#they just /look/ like a flat shadow then you see em turn and you're like ????

[pestercide]

Decided to revisit my Minecraft spooky guy designs

Old designs here

[trashcanfanfics]

Can you please write a oneshot about Alastor after he had a fight with reader, and he clearly was the one in the wrong. What does he do to make it up? Does he realize it himself or does someone like Rosie or someone from the hotel have to point it out to him. Does he feel guilty? Did he make reader cry? Sorry if this is too much or too sad.

What a way to rise from the dead

He doesn't know what happened, really. One second he was telling jokes and you were laughing, the next you were in a heated argument. Something about him trying to push a punchline that you thought was hurtful and him disagreeing heavily. The argument was brief and he just didn't close his damned mouth fast enough.

"Perhaps you should learn to just take a joke, my dear. Wouldn't want to become a flat tire, now, would we?" His ever present smile held more condescension than he'd ever directed towards you before. your fists shook at your sides and you glared at him with all the rage and heartbreak you felt.

"I need space." And with that, you'd turned on your heel and left the hotel entirely. Alastor shrugged it off and sat down at the concierge-slash-bar to enjoy a drink.

It had been hours since then and Alastor hadn't made any moves to try to find you or remedy the situation. He did notice that his drinks have all tasted sour. At some point he knew he was going to have to face you again. The feeling in his stomach was curious but he was sure it's because of the amount of giggle water in his system.

"God, has anyone seen that asshole?" A certain feminine spider came down the stairs. "I've got a thing in thirty minutes and they still have my fuckin' glue." Angel rounded the pillar and looked at Alastor, tipsy, and squinted.

"They haven't been here most the day." Husk was grumpily cleaning a glass. "Why don't you text 'em?" Angel flopped halfway on the bar and half on a stool, a little too close for Alastor's liking. He decided that he was too sloshed to care much. The spider sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I tried that!" All four of his arms raised up in exasperation. "They ain't answerin'! I sent three already! Ugh, I'm gonna have to go to the store!" Two sets of arms crossed to show his annoyance. Alastor paused at this. It wasn't like you not to answer after the second text. Were you injured? Had you gotten lost? Was someone else bothering you right now? Was someone...entertaining you? More than he did? He couldn't bare it and stood abruptly, only to stumble slightly. The Radio Demon regained his footing and rushed into the shadows, leaving behind the two sinners. He'd ignored Angel's snicker at his less than stable start and focused more on finding your energy. It was harder in this state but he was determined.

You were sitting in a secluded garden of blood red roses near the more peaceful part of Cannibal Colony. It had been a few hours since you left and you keep going over how Alastor insinuated you were boring for not wanting to be the butt of a joke. It hurt you and made you angry at him for trying to turn it back on you. You'd spent too much of your life hearing other people tell you that you're "too sensitive" or "need to take a joke". You won't tolerate it in death and especially not from your boyfriend.

A loud thump ripped you from your thoughts. You looked in the direction of the noise and see Alastor, halfway in a rosebush. He hardly took notice as his eyes met yours. His smile almost looked strained and his eyes glassy.

"Darling! There you are!" He stumbled out of the bush, pants ripped enough to almost see his leg. He rushed to your side and tripped, falling to his knees. You looked down at him as he grasped your legs and looked up at you, slightly dazed.

"Are...Are you drunk?" His smile lifted at your voice and he sighed dreamily up at you. "Oh my god." He tried to get up again but his foot caught a rock and he slipped back down. You stumbled a little as he grasped your legs tighter during this.

"Dar-darling, where have you been? It's been hours!" He looked back up at you. "I missed you! Can we get home?" You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Alastor, The Radio Demon, was drunk and on his knees in front of you. A small part of you felt powerful like this, but you quickly tucked it away. You sighed.

"Yeah, let's get you home." You reached down and helped him to his feet. He leaned on you as you both made your way out of the garden. "I can't believe you're out in public like this." He giggled, actually giggled, in response and sighed as he leaned more on you.

"Mwen sonje ou ba ou dabitid mwen." You were sure that was a language but it was slightly slurred from his lips. With no other ideas, you pat his back and continued on. He took a deep breath and then disappeared into the shadows. You stopped and looked around.

"Alastor? What the fuck?" You groaned in annoyance. "Alastor!" You trudged back towards the hotel in a huff. He was going to have so much apologizing to do tomorrow.

Alastor, however, had face planted right into his bed. He rolled over and looked around. His room in the hotel was spinning and he couldn't see his darling, dearest, sweetest love anywhere. Had he not brought them with him? Did they go away again? His smile wobbled and his vision grew blurry. Was he not what they wanted? Hasn't he always provided for them? Did they not like his cooking? Or his jokes? Oh. Oh that was why. The joke from earlier. Tears dripped down his face. Oh no.

You made your way into the hotel and up the first flight of steps before heading for the elevator. Angel's voice called to you from halfway down the hall.

"Where's my fuckin' glue!" The only response he got was a quick "on my dresser" before the elevator doors shut. You tapped your foot impatiently. If he wasn't here you were going to scream. Idly, you wondered if he was even drunk and just trying to get you to interact with him. He didn't like going too long without talking to you unless it was his choice, and even then it wouldn't be more than two hours max. You'd gone nearly five before he found you.

The end of the hallway on the fourth floor was usually dark due to the fixture breaking about a year back and no one fixing it. It was the way Alastor liked it. "Easier to get a good spook in and deter those who bother me", he'd say. It never really bothered you, oddly enough. Especially now, since you could hear the muffled sniffles of your lover. You knocked on the door.

"Alastor? Im coming in!" You only got halfway in the door before you were yanked into the room and the door slammed shut. Tight arms wrapped around you and held you close to a heaving chest.

"I thought you left again! I'm sorry! For my cooking! For not giving you enough! For my jokes!" He sobbed. You blinked. Just how drunk was he? You weren't sure this was the same Alastor that would rip someone's face off, roast it, feed it back to them, and then laugh as they cried.

"Well, one of those is correct." You brought you hands up and pushed him back before tugging him to the bed. "Let's just get you to go to sleep, okay, we can talk more in the morning." God, he was a mess. Tears made his eyes redder than they were, his face was splotchy and snot was dripping out of his nose.

"But!" You didn't let him finish as you pulled back the covers and pushed him into bed. "Darling! I'm sorry!" You rolled your eyes and positioned him on his side before tucking him in.

"Okay, tell me about it tomorrow." You gently fixed his hair and kissed his forehead. His eyes closed and he hummed low. It wasn't long before his breathing became even and he was snoring slightly.

The next morning you opened your eyes to see Alastor, fit as a fiddle, staring down at you with a tray of breakfast foods in his hands. You screamed in surprise and sighed heavily after recognizing your boyfriend. Sitting up, you yawn.

"Good morning, Darling! I made you breakfast!" He set the tray down over your legs and smiled wider. You looked up at his with an eyebrow raised.

"If you think that I'm just gonna forget what happened yesterday, you're wrong." Your sentence made him droop a little.

"I'm sorry, for the joke and whatever else I did yesterday." He clicks his fingers together slightly. "I...Don't remember much." You snorted at that.

"I guess you wouldn't, but i guess...I forgive you. Just don't make any jokes like that again." You looked at the tray, which had huge servings of your favorite breakfast foods. "Now, are you going to help me eat this or not?" He eagerly jumped into the bed and beside you, making you giggle.

[robin374]

Please please please I’m on my knees for a part 3 to ‘get away from me’ 🛐🛐🛐 how would Alastor react moving forward? Would reader leave/run away from the hotel back onto the streets? I need to knowww

𝔊𝔢𝔱 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔢

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 : Alastor x Reader, platonic

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: Hurt no comfort. You have been warned.

Part 1 || Part 2

A loud thud was heard inside the hotel. Alastor was standing in front of the main entrance, still with a smile. His own shadow betrayed him, though, it was frowning almost crying. His pride was broken, his ego had fallen from the tall tower it was in, but he didn't show it not wanting to seem weak. He was not weak. However, his knees felt weak, they were trembling, just like a small fawn in a highway. Should he run after you? Should he stay? For the first time in decades, he didn't know what to do.

Meanwhile, you ran as fast as you could. You wanted to be away from the hotel, away from Alastor. You couldn't even think about the fact that he was your biological father. You turned your head to the side to make sure he wasn´t following you, but you stopped the moment you saw your reflection in a shop window. You looked like that damn coward. Pinkish hair, antlers, pink eyes, greyish skin... Great, now you hated yourself more than before. "Well, well, well... We see each other again, Alastor..." A smooth voice made your fluffly ear twitch. You turned around to look at him with a frown on your face, you were prepared to insult him, punch him and maybe stab him. "Wait, you're not the Radio Demon." You and the flat faced demon stood confused while staring at each other. He was wondering why you looked so much like his archnemesis and you were wondering who the fuck was that walking image box. "Are you casually realted to this man?" He took out his phone and he showed you a glitched photo of the man you hated the most. Your father. You snarled, "I hate him." You stated and his face lit up, literally. "May I know why?" He said as he started to guide you somewhere inside a very modern looking building with three V's on top. As you passed by a window full of TV's and demon's hypnotized by them, he covered up your eyes. You could have sworn that you heard a moan coming from the television. He ignored a british woman yelling at him and guided you to a room with two shark swimming around. "You like 'em?" He asked you with a smile. You looked amazed, but there was no smile in your face. 'She looks like him, but it's like they are not related at all.' He thought. You were trying to get the sharks to poke the spot you were putting your hand on the window. "Interesting..."

Weeks had passed by and you had connected more with Vox than with Alastor. You were always at his side, he showed you how things work with new technlogy and you caught up pretty quick. You managed to get your own phone, with Vox's help. He usually let you swim with his sharks and he helped you escape from Valentino the moment he started offering you a 'job'. Velvette helped you get new and modern clothes. You felt welcomed, it made your broken and betrayed heart feel warm and happy again. "Hey, Venison," Ah, yes, your new nickname. "The boys and I are going to have a meeting downstairs, can you wait on Vox's room?" The modist asked you with a kind smile, she was usually so mean to her employees that it felt like a privilege to be treated so good. You nooded and made your way to Vox's room.

"I like this little girl! She's so cute!" Velvette squealed as soon as she entered the meeting room. "You say that everyday, Velvette." Valentino murmured as he put some glitter on his new pistol. Vox sat down on his seat and offered whiskey to his friends and coworkers. He agreed with Velvette, you were a nice girl, and he had to admit that he saw you like the daughter he always wished he had. That was the main reason of the meeting, he was going to announce to all of Hell that you were his daughter. He discovered that you were related to Alastor after Valentino offered himself to 'politely' ask Angel Dust about you. The pornstar, afraid of his boss, let out everything he knew.

"Oh, Alastor. You're not going to like this..." Charlie said as she looked at her phone. Alastor appeared from the shadows next to her and leaned down a bit to see what was in that small image box. His smile almost broke as soon as he laid eyes on the new you. You still were yourself, that permanent frown never left your face, but you looked as if you had been with the V's since you were born. They had washed your brain, or that's what he thought. You seemed to enjoy their presence. That moment, he decided that, no matter what, he would do anything to get you back.

Time had passed by and Vox's and Alastor's mini fights turned into big fights where most of the time the whole of Hell's electricity system died in an instant.

