhere?”  He pauses, and then adds, “Or if you have died terribly in a ditch somewhere, so we can at least warn others away from the ditch?” “Your wish is my command, oh Masterharper-of-mine,” Scanlan agrees grandly.  “After all, it’s only my duty as a Harper.” He doesn’t bother to wait for further instruction; the Masterharper knows better than to waste his time giving it.  Scanlan already knows where he’s headed.  There’s a tiny band of traders heading out of Fort this afternoon, too small for anyone as grand and self-important as a Craftsmaster to pay attention to.  Dranzel will be happy to have a Harper along to do a bit of tuning on the road.

“No,” Vax says, and only that, only no, and Vex grabs his wrist and his hand and tries not to cry.  Their mother’s cothold and half the jungle around is scorched bare, a clear line of sight cut down straight to the coast and the little cove where the pirates left trash and bodies when they took lives and everything else worth taking.  It must have been so much easier to notice the little settlement from the water, with all the greenery so obediently slashed back. “We’re done,” Vax says, “I’m done, we’re done with dragonmen, they let this--” “No,” Vex says, now, pulling all her grief and horror and despair and fear and fury into a tight, tiny little ball right in the center of her chest, small enough to carry.  He’s right, but it’s the middle of winter, a month before Turn’s End, and they might have the skills to get by on Ista Island for the three days it took a dragon to find them again, but not up north, not right now.  He’s right but they’re thirteen, and Vex only knows so much about surviving away from people, and Vax doesn’t know anything at all besides theft and stealth and secrecy. He’s right, but Thread is due in two turns, maybe one, a turn and a half, who knows?  It will scorch them down to the bone, as dead as Mother, if they’re caught out in it.  It will scorch holds and fields just like this one if there aren’t dragonriders to fly it. “One more clutch,” Vex says.  Weyrwoman Tirelda’s gold is due to fly any day now.  It’ll be spring, by the time the eggs hatch and she and Vax are rejected again.  It’ll be warm enough to go north.  They’ll be fourteen by then.  “Just one more.”

[horansqueenandpaynesqueen]

Next-Door Neighbours : Chapter Eleven

A Liam Fanfic, A Niall Fanfic, MA Rating

New neighbours, new drama. Sometimes what you need is the last thing you’re looking for.

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 ||

+NOTES+

1- This fic is written by Julie ( @paynesqueen​ ) & Livia ( @horansqueen​ ) 2- Julie will write the odd chapters and Livia the even chapters 3- This fic will have romance, drama and smut.

Chapter Eleven by Julie (paynesqueen)

It was everything she thought it would be like and she hated that; she wished he had been a bad kisser or that there wouldn’t have been any sparks when he kissed her. But the moment his lips crashed on hers, she was lost. The kiss was long due and it showed as he pulled her to him and she just melted into it. It took a moment before she finally pushed him away and succeeded to put some distance between.

“This can’t happen again, Liam.” She said licking her lips. “You’re with Lisa and that’s that.”

“Just like that? Julie there is something between us. Aren’t you just a bit curious to see where it could lead? Why do you always have to be scared of what you can’t control?” He exclaimed annoyed with her reluctance.

“This isn’t about that, Liam. If things would have been different maybe we could... but now we can’t. We just can’t.”

“Give me one good reason that isn’t because I’m with Lisa. As much as it would suck for me to dump her days after getting back together, I think that you’re making this a bigger issue than it is.” He argued.

“Because I helped Lisa winning you back.” She shouted.

For a moment, Liam just stared at her without saying anything. He expected a lot of replies from her, but never this one. He was trying to make sense of what she just said. There was no way she could have done what she said, right?

“H-how?” That’s all he could let out.

“She came by the building a few days after you moved in. She introduced herself to me wondering if I knew who you were. Told her yes and that we were sort of like new friends. We ended up talking and she told me what happened between the two of you and she really wanted you back so I offered to help her. I mean, I didn’t tell her what to do or say, but I tried to give her some advices.” She answered him as she paced the sidewalk.

He grabbed her hand to stop her and she looked at him. He didn’t ask why she did because he knew the reasons; the same reasons she has given him since they first met: she didn’t believe in relationships.

“Imagine you dumping her and she ends up finding out it was because of me. No, I can’t be the reason you decided to end things. You need to go through with that second chance, Liam. I don’t know the future, but I know Lisa and you deserve to see it to the end; no matter what is that end. That’s why this can’t happen again.”

She withdrew her hand from his and ran into the building. He just stood there watching her until he could no longer see her. He understood her point of view, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to be with Julie and that no matter what happened, he knew his future wasn’t going to be with Lisa. He took out his cell and dialled the number he knew by heart.

