#this fic is short and tired and ready for a nice quiet holiday

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Chapter 2 of When We Were Gone Astray can be found here.

[asphalt-cocktail]

Finding my way back

Summary: Nearly a decade after you and John break up you manage to find your way back to him.

A/N: Hello my dears! So I wrote this for Beatle and Queen secret santa exchange! Apologies it’s not heavily Christmas/holiday themed; it does take place during winter so I hope that counts for something. I hope you enjoy your fic as much as i enjoyed writing it @sweetrosetta-martin​! I wrote this after I heard the song Green Papaya by Lianne La Havas which makes me feel some type of way. Also shout out to @casafrass​ and @moodysunflowergirl​ for putting this together! Thank you for all your hard work and organization for this! 

Pairing: John Lennon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Okay friends, we’ve got a bit of everything in here! It’s got some mild illusions to smut and steamy smooches, some angst, some fluff, pinning, longing, break ups, cigarettes, alcohol (I think), swearing, we’ve got Teddy boy!John and 70s!John. But no actual smut. 

Word Count: 5.4k

Your heart ached in your chest as you sat in front of John, “What do you mean we can’t see each other anymore?” Your voice cracked with emotion.

John watched your watery eyes from behind his glasses and let out a deep sigh, “I’m going to be touring a lot and Brian wants us to move to London, so I just…” His own voice cracked with emotion, “So I just don’t think we should keep seeing each other.” He looked away unable to maintain eye contact with you.

“But we survived Germany!” You protested back, “It will be okay, I can visit you when you have shows nearby,” You wanted this to work, being with John felt like home. You sniffed, “You know like wait backstage with flowers and everything.” You said and began to rub your stinging eyes.

You were right, the two of you had survived Germany, but it was only because it lasted a few short months and your relationship was open out of respect for the two of you; John didn’t know how long this Beatles thing was going to last and from the looks of it, it was going to last quite a while. John rubbed the tears from behind his glasses, smudging his finger along the lenses and clouding the vision of your perfect face. He squeezed your hand tightly in his own, “It’ll be fine I promise,” He said pausing to kiss your knuckles, “I love you [Y/N] I really do, and if it’s meant to be we will be together again.” He gave you one last chaste kiss; your faces were wet from tear and it was sad and short lived. You embraced him tightly inhaling the scent of cigarettes, mint gun, and a smell that was so distinctly John before finally letting him go to part ways.

The two of you exchanged letters for the first few months of his first tour, but at this point it has been so long that you didn’t remember who stopped writing who and honestly, why did it matter? John was constantly an aching thought in the back of your mind, and you had constant reminders of him from posters to news articles, to full size cardboard cut outs that sat in record stores. It seemed everywhere you turned you saw him which only increased the yearning.

It took several months but you finally found yourself back in a routine that didn’t include John, it was almost like when he went to Germany except this time he wasn’t coming back for good. You finished up school, found a job working in marketing, and had several shitty boyfriends before you found yourself in New York city working in the marketing division of a fashion brand and met Noah. He was nice, but he wasn’t John.

He didn’t smoke cigarettes, or wear glasses, and couldn’t understand art. But he was here, and the sex was pretty okay.

Noah was nice and he made you a pot of coffee every morning he slept over and didn’t try to pry too far into your personal life. All around you didn’t have any qualms with him; it just didn’t feel complete.

The scent of freshly roasted coffee drifted through your home as you woke up with your alarm clock blaring in your ears. You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and rolled out of bed. Noah was busying himself in the kitchen, you should just ask him to move in at this point. “Did you get the paper?” You asked sitting down at the table.

“On the counter, love.” He answered before grabbing it and sliding it across the table towards you. Much to your surprise in big bold letters on the front page “PAUL SPLITS THE BEATLES” were plastered across it. Naturally a picture of the doe-eyed man you once called a friend accompanied it as well as a smaller picture of the group.

“Fucking Christ.” You mumbled to yourself and turned the page, hoping to find something else to read, some couple getting married or some advice column, but no, your eyes continued to draw themselves back to the fab four and specifically John. He looked wildly different now; long hair, glasses, eccentric wardrobe all made him look almost unfamiliar

You finally gave in and read the article; from what you observed in the news and on television tensions were high between the four and it seemed as though fame had gotten the best of them, “Crazy, right?” Noah asked handing you a cup of coffee, “Who would have thought? It looked like they were going to be together forever. But get your riches and split I guess, yeah?”

A sour feeling filled your belly, John and Paul cared more about the Beatles than Noah could ever know. The idea of get rich and dip was ridiculous, wasn’t it? “I don’t think that is the case.” You mumbled before abruptly getting up to get ready for work, forgetting your morning coffee.

It had been almost a decade since you had last seen John, and a lot could have changed. He was no longer the tough teddy boy you had grown to love. His hair had grown out and he was with Yoko Ono now, from the looks of if they were essentially attached at the hip. A part of you hoped you and Noah would never achieve that level of need in your relationship.

Unfortunately, as months passed there seemed to be no other way to progress your and Noah’s relationship and one day he slept over and never left. You no longer had your own space to escape to or much alone time aside from when Noah came home an hour after you from work. You felt throttled and frankly didn’t like it, nor did you like Noah much anymore. It seemed like the right step though, after three years of dating; you could tell Noah craved monogamy.  

Your day at work was long and exhausting. All you could think of was your hour of peace and quiet before Noah came home and talked about his boring life at work. If you had to use a color to describe your life it would be grey, dull, boring, no vibrancy or excitement.

New York was full of bright vibrant colors and never slept; it was much livelier that than the cloudy northern United Kingdom city you once called home, but in the small apartment that you lived in there was constant monotony. Waking up, making coffee, going to work, coming home, reading and making dinner, going to sleep; only to repeat that for five days in a row and then sit around the house during the weekend, or leave to get groceries if you were lucky. If you were unlucky, Noah’s accountant friends would come over and talk your ear off about their corporate work life you just couldn’t wrap your head around.

Your mind was swimming with thoughts, mostly about your stagnant life as you navigated your way off the subway once you reached your stop and walked off. It was loud and cramped as everyone flooded off; you kept your head low and pushed your way through the crowd. A firm, but boney shoulder pushed into you causing your thoughts to flee and your brows furrowed as you looked up, “Watch it, asshole.” You mumbled under your breath and looked up before you froze.

