#like i get my door broken and blamed for ruining the holidays

[softly-potter]

Still Friends | Chapter 18: New Day

Summary: After a chance encounter at a party, Wanda and Bucky find they have more in common than they realized.

This fic is heavily inspired by 'Friends' by my lovely friend Poppy. She is aware of this fic and I've been given permission for this marvel-version retelling! If you haven't read her dramione fic 'Friends', I HIGHLY suggest it. I fell in love with the story and couldn't help but wonder, what if it was Wanda and Bucky instead of Hermione and Draco? Thus "Still Friends" was born. Enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky X Wanda

Word Count: 33,068

Warning: smut, drug use, depression

A/N: Find the rest of the chapters here; Chapter 1: Greetings | Chapter 2: Unloading | Chapter 3: Cherries | Chapter 4: Worth the Wait | Chapter 5: Books | Cha pter 6: Grief | Chapter 7: Unlikely | Chapter 8: Happy Birthday, Solider | Chapter 9: A Christmas Moment | Chapter 10: The Best Holiday | Chapter 11: Permission | Chapter 12: Revitalize | Chapter 13: Backstabber | Chapter 14: Luck of the Dead | Chapter 15: Pain Reliever | Chapter 16: Apologize | Chapter 17: Specially Gifted

-

May 9th, 2028

Solitude is something he had always craved, but now that he had it he wasn’t so sure. He’s completely and utterly alone, and he’s the only person to blame.

I fucking hate you, is something that had crossed his lips.

Kate is only here because she needs parents, not because she actually wants anything to do with you, he had screamed.

I’m glad your family was fucking snapped, he had sobbed.

He’s pretty sure that was the last straw.

Bucky doesn’t know what cruel god had allowed him into the lives of Laura and Clint, but he knew it was an unfair one. They were nothing but good to him, and he despised them for it. They did more for him than Wanda or anyone ever could. Cleaned for him, cooked his meals, washed him. Held his hand, told him the truth.

And still he’d said all those things.

It was painful, watching them go. Knowing they wouldn’t come back. He’d finally broken them down, shown them who he really was. He was someone who didn’t deserve friends like Laura and Clint.

He was crushing them, holding them back. Ruining their family.

He gave them the push that they needed, freeing them of the burden that is himself.

Sam had reached out a few times, even stopped by his apartment, but Bucky had screamed at him, threatened his sister, and that had been enough to stop Sam from ever trying again. Good for him.

Sif stopped showing up in the mornings, but he was still able to get his alcohol, and he was happy that she hadn’t taken that away too. Maybe she had rekindled things with Thor, maybe they’d made up.

He hopes they did.

Curled on the floor of his shower, Bucky holds his knees to his chest, the tears mixing with the water and feels himself tremble.

This is all he deserves. The bottom of the barrel. He had thought that was Hydra, the brain washing, but he’d been wrong. He’s an alcoholic, but his super soldier body refuses to give in, refusing to let him succumb to the addiction.

The people in his life didn’t deserve to be around that. Not even her.

He loves them, all of them, with his entire being, but he wants them to think the opposite. Let them think the worst of him; that way, they won’t mourn when he’s gone.

May 27th, 2028

Bucky is so inebriated he can’t even attempt to workout. Not that he’s been working out these past few weeks anyway, but at least the venture had been made. He slouches on the front door, his feet wobbly in his view, and he lurches, feeling the vomit rising before it happens. Spilling the little contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk, he presses his face against the glass of the door, the cool feeling soothing against his hot skin.

The 24hour gym is completely empty, and he’s grateful no one is around to see him like this. It's pathetic really, and he sniffs, eyes trying to focus on the tv. He can’t hear it from outside, but he squints, makes out figures on the screen.

Lead is lighter than his blood when he sees her.

Dressed in white, Wanda is ethereal. She looks nervous, her hands twisting on the arm of Clint as he walks with her down a stretch of carpet.

Bucky is breathing harshly as he reads the headline outloud.

“Avengers…renew vows in..m-much anticipated w-wedding renewal.”

Clint pats the hand that is on his arm gently, handing her over to a patient and handsomely-dressed Vision. They smile at one another and lace their fingers. Bucky can’t hear but their mouths move as a priest opens his bible, eyes only for each other. The priest begins his sermon, and the camera panels over the crowd.

Now sitting with his family, Clint smiles brightly at them, his arm wrapped around his wife as their three children look on. Kate sits behind them, her face gleeful.

Bucky spots many other faces he recognizes, Sam and Sarah, Bruce sitting behind Pepper and Morgan.

His chest aches when he realizes he hadn’t even been invited.

He’s glad he hadn’t been. He isn’t sure he could’ve taken it.

Heavy tears clog his throat, blurs his eyesight. He weeps for nothing and for everything. Sobs for his broken heart and broken life. Sobs for empty promises and ruined moments. Sobs for the girl he loved more than anything, the girl that couldn’t love him back.

May 27th, 9:58AM

He stirs as he sleeps, his forehead banging on the glass door as he jolts awake. He had passed out, slept against the wall, and his body ached. He hears quiet mummers, a few snickers as he cracks open his eyes.

“Uh..you ok sir?”

Bucky snaps up, his head pounding. Three men and a woman in suits surrounded him, staring curiously. The woman had a cellphone pressed to her ear, speaking quickly into her device.

He pales, and scrambles to his feet.

“Sir, I think you should wait here,” one of the men warned. Bucky wants to melt into the floor with embarrassment. His sick is a few feet away, dry and multiple shades of green.

This is really what his life has come to, it’s worse than his nightmares.

Bucky shoves passed the suit-claded individuals, stalks to his bike. He drops his keys once, twice, hands shaking, pressing it into the ignition. The ride starts off bumpy, and his vision is watery as he tries to focus. His only thoughts are on her.

She should’ve been up there with him, not the other guy.

He had taken care of her, loved her despite it all.

The idea of him and Wanda exchanging vows, buying a house, raising a family, made his heart sore, and then dive bomb as it would never happen. He clenches the gas harder, speeds up.

He wishes he could hate Vision. The android had taken her away from him, had stolen his one chance; but he knew that was horseshit. Vision hadn’t done anything but exist. He hadn’t made empty promises, he hadn’t lied. Wanda did.

And Bucky still couldn’t find it in himself to hate her. Not really.

The wind is wiping so fast it chills his bones. It’s exhausting, the physical and emotional toll of being in love with her, and he wants to out-run it. His bike gains speed, and his teeth chatter.

It had been so long since he felt good, or at least didn’t feel bad. He needed it to stop, just for a moment. He just needed a break.

The wind roars in his ears but its silent in his head. Quiet moments where there’s nothing but the high pitched squeal of emptiness is all he desires, the only solace he has; he drives faster.

He swerves cooly around a slower moving vehicle, lane splitting between the left and right. A driver flips him off, honks their horn. He ignores it.

His pulse is pumping through his ears, the adrenal coursing quickly, and he feels nauseous hit him but he doesn’t slow down.

Moving around another car, his eyes flit from the road to his hands. The same hands that used to hold her, caress her face. They’re useless now.

Another car honks and he grunts, speeding up to split between the lanes.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he should go faster. He didn’t really want to, his cheeks ached and his head was pounding. But the world had treated him harshly and there’s only so much he can take.

He had tried, he really did. Gave it his best shot. But he had acquired happiness, and it seemed like it wasn’t supposed to be. Because of the after, after the dust settles and everyone moves on, his heart can’t heal.

The liquor had never been a part of his plan, not really. But it had been so easy, had hurt so little.

A horn sounds from his left and he swerves hard, narrowly avoiding a Nissan as it slowed down to avoid him, its horn blaring.

“May I give you a hug?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He would kill to hold her right about now.

Eyes stinging, Bucky bites down on his cheek hard, tastes the copper as he accelerates. He stops trying to weave around cars, instead lane splits completely.

“I was selfish, I wanted you for as long as I could.”

He wonders where they’ll go for their long-overdue honeymoon. He hopes it's somewhere nice, somewhere warm so she wouldn’t be cold. Somewhere without cameras so he can’t watch it on the news.

“I love you, I do,” she gasps, eyes rapid. “Don’t do this.”

Cars honk as he wizzes by, his handlebar clips a car's mirror. He can’t tell what time it is, but it must be early.

A brand new day. His last new day.

When the semi honks, he doesn’t hear it. Barely feels himself lose his balance, doesn’t really register that he’s airborne. He’s light as a feather as his bike collides with the truck, the sound of breaking glass and crunching metal is muted below him.

Maybe if he gets high enough, he can watch her fly away with the love of her life. She’s holding onto Vision's hand, the both of them smiling, and Bucky waves at her sadly, his muddled senses not registering that he’s descending.

He hopes she’s happy. It's all he’s ever really wanted for her; he just thought he could give it to her.

[mydyspraxiablog]

Having dyspraxia can be challenging reject not doing Queen Guide Award in girl guide but have hidding disabilities of Dyspraxia, half deaf and Coelic which mean can't eat anythings Wheat,Barley and gluten just make difficult for holiday Christmas and New year and Easter but Easter egg too far way at movent " It Christmas " so let talk about Christmas you see me and families always rowing over quiz but hate when people cheat in Quiz as lot family are cheating so ruin Christmas for me because like win at no cost it ruin my fun again rember day when host music Stop dance frozen again ,music chair,duck and hose game but those games isn't alway anymore in UK so taking fun out of game by Parants compliment it too danger and past and Parcle but have put sweet in ever paper in my days didn't have, when help Rainbow Guide Longton and Stafford play some great game Taffic light ,Monkeys field well really that brownie guide Pizza run ,duck and goose, and Dogs chase in park so Rainbow guide know what do missing those day but that past now.

My family all rowing got play to Win and cheet to Win at upset me but watch wildwood my family won't be quite when come to christmas quiz.

Now today went church sing Christmas carol really enjoy the serrive and secert the joke shh don't tell any one" I just wish all family going church like use in RC church but been mixed race and hidding disabilities going find another own kind said Father at not very good Father in my eyes but that past but things don't always see what see have Gluten free mice pie was nice but wait last Gluten free mice pie it was was gone so dispoint there but guest at where limted now my crouse in Lower dyton Farm in Penkridge going tell want been do I do secert mum birthday card if can find it and all things too make Christmas 🎄 and really enjoy Christmas crouse which can do again but asking " Why don't shops anymore " I better wonder have PIP and ESA and wonder why wasn't buy anything for Christmas but this Christmas decide going make things can't say like sugar mouse too much which I do pink sugar mouse my favourite. So had tell half tufth " I use money paid for little girl in Ethiopia going to school and family gift so can spead as what " Mum keep say chicken" " Might save money for university because didn't is free but which charity called Compassionuk which from church I going didn't say anything Jesus name because know people former Richard fellowship and Making space know recover from mental heath and also Know from Cannock college and Rickscote round house but as use say where Darkness is light but like mum didn't listern so have " Don't going shopping because people are rude and push in Christmas for e.g I look after my family kids saw there dad self checked till machine and this women really nasty won't let going self check out look after those " Que that way" what should done put gluten free bread on floor walk out without food because it was too long in Asda I won't be shopping in Asda in Christmas again there too rude making lost my confidence push trolley in me and I got blame for it throw asda shopping bag because she wasn't going fold push chair with raw meat for Old lady who was sleep and shopping got throw away too that before covid and lock door so could Not Get Tesco shopping bags from Asda community centre and Asda shopping bags but mum still don't believe and she hate me order from Amazon Prime after Morrison change £12 for Gluten free weetbix which only £3.50 in Tesco and Asda mum get jeasuly of Amazon but I thinking cannel Netflix soon even base pack but mum said No not cannel Netflix need for after hospital for my eye my sister Georgina be better of that. I got put cats ashes in the garden haven't done yet because frence got broken in.

So feel let Sydnee and Annabel my pets cats down now google what more money for space and mum said no I got deleted all my family photos,all cats picture and dogs picture too all babies photo pictures too. It all because haven't got Natwest card for e,g want give sponder child birthday Gift of £10 so could spend as she want but because didn't have Natwest card anymore paid dricet payment and I hope she received it but Christmas gift was bit confusing keep ask for card payment and didn't have any Natwest card it this was Compassionuk, Active aids , and CAP so let those charity so did sort out but phone called from Compassionuk and email them tell have promble with Christmas gift and family gift with dricet payment for my sponder child as about Christmas " Too late received now" " was upset been do Christmas Appley from October and know My sponder child won't have Christmas gift because idot Natwest bank making feel bad sponder and really upset.

[sinfully-chubby]

Omg I want a request for Sammy Winchester!!!! So here we go: Sam likes when the reader wears his flannels because they cling to her curves and pronounce them? He thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen so he makes it a point for her to wear them everywhere?

Hey thanks for sending this in. I'm sorry if this is coming late. I got really busy with school and the holidays that came up as well. I had fun writing this and I hope you like and enjoy it. 

    Curves - Sam Winchester x Plus Size/Chubby Reader

Warnings: Not really to much to warn about. There might be body appreciation and just implied smut, but no actual smut

Word Count: 1,630

The first time he caught you wearing one of his plaid shirts was way before the two of you had gotten together. 

Him and Dean had been on a hunt out of state. The hunt was a pretty long one and you had stayed behind, helping them from the bunker. The hunt ended on a pretty good note, they luckily had very few casualties and he was just happy to be home.

Walking through the doors of the bunker, they had made there way down into the building. Once inside they were greeted by you coming form the direction of the library. While Dean had greeted you with the usual flirt, Sam could only stare at you. There you were standing in the map room wearing his flannel shirt. He stared at you enjoying the sight of you in his shirt. It was pretty big on you, but it seemed to not only hug your body, but seemed to be falling of it as well.

He had even let out an obvious gulping sound as he stared. When Dean finally walked away, you had turned your look to him smiling your pretty smile, making his heart flutter at how cute you were. When you greeted him you smiled more tilting your head waiting for a response.

"Hey Sam are you ok?"

Nodding his head he gave you a small smile in return.

"Yeah I'm alright, y/n why are you wearing my shirt?"

When you looked down at the shirt your nervously started fiddling with the ends of it. You looked so cute when your were shy or nervous.

"I don't have any clean clothes right now."

"So why my clothes?"

He wasn't angry, he could never be angry over this, but he was very curious.

"I didn't want to go into Dean’s room. he may have cleaned it, but I'm scared something came to life and lives there now. What with how long he camps in there with food sometimes."

He gives a small laugh at the adjusting the bag on his shoulder.

"I don't blame you, something probably did."

Laughing at that, you both settle down walking further into the room. While talking Sam couldn't help but wonder what you would look like in his shirts all the time.

Sadly it wouldn’t be for another few months until you wore another shirt claiming you once again didn’t have clean clothes. Luckily the next time was after a hunt.

This time you had tagged along, helping out with what seemed to be a den of vampire's. The hunt had been long and tiring and not having enough energy to start driving home so you had decided to crash at hotel for the night. There were only two beds and a pull out couch, so you had decided to take the pull out couch even though Sam had offered up the bed but you had declined, he wish he could have shared the bed with you.

You had called first shower after the hunt was over, of course Dean griped about it. So of course when you guys had gotten there you had went in with your duffel bag hanging off your shoulders. 

You weren't in there for to long, but Sam almost chocked on the quick in take of breath when you walked out of the bathroom. There you were standing in the doorway of the bathroom wearing Sams favorite flannel shirt. It was the red flannel. It was unbuttoned slightly and hanging slightly off of one of your shoulders showing off the black spaghetti strap tank top. The shirt came down towards mid thigh showing the small skin tight black shorts.

Letting out an audible gulp he started at you as you toweled off the top of your head. While he gaped at you, Dean was watching his brothers reactions from the small table in the corner of the small motel room. Dean snickers at him laughing at how flustered Sam looked. Smirking to himself Dean, as casually as possible, stood from his chair, grabbed his jacket form the back and threw it on quickly.

"Well I'm gonna go grab us something to eat."

And without another word to you or Sam, he left walking right out the door while you and Sam stared after him.

Once the door was closed you glanced at Sam, nervous about being alone with him. It wasn’t a big secret, Dean knew of course, as well as Jody to. But it didn’t make you any less nervous being around Sam. 

Taking in a deep breath Sam gave you a nervous smile as he stared at your bare feet on the floor. It had been a while sense you and Sam had really been alone, sure there where small moments, but people always had a way of either appearing or are already lurking. So in all reality there was never really a moment alone.

Messing the skin around your nails, you smiled at Sam as you went to sit down the pulled out couch bed. You looked nervous as you sat down tentatively on the couch bed. Once you were sure it wouldn’t get crushed or collapse under your weight, an irrational fear yes, but one the worried you none the less. 

You sat down trying to get as comfortable as you can as Sam smiled at you.

"Tonight's hunt went by pretty quick. Good thing to."

Sam nodded his head in agreement tapping his thumbs together before responding.

"It was quick and efficient, no thanks to you."

Shrugging your shoulders you smile looking down at your feet, not caring about how the big shirt slipped further off your shoulders. Looking at where the shirt had slipped Sam eyed you s/c skin. Eyes following the parts where your body curved out, and looking at the dip of your low cut tank top shirt. 

Now don't get him wrong a shoulder wasn't gonna make him start climbing walls, but when he looked at you all he wanted to do was mark up and enjoy the sounds of pleasure that would come out of your mouth. If he were to continue, what would be stopping him from throwing you to the bed and taking you apart piece by piece.

To say the least the thought was very, very tempting.

"All I did was help with the searching and interviewing nothing to special."

Sam had almost forgotten about the conversation at hand. So standing from the bed he walks over and sits down next to you. Your shoulders brush against each other, a warmth settling in your chest at the close proximity.

"But the help was very much appreciated."

You give a hesitant smile, enjoying the warmth Sams body was letting off.

"I'm glad I was able to help, its better than just sitting in the bunker waiting to hear what happens."

"I understand what you mean, I used to worry about all the people who went on other hunts, and when they didn't report back I would get concerned."

Nodding your head you lay your head on his shoulder letting a small smile grace your lips.

"I worry about you guys all the time. But I worry about you the most."

For once Sam feels sheepish as he smiles at you feeling a little flushed at what you had said.

"You worry about me?"

You feel heat rising to your face as you duck your head once more raising your hand to scratch at the back of your head.  It wasn't like a weird awkward thing, of course you worried about Sam. After all you did love the giant moose man even if he didn't know.

"Of course I do Sam, what you and Dean do isn't easy, and is definitely very dangerous."

He nods his head at that, he could see why you would be worried. Reaching out to you, he wraps his arm around your back grabbing your other shoulder and pulling you towards him in a hug.

"It's alright y/n I know the feeling. Even though you don't hunt a lot, your life is still in constant danger. Even just by knowing me and Dean."

Leaning into the hug you lay your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah well you can't get rid of me that easily."

Smiling a each other you let out a small laugh.

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

Almost like being drawn towards you. Sam leans down kissing you softly. Your surprised at first but lean into the kiss more. Deepening the kiss Sam and you move further onto the little pull out couch Sam's arms wrapping themselves around your waist and pulling you into his lap. Thighs spreading wide as you settled down, pressed tightly to Sam.

To say the least the night ended pretty well. That is if you minus the ruined sheets and maybe the broken pull out bed. In the end Dean didn't come back to the hotel room that night, Sam and you never got any sleep.

But ever sense then you and Sam have been going steady. There have been times when things seemed to hit rough patch, and times where you would hate your body so much that it made you sick looking at yourself.

But Sam's always had a way of helping you though it as much as he can. In the end if one of Sam's many plaid shirts went missing he would always find you wearing one. Looking as beautiful as always.

His favorite part is how he can always admire those curves.

[mysoftboybensolo]

The Alienist and the Soprano

Chapter 13: The Holidays

A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.

A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!

Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!

Warnings: Age gap, Victorian Christmas, mentions of past abuse, but much fluff! I had done my research on what Christmas was like back then, as well as the Hanukah dates and it seems 1897 was a big year; “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” was published in September of 1897, electric Christmas lights were growing in popularity and the unification of the boroughs in New York was official on New Years. And there is your history lesson of the day.

The air grew colder as Laszlo and Evelina’s relationship grew warmer. Evelina was spending more time with the team, just as Laszlo was becoming more and more acquainted with Evelina’s opera friends. Compared, they were a more rambunctious group, and she knew that Laszlo had his limits, but admired him for trying so hard. Maria often helped Laszlo along when Evelina was not by his side and he felt immensely grateful to her for guiding him through the corral. At first, her opera friends hadn’t been sure of Laszlo, unsure of this man who makes a living in psychoanalyzing people, who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, but they always caught the spark of joy in his eyes when Evelina came beside him, the way he tried so hard for her. Even if he couldn’t keep up with them, they still saw the utter devotion between the pair and that was enough for them to approve the relationship.

It was a time for the singers to rest themselves for The Nutcracker to be performed, and a real treat for them all. It had done so well last Christmas that the opera house had decided to do it again, and who knows, perhaps it will become a Christmas tradition.

As November closed in, Evelina had been helping Sara scout out locations for her new agency, hoping that she’ll find it before the weather turned too cold to be out scouting. As they looked around a space, Evelina asked Sara a few questions. “What will you require of your workers to do?”

“Just as any other detective agency will have, secretaries, detectives. Roosevelt has agreed to let the officers help us whenever we need it, which must mean he bears no ill will towards my leaving. Hmm, no, too small. I need at least four rooms; this will not do.” They stepped out into the cool air, leaving them both to shiver. “Winter certainly is coming, there is no doubt.”

“Yes, that shall mean Christmas!” Evelina replied excitedly. “It’s my favorite time of year. Everything looks so magical with the snow and the good cheer, and of course the music.”

“Well, then you might convince Laszlo to have a party this year. He doesn’t celebrate it, at least, from what I have known of him. I wonder if it comes from an unhappy memory,” Sara mused.

“Then I shall make it my duty to give him a Christmas full of happiness. The opera will be performing The Nutcracker, perhaps I will invite him to a performance then have a party. It’ll only be a small affair, you, John, and the Isaacson Brothers.”

Sara looked at her strangely then asked, “You are aware that they are Jewish, don’t you?”

“I am more than aware, in fact, I know that it starts on the nineteenth of December and ends on the twenty-seventh. And it doesn’t have to necessarily be a Christmas party, but a holiday party. A celebration of simply being together and friends. Surely, Laszlo couldn’t object to that.”

Wrapping her arm around Evelina’s, Sara couldn’t help but to smile. “Not when you put it that way, he wouldn’t.”