++++

A few days had passed and Julie felt like a car had run over her. She had called in sick not feeling like being surrounded by people, especially happy couples booking their romantic getaway. Yes, it was petty but right now, she just felt numb and didn’t want to deal with anything. She hated feeling this way for a guy she had known for a short period of time. She was sitting on the couch just staring in space when her sister appeared in her view. Livia had been trying to get her to talk, but she clammed up. She wasn’t ready to talk about the mess she was in; a mess she created but still.

“I could cancel you know. Louis would understand.”

If Livia ended up not going to this weekend getaway with Louis because of her, her best friend was so going to kill her. Plus, she really didn’t need a sitter. Being alone was what she did best after all.

“No. You are going with Louis. I’m a big girl, Liv. I’ll get over it.” She assured her.

“Julz, I have never seen you like this before and even though I know its normal behavior, it’s scarier when it comes from a sister who always acted like she had a cold heart.” She had argued.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just need some time for myself. I’ll be back to be the cold hearted one before you know it.”

“I hope not. I want you to be happy and I think it’s time that you let someone make you happy. I mean, maybe it won’t be Liam, but you deserve someone who will sweep you off your feet.”

“So do you, sis. I hope you find the answer you’re searching for.” Julie replied before hugging her. “Now go before Louis actually believes you changed your mind.”

And with that, Livia was gone and now the apartment felt emptier. She sat on the couch wondering which movie marathon she was going to indulge herself with for the weekend when her phone rang. She saw Liam’s name on it and she quickly turned off her cell. Liam had called her a few times since that night, but she ignored each of his calls.

She needed time to be able to pull herself back into some kind of protective shell. She was willing to admit that she often wanted to say screw it and just go to Liam and ask him to break things up with Lisa, but she restrained herself. She felt like she was punishing herself for her role in this story. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so afraid of what he could do to her walls, maybe she and Liam would be somewhat casually dating right now or maybe not. Maybe they would have slept together and be done with it.

She was debating between eating ice cream and making a pizza when there was a knock on the door. When she opened it, she stood there frozen.

“Hey Julie!” Lisa said. “Mind if I come in?”

Julie’s heart was suddenly beating faster and as she tried to put on her poker face, she let Liam’s girlfriend in. She wasn’t sure what she was doing at her place and she really hoped it wasn’t for more advices because she didn’t think she would be able to do so.

“What’s going on?”

“Liam broke up with me because of you.” She went straight to the point.

“I-”

“Don’t bother with you didn’t do anything and all that crap. I know you didn’t. It is how it is and Liam explained to me your situation. I mean, I can’t blame you for falling for Liam no more than I can blame you because Liam fell for you. I just wanted to make things clear with you.” She added. “We talked for hours after he told me and I realized that we both held on to this second chance for the wrong reasons. I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt or that I no longer love him, but I think that this second chance was never meant to be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Look Julie I’m not gonna lie that when he told me why he was breaking up with me, I was mad at you. I was ready to come here and hit you for lying to me. I was fucking upset about it, but Liam explained to me and I’m not saying that I’m totally cool with you, but I can understand your reasons for helping me.” She sighed. “By helping me, you were helping yourself to avoid having to deal with your feelings.”

“When I helped you, Lisa, I didn’t even know what I felt for Liam. To be honest, I knew it was stronger than what I usually allowed myself to feel, but I didn’t know just how much. When you came to me, I only knew him for a few days and the way he spoke about you, I knew he still loved you so I thought it was my chance to make sure I wouldn’t have to find out. It hit me pretty hard just how much I did care about him when I learned you two got back together. I’m still not sure what to do with it. I didn’t want to be the reason you two broke-up.”

Lisa let out a small laugh; “But you are. I mean, he told me how you fought him about how he should be staying with me and all that crap, but in the end, it wouldn’t have done us any good to continue being together when all he thought about was you. I know you wanted to do the right thing, but honestly, if Liam hadn’t decided to ignore your demand, we might have had a worse break-up than the first one.”

She might have been right, but Julie really believed in what she told Liam that night. Right now, she wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad that he didn’t listen to her. She felt so exposed and she didn’t like it one bit. She wasn’t used anymore to show her raw emotions.

“Look, I’m not here to give you my blessings because it’s really isn’t up to me what happens next between you two, but I wanted to let you know that I knew. Because knowing Liam, he was probably going to forget to tell you that and I feared that you wouldn’t give him a chance if you thought you were betraying me or something.” Lisa went on. “So overall, the reason why I came over is to make sure that all of this wasn’t for nothing.”

Julie looked down at her hands because she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know whether she was relief or not that it was all in the open like this.

“I don’t know what happened to you or if something happened to you for you to fear relationships so badly, but if there is only one advice I can give you is that Liam is worth getting over your fear. So next time, just answer his calls or better yet, go to him.”