One day, you were having your usual walk around the district. This time, it felt different, the streets felt chilly instead of the usual warmth and they were as lonely as a flower in winter. As you were approaching the Hazbin Hotel, a blinding light hit your eyes and left you without vision for a moment. Then you started hearing scerams and metal hitting limp things. When you got used again to the light, all you saw was blood. A pool of blood streamed towards your feet, you stepped back not wanting to get your boots filthy. You heard a stereophonic effect near you, which made your blood boil out of rage. You were going to take advantage of the situation to kill the man you always wanted to kill; your own father. You followed the sound, rage filled your brain. You were only thinking about one thing. You hated him, he ruined your life. And now that you were starting to get better, he wouldn't have the opportunity to destroy it again.

A loud rumble made you fall to the ground, you felt strangely cold. Your hands shook, why were they so unstable suddenly? You looked down to see your shaky hands, but you stopped yourself from vomiting. A big, silver and cold sword pierced through your chest stained with your own red blood. You were dying. You felt your ironically inmortal soul slip away from your hands.

"Y/N!" Had you heard right? Was that someone calling your name? But, who would care for a walking body right now? People were slefish, even in times of crisis. You ignored the voice, it was probably your own brain tricking you into something dangerous. You sat on the floor, this time without your book. Then, a man appeared from the shadows, you suddenly had a deja vu. He kneeled in front of you. You heard the radio static again. That man hugged you, he smelled like an old library, it was comforting, it reminded you of the librery where you passed your days when you were alive.

"Why did you abandon me?" You whispered, returning the hug. This was your first and last hug you were receiving. "I was scared," He managed to say after some seconds of doubting. "I was scared to be a bad father." He admitted. You didn't say anything, not because you couldn't think due to the pain burning your chest. But beacause you didn't know how someone could be a good father, you didn't experience it to judge it. "Wasn't I good enough?" You asked, between breaths, maybe they were your last. "You were and are more than enough, Y/N." He put his hands on your cheeks and made you look at him. He was so broken. You had been your entire life wishing to see him broken, beaten and hopeless, however, now that you finally saw him like that. You couldn't help but feel guilty, after all, he always wished the best for you.

"In our next lifetime, I wish for you to give me a second opportunity, my dear daughter." He wishpered as he put his forehead on mine. I smiled, even though I was tired, tired of keeping myself alive. "In our next lifetime."

He hugged me. I wanted to squeeze him, but my hands couldn't respond. Was this how i was going to die? Just like the first time I saw my father? Sitting in the floor waiting for someone to beat up. I had been myh whole life and afterlife looking for my father so I could kill him, and now, here I was dying in his arms. Even in my last seconds alive, life always surprised me with the most unexpected things ever.

[gorbalsvampire]

Superpower

"... so that's the long an' the short of it. All sins forgiven, all debts cancelled, if you just get out there an' make some fuckin' noise this weekend. I want the polis scraped out like your nan's been extra tight wi' the jam this Sunday. Any questions?"

The place falls very quiet. It's long and low and undergound; nestled into an arch of the railway, good old fashioned bricks and mortar, wood and brass, proper pint pots under the bar for the lads who've been coming in here since their grandas were still alive. And tonight, every granda who's still alive is in here, and they've brought their sons, and their sons' sons, because this is unheard of.

He's alive. And he's back. And he's calling us all in.

Either side of the entrance, Frankie and Sorcha are perched on tables. Frankie swings her legs to and fro, buckled boots clacking together arrhythmically; Sorcha watches her da with her head cocked and her eyes wide. Either side of the kitchen door, Finlay and Cali: dark herringbone and Harris tweed, tie and cravat, both flat-capped, armed and dangerous in an expensive kind of way.

Alistair's glare sweeps up and down the bar and the booths. Hawkish. Poised. There's always one. One wanker who -

"Fuck are we doin' cuttin' about after this, what, this fuckin' retired Batman villain? Fuckin' look at 'em!"

There's always one.

It's true; two goth girls, a hipster, a legitimate businessman, and a pensioner in his hornrims and creepers. They aren't exactly your modern road men, are they? No snapbacks and Adidas, no gym bags and vapes.

Alistair sighs, pushes his glasses up his beaky nose, and waves his hand, shoo-shoo, then turns it, beckoning with all four fingers. The ned who'd spoken slides off his stool and swaggers up. Class clown. Thinks six figures in coke makes him a hard case.

What does he know? He is only human. Bolt him down.

"That's verrah funny," he says. "Funny bastard. Would you like to see my superpower?"

"Aye. C'mon. Let's have it." The idiot turns to the room, egging his mates on, trying to whip something up. The younger crowd, they're into it. The older ones, the old men with two generations in with them tonight? They're not laughing. They know what's coming. They remember.

Alistair leans in closer as the younger man turns back to face him, and murmurs. If only he'd been looking - he might have seen Alistair's jaw shift, his eyes darken, the shadows falling as the Beast stirs. It's been a hell of a week; fire, and bullets, and burning bright light, and death in the family, and his baby girl weeping into the holes as she pulls bullets out of him, and he has had enough.

"I know exactly how you're going to die. And when. And where."

"Oh, ah! I bet you do. I bet you're gonna say it's right fuckin' here right fuckin' now, ah?"

Puff, puff, puff. Strutting with his chest up like a baby bird. Alistair grins. Let him see the edge of the Bite. Let him see what happens when he jumps up out of the nest and makes a fucking scene of himself.

Alistair huffs. Chuckles, humourlessly. "Don't be daft. You don't die in here."

This close, Alistair sees the shock blooming across the younger man's face, when he realises what's just happened, when he feels four inches of Gallowglass steel punch into his gut, clean and cold and - and Alistair twists the knife, and the shock on his face turns to something wide and raw.

Alistair can smell it, feel it. Thick, hot, heady, running down the blade and over his cold hand. He can smell fear, and pain, and regret, and life, cowering and apologetic life. Everything you don't get from a roll of tanners and a dozen plastic bags. He's got better things to do than this, most nights, and he makes do, but - this is living. Or not. Really, it's dying. That's the point.

The hawk can see you, baby bird. One look into those eyes, and you will freeze. You'll forget you ever learned to fly, what flying even is. You're looking at death, and you didn't even know it was real until just this minute.

Alistair's hand squeezes his collarbone - not unfriendly, not even really hurting all that much.

"You die in the kitchen," he murmurs, and then it's a bark, hoarse and ripping out of him, because there's blood running down the inside of his sleeve and it's getting very hard to ignore. "Finlay! Cali! Take this dopey cunt in the back. I'm havin' him for my fuckin' breakfast. The rest of you, get out my sight and get tae work!"

Two young men in suits drag a young man in a tracksuit away. An old man, and two beautiful women in black, follow him out. They are the only people moving in their direction. Everyone else is, at last, doing what they're told.

This is progress. Good honest progress. Not a lie in it. And that young twat with the mouth that runs faster than his brains? He dies exactly where, and when, and how Alistair saw it. On his back, thrashing on a steel worktop, with three sets of fangs in him.

Hell of a week.

[nyxnightshade1332]

Expectations When Expecting (Prologue)

Chapter 16

Chapter 17:

It was not going well. Yuu had marched up, forced confidence marring her features and she grabbed a stone, watching the inky giant from the shadows while Grim balanced atop her shoulder. Her arm moved back, her deadly accuracy coming from seemingly nowhere as the stone left her hand. She felt her heart drop into her stomach as she heard the deafening CLANG against the monster's head. She heard the raging bellow, turning to run to a different area before inevitably spotting a very familiar cat with flaming blue ears racing into view of the monster.

"Ah. Fudge." She muttered, rushing toward the little beast.

"H-hey, monster! I'm uh... I-I'm over here!" Grim called, shrinking slightly as the monster turned with a low growl, footfalls heavy enough to shake the cave. She made a silent prayer as she rushed in, scooping the cat into her arms and running as the monster bellowed out an angry curse.

"He's comin' our way! Yuu!"

I'm a lunatic! Her mind screeched as she launched another stone at the cracking part of the monster's head. "That's far enough!" She stated, grabbing a heavier stone and praying that Ace and Deuce would swoop in. "Come any closer and your head will drain!" She warned shakily, her eyes watering fearfully at the oozing creature that towered before her.

"Grrurgh? Thieeef thiiis waaay tooooo... Neeevvva giiive stooones! Neeevvvaaa!" It slurred, a disgusting amount of goo splattering at her feet.

"Oh, GROSS!" She gagged slightly at the splattering sound that came. Clearly not a very good choice of words, seeing as her words touched a nerve and the monster bellowed, swinging frantically. She barely managed to dodge its powerful punch.

"Eep! If it lands one of those punches, we're toast!" Grim shuddered at the thought of becoming a bloody pancake staining the stone floor of the cave.

"We can't give up now." She stated, forcing back the terror in her voice. "For now, let's lure him as far from the cave as we can."

She grabbed three more stones, calling out in a teasing voice. "Come at me, you big dumb ape!" She threw another stone, enraging the beast much more.

"Begooone! BEGOOOOOOONE!" It howled, heavy footsteps thundering towards the two. They made their way into the area that was most shrouded in trees, effectively maing it hard for the giant to follow them out. Grim cried out an announcement, "We got him a good distance away from the mine!"

Yuu smiled at Grim, gasping for air before giving the signal.

"Alright, boys! Now's our chance!"

Ace ran out of the woods with Deuce in tow. "You bet. I got this! One extra-large gust of wind, comin' up!" Ace pulled out his pen, sending a heavy gust of wind in the direction of the monster as Grin inhaled.

"With a side of Grim's blazin'-hot fire! MYAAAH!" The blue flames seemed to merge with the wind as they carried over to complete the fight. The monster, terrified and angry growled, surprised at the sudden attack.

"How's that taste?! With my winds fanning them, even Grim's feeble flames can become an inferno!" Ace praised himself for his plan.

"Whaddaya mean 'feeble'?! Ya really don't know how to shut yer mouth, do ya?" Grim snarled. The two appeared to be about to squabble again when Yuu turned, giving them both a stern glare.

"Boys." The rest, while left unsaid, registered clearly for the two.

"Sorry."

"Okay..."

Yuu watched the fight carefully, looking to see Deuce muttering to himself for a moment before he called out. "Get 'em, cauldron!"

A large, black cauldron came crashing down on top of the monster earning the group a confused, pained growl.

"Nailed it!" Grim exclaimed, smiling excitedly at the young woman. "The plan's workin'!" The direbeast darted around her, pointing like a toddler watching his first action movie. Look, Yuu! That monster got smashed flat by a falling cauldron, just like Ace did!" She chuckled at the delighted air of the cat.

"You're right!" She smiled brightly.

Ace paused with a look of slight insult. "Coulda done without the reminder, thanks!" The ginger sighed, annoyed. "This has been one drag after another."

Deuce grabbed Ace, pushing him away from the monster which struggled beneath the weight of several cauldrons. "Quick! While it's distracted, we need to get that magestone!" He announced, leading the group.

Yuu scooped up her little nuisance, running behind him as Ace tailed her, the groups of teens rushing toward the sparking in the cave.

In the distance behind them, Yuu could have sworn that she'd heard the monster wail out the word "NO!" as if the stone were far too precious to it. She reached the spot, noting the distinct multicolored sparkle of the large gem.