Laszlo visited just shortly after the ladies returned home, feeling too frozen to go any further. “And how has the property hunting been going for you?”

Sara groaned, “Don’t mention it. It feels as if I am never going to find the perfect place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get myself a good stiff drink,” she huffed as she went off to the kitchen, leaving Evelina and Laszlo alone in the den.”

Now was the perfect time for her to ask the question. “Laszlo, Christmas is coming soon, and I was wondering what it is that you do for the holidays?”

“Well, Christmas Eve, I spend it with the children who are left behind at the institute, watch them open their gifts in the morning then return home for a quiet day in.”

“Oh, Laszlo,” she said, “I love that you take care of your children, but what about yourself? Doesn’t it get to be a bit lonely?”

He pursed his lips in thought then said, “Well, yes, I suppose, but it was better than what I used to have when I was younger. Those were the better days. We hosted a fine Christmas party, my father was at his best and my mother wore her finest, and the house looked like a picture book. But” he said, with matter-of-fact tone, “When the party was over, it wasn’t so picturesque.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she softly affirmed.

“No, I want to, and we promised, no secrets.” It was true, after the absolute confusion that came from not sharing their feelings and the disaster that followed, they had agreed that nothing would be held back. “Santa was not something told in my household, but rather the fear of God. He’d make me read the bible which involved the birth of Christ, but any little flaw, hesitation or stutter and he’d beat me while calling me a blasphemer for ruining the scripture.”

She wanted to ask how that was better than the usual days, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “My mum died just a week before Christmas, and to celebrate it without her was awful. Winston was not manageable during those times,” she paused after the mention of her brother, and Laszlo saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “When he was locked up, that first Christmas, my father broke down, he felt he had broken his promise to my mother in keeping the family together. Even though I told him that he was not to blame for Winston’s actions, every year after, I could see the echo of pain in his eyes. This will be my first Christmas without any of them.”

Laszlo lifted his hand, unsure if he ought to reach out and comfort her, and knowing that she’d not only appreciate it, but that he’d have to get used being open with another, he placed a hand on top of hers, which rested on her lap. It was the right move to do, as it had made her smile and lean in to rest her head against his shoulder. Laszlo felt a small surge of pride in himself, he was doing better in showing intimacy and he liked it.

Having a party to plan helped to fill Evelina’s free time from the opera, but most importantly, it allowed her the chance to make a surprise for Laszlo. Thanks to her covert cleverness, she found out which children will be spending Christmas at the institute and with the permission of the staff, she managed to pull them together to work on a surprise for him. They nearly got caught once, Laszlo came back from a meeting a bit sooner than Evelina expected, but she managed to play it off well, saying that she had been bored and wanted to play the piano for the children.

Stevie proved to be rather helpful in preparing Christmas at Laszlo’s home and was more than happy to be commissioned by Evelina to help with the planning. He scoured out the best decorations and the best tree to have standing in Laszlo’s den, and when he was finished with it, even he could admit he did a rather fine job. There was one thing that Laszlo had a hand in the decorations, and it was the purchase of these new electric string lights, meant to replace candles, and it was a smart choice, and in Evelina’s words, magical. As Stevie was busy with the decorations, Evelina was off to work with the invites and the Isaacson Brothers were surprised to say the least but were still very pleased to be invited to such a party, knowing how much it meant to her. Sara had been the first unofficial guest invited and John most certainly was not one to pass up a party.

Christmas Eve arrived and Evelina dressed herself in her green and red velvet walking gown, truly getting into the spirit and went to the institute to see Laszlo. Many of the parents came to take their children home for the holidays and as much as it was a wonderful sight to see parents not forsake their little ones, it was doubly heartbreaking to see those few whose parents never came. It was Laszlo and Evelina’s special mission to make sure that they still received the experience that they would have had if they were home, even carrying on the duty of decorating the tree and great hall for the children to enjoy. Most of the staff could go home to spend it with their family, but there were a few who did not have a family of their own who stayed and happily joined in the festivities with the children.

Daylight had gone when was a surprise waiting at the front door, and who would have guessed that Santa would come and see the children of the Kreizler Institute? Watching John all dressed up as Santa was a delight, especially when the younger children climbed on his lap and gave “Santa” a hug and wished him a Merry Christmas. It didn’t take much convincing, for John thought it a wonderful idea and he could not say no to Evelina’s sweet intentions, even if it made him look a bit silly. Sara was the unofficial Mrs. Claus, dressed in her lovely green evening gown and many of the children loved going up to her and asking questions of the North Pole, truly convinced that she was indeed the wife of Santa. She watched John take in the children’s excitement with great stride and enjoyment and thought it the finest thing she had ever seen, and her heart swelled at the thought of him doing this for the children.

When John and Sara left, it was time to show off Evelina’s surprise. Gathering the children up, she sat at the piano and began to play. Laszlo watched with wonder and love as Evelina led the children in a most heavenly rendition of Ding Dong Merrily On High, the children looked so happy to be a part of something. He wasn’t even bothered by the religious overtones of the song; he just enjoyed the sweet voices that sang in perfect harmony and was touched to see that his love put so much effort into surprising him.

Soon, it got to be bedtime and the children were escorted back their rooms, eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival and the staff to their rooms. Usually, Laszlo was the only one to take up the duty of stuffing the stockings and providing the children with gift, making sure each one got an equal amount from Santa. Evelina stayed with him and happily helped to stuff the stockings, despite her own sleepiness. It was an endearing sight, the pair of them on the floor, helping to stuff stockings and wrap presents.

“How long have you done this?”

“Ever since the institute was opened. It was quite sad to see those children left behind to have nothing, so I made sure to carry on the tradition of Santa. You may think that I do not agree with the idea of telling fantastical stories to children, but I think it is important in the development of a child. It stimulates their creativity as well as teaches them lessons.”

Evelina smiled and started with, “Don’t laugh, but I still believe in Santa. Oh, I don’t mean that there is an actual person who goes about in a flying sleigh and gives presents to all children around the world, but the idea of him. Do you remember back in September there was that article answering a little girl’s question of if there was a Santa? That article was a wonderful summation of how I feel about Santa. How there is someone who can be full of good cheer and selflessness and the possibility that we could be just like him. Like this, right now. The fact that you go out of your way to make sure these children have a merry Christmas, to never make them feel left out, it is very Kris Kringle of you. And I am sure you’d look dashing in red.” His deep blush only proved her right.

It was nearing midnight when they had finished and left the institute and despite the chill, they walked through the snowy streets, enjoying the calm and winter beauty. “I am sorry if this wasn’t what you had imagined you’d spend your Christmas Eve.”

“Indeed, it was far better than I could hope. To help give children a good time, to create magic and now walking home with you, it is wonderful.” The church bells tolled, and they stopped to listen to the lovely knells as it chimed Christmas day. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

Laszlo smiled, knowing that she gave him at last an endearment. “Frohe Weihnachten, meine liebe.”

Laszlo came to pick up Evelina early on Christmas day so she could be at the institute before the children woke and watch with Laszlo as they opened their gifts from Santa as well as from Laszlo himself. She loved the glimmer in his eyes when looking at the children enjoying themselves, forgetting their woes and problems, glad to see that they would have a normal childhood that he never had. Once he was sure that the children were taken care of, the pair went off to enjoy Christmas themselves. It had been purely coincidental, but Laszlo wore his dashing green vest and tie while Evelina wore her lovely red satin dress, looking as if they had coordinated with the holiday and each other, anyone who didn’t know them would have been certain they were husband and wife.

The party was beginning at noon, giving time to everyone that was coming to enjoy their morning and get ready to spend it together. Sara had been the first to arrive, no surprise, the Isaacson Brothers came, Marcus brought along his dear Esther and her daughter, and then John. Laszlo had almost thought that all the guest had arrived, when Stevie entered and said, “We’ve got two more guests!”

Laszlo looked perplexed, for who else could come, and Evelina watched in amusement as his mouth fell agape as Cyrus walked in with his niece, Joanna, looking rather fine in their Sunday best. Laszlo jumped up from his seat and went to his old employee and friend. “Cyrus! How are you? I didn’t know you were coming.”

“No, but Miss Lind did. Stevie brought Miss Lind to my work and she had personally invited me to the party, as well as Joanna. It was wonderful of her to come to me personally.”

Evelina stood and warmly greeted Cyrus and Joanna. “I am so glad you came. Laszlo told me so much of you and I just had to properly get to know his dear friend.”

“And I am honored to know the woman who could convince him to throw such a party,” Cyrus laughed heartily.

Evelina had been a wonderful hostess, making sure everyone had been attended to, even making sure Stevie felt welcomed in the celebrations and had helped Lucius feel a bit more at ease with the help of Joanna, of which the pair seemed quite intrigued by each other. Laszlo watched in wonder of how she could manage to move around with grace, kindness and energy when he still had difficulty to be as open to those of whom he feels are his friends. He admired her and was honored to be the man of whom she loved above others.

The afternoon was spent playing games, Blind Man’s Bluff, Yes and No, and Charades. Laszlo had sat out of Blind Man’s Bluff, but allowed himself to be dragged into Charades and Yes and No. He was afraid of appearing to look ridiculous, but Evelina argued that everyone was doing the same, so they all looked the same amount of ridiculousness. The luncheon was informal, people made their own plates and sat around Laszlo’s den, like they all were old friends, and it was a kind of homey feeling that Laszlo had never felt before, it was warm, safe, good.

It would not be a good party without a mistletoe, at least according to John, who hung it over his friend’s head and teased that someone ought to kiss him or else he will. Evelina more than happily rose to the challenge, making it the second kiss that the pair had shared. She challenged John to hang it over his head and get a kiss, or else he’ll have to kiss the lizard at the institute, and just as she hoped, Sara decided to help him out by placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, but he turned on accident and the pair had kissed on the lips. The blush on their faces told so much and Evelina buried her face in Laszlo’s chest to try and stop her smile from being noticed, but she spotted something beyond him. Moving towards it, she couldn’t help but to admire the beautiful piano. Laszlo came up beside her and said, “You may play on it whenever you wish. It’ll be nice to see that old thing getting some use. I haven’t played in so long.”

“You played?” She had never known that Laszlo used to play, at least before the incident.

“Yes. I was quite good.”

“Better than good,” Sara interjected, coming in the conversation, hoping to escape her situation. “His name was in all the papers; he could have been a great pianist.”

“Why don’t we do gifts?” Evelina suggested, hoping to prevent Laszlo from falling into his darker thoughts, and she excitedly handed out her gifts. They weren’t expensive gifts, but they were heartfelt and personal to each, and that meant more than anything in the world, even Stevie, who hadn’t expected to get a gift and didn’t usually like to be sentimental, but even he couldn’t refuse the copy of An Anarchic Adventure by Jules Verne, his favorite author. Laszlo had received a copy of The Psychology of Emotions by Théodule-Armand Ribot, of whom Laszlo had been fascinated with.

Laszlo made himself go last, giving everyone incredible gifts; Stevie getting his very first shaving kit as he was now a young man, Esther and her daughter fine new dresses, to name a few, and lastly went to Evelina, giving her a box. When she opened it, it was a beautiful toiletry box, made of a dark wood and lined with pink velvet. Opening one of the drawers, she noticed two large and full bottles of her perfume, ‘Fantasia de Fleurs’. “Oh, Laszlo! This is too much! And on top of that, two bottles of my perfume?”

“It is not too much,” he countered, “And besides, it is for selfish reasons too, for I love your scent, perhaps a bit too much,” he admits with a blush across his cheeks. “No one else should buy this for you but myself.”

It was true; when she did first receive this, it was meant to be a bribe gift from one of the patrons at the opera, but she loved the scent too much to toss it away. To have Laszlo buy it for her not only was sweet, but intimate, and she liked that he felt way, wanting no other to buy her perfumes. Sara had been the one to inform which perfume it was and told Laszlo that she had mentioned about getting a box of her own, and he made sure to get the finest box with the two largest bottles so she wouldn’t have to.

The Isaacson Brothers had left with their guests and just before everyone was to go off on their own, Evelina made sure to have a few carols played and sung. John and Sara had quite nice voices which blended very well together, Cyrus deep and warm, and Joanna and Stevie wholeheartedly sang. Laszlo’s voice was not deep or powerful, but it was soft and comforting, and it sounded wonderful to hear him sing Silent Night in German, a request that Evelina had asked, and he did only for her. When he sang, all stopped and listened, and all Laszlo could see or know was Evelina, playing the piano, with a grace and power that reminded him of his youth. Instead of painful memories, it made him smile and happy.

Cyrus and his niece left to have dinner with their family, John to his grandmother’s, leaving Sara and Stevie to join Evelina and Laszlo to the opera for The Nutcracker. This had been Stevie’s first time to the opera and the wonder in his eyes was so enduring and how he watched as the story enfolded before his eyes. In the dark of the auditorium, Evelina had reached her hand over to Laszlo’s, and held it. He looked over at her and wordlessly, he thanked her for a wonderful Christmas.

The good cheer from Christmas continued to carry on for the next few days as New Year’s was approaching and for good reason. The New York government had made the decision to unite the five boroughs of the city to create what would be nicknamed “Greater New York” and it was a wonderful reason to celebrate.

It was a momentous occasion, one that Evelina wished to see and thanks to Laszlo’s influence, they managed to watch it all happen close by and safe away from the mad crowd and the pouring rain. As the New Year rang, everyone watched in wonder as fireworks blasted in the sky, cannons fired, steamboats blowing their horns and brass bands played their hearts out, for when the new year rang, the new flag had unfurled over city proclaiming it’s celebration, the birth of the City of New York.

“Oh, darling,” Evelina gasped, “Just think, we are lucky to have seen this happen. To see a city come together as one, it’s beautiful!”

Laszlo wrapped his arms around Evelina’s waist and placed his head in the crook of her neck as they watched the city celebrate outside, “1898 shall be a happy year. I am sure of it.” She turned her head and shared their third kiss but first kiss of their new year and turned back to watch the merriment.

It then struck him right then and there, something that he thought would never be possible, something he’d never have, and yet it was here in his arms, and he would not let it go so easily. Now, it was just the matter of asking the question.

Tagging: @monsieurbruhl​ @cazzyimagines​, @scuttle-buttle​, @violetmuses​ @flutterskies​ @sokoviandelights​ @rumblelibrary​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @somethingthatsaysbubbles​ @alindeluce​  and @barnesxnobles

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really. 

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

        No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

        Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible. 

       Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice. 

        January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

        Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California. 

        Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

        Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

        “We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

        “Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to. 

        It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.  

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option. 

        As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

        Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

        It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

        It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

        But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight. 

        Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air. 

        Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow. 

        He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one. 

        “Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

        And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

        She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

        “This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

        Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

        “Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

        But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

        “Harry.”

        Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her). 

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

        “I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

        “Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

        “I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips. 

        She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

        “Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

        “Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

        “What more does a person need?”

        “Exactly!”

        Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

        “I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

        Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

        “Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

        Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

        “See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

        That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

        “I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

        If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

        “Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

        He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

        “Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

        “But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

        Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

        “Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

        And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

        “It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

        “Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

        “Opposites attract.”

        “No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

        He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

        “I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

        “Do you love me?”

        Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

        “Then that’s all I need.”

         “Is that really enough for you?”

        “Yes.”

        And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

        Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

        “Haz…”

        Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

        He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

        His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

        “S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

        “Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

        “Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

        ‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

        “ ‘Ello?” 

        Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

        “Now?”

        She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

        With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

        “Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer. 

        “Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

        “ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

        There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

        The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

        And Harry guessed this was the third time.

        He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N. 

        “It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

        “I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

        “I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

        “ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

        “Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

        “Yeah.”

        And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. 

        He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway. 

        The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

        “Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

        With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

        And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

        What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’ 

        Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

        She closed the door.

        And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

[maria-scribbles]

cocoa

sick of hearing his parents fight day after day, reggie goes to the one person who knows exactly what he's going through: the pretty violinist who lives next door.

fandom: julie and the phantoms

ship: alive!reggie x reader

word count: 1.5k+

featuring: swearing (as always), fighting, allusion to an abusive relationship, general sadness, mention of a family member’s death

a/n: day 2 of my holiday challenge: hot chocolate! this is kind of depressing and i'm sorry, sad!reggie was stuck in my head and he wouldn't leave until i wrote this but it has kind of a hopeful ending tho so i guess that counts for something? this is also my first time writing for this fandom so forgive me if it sucks. as usual, unbetaed so all mistakes are my b.

come join my holiday challenge!

December 1994

They were fighting again. It was the same old story: his dad being an ass on purpose, his mom taking the bait, wash, rinse, repeat. Their shouts rang harshly throughout the house, gloomy and miserable despite the cheerful decorations strung up in every room and the massive Christmas tree downstairs, dressed in its festive best and looking like it came straight out of a seasonal catalog.

Reggie had gone to them at the beginning of the month, begging them not to fight, please; his everyday life was already ruined by their screaming matches and the only thing he wanted for Christmas was some peace, quiet and civility to celebrate his favorite holiday. His father had pretended not to hear his son's pleas, ignoring him completely like he always did while his mother offered a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"We'll try, honey." She'd said and he knew it was a lie. His mother always lied, his father always threw a plate at her head, Reggie always wished he had the courage to run away for good, like Luke did. But he wasn't Luke, he never would be, and he just didn't have it in him to leave them, even though he was the one who came out worse for wear after each fight.

The distant shatter of ceramic drifting up the stairs was his cue to go until things cooled down again -he never stuck around after the first dish got thrown, not anymore, the scar on his arm the perfect reminder why- and so he jimmied open the window of his room and climbed down the trellis into the salty air, the crashing waves of the Pacific covering his escape like a blanket.

(He could've stormed down the stairs and slammed the door behind him and his parents still wouldn't have noticed he left but something about sneaking out and risking a broken bone made him feel alive, the same rush he felt when he was on stage, bass humming in his hands, performing alongside his bandmates and knowing they felt it, too.)

Even outside, the echoes of his parents' angry voices still rang in his ears, haunting him all the way to the house next door, its sparkling lights shining brightly and guiding him through the darkening night like a beacon. The driveway sat empty, sans for one lone bicycle haphazardly lying on its side in front of the garage and he carefully propped it up on its kickstand before climbing the stairs to the front porch.

The faint sound of a slow, somber violin came to a stop as he knocked on the door, followed by a quiet, familiar voice Reggie knew like the back of his hand.

"It's open."

He found Y/N alone on the couch, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the strings of the violin on her lap and she glanced up at the tap of his boots on the hardwood floor, face brightening the slightest bit at the sight of her friend rounding the corner into the living room. 

The girl didn't speak as she gently placed the instrument aside and stood, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around his neck to draw him into a crushing hug. His own arms wrapped around her waist and held her just as tightly, his head resting on her shoulder, and the warm vanilla scent of her soft hair tickling his nose helped calm the storm in his heart.

"I'm sorry, Reg." Her voice was low and soothing in his ear and he didn't know how he could possibly hold her any tighter than he already was but he managed as he replied, "I'm sorry, too."

While his parents fought like wildfire, explosive and loud and raging with the wrong type of passion, hers were like a deep freeze, icy and cold and desolate in the worst possible way. Too many times Y/N was left to her own devices, all alone in an empty house with her thoughts and a violin her only company (at least they had given her that, the gift of music and a beautiful, expensive instrument to prove their love was real, albeit superficial).

It was some time later before she pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye and brushed a wayward strand of his dark hair back from his forehead with one calloused finger. "Okay, pity party's over. It's almost Christmas and we're not spending it being sad about shitty parents. Deal?"

She held out her pinky with one eyebrow raised expectantly and grinned when he nodded and hooked his pinky around hers. Reggie loved really liked that about her, the way she could just make all the heartache and pain and disappointment vanish from his mind like magic and replace them with thoughts of her and her sunny smile, her big heart, her touch that made the very blood in his veins spark like lightning. Y/N was his bright spot, his safe haven, and while Luke, Alex, and Bobby knew what he was going through, they just didn't understand like she did (they had their own problems to deal with, anyway, so he couldn't blame them).

"Good, now come on," She wrapped the rest of her fingers around his hand and started tugging him down the hall to the kitchen. "You're helping me make hot chocolate."

"Peppermint?" He asked, smiling when she glanced up at him with an offended look on her face.

"Duh. Only a heathen would make it without peppermint, Reginald."

Another thing he liked about her: she never did anything halfway; half-assing things, taking the easy way out, cutting corners just wasn't her style. It even applied to hot chocolate apparently, as he watched her flutter around the kitchen with practiced ease -heating milk and cream on the stove, measuring sugar and chocolate, slowly adding drops of peppermint oil- and despite her saying he was going to help, the only thing he got to do was crush some candy canes. Not that he minded, though, because while his hands could play bass like no one's business, they were a total disaster when it came to cooking and he knew Y/N was well aware of that fact, considering it took a week for the burnt popcorn smell to fade from her microwave the last time he tried. 

The violinist smiled and proudly handed him the finished drink, whipped cream piled high and candy cane bits almost overflowing from the edge of a red mug. "This is my grandma's recipe," She said, one hand holding a purple mug for herself and the other reaching to grab onto his wrist and pull him out the front door. "She'd always make it when she came to visit for the holidays and we'd sit out on the porch and watch the ocean, each and every year." 

"She was the best," Reggie said as the two sat together on the porch swing, his right side flush against her left. "I still have dreams about her cookies and wake up drooling."

The cool ocean breeze ruffled Y/N's hair and carried her laugh off down the beach. "She loved you, you know that? She was always talking about 'that nice boy next door.' Pretty sure she wanted us to get married."

"I loved her, too." He took a sip of his drink in an attempt to hide the blush that was taking over his entire face. "And we still have time for the whole marriage thing."

"I'm still waiting for my ring." She laughed again before looking down at the mug in her hands, voice becoming quiet as she replied, "I really miss her. She was the only person in my family who actually cared about me 'cause my parents sure as hell don't."

He wanted to tell her she was wrong but he knew it'd be a lie and he never did that, refusing to become a pathological liar like his mother, so instead he just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his side. "Hey, no more talk about shitty parents, remember?"

"Sorry, I know," She took a long sip of her cocoa, then rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "I just feel alone sometimes when you're not around. I mean, you have your band and I always had my grandma to talk to but now she's gone and I'm kind of...lost."

"You have the band, too, Y/N! Alex and Luke love you and Bobby, well, he's Bobby. No one really knows what goes on in that guy's head but I know he thinks you're cool. We all do, especially me, and you should know you're never alone 'cause you'll always have us."