And with that Lisa left her apartment. Julie stood in the middle of her living room for a while after she was gone. For the first time since she met Liam, there was nothing actually stopping her from pursuing this besides her own fears. But Lisa was probably right; she should give Liam a chance. Maybe it wasn’t going to last since the sexual tension had been so present that maybe once it’s gone, Liam and her won’t have anything left keeping them together. She snorted, slightly aware that she was sure fishing for a new reason to not go knock on his door.

“I guess if I’m going to see Liam, I better shower.”

++++

Liam was growing more and more impatient, but Lisa told him to trust her and even though most normal guys wouldn’t trust their ex-girlfriends to help out, he trusted Lisa. He just hated not knowing how she planned to help him out with Julie. He called Julie quite a few times since that kiss and each time, he wanted to tell her that it was over with Lisa; that he chose her, but he didn’t want it to be said over the some voicemail. He wanted to tell her in person.

Telling Lisa everything had been hard. It was a really long conversation that he hopes he never has to redo. He could tell that she went through a lot of emotions. She cussed him and she cried and eventually, she seemed somewhat at peace with his decision. It was probably the most honest talk they ever had. He hadn’t asked for her help with Julie, but she insisted. She promised that she wasn’t trying to double cross him and he believed her. A part of him would always love her that’s for sure, but his heart was fully open for a new beginning; one he hoped was going to be with Julie.

He was seconds of just saying fuck off and going to knock on Julie’s door when there was a knock on his. He never got up so quickly in his life to answer the door. Julie stood on the other side looking so unsure that it made him feel even more nervous of the outcome.

“Hi!” She said. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t say anything, but he opened the door wider and she came in. She looked so unease that he feared why she was there.

“Lisa came to see me today.” She finally spoke. “Told me you told her that I was the reason you were breaking up with her which I might say was really a stupid move of your part.”

“I’m so-” He started and then realized he was not sorry. He had said what he had said; “No, I’m not sorry actually. You were once again deciding what you thought was best for me without even thinking that maybe continuing my relationship with Lisa was a big mistake. I’m crazy about you or at least you drive me enough crazy that you’re all I’m thinking about. I don’t know what the future looks like. Maybe in a week, we would be both bored out of our mind with each other, but I’d like to try and see where it could lead us. So no, I’m really am not sorry that I broke up with Lisa and told her the reason why.”

She didn’t say anything and he hated it. He couldn’t read her face at that moment and it felt like an eternity before she finally did something. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she let her gesture say what she couldn’t say. When she pulled his face towards her, he showed no resistance; wanting this kiss as much as her. This kiss was just as intense, as demanding as their first one. His hands found their way around her waist and closing any gap that could still be between their bodies, deepening the kiss. Soon enough though, he needed more than just kiss her and he was fairly certain that she felt the same way. He lowered his hand until they reached her bum and in a quick movement, lifted her from the ground. With some uncoordinated moves, he succeeded to bring them to his bedroom where he lowered them on the bed.

He groaned against her mouth as he was dry humping her like an eager teenager. He wanted her so badly that he didn’t know where to start. He wanted to be inside her so much, but he also wanted her to beg for him. She seemed just has in a hurry as him to get this started as her hands grabbed the hem of his shirt to pull it off.

He pulled away to help out and as he looked at her, he knew he needed to hear her say the words. He needed to know for sure if only to know that this wasn’t a one-time thing.

“So we are trying?”

“We’re trying.” She smiled before pulling him back over her.

[sunkissedpages]

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Seventeen || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: oh my god SEVENTEEN PARTS into this series the lovers part of enemies to lovers comes into play... I’m speechless honestly lol

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, smut

What I listened to while writing: you already know

Word Count: 2.3k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine| Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen

“Oh the pool’s been closed since eleven.”

“What? Why are we up here? Won’t we get in trouble?”

“My other assistant, Harrison, asked if we could use the pool after hours and management said we could.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

He smirked. “Wanted to see you sweat.”

You splashed water in his direction. “Asshole.”

His mouth hung open, feigning offense. You stuck your tongue out. “Oh, you do not want to start this with me.”

“Is that a threat?” you asked, splashing him again with a little more force.

He scoffed slightly and splashed you back using both hands, completely dousing you with water. “Like I said...”

“Oh, fuck you,” you bit out, wiping water from your eyes.

“You wish,” Tom snapped back a little too quickly, and a little too confidently.

You blinked your eyes back open and stared straight at him. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes. “Right.”

It was quiet for a moment, and you wondered if Tom had said that because he knew about your sex dream. He hadn’t said anything else about it, but you couldn’t be sure. Your cheeks grew warm just the same.

Showing no sign that you were going to splash him again Tom moved to stand next to you against the wall of the pool. The tile was cool against your back, making you shiver.

“Cold?” he asked, looking over at you.

“Just a little,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Wanna go in?”

You looked up at the stars straining to be seen behind thin layers of clouds and took a deep breath of fresh air. “Mm, not just yet.”