Your eyes locked with a pair of eyes that were all too familiar and all the breath in your body seemed to leave, “[Y/N]?” John asked you, seemingly just as shocked as you were.

Despite being in the subway station the world around you stopped. A few sputtering words came out to form an incoherent sentence as you were consumed with shock. Your body became ridged and you sharply exhaled before turning and continuing your short jaunt home.

That night you laid on your side and your mind was consumed with so many thoughts, mostly John if you were being honest. You’d thought you had long since blocked the ghost from your memory, but it appeared that seeing him caused a number of memories to rouse from the depths of your consciousness. You hated it. John Lennon was once again living in your head rent free.

Noah gripped your side and kissed along your shoulders and neck while his hand rubbed your hips and slowly began to wander upwards towards your breasts. The sudden touch caused you to jump, “Not tonight,” You mumbled trying to sound tired.

Noah let out a soft sigh before giving your shoulder one last kiss, “Sorry, you had a long day, love.” He said pulling you close against him and resting his head on your shoulder. As you pretended to sleep you laid in your bed and stared at the wall of darkness in your room.

When the hell did John come to New York?

Did he live nearby?

Was Yoko with him?

Questions swirled around in your mind; questions that would not get answered unless you actively sought out an answer.

As sleep consumed you, you dreamt of John.

The Reeperbahn had a smell you would never forget. You didn’t know cities could have distinct smells until you traveled to Germany to visit John for the first time since he had left Liverpool. It was a combination of pollution, beer, and a smell you had hoped to never figure out what caused it. From his letters this place seemed larger than life, and when you took your first steps off the train you saw it was.

John tackled you with a warm hug, he smelled like sweat, beer, and cigarettes, “You stink.” You grinned and laughed as he kissed your face all over.

“Our options are kind of limited, love.” He grinned and wrapped his arm around your waist keeping you close to him as the two of you walked down the busy street.

He took you to a restaurant, you honestly hadn’t expected him to take you on a date especially with where you were and how little money he had. “Come on, I’ve got a show in two hours,” He grinned, excited to have you watch him play.

“And then we met this group of Germans, they’ll be at the show tonight. I know you’ll love them.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, “Stu is going with one of them, Astrid. She’s great too, her ma lets us shower at her place and makes us dinner sometimes.” You soaked in all the stories John had to share.

His life seemed so exciting here in Germany, but you could see how exhausted he was beginning to get, “You’ve got to hear how we sound now, Pete’s still shit, but Paul, George and I are really getting better.” He shifted in his seat and poked at his food, “I don’t know if Stu is going to stick with us much longer though; he’s been talking about going back to art school.”

That night you and John slept cramped together in his little bunk bed in the back room. You woke up to him rubbing your arm with the tips of his calloused fingers and he kissed your shoulder.

Rolling over you captured his lips in a soft kiss, he tasted of beer and cigarettes and he clung to you, holding you so close it almost hurt. Breaking the kiss, he began to pepper soft kisses along your jaw and neck, “I love you so much,” He said between heavy breaths.

“I love you too John.” You responded letting out a soft whimper as his fingers began to rub you through the cloth short wore to sleep.

With a gasp you shot up in bed, coated in a layer of sweat and looked around the still dark room, wide eyed. Noah rubbed his sleepy eyes as he woke up, “What’s wrong, hun?” He asked.

You gained control of your breathing once more and laid back down, still uncomfortably sweaty; “Nothing, just a nightmare.” You answered and swallowed thickly.

---

For weeks, John plagued your mind and you were starting to convince yourself that you hadn’t truly seen him and that you were just going crazy. Your sleep was becoming more and more restless as time went on. It got so noticeable that even Noah questioned it.

“Take some time off, hun, you work too much.” He said.

So that was what you did. You finally had a week off after what felt like ages.

It was nice, but you were barely half a day into your vacation, and you began to feel restless. What could you possibly do to fill your time?

Your mind began to wander and drift off to thoughts of John; a wave of nausea immediately washed over you. “I need to leave.” You abruptly said and grabbed your purse and house keys before leaving your flat.

You soon found yourself at Central Park. Despite it being autumn, the weather was nice, the kind of nice where you look outside, and it seems warmer than it is. The breeze was soft but brisk you walked through the park enjoying the breath of fresh air. As you walked through the running paths you admired the changing leaves and the crunching sound they made under your feet.

You eyed a bench that overlooked The Lake, so cleverly named, and brushed the fallen leaves that covered it before you sat down. For once you felt like your mind was free from worry and the anxieties that had been consuming you the last several weeks.

That was until you got up and saw a familiar figure walking down the path that would directly cause yours. A shot of adrenaline shot through you and your heart began to race. It was as though your fight or flight responses had kicked in and they were telling you to get the fuck out of there. You frantically looked around and it felt like a lose-lose situation with whatever option you chose. So, you stayed; how bad was it going to be? Maybe he wouldn’t even notice?

John walked past your little out cove and glanced at you and then looked again, “Fucking hell.” He mumbled stopping in his tracks.

The two of you stood frozen, staring at each other for what seemed like a lifetime before John finally broke the silence, “I thought I saw you at the subway station.” He said bluntly, his familiar voice causing a warm feeling to erupt in your belly and spread to the tips of your fingers.

You opened your mouth and closed it, trying to think of something to say, “You did.” Was what you finally spoke.

“Right,” He sighed, looking down in defeat.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets and shifted the weight on your feet, “Do you want to sit?” You asked abruptly.

John looked at you through his round lenses and nodded, “Sure, I could sit for a while.” He answered.

The two of you sat across from each other on your respective benches, “So, how long have you lived here for?” John asked watching you nervously pick at your fingers.

You looked up from your hands, “About 6 years now.” You leaned back, now feeling confident enough to study his features. His face was thinner, age lines had begun to map themselves out on his face, and his hair was messily layered and framed the sides of his face nicely. He was still as handsome as ever, “How long have you lived here for?”

John cleared his throat and pulled out his cigarettes, placing one in his mouth, “About two years now,” the conversation was weird, like the two of you didn’t know what to talk about. You watched as John’s long fingers light his cigarette, the spicy smell filling the space between the two of you and the smoke delicately curling up towards the sky, “So do you work near by or something?” He asked casually crossing his legs and resting his arm on the back of the bench.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t I just needed to get out of the house.” You said, staring at the reason you felt urged to leave your home in the first place, “I only live about six blocks away. It’s a nice walk.” You added, your stomach suddenly feeling sour as you remembered Noah.