The girl abruptly sat up and grabbed the mug from Reggie's hand before he could blink and placed it alongside her own on the floor, then threw her arms around his neck in another one of her fierce hugs.

"Has anyone told you how fucking amazing you are?" 

"You just did." He buried his blushing face in her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist once again. "I'm serious, Y/N. You'll always have me."

"And you'll always have me, Reg. No matter what."

And as they sat there on the porch swing, wrapped in each other's arms, Reggie knew as long as he had Y/N in his life, things were gonna be okay.

[kpophours]

Haven

➵ Stray Kids: Jisung x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, frenemies to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 6k

It’s not even 8am, and your eyes feel as dry as sandpaper while your head is pounding with a slight migraine. You’re currently getting everything ready for the crowd of caffeine addicts that will soon arrive at the café you work at. It’s way too early to deal with the horde of zombies called students, but you got stuck with the worst shift of the day - starting at 7.30am which, in your opinion, is just inhuman. Stupid Minho and his stupid luck whenever it comes to drawing straws. For some reason, you always end up getting the shortest one. At least you’ll be done with work before most people your age have even made it out of bed. Still, right now you’d give almost everything to be back in your blanket burrito. Earning money is hard and annoying. If you’ve ever wondered if working at a café could ruin the beauty of coffee… the answer is yes. Because capitalism destroys everything, leaving no survivors.  

“Good morning, Y/N!”, your co-worker and the other unlucky one having drawn one of the shorter straws chirps when she enters the café, and you grimace - Sana’s voice is way too cheerful so early in the morning. You only give her a curt nod of your head, not in the mood to talk right now. You’re not really in the mood to do anything, if you’re being honest. Ugh, you hate the morning shift. You’re currently 80% tired, but 20% also tired - you don’t even remember what it’s like to not be tired anymore. College is great! 

Sana doesn’t seem to mind your grumpiness though, being the sweetheart that she simply is, and begins to wipe the counter while humming a cheery song under her breath. It’s only her second week at work, but so far she’s proven to be a better and more reliable part-timer than the last three who had worked here. Jun is usually a nice and caring boss, but he has some strict rules - always be on time, no drinking coffee while you’re working, don’t take more breaks than necessary, and don’t give out free drinks to your friends. The last three part-timers had broken at least one of these rules, so Jun had let them go again. Sana is doing well so far, and you think that Jun has maybe even taken a liking to her - not that you can blame him, she’s not only super nice and a general sunshine, but also incredibly beautiful and funny. You’re always happy whenever you work a shift with her. She’s a student like yourself, and wants to become a kindergarten teacher. You’d never let your children near her though, too scared they’d like her more than you - not that you could actually blame them. “Shall I put on some music?”, Sana asks after she’s finished with wiping everything down, and you just nod, finally being done with prepping the giant coffee machines. Just seconds later, smooth lounge music fills the cozy space of the café, and you inhale deeply. 

Maybe you lied earlier. Capitalism did not destroy coffee for you, you still very much love the scent, taste, and especially the effect of it. You check the time, noticing you still have about 15 minutes left before you have to open the café - meaning you have more than enough time to enjoy a nice cup of coffee with Sana. She immediately agrees to drink a cappuccino with you, and just minutes later, you bask in the fresh scent of grounded coffee beans. Sana sighs deeply after having taken the first sip, and gives you a bright smile. “Heavenly. You truly make the best coffee out of all of us, Y/N!”, she compliments you, and you tilt your head to one side. Thanks to the caffeine in your system, you’re finally ready to talk to her now. “Well, if my academic brilliance proves futile, I can always become the best barista in the world, I guess. And by the way, don’t let Minho hear you say that, or he’ll force you to taste all the coffee he makes, resulting in you overdosing on caffeine. You know what he‘s like.”, you answer, and Sana giggles. “Well, I stand with what I said, and I’ll even say it to his face. He needs to learn that he can’t always be the best at everything.” You raise one eyebrow, lips twitching. “No offense, but I don’t think he’s ever been the best at anything so far, he’s just very good at pretending. He basically invented the phrase “fake it till you make it”.” 

Before Sana can reply, there’s a knock against one of the café’s windows. Surprised, you look up, and groan when you see a familiar face staring back at you. “What is he doing here?!”, you grumble, and place your mug on the counter, not moving a single muscle. But Sana, being her nice and angelic self, is already walking towards the door of the café, and before you can protest, she’s already unlocked it. Jisung jumps over the threshold, sporting a bright grin. He greets Sana with a hug, before sliding his giant headphones off his ears. “Moooorning.”, he says, with at least five Os. You’re already annoyed. You’ve known Jisung for… well. For a long time. Too long, some would say (you, for example). Your moms have been close friends since their own college years, and while they thankfully didn’t move into the same neighborhood, they ended up living quite close to each other. Meaning Jisung had been there for pretty much you entire childhood and teenage years - at every single one of your birthday parties, at most Christmases, and sometimes even at Easter (even though neither of your families really celebrated Easter). You’ve also gone on hiking trips together, and on wildlife expeditions, and on holidays by the seaside… In almost all your memories, there’s Jisung. 

“Ugh, why are you so obsessed with me?”, you whine when he leans over the counter to grab your mug and take a sip of your coffee, “There are literally hundreds of colleges and you had to go choose the one I’m attending?!” He grins, puffing out his stupidly adorable hamster cheeks. “I’d never be so cruel and rid you of my pleasant company, my dearest Y/N.”, he answers, dark eyes sparkling with humor. You just huff and turn around. “The usual?”, you ask in a flat voice, and he hums in confirmation. To say you hate Jisung would be a severe overstatement, you just often strongly... dislike him. And feel annoyed whenever he’s around. Mostly because he’s a walking disaster, who kinda thinks the world revolves around him (you blame him being an only child for that). One of your most vivid and probably also traumatic childhood memories is of your sixth birthday party: you had gotten a brand new, soft green bicycle, falling in love with it as soon as you laid eyes on it. Naturally, you had wanted to take it around the block for a little test drive, but all of the sudden, Jisung had thrown a big tantrum until your mom had made you give him the bike first. And being the clumsy child that he simply was (and kinda still is), he had crashed your beautiful new bike into a tree. The tree had won that battle, the handle bar completely bent, same with the front wheel. So you and your bike had been a very short love story with a tragic ending. Romeo and Juliet had nothing on you. And this instance has only been one of many - Jisung had also accidentally sat on your birthday cake once (till this day, you have no idea how he’d even managed to do that). He had also ruined one of your favorite jumpers by dumping ink all over it, had tipped over the canoe when you’d been happily paddling on a lake one summer day, and had given you a black eye when you went mini golfing for your eleventh birthday.

So Han Jisung has always been - and probably will always be - a walking disaster. Being his friend means you have a “Why is he like that” moment at least five times a day. Your biggest fear at the moment is that he’s accidentally going to sit on your brand new laptop and break it, the one you had been saving up for for over two years. And then you’ll just have to kill him which will probably make his very nice mom very sad. But as the bible clearly states: an eye for an eye, a life for a laptop. Or maybe he’s just going to set your whole apartment on fire - he’s truly a mess inside the kitchen, you sadly know that from experience (note to self: never try to bake cookies with Jisung ever again). Your old dorm kitchen will probably never recover from that one particular incident that ended with half the building having to be evacuated. This is one of the reasons why Jisung hasn’t been at your new place yet. The second one being that you also only just moved into it a few weeks ago. Ever since moving, he’s been pestering you though, asking you to have a movie night with him at your new place. Like you said, he’s kinda obsessed with you. He also literally spends every morning at the café you work at - or well, you just assume it’s every morning. As you’re a part timer, you don’t actually have to work every single morning, but he’s definitely always here when you have drawn one of the short straws again.

You quickly busy yourself with making a flat white for Jisung, his preferred drink of choice, while he continues to chat with Sana. They know each other thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, Chan - he’s one of Jisung’s roommates as well as Sana’s best friend. Everyone on campus knows Chan: he’s on the student council, he plays for the baseball team, and he’s one of the most promising music majors you’ve ever seen (or well, heard), already being scouted by different labels even though he’s not even a senior yet. And he’s also just so nice and down to earth, truly a prime example of a man. Jisung should really take a leaf out of Chan’s book. 

“Here you go.”, you say while sliding Jisung’s finished order his way, taking your own mug out of his hands while doing so. You quickly shake your head when he wants to hand you his credit card, and he shoots you a happy smile. Jun would probably fire you instantly if he knew about this, but not once have you let Jisung pay for his coffee - and you’ve been working here for almost four months now. You try to ignore the way your stomach jolts when Jisung locks eyes with you, but fail miserably. So maybe he has the most beautiful smile in the whole world, and maybe his eyes hold entire galaxies in them, but what about it? It’s not like you even really like him, right?

You turn around and pretend to wipe down the coffee machine, but in reality, you just don’t want to look at Jisung’s cute hamster cheeks anymore, because they just make you want to squish them. And you have a reputation to lose. “Well, I’m off to my lecture now - I hope your day will be pleasant, ladies!”, Jisung finally says, and you turn around, catching him giving you a mock salute and mischievous wink. You just wave at him, while Sana wishes him a good day as well. As soon as the door falls close behind him again, you exhale. You really need to get a grip on yourself.

It’s Friday night, and there’s a party at Jisung’s frat house. At first, you don’t want to go, but your roommate Amber basically drags you with her. You know she’s only going because she has the biggest crush on Chan, and you honestly can’t even blame her - half the girls on campus have a crush on him after all, and at least a third of the guys. But while Amber and Chan are good friends, nothing more has ever been going on between them - not yet, that is. Who knows, maybe tonight’s finally the night.

You’re currently sipping on some stale beer Seungmin - one of Jisung’s roommates - had handed you the second you stepped over the threshold of the frat house, scanning the room for people you know. Amber is off to greet some friends from her architecture class, so you’re on your own for now. Which is fine, you don’t really mind just standing in the corner to observe the other guests, it’s actually highly entertaining. For example, there’s one guy twerking like crazy to some Beyoncé song. You think his name is Kevin and he’s in your calc class. A friend of his is currently hyping him up like crazy, while another one with green dyed hair is clearly wishing he was somewhere entirely else. You honestly can’t blame him, the secondhand-embarrassment way too real. A few seconds later, Sana enters the room with a group of girls, and she happily waves at you as soon as she spots you. You simply return her smile, before continuing to watch Kevin. 

“Enjoying the show?”, someone beside you suddenly asks, and you jump, dumping some of your beer over your shirt. “Oh fuck you!”, you yelp, and turn around to glare at Minho’s shit-eating grin, “You definitely scared me on purpose!” “Fuck... me? Absolutely, just name the time and place, babe.”, he answers, and you smack his chest. “Not even in your wildest dreams, Lee.”, you reply, and narrow your eyes at him. He pouts playfully. “I just think we’d make a really great couple.”, he argues, and you shake your head. “Well, society should be able to limit what some people are allowed to think, then.”, you retort, voice flat, and he ruffles your hair. “You know what I love about you? You’re kinda mean and annoying, but unapologetically so.”, he says, and you raise one eyebrow. “I might be kinda mean and annoying, but at least my lock screen isn’t a selfie.” At this, Minho gasps dramatically, and protectively clutches his phone to his chest. “I mean, I could always change it to one of your selfies, you know?”, he then suggests, making you groan. He’s clearly drunk already or else he wouldn’t be flirting like this. If this sad attempt can even be considered flirting, it’s probably just him being his annoying and arrogant Scorpio self. Minho sighs deeply. “When will you finally accept my eternal love for you, Y/N?”, he asks, and tries to grab one of your hands, but you just smack him again. “Maybe when you finally stop cheating at drawing straws! I have the Monday morning shift again!”, you hiss, and he smirks. “You’ll never know my secret.”, he says smugly, and empties his cup in one single gulp. 

You begin to pout and take a sip from your own cup, eyes wandering towards where Kevin is still throwing it back on the dance floor. “If I ever do something remotely like that, just take me out, and instantly.”, you say, an exasperated expression on your face. “On a date or with a sniper?”, a familiar voice on your other side suddenly asks, and you sigh internally. “Han.”, you greet your favorite frenemy, and Jisung grins while wrapping one arm around your shoulder. “Nice to see you accepted my invite.”, he says, and you quickly duck out of his embrace, trying to ignore your racing heart. Minho just wiggles his eyebrows at you, before flashing you a shit-eating grin and disappearing from view. Traitor. 

“I only came because Amber asked me to.”, you explain, and stand on your tiptoes to look for your friend. Seriously, where did she even go?! It’s been at least 15 minutes since she left you on your own. “You can just admit that you missed my handsome face, you know.”, Jisung says, and you snort. “Yeah, whatever you say, hamster boy.” He groans, ruffling his hair with one hand and making it stand on end. You desperately suppress the need to flatten it again, and quickly take another sip of your beer. “Don’t you get tired of using that old nickname? Plus, my cheeks aren’t as chubby anymore! I have finally lost all my baby fat, the glow up we’ve all been desperately waiting for!”, he says, and you suppress a smile, looking him up and down. “I guess some people would agree that you don’t look bad.”, you finally reply, and ignore the way your heart flutters when he shoots you a wide grin. “Aww, you old softie, I knew you actually liked me.”, he says, lovingly punching your shoulder. You grimace, rubbing the spot he hit - you know he and Chan have started to work out recently, and apparently, Jisung doesn’t know his own strength anymore. “Now don’t get all sappy on me, just because I might have erased your name out of my death note.”, you reply, quickly draining your cup to hide your blush, and mumble something about getting a new drink before basically running away from him. When you enter the kitchen, you exhale deeply. Your hands are shaking, your heart is racing and you know the blush is still very prominent on your cheeks. 

So yeah, maybe you’re kinda a bit in love with Han Jisung. He might be a complete mess, but he’s also funny, hard-working, intelligent and something close to a musical genius. And yeah, maybe you absolutely adore his stupid hamster cheeks, bright smile and beautiful dark chocolate eyes. You close your eyes for a few seconds, groaning internally. You don’t want to be in love with Han Jisung! There is literally no other person you want to be less in love with. Okay, except for Lee Minho, simply because you just couldn’t bring yourself to ever date a Scorpio, no offense. But Han Jisung is at least a close second! 

You can’t even say when you first began to develop these kinds of feelings for him. After graduating high school, you had finally realized how much you’d actually miss Jisung’s constant presence once you had to go off to different colleges. You’re almost embarrassed to admit how your heart had leaped when he told you he’d actually be going to the same college as you. Maybe you had truly just always kind of loved him - him and his weird antics. He’s always been himself, and unapologetically so. In the modern world of snapchat filters, snow apps and facetune, he’s always felt real to you.

You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts, and groan again. After you’ve refilled your red party cup, you drown it in a few gulps, repeating the process a few times. Drowning your feelings might not be the responsible thing to do just now, but well, you’re only in your early twenties, so you still have lots of time to become a more responsible adult in the future.

Half an hour later, you have probably drunk way too much beer and are also still trying to figure out where Amber has gone. So you finally decide to go search for her, noticing that for some reason, the floor seems to tilt a bit with every step you take. “Weeeeird.”, you mumble, squinting your eyes, “That’s new.” Just then, you manage to walk into someone, soaking their entire backside with your beer. The person yelps loudly, before turning around to glare at you. Your brain needs a few seconds to recognizes the handsome face, and when it finally does, you give him a bright smile while slurring “Hyunjiiiiiin.”, squishing his face between your hands. The boy turns from annoyed to alarmed, and pries your hands from his face while narrowing his eyes at you. “Okay, what and how much did you drink, Y/N?!” Your smile gets even wider. “Only the best kind of alcohol, which is a lot!” Hyunjin just groans and begins to look around for someone. “Where is Han when you need him?!” With that, he wraps one arm around your waist to pull you with him and through the crowd. You hold onto him like your life depends on it - and the way the floor is swaying from side to side right now, it truly just might. You make a disgusted sound when your hand touches Hyunjin’s soaked shirt. “You’re wet, do you know that?”, you mumble, head lulling around until Hyunjin gently guides it to rest against his shoulder. “Yeah, surprisingly I do.”, he says, but in your current state, his sarcasm gets totally lost on you. “You should change, it’s freezing outside, and we don’t want you to catch a cold!”, you tell him off, and he groans, half amused, half exasperated. “I promise I will change as soon as I’ve found Han.” 

You raise both eyebrows at that. “Why do you need to find Jisung? Does he have clothes for you?” Just then, Hyunjin seems to find the desired person, sighing in relief. “Hey, Han! I think your girlfriend has had a little bit too much to drink tonight.”, he yells over the music, and you frown. “His girlfriend? Since when does Jisung have a girlfriend?! And why hasn’t he told me about her?! I’m his oldest friend! Like, not old in the sense of actually being old, but in the sense of time spent toge-”, before you can ramble on, Hyunjin basically shoves you into Jisung’s outstretched arms. “Here, she’s your responsibility now! Take her home or whatever. I’m gonna go change.”, he says curtly, before turning around and marching off. You wave at his retreating backside, before you look up at Jisung, who sports a very confused expression. “Uh, what exactly happened?”, he asks, taking in your glossy eyes, flushed cheeks and lopsided smile, “Shit, are you drunk?! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk!” He actually looks amazed, and you can’t help but ruffle his dark hair. It feels silky when it slips through your fingers, and you giggle to yourself. “Nice.”, you murmur, before you glare at him, “So, you have a girlfriend and didn’t tell me about her?! That’s rather rude, you know? We’re friends, after all! The oldest friends ever! I tell you almost everything.” Jisung just blinks a few times, before he shakes his head in disbelief. “Uh, okay, maybe I should bring you home.”, he murmurs, and wraps his arms even tighter around your waist, “Where’s your stuff?” You shrug while snuggling closer to him to bury your face in the crook of his neck. He yelps, and freezes for a few seconds, before he sighs and drags you towards one of the sofas. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be back in a second.”, he murmurs softly, and tugs some of you hair behind your ear. You lean into his touch, and close your eyes while nodding. The last thing you hear is his low chuckle.

Bright sunlight greets you the second you try to open your eyes. You groan and decide it’s better to just close them again. Seeing is overrated anyway, especially when your head is pounding like crazy. Mh, maybe you did drink a little bit too much yesterday.

“Are you alive? Groan once for yes, twice for no.”

You truly love your roommate, but right now, you’re prepared to throw her out the window as her voice cuts through your hazy state like a knife. Still, you manage to groan once.

“Okay, good. There’s water on your bedside table, and some aspirin. Take it.” 

For the second time this morning (or midday, you honestly have no idea what time it is), you try to open your eyes, just a teeny tiny bit. Still half blind, you carefully fumble for said things on your bedside table. After taking the aspirin and drinking some water, you sigh in relief and fall back into your pillows. “You were really out of it yesterday, huh? Any reason for drinking for at least three people?”, Amber asks, her voice laced with quiet humor. You just grumble something unintelligible, and she chuckles. “Do you remember who brought you home?”

You finally turn around to look at her, raising one eyebrow. “... You?”, you guess, and she presses her lips together to try and stifle her shit-eating grin - she fails though. “Nope. I was kinda busy.”, she just answers, a smug expression on her face. You finally manage to sit up, ruffling your messy bed hair. “Busy doing what? Now that I think of it, I remember you were gone from my side the second we stepped foot inside the frat house. Talk about loyalty.” You try not to sound too offended, but while you don’t remember much from last night, you do remember that you spent some time looking for it, but in vain. “Chan.”, Amber just answers, and you squeal - regretting it a split second later when a sharp pain shoots through your head. “Remind me to never make that noise again while I’m nursing a hangover.”, you say, holding your head between your hands, and Amber giggles. “Noted. But yeah, Chan and I… well. Let’s just say we had a good night.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you return her grin. “Well, congrats, then! You snatched the Bang Chan, props to you.” Her smile softens, and she sighs dreamily. “He even asked me on a date afterwards. So we’re going out to get some pasta tonight.”, she tells you, and your smile gets even bigger. “I’m so happy for you, Amber. He’s a really great guy, and you deserve a really great guy.”, you say gently, and she nods. “Damn right I do. But speaking of a really great guy - Jisung was actually the one to bring you home last night.”, she explains, grinning smugly when she sees your shocked expression. “He did what now?!”, you ask, not ready to believe her, at least not yet. Amber leans back on her elbows, obviously enjoying this way too much. “Well, after you drank about half the alcohol the boys bought for the party, you decided to give Hyunjin a beer shower, who immediately realized it was definitely time to get you home, so he went searching for Jisung who then brought you to our apartment. No idea what happened after you left the frat house though, I only got to know about this because Hyunjin told Chan who told me.”

You bury your face in your pillow and let out a long, miserable noise. You sound a bit like a dying whale which makes Amber laugh. “Ah, come on, it’s not that bad. You and Jisung are friends after all, I’m sure he saw you drunk lots of times already!”

You shake your head.

“Wait, he hasn’t?!”

“Nope. I very rarely get drunk, and it’s not like Jisung and I are actual friends like that - friends who take care of each other and so on, you know?”, you try to explain, and Amber frowns. “What do you mean? Y/N, you and Jisung have known each other since forever, you hang out constantly, and you always talk about him with endless adoration - well, and a bit of annoyance too, to be fair. But what do you mean you’re not friends “like that”?!” You blink at her, surprise written all over your face. “I don’t talk about him with endless adoration!”, you disagree. Amber just gives you a very long, hard look, and you begin gnawing at your lip. “I… do?”, you ask in a small voice, and she nods. “You talk to him every day, Y/N, and you talk about him even more. It would be annoying if it weren’t also extremely cute.”, she replies, and begins filing her nails, lips twitching while she watches you trying to digest what she’s just told you. “I guess… I should at least message him to thank him for bringing me home.”

“And for tucking you into bed.”

You groan and throw your pillow at Amber. She catches it and laughs. “What, you looked very cozy and all snuggled up when I came home! And I doubt you yourself did that, at least if Hyunjin told the truth about the amount of alcohol you consumed yesterday.”

You look yourself up and down, noticing that you’re not wearing your clothes from last night anymore, but your favorite pj’s, the ones with little succulents on it. “Does this mean…”, you whisper, but shake your head, “Nope, not even going there. I’m way too sleep-deprived and hangover to deal with any of that right now.” Amber grins and shrugs. “Just go ask Jisung, I’m sure he can fill you in on everything.” You groan again, and fall back onto your bed. “I’ll have to take a shower first.”, you mumble, and close your eyes again. “Yes, please do, you reek of stale beer.” And with that, your roommate throws your pillow back at you.