You weren’t ready to let go of this moment, of this night, just yet, because tomorrow you’d have to go back to being a handler. Tomorrow meant schedules and flights and calls and protocol. Tonight was for you.

“Y/n,” Tom said suddenly, making you turn towards him. “I’m sorry.” You felt your body grow stiff with surprise as he continued. “I”m sorry for being so shitty, about that text, about everything. I know you were kind of just stuck with this job, and you didn’t deserve how much of an asshole I was to you. And I know that we get along more now, but I never really apologized, so, uh, I felt like I should.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent apology, but it was what you had been waiting on for three and a half months.

Then, in a move not even you could predict, you turned and kissed him gently on the lips. You didn’t give him enough time to react, because you were equally just as shocked that you’d done that, before pulling away.

“Um, there, now we’re even.”

Tom was speechless for a moment, and you pictured yourself banging on Harry and Haz’s door and begging them to let them sleep on your floor, before the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile.

“I don’t think so.”

You sputtered. “Wha- you kissed me, I kissed you, we’re even.”

“No way, I kissed you for like way longer.”

“But you said yours didn’t mean anything,” you protested.

“Are you saying yours did?”

“I- you-”

“I think you’re going to have to kiss me again if we’re really going to be even.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you were smiling. You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach his lips and kissed him again. He kissed you back this time, and leaned down so that you could settle back on your feet. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him so that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

In the back of your mind you wondered what would happen to you if you got caught, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. His lips were soft, like you remembered, but this time they were burning. Tom had always run hot, both emotionally and temperature-wise - you never grew cold in bed beside him, but this was entirely different.

Slyly, he moved his lips to the base of your jaw making you moan quietly. The noise only encouraged him to move further down your neck, and you were sure there would be marks you’d have to cover in the morning.

Suddenly, Tom broke away. “What about Harrison?” he asked.

“What about him?”

“Aren’t you two...” he trailed off.

“How is that your business?” you asked defensively, as was your instinct.

Tom pulled you closer to him, reminding you that you were still in his arms. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Right, well for what it’s worth, there’s nothing.”

He looked at like you like he didn’t believe you, but you weren’t sure what else to say. There wasn’t anything going on between you and Harrison, and you weren’t sure why Tom was so sure there was when he was around you all day and every day and saw the two of you interacting, but it was clearly something he was hung up on.

“Hey, who am I here with right now?” you asked, brushing his cheek with your hand. You sucked in a breath. It was the first time you’d touched his face, at least intentionally. Tom had such a beautiful face, he did, and whatever appreciation you’d had for it before you started working for him had vanished the second you met him, but now it was back in full force and you were in utter awe of the man standing before you. You knew he was a little self-conscious about his acne scars, but you liked them. You thought they made him a little more human.You had scars of your own too.

You couldn’t help but feel a little insecure about yourself as you looked into Tom’s eyes. As if he could sense it he took your hand from his cheek and kissed the back of it. Then, almost like he was asking permission again, he leaned toward you slowly. You met him halfway and kissed him, winding a hand through his wet curls.

Your heartbeat was thundering in your ears as you wondered for a second if this was actually real life. It was confirmed when Tom snaked one hand cheekily from your waist down to your ass. You smiled to yourself and slipped your tongue into his mouth, making him moan. The material of his swimsuit was loose, and being pressed up against him left almost nothing to imagination. You clenched your legs together at the thought, which didn’t go unnoticed by Tom.

“Fuck,” he cursed against you and pulled back. ”Wanna get out of here?” he asked nodding towards the door.

“Yeah,” you said breathily with a smile and allowed him to lead you by the hand down the stairs and back into the room. Despite the chill in the air, his hand was warm. It was a comfort to the nerves tingling all throughout your body.

You giggled as you struggled to keep up with Tom who was pulling you along down the hallway, obviously eager.

“Shit, do you have a key?” he asked, looking up into your eyes when you stopped in front of the door.

You rolled your eyes and handed him yours. “I don’t know how you survived before me.”

He grinned. “Neither do I.”

Once inside he was back on top of you even before the door shut all the way, pressing you against the wall and kissing you harshly. Your hands moved to his swim shorts and you began untying them as he pressed hot kisses down your neck. Both of you were still soaking wet which made the undressing part that much harder. You stifled a giggle as Tom struggled to wriggle out of his swim trunks until he was left only wearing briefs.

Then his hands were behind your back unclipping your bikini top without needing any help. As dumb as it was it only turned you on more and you moaned softly as he tossed your top over by his discarded shorts before kneeling down on the the carpet in front of you to pull down your swimsuit bottoms.

“Fuck, y/n you’re soaked.”

“We did just go swimming,” you managed to get out through shaky breaths and Tom looked up at you with a glare. Half of you wanted to laugh and the other half of you wanted to moan. The sight of him annoyed, down on his knees for you was driving you insane. Maybe you should have fucked him him a long time ago.