John hummed, inhaling deeply on the cigarette the ember burning a bright red before dimming ever so slightly, “Do you work at all?” His tone came off ruder than expected, but you knew he didn’t intend for it to.

“Marketing.” You answered simply. Your brain swam with question you had for your former lover, “Do you live nearby?” You asked returning the question back to him.

John nodded behind him, “The Dakotas.” He mimicked your shortness. You looked and could see the large building peaking out from the tops of the trees.

You hummed, “Must be nice.” You said flashing him a closed mouth smile.

“It is.” He added and stood up, taking one last deep inhale before stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette in the snow and putting it in his pocket, “You look good, you know.” He said, his eyes studying your seated form before settling on your face.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious and very aware of your existence you crossed pulled your winter coat tighter around you, “So do you John.” You responded, “You’ll have to show me your place sometime.” You boldly suggested.

John flashed you a crooked smile before fishing around in his pocket, “Call me and I’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule.” He said before handing you a business card. Of course, he had business cards.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you took the thick and expensive paper and pocketed it, “I’ll have my people call your people.” You allowed a smile to break your nervous features.

That night your mind saw no peace. You sat in the bathroom staring at the business card in your hand. It was nearly 3 am and the delicate gold letters reflected in the shitty florescent lights that made your eyes ache as you repeatedly read the phone number and name.

The rest of your vacation it seemed as though you were not going to get the mental break you so desperately craved. You watched as Noah left for work and felt a pang of guilt rising in your chest; a pice of you felt greedy for wanting to see John again. So, you figured it would be best to tuck it away in the back of your mind to the place where your other thoughts of John lived and put the card away in a shoe box and tried to forget.

---

Forgetting about your interaction with John seemed to work well, that is until you and Noah broke up.

He stood in the doorway with the boxes of his things. You could tell he didn’t feel great, and neither did you. But a piece of you felt thankful that he was finally moving out. After seeing John your body craved the spontaneity that he used to give you, and the spontaneity that Noah had lacked.

Once the last of his things were moved from your apartment you felt as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You felt good, like a breath of fresh air. You busied yourself by rearranging your home and filling the empty spaces that Noah left after he and his belongings vacated your space.

As you moved your shoe boxes and rearranged your closet a business card slipped from the tear in one of them. It was the one that John had given you only a few months ago.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared at the intricate gold letters you familiarized yourself with that night that seemed so long ago. You looked at the clock, it was only 4 PM and you had hoped he wasn’t busy.

You curled up on your couch and held the phone receiver against your ear listening to it ring as you absentmindedly played with the stiff card in your hand.

“Hello?” You instantly recognized John’s voice.

“John?” You responded back, “It’s, um, it’s [Y/N]” You felt a surge of nerves pulse through you.

“You know, I expected you to call sooner.” John skipped the formal greetings.

You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, sorry about that. I suppose nerves got the best of me.” It wasn’t a whole truth, but a half truth, “Do you think you’d be interested in showing me your place sometime?” you asked remembering back to the conversation the two of you had several months prior.

John hummed and you could hear the soft rustle of paper in the background before he cleared his throat, “Yeah, I suppose I could fit you in. Did you want to stay for dinner?”

Your heart thudded in your chest, “Dinner?” You question out loud and let out a puff of air, “Yeah, I suppose I could.”

“Right, so 6 o’clock sound good?” John asked, “I can send a car for you.”

“A car?” You asked, not accustom to the luxuries of being a Beatle, “I can walk it’ll be fine.”

John let out a sigh, “It’s freezing outside and nearly pitch black. You aren’t walking.” He said firmly.

“Fine.” You answered in defeat and gave him your address to send the car.

“Right, be ready by 5:30.” He said  

“Shit, okay.” You said before bidding him farewell and scrambling to get ready. The sleek black car arrived and drove you to the Dakotas. It was nice, far nicer than any building you had ever been in before. The driver walked you up to John’s apartment and let you in.

The room was decorated in a hodgepodge of John’s interests, from music to art to antiques; with everything tastefully on display. John walked out, dressed casually in a shirt, jeans, and no shoes and drank in your figure as you stripped off your jacket. You shifted nervously under his intense gaze, “So, you wanted a tour, yeah?” John asked.

You nodded and watched as he crossed his arms over his chest, admiring how his biceps flexed and bulged when his hands rested in position, “Yeah, a tour.” You said secretly hoping this would amount to much more than a tour.

John stretched his arms out, “Well welcome to my humble home.” He greeted in a grandiose manor.

Humble, right.

John’s home was more extravagant than you could have imagined. It was much better than the apartment he lived in with Stu or the back room they had in Hamburg and even better than when he lived with Mimi. He had several cats that roamed around his home; it made you smile and remember the time he brought a stray home and convinced Mimi to keep him. It seemed as though old habits died hard when it came to John.

The two of you made your way back to his living room and he sat down on his couch, “Come on, sit.” He said patting the spot next to him.

“Oh,” You abruptly said, not noticing you had been standing in the middle of the room studying the various things on the wall, “Right.” You quickly sat on the couch uncomfortably stiff, “So… dinner?” You asked.

John nodded his head, not having forgotten the food and pulled out a box of take out menus, “Do you want to order something, I haven’t gotten much for groceries this week.” He admitted sheepishly.

You rifled through the various menus in his collection, “So,” You started, “Where is Yoko?” You asked honestly wondering where his other half was.

“We’re separated right now.” He said sounding uncomfortable.

You glanced over at John and noted his somber expression, this was obviously a topic he didn’t want to talk about. “Sorry to pry.” You said before sliding him the menu of one of your favorite Chinese restaurants in the area.

“It’s a valid question.” He stated, now intently focused on the menu, “What about you?” He asked, peaking up to glance at you before quickly looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, your love life and what not.” He followed up quickly.

You shifted uncomfortably, “Oh, well my ex just moved out today.”

John arched one of his thick brows, “Hm,” He grunted, “Nice lad?” He questioned.

You shrugged, “Yeah, I suppose. Just boring.” You answered thinking back to the stale and stagnant version of your life that was your reality only a week ago.

John watched you frown in distain before he got up to place your orders, “What did you want again?” He asked.

“The number 23 dinner special with an eggroll.” You had your order memorized.