It’s already about to get dark again when you arrive at the frat house, nervously bouncing on your feet for a few seconds before you finally gather the courage to knock on the front door. You quickly stuff your hands back into the pockets of your leather jacket, gnawing at your lower lip while waiting for someone to open the door. Just a few minutes later, Hyunjin’s tired face greets you. He raises both eyebrows when he lays eyes on you, immediately noticing your nervous expression. “Hi.”, you say, and give him a small smile. He leans against the doorframe, and crosses both arms over his chest. “Hi yourself. You actually look less zombie-like than expected.” You roll your eyes. “Thanks, today’s look is inspired by sleep deprivation and a mean hangover. Water and aspirin helped though, or else I could have auditioned for The Walking Dead.”, you grumble, “And uh… Thanks for yesterday, by the way. I’m really sorry about your shirt, I heard I dumped beer all over it.” Hyunjin cracks a smile at that, and shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s fine. The washing machine will take care of that. Wanna come in?”, he asks, and you nod, quickly following him inside the warmth of the parlor. 

Surprisingly, the house looks clean and tidy again - the guys must have spent the entire day getting rid of last night’s mess. You’re actually impressed. “Han is in his room.”, Hyunjin says, before you even have the chance to ask, and you gulp nervously. “O-okay…”, you mumble, and are just about to walk up the stairs, when Hyunjin tugs on your sleeve. You turn around to face him again, expression questioning. The boy gnaws at his lip, looking nervous. “Just… Finally tell him, okay? I’m like, literally begging you.”, he then says, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Tell him what, exactly?”, you inquire, but Hyunjin only gives you an exasperated gaze. “You know exactly what. We’re all tired of you guys pining after each other but not actually doing anything about your feelings. Quick reminder: this is not a cheesy rom-com where you have to wait until one of you guys leaves the country so you can finally declare your love at the airport or some big, stupid gesture like that. Just do it now, in his stuffy frat room and get it over with.” Before you’re able to reply, he gives you a mock salute and retreats into the kitchen. You huff, surprised at the audacity of his words, and turn around to finally go up the stairs and towards Jisung’s room. 

You take in a few deep breaths before knocking on his door, trying to steady yourself. Then, you wait - but after a few seconds have passed and the door has not yet been opened, you simply turn the doorknob and let yourself in. Jisung sits at his desk, giant headphones covering his ears while he hums along to the music he’s listening to. Well, that explains why he didn’t hear you knocking. You quickly cross the room, and tap his shoulder. He screams, and whips around, almost ripping his headphones off in the process. You giggle at his shocked expression, dark eyes almost comically big in his face. “When did you arrive!?”, he almost yells, and you slide the headphones off his ears, brushing some of his hair back while doing so. His eyelids flutter for a few seconds, before he raises one eyebrow. “You don’t look that shitty, which is surprising considering the amount of beer you drank last night.”, he says after looking you up and down, and you defensively cross your arms over your chest. “Wow, thanks. Always the charmer, huh?”, you huff in mock offense, and he grins up at you. “No need to charm when I know your heart is already mine.” You almost choke on your own spit, and beg the blush creeping on your cheeks to just not do that right now. Truly not the time nor place. “I came to thank you, actually. For last night - I heard you were the one to bring me home.”, you finally admit, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. 

Jisung just stares at you for a few seconds, before giving you a soft smile. “Well, yeah. I couldn’t just let anyone take you home - and Amber was kinda busy, I heard.” You nod. “True, I’m glad you didn’t interrupt whatever she was doing. So, uh, yeah, thanks, you’re… a good friend, I guess.” Almost immediately, embarrassment washes over you, and you groan at your own words. Jisung’s lips begin to twitch. “A good friend, huh?”, he repeats and crosses both hands behind his head, still looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You blink a few times, before slowly beginning to nod. “Y-yeah…?” “For someone so smart, you’re really fucking oblivious sometimes, you know that?”, Jisung suddenly states, and you huff. “Excuse me?! Who do you call obliv-” But before you can tell him off, he pulls you onto his lap and then, his lips are on yours. You yelp, freezing for a few seconds, before basically melting against him. He hums appreciatively, and wraps both arms around you to pull you even closer towards him, deepening the kiss. You bury your hands in his soft hair, gently tugging on it, and he groans against your lips. You use the chance to slide your tongue into his mouth while his hands wander lower to grab your ass. You shift on top of him, and he moans when you brush against his crotch. 

When you draw back to catch your breaths, you simply stare at each other, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Then, Jisung begins to smile at you, and your heart flutters. Twenty years of seeing his smile, but you’ll apparently never get used to it. “About fucking time.”, he then murmurs against your lips, voice pleased, and you roll your eyes at him. “I’m not oblivious, by the way! You’re the oblivious one - I never give anyone free coffee, because it could literally cost me my job, and yet you always get a flat white on the house!”, you tell him, and he smirks. “Oh, baby, the oblivious one is definitely you - or do you really think I just happen to have a lecture every morning you got the early shift again?”, he replies, a smug expression on his face. You just stare at him. “You-”, but before you can say anything else, Jisung quickly presses his lips against yours again. You immediately lean into his embrace, and close your eyes, losing yourself to his touch - so familiar, yet also so new and exciting.

Yes, maybe you’ve truly always been in love with Han Jisung - but at least he seems to feel the exact same way. 

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[fangirlincorporated-blog]

The Lucky Australian

~~ 7 Almost~~

I wouldn't know where to start

"Sweet Music" playing "In The Dark"

Be still "My Foolish Heart, "

Don't ruin this on me

It had been a few days, and even though he had tried to keep himself busy, she was always floating around his mind.

It didn’t help him that whenever his phone would buzz he was always hoping it was from her, he’d been disappointed to notice that she hadn’t messaged him as much as he had hoped. There had been a few selfies and an occasional funny text through, he knew she was seeing a few friends and doing all the touristy stuff, but he had still wanted all more attention form her.

Henry couldn’t work it out, was she apprehensive to contact him more? Was she trying to play it cool? Logically, he knew that she was just enjoying her time in London, and he had no right to demand all her time, but still…he had just wanted her.

He had spent his day gaming, broken up by hanging out with kal when Charlie called, with nothing better to do and not hearing from Aurora for a few hours, he found himself at the pub. The warm summer air lifting his mood as he and his brother downed a few pints and surveyed their surroundings.

“You looking for anyone in particular?” Charlie whispered.

Henry sighed and put down his beer

“No. Not really”

Silence filled the space between them.

“Henry, what’s wrong?” Charlie sighed

Henry shifted in his seat, unsure of how to explain to his brother that he missed a woman that he had only known for days. How he wanted to be greedy with her time but not smother her, how he wished that every time his phone buzzed he was hoping it was her. How, he wanted to know every part of her mind, body and soul. He wanted her completely, but what if it was only lust on his part? What if it was only just a fire and no slow burn…The many what if’s were enough to drive him crazy.

“How did you know Heather was the one?” Henry asked, the question even surprising himself.

Charlie let out a breath and twirled his glass in his hand.

“I don’t know how to answer that one Henry. I guess for me, it was just an instant click, my head and my heart were in perfect unison at the time, I had that little voice that just told me this was it” he shrugged.

“You moved your whole life to Canada, weren’t you scared?”

“I was terrified, but the overwhelming feeling I had was that when I was with her there was no place I’d rather be, and that I’d be ok, no matter what happens”

Henry looked down at his glass.

“Is this about a certain Australian you met a few days ago?”

Henry looked up at Charlie and nodded, his insecurity and worry must’ve been plastered all over his face as Charlie’s features softened in response.

“It’s just…I only spent a few hours alone with her after we were at the pub, and the next day and no, we didn’t have sex Charlie”

“I wasn’t asking”

“You were thinking it”

“Thought never crossed my mind. Continue…”

Sometimes Charlie really knew how to get under his skin and piss him off, Henry couldn’t blame him, having siblings meant never being able to get away with anything.

“I had a really great time with her, it just felt like everything fell into place. She said she would call me in a few days because she was meeting up with friends and sightseeing, and I’m a rational man, I get that Charlie, I do. Its just…I want all her time, I want to be with her, I want to talk to her, I want to message her all the time, I want to know her, I want to be in the same space as her. I know I shouldn’t be demanding of all her attention, but every time the damn phone buzzes I hope its her, and I cant fathom for the life of me why she isn’t messaging me all the time or talking to me”

Charlie hadn’t stopped looking at Henry. Henry continued.

“I know, like I fucking know that she’s just with friends, but the other part of me keeps questioning, why isn’t she calling me? Is it too much, too fast for her? Is she not as interested as I thought she was? What if me being me is too much for her? What if its just lust? What if she’s not over her ex?”

“Her ex?”

Henry sighed and rubbed his eyes

“They were together up until 3 years ago, whatever happened she still has nightmares about”

“Whoa Henry, what-“

“Charlie, I don’t know. Aurora said it was a great relationship and it ended. I only found out after she told me because her friends imessages were popping up on her ipad, she said she would tell me later”

Charlie stretched his arms out in front of him.

“That’s a bit of a red flag”

“Yeah, but I cant force anything out of her” Henry growled in frustration.

Charlie didn’t miss the anger, he didn’t miss the hurt or the confusion that draped itself over Henry. Picking his words carefully, he continued.

“Henry, from what you have said already, I think you really like this girl, hell, you might even love her at this point and you don’t know. You have never spoken about any other women you’ve dated or seen, like you have Aurora and you’ve only known her a few days. I think, this is something worth trying for. I think she might be it for you, but you’ve only just net her, you cant demand everything now, no matter how hard you want it. That’s the thing with love and all that shit. It’s irrational, its intense and it doesn’t make sense. Be open, communicate and be honest, that’s all you can do. You will both navigate anything else that comes your way.”

Henry looked up at Charlie, he always had this way of being right about everything. Maybe he was right, maybe all those feelings he was having were a precursor to something deeper that he cant explain, maybe his heart knows before the path is laid out.

“Henry, why don’t you message her and ask her to meet you? Even if she’s already busy with friends, she would make time for you”

He looked at Charlie and back at his beer, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and just stared at it.

He heard Charlie sigh.

“I’ll get more drinks while your compose your sonnet” He laughed, making his way to the bar.

Henry ran a hand over his face and started typing out a message.

~~~~~~~~

“So, its 3pm, I’m going to start getting ready. We’re meeting at her place for pre drinks, then onwards to this gay bar she said I would like” Raphi said as he looked over at Aurora

“Does that mean its time for my boots Raphi?”

“Bitch, its always time for them boots. First though, I’m using the shower.” Raphi grabbed a towel and moved to the bathroom.

The past few days she had been shopping with Nate and his husband, she had travelled up to leeds to see an old friend and then went all the way down to bath to see an old work colleague. Never mind in between all that, partying with Raphi and Hanhan. She was glad for the few days she would have alone in Italy coming up. Even then, she would be visiting family. Holidays are supposed to be relaxing, she thought to herself.

She picked up her phone, wondering if she should message Henry. She had spoken to him on and off, but didn’t want to bombard him with unwanted messages, especially if he had changed his mind. He had still seemed interested but she didn’t want to push it, not to mention she had been seeing friends, which was a welcome excuse to try and get her mind off a certain brown haired, blue eyed Adonis. Dating was a lot much harder than she remembered

Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her hand, her face lighting up seeing is name on her screen.

Hey, this seems incredibly stupid, but…I really enjoyed my time with you. Wondering if you’re free tonight? Maybe we could catch up?

She started her reply, yelling questions through the bathroom door to Raphi. As she was halfway through, another message popped up.

I miss your company.

Her heart melted a little.

I’ll come meet you for a drink, I wont be able to spend as much time as I want with you, I’m being dragged to a club. I miss your company too.

Short and to the point. Mere seconds later, Henry replied.

Same pub we met at? What time?

She smiled, replying as fast as possible before throwing down her phone and getting her boots on.

~~~~~~~~

Charlie watched Henry as he continued to throw glances towards the pub door.

It had been 3 hours since Aurora said she would meet him. As it neared 6pm, Henry started getting nervous, bouncing his leg up and down under the table, not focusing on conversations and forever checking his watch. Charlie smiled into his beer as he took another sip. He remembered those butterflies and those nerves.

Charlie was able to distract Henry for a few minutes when something caught his eye, he looked up and the first thing he saw were boots, followed by Aurora, he snuck a glance back to Henry who hadn’t noticed her yet. Charlie looked back at Aurora as her eyes found them in the pub, she smiled and made her way over to them as Charlie kicked Henry under the table. He looked up, startled and then looked to where Charlie was pointing. Charlie knew the moment Henry laid eyes on Aurora, he was in trouble.

Henry’s mouth fell open as she came toward him. She was wearing all black jeans with a black top, her outfit simply hugging every curve of her body, but the standout feature was the thigh high boots she was wearing.

They were covered in silver rhinestones. This woman knew how to make an entrance.

Henry was still stuck to his chair when she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sliding into the spot next to him he didn’t notice her friends following her and seating themselves at the table.

Henry was silent, just staring at her. All the sounds around him evaporating as he took all of her in.

“I’ll shout you guys a round before we have to go.” She laughed. Henry looked at her and was silent for a moment just staring at her until Charlie broke his silence when he spoke to her. Suddenly, the world came crashing back into Henry, the sounds of the pub, the warmth of Aurora next to him and the smell of the perfume she wore invading all his senses.

She laughed at something Raphi said. Henry looked at her, his hands itching to touch her in some way. Slowly, pretending to be interested in a ring she wore, he reached out for her hand, and just held it, not wanting to let go.

Charlie observed them while the rest of the group entertained themselves. Aurora, talking and joking with her friends, for the most part didn’t seemed fazed at all by Henry's need for closeness. It almost came natural to her that she expected Henry wanted to that contact. Everything about her demeanour and her body language seemed so relaxed, like this relationship had existed for years rather than days. Henry on the other hand, seemed hyper aware of every movement and touch of Aurora’s, his nervousness and almost giddy appearance that he was in the same space with as well as the physical contact of the woman he was infatuated with, betrayed his usual tough looking exterior. Basically, he became a big teddy bear.

After what only seemed like a few minutes to Henry, Aurora and her friends announced their departure. Their excitement and slight buzz from the few shots they downed evident on their faces as they got up to leave, ready for the night ahead. Noting it was only 8pm, Henry felt cheated those 2 hours had flown by, and became a little depressed at the thought of her leaving.

Aurora looked Henry.

“If I survive tonight, I promise I will call you tomorrow and we’ll go on a proper date!” she smiled

“Bitch, what do you mean if you survive tonight? You’re getting as fucked up as us!” Hanhan laughed at her.

“Listen I’m going to be the most sober one there, god knows this one wont bend over the toilet bowl to throw up” She pointed at Raphi with her voice taking on a slight Italian accent, hands moving with every word.

“There we go, there’s the Italian!” Raphi yelled over his shoulder, making his way out of the pub. Aurora laughed.

“I better be getting chicken nuggets at the end of this night is all I’m saying” Aurora leaned down to kiss Henry goodbye like it was the most normal thing in the world and walked out of the pub following Hanhan and Raphi.

Charlie looked over at Henry watching her go. He knew, in that moment, that Henry would be spending the rest of his life with Aurora.

[seancekitsch]

Strictly Confectional.

a/n: part whatever of the prize buck series, slight spoilers of tua season 2 so you HAVE been warned but like if youve read the comics nbd, smut warnings, klaus being sorta dominant for once, slight sensory deprivation kink, unprotected norty bits (wrap it up folx), canon drug references, rehab references, drug use, cursing, the title of this fic is from a lemon demon song which warrants its own warning, my usual run of the mill warnings etc. 

Halloween is a fucking ordeal when you work at an occult shop and date a personified ouija board, and that’s putting it lightly. Even more of an ordeal considering Klaus decides to go cold turkey for the holiday week without warning you. Of course it was easy to figure out what was going on. The his and her’s morning joints you typically had resting on the windowsill became yours and yours joints. He had exactly one beer since last saturday, and halloween was still a day away. It was starting to get a little spooky. Your boss Margie hated Klaus on a regular day, claiming he threw off the vibes her store was supposed to give off. She was a highly superstitious woman and you wouldn't put it past her to actually notice if Klaus agitated any of the spirits that were probably attached to the things you sell. Realistically, Klaus’ presence did in fact stir up the spirits in her store. Lots of victorian era mourning hair bracelets and taxidermy probably made before your birth would do that. He always claimed the store was extremely loud, but still liked to visit you when your boss was running errands because you were there, and he can't help that he gets bored easily. Klaus’ being there never went unnoticed by your boss, even if he was gone by the time she came back. But this whole cold turkey thing was new for him. Even Diego and Ben said he had only tried to do this one other time, and it was during the apocalypse that never happened that you still think might have been a case of mass hallucination. You weren't sure what his reasoning for it was, since he was just sober enough to conjure Ben any time enough for you to see him and speak to him, even if he was a glowing blue apparition that you compared to the Tupac hologram from Coachella that only appeared for a few minutes. This week was a lot of Klaus having the usual headaches and shaking that come with coming off alcohol, but probably heightened because you know the ghosts don't just shut up when he wants them to. He hasn't been sleeping well unless spooned by you and hushed to sleep with the cool beginnings of fall air blowing through the window.

Friday morning you get your first cryptic answer as to what's been going on with him. 

“The veil is thinner on Saturday, I want to try something I haven't been able to do since the sixties,” is the only explanation he’ll give as he kisses your fingertips and holds the door open for you at the shop. Of course, it has something to do with the sixties. Normally you wouldn't pay much attention to his family’s antics because you knew something was going on there that probably didn't concern you, the exception being that time he pulled you back to the sixties briefly and you were handed a briefcase meant for an old man before ending up back at home. You still aren't sure how you made it back to your shift at work that day but Margie hasn’t looked at you the same since. She probably thinks you're a freak like your partner. Which, fair. 

His answer doesn't give you that much clarification, but it's better than nothing which is usually what he gives you in warning for his ideas. But anything testing the limits of his powers is usually good for the both of you, because it's a testament to growth and confidence just as much as the pieces of furniture you're slowly accumulating. Sure, there are still bad days. There are still terrible days for the both of you. The more he learns to control his abilities and the more furnished your apartment becomes, it's almost more like you're becoming real functioning people and you can consider yourselves part of that human race you've heard so much about. 

Your shift at work is… different. Friday is typically a slow day, but the holiday weekend packs your store in a way you can barely keep up with. The quiet baroque music generally wafting through the air is interrupted by quiet “ewwws” and “what is that?”s from people who normally wouldn't be setting foot in a store like this being dragged in by their spookier friends. You've sold hundreds more than you usually would, but the quiet almost holy spell of the place is broken today. At least the day passes quickly with all the sales you make.

You can feel Klaus coming before he even presses his face into the glass window, smushing his lips and cheek into the glass like one of those slugs in an aquarium. Maybe there is something to be said about the veil being thin and all that. When his tongue darts out to join the rest of his face on the cold surface, you giggle, but then begin to wonder if you're getting a taste of what all the ghosts see when he tries to get in contact with them. He pulls back and waves before putting a hand on the door, a silent question of if it's safe to enter. You shake your head no because your boss is in the back room, but he only has to wait ten more minutes. 

Those ten minutes pass slower than the entire shift before that. Just knowing he’s outside has you almost itching for his touch. Since when were you so needy that ten minutes felt like torture? Blame it on the fucking veil or whatever. Your hands are clammy by the time you clock out and bid Margie goodbye,while she reminds you to show up at work in costume tomorrow. Only she doesn't know you fully plan to come dressed in one of your partner’s silly superhero outfits from when he was a teenager. 

Klaus is all too happy to kiss you open mouthed the second your figure is out of your workplace, and you willingly ignore that it's the same mouth he just smeared all over the side of a storefront because you're all too happy to kiss him back. One thing about his little cold turkey experiment that you’ve been loving is how potent his sex drive has become. His hands grip your hips like a vice as you continue kissing on the short three block walk and up the flight of stairs to your apartment and travel down to your thighs as you fumble with the keys in the dark of the setting sun not facing the only window in the building that faces the front door of your apartment. It's always a testament to your will when he gets like this as there's nothing you'd like better than to just ride him on the steps in front of your door, but there's just something about doing it in the privacy of your apartment that you like better.

But it's seconds before you feel the key sink into the hole and the tell tale click of everything being pushed into place, and the door gives way almost not soon enough for the two of you to clumsily barrel through it. Now Klaus under normal circumstances is a sexual being, but this cold turkey sobriety and focus is new, and makes you feel wanted- maybe loved- in a way you've never felt before in your life. It's not just that he wants to get off, he wants you. He wants to get off with and for you. Specifically you. Which is the sexiest feeling in the world, you've decided. 

You barely put your bag down before he's pulling your coat from your shoulders behind you and growling in your ear. 

“Now we’re trying something new tonight, okay baby?” you barely get out an affirmative nod before he finishes, “good, just trust me, I've got you in safe hands.”

You let him take the lead as he strips you bare in the middle of the studio apartment, which feels much bigger than usual, maybe because he’s still fully clothed. His movements are greedy, hands sparing no touch on even an inch of your skin, grabbing and caressing as if it was his property, which in a way, you'd be glad to grant him ownership. He takes control of you, your body not moving in any direction he does not will himself. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispers as his hands find their way to your chest, and you do. You hear him sigh, and maybe a breath of “that's right” as his hand slides up to touch your face, making sure you listen to directions as well as he wants you to. You can hear him start to breathe a little heavier as he presses his leather clad crotch into your ass. He chuckles as you return the pressure, wiggling your hips a little to entice him, before he spins you around and presses your hand into the buttons that hold his pants up on his bony hips. Your eyes are still closed, that’s good, he thinks as he rewards you with a kiss. Your hands make quick work of the buttons, despite your impaired senses, and he shimmies the pants to his ankles, where his boots prevent them from falling any further. 

“Wait a tic- wait, just…” he trails off and falters a little, you notice, before commanding you again, “stand there and touch yourself. I gotta get these boots off but if you open your eyes it'll ruin what I have planned for us.”