“You know what I mean,” he growled.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Holland.”

Tom rose slowly, trailing fingers up your legs as he did so. He met your eyes and you swallowed thickly at the sight of him. His eyes were dark, almost black, with desire and his lips were pink and swollen. You kissed him again, and he moaned against you as you did. He pulled away so that he could step out of his briefs, and then he was yours again, kissing you first on the lips, then the neck, til he reached your collarbone. You felt your knees go weak and slumped forward against him. He caught you with ease and together you stumbled through the familiar room over to the bed. You could tell he was trying not to be too cocky about the effect he was having on you, but a smirk still played at his lips, not that you were complaining.

The bed squeaked as you fell back onto it with all of your weight, then again when Tom climbed on top of you. He kissed you again and let his left hand travel further, fingers hovering on your inner thigh, right above where you needed him most.

“Please,” you whined and it was all it took for him to insert two digits inside of you.

You bit down hard on your lip to stifle a moan, and heard Tom’s breath catch in his throat as you did. You knew that if you weren’t in a hotel room with thin walls, you wouldn’t bother, and let Tom know just how good he was making you feel, but you didn’t even know what time it was. A call from the front desk about angry neighbors was the last thing you needed right now.

Tom attached his thumb to your clit as he worked his fingers in and out of you and you gasped out at the sensation, arching your back off the bed. You moved the hand that wasn’t fisting the sheets over to Tom’s leg, reaching around blindly for his dick. With an exasperated laugh he grabbed your wrist with his free hand and guided you to it. He was already rock hard, thanks to what had gone down at the pool, making the rest of your job easy. You stroked it slowly at first, running your thumb over the tip.

You picked up the pace as you felt yourself getting closer, causing Tom to hiss out. “Fuck,” he said. “Feel good?”

You nodded in answer, not trusting yourself to speak.

Without warning, Tom removed his hand from you entirely. You whined at the loss of contact. “Hold on,” he said and lept off of the bed. You craned your neck to see him rifling through clothes on the floor. His absence left you tempted to touch yourself, but you refrained, knowing he’d be back to give you what you really craved momentarily.

You smirked as Tom pulled a condom out of the pocket of a pair of jeans on the floor before climbing back onto the bed.

“How long have you had those?”

“Shut up, they weren’t meant for you.”

“Uh huh, sure,” you said snarkily, still breathing heavily, watching as he ripped the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom on.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, positioning himself above you. You took a second to take in the sight of him, holding himself up over you, muscles flexed, hair a mess, eyes full of lust.

“God yes.”

He didn’t waste another moment before pushing himself inside of you, letting you adjust to the stretch before finding a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“Shit, Tom,” you moaned as he thrust deeper into you still.

You wanted to tell yourself that this didn’t mean anything, that this was just hate sex. But having hate sex with someone was usually rough and didn’t usually involve so much kissing, so much passion. But aside from all of that, the truth was, you didn’t hate Tom Holland anymore.

You didn’t give the admission to yourself another thought as you let yourself get lost in the pleasure.

When Tom’s hand found its way back to your clit you knew he was getting close. His hips stuttered and his thrusts faltered a bit as he chased his high, not wanting to get there before you. You urged him to keep going, begged him not to stop to let him know you were right there with him, teetering on the edge.

“Fuck, y/n.” he groaned, and hearing him call out your name was all it took for you to collapse, to finally fall over the edge, and Tom wasn’t far behind you.

He crumbled on top of you with all of his weight afterward, still inside you, breathing hard like he’d just run a marathon. Even though you were both sweaty and spent it was kind of nice. You let your fingers run through his chlorine saturated hair and felt him smile against your chest before pulling out and rolling over.

You both laid on your backs in silence, breathing shallowly, daring the other to break the silence. You didn’t know what the morning would hold, but it was safe to say you’d sleep without a pillow barrier between you that night.

okay, there it is! hope you liked it! it was fun, but hard as fuck (no pun intended) to write lol *also just a note: keeping condoms in pockets is not safe!! that shit gets worn down, which I’m sure you all know, but just wanted to remind you all to have safe sex, friends :) lmk what you thought I always appreciate feedback!!

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[queen-parasoul]

Could you please write a story where Umbrella is the older Renoir princess instead of Parasoul?

As usual, the Renoir palace at midday was calm. Guards watched dutifully at their stations, Egrets practiced marching in strict formations, visiting aristocrats and family talked peacefully at their tea parties. Things were neat and proper, setting an example for the rest of the city.

Meanwhile, Canopy’s twenty-five year old ruler leaned over a table in the kitchen, scarfing down a half-gallon of strawberry ice cream straight from the container. Propped up beside her was her unwieldy Living Weapon which had already finished its share, cardboard and all.

