#shower and a cold crisp apple save me

[szczekaczz]

i'm so fucking tired bro

[marleyybluu]

Thinkin’ Bout You

Spooky Diaz x fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Content warning: 18+, gets a little hot at the end, overall fluff and mush, everyone’s in love and high, reader smokes weed, reader described to have thick thighs (of course tf), pretty sure I'm missing some sorry

A/N: I took a break from my break to post this lol I was gonna leave this as a stand-alone(it can still be read as such) but honestly? it’s giving two and counting lore… so I’ll put it as a part of that series.

(not mine, got it off pinterest but awooogaa!)

Friday. What a glorious day to be off work. You slept in, hell you'd say you deserved putting up all those work hours at the hospital, and after finally crawling out of bed you rolled a small joint for the morning, and smoked it on the balcony outside your bedroom. The neighbourhood was quiet, the air was crisp and a bit cold but it's nothing one of Spooky's sweaters couldn't fix. You wrap your arms around you, the sweater is warm and it smelt like his cologne, you close your eyes and smile at just the mere thought of him. You always think about him it was crazy how one man consumed your entire being but you were so glad it was him.

You wished he was home, wished he was here to smoke with you but he got called into work earlier than usual, you didn't even get a goodbye kiss which you were missing right now, the vacancy of those lips— soft as a cloud and always on top of yours so delicately— depending on the context of course.

Without him here the day seemed to pass on slower, you checked the time what seemed like every ten minutes which also didn't help. To distract yourself you clean and cook, call your mom until she is ready to, quote, "Go and do her own thing." And hung up on you.

You lay upside down on the couch, feet crossed as they hang over the back of the couch and your head hangs off the seat cushions, Living Single reruns consumed your screen. You were well distracted until you heard a car door slam and various keys jingling together, you sat up and gripped the back of the couch for dear life.

The lock turns. The door opens. And there he is. You scream with excitement. "Hi, babyyyyy."

He chuckles, not even ten seconds inside and you already had him smiling. "Hola mi corazón."

You roll off the sofa and run over to your man, leaping and wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He squeezes you so tightly you swear he'd crack a few bones but in the name of love, you wouldn't care. You pepper his face with kisses before you finally land on his lips and you mould into him, his hands firmly grasping your ass that barely fits in your shorts.

He smiles in the middle of your kiss and it's an instant chain reaction. "Missed me that much?"

"You have no idea."

He gives you another small kiss before he puts you down and you fight the urge to pout and demand to be picked back up, you just want to live in his skin 24/7, but you let him catch his breath. Let him put away his things, grab a Corona while you ogle him and the way his enormous arms flexed when he twisted the cap off and the foaming bubbles sliding their way to the top... almost spilling over... but then he saves it with tongue. You lick your bottom lip and zoom in on the involuntarily sexual act, oh, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed with every sip... fuck.

"Bebita," He calls. You slowly nod, still in your love-stricken daze. "You're droolin' a little bit ma."

You rub your chin and frown at him, there is no drool. He winks at you and you turn your face to the side to avoid any more butterflies in your stomach. "You smoke already?"

You nod. "Wanna smoke again or you good?" He sat his blunt, which magically appeared from his jeans, between his lips and nodded to the back door. "Nah, I'll smoke with you."

"Good, vamos."

••••• Your head lays in his lap, his hand cupped your cheek and his thumb caressed your skin. After you two smoked, you ate and had a blissfully shared shower, now you were sprawled out on the sofa still high as fuck watching Bridget Jones's Diary, he remembered you uttered something about wanting to watch a rom-com for once. You were in the mood to watch a love story, "or something."

But you were hardly paying attention to the screen, so lost in your own world of love, you pinch his chin aiming his at an angle so he'd look down at you. Make eye contact.

"Do you think about me?" A question asked so innocently. "Course I do, baby."

You run your finger down the column of his neck, over the lump of his Adam's apple. "What do you think about?"

He pauses the movie and focuses on you. "What's this about?"

"Nothing."

"You pregnant?"

You hit him. "Spooky! No!" He was obsessed with the idea of a baby. "Just answer my question."

He sighs, nostrils flair, he hated telling his deepest feelings but, "I think about you... and me, and what our life could be like. We could get married, could have a couple of kids. I always thought about gettin' like a summer house or something. Hit it every summer with them."

You smiled. "You think about all that?"

"Fuck yeah. I see us dropping them off on their tío, he watches them... we still get to have some us time, dates, trips...whatever you want."

You swear he makes you fall in love with him all over again at least once a week. "You think I haven't pictured the wedding? I know what I'll say in my vows already."

"Liar," You teased.

"Mi amor, the day I saw you-"

You quickly cover his mouth it'd be like spoiling a movie you hadn't seen yet. He licked your palm but you were quick to wipe it on his face. "Puta." He muttered. "Bastardo." You retaliated. "So how many kids do we have?" You sit up and adjust yourself so that you are now sitting with your back against the support of the couch and drape your legs over his thighs, the cold metal of his rings hits your hot skin when his hand contacts your leg. "Five."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" You exclaim. "I've seen childbirth live and I think we can have one and a dog." He rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

He leans over to kiss your forehead. "You think about me?"

"Once in a while." You joke, his jaw drops. "Once in a while!? That's how you feel? Ay, cariño, you're breaking mi corazón."

You place your hand over his and offer him a side smile before you kiss his cheek. "The way I jumped on you when you came home isn't proof enough."

He pulls you on top of him, your legs now sitting on each side of him with his hands gleefully squeezing every pound of flesh that makes up your thunder thighs that spread every time you sit and it makes him call them pancakes sometimes. "I might need a refresher."

"Oh, getting short-term memory already, Diaz?" You hum pressing your lips to his. "Just a little bit." He answers. Your hands fumble with the bottom of his shirt, he raises his arms and you break the kiss for just a second before you're back with tongues in each others throats and you're making out as if you're life depended on it, as if he's being shipped off to war and you don't know if he's coming back. Now it was your turn to pull back in need of some air. His smile is shaky, almost like a shy expression.

"Still kinda hazy."

You rid yourself of your top, with nothing under it.

"Oh don't worry," You lean in. "I'm about to make it real clear."

Not tagging anyone in this, I'm just testing something. if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one🤙🏾

[catboymettaton]

hell is the Kroger produce aisle

2k words, rated G, inspired by a post from @kiyomitakada

L goes grocery shopping alone for the first time and immediately gets overwhelmed. Light, a sympathetic employee, helps him out. Can be read as platonic or romantic

read on ao3 or below

-

L shuts his eyes and hopes that when he opens them, everything will go back to how it’s supposed to be.

He’s been doing so well. It’s been four days since Watari left and in that time he has taken three showers, eaten nine meals, and left his house twice. He even managed to take the bus all the way here! The city bus, with all its noises and rude people.

He’s been doing a good job of being independent. He’s been doing a good job of demonstrating that he’ll one day be able to move out on his own.

But the bus was so loud, and he forgot sunglasses (he forgot the sun exists, honestly), and the inside of Kroger is so, so bright, and it’s playing music that chafes at his ears, and his mask isn’t doing enough to block the smells and what it is doing is blowing his own hot breath back at him, and people keep bumping into him with their carts.

Dimly, he realizes this is his fault, for standing in the middle of the aisle. But he can’t figure out how to proceed. He is locked here, in front of the apples that should be strawberries.

Watari was nervous about leaving him, even though it was just for a week. L insisted he could handle it, as long as they worked together to prepare. This included Watari drawing up a detailed map of Kroger, so that L would know exactly where to find anything he needed.

(The downside of strawberries is that they go bad so fast. Watari picked up enough of everything else to last him the whole week, but his strawberries would inevitably betray him within four days.)

(The upside of strawberries is that they are fresh and juicy and delicious.)

So here he is, stranded in the center of the produce aisle, as children screech around him and the pop singer keeps crooning about how much she loves or doesn’t love this new man, and his breath is tickling his nose, and the fluorescent lights bear down on him and this really shouldn’t bother him because he spends all his days with computers he’s used to bright lights in his eyes but somehow this is different, and no matter how long he stares the honey crisps refuse to morph into anything else.

Maybe he should just go home now. Maybe he should admit he failed and go home without his precious fresh strawberries and defrost the frozen strawberries he keeps in case of emergency but he saves them for emergencies because they’re never as good as the real thing, they always heat up either too cold or too hot and the texture isn’t right and they don’t have the leaves attached and the taste is all wrong. The last time he had to eat them was during a snowstorm that left ice on the streets so bad that even Watari couldn’t bear the drive, and then Watari was there to help him deal with the wrong texture and stop him from slipping away into one of his states where the numbers swim before his eyes and his tongue grows thick in his mouth and something under his skin screams at him to please just let it out.

The something under his skin is here now, calling to him from his wrists and his calves and the back of his neck, and he won’t let it out, he won’t let it out here in front of everyone, he’s twenty-four years old for god’s sake, he can handle buying groceries like a normal person!

But what he needs is strawberries, and they aren’t here. They just aren’t here.

He can feel the top of his mask growing damp, which means his eyeliner must be ruined, and he isn’t sure how well the filter stands up to moisture so he needs to get himself together and find the damn strawberries which have to be around here somewhere, right? But when he looks up he sees a blurry rainbow of colors all melting together, and he can’t parse where one aisle stops and another starts.

“Excuse me, could I help you find anything today?”

It’s the first voice he’s heard directed at him in four days. It’s chipper and polished and carries no sense of authenticity.

He turns and finds his eyes locked onto a stranger’s, warm and brown and framed with beautiful eyelashes and honey-brown bangs. His mouth is hidden behind a blue mask that matches his Kroger apron, but L can see his smile scrunching up his eyes.

L opens his mouth, but finds words have left him. Surely this man can help him find the strawberries, but only if he can ask for it. And try as he might, he just can’t seem to ask for it.

The man glances over his shoulder. L notices his name tag says Light. And like a sunbeam breaking through storm clouds, he seems to have appeared here specifically to save L from himself and his wretched brain.

“Hey,” Light says, and suddenly his voice is softer, no longer so upbeat. “Hey, how about we step outside for a moment?”

So L follows this stranger out to the sidewalk, and Light leads him to a corner tucked away from the road. He can still hear the roar of cars, but the music is gone, and the crying children, and the light is just normal sun, and he tears off his mask to feel a breeze on his face and he breathes deeply as his ears scream in relief.

He realizes he’s rocking back and forth. He tries to stop that. He already looks like a freak, he doesn’t need to make it worse.

“Are you feeling better now?”

L finds the channel between mind and mouth is still malfunctioning. He nods, tentatively.

“I know it can be a lot in there. I get it.” L looks over at him. He seemed so calm inside, and he works there, so he must be there all the time.

Light seems to read his thoughts. “It gets easier with practice. And these help, too.” He brushes his hair away from his ear and L sees the glint of an earplug within.

L feels woefully unprepared. With his usual isolated existence, he can keep his environment at precisely the volume he desires. But if he truly wants to be able to live on his own, he’ll have to venture into spaces outside of his control.

“So what are you looking for today? I can help you find whatever you need.” A bit of the polish is back, a little bit of a wall going back up between them.

L reaches into his pocket and draws out Watari’s carefully drawn map. He points at the section marked “Strawberries.”

Light’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, I see! We just rearranged the produce yesterday, to switch the apples and the strawberries. Sorry for the confusion!”

L nods in thanks.

“So what else is on your list?”

It’s just strawberries. Nothing else. L is now extremely aware that normal adults do not go to the store for three pounds of strawberries and nothing else. Should he ask for milk or something too?

He doesn’t like milk.

Light notices his waffling - he’s perceptive, isn’t he? “Is it just strawberries?”

L nods.

“Oh, that’ll be super easy! Here, I can show you exactly where they are!”

He moves to head back towards the entrance and L hesitates. He’s feeling a lot better now, but he’s worried that if he heads back inside, he’ll just lock up right away again. His powers of speech still elude him.

Light notices he isn’t following, and stops. He looks into L’s eyes, then down at his teeth nibbling his lips. If he was at home, he’d be chewing his nails, but after the bus trip he’ll be dirty till he takes a good hot shower.

“You know what?” Light’s voice has lost its edge again. “If it’s just strawberries, what if I grab them for you? How many do you need?”

L holds up three fingers.

“Three… pounds?”

L nods.

“Okay! I’ll try to pick the ripest ones. Do you have cash?”

He shakes his head.

“Venmo?”

He nods.

“Wait here and I’ll be right back!”

L watches him go then allows his body to begin rocking back and forth again. There’s no one here to see. He feels his heart rate finally falling to normal, his shoulders dropping, his tongue untangling itself.

True to his word, Light is back quickly, strawberry cases in tow.

“Thank you,” L manages.

Light almost manages to hide his surprise. His eyes crinkle up in a smile again. “Of course! And by the way, we offer grocery pickup and delivery, if that would be easy for you in the future.”

“Really?” L should have thought to check the website himself, rather than relying on Watari and his fifty year old methods.

“Yes, it’s very convenient! You pick your items online and then you can come get them here, or we can take them directly to your house.”

Directly to his house…

L nods. “Thank you, that sounds very useful.” He tucks the strawberries into his tote bag and inspects the receipt. “May I repay you now?”

Light pulls up a QR code. It brings L to his profile, with a photo of Light smiling brightly. His surname is Yagami. L sends the money over, with a 25% tip for excellent service.

“I’m glad I could help you out today!”

“Thank you again. Sorry for interrupting your day.”

“No need to apologize - helping customers is my job, after all.”

L shuffles his feet awkwardly. He needs to go home and leave Light to return to work , which he’s nearly certain does not typically include personal shopping for pathetic autistic men hopelessly dependent on their grandfathers.

But he likes Light. It’s rare for him to find someone easy to talk with; he’s content to spend most of his days speaking to Watari and no one else.

And he’s nervous for the bus ride back. It’ll be loud again, and people will bump into him, and his mask will tickle his nose and yank at his ears, which is still better than getting sick but unpleasant all the same.

Light, it seems, is not in a rush to get back inside either. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

L shakes his head. “I should get going.”

“Are you sure? You look like you have something on your mind. ”

L swallows. “I’m nervous about the bus. It’s going to be loud.”

Light nods. “Wait right here.”

He’s back in less than a minute with a pair of headphones cradled in his arms, black with red details. L stares at them. Is Light really entrusting him, a total stranger, with something so valuable?

“You can borrow these for the ride. But… you should give me your number so we can find a time for you to get them back.”

L is speechless again, but now it has nothing to do with his environment. He nods, and fumbles to pull his phone out again, self conscious of the way he grips it by the corners.

“What’s your name, by the way?”

“Ryuzaki,” L lies. He doesn’t know why. But he can’t take it back, so he watches Light type the false name above his number. He adds a strawberry emoji at the end.

“Have a safe ride back, Ryuzaki. Let me know when you get home, okay?”

L nods again, still stunned. He’s never had someone to text when he gets home before, since Watari always knows.

He heads to the bus stop, slipping the headphones on over his mask. The pressure of the ear cups is comforting and almost makes him forget about the straps digging into his ears. They’re playing a soft static that blocks out the rush of the world around him, giving him a personal bubble of quiet amid the bustle of the city.

When he makes it back home, he snaps a picture of himself biting into a strawberry, just for Light. It’s perfectly ripe and sweet and fresh and everything he’s been hoping for.

He fires off a text to Watari:

Kroger went great, no issues. Also, I made a new friend.

[ashliinks]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖙'𝖘 𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 | 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖋𝖔𝖞

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰             7.9𝔨 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢              𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱, 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣 

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤(𝔰)      𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖌𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 - 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖑𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖘

Growing up in a wealthy Pureblood family, you had never longed for anything. Your parents gifted you anything that your heart desired within the drop of a wand. Fanciful flouting of your wealth was always left to your parents, for you had grown to hate the way they looked down upon anyone who was not on the same social status as them. It wasn’t until the reawakening of Voldemort at the Triwizard Tournament, that you finally understood where your parents’ elitist views came from. They were Death Eaters.

You hated them for it. But you had nowhere to go, you were only fourteen, so your only choice was to remain by their side. 

Life had never been the same after that. After countless meetings with various wizarding criminals and famous Death Eaters, you started to withdraw into yourself. The bright, vibrant girl that your classmates had grown to love had disappeared by the beginning of your fifth year at Hogwarts. Depression and fear plagued your every waking moment. 

You tried your best to do right by the classmates that had been affected by Voldemort. Always chatting to Neville when you got the chance, not wanting him to feel ignored and invisible as some of the other students did. Consoling Cho after the death of Cedric at the Death Eater’s hand. And finally, trying to be there for Harry. He didn’t really appreciate your support. Your parents being there the night Cedric died. 

The only person you had sought comfort in was your boyfriend. Draco. You were very well aware of his own family being very involved in the support of Voldemort. He was the only one who understood the pressures you were under. Your family and his were both on equal status in regards to Voldemort's loyal followers. The more dark responsibilities Draco was forced to take on, the more you did too. 

It wasn’t fair. You were just kids. He would often sneak his way into your dorm at night to comfort you, your body shaking with silent sobs at the things you had seen. When you were at home at Draco could only visit sparsely, the only friend you had was the Augurey you had grown up with. Long since had the superstition faded, that an Augurey’s cry foretold death. For the bird would have cried over and over again with the amount of death that surrounded your family. 

Right now, everything was freezing. You were sat in the bathtub, legs pulled up and tucked into your chest as ice cold water poured down on you from the shower-head. The cold soaked its way through to your bones as the world around you seemed to fade out of existence. It helped numb the pain you were feeling in your body. And for once your body felt as numb as your heart did. 

The far off sound of banging echoed faintly in your ears, at first you just thought it was the pipes. But as the bangs got louder and faster your head lifted from where it was resting upon your knees. The banging had stopped for a moment, before the bathroom door came barreling off of its hinges in a blast. Small pieces of wood splintering across the tiled floor. 

You didn’t even flinch.

Muffled voices filled the room as bodies came in and out. Soon you were left with just one figure. They pulled open a cupboard, taking something out from inside. Then you were being lifted out of the tub softly, recalling the way the waterfall of ice had disappeared from your skin. You felt something soft and fluffy touch your skin, which had finally managed to snap you out of the trance you were in.

Looking up, you came face to face with the grey eyes of your boyfriend. “Draco,” You whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. 

“I got you, don’t worry,” His voice was barely above a whisper as he took another towel and began to pat down your wait face. Your eyes and cheeks swollen from the crying.  “Pansy said you’ve been in here for over an hour,”

“Has it only been that long? I thought I had been here longer,” You murmured, leaning into his touch. 

He let out a small disgruntled noise at the confession. He ignored Pansy as she popped her head around the door, passing him a handful of your clothes so he could dress you. 

“Snape is going to kill you,” You looked at the broken green door that lay discarded on the black and white tile. Draco scoffed for a moment. As if he could care about anything Snape had to say right now, when he had just saved his girlfriend from voluntarily freezing herself to death. 

He had known how hard it had been for you recently. You parents had finally forced you to take the Dark Mark. He knew how unbearable that weight was, having received his a few months prior. It felt like an overwhelming weight pressing down on your chest. Making it hard to breathe, to think, to do anything without having that burning ache within your lungs. 

He hated himself for not being able to be there for you.

You were one of the only people he had ever loved. The other being his mother. He thought he loved his father, but after looking back over the years and years of quiet abuse, he realised it was never really love. He was never loved by his father. But his mother would bend the world for him, and he almost hated her for it. She thought that the Death Eater lifestyle would help pave a better future for her boy, but in reality it was pushing him closer and closer to his own death. 

You watched absentmindedly as Draco ran the soft towel over your arms, the white fabric brushing over the inky markings etched onto your forearm. He was so gentle. If only everyone could see him in this moment, if only everyone could see that Draco Malfoy wasn’t really the dark and mysterious figure he showed to the world. He wasn’t as big and bad as he appeared. He was just trying to uphold the Malfoy reputation. You knew how desperately he wanted to be friends with Harry Potter on his first day at Hogwarts, but his parents’ overbearing slander of the Weasley’s had clouded his morals.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, looking up at the boy.

“You have nothing to be sorry for love,” He replied, placing the towel on the counter and pulling you close, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He was so delicate as he helped you get into some warmer clothes, almost like if he held you too hard you would shatter. He let you wear one of his Slytherin hoodies, he didn’t even care if you stole this one too. You just loved his hoodies, they always smelt like him. The expensive cologne, peppermint and crisp green apples. Funnily enough, it's exactly what amortentia smelt like to you too. 

As he pulled the pair of you underneath the silken duvet, he thought to himself how in the world you two were going to get through this. He knew that the months that followed were going to be the hardest for you. He knew that whatever happened though, the two of you would go through it together. 

“They want me to kill him Y/N.” 

You froze at his words, taking them in for a moment. The pair of you were currently huddled inside the Room of Requirement, you had chosen this as the one place to meet up to talk about everything going on outside the walls of Hogwarts. 

“They can’t be serious?” You questioned, spinning around to look at Draco.

“With Dumbledore dead, the dominoes will start to fall. They’ll take the Ministry next,” His words made you freeze once more. If Voldemort took the Ministry then that means your parents will be gone most of the time. They were already strong voices in the Ministry, but with Voldemort commanding the inner workings it meant that your parents would be constantly working. You wondered if they were going to tell you, or if they were just going to leave you on your own. 

“There’s been arrangements made for you to come and stay with us though,” Draco seemed to know what you were thinking. “The Manor is going to be the main headquarters for Death Eaters anyway, it only made sense. My mother and father were easily convinced,” He gave you a weak smile. At least through all of this Draco wouldn’t abandon you...right?

You raced through the halls at the sounds of explosions and yelling, students were scattering out of the way for you as you neared the bathrooms. You watched him race out of the Great Hall as soon as his eyes had landed on Katie Bell. She had finally recovered from that cursed necklace Draco had given her to pass on to Dumbledore. He hated himself for that too. She was innocent, she had never done anything to hurt anyone in her entire life. Draco only wanted to get the job done quickly. 

You heard a few clashes and the sounds of running water as you broke through the door of the bathrooms. Water coated the floors, making the bottom of your robes soggy. Looking around the room for a moment, you saw him. Lying in the water, blood running from his chest, his arms, everywhere. Your heart lurched into your throat at the sight of him. You didn’t think twice before shoving Harry to one side, coming to kneel next to Draco. Panic coursing through your veins. 

“What have you done to him?!” You yelled out, tears beginning to stream down your face, hearing the pained whimpers of the boy below you. Harry was silent, he looked like he was in shock himself. You paused for a moment, letting out a shaky breath you placed your hands over Draco’s chest. You had been slowly mastering the art of Wandless Magic. It had taken a bit of work, but you had shown a natural talent in the ability.

“Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur...Vulnera Sanentur,” You whispered over and over, hoping the spell would work. You looked down, noticing the blood was starting to recede in the water, trailing back towards Draco, but it was slow, sluggish. 

“Come on,” You pleaded in between chants. It was only when Snape arrived and had joined you in the chant that Draco’s blood had begun to return to his body much faster. You looked up at your professor, and he nodded in understanding at you. He didn’t need to say anything, you already knew. Whatever the Dark Lord was planning was coming, and it was coming fast. 

The summer air was cool on that night, the moon held high in the cloudy sky as you and Draco snuck through the corridors of the castle, making sure not to be seen by anyone. The pair of you had already set the plan into motion. The sinking feeling had begun. 

As you neared closer and closer to the astronomy tower that night, you remember the tightness of which you held each other's hands. Afraid that if any looser, you two would lose one and other. “You should wait here,” Draco whispered, pausing just outside the door. 

“Draco,” You paused, reaching your hands up and taking his face between them. “You go, I go.” He took in your words, weighing them up in his mind before he nodded, taking your hand in his once more. It was almost cruel of you, he thought to himself. To look so beautiful on a night like this. The black and green plaid skirt you were wearing swung softly as you walked, grazing the tops of your knees like a gentle caress. The simple black turtleneck you wore matched his, it perfectly hugged your body as he so longed to. And you were wearing one of his old blazers, the material looking slightly worn and battered. But it was effortlessly beautiful on you. 

The climb up those rickety stairs that night seemed to take forever. With each step your heart beat increased, speeding up until it felt like it would explode out of your chest. As you got closer to the main deck, you heard hushed whispers from above, tugging Draco’s arm for a moment you wondered if the pair of you should retreat. He took a moment to listen, only hearing one voice before deciding to continue. 

Climbing the last two steps, you held your breath. Eyes coming to land on your headmaster stood waiting, patiently. His dark grey robes blowing in the breeze along with his long wisps of silver hair. The man looked over at Draco, and then to you. His face sinking at the sight of you both. 

“Good evening Draco, Y/N.” Draco already had his wand drawn, aimed pointedly at the man before you. He scanned the room for a second, noticing the absence of anyone else.  “What brings you here on this fine evening?”

“Who else is here? I heard you talking.”

“I often talk aloud to myself, I find it extraordinarily useful. Have you been whispering to yourself Draco?” Dumbledore asked, pacing around the deck slowly. “Draco, Y/N; you are no assassins,” He tried reasoning, you looked away from him in guilt. You couldn’t bear it anymore. 

“How do you know what I am? I’ve done things that would shock you!” Draco exclaimed, growing more visibly upset each moment that passed. 

“Like cursing Katie Bell in hoping that in return she would bear a cursed necklace to me? Like replacing a bottle of mead with one laced with poison?” He listed off, you had known about the necklace but not about the poison. It made you look at your boyfriend for a moment, but you supposed being poisoned may have been a much better fate than the one the headmaster was about to be dealt.

“Forgive me Draco, but I can’t help feeling these actions are so weak that your heart can’t really have been in them. And Miss Y/L/N, such a clever young woman monitoring every movement made by the Army,” That felt like a punch to the gut. You had joined Dumbledore’s Army last year, not really in hopes of spying on your fellow classmates, but because you agreed on the notion that you needed to learn how to protect yourselves.

Umbridge and the Ministry were adamant that Voldemort was not back, but you and Draco knew different. Of course they would never have let Draco join, they were dubious of you at first. But your long standing friendships with many of them reassured that although your parents were the enemy, you could be trusted. And you could. Not a word about their actions breathed past your lips. But they wouldn’t see it that way when they found out. 

“We were chosen,” You whispered, lifting up your sleeve slowly to reveal your own dark mark. Dumbledore looked down slowly, his face full of regret. He almost wished he had been able to help the pair of you sooner, try and save you from your parents’ clutches. 

“I shall make it easy for you,” Dumbledore whispered, lifting up his hands in surrender. Draco quickly disarmed him, sending his wand flying across the room. You gripped onto the back of his blazer in fear. “Very good,” He smiled, almost proud of Draco’s fast actions. In the next moment, you heard the door to the astronomy tower open, and by the look on Dumbledore’s face, he heard it too.

“You’re not alone,” He pointed out. “How?”

“The vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement,” You revealed, your soft voice being carried through the gentle breeze. Your voice helped to calm Draco, his shaking hand steadying slightly. “I-I’ve been mending it,”

“Let me guess. It has a sister, a twin?”

“In Borgin and Burke’s, they form a passage,” Draco finished off. Gaze flicking from the stairs to Dumbledore repeatedly. 

“Draco, years ago I knew a boy that made all the wrong choices, please...let me help you both,” Dumbledore pleaded, you were almost convinced to take him up on the offer, but you knew Draco wouldn’t. He was too scared as to what would happen to his parents should he leave. That, and the rushing sounds of footsteps drawing closer and closer began to unnerve him.

“We don’t want your help!” Draco shouted, his wand wavering as he continued to lose his composure. “You don’t understand. We have to do this. I have to kill you, or he’s going to kill me. I have to kill you, or he’s going to kill her,” Draco repeated, making the point that he wasn’t only following through with this to save himself and his family, but also you. He would never be able to live with himself if something happened to you because he didn’t do as he was told. 

The footsteps finally came to a stop, making you look over in their direction. There you could see them, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, Corban Yaxley and The Carrows. You felt your skin crawl at the sight of them. You watched as Draco straightened out his arm, not wanting to show the Death Eaters that joined that he was wavering. Bella couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across her face at the sight of Dumbledore being held against a wand. 

She stalked towards you slowly, keeping her eyes trained on the headmaster. “Well done Draco,” She whispered, bending over slightly into Draco’s ear. “Do it!” She hissed.

“He doesn’t have the stomach,” Fenrir spat, making you glare at him. “He’s just like his father, let me finish him off in my own way.”

“No! The Dark Lord was clear, the boy is to do it!” Whilst the two were busy bickering over who would do the deed, your grip on Draco tightened. 

“Draco we don’t have to do this,” You whispered, not being heard by Bellatrix over Fenrir’s whining and gloating. 

“Go on Draco...NOW!”

“He’s a coward.”

“Draco?” You whispered again, chaos erupting on the top of the deck.

“No.” A voice cut off from behind all of you. Spinning around you saw the tall figure of Professor Snape, coming to stand at the side of you. Draco lowered his wand at the sight of Snape, instantly being calmed at the thought of him not having to actually commit. You took the sleeve of your love and pulled him out of the way, the pair of you slowly edging backwards as Snape and Dumbledore locked eyes. From where you stood, you could see Bellatrix glaring at the Slytherin professor, hating every moment he was there. 

“Severus,” Dumbledore called from where he stood, gazing upon the man he trusted. “Please.”

You held your breath for what was to come next. Snape took a step forward, his wand held tightly within his hand. His arm lurched forward, waving in the air swiftly and landing on Dumbledore. “Avada Kedavra.” His tone stern as a flash of green blinded you for a moment, the sound of the curse expelling from his wand created a thundering sound, a sound so strong you could almost feel it in your bones. 

You tucked your head into Draco’s shoulder, not wanting to watch the life drop from Dumbledore’s eyes just before he slipped off of the edge of the tower. His limp body falling hundreds of feet down onto the ground of the courtyard that lay below the school. You could hear Bellatrix yell out in glee, and you were almost certain she had already cast the dark mark into the sky. 

You looked up for a moment to see Snape ushering you and Draco back out down the stairs so you could leave before everyone found you. Draco took your hand and the pair of you started running down the stairs, not looking back for a moment, knowing Snape was right behind you. 

At some point through the castle, Snape had overtaken you, leading you through the Great Hall. Bellatrix had decided to pounce onto the tables, kicking off plates and cups in glee before casting a spell and making all of the windows shatter in a forceful explosion. You and Draco could only watch in terror. 

Your school. The place you had grown up together. Slowly turning into a battlefield.

You walked through the halls of Malfoy Manor, being sure to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible. Mr Malfoy had grown quite reliant on alcohol these days, and he was very easily irritated. Stepping through into the main room of the manor you spotted Draco stood leaning against the fireplace. The pair of you looked like shells of the people you used to be.

You didn’t sleep, you didn’t eat. And you in particular had been taking many more icy showers than usual. Draco was scared that you might be slipping away from him, he couldn’t lose you. He had noticed how you had been retreating into yourself again. He noted the sullen look on your face as you approached. He also noticed the way you were constantly losing weight, the stress and fasting eating away at you. 

“No matter what goes on, there isn’t a day that goes by where you don’t look absolutely breathtaking,” Draco whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. You gave him a soft smile, your hands grazing against one another softly before you interlocked them. The nights you had spent away from your home had been ones filled with fear. Death Eaters coming in and out of the manor had become a daily occurrence. Bellatrix had taken up permanent residence here since her escape from Azkaban, making you feel wary of even breathing incorrectly. 

Narcissa had come to take a liking to you. Objectively, there was nothing to dislike. You were a Pureblood Slytherin, coming from a long line of loyal Death Eaters. And the prospect of you and Draco possibly giving her little grandbabies was one that she used to try and get herself through the days. The thought of hope after so much darkness. 

“Draco,” You started, your voice quivering slightly. “What are we still doing here? We should go, just the two of us. You and me, we could run away to anywhere. They wouldn’t find us.”

“Y/N I-”

“What was that you little wretch?!” You heard a scream as fingers laced through the back of your hair, gripping tightly and dragging you to the floor. You let out a small yelp in pain as you were cast to the ground, looking up to be met by the gaze of Bellatrix.

“You dare to try and convince Draco to leave! He would never betray the Dark Lord, unlike you,” She continued yelling, sending kicks to your side making you wheeze and cough as the air was continuously knocked from your lungs. 

From that point on you lived mainly in the cellar of the manor. Only really being let out as you were Bellatrix’s new play thing. She enjoyed tormenting you every now and then. The threat of death, torture, fire, snakes. Everything and anything she could, all to see you squirm. It was all threats at first, until she started getting physical.

Not once had you blamed Draco. 

He tried to come and see you most days. But his father would often catch and berate him, not wanting his son to have anything to do with a traitor. As the weeks passed you were slowly joined by others in the cellar. At first it was Mr Ollivander from the wand shop, you two had reminisced about the day you received your wand at his store. It had been a wondrous day for the pair of you, for Mr Ollivander had only sold one other phoenix feather core wand that day. And that had been none other than Harry Potter himself.

Next was Griphook, a goblin formerly of Gringotts. You hadn’t spoken much to him, he usually kept to himself and did not wish to partake into conversation with wizards. However, when Luna arrived she seemed to win him over somewhat. 

You had poured your heart out to the unconventional Ravenclaw. Telling her all about what had really been happening. She had sympathised with you, comforting you in your moments of emotional breaks. She had informed you that when the school heard of you and Malfoy’s involvement with Dumbledore’s death, many had turned against you; especially those who were a part of Dumbledore’s Army. 

The next few days in the cellar had been relatively quiet, Wormtail bringing you small scraps of food. You had volunteered to give your ration over to Mr Ollivander, he was starting to look quite sickly after being kept here for so long. You just ignored the hunger cramps, hoping that all of you would be out of here soon.

You had been trying to get some sleep, your body curled up on the cold concrete of the cellar. You couldn’t help but shiver, curling into yourself more to try and keep some warmth, to no avail. You could hear shouts and yells from upstairs, but you couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. It wasn’t until the sound of things dropping to the floor did you sit up. You hoped that someone, anyone, had come to get you. But you sighed at the thought. No one wants anything to do with you. Your parent’s had pretty much disowned you when they heard what had happened, and everyone at Hogwarts hated you.  

You heard a flurry of footsteps, and you were instantly brought back to that night. The sound of people running downstairs paired with the sound of your own heart thrumming within your ears. Because of the dim lighting in the cellar, you could only really see the silhouette of the figures descending. It was Wormtail, you shouldn’t have been surprised. The lumpy body of the man being one you had grown used to seeing. He was pushing two others forwards. 

The iron wrought door to the cellar swung open with a flick of his wand, and he was quickly throwing the pair to the floor, locking the door and retreating back upstairs. The two figures grunted and groaned as they pulled themselves up off of the floor. You scooted back, leaning against the concrete wall and pulling yourself up too. You watched them for a moment, waiting for some sort of sign as to who they was.

“What are we going to do? We can’t leave Hermoine alone with her,” One of the figures asked the other. Your heart sped up inside your chest at the sound of his voice. It was a voice you had heard so many times over the past few years, and one that you were happy to hear but scared to at the same time.

“Ron?” You called out, stepping into the faint light. “Harry?” You asked, you weren't too sure whether the other figure was indeed the Potter boy. But Harry, Ron and Hermoine were very much like you and Draco. You never went anywhere without the other. 

“Y/N?” He asked back, Ron pulled something out of his pocket and suddenly the room was flooded with light, allowing the boys to confirm it was you. They were shocked when they saw you. The proud, young Slytherin they had shared a classroom with for most of their formative years, was not the woman who stood before them. From the patches of skin they could see, they were laced with bruises and cuts. Your face was a little more sunken than usual, an obvious sign of your malnutrition and sleep deprivation. 

“What happened to you?” Ron had asked, Harry’s eyes were cast towards your own in judgement. He hated you.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Your voice broke slightly, tears springing to your eyes. “Me and Draco, we didn’t have a choice. He was going to kill us and our families. Even if I didn’t do it, Draco would have to protect me. I’ve been trying to get him to leave, but Bellatrix found out and she, she…” You rushed out, choking on your own tears before trailing off. You didn’t want to tell them the things she had done to you. You didn’t really want to tell anyone. 

You flinched back when you felt someone touch your arm. Looking to the side, you saw Luna. She nodded to the boys, backing you up. Harry strode over to you and you backed away for a second until he threw his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You froze at the feeling, not being used to any form of contact without pain. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this,” He whispered into your ear. And that was when you broke, sobbing into his shoulder. You only broke away when you heard screams coming from upstairs. You shivered at the sound of it, knowing exactly the sort of pain Hermoine would currently be feeling. 

Wormtail came running down the stairs in the next moment, “Y/L/N, Goblin.” He called for you and Griphook. You shook your head backing away from the door. “NOW!” He yelled.

“Please, not again,” You whispered. Wormtail drew his wand and you shrunk back into yourself, letting go of Harry and following Griphook towards the door. As you were led back up into the Manor you could hear Hermoine’s screams grow louder and louder before they came to a stop. Coming to the bottom of the stairs to the main lounge, you spotted the body of one of the Snatchers. Shit. 

Wormtail pushed you forward into the room, meeting the stares of the Malfoys and Bellatrix. From the corner of you eye you could see Draco cowering just by the fireplace. The things he must have seen. His eyes met yours and you could see the tears roll down his cheeks at the sight of what his family had done to you. He was never there for your torture sessions with Bellatrix. 

You think she knew deep down, that the moment he saw what she did to you that he would give it all up. You were the only thing he cared about anymore. He knew that his mother and father would be shielded no matter what his actions would be, but you? He knew you were all alone, and it made him feel sick that he couldn’t be the one to protect you. 

You averted your gaze, not wanting to be punished for looking at him. You saw Hermoine laying limply on the floor and if it wasn’t for her shallow breaths every few moments, you would have thought she was dead. Bellatrix’s attention turned to you and the goblin beside you. You watched warily as she flipped a dagger around in her hands, seemingly enjoying toying with such a dangerous object. 

“Goblin,” She commanded, making Griphook step forward. “Now I want you to think very, very carefully. Who got into my vault!” She yelled, gesturing over to the side where the sword of Gryffindor lay.

“I don’t know.” Griphook answered, his tone never wavering. “There is nowhere safer than Gringott’s,”

“LIAR!” She screamed once more, cutting the goblin’s cheek with the knife. The sudden yell made you jump, that was a mistake. Her attention was instantly drawn to you, a sickening smirk spreading across her thin lips.

“I suppose you were in on it wasn’t you? Traitor,” She spat, you shook your head, stepping backwards in fear.

“No, I-I didn’t-” You were cut off when she pulled out her wand, flicking it over to you. Excruciating pain wracking through your body making you fall to the ground. Your body twisting and curling in on itself trying desperately to escape the pain. But it only seemed to get worse as Bellatrix’s cackles grew louder and louder in your ears. You felt yourself screaming in agony, although you could not hear it. The pain was unbearable. It was like having every single bone in your body broken and then having them puncture your body repeatedly. 

Draco could almost feel the pain emanating from you as you screamed out in agony. His hands shaking violently by his sides. He couldn’t take it anymore, watching the love of his life be tortured by his own aunt. But he was still just a scared boy. But right now, he needed to be the man you needed. 

“Stop!” He yelled, striding over to Bellatrix. She didn’t listen at first, thinking the boy must have been talking to someone else. “Just stop it will you!” He shouted again, forcefully pushing Bella’s arm away from you. She lurched slightly, taking in what he had done, she slowly turned around to face him, flicking her hair to the side with a shake of her head. 

“Enough.” Draco spat at the woman. She glared at him, but knew he was ultimately untouchable. He was the Dark Lord’s Chosen One. She couldn’t do anything to him. He turned around, a fleeting smirk present on his lips as he walked away. Kneeling beside your panting body, he easily scooped you up into his arms, taking you over to the otherside of the room. 

“I can stand,” You whispered to him, looking up at the boy. He nodded softly, setting your feet down onto the ground. Your legs wobbled, aching from the onslaught you had just suffered. “Thank you,” You didn’t need to thank him, Draco would save you time and time again. No matter the cost. 

“You may be able to protect your darling little wretch Draco,” Bellatrix started, beginning to pace the floor in anger, immediately setting off your anxiety. “But the same can’t be said for this one,” She said, gesturing over to Hermoine as she lay on  the floor.

And with that one statement, the lounge had exploded into chaos. Harry and Ron had somehow managed to escape from the cellar, Ron had even managed to acquire a wand. They had managed to disarm Bellatrix, and a flurry of spells were whipped around the room between Harry, Ron and Narcissa. Mr Malfoy had promptly been launched across the room, keeping him out of the action. Draco kept you held firmly behind himself to protect you. Ron and Harry had the numbers advantage, but that was all taken away as soon as Bellatrix had gripped Hermoine up off of the floor, blade pressed to her throat. 

Harry and Ron dropped their wands in surrender, terrified of losing Hermoine. You felt Draco push something back into your hand, upon looking down you instantly recognised your wand. God, you had missed it. You looked up to meet his eyes, and he nodded up towards the ceiling. Furrowing your brows for a moment, you glanced up at the chandelier noticing a small body sat atop the crystal, loosening the screws that held it to the ceiling. 

“Dobby?” You asked, looking at Draco, he nodded in return gripping your hand in his. You took his hand, smiling to yourself at the feeling you had missed so much. Grasping the wooden handle of your wand, you felt a rush of power surge through you, and suddenly you were back on top of the world. All you needed was the wand in your right hand, and the man in your left. 

The chandelier dropped, forcing Bellatrix to let go of Hermoine to run to safety. The Gryffindor girl taking the opportunity to lurch forward towards her friends, Ron catching her effortlessly. You and Draco slowly moved over to join the group, standing in front of them protectively.

“How dare you stand there!” Bellatrix screamed, snatching up Lucius’ wand and flinging a curse towards you all. You easily blocked the spell, a flash of white encasing the room at the action. The Malfoy’s had heard rumours of your skills in combat, but they never thought they would experience them from this end of the wand. 

“Just you wait girly, I am going to relish the day I can make your death as painful as possible.”

“Well I guess you’ll have to wait a little longer I’m afraid,” You snapped back, Harry’s hand clamping down on your shoulder as Dobby teleported your group out of the Manor to god knows where. The shrill screams of Bellatrix and Narcissa’s cries for her son fading away into the void.

Some people survive chaos and that is how they grow. And some people thrive in chaos because chaos is all they know. As Draco stood beside you on the battlefield, the crumbling remains of Hogwarts lay beneath your feet, he could not help but fall even further in his irrevocable love for you. Because in this crazy world of yours, full of change and chaos, there is one thing Draco was certain of. His love for you. 

The pair of you were gathered with the other Hogwarts students outside the castle, face to face with the wave of Death Eaters that threatened your lives. “Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort had yelled out, the closest of his flock chuckling maniacally. 

“Draco,” A voice sneered across the courtyard, making your eyes snap over to it. Lucius. “Draco!” He repeated, growing angrier by the second. “Come!”

“No.” You responded, letting go of Draco’s hand and walking down the steps of the castle. “Draco isn’t going anywhere with you.”

“How dare you speak,” Voldemort called out. “The Slytherin traitor!” He yelled, waving his wand in aggravation. You scoffed at the man in front of you, the things you had been through in such a short time made it almost impossible for the pig without a snout to scare you.

“Look at you Tom,” You spat, wand slipping from your sleeve into your hand. “A stupid old fool.”

“You dare-”

“Oh I dare alright.” Snarling at the man across from you, you had gone to step forward once more but was pulled back by an arm. Looking to the side you noticed Draco had followed you down, making your heart grow warm. “You drone on and on about Pureblood supremacy, yet you’re still the half-blood you claim to despise.” You turned to look back at Voldemort, he had begun pacing small lines up and down the stone flooring, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger at your words. 

“You’re a fool who instead of completely overthrowing the Ministry, chose to come and murder a bunch of kids. You’re a joke Tom! In 100 years, we will all still be here, but you? You’ll just be a fading memory, the punchline of a joke. You. Will be. Nothing.” You emphasised each word. You were silently glad Draco held a firm grip on you, because if he wasn’t there nothing would’ve stopped you from running over there and beating the shit out of Voldemort.

He went to lift his wand towards you, and you gripped yours tighter, ready for the attack. But he was cut off when Harry sprung from Hagrid’s arms across the courtyard, his body hitting the floor for a moment before he was bolting off to the side, springing over debris and jumping into the stone walkways that framed the square.

Cheers broke out around you, screams and cries of happiness. You couldn’t help but let out a relief laugh, taking the moment to grab Draco’s hand and begin to back away from the Death Eater’s towards the castle. Voldemort haphazardly cast a number of spells in the direction of Harry, you watched as countless Death Eater’s apparated; fleeing the school grounds at the sight of Harry alive. The Boy Who Lived, escaped death once more. 

Once you re-entered the castle, everyone seemed to scatter. Making way for Harry, as no doubt Voldemort would be following close behind. You and Draco made for the Great Hall, hand in hand. “You’ve got to promise me something Y/N,” Draco called out, pulling you out of the way of a spell, ducking behind a large stone column.