As John placed the order on his telephone, you listened to the sound of his muffled voice and leaned back on the couch. It was interesting how despite not seeing each other for nearly a decade, you still found your way back to him. One of his cats climbed their way on your lap and purred as you scratched behind its ears.

“She likes you.” John said as he walked back into the room, “Food should be here in 45 minutes.” He said plopping back down. The black cat nuzzled its head into your head and let out a soft meow.

“What’s her name?” You asked enjoying the attention your newfound friend was giving you.

“Salt.” He said, a smile cracking his features.

“Salt?” You asked letting out a small huff of laughter.

“Her sister, Pepper is somewhere around here.” He said reaching over and petting Salt, scratching her behind the ears.

Your 45 minutes with John was spent chatting and catching up, he talked about Mimi and told you that she asked about you often and he never knew how to respond, and you talked to him about how you finished college and began your marketing job.

It was interesting how the two of you were able to smooth over the awkwardness of your conversation in just a few short hours, unlike your previous run ins. The familiar warm feeling you would get every time you’d talk to him quickly returned. When your food arrived the doorman from the front of the building brought it up and the two of you laid out your spread on the coffee table.

John walked over to a shelf of movies and pulled one out. He turned towards you, flashing you the box. It didn’t surprise you when he showed you Clockwork Orange. It was a very John movie, “Want to watch it?” He asked smiling softly.

You nodded your head, “Pop it in.” You said waving your hand towards his television.

The movie played in the background as the two of you continued to talk and eat your takeaway, “How are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m fine, how are you?” He responded a confused expression plastered on his face.

You shook your head, “No, John I really mean it; how are you?” You said giving him a sympathetic expression.

Putting his chopsticks down, John sighed, “I don’t know.” He pursed his lips deep in thought, “I mean I suppose I’ve been better.” He answered honestly, “I mean, my wife left me, my friends I’ve known for the last two decades don’t really want much to do with me.” John shrugged his should and looked away from you.

You nodded your head reaching over and grabbing his hand, rubbing it with your thumb before you patted it lightly and pulled it away. John chased your hand with his own and laced his fingers with yours. The rough underside of his palm brushed against your soft ones. The contrasting touch made you shiver, “I missed you.” He said and squeezed your hand.

John brought your hand to the side of his face and pressed your palm to his cheek, leaning into the warmth of your hand, “I missed you too.” You said as you thumb stroked his cheek bone. He turned his face and kissed your skin.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat and the feeling of John’s lips burned into your palm. You watched him, his eyes closed and a calm expression taking over his tense body. Slowly you slid closer to him, closing what little space was between the two of you, “John,” You said breaking the soft silence that had settled between the two of you. He hummed and looked up at you urging you to continue, “You know what you told me when we broke up?”

John looked down, you could tell that the topic hurt him as much as it hurt you, “If it’s meant to be, we’ll find each other.” He said softly now looking at your fingers as he played with them.

In this moment he just looked like John, you’re John you had last seen nearly a decade ago. You pulled your fingers away from him and cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. Hesitantly you moved closer to him, feeling the warmth of John’s body radiating off him. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as your noses touched, lightly brushing against each other.

A soft whimper manifested itself in the back of your throat and trickled out when you felt John press his lips against yours. He pulled your close against his chest and held you against him tightly craving your warmth and body. Your mouths moved with a familiar synchronicity, so familiar it caused your stomach to ache as you frantically clung to John. Your hand managed to fall from his face and tangle itself in his shirt as you tried to pull him closer.

The way your nose bumped against his glasses reminded you of when you were 18 and sneaking into Mimi’s house, giggling as he told you to quiet down while the two of you kissed. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

John pulled away and left open mouth kisses on your chin and jaw and finally on your kiss. He immediately went to his favorite spot placing a wet open-mouthed kiss on it. You gasped at the feeling and craned your neck urging him for more.

Which he gladly gave you, pulling more sweet sounds from your mouth. He pulled back and studied your face through hooded eyes. John’s hand came up and he stroked the side of your face with the back of his hand. His touch was light and the back of his hand soft. You let out a sigh and leaned into his touch before looking back at him.

You laid back and pulled John against your chest. He responded by wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his head into you, “I’m sorry for what’s happened John,” You said and admired the weight of his body against yours.

John rubbed his face into your chest and didn’t look at you, “Stay the night, please.” He pleaded with you.

You rubbed his back as he clung to you, your heart ached hearing the loneliness in his voice, “Of course.” You said and kissed the top of his hair. John hummed with content feeling your fingers tracing patterns against his back.

The following morning you woke up next to John, his arm firmly wrapped around you and hair buried in the back of your neck. You turned around and wrapped your free arm him while your other remained pinned on your side. John let out a soft sigh and pulled you close against his chest and kissed the top of your head. You’d forgotten how much you missed and craved affection. You moved to leave, and John pulled you back, “Don’t leave me,” He said softly.

“I have to use the bathroom.” You said smiling and turning towards John.

He let out a playful groan, “Fine.” He said rolling over and sprawling out on his bed like a starfish.

When you returned John was still in the same position, you’d left him in. As you crawled back into the bed John’s arms slithered around you like a snake and pulled you into his chest. You inhaled deeply, missing his smell and smiled against the thin shirt he wore to bed.

In just a short amount of time the life that had once felt so grey and strange was now beginning to once again feel like home.

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 26

Hello people! Chapter 26 is finally here.

So, Aelin and Rowan go on an adventure for a while because something happens (you will found out what in the first line)

Toward the middle, they have a Harry Potter chat. I am not a fan but i inserted the dialogue because of where they are. And guess where Rowan gets sorted? Also, sorry I was nasty to Gryffindors... the little I know about them it's enough for me not to like them. Once a Slytherin always a Slytherin.

All the locations I have mentioned and the restaurant actually exists. Please google them if you are curious :)

Aelin during one part of the trip sings a song (near Loch Lomond) The song she sings is Loch Lomond by Runrig. This is a very, very sad song but is also one of those that it's almost impossible not to sing along. At least the version by Runrig. You can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHu0h9XaNcg

As of this morning I officially wrote the last sentence in the fic. One chapter still has some parts that needs developing, plus my usual editing but i wrote the end this morning.

Anyway, for now I'll leave you with chapter 26.