A small voice paused her snacking. “I knew I’d find you here.“

There in the doorway stood the the imposing 4′3″ figure of her younger sister. Despite her size, her intense eyes and strong posture were already so clearly her father’s.

Umbrella still had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling sometimes. The little princess was mature for her age, but it was hard to take her seriously when her hair fell over one side of her face and her Living Weapon was nearly as tall as she was.

“Relax, sis, I’m keeping my energy up.“ Umbrella patted her own weapon. “Hungern needs to eat too. It can’t function properly without fuel.“

Parasoul raised an eyebrow. “Is that really true? Krieg doesn’t need to do that.“

“Krieg also doesn’t have a mouth.“

She seemed to accept that answer. Her older sister wasn’t sure if it was actually true, but liked to have an excuse anyway.

“You want some?“ Umbrella offered. “There’s black cherry in the freezer.“

Without a moment of hesitation, Parasoul marched over to the fridge. She retrieved her snack and a spoon, and took a stool at the table as well as Umbrella’s example of forgoing a bowl.

“You’re sure you don’t have anything to do right now?“

“The morning drills are done for the day, and my meeting with the Chess Kingdom diplomats is in an hour. That’s the bulk of my schedule.“

“And what about the Skullgirl?“

Umbrella winced. She had been pretty candid with Parasoul for a while now about the incident seven years ago. But her candidness and drive to prevent another wide-scale tragedy was a little unnerving coming from a young girl.

Then again, by this point it was par for the course. Seven years - no, all eleven of them - of Parasoul’s life were marked by her matter-of-fact attitude. The whole family had wished she would act more her age, but Umbrella wasn’t about to tell her exactly how to live her life.

“It’s barely February, and they tend to show up in the Fall. You shouldn’t be worrying about that anyway.”

“I guess. I just want to be prepared.“

“And we will be. I promise.” Umbrella quickly shifted the subject. “I’d worry more about missing the new Annie of the Stars TV movie tonight. I’ll let you eat dinner while you watch it.”

Her expression lit up. “Really?“

“As long as you don’t mind me eating too. I cleared my schedule so I can watch it with you, if that’s okay.“

“Of course.” For the first time in a while, Parasoul smiled, and happily continued eating.

However, Umbrella sighed. She had had to jam-pack the next few days with meetings and paperwork to make time. Just the thought of the chain of boredom almost dampened the flavor of her ice cream.

But it was worth it, she figured. Seeing her sister this happy would be enough to keep her going strong clear into next week.

[pickalilywrites]

I'm always happy to see more of the Peaky Blinders AU. Don't feel like you have to include the Garrison lol - I do just genuinely like Levi, Petra, and the rest that are already in there.

have been meaning to write this lil garrison gang prequel for a while now xoxo

You Should See the Other Guy

Dot Pixis. Gang AU. 

2469 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

Dot Pixis fiddles with the glass in front of him, staring at the two empty seats at the other side of the table. As the minutes pass, his frown grows deeper, and he grows more impatient. He takes a quick glance at his watch - half an hour past ten - and grumbles to himself. The woman beside him, Anka, ignores the old man’s mumblings, and instead stares straight ahead at the door where their guests should have arrived long ago. Aside from the distiller, the two are alone in this place. Together, they sit in silence with only the sound of Hannes tending to the moonshine in the fermentation vessel sitting behind them.

“Pour me a drink, Anka,” Dot Pixis says suddenly, gesturing at his glass. “You may have a glass as well if you wish.”

“It’s rude to drink before your guests arrive,” Anka replies, but she’s already heading towards the racks of rum. She selects an unopened bottle without looking and returns, pouring the golden liquor until it almost fills the entire glass. However, she refrains from pouring herself a drink, setting the bottle down instead and returning to her place beside Pixis.

“You’re quite right,” Pixis agrees, but he takes a slow sip of his drink anyway. When he sets his glass down again, it is half empty. He looks disapprovingly at the other empty glasses. “Of course, I’m sure you would also agree that it’s rude for guests to arrive over half an hour late.”

“Perhaps they’ll have a good reason for their tardiness,” Anka says, but she knows this is unlikely. It is more likely that their guests think very little of Dot Pixis and his crew. It’s an unfortunate opinion to have, but it wouldn’t be the first time that people have underestimated the old gang leader.

Pixis merely grumbles, although it’s clear that he doesn’t agree with his second-in-command by his displeased expression. With every impatient glance of his watch, every move of the minute hand is another strike against their absent guests. Another fifteen minutes pass, and Pixis has emptied his glass. Should this meeting ever begin, Anka knows for certain that it will not end well.

There’s a knock at the door, and one of Pixis’ men enters. “They’ve arrived, Pixis,” Mitabi says. He waits for his boss’ command. When he sees Pixis wave his hand, Mitabi nods and proceeds to let the guests in.