"That's it! That's a magestone!" Deuce identified. Yuu huffed as she jogged over to him.

"Wow..." She gasped, looking at Deuce. "You, sir. Are one heck of a runner." She took a couple more breaths. "Man, am I out of shape..." She stated as she placed her cat monster down.

Deuce seemed to be fighting back a smile as Ace slapped her back. "You sure are. Geez. It's not that hard to run."

"...Jerk. Unlike you, I happen to be carrying-" She paused, reconsidering her words. "One other creature."

"Whatever. It's not like he's that heavy." Ace stated dismissively as he reached out to touch the large stone.

The teens paused as they heard scraping, and rumbling, as well as the clanging of cauldrons as they fell to the floor.

"Yikes! Looks like it's nearly wriggled free!" Ace said in alarm as he cast a small spell on the heavy-looking stone.

"Hey, Deuce! You gotta add more weight!" Grim called to the blue-haired boy, who nodded in turn, albeit, slightly hesitant.

"Y-you mean something heavier?" He paused for a split second, thinking. "Uh... I summon thee, cauldron!" He called, before continuing. "And also, uh... Um... Another cauldron! And a cauldron on top of that!"

Poor kid. Yuu thought, fighting back laughter as she heard Deuce yell, "All the cauldrons!" As an avalanche of cauldrons came crashing down onto the beast who howled in response.

"Is that the only thing you know how to summon?!" Ace yelped, disbelief in his eyes while he tugged the stone to loosen it.

"Pipe down already! I'm worked up enough as it is!" Deuce blushed in embarrassment.

Yuu felt the stone loosen from its place in the mine, as the group gave it one last tug.

"We got the magestone! Now let's get outta here!" Grim called scrambling away as Deuce picked up the rather large stone.

"Roger that!" Ace agreed, wincing as the monster bellowed out in agony.

The group managed to pick up the stone before rushing away. Yuu certainly hoped that she'd be alright with all this running. I'll keep this baby safe. I promise.

Chapter 18

[teacup-tyrant]

Shadow & Bone 2.1: Live review/reaction

Remember when I did these first season? I did it again because I can't help it.

In this episode: We're finally at the bottom of the Barrel where we belong, Nikolai's boat looks stupid, and "there was only one bed."

-Haha Kaz forged them papers to get into Novyi Zem, of course he did.

-Wait where are Alina's neck antlers? I can't see them. Hiding under clothes?

-So I expected that the Crows would return to find Pekka Rollins had taken over the Crow Club, but I didn't expect him to turn it into the Kaelish Prince. How dare. This is all getting very Six of Crows-y very fast.

-No one arrests Kaz Brekker so easily, excuse me.

-He's sitting SO CLOSE to people he is gonna start to FREAK OUT and I am here for it. But also, where have we seen a situation like this before with Kaz being sandwiched between people in a prison wagon, hmmm? So I guess we'll have to expect to be in the same situation in Fjerda.

-Stop touching him stop touching himmmmmm

-One of my season 2 wishes was for Kaz to have contact moments like this with no explanation given and this scene just gave me that. Thanks.

-At first I was like UGH, the Stadwatch aren't wearing purple, but like many other shows in recent time, we're just getting darkness as a directorial choice here and I couldn't tell that they actually are wearing purple. Good.

-Is that Nikolai, whuuuut? His accent is very... something. It's strong.

-“And there was only one bed” Alina and Mal moment.

-“We are not vultures, we are crows.” Favorite line so far.

-So we're getting Kaz seeing through a guy as Sturmhond only for him to see through Sturmhond as someone else during the auction scene in CK? Nah. They blew another plot hole in the duology.

-(This was, she would soon realize, a common theme of SoC scene stealing as the show progresses.)

-We're getting Jesper being a fabrikator this early? Sure makes the Ice Court reveal less fun. But Kaz keeps people's secrets. So. Maybe no one else will know.

-ZOWI!! Man the Zemeni have a much better way at looking at things than the Ravkans do.

-How is Mal's old general randomly here? Why would he get the reward for finding Alina, like he can suddenly abandon his own post and go off bounty hunting. He's as much a deserter as Mal then, it makes no sense for him to be here.

-They're in the bottom of the Barrel? Finally. Right where they belong.

-Wahhhhh Kaz trying to protect Inej by sending her away already. And she says she's not leaving him, ouch my heart.

-The way Rollins says “Brekker” reminds me of Snape saying “Pottah” hahaha

-Omg Wylan playing flute on the street, I SCREAMED. What is this Ian Anderson way of playing the flute, I ask you?!?!? You're not supposed to make sounds like that on the flute. I played flute for 12 years and never have I made those kind of noises, Wylan, that is only a Jethro Tull kind of thing and any flute teacher will scoff at you if you even bring it up.

-There you go everyone, it WAS Wylan's bomb that saved Kaz from the Darkling.

-Was that Nina stopping everyone's hearts? It WAS! I knew it. She called Kaz “Angry Hat” ahaha that is amazing, I can't wait to see her have banter with him.

-Oh shit, they're tattooing murderer on him?! Brutal. My tattoo artist roommate would have something to say about the hygiene involved here. Or, lack thereof.

-I'm sorry, I hate the design of Nikolai's ship. It's clearly something “other” because it's not wood like the rest of them, but it just looks so flat and boring. It looks like bad CG, even the parts of it that aren't CG. It also looks empty and unlived in. It's too clean.

-Hahah Nikolai's steampunk crew. I forgot how steampunk-y book 3 gets. I've only read it once so uhhh I don't remember most of it.

-KAZ SAID THE LINE.

-Are we going to see the Slat? Are we going to see something become the Slat and all the gritty bottom of the Barrelness that I want?

-“The Barrel belongs to bastards.” You're damn right it does, get em!!

-Welp, I'm happy at the amount of Crow content we're getting. So what I'm seeing here is that... we're setting up how we get to the point where we start at Six of Crows. Sort of. So Kaz will come out of it with his gang back but living in a shithole. But Rollins still needs to be around for that, thus, we can't beat him properly this season. So.

Ok. NEXT.

Ep1 | Ep2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep6 | Ep7 |Ep8

[vanchlo]

The Firsts / #6, “The First Festivities”

*not my gifs*

---> NEXT BLURB: Coming soon, I hope! Keep an eye on the series masterlist for updates!

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST    

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

and i’m too lazy for italics bc tumblr ignores formatting that i do in Docs so sorry i give up 

WARNINGS: Prepare for some angst and sadness, but don’t worry it’ll be ok c:

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SONG: Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney (click to listen)

                          sneAAAAAAAKY PEEK!

“Because loving somebody means loving them when they’re okay and when they’re not okay. I knew that’s what I was signing up for when I started loving you, so long ago. I knew that you could be a good person, Harry, and you are. I knew that just because you’re okay one day doesn’t mean that you will be the next day and every day after that,” I tell him, lacing the fingers of my other hand with his limp ones. His unblinking eyes fill with tears and then drain of them, staring ahead and disagreeing with mine. “Please let me help, and come home with me. I’ll stay with you.”

“All I can say is that you make me... you make me into someone I couldn't even imagine. You make me happy, even when you're awful. I would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world.”

― Jojo Moyes, Me Before You

*

The tiny tree drowning in miniature lights and ornaments taunts me as I pour the pale creamer into the steaming mug. Clucking my tongue, I drop a spoon into the beige colored abyss. I begin to stir it in never ending circles as my flats carry me down the hallway. 

“You know, the break room looks more like Christmas than your house,” I jest, turning to close the door behind me. 

“If ‘s such a problem t’ you then why dontcha do sumthin’ ‘bout it?” they remark sarcastically, turning to face me with an eyebrow raised in my direction. A corner of his mouth quirks upwards as I shake my head with a bemused smile. 

“What do you call what I’m doing right now, huh?” I reply, handing the mug of coffee to him. 

“I call it bullyin’ me into submission, Ms. Lawyer,” Harry giggles, bringing the hot mug to his lips. 

“All I can say is that I learned from the best,” I shrug and he shakes his head into his mug. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can drink coffee when it’s so hot. You must have no taste buds left, anymore.” 

His laugh tickles the air as he swallows, moving to set it down on a frosted black coaster beside his keyboard. Smiling, he licks his lips before they part, “Reckon I don’t anymo’ then, maybe that’s why I liked yer poppy seed bread befo’ you told me you’d doused it in icing t’ hide tha fact it was burnt,” Harry chuckles, and I press my smiling lips together. Shaking my head, his giggle nudges at my own lips framed by flamed cheeks. 

“Hush,” I say, turning away and walking towards his sofa where my purple knit blanket has found a new home with my Macbook. 

“And what if I don’t?” he teases, taking hold of my waist and stopping behind me where I feel his breath on my ear. 

“Really?” I ask in a titter, moving my body to face him and his ethereal looking smile. A sight I had gone so long without seeing that I wasn’t sure if it could find its home anymore. 

“Really really,” he grins, dipping to leave kisses along my cheeks. My eyes fall shut with a smile accompanying it, and I enjoy the feeling of his lips along my temple, and then my cheek. It still feels so new, all over again, and I won’t let what came before it shadow it. 

“I think you should get a tree, Harry, it’s Christmas next week, babe.” 

“Then come with me t’ tha tree farm t’night,” he murmurs against my skin, followed by my intake of air when his teeth sink into my ear. Our giggles mingle when he releases it and continues his journey down my neck. 

“Wait, really?” I ask excitedly, pulling away to find his lips falling into a frown. “You’re finally agreeing to go all out with me? The real tree, decorating the tree while cookies bake in the oven and-.” 

“Yes,” he answers hurriedly, his lips considerably closer to mine than they were a second ago. 

“Watching Christmas movies together with a fire in the fireplace, exchanging presents on Christmas morning-.” 

“Yes, Becks. Whatever you’d like, love,” he wheezes with that light once again on his face. My favorite kind of sunshine. “Now, would ya stop talkin’ so I can bloody kiss ya already?” and I nod, soon smiling into his lips that press a long kiss to mine. “Think they’ll even have any good ones left?” he asks a moment later, dragging the tip of his finger along my birthmark with a content smile grazing his lips. 

“I dunno, I guess we’ll see but it’s probably picked over rather well,” I shrug, and he does too with an exhale, pulling me against his chest. 

“Hmm, wonder what kinda Christmas traditions we’ll start t’getha this year, bug.”

+

“Well God, I hope this isn’t going to be a lasting tradition,” I muse, crossing my arms over my chest as I hold back a laugh. Turning my head to look at him, his eyes reluctantly make their way over to me after brushing the stray needles off of his coat that he keeps around for things like this. His “manly man coat” as he calls it, as if this tree really required it. 

“I don’t wanna hear anotha word outta you,” Harry remarks, pointing a finger at me while giving me a dirty look. My lips part and he dips his head at me with raised brows. “You said it was cute when we picked it out, and how many times do you tell me ‘ya get what ya get and ya don’t throw a fit?’ Huh?”

“Okay, but, Harry,” I begin until a laugh overcomes my words and he groans in response. 

“Somebody jus’ had t’ have a bloody tree,” he grunts, walking away and over to the closet under the stairs where he hangs his tattered coat. 