Have fun :)

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It was the beginning of May and Aelin and Rowan were packing for a small adventure. Two months before they had received an invitation from Elide and Lorcan to attend their wedding in Glasgow. They had accepted and they were now getting ready for their little getaway. This was going to be their last chance to have a holiday before the arrival of the twins. Lysandra was going to look after Rowan’s shop. She and Aedion had arrived a bit earlier than scheduled as he had been asked to start working a bit earlier. Lysandra, on the other hand did not have as much luck on the work front. Her job had been put on hold for the foreseeable future so when she had overheard Rowan talking about hiring as assistant for the shop she had volunteered. She had admitted that she was not a book nerd like the two of them but she liked to read so she was happy to run the shop. He had given an intensive training and once he was happy he decided to leave her in charge while he was away with Aelin.

“I can’t find my hoodie.” Aelin grunted while she was finishing packing her case. Their house was now a sea of boxes. They were a few weeks away from moving to their new place. The works had taken longer than expected which in the end it turned out to be a blessing. Lys and Aedion were there and they had offered to help with the move. Aedion had joked that they were Aelin’s personal removal company. “Which one?” “Yours. The uni of Glasgow one. It’s big enough that I can fit my huge belly in it.” Rowan came back two minutes later with the hoodie in his hands “You can’t function without me.” She stuck her tongue out and donned the hoodie “It’s far too early in the morning.” “We need to leave in half an hour. Is your bag ready?” “Yes. It was ready last night but then I realised I forgot some bits.” And she placed her Scotland’s guide in her carry on backpack. “You don’t need that.” He said pointing at the book “I know Glasgow very well.” “It was mostly for the drive from Skye to Glasgow.” “I know that very well too. I have done it a million times.” He grabbed the book from her. “Fine.” And he put the book aside. Ten minutes later she announced to Rowan that she was ready to go and he sighed in relief. They had a ferry to catch and he was being his paranoid self. He grabbed her suitcase and his duffel bag and walked out to the car to load it. Once he was done he went back to the house. Aelin was already in the car and noticed him coming back with a bulky pillow that he bought her to help her for the long road trip and stay as comfortable as possible. She smiled and noticed his other hand holding a bag. A moment later she found out that bag contained snacks for their very long car ride. Since the accident with the Korean he had been even more careful with her food. “Are you ready?” He got in the car and made sure she was all set to go. Aelin smiled “Punch it.” They arrived in Tarbert with plenty of time for their ferry. Rowan had gone to buy the tickets and Aelin waited in the car all excited for this big adventure. She had driven a part of the road they were taking when she arrived a year before but she knew that with Rowan as a guide it would be much, much more different. She had a look at her phone and realised that a year ago exactly on that day she had arrived on Lewis and walked into his shop and changed their lives. She patted her belly “It’s a big day today for mum and dad.” “I am back.” Said Rowan while getting back in the car and placing a ticket on the dashboard of the car “They should start loading soon.” “Is this one of those where we can go on deck?” “Yes, we will be able to go on deck. It’s a gorgeous day. This is an amazing crossing.” Aelin took Rowan’s hand a placed it on her bump “Do you know which day is it today?” He stared at her “hmmm… I think it’s the day when my favourite menace walked into my shop looking for books and never left.” “Happy anniversary.” She whispered while leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you for coming into my shop.”

It was over an hour later when they docked in the tiny village of Uig on the Isle of Skye. And Aelin was in hyper mode already. When he told her they were going via Skye she had started reading all about it and it looked like the most magical place she had ever seen. They would stop in a few places along the road but they had planned to stop a bit more on their way back when they had more time. They got back on the road and not long after she noticed Rowan taking a very small road “Where are we going?” “There is a place I need to show you.” They arrived not long after and Aelin’s mouth fell open. The place in front of her seemed like it came out from a fairy tale book. And she could not stop staring at how green and lush it was. “Welcome to the Fairy glen.” Aelin’s head whipped to his side “You are kidding.” “No, that its name.” He got off the car and reached her side “We’ll go for a short walk. We’ll stop again in Portree and have proper lunch there, but I had to show you this place.” Slowly they walked to the small hills. Aelin spotted what looked like the remains of a castle and was annoyed that she could not climb there. Rowan held her from behind and turned her “Look over there.” And he pointed at the big hill in the distance and Aelin spotted a few waterfalls “This place is amazing.” “Why is it called Fairy glen?” “Skye has a connection with the Fairies thanks to the Fairy flag at Dunvegan castle, which will visit when we come back.” “Is Schatach’s castle far away? According to the legends she was a warrior on the Isle of Skye and there should be a place called Dun Scaith which allegedly was her home.” His arms tightened around her, he loved her interest in Celtic mythology “It’s in the south. I’ll take you there when we come back. I promise.” Then he grabbed his backpack and took a couple of sandwiches from it “Sit down and have a little snack” He helped her sit down in the grass and she took food and strawberry milkshake from him. Once their breakfast was over Rowan helped Aelin to stand and hand in hand they walked around the glen and Rowan had to restrain Aelin from climbing in places where she shouldn’t “Seriously?” And he folded his arms at his chest. “Fine, I am not climbing.” They explored a bit longer and then Rowan pressed to go back in the car and on the road. “I was planning on getting into Portree for lunch. Fancy doing a very touristy thing?” “If I can get a fridge magnet, yes.” Rowan roared with laughter. That had become their recurrent joke “I think so and you will be able to get more once we are in Portree.” “Good. Our new fridge will be fully covered.” “I have not agreed to that.” He complained, giving her a smile at the same time. “Where are you taking me?” “We can take a detour to Carbost and we can have a tour of Talisker distillery. All the tourists go to whisky distilleries when they come to Scotland.” “Yes. I know I will not be able to drink but I don’t care. I always wanted to do it. Yes, let’s be tourists.” “As you wish, Fireheart.” An hour later they had arrived at the distillery and Aelin jumped out of the car “This is so awesome and I can smell the whisky.” Rowan took her hand and they walked in. The next tour would be in half an hour so they explored the shop and Aelin bought her magnets and a bottle of whisky for Aedion, she knew he’d love it. She just had to find a nice present for Lysandra now as a thank you for covering the shop. “Let’s go and sit outside, it’s gorgeous.” The view in front of the distillery was breathtaking. The loch in front of them seemed infinite and it was framed mountains in the background. Aelin ate another sandwich while suntanning. She had shed her hoodie and was in a t-shirt, her bump pointed at the sun “The girls and I are suntanning.” Rowan sat on the bench beside her and kissed the bump “how are you three doing?” “They are quiet. They kicked a couple of times but now they are probably snoozing.” And caressed the belly. “If you get tired you let me know. I have enough breaks planned so you don’t spend too much time sitting in the car.” “We are doing fine. I promise.” She brushed his hair. After her night trip to the A&E he had been even more over protective and his fussing levels had sky rocketed. But he had been wonderful to her. He had gotten her all the food she was craving and cooked for her all the recipes she wished. He was with her at every single appointment and he had started reading a lot of books about pregnancy and parenting. She had realised a while ago that Rowan had been brooding. He had confessed to her that he had wanted a family for a very long time and she knew that Lyria was against it and Aelin had a feeling that it had been one of the things that destroyed him the most about the failed relationship. “Let’s put the bag in the car and go for our tour.” He offered his hand and she took it and followed him.