You comply and focus on the smells and sounds of the room as you part your legs a little further and trail your fingers down. There's a heady scent in the air from stale weed smoked this morning and the sickening sweetness of the strawberry hookah set out and packed for tonight, which now would probably be left to the wayside, you note, as you feel wetness collect on your fingertips even at first contact. You focus on the sound of his laces as they smack the hardwood floor as your middle finger rubs slow calculated tight circles on your clit. You don't dare pick up the pace or try to touch yourself in earnest at first, unsure of his intentions for the night as a soft sigh of a moan leaves your parted lips. You hear a loud dull thud, and then another. He must be done, you think, as your fingers pick up the speed, just a little, just enough to make you whine at your own actions. And he is, his boots are discarded near the door, but this isn't a view he's going to give up that easily. Its not every day someone is obeying his commands, fucking themselves and whimpering his name uninhibited like this. He smiles as he watches, and you can feel his eyes on you. You wonder what you must look like, shameless, wanton, on display for him. But then you feel a hand wrap around the wrist of the hand that's between your legs and he pulls it away from your body. Then the chill of the fall air hitting your wet fingers, then his wet mouth engulfs them, sucking. The action sending shockwaves up your arm to the joint of your shoulder, the entire arm pliant for him to use as he wishes. This is what being with Klaus does to you. Your body instinctively wants him to use it. Once he's content with licking every drop of you off your fingers, he moves your hand from his mouth to on his shoulders, and surges up to gather you in his arms, yours moving to grab him and stabilize yourself in return. He carries you to what you assume is your bed and settles you on his naked lap, his hard cock finding shelter between your thighs. He kisses you hard and deep, focusing on his tongue greeting yours, then pushing it out of his way as he explores your mouth. You've been so good, keeping your eyes shut for this long, and tells you so as he grinds up, the head of his cock just barely brushing against where you want him most.

His hips rock up and down, up and down, tantalizing and teasing you. Your moans and keens whenever he happens to hit the mark are music to his ears, something he holds so incredibly dear to him. Even with your eyes closed, when he looks up at them he can still see the love behind them. It's an acceptance he’s been struggling to find in modern times, until you. It’s the full trust you give him with your body and mind. He remembers every scrap and detail you’ve given him since he first tucked you into bed that day in the clinic, and hoards it like treasure. The way you’ve slowly opened up to him like dropping a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow, your willingness to work to give him what you can. You’re guarded for a lot of the reasons he’s so open. But you make the choice to be open to him, and he’s thankful. And as he shifts your bodies to thrust inside you, as your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape, he decides he wants to take everything you’ll give him, bask in the affection you readily shine on him, as long as you’ll shine on him. Tonight he wants to impress you.

You’re being so good, really so good. You haven’t opened your eyes once, not even to peek. You’ve just held on tight and let Klaus take the lead. It’s kind of kinky; really. Letting him be in control, losing one of your senses, blindly kissing the parts of skin you can reach, which you think is his chest and shoulder. Even as he shifts you, holding your legs now as he shifts the position a little more. It’s not uncomfortable, but never a position you’ve been in before. You can tell by the way your thigh muscles quietly burn that you’re pretzeled up in his lap, with him thrusting deeply up into you.

The way his thrusts hit inside you is delicious, each time he bottoms out earns him another moan falling from your lips against his skin, always vocal for him. This time your moans are uncontrollable, the way he controls the action is undeniably sexy and undeniably the Klaus of it all, the way he can toe the line between gentle and rough, the care he puts into every motion. He makes sure to use his entire body to get you off, and tonight he’s really trying to go above and beyond.

“Okay-“ a moan from deep in his throat, “open your eyes. Don't scream!”

The first thing you see is the blank white smoothness of the wall, specifically where it kisses the ceiling. At just above eye level. Your head has to be, what, inches from the ceiling? and. wait. What?

If you weren’t clinging to him for dear life, you certainly were now. He hisses then groans at the feeling of your nails digging into him, sure to leave shallow little crescent moon marks on the tops of his biceps. The ceilings are tall enough that Klaus can stand on top of it without his head brushing the ceiling, and you were somehow floating right up there.

Immediately Klaus sees the panic that crosses your features and shushes you, comforting, but not unlike how someone tries to calm a child or a pet.

“Hey, look! I haven’t levitated since 1963. I thought it would be a nice surprise, I can stop if you need, we can lay down,” Ever the sweet man, he’s instantly trying to make sure this is okay or if he’s crossed a line. But you shake your head no. Honestly, fucking freaky at first, but then its fucking freaky, and you are down with it. Up with it.

“No, no... I like this. Do your worst.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he leans back, bringing you with him. Now you can sit up, and give your body a little bit more space than he had been giving it before. You figure you could ride him like this and push against the ceiling for support, which actually, was Klaus’ whole idea behind this. Great minds think alike or whatever. So as he keeps thrusting you start to shift your hips back to meet his. It’s weird not having anything below you for leverage for your legs, but maybe if he does this again you can figure something out.

Instead it’s this steady grind, him up, you down. Now its less of an honest to god fuck and more of a writhing midair to make each other come.Instead of his worst like you’d asked, its incredibly intimate in a way you usually aren’t. But that's enough for the both of you. The ceiling does wonders to help your arms press you down into his pelvis, rocking yourself up and down on him while your legs dangled. You were honestly impressed by the way he was able to keep himself so horizontal. Maybe his being trained in combat as a teen gave him core muscles you didn't realize he had. All of these thoughts of muscles are quickly swallowed by Klaus, Klaus, and nothing but the way Klaus was making you feel at this very moment.

If any one would have seen the two of you climax, which happened at the same time for once in the hundreds of times now that you'd fornicated, one would have seen from the top of your window two legs go rigid before two bodies floated down back to where human bodies should be with surprising grace, the owners of those bodies kissing everywhere one each other that they could reach. He kissed your neck, your chest, your face, long strong fingers brushing your hair soothingly as his back hit the mattress. He slides out of you unceremoniously, at which you pout at the loss of him, but only to shift and tuck you into his side as his arms still cradled you close. 

“So, as lovely and thrilling as that was, why did the veil or whatever need to be thin for you to do that?”

“Well, it didn’t, but I wanted us to get in the holiday spirit a little more, like that scene in Poltergeist.” He punctuates the sentence with a kiss to your temple as he slides off the bed, and gingerly walks over to the kitchen. He’s turning on the stove, then using tongs to place a coal onto the heat.

“If I torch this for hookah, will you take this bowl with me?” as if everything that just happened was commonplace. An everyday occurrence.

All you can do is nod.

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Four

Not even realizing it, Ron had wallowed in self pity and hatred the rest of the ride. Eventually, the train came to a halt as he hurried to leave Lavender’s compartment, not being able to stomach another talk with her. 

Scrambling, he walks down the corridor against the mass of students and eventually retrieves his trunk, stepping from the platform later then most. 

The mass of redheads is easy to spot despite the crowd. 

His Mum is embracing Ginny as he sees Harry shaking his Dad’s hand. Fred and George have also come, he watches as they step forward and tenderly embrace Hermione. The act is out of character for the pair, but he figured that this gesture coincided with the McLaggen stint. 

The three begin talking in what seems like hushed whispers, no doubt about what transpired, well that is until Ron gathered the courage to join his family. 

As his mother called his name and embraced him, Hermione went silent. Slowly, she slinked back, away from the twins, away from the Weasley’s. 

She was never supposed to even be here. Hermione had told herself that she needed to separate herself from them in order to ensure Ron had the holiday he deserved without her bothering him. 

Ron seemed to notice this, heart breaking a little. He wanted nothing more than to hug her himself and assure that he wanted her here, that he was so happy she was. 

He couldn’t though, not yet anyway, not when he was still reeling from his half breakup with Lavender not long ago. 

Instead, he grabbed onto the Port Key his father got from work, jolting slightly as Hermione’s fingertips gently brushed his as she grasped the old scarf they were using. 

Once the dizziness had subsided and they landed on the grass in Ottery St. Catchpole, he was disappointed to see Hermione already retrieving into the Burrow, ahead of everyone else. Alone. 

He can’t help but groan aloud. 

“Did you do it?” Harry asks as he offers a hand and helps Ron from the ground. 

In response all the youngest Weasley brother can manage is a groan. 

“Sort of.” Ron whispers slightly embarrassed. 

“Sort of?” Harry questions rather loudly, warranting a glance from Ginny who is only a few paces ahead. 

“Shush,” The ginger starts, “and I mean the words ‘I’m breaking up with you’, certainly left my mouth. More than once. In a variety of ways.” He explained, his anger bubbling back up at the recollection.  

“Alright so you did it?” The Boy-Who-Lived asked, confusion evident in his tone. 

“Yeah I told her that and she definitely heard but all she said was no,” at this point he’s stopped walking, “that’s completely mental! I told the girl it was done with and she said no!” He was yelling now. 

At this point, Ginny had come to a full stop, the twins were lingering by the front door, and Hermione had thankfully disappeared  inside along with his parents. Harry was faced with horror stricken on his features. 

“You keep it down!” The dark haired boy staged whispered. 

Ron twinged as red as his hair, “sorry,” he said lamely, “she even started on Hermione. By that time I had already told her it was done twice, maybe three times.” 

A low whistle escaped the chosen ones lips, “so let me get this straight, you broke up with Lavender at least three times, and all she said was no?” This sounded like something out of a Muggle film. 

He nodded, a sour look on his face, “And after all this, she kissed me on the cheek, called me ‘sweetheart’, and wished me a Happy Christmas!” He recapped sounding beside himself. 

“You’re right,” Harry said after a moment, “that is mental.” 

At this the pair started trudging along the grass again, taking it slow as they wanted to finish the conversation away from prying ears. 

“Good news is you did break up with her.” The green eyed boy tried optimistically, a rare thing from him these days. 

Harry was really trying to be a better friend. 

“Bad news is I don’t think Lavender broke up with me.” He notes. 

The pair seemingly sigh in unison, both frustrated, one more so then the other. 

“So what? I just tell Hermione I’ve broken it off with Lavender? I’m sure by now she’s owled all of England that we’re still together.” 

Potter contemplates the situation for a moment before answering, “well you can tell Hermione you’ve told Lavender you’re done but she didn’t seem to accept the fact. Even though that may be the case, when we head back you’ll be implementing this break up full force. Avoiding Lavender even more than before, as if we thought that was possible!” He tries to joke.

Surprisingly a small laugh sounds it’s way past Ron’s lips, “I suppose.” By this point they’ve reached the front door, “it’s kind of mad to be thinking about all this with everything going on isn’t it?” He thinks aloud. 

Harry shrugs, “I know your life may feel like a bad soap opera but it’s quite nice for me to focus on something else for a bit. Especially if it helps you and Hermione out.” He pushes open the door and finally steps inside. 

“A soap what?”

...

Hermione really wished there was a spare room in the Weasley home. Not that she’d ever ask for it, being she would never want to upset Ginny. But an escape would be nice. 

Surely Ginny will try and get her to talk about everything that’s transpired lately, especially with the red heads new found confidence her brother wants to try and patch things up. 

It didn’t matter though, Charlie and Bill were returning for holiday for the first time in years apparently so there was no available room to escape to. And being Fleur was joining as well, Percy’s room was off the table. 

Hermione supposes she’ll just have keep Ginny at bay as long as possible. Which should be easy enough considering all the action within the Weasley household. 

Even now, unpacking her trunk a floor above them, she could hear the hustle and bustle of the Burrow. 

The twins were no doubt sounding off somewhere. Ginny was probably yelling at them to keep it down. It’s very likely Mrs. Weasley was cleaning the house to prepare for Charlie and Bill’s arrival. Mr. Weasley was somewhere consoling said stressed out wife, resulting in more screams. And as previously mentioned, the twins were probably sounding off to Harry and Ron. 

And right now as she considers all this play out, she can’t help but feel a little empty. 

For the first time since she’s been a guest at the Burrow, does she feel like a true guest. Hermione doesn’t feel like she’s at home. Not like she normally does. 

She knows exactly why too. 

After the run in with Lavender and Ron this morning, she decided she’d back off. Ron was probably better off without her constant nagging and knowledge of useless facts. Hermione would do her best to stay out of his way, starting with holiday. She’d hate for him to feel uncomfortable in his own house of all places. And after, she supposes she’ll do the same at Hogwarts. For him. 

It’s kind of twisted isn’t it? Even after all the times she’s felt hurt by Ron, she still cares about him more than anything else. 

Even now, she can still feel her heart clenching, breaking, as he agreed to the terms earlier in the compartment. The feeling alone may kill her, yet, here she is, willing to make that sacrifice for him. For his happiness. 

All this coupled with the pain of her grandmother's condition has been borderline unbearable. She wishes she still had Ron to help her through this. She needs his strength. 

Too bad she’s ruined that. 

As much as she’s yearning to blame Ron for their divide she knows it’s entirely her fault. Because despite being the brightest witch of her age, she is surely stupid for thinking he could ever love her back. To even think he thought of her like that in the slightest. 

Asking him to Slughorn’s,  it had taken everything for her to do. To him it meant nothing. 

And if the past few months have taught her anything, it’s probably that Ron just stuck around for Harry and as an extension, Hermione. All the taunts and jabs Lavender was constantly throwing her way must be true in Ron’s eyes, she isn’t exactly shy about the whole thing. 

And part of her brain convinces herself that Ron thinks she’s an insufferable, ugly, no good know it all. But part of her knows that isn’t true. 

Ron, who saved her from that troll her first year. 

Ron, whose voice rang in her head every night while she was laying petrified. 

Ron, who defended her mercilessly during their confrontation with Peter Pettigrew, despite having a torn up leg. 

Ron, who comforted her to no end when the nerves struck before the second task. 

Ron, who gently would rub dittany on the backs of her hands after detentions with Umbridge. 

Harry hadn’t been there for any of that. Surely that must mean something. 

And deep down she knows it does, but whenever the rational part of her brain pushes that forward, images of him wrapped around Lavender flicker in her head. These thoughts quickly bring back unwelcome ones of the possibility of Ron loathing her. 

She really wishes things were simple. Harry spent summers and holidays with Sirius at Grimmauld place. That Neville could talk to his parents and they’d recognize him. That Ginny would stop tossing and turning, mumbling things about a diary in her sleep. That she didn’t fear for her parents lives everyday. That her grandma would be magically healed and she’d take Ron and Harry up to France one summer to meet her. 

She wishes that Ron was her friend again. If not more. 

But that’s the problem, these are all just wishes. Figments of her imagination, something her heart longs for. Something that’ll never come true. 

And just like that, her thoughts are becoming too much. She’s supposes it’s a bit of a curse to always have your mind working this way. 

Tears begin stinging the backs of her eyes and Hermione wants nothing more to immerse herself within a book. To forget for a little while. Maybe even let her mind wander to a brighter future. 

But instead, she makes use of her whizzing brain by beginning to unpack her trunk. First she checks for the black book, that’s now a lifeline to her. Once she spots it, she relaxes a little and silently begins preparing a letter to her parents in her head. 

Surely that letter would evoke more unwelcome emotions. 

Happy holidays to her. 

...

So far life at the Burrow has been rather uneventful. Sure, they only arrived here three hours ago, but deep down everyone had this silly little notion that upon their return everything would change. 

Of course it didn’t. 

The twins were still taking the mickey out of Ron and Harry. Ginny still yelled when their fighting reached her in the living room. Molly still fussed over preparing the house for her eldest sons as her husband tried to calm her. 

In a way it was nice though, that things were the same. Sure, everyone wishes they could be better 

There was one notable difference. 

Normally, Hermione could be found sniggering behind Fred and George or defending Ron and Harry from their taunts. If not, she was curled up on the sofa with Ginny as she complained over her Quidditch magazine. Oftentimes, the witch was offering Mrs. Weasley assistance with household chores or was explaining a Muggle appliance to Arthur. 

Instead, she was just gone. 

And no one noticed her absence more than Ron. 

“Ginny, be a dear and fetch Hermione for supper would you?” Molly’s voice didn’t leave much room for argument. 

Ron peered up from where he had been setting down the utensils to see his sister rush up the steps leaving a flash of red. 

Upstairs, Ginny tapped on the door lightly, waiting a moment before pushing it open. There, she found Hermione slumped over the youngest Weasley’s desk, writing mercilessly on some parchment. She was honestly shocked to find her nose not in that odd, coverless book. 

“Hermione.” She called out, the brunette hadn’t noticed her presence. 

Startled, Hermione jumped a bit before relaxing at the sight, “yes?” Her voice cracked. 

“It’s time to eat.” Ginny told her. 

“Gin,” The bushy haired girl sighed, “I hate to be rude, but could you tell your mother I won’t be joining you guys tonight.” 

The ginger shook her head, “Hermione if this is about,” 

Granger wouldn’t let the name pass her friends lips, “it’s not about him.” Not a total lie. “I just want to get this owl out to my parents as soon as I can. I have some questions about...” she trailed feeling the tears prick her eyes. Clearing her throat she went on, “anyway, I ate on the train. I promise once I’m finished here I’ll explain everything to your Mum.”

Ginny began to open her mouth questioning the use of the word ‘everything’. Hermione, being brilliant, seemed to sense where this was going and bear her to it. 

“Everything about my Grandma.” She amended. 

Noticing the sad look in the sixth tears eyes, Ginny conceded, “alright but I’m saving you a plate and you best eat it later!” She scolded, sounding just like Molly. 

At this, Hermione was able to muster a true genuine giggle, “thank you Ginny.” She called as the girl vacated the room. 

The last thing Ginny heard Hermione say was a quick ‘thank you’ before she descended back downstairs. 

As she re entered the kitchen she noted everyone seated already, waiting for her. For them. 

Molly however, was standing, hands on her hips and stern look on her face. 

“Now Ginny I asked you to fetch Hermione.” She scolded with a wag of her finger. 

Sighing, the girl plopped down, “she isn’t hungry.”

All the younger Weasley and Harry, had exchanged knowing glances. Ron however, decided to bow his head, focus his eyes on the floor boards. 

“Non sense!” Her mother started. 

“Mum honest, I told her we’d save her plate.” She pauses as her mother frowns, “look Hermione’s got a lot going on right now.”

Concern struck over Molly instantly, “oh Merlin! Is she okay? Are her parents alright?” Then she swiftly turned to the twins, “have you two done something to her?” The older woman asked sharply. 

“We didn’t do anything mother.” Fred starts. 

“Yeah it wasn’t us who did something.” George says next, emphasis on the statement as he looks to Ron. 

“Not us!” They sound off in unison. 

Noticing Ron’s fist clenching beneath the table Ginny jumps in, “it’s nothing like that, it hasn’t got to do with the Burrow.” Her eyes found Ron’s as if to tell him that Hermione wouldn’t spill to their mother about Lavender Brown, “Hermione and her parents are alright. It’s best if she explains.”

Molly opens her mouth to protest before Arthur cuts her off, “it’s okay Molly, the girls fine, remember? We saw her hours ago. Come on let’s eat.” He reasons. 

Nodding to herself Mrs.Weasley finally calms down as they start their meal. 

And dinner was going fine. Ron had done little talking, thankful that Harry was the one recapping the Quidditch season thus far. 

Again, everything was fine. Until Arthur asked his twin boys about their business. 

“So boys how are things down in the alley?” The older man asking, earning a scowl from is  disapproving wife. 

“Wicked dad.” George says. 

 Placing his fork down Fred jumps in, “absolutely wicked. Witch weekly wants to do an article on our love potions, it’ll be great for business.” 

Shockingly, a proud smile crosses Molly’s lips. 

“Yeah we’re thinking of making scented ones, something girls will like. What do girls like?” George wonders, sarcasm underlying his words. 

“Yeah Ronnie, what do girls like?” Fred repeats facing his younger brother. 

Mrs. Weasley not understanding, interjects, “flowers.”

At this Ron grips his knuckles on the table. His brothers are smiling like it’s Christmas morning. His mother just unknowingly set her troublemaker sons up for a joke to make Ron twitch. 

“Hear that Freddie? Flowers.” George grins like the Cheshire Cat. 

“It’s perfect. I wonder which ones though, there are roses.” Fred responds 

“And daisy’s.”

“Orchids.” 

“Jasmine.” 

The pair switch off before Fred’s eyes light up, “wait I got it, how about...”

“Lavender!” The two exclaim in sync. 

Ginny does her best to surprise a chuckle. Harry looks like he wants the floor to eat him. Ron is about to punch something. 

“Yeah how about it Ronnie, Lavender. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” George says leaning in closer to his baby brother. 

A look of anger passes Ron’s face, his Mum  surveys the scene with a curious expression, “what would Ronnie know about Lavender?” Molly questions. 

“Oh mother!” George says scandalized. 

“Ickle Ronniekins didn’t tell you?” Fred asks, already knowing the answer. 

She shakes her head, “on with it.” 

“Your baby boy has a girlfriend.” George announces, loving the luck of disdain across his youngest brother's face. 

“Ronald Weasley!” His mother says standing from her chair and wagging her finger at him. 

Merlin he wishes You-Know-Who would kill him right now. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend Mum.” He defends gruffly. 

“You don’t?” Ginny says with slanted eyes. 

“Not anymore.” Harry mumbles loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Not anymore?” Molly starts, “and you knew and didn’t tell me Ginny! You boys knew too!” She points to the twins. 

In defense the pair throws up their hands as the red headed girl starts to explain, “it wasn’t really my place to tell. Anyway Mum, it’s not like we were the only ones. Bill knew too.” 

Angrily, Ron stomps on his sister's foot. 

“You told Bill and not your own mother!” She screams, ignoring the yelp that left Ginny’s mouth. 

“Molly...” Arthur warns, trying to tug gently at her sleeve. 

She rips her hand away and places both on her hips, “I am very disappointed in you Ronald! All of you actually.” The woman huffs. 

Ron squirms, “it doesn’t matter. She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” 

“Well...” Harry can’t help but say. 

All eyes land on him. He thinks Ron may strangle him. 

“‘Well’ what Harry Potter?” Ginny asks, tone matching her mother’s. 

Now it’s the chosen ones' turn to squirm, “well,” he repeated, “I don’t think it’s my place to say.” 

At this, all eyes fall back onto Ron. Sighing in defeat, “well you see, the thing is, Lavender is,” 

“Annoying.” Ginny finishes. 

“Loud.” Harry cringes. 

“Pathetic?” George tries 

“Desperate.” Fred corrects. 

And to Arthur and Molly’s surprise, their youngest son nods in agreement, making no move to defend this girl. 

At this, the couple exchange a look. If the twins so much as look at a certain bushy haired witch the wrong way, Ron is up in arms, ready to curse anyone who crosses her. 