“Hey! I like it, but . . “

“But what?” he sighs, and when I tear my eyes from the tree he’s giving me another annoyed look. 

“But I like big things, you know that,” I tease, meeting him by the kitchen island where I slip my way into his arms. But one of mine wanders down his chest and to the front of his jeans that he slipped on for the outing that greet my fingers with cold fabric. 

“Dontchu try t’ butter me up, woman,” he says with a roll of his eyes until it dissolves into the sound that often coasts from his lips lately. I hate when my mind automatically goes to those few weeks where I yearned to hear it around the firm, but I never did. 

“I’m not, and I’m just kidding. I really do love the tree, I think it’s a perfect size, not too big, not too small,” I tell him in a coo and he nods with slight hesitancy to the action. 

“Yer sure?”

“Yes,” I answer, letting my head fall to his chest after my arms wound around his middle. “I like our first Christmas tree, it’s tiny and cute. I like little things too, they’re just so adorable.” 

“That’s not what you were jus’ sayin,’” he whispers, squeezing my ass and I almost jump. Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes as I exhale, admiring the four foot Christmas tree. The tallest one we could find at the farm that wasn’t scrawny or sick. 

“Hush, and go and get the lights and ornaments while I start the cookies and dinner.” 

“‘Kay,” Harry hums, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Missed you . .  missed this.” 

“Missed you,” I smile with melancholy sticking to its edges, leaning into his touch as a long sigh leaves my lips. In the silence, my hand drifts along his back and to the hole that I know mars the red flannel he wears. I’d told him how many times to get rid of it already, but he can’t give it up. “What do you want to do for Christmas day, for a meal?”

“Was actually gonna ask you t’ come t’ me mum’s, she does a Christmas lunch ev’ry year with Gemma and tha kids.” 

“Yeah, that sounds fun. I’ve really missed Harper and Ollie,” I remark, closing my eyes and inhaling his smell dotted with fresh pine. 

“They’ve missed ya too, bug. Harper hasn’t stopped askin’ when ‘m gonna bring Anty Becky over,” he almost wheezes. I don’t stop myself early enough, because it’s too late, and I hear the sadness clinging to his voice. That hellish month wasn’t contained to just us, and I see it in people’s wandering glances at the firm. Maybe even more now that rumor’s gone around that we’ve gotten back together, only fueled by our public friendliness with each other since, and despite the professionalism we both tried to carry. I’d missed his niece and nephew more than I thought I could, his sister, and his mum too, and when those thoughts appeared in my head it all hurt even more. I didn’t know that my heart could squeeze any more pain out after losing him, and in the way that I did. 

Sometimes, the silence feels unsettling still, and I hate that. I hate the hesitance I see in his actions still when he goes to touch me, or the look on his face at dinner with Myles and Jeanie the other night when the waiter berated him to order a drink too. It’d only continued the next day when it was my first time back at his house and the wine cabinet was starkly empty, and so were all of the spots that held my things. Neither of us had brought up me moving back in yet, and sometimes I thought I was ready to . . sometimes. 

“Yer not goin’ t’ Madley Christmas day are you?” he hums, pulling me away from my thoughts, and I welcome it. “Course, if you are that’s okay.”

“No. Um, I’m going the day after, that’s when we always do it. You’re welcome to come, if you’d like.” 

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, warmth spreading across my scalp when his closed mouth rests there. “I dunno, Robbie seemed rather pissed tha other day when he stopped by tha firm and saw me, so I can only imagine how yer dad would act.” 

“Harry-,” I start, moving away so I can look at him, but he doesn’t let me. 

“‘s fine, Becks, okay? I don’t blame ‘em. ‘m gonna go and grab tha decorations befo’ it gets too late. I don’t wanna be up all night cookin’ and decoratin’,” he finishes, leaving my arms. I nod silently to myself, arms cold and empty as I watch him walk away, assuring myself it’s okay and I’m okay because he’s coming back. 

Only a few days after getting back together, and I wish things would go back to normal already. I’ve never gotten my wish for normalcy, now have I?

+

“Stop it, I mean it,” Harry attempts, but the firmness in his voice is lacking as a laugh interrupts it. “We both know that ya know all tha words, but I wanna hear ‘em too, ‘kay?”

“Fine, but for the record, you’re no fun.” 

“Reckon we both know that too,” he answers, feeding buttered popcorn between his bubblegum pink lips. My eyes return to the telly where the other Harry and Marv continue their infiltration into Kevin’s house, but he anticipates their plan, and I giggle at the next booby trap he’s set. 

Looking to my Harry, I find him lost in the bowl of popcorn that sits on his lap where he lies beside me in my bed. Clearing my throat loudly, he looks up and over to me, lifting a brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, repeating the question I’ve asked too many times today, and I know it. 

“Yes, ‘m fine.” 

“You sure? Because Home Alone is a cinematic masterpiece and if it doesn’t make you happy then there something’s wrong with you,” I joke, tossing a Red Vine onto his lap, missing the popcorn bowl that he’s peering into again while sifting around for a chocolate drizzled one. “I’m just kidding, it’s only a film, but you haven’t been yourself today, Harry, or well, yesterday either. For a few days now. Will you please tell me what’s bothering you . . so I can help?”

“There’s plenty o’ things,” he whispers, and my face creases into a question. 

“What’d you say?” I ask slowly and seriously. 

“I said there’s plenty o’ plain popcorn in here, far too many ‘cuz somebody ate all o’ tha chocolate ones,” he says with a shake of his head, picking up the licorice that soon appears between his teeth. He rips at it until he begins to chew and meets my eyes with a forced smile. 

“You snooze, you lose,” I tease and he offers a laugh in between the licorice as my eyes stray to my artificial Christmas tree. I watch the twinkling lights dance along the window, wishing it felt like Christmas and all of its cheeriness. 

I can’t remember the last time that I had a happy Christmas.

+

What wakes me is a creaking sound, and when I look around, the sun isn’t peeking through the windows and the birds aren’t chirping. The multi-colored lights donning the tree are the only light around me, and they shed some on the section of bed next to me. The sheets absent of Harry. Instead, they hold a half folded page which pulls my eyes to my desk where I can just make out my favorite journal from Harry, opened and with a pen sitting in its middle. 

Sitting up, I turn the light on and grab at the paper, immediately opening it. Little did I know that after reading its secrets, that part of me would feel ashamed for wishing that I’d never read it and just gone back to sleep. Ignorant and blissful. The other side of me reads it quick and fast, feeling my heart climb in speed with every word that my eyes can’t believe. 

Becks, 

I’m sorry, love, but I just can’t do this. I can’t do this to you. I’m not enough for you and I don’t know why I ever thought that I could be. You deserve so much better than me, so fucking much. I’ve been going to the meetings and I think that they help, but I had a drink last night and I wanted to keep going and I did. I stopped myself, but I hate myself for not stopping myself earlier than that. I don’t want to do this to you again, and I won’t. Please don’t try to change my mind, because you can’t. I love you, so so much, Rebecca Ann, and that’s why I have to do this. I have to leave, because I don’t want to keep ruining your life. I’ve been doing that for far too long, years now. I love you more than I could ever make you know and I hope that you can forgive me one day. Call that bloke Max that liked you the one time, he seemed like a catch. I dunno. 

Merry Christmas, 

Harry xoxoxo

Tears had already begun their descent down my cheeks, from the very first words, and they only grew stronger as I went further down the page. I didn’t remember that I was holding it as I tore from the bed and into the hallway, searching for him in every corner. In the flat, through the hallways, on the lift, and in the lobby downstairs. I couldn’t find his face, and the fright grew and grew inside of me until I thought I would explode from it. It followed me through the green lights and threatened to topple over at the red ones. It led my feet to his door and to the spare key I know that he hides under the flowerpot on his porch, and guided me blindly through the empty house. The twinkling lights on the tree greeted it and shrunk in its sight, our tree. Our home. The fright sent me out of there with a new sob and it fed another when I got onto the lift and walked through the dark halls. 

It only began to shrink when the door to the firm opened with ease in my hand, and I was met with the emptiness of its walls. My impatient steps echoed loudly in my ears and I couldn’t care if I tried, not even when they stopped in front of the door bearing his name and the words ‘Managing Partner & Attorney’ below it. The fear grew at the lack of light underneath his door, but it was smacked down when the handle twisted in my grip, and I found him before me. If he heard me, he didn’t show it. If he knew I was coming, he didn’t try hard enough to hide. He didn’t lock the doors behind him of his own firm, unoccupied on a Saturday. He didn’t try hard enough, and that’s all that I cared about. 

“You really think that a lousy note is going to make me stay away a-and stop loving you?” I cry, lingering in his doorway, wanting to surround him with myself but not knowing if he’d let me. His head falls where he stands in front of his window, looking nothing like himself in trainers and a hoodie, his makeshift pajamas. “Harry, y-you had a relapse, it’s okay.” 

“But ‘s not, Becks,” he says in a strained voice, his figure soon shaking with a sob. “‘s not gonna be okay when at Christmas yer dad stares at me with disdain in his eyes knowing what I did t’ you- t’ us, and knowin’ deep down that it could happen again ‘cuz I can’t stop,” he insists, vigor in his voice. “‘s not gonna be okay when it creeps up on me down tha road when we have kids, and I pick up tha bottle ‘cuz ‘m stressed out from late nights with a baby.” 

Gulping, my throat feels dry with the absence of words and the onslaught of tears. The wanting to know what to say stirs the verbs and adjectives within me, but they don’t go anywhere. Then again, neither is he right now and that seems to be the only comfort that I can find in this moment. 

“‘s not okay, Becks. ‘m not okay,” Harry says with languid plaguing his voice, refusing to turn around. 

“But I love you even when you’re not okay,” I insist, my clenched fists shaking despite my attempts to calm them, and yet the only thing that could calm me has run away from me. “I do, and I always will, Harry! That’s why I came back, because I love you and I want to help you. Yes, you hurt me, but I forgive you because I love you. I love you because I forgive you,” I sob, wishing that he would say something - that he’s sorry for leaving and that he’ll try again. I just wish for something to come out of his mouth, because his silence is terrifying me. I don’t know how much more I can take. 

I know that I can’t take a world of mine without him in it, and too many years of yearning for him across a room doesn’t count. I can’t do that again, not any of it. That’s what pulls my feet away from the door and towards him. 

“I’m not leaving you, I’m not going anywhere no matter how hard you try to get rid of me. I’m going to stay and help you, please just let me,” I beg, curling my fingers around his forearm, watching a tear collect at the point of his nose. “Can we please just go home and go back to bed? I want to spend Christmas with my best friend this week, even if things aren’t okay.”

“‘m broken, Becks. ‘m a mess, how could you love me still?” he asks quietly, lifting his eyes to peer out onto the sleeping town where only the lights are awake. Lights strewn on trees in the park and alive on the buildings. “I thought ‘d feel okay when we got back t’getha, and I did . . but then I didn’t. I dunno what happened . . what’s happenin’ t’ me. How can you love somebody like that?”

“Because loving somebody means loving them when they’re okay and when they’re not okay. I knew that’s what I was signing up for when I started loving you, so long ago. I knew that you could be a good person, Harry, and you are. I knew that just because you’re okay one day doesn’t mean that you will be the next day and every day after that,” I tell him, lacing the fingers of my other hand with his limp ones. His unblinking eyes fill with tears and then drain of them, staring ahead and disagreeing with mine. “Please let me help, and come home with me. I’ll stay with you, I’ll stay over and make sure-.” 

“Make sure that I don’t have a drink?” he says in a tone that I don’t like. Squeezing his hand doesn’t help, it doesn’t spur life into him or send encouragement to him. “Ya can’t be there ev’ry moment o’ ev’ry day makin’ sure that I don’t drink, Becks, and I don’t want you t’. You deserve such a betta life than what I can give you,” he continues, meeting my eyes for the first time since I stepped into the room. Now, I wish that he hadn’t, because I see it before I stop myself. I see the answer in his eyes, the one that’s probably been there all along and the one that I couldn’t take away. The one that I can’t take away. 

It stays there in front of my eyes, when he walks out of the room and when I fall back into my bed with defeat and my eyes stinging with the arrival of new tears. It stays there as I stare at the tree from under my sheets, and when I unplug it and shove it in the closet. It remains as I toss and turn under the sheets, and when I wake with his smell on the pillowcase, lulling me into a nonexistence that stays until I remember. I wish that I hadn’t.

+

He didn’t answer. His texts or his calls. His doorbell. His emails. He wasn’t there at work, at the team meeting, or at the pre-trial for our client. I was afraid to ask at first, but then I was texting his mum and his sister before I knew it, asking if they’d heard from him. I asked Myles, Rory, and Rose, and they didn’t know either. Nobody did. 

I absently continued to work on our case, despite the worry that climbed in my gut, not knowing where he was or if he was okay. It all hurt too much and suddenly, I hated him again for hurting me like this. The pain only came harder when I thought about how he thought he was saving me from the pain when he was only inflicting it more. 

Wiping a stubborn tear from my cheek, I exhale shakily and close the folder in front of me filled with his handwriting. I gulp and return to Docs on my Macbook, and stare at the blinking cursor, unsure of what to do. He always knew what to do in these lost moments. The next best step for a case, who to interview, where the best place is to find evidence, who to nudge at the courthouse for information, and how to make me feel better. My shoulders sag and I feel the wall inside of me begin to crumble. 

Knock knock!

Whipping my head towards the door, I see a glimpse of him until I blink a tear away and he runs away. Again. 

“Hey,” Myles says softly, hovering in my doorway, unable to meet my eyes. “Is it a bad time? I can come back later.” 

“No no, it’s okay . . Have you heard from him?” 

“Yeah,” he begins, but his voice doesn’t fill with happiness or drench me with relief. The way that his eyes are strangers to mine don’t wick the tears away. “He’s okay, Becky, but he wants to be left alone. He wanted me to tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry, but he needs some time to himself. He’ll contact you when . . when he’s ready . . I’m sorry, love,” he finishes, at last meeting my eyes, if only for a moment. “Please, let me know if you need anything, anything at all. And, I’ve asked Rory to take over this case, since he’s the only one free at the mo’. So, go home and take it easy, okay? Take care of yourself, and have a merry Christmas.” 

I see it. The way that he corrects himself too late, knowing what he just said by habit. He can’t take it back now, the habitual ‘Merry Christmas,’ and I can’t withdraw the pain that slaps me in the face and leaves me looking at the floor. That’s all that I wanted, a merry Christmas, and he stole away every chance of that. A small ‘thanks’ greets the air around me before his leaving footfall, and I watch the tears fall onto my desk. Onto the keys of my Macbook that he got for me, a purple case and all, and the desk that he picked just for me. There are small puddles littering its surface by the time I pull myself away from it and start my way home, sure a happy Christmas’ doesn’t exist.

+

“You’re sure it’s okay if I go?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine, Ree,” Skye insists with a sigh filled with sorrow. Even the tips of her fingertips against my forehead leave trails of it along my skin. 

“Maybe if I say it enough times, I will be.” 

“Oh, Ree,” she exhales with honey coating her words, and I hate it. 

I hate all of this. Lying in bed like a pathetic mope on Christmas Eve, even denying Robbie to meet his new girlfriend, and Dad to come home early. I told the both of them that I was sick, and although it didn’t feel far off, the guilt ate at me. It was surpassed by the fear and anguish at the prospect of telling them the truth, and how it eradicated the balance that had been restored to my life within the last week. Once again, it had been chucked into the bin, and I didn’t know what to do, or how to do anything. I didn’t know how to be okay again, and somehow, this time hurt worse than when he would get plastered and yell at me. Somehow, him leaving willingly and in the right mind was far worse. 

“I won’t be gone all night . . Ring me if ya need me, alright? I love you, Ree. I wish that there was more I could do,” she exhales, leaving with an awkward kiss to my temple, and then she’s gone. 

An emptiness sings throughout the flat and I watch the twinkling of a star long off in the distance. I wish that I could be there, far and away from all of this, like the Grinch separated from the Whos. But, that’s not what I want and I know that. I just want him, a happy Christmas with him.

+

A creaking awakes me and I sigh, rubbing the back of my hand against my eyes while licking my lips, “I’m fine, Skye, go away. I’m trying to sleep,” I groan with a yawn breaking through my words. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers until I find a good spot again. 

The bed dips underneath me and my annoyed moan follows suit, especially when somebody slips under the covers behind me. Mutterings escape my lips and I yank the covers higher, rejecting their arms that come around me, until I freeze. My eyes fly open and I inhale again, and again. The scratchy feeling against my cheek does it, and I spin around, knocking heads with the person. Him. 

“Ouch!” he exclaims, holding his forehead. A laugh unfolds on his lips as his breath wafts over me, and all of a sudden, he’s real. He’s here and I’m okay. “You okay, love? Ya really hit yer noggin’ hard with mine,” he continues, wheezing between his words. 

“Becks?” he asks and I nod emphatically, and then, I begin to sob suddenly. “Oh, honeybug, c’mere.” 

“Harry,” I sigh shakily into his neck when he surrounds me with his arms, and I find his holey flannel with my hands. 

“‘m so sorry, Becks, ‘m so fookin’ sorry. I thought I could do it without you, but I can’t, baby, I can’t. Please, don’t let me do it without you. Don’t ever lemme leave you again, I was such a bloody idiot. ‘m so sorry, I ruined our first Christmas t’getha, baby,” he rushes from above me, worry sewn into his voice until his tears make their arrival. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not ruined, just please never leave me again. I can’t- I can’t do any of this without you either, none of it. I can help. I’ll go with to the meetings, if you want Just, tell me what I need to do to help and I will. I just want to help you, Harry, I love you so much,” I confess impatiently, finding warmth in his stubbly neck and his scent that I’ve missed almost as much as him. 

“All I need ‘s t’ be with you, promise. I love you, baby, I love you, I love you, I love you. Ev’rythin’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay, ‘m gonna be okay, and yer gonna be okay,” he coos to me, sponging kisses along my head and forehead until he’s brought my eyes forward and to him. A small smile curves his lips upwards and he touches his finger to my nose. “Can’t tell you enough how sorry I am. I got on a flight, can’t even rememba where. I jus’ had t’ get away from here, but I knew I did tha wrong thing not long afta, and it was a mess tryin’ t’ get back with layovers and all that shit with Christmas.” I nod, watching him lace his hand with mine and give it a squeeze. 

“I’m just glad you’re back and that you’re okay.” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he echos, dipping to kiss me on the lips. Pulling away, his eyes leave mine, and I turn to follow his to the window behind me. “Looks like I made it in time, 12:05 . . Merry Christmas, Becks,” he hums when I look back to him and the words soon meet the air in my voice, too. 

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” I sigh, laying my head against his chest. He moves to lie on his back and his arms stay surrounding me while his lips find the crown of my head. 

“Sleep, baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere, not ever again. I know we both need it . . We’ll do presents in tha mornin’ at mine, ‘kay? And finish our Home Alone marathon and cookie decoratin’ too. Promise, promise ‘m never leavin’ you ‘gain, sweet girl.” 

“Okay,” I reply sleepily, feeling myself relax when his fingers start to dance through my hair.

+

“Becks.” 

I hear my name and then feel the kiss that follows it, and the next one. A loud raspberry on my cheek eliminates any chance of falling back to sleep. What sounds obnoxious and loud fills a laugh that graces my ears, and yet, I couldn’t want to wake up to something more than that exact sound. 

“Harry,” I say, joining with his laughter that grows as more raspberries cover my face. “Stop it,” I groan, but I don’t mean it and I think he knows it, because he continues. At last, he stops and I’m left staring up at the man of my dreams, unshaven and with the cutest of bedheads. 

“Merry Christmas, bug,” he coos with a contagious happiness to his lips that spreads to mine when I kiss him. 

“Hey, at least these aren’t burnt,” he remarks as I sit down next to him and try to hide a smile. “Dontchu even gimme that look, ‘m doin’ this fer you, and I swear if you bloody tell anybody.” 

“What? I didn’t say anything,” I giggle and he rolls his eyes as he bites off the snowman’s head from his sugar cookie. “By the way, you’re going to ruin your appetite.” 

“Such a mum you are already,” he sighs, holding the rest of the cookie between his teeth as he sits up on his knees to reach under the tree. “Pickin’ out me clothes fer me and tellin’ me I can’t have cookies befo’ our meal. Tsk tsk,” he groans dramatically as he picks up a giftbag with holiday greetings scrawled on its outside. 

I laugh and watch him set it in front of me, and it only makes me wonder how he pulled this all off. I had had my presents for him wrapped and under the tree for a few days now, before everything went to shit, but somehow under the tree has grown fuller since then. I haven’t dared to ask or even make a joke about it, because I just want to enjoy this, even in all of its silliness and sadness. Even when my smile dims at the memory of waking up to that note and how it flipped my world upside down when I thought he had just placed it rightside up. 

“Hey, ‘m kiddin’ ‘round. Tha pj’s are cozy, and tha cookies are delicious. ‘m sure yer breakfast cookin’ in tha oven will be too,” Harry hums with a strong smile, squeezing my arm. I nod and watch as he looks away to answer a text, having told me that he gave his family a fright too and now they won’t stop bugging him. “C’mere, you, time t’ open yer first present,” he says and he surprises me by lifting me up to place on his lap. Giggles erupt into the air when his fingertips caress my sides and his stubbly lips pepper kisses along my neck. 

I wish I could freeze this moment and stay in it forever.

+

The next few days passed and they were rather normal and that’s all that I could ask for. An unsettling awkwardness passed after a few minutes of being at my dad’s house, and at Harry’s mum’s. Harper and Robbie were to thank for that, whether it was Robbie showing Harry his new guitar or Harper clinging to my leg the second I walked in the door and refusing to ever let me leave. 

Sitting on Harry’s sofa under the glow of the Christmas lights now, I heave a sigh remembering the last few days and how wonderfully ordinary they were. Even with the A.A. meeting over Zoom that we worked in and the way our families went to lengths to leave alcohol out of their glasses and out of the conversation. 

“What took you so long? I want to start the movie before we get too tired,” I moan, falling to lie on my stomach as I peer up at him taking the stairs two at a time. 

“Sorry, I had one mo’ thing t’ wrap,” Harry answers, padding across the wooden floor to me where I wait with rosy cheeks. His own soon dimple with a smile when he falls onto the sofa next to me, once again lifting me onto his lap. He breathes in loudly and then yawns before nuzzling his cheek against mine, brushing his fingers against my side. “Open it,” he says, placing a small box in my hands. 

I oblige and begin to tear the red wrapping paper away from the dainty box until I’m looking at a black matte box with a lid. “Harry,” I say warily, turning to look at him behind me. His smile stays and he nods towards the box. 

“‘s not that, promise. Jus’ open it and you’ll see,” he insists, sponging a peck to my temple. “I know we’re both not ready yet,” he comments and I inhale slowly as I lift the top off to find a shining, silver ring waiting for me. 

“Harry, is this . . ,” I try to say, but my emotions get the best of me as I turn around to face him and his reddening cheeks. 

“‘s a promise ring, a knot ring, they call it . . . It symbolizes a knot that’s not tied quite yet, but I have ev’ry intention of tyin’ it one day, when we’re both ready. This ‘s a promise I swear t’ ya I won’t ever break,” he explains, and his widening smile grows blurry from the happy tears that fill my eyes. “I hope those are happy tears, love . . I love you, Becks, so much and ‘m so sorry for what ‘ve put you thru’ lately. I know that I can’t do life without you in mine, and ‘m done tryin’ to be too strong or noble- or whatever. ‘ve known for awhile that I wanted you in my life fer always . . make you Mrs. Styles one day and have loads o’ babies t’getha . . Will you wear it, bug?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” I answer, swiping at the tears on my cheeks. A nervously happy laugh coats his lips as he lifts the dainty ring from its place and takes my left hand in his. “Wow, you’re really good at this,” I joke and he nods laughing while sliding it onto my ring finger, punctuating it with a kiss. 

“Thanks, hope so.” 

“And what do we tell people when they ask why I have this on my ring finger?” I ask him, watching him close the box and set aside before winding his arms around me. 

“That ‘s a promise ring, ‘course,” he tells me, pressing a kiss below my eye. His smell surrounds me when his forehead comes to rest against mine. I lean against him and glance down to my hand, holding it out in front of me to admire it. “Does it fit alright? I tried t’ rememba what size you are, but we can get it adjusted. I hafta say it looks perfect on you, ‘s just a shame it came in tha mail late.” 

“It’s perfect, Harry,” I answer, not knowing if there are any other words that could do it justice. “God, you have to stop one-upping me on presents all of the time,” I titter and his loud chuckle echoes mine as I relax against him, staring at the ring. 

“Hmm, not sure I could do betta than this next year,” he says, and we both hear it in there. The way he said it with nervousness wicking his words away that maybe next year will follow this tradition with another ring. 

“There’s no need to. This Christmas was so great, Harry.” 

“But it wasn’t perfect, and ‘m sorry fer that,” he comments sadly from above me where he hooks his chin over the top of my head. 

“It was, just getting to spend it with you made it so.” 

“I really dunno what ‘d do without you, bug,” Harry confesses softly as the fireplace crackles away beneath the tv that waits for us. The scratchy feeling of his stubble leaves my head, and when I glance up I find his eyes glassy with tears. “‘ll be makin’ it up t’ you fer tha rest o’ me life that I ever tried t’ test that.” 

“It’s okay, I forgive you . . because I love you,” I tell him, my thumb greeting his warm skin slick from his lingering sadness. 

“I love you mo’.” 

“I love you most,” I say, completing our special saying, something I can’t remember saying since before all of this shit started. 

“I love you mostest,” he follows up, and my jaw soon hangs as I stare at him in disbelief before our lips dissolve into a laugh. 

“Harry!” I shriek when his lips soon cover my face in kisses, and his fingers litter tickles along my body. I lie there in his arms, savoring the sound of our laughs mixing together, hoping that it will always be like this. 

I hope that it will always be this easy to love him. 

My buzzing phone brings me back to the present. I find the strength to pull away from Harry and locate my phone in the folds of blankets. A text lights up my home screen once I locate it, and my lips soon fly higher. 

“Hey,” I say slowly, turning my eyes to Harry to find him tracing the ring on my finger. He looks up with a question quirking his brows and my heart squeezes at the sight of him. How can a grown man be so adorable? “Is it okay if we push the movie off until tomorrow?”

“Sure, why d’ya ask?”

“You wanna go to a Christmas party with me?” 

“A Christmas party? On December 28th?” he almost laughs, his greens twinkling underneath his knitted brows. 

“Yeah, it’s- oh, nevermind actually,” I say, embarrassment whisking my eyes away from him and to my lap. God, how can I be so stupid to even ask? 

“Hey, what’s tha matter, bug? I don’t mind goin’, and I might actually wanna if you tell me who’s throwin’ it.” 

“No, it’s okay. I changed my mind, I don’t want to go anymore. Don’t worry, please,” I insist, a nervous laugh marking my words. His fingers had stilled on mine and I take the chance to adjust the piece of jewelry on my finger. “Wow, it’s so pretty and shiny.” 

“Becks, don’t change tha subject,” Harry almost sighs, taking my hand in is and hiding the ring away from sight. “Then let’s go and show off that ring o’ yers, at this party.” 

I remain quiet, growing chilly at the silence that seeps into our conversation and we both know it. The difficulty of saying it steals the words away from me and the gap between us grows larger with every second. 

“Rebecca Ann,” he says with impatience spilling over in his voice. His palm is a welcomed warmth against my cheek with its cradle. “What aren’t you tellin’ me? Y’know you can tell me anythin’ in tha entire world . . ‘s always been that way b’tween us.” 

“I don’t think it would be a good idea, Harry, it’s a party. They . . “

“Oh,” he says, the realization heavy in his tone. 

“I don’t mean it like-,” I begin, finding the nervous sadness in his green eyes that try to stray, but they don’t go far. 

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, Becks,” he remarks with a curve to his lips, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks fer lookin’ out fer me, bug, but I feel okay. I think I can be ‘round alcohol without losin’ it right now, so why don’t we give that party a shot, huh?”

“Really?” I ask, perking up in my seat beside him. He nods with a happy sound tumbling off his lips. 

“But, first, you hafta tell me whose party this ‘s. ‘m dyin’ t’ find out.”

+

“Bloody hell, I dunno ‘bout this, Becks. Reckon ‘m too old fer shit like this.” 

“Hush, believe it or not, there are people here older than you, Harry,” I tease him, chuckling at the way his jaw hangs loose from his face in disbelief. On my tippy toes, I press my lips to his cheek and pull him forward. 

“Wait, so what ‘s this ‘gain? I don’t understand.” 

“It’s a Christmas party . . for my cohort,” I tell him, leading him through the throngs of people filling the large apartment. Many mingle in groups with drinks in hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the sparkling grape juice and sodas claiming the counter, instead of only beers and Whiteclaws. 

“Oh yeah, reckon ‘s been a year since ya graduated. God, already?”

“I know, right?” I say, squeezing his hand when I see that proud glint in his eye. The twinkling Christmas lights donning the space catch my eye as well as the ugly sweater memo that I’m glad I didn’t miss. “Wait, is that- No way, Becky!” 

A shock of red curls turns around to face me, and their face explodes with happiness. Before I know it, they’re crossing the small space and I’m swallowed by their arms in a hug. 

“Hi to you too, Rube,” I laugh into her hair that smells of cherries, just like the last time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!” she exclaims after she finally lets me free. 

“Si and I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Well, you did a good job of that,” she comments, and within seconds, I’m forgotten. “Oooo, who’s this?” she teases to me, bumping her shoulder against mine. “Wait, is this-?” Ruby cuts herself off short as realization dawns on her face as her eyes stay pointed on Harry who glances around the room mindlessly. 

“Ruby, this is my boyfriend, Harry. And, Harry, this is my best friend from uni, Ruby Tucker,” I say, suddenly remembering all of the times I wanted to do this, and most important of all, that day in the lecture hall. 

Looking to my side, I watch as Harry comes back to us and his eyes wander to Ruby whose infectious smile affects his own. The dimples soon fall and his eyes come to life as he holds out his other hand to her that she takes. 

“Pleasure t’ meet you, Ruby, ‘ve heard good things ‘bout you,” he says warmly. A laugh sputters in my throat when I watch Ruby’s cheeks turn the same shade as her hair. 

“I bet I’ve got you beat for that,” she says, flitting her eyes to me before briefly winking. 

“Oh, ‘s that right? Care t’ tune me in on this, Becks?” he poses to me, lifting an eyebrow as a question waits in his teasing eyes. 

“Becks?” Ruby coos and I shake my head at the both of them. 

“Just that day in the lecture hall when you came to talk to our class.” 

“Ah, makes sense. What, were you lot droolin’ over me too?” he jokes and Ruby’s loud laugh fills the air around us, interrupting the Christmas jingles. 

“No,” I insist, but Ruby disagrees. Soon, I find that my cheeks could give hers a run for their money as they flame with embarrassment. “Fine, I may have gotten a little lost in the moment.” 

“‘m sure that’s all you did,” Harry teases and I shove at his arm, savoring the sound of his laugh. It falls to an end when he caresses my head with his hand and kisses the top of my head. 

“Hell, you two couldn’t be any cuter,” Ruby comments from beside us, and I feel my cheeks fill with warmth. “I’m really happy for you two. Really, I am. I can’t remember ever seeing you this happy, Becky.” Tears prick at my eyes when she squeezes my arm and smiles at me like she’s never done before. “Lemme go and find that guy of ours, I bet he’s the one behind this plan.” 

“I like her,” Harry wheezes next to me, and I find the full smile that sits on his lips when I look. It shines down on me as his finger coasts along my forehead, moving a lock of hair out of my eyes. “I must agree with her, it makes me so happy t’ see how well yer doin’ now. Reckon I only saw a glimpse o’ yer life back then in uni, but yer happier now, I can tell.” 

“Hmm, I can only wonder why,” I giggle and he tries not to. A Mariah Carey song comes on next and the room erupts in loud cheers. My eyes fall to our intertwined hands and my spare that covers his, tracing the familiar curves of his rings. 

“Well, lookie who it is!” somebody almost shouts. I know the voice without even having to look. “Becky and her main man!” 

“Hi, Si,” I smile as he approaches us in a red and green Fair Isle sweater, considerably dominant to Ruby’s grandma looking one. Harry lucked out with a festive knit sweater with several shades of red, but he could make a hospital gown look good. Meanwhile, the next best thing I could find in Harry’s closet was a blue and white number with a cheery snowman on the front. 

“Hey, and Harry it ‘s, correct?” Si says, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. They both shake hands as Harry nods, and then I’m pulled into Si’s strong arms. Laughing, I make a break for it moments later, remembering I hadn’t seen them since graduation, or sometime around then. 

“I knew it, you know,” he says to Ruby beside him, shaking his head with a glow to his face. 

“Me too,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest as she smiles at me, knowingly. 

“You knew what?” I ask them, finding Harry’s hand again with my own. Mysterious laughs float between them and they spur one on mine, but mine fills with nervousness as I trace the knot on my ring finger. 

“That you’d go and work for Harry, again. Duh,” Si says, as if it’s the easiest secret in the world. 

“I bet Si fifty pounds you’d go back.” 

“I bet Rube seventy that you’d be back in three months,” he jests, straight white teeth showing behind his wide smile as laughs overcome the four of us. 