It was later when they came out of the distillery and Aelin was ecstatic. “I had no idea you guys had so many varieties of whisky and it was so fascinating.” He kissed her head “glad you loved it.” “One of the ladies in our group kept staring at you.” Rowan took her hand “Thank you for leaving her alive.” “She got some cold stares from me. Seriously woman, stop staring at another woman’s man.” “Let’s go, menace.” Aelin followed him back to the car and not long after they were on the road to Portree. Rowan had explained it was the main town and after a year on the islands she had an idea of what main town meant. Once in Portree, Rowan parked the car, Aelin grabbed her backpack and off they went. When in the main square, she noticed the tourist office and she dragged him inside explaining that that was the perfect place for another fridge magnet. Rowan sighed and followed her inside. He waited for her in a corner of the office and she came back later with a big bag. “That’s a bit of an oversized magnet.” He joked. “It’s Lys’ present. I got her a lovely bag made locally here on Skye. Lysandra loves bags and I know she will adore this one.” “It’s actually really nice.” He added, looking at the present she had bought. They dropped the bag in the car and Rowan had convinced her to put her stuff In his backpack so she didn’t have to carry anything. Once they were all sorted they walked to the marina and Aelin squealed when she saw the houses painted in pink and blue and green “That is so lovely.” For a while they followed the path along the marina until Rowan declared it was time to feed her and for her to sit down for a while. Aelin did not protest at the idea of food and followed him to his favourite seafood restaurant. The meal had been superb and Aelin leaned back on the chair with a satisfied smile on her face “I wonder if the desserts here are nice.” Rowan scoffed “How can you still have space?” “You should know that you have agreed to marry a bottomless pit.” Once lunch was over they were back in the car. Rowan had told her they were taking the ferry across to Mallaig instead of the bridge back to the mainland. They would do that on their way back. He had also explained that once across the water there were some amazing beaches they could stop to and have another break and Aelin was easy to convince. During the trip down to Armadale he had chatted away being her personal guide and she realised they might need a week just to explore Skye. She loved the islands but she realised there was so much on the mainland that a lifetime might not be enough “we should take breaks more often. There is so much to discover.” “We can definitely do that and it would be nice to travel with our two girls.” She put her hand on his knee and in that moment one of the girls or both kicked “They agree.” “Are they moving?” Aelin smiled as his hand moved to the bump. “Every singe time, it amazes me.” And she saw love in his eyes “It just the idea that there are two small human beings growing inside you. It’s just… incredible.” She took his hand and kissed it “just don’t be too in awe. You will be less impressed by the process when you will see how it happens, live.” “I will be in awe of you and what you will do.” She turned to him and blew him a kiss “You will be such a loving dad.” “I will do my best.”