Two men stroll in, not bothering to apologize. It could be that they’re unaware of their own tardiness, but Anka believes that it’s more likely that they don’t care. The expression on their faces is far too smug to be innocent, and they don’t bother to greet the old gang leader as they sit down across from him. They sneer at Pixis, believing him a senile old man, and one of them turns to Anka, gesturing for her to pour them all a drink.

Anka only moves when Pixis waves her forward. As she pours the gin, she keeps her eyes on the two guests, a neutral expression on her face. She remembers them from previous meetings that Pixis had held with their gang, although she recalls that they’re merely henchmen. It’s evident that the leader of this particular gang does not find this matter important enough to attend himself. It would have been better if nobody had come.

“You’re late,” Pixis says. He leaves his drink untouched. It might be that he’s had enough alcohol from his previous drink, but Anka believes it’s more likely that Pixis wants to deal with these poor fools first. “We were scheduled to meet an hour ago. Is there a reason for your tardiness?”

“Huh, an hour?” one of the men say, glancing down at his watch. He simply laughs when he sees the time, unashamed at his rudeness. He looks up and grins impishly at Pixis, the expression of someone who hasn’t acknowledged that he’s done anything wrong. Like his partner, he wears a black bowler hat on his head. Anka finds his boyish face and golden curls familiar and recalls his name as Edward. “Were we not supposed to meet at eleven? We were certain the meeting was at eleven, not ten.”

“It was ten,” Pixis says. Unlike the other two giggling fools, Pixis sits without so much as a smile on his face.

“Well, at least we’re here,” the other man says with a wave of his hand. He’s probably barely out of his twenties, if the peach fuzz on his upper lip is any indication of his age. When he takes off his bowler hat, he reveals a head of messy brown locks. Anka would like to say his name is Fred, although she thinks she’s merely grasping at whatever familiar name is available in her mind now. “There’s no point in getting angry about us now. It’s not as if losing your temper will fix things. Let’s talk about what we came here to talk about shall we?”

They must be incredibly bold and incredibly stupid to speak so brazenly to Pixis, although there’s a chance that it’s a dangerous mixture of both. Anka can’t recall the last time someone has ever spoken to Pixis in such a way. She’s sure that whoever had met an unfortunate fate. She’s surprised when she turns and sees that Pixis wears a calm expression on his face. She watches as he takes his glass, holding the top by the tips of his fingers, and swirls it around. He hasn’t even taken one sip yet, but the men across from him have eagerly gulped down their drinks.

“Then let’s talk about more important matters, shall we?” Pixis says, sitting back in his chair. He taps his fingers against the table, watching the two young men carefully. “Last month, the Citystreet Bowlers purchased 200 cases of beer, 100 cases of liquor, and 100 cases of wine from the Garrison Gang. However, the money we’ve received so far hardly covers your expenses. By now, your group should have surely sold enough to pay for at least 75 percent of what is owed, and yet we have received less than half of that money. Why is that?”

The blond one - Edward - tilts his head, feigning an expression of surprise as if this is new information to him. “Is that so?” he asks. He takes another swig of his drink, finishing off the rum. With a lick of his lips, he then says, “It’s true that much time has passed, but perhaps you’ve overestimated the quality of the product you’ve sold us. It isn’t doing nearly as well as you have predicted, Pixis. How can we possibly pay you back when it isn’t making as much as you believe it’s worth?”

Here, Hannes stops his works and looks up from where he stands at the open fermenter, and both he and Anka watch Pixis’ reaction. Rather than looking at his distiller, Pixis continues to look at the two men. The old man strokes his silver mustache, watching the men carefully. After a moment, he says, “A few of my men had the luxury of stopping by your bar the other night, and it seemed that business was well.”

The smile on the brown-haired man’s face falters for just a second, but his companion breezily answers, “There can be more than one reason for a business to succeed. In the case of the Citystreet Bowlers’ new establishment, we were lucky enough to have additional entertainment to attract customers - music, gambling, beautiful women, and the like. Much of our sales are attributed to these other attractions rather than your drinks.”

“Then you should have been able to sell drinks regardless of how good they were,” Pixis says, completely unruffled. He takes a small sip before he continues. “If you’re entertaining your guests well, their throats are sure to get parched eventually. The wine could have turned to vinegar, and they wouldn’t notice at all.”

The man continues to give Pixis his false smile. “We admit that we overestimated the popularity of your drinks. Why can’t you admit it as well?” the man laughs. His glass sits empty in front of him.

Pixis narrows his eyes at the man and his companion. “Tell me what you really think about these drinks,” he says. His eyes flicker over towards the men’s empty cups - all empty save for a drop or two of rum at the bottom of each glass - before his gaze returns to his guests. “Be honest this time.”