“Alright,” Ron says, stopping whatever they were going to say, “let’s just say I chucked her.” 

“That can’t be true! I heard her telling Parvati about how she won’t survive a month without snogging you when we got onto the platform.” Ginny calls out. 

Her brother groans, “Lavender is not my girlfriend anymore, but I might still be her boyfriend.” He explains. 

There’s a silence. 

“I don’t know what you mean son.” His dad finally speaks. 

“What I mean is that when I broke up with her she just said no.” He admits exasperated, pushing back his chair and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

One of the twins lets out a low whistle. As the room enters a tense silence until Molly breaks it. 

“Ronald,” she sounds disappointed, “this Lavender wouldn’t have anything to do with why Hermione didn’t join us at dinner would it?” Her voice is growing louder. 

And there it is. 

Of course his mother would know. 

He had been painfully obvious over the years. 

Ron told himself when she didn’t come down that it was because she was probably writing her parents. But, he also knows, Hermione is capable of constructing a letter in minutes. 

“Why would you think that?” He chokes out sounding pathetic. 

The twins and Ginny laugh at this. 

“Ronald Weasley I am very disappointed in you. Look at the mess you’ve made! Your father and I raised you better than to go around treating women this way!” She screams. 

Losing it, Ron stands up angrily matching his mother’s tone, “why are you assuming any of this has got to do with Hermione?” He screams. 

In all the ruckus, he failed to notice the new presence in the doorway. 

“Hermione.” Ginny says loudly, rather soft. 

Annoyed, he turns to his sister, “Ginny I’ve just said,” before he can finish, Harry is pulling on his shirt and bucking his head to the doorway. 

As all eyes fall on her, she shrinks away, looking almost to tears, “I can come back, I just wanted to talk to...” she doesn’t get the words out, lamely she points to Mrs. Weasley. 

And just like that, any anger washes off the older woman’s face, “of course dear,” she steps over and places a hand on her shoulder, “why don’t you wait for me in the living room while I clean this up.” 

Hermione nods vaguely in response before sauntering out of the room. 

“Way to go Ronnie.” George whispers. 

And just like that, Molly is seeing red again, “all four of you, dishes.”  She says to her kids. 

The twins are ready to complain when they realize they can just do magic. 

“And no magic!” She berates. 

“What did we do?” Ginny retorts, “you’re mad at Ron remember?” She reminds. 

“You three didn’t bother to tell your mother anything!” She stops, “and you.” She turns to Harry. 

“Me?” He asks, scared. 

“Yes you, Harry Potter. You are to stay and make sure not one wand is flicked or else all five of you will be working in the gardens until all the gnomes are gone.” 

“But Mum it’s freezing.” Ron groans. 

“Well then you better do as I say, and being that I have no more house duties for tonight, I’m off to talk to Hermione. Goodbye.” At this she stomps away. 

Sympathetically, Arthur pats his youngest son's shoulder before walking off to his shed. 

A tense silence falls over the group as each of the Weasley’s exchange glares. 

“Well time for dishes!” Harry tries to break the tension. 

Scowling, they all work in silence.

[lupinsravenclaw]

Until we meet again// The Weasley au

content warning: mention of death, hints of depression, swearing, intense sadness:((

George sat on his bed, staring at the blank wall. No expression on his face other than complete and utter despair. His eyes were dull, lifeless, hurt, while his skin was grey and sickly looking. He had sat there, for hours on end since they had came back from the Battle of Hogwarts. Fred's death, naturally, took a horrendous toll on the Weasley family. From being a jolly, close family to being completely isolated and silent. No one hardly spoke since they had came back, it had been three months. The silence was deadly. And it had corrupted the house completely.

George's eyes were red, swollen and puffy from violent sobs. He hadn't cried for about an hour yet he could form no thoughts, no words. Nothing. It had felt as though he had lost himself, in theory he did. He lay back on his bed, closing his stinging eyes, he wanted to stop replaying the images in his mind, seeing Fred's lifeless body on the floor covered in blood. The memories were printed into his mind like a tattoo, yet unlike a tattoo these memories remain printed and would print in his mind forever. He said to himself ‘it should of been me’, and this thought circulated his broken mind until his eyes became too heavy to keep open- falling into a deep sleep.

"George, wake up you lazy git. Come on it's summer, Weasleys Wizard Wheezes is absolutely chocker! The puking pastels are going down a treat though I’m not sure why, the summer holidays will be ruined”Fred exclaims going off on a tangent before a sleepy George awakens. His eyebrows knit together rubbing his head, a confused expression plastered on his face.

"Freddie?" George asks squinting his eyes.

"The one and only" Fred winks.

"Freddie I don't understand, your supposed to be dea-,"

"Well yes maybe, but I pissed off God so much so he sent me down here,” Fred smirks.

"Is this a dream?" George asks.

"Well of course this is a dream,"

George's face lightens, eyes beginning to tear up.

"It's you Freddie!" George throws his arms around him, he returns the same. Sobbing quietly into each other's shoulders.

"I'm, I'm so sorry. It should of been me Freddie"

"Oi stop that, what happened has happened. It's not your fault" Fred assures.

"If I didn't send you off to fight so quickly you would still be here"

"Please stop blaming yourself, stop holding this anger for yourself. Let it go. The past has happened, let go. It's ok" Fred softly spoken says to a broken George.

“Anyway I have some amazing things to tell you about the other side” Fred says, strolling over to his old bed and falling onto it. George looks enticed as he sits back onto his pillows, savouring every minute with his best friend before it slips out of his grip

“Right so remember the Marauders Map? The names on the front, Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs? I found out who they were and you won’t believe it ” Fred says raising his eyebrows in excitement.

“Who are they?” George asks inquisitively.

“James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. They were best friends at Hogwarts and apparently better known as the prankers of the school,” Fred says crossing his legs.

“WHAT?”

“I know, also that whole situation with Sirius Black it is a huuuuge misunderstanding, honestly once you get to the other side you find out everything,” Fred’s arms rest behind his head and he lays back down.

“So what happened after you, you know. I mean did it hurt?” George asks, looking down.

“Well, it hurt for a little while, I consumed all the pain from the attack then all the emotional pain from after you all found out. It was dreadful, but after a while it started to sink in. I saw you, by the way, holding my cold body. I know how much this is hurting you. I’m so sorry,” Fred says, holding back tears. Occasional voice cracks and choked back tears. Fred raised to see George, and went to sit on his bed.

"I miss you Freddie, I miss you so much. It hurts so much. I want it to stop. The pain. Everything. I just want to be with you," George cried.

"I miss you more than you can imagine. I sit watching you, I feel your pain, every heart ache, every wincing pain you feel. But please you need to think of yourself, and mum. I mean mum, she hasn’t been the same. Percy, Bill and Charlie all dodge her letters everytime she asks them to come down. I know inside they are hurting and they can’t bring themselves to come back, but it’s killing mum. Her and dads relationship is just going downhill. No spark. Nothing. No talk of muggles, no nothing. Ginny she feels like she’s lost both her brothers, she needs you Georgie, so does dad. He goes out every night and sobs for hours on end feeling like he’s lost everyone. Ron doesn’t speak to Harry or Hermione anymore. No owls, no sneaking out. Nothing. It’s heartbreaking,” Fred chokes out, tears running down his cheeks.

George goes to open his mouth, but closes it not knowing what to say feeling overwhelming guilt. He looked around, no life in the room. At this point his eyes were swollen once again and flooded with tears.

“That was awfully modest of you Freddie, a bit too mature for my liking” George laughs, Fred returning the same manner.

“Well what can I say, I’m all knowing and legendary now” Fred jokes smirking. George wipes a tear escaping his eye.

“At least no-one will get confused between us anymore and do the awkward thing when they realise they mess up,” Fred says.

“I’d rather go through life with people mistaking us than to be going through life without you,” Solemnly George said, looking Fred dead in the eyes.

"Come on Georgie your worse than Moaning Myrtle! Also that was painfully cliché it hurt my soul,” Fred says sarcastically. George sniffles.

“Look George, you need to stop dwelling on me. I know it hurts, it feels as though your heart is literally broken, as though knives pierce through your chest every damn second. But things will get better. And one day, maybe not now, but it won’t hurt as much. Your going to go on, find a beautiful wife or husband. Have some annoying kids, teach them about their legendary uncle Fred. How he wishes he could meet them, but he’s watching from above. Tell them about every prank we played. How we tormented Professor McGonagall-,”

"Fred I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that without you, everything will be so different. Christmas will be so different,” George cried, tears streaming down his heated cheeks.

"Yes it will, but I'll be there, you won't see me but I will be there. I will in sit next to you and watch you attempt mums sprouts even though you hate them, I'll watch you play board games and watch Ron go red and angry after he looses another game to Ginny. I’ll be there with you always,” Tears rolled more frequently down Fred’s face now, as he attempted to stop them with his jumper.

“You were supposed to be my best man, you were supposed to help me annoy Percy, you were supposed to- you were supposed to be here Fred!” George began to get frustrated.

“Oi oi now, it’s okay, I will always be your best man. Even if I’m not standing next to you at the alter physically,or God I don’t know when you buy your first couch. I will be with you spiritually. I mean I think that’s how this shit works,” The silly red head jokes.

“Please don’t ever leave me, I can’t do this without you. Your my best friend.”

"Hey, who says your going through this alone? I will be here for you always. That’s why I came back. One last time, just to ease your mind. Plus I couldn’t just leave you without a proper goodbye could I now?” Fred says winking before a sob breaks out between the two.

"So please, for me. Go and remind mum that your still here, tell dad he’s not alone. Go into Ginny and hug her, she really really needs you. Tell Ron that it’s okay to let others in. He doesn’t feel like he can talk to anyone. As for the others, tell them to come down. Mum needs to see them. She misses us so much,” George took in the word ‘us’ before breaking down again.

The twins embraced into a hug. Wanting to stay there forever.

“Oh and George?”

“Yes,”

“I love you, please don’t give up. Also never forget me or I will haunt your ass.

“Don’t be stupid Freddie, I love you so much. Never leave me.

They embrace into a hug yet this time so tight, they couldn't breathe. Reminiscing every moment together before their departing.

“George, I have to go now. You need to let me go,”Fred sobbed.

“I can’t Freddie, I can’t leave you,”

“You need to, my body is cold. You need you to move on,”

“Just five minutes more?” George questioned.

“Five minutes more,” Fred rested his head onto George’s shoulder, crying into it.

Five minutes had passed.

“Right time for me to get back. I love you so much” Fred let go of the warm embrace.

“Fred I’m scared,”

"I know you are, I am too. But I'll be waiting right here for you when your time comes. I will be right here to welcome you back, until we meet again brother." Fred says a tear escaping his eyes. Holding each other as if the earth was about to explode, George jolted awake.

"Freddie!" George exclaims shooting his hand out and sitting up abruptly. Scanning the empty room his breathing begins to slow down as he rests his hand upon his fast heartbeat. Fuck he mutters running his cold hands through his hair. He had felt a dampness on his shoulder. The whole experience felt so real. Maybe it was. Either way it had felt it.

Getting up from his bed, inhaling and exhaling, George opens the door for the first time in three weeks. He was so normal to smelling his mothers Scouse ready in a pot, hearing Ron muttering 'bloody hell' to himself after messing something up, his father rambling about Muggles obsessing over the purpose of a tennis ball. He was used to Fred coming upstairs with more supplies for their joke shop. Instead was an immediate cold draft and deadly silence. For a split second, the desire to crawl back into his bed, shutting out the outside world and crying into his pillow for the rest of his life, was such a convincing idea George’s hand rested upon the door nob. A faint familiar voice creeps into his head.

‘You need to let me go’ Fred’s voice had creeped into his mind. And with that, George had let go of the door nob and began to make his way downstairs. Walking downstairs taking in every little detail that he didn’t realise before. Not coming out of his room hardly for three months had really shocked him of how isolated from reality he could be strung into. He scanned the kitchen spotting Molly who was stood by the oven, her hands just resting upon the surface and her head is dropped and a few tears splash against the chopping board. Without warning George's large arms wrapped around Molly mid-waist. She had jumped slightly, startled by the sudden act of affection which broke George's heart even more.

“It’s okay, someday we will be with him,” Fred says settling his head onto Mollys shoulders, a choked cry coming from Molly.

The Weasley family, or what was left, had tried their best to act normal. George had helped Molly with the tea, not speaking much yet. But for the first time in three months, the ache in his heart began to feel less sore. That night, Molly, Arthur, Fred, Ron and Ginny all reunited for a pot of Scouse; chatted a little, laughed a little, cried a little. Most importantly things began to become more normal. Realising about how isolated the family had became, they had decided the best thing to do was to remind themselves that Fred would hate this divide.

After tea, Fred went upstairs to spend some time with his siblings. He had knocked to enter Ginnys room. She was sat writing in her journal already crying. He had asked what the matter was, asking what she had written in her journal. She passed her journal to him after two minutes.

“I just feel like, I’ve lost all my brothers. And it’s the worst feeling ever. I miss you all so much. I miss Ron telling me to go away, I miss George annoying me, I miss Charlie and Bill telling me about their crazy adventures. I miss Fred, I miss him so much. I just want my brothers back” Fred read, tears falling onto the page. Looking back up towards a fragile Ginny Fred replied.

“I know what you feel like, I miss them too especially Fred. It hurts so much. But you will never loose me and you haven’t lost Fred. This pain, is just temporary. Okay?” The red headed siblings engulf into a hug for the first proper time in three months. Following was another knock at the door, entering a sniffling Ron who ran over to them, dropped to his knees and embraced into the hug. Fred turned to him.

“You can’t shut people out forever. It’s time for us to move on. It’s time to let go. We will see him again. Someday we’re going to be with him,” Fred comforted, holding back his own painful tears. They had spent the whole night talking about him one last time for a while, reminiscing about the best memories before letting go. Ready to move on. Not forgetting Fred, no not at all. But more for their own sake, for Fred’s sake.

After leaving Ginnys room, George fell onto his bed. Crying a little more, he reminded himself of what he had said to the others. ‘It's okay I know someday I'm going to be with you,' He thought to himself before he fell into another deep sleep until morning.

I WROTE THIS ON WATTPAD ASWELL BUT IT BELONGS ON TUMBLR AND I MADE IT BETTER. also this was the most heartbreakign thing i’ve ever wrote my heart HURTS. please send feedback bc i would love to hear any suggestions or comments:)

[gumnut-logic]

The Tattoo (Part Nine)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven - Bit 1| Bit 2 | Part Eight - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Part Nine

Apologies for the delay with this. Muse got hit by illness and I’m only now coming right (on the last day of my holiday ::grinds teeth:: ).

Not sure about this bit. Been staring at it all day so I’m going to drop it here and run.

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @vegetacide​ for the read throughs and support. You guys are amazing.

Warnings: One swear word, but it was needed. Buckets of angst, sorry.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke early the next morning. Woken by pain and worn off meds, he was forced out of bed by the sheer ache in his shoulder, arm and wrist.

Movement was hell.

He desperately needed a shower, coffee and, he had to admit it, painkillers.

Today was going to suck.

He was still in his damn jeans and ruined shirt. He considered attempting to remove the clothing, but was far from confident that he would be able to replace them. Wandering about the villa naked wasn’t preferred.

So first priority was to dig up some meds so he could move and get himself showered and mobile.

He sucked in a breath and headed to the door in socked feet.

He made it to the infirmary undetected, but that should have given him a clue. It may be five am, but he had brothers up before the sun every morning.

And a grandmother who refused to waste a single day.

“Virgil?”

He had his head in the medicine cabinet and he hadn’t heard her enter. Caught with his hand in the cookie jar and he had no excuses.

Just an aching body.

He turned slowly, his one working shoulder slumping. “Grandma.”

She approached and gently nudged him aside, reaching into the cabinet and snagging a bottle. Turning, she cupped his hand in hers and nestled the medication into his palm with her other hand. “These should do the job.”

She held his eyes for a moment before pulling away and turning to leave.

His heart lurched.

“Grandma?”

Her hand landed on his bicep again and gently squeezed, but she stepped away without a word, heading towards the door.

“Grandma, please.”

She stopped, but didn’t turn back.

“Please let me explain.” His voice broke on the last word and he found his heart in his throat. “I’m sorry, Grandma. Please, I’m sorry.”

He could blame it on the early hour, the pain, the post injury weariness, but honestly, it was simply because he loved his grandmother and couldn’t bear to think he had broken her trust irrevocably.

There was a tension in her shoulders that suddenly released and she slumped where she stood, her whole posture going limp.

When she turned there were once again tears in her eyes.

The sight broke his heart and he was moving. “Grandma, don’t...I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He wrapped her in his one good arm and cursed the arm that caused all this to begin with. Cursed himself for being the source of so much pain.

But she was suddenly clinging to him, sobbing on his shoulder.

Oh god.

Grandma.

His eyes pricked with their own tears and he was blinking madly. “Grandma, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” The words were soft and muffled by flannel. A rough breath and his grandmother pulled away a little, watery blue eyes looking up at him with such love and sadness, he wasn’t sure his heart could take it.

The pain in his chest out shone that in his arm.

“Virgil, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

He blinked and stared at her, ignoring the single tear that escaped and tracked down his cheek. “What?” It was dumb and stupid and yet another sign that he needed coffee, but... “Grandma, you’ve always been there. Always.”

She reached up and wiped away the tear with her fingertip. “Not enough, honey.” Her eyes drifted to his shoulder before closing again. She dropped her forehead onto his chest.

He found his hand stroking her hair automatically.

-o-o-o-

Sally Tracy considered herself a strong woman. She had seen much in her relatively long life. She’d seen death and injury, lost those she loved, oh, so many she loved. But she had clung to her tenets of strength and stubbornness and the Tracy maxim of never giving up. She weathered it all.

She would never have thought that simple ink on the scarred shoulder of her grandson could disassemble her so easily.

The sight of those dates, several of which were etched into her own mind, the symbolism and the pain behind elegance...it had knifed straight into her heart and broken it.

To her absolute shame, she had not only fled her patient, but her beloved grandson. Left him in pain and anguish, and god, failed both herself and her family.

The anger had been at herself. At fate and its cruelty in scarring a man who could not be kinder, who made the world a better place simply by being himself.

The injustice screamed at her.

But most of all, it was the shock, the absolute shame of her not knowing. The knowledge that Virgil had been suffering with this FOR YEARS and she hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t seen.

Her doctorate, her experience, her love. It had all failed him and her.

It was crushing.

So she had struck out, struggling to reassert her strength and determination amongst grief and denial.

And only hurt him more.

Fuck.

And now, where she should be showing strength, should be supporting and reassuring him, he was forced to care for her as she failed yet again.

His strong hand in her hair and her tears on his ruined shirt, she was little more than the farm girl she started out as, so long ago, wishing Grant was there to tell her everything was going to be alright.

“Grandma?” His voice cracked.

It was enough. She straightened and stepped back, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, Virgil.”

The worry in his dark eyes as he held her arm. “No, no, don’t apologise. Grandma-“

“You need to take your medication, Virgil.”

Her words stopped him short and those eyes flinched just a little.

She cursed herself again.

She was the parent. She was the caregiver. For goodness sake!

“Honey, you’re in pain. Let’s get that fixed and then we can talk.” She held back a flinch herself. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to face what was on his shoulder and what it meant. It scared her. Its existence and the concept it was a ‘compromise’ absolutely terrified her that despite doing everything she could for her boys, she hadn’t done enough.

The possibility that her beloved grandson had almost been lost due to her own neglect.

He was still staring at her.

Her hand was shaking as she took his, fingers still clasped around the pill bottle. “Take your medication, honey.”

He looked down at their hands and back up at her before stepping aside and placing the pills on the table. He paused staring and she realised her stupidity.

He only had one hand.

She blinked. Grabbing the bottle, she opened it and shook two of the tablets into his hand. Cap back on, she went to the sink and acquiring a glass, filled it with water. The familiar motions were a little reassuring. She was being useful.

His eyes never left her a moment.

She returned to him and held out the glass.

He shoved the pills in his mouth and took the water, throwing it back to down the medication.

She stared as his larynx bounced in his throat.

The glass landed quietly on the counter as he swallowed the last of the water.

She waited.

He exhaled.

“Grandma-“

“I need to see it.” The words fell from her lips without thought and she regretted them immediately.

He stared at her, eyes widening.

Her heart twisted.

And he retreated, stepping back and turning away. He grabbed the pill bottle and made himself busy putting it back in the cupboard.

She stared at the back of his ruined shirt, the plaid wrinkled as he moved.

Then he ran out of busy work.

He kept his back turned to her, stiff and so...hurting, her throat closed up again.

“Grandma, I don’t want to hurt you...any more.” His voice was parched and slightly muffled by the fact he refused to look at her. Her only clue to his expression was what little she could see of his reflection in the glass of the cabinet door.

Dark hair, dark eyes, one of her grandbabies...

Her hand touched his back and his muscles tensed under her fingertips. “You haven’t hurt me, Virgil.”

He spun around at that, grabbing at his arm as the movement obviously aggravated it. “I made you cry, Grandma. Twice.” His crumpled brow illustrated exactly the pain she had caused him with her reactions.

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “Because I failed you. I’m your grandmother-“

But he was shaking his head and her hand slipped away. “You can’t fix this, Grandma. I...” He let out a frustrated breath before catching her eyes. “This is on me. This is my issue and I’m handling it the best I can.”

And he turned away again.

Perhaps she was a failure because she couldn’t leave it there. “Please talk to me, Virgil.”

“What do you want me to say?” It was desolate.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Perhaps that was the core of it. He always came to her for advice and assistance, yet, in the moment of his direst need, he hadn’t.

He sighed. “Grandma, we’d just lost Dad. You were grieving. Everyone was grieving. I thought I could handle it.” He was staring at the countertop. “And when I realised I couldn’t, it was too late.”

She took a step closer, once again unable to resist placing a hand on his back. “It is never too late. You can come to me with anything at anytime.”

“Not this.” Another sigh. “Never this.” He closed his eyes and hunched in on himself and she wanted nothing more than to hold him like she had as a toddler and make everything better.

She was his grandmother, it was her job.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

He didn’t even verbalise his reply, only shaking his head, still staring at the counter.

“Are you seeing someone?”

He nodded.

At least that was something.

“Has it helped?”

“I’m okay, Grandma.”

Her fingers tangled in flannel. He didn’t look okay. Every alarm both medical and parental were screaming in her head. “Promise me?”