They were just about to dock in Mallaig when Aelin’s phone went off and she noticed it was Lysandra. “Hi Lys, how are you doing?” “I am doing amazing and the shop is fine. I had a busy morning and I had no idea how fun it was to work in a bookstore. Tell Rowan the shop is fine and that I had good sales as well.” “He will be happy to hear that.” Aelin gave Rowan the thumbs up after she noticed the worry in his face when she said it was Lys on the phone. “How are you guys doing?” “We are about to dock on the mainland in Mallaig. The weather down here is amazing and we are having fun.” “Gotta go. Customers. Keep me posted.” Lysandra hung up and Aelin followed Rowan back to the car “Lys says the shop is fine and that she had a busy morning with good sales and that she is having a great time.” Rowan laughed “good. You can tell her that she can keep being my interim assistant until she gets a job at the hospital. It seems like she has a knack as well. She might want to keep busy and well, I need an assistant and we could not find anyone I liked so…” “You had very high standards.” “No. I just wanted someone who had a bit of interest and willingness to work.” “Time to drive, old man.” Joked Aelin when one of the car deck crew motioned them to move forward and disembark. They drove for a very short distance until Rowan pulled in, in a car park. Aelin was giddy, while they were driving past Morar bay, her face was attached to the window. There were sands everywhere, but Rowan kept driving. She was dying to get off the car. She new he was trying to get them as close as possible to their destination. Walking for long was getting very problematic for her so he was just being his thoughtful self. Once at the car park, she opened the door as soon as the car stopped and was out. “Come on, Buzzard. I need to go to the beach.” He grabbed the backpack and put a hat on her head “Now we can go.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the small path. Usually he was the guide, but when it came to beaches, she was the one leading the way. Rowan would joke saying that she would smell beaches like a bloodhound. Aelin stopped when the beach finally appeared in front of her. It was not Luskentyre but the water was still crystal blue and the sand white. “This is Camusdarach beach.” Aelin toed off her shoes and started walking to the water. Rowan picked up the shoes and followed her. By the time he got there, she was already in the water, waves gently brushing her ankles. “Come on, this is beautiful.” Rowan smiled and toed off his shoes as well, dropped his backpack on the sand and joined her in the water, right behind her with his arms folding on her bump. His smell of pine engulfed her and Aelin leaned against his chest “I am glad Elide and Lorcan are getting married and invited us, it gave us a lovely excuse for this amazing trip.” Hand in hand they walked the length of the beach and eventually Rowan dragged her back on the sand and they sat down enjoying the sun. Aelin started playing with the sand and began building a sand castle and Rowan joined her a bit later. “Aelin’s castle.” After her castle was finished, Rowan pulled her down on the sand and he rolled to the side, facing her “thank you for not giving up on me.” “You were a bit of a hopeless case,” she added, flicking his nose “but being cute saved you.” “Just cute?” He pouted. “Fine, as Lys would say, you are sex on two legs.” “Poor Aedion.” “Ach, she just looks. She loves him.” His hand caressed her face “You can look as well, but remember that I exist. I can be jealous too.” Aelin snuggled closer and five minutes later she was snoozing and Rowan let her. They had a very early start and he wanted her to relax as much as she could. He rolled back on his back but then sat up and kept playing with the sand castle she had built. When she woke up it was an hour later. “Hello, sleeping beauty.” “Did I just fell asleep on the sand?” He leaned forward to kiss her “that you did.” “And you let me?” “Yes.” Aelin fought to stand but failed miserably so Rowan helped her. “We can’t waste too much time dillydallying. We need to hit the road again.” She tried to bend over to grab her shoes but she had no such luck. Rowan stood and patted the sand away from her and squeezed her ass in the meantime. “Aye, aye captain.” He said picking up her shoes and patting the sand away from him as well. Ten minutes later they were back on the road and Aelin was happily sipping on her smoothie. “This road we are on is called the road to the isle because it’s the road that connects Fort William to Mallaig where you can get the ferry to the islands.” “Were you a Harry Potter fan?” He asked. “Not really. I have only seen the movies to keep company to Lysandra. Why?” “There is one place on our way that became quite famous in one of the movies.” “Oh, the viaduct?” She asked. Lysandra on the other hand, was obsessed with Harry Potter and they had watched the movies together. “Lys is a huge Harry Potter fan and since I haven’t read the books she convinced me to at least to watch the movie. She had told me the viaduct was in Scotland.” “We will pass Glenfinnan and if you want we can stop there.” “Yes, I need to take a picture for Lys.” They arrived at the site half an hour later and Rowan parked in a small car park and Aelin could see the viaduct in the distance. “There is a visitor centre and you can get your magnet there.” He joked and they started the walk to the viaduct and Aelin took a lot of photos and started sending them to Lys via WhatsApp. “Were you a Harry Potter fan?” She took his hand. Rowan shook his head “I read the books just to see what all the fuss was about but I never got into them. Not my kind of thing.” “You could be a Slytherin.” Added Aelin looking at him with a wicked smile. Rowan looked away for a moment “Lyria made me took a test. She was into the books. I was sorted in Slytherin.” Aelin lifted the hands they were holding to his mouth and kissed his “Let me guess, the bitch was a Gryffindor.” Rowan laughed “that she was.” “As if I needed another reason to hate her.” Rowan squeezed her hand “you don’t like them?” “I hate them. And I hate Potter. He is the most annoying, most useless and most boring character ever written.” She confessed “Lys made me take the test and I am a Slytherin too, Lys is a Ravenclaw and Aedion is alas, a Gryffindor.” “Poor Lys.” They finally arrived under the viaduct and Aelin took a picture of her holding the pylons of the viaduct. “This is quite impressive. Do train actually run on it?” Rowan nodded “The regular Scotrail trains from Glasgow to Mallaig come through here but from Fort William there is also the Jacobite steam train, which by the way was used in Harry Potter 2, and it’s a very fancy train that runs twice a day.” “That must be one heck of a gorgeous train ride.” “It is, I have done it a few times, the regular train, I mean. Probably one of the most stunning we have in Scotland.” He started walking back and took her hand again. “Lys is saying that she is so jealous right now and told me that I am lucky girls because my fiancé is not a Gryffindor.” “Come on Buzzard, I have a few tacky things to buy.” She pulled him toward the visitor centre. Slowly they got back to the car and Rowan drove the small distance back to the visitor centre. He parked there and Aelin went inside the shop and bought stuff for her and Lysandra and got back to him who was waiting for her outside. Together they walked to the monument standing in front of Loch Shiel and sat down at the table at the viewpoint “Remember the scene in the third Harry Potter movie when Harry flies on the big flying creature whose name I can’t remember?” Aelin nodded. “This is the loch in the scene.” He looked at her puzzled expression “I only know because I have a book in the shop about movie locations in Scotland and in the summer is quite popular with tourists and once I had a look through it out of curiosity.” “I need to read it next time I am in.” He sat down beside her and pulled her close “How are you feeling? Are you tired?” “Are you joking? This is amazing. I will sleep tonight. I have a feeling I will be out as soon as I hit the bed but for now I am fine. Really, Ro.” He grabbed his backpack and opened it “Are you hungry?” She nodded and Rowan offered her another sandwich and Aelin munched away while taking in the incredible view in front of her. “Did Elide tell you where they are getting married?” Aelin nodded “The cloisters at Glasgow University. I have no idea what it is, but I assume you know. But Elide told me that she loves that place so much and felt like it was a cool place where to get married. They don’t have a large numbers of people so we will fit.” Rowan had a large smile “It was and still is one of my favourite places around the University and once we are there you will know why. I will take you there tomorrow. Our accommodation is very close by to the university so got very lucky.” “She said that they are having the reception inside the centre hall at Kelvingrove art gallery.” Rowan laughed “they have amazing taste. That’s all I am saying right now.” “I googled some pictures and they are amazing sites.” Then she looked up to him “are you looking forward being back in Glasgow?” Rowan nodded “I love the islands but I have some great memories of the city.” Eventually Rowan stood “Let’s go. We still have a very long drive. I want to show you Glen Coe before we continue our drive south.” They got back in the car and on the road “sleep a bit, “said Rowan caressing her head “it will take us about an hour to reach Glen Coe.” Aelin blew him a kiss and did as was told and woke up only when Rowan nudged her awake. She opened her eyes and gasped at the beautiful view in front of her. “We are driving through Glen Coe.” “I am speechless.” “It’s quite incredible, I agree.” A few minutes later Rowan stopped the car and he got out and motioned for Aelin to follow him. They both sat on the hood of the car and he put an arm around her shoulder, “see this three ridges in front of us?” Aelin nodded. “They are called the three sisters of Glen Coe.” “That’s a cute name.” “Did they film anything in GlenCoe? It seems like such an mazing film locations,” she asked curious. “Tons of stuff, actually. Some more of the Harry Potter movies, some bits of Braveheart, one of the James Bond movies, Skyfall I think, and another one I remember is Monthy Python and the Holy Grail.” “I really need to read your book.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Rowan pushed her to go back into the car “Come on. We’ll have a last stop in Balloch and then from there we will do the last leg to Glasgow.” They got back in the car and Aelin was asleep again within minutes and he let her sleep. From time to time he brushed his hand on her bump but the twins seemed asleep as well. She woke up again much later “where are we?” She asked with a sleepy voice. “Near Tarbert, we are on Loch Lomond.” Aelin smiled “there is a song.” And she started fiddling with his mp3 player to find the song. A couple of minutes later she found it and pressed play and Rowan smiled fondly. He had created a monster in terms of music. Aelin started singing and he laughed. “You’ll take the high road, and I’ll take the low road and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye. Where me and my true love will never meet again on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.” “You know this is a sad song, right?” “I know I read the meaning behind it but it’s so good. I love it so much.” Once in Balloch, Rowan took Aelin for a walk into Balloch castle country park but when he noticed her trailing behind slowly he called it a day and decided they were going back to the car and drive the last leg to Glasgow. She was getting tired and he felt as if he had pushed her enough although he was alway careful and walked always short distances. Aelin slept until Rowan woke her up announcing they were arrived at the hotel. “We are in Glasgow?” He kissed her “yes, we made it.” She gave him a big smile and slowly got out of the car, grabbed her backpack and followed him. Rowan unloaded the bags and they got inside the hotel and at the receptions. She let Rowan check them in. She was feeling tired and only wanted to take a shower and collapse in bed. Once in their bedroom Aelin sat on the bed and then lay down heavily under Rowan’s worried stare “are you sure you are okay?” “Yeah, a shower and a nap and I will be okay.” Rowan had a look in the bathroom “even better, you can take a relaxing bath and if you behave I might join you. I am pretty wiped as well.” At that statement Aelin stood and went to open the taps in the bathtub “no take backs.” Fifteen minutes later they were both in the tub, Rowan behind her and he was washing her hair and then her back “That’s not fair, I can only wash your legs.” Then she leaned back against him and he purred. “Will you manage to go out for dinner or shall we order in?” Aelin shook her head “I want to go out. Do we have to go very far?” “No, it’s a twenty minutes walk. Or we can walk five minutes and take the underground for one stop. There is a lovely area for food in Hillhead, the uni area. There is a wonderful Vietnamese restaurant that I adore and I haven’t been there in a lifetime. Or we can try something else. Whichever takes your fancy.” “Vietnamese sounds perfection. But can we do the half walk half underground option?” “I would drive but parking is a nightmare in that area.” She took his hands and placed them on her bump “half and half is perfect.” Rowan kissed her neck caressed her bump when he felt a kick. “I think we are getting close to the stage when they will be able to hear sounds. Their ears should be formed by now and they will hear muffled sounds from outside.” “I need to go back reading to them.” He asked tugging her even closer. “I’d love that. But only stories with badass females.” “Of course and I’ll make sure I will read them about their namesakes.” “Morrigan is going to hate us for her name as soon as she discovers where it comes from.” Rowan kissed her head “We can change it.” But Aelin shook her head in dissent “I adore it.” They cuddled in the bathtub a bit longer but when the water started to cool down Rowan ordered them to get out. Aelin, in her bathrobe collapsed in bed. It was still far too early to go out for dinner so they were going to chill out in bed. Rowan had driven all day and she was positive he was exhausted as well. He joined her in bed and snuggled against her “What are you doing?” Aelin took her phone “what’s the name of the restaurant?” “Hanoi bike shop.” “That’s a very random name.” Rowan chuckled “look at some photos and you will see why.” Aelin did that “oh wow. The place looks amazing. There are actually pieces of bikes hanging… and look at the lanterns.” “And their food is delicious.” “Let me see the menu.” She was too busy browsing her phone to notice that Rowan had fallen asleep in her arms. She set an alarm for half past six and cuddled against him and placed one of his hands on the bump, then kissed his head and slept a while as well.