The dark-haired man looks nervous, his eyes flitting over from Pixis to his companion, but the man with the blond curls is as confident as ever. The blonde man rests his arm on the table as he leans over, a fiendish smirk on his face. “Frankly, Pixis, your drinks are complete shite,” he says, his words echoing through the cellar. Behind them, Hannes winces at the insult, but the man continues. “You could replace your beer with a bottle of piss, and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Is that so?” Pixis asks. His eyes return to the empty glass in front of the blonde man. “Perhaps your palate is not as refined as you think it is.���

The man’s eye twitches. He’s clearly annoyed by Pixis’s comment, but he disguises his annoyance once more with his overconfident smile. “Don’t you believe it’s more likely that your products are poorly made?” He looks around the room - first at Pixis, then at Anka, then at Hannes. “After all, the people you’ve employed here can hardly be called reliable.”

“Enough,” Pixis says. He slams his hand on the table, and the glasses shake from the sudden jolt. The two men look at Pixis, startled, but Anka is hardly surprised. She had watched his anger grow and grow with every word that came out of the blonde man’s mouth. It was only a matter of time before the old man lost his temper. Now that he has, his stern gaze and the fire blazing in his hazel eyes are proof that the old gang leader still possesses the authority and power that he had held in his prime. Even though the two men had mocked and disrespected Pixis only moments earlier, they now shake in his presence.

Anka puts a gentle hand on her leader’s shoulder. “I’m afraid they’ve had a little too much to drink, sir,” she says quietly. It is not so much that she cares about what happens to these men. It’s just too much trouble to clean up afterward.

Pixis, however, isn’t having it. He rises from his seat, his chair scraping across the wooden floor. “On the contrary,” he growls, “I believe that they haven’t had enough to drink.”

“Sir,” Anka says, but she knows it’s far too late.

The gang leader grabs the angel-haired man by the collar of his shirt. It seems that the men have underestimated the old man’s strength, for all they can do is cry out in surprise as Pixis drags the man over to the open fermenter that Hannes is tending to. The man struggles as he’s dragged backward, reaching back and trying to tear himself away from Pixis’ grip, but he’s not strong enough. At least his companion has enough sense to fumble for his gun - a weapon stands a far better chance against Pixis’ fury than bare hands do - but he only has the opportunity to point it Pixis before Anka shoots it out of his hand.

“You bitch!” the brunet hisses, holding his other hand in shock. His head turns towards where he had dropped the gun. He reaches for it, but Anka is much faster.

Anka doesn’t say a word to the man. She simply steps on the gun, trapping it under the heel of her boot. She gives him a withering glare, making it clear that she would crush his head her heel if given the chance. The man has no choice but to watch helplessly as his friend’s head is submerged in a large vessel of alcohol.

Pixis holds down the man’s head, his eyes cold now. At first, the man struggles underneath Pixis’ grip as he tries to free himself, but his movements become weaker and weaker until he gives up completely. Pixis is deaf to the shouts of the man’s companion, and he’s oblivious to the look of alarm on Hannes’ face. His eyes are fixed on the rum that the man is being drowned in. It’s only when the bubbles have completely disappeared from the alcohol that Pixis lifts the man’s head. He raises the man up, his expression full of disgust as the man coughs out all the rum he had ingested. After the man has finished coughing, Pixis throws him on the floor. With his hands in his pockets, Pixis walks over to where the blonde man - his curls once a golden yellow, now a dirty blonde - has fallen. “You’ve insulted me,” he says, his voice gruff. “But far worse, you’ve insulted my gang and their work.”

The man on the floor splutters and coughs. He had once been so confident, but now tears stream down his face. Although he had strolled in like a grown man, he looks just like a boy now. He’s too afraid to even look up at the fearsome gang leader. He keeps his blue eyes on the floor in front of him as he mumbles, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir.”

“Get out of my sight,” Pixis says. He watches as the two men scramble away - the brunet holding up the blonde. As the two near the door, he calls, “And tell your boss that I’ll be expecting the money by the end of the week. If he hasn’t paid me by then, the Citystreet Bowlers can kiss their business goodbye.”

The brown-haired man nods frantically before he rushes out the door, half-carrying his comrade with him. Those guarding the doors on the outside look at the two men curiously, wondering what had transpired in the basement, and watch as the two hurriedly leave the building.

Pixis returns to his seat, leaning back in his chair. “We’re done with doing business with the Citystreet Bowlers, Anka,” he says calmly. He looks over at his second-in-command. “You’ve heard of Levi Ackerman, haven’t you? He’s just returned from the war. I hear that his clan is thinking about opening up a bar as well. Look into it for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Anka says.

“And pour me another drink.” He looks behind them, gesturing for Hannes to fetch them another bottle of rum.

Anka raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink, sir?”

Pixis scoffs. “If you think I had too much to drink,  you should see the other guy.”