Dark, bloodshot eyes darted in her direction. He couldn’t lie to her, she knew that. At least not to her face. Perhaps that was the hardest part of this - the fact he had managed to hide this from her despite that.

He held her gaze a moment longer and she saw a decision made as he closed his eyes for just a second before reaching for the buttons on his shirt and undoing them one by one.

She dared not say anything to interrupt him. Dared not assist him. This was his decision, despite her request. The wrecked shirt was shucked from his shoulders and discarded on a chair.

He began picking at his bandages.

“Virgil?”

“You want to see? You’re going to have to help me.” It was sharp, but she wasn’t arguing, quick fingers unwrapping the bandaging that both held his injured arm and wrist to his body and hid the tattoo on his shoulder.

As the limb came loose, he hissed between his teeth and she almost called the entire thing to a halt. He must have sensed her hesitancy because he took over pulling the bandaging off willy nilly.

“Virgil.”

“You want to see it. I want you to understand.”

“Not if it is going to hurt you further.”

“It’s going to hurt, no matter what, so I’d rather get it over and done with.”

Damnit. “Well, at least sit down. Here.” She nudged him toward one of the beds. 

He shuffled backwards and planted himself on the edge. She grabbed the control and lowered it further so he could slide on comfortably.

His sigh was more of a groan and her guilt was a physical thing.

But she had to know.

The bandages came away revealing the expected swelling around his shoulder. Her medical eye did an assessment and was happy with its state, but it was the creep of black ink, the curl of a stylised leaf and the white of old scars that marred the apex of his scapula that churned her stomach.

As he settled into a slump on the side of the bed, he let his eyes close. “Look. Ask. I will answer what I can.”

“I’m sorry, Virgil.”

“Grandma, just do it, please.”

Her lips tightened, but she moved around the end of the bed and approached him from behind.

It was an axe. A great Celtic axe adorned with knotted ribbon and stylised ivy. The handle of the axe was clutched in the talons of a great bird of prey. Whether it was a real bird or mythical, she had no idea. The whole adornment covered his entire shoulder and bled towards his lower back.

For the most part it was a normal tattoo, an impressive one, even, but the blade of the axe had a date etched into it, literally etched in relief. Her grandson’s skin rose tight and puckered red. The date of his mother’s death.

Next to it was another date. The date of his father’s disappearance.

Woven amongst the Celtic knots a ghastly red ribbon wrapped around and around the handle of the axe, looping around an ankle of the bird and curling outside the extent of the tattoo and heading down towards his lumbar spine.

The ribbon had dates. So many dates.

The occasional name appeared on the knots. She even recognised a few. The last date was Cassandra McCready and her name was calligraphied on the handle.

There was so much information, she wasn’t sure where to look and it took her a moment to realise the worst of it all. 

As she stepped closer to her grandson the light cast shadows. Each date rose in scar, but underneath it all, underneath every inked line there were a series of deeper scars hidden, dimpling dark skin.

As if a claw had torn at her grandson’s shoulder, attempting to rip the skin off his body.

The ink glittered dully in the overhead lighting.

Sally swallowed and tried to get her heart and breathing under control.

“It is done by a professional, Grandma. Safe and sterile. Confidentiality is in place. The artist can be trusted.”

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes following the scars, catching dates she could connect in her head with disasters. At the very top of the axe a moniker caught her eye.

Oh, god.

Grandpa.

Grant Tracy.

It was tiny, beautifully scripted, and in that moment she had an inkling of exactly why her grandson did this. This memorial. This honour to those he had lost.

And why those dates were raised. Unthinking, she reached out and touched her fingertip gently to her husband’s name. Virgil’s skin was warm and the scar rough.

“Grandpa was one of the first.”

She snatched her hand away and his shoulder flexed. A hiss and Virgil clutched at his arm again.

“Honey?”

“It has grown over the years. Never expected it to get this big.” It was said through gritted teeth. 

“Does it have everyone?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“No. Only those I failed.”

“You have never failed anyone, Virgil.”

“I...” His head dipped. “I wish that were true.” A ragged breath. “I’ve held so many last moments, Grandma. Been unable to reach. Missed at the last second. They scream. They always scream. Their eyes cry out and I’m just not enough. Not fast enough. Not close enough. Not smart enough. They deserve more, but I can’t give it to them.” Another breath, this one shaking. “So I give them this at least. Memory. I can remember them and try harder next time.”

Sally’s hand was shaking as she laid her palm against his back. A moment and her cheek followed, her arms wrapping around him the best she could. His good shoulder flexed under her temple as he captured her hands in his single one. “I’m okay, Grandma. I promise.”

-o-o-o-

End Part Nine

Next

[theloreofwhatilove]

She said the easter eggs 🐣 are lyrical 📝 instead of visual 👀 so here’s every parallel I could find so far 🔍

🍂 the 1

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit 🆚 I’m doing better than I ever was (ciwyw)

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow 🆚 if I bleed you’ll be the last to know (cruel summer) 🆚 you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding (cardigan)

roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool 🆚 have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years? (lover) 🆚 I've been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night (daylight) 🆚 once in twenty lifetimes (cardigan) 🆚️ only twenty minutes to sleep (epiphany)

for never leaving well enough alone 🆚 I never leave well enough alone (me!)

and it's another day, waking up alone 🆚 and I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side (dress) 🆚 we both wake in lonely beds, different cities (sad beautiful tragic)

🍂 cardigan

when you are young, they assume you know nothing 🆚 when you’re young you just run (this love)

high heels on cobblestones 🆚️ I was walking home on broken cobblestones (betty)

a friend to all is a friend to none 🆚 all of my enemies started out friends (the archer)

your heartbeat on the High Line 🆚 my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue (ithk)

you stepping on the last train 🆚 we wait for trains that just aren't coming (new romantics) 🆚 I stood right by the tracks (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 the train runs off its tracks (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train (tlgad)

marked me like a bloodstain 🆚 made your mark on me (dress) 🆚 you’re still all over me like a whine stained dress (clean) 🆚 this love left a permanent mark (this love) 🆚️ and you can aim for my heart, go for blood (my tears ricochet) 🆚️ sir, I think hes bleeding out (epiphany)

and when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite 🆚️ but I know I miss you, standing in your cardigan (betty)

leaving like a father, running like water 🆚 clear blue water, high tide came and brought you in (this love) 🆚 skies grew darker, currents swept you out again (this love)

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss 🆚 made your mark on me, a golden tattoo (dress)

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs 🆚 can't turn back now, I'm haunted (haunted) 🆚️ you know I didn't want to have to haunt you (my tears ricochet)

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time 🆚 it's 2am and I'm cursing your name (twily) 🆚️ cursing my name, wishing I'd stayed (my tears ricochet)

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired 🆚 you searched the world for something else to make you feel like what we had (wonderland) 🆚 “what you've heard is true but I can't stop thinking about you” (style)

and you'd be standing in my front porch light 🆚 stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain, she’ll open up the door and say “are you insane?” (hygtg) 🆚 wishing you were at my door, I’d open up and you would say (enchanted) 🆚 this is the last time I let you in my door (the last time) 🆚 you find yourself at my door just like all those times before (the last time) 🆚️ and maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway (this is me trying) 🆚️ Betty, I'm here on your doorstep (betty)

and I knew you'd come back to me 🆚 this love came back to me (this love) 🆚 now you say you want it back, now that it's just too late (ayhtdws)

the smell of smoke would hang around this long 🆚️ clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke (daylight)

to kiss in cars and downtown bars 🆚️ remember when I pulled up and said "get in the car" (august) 🆚️ pulled the car off the road to the lookout (this is me trying) 🆚️ remember when you hit the brakes too soon? (ootw) 🆚️ all I know is that you drive us off the road (ayhtdws) 🆚️ "I rent a place on Cornelia Street" I say casually in the car (cornelia street) 🆚️ we were in the backseat drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar (cornelia street) 🆚️ I'm drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (cruel summer) 🆚️ she said "James, get in, let's drive" (betty) 🆚️ lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we can follow the sparks, I'll drive (ithk)

🍂 last great american dynasty

their parties were tasteful, if a little loud 🆚 it was so nice throwing big parties (tiwwchnt)

there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen 🆚 in the end in wonderland we both went mad (wonderland) 🆚 it's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind (wonderland) 🆚️ and there's nothing like a mad woman, what a shame she went mad, no one likes a mad woman (mad woman) 🆚️ they'd paint me out to be bad so, it's okay that I'm mad (the man)

filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names 🆚 jump into the pool from the balcony, everyone swimming in a champagne sea (tiwwchnt) 🆚 in the winter, in the icy outdoor pool, when you jumped in first, I went in too (paper rings) 🆚️ roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool (the 1)

Holiday House sat quietly on that beach, free of women with madness, heir men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me 🆚 bad bad boy, shiny toy with a price, you know that I bought it (cruel summer)

I had a marvelous time ruining everything 🆚️ they say I did something bad but why's it feel so good? most fun I ever had and I'd do it over and over and over again if I could (idsb)

🍂 exile

you’re not my homeland anymore 🆚 our country guess it was a lawless land (dbatc)

you were my town 🆚 you’re the west village (false god)

now I’m in exile seeing you out 🆚 and I can still see you; this ain't the best view, on the outside, lookin' in (the outside) 🆚️ visions of dazzling rooms I'll never get let into (beautiful ghosts)

I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending 🆚 music starts playin' like the end of a sad movie, it's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see (breathe) 🆚 tried to change the ending (cardigan)

you were my crown 🆚 they took the crown (ciwyw)

I think I’ve seen this film before so I’m leaving out the side door 🆚 you gotta leave before you get left (idsb) 🆚 should’ve known I’d be the first to leave (getaway car)

we always walked a very thin line 🆚 you and I walk a fragile line (haunted) 🆚 lost your balance on a tight rope (innocent) 🆚️ I'm still on that tight rope (mirrorball)

there is no amount of crying I can do for you 🆚 you never did give a damn thing honey but I cried, cried for you (cold as you)

you didn’t even hear me out 🆚 could you just try to listen? (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing (clean)

🍂 my tears ricochet

and if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too 🆚️ and if I get burned, at least we were electrified (dress)

even on my worst day did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me? 🆚️ even in my worst times you could see the best of me (dress)

and if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? 🆚️ if the story's over why am I still writing pages? (dbatc)

and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves 🆚️ loose lips sink ships all the damn time (ikp)

cause when I'd fight you used to tell me I was brave 🆚️ this ultraviolet morning light below tells me this love is worth the fight (afterglow) 🆚️ if you wanna fight, baby let's go (battle) 🆚️ now we're fighting dirty (battle) 🆚️ fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves (afterglow) 🆚️ combat, I'm ready for combat (the archer)

🍂 seven

I was too scared to jump in 🆚️ don't be afraid to jump then fall (jump then fall)

🍂 august

but I can see us lost in the memory 🆚️ hold on to the memories (new years day) 🆚️ I bet these memories follow you around (wildest dreams)

and I can see us twisted in bedsheets 🆚️ you see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night (wildest dreams) 🆚️ and I can still see it all in my mind, all of you, all of me, intertwined (daylight)

cancel plans just in case you'd call 🆚️ paper cut stings from our paper thin plans (dbatc) 🆚️ I never planned on you changing your mind (last kiss) 🆚️ my best laid plan (hoax) 🆚️ I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans (ithk)

cancel plans just in case you'd call and say "meet me behind the mall" 🆚️ phone lights up my nightstand in the black "come here, you can meet me in the back" (delicate)

🍂 this is me trying

they told me all of my cages were mental 🆚️ gold cage, hostage to my feelings (so it goes) 🆚️ put you in jail for something you didn't do (afterglow)

and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad 🆚️ I've been the archer, I've been the prey (the archer) 🆚️ they strike to kill and you know I will (mad woman)

and it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound 🆚️ what do you say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know? (tmik) 🆚️ and it was like slow motion,standing there in my party dress, in red lipstick, with no one to impress (tmik) 🆚️ all of the moment I knew tbh

🍂 illicit affairs

tell yourself you can always stop what started in beautiful rooms 🆚️ visions of dazzling rooms I'll never get let into (beautiful ghosts)

a drug that only worked the first few hundred times 🆚️ my drug is my baby, I'll be using for the rest of my life (dont blame me) 🆚️ gave up on me like I was a bad drug (dbatc)

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me 🆚️ we made quite a mess babe (I almost do) 🆚️ I've been picking up the pieces of the mess you've made (ayhtdws) 🆚️ I'm a mess but I'm the mess that you wanted (dwoht)

and you know damn well for you I would ruin myself 🆚️ for you I would fall from grace, just to touch your face (dont blame me) 🆚️ nothing safe is worth the drive (treacherous)

you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else 🆚️ the rest of the world was black and white, but was were in screaming color (ootw)

🍂 invisible string

cutting me open, then healing me fine 🆚️ paper cut stings from our paper thin plans (dbatc) 🆚️ so cut the headlights, summer's a knife, I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone (cruel summer) 🆚️ but I'll be alright it's just a thousand cuts (dbatc)

pulled me out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar 🆚️ dive bar on the east side, where you at? (delicate)

🍂 mad woman

do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? 🆚️ I see your face in my mind as I walk away (breathe)

no one likes a mad woman, you made her like that 🆚️ look what you made me do (lwymmd) 🆚️ dont blame me, love made me crazy (dont blame me)

and women like hunting witches, too 🆚️ theure burning all the witches even if you arent one (idsb)

does she smile? or does she mouth "fuck you forever"? 🆚️ but if I just showed up at your party would you have me? would you want me? would you tell me to go fuck myself (betty)

🍂 betty

you heard the rumors from Inez, you can't believe a word she says most times, but this time it was true 🆚️ the rumors are terrible and cruel, but honey, most of them are true (new romantics) 🆚️ ain't it funny, rumors fly, and I know you heard about me (blank space)

in the garden would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing? 🆚️ and I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate (cruel summer) 🆚️ I dont trust nobody, and nobody trusts me (lwymmd)

I don't know anything but I know I miss you 🆚️ I don't know how to be something you miss (last kiss)

just thinking of you when she pulled up 🆚️ he says, "what you've heard is true but I can't stop thinking about you" (style)

🍂 peace

the devil's in the details but you got a friend in me 🆚️ it's nice to have a friend (inthaf)

you paint dreamscapes on the wall 🆚️ you put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray (cold as you)

I talk shit with my friends 🆚️ if a man talks ahit then I owe him nothing (idsb)

and you know that I'd swing with you for the fences 🆚️ lights flash and we'll run for the fences (ikp)

give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other 🆚️ you can hear it in the silence (you are in love)

but I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm 🆚️ he built a fire just to keep me warm (ciwyw)

all these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret 🆚️ I, I loved you in secret, first sight, yeah, we love without reason (dwoht)

🍂 hoax

my twisted knife 🆚️ I brought a knife to a gun fight (ciwyw)

your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in 🆚️ even if it's a false god, we'd still worship this love (false god)

don't want no other shade of blue but you 🆚️ deep blue but you painted me golden (dwoht) 🆚️ it's blue, the feeling I've got (cruel summer) 🆚️ I'm with you even if it makes me blue (paper rings) 🆚️ my hearts been borrowed and yours has been blue (lover) 🆚️ we're so sad we paint the town blue (ma&thp) 🆚️ I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue (afterglow)

you knew the hero died, so what's the movie for 🆚️ you know the greatest films of all time were never made (the 1) 🆚️ all of my heroes died all alone (the archer)

you knew it still hurts underneath my scars 🆚️ with every guitar string scar on my hand (lover) 🆚️ you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding (cardigan)

you knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? 🆚️ but now we've stepped into a cruel world where everybody stands and keeps score (eyes open)

my only one, my kingdom come undone 🆚️ I dont like your kingdom keys, they once belonged to me (lwymmd)

[infinitevariety]

May Your Days By Merry

Having never been able to celebrate previously, Aziraphale and Crowley decide to embrace the festive season and make the most of their first December together since the world didn’t end.

Chapter Twelve: Visiting (AO3)

Aziraphale drags Crowley around to visit his neighbours and deliver Christmas cards, but that isn’t all Aziraphale is doing.

“Why do I have to come?” grumbles Crowley as Aziraphale shoos him towards the door of the bookshop.

“Because it’s a nice festive thing for us to do together, for others.”

“I don’t even know these people.”

“You do!”

Aziraphale is actually prodding Crowley in the back now, all but pushing him to leave the shop. Crowley just really doesn’t want to go.

“You know Esme from the bakery, Shirley at the cafe, and Luca in the wine shop.”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Aziraphale sighs. “You’d know their faces.”

Apparently deciding on a new tactic, Aziraphale moves around in front of Crowley and pulls him forwards by the wrist.

“If I know these people, why didn’t you ask me to sign any of the Christmas cards?”

Aziraphale takes a breath to speak, but draws up short. Aha! Crowley’s got him.

“Well… I didn’t know… I wouldn’t like to presume…” Aziraphale lets go of Crowley’s wrist to wring his own hands. “If you want to sign the cards, we can get them out and—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Crowley is quick to reassure Aziraphale and mend the broken look on his face. “I’ll come, but only because you want me to—not because I care about these people.”

Aziraphale hums sceptically, but doesn’t comment. Crowley strides past him to throw open the door. Extending an arm out into the cold, bright street.

“Come on then, angel. Let’s get going.”

“Let’s go to the bakery first,” says Aziraphale as he passes by Crowley on the doorstep. “That way I can get a bite for breakfast as well.”

And so they visit the fancy little French bakery and its head baker (Esme, apparently). Aziraphale gives her his Christmas card and exchanges a few words with her. At one point Aziraphale points over to where Crowley is hovering by the door and Emse looks over at him and waves. Crowley quickly waves awkwardly back before turning away.

By the time Aziraphale is finished and ready to leave, Esme is smiling brighter and the mood in the whole shop is lighter. Crowley and Aziraphale move on.

“I think we should see Shirley at the cafe next,” says Aziraphale as they walk. “I can get one of those gingerbread hot chocolates to wash down my breakfast canelés.”

“I could go for a coffee,” admits Crowley.

It’s busy when they arrive at the cafe, and they queue politely for several minutes. By the time they reach the counter, the woman behind it (Shirley, apparently) looks more harried than normal.

“Shirley, my dear, how are you doing?”

“Mr Fell, always a pleasure. I’m busy, but good. What would you like today?”

Crowley slinks off to the side while Aziraphale orders their drinks, chitchats with Shirley, and gives her a Christmas card. They talk of inconsequential things—how much longer the mail is taking in the run up to Christmas, what time the cafe is closing on Christmas eve, Shirley’s cousin Dave who got a fancy milk frother and now thinks he’s a barista. Crowley doesn’t know how Aziraphale does it. When his coffee is placed in front of him, Crowley takes it gratefully, sipping at it and zoning out of the conversation completely.

When Crowley hears his name, he quickly zones back in. He’s not fast enough to register what was said, but Shirley looks at him with a soft smile on her face before turning back to Aziraphale, so whatever it was can’t be good—or was good, which is bad.

As they step back outside not long later, they leave the cafe a happier place. Shirley looks fresh-faced and every customer is smiling.

“Where next?” asks Crowley with a sidelong glance at Aziraphale.

On they go.

To the sushi restaurant, where Crowley has no clue what is being said between Aziraphale and the head chef in their perfect Japanese. But Crowley gets another smile and wave, and the air in the restaurant is fresher as they depart.

To the chocolate shop, where Aziraphale spends so long chatting to the owner that Crowley has time to select a moderately sized box of luxury Christmas-themed chocolates for Aziraphale to enjoy later. As he pays, Crowley gets a wink from the cashier before her focus shifts to something over his shoulder. Crowley turns to see Aziraphale and the owner looking across at him, twin smiles on their faces. When they leave a few minutes later, the shop is almost glowing with good energy.

To the young couple who live in the flat above the sex shop down the road from the bookshop. Aziraphale stands on their doorstep whispering closely with them both. Crowley stands, fidgeting on the pavement. His movements only become more erratic when he hears his name and the couple look over at him. The man gives him a thumbs up and the woman laughs, small and warm, before they both look back to Aziraphale. The air surrounding the couple hums with warmth as they say goodbye and close the door.

To the wine shop—their last stop, Aziraphale assures Crowley—where Aziraphale talks animately to the salesman (Luca, apparently) while Crowley browses the shelves. A few nice vintages catch his eye, and Crowley purchases them, still waiting for Aziraphale to finish up. Aziraphale appears to be considering a bottle himself. He has the wine in one hand as he talks to Luca and motions towards Crowley with the other. Luca looks over to him, smiles and nods, before turning back to Aziraphale and pointing out a different bottle of wine. Once their wine has be bought they leave the shop, which is decidedly more cosy and welcoming than when they arrived.

“You blessed them.”

Crowley wastes no time in coming out with it as soon as they’re inside and the door to the bookshop is closed and locked.

“Of course I did,” says Aziraphale as he hangs up his coat and scarf.

Peeling off his own outerwear, Crowley wonders why he was surprised. Yes, of course, Aziraphale blessed them.

“Were the Christmas cards just an excuse?”

“Not completely, but it’s nice to feed two birds from one hand.”

Crowley can only smile.

They settle down into their usual seats and Crowley holds up one of the bottles of wine he bought. It might only be two in the afternoon, but Aziraphale nods.

“What were you telling them about me?” asks Crowley as he pours the wine and hands a glass to Aziraphale.

“Who?” asks Aziraphale, not meeting Crowley’s eye.

“Everyone. At some point they all looked at me and got this… friendly look on their face. What did you say to them?”

“Oh, well, mostly people asked how I plan to spend Christmas, and I told them it was just me and…” Aziraphale still refuses to look at Crowley, and his cheeks were turning rosy. “…and you. That it was our first proper Christmas together, and that so far you’d made it such a special one.”

Crowley can feel his insides squirm in a strangely pleasant way. He’s not sure, but he thinks this feeling is called delight. He’s delighted that Aziraphale spoke about him in that way. That Crowley isn’t ruining their first holiday season, and that Aziraphale wants to boast about him to other people.

“Maybe next year,” says Crowley, “we can both sign the Christmas cards.”

Finally, Aziraphale looks over at him. “I’d like that.”

A blush of his own rises to Crowley’s cheeks. He blames the wine.