She woke again five minutes before the alarm was meant to go off. Rowan was still fast asleep and she felt horrible at the idea of waking him up but her stomach was grumbling and she was getting hungry. She kissed him gently and brushed a hand through his hair and slowly he woke. “Hi you.” “Hey,” his voice still gruff “did I fall asleep?” “Like a baby” she kissed him “I didn’t want to wake you but I am starving.” Rowan laughed and rolled on his back. A second later he was off the bed and went to the suitcase to grab some clothes “Come on, let’s get you fed, then we can come back and relax.” Ten minutes later they were both ready and outside. Aelin had a look and in the distance she noticed a park. Rowan had told her they were near his uni. They walked for a bit along Sauchienall st. until in the distance she noticed some amazing buildings and pulled him to walk faster. Rowan stopped her and went back into guide mode. He went behind her and took her arm and pointed “that, is Glasgow university. And this amazing red building in front of us is Kelvingrove museum. Glasgow uni is the second oldest uni in Scotland dating to 1451 and the fourth oldest in the UK.” “I am jealous. I went to a modern uni. Yours looks amazing.” “We’ll have a proper look tomorrow, same for the museum.” They reached the underground and while they were waiting Rowan explained that it was a circular line and they only had the inner and outer circle. And that the only mistake you could make was to take the wrong one and having to go all the way around before reaching your destination. The whole concept puzzled her, behind used to the London tube and all. Once out of the subway the restaurant was at a minute walk and Aelin loved the place already. The restaurant was busy but they did manage to get a seat. Aelin would have killed if they told her that there was no space. She was now dead set on that restaurant and did not want to go somewhere else. She had already studied the menu in full. An hour later Aelin relaxed back satisfied. The meal had been wonderful and after her dessert she finally felt full “I think we can walk back to the hotel, I ate too much and I need to walk it off.” Rowan laughed “are you sure?” It took them forty minutes to walk back to the hotel. Aelin had decided to be brave and walk and she soon realised it had been a very bad idea. Rowan had tried to convince her to at least take the subway again but she had been stubborn. Rowan knew she was struggling but had given up when he suggested a taxi and he got a deadly glare from her. They were finally in front of the hotel and Rowan relaxed a bit. “Don’t.” She snapped. “What?” “You have a ‘I told you so face’ I know, I was stubborn and now I am paying for it. Now stop gloating.” He gave her his hand “Come on, Fireheart, I am curious to see which funny pj you have with you tonight.” Aelin took his hand and followed him to the lift. Once in the room, Aelin threw herself on the bed but Rowan grabbed her hands “get changed first.” Then he let her go and grabbed her suitcