#they are so funky i can't get enough of them i want a pile of them in my home | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

purplekiwis · 3 years ago

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𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏)

Summary: An emergency admission to the hospital gives rise to a series of strange events in your life. By fate, when things take a dark turn, a unexplainable force leads you to Harry. The hospital's shy and perceptive botanist who will help you solve the frightening mystery that links the two of you together. Genre: Witch AU / Soulmates AU (Green wizard Harry x Seer witch Y/N) Warnings: Sexual Content (Sub-ish, soft Harry 🥺), Mild Cursing, Witchcraft and Demon Stuff (Nothing too crazy or disturbing, I promise) Words: 17k (thus far) Author's Note: BELIEVE IT OR NOT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SMALL LITTLE BLURB BUT AS IT TURNS OUT, I CAN'T SUMMARIZE STORIES FOR SHIT 😩 SO NOW IT WILL BE A 3 PART STORY.

** Spending Midsummer's Day hospitalized at the Communion Life Hospital Center wasn't exactly how Y/N had planned to spend the most magical day of the year.

No. She had a ticket to go to the annual magic fair with her friend Margery. Where they would surely have a wonderful time stuffing their bellies with sugar cookies, chocolate mushrooms and pumpkin ale, embarrassing themselves a little on the floating roller rink and, above all, timidly ogling at all the cute foreign wizards and witches they were too shy to approach, let alone flirt with.

The fair would also provide them with the chance to get their grabby hands on a bunch of whimsical ingredients and souvenirs that they didn't normally have access to during the rest of the year.

Of course, these days it's perfectly possible for wizards to order most of their funky stuff online... but the ones like Y/N still prefer to pick their ingredients manually.

You see, Y/N is a Seer witch.

It's a valuable trait that usually keeps her from harm's way since it bounds her to be highly ruled by her instinct and particularly sensitive to the energy of the materials and people around her. It has lots of perks. For instance, Y/N almost never gets lost, since she can find her way to where she wants to go based on intuition alone. She can also usually avoid uncomfortable or dangerous situations, even if she never saw or heard about them. – Whether it's silly things akin to jinxed candy that will make her ears grow twice the size or more serious matters, like creepy vampire alleyways and cursed artifacts.

Having instinctive genes also meant that anytime Y/N stared at a conjunct of objects while shopping, such as pile of bird skulls, most times than not one of them would effortlessly entail her attention and overpower all the other ones... which can get a little annoying sometimes when another person steps in and picks what fate had destined to be hers, but luckily most times if she explains her situation, they'll be kind enough to offer to switch, since for most magic people that don't possess any soothsaying abilities, not having a connection with their ingredients doesn't really make a difference in their magic. However, as expected there are also times people will deny her request or proceed to look at her like she's crazy or a bratty little witch.

Which she's not.

She has tried to ignore or go against her instincts multiple times. And in all fairness, the result was usually never good, but Y/N is pretty positive it was never as bad as it was this time.

Her day had been terribly unlucky from the start, which is usually a sign from the universe asking her not to do something. It all started when she tripped in the shower and knocked down her new bottle of shampoo, then her Chartreux cat, Azura, slid down her leg with its nails sticking out and made a huge tear on her favorite pair of overalls that she had just put on. Right after that, as Y/N was about to place a washed cereal bowl to dry on the rack, all the dishes in there fell down the counter for no logical or explainable reason. Later, whilst brushing her teeth she managed to squeeze a blob of toothpaste straight onto the front of her t-shirt and finally, right as she shut the front door and stood on the porch of her little house, she was greeted by an extreme downpour that started right in front of her eyes.

But she simply let out a big sigh and pulled the umbrella out of her bag. She really wanted to go to the fair, therefore if the universe was against it, it was just going to have to suck it this time. Besides, the weather had been stormy and gloomy for a few days now, so the last sign probably didn't even mean a thing.

Y/N should have known better than to defy the fate of the universe.

Because if she hadn't, she probably wouldn't have woken up in the hospital 3 days later, feeling dizzy, having hot flashes, and with severe pain on her left arm.

But alas, she had decided on being a stubborn little witch.

The fair had started just like it always did every year. There was a music band playing, plenty of market stalls to see, with plants, books, trinkets, and foamy caldrons where elixirs and potions bubbled away. Mages performed showy magic tricks and stunts to entertain the groups of wizards walking around sharing rainbow colored funnel cakes and glittery cotton candy.

The rain was a bit of a mood killer, but a simple waterproofing spell was enough to keep Y/N, Margery and the rest of their friends dry as they roamed around the curious attractions. But then things took a turn for the worse. The skies darkened as if ink had been poured over them, prompting your head to lift. A deafening scream echoed through the scene. All the people around seemed to be getting swallowed up, blinded by the dark, bedeviled murk that spread through the air.

Y/N was staring wide-eyed at the cloud that kept rising and rising, when she felt a chilling pain in her upper arm. A succubus wasp's fangs clang onto her skin, its venom penetrating her flesh and leaving her head pulsing and groggy.

She passed out.

And now she was waking up, under a fluffy white quilt as daylight spears between her lashes, making her eyes squint from sensitivity. A comforting presence environs the room, enhanced by the spring scent of rosemary and citrus flowers. She inhales the perfume and lets herself to get swamped by the lulling stillness and the energy that warms her sore body.

It's nice, it's so nice that almost convinces her to fall asleep again.

But then her slumberous head recalls the rising cloud of darkness. It felt ominous, like a warning... and that screaming wail, that froze her insides and made her feel sick at heart. Had someone gotten hurt? What happened after she lost consciousness? She needed to talk to Margery. She needed to make sure everyone was alright.

Y/N opened her eyes completely and crawled up on the bed. There was someone else in the room. Someone who stiffed up like a broomstick as soon as he saw her move. He was attractive... and probably about the same age as her. Tall and bright-eyed, with fuzzy brown curls that fell over his shoulders and cheeks all pinked up and kissable. He wore a cream linen blouse, with a moss-colored garden apron over it. The front of his pocket, from where a few gardening tools poked out of, was lightly smeared with fresh mud. So was one of his cheekbones, right under his eye.

"Oh, hello." The witch said bunglingly once their eyes met, but his reaction was not what she expected. He jumped nervously and dashed out the door like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. Not a word, not a smile, just hotfooted away and left her alone to wonder over what had just happened.

Y/N didn't have much time to mull over it, however. Because the next minute a senior woman came into the room, with a big smile stretching across her face like she was genuinely happy to see her awake. "Ah, I see that our sleeping beauty has finally awakened..." She joked, wandering around the bed to open the window and air out the room that suddenly no longer smelled of flowers and happiness, but more so of failing health and antiseptic. "How are you feeling miss Y/N?" The woman asked, taking her palm to the girl's forehead to check the temperature. "Your friends left a while ago... You missed them for a few hours, but they should be back tomorrow. I'm certain they'll be thrilled to find you awake this time."

"Are they okay? Is everyone's okay?" Y/N jumped to ask. "How long have I been asleep?"

"You've been here for the past 3 days... but we're going to have to keep you around for a bit longer. That was quite an allergic reaction you had... gave everyone a big scare." As she moved closer, Y/N could perceive the small tag stuck to her uniform's chest that read 'Angela Carrington', and in the line below 'Nurse'. - "I've seen a lot of things in my 25 years working at this hospital, but someone hallucinating after being stung by a sleep wasp...? That's a first."

"Hallucinating?"

She dismissed the alarmed question with a brief wave and a soft pop of her tongue. "It's nothing, don't worry about it." But Y/N's curious expression didn't budge, so the nurse carried on with the subject. "You talked in your drowse, about this big cloud of smoke in the sky and a screaming woman. We figured you were developing an allergic reaction to the venom, that made you feverish and therefore caused the hallucinations. We had to inject you with a calming potion... but you were out like a lamp after that."

The girl squinted slightly, shaking her head sternly. "No, but that was real. That- that happened before I got stung." Her eyes sought out Mrs. Carrington's, that were rounded and twinkled golden from the sunlight that poked through the window. "My friends... everyone that was there... they saw it too. It was huge and scary... they have got to have seen it, haven't they?"

The nurse pursed her lips sympathetically, patting the girl's head lightly. "Oh darling. That little head of yours is still all topsy-turvy, isn't it? It must've all happened so quick... didn't even feel it."

Ungrudgingly, Y/N allowed her body to slip under the quilt again. So it had all been a figment of her imagination... That gave her a bit more peace of mind, especially knowing that everyone she loved was safe, and not out there trying to survive a smokey apocalypse while she slept like a sloth. But at the same time, some things still didn't make much sense. She was so sure she had felt the sting after seeing the cloud... The memory was so clear that she could practically portray the whole scene inside her head.

But maybe it was all a hallucination after all.

"Dinner will be served in a little while, but for now I'll leave you to rest for a little longer." The nurse affirmed, after she was done inspecting Y/N's wound. "Your friends left a bag with your personal things on the couch. If you want to use the bathroom, it's this door right here." She explained, signaling the only door inside the room besides the main one. "For now it's all yours, but if someone else is admitted to the room you'll have to share." Y/N nodded, although she wasn't really asking. "If you need anything else, all you have to do is ring that bell and someone will come check on you. If you feel any discomfort or have more delusional episodes, it's best to let someone know. It could be a sign that the fever has returned." Y/N cringed at the words 'delusional episodes'. She was fairly used to receiving high signs and warnings from the unknown, but having visions and hallucinations was an entirely different level of looney... even for a witch. Divination was not a very common gift among wizards, in fact the more skeptic ones even considered it to be nothing but a business hoax to trick desperate people into believing something great awaited them. She knew for a fact that wasn't entirely true though. She had inherited the trait from her aunt Rowena, who still to that day worked as a fortune-teller in Las Vegas. She was very popular among the non-magic people for her correct predictions... so popular that she had once even gotten invited to record a show for the TLC channel. Naturally they had no idea she was a real witch, like a proper potion-making, spell-casting witch and believed she simply had the so called gift. Unlike aunt Rowena however, Y/N never aspired to take financial advantage of their shared genetic trait. Not because she found any faults in doing so, but because she found faults in her personal trait, specifically. There were stages in her life where her intuition seemed to shut down completely, and others where it was at a constant all-time high. And since Y/N is certain proper fortune-tellers should have a stable vision and not one that is fluctuating and unpredictable, she chooses to rely on it solely for her own safeness and satisfaction. Like a secret party trick that made her feel a little cooler than the other wizards around her sometimes. And honestly, despite aunt Rowena's unquestionable success, Y/N had never truly believed it once she claimed to have prophetic visions. How could she, when they shared the same intrinsic gene and she had never had that kind of mind-expanding experience herself? She only had what was usually referred to as an inner vision, or mystical intuition. Like an inner force that guided her into making right decisions... and yet, now her mind couldn't help but go back to the stories told by her aunt, that she had always believed to be nothing but a reaction to the modern drugs consumed in the non-magical world, at best.

But no, it couldn't be. If she really were to have a prophetic gift, wouldn't it have shown during her pre-teen years like the intuition did?

The doctors were right. Her head was still confused, and this was just a case of feverish hallucinations. But if that was so, could the cute boy she had seen earlier in her room also be a fantasy of her mind?

She really hoped not.

"I've also seen this, um... boy? Right before you walked in." Y/N started apprehensively, what made the nurse's head pop up off her patient record. "I don't know if I also imagined him or not, I was still half asleep when it happened..."

"What did he look like?" She pried, focusing her curious gaze on the girl's face, that was peeking at her stout figure from under the quilt.

"He was, um..." The girl stalled up her own words, trying to recollect a clearer image in her conscience. "Tall... longish hair... was wearing a uniform. A bit different than yours, like a gardening smock...? I don't know if that's what it's called."

"Oh." The older witch grinned in understanding. "That would be Harry. He's real, a bit peculiar but a sweetheart, nonetheless." Her smile widened when she saw the kraft paper wrapping perched on the room's nightstand. "I see he left you one of his little gifts..." She said, pointing to the item Y/N hadn't noticed yet.

The witch looked away from her for a moment and focused on the rough package. Had he left this here for her? Did he not want her to know it came from him? That would explain why he had left in such a hurry, but it still didn't explain why he hadn't responded to her greeting. "Is he um..." Y/N began to question, unable to push away the curiosity. "Does he talk?"

The nurse laughed mid sigh. "He can talk, but he's not very talkative, no."

She hummed understandingly. "Is he also staying at the hospital?"

"Not as a patient. He's our botanical specialist." The witch nurse clarified, what already answered a few other silly questions Y/N was planning to ask next, regarding the reasons why he was wearing an apron and why did he smell good like spring. "He was the one who made the ointment we've been coating your wound with." She also told, drawing Y/N's attention to her own upper arm that was still swollen and slightly greenish from the bite. "Crazy what some sprouts and fermented flower nectars can do, huh?"

It wasn't until way after dinnertime that Y/N finally gave in and unwrapped open the gift on her bedside table. She hadn’t forgotten about it… how could she? It wasn’t like there were any cute wizards with rosy cheeks and muddy clothes bringing her gifts every other day. As a matter of fact, she couldn't even remember the last time she had received a gift other than from Margery on her birthday. Y/N was thrilled. For that reason, ever since the nice nurse had left, she had been waging an inner battle between her logical brain and her jumpy, excited heart. Having picked up the present and given it a curious shake before quickly placing it back countless times. She really wanted to rip the wrapping open, but her brain was still partially convinced that the quiet wizard doctor had left whatever it was in her room by mistake and was going to come bursting through the door at any moment to get it back. But once the long hours passed and he still didn’t come, Y/N finally gave in to the temptation, sitting up on the bed and moving the package to her lap. She tried not to screw up the paper too much, but it was hard with the way her hands were moving with excitement. The first thing the girl saw was a round glass dome, what caused her fingers to rush to remove the rest of the paper. At first, she thought it to be a crystal ball, what would’ve been awful ironic and borderline scary after that whole fortune-telling plight, but then she noticed that there was a miniature myrtle tree inside, roughly the size of a human hand. Y/N let out a sigh of surprise once its flowers began to glow a faint shade of lavender with the contact, and its branches began to sway to the rhythm of an unintelligible current as she revolved the dome around in her hands. It was fascinating. Y/N had never seen anything like it. Which made her stomach go a little pudgy, because the more she thought about it, the more the certainty that this was not meant to be given to her settled in. It was too beautiful… Y/N doesn't get these lovely, thoughtful presents that leave her smiling silly like a fool. She gets other nice things, like adorable mittens and animal slippers, but not mini enchanted forests that react to the touch and glow purple in the dark. That's what witches who are loved, like downright adored by their partners get. Not witches who go on accidental head trips after being stung by sleep wasps. Y/N sighed wistfully and placed the dome back on the nightstand. She just hoped Harry would come back for it soon before she grew too attached to the little bottled landscape. Living, and breathing for its own will.

Y/N woke up a few hours later with a gasp, sitting up in bed like a zombie rising from the grave. She didn't have to wonder what was going on for long, a glance at the clock on the wall answered her question. It was 3 AM - The witching hour.

The witching hour is in some ways resembling of those spikes of energy and sudden urges that non-magic people have, to get up and do something productive at the most ungodly hours in the night. The difference being that wizards can't just lie in bed and plan to do it later like ordinary people do before they inevitably fall back asleep.

Wizards can't control it. It's like their occult abilities start circulating through their bodies, pressuring them to put them practice. Usually when Y/N is at home, what she does during her hocus-pocus hour is kneel by her altar and play a little with her magic candles, or flip through the pages of a witch magazine, to get in touch with the latest spells and rituals trends. If she's feeling particularly inspired, she'll try one or two right away… but that determination is hard to come by.

Now that she's stuck in a hospital room though, Y/N doesn't quite know what she's supposed to do with her time. Shouldn't they keep something around for the patients entertain themselves? Even if it was just a piece of rope to build a witch's ladder or yarn and needles to knit a nice winter scarf…

She got up to access her bag over the couch. The chances were slim, but maybe amidst their rush one of her friends had remembered the small ‘witching hour’ detail and stuffed something in her bag that she could work or entertain herself with for a whole hour every day. But her searching didn’t go too far past undoing the bag’s zipper and shuffling around a few pieces of clothing… because she started to hear joyous chattering and walking in the corridors, as if a religious pilgrimage was taking place outside her door.

The witch allowed her curiosity to lead her towards the entrance, opening a crack on the door and peering through. Groups of sorcerers entertained themselves with side conversations as they walked in pajamas and slippers, heading somewhere to the left. Y/N watched them with her eyebrows creased, before focusing on what was happening in the room right in front of her door. A nurse helped a grouchy old man move from his hospital bed onto a wheelchair. Y/N's heightened Seer senses tuned in on the one-sided conversation they were having. "Come on Mr. Hawk," the nurse encouraged. “We have a toffee pudding down the hall with your name on it… better hurry up before Miss Flores finds it first and leaves you nothing but the crumbs.”

Toffee pudding? He better watch out for Y/N because she might very well go and steal it from him first...

Okay, of course she's not actually planning to steal the old man's pudding but if everyone's leaving their rooms and going that way, she’s going after them. **

The dining hall looked like a big coven reunion. Sorcerers practiced activities and spells together, others conversed and played enchanted board games. Mostly Spinning Scrabble - that was just like normal scrabble, only every time someone built a word the square pieces rearranged themselves, apart from the already filled ones, as well as Lifelike Battleship, that came with a board of moving waves where ships floated at the surface. When hit wholly, the ships would collapse right in front of the players eyes and sink under the ensorcelled panel of foamy, undulating waters until completely gone from sight.

Some of the room’s dining tables were stuffed full of drinks and cakes. That was where the patients and staff who got the late night munchies gathered. There was a bit of everything! Warm milk and tea, pies, pastries, muffins, toast... the whole lot of foods anyone could ever wish to have before bed.

The atmosphere was homey and fantastic.

It reminded Y/N of the festive season back at her parents' house. Of those times all their relatives got up during the witching hour and gathered around the fireplace in the living room to form a circle of benign magic. The adults usually went back to their rooms after, whilst Y/N and her cousins stayed up the rest of night… playing these same spellbound board games and sharing jinxed sweets that had some quite unpredictable affects. She recalled that time an innocent looking candy cane turned her brain into actual mush and left her blankety-blank for hours.

Fun times… “Miss Y/N…” A vaguely familiar voice called from behind her, prompting her to turn her head back. Y/N smiled accommodatingly at the sight of the same senior nurse, Mrs. Carrington, who had come by her room earlier. “I stopped by your room just now to call you, but I see you've found your way by yourself… How are you feeling, darling? Good?” She responded positively, and without further ado the witch rested a hand in the middle of her back and started guiding her around the room for a brief introduction. “Okay well, this is our everyday witching hour station…” She started. “You don't have to come down here if you don't want to, but we usually encourage everyone to do so... After all it’s very fruitful for the soul to be around others like us during the most magical hour of the day, isn’t it?” Y/N didn't get to answer the question, since the nurse carried on talking right away, so she just smiled slightly and continued to follow her around the room. “Feel free to make yourself at home. You have games, food, people to talk to… there’s some books over there if you feel like reading… oh, and you can pray or practice magic too - as long as it’s not disturbing for the other patients - so no noisy rituals, no smelly potions, no bewitching other wizards and no summoning demons... is that clear?”

Y/N's eyes widened as she nodded her head eagerly. Summoning demons? Did Mrs. Carrington think she looked evil enough to be a black magic practitioner or was she just speaking out of protocol? If so… did that mean someone had ever tried it before? Y/N opened her mouth to ask, but the older witch spoke before she could. “Oh dear…” She purled, catching sight of the pendulum clock on the wall. “I would keep you company if I could, but it's almost time to give Mrs. Wolf her medication, and lord knows we don’t want her to go without it any time soon...” She patted Y/N's back sympathetically. “Oh! You should try the pumpkin spread toasts while I’m gone! They're truly something else…”

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled sheepishly with a brief nod. “I will.” Y/N still felt a little awkward collecting a plate from the pile and circling the tables by herself. Her eyes scanned the room, wishing to find someone her age or a kind looking grandma she felt comfortable enough going to sit next to, but unfortunately every witch and wizard around seemed to be settled in a group already… Y/N was the only one out, except for the half-baked witch coiled up in a corner next to Mrs. Carrington muttering nonsense under her breath. She tried to stop that aloof feeling from getting a hold of her bones, picking out a small carrot cake muffin and a toast slice spread with pumpkin butter. She still looked twice at the toffee pudding, but there were only two slices left, so she chose to leave them for her grouchy neighbor and miss Flores and walked to the drinks section instead, to pour herself a glass of cocoa milk.

She was trying to pour the milk with one hand and balance her plate of food in the other, but it turns out the milk frother was much heavier than she'd anticipated, causing her to let the plate accidentally skid from her hand for a millisecond. Y/N caught onto it quickly but not quick enough to stop her slice of toast from falling to the floor. Muttering a silent curse through her teeth, the young witch bent down in hopes to pick up the mess she’d made before anyone noticed. To Y/N’s shock however, by picking up the slice laying top down on the floor, she happened to reveal a symbol drawn in pumpkin butter.

Her knees jarred back by their own will once her gut identified it as an attacking serpent with menacing teeth and a slithery forked tongue. Her hand dropped the bread to her feet in favor of touching her temple. That woman's loud wailing was ringing beneath her skull again, just like it did at the magic fair. She felt an impulse to scream along with the voice, but her throat felt like it was knotted in an involuntary vow of silence.

With panicky beads forming in her eyes, Y/N glanced around the room. Everyone looked just as serene and unperturbed as before. With the wraith of distress still present in her features and goose bumps underneath her clothes, she reached for a napkin and wiped the stained floor hastily. What the hell was happening with her?

The next morning Y/N was surprised by a visit from her friends.

She had just finished assembling her breakfast in the tray the way she liked when they walked in the room, beaming from delight once they saw their friend conscious and smiling back at them. “Ohh…” Y/N cooed softly when she saw that Margery carried a plush toy and a 'get well soon' helium balloon under her forearm, of the kind they sell in stores around hospitals. “Stop it… is that a chubby narwhal?”

“Mm, I don’t know… Is that strawberry cream cheese?” The brown girl joked as she slumped on the chair closest to the bed and opened her mouth so that her friend would grant her a bite of her food. That day’s breakfast consisted of a wholegrain bagel with butter or strawberry cream cheese, a bowl of mixed fruit, and a mug of an instant barley drink that tasted okay but didn't provide Y/N with the energy she usually got from caffeine before starting her day.

But the wonder of seeing the familiar faces of her friends gave her all the spiritual boost she needed. Especially the frisky one of her best friend Margery.

She was a very affectionate sea witch, despite her rather dark aesthetic. She wore long blue dreadlocks, decorated with cowrie shells, beads and countless thin gold rings like the one that adorned the center of her lower lip. She preferred to dress in black or dark shades almost every day and always carried more than five pieces of jewelry on her – Most of them were crafted by her own hands, since she owned a small knickknack business. Y/N helped her with it at times, and in return Margery taught her how to make gemstone pendants from scratch and how to combine stones to improve their magical powers. It was a good dynamic that benefited both girls.

Then there was Axl, he was a couple years younger than the rest, despite being the tallest and broadest. He was a true potions master, and it turns out that his talent also extended to the kitchen. Axl always made the best soups and stews... full of flavors, colors, and mouthwatering aromas. Anything he served was always a real treat for the senses… well, except for that time he got distracted and welcomed his friends with a bowl of carrot flavored laxative potion that was meant to relieve his grandma’s intestinal gas instead of roasted vegetable soup and left everyone tutting all night long… That wasn’t a treat for anyone's olfactory sense, but they got through it together like good friends do.

And finally, there was Pam. A girl who would happily live in a cabin isolated from the rest of the magic world forever if she could. She did disappear off the map often. To go on lonely trips around the globe with no day of return planned. The only company she truly couldn’t do without was Dodger, her pet ferret which she always carried right over her shoulder or on a red sparkly leash. Y/N was slightly appalled that Pam had come into town just to visit her, since she always got quite squirmy in places with many people and usually always needed at least a month of isolation to recover after attending a big, crowded event like the fair, but she was happy to see her crotchety face anyway.

“Do you guys want to try some hospital breakfast as well?” Y/N asked Pam and Axl, who took the remaining empty seats on the couch. They didn’t seem too interested so she forked a grape from her fruit serving and took it to her mouth. “What about you Dodger baby? I bet you would love a little banana slice to chew on, wouldn’t you?” Y/N gave Pam that look. She normally never let anyone feed fruit to her pet because well, ferrets weren’t supposed to eat it… but the little guy loved bananas, and Y/N loved to watch him eat them.

“Fine…” Pam granted after a moment of silence. “Only because you're sick, otherwise I wouldn't let you spoil him…” Y/N flashed her a grin, finger picking a small piece out of the fruit box and throwing it over the seat for the ferret to catch.

“I'm not sick anymore I think… they just want me to stay for a couple more days to make sure I don’t have any other weird allergy symptoms.”

“I didn’t know people could get anaphylaxis from sleep wasps…” Axl mumbled under his breath, prompting the girls to flash him a chastising look. The kind that made it explicit that this wasn't the first time they'd discussed the topic. “What? It’s true… I went to Wiccapedia and it said that there is no known species of magical insect whose venom causes immediate fever. Much less high enough to cause hallucinations…”

“Last time I checked you weren't a doctor, besides Wiccapedia is not a reliable source of information, you should know by now…” Margery interrupted Axl’s commenting, raising her voice with annoyance. “If the doctors say that's what happened, it's because it was.” “Either that or they're not telling us the truth.” Axl spat, crossing his legs and his arms simultaneously. “If they were fully convinced the issue was just allergy fever, by now they would’ve sent her home with an antidote prescription…”

Y/N was sitting against the bedframe watching them argue like she was watching a ping pong tournament. With her head incessantly swiveling from side to side to try to keep up with what was going on. “Okay, enough!” She spat, once she was done listening to them bicker. “There’s something I need to tell you…” That made their discussion stop and their heads turn towards her expectantly. “…Remember my crazy aunt, Rowena? The Las Vegas fortune-teller?”

“Rowena…” Axl squinted as he tried to remember. “That name sounds vaguely familiar…”

“The milf one, with the nice rack.” Margery elucidated, making Y/N scowl although it seemed to do the trick for Axl’s memory. “What? It’s true. She has got a great rack… It's hard not to notice.”

“Okay well, forget about her tits for a moment.” Y/N sighed, holding her eyes shut for a second. “The point is I'm starting to think she's not so crazy after all…”

She told them there - about the screaming woman and cloud of smoke she'd witnessed at the fair, about aunt Rowena's telltale of hallucinating experiences, how she was beginning to think they might have that unusual flair in common, and even about the serpent omen that she'd seen the day prior during the witching hour. “Wow, that’s crazy… I thought the common omens for Seers were crows and clouds... and feelings…” Axl said in awe. “Have you told that to anyone in here? They must totally think you have bats in the belfry if you did so…”

“I don’t have bats in the belfry! I’m not crazy…” Y/N stood up for her sanity. “And no, I haven’t told anyone! I know it sounds mental, but that's not even what’s worrying me the most… These are abnormal omens, you know? The feeling I get while it’s happening is… dark, and cold, it's horrible.”

“Are you sure that what you saw was a serpent and not a snake?” Pam asked, her eyes fixed on the magic themed website she was consulting on her phone. “It says here they're quite different...” She started reading the words aloud. “A snake can be linked to healing, birth, fertility… it’s a good omen generally. I mean, unless this is your way of finding out you're carrying a rando’s baby... I’m sure that would be somewhat disconcerting.”

“She’s not carrying a baby.” Margery heaved on the defensive, before her face turned to Y/N's for confirmation. “You’re not, right?”

“Unless I have a slutty sleepwalking side, or can now get pregnant through my imagination, I would say no.”

“Well then, is there any chance someone close to you might be?”

Y/N shook her head earnestly. The word that surged in her subconscious right as her eyes caught sight of that symbol was serpent. Not snake, not cobra - serpent. “What does it say about the other symbol?” The witch asked inquisitively, dismissing any more pregnancy questions.

Pam cleared her throat as she focused back on the article. “It says that… that the serpent is one of the oldest and most widespread mythological symbols.” Y/N breathed in relief at the news. At least it was common. “Throughout the years, this symbol has been linked to the Devil or Satan that leads the whole world astray. Chaos, corruption, and darkness are some of its most common interpretations. It is also believed that if a serpent omen crosses your path, an enemy is nearby.”

When Pam looked up from the phone, she was being stared at by livid and appalled faces. “What? You’re not all genuinely afraid of a symbol now, are you?”

Y/N is not really afraid of the symbol per se, but she has to admit it’s quite disconcerting that she keeps seeing it everywhere. So much that often times she finds herself questioning if it's a mere suggestion of fear or if it really could be happening. Like when she stares out the window to watch the stormy weather through the glass before bed and the wind blows over the willow tree planted outside in the hospital garden, causing its branches to form a snake-like pattern. Or later, by the end of the witching hour, when she finishes a mug of cocoa milk and the dregs of chocolate at the end form a drawing similar to a coiled serpent that covers practically the full bottom of the mug. The presages always make Y/N’s spine waggle a little beyond control, but after the third day they don’t surprise her that much anymore… At least not as much as when she decides to go for a walk without destination around the hospital to stimulate the circulation in her legs and is suddenly faced with an entrance to a tiny greenhouse. She looks up at the ceiling, marveling at the pyramidal glass structure that is covered in layers upon layers of green plants and kaleidoscopic flowers of all shapes and sizes. There are wood and stone structures inside, to which vines curl around like leafy swirls. The mossy shelves and gardening tables are burdened by pots of bulbous flowers, earthy herbs and mushroom species Y/N had never seen before. Like a miniature garden of Eden shielded behind tall, translucent walls. But it's when she starts hearing a lively voice talking inside, that Y/N can't curb her own curiosity… poking her head through the entrance for a quick overlook. What she saw caused her to hold her breath for what seemed like an interminable amount of time. The quiet botanical wizard was standing in front of a scaled-down wooden cottage made from the roots of a wild tree. Just like the first time she'd seen him, he had on his cute little gardening attire… but this time there was also a crown made from pansies and lavender perched over his head, that looked far too perfect to have been braided by human fingers. He was spiritedly reciting fairy tale lines from the pages of a book held in between his hands to a thumb-sized, elfin audience. The groups of fairy creatures sat over the roof of their verdant hut, perching up their hairy heads over flimsy arms or bent knees. Their skin glowed a soft shade of yellow, by virtue of their luminous wings. Their ears and noses were pointy and delicate, providing their mischievous features with certain feline characteristics. They listened attentively to the different dialogues recited by the boy, who read them a story with as much dedication as that of a father reading to his children.

Y/N couldn't not stand quietly by the door watching him spiel. The boy before her was wonderful - from the flowers in his hair to his soft spoken voice. His features seemed to have been outlined by the gods, a perfect balance between tender and sharp. Masculine and feminine. His irises were as dazzling as amazonite beads. Bright and tinged in a deep shade of iceberg green, and if that didn’t make him attractive enough, he looked so… gentle and lovable. Of course Y/N never spoke to him, so her opinions are utterly romanticized but there is no way a wizard who reads sleep stories to fairies isn’t an absolute sweetheart. Y/N is completely taken by him, so sucked in on his appearance that it takes her more time than it should have to register that his lips have fallen silent, and he is now looking back at her, cheeks burning scarlet and body as stiff as a corpse. Harry shudders slightly when the girl steps inside the greenhouse, what ends up scaring off his fairies who rush to go hide inside their hut. “Oh no. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset them...” She apologizes sincerely, pacing back outside. The last thing she wanted was to disturb the fairies or make him upset. She just wanted to talk to him. “What’s your name?” She asked softly and tentatively, despite already knowing the answer. “It’s um… H-Harry.” He stuttered a little, still intensely staring at her. “Hi Harry.” Y/N beamed at him, leaning against the entryway. “I’m Y/N.” “Hello.” Harry smiled back, albeit very shyly. “I was enjoying hearing you read… you have a beautiful voice.” She commended, because for some reason it was easy to show fondness when he was so flustered. She just wanted to make him feel loved and appreciated from the inside out for no motive other than the fact that he was cute and skittish like a stray kitten. Harry didn't reply, just looked down and smiled unsurely. “Okay, I'll leave you alone now. I hope I haven't upset you or your little friends too much…” Y/N voiced lowly, waving softly with her hand. “Bye Harry.” “Did you... did you like your magic tree?” He still asked before she could leave. Y/N's heart jumped happily at the realization that she had been mistaken. He hadn’t been planning on getting his tree back after all. “Oh! I loved it. So, so much! I play with it before bed everyday, it helps me relax and sleep better.” The wizard struggled to hide a blushing smile, nodding once at the revelation. There was something so endearing about Harry… Y/N couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what but he just carried such an appeasing aura around him. Strong enough to cloak the negative feeling that seemed to have been haunting her surroundings as of lately. She won’t lie and say she wouldn’t like it better if Harry was more open to conversation, but the fact that he wasn’t very talkative didn't change his appeal to her - he could be completely mute and her desire to spend time together with him would still hold up. Not only that but she had an inkling that he mostly kept to himself and didn’t talk to many people in or outside the hospital (other than the absolute necessary) and although maybe he did like things to be that way, he didn’t seem entirely put off by her effort to socialize… just a tad nervous. Y/N is thinking that perhaps he is just someone who needs a bit more time to unwind, and the prospect that other people might not have even gave him a chance to makes her a bit sad... because his presence was so pleasing and his eyes so expressive that even though he didn’t speak, it felt like no words were amiss. Forasmuch, Y/N resolves that as long as Harry doesn’t show to be bothered by her attempts, she will continue to try and become friends with him. ** And when she goes to sleep that night under the soft purply glow of her magic tree dome, Y/N holds on tightly to her new narwhal plushy… just the same as she does to the limns of a certain peculiar wizard swimming around her subconscious. Maybe Y/N has got a bit of crush on him… A teensy-weensy bit of a crush.

Being in such a good sleep, the last thing Y/N expected was to be woken up from her peaceful slumber by a blaring alarm echoing throughout the hospital in the middle of the night. Her confused head perks up, eyes going wide despite still burning from sleep. The room is still dark so she can make out the red blinking flashes glowing under the door breach closest to the floor.

What was happening? Was there a fire? Her sluggish legs slither off the bed as fast as they can and head towards the couch in the dark, where she hurriedly put on her robe to top her summer pajama set that barely covered any skin before heading towards the door. She winced when the blinding lights of the hospital corridor and the noisy alarm ring clashed all her senses, making her feel rather disoriented.

There were several other disheveled heads like hers peeking out of their rooms, and this time there were two nurses in the front room, helping Mr. Hawk onto his wheelchair with much more urgency than last time she’d seen it happening.

“What happened?” A witch with greyish hair and an unfriendly face questioned from her assigned room at the end of the hallway. “Should we just head back to bed or what? I have better things to do than to stand here waiting for answers.”

“We want everyone out of their rooms.” One of the nurses clarified, looking rather shaken. “There has been an attack, someone got injured. Please follow to the night station. Do it orderly please - you'll be safe there.” He added, before turning his back and hurrying to disappear behind the fire doors.

Y/N's face hardened in fear as she, along with everyone else, stepped out of the room and did as the man had instructed.

Something felt odd though.

There was this pulling, like a tugging sensation she felt in her gut, pressing her into taking another direction than the one the nurse had told them to go in. This sensation was also leaving her quite uneasy and overall worried over something – what was it?

Her head kept wondering, until she noticed something that caused each hair on her body to stand to the tips with stress - Harry wasn’t in between the people occupying the night station. Where was he? Was he okay? Y/N didn’t know - and for some reason that was making her heart drop and rush frightened at the same time. To the point where all she could do was squeeze the fabric of her shirt over her chest and feel afflicted, like someone might have just sliced her heart into pieces like an apple.

She really shouldn't let that affliction get a hold of her better judgement, but that was easier said than done when the esoteric part of her core kept screaming that something was wrong, and her mind kept taking her back to the greenhouse where she had last seen him – Had anyone known he was there in the first place? Had anyone remembered to go check?

An invisible connective string prompted Y/N to move away from her place and begin to break through the crowd, and before she could question your own actions, she was already back on the way towards the greenhouse. Double checking every corridor and doorway she came across this time, partly because she was searching for Harry, but mostly because she was rather spooked that everything felt a little too close to a horror movie. And the worst part was that if this was indeed a horror movie Y/N was watching and there was a character doing exactly what she was doing - walking around a hospital in the dark knowing damn well there has been an attack a little while ago - she’d be rolling her eyes at the screen, knowing the dumb little person was about to die. And when they did, she wouldn’t even feel sorry for them, because they had it coming all along by acting so fucking stupid!

And all because of a boy she hasn’t even had a proper conversation with.

Y/N must have gone real sick in the head.

That would be the only explanation really.

Because fine, she might have thought Harry to be unbelievably cute and handsome but that alone couldn't be reason enough for her to be putting herself in danger for him, could it? No. This anguish was illogical - and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t come up with a single commonsensical justification for why she would feel the need to go roaming a hospital in the dead of the night just to make sure he wasn’t the person who had gotten injured, or worse... one other person who had gotten injured and hadn’t been found yet.

But the closer Y/N got to the greenhouse the more it made sense, because she could feel this burdensome, painful energy steaming in the air. It wasn't as strong as what she had felt at the magic fair, but it somewhat reminiscent of that darkness that seeped through her pores and ate away any positive feelings she could have. That unconsciously made her quicken her step until she spotted the familiar bedroom-sized glass structure. The fact that the place was now in complete debris flew right over her head as soon as her eyes caught upon the fact that Harry was standing there alone - so far looking to be in good health.

“Thank goodness! You’re here!” The young witch exclaimed in relief, loping towards him and wrapping his body in what was probably a very startling, uncomfortable hug for him. “I was so scared! The nurse said someone had gotten injured and that we had to go the night station… and I noticed everyone else was there, but you weren’t and I thought… I thought…” Her voice dispersed into nothing when she realized Harry was hugging her back, but now his chest was shaking and there were hot spurts falling directly from the tips of his lashes onto the skin of her cheekbones. “What’s wrong?”

“The fairies…” He spoke arduously in between sniffles. “They’ve been cursed. All of them.”

“Cursed?” Y/N asked, pulling away but letting her hands continue to have a hold of his arms. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I- I casted a protective charm to keep them shielded from goblins and other evil creatures that could try to harm them...” He sputtered, trying his hardest to swallow the snivels. “This never happened before… and now suddenly that Beldam witch is gone and-”

“There was a Beldam witch staying at the hospital?” Y/N interrupted, staring at him in shock. Beldam witches were what people commonly referred to as wicked witches. Known for their practice of black magic and misdeeds and their desire to always do harm through their magic. For that reason, they didn’t usually come around places with many people, let alone hospitals where they would have to be around other wizards and witches.

Harry nodded his head weakly. “We’re a community hospital so there’s all kinds of patients here…” He explained, hastily wiping his face clean and swallowing around a sorrowful hiccup. “She hurt Mrs. Carrington... the Beldam witch who was hospitalized here, I mean. Her name is Lucinda Wolf. She’s known to be associated with some sinister stuff – like, black magic stuff.”

Y/N could feel his mournful energy making her chest tighten, in a similar way than it did that time Azura the cat mysteriously disappeared during her heat cycle, and she spent 4 days wondering if she was ever going to make it home again. “What happened to Mrs. Carrington?” The girl questioned apprehensively. “Has she been put under a curse too?”

Harry nodded his head and pawed at his eyes. “I'm not too worried about Mrs. Carrington, We've already medicated her and she’s reacting well to the treatments. I’m positive she’ll recover quickly, but the fairies... they’re so small and this magic is so powerful… It makes me scared I’ll never be able to revive them.” He admitted wistfully as he stared out the window at the rainy nightscape that seemed to wail with grief along with him.

Although Y/N's knowledge on fae and eerie creatures is limited, she knows fairies can't be killed by force. They are one of the few magical entities that can only die of old age. However, alike all living beings, they aren’t immune to getting bewitched against their will or tortured with wicked magic beyond remedy. That was the worst-case scenario that Harry feared. It was all he could think of, and although she too condemned any kind of harm done towards such pure and innocent creatures, her inductive mind was more preoccupied trying to join the dots.

The dark cloud, the continuous rainstorms, the serpent omens and now a hospital attack... It couldn't all be a big coincidence.

“The fairy dust,” Y/N asked softly. “What can it be used for?”

“So many things. I can't even list all of them, but when used for its healing powers, it can improve almost any remedy. That's why I keep them around the hospital. They love to help with the medications...” Harry explained slowly, his eyes fixed on the copper-colored sticky potion flowing from the broken flasks on the floor. “It is also useful in transformation and reversing spells, power negation… It can nullify the power of magical objects and beings, including ours.” Y/N's lips parted in astonishment and concern. “It’s extremely powerful, and when used to commit the havoc, it can be disastrous...”

“You mentioned that she was into dark stuff… do you think whatever reason that's behind her actions could be… not human?” Harry nodded his head, taking another brief glance around the ravaged greenhouse. Then he squinted, noticing a fresh splatter of something on the floor that wasn’t there before the attack. He crouched by it, took a broken branch and stuck it in the liquid, pulling it out to see the sticky texture that stretched with the movement of his arm. Slimy and glowing blue - Kelpie blood. Judging by the look in Harry's face, it was also his first time seeing it other than in books or internet articles. Kelpies were ghostly horse-like creatures. They are difficult to find since they inhabit mostly in secluded areas with shallow waters. In present times in the magic world, their blood could only be acquired through illegal trade due to threat of extinction of the sea hybrids species. For that reason, it was extremely rare and pricey, and often associated with the practice of black magic – and more specifically, summoning rituals.

That's a fact both Y/N and Harry are aware of, what made them exchange a knowing, slightly aghast look. “Something was summoned here...” Harry stated lowly, although he knew his company had already reached the same conclusion. “I should have seen it coming. I should have known she was planning something. The bad weather, those spine-curdling feelings… Malicious magic always leaves a trail behind... a bad aura.”

“Wait – a bad aura? Does that mean you’ve felt it too?”

“I thought I was the only one…”

“Have you been seeing things also?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at the odd question before he replied by apprehensively shaking his head. “Sorry, that -that probably made me sound like an absolute crazy… it’s just… there's some weird things I've been seeing, but it’s frustrating because I don't know how to interpret them”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” He sooths her worriment. “I haven’t seen anything weird myself, but I think I’ve witnessed something who did…”

“What was it?”

“A week ago I went to the lake because I needed algae to make a remedy for marsh-leech bites and- there were some mushroom frog-fairies feeding by the water's edge... I was trying to be very quiet not to upset them,” Harry’s telling made Y/N's heart swell slightly. He seemed so sweet and caring over all the little beings… she couldn’t even begin to imagine how bad he must be hurting over what happened – Y/N would never leave his side again if she could, and maybe that’s a weird thing to think about a practical stranger but it’s honestly how she feels regards Harry. Not out of pity might she add, just because his presence feels makes her feel better for reasons unknown to her. “And then, suddenly I felt as if something evil was looming over my head. I couldn’t see it, but when I peered at the fairies - they looked terrified. Jumping from their mushrooms and hiding underwater. They’re very discerning of these types of evil things, much more than us anyway… we tend to be a lot more unmindful and skeptic - can't see what you won't believe, right?”

“That's the scariest part, I think…” Y/N visibly shivered. “It's making me feel all icky just thinking about it. That it could be right next to us and we still can't see it.”

“But you’ve seen it, right?” He asked. She nodded fleetingly. “So then… does that mean you’re like… a psychic or something?”

Y/N huffed, shaking her head. “I mean… maybe technically but – this never happened to me before. I’ve always had sort of better intuition than most and if I receive any signs from the universe, they’re small… and personal, if that makes sense. But ever since Midsummer’s Day I’ve been seeing and hearing things that other people can’t and coming across some… scary omens.”

Harry scrunches his nose. “Scary omens?”

“Yeah, um…” Y/N hesitated, remembering her friends’ suggestion not to tell any of the people working at the hospital, but she didn’t reckon Harry would be the most likely to question her sanity. His interest seemed genuine, and so did the soft gleam in his eyes. “Ever since I came here, I’ve been seeing… a serpent symbol almost every night. My friends and I were researching about it and supposedly it is associated with darkness and um… evil witchcraft, I guess?”

“During the witching hour?” He questions her, looking rather stunned once she nodded affirmatively. “That makes sense… it’s supposed to be the best hour for bidding evil things, isn’t it? The thing is… Lucinda was being put under magic cancelling medicine every night during the witching hour, so-”

Y/N gasped as a memory from the first time she visited the hospital’s witching hour station came back to her. “So that was her? That kooky witch Mrs. Carrington was medicating at the night station…?” Harry looked at her, not knowing how to answer since he wasn’t there to see it. “She kept mumbling odd words to herself… I thought it was just crazy people gibberish but - what if she was already trying to do something back then? That was the first time I saw the serpent!”

Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. “She was probably trying to make it stronger...” He said, prompting Y/N's brows to dip. “Allegedly, you can’t summon a demon into our world without performing a physical ritual with the blood offerings and all that… however, the demon can still hear the calling of a conjuring spell… and it makes it stronger supposedly - something about showing devotion and whatnot.” Harry rumpled his lips, dumping his head just so he could stare down. “But how? Lucinda was under that canceller… how could she get back enough power to perform a demon-summoning ritual?”

“The fairies!” Y/N exclaimed, calling Harry’s attention, whose eyes jumped to bore into her face. “That’s why she needed them! Didn’t you say fairy dust could be used to reverse spells? Well, is it also strong enough to reverse a magic canceller?”

“Oh my God…” Harry gasped at the realization, his body recoiling towards the floor as he buried his face in his hands. “This is all my fault! There’s a demon out there and it’s my fault! I should’ve never let the fairies stay at the hospital…” He mumbled, crushing his face deeper against his palms. “I thought- I thought I was doing something good because they were happy - and they loved their little house - and now…” His voice broke into a shaky breath, right before he sucked in a wobbly sniffle.

“Harry, no...” Y/N cooed sadly as she took a seat next to him on the floor. “You did nothing wrong. None of this is your fault. We’ll fix it, okay? Curses can be undone, we’ll just have to find the right antidote and, as far as the demon goes… well, I don’t know about that part yet but I’m sure we’ll start figuring it out as we go.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” His question startled her a little, mostly because she hadn’t been expecting him to be concerned with all those whys and wherefores that she couldn’t even understand herself, let alone explain to him. “I appreciate it, I just don’t understand- like, why you’re offering to help when you could simply… look the other way?“

“I don’t know.” Y/N answered sincerely. “But I don’t think I have much of a choice when the universe keeps sending me these signs and demanding that I don’t ignore them. Besides, I’ve always loved a good mystery... and when it comes to those, two heads always work better than one, right?”

Y/N and Harry spend all their time together now.

Commonly her mornings now consisted of waking up, having breakfast, doing her hygiene and going to meet Harry at the greenhouse. She liked to keep him company because well, he’s very nice and has lots of interesting books laying around but also because she knew he got upset having to work at the greenhouse now – since it was a constant reminder that his little creature friends were currently debilitated. The two of them had moved the fairy cottage onto the back and covered up its old spot in blooming stargazer lilies for the time being, in a conscious effort into try and trick Harry’s brain into not remembering so often. It made it a little better but on more than one occasion, when Y/N glanced up from the books of shadows she was reading (looking to find useful clues to unravel the mystery) she still found him with tears wallowing in his eyes.

Later they usually go to the cafeteria for lunch, which Y/N likes way better than eating alone in her room because she enjoys having (his) company and getting to choose the dish option she wants. Besides, there's always vanilla pudding! Her and Harry try the others sometimes but so far, that one remains both their favorite.

On the days Harry stays at the hospital until later, they have dinner together too. Now that Y/N is thinking about it, the only times they aren't in each other’s company is when Harry is at home or doing errands outside the hospital – like going to the garden center or gathering his own plants. It’s to the point that she gets stressed sometimes thinking she's overwhelming him, but then she remembers the one time she tried to leave him alone for a whole day, he appeared by her bedroom at twilight looking like an abandoned puppy asking if she was upset or didn’t want to be friends anymore.

“I was talking to my doctor today and he said that supposedly I will be going back home in two days.” Y/N told him, doing a little happy dance in her seat. “I miss my cat so much! I can’t wait to see her. Only I bet no one remembered to change her litter box while I was here so... more likely than not I'll be walking inside and finding cat poo all over my rugs…” The corners of Harry’s lips upturned in a soft smile at her happy demeanor, but his face fell down towards his lap soon after. “What’s wrong?” She asked, leaning forwards.

“It’s nothing.” He tilted his head up slightly, but quickly dropped it again. “I guess I just… I almost forgot you were going to have to leave at some point…”

“You going to miss me?” Y/N asked, making him nod joylessly. “I'm going to miss our days together too, but I was um... hoping you'd want to keep seeing each other outside the hospital?” She giggled when he perked up his face all frenzied just so he could look at her. “You can come to my house whenever you want, even after we figure what's up with this black magic thing.”

“Really? You would like me to come to your house?”

“Yeah? I mean… if you’re comfortable, of course. If you’re not, we can always arrange to meet somewhere else. I could also come here to visit sometimes if you’d like me to.”

“I would like that a lot. I just thought that maybe you only wanted to be my friend because you were staying here…” Harry said sincerely. “‘cause I’m sure you have other friends out there that should be more fun to spend time with, I guess.”

“Why would you even think that? I love spending time with you.” Y/N replied, a bit whiny because really does enjoy every single moment she spends with Harry. He’s very special to her… perhaps even more than he should be, taken the fact she’s only known him for less than a week, but she sort of feels like they’ve bonded abnormally well - not only over the situation they’re stuck in together but also over the little things that make them different from others their kind.

Y/N has secretly always felt a bit like an oddball due to her unusual abilities, but when she's with Harry she never feels that way… He has always been nothing but accepting and motivating of her being the way she is. On top of that, his personality is so likeable and engaging once you get past that brick wall of shyness… He has also got a sly tendency for accidental innuendos. Y/N knows they are accidental because of the way he stares at her when she starts laughing out of the blue at something he said. Then he mentally rolls back the tape and realizes, what usually ends in a shake of his head and the sputtering of something like “The naughty little bugs never catch a break in that mind of yours, do they?” What never fails to make her laugh harder, despite it always leaving her cheeks tingly and warm.

“I like spending time with you too.” Harry said, smiling widely.

“Okay, that’s good to know because I was actually planning on asking you to join me on something a bit… bizarre.” Y/N's words made him frown curiously, but he seemed eager enough. “Have you ever been to the normal part of Las Vegas?”

To put a long story short, that was how Y/N found herself trading the hospital pajamas for a top, cropped jeans, a leather jacket, and riding a bus a few miles across the country with Harry the following weekend. Who had also ditched his gardening apron for a pair of corduroy pants and a vintage hoodie whose color matched the mustard yellow of his skater shoes. Y/N was surprised to find that his casual clothes made him look even more endearing than his work attire in her eyes – something she didn’t think to be possible, until he showed up at the bus station looking like that – all cozy and folksy with his duffle bag perched over his shoulder.

It was a slow trip. Therefore, Y/N had been falling in and out of sleep throughout the second-half of it… until she finally woke up to surroundings of bright and colorful Vegas light signs, imposing casino and resort buildings with illuminated fountains upfront and promises of paranormal, mind-blowing shows at nearly every corner. She practically climbed over Harry's lap to get to the window, purposefully stirring him awake as well just so he could see it too.

The rest of the drive was made with both of them staring outside in awe and finger pointing the most compelling signboards and buildings, with big smiles painted on their faces as they began to discern the hurried reflexes of the city’s exciting nightlife and luxurious looking architecture they’d only ever seen on TV.

It was nice to get the chance to engage in typical tourist behavior and forget about the dark reality they had come for during the couple of minutes left inside the bus, and then the taxi that drove them up hills of palm trees and exclusive neighborhoods until they were reaching the entrance to the extravagant community aunt Rowena lived in. The houses were fit for kings and queens... with stone veneers, polished terraces, and glossy swimming pools.

The Monterey style villa in front of which the taxi stopped stood out of the many other giant houses. Built in the heart of a small forest of yucca plants and towering single trunk palm trees, it was painted in a pale shade of pink that contrasted greatly with the inviting turquoise pool flooring. Above the house's double entry doors, was an intriguing arched window - complemented by a round balcony with nature-inspired balustrades and a flower vase on each end. Y/N would’ve believed she had gotten the wrong address from the white pages, if not for the mesmerizing figure of her aunt soon appearing from behind the front doors like she’d been expecting a visit. A sly smile decorated her red-painted lips as she elegantly descended the stone steps of the front porch. The baggy pants of her white suit hugged her defined legs with every step she took, as did the fitted blazer she also wore. Unsurprisingly, Rowena had forgone the bra for the day, leaving her bare chest almost fully exposed, and only masked by the long, waved strands of black hair that fell towards her navel.

Y/N glanced at Harry, who’s cheeks had turned scarlet, and neck was visibly gulping at the startling sight. The way most people got when they met the iconic Las Vegas fortune-teller. She was a very good-looking woman for her age - that was kept undisclosed for most, but Y/N knew she must've been approaching her 60’s by comparison to her mom’s age. The TV star looks weren’t all she got going for her though… even the way she carried herself demanded admiration and deference, her aura was invincible, sensual, and powerful. A true power-house she was.

“Goodness me! Look at you!” The witch came to greet her niece with open arms and a wide smile. “Looking more and more like your mother every time I see you!” She enveloped Y/N's body in a hug, before turning her attention to the boy standing beside her. “And you're partnered up already, I see...”

“Oh! Harry and I are not… we’re just friends.” Y/N laughed a little, trying to ignore the way her cheeks now felt warmer. Rowena’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Well then…” Her mischievous eyes jumped between the two. “I’m certain the stars will do their trick when the right moment comes.” She stated conclusively, before moving on with the subject like she was completely oblivious to the way their lips pursed and their eyes widened in panic. “Shall we go inside then? You should’ve let me know what time you were coming; I could’ve sent one of my drivers to pick you up…” “You knew we were coming?” Y/N asked surprised.

“Oh dear, of course I did…” The women said, like it was something to be expected. “My finest guest room has been ready for days now...” She added as she welcomed the pair into her large living room, that truly didn’t look like it was much lived in at all. - It was very Victorian styled… the furniture had ornate wooden carved embellishments, finished in gold leaf. The sofas were the color of blushing red, velvety and decorated with countless damask pillows, each with a different floral pattern. The central coffee table was marble topped, but its feet were adorned with the same golden wood present in the rest of the room’s furnishing. Made from the same marble stone was the cornered fireplace, that happened to come alive with graceful, temperate flames with a mere flick of Rowena’s hand as she walked through the door. The weather was too hot for any extra warmth to be seemly, but there was no denying that the sizzling background noise and the dim luminosity always felt rather nice.

“Oh! We were actually planning on staying at this cheap motel we saw, thought we should spare you the trouble of-“ Y/N timidly explained. It wasn’t that the thought of spending the night at a luxurious mansion for free wasn’t way more appealing than spending it at a “not so cheap” cheap motel room, on an overused bunk bed she might have to share with other strangers… it was that despite being family, she didn't really have enough trust with aunt Rowena to make herself a guest in spending the night at her house without prior invitation. She didn’t even have her phone number! – And if her mansion hadn’t once been part of one of those weird celebrity home tours, Y/N would've probably never found her aunt's address.

“Nonsense darling, it’s my pleasure to have you.” Rowena smiled as she sat in one of the armchairs, gesturing for her guests to take the sofa seats. “You are more than welcome to stay for as long as you’d like… I mean, look around…! I own such a big mansion, it’s a shame there’s usually no one around to enjoy it with me… aside from the occasional pool boy of course…” She winked at Harry, noticing his bashful demeanor upon hearing her suggestive revelation. Y/N opened her mouth to say the motel had already been booked, but Rowena stopped her. “Don’t worry about your bookings, I’ll make sure they are taken care of… it’s the least I can do. And I can also assure you any room in this house is far nicer than the finest hotel room this city has to offer.” The witch informed, gracefully crossing her legs and lacing her manicured hands over the top knee, what brought Y/N to notice that the nail polish covering her long, rounded nails matched the scarlet shade of her lipstick. “… besides, I’d love to spend some more time with you. I’m aware you came to me for guidance, but I can’t help but to wish to deepen our connection.” Rowena leaned forward, taking her niece's hands in hers. “It’s nice not to feel so… disparate inside my own family for once.”

Y/N nodded her head in understanding, looking away for a moment to check on Harry. She wanted to make sure he was also at rest with the sudden change of plans. “Would you like to stay, or would you prefer to keep to the original plan? Either is all right with me... I just want you to be comfortable.”

She could almost feel the nervous sweat that began to boil underneath his skin as soon as Rowena’s attention focused on him. The poor thing used to fear speaking to her, who in terms of scare worthy, could probably compare to a fluffy pink teddy bear or something harmless like that… and, although Rowena was nothing like a scary swamp hag, she looked a bit intimidating for anyone as it was for being such a mighty, beautiful witch. Therefore, Y/N figured Harry should probably be feeling quite mortified having to speak in front of her. But he did. “I’m okay staying if you want to.” He spoke. It was low and almost incomprehensible, but both witches understood.

“That settles it then.” The aunt chimed resolutely, slotting her fingers together blithely. “Just one more thing just so we can get this topic out of the way... my housekeeper only left one room prepared. The bed is double and quite spacious, but if you’d prefer separate rooms, that can also be arranged…”

Y/N's face felt like it was on fire as she span it to face Harry, but surprisingly he seemed rather unphased over having to share a bed. He even seemed... relieved? sort of - which she guessed wasn’t so weird, after all if it were her in his shoes, she would certainly also prefer that over sleeping alone inside a huge house she didn’t know. So, the real question was, why was she getting all hot and bothered over it?

It wasn't like she genuinely thought something was going to happen just because they were sharing a bed. They weren’t horny teenagers, besides Harry was so… soft and innocent and genuinely good-hearted, that it was practically unthinkable that he would ever even think of looking at her in any way other than respectfully, let alone actually go and try anything... which was a little frustrating because Y/N kind of wished he would. She feels rather dirty and filthy for thinking of such a sweet human so inappropriately sometimes - for wondering what his body looks like underneath his clothes and wanting to explore his softest (and hardest) spots in a hands-on type of way. She shouldn’t be thinking about it… and she definitely shouldn’t be getting horny whilst sitting on her aunt’s expensive Victorian couch neither, but oh well.

“I’m guessing your visit is related to your power progression, correct?” Rowena’s question felt startling, prompting Y/N to jump a little in her seat before managing a brisk nod. “I see… I figured it was bound to happen soon. I was also in my twenties when my vision expanded. Pyramid Field, 1982… what a great psychedelic time that was…” The witch sighed at the considerably aged memory. “But you’ve always been a clever girl… so I’m predicting your trigger was nothing like a trip on hallucinogens, was it?”

“No.” The younger witch chuckled, shaking her head. “It was last week, at the local magic fair.” Rowena nodded once, waiting for her niece to continue. “I’ve been coming across some omens… and I was hoping maybe, you could help me figure what they mean because…” She glanced at Harry for a moment. “Strange things have been happening back at home lately, and I was hoping maybe if I could learn how to interpret the signs, I would know what to do to prevent said things from happening… or how to fix them.”

“Very well…” The older witch rose, bringing her hands to her garment in a fluid motion to straighten it. “Follow me, then.”

Y/N promptly stood up after her, reaching behind for Harry so he knew she was expecting him to come along. He had gone a little wide-eyed in the meantime, as if second guessing if he was supposed to stay behind or not. To Y/N's surprise, he grabbed her hand. Gently cupping his fingers around her palm and not dropping even after he was standing next to her. Her back straightened from the unexpected contact - but she held onto his grip tighter.

“Interpreting omens is a lot more complicated than it seems at first sight… and learning how to do it requires a lot of patience and attention. I’m sure you’ve heard some of the folkloric classics - black cats, broken mirrors and suchlike things…” Y/N spat a quick yes, desperately trying to focus on her aunt's words and not on Harry’s hand holding hers as they followed Rowena through the endless corridors of her mansion. “Well then, you can rejoice on the fact that those are anything but accurate. There is a distinctive energy to an omen, it’s weighty and almost… demanding of attention. It will speak directly to your soul. Bounding you to not only see it, but perceive it.”

Rowena led them into a room Y/N quickly assumed to be the one where she conducted her home-divination sessions. The room was bathed in a dark reddish light, which gave it a warm and mystical atmosphere. A sun-shaped structure decorated the center of the dark blue ceiling, surrounded by stars and plaster designs. In the corner, there was a lotus-shaped burner that scented the room with hints of spice and floral notes. The walls were crammed with bookshelves and open cupboards to keep crystal balls, charts for arithmancy and numerology, in between other items Y/N believed were there mostly to wow the non-magic costumers who frequented the room.

“Omens may come in billions of varieties, so it’s important to stay in touch with nature and seasonal changes, just so that you can identify behaviors that are out of the ordinary more easily.” Rowena grabbed a leather-bound book from one of her bookcases and carefully spread it open over her divination table. “And then there are the specific symbols, of course…” She explained, as she flicked through the pages. “A couple hundreds of them… but fairly easy to memorize with time.”

“Just to be sure… that is a serpent symbol right there, isn’t it?” Y/N questioned, signaling the undulating, almost symmetrical symbol that stood out among the others to her.

“Have you seen it recently?” Rowena's posture was observant and concerned, which frightened Y/N more because it meant that the meaning Pam had found on the internet was probably not as far from being true as she would've liked it to be. A brief glance at the small-lettered description proved that fact – The same words: Chaos, corruption and darkness were printed in black smudgy ink. Tarnishing the white paper page just as that smoky gloom had tarnished the skies on that peculiar summer day of last week.

“Is black smoke an omen – like, as a thick dark mass that spreads but doesn’t dissipate like normal smoke as it ascends? And also… a scream… of a woman, that makes it feel like your eardrums are going to burst?” Y/N was plenty aware that she was avoiding all answers and bombarding her aunt with more questions that probably only left her more confused and worried, but she needed to know… and Rowena was the only person she thought could provide her some clarification.

“When you see dark, more high-tightly compact smoke – a black shadow, so to say, it is usually a sign that there is a strong energy mass looming in the space around you. Usually, a non-human entity.” Y/N turned to look at Harry, noting his head had also lifted from the symbols of the Fortunes & Dreams bookpaper that he looked to be fascinated with to listen. She found it cute that he was interested in the symbols, despite the whole thing probably being quite bizarre and unbelieving from his outside perspective. There was no denying that the signs were adding up though… Sure, that non-human entity could have just been a vampire on the hunt. Their energy was similar in some ways to that of demons, but truly, with how close to the hospital was to the magic fair it was no less likely that the black shadow had something to do with Lucinda Wolf’s summoning attempts.

“… And the screaming?”

“That should be a banshee wail.” Oh boy, Y/N already didn’t like the sound of that. “It’s usually heard when someone is about to enter a dangerous situation where it is unlikely they will come out unscarred. Like the serpent symbol, it is a predictor of destruction and often… death.” A heavy silence settled itself in the room after the utterance of that word – how could it not? “ Y/N, you know I’m not usually nosy but I fear I have no choice but to ask - have you been messing with anything you shouldn't? Perhaps with the wrong people or playing one of those foolish games to contact the afterlife?”

Y/N's head shook pressingly. “No. I haven’t. I swear! I know this all sounds worrying, but please... don’t go to my mom about it.” Rowena pursed her lips, like she had already been contemplating on that idea ahead of mention. “I'm old enough to take care of myself, and so is Harry. We are plenty aware it's going to be dangerous to follow these signs, and that they’re most likely connected to dark stuff, but we can’t just look the other way... not when beings are getting hurt and my ability keeps asking me to do something about it as well.” Y/N paused in conversation. “Speaking of… you don’t happen to know any good demonologists, do you?” She asked asudden, hoping that by giving Rowena something to mull over, she would divert her mind away from all the burdensome things said before.

That was the good thing about aunt Rowena...

She was a bit scatty.

“Demonologists…” The woman squinted slightly as she thought it over. “I believe I have a close friend who’s considered an expert in the matter.” She said, leaving the room and wandering around the house in search for something.

Y/N was surprised that it worked, to be honest. Mainly because if it had been her mother in her place, she would’ve unquestionably wanted to know exactly what happened, to whom, where, why and how – and most of all, why was her loving, good-hearted daughter suddenly getting involved in such dark matters of magic. Y/N always had a feeling that her aunt was less restrictive in the sense of believing there is good magic and forbidden magic, so perhaps she didn’t really see anything wrong with demonology work – besides, even if her and Harry were going to have to dab a bit into black magic when it came to banishing Lucinda Wolf’s demon back to hell, it wasn’t like they were suddenly going to turn evil and start craving to open portals and invite demons into the world, was it?

Y/N and Harry followed behind the older witch in silence, pausing at the entrance of what they assumed to be the house’s master bedroom, where Rowena was picking up an object from one of the bedside tables. An old fashioned address book. “He goes by the stage name of Lord Darkmore here in Las Vegas, but his first name is Bellamy - make sure to refer to him as such when you approach him…” She spoke from the interior of the room as she scrambled through the pages of the book in her hand. She was out of their line of sight now, but Y/N could hear her tearing up a clean sheet of paper and scribbling down with a pen before she walked to the door and handed it to them. “Don’t forget to tell him it was Rowena who sent you, otherwise he might take you as imposters and morph you into a pair of three-legged toads.” She smirked at their mortified expressions. “The curse would only last for a couple of hours, of course…”

Their faces went a little open-mouthed, not knowing if she was joking or not, but too afraid to ask further. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my darlings… I would love keep you company, but it’s way past my bedtime...” The witch said, although it wasn’t later than 10pm. “Make yourselves comfortable while I’m gone. If you need anything, for the love of God, don’t stir me awake to ask – help yourselves to whatever you want. There is plenty of food and drinks in the kitchen and different bedding options in your room. Enjoy the outdoor bar, the pool, and the hot tub if you’d like. If you break anything just throw it away, I truly couldn’t care less… in fact, there’s only one crucial thing I ask of you,” She paused, gathering two inquisitive gazes. “Please make use of the recycling bins. It’s good for the environment – Goodnight. See you in the witching hour.”

Before their mouths could form a reply, the double doors of the master bedroom clinked shut and Rowena’s figure was closed off behind them, leaving Y/N and Harry speechlessly staring at one another. “So…” Y/N started invitingly. “Do you want to go play bartender and swim in the pool before we get turned into toads?” She proposed blindly, guessing that despite everything going on, Harry too wouldn’t want to skip the opportunity of enjoying the refreshing, chlorinated water of a private pool on a torrid summers night, apace with a fancy bar drink.

"Are you scared about what my aunt said?"

"Dunno." Harry shrugged as he fiddled with the bow strings of his swimwear. He had kept the t-shirt he was wearing earlier but changed his pants for a pair of yellow swim trunks. They were a little shorter than the most common, ending mid-thigh and rising even higher whenever he sat down – a fact that certainly didn't go unappreciated inside Y/N's head. "I'm okay now... a bit nervous about tomorrow just 'cause we don't know how that's gonna go. I think part of me is scared the demonologist's going to say there's nothing we can do about the demon..."

Y/N has half the heart to scold him for being so pessimistic, but she would be acting like a hypocrite if she pretended that exact same fear hadn't crossed her mind at least half a dozen times already. It makes her curse at herself for being so uninformed over evil spirit matters. Because if she knew how summoning circles worked, maybe both wouldn't be stressing so much about it now. Of course, she had heard about demons and dark magic before, but it had admittedly always been a very shushed topic inside her household... and if she ever did ask about it, the only explanations she got came in very brief descriptions, that were immediately followed by the judging questions: "Why are you asking?", "Why do you wanna know?" – All that to say that her knowledge in the matter is lacking – probably in the same way most people's knowledge in hacking computers and bitcoin is – everyone's heard about it and knows it happens but have little to no idea of how it's done or how it actually works.

"I'm sorry." Harry rumbled deep in his chest, glancing up from his cup with a sympathetic smile.

"What are you saying sorry for silly?" The witch asked amidst a giggle, persuading one out of Harry as well. "Anyway... enough with the bad stuff. How's my concoction ranking so far - Is it good?"

"Mm, it's okay... still not as good as the one before though." He simpered, referring to the frozen strawberry daiquiris Y/N had made roughly 20 minutes prior. They had been dangerously easy to drink despite the amount of booze in them, tasting and looking just like a slushy – served in a fancy martini glass.

The girl scoffed, taking a test sip of her most-recent pineapple gin invention. "That's because you don't like the actual beverages - you just like the sugar in them." She added as she stepped from behind the bar with her drink in hand and walked back to the poolside, so that she could sit down next to Harry on the deck and dip her feet into the ripped water. Like she had been doing before he started making eyes at her and asking if she wanted to go make more drinks.

"Maybe..." He spoke between nibbles on the paper straw. "The pineapple tang in this one is good though. I like the way it feels when it rubs against my tongue – makes it throb but at the same time, I keep wanting to come back for more." Y/N choked on her drink, tittering between coughs that left Harry puzzlingly staring at her. "What?"

God – him and his bloody innuendos! Y/N doesn't have a purity kink but geez, does she want to corrupt his innocent mind a little sometimes...

"Nothing. It's nothing." Y/N shook her head, clearing her throat and carefully placing the cocktail glass on the floor. "Alright, I'm gonna go in." She said, getting up and hastily removing the beach dress she had thrown on over her swimsuit. It was nothing too sensual or revealing – a simple but flattering one piece in the color of deep sea green, with contrast stitching, and a keyhole back. She caught Harry eyeballing her as it came into view, but his eyes fled off as quick as they came in turn for taking another slurp at the drink in his hand.

Y/N chose to enter the pool through the Baja shelf, making use of her cupped hands to spritz her upper body as she gradually descended the steps until her feet were touching the pool floor. The water didn't sting as cold as she had been expecting it to, but it was still chilly enough to provoke goosebumps on her arms and legs in juxtaposition to the pleasant temperature outside. Soon enough she had fully soaked beneath the moon bathed waters, ducking under them only to emerge right next to Harry's swaying legs. The tipsy child in her had been aiming to jump him, but that didn't work, so she rested her chin over one of his knees and started plaguing him to join her instead. "Come swim with me..." She asked, sticking her lip out a little.

His reply came with a nose scrunch. "Mm... the water might be too cold for me, I think."

"It's not! I thought so too but it feels really nice after you're in." She swore, pushing her feet on the wall space between their bodies to propel herself backwards to the center of the pool. "Please?! I feel very lonely here without you!"

"But I'm right here?!" Harry chuckles and sucks on his straw again, before resenting to place his glass down next to hers to get back on his feet. "If you've lied to me about the water, I'm going to be very upset..." He joshes upon noticing his friend's pout had morphed into a triumphant grin as soon as she realized she had managed to persuade him – right as she witnessed him pull his shirt over his head and throw it on one of the sunbeds.

His torso being spangled in permanent ink was a surprise - that managed to take her breath away for a moment or two. Maybe she should've seen it coming since he had practically a full sleeve of tattoos in him... but he had never mentioned having more. Not even that time she asked if she could run her finger over one of the newer ones to feel the little scar bumps. Y/N had always enjoyed doing that to Axl's and Margery's tattoos, but the skin on Harry's arm felt so much softer and reactive – with the hairs in it rising above the surface by their own in response to the gentle brushes of her fingertip. The delicate motifs of his tattoos made sense in his body - flora and fauna themed pieces scattered evenly across the skin. Her favorite had to be the large butterfly on his stomach, or the ferns that spread out like wings across his hips - those were naughty.

"I'm even gonna go for a plunge, just cause I trust you so much." Harry snickered, hollowing out his cheeks and swaying his body before throwing himself into the pool. Y/N let out a petite squawk over the impact, that splashed her face and chest with an array of unlooked-for splurs of water. Once Harry came up from the dive, he looked like a gorgeous merman - with viscous locks clinging to his neck and shoulders and drizzly skin that scintillated under the landscape lighting like it was covered in rhinestones.

At least, until he stood on his feet and his body began to shiver from chilliness.

Then he was back to being her Harry again.

"Cannonballing was not a sensible move." He grumbled between jittery teeth, enclosing himself in his own arms. "Nor was listening to you! It's freezing in here..."

Y/N couldn't not laugh at his grumbling as she swam over to him. "Come here." She called, grabbing his hands, and pulling both of them towards the deeper end of the pool. "Oh! I'm about to be out of my depth, I think..." She whooped as she began to feel her body sinking further – now having to stand on her tippy toes to keep her head above water.

"Hold on to me until we get to the edge then."

Now, Y/N was completely aware that "hold on to me" is not the same thing as "koala bear hug me" but that last option was what she ended up doing anyway. Her hands clasped onto his shoulders as she submerged vertically. Then she kicked up her legs and bundled them around his waist. Harry was visibly taken by surprise by this but he took the intrusion nicely... using his arms to keep the Y/N flush against his chest as he carried her towards the pool's edge.

The air was imbued with laughter and rippling sounds caused by the agitation that broke through the calm water flow. Ultimately, Y/N felt her back graze against the unpolished edge of the pool, letting her know she had reached her ultimate destination. "There you are... totally safe from drowning now." Harry smiled assuredly, clamping one of his hands on the border, while his other still lingered securely around her waist, waiting for her to slide off his lap.

She didn't want to though.

And now her heart was hammering inside her chest at the realization of just how close he was - how sea foamy and dazzling his eyes looked – and how pink, curvy, and entrancing his mouth was.

She could tell she had been staring longingly at his face for a while, but he was staring at hers just the same. Surprisingly, it wasn't weird at all though. It was quite a beautiful moment, being honest – with the sweeping water burbling around their bodies and the starry sky subsisting above their heads.

"Can I kiss you?" Y/N asked, nuzzling Harry's face and combing his damp locks back at the same time, just so they weren't covering his beautiful eyes. His lips parted, like he was about to ask her to repeat that, but the way she was grinning giddily and running her thumbs over his cheeks spoke louder than words. "I've been wanting to for a while... but I get nervous. Can never muster the courage to ask."

"Are you really serious?" He asked incredulous. She nodded. "I-um... wow - this feels like a dream." Harry's eyelids went a little droopy, but the smile in his face was stretching beyond his control. Wider and brighter than Y/N could ever predict it would be able to go. "Like the best dream ever."

"It's not a dream..." She shook her head, presenting him with a big grin that he returned easily. There were splattering water beads still running down his face, and the particular one that her eyes had been keeping track of had just slid over his cupid's bow and evanesced right bellow his upper lip. "I really want to kiss you..." She muttered, feeling rather short-winded as she brought her pointer finger to his pillowy mouth and patted it lightly. "Can I?"

"I want to kiss you so bad... it's just- I've never – um..." Harry enlightened shyly, unthinkingly trying to hide his face like he was embarrassed to admit it. "Will you tell me if I'm not doing it right? I probably won't be like... very good at kissing, I think."

His doubting paired with his eagerness made Y/N giggle a little. "You're silly, did you know that?" She smiled, stroking her thumb across his jaw a couple of times, hoping it would help calm his nerves. She parted her lips to comfort him with a few words of assurance, but at the end decided to save her breath for something better.

Slowly, she bowed forwards just so her lips gently collided with Harry's. Her fingers still cradling his jaw, petting the skin near his ear reassuringly as her mouth pulled back only to come back for more. This was, hands down, the best kiss Y/N had ever experienced - no need tongue, spit-exchanging, lip biting or any of those things that usually make for the most unforgettable kisses. Those things are great, yes, but the frenzied sensations that lodged in Y/N's chest the second her mouth touched Harry's only made it even clearer that anything she could ever do with him would always be beyond question unmatchable. It didn't matter that his kissing ways were simpler than others she'd felt before, his mouth felt so much better. She wanted to have him forever. No one else would ever suffice that craving inside her chest, only Harry.

Once her lips parted from his mouth, it was with a wet gasp. But she didn't move away, she continued to stare at his face and touch it lovingly. His eyes were glossy, his lips had silken and gone ruddier from the contact, what only made her want to kiss them more. "Did you like that?" She probed, just to make sure.

"It was... amazing." The boy admitted, attempting to hide his flushed face against her shoulder. "Can we do it again?"

Y/N chuckled at the question. "Anytime you want to."

"Anytime for tonight or...?"

"Tonight... tomorrow... the day after..." Her lips started travelling up his jaw, dropping the softest kisses in their wake until they held themselves just before his own. "Do you want to kiss me more?"

"Please?" ** Showering before bed was forgotten somewhere in their subconscious - as the two fell asleep on top of the bed linen with their dampish swimsuits still on, limbs pleasantly entwined and the silliest suppressed smiles on both their faces.

PART 2

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let-it-raines · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt - David and Mary Margaret discover this great groupon deal for an autumn leaf changing tour and cabin rental in Vermont, but the catch, it's for 4 people. Enter in the reluctant best friends that can't stand each other. (And you know, the cabin only has 2 rooms)

🍁 found on ao3 | here | 🍁

-/-

Here’s the thing about Killian Jones: Emma doesn’t hate him.

She really, really doesn’t. Hate is a strong word that she saves for people like Neal and the asshole who took her parking spot and made her lose her skip and her bigger paycheck last week. It’s not a word she uses to describe her opinion of Killian Jones. That would be better described as mistrust or slight animosity or dislike. In the nicest of terms, it could be described as nonchalance and uncaring, maybe a little bit of annoyance, but those are only true when she hasn’t seen him for awhile and has forgotten how annoying he can be.

Right now, annoyance is the exact word she would use to describe her relationship with him, mostly because his appearance was unexpected and unwelcome.

A month ago, Mary Margaret called Emma and told her that she and David won a trip to Vermont for a weekend of walking trails to see the leaves changing. It included free lodging, free dinners, tickets to a farm where you could pick your own apples and pumpkins and sit at their restaurant on the lake and drink the cider brewed at that very farm. It sounded nice, like the plot and setting of a Hallmark movie Emma only watches when she’s at Mary Margaret’s loft, and Emma told Mary Margaret that she hoped they had a good time.

Then Mary Margaret told her the trip was actually for four people, invited Emma and their mutual friend Ruby, and Emma figured why not? Her job has been stressing her out lately, and it’s a free vacation. Who passes up a free vacation?

Ruby Lucas apparently does in order to go to help her grandmother with the catering of a last-minute wedding, and Emma didn’t know about that until she got in the back of David’s truck and saw Killian Jones sitting in the spot that was supposed to be Ruby’s.

She feels cheated.

This was supposed to be relaxing even if it was going to be spent watching David and Mary Margaret be overly affectionate with each other, and now she has to deal with Killian for an entire weekend.

That’s two days and twelve hours too long if she includes today…which she definitely is.

They’ve been in the truck for a little over three hours, which means they should be at the lodge soon, and Emma’s trying to focus on the scenery outside. It’s gorgeous, much more rural than what she’s used to living in the central part of Boston, and from what she’s heard of the lodge and the trails surrounding it, it’s only supposed to get better.

This is good. This can be a good weekend. Maybe she can go off on her own for most of it, and she won’t have to be with Killian or the lovebirds. They’ll be too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes, and he’ll be too busy flirting with every woman around. There’s definitely got to be opportunity for her to go off on her own.

If not, she might fling herself into a pile of leaves and never emerge for air.

And she’ll definitely blame it on Ruby for not telling Emma about her last-minute cancellation.

When they do eventually arrive at the lodge – after thirty minutes of Killian complaining about one of his coworkers – it turns out to look more like a small castle than anything else. It’s made of gray stone and covered in ivy and weeds while still being maintained. There’s a round fountain in front of the entryway, and behind the building, Emma can see the path that leads down to the lake and the hills that are full of trees behind it. Every tree is a different shade of red, orange, green, and yellow, and Emma has never wanted to take a picture of nature so much in her life. She’s about to live out the life of one of those girls on Instagram who only do things for the aesthetics, and for a weekend, she can’t say she minds.

What she does mind, however, is that when David hands her the key to her room, he hands Killian a key to the same room.

The same room as in her room.

Her. Room.

Hers.

“No.”

“Why are you saying no?” David asks, tilting his head in question.

“No, as in no I will not share a room. I thought I was getting my own room.”

“It’s a couple’s weekend, Emma, and I bet you would have been fine sharing a room with Ruby.”

“Yeah, because Ruby’s…”

“Ruby’s not me,” Killian interjects, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder. She tries to shrug it off, but it doesn’t move anywhere. It’s deadweight up there, and Killian has unfortunately turned so he can’t see her death stare. Not that it would have any effect on him. “You see, Dave, it’s just that Emma is wildly attracted to me, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to contain herself knowing I’m only a few feet away from her, especially when she discovers I sleep in the nude.”

“Oh my God.” Emma moves from underneath Killian’s arm, her strength coming back to her, and moves toward her – their, ugh – door. She turns the key, which is for some reason the old fashioned kind and not a card. “Please stop talking, Jones. I am not wildly attracted to you, and I can handle sharing a room. I’m not a child.”

“See, I knew the lass could do it.”

He winks at her and does this ridiculous eyebrow thing at David, and Emma is seriously considering paying thousands of dollars (she googled this place when they walked inside, and it is not cheap) for her own room.

“We’ll meet you guys in the lobby in thirty minutes, okay? We’re going on a tour of the grounds with our guide and then dinner, so dress for both.”

“When is the hike?” Emma asks, lingering in the doorway.

“Not until tomorrow. I’ll get Mary Margaret to send you the itinerary.”

“She already has. I just haven’t looked at it.”

“I’m not telling her that,” David laughs. “See you soon.”

Emma waves, smiling at David, and turns into the room, dragging her luggage behind her. It doesn’t take long before she’s stopped in her tracks, her sneakers snagging in the carpet, as Killian runs into her back.

“Bloody hell, why’d you stop like that?”

She opens her arm to the bed – singular – in front of them, which would look cozy and soft and all of the good things if she had it all to herself. “If you didn’t bring clothes to sleep in, you’re sleeping in your fucking jeans,” she mumbles before turning toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

This is fine.

This is all fine. Emma has been through a hell of a lot worse, and maybe Killian won’t be an ass. Maybe he’ll be the gentleman he always claims to be.

She’s never believed him for a second when he’s said shit like that.

Emma changes out of her leggings and sweatshirt into a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, grabbing her red plaid jacket and a beanie and placing them to the side for when she leaves. She puts on some mascara, a swipe of lipstick, and brushes out her hair. This is as good as it’s going to get, and she doesn’t mind that. Mary Margaret will tell her that tomorrow or whenever they go to the nice dinner that she’ll have to dress up, and Emma is giving herself a break on the makeup until then.

She had to pile it on every night this week for work, and her skin is screaming for a break.

Killian knocks on the door, telling her to hurry up because he has to get ready too, so she takes five extra minutes…out of spite…because she knows it’s just petty enough for it to rub him the wrong way. She doesn’t feel bad about it either. Killian would do the same damn thing.

“You look nice,” Killian tells her when she opens the bathroom door and he’s standing on the wall opposite the bathroom, leg propped up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes trail up and down her body, and Emma moves out of the doorway. A shiver runs down her spine, but she ignores it.

Definitely, definitely ignores it.

It’s cold up in Vermont, even colder than in Boston, and these old walls aren’t helping.

Killian takes approximately two minutes to get ready, all of which is probably spent getting into ridiculously tight jeans, and then they’re begrudgingly walking to the lobby where David and Mary Margaret are waiting for them already talking to the guide, a peppy woman named Anna who is like the redheaded version of Mary Margaret when Mary Margaret is in one of her “everything is a fairytale” moods.

Anna takes them throughout the property, giving them the history of the place while offering up different amenities that are not included with the package they won but still accessible if they’re willing to pay. There’s a spa, a gym, three different hiking trails, an option to take row boats out on the lake if the weather is nice, and there are two different restaurants on the property. They also offer drivers to several places around town, including the grocery store and the farm they’ll be visiting tomorrow after their hike, and Emma is sure several other things are said. She zones out about halfway through, distracted by the view of the trees and how they’re reflected on the lake. Everything is in an orange glow right now, one that brings comfort to Emma.

She’s always liked sunsets. It’s cheesy and she’d never admit it out loud, but she likes the predictability of them. They don’t always look the same, but they happen every day, even if she can’t see it. She likes that, having that constant. It’s not something she has a lot of, constants that is, and she takes every one she can get.

Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.

If she says that enough, she just might believe it.

-/-

Dinner is nice.

The food is good, the wine surprisingly good since she was pretty sure it was going to be some funky homemade stuff, and even more surprisingly, the company is great.

When she thinks that, she wonders if the alcohol content in the wine was higher than the server said it was.

All the good thoughts about Killian go away, however, when they’re back in their (still so awful to have to think) hotel room, and Emma is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing lotion on her arms. Killian, thank goodness, is in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, so he’s not even going to attempt to sleep naked.

She was 100% sure that he would try, and she’s honestly kind of sad she won’t get a chance to slap him.

On the cheek.

On his face.

She doesn’t want to slap him anywhere else.

Okay, that wine’s alcohol content was definitely higher than it should have been.

Killian plops down on the bed, the mattress shaking beneath him, and tugs the covers over him. His movements jostle her, and she grits her teeth as she finishes moisturizing. He turns on the TV, puts it on some show she has never heard of, and Emma tries to keep calm. She’s tired. She’s going to fall asleep quickly, and the TV won’t bother her. She falls asleep every night with the TV on, so this is nothing new.

Emma turns down the corner of the bed on her side and slides underneath before flipping the switch for the light. The room darkens except for the TV and the glow of the alarm clock, and Emma closes her eyes. They’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to be walking around wishing she had an IV of coffee to keep her awake.

Slowly, sleep comes for her, tugging at the corners of her eyes, and just as she’s about to succumb to it, the comforter is tugged off of her, leaving her foot exposed to the cold air of the room.

What the hell?

Emma tugs it back, shifting her leg to have it covered, and for a moment, she’s warm. Warm and cozy and not even the too loud laugh track on the TV is disturbing her.

The fact that Killian pulls away the comforter again is, however, disturbing her.

Actually, it really freaking annoys her, so she pulls it back. Hard this time, and Killian grunts in response and rolls over. she feels his foot brush against her calf, and she kicks out, moving him back to his side. It’s only a queen-sized bed, so there’s not a lot of room for them to stay separate. She’s about three seconds away from finding pillows or their suitcases and putting them in between the two of them so he stops encroaching on her space.

And taking her comforter.

Because it’s definitely hers. Just like this room was supposed to be.

Killian wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip. It was supposed to be Ruby, who definitely would have stayed on her side of the bed. Better yet, she probably would have met someone and would be staying with them, and Emma would have this entire bed to herself.

It’s so comfortable that it’s a shame she has to share it. She’s not used to that anymore, and she likes to stretch out.

The comforter moves again, and Emma grips onto it, holding it where she is and tucking it underneath her ass to keep it as steady as possible. At this point, he has to be doing it to annoy her, and Emma is not going to lose this battle.

She’ll stay up all night if she has to.

“You know, Swan,” Killian mumbles, “normally I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than fight over the covers.”

Emma groans and rolls over on her stomach, pointedly kicking out at him. “Shut up, Jones.”

“If that’s what the lady wishes.”

Emma mutters into her pillow, and for a few minutes, as the blanket stealing calms down and the TV quiets, Emma wonders if she could feasibly fake some sleeping disorder that has her punching Killian in the face all night.

She can be a pretty good actress sometimes. She could probably pull it off.

She doesn’t do that, though, because she eventually falls asleep, one foot sticking out into the cold air.

Damn you, Jones.

-/-

There’s a warm body nears hers.

That’s the first thought Emma has when she wakes up – after thinking of how annoying her alarm sound is. The body warm and solid and a little hairy, and it takes her two seconds to remember where she is and who she’s sharing a bed with. She knew she should have slept on the floor last night because in no world does she want to have her leg pressing up against Killian’s leg and her ass…

“Oh my God,” she murmurs, eyes blowing wide as she turns and moves her body as much as she can. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Goooooooood.”

“What are you yelling about?” Killian groans, shifting behind her, which only makes it worse.

“I’m not yelling,” Emma hisses. She pushes away and sits up, and there’s no need to even adjust the comforter because none of it is on her. “What are you doing near me?”

He raises his brow, wrinkles on his forehead popping up. Getting a look at him now, she knows the ruffled look he sometimes does with his hair is natural, and for some reason, that really freaking annoys her.

“I was sleeping until you decided to have a conniption.”

“Yeah, well that’s because your dick…oh shit.”

Emma wasn’t going to say that. She really wasn’t, and from the way Killian’s brow is arching higher, she knows that she’s messed up. She’s given him the perfect set up for all of his innuendos, and knowing him, she’s never going to be allowed to live this down.

What a great start to her morning.

“Usually that’s not the reaction, but I understand your shock, love. You weren’t prepared, and it’s, well, a lot to take in.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She takes the pillow from behind her and smacks him with it as he laughs. He’s getting far too much enjoyment out of this, and she’s wondering how long she would be in jail if she smothered him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Make it cold and bracing. I think you might need it.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one with morning wood, but you keep thinking that.” She gets off the mattress and reaches down for her bag. Killian may have unpacked his stuff, but she didn’t bother to do that, even if it means everything is wrinkled. “Please don’t take care of it while I’m showering. That’s just…we have to share the bed, Jones, and I’ve worked in hotels before. I know they don’t always change the sheets.”

He mock salutes, the cheekiest grin on his face, and this is really going to be a long day.

-/-

It’s a long day.

Before she can even get coffee in her, she’s dragged out to the hiking trail. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and they’re supposed to be watching the sunrise and how it matches up with all the changing trees. It’s beautiful. She knows it is, and she does manage to take some pictures that she’s sure capture about half of the beauty. The thing is that despite her best efforts, she didn’t sleep well, and she’s only running on adrenaline and annoyance.

Mostly at Killian.

He’s been staring at her all morning, a joke on the tip of his tongue about their morning, and he’s started to make them several times before Emma shoots him a look or elbows him in the stomach. Mary Margaret has given Emma several funny looks, and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in David and the romance of the changing leaves and the sunrise, she’d probably ask about it.

Mary Margaret is not one for subtlety or staying out of someone else’s business.

David guides them over the trail, which is somehow all uphill despite no discernible incline, and eventually the come to a perch with a few of the lake and the lodge, miles of trees surrounding it. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything quite like it, and now she can truly see why so many people travel here just to stare at some trees.

“It’s something isn’t it, Swan?” Killian asks as he walks up behind her, the heat of his body making the chill of the air fade for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t think looking at trees would be your thing. I don’t take you as much of a nature person.”

Emma turns to face him and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m a nature person or not.”

He steps closer, invading her space like he always does, and maybe she’s a bit of a liar when she says he doesn’t know her. “Just who are you then, Swan?”

Emma cocks her head and straightens her back, not letting him overwhelm her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles and nods, lashes fluttering until his eyes are hooded. “Perhaps I would.”

“We better get moving if we want to make it to the apple orchard on time,” David tells them, making Emma jump away from Killian and smooth down her flannel over her stomach. “You okay? You look flushed.”

“Just the walk,” Emma lies. “I’m sure that’s all.”

-/-

“I will throw this apple at your head.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Emma groans, audibly, and plucks another apple from the tree and puts it in her basket. It’s getting a little heavy, and not in a million years could she eat all these apples before they spoil. They’re not for her, though. They’re for the farm and its cider and pies and tarts and all the other apple goods they make. She must admit that it’s a brilliant business plan, having people pick the apples for you and then make them pay for it and the food and drinks.

She can’t believe people actually pay to do this. The hike, she gets, foraging for your own food, not so much.

Emma picks an apple out of her basket, one that kind of looks gross and a little squished, and she tosses it at the back of Killian’s head. It hits, just barely, and she stops as he reaches up to touch his hair.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses, turning around to glare at her.

“You’re the one who has spent the last ten minutes being invasive to my personal life, so what’s wrong with you?”

“Asking if you were still seeing Graham Humbert is not invasive.”

“It is definitely invasive.”

Killian’s shoulders shrug, and he steps closer to her. Really close, actually. He does this obnoxious thing where he’s always encroaching on her space when he speaks, swaying closer and dipping his head down until their eyes are level. He’s doing that now, obnoxious, downright cocky grin gracing his lips, and Emma backs away, dodging some low-hanging apples, until her back is against the tree and she’s putting her basket on the ground. She really hopes there aren’t ants crawling all over her, but at this point, she’s too distracted to care.

For every inch that she moved, Killian matched her. And now, he’s more in her space than ever, the heat of his body warming her more than her jacket. How is he that damn hot?

Only in the temperature sense…not in the other way. She is obviously still a little tipsy from the wine last night that she still maintains had a higher alcohol content than usual.

He chuckles, and his eyes look at her before glancing down at her lips. It’s not even a quick glance. It’s pointed, and Emma knows she was meant to notice it.

“Please,” Emma huffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She wants to say something back, some smart, snide remark that will make him frustrated, but she also wants to prove him wrong. Emma doesn’t care what anyone else has to say, and she’s heard all the rumors. Kissing Killian Jones is not going to have an effect on her.

So she grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him forward until his mouth is on hers and Emma’s head is pressing into the back of the tree. The bark scratching the back of her neck would be uncomfortable if she wasn’t so focused on Killian. He’s not kissing her back, his lips rigid against her, and she’s just about to pull back and give him shit over being a horrible kisser when he moves. His hand comes to her hair, yanking on the strands as he tilts her head the way he wants it, and his prosthetic rests at her waist. Every thought she had about him being stiff was wrong.

She’s never felt anyone move like this.

She’s also had some pretty damn good kisses in her life, but she can’t remember the last time one took her breath away and made heat curl over her skin as soft lips moved over her and slightly rough stubble scratched against her skin, likely leaving her red.

Emma can’t remember the last time she was kissed well, and damn, what a shame that is.

She could get used to that.

But she knows that’s a dangerous thought, and this is a dangerous game she’s playing. If she’s bringing cards to the table to play, she has to be open to the possibility that she can lose her hand.

Emma isn’t open to that right now.

So, she pulls back, just barely though, and tries to catch her breath as Killian does the same. He’s panting, and in any other circumstance, the sound would be like heaven to her, a strong indication of what’s to come next. Not in this one, though, and when Killian moves in, she pulls away.

“That was,” he begins, seemingly trailing off in a search for the words to describe what just happened.

She doesn’t know either, but it doesn’t take her long to figure out what she wants to say.

“A one-time thing,” she finishes, knowing she has to say it as she looks at him and the flush of his cheeks. “I’m going to find David and Mary Margaret. Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes and...” she glances down toward his jeans “…calm down.”

He mockingly bows, same smug smile she’s used to back on his lips. She knows how they feel now, and that feels wrong.

“As you wish, milady.”

-/-

The late afternoon lunch (or is it early dinner considering the time?) is awkward as hell. They’re sitting at a small, supposedly cozy table in the midst of the most romantic patio ever created (think of all the string lights in the world and then double it) with wine and cider in their glasses and good food on the table in front of them.

Emma wants to run away.

She can’t.

It really freaking sucks.

And it doesn’t help that Killian keeps looking at her with these big blue eyes that she doesn’t normally see. He looks earnest almost, and she doesn’t think Killian Jones has been earnest a day in his life.

Then again, how much does she know?

“Oh, this is so romantic,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m so glad we won this trip.”

“Does romance include two of your mates sitting at the table with you?” Killian asks. “Dave was playing footsy with me earlier we’re so cramped in here.”

“Was that you?” David hisses, cheeks going red, and Emma starts to laugh. That’s the best thing she’s heard all day.

“Yes, it is romantic even with you and Emma here. And with David somehow mistaking your leg with mine.”

“In my defense, Killian’s calves are only a little bigger than yours, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Flattered, of course,” Killian says. “I have bloody fantastic legs. Ask Swan here. She felt them up last night.”

Emma kicks out her foot at Killian under the table, not one hundred percent sure she’s actually hitting his leg, but then she sees the slight wince. Gotcha.

“So, what are we doing after this?” Emma asks to change the subject. “Another hike? More apple picking? Second dinner?”

Mary Margaret sighs, “a carriage ride back to the hotel, but they’re going to take us the scenic route.”

“Of course they are,” Emma mutters, stabbing her food and stuffing it into her mouth. She’s going to need more wine.

-/-

The carriage ride is worse than the dinner. For one, the horses smell horrible, much worse than the food, and the carriage is somehow smaller than their table. She’s pressed completely up against Killian, their sides aligned, and he has his arm over her shoulder while they share a blanket. She tried to refuse, but it’s gotten really cold. Her nose and her fingers are going to fall off soon, and she’s as zipped up as she can be.

David and Mary Margaret practically make out across from them, and even though Emma knows more about their sex life than she would ever want to know, sitting his close to it as a horse drags them along the road is not something she’s comfortable with.

“Make it stop,” she murmurs into Killian’s shoulder, half to keep her from having to look at David and Mary Margaret but mostly to keep her nose warm.

“I’m afraid we have to ride this one out, love. If you want, we could share our own kiss…again.”

She hits his thigh underneath the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever helps you sleep through the night.”

-/-

She doesn’t sleep through the night.

She’s too aware of her surroundings, of the warm body a few inches from her own.

It’s all too much, even if he didn’t try to steal the covers tonight, and if she wasn’t so damn stubborn, she’d sleep on the floor. She told herself she would do that tonight, but now it feels like admitting defeat.

Emma doesn’t like to admit defeat.

-/-

They go for another hike the next morning, their last morning in Vermont.

Emma sticks next to David the entire time, asking him mundane questions she doesn’t care about just to keep the conversation flowing and to keep Killian from making any jokes she doesn’t want him to make. It works, mostly, and Emma is even able to enjoy herself and the view for a lot of it. Boston can be gorgeous, but she’s going to miss a lot of this.

It’s the picture perfect dream, but Emma knows perfection doesn’t exist. And in pictures, it’s almost always photoshopped.

Doesn’t make it any less stunning as she stares out at it all, and it doesn’t make her want the picture perfect dream any less. The one where she isn’t so scared of getting hurt again and where she lets herself have fun, lets herself feel safe.

Lets her heart in on the decision making with her head.

-/-

Emma sleeps on most of the car ride back to Boston, and when she wakes up, it’s with a sore neck and tired eyes. It’s also in front of her apartment. She thanks the Nolans for the weekend, and very slowly, it dawns on her that Killian is no longer in the car. They must have dropped him off first, and she doesn’t know why, but it stings a bit that she doesn’t get to say goodbye to him as well.

That’s the lack of sleep talking, obviously.

Emma would never miss saying goodbye to Killian because that would mean she was going to miss his presence. She wouldn’t do that, though. Of course not. Because she didn’t have a good time when he was around. He didn’t make her smile at all this weekend.

He never makes her smile at all.

If Emma was using her own superpower to detect lies, there would be a blaring red light over her head with a little bell blaring in her ears.

She is ignoring it in favor of stuffing everything about this weekend in her bag and not looking into it. It was pretty. Nice pictures were taken, good food was had, and nothing else happened.

(Ding, ding, ding.)

-/-

Life returns to normal. She goes to work, goes to the gym, is occasionally dragged out to bars and clubs with her friends on the nights she isn’t working.

(She does finally get that guy from two weeks ago, and the paycheck is worth the struggle.)

Killian is around a lot more than he usually is. He’s in school getting his degree in software engineering on some scholarship he got from his service in the Navy, and he usually bartends at night. That job fizzled out, though, so when they all have pizza night or go out or meet up for lunch, he’s usually there.

Emma finds it odd, but she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to him because she’s making a conscious effort specifically not to pay attention to him, not until he misses a fantastic opportunity to make an innuendo, and she realizes he hasn’t been making a lot of those lately. They’re there, sure, but not in as high of a quantity as they usually are.

It’s weird, but the weirdest thing about it all is how much she misses them.

Huh.

When did that happen?

When did the flirting stop annoying her and start making her laugh? When did she start liking it?

Liking him?

The thought comes to her without true warning and without permission. It’s wiggled its way out of the deep caverns of her mind and made it to the surface, gasping for air so it can live out in the open. She has a physical reaction to it, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she inhales a deep breath that has everyone looking away from the TV to look at her.

“You alright?” Ruby asks from her spot on David and Mary Margaret’s couch.

“I’m fine,” Emma lies, knowing her friends won’t push her further. They’ve known her long enough to know not to do that too often. “Just need some water.”

She gets up from her chair and walks toward the kitchen, her mind running faster than Usain Bolt, and she tries to focus on pouring herself a glass of water and on the football game that’s on. She doesn’t even really like football, but it’s kind of a fall tradition around here. She just has to go with it.

Everything is fine. This is fine.

This is…this is crazy. It’s even crazier that she can’t tell if her body is experience fear, joy, or some insane mixture of both bottled up with all of the adrenaline it can muster.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” Killian asks as he walks into the kitchen puts his plate in the sink. Of course he followed her in here. He, unlike Ruby, Mary Margaret, and David, has no qualms about bothering her. “You look a bit flushed. You’ve gone red around your cheeks.”

“Fine,” she lies again. “I’m fine.”

If she says that word enough, it’ll be true.

“Are you certain because I – ”

“Why don’t you flirt with me anymore?” she blurts before she can stop herself. She must be going crazy because this is insane. Who has taken over her body, and can she get it back please? Preferably before she does something stupid like kissing him again.

Then again, that wasn’t all stupid. It felt pretty damn good.

Killian arches his brow, his forehead wrinkling, and she knows she’s about to get some dumbass answer. He scratches behind his ear with his prosthetic. “Because if I’m to win your heart Emma, as I’d like to, I’d like to do it in a way that doesn’t piss you off, as much as I do love that. It’s quite entertaining for me, especially when you go red as you are now. It’s a becoming color on you, but I realize my methods of getting your attention were a bit childish.”

Well, okay then. Maybe not a dumbass answer.

This is a weird, weird few minutes.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been doing the adult equivalent of pulling pigtails on a playground?’

He shrugs. “Aye, I guess.”

Emma, once more, doesn’t know what to do or say, so she lets instinct drive her. She steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. They’re ridiculously blue, and it’s just not fair. “Asking me to dinner would have worked much better than that. Food has always been the way to my heart, especially if it’s cheap, greasy, and will make my stomach hurt afterward.”

She leaves the ball in his court (or in his possession on the field since they’re watching football and her sports metaphors should make sense, and she’s 82% sure that’s a correct metaphor), and walks away before being pulled back by her wrist until she’s looking at him again.

Once more, he’s earnest, and she’s still getting used to that.

And those blue eyes. Those too. They don’t have to be all devilish all the time.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me, love?” Killian asks, hopeful, kind smile on his face.

Genuine. He’s genuine, and she feels that little flutter that she hasn’t felt in awhile, not since she kissed him against the apple tree to prove a point to herself that she wouldn’t be affected by kissing him.

Emma really is a bad liar, especially when she’s lying to herself.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#leaves are changing (and maybe he is too)#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #wellhellotragic

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