“You guys are so bad!” I chuckle, looking to Harry who just shrugs his shoulders. 

“What? We both shoulda seen it coming, it was a given, Becks.” 

“Becks, huh? I haven’t heard that one before,” Si comments, bringing a tall stein to his lips. He pulls it away and wipes at the creamy yellow liquid left behind on his lips. 

“Ya, um . . I called her by her last name fer awhile-.” 

“And some last names that weren’t mine,” I interrupt, making everybody laugh, even Harry who seems to remember for the first time in awhile. 

“As I was sayin’,” he continues, raising his eyebrows at me. “I got tired o’ Holte, tha name and tha girl.” Cue the laughing. “Anyways, I dunno, nothin’ else seemed right. Not tha classic Becky, ‘cuz ev’rybody who was anybody called her that. She was never called Rebecca, or Becca, but Becks jus’ fit her somehow,” Harry concludes, and for a few moments, it’s like there aren’t twenty people around us. It’s just us, and his neverending green eyes. 

“Looks like that ring fits rather well too,” Si comments, and my eyes go searching before I realize what he’s saying. 

“Si, you idiot, they’d tell you if they were ready,” Ruby scolds him, swatting at his arm. 

“Um, ow!” Si exclaims, shaking his head at her. “Sorry,” he tells us after Ruby gives him a good glare.

“It’s okay, it’s not an engagement ring. Harry got me a promise ring,” I tell them, and yet, I can’t keep my eyes off of Harry whose sunshine beats down on me. 

“That’s so great, Becky, congrats to you two!” 

“I haven’t even met a bloke who’s cute enough for me, and look at you two,” Si exhales, draining the rest of his drink with a sad smile. 

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Ruby remarks, shoving him away from her when he gives her a goofy look. “Anyways, I want to hear about all of your cases together! I can’t believe you got into Styles and Lawson, Becky- Well, I can now, but tell me about it! You two got that massive Lawton and Williams case, how was that?”

“Yeah, we’ve just been dying over here, dragging our feet through dry civil cases at Xavier’s,” Simon says with a roll of his eyes, but flashes me a smile. 

“Oh, yer at Xave’s? If yer lookin’ fer somethin’ new, my partner and I are hirin’ fer a new position, maybe we could fit one o’ you newbies in. We always love havin’ new graduates- well, yer a year old now, but if you’d be up fer it,” Harry announces, and my heart swells at the emotion on the both of their faces. 

“It’s a bloody miracle one of us is dating a bigshot lawyer innit? Any cute guys work at your firm, Harry?” Simon says, and us two girls bust out laughing as he looks around confused. Harry stays silent and Simon remains serious until his lips coated in eggnog spew a laugh and then we’re all laughing. “Just jokin’, mate!” 

They followed us into every next conversation and between our cups of eggnog and plates of cookies. I certainly wouldn’t have thought this time last year after graduating uni and missing the hell out of him that I’d be here. Sitting next to Harry on a sofa with my two best lawyer friends sharing stories as we all died laughing, and with a promise ring on my finger. 

I slowly started to let myself believe that things could be good again. 

[katsukisbeatingheart]

another round

you try to pick a fight and propose all in the same night.

word count: 1803

ao3!

Neon swirled in and out of focus. It reminded you of something important and unpleasant, and you were certain you’d spent the night trying to forget.

Since you couldn’t quite remember, you figured you’d won—and with that, you mentally jotted down a glowing tally mark on a scoreboard you wore on your sleeve.

Somewhere in the back, Pearl Jam played in a broken record on the juke box, and the gradual thump of the bass nearly knocked you to your feet. Inebriated as you were, you held on to that feeble consciousness and clutched at the bar stool in front of you.

You found shaky bearings, and steadied yourself with slicked palms on the laminated countertop, finding patterns and familiar faces in the hardwood. Squinting crudely at the shadows, you scrutinized each shape with all of the enmity you could muster to no avail.

You knew you were looking for something, and you knew it made you mad, but the buzz in your brain derailed your train of thought. With a frustrated huff, your scrunched nose reddened with a fury, and the clock ticked away the night.

...

The door swung open and closed and the figure that strode in with an impassive gait, drew a collection of eyes. Hands tucked into pockets of jeans sloping way too low along the waist, Katsuki slinked to the bar top, dropping into the seat furthest from people.

Which was only one chair away from a statuesque silhouette, silently enamoured with something he figured was embedded into the counter. He watched silently out of the corner of his eye wondering what this idiot could be doing—before his attention turned to the tender on the other side offering him a drink. Katsuki placed an order and waited for it to slide his way.

A few deathly still moments later and Bakugo was suddenly clutching a glass in one hand, as he rubbed the exhaustion away from his eyes with the other.

The bartender moved in on you sitting completely still, looking a little concerned.

“You alright?”

“Dumb faces in your counter. Needs fixing.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be lookin’ at yourself in it then,” Bakugo smirked to himself.

You lolled your head to face him.

“Try me, bitch,” you slurred, with as much of an incisive bite a drunken tongue could have.

His red eyes tuned into you, raising an eyebrow in slight surprise. He admired your spunk—not without noticing the headache crawling up the sides of his head.

"You really think you should be picking a fight like that?"

"Hey! You started it," you mumbled childishly. "'Sides, I could take you."

Bakugo was growing more amused now.

"That so? What makes you so sure?" He challenged.

"Met things way scarier than you."

Bakugo didn't want to think about the ominous implications of that. He furrowed his glare into the glass he twirled in his hands.

He didn't say anything.

Silence ate the space and it only took a few minutes to break.

The creaking of the doorstep caught Bakugo's attention, and he listened as three pairs of feet shuffled into the bar. They moved to make a beeline for a table on the other side of the room, and when they got close enough, Bakugo peered over his shoulder.

He took his glass in his hand and downed the rest of it, drumming his fingers along the counter with some finality before standing to go meet his friends.

...

“Hey. That person over there—at the bar—’s been sittin' super still for quite a while.”

“Do you think they’re okay?" More of a flat concerned statement than a lilted inquiry.

“Wait— Hey they’re kinda cute, don'tcha think?”

“Dare you to go talk to ‘em, Bakugo.”

The man grunted. "Tried that."

His friends went fish face—eyes popping wide and jaws dropping to the table. Bakugo had to keep from snorting; they looked like his goldfish back home.

Denki raised his glass to his lips, peering between the topsy turvy figure at the bar, and the surly one right across from him, staring in a blend of shock, confusion, and envy.

"Strike out, didja?"

"Hah? You think I'd take a shot at someone like that?" Bakugo barked, sensing a challenge to his dignity. Sero and Kirishima whooped, taking the word 'shot' as their cue to—well—take a shot. 

Bakugo was too busy grumbling about how ridiculous his friends were, to notice the shock of blonde hair next to him bristle. 

"Hey man, looks like they've got some company." Denki pointed with his glass, gesturing to the silhouette closing in behind you.

"And it looks like they want to be alone, though," Kirishima conjected. 

Bakugo exhaled through his nose, staring straight ahead at the dartboard hanging on the wall. "Then we'll leave them alone."

Hanta eyed you warily. "I don't think that's such a good idea, man."

Bakugo looked. He wasn't good with people, but it didn't take a genius to recognize the clear way you hid and curled into yourself defensively once the stranger had your attention. He felt his pulse quicken, and the cold that ran along his skin told him enough.

He groaned loudly, slamming his glass on the wooden tabletop, and shoved back in his chair. 

He stalked over with ease, trying to avoid making a scene by rushing in.

His eyes caught the way your hands pressed themselves into the figure's shoulder—like you were trying to put distance between you two.

"S-seriousl-ly, go aw—"

Only it worked too well, and suddenly you slid off the back end of your seat, tipping backward to meet the floor.

Bakugo had taken long enough strides to get to you in time, and you—not without any modicum of drunken grace—smacked into his chest. His arms locked around your midsection while you tried to find the ground with your feet.

You inevitably gave up and tipped your chin back to look at who had saved you.

Your eyes widened in hazy recognition, and you bubbled over in his hold.

"We're getting married."

"What?"

"This!" You loudly proclaimed, "is my financé."

Bakugo blinked at you wildly, looking and feeling like a deer in headlights. He hadn't exactly come up with a plan on the way over, but he was certain that hadn't crossed his mind.

"Sure. We broke up only three and a half months ago—you seriously expect me to believe some ding-dong would ask to marry you, all in that time?"

Nevertheless, he could play along.

"I'm sure as hell not marrying this dumbass," Bakugo stated.

The woozy hurt swam in your eyes, and you could feel the humiliating sneer burning into the back of your head.

"—but I'd be a fucking idiot to deny that we weren't together." His menacing glare held your ex square in the face, and Bakugo unconsciously shifted so you were pressed a little deeper into his chest.

They didn't know what to say, eyes flicking between the both of you as if what he'd said were the most scandalous thing in the world. The ex grew sheepish, obviously growing increasingly more threatened under the gaze of Bakugo Katsuki. 

Not any less egotistical, though.

"What? And we can't have a little chat, then? Just like two old friends?"

"I've seen enough of what's happening here to know that's not how it's gonna be."

He didn't even wait for a response, and instead dipped to slide his arm beneath your knees, the other supporting your back, as he held you to his chest once again. Bakugo strode toward the door, shoving it open with a pointed nod to the figure left balking at the bar.

...

You awoke to the soft shifting of your sheets, a handful clumped desperately in the tightness of your grip. Something vaguely sweet and not you lingered on the extra pillow next to you, the same side your fingers curled around.

You rolled up slightly in your place. The pounding headache that panged around your skull reminded you why you couldn't remember much of anything from last night.

Except... 

You gasped, pulling the sheets tightly to your—still very clothed—figure. That didn't make you feel any less bare, though. Especially after who you'd run into. 

A shuffle at your door ignited the already creeping fear of what could have possibly transpired last night. Without moving from your place in bed, you leaned out to look through your bedroom doorway.

The person in your living room was not the person you expected to see. 

The fear was suddenly placed with confusion, which only heightened when the man hurriedly shoving on his shoes froze as he spotted you too.

"Who are you?" 

The handsome stranger paused for a moment longer, as if he were trying to comprehend that you were actually speaking to him.

"I'm your boyfriend." 

How blunt.

You relaxed into a crooked smile, not at all adverse to such an idea.

"Oh, yeah? And how was it that we met?" 

"You tried to pick a fight with me." 

This actually surprised you, and you couldn't hold back the laugh bubbling up your throat.

"Can I ask for my boyfriend's name?"

The man sniffed, nonchalantly stopping in his rush out the door. "My name's Bakugo. Katsuki."

"Katsuki," you mused. "That's a lovely name. I assume you know mine, right?"

He shifted, reaching for the wallet he fished out of your back pocket to get to your spare key. Katsuki grabbed it and flipped it to you across the room. "Had to get you home somehow."

You chewed your lip to bite back a bashful smile. Your words were just barely above a whisper, but Katsuki heard them loud and clear. 

"Thank you for taking care of me."

He huffed the embarrassment away, not willing to show that he'd been staring longer than he'd meant to.

"Don't mention it."

There was a silence as Katsuki slowly began gathering his things again, aiming to smoothly escape out the door. You stopped him in his tracks though, the playful lilt in your voice bending him with your every syllable.

"You know—if you're my boyfriend and all—surely you could stick around a few more minutes?" you teased.

"Are you inviting me to bed," he grunted lowly, facing your unfaltering grin, despite the blush that exploded across your cheeks. 

"I meant to cuddle or something; no offense, but I'm not ready for that, yet."

Katsuki thought for a moment, staring with a slight pout while he weighed his options. 

With a very obvious 'fuck it' shrug, he kicked off his shoes and swept quickly into your room. He climbed atop your covers, grabbing you to his chest—for the fourth (and probably not the last) time in his life.

"I hope I make it a habit of picking fights with you, from here on."

[cslupus]

Seeds

FACEPLANT

Hello! It's Lupus. Here to put the chronic into the Chronicles. I don't own anything by C.S. Lewis but I believe he would smile on fanfiction and that he fully intended the reader to finish his world. I don't own anything by Tech N9ne. The italics are lyrics from his song "Einstein".

Christmas day. Topeka, KS. 2414 Se Colorado Street. Dale's house

"So, fucking Egypt, right? Yknow, I was there and damn it, I wanted to try some of that local hashish." John said this while gesturing with the hose of the hookah in his hand, half remembering to finally take a hit. He blew the next words in clouds, "It was back in late 2011 to early 2012 and they had that revolution, right? Well..." John paused to take a drink from his tall natty light and coughed. Scarlette sat inconspicuously at the end of the couch, a worn and gorilla taped hookah hose in hand as everyone listened to the man sitting cross-legged on the floor. She'd been at job Corp for a year and a half and was finally free to smoke. She was lit as fuck and did her best to follow along. He continued, "So I found some guys who put me in contact with a dealer. And this wasn't something like here in the states where you go to the place, take it home and, yknow. No, this dude led me and about 3 other guys to this fucking warehouse. There was literally this big ol' switch breaker, like 'Egor, flip the switch' style thing that they pull down to turn on this one bare bulb hanging over this circle of chairs. At this point I'm thinking, yknow. 'Yeah, I might die, but fuck it. Yolo. Let's see where this goes.' and besides, they already had my money. So we go and sit in these chairs and they break it out and we're passing it around when one of the guys there starts to speak. He said," John paused. The look in his eye had shifted to a sadder gaze. "He said he was with the Egyptian guard or military or whatever. I don't remember his rank, just that he gave orders. He told us his rank and he told us his job during the revolution. Keep in mind that this shit just happened, like, within a year of him telling this story. His job was to tell the armed soldiers guarding some building what to do. The protests were crazy and a few times, yknow, his men got nervous, and he got nervous. He finally ordered the men to fire into the air to scare the crowd back, and so they did and the crowd dispersed. Just a couple days later they were back, and after a bit he had his men fire in the air again and the crowd dispersed and backed up, but slower this time. And sure enough, a day and a half later, they're back. So he has them fire into the air again. But the crowd isn't dispersing. He's telling us about fucking hundreds of people calling his bluff and his superiors were putting pressure on him and then, for whatever reason, he looked ME in the eye, dead in the eye, and said 'So I ordered my men to fire into the crowd.' and the only thing I could think right then in that moment was 'I am so fucking high right now.'"

The room was quiet. This quiet was comically broken with the sound of someone sucking the last icy bit of fountain drink through a straw, and everyone suppressed their laughter until finally Scarlette let hers go. The rest of the room followed suit. The tension broke and Dale, the host, slid over to Scarlette and asked her to pass the Playstation controller. She handed it over and he proceeded to put on some YouTube. Music filled the spaces left by people trickling towards the kitchen where the liquor was.

If you got scratch nigga, get the fuck up Throw your hands up, if you hella fucked up Einstein, tech n9ne, two triple zip Crack a jaw, whip 'em all, if they wanna trip Ladies with the bar codes, meet me after this

Maybe you can show me, the meaning of abyss Everybody on the wall momma is a bzzz Had her at the budgetel stroking on my dzzz This ones for the psychos gang bangers and sluts Bumbs holding the pipe those college graduate fucks

Scarlette stepped out onto the front porch to smoke a cigarette.

As she untangled her ear buds, a second person came outside and lit a clove cigar.

"Sup, Eddie." Scarlette said. She looked at him and noticed his clean cut appearance and his absence of cornrows. "You look nice. Your hair is really short, though. Beard looks good."

"Thanks, clove?" he offered the little black pack over and she saw a lighter and a chillum in it with 3 black wrapped cigars and three little nugs of weed in the cellophane of a cigarette pack burned shut.

"Everything's coming in threes. Nah. I don't want one after that hash."

"Threes?"

"Three cloves. Three nugs. Three days."

"So it's true. You're going to London to live with your dad." replied Eddie.

"Yeah, got the ticket with my Job Corp. money."

"You went for culinary, right? Are you sure they'll take your certification in the U.K.?"

"There's plenty of places that pay under the table. Skill is skill and I have it. I'll start there." she said a little defensively. She didn't like to talk about her reasons for moving, but the truth was, she felt called. London was calling and she was going to answer. She just was.

"I wish you'd reconsider." Eddie said sadly. "Do you at least have some money left after the ticket? Probably just a couple hundred dollars. What if things don't go your way and you end up homeless?"

"I'm sorry, Eddie, but I'm..." she was cut off by a series of gunshots from a few blocks over. "No, seriously! Who the fuck gangbangs on Christmas?"

"Keep it classy, Topeka." Eddie replied. The put out their half smoked deathsticks with reluctance and headed back inside.

Kc mo roll Kc mo roll What do we say to haters off top Haters got beef they thinking we got We gon' get postal if it don't stop You can get ghost or you can get shot

Scarlet sat down on the sofa and looked at her novelty yo-yo/mp3 player she was given as a fare well gift from her Job Corp. friend, Sylvester.

"I wanted to, just, curate and give you the best techno and trap and dubstep playlist ever, but a bunch of shit went down at my house I had to deal with, so I ended up not having time and I was just going to give you the yoyo and let you put on whatever juggalo shit you wanted, but then my buddy gave me acid. While I was peaking, I suddenly decided to work on this list, so I'm just ripping songs off of YouTube based on how they made me trip and, if they didn't make me trip right, it was like there was this lion, this fucking golden ass lion, looking in at me through a door in my chest and it'd growl. I'd feel it growl. It was insane. But I did fill it for you. So, it's all techno. Pretty random. Glitch Mob, Timmy Trumpet, some Diplo. Give it a chance before you delete it all."

She didn't say anything but she'd been seeing a huge lion in her dreams climbing the rocks on top of Echo Cliffs as the sun's rays slanted beneath a great, black stormcloud. Then it would look at her and she'd realize something so shocking it would wake her up but she could never remember what shocked her awake. She rolled her ear buds around the yo-yo and put it back in her bag. She headed into the kitchen to find Eddie.

"No dude," Eddie said, red cup in hand "you should not learn how to crip walk. You shouldn't even say crip walk. Say C-walk. And don't do it."

"Man, I do not, for the life of me, understand why a dance should be off limits. I just don't." said Tommie. "Man, I don't give a fuck, I'm graduated! Oh damn, sup Scarlette!"

"Sup. Shit, I'm graduated, too." she said as she grabbed a cup.

"From Job Corp. Not the same. Come back when you been to college, then law school." Tommy said as he leaned forward and smiled arrogantly.

"Man, chill out you cocky motherfucker. You ain't passed the bar yet. You are not a lawyer yet. You're a juris doctorate having motherfucker. Let Scarlette have hers, man. It takes nothing from you." said Eddie.

Scarlette glared at Tommie and poured herself some soda. She didn't really feel like drinking tonight, not after her mom's drunken bullshit earlier. She was thinking about being home as little as possible until her flight. She had lots of people to visit and say goodbye to, so it felt doable.

London, U.K.

Tears flowed down her face as she picked through what was left of her belongings on the terrace outside her father's flat. Her father's girlfriend, Debra, didn't like Scarlette and exactly one week after Scarlette started her hotel job, Debra planted a chequebook in Scarlette's trunk and claimed it had been stolen. So, without a word, Loren took his daughters belongings and put them outside while she was at work. He'd never been a brave man.

Scarlette made her way down the water-stained concrete stairs, out through the courtyard, and on into the streets. She walked aimlessly, hungry but too cautious to spend anything. She thought of all the groceries she joyously bought for herself just days before. They'd all be eaten up by that treacherous bitch and her lapdog boyfriend. More tears came. She sat on a swing and cried as hard as she'd ever cried.

When she finally stopped, the world stopped with her. It was dead silent. No horns, no machines, no people. She heard herself breathing hard so she knew she wasn't deaf. Suddenly, a great shadow crawled slowly over her from behind. She looked up and saw the buildings, streets, everything, peeled up in a big wave and curling over her. She didn't understand. She didn't think. She ran.

She ducked between pedestrians, having to take great care to avoid them so they'd stop knocking her down. It was like they couldn't see her. She eventually found an alleyway and ran down it. She leaned against the wall to catch her breath. To her left she saw a window, with a man staring out at her, though it wasn't a man exactly. He had sharp features, a pointed beard and ears, and two small horns coming from his forehead. She began running again.

This happened over an over. She'd see something utterly impossible, run away, stop to rest, and see something else. A half man half horse, a dancing tree, a squirrel the size of a medium sized dog holding quill and parchment. She couldn't run anymore, but she pushed herself down a narrow corridor back to the street where she saw a boarding bus. She barely made it, almost payed the fare til she realized she still couldn't be seen, found a seat and hoped to not get sat on.

After sneaking onto busses for a while, she found herself near the center of the city. She realized how tired she was. Thoughts of food again tormented her, til she finally got off the bus to track down some fish and chips to steal. She walked with purpose and rounded a corner to come face to foot with a giant. She whimpered as she began running again.

She ran across a vacant lot and saw a tree sprout, grow big and robust, fill with apples, the split in two and decay right in her path. She tried to go around and felt her foot snared by an ancient prehensile root. She struggled as she found herself falling down a sinkhole. She felt dirt in her mouth as the Earth swallowed her and her screams. Roots scratched her face and arms. Soon she felt light through her eyelids and felt leaves along with branches. She was still falling. No matter how she tried, she couldn't keep hold of any branches. It was all she could do to cushion each collision with each ever larger branch. All too soon, she ran out of branches. She fell a whole story and a half and landed on a small boulder jutting from the flowing roots that gripped the ground with her shin taking all of her weight. She both felt and heard her bone snap and, with a wet pop, rip through the skin. She was on hands and knees. She didn't feel anything until she foolishly tried to stand. That's when the world spun out of control. She stumbled to the ground; the pain in her leg was so intense she could almost hear it. She vomited and collapsed into unconsciousness.

Not far from her, in the brush, waited a watching satyr. He nimbly negotiated through the tangled roots of the great old tree and picked up Scarlette's bag. He looked around where he saw objects from her bag fall with her and gathered what he hoped was everything. He briefly examined the contents. He picked up her phone, thinking it was a very dark mirror for scrying, and he almost let out a yelp when the screen lit up. He put it back and donned her purse with the strap across his chest, leaned down, and lifted Scarlette up in a dead man's carry. He was a simple satyr who only did simple magic, but he knew great magic when he saw it, and he knew the High King at Cair Paravel would want to make this his business.

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