[alindakb]

Treasures at the Manor - by Alinda

Draco looks at the tears making their way down his mother's cheeks. Her mascara is running down from her eyes. Draco can’t blame her. This used to be their home, the place that was a safe heaven until the war started. The overgrown building in front of them doesn’t resemble the house it once was. The perfect garden replaced by weeds that have taken over. Gnomes have nestled their way into the bushes and make more noise than all the white peacocks used to. It’s strange and heartbreaking seeing the home Draco grew up in this broken down. The left-wing has crumbled, the bricks pilled together, overgrown by plants. The front door is broken, the black wood cracked where spells hit it to break it open.

Together with his mother, they step around the broken doors. Draco grabs his mothers hand when they see the torn paintings in the hall. The memory of Draco’s ancestors torn away, to be never heard or seen again. His grandfather was between these, and his grandmother, a kind and loving woman that always encouraged Draco to be his best and to be kind. It was a shame she died so young. Grandfather and father might have been more tolerable of Draco’s choices if she had been around longer.

Most of the furniture has gone, taken or destroyed by the elements. Years of abandonment haven’t done the Manor any good. Or maybe it has. This way no evil Lord can ever call it home again, even though the atmosphere is perfect for a criminal hangout. Draco wonders if any ghost lives in the Manor now, still here after dying in the battle years ago. It had been the worst day of Draco’s life, being part of the resistance that had to storm his family home. Facing his own father in a battle that almost claimed his life. Harry had been enraged when he found out that Draco hadn’t almost made it out. Yelled at him for being an idiot to think he could talk sense into his father during a battle. But Draco had to try, had to see if his father could be saved from a life in Azkaban.

It was the end of the war and the end of the Malfoy legacy. Father had died when Blaise had saved Draco’s life, mother arrested and shipped off to Azkaban until her trial. In the end she was sentenced to five years imprisonment for her crimes during the war. Draco had cried in Harry’s arms when the verdict was made. He knows she had done horrible things, but she was his mother. She was the woman that had learnt him how to walk and talk. She had shown him how a Malfoy had to behave in public and how to hold his cutlery during dinner parties. She had kissed his bruises when he would fall during his explorations of the gardens and hugged him when he felt lonely and afraid after waking up from the nightmares that would plague him when he was little and grandmother had just died.

Mother steps into her old bedroom and walks towards the window. Draco watches as her hand slide over the frame and more tears fall from her eyes. Draco told her it was a bad idea to go here, that there was nothing left of the life they once had in the ruin that was once their home. Only mother had wanted to see it, said she needed to say goodbye to her old life. 

Five years of Azkaban had done her no good, her face was wrinkled and her hair had become thin. Gone was the once strong woman that had stood up for Draco when he told his father that he was gay and in love with Harry Potter. She had been the only reason why Draco had been able to stay at the home he grew up in for the rest of that summer holiday. A year later that option had gone when Voldemort had returned to full power and Draco had gone home with Harry to his home on Privet Drive.

Being roommates with Harry in a muggle home was a challenge. Harry had always said his aunt and uncle didn’t treat him well, what had been the understatement of the century Draco discovered that summer. At least Draco was able to help him with the massive amounts of chores he had to do. Draco even learnt how to cook that summer. It had been something else from being served by house-elves and fancy parties, but it was one of the best summer holidays Draco ever had. And fuck it had been hard to stop sharing a bed when they were back at Hogwarts, Draco in the Slytherin dungeon and Harry up in the west tower with the other Gryffindors.

“Draco, darling, would you be so kind to lend me your wand?” mother asks. Draco hands over the hawthorn wand that he shares with Harry and watches as his mother sits down on the floor and points it at the boards. She whispers some words and the boards open before them. Mother holds out the wand and Draco takes it back. She’s not allowed to have her own during her probation, maybe even never again depending on how well she does in the new world.

Draco watches as his mother takes out a dried bouquet and smells the death flowers. “This was my wedding bouquet,” mother says. Draco sits down next to her and takes the flowers when she offers. “I was so happy back then, marrying into the Malfoy family.”

More and more precious articles rise from the secret vault of Draco’s mother. Draco’s first lock of hair, baby shoes, pictures of Draco when he was little and his father still loved him. Pictures of Lucius showing Draco how to fly and how to hold a wand. Photos of Draco dancing with his mother on one of the fancy balls they used to have. Draco underneath the Christmas tree smiling at the toys he’d just gotten.

“I didn’t know we had any of these,” Draco says. He had searched the burned house after the battle for tokens of his childhood. But there was little left to take. Even Draco’s favourite stuffed toy had taken a hex and was broken among repair. The albums burned with the rest of the library filled with books covering the dark arts. Harry had been even more upset than Draco when he realised what Draco had lost. Growing up without any pictures of his own parents had left a mark.

Mother takes out the last item, a small box. She turns it around in her hands a couple of times. “Your grandmother left this for you when she died. I made sure Lucius couldn’t get rid of it after you left, hoping that one day I would be able to give it to you.”

Draco puts down the photo’s and looks at his mother. A shy smile sits on her lips as she looks at the box. “She knew, you were only five years old and she already knew,” mother says while she shakes her head. “I didn’t want to believe her, said you would grow out of it. Back then I still believed that one day you would marry a sweet witch and continue the bloodline.”

The little box is placed in Draco’s hands. He looks at it and smiles. Grandmother was kind and loving, the way Draco wants to be, tries to be every single day.

“Go on, open it,” mother encourages him.

Draco lifts the lit of the box and stares at his grandmother's ring, the one he used to steal and hide in his room.

“You remember how you kept telling grandmother how you were going to give that ring to the prettiest man in the world to make sure they would marry you?”

Draco nods his head. He loved this ring and all it stood for. Grandmother said it was the way grandfather had told her he would love her forever and all Draco wanted as a little boy was someone who would love him like that. Someone who would hold open doors for him and take him to dances.

“I think your Harry would like it, don’t you?” mother says with a smile on her face. The first real smile Draco has seen on her since he picked her up at the gates of Azkaban. Draco pulls her into his arms and has to fight his own tears.

“Thank you, mother,” he says. He knows what this is, his mothers blessing to spend the rest of his life with Harry. And that means more to him than any other thing she could have given him.

“Now let's go and show me your new home, I’m dying to get to know that boyfriend of yours without the threat of dying in the process.”

Draco laughs and lets go of his mother. They pack up the treasures from the vault and walk out of the Manor. With one final look, they say their goodbyes and disapparate back to Grimmauld Place.

[multisfabulis]

Love’s Descent into Madness

Dethronement (Chapter 3/3)

Word Count: 3627

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, gore, decapitation, and major character death

Happy holidays!

I hope everyone likes the ending because writing this was suffering. Winter decided to come early this year and I absolutely hate the cold so a lot of this was written with numb fingers. The past few days have also been tiring and, because I wanted to get this out before Christmas, I had to pull an all-nighter to finish this and rewrite it to make it look pretty so this was a sleep-deprived fic.

Okay, so I have some things I need to explain:

First off, that line about Ayano needing to apply herself more to her schoolwork was actually a reference to a piece of fanart I saw of Saeru (in disguise as Kenjirou) helping Ayano with her homework and subtly taking digs at her the whole time. I just thought of it while I was writing that paragraph and thought it'd be a neat reference. I can't find the Tweet but I'm hoping someone has a link to it!

Second off, that instance of Kenjirou almost ruining Saeru's plan is a bit of foreshadowing to another Kagepro fic I'm in the works of writing. It may not be the next Kagepro fic I write but it IS coming.

Thirdly, the whole meaning behind Azami not being able to die but still being killed. I know it sounds like the "People die when they are killed" meme but let me explain. I needed to think of a way Azami could still die but without anyone telling me "She's immortal, she can't die" so the way I went about it is, the Queen Snake was what let her be immortal. Because that was the snake that, in my fic, marked her as a god, she couldn't die. Once she gave that snake to Marry, she lost her god status, bringing her down to our level. However, because she was still a Gorgon, I made it so that she couldn't die by natural causes, I.E. starvation, sleep deprivation, etc. She was now an immortal mortal, meaning she couldn't die from natural causes BUT she could now be killed. I don't know if this makes a lot of sense but this is the best way I can describe it.

Finally, the ending. It only occurred to me when I was writing the build-up to it that I wanted to make it a sort of dark twist on Kagepro's themes of moving on after a loved one's death. Saeru decides to move on after Azami's death but he regarded her as dead years ago and was the one to kill her. I don't know if it worked the way I wanted it to but I tried my best.

I'm happy this didn't take that long unlike another past project of mine and I hope everyone who's read this enjoyed it!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     The never-ending world, or the Daze as it was now called, had undergone many changes over the years. It was only natural since it was ordered to swallow up any unfortunate souls that were unlucky enough to die on August 15th and the world needed to accommodate for its ever increasing number of occupants. Yet there were some things that never changed, no matter how much time had passed. Absence truly did make the heart grow fonder.

     He was in very familiar territory. Casually strolling through the dark woods revealed a large clearing where a small decrepit house stood. The moon’s radiance acted as if it were a spotlight, shining down upon it to let him know she was here. It may be an inferior replica but there was no mistaking it. Saeru was home.

     It had been several years since his departure from the Daze. The rest of his siblings were gone, having ventured out to the real world in their human vessels and he couldn’t blame them for leaving. Who’d want to stay in a place where the only company you had was a good-for-nothing has-been of a queen? That’s why he followed the example his four siblings set and escaped when the opportunity presented itself. He really wanted to thank them when he had the chance.

     The body he left in was a person by the name of Tateyama Kenjirou. A hardworking teacher and devoted family man, he and Saeru met when he and his wife were caught in a landslide. Saeru promised to bring her back if the man allowed him to reside in his body and he accepted his terms of the bargain. That was how their unlikely partnership began, union between human and snake.

     It felt simply amazing to have a body to control. While it had taken him some time to adapt and familiarize himself with human behavior, he nevertheless reveled in it. No longer was he a snake relegated to devising plans. He had the means to carry them out himself and no one would be none the wiser. At least, that’s what he believed before a certain idiotic girl proved him wrong.

     He had to give her some credit. Not only did she figure out most of his plan just by reading her father’s research but she learned of his existence all due to a small yet sloppy mistake. If she only applied that amount of effort into her schoolwork, then she wouldn’t have been as stupid as she led herself to believe. There was, however, one thing she didn’t take into account.

     She thought killing herself would stop him from going after everyone. What she didn’t think about was the advantage her death would give him. One less person to worry about ruining his plan and she left behind a perfectly traumatized helper. The damn brat was like putty in his hands; a few convincing threats to his precious “family” and a deal with the devil was made.

     But then the dear old professor kept butting into his business. There were several times over the past two years where he came out because he wanted to spend some “quality time” with the remainder of his family. There was one instance he could recall in which his plan was almost thwarted but Saeru was able to take back the reins. It was too easy to pull the wool over his partner’s eyes and trick him into thinking he was dreaming. It wasn’t like he was lying to him, he was just using the information he knew about humans to his benefit.

     Today was when his plan was truly enacted. All the necessary people had arrived, including his traitorous sibling. Konoha, as they were now called, seemed to have forgotten what the humans did to their real family all those years ago and had allied with them. Their compassion for them had its perks, though. It only took one well-aimed bullet to strike them down, leaving them open for a permanent takeover.

     The resulting bloodbath was nothing short of marvelous. Having a body, especially one such as his, meant much more fun and creative ways to play with his toys. Spines breaking as they hit concrete walls and organs hitting the floor with a wet slap was like music to his ears. He even ripped out a pathetic shut-in’s throat with his bare hands just because he could and it was oh so enjoyable to hear him choke on his own blood. Too bad it was over all too soon.

     The crybaby brat was left as the sole survivor. He knew what she was capable of and she was the essential component. Yet, he couldn’t help feeling a small sort of kinship with her, which he found funny. He was, in a way, her subject and she his queen but it felt as if they were equals. Perhaps, if he had her powers, he too could rewind time to the point he would’ve taken a different path. To spend more time with the one he loved above all else… That was a dream best left in the past.

     He decided to leave her be so she’d be able to mourn her losses. He needed to use the little time he had to take care of unfinished business. He fled from the scene by going through the portal she created in the midst of her despair.

     He found himself in what seemed to be a white void. The floor beneath him rippled when his feet touched the surface and he realized he was standing on water. His reflection stared back at him when he cast his eyes downward. The body his sibling graciously gifted to him allowed him to change it however he wanted and he liked the changes he made. A vessel specifically tailored just for him was such a wonderful thing and it was a shame to have to give it up.

     A pair of small black horns stuck out of long dark hair tied into a braid. Black scales painted the edges of his face and eyes, trailing down his neck before concealing themselves under the layers of clothes. He kept his red eyes and fangs from when he was a snake so he’d still be recognizable. Blood coated his hands and stained the only article of pristine white clothing he wore, which he hoped would intimidate his prey. She’d never see this coming.

     Finding an exit out of the void was simple. All he had to do was take a step and he was in an entirely different place. There were an endless amount of stairs and corridors leading to doors, most of what he could see on fire. The heat was surprisingly pleasant as he wandered around the seemingly limitless labyrinth. It was then he spotted a tangle of black hair with a sliver of red hastily entering one of the doors. With a rush of adrenaline running through his veins, he ran towards the door. It had been so long since he played his favorite game of cat and mouse.

     He chased her through many areas of the Daze. One was of a ruined city where the setting sun gave way too many shadows for her to hide in. Another was of an urban landscape, not unlike a major street intersection, where there were dozens of blood splatters decorating the asphalt. It was after he cut across a nighttime city he arrived at his destination.

     Mother was inside. The house she and her wretched human “family” lived and laughed in for the few years they stayed there. It was fitting for her and him to settle their issues in the same place their troubles began. She’ll regret leaving behind the ones that truly loved her.

     He walked up to the house. Overgrown grass crept over the foundation and ivy crawled all along the flaky walls. There were broken shards of glass inside the windows, which would make it hard for trespassers to sneak in without alerting anyone. Parts of the roof had collapsed inward and the front door was hanging on by a thread. Mother’s really let the place go, hasn’t she?

     He stopped just before the door. How did he want to approach this? She had to know he was here so there was no need in being stealthy. He then did the next best thing, which was to kick the door down till he was inside. He smashed through it, reducing it to mere splinters. That was easy.

     The room he was in now was the same room he proposed the idea of creating this world to Mother. It was empty, save for a few pieces of overturned furniture scattered about the place and debris from the roof. Moonlight shone down from above, illuminating the room, though it wasn’t necessary. He could see perfectly well in the dark, despite the limitations of his “human” body.

     There were two doors that stood in front of him. Beyond them were bedrooms, one being that brat Shion’s and the other Mother’s. It was a coin toss as to which room she was hiding in and he hated wasting time with trivial matters like this. Besides, even if he did end up picking the wrong choice, she wouldn’t get away undetected. His hearing was almost as good as hers and she knew that.

     An idea sprang into his mind to try luring her out. He stood at the wall separating the two rooms, wound up his fist, and punched it. The sheer power in the hit caused a crater to form in the wall as dust sprinkled down from the ceiling. He heard something fall from behind the left door and a sharp intake of breath. The corners of his mouth curved up as he tried to fight back a laugh. There she was.

     Keeping his excitement in check, he pushed open the door. Inside the room were the remains of a bed with two nightstands on either side of it and an empty window over to the right. He didn’t need the light coming in from a hole in the ceiling to see her. Mother sat in a corner of the room, her whole body shaking.

     She hadn’t changed at all. She still had the same cascade of raven hair tied up with a red ribbon, the same black dress. The same red eyes resembling his own were now staring at him in pure fear. It must’ve been quite the shock for her to see Saeru walking around and being able to express his moods in a more effective way. She’d finally know how much and how deep his feelings ran.

     “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Mother?” he asked, putting on a fake smile.

     When she didn’t respond, he continued on with, “Nothing to say to me? Not even a welcome home? I know the last time we talked was years ago but I thought you’d still have some love in your heart for me. But I guess not.”

     She still hadn’t said anything. He was getting rather annoyed at the silent treatment, even if it did bring him a modicum of amusement. Does she really think staying quiet in this situation will save her? Well, he had a way of making her talk and he deserved to brag about his accomplishments.

     “If you can’t already tell, I paid a visit to the real world,” he said, noting the sudden pique of interest. “It’s changed so much since our time out there. I’ve met so many interesting people during my trip, including the kids my siblings are inhabiting the bodies of. I even got the chance to meet your successor, what was her name again? Ah, right, Marry.”

     He saw the quick flash of anger across her face as she asked, “What did you do to her?”

     “You can rest easy,” he replied, his temper beginning to flare up. “I haven’t laid a finger on that crybaby brat’s head. She’s all right, physically, at least.”

     It was then her eyes wandered down to his blood-soaked hands. Gone was the anger as horror came to replace it at the grisly sight. He wondered when she’d notice that and he was pleased to know her reaction was how he predicted it to be. Her imagination had to be running wild with all the ways that blood got on his hands. The temptation of telling her his gruesome acts was there but this was more fun.

     “Her mind, though, must be forever scarred,” he said with a dissonant smile. “I imagine her heart shattered to pieces after I killed her friends.”

     “Why are you doing this?!” she demanded, her teary eyes full of fury. “Why must you hurt me so?”

     All the fun he was having at her expense evaporated. Was she being serious? Did she really have the gall to ask why he was doing all this? Maybe it was time to remind her of the fault she held in this.

     “I think the better question is, why did you choose them over us? Why did you abandon us?” He crouched down and rested his cheek on his hand.

     “What are you talking about? I never abandoned you or your siblings! I tried my best to have the two most important things in my life get along without any issue.” She gestured to him with her hand. “You were the only one who had a problem with it!”

     His eyes narrowing, he asked in indignation, “How could you expect me to not have a problem with it? How could you forget all the pain, all the suffering, all the torment the humans dealt on to you? How could you run off with that man and bear his child after everything they’ve done to you?”

     It was at this point she stood up. He did as well, noticing the hard glint of stubbornness in her eyes. He already knew what was coming and he didn’t want to hear the same old, tired speech.

     “Tsukihiko was different. He was kind to me, he cared for me.” She put a hand on her chest, where her heart was. “He loved me. He was treated the same way I was so---”

     “So you thought you and him were the same? Please,” he interrupted, scoffing at the ridiculousness of the thought. “You and that man were never the same and you know why? He was but a mere mortal and you a god. You will never belong with the humans, no matter how much you try and forget that fact.”

     “What do you want from me? An apology, is that it?” she asked, exasperated. He wanted much more than empty platitudes.

     “What I want is for you to understand exactly how much you’ve hurt me.” He took a couple steps toward her, causing dust to rain down on top of him. “You refused to heed my warnings, took that brat’s side over mine, and you tried to leave me behind in this world. Who does that to someone they once claimed to love? Someone whose only crime was loving them?

     “You’ve become the very thing you’ve never wanted to be.” He locked eyes with her and gave voice to all the pain and scorn he felt. “You’re a monster.”

     It was as if he stabbed her through the gut with a knife. Tears spilled over as she fell to her knees, holding her head in her hands. It was bad enough for the humans to call her that when they knew nothing about her. It must’ve been like a betrayal to hear that come from someone she once considered to be her closest friend. Still, he got a dark sense of satisfaction seeing her break down. It served her right to feel only a fraction of the pain he’s dealt with for years.

     “And yet--” he paused as she looked up at him-- “despite everything you did to me, I still love you. I was created to serve you and be with you for however long you wanted but I grew to genuinely love you. How could I not?”

     She withdrew further into the corner after he stepped closer. The question he wanted, needed to ask leapt into his mind. A simple yes or no question and whatever her answer was would determine what he’d do next.

     “It’s because of my love for you I ask,” he began, paying close attention to her face, “if you still hold some fondness for the humans. Do you still love your family?”

     Without any hesitance in her voice, she replied with, “Of course I do. I’ll always love them. Tsukihiko, Shion, Marry…I love them all from the bottom of my heart.”

     That was the answer he feared to hear. Her saying that proved to him she was too far gone and needed to be put out of her misery. They took everything away from her, from her happiness to her sanity. It’s because he loved her he’d be willing to give her the sweet release she deserved.

     He started walking towards her. She tried to crawl away from him but found herself cornered with no means of escape. A wicked grin split across his face as he came into the moon’s silvery ray of light. He stopped just short of her, towering above her small, trembling form.

     “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, scared for her life. “Whatever it is, I can’t die.”

     “Oh, Mother…” He knelt down in front of her and cupped her cheeks. Her scales were smooth to the touch as he wiped away her tears. “You’re right in that you can’t die. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be killed.”

     His smile growing ever larger, he said, “You lost your immortality the moment you passed on your crown.”

     Her eyes widened in horror as his hands slid down to her neck. He could feel her pulse thudding against his palms, his slender fingers wrapped around her throat. She softly whimpered and he leaned in close. He whispered into her ear his final words before her denouement.

     “Goodnight, Mother.”

     It wasn’t hard to crush her windpipe. Her nails dug into his arms in a desperate attempt to fight back but he merely brushed them off. He knew she was close to death when her eyes started to roll to the back of her head. Then he had an idea to end this in something more similar to his style.

     Her skin began to tear apart as he pulled her head up like a weed. The sound of her neck breaking echoed in the empty house. He finally ripped her head off her shoulders, blood pouring out of the stump as he stood up. Her body slumped onto the floor, the moon’s light reflected off the crimson pool.

     Mother’s bright red eyes were now dull and lifeless. Her mouth lolled open and what little saliva she had trickled out of the corners. He could see just a sliver of her vertebrae sticking out of the bottom of her neck. He untied the ribbon holding her hair up, wiped the spit away with his sleeve, and shut her eyes. Her dark tresses felt soft on his skin as he touched their foreheads together.

     “We’ll be together forever, right, Mother?” he said with a depraved smile before crazed laughter spilled out of his mouth like a stream.

     It was only a matter of waiting now before time was reset. How far back it’d go, he didn’t know. Even if it was as far back to the beginning, he’d remember the events of this loop an do them again. He’d do them again and again to his heart’s content and no one would be able to stop him.

     The only thing he wouldn’t commit again was his act of matricide. It was a one time thing and it was done to give him “closure” or whatever the humans called it. Mother warped into someone he didn’t recognize and he needed to accept that the person he knew had died a long time ago. At least he’ll always have his memories of her kept close to his heart.

     It was time to look forward and move ahead to the future. Whatever the next summers brought, he was sure to enjoy every last bit.