“Anything,” You whispered, holding him close. 

“Don’t die,” He chuckled for a moment, looking down at you. His smile being a welcomed sight amongst the destruction that surrounded you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You smiled back, reaching up to pull him down into a swift kiss. His hands knitted themselves in your hair, whilst yours cradled his neck. After what felt like forever, you pulled apart, smiling at one another still.

“I’m gonna marry the shit out of you after this is over,” Draco laughed, taking your hand and running back towards the hall. You were on a high that no one could break, a giddy feeling buzzing in your veins. Breaking through the doors of the hall, you spotted a number of Death Eaters attacking anyone in their sight. 

Your eyes were drawn over to the left, noticing Bellatrix sending spells towards Ginny, a wicked grin stretched across her face. You felt your blood grow hot in fury. Mrs Weasley soon pushed Ginny back away from the table, standing up on top confronting the woman.

“Not my daughter you bitch!” She spat, wand at the ready. Bellatrix just laughed in response, sending spell after spell at the mother. Mrs Weasley blocked each and every one with each step backwards, but she was running out of room on the table and you were worried Bellatrix would take advantage of this. Without another thought you rushed forward, she didn’t even realise what had hit her at first. 

You gripped her ankles, yanking her feet out from under her. Her wand went flying in the opposite direction. Her face bounced off of the table with a loud bang, she screeched out in pain, hands flying up to clutch her face. You didn’t allow her a moment of reprieve before you were tangling your hands in her hair, slamming her face back down onto the table. Once, twice, three times before she elbowed you in the face, connecting with your nose. Your eyes watered at the impact, making you stumble back slightly.

Bellatrix spun around to look at you, blood now streaming down both of your faces. She went to run at you, but you were quicker. Bracing yourself for a moment, you swung your arm out to the side, catching her neck and slamming her whole body to the ground. She wheezed and coughed at the hit to her throat. You panted and grunted, standing back up and grabbing her hair once more. 

You placed one hand on her lower back, gripping the material of her dress. You pushed with all your strength, managing to throw the Death Eater up and over the top of the table, her body rolling off of the side. You panted at the exertion. All you heard was her maniacal laughter as she began to crawl back up onto the table, her wand back in her bony hands. You backed up  a step, watching as she lifted her wand.

“Hey!” A voice yelled, making you both look to the side. It was Mrs Weasley. She had managed to regain her composure and was ready to take her on. She sent a series of spells at Bellatrix, the younger of the pair blocking them but with great struggle. She managed to finally land one though, you watched as Bellatrix had the life squeezed out of her, breathy wheezes coming from her mouth as she struggled to breathe. Mrs Weasley smirked before rearing back her wand and sending a flash of red towards Bellatrix. Her body exploding into leathery confetti, floating around the room. 

“I am so marrying the shit out of you,” Draco laughed from behind you.

Bright music had filled the air on that night, chuckles and murmurs from everyone inside the tent. Clinking of glasses and cheers of joy tumbling out into the large field that surrounded it. You hummed along to the song playing, glass in hand as you rocked back and forth on your feet looking around the tent.

“Oi Malfoy,” A shout had been heard from behind you somewhere. It took you a moment to realise that they were in fact calling for you. Spinning around, you were met by the cheeky grins of the Weasley twins. “Two sickles say you can’t get Draco to dance,” George laughed, elbowing his brother.

You chuckled softly. The tiny bet that had started it all. The twins had made the bet with you in your fourth year, adamant that Draco would never even turn up to the Yule Ball, but wanted to see you try and get him to waltz with you. You hadn’t let on to anyone about your feelings for the boy, keeping them locked away deep inside. It was the same for Draco. He couldn’t help but stare when you weren’t looking, butterflies filling his gut and the absence of breath that followed when you locked eyes.  You treasured the memory. 

“Y/N, come on its time for the dance,” Draco called as he joined you and the twins. You smiled and looked over to the twins with a raised eyebrow. Fred groaned softly, pushing the sickles into your hand before pulling George along to annoy someone else. “What in the bloody hell was that all about?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” You laughed, letting the man in front of you take your hand. The music that previously engulfed the tent quietened for a moment, a softer, subtle tune beginning to play. Spinning you round, Draco couldn’t help but smile as you reached the middle of the dancefloor, all eyes on you. 

He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, taking your waist with his other hand. He pulled you closer, letting your wrap your arms around the back of his neck. The lights dimmed slightly, only one remaining bright as it hovered over the pair of you. You began to sway gently, letting the music fill the silence between you. 

“Everyone is staring at your right now,” You whispered to Draco, looking up at him through your lashes before turning your gaze back out into the crowd. He pulled his face back from your slightly, his brows furrowing.

“Maybe they’re staring at you,”

“They’re not.”

“Maybe they’re jealous of how beautiful you look tonight,” Draco whispered, his forehead coming to rest atop yours. 

“I’m just a girl, Not a threat,” 

“Oh Y/N,” He started, brushing another strand of hair behind your ear, cradling your face in his hand. “I think they should be terrified of you.” You chuckled softly, looking back up into his eyes. In  the next moment, his lips met yours; making your heart bloom in happiness. Finally after so long, you were exactly where you wanted to be. It was just you and him, the love of your life. Everything was entirely perfect. 

“To Mr and Mrs Malfoy!” Someone shouted from within the crowd, cheers erupting all around you, glassing clinking. But you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Everything you had gone through now is just a fading scar. Your entire lives lay ahead of you, and you were so, so excited. For there was no one else you would rather experience it with. 

Your husband, Draco Malfoy.

[starlightrows]

The Perfect Day

Pairing: Paz Viszla x reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags: Dangerously high levels of fluff!

Summary: Paz goes out of the way to make your birthday special!

AN: Second time posting this, the original got deleted by mistake! This was created to celebrate my birthday! Loosely inspired by @maybege soulmate!paz!

Your nose twitches at the sweet smell of cocoa and coffee as you begin the pull towards wakefulness. The heavy blankets and duvet that keep you warm is being pulled back, and you can feel gentle breath being puffed onto your cheeks. He places gentle pressure on your forehead, again on your temple trailing down to the apple of your cheek to the tip of your nose. By the time he reaches your lips you can’t contain your sleepy smile. His laugh is deep and hearty between gentle kisses, coaxing you into opening your eyes.

“Good morning birthday girl,” he smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut and push your face up to his to nuzzle your nose against his, feeling extra cuddly from his wake up kisses.

“Good morning,” you reply

“Made you breakfast,” he says, you open your eyes and sit up with him.

“Oh! Thank you honey,” He brings a bread tray forward, loaded with a massive plate of what you correctly assume to be savory waffles, a bowl of fruit, and two cups of coffee. He sits on the bed cross legged in front of you, placing the tray between you.

You excitedly dig, enjoying the crispy exterior of the waffles and rich chocolate laced into the coffee. He sits back enjoying his coffee, and the fruits of his labor.

“Paz, there is so much of this. How early did you get up to pull all this off?” You ask, because even with both of you eating there is a lot of food.

“Not as early as you think, this is turning out to be more of a birthday brunch than a breakfast” he smiles sheepishly. You glance at the clock on his dresser. He’s right, it’s a quarter past 11. He let you sleep in well past your normal lazy day wake up time.

“I figured if I was going to make your favorite breakfast anyway, I might as well make a lot so we can save some for the next few days,” he explains

You can’t help but smile, it was a thoughtful gesture, but if he didn’t put them away soon you’d sit there and eat the whole platter full!

When the bunch was finished, you helped him take the dishes downstairs, despite his protests.

“It’s your day love, is there anything you’d like to do?” He asks while washing the utensils you’d used to eat.

“Well with all the fresh snow on the ground, I was thinking we could pull out the snow shoes and do a hike. We could try the lookout loop again,” you reply, peeking out the massive front window at the snowy driveway and dense forest just outside the cabin. While the ground may be covered in a thick blanket of snow, the sky is free of heavy cloud cover “it’s pretty clear out today, hopefully we’ll be able to see the valley this time,”

“Yeah, sounds great. I can pack the hiking bag if you want to go pull the snow shoes out from the equipment closet,” he tosses a tea towel over his shoulder. You nod and slammer off to find the snow shoes.

Half an hour later, you and Paz are sitting on the bench under the covered back porch wearing snow pants, lightweight thermal jackets, beanies and gloves; strapping the snowshoe attachments to your heavy snow boots. Paz carries the big hiking bag that houses your emergency supplies and water for the wintertime hike, while you carry the smaller bag that has snacks and a blanket for the look out point.

He gives you a hand up, and lets you lead the way to start out the hike. You’d done this hike together many times before, once you started moving you almost didn’t need to think about it. He fell in step just behind you and the two of you shared easy, fun conversation as you hiked the familiar path up the mountain. Air was still and cold, but you felt amazing, kept warm by your insulating layers and the movement of your body. This hike was beautiful as it is in the summer months, but winter was its own kind of beauty.

The last mile or so to reach the lookout point was the hardest part, Paz’s long strides made it somewhat easier for him and you laughed as he passed you on the uphill climb. Just like he always did. He welcomed you at the top with a gentle hand, leading you to the lookout point. This place was special to the two of you. You’d come up here dozens of times together, he’d proposed to you on this spot, and a year later you’d gotten married at the top of this mountain.

“You were right,” he said, directing your attention out over the valley. It was pristine and perfect. The valley was like a bowl, fully surrounded on all sides by steep snow capped mountains. The lake in the center was a deep dark inky black, without so much as a ripple on the water. The lack of breeze in the chilled air made everything still. It was absolutely gorgeous and exactly what you had been hoping for.

Paz helped ease the pack off your back, and fished the blanket out from the bottom. He did his best to dust off one of the massive boulders you often sat on when coming up here, and spread the blanket out over it.

You sat together on the blanket enjoying crisp apples, sour gummy worms, salty jerky and of course passing a thermos full of cocoa back and forth. The only acceptable lunch for a day hike you claimed.

Before long you and Paz packed up your blanket and small amount of trash back into the bag, and triple checked to make sure everything was just the way you had found it. Together you set off back down the mountain, leading for home.

As the two of you neared the edge of the forest, Paz reached out and snagged your arm.

“Shhh, look!” He whispered pointing through the trees towards the cabin. You followed his gaze and the direction of his finger. Your eyes went wide, and your jaw slacked in elated shock.

Through the trees you could see it, a massive bull moose, leisurely strolling through your backyard about 30 yards away from where you and Paz stood. You had to cover your mouth to suppress your giddiness. Moose are your favorite animal, and one of the more rare animals to see on this side of the mountain. This was the biggest one you’d ever seen, and certainly the closest you’d ever been to one.

Of course you were well aware of how dangerous they are, so being protected from its view by the trees at this comfortable distance was the best and safest scenario for you. But this was also the coolest, most exciting thing that had ever happened to you! Eventually the Moose trotted along and disappeared into the trees on the opposite side of the property. You shared a look with Paz.

“Oh my god! That was a little intense,” you said following him towards the house

“I know. I’ve never seen one that close in my life. I almost wish we’d had a camera,” he replied.

You sat together on the back porch once more, removing your snowshoes, and kicking the remaining snow off the bottom of your boots. Once inside both of you stripped out of your snow pants and coats, leaving you in base layers and socks. You hung up the heavy gear in the entryway closet, and collected the extra bits that could go in the wash like socks.

Paz approaches you leaned down a bit and kissed the top of your head.

“If you let me rinse off real quick, you can take a bath while I work on dinner,” he offers

You hum at the attention of his kisses, “How can I say no to that. Its a deal babe,”

True to his word, Paz jumps in for a very quick shower just to get the sweat off of his body. He emerges from the bathroom with wet hair and warm skin. He gives you one more lingering kiss before letting you run off to draw a fancy bath for yourself.

Meanwhile he busies himself in the kitchen to make sure he’s got enough time to finish dinner, that he had secretly already started that morning, as well as the dessert he had planned.

By the time you’re coming back downstairs looking very cozy in an oversized knit sweater and leggings, dinner is on the table and dessert is just going into the oven. The table is set for the two of you with your favorite meal, and a nice candle in the middle. You sidle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“This is so romantic, you did all this for me?” You gaze lovingly at the beautiful dinner awaiting you.

“Of course,” he wraps his arms around you too, giving you a loving squeeze. He pulls away, and invites you to sit. The food is delicious, perfectly cooked just the way you like it. As you finish a timer goes off back in the kitchen.

You look past him into the kitchen, then turn your eyes back to him. “Paz?”

He grins mischievously, and gets up to pull dessert from the oven. It’s a small chocolate cake, and from the looks of it he’s attempted to make a lava cake with a gooey fudgy center. He turns it out onto a dish, and pulls the mold up and off it. He looks rather proud of himself. He sticks a single delicate white candle in the middle and deftly lights it. He sits it down in front of you with the warmest most genuine smile.

“Happy birthday baby,” he says “Don’t forget to make a wish,”

You giggle and give him a gentle smile, “I don’t know what more I could possibly wish for,” He grins at you. You do know what to wish for. You wish to be this happy every day. To feel this loved and cherished every moment for the rest of your days. You wish he would feel the same love and devotion coming from you. And you blow out the candle.

He produces two spoons and you share the dessert, finding its rich spongey cake to be without a shadow of a doubt the best dessert you’ve ever had. And you make sure to tell him that.

“I must be the most spoiled woman in the world. Breakfast, dinner and dessert! Will you at least let me help you do the dishes?” You ask when the plate has been all but licked clean of his chocolatey confection.

“Not a chance. You’re gonna go pick a movie,” he tells you, taking the plates into the kitchen to be washed. You laugh and shake your head, but acquiesce.

He joins you in the living room, and tumbles onto the couch pulling you on top of him to snuggle. In the end you choose an old favorite movie of yours, one that still makes you laugh despite the obviously terrible jokes. You’re half heartedly paying attention, more just basking in the warmth of Paz’s chest and the nostalgia of the film. Paz is not paying attention to the movie at all. He’s stroking your hair, and memorizing every detail of your face looking so blissful and content. Despite having been married for two years now, and together for two more, he could still spend an eternity studying your face and find something new or cute or amusing.

Your gaze drifted up to meet Paz, and your smile seemed to melt into a wider sleepier smile as you exhaled deeply.

“Good birthday?” He asks

“Mhm...” you nod “Perfect,”

[missmonsters2]

The Color of You

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: It was another mission Natasha was assigned to. Nothing she hasn’t done before. Same mission, different people. Sent undercover to investigate William Cain, suspect to funding terrorism and smuggling weaponry. Under the disguise of Natanya Rovinski, Natasha is ready for another routine mission. Until she met you, William’s fiancé. 

Series Warnings: There are dark elements to this series. Also, smut later on. Therefore this is 18+ series. If you read further, you are agreeing you are 18+.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Action

NOTE: Welcome to another Tumblr exclusive series! I put 10 parts because that’s what I hope to finish it by but who knows! 

PART I of X

Count: 1923

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It was a brisk morning. It had snowed the night before in Washington, DC, blanketing the ground until everything was covered white. It was quiet. The air was crisp, threatening to bite at the apples of Natasha’s cheeks. 

She briefly thought about how she should be more used to the cold. 

After all, she lived in Russia for quite a long time. 

Perhaps moving to New York had made her softer. 

Not that she thought it was a bad thing, Natasha quietly smiled to herself.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Natasha hummed on the phone.

“Yes, Clint,” Natasha said, her tone teasing him. “You worry too much.”

“Of course I worry, you’re being sent to a psychopath for recon.”

“And?” Natasha drawled as she tried to straighten out her jacket. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

“I know,” Clint sighed. “I just...this guy’s profile screams there’s something wrong with him.”

“Of course it does, he’s being suspected of funding terrorism and smuggling weaponry.”

She could hear Clint mocking what she said quietly, his tone going a pitch higher to resemble her, and she couldn’t help but grin. 

“Alright, just...get the info we need and come back home safe so we can all move in on this guy.”

“Copy that,” Natasha said, and Clint was rolling his eyes at her mock-serious tone.

She hung up the phone, sliding it into her coat pocket as she walked to the house they’ve set up for her.

Her undercover this time was a single wealthy investor who had come from old money, inheriting everything her fake parents passed onto her before they kicked the bucket. 

She was supposed to be poised but eccentric. Taking in hobbies ranging from archery, martial arts, all the way to collecting coins. 

The profile they set up for her managed to score her an invite tonight to William’s engagement party. No one quite knows what his new fiancé looks like as he keeps her under tight wraps, paranoid that someone would get her while he was building his political career. 

Apparently, it had happened to him before with a past flame.

But, they had a profile on women he’s dated in the past. They were typically flashy women who were quite content on being a trophy wife.

Natasha expected his fiancé to be the same as it was clear Willaim had a type. 

It was odd to Natasha that William was having such a large engagement party, clearly meant now to reveal his partner, but she suspects that it’s part of his political campaign.

Nothing brings a crowd in like seeing a family type man. 

It was a clear ploy trying to lure in sponsors as well. 

But Natasha knows.

Men like William are never any different. 

And there’s always a method to getting what she wants from men like William.

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The venue that William had rented was grand. A little too flashy and gaudy for her taste, she decides. Nothing like the classy events Tony puts together. 

She’s come in a light strapless beige dress, tight to her skin before flowing loosely at it lowers, a matching shining sash that goes across her body.

It’s elegant, innocent, draws attention with her fiery red hair. 

She’s sipping on champagne before she enters a group of other wealthy goers. She knows all the participants here, studying it meticulously at her home before she came. 

She stood currently with Tiffany and Brad, almost like the heads of the group. Then there was Lucy and Derek, and finally newcomers Lilian and Brody. 

They were new money, trying to make it into the group, having to suck up to people like Tiffany and Brad. 

Because old money is always better than new. 

“Oh yes, I believe I’ve heard of your family. I’m quite sorry to hear about your loss, by the way,” Tiffany says, tilting her head as sympathetically as she could with a purse of her lips. 

Natasha simply nodded. These type of people were so easy, Natasha thought. A couple compliments to flatter their egos and they were open to gossiping with her.

“This is quite the venue for an engagement party,” she comments.

Tiffany laughs, “That’s William, expect nothing less. He simply adores hosting parties.”

Natasha put on her best smile. “Have you met his fiancé?” 

Tiffany shook her head as she sipped from her glass.

“Oh, no,” she says. “But, I hear he fell in love with her quite quickly when asking for her hand in marriage. He’s saving her family from bankruptcy as well.”

Natasha hummed. 

Was it love? Or was it an arranged marriage?

Whatever it was, it was benefitting both parties clearly. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“You don’t belong here.”

The voice made Natasha turn her head as she lowered her champagne glass slightly. She was somewhat alarmed, but when she came into contact with a gentleman with warm brown eyes and a smile, she relaxed.

“Oh?” She hummed, “And why do you say that?”

The gentleman jokingly eyed her before looking around, and then looked back at her.

“Well, since you’re standing here alone, minding your business, and sipping your champagne, clearly you’re a level up on these rich, conceited shitheads.”

Natasha couldn’t help the light laughter that left her mouth.

“And what would that make you?”

The gentleman took a step back, exaggeratingly bowing with his arm as he introduced himself.

“David King, rich shithead, but not conceited, mind you.”

Another laughter left Natasha’s lips as she shook his head.

“Just Natanya Rovinski.”

“Alright, just Natanya Rovinski, are you a friend of William’s?”

Natasha shook her head, “No, I actually haven’t met him before.”

David nodded his head with understanding. 

“Ah,” he said. “Then you’re his potential investor.”

Natasha merely quirked her lip in response.

“Do you know William?” She asked in return, watching in amusement as David sighed.

“Unfortunately, we are family friends that go way back. I’m not going to lie, this is my fourth drink, and I’m willing to admit now I tried to break my leg earlier to leave.”

“Not a fan of William?” Natasha asked, intrigued. 

David rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how to explain to you that among all these rich, conceited shitheads, he steals my last name as the king among them.”

It was interesting, she thought, to meet someone like David, who so openly did not like William Cain.

Perhaps his position as a family friend gave him that privilege. 

“Oh shit,” David muttered quietly so that only Natasha could hear him. “Here comes the man of the hour.”

Natasha looks over to see a man in his mid-thirties in a polishing white suit and crooked grin make his way over.

“David!” He called, slapping the man on his shoulder. “Great to see you. How are your parents?”

David is smiling, but to Natasha, it only looks like he’s resisting a grimace.

“They’re doing great. How’s your mother?” He asks, mostly out of politeness.

William is still grinning. “She’s doing grand. Complaining about how old she’s getting, but still grand.”

David just lets out a dry laughter. 

“Well...I think my father wanted me to get him some...olives...so I’ll catch you later.” David turns to Natasha looking apologetic. “It was nice to meet you, Natanya.”

Natasha nods while David scurries off, leaving the two of them alone. William regards her as she puts on her best alluring expression, blinking her lashes slowly.

“Miss Natanya Rovinski, isn’t it?” William says as he takes her hand to greet her. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I heard about your parents’ tragic accident. You have my condolences.” 

“Thank you,” Natasha says, her voice husky.

“If you don’t have anyone helping you with the estate and wills, I’m happy to introduce you to my lawyer. She was wonderful when my father passed.” William offers her, and she’s sure it’s to butter her up.

“I will keep that in mind,” she merely says. 

“You’re probably wondering why I’ve invited you, despite the fact we don’t know each other.”

Natasha is surprised by his direct approach, but nods.

William looks around the party, taking the guests who are mingling.

“It’s a new age, Miss Natanya. The world continues to change as we know it. I believe that we, being the next generation from our parents, should take our place in shaping it. I hope to gain your support in the future.”

It was bold, Natasha thinks. 

She had expected William to shower her with his compliments and gifts to earn her favor, but she was not completely surprised.

She pulls her lips into a smile.

“I look forward to future discussions with you,” she says, promising nothing for now. 

William smiles and Natasha quickly changes the conversation, looking around as she did.

“So, where is this finacé of yours?”

William playfully rolled his eyes.

“She’s in the washroom...you know how women can be.”

She fights the urge to roll her eyes because what dumbass would say that to a woman standing in front of him, but she soon notices another woman approaching them.

“Ah--there she is.”

You were approaching with a demure smile, smoothing out your dress before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You stood next to William, hand out-stretched to Natasha.

And then you spoke.

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It was warm.

Your hand was warm and soft.

And you were beautiful. Not in a flashy, gaudy way. You were a quiet elegance. Like a wallflower.

You were, well, lovely.

Your voice was soft when you introduced yourself. 

“I’m Natanya Rovinski,” Natasha says as she lets go of your hand.

You smiled lightly, “William tells me you have inherited everything your parents left behind. It must be a lot of stress.”

You didn’t apologize for her loss.

Natasha liked that.

“Yes,” she nodded. “It will definitely be new for me to take over my family’s business, but it’s something I’ve been preparing for my whole life.”

“What about you?” Natasha directed back. She needed more intel on you.

“What does William’s mysterious fiancé do?”

You smiled, your eyes wandering to the wall, which made Natasha look as well to the artwork on it.

“I’m an artist, just starting off...”

“And yet, your artwork is already framed in this venue,” Natasha compliments. 

A light blush appears on your cheek, and the entire thing is so bashful that it’s throwing Natasha off.

You didn’t say anything else, but your smile showed how you appreciated her words. Natasha was still forming her opinion on you. You were much too quiet in your thoughts and accomplishments, but it was those qualities that made Natasha believe you were different than the type of girls William dated on his profile. She quietly pondered what on earth could’ve possibly brought the two of you together.

Was it an arranged marriage?

The way William had his arm around you so intimately with you leaning in made her think otherwise. 

The night went on as good as it could. Natasha had gotten tidbits here and there about William, mostly from David. They exchanged cards so they could stay in touch. She had a feeling she would see him around more often. 

Natasha had spent the other part of the night looking at you. As you stood next William, greeting guest to guest in your long-sleeved navy blue dress that showed no skin, other than the slit that went up to your thigh, there was a twinkle in your eye.

And Natasha felt it.

You were an essential piece to this mission.

PART II

[writingwiththeghosts]

November (OS)

Sadly, I can’t find the person whom I got the seasonal prompt from. Also, I’m way too late to post. Whatever. I really wanted to get it out there.

All the crossed out words are words one is supposed to use!

________

crisp air

memories

tea time

rainy

carriage ride

star gazing

mysterious

early sunsets

historic

cozy

shooting stars

gloomy

cuddling

scarecrow

gratefulness

stellar constellation

blanket

rainboots

hugs

mist

fireplace

steaming mugs

wind

puddles

moonlight

Thanksgiving

grey sky

smoke

apple cider

lanterns

NOVEMBER

Autumn never arrives on time, yet it always does - at least in the northern hemisphere.

Usually that happens around October, seldom only in November. However, climate change happens to make some changes in the expected seasonal weather, so you may find yourself only in a T-shirt and some jeans, even though the sun sets early already.

Jay coughed. Even though September 23rd had been around two months ago, fall seemed to only arrive now. And Jay was not dressed for the occasion. Why had she decided to walk to her friend’s house from the train station (and where were her rainboots?) - puddles seemed to be everywhere.

The young woman was not one to back down from a self-set challenge, like walking to a friend’s house for one’s health, so she set her head straight and started walking again. A cold wind picked up and suddenly she wished she were in a neighborhood with more regular taxis.

Even though she couldn’t even see the moonlight in the grey sky, likely due to all the mist, a lot of houses were already decorated for christmas and therefore very well lit. Smoke came from the chimneys and it made the whole neighborhood more alive somehow.

Jay wished it was less alive. She kept imagining a black figure creeping up behind her, but every time she turned around, no one was there.

It wasn’t too bad in near all the houses, Jay was more worried about the path she had to take through the fields - no lanterns, many scarecrows… ugh. The whole atmosphere was gloomy, the further she got away from the neighborhood centre.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and Jay’s heart stopped beating for a second. Now it was over, she thought. Then she rammed her elbow into the tall figure behind her and wanted to start running, until she heard a familiar grunt: „Bloody hell…“

Jay turned around and her panicked expression slowly turned into an annoyed one.

„More like, what the hell? You can’t creep up on someone like that!“ „I wasn’t creeping up on someone, I was creeping up on you. You know me.“

Jay scoffed. „Sadly. What are you doing here?“

„Same as you, I suppose. Thanksgiving dinner.“

„They invited you?“

Eric gave her a look. „You don’t seem to be in the holiday spirit. How about a little gratefulness? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the weird people around here.“

Although Jay wanted to punch him (like always when she saw him) he did have a point. Not wanting to admit that, she just shrugged: „Yeah, one is right in front of me. I did think someone was following me, but again, must be you.“

„Don’t flatter yourself. I was taking a cab, but the driver refused to drive further than this village - something about tariff zones -, so I had to walk the rest of the way.“

She contemplated whether or not he was telling the truth, but then again, why would he be following her? Only to show himself now? A cold shower ran down her back. „Fine“, she murmured and turned around. „Let’s go.“

Eric rubbed his hands together and sprinted after her, with a sarcastic „yay!“.

They walked in silence and left the houses behind them and walked on a path next to a corn field. With every step their surroundings were harder to keep apart from each other as it got steadily darker without street lamps.

„I should have just given the driver more money. A little bribe never hurt anyone.“

„Scared?“ Jay raised her eyebrows and tried to put on a cocky voice. He did not need to know how she actually felt.

„No. I just prefer light, warmth and coziness over fog and mysterious woods.“

„We’re in a field.“

„Yeah. In front of woods.“

„Pff.“

„At least it’s not rainy.“

„Hm.“

„Have I done anything to offend you?“

Both parties couldn’t help but chuckle at that statement. It was this unspoken rule between them that they just didn’t like each other. Ever since high school. It might have been over petty disagreements, but there was no reason to change their opinions of each other. At least their banter usually got a laugh out of their friends and (not that they would ever admit it to each other) sometimes made them rethink their actions.

„The question is, what haven’t you done?“ Jay mused and Eric nodded in agreement. Or at least she thought he was, it got darker and darker around them. „However“, she continued, „I agree that it’s a little spooky out here. Therefore, a little conversation can’t hurt.“

„Spooky“, he echoed. „Very mature vocabulary.“

„I’m about to never speak another word.“

„You couldn’t keep your mouth shut to save your life if I said something you disagreed with.“

„Don’t act like you’re above me, or may I remind you of my use of the word spooky?“

He didn’t respond, which might have been due to the harsh wind picking up again. Maybe the fog would finally disappear. Jay shivered and subconsciously closed the space between her and Eric.

„I would give anything for a cab. Or a carriage, that would have been fun“, he mused. Jay turned to face him and shoot him an incredulous look - without much success thanks to the darkness.

„A carriage? Like… the historic mode of transportation with horses?“

„I doubt you’re using the word historic right.“

„How else would I use it?“

Then two separate discussions started at the same time, one about the word ‚historic’ and the other one about whether or not a carriage would make the whole situation even creepier. (It would.)

After that they fell into a comfortable silence, at least until they saw a deer. Well, Jay was certain it must have been a deer, whereas Eric insisted it must’ve been a cryptid of some sort („Will you stop it? Don’t make this worse!“), so they decided to talk about more comforting topics. Like autumn itself.

„You know it’s autumn when the air gets like, really crisp“, Eric stated as an answer to Jay’s earlier thoughts about the seasonal definition. Jay nodded. What he said made sense, in a weird way. „What’s your favorite fall memory?“ he asked her then, sounding almost sincerely interested. So Jay decided to humor him: „Stargazing.“

„Isn’t it like… really cold outside all the time?“ And so Jay told him about stellar constellations, shooting stars and ghost stories around a campfire. And somehow, the more fun they had, the less cold and gloomy their surroundings seemed to become.

After all, when they arrived at their shared friend’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, enjoying tea time with steaming mugs and apple cider around the campfire, cuddling with hugs and blankets, Jay knew what she was thankful for this Thanksgiving.

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Thank you all who keeps following this story, who hits Kudos on AO3, likes and reblogs and gives a kind word in the comments. It means a lot <3 I am still genuinely surprised somebody finds it interesting but I DO appreciate each and one of you for that.

This chapter has been much saved by my trusty beta Anne. Thank you! She's been my source of any possible and impossible medical info I need, patiently answering all of my questions, giving me advice and just generally making this story so much better!

Read on AO3.

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

                                     CHAPTER VI: Flecks of sun

Saying goodbye was something Jamie and I were very bad at. The moment we would part with a kiss (so soft that it leaves a lingering tenderness float over the lips) we text or call in a space of an hour again. We were inseparable and I could not even remember anymore how it was to live without Jamie’s constant presence in my life.

Without him making the best coffee I’ve ever had.

Without the heavyweight of his arm over my waist that kept me imprisoned in the mornings in our bed.

Without our hours-long calls when we both were in our beds on different sides of Edinburgh.

Without his solid body and warmth on my couch with a bowl of crisps and Netflix on.

Without his lips on my skin and his hands knowing every inch of my body better than anyone.

Without Jamie cuddling Adso but next moment cursing in Gaelic when my cat decides to scratch him.

Without Jamie’s quiet reassurance and gentleness when my days are particularly hard at work and he’d come with me in the shower, working out the tight muscles in my back.

Without him just being there.

Our absolute inability at saying goodbyes was one of the reasons I was invited to Broch Mordha. After I was away for a week in Boston for a medical conference, Jamie simply asked me to meet his family. So now I found myself in the kitchen next to Jenny who was making dinner. Jamie had gone to the stables to check on the new horse Brian bought before he left for Glasgow. Ian was away at work and all the children were visiting his parents. I was left alone with Jenny and somehow I felt more nervous than I anticipated. She was Jamie’s older sister and nothing escaped her eye. I’ve felt like under the microscope.

* * *

Claire’s cheeks were positively glowing when she realised it was a selfie of her and Jamie snapped on his phone during their hiking two weeks ago. It was a silly one. Jamie was smiling from ear to ear. He looked as if he received the best news ever while Claire gave him a smooch on the cheek. Her hair loose, framing her face. She had the look of a woodland faerie wild and free.

Jenny snorted noticing Claire's face had become a lovely shade of scarlet.

“Jamie put it there right after yer wee hike adventure,” Jenny adjusted a magnet (that she and Ian brought from Greece) that held a small square photo. “This is our fridge of ridiculous family photos.”

A lopsided smile touched Jenny’s lips as she turned back to the salad she was preparing. No longer under the curious gaze of Jamie's older sister, Claire looked at the numerous pictures of the Frasers gracing the refrigerator.

There were childhood photos of all siblings, including William. One captured all three of them playing in a small swimming pool outside on a particularly sunny day. A little girl about six-years-old, with two dark ponytails, was laughing while she was held high up by her father. Her brother Willie, accompanied by his red-headed brother Jamie, seemed fascinated by a yellow ball he held in his hands. Jamie clearly made an effort to relieve his brother of the toy.

Claire’s eyes moved up finding a picture of Christmas day.

In that picture, Ellen Fraser sat with a little swaddled baby in her arms, (it was Jamie, Claire assumed), on a carpet by the huge Christmas tree surrounded by her other two bairns, who proudly held their new presents, with ripped wrapping paper scattered around them.

A black and white photo captured their wedding day showing the happy faces of Frasers standing outside the church in Inverness. Another one of Jamie all dressed up at his High school graduation. One of Jenny holding her university diploma, both parents proud at her side. Ian and Jenny on their honeymoon in Spain, ridiculously tanned. Pictures of all the family members outside the hospital commemorating the birth of Jenny and Ian's first born. Ian looked overwhelmed as he held his newborn son, Jenny drowning in bouquets of flowers with a blue balloon floating over her head that said: “It’s a boy!”.

And now there was a picture of Jamie and Claire. Somehow she felt thrilled by the fact that Jamie decided to put their photo there as she belonged to this family. Showing that Claire was part of their family seemed important to him. As she turned to ask if Jenny needed any help, Jamie’s sister picked up a phone that was ringing for the second time already. Claire never knew that colour from someone’s cheeks can drain away that quickly.

“Jenny?” She tentatively touched her shoulder watching her face become paler and paler. Something frighteningly awful happened to cause a cold feeling to rise from deep within Claire's belly.

“It’s Jamie. There’s been an accident.”

* * *

When people experience sleep paralysis they often describe a feeling of choking, as if some supernatural creature would sit on their chest purposely cutting an airflow in their lungs. I felt that and more. When Jenny slid down the barstool, her hand still holding a phone I stepped closer. Her face became paper white. I managed to compose myself adopting that professional mask I always used in the hospital in spite of my breathing becoming harsh and uneven.

“Jenny, what happened? Tell me.”

She raised her head, eyes fixed on my face but not actually seeing me.

Jenny tried to stand up but shifted and almost dissolved into my arms. “Jamie had fallen from a horse. He doesna move.”

He doesna move.

Each syllable ran through my head as a manifesto cutting deep into the tissue of my brain.

Jenny sobbed, chin quivering.

“Jamie is good with horses but…” She gulped and escaped from my hand that was tight on her shoulder. “Dear God, I canna lose another brother.”

She spoke in a trembling voice and her hands shook causing me to feel the weight of a ton of bricks pressing down on my chest. With each shallow breaths, I thought I could actually feel my sternum crush. Like Jenny, my legs became weak, numb lacking the strength to carry me. My mouth became dry, my eyes burned but no tears came and I gasped for breath like a fish removed from its watery home.

“Christ, what if he’s dead” Jenny whispered flying out the door into the misty evening.

“He’s not.” I tried to sound confident but inside I just wanted to shake her and scream “Of course he’s fucking not!”.

I never knew I could run this fast. I never thought I would feel that terrifying paralyzing fear of losing someone again, not so soon after learning about Uncle Lamb's heart condition. With each meter closer to the stables my stomach clenched and the coffee I had an hour ago threatened to escape, rising up in my mouth. I tried not to imagine all the possible images of Jamie’s injured body. Jenny’s gasps and cries were crawling inside me waking my own fears, making me sick. When my eyes caught the side of Ian’s figure crouched down next to still Jamie the tears snaked down my cheeks. Sniffing, I dried the salty paths away with the back of my hand.

Suddenly I remembered when a young nurse had asked me if I could perform surgery on someone I love, on someone significant. I said I wasn’t sure. In fact, I could not. She asked me if I felt the pain when I lost a patient’s life. My answer was that of course, I did. But not without reason some people call doctors cold-hearted. If we were allowed to show our true emotions it would become a mess. There were times I had to tell that terrible news to relatives and then afterwards in the company of my cat I could allow myself to feel that pain and sadness.

But now it was Jamie. This very moment I knew true fear. The reality suspended around me and the only thing I tried to think of was the severity of the fall from the horse.

Jamie’s skin was pale and there was sweat glistening along his forehead as far as I could see. My heart was beating erratically as my trembling fingers searched and found the carotid artery on his neck. I exhaled feeling the steady pulse at his clammy skin.

“Have you called the ambulance?”

“Aye, I did the second I’d found him like this.” Ian ran his hand through hair, biting his lip nervously.

“Is he alright? He’ll wake up, right? Claire?” Jenny was squeezing Ian’s hand with such force that I was afraid she would break it.

Her voice was a mixture of hope and fear, projecting her worried state of mind and confusion on me. My eyes closed as I willed myself to concentrate pushing my emotions aside.

“First of all, we need to get him to Emergency. He fell from a height and I am not sure whether he hit his head, for that he must have CAT scan.”

Jenny nodded as she clung to her husband.

“He’ll likely regain his consciousness within the minute but if not please, don’t panic. He’ll be alright.” My voice shook at those last words. Slow but steady rising and falling of Jamie’s chest was a reassuring sign of him breathing. And I smoothed his red curls back with my palm. “You’ll be just fine. I'll make sure of it”

And that same moment Jamie’s hand stirred slightly, a little twitch but enough for my eyes start to water again. This time with relief.

His eyes fluttered open. Jamie looked disoriented and the way his lips curled into a tight line I could tell he was in pain.

“Hi there,” I whispered my palm cupping his cheek gently. “You fell off a horse, honey. But you’re going to be okay.”

He made an effort to nod, his eyes closed again.

“Jamie, are you hurt?”

“My shoulder-”

I saw his Adam’s apple bob under his skin as he swallowed.

“Hurts like hell. And I feel dizzy.” It took a great amount of exertion for those words to come out.

“Be still now.” I shushed him seeing the lights of the ambulance arriving, blue lights ablaze.

* * *

Jamie had been put onto the stretcher with me sitting beside him holding onto his hand. Finally, we arrived at the hospital where I was relegated to wait in the hospital waiting room.

The hospital of Inverness was about three times smaller than the one in Edinburgh where I worked every day. The manicured hand of the receptionist pointed me to the waiting room. That room reminded me of a train station with its plastic chairs, grey painted walls, and a sad lonely ficus. The ficus failed at an attempt to brighten and lend some coziness to the room. My imagination seemed to be running wild, as I thought that even the radiators shivered from the starkness of the place.

Picking up an old issue of Elle magazine from the colourful stack I flicked through it without actually paying attention to the content. In about twenty minutes after becoming quite sick of the TV programs playing along with their obnoxious commercials, I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. A nurse, Laura as her name badge indicated, peered at me as she tapped her clipboard with a pen.

“Ma’am are ye a relative of James Fraser?”

“No-,” I shook my head, standing up. My knees painfully jerked on the table that stood in front of me sending pain down my legs.

The nurse quirked her eyebrow in a question and before she made a guess I blurted the first thing seemed logical.

“A girlfriend.”

Laura clicked her tongue as if she did not believe me and after scribbling something down with a blue and white pen she guided me to the hallway. Her hand felt heavy and cold on my back and her accent made me replay her words in my mind at least twice.

“Mr Fraser has a severe concussion. CAT scan hasn’t shown any bleeding but we advise the patient to stay overnight to monitor the symptoms.”

I just nodded walking over the sleek floors in the hallway space where my eyes started to hurt from all shiny steel and bright white walls.

“The dislocated shoulder was treated and we’ve given him ibuprofen for the pain but he’ll need rest and peace. Mr Fraser has asked about ye. Do ye wish to stay over the night, Ma’am?”

* * *

When I entered Jamie’s hospital room he was asleep. Worn out by the accident and all the procedures that followed. Jamie rested quietly in the realm of Morpheus now. Giving my eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness I reached the bed where he laid as quietly as I could. My lips softly brushed over his forehead before I slid down the chair next to him.

Just then I allowed myself to exhale deeply, all the feelings catching up with me.

I sat there in the darkness of a late November evening watching the lights of lonely passing cars draw lines over Jamie’s face.  My previous organised state of mind turned to dust in the revelation of the night creeping in. Tears stained my cheeks sliding down into the valley of my neck and finally creating a damp stain on my sweater.

I wasn’t sure where it came from but the slightest idea of losing Jamie, losing us created a hollow aching space inside my heart. It made me wrap my arms around myself for comfort as I shook my head reminding myself to breathe.

Just breathe.

You can never learn how to lose someone you love.

I’ve lost both of my parents. I was five at the time and maybe I didn't quite understand the idea of death but that evening I not only lost my parents, I also lost my childhood and old carefree self. I never got a chance to say how much I love them one more time. I’ve regretted it all my life. No matter how often I would repeat those words visiting their grave each year it would never fill that endless hole inside me.

I never got a chance to say those words to uncle Lamb. How many times did I let this sense of regret eat the flesh of my heart like a vulture devouring carrion? I knew about the poor state of his health during his last years. And I berated myself for not saying "I love you" enough.

The slightest idea of losing Jamie now slashed a deep, bleeding scar over my heart. The tears burst like a water dam, lashes heavy with dampness, my hand pressed over my lips afraid to wake Jamie with my cries.

The fear was ripping through my heart, my very being, coming out it wrenching sobs, turning my guts out. Everything became a blur as the sounds became muffled leaving me in complete silence with the only echo of my own quiet confession.

“I love you”

* * *

“I love you.” My lips repeated those three simple words again as if I was not sure I’d said them a minute ago. Sniffling into the sleeves of my sweater and smearing the remains of mascara I leaned to Jamie.

“You scared the hell out of me,” my whisper sounded hoarse and raspy. “I know you’d laugh at me. You’d say I’m a doctor and you’re in good hands. But Jamie…”

A nervous chuckle came out as I took his hand in mine, my thumb placing gentle caresses over his warm skin. Maybe I was a coward but it was easy to tell him all this while he slept.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t”  

I kept repeating those words until the rivers on my cheeks dried out and all the sounds around came back to me. Soothed by Jamie’s quiet breathing my fingers caressed his stubbled jaw.

“It’s as if my soul that’s been torn and reborn started breathing from the moment you found me.”

His hand slightly twitched in mine, fingers seeking that contact. But he was still asleep. Bringing his palm to mine I pressed my dry lips to it. The same as he did on our first night together.

“Good God, I know it’s dangerous. To let myself having someone I’m afraid to lose.  But it’s you that I need.”

I smiled.

“You know, when I went to that medical conference in Boston I swear I kept thinking about you each minute.”

After our ‘wee’ getaway to the Highlands life resumed its chaotic rhythm and swayed us away into the depths of it. Joe and I had to leave to the medical conference in Boston for a week. Jamie also had an urgent business he needed to deal with together with his uncles at the brewery.

We said our goodbyes with sloppy kisses at the airport and fifteen minutes rushed sex in the men toilet (where firstly I wiped the toilet seat before Jamie had settled himself down and then me on him). He laughed saying that I am ridiculously hygienic (calling me Dr.Beauchamp as he bit my earlobe gently). After moderately satisfying goodbye sex we parted promising to call each other each evening. In fact, we spoke only three times during that week and I ached for Jamie.

When day six arrived I was so ready to come back to beloved rainy and windy Scotland. Jamie and I chatted on Whatsapp for an hour creating so many plans for when I come back (it included a sex marathon to make up for the time apart, eating our favourite Chinese takeaway, going to see the new Marvel movie, Jamie promising to fix the dripping sink in my bathroom and me coming to Broch Mordha).

It was something I did not expect but something I was no longer wanting to reject. As I folded the last piece of clothing into my suitcase Jamie’s voice message popped on the app.

“Claire, there’s something I wanted to ask ye. But firstly I want ye to know there’s no pressure or anything like that. And ye can say no, I willna be offended. But it is important for me and I would be glad if ye agreed.”

His tone became a bit quieter then.

“I would love ye to come to Broch Mordha. To meet Jenny and Ian, to meet my Da. I could show ye around. Maybe ye could stay for a night?”

I recorded a message back.

“I would love to visit your hometown. Or rather home village should I say? I don’t mind that, Jamie. Especially, when I think of all the things you’d promised to do to me.”

I joked but in fact, I felt the butterflies in my stomach. Though I knew it must mean something more than we both anticipated at the beginning I was nearing that point. The point that I was ready to be in love with him. The point when my heart longed for him so much it hurt. The point where I thought I must already love him.

And when the last day opened its door my phone buzzed with a text that was trying to find its way to John Grey but ended in my jeans back pocket.

“Sorry, man, no pub this weekend. My girlfriend comes back from Boston and we have plans at home.”

My fingers typed back.

“I hope my boyfriend has good plans for me.”

The stupidest smile appeared on my face and I spent an additional five minutes at the airport security control because certain James Fraser called me his girlfriend and I knew he’d be the end of me.

“You should have seen the face of that officer, Jamie. He thought I was mad.” I whispered smiling. “But that’s the most unusual way I’ve become a girlfriend so far.”

I remembered arriving home in Scotland waiting for him to meet me there.

Something was rising in my chest when I saw him through the window walking up the front porch. God, I longed for him. I could almost cry with the want to be held by those hands again, to feel his body move against mine. But mostly I just wanted him near. To simply exist together in one space, to see his face when he wakes up and to listen to his untuned humming in the morning to the radio. To be with him. My breath hitched when the doorbell rang. Suddenly the blush crept in all the way on my neck to my cheeks. When my hands unlocked the door and Jamie entered our eyes settled on each other my heart pounded in my chest so hard I thought it’ll break free.

We haven’t seen each other for a week but it felt like years passed by and I couldn’t live without him any longer.

Jamie moved first, making two solid steps towards me before I myself wrapped my arms around him letting my head rest against his chest.

“A Leannan” He whispered softly pressing a kiss at my brow.

"I missed you”  I confessed quietly, Jamie’s jacket muffling my voice.

“So did I” He smiled when his thumb raised my chin and our lips collided.

I remembered when finally we went to see that Marvel movie but in fact, I had seen only the first twenty-five minutes of it. The rest will be forever be imprinted as a memory of Jamie’s hands roaming over my body and the fact that I could never tell this story to my children.

I remembered watching Jamie fixing my bathroom sink, cursing in Gaelic every now and then. It stirred something sweet and undeniable inside me and I walked over to him pressing at least a hundred kisses to his bare back.

I remembered a time when Jamie waited for me to finish my shift at the hospital and on our way out the new (and very nosy nurse) said with mischief in her eyes that we would have “verra bonnie bairns”.   It made the tips of Jamie’s ears become red and causing me to cough forcefully.

I remembered when it was time to finally come to Broch Mordha.

“Jamie, I know you cannot pick me up, I’ll take a train, it’s fine,” I started scrolling through the timetable of trains on the Edinburgh-Inverness route.

“Let Ian bring ye from the station at least, I’ll ask him,” Jamie wouldn’t drop the topic of my safety.

I smiled chewing on my lip.

“I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. I don’t want to be a bother. You know that I can fend for myself”.

Jamie snorted but the words came out serious.

“I ken that very well, Sassenach. Yer a fierce one. But I wouldna wish for ye even to try to do that. So just agree. Aye?”

“Aye,” I mimicked him but had to admit my life now was under a guard. In every sense.

I talked a lot to him until I lulled myself to sleep in that chair.

* * *

When Jamie woke his head was spinning and he had to blink several times for his vision to adjust to the darkness of the room. He felt as though his head was splitting in two. Then that nagging pain was running down his neck all the way to his shoulder.

He could feel a familiar warmth. Claire’s hand remained curled over his. She was a fragile figure covered in shadows, crouched on that hospital chair, her head dropped down her chest. The image of her, tired, asleep and so delicate made him want to cradle her and keep her safe inside himself, with his soul being her comfort. The words echoed in his fevered memory and crawled into his heart. Taken away from his dream that was put there by Claire’s voice before.

“Tha gaol agam ort”

Claire stirred and then rose in a swift motion woken up by Jamie’s voice.

“What did you say?”

She blinked still being half drowsy.

“I said I love ye”

[thebulletproofbangtanboys]

Haunted (Yoongi x Spirit!Reader)

Summary: It’s been seven months since your untimely death, and Yoongi still can’t seem to get over you. He sees you in his dreams and now in his everyday life. Some might say he is haunted by your memory. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Genre: Angst, Mild Fluff

Warnings: spirits, character death, suicide, PTSD, grief

The air was crisp like freshly picked apples and was sharply brisk like icy water to the face. It tingled across Yoongi’s skin, but he didn’t shiver. There was also a bit of a sweet scent floating around, and it tickled Yoongi’s nose. The scene around him was dark, so dark that he could barely see three feet in front of himself. But he knew where he was. There was only one place in the world that was cold yet comforting and had a scent such as the one he smelled: your dining room.

Your dining room was always so cold, and Yoongi could never remember why. The reason why was in the back of his head, but he never could recall it. Through the dimness of the room, he walked around, hands stretched outwards, in hopes of finding the source of the cold.

After bumping into the corner of your oak dining table and rattling a few already set dishes, Yoongi heard something flutter behind him. A chilly breeze swept by moments after. He turned around and saw an open window with the thin, white curtains fluttering lightly. Yoongi walked over to the window, the soft pitter-patter of his large feet sounding throughout the otherwise quiet room.

Once Yoongi reached the window, he looked out. The lighting showed that it was shortly after dusk or right before dawn. The sky was a dark pastel blue with a hint of gray. Everything else were only silhouettes, blackness covering the entirety of the landscape. As the breeze blew by, Yoongi could hear the leaves in the trees rustle like paper being wadded together. This was all he heard. When he saw or heard nothing of interest, Yoongi reached up to the top of the cold, metal pane. As soon as he placed his fingers on the pane, he heard an earth-shattering shriek followed by the calling of his name.

Yoongi’s ears immediately picked up on the voice. He knew that voice. It was you. You needed help. With the door to the yard right next to Yoongi, he quickly exited it, completely forgetting about the window. You were his priority. You were the only thing that mattered.

However, the moment Yoongi stepped out the door, the scene shifted, and he was now standing in the middle of a cemetery. The sky was still the same gray-blue as before, leaving everything else dark. He only knew he was in a cemetery was because of his gut telling him so and the looming angel statues that peppered the area. He looked around but saw no one.

The air didn’t shift at all unlike the scene before. The air was still and a little warmer. Yoongi scrunched his eyebrows in slight confusion. Why was he here? Where were you? Were you okay?

Then, suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure dart between two tall statues. Yoongi whipped around to see what it was, but nothing was there. He wondered if he should check it out. Something told him no, but another part of him said yes. He hesitated but finally mustered up the courage to walk over to the two statues. His heart raced, and he could hear every heartbeat in his ears. When he reached the statues, he saw nothing. At least, not there. He saw the figure once more, a few feet away behind a tree. This time, he ran to the tree. Again, nothing. It was like this several more times. It was a good five minutes of chasing this figure around before Yoongi gave up. At least the scenery around him became lighter as the sky did, too.

“Just show yourself already!” Yoongi shouted, obviously frustrated. A few seconds went by, and nothing happened. “Hello!”

A moment later, a figure slowly came from around a statue. Yoongi couldn’t tell who it was, but it was clearly female. The figure was clad in a floor length dress and had long, black hair covering her face. It was the stereotypical “evil spirit.” However, Yoongi did not have one ounce of fear in his body. He felt almost comforted in a way, like he knew who this person or spirit or whatever was. As the figure stepped towards him, Yoongi stepped forward as well. The figure seemed to float rather than walk. Yoongi and the figure stopped about three feet away from each other. The two of them stood stock still, neither moving a single muscle. There were a few seconds of silence.

“Yoongi?” the figure asked, still not revealing its face.

It was the same voice as the one at the house. It was your voice. “(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

“Yoongi.” This time, the voice was more of a ghostly moan.

“(Y/N), I’m right here,” Yoongi said softly, now more confused than ever.

The figure lifted its head, and the long black hair parted down the middle, falling graciously against its shoulders. The figure’s face was now revealed. Yoongi gasped and took a step back, now scared. This figure had your face, but it was contorted into an expression that resembled pain and hardship, a look Yoongi never once saw on you before.

You placed your hands to your side and doubled over in pain. You coughed a few times, and Yoongi saw blood landing on the grass below you. His eyes widened in surprise at you.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, his voice shaking a little at your condition.

“Why?” you asked, your own voice and shaking and weak. “Why didn’t you save me Yoongi?” You looked up at him. Blood dribbled from the sides of your mouth and down your chin. Tears poured from your glassy eyes. “Why did you leave me to die? Answer me, Yoongi. Yoongi!”

Yoongi bolted upright in his bed, your voice still ringing loudly in his ears. He breathed heavily, but every breath was harder to take than the last. His throat closed as he fought back tears, but the fight was quickly lost. Tears streamed down his face, and he tried gasping for breath. His efforts were fruitless, though.

Within seconds, he was full-on sobbing. His throat was closed off, and it hurt. His heart hurt. His soul hurt.

He still couldn’t believe you were gone. Gone from the world and never to return. You had been dead for seven months, and these dreams still haunted him almost every time he fell asleep. And every time, he woke up sobbing. He thought he would have been past this by now, but every night that he had like this at around 3 o’clock, he was sorely mistaken.

Sleep used to be a refuge to him, but it was now a prison, a personal hell, that he succumbed to every night. The first few days after you died were the worst. Every time he closed his eyes, even to blink, he would see your face on the inside of his eyelids. When nighttime rolled around, the regret and guilt settled in his gut, and with that on top of constantly seeing your face, sleep was impossible.

For the first week, his six close friends brushed his tiredness off. They knew this typically happened to someone who was feeling grief. Once one week bled into two and two into three and so forth, the boys started worrying more. They knew it was unhealthy for someone to be grieving this much for so long. They tried getting him help, but Yoongi constantly insisted that he was fine, insisting he had just taken on more hours at work.

While he was taking on more hours, that was only part of the reason for his constant state of exhaustion. Yoongi would go days without sleep just so he wouldn’t have the same, cruel dream repeatedly. It wasn’t long into his self-sleep-deprivation that he started seeing you in the corners of his eyes. Every so often, he swore he could hear your voice, even if it was just a whisper. With you now invading the waking world, Yoongi saw it useless to skip his sleep. Once he started sleeping again, the nightmares still persisted, but you were less present when he was awake. However, there were still some days when he thought he would see you in a crowd or smell your perfume when he was alone watching TV.

After Yoongi was finally able to breathe again, he wiped the tears from his eyes. He threw the covers off of his thin frame and shifted to the side of his bed. He placed his feet on the cold hardwood and stood up, rubbing dried tears from his eyes. He softly made his way to his bathroom, not bothering to turn on any lights until he reached his destination. Yoongi kept his eyes on the floor the entire trek to his bathroom. He only looked up when he turned on the light.

The moment he lifted his head, he saw a figure in the mirror behind himself. He jumped, startled, and turned around quickly. All he saw was his tub and a halfway opened, dark red shower curtain. Yoongi placed a hand to his chest as he turned around before placing both of his hands on the sink to steady himself. He turned on the sink and quickly splashed water onto his face. He wanted to get out of the bathroom as soon as possible.

However, it seemed that some unknown force didn’t want him leaving. The bathroom door slammed shut. Yoongi immediately tried opening it, but it was practically locked shut, even though the doorknob signified otherwise.

“Yoongi,” he heard. There it was again. Your voice. Yoongi almost burst into tears once more when he heard your voice again. It was always harder on him when he heard your voice while he was awake.

Yoongi looked in his mirror and saw you once more. This time, he didn’t turn away. He stared straight on at your translucent figure. Unlike his dreams, you looked like just you. There was no stained gown or blood. You were dressed in a pair of dark, distressed jeans; a yellow, floral shirt; and a black beanie. You had your hands in your pockets, and a small smile had been placed upon your lips.

“Sorry for being so rough with the door, Yoongs,” you said softly. “I just didn’t want you leaving. I want to talk to you.”

One reason why it hurt Yoongi so much more to hear or see you while he was awake was because you were much more clean-cut and sweeter than in his dreams. It was like you were alive again.

“(Y/N),” he whispered.

You took a step towards him, but Yoongi didn’t dare to turn around lest it all just be another cruel dream. You looked him in the eyes through the mirror.

“Everything is okay, Yoongi. You just have to learn to let go, to move on. I’ll be okay. I promise,” you said.

Yoongi breathed in heavily as he felt his throat closing in on him again. “But how? How can I let go when you’re in my dreams every night? How can I still love you? How can I let you go when I am the reason for your death?”

“That is for you to figure out, Yoongi.” Your face turned solemn. “But I can’t cross over until you learn that my death isn’t your fault. I am the one who stood in front of you to protect you from the gunman. It wasn’t like you picked me up and placed me in front of you. I did it on my own accord, so you could keep living your own life. I knew the risks, and I took them anyway.”

“But it was me who took you to that side of town that late at night. I should have known better. I did know better, but I did it anyway.” Yoongi kept his teary eyes on you the entire time.

“That doesn’t mean you knew what was going to happen. None of us can tell the future, Yoongi. If we could, we could prevent anything bad from happening in the world. Everything happens for a reason.”

“So what is your death supposed to mean in the scheme of things?” Yoongi asked, getting slightly frustrated.

“I wish I knew,” you said barely above a whisper.

“I just wish I knew what to do. I want to stop feeling the pain.” Yoongi’s eyebrows scrunched together. “But, if that were to happen, I would never see you again.”

“And that is okay. Sometimes, things are better left in the past.”

Yoongi nodded slightly, barely noticeable. “I’ll talk to Taehyung tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you said before slowly dissipating.

Yoongi’s eyes were glued onto your figure and the space where you were long after you had disappeared into nothing. It was the sound of birds twittering and the light of the early morning sun peaking through the bathroom blinds that brought Yoongi out of his trance-like state. He placed his hands on the edge of the sink and sighed as he dropped his head.

He really needed to talk to Taehyung about this therapist person. After a close friend of Taehyung’s committed suicide and his grandparents passed away, he went to see a counselor to help with handling the grief. When Taehyung noticed how Yoongi was handling your death, he suggested his counselor, but Yoongi had always turned it down…until now.

It was now two weeks later, and Yoongi sat nervously in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. It smelled strongly of fake, old citrus and cleaning chemicals. The odor only added to the uneasiness that settled in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to leave. This was the last place he wanted to be. But he knew he needed to get help, not just for him but for you, too. Yoongi figured out why you sent the same, torturous nightmare every single night. It was to distort his lovely vision of you, for him to learn to let go of you, so you could finally cross on to the afterlife.

Yoongi thought over this, completely oblivious to his surroundings. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when his name was called, that he came out of his thoughts. He looked over to where the sound of his name came from, and it was a tall, thin lady, about fifty years old. Yoongi figured it must be Dr. Yang, the therapist. He stood up from the scratchy chair and followed the doctor down the hallway.

As he was passing by an open and empty office, he saw you out of the corner of his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked. Sure enough, there you were, staring at him with a light smile. Yoongi just stood there, staring back at you with wide eyes. Why were you here? To make sure everything goes smoothly, and you could finally cross over? Yoongi didn’t know, but his heart pounding at the sight of you standing there in the dark room.

“Yoongi?” Dr. Yang asked.

Her voice sounded like there was a barrier of water in between the two of them. It didn’t register in Yoongi’s mind that he was being talked to. He was still completely focused on you.

“Mr. Min?” the therapist asked again. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi was finally brought out of his other-worldly state. He shook his head clear of everything and turned to Dr. Yang. He gave her a simple nod before glancing back to the office that was now void of your figure.

Five minutes later, both Yoongi and Dr. Yang sat in her office, her in a plush, brown swivel chair and Yoongi in a lumpy, sinking, once-plush green couch. Yoongi had his hands clasped together and was twiddling his thumbs. The two had just gotten the formalities out of the way, and Dr. Yang was now ready to get down to the reason why Yoongi was actually here.

“So,” Dr. Yang started. “What brings you to my office today?”

Yoongi looked up at Dr. Yang before looking back at his clasped hands. “Uh. (Y)- ah – Taehyung, my friend who also happens to be a client of yours, recommended you.”

Dr. Yang gave a nod and scribbled something on her clipboard. “For what reason?”

“I, uh, I lost someone, my fiancée, a while back, and Taehyung and the rest of my friends don’t think I am coping that well with it.”

Scribble. “How long ago was that?”

“About seven months now.”

“And you’re still having difficulties coping?”

“Yes.”

Scribble. “Can you tell me how she passed or what you’ve been feeling?”

This was when Yoongi explained every detail of how you were killed, down to the blood splattered on Yoongi’s once pristine, white socks. He then went on to explain the dreams. He hesitated on telling her about seeing you in his bathroom and throughout his apartment and even in the middle of the city. However, it seemed as if Dr. Yang had been reading his mind.

“Do you see her?” she asked.

This made Yoongi shoot his head up with eyes slightly widened. “E-excuse me?”

“I asked if you see her, and judging by your reaction, I would assume so. You saw her in the empty office, didn’t you? That’s why you stopped.”

Yoongi scrunched his dark eyebrows together. “H-how? How did you know?”

“Most people who go through what you went through tend to develop Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. Sometimes, the stress or the anxiety from the traumatic incident can become so overwhelming that the body comes up with delusions or hallucinations.”

“So, you’re saying that they aren’t real? Her ghost isn’t actually haunting me?”

Yoongi couldn’t believe it. It might be all in his head after all.

Dr. Yang shook her head. “No, Yoongi. It’s all made up by your mind trying to cope with the stress. Look, I don’t generally do this on first-time visits, but considering how severe your case is this and for how long it has been going on, I am going to prescribe you an anti-anxiety med, alright?”

Yoongi nodded in thanks as Dr. Yang handed him a slip of paper. She looked at the clock. It was six past three.

“Oh, it seems we went over.” She stood up, as did Yoongi. “Just head down to the pharmacy in the next day or so, and when you come back for you next appointment, we can discuss how you’re dealing with it, alright?” Yoongi nodded. “Just set up your next appointment with Rae up front. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

Dr. Yang stuck out her hand, and Yoongi lightly gripped and shook her hand.

Yoongi had decided to run to the pharmacy to get the prescription filled as soon as he left the therapist’s office. The pharmacy had plenty of the anti-anxiety meds on hand, so getting the prescription filled did not take long. Within a half hour, Yoongi was back in his apartment, sitting on his bed and looking at the orange bottle in his hands.

“It’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

Yoongi looked up to see you standing in the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed and a light smile gracing your already lovely features. You dropped your arms and walked over to his bed, only to sit down next to him.

“I’m serious. I’ll be perfectly fine. In fact, I’ve lived a wonderful life, and I’m honestly getting tired of being here on earth. I’m ready to move on, Yoongi, and I want you to as well. I want you to be able to live a happy life, even if it is with someone else.”

Tears pricked your translucent face and almost looked like silver as they trickled down. You wanted to go so badly. You felt stuck here and seeing Yoongi in constant pain over you only made things worse. You wanted him to be happy, to lead a normal life once again, not be hung up on you and have the rest of his life be absolutely miserable.

It pained your soul to see him like this, and that was one of the main reasons why you were ready for your soul to finally move on to the afterlife. And what you said to him about living your best life, you truly meant it. Sure, it would have been nice to cross a few more things off of your bucket list, but you were happy with the life you had lived. You wouldn’t have traded it for another one.

You just wished that Yoongi could see that. He deserved the best life possible, even if it was without you now. You wanted him to find another special someone. You wanted him to have the big house with the picket fence and plenty of kids and a wonderful wife. You wanted everything for him, and to do that, you knew you couldn’t still be in his life.

“Someone else?” Yoongi asked.

You nodded. “Yes. I know it will be hard, but it will only be harder for you with me still here. It’s going to take a lot of time and work to get past this, but you can. I believe in you, Yoongi. I can only hope that you believe in yourself, too.”

“I just don’t know if I can bear to lose you again, (Y/N).” His voice cracked, and tears welled up in his eyes, making them red and puffy.

“Yoongi, I will be fine, and you will be, too,” you stated, placing a hand on his arm. This caused a chill feeling for him and sent goosebumps up and down his arm.

A tear slipped down his cheek. There was no way this could just be an illusion. The way your hand felt against his skin was all too life-like. Then, Yoongi thought back to the little bit of research he got done while waiting on his prescription to be filled. The thing about delusions and hallucinations was that they could feel so real to a person that the person would eventually struggle whole-heartedly between deciphering what was real and what was not.

Yoongi took in a shaky breath as he turned his attention away from you and back to the bottle in his hands.

“This will really help?” He was not only asking you this, but himself as well.

“It will,” you reassured.

Yoongi nodded, still looking at the bottle. He stood up from his bed and walked to his bathroom. There, on the sink was a glass that he kept for swishing or a late-night thirst-quencher. He took the glass and filled it half-way with water. Next, he popped the cap off of the bottle of his medication and placed one tiny, pink pill into the palm of his hand. He placed it in his mouth and brought the glass to his lips. His hand was shaking, as was evident by the water sloshing around in the glass.

Yoongi was truly not ready to let you go. He couldn’t bear to go through the pain of losing you again. You were too precious to him, and the fact that you had left him and this world just a few weeks before your wedding date and by traumatic means didn’t help Yoongi ease his mind at all.

He thought about all of this as he looked in the mirror as he did almost every night and saw you. This would possibly be the last time he would be seeing you in anyway in the awake world unless it was by means of photographs and home videos.

You gave him a nod, and he tipped the glass of water back, swallowing the pill. In a way, Yoongi was disappointed. He knew that he wasn’t going to feel a rush of revelation or anything wash over him, but he thought there would have at least been something. But there was absolutely nothing. Everything was exactly the same as how it was before.

That was until you started to fade more than your already faint image. Now, Yoongi was hit with the feeling of dread and fear of losing you again. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the pill. It was a mistake. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready for this at all. But now, it seemed as if he had to let go whether he was ready to or not.

“Goodbye, Yoongi, and thank you,” you said before completely passing over into the afterlife.

You had finally moved on, and now it was Yoongi’s turn. He felt his throat close and the almost ritualistic tears followed suite. He crumpled to the floor and sobbed.

To say the next few weeks were hard for Yoongi would be an understatement. While his nightmares had virtually ceased, and he no longer saw you around anywhere, the feeling of guilt, depression, and overwhelming heartache still consumed every fiber of his being. Now that Yoongi was finally able to sleep in peace, that was all he wanted to do. It was the only time when he didn’t feel these heavy emotions.

He still went to see Dr. Yang on a weekly basis. It helped with trying to sort out some of his thoughts that he didn’t want to share with his brother-like friends. However, the feelings never went away, even with the new anti-depressants that were prescribed to him. Sure, the feelings and thoughts eased up a bit, but they were still there.

It was on the anniversary of your death that everything came crashing in. The feelings and thoughts were felt tenfold. The scene of your murder behind the club came over his mind like a dark mass. The blast of the gunshot rang in his ears. He could hear your split-second scream as you fell to the cold concrete below, the way your breath became ragged as you were trying to hold onto life. His bloodied fingerprints against the blue lit screen after he called the ambulance were etched into his mind forever.

If only he saw the light bouncing off of the gun, he would have known sooner. If only he had stepped in front of you or pulled you out of the way a second sooner, you would not have been injured. If only he hadn’t let his emotions get the best of him and run after the shooter before calling the ambulance, you would still be alive. He was the reason you were dead, and you know the saying: “A life for a life.”

That little saying bounced around Yoongi’s head as he went through his closet. In the back was a little, orange shoe box. Once he spotted it, he gingerly picked it up and brought it back with him and sat on the bed. He took the cardboard cover off and revealed a small handgun.

The metal was shiny, and the handle was a dark, chocolate brown wood lined with metal. Yoongi picked it up, and it was cold against his feverish skin. The weight seemed heavier than normal. He gazed over it as the scene of your death ran constantly in his thoughts. He slowly brought the gun to his temple, the short barrel of the gun almost searing him with the cold. A life for a life.

That was his final thought before he clicked the safety off and pulled the trigger, ending his own life.

A life for a life.

[zicosmullet]

Fall Dates with Monsta X (Part 1/3)

- Part 1 out of 3 of my “Fall Dates with Monsta X” imagines.

- Members: Shownu, Wonho

- Notes: FINALLY posting something new. ;u; I wanted to write something soft to get me in the mood for fall. And starting off this series with my biases ahhhhhhhh. Mayhaps I also just dropped all my money on preordering all 4 versions of their new album, so I’m really in my MX feels lately. They truly own my heart and my wallet. :’)

Shownu

The two of you take a walk through the park or neighborhood to look at all the newly colored leaves together, breathing in the brisk air.

He holds your hand the entire time as you stroll along in a comfortable silence.

Whenever a gust of wind blows by, he squeezes your hand a little tighter. Partially to keep you warm and partially to keep you from being blown back a bit.

If you’re walking near a road, he’ll walk on the side closer to it as a small gesture of protecting you.

You hum a little tune to yourself as you find yourself slightly straying from the sidewalk/path a bit so you can kick and crunch your way through small gatherings of leaves that have piled up.

He curiously watches you with a warm smile, also feeling the sudden urge to kick at a few piles of leaves along the way himself, causing his smile to widen even more.

He tells you that you make him feel young and you blush a bit at the sudden sappy confession, but you still respond with how he’s not even that old, which just makes him chuckle.

Everything comes to a halt when he notices your shoe is untied and stops so he can crouch down and tie it for you. Now it’s your turn to feel young.

You smile wide and kiss the top of his head as thanks, loving how it makes his concentrated expression soften. He always takes such good care of you.

When he stands back up, he kisses the top of your head in return.

Despite the crisp, chilly fall air, you feel so warm inside and full of love.

As you walk on and it gets later, he’ll ask a few times if you want to wear his coat. Even though you’re already wearing one, he wants to give you an extra layer if you need it..

But you decline and just cling to his arm for warmth instead.

He doesn’t mention it, but he kinda likes this better. He’s happy as long as you’re warm, but he really loves it when you cling to him.

You like to point out cool things to him that you notice while walking. Whether it be a dog, a pretty pattern of leaves, a twisted tree trunk, or some spooky Halloween decorations, you find yourself excitedly saying “Look!!” while pointing.

He thinks it's incredibly cute that you get excited by such simple things that others might not always see.

And you also think it's incredibly cute when he makes an effort to point out things to you too.

If a puddle blocks your path while you’re walking, he will always ask if you want him to lift you over it.

Sometimes you’ll say yes, but other times you’ll challenge yourself to see if you can jump over it.

Once before he had the chance to say anything, you jokingly asked if he wanted you to lift him over it, and he really got a kick out of that.   

When you make it back home, Shownu absolutely wants to cuddle. Fall walks are invigorating but also a little tiring from being out in the cold so long.

He prepares warm beverages for you two while you prepare snacks.

You both bring them into the living room so you can comfortably tangle yourselves together on the couch under the biggest and softest blanket that you own while watching a movie or a show.

Not that it matters what you watch, because both of you will most definitely end up falling asleep in each others arms while watching.

Wonho

One day while you two are out shopping, you pass a bakery with a huge display of pies in the window for fall.

They look really delicious and both of you comment how you absolutely need to have pie sometime before fall ends.

So that's when you get the idea to surprise him with a homemade pie. You might not be the best cook, but you know that baking a pie with your own love will be super meaningful to him no matter how rough it turns out.

So on a day that Wonho won’t be home, and one he thinks you won’t be home as well, you go out to the grocery store and buy all the supplies you need.

You didn’t even want to risk spoiling the surprise by having the ingredients around the kitchen so you waited until the very last second to buy everything.

The grocery store is pretty busy so it takes a little longer than anticipated, but you FINALLY manage to make it out with all the items on your list.

Once you make it back home, you’re so giddy about your whole plan that you nearly spill the groceries everywhere; luckily you manage to save them at the last second.

However, you nearly drop them a second time once you start to hear noises coming from the kitchen.

Wonho had left before you so it shouldn’t be him?? What if it was a burglar?? Or a rabid animal that somehow found its way inside??

Arming yourself with an apple from your grocery bag, preparing to launch it in defense, you tiptoe your way towards the kitchen.

And SURPRISE, it actually is Wonho after all. But you panic a little because why is he home when he told you that he wouldn’t be?? Is he okay?? Why would he lie to you??

Surely the panic is showing on your face because when Wonho looks up from whatever he’s doing and immediately catches your eye as he registers your presence, his face goes beat red.

He looks half shocked and half guilty for some reason. You’re not really sure how to interpret the situation until it suddenly hits you. Your mouth begins to curl into a bit of a smirk as you scan the kitchen, noticing the ingredients, trays, and cookbook all laid out.

You begin to lower the apple back into the grocery bag and as you do, his expression shifts as he too interprets the situation.

Before you know it, the two of you are a smiling, giggling mess. And he’s showering you in little kisses despite the fact that he’s already somehow all covered in flour. And you’re trying your best not to have him crush the groceries that you’re holding. But your heart is just so full, you wouldn’t dare to try and pull away.

He’s so warm and already enveloped in the smell of cinnamon, you could almost stay like this, drowning in his affection.

BUT there's a pie to be made here, so once you’re both done gushing about how you’re completely and utterly in love with each other and how you can’t believe that you’d both had the same exact idea on the same exact day, you get right to work.

He’s already set out most of the ingredients and supplies, but now you’re here to give him a bit of a guiding hand, which really boosts his confidence.

Although neither of you are master chefs, you still have so much fun trying to figure out the recipe together.

One of the highlights of this experience is definitely getting to watch him roll up his sleeves before kneading the dough with the rolling pin.

Much back hugging also ensues. It slows down your process a little bit, but he can’t help it. When he sees you leaning over the counter so focused on something yet still smiling through the task, he can’t resist the urge to pull himself close to you.

And you’re equally as bad. Seeing Wonho’s back as he slices apples or uses the rolling pin is almost too much for you to handle sometimes. You absolutely have to take this opportunity to rest your head against it and wrap your arms around his waist.

Even with all the distractions, the two of you manage to successfully bake a pie. It's not the best, but it's not too shabby either. And no matter what it looks like, it still tastes pretty good.

The hardest part was waiting for what felt like an eternity for it to cool.

But once it's ready to serve he absolutely insists on you having the first bite and absolutely insists on him feeding it to you.

And you’re absolutely fine with this as long as you get to feed him a bite next.  

[spnandshitold]

Music To My Ears.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count: 3113

Warnings: language, partial nudity, fluff, making out.

A/N: none of the lyrics in the fic are mine. The 3 songs are Punchin' Bag - Cage The Elephant, The Middle - Jimmy Eat World, Every Other Freckle - Alt J. As always any feedback is appreciated.

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

"She's a stone cold straight faced killer and a lover and she once pulled up with another brood who only wants to bruise her take her love and then abuse her." The lyrics flooded through your headphones as you became your own band lying across the back seat of the Impala occasionally busting out an awkward dance move making Sam and Dean chuckle.

"What crap do you think she's listening to today Sammy?" Dean asked his little brother smiling at the sight of you play air drums with your eyes closed.

"You know a lot of her music is really good and I think if you just gave it a listen you'd really enjoy it." Sam replied making Dean scoff.

"You're kidding right? There's nothing good about any of that shit she blasts." Dean would never admit to Sam or anyone for that fact that actually he had listened to your music as you sang along in your room at the bunker but that's mainly because your singing voice was part of his idea of heaven.

In fact, you were his idea of heaven. The way your H/C hair fell around your face or the way that you twirled it around your finger when you were concentrating on research or reading or the way it shone in the sunlight. Even the way you effortlessly detached the head from a vamps body without them even noticing; your eyes were his favourite, the shade of E/C was stunning and Dean loved seeing the rare sparkle of innocence in them when you watched you favourite movie. Everything about you was perfect even your flaws were perfect to him.

He was glad that he was driving along a straight, freshly paved road since he'd just zoned out for a solid 15 minutes. When he looked at you still lying in the back seat he noticed you weren't violently playing the air drums and were this time lip synching.

"It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride, everything, everything will be just fine." You really connected with those lyrics since you'd started hunting no matter how bad things got it would always get better especially with Sam to talk to and Dean to, well Dean to be Dean.

Dean was always a bit weird around you from the first time he saved your life, you tried not to be weird around him too but you couldn't help it you were in love with him. You hadn't realised at first but as soon as you moved into the bunker it was crystal clear that you loved him.

You'd always felt a strong connection to Dean, almost like there was some unknown force drawing you towards him. But he didn't feel the same way, you thought he saw you like a little sister. All you could do was fantasize about the man you love and hope that one day things could be different between you two.

"Hey chunk, how far out are we? I might have a nap." You asked Dean with the nickname you gave him for no particular reason. You called Sam sausage and Dean was called chunk, not because he didn't have perfectly chiselled abs but because you knew he didn't really care for nicknames and that was the only one that seemed to have an effect on him.

"Not too far 'bout two hours I'd say." Dean replied suppressing the giant grin that was dying to show itself.

"Then y'all had better be quiet for an hour and a half. But you got to wake me up when we're 30 minutes away." You chuckled out pulling the plaid, wool blanket that was folded in the foot well over you closing your eyes putting you earphones back in quickly dozing off.

Dean was fully focused on the road until you fell asleep and not a word was said until Sam sighed loudly breaking dean's intense concentration.

"Dude, when are you going to say something? The tension between you two makes the air hard to breathe in here." Sam stated earning a confused look from Dean who looked over in the rear view mirror to make sure you were still asleep.

"Say what, Sam? What do I say to a girl that perfect who only sees me as a friend. Besides she'd never go for a guy like me, you're way more her type. You look more like those dicks she leaves the bar with." Dean answered his brother quietly, trying not to wake you up.

"Gee thanks, but trust me man, she's into you, you might not see it but the way she stares at you, it's- it's how I used to look at Jess. She loves you man, you're just too blind to see it." Sam looked down at his hands at the thought of his dead girlfriend feeling the hole shaped like her in his heart twinge. Dean sighed and focused back on the road.

Dean rested a hand on your shoulder over the seat and he shook you gently causing you to stir. "Hey kiddo, we're half an hour away from home." Dean spoke softly, smiling as you groaned.

"Thanks chunk." You smiled sitting up blissfully unaware of the conversation Sam and Dean had while you were asleep. Your smile grew when you thought of your dream about having a normal apple pie life with Dean; you smiled again when you thought of having the exact same life you had now but sharing it with Dean, you thought of the occasional night you had to share a motel bed with the eldest Winchester and his gentle snores and his morning hedgehog hair the feeling of waking up next to him made your heart swell and your cheeks burn pink.

"I want to share your mouthful. I want to do all the things your lungs do so well. I'm gonna bed into you like a cat beds into a bean bag. Turn you inside out and lick you like a crisp packet." You sang along to one of your favourite songs while you showered after returning to the bunker. Dean stopped and listened smiling as he was walking past the bathroom then he heard the water turn off and panicked in case you caught him listening to you so he set off running down the hall slowing to a walk when he was far enough away that you wouldn't know.

Dean rounded the corner into the kitchen grabbing a beer from the fridge as soon as he un-crouched from getting his beer Sam shut the fridge door.

"I am going to go out for a couple hours and when I'm out you are going to put your pride aside for a while and talk to Y/N about how you feel because I can't take anymore longing stares or tension." Dean stood there in shock without a chance to reply as Sam had already left.

You snook into the kitchen and slipped your hand between Dean's ribs and arm to grab the bottle out of his hand without touching him. The second it left Dean's hand he spun around and had you pinned against the fridge, your bodies pressed together as your giggles and immature smile faded into something different. Neither of you moved, you stayed exactly how you were, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like forever. You had to look down to avoid the urge to kiss his pink plump lips. Dean noticed you look away from his gaze and eased up away from you. He turned and started to walk away.

"Dean wait." You reached you hand up and grabbed his arm "oh wow." You muttered under your breath as you felt the muscle under his henly shirt which made him smirk.

Dean sighed "Y/N I need to talk to you." He looked into your eyes and your hand dropped from his arm.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, please don't hate me I don't want us to be weird. Oh chuck, don't tell Sam about that, he already thinks I'm desperate for you, I mean he's not wrong but if he knew he was right he'd have my life litera- Dean what are you laughing about." You spoke quickly wishing he wasn't still pushed against you, so close you could smell him; he smelled amazing like leather and whiskey, coffee and pie and- and home. You smiled breathing deeper.

"Why do you assume no one can have feelings for you? If I'm completely honest if you hadn't looked away I would have kissed you." Dean admitted.

"I could ask you the same thing chunk." You smiled up at him breathing a laugh while you stared into the depths of Dean's heavenly green eyes allowing your gaze to flutter to his lips that were parted ever so slightly.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" Dean leaned closer so his forehead was resting against yours. You gathered the strength to bring a hand up to rest on Dean's cheek pulling him slowly towards you.

"That is the best idea I've heard all day." You allowed your lips to brush his as you spoke and that was all it took for Dean to wrap his arms around your waist and press his lips against your softly, no tongue just his lips moving against yours. Then he pulled his lips away from yours prematurely causing you to whine at the loss of contact.

"Hey you wanna make Sammy uncomfortable? He went out so I'd have a chance to talk to you alone, said he'd be back in a couple hours." Dean asked you keeping one hand on your hip and rubbing the back of his neck with the other.

"What are you proposing Winchester?" You smirked at him mischeiviously.

"Wanna go make out in Sam's bed?" He asked mirroring your smirk.

"Let's go!" You exclaimed excitedly pulling Dean's hand towards Sam's room. Watching as Dean pulled out his phone and start typing. "What are you doing now chunk?"

"Just texting Sammy that it's safe to come back and that I found his secret Netflix addiction in his room." Dean replied coolly donning his evil smirk.

"Dean Winchester you must be after a girls heart." You flopped on Sam's bed pulling Dean with you as soon as he sent the message and dropped his phone in his pocket.

The pair of you lay there for a minute getting comfy so Dean was lying on top of you, you pulled his shirt off so he was in his jeans as Dean pulled yours off too leaving you in shorts and a sports bra.

Once you were comfortable and half naked with your shirts littering Sam's floor Dean pulled out his phone and read the message from Sam aloud. "Why are you in my room Dean, get out! I'll be there in 10!" Dean chuckled and put his phone back in his pocket and then started to lean down on you making sure he didn't crush you but applying enough weight to trap you there not that you'd want to be any where else.

Dean quickly started his attack in your mouth. It was fast, all tongue and teeth, small moans and grunts flowed out of your mouths. By the time Sam barged in you were out of breath but the shock of the door hitting the wall startled Dean and he accidentally bit your lip a little too hard drawing blood.

Fully aware that Sam was there watching, Dean pulled back just a touch and licked the blood from your lip as he stared into your eyes. Dean pushed himself up just enough to show Sam your small form.

"Dean what the hell are you doing?!" The second Sam saw you his face changed from anger to shock. "Y/N what are you doing? Also where is your shirt." You giggled as Sam looked away to avoid staring at the exposed flesh of your chest that turned into your cleavage.

Dean got off you and you bent down to grab your shirt. Dean got up after you and tapped your bum as you tip toe ran across the room squealing at the gentle touch while blushing at the gesture.

"Oops, uh, 'scuse me Sammy." You winked back at Dean pushing past the taller brother through the doorway into your own room across the hall closing the door behind you feeling the red heat on your cheeks.

You leaned your back against the door, sat down giggling to yourself at the fact that you had just made out with Dean Winchester on Sam Winchester's bed, your oldest living friend and long term major crush.

You hear Sam talking to Dean but you didn't hear much through two closed doors and across a hall. "Okay man I'll be honest, I'm glad you two sorted your shit out but did you have to sort it out on my bed. I sleep in there dude." There was a couple of seconds of quiet where you assumed Dean was talking quietly. "She was half naked under you on my sheets! Did I mention you were half naked too?! I'm so going to get you back for this one Dean. The prank war is back on again, and you are dead." You heard the brothers laugh and the door open so you quickly jumped onto your bed and grabbed a book of some kind.

Your door slowly opened and you looked up from your 'reading' to see Dean. "Hey sweetheart. Interesting book?" Dean turned his head and upper body so his head was upside down so he could read the title of the book you were holding upside down. You blushed and looked at the pages hiding your face in the book. "How much did you hear?"

"Well I mainly heard Sam talking, he did sound uncomfortable at the fact that we were half naked in his bed." Your devilish smirk returned. "Also the prank war has returned and I want in but I wanna hide it from Sam for a while so I can get him good and blame you." You beamed making the apples of your cheeks show and your dimples shine. Dean's heart melted at the sight of you being smug and planning something wicked.

You and Dean then deduced the best plan to prank Sam; you called it operation fucking brilliant. Phase one included gathering some sexy lingerie and a pair of Dean's jeans, a t shirt and a pair of his boxers.

Phase two meant going on Dean's laptop and finding a porn video that was loud and sounded realistic so you could play it and it would be heard through the whole bunker, you made Dean handle that part.

Then phase three, you told Sam everyone was out of bathroom supplies. This meant he would have to go on a supply run into town which bought you and Dean some time to set up phase four.

Phase four was the most fun part, you and Dean basically wandered around the bunker making out and dropping layers of clothes, sourced in phase one, towards Sam's room dropping the lingerie and boxers right by his door. You then texted Sam and found out how far away he was and played the porn video when he said he was close.

Phase five meant you and Dean had to stash cameras around the bunker to catch his reactions from a secret hiding places known as Dean's wardrobe.

"I just heard baby's engine in the garage! Quick play the video, play the video!" You whisper shouted at Dean knowing he would tease you for asking him to play a porn video that excitedly but that was a problem for later. Once the video was playing you and Dean sprinted into his room and hid in his closet watching the live video feed from all your secret cameras on your iPad focusing on the front door.

"What the- Dean I've told you a thousand times do your own.. damn.. laundry.. what is that noise." Sam trailed off as he walked towards his room stopping dead in his tracks when he saw dean's favourite jeans in the corridor. That was the exact moment he recognised the sound playing from his room. "Oh shit, YOU TWO BETTER NOT BE FUCKING IN MY BED OR I SWEAR TO CHUCK!" You struggled to hide your giggles as Sam shouted along the corridor.

Sam saw your sexy lingerie just outside his door and burst in expecting to find his brother naked in his bed with you but was very confused when the room was empty and the only thing out of place was Dean's laptop playing the video and a piece of paper that read "turn around."

"What the-" Sam turned slowly and the second he was facing into the corridor Dean smacked him right in the face with a pie tin full of shaving foam. After the tin fell to the floor and Sam wiped his eyes you attacked him with as many different types of glitter your hands could hold.

Dean fell on the floor from laughter while you took photos of your best friend covered in shaving foam and glitter.

Hours later, after Sam forced you and Dean to tidy up the mess you had both made and the hall was spotless again, the three of you sat together in Dean's man cave on a large cushiony sofa. You lay most of your body on Dean enjoying his warmth and comfort and protectiveness; you lay your legs over Sam's thighs while he scrolled through Netflix to find a movie for you all to watch.

This wasn't anything how you saw your life being when you were 7 years old and running through muddy fields in princess dress up and trainers, but hell, right now you wouldn't change a damn thing. Dean mustered up the courage and asked you to be his girlfriend eventually, Sam called off the prank war for the special occasion that his brother grew the balls to ask you to be his girlfriend and after you said yes the three of you got drunk and had a hilariously embarrassing night in.

There was not a thing you would change about your life right now; you wouldn't get rid of the monsters or hunting, you wouldn't stop singing for the boys once they'd told you how much they loved it, and you definitely wouldn't trade waking up next to Dean in the morning and seeing his precious hedgehog hair and the peaceful look on his face.

Your life was perfect as long as those bastards didn't stay dead.

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

A/N: Just another gif that inspired me to write the prank scene 😂😂.

Hey everyone I've moved to a different blog to make interacting with you guys easier. Go follow @spnandshit-new that's my new blog

[survey--s]

222.

Have you ever lied to a person of authority? What did you say? Sure, teachers, my parents...I’m sure I said all sorts of things, lol. What’s your favourite type of pie, either sweet or savoury? Apple pie is good. Do you have a Netflix subscription? Well, Mike does, yeah. How long does it usually take you to get ready in the morning? I give myself an hour from when my alarm goes off - in that time I’ll get up, make the bed, get dressed, get housework done, eat breakfast, brush my teeth, sort the animals out and go. What colour is your favourite shirt? I don’t have a particular favourite.

When was the last time you saw a photo of yourself? Today, Does your laptop ever overheat? No, it never does. I have had that issues with laptops in the past though.

Are you wearing a dress today? Yeah, just a basic tunic top/dress though, with leggings and a hoody. Do you use your phone during class or at work? Yeah - I run my own business though so I can do whatever I like, haha. I mainly use it during the day for taking photos and responding to client messages, though. How many times a day do you check Facebook? I don’t really check it unless I get a notification. Do you hate it when people on airplanes recline the seat in front? I mean, yeah, as there’s barely any room on planes as it is, but I’m guilty of doing it too, so. Are you the type of person to press a button just because? Ha, that depends on the button. Would you ever volunteer in the case of a natural disaster? If I could do something that would actually help, sure. Do you check your emails daily? Yeah, I get the odd client that e-mails me and I don’t like leaving them to build up. Having loads of unread notifications bothers me lol. Are you inside or outside at the moment? I’m inside. Why did you last have to see a doctor? To get a prescription renewed and to get signed off work. Have you ever been pulled aside for a random bag search at an airport? Yeah, loads of times lol. Clearly I look suspicious. Are you happy with how much you weigh? Happy enough, but I could lose a bit. But I don’t really care enough to do anything about it, hahah. What’s your favourite flavour of Jell-O? I like raspberry jelly. What was the last thing you bought from a supermarket? It was just a grocery shop - so fruit, milk, bread, coffee, sugar, croissants, crisps, sausages, cat food and other basics. Do you know anyone who is highly allergic to anything? Yeah, a few people. When was the last time you had a nap? I don’t really tend to have naps as I always feel ten times worse afterwards. Are you hot, cold, or just right at the moment? Just right. Do you have a Spotify Premium membership? If not, do you want one? Yeah, I do have it. What’s your boss’ name? I am my own boss, lol. Have you ever eaten caviar? Yeah - personally I think it’s pretty overrated. Are you a nervous type of person? No, not especially. Do/did you collect anything currently or in the past? I used to collect beanie babies (and the collectable cards) and nowadays I collect wax melts. Well, not collect in the sense that I store them forever, but I have four or five baskets full of them at any one time, lol. On average, how much money do you usually put into savings every week? I don’t really do it that way, but I put £100 into a pension each month and maybe the same again into savings once you average it out. Do you prefer sweet or savoury foods? Savoury. Do you have any games on your computer? Which ones? Nope. I just use my computer for internet access. What are your three favourite fruits? Raspberries, watermelons and blackberries. Have you ever received a speeding fine? Nope. When was the last time you shaved any part of your body? This morning in the shower. Have you ever had a cramp in an odd place? Yeah, a few times. Would you ever go overseas for cheap medical treatment? Not unless it was the only option to save my life. How many hours did you sleep last night? About seven or eight hours. Are you good at writing stories? I used to be. What have you eaten today? Two croissants with jam and butter, two mugs of coffee, a glass of apple juice, sausage casserole with mash and sweetcorn, an apple and sultana hot cross bun and some watermelon.

Do you watch House of Cards? No. Did anything exciting or interesting happen to you today? Nah, I had to stay in to wait for a parcel, then I walked the dog and since then I’ve just chilled at home and watched TV.  What’s your favourite type of fish to eat? I’m not a huge fan of fish, but I guess tuna.  Who else is in the building you’re in right now? Just the animals.

In your opinion, which fast food place has the best fries? McDonald’s. When was the last time you watched an episode of The Simpsons? A few days ago. I watch it fairly often on Disney+. What colour are your neighbours cars? Which neighbours? On the left, he doesn’t have a car - on the right, one is red and one is blue. Over the road, we have blue, silver and grey cars. Are you left or right handed? Right. Have you ever given money to a homeless person? What compelled you? Nope. How often do you update your Facebook status, at all? I don’t really update it as a status, I just upload photos. Do your parents use social media? If so, which ones? Yeah, they both have Facebook and Instagram. What colour are most of your underwear? *shrug* Variety of colors. What’s your favourite way to eat chicken? In breaded, crispy chicken tender form. Are there any broken clocks in your house? No. Who usually does the grocery shopping in your house? I do it for the most part. When was the last time you ate a hotdog? Years ago. I’m really not a fan. Have you ever stepped on chewing gum? Not with bare feet or anything, no. How far away from your house is the closest park? About a ten minute walk.

Do you ever want children? If so, how many? No. Do you know anyone who speaks fluent French? Yeah, I do and so do at least half my family. Have you ever been called in for jury duty? Nope. Are your eyebrows darker than your hair? Yeah. Have you ever been camping in the wilderness without electricity? No. What do you prefer, lasagna or spaghetti and meatballs? Lasagne.

Think of the last movie you watched, where did you watch it? At home. Have you ever had a caricature drawn of you? No. Do you have to pay for parking at your school or work? Nope. Would you ever dye your hair an unnatural colour? I’ve done that several times. Are there any movies coming out soon that you’d like to see? Secrets of Dumbledore.

[loquaciousquark]

8th August. Genuinely cool today, glorious! Won’t last

I keep having to go to the keep for sundry Champion paperwork ephemera, and I noticed last week there’s a stain right at the bottom of the steps. It looks brown and stubborn despite the scrub-marks on the stone around it—in fact, it’s where Dumar’s head landed, and now that I’ve seen it I can’t stop seeing it. I asked Aveline, and she said she’s noticed it too. She tried to get at it herself with lye while I was out, but she said it wouldn’t budge. I didn’t even know stone could take up blood like that... although I suppose Kirkwall would be the place prone to that kind of thing.

There’s still no news of a new Viscount. Bran’s running the place as best he can (which, as it happens, would be a good deal better if he’d stop wasting so much time rolling his eyes at me every time he sees me), but Lady Ashbridge said on Pelarie’s visit last week that there’s rumors Meredith’s just going to run the city instead. Surely they won’t let that happen, though--how much power does one person need?

Then again...it’s Kirkwall.

I should talk to Varric.

In other news, took Sebastian to dinner the other day as thanks for accompanying me to the ball. Went to the Lime Pavilion, which has a twenty-sov minimum plate, but with Varric at the helm all my money does these days is make lots of tinier little baby monies, so I might as well get some use out of it. He had beef that came in a glass bowl with gold around the edges, and I had fish that was cut in the shape of a fish. Made it even worse that it was the most delicious thing I’ve had in months.

Spent the whole meal quietly panicking about which of my three forks to use. Serves me right for trying to cater to royalty’s nobler instincts. Sebastian covered for me well, but I’d just as soon sit with Isabela off the docks, swigging green liquor from a cracked bottle.

Haven’t heard from her even once since Cloudreach. I hope she’s alive.

16th August. Light showers all day, just enough to curl my hair into a right rat’s nest

I think I’m going to set Pelarie up with my next-door neighbor. Jule’s clever and kind and not quite as flat beneath her mother’s foot, and she’s got a great deal more in common with Pelarie than I do. Forgot to get a bit of drake ichor out from behind my ears the other day and Pelarie turned so green she might have grown gills. Her mother didn’t care for it either. Need to stop being jealous over people with mothers Besides, even if Jule’s not as flashy a catch she’s likely got a much better life expectancy.

Meant that to be funny, not bitter. Ah, well.

23rd August. Cooler again, a bit salty with some northerly winds off the Coast

Had a nice moment today I didn’t expect. I was sitting out back under the yew tree, trying to see if I felt any different with only one kidney, when I heard the back door open and out came Sandal with a bit of wood and a carving knife. He didn’t say anything, just sat next to me on the stone bench, and quietly began shaping it into something small, something with wings. It was...

It was rather lovely, actually.

Made up for this miserable All Soul’s Day at the beginning of August. Everyone dancing on their toes around Mother, as if I might turn to glass at the slightest memory of her. Can’t help but feel Isabela would have

Sandal hummed something I almost recognized while he was sitting with me. Then Bodahn came out and that moment was gone, but in favor of one just as pleasant, because he sat with us on the bench too (the benefit of a wide bench and two dwarvish sets of hips, I suppose), and with only the teensiest bit of coaxing he began telling us (me?) about some of his travels with the Hero of Ferelden.

Some days I wish I were her. Or--at least I wish I had her enemies. It must have been so nice knowing what you fought was evil through and through.

24th August. Still cool

Dreamed last night that I was trying to save Mother from the foundry, but she kept turning into darkspawn. Might know they’re evil, but that doesn’t help the horror at the twisted, slavering teeth. At least Meredith is people-shaped.

Ugh. Can’t get rid of these chills. I wonder if Varric has anything that needs doing.

2nd Kingsway. Saw the first orange leaf today and nearly cried from joy

Went to the Gallows this morning to talk to Solivitus. Had some harlot’s blush I thought he might like, which he did, but for the first time I found myself not entirely at ease with the way the templars’ eyes followed me the whole trip. I hadn’t been there since the Arishok, and Maker but was I glad Fenris and Aveline came with me. I don’t think they’d try anything without Meredith’s say-so, but this was the first time I felt that little tingling what-if in the back of my skull telling me I’d better watch my hide.

We’d be packing up tonight, if this were Lothering.

Anyway, while I was there I saw a girl that looked terribly familiar darting about between some of those market stands. Turns out she’s Pelarie’s little sister--not sixteen yet--who got caught making inkwells tip over from the back of the room while she was away at school. The Ashbridges called some favors and had her placed here, where they could visit.

More than I thought of Lady Ashbridge, even if I wouldn’t send my most hated feather boa into their care. (Meant the Gallows templars, but to be quite honest the Ashbridges too)

Pelarie says she’s been trying to send their grandmother’s necklace to her, but she’s afraid they’ll take it away. Jule (very kind about me crashing their tea) said she’d heard Gallows apprentices are allowed very few personal possessions, but she knew a family who used to send their son fritters and preserves and things all the time, so there might be some strings to pull if I can find them.

Well. What’s this damned title for, if not string-pulling?

8th Kingsway. Brisk and with the faintest smell of those crisp autumn apples from the cart down the street

Went to the Gallows again today. Saw Cullen, who sighs when I come into his office but at least doesn’t reach for a guardswhistle, and told him I wanted Pelarie’s sister to be given her family necklace. He argued with me for a good bit about keeping apprentices’ focus sharp on their studies and the risk of reminders of family ties compromising their emotional blah blah blah blah.

I said I’d work on that rumor about the blood mage cult springing up in Darktown if he’d let her keep it, and he said yes.

My skin has been crawling since I left that place, and that was almost three hours ago.

What if that were me? What if that were Bethany?

Later

For the first time in my life, I thought to myself “thank goodness she died first” after I wrote that line above and it’s rattled me so badly that I can’t

I hate

how could

Maker, I hate

15th Kingsway. One last damned heat wave. The Maker is mocking me. Or Andraste is instead, and I’ve just been rejected by every higher power who ever thought twice about sending this city even the faintest zephyr of relief

Asked Toby today if he wanted another dog in the house. He gave me the archest look I’ve ever seen on a mabari’s face and stalked in high dudgeon to the back garden, where he very deliberately pissed on the stone bench. Haven’t offended him that badly since I tied him all over in yellow ribbon and asked him to dance the Remigold with me.

I’d forgotten how drunk I was at that party

Anders and Merrill and I are going out to the southern side of Sundermount tomorrow. Anders needs elfroot and more spindleweed, and Merrill thinks there might be a supply of ironbark somewhere there she can use to create or work on or something for her arulin...oh, hells. How the Void do you spell that word?

I was considering asking Varric for a fourth just in case, as Aveline has another (and another and another and another) evening with Donnic planned. For as much as she went through getting to this city in the first place, I hate to take her away from the one shining light she’s found in it so far.

On the other hand, she does have our own glorious friendship as a second equally bright shining light. Maybe I can call that in as the cheap bargaining tactician I am.

Later.

Aveline said no.

Varric said no.

Sebastian said no.

Merrill said “arulin’holm.”

Fenris said yes, then no when he heard who was going, and then yes again when I said Anders they would probably be so interested in their own collecting that Anders they would hardly have time to needle.

Also, I begged.

16th Kingsway. I am cursed beyond the ken of mortal memory

We’re stranded on the damned mountain.

It was cloudy when we left and it only got darker, but everyone said to keep going, we could beat the rain before it got bad. Ha! Had to take a narrow path to get to this ironbark of Merrill’s, and while we were up the cliffs a freak storm came from nowhere and washed the whole path to a great lot of boulders and rotten logs. Stopped raining not twenty minutes later, but the damage was already done. Merrill’s been looking for another way down but it’s almost dusk and I think we’ll have to camp.

I keep expecting Fenris and Anders to be either furious or intolerably snippy, but every time I accidentally make eye contact (despite the enormous effort I’m exerting to avoid exactly that), they both seem perfectly cheerful. Well, as cheerful as they get. Anders even smiled at some comment Fenris made about how once when he slept outside, a handful of territorial crows chased him right out of a tree.

Almost said it could be worse. At least Merrill’s managed to get a fire going—everything’s soaked to the bone.

24th Kingsway. Still cold, damp, foggy, grey

Made it home from Sundermount, obviously, and all four of us have the most glorious head colds to show for it. Merrill and I ended up having to carve through a good deal of the detritus from the landslide with magic, which even Fenris didn’t blink at given the alternative was another night in open air. Cold, frosty open air, with occasional winds sharp enough to split a nosehair.

I was strongly inclined to see what Anders’s healing could do for this, but he says a head cold won’t kill any of us and it’s good to let the body fight on its own occasionally, which sounded so much like my father I left his clinic in perfect childlike resentment.

That was yesterday. Surely if I tell him I’m dying today he won’t mind if I touch myself up, just a little. My nose is both so stuffy I can’t breathe and running so badly I’ve taken to shoving napkins up it all morning.

How blightedly unfair. All this nonsense and I can’t even breathe to complain about it properly.

25th Kingsway. See previous, bloody unchanged, and no I’m not upset about it, why do you ask

Maker and all his holy works, but Fenris is pitiful. Never have I ever seen an elf laid so low by a little fever and a stopped nose. I went over this morning with some of Orana’s father’s soup just in case, but he was cocooned so deep in his blankets all I could see was the very tip of one dark, pointed ear. Then he told me to go away with the saddest little sneeze right in the middle of a word.

Made him finish the soup and drink an entire glass of water. He called me a Tevinter word that he claims means “sadist,” but he did at least un-cocoon long enough to say goodbye.

I keep wondering if he’s ever had anyone bother to care he was sick before—at least, that he remembers. Somehow I doubt it.

26th Kingsway, somewhere around midnight, I don’t know

Fenris’s fever worsened all day today, until by late afternoon I couldn’t rouse him properly. Anders came by around dinner and must have seen the panic in my face, because the first thing he told me after examining him was that he’d be fine. He left a vial of something thick—I recognized the elfroot and I think embrium, but to be honest I was watching Fenris struggle to turn over—and said he should have a teaspoon every hour until breakfast tomorrow. He said he’d be fine. We just have to wait for the fever to take its course.

Flames, he looks awful, even asleep. Grey in the face and he’s got a chesty cough that sounds wet. The first time it happened I had a violent flash to Carver in the Deep Roads and nearly upset the lunch tray. Anders and I both worked what healing we could, but there’s only so much to be done for something like this. Maker, my father’s death taught me that, and that was almost ten years ago.

Anders said he’d be fine. He didn’t even stay, which of itself is enough to tell me there’s nothing to worry about.

If Fenris feels half as bad as he looks, he must feel like death.

Later. Early?

Failed to occur to me that in the absence of pinned candles, the only way to make sure Fenris gets one of these doses every hour is to stay up myself.

Not much gets by my eagle’s eyes these days, but I suppose even the most avid hunter misses one once in a while.

3rd bell

Hawk’s eyes. Damn!

4th bell and a bit

Fenris woke up this time, just for a few minutes. He’s not really been present since afternoon, so it was...it was a relief to see lucidity. Tired, too, but one must make allowances here and there.

He was enough himself to complain about the sourness of the potion. I told him if he felt able to be picky about the taste he ought to be able to take another cup of soup and some water, and he called me the Tevinter sadist again.

He just went back to sleep, but he still looks terrible. His breathing is better, though.

Almost 5th bell, still dark as pitch

First time I’ve ever been truly glad I live so close to this blasted elf. Was able to run home and dig out some spare linens from one of Orana’s closets before I had to wake him again. He’s sweated his pillow through and his sheets are soaked. If he’s still improving on this next dose I’ll roll him off long enough to get the fresh sheets down.

Half past, still darker than light outside, though the horizon’s fading a bit grey

He just went back to sleep. Got the new sheets on—he didn’t understand why at first, which...I didn’t know what to say to that except that I knew he’d feel acres better on clean, dry bedclothes, and I intended to change them whether he was willing or not.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was plain he was relieved to be out of that damp mess.

I was too, if I’m being honest.

Anyway, he wasn’t eager to go back to sleep after, despite the potion putting him just a touch loopy. We chatted about...oh, nothing of consequence, only Toby and apples and Varric’s latest pamphlet about the Championship ceremony and how the weight of that iron circlet has bent better heads than mine, and only time will tell how I carry its burden, etc, etc. Sometimes I wish Varric lent a little less effort to dramatic irony and a little more to my public credentiality. Credentials?

Talked a bit about Stinton and Pelarie and the rest, too. I told him I was doing well enough with their mothers, but that Lady Ashbridge might resent me pushing Pelarie into the arms of another woman right under her nose. Ah, but such is the uneven course of love.

He asked me about his sister twice near the end, which was how I knew the potion was kicking in at last. I had nothing I could tell him either way, and the second time I’m not even certain he was talking to me.

He asked if she was real. Maker, I wish I knew.

It’s not right that no one but me cares if Fenris is uncomfortable in illness-damp sheets.

Almost seventh bell, flames

Dozed off in the chair with the broken foot just before sixth bell. Didn’t come close to waking until a marvelously inconsiderate sunbeam punched me right in the eyes over Fenris’s windowsill, at which point I dropped my elbow off the armrest and gave myself whiplash trying not to tumble from the chair altogether.

Other arm stayed put, though, and Fenris didn’t even stir, which is the only reason I know he took hold of my hand while I was asleep—and possibly while he was asleep, which is the only reason I refuse to read more into it. His fingers were laced through mine, and the lyrium was humming ever so faintly, just enough that I could feel the—the shiver as I let him go.

I could have stayed there for hours, I think, if I hadn’t pulled the Void out of my neck sleeping sideways in that chair.

His color’s almost normal again, though he’s still a trifle wan. Thank you, Andraste. Not that I was worried.

I wasn’t worried. Anders said he’d be fine. I just wanted--someone this sick ought to have a friend take care of them until they’re well. Everyone deserves at least that much. 

Ah, I think he’s beginning to wake up.

[irish-nlessing]

Happy Birthday Abby

Soft snuffling noises and hot breath washed over Niall’s face.  He groaned and tried to bury himself further into his pillows to escape his furry alarm clock, but to no avail.

“C’mon Abs, it’s m’birthday.  Can’t I sleep in?”

A cold, wet nose nudged his arm and Niall peeked one eye open to see a brown and white face shoved under the crook of his arm.  Her huge brown eyes looked at him pleadingly and she let out the tiniest whimper.  With a resigned sigh Niall pecked a kiss to her nose and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  He stretched and yawned, scratching lazily at the dark hair covering his chest.  Standing with a slight groan and stretch of his legs he turned to help Abby off the bed.

“What the…..no.  You gotta be shitting me.”  Niall stared down at the dog in disbelief.  She had flopped onto her side and was curled up in the warm divot where his body had just been.  Her head was propped up on the pillow and her eyes were closed.  She looked as if she’d been asleep in that spot for hours.

“Abby, down.”  Niall propped his fists on his hips and tried again.  “Abby.  I said, down!”  He threw his hands up and stalked off to the bathroom.  “Fine, but when I get out of this shower, you better be outta my spot!”

When Niall finally wandered out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, he found his dog sprawled out on her side, snoring softly.

“Un-fuckin’-believable.”  He reached down and ran his long fingers through the silky hair on her ears.  “C’mon ya lazy bum.  You’re the one who woke me up, remember?”  

Abby opened her eyes and yawned, stretching all four legs straight up in the air.  Her tail thumped happily onto the duvet.  Niall couldn’t help but smile down at her and scooped her up like a baby.  “You’re lucky it’s my birthday and I’m feeling generous.”  He tucked her into his arm and slipped out of the flat to take her for her morning walk.

The morning air was crisp and despite it being slightly overcast, the afternoon forecast was calling for clear blue skies.  Niall loved London this time of year, not only because it was his birthday, but because he could wander through the gardens and shops soaking up good weather and good company.  Abby had become a fixture, going everywhere with him in town.

She had grown up so much in the last year, her coat filling out to a beautiful white and copper color.  After months of special exercises and appointments with the finest vets in greater London her back leg had healed completely.  The only shadow of a limp was on cold, rainy days or if she jumped off the furniture too quickly.  Niall liked to say she’d finally matured to a “proper lady” and every time he said it Abby would sit a little straighter and wag her tail.

They reached their favorite cafe and Niall tucked himself away at a small table and ordered a tea and a muffin.  This was his favorite place to sit - not only because it was easy for him to blend into the background and stay undisturbed, but also because of her.  Cate.  With a “C”.  Not Kate or Katie or Catherine.  Just…..Cate.  Her grandfather owned the tiny newsstand across from the cafe.  A few years ago when he’d had a stroke, Cate began working for him.  It was obvious the first time he met her that she knew who he was but she never said a word.  Niall appreciated the anonymity but it made it difficult to strike up a conversation with her.  Abby had been a saving grace.  The first time he’d shown up to buy the morning paper on the way to the cafe with Abby tucked in his arm, Cate had squealed and made grabby hands for her.  That was the day they became friends.  Well, acquaintances at least but Niall was determined to change that…..one of these days.  

Niall sipped his tea and shared part of his muffin with Abby.  He figured since it was his birthday he could break his “no table scraps” rule.  Just as he slurped down the last of his tea he caught sight of Cate’s dark wavy hair bouncing around the corner.  He took a moment to watch her unlock the side door to her tiny stand and start opening the shutters.  She was petite but strong, easily hoisting the heavy stacks of morning papers out onto the low display bench.  Abby caught sight of her too, pulling at the leash and letting out a whine.  

“Gotta be patient, Abs.  Can’t just go barrellin’ over there - we’ll look too eager.”  Abby stared up at him and plopped her bottom down onto the cement in a huff.  Niall rolled his eyes at her and crossed his arms.  “Don’t give me that look young lady.  What am I supposed to do?  Just trot over there and stand around like a twat while she works?  Even I’m not that dumb.”

Niall shoved a piece of gum in his mouth and straightened his cap.  “Aright, c’mon let’s do this.”  Abby immediately jumped up and wagged her tail excitedly.  They meandered across the street, Niall trying desperately to look casual.  When he reached the small stand Cate looked up and a wide grin spread across her face.  

Niall matched her smile and rocked forward on his feet.

“Ello Cate!

“Morning Niall!  Happy Birthday!”

Niall felt a warm blush spread across his cheeks and he cocked his head to the side.  “How’d ya know it was my birthday?”

Cate rolled her hazel eyes and rested her chin on her hand.  Niall couldn’t help but stare at the tiny freckles scattered across her nose.  “It was on the radio this morning, ya donut.  Grimmy gave you a shout and everything.”  She giggled and Niall couldn’t help but laugh along with her.  It was the first time she’d actually acknowledged his fame but somehow she managed not to make it awkward.  Niall felt a huge sense of relief.  Their moment was interrupted when Abby suddenly let out a shrill bark and pawed at Niall’s pant leg.

Cate leaned over the counter and cooed softly.  “Ohh sweet girl, I didn’t forget about you.”  She reached under the counter and snagged a small biscuit from the tin.  Niall picked Abby up and placed her on the stack of papers just under the counter so she was level with Cate.  Her tail wagged furiously and she licked her lips impatiently.  Cate held out the treat and Abby gently took it from her fingers.  Cate scratched her ears and praised her.  “Good girl, Abby.  So polite!”

An older couple walked up and started perusing the magazines, making Niall feel a little like the third wheel.  He put Abby down on the sidewalk and swallowed roughly.  “Well, uh, I better let ya get back to it.  So….”

Cate stood straight and tucked her hair behind her ear.  She nodded shyly and met his gaze.  “Yeah, no, of course.  Um I hope you have a great birthday!  Maybe I’ll see you soon?”

Niall’s heart stuttered in his chest.  She sounded, dare he say, hopeful?  Like maybe she wanted to see him again?  He could’ve sworn he saw the apples of her cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he stared at her.  He flashed a warm smile at her and nodded.  “Yeah.  Absolutely.  Count on it.”

Cate turned to her customers and gave a small wave to Niall.  Niall held up his hand and then clicked his tongue at Abby.  Together they started out on the short walk home.  Niall had a spring in his step the entire way back.  

“Next time, we ask for her number.  Whadda ya say Abs?”

[mariequitecontrarie]

Death Becomes Him: A Rumbelle RCIJ Story

Summary: When Belle French witnesses three-time widow Zelena Kelly poking around the home of her next door neighbor Mr. Gold with a gun, she takes matters into her own hands and tells Zelena that Gold is already dead. Now all she has to do is convince Mr. Gold to fake his own death, with herself as his willing accomplice. Word Count: 26,000   Rating: NC-17 for smut   Artwork: @moonlight91 A/N: This is a @rumbellechristmasinjuly present for the lovely @nerdrumple, who prompted “Coming back from the dead.” It was lots of fun getting to know you and being your Santa, sweetie! Since you aren’t a fan of angst, I decided to turn the prompt on its head and make this into a caper. There’s some Jefferson and some Swanfire feels, too. This is a ridiculous, comical premise and not meant to be taken as a serious crime drama in any way. ;)  Many thanks to @still-searching47 and @magnoliatattoo for being extraordinary betas and to @im2old4this for the support and encouragement.

{ON AO3}

DEATH BECOMES HIM

“A slip of the foot you may soon recover, but a slip of the tongue you may never get over.” – Benjamin Franklin

Chapter 1: Zelena Saturday Afternoon

An odd scraping sound interrupted her whistling.

Belle puttered around her small porch, watering can in hand, while the scorching afternoon sun beat down on the back of her neck and bare shoulders. She should have paid attention to her plants earlier, but she’d been distracted by baking a cake and rereading Wuthering Heights and lost all track of time. Belle shrugged and smiled down at the wilting plants, brushing her fingers over the yellow petals of a daisy. She didn’t have much of a green thumb, but she didn’t let it bother her. Hopefully a long, cool drink and a happy tune would revive these beauties. If not, they were only plants—not pets or people. Belle tipped the watering can again, showering her hydrangeas with water and a song until the soil was dark and excess moisture dripped onto the porch.

There it was again. The scraping noise.

A flash of movement at Mr. Gold’s house next door caught her attention, and Belle stopped whistling. She shaded her eyes and scanned his front porch. Their houses were only about fifteen feet apart, her modest peach-colored two-bedroom ranch-style home almost comical next to his gigantic salmon mansion. Belle squinted. She could see the outline of a figure on the porch, but she didn’t have her contacts in.

Damned nearsightedness. She picked up her birdwatching binoculars for a closer look.

Zelena Kelly was peering in the front windows, running her long, pale fingers along the green and burgundy frames. What was she doing, casing Gold’s house? Zelena gave the locked front door an accusatory glare, and Belle snorted in disgusted amusement.

To say Belle wasn’t Zelena’s biggest fan was an understatement.

With long, flaming red hair and a willowy figure, Zelena was a classic beauty, but ugliness clung to her spirit. Her dour expressions and obnoxious, cutting remarks left people cold. Plus, the woman was infamous for losing books—she had misplaced the library’s prize copy of The Wizard of Oz and refused to pay the fine. What she did manage to return was always warped and dog-eared, as though she took all her books to the beach and dunked them in the surf. She had buried no fewer than three husbands, each of whom had mysteriously died a few months into their marriage, leaving Zelena to gleefully collect on their estates. She even kept her maiden name—Kelly—to signify her continuous availability to the male population at large. Some of Storybrooke’s less intelligent residents, like Keith Nottingham and Howard Hades, were stupid enough to trot after her like lovesick puppies. Future victims, Belle thought grimly.

If those sins weren’t enough to damn Zelena for eternity, she had been throwing herself at Mr. Gold for months like the snake and her proverbial apple. Several times, Belle had seen Zelena accost him at Granny’s and in his pawnshop, her spindly fingers and nails the color of fresh blood always digging into his arm or his chest. Now she was poking around Gold’s house like she owned the place!

Belle sharpened the focus on her binoculars as Zelena rummaged through the large, emerald handbag slung over her shoulder. Clenched in her hand was a sturdy, metal nail file and she was running it along the seams of the door and the front windows. Scrape, scrape, scrape.

What the hell was she doing, trying to break in?

Belle eyes widened when Zelena fumbled around in her bag again and pulled out a small handgun. No, she wanted to do more than break in.

She wanted to kill Mr. Gold.

Belle gasped, adrenaline kicking in, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She banged her leg against the patio table, upsetting the watering can, and water splashed across the front of her shirt. Zelena whipped her head in Belle’s direction. Belle jumped back, then dropped the binoculars to the porch with a clatter.

“You there—Bess!”

Please don’t let her mean me. Belle craned her neck down the road and prayed Zelena was shouting at someone else, but the sidewalk and neighboring yards were quiet. Zelena’s narrowed stare was fixed on her, the gun no longer in her hands. The metal file was gone, too. Belle’s throat clenched. Had Zelena seen her spying?

“Have you seen Gold?” Zelena hollered.

“He’s not home, Miss Kelly,” Belle answered from the safety of her porch. Her heart thrashed a nervous beat as she wiped her wet hands on her shorts. “And it’s Belle.”

“What’s Belle?”

“My name.”

Zelena waved a dismissive hand. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“Mr. Gold doesn’t clear his schedule with me. But if the door’s locked and he’s not answering when you ring the bell…” It seemed rather obvious Gold was out of the house, but Zelena continued to patrol his porch like a bloodhound. Unless…was he hiding inside? Belle certainly couldn’t blame him for not wanting to open the door for that.

Then again, Gold never opened the door for her, either. Belle pushed the cloudy thought away and forced a smile. He may not answer the door when she knocked, but he always picked up whatever she left for him to enjoy—a wedge of peach pie, a plate of cookies, or a square of vanilla bean cake thick with fudgy icing. Belle could only consume so many baked goods on her own, and sharing was the neighborly thing to do. There was a solid explanation for his caution—he simply hadn’t taken the time to get to know her in the three years they’d been neighbors. If he gave her a chance, Belle felt certain he would like her as much as he seemed to like her treats.

Zelena abandoned her useless trolling of Gold’s porch, then slid up the steps of Belle’s porch, her long, pointy nails scratching against the banister. Belle squeezed the handle of the empty watering can and took an automatic step back. The only sound on the porch was the slow drip of water from the quenched plants.

“You don’t know where Gold is?” Zelena persisted.

“Did you try the shop?” Belle asked, her tongue feeling two sizes too large for her mouth. Her eyes darted around looking for the gun. She wished she’d gone inside to telephone Emma Swan at the sheriff’s station, but it would have been an act of cowardice. An eyewitness account would be more help, and by the time Emma arrived, Zelena would be gone.

“Well, duh.” Zelena glanced down at Belle’s wet chest and made a face. “I went there first, Bonnie.”

Belle opened her mouth to correct her again, then decided against it. There was a cold, eerie glint in the woman’s pale blue eyes and her overbearing presence was suffocating, making the already diminutive porch seem like a postage stamp. Even in the oppressive afternoon heat, Belle shivered, the cool beads of water feeling like pricks of ice on her skin. She was about to order Zelena off her property, when Gold came strolling up the sidewalk toward his home.

Oh no.

Gold moved down the street with a loose-hipped, charming gait, reminding Belle of a Regency gentleman out for a summer stroll. Good lord, he was handsome. Zelena faded into nothingness for a moment as Belle admired the view. His shoulder-length hair glinted in the afternoon sun, his dark, three-piece suit pressed and crisp, without a wrinkle in sight, the gold-tipped cane he carried an elegant accent. Even in this stifling August weather he looked cool and calm, but then he wasn’t expecting to come face-to-face with a homicidal maniac.

Belle flapped her sweaty fingers in front of her flushed face.

Gold froze on the pavement, his steps stuttering to a halt, his brown pupils growing large as saucers. His eyes landed on the back of Zelena’s head, and he went stark white under his tanned complexion. Belle read the panic in his eyes, then watched in helpless fascination as he hobbled through the side yard like a band of wild dogs was after him.

Zelena glanced around just as Gold disappeared behind the side of his enormous house, then turned back. “Brenda? God, you have the attention span of a gnat. With all that time you spend with your nose in a book…I thought reading was supposed to improve one’s concentration.”

Belle glanced in the direction where Gold had disappeared, thinking furiously. He was hidden and safe for now, but what about later today, tonight, tomorrow?

Zelena snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Hellooooooo! What are you staring at?”

She had to save Gold’s life, Belle decided, and she had to act fast. It was now or never. Do the brave thing.

Sweat dripped into her eyes, the salt stinging and making her tear up. She wiped her eyes, then allowed a tear to roll down her cheek, sniffling for effect. “It’s…I didn’t want to be the one to have to break the news.”

“What news?” Zelena tapped her foot against the porch floor, her stiletto heels echoing against the floorboards. Her eyes were feverish and wild, and twin spots of crimson popped out on her cheeks.  

“About Mr. Gold.” Belle looked down, her fingers twisting through the hem of her tank top, and heaved a labored sigh. “He’s dead.”

“Impossible,” Zelena scoffed, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “I saw him yesterday.”

“It happened this morning,” Belle said. She fixed Zelena with a melancholy stare. “Massive brain aneurism. So sudden.”

“But…” Zelena swayed on her feet and gripped the porch railing with white knuckles. She grappled for one of the patio chairs and sank into the wicker seat, her knees wobbling as she hugged herself. ��I can’t believe it.”

“Well, I’d hardly make up something like that, would I?” A hysterical laugh bubbled up in Belle’s throat, the irony of the lie almost too much to contemplate.

Zelena’s lips were pinched and white. “He was a bit strange last night when I saw him. Still, I can’t get over it.”

Belle blinked; God, she’d been here last night, too?

The red spots on Zelena’s face gave way to a greenish pallor, and Belle almost felt sorry for her. Then she remembered who she was talking to—a woman who had tricked her third husband into marriage with an ’accidental‘ pregnancy, then done him in. Soon after they’d tied the knot, Robin Locksley had ended up at the bottom of the old wishing well with a broken neck.

“Guess we all have to go sometime,” she said, giving the chair a nudge toward the porch steps. She prayed Zelena would take the hint and leave. “Can’t mourn all day, now, can we?”

“But Gold was so…so wonderful. Talented. Handsome,” Zelena choked. Fat crocodile tears chased each other down her cheeks as she rocked herself in the chair.

“Yep, he was a real piece of ass.” Belle’s warm cheeks contradicted her casual tone, but she’d say or do just about anything to derail Zelena from committing murder.

Zelena seemed not to hear. “You know, Becca,” she leaned forward and dropped her voice to a stuttering whisper. “I-I was the last person to sleep with him.”

Bile climbed up Belle’s throat. She may be nothing more than Gold’s invisible next door neighbor, but she had enough sense to know when Zelena was telling an outright lie. She began to gag, then doubled over with a belly-deep cough, a hand plastered across her mouth.

Zelena twisted her mouth like she was sucking on a lemon. “If you’re going to vomit, could you do it over the railing? I’ve had the shock of a lifetime and a little compassion would not be out of line!”

Belle lowered her hand once the retching ceased, and drew two long, deep breaths. “Excuse me. I had one of those grocery store sushi rolls for lunch,” Belle said to explain away her disgust. “Must have been some powerful orgasm you gave Mr. Gold to shut his brain down.” Composure recovered, she shook her head and clucked her tongue in mock shame. “I’ve heard stories of people dying in flagrante delicto,  but I’ve never actually met someone it happened to. At least you’ll always have the memories.”

“You’d best not be implying I had something to do with this tragedy.” Zelena’s tone was icy, and she stalked toward Belle, one of those long, skeletal fingers creeping in front of her face. “You are the one who found the body.” She tapped her handbag, her tearstained face suddenly dry. “I’ll be taking my concerns to the sheriff, Bria. And in case you’ve forgotten, my sister is Mayor Mills—she’s the mayor in this town.”

“Mayor Mills is the Mayor. That’s right, Zelena.” Belle spoke in the tone she reserved for when the kindergarten class came to the library. “Regina is actually a friend of mine.”

“Not for long! Wait till I tell her what you’ve done!” Zelena flung her hair over her shoulder and clattered down the steps and Belle gulped, the weight of her half-cocked ruse beginning to sink in.

“You do that,” she announced to the empty porch.

Read the Rest on AO3: Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 49. Second Anniversary

Let’s start with the destination: New Zealand. Again.

Yes, this is our third time here in just 8 months, but what can I say: it’s a great country. Actually, I’m not sure any country better reflects Chelsay and I than New Zealand. The US seems angry these days, Asian cultures are a bit rigid, and Europe… Please. But New Zealand: adventurous, easy going, and a sense of humor. That’s Chelsay and I in a nutshell!

New Zealand is the geographic embodiment of Chelsay and I’s relationship, and that’s why it’s the perfect place to celebrate our second anniversary.

Now, my last post ended with a teaser for our return to the UK, but that’s turned into a longer process than expected. In the words of my boss: “No country moves slower than the UK.” ...Yep, I remember.

That doesn’t mean Chelsay and I have been idle though. A few bullets on our past two months in limbo:

We discovered our “Richmond Park” equivalent, with weekend walks up the Northern Beaches: Freshwater, Curl Curl, and Dee Why.

 I had a quick work trip to San Francisco. I can’t even remember the business purpose – I think it was to recreate scenes from Vertigo.

Chelsay and I finally explored some famous Sydney neighborhoods we hadn’t visited, Palm Beach and Watson’s Bay.

We ran the City 2 Surf, along with 80,000 other Sydneysiders.

We started horse riding. This has been a dream of Chelsay’s for a while, and that enthusiasm shows in her riding: through just three lessons, she’s already trotting with ease. Meanwhile, Mike is a bit behind, though in fairness, I’m at a disadvantage. The stable’s typical clientele is primarily young girls (not a lot of 30 year old men learning to ride), so they only have one horse for someone my size, Jazz. One problem: Jazz is blind in one eye. While Chelsay is trotting in circles around the arena, I’m battling a blind horse to avoid running into a wall.

Chelsay nearly burned the house down while cooking. We can laugh about it now, but at the time: this was catastrophic. I’ll just say that the situation required me to burst out of the shower to help.

Anyway, we’ve stayed busy, and after a demanding few months at work, we were ready for a vacation. Our September anniversary falls in winter in the Southern Hemisphere, so Chelsay and I decided we’d take advantage by making this year’s celebration a ski trip. Crisp air and hot chocolate: very romantic.

New Zealand has two hubs for skiing: Queenstown and Wanaka. They’re fairly close to one another but are drastically different. Queenstown is beautifully set below The Remarkables, but can feel a bit crowded in peak season. On the other hand, Wanaka has an equally beautiful setting, but is much quieter and basically only has one street. Ultimately we went with Wanaka because we’re old people… and also because it’s closer to Treble Cone, whose advanced runs better suited Chelsay & I’s “gnar shredding”.

We arrived late on the first day, driving through some beautiful yet brooding landscapes.

We got really lucky with our hotel. I’d mentioned that we were celebrating our anniversary, and they upgraded us to a suite. The extra space was critical after long days on the pistes. One side note on the hotel room: while Chelsay and I were enjoying our Night 1 chacuterie, we had a strange feeling: we were in shorts. Indoors. And not freezing… Why did it feel so strange? My god, is this what it’s like to be… warm!?  It was tangibly strange to us to feel warm! Our Sydney apartment had been so consistently cold all winter, that we were genuinely perplexed with a temperature about 55. Suite life got this trip off to a hot start.

The next day we hit the slopes. Treble Cone doesn’t have any accommodation, so it’s a short, steep, unpaved, cliff-side, and overall just treacherous drive up from Wanaka. We felt like we were on double black diamond runs before we even arrived.

After surviving the ride up, we geared up and took one “Welcome Back” practice run on the bunny hill. I’m very surprised by this fact: it had been FOUR years since the last time Chelsay and I skied (Austria in 2015). That’s the same amount of time it’d been between Innsbruck and the time before (Whistler in 2011). You might remember that we were RUSTY in Innsbruck, with Day 1 highlights including Chelsay being dragged up the bunny hill by the rope pulley as five-year old Austrian children looked on.  Another Innsbruck gem: once on the real slopes, Chelsay and I failed to disembark the gondola on time. As the lift turned away from the dismount area, I leapt off the chair and crash landed on the slope below. I yelled back to Chelsay: “You gotta bail!”, but she refused. She would’ve been content riding the gondola all the way back down, had the large Austrian attendant not forcibly picked her from the chair and set her on the snow.

Luckily we weren’t as rusty in Wanaka. We successfully managed the bunny hill rope-pulley, and dismounted the chair lifts at the appropriate time.

That said, we found a new hiccup this time around.To get to the chair lift, you have to present your lift pass. Treble Cone uses RFID lift passes, so all you do is ski up to the gate, it reads your pass, and you ski through. Think of a toll tag. Not that hard right – you just have to be in control for the gate to read your pass. Well, Chelsay was not in control, and went screaming up to the gate, smashed right through the barrier. I was actually impressive that she kept her balance and skied on, unscathed. The same cannot be said for the broken barrier.

Once at the top of the mountain, the views were breathtaking. Most ski resorts are surrounded by snow-capped peaks – this will always be an incredible sight. But Treble Cone’s views are more diverse: sure, there are snow-capped peaks, but you can also see the stark, undulating landscape surrounding Lake Wanaka. It makes Treble Cone one of the most unique and beautiful ski resort we’ve visited.

The slopes matched the views, with a mix of wide, well-groomed runs where you can get some speed, but also steep & narrow runs that require a bit more technique. As a quick aside, Chelsay’s technique is best described as “clench”. She torched her thighs bracing down the slope, cutting sharply on each turn. It’s so easy to pick her out from the crowd. Rather than slide across the snow, occasionally using friction to slow down, it looked like she was using her skis to carve a path down the mountain.

This was payback for her horse-riding prowess. While she metaphorically “rode a blind horse”, I was bombing blue runs in no time. I brought Chelsay along on one, but she was convinced they were black diamonds. I remember her turning to me and saying in terror, “I shouldn’t be on this one.”  

Chelsay may not be as enthusiastic about skiing, but I love it. I rarely slow down – if you traced our routes, Chelsay’s would look like an ‘S’, but mine would be and “I”. I actually wish I had an Apple Watch to capture my max speed. At the end of each run, my teeth were cold from smiling the whole way down.

By Day 2, I was on some really challenging red runs, battling moguls on steep, ungroomed slopes. Meanwhile, Chelsay was improving too. She’d loosened her “clench” a bit and was getting more and more comfortable at speed. In fact, on our last run of Day 2 (dubbed ‘the poop shoot’ by Chelsay), I secretly led her down a red run. She did great! But also collapsed from exhaustion at the bottom of the run.

Chelsay’s legs were shot for our third and last day of skiing, so we only got half day passes at Cadrona, a less challenging resort than Treble Cone. That said, Cadrona does have a terrain park, so the resort gets a weird mix of graceful Olympians and awkward amateurs. While the pros were busting 1080s in the halfpipe, I saw one guy get run over while waiting for the chair lift. This is how I must’ve looked in Austria.

Like Treble Cone, Cadrona has great views of the surrounding Southern Alps. We managed a few solid morning runs, but decided to save our already worn-out legs for the afternoon’s activity: horse riding.

Although Chelsay & I were barely capable of trotting, we’d heard New Zealand was one of the best places in the world for horse riding. It’s quiet, crisp, and secluded, yet you’re riding through pristine landscapes: glacial rivers, evergreen forests, and mountainous valleys. Its so beautiful that the stable we booked, High Country Horses in Glenorchy, lends their horses to the dozens of movies filmed nearby: Lord of the Rings, X-Men, Vertical Limit, Chronicles of Narnia… Our guide was riding Tom Cruise’s horse in Mission Impossible Fallout.  

The ride itself lived up to its Hollywood billing. First, the setting was cinema worthy. Second, my horse wasn’t blind, so I was able to trot with ease. Third, Chelsay was in heaven. We wrapped up our ride just as the sun fell below the Southern Alps.

It was an eventful day in which we started on the slopes and ended on horseback. Luckily, Chelsay & I were near Taj, the Indian restaurant we’d gone to the last time we were this ravenous in New Zealand. In January, we took Taj to-go after hiking Gertrude Saddle, enjoying the garlic naan, hearty daal, and spicy murg chettinad curry while watching the Hobbit from our warm AirBnB. For Round 2, we ran back the exact same order – it somehow was even better. Its hard for me to admit this because I love Dishoom in London, but Taj is the best Indian restaurant I’ve ever been to.

I just realized that I’ve skipped over the meals in this post, so I want to come back to a couple we really enjoyed. First, at the Cadrona Hotel, Chelsay’s Beef Wellington was her dream savory dish: a juicy steak coated in buttery pastry. She made British Bake Off commentary the whole meal. We also gorged ourselves with a Fergberger lakeside in Queenstown, and enjoyed pumpkin risotto and lamb ragu at our old favorite in Wanaka, Francescas. Finally, even the quick breakfasts we grabbed before skiing were tasty: Chelsay and I would take our chicken & corn pie and bacon & egg sandwich from The Doughbin and eat by Lake Wanaka. Guess who ordered each dish.

Now, a lot of these restaurants were repeats from previous trips: Taj, Cadrona Hotel, Fergberger, Francescas. As I said at the start of the post, New Zealand itself is a repeat for Chelsay and I. But these recurrences are fitting for an anniversary, and I am so thankful to repeat every day, week, month, and year with Chelsay as my wife. 

Much like our trips to New Zealand, each anniversary with her is perfect no matter how many times we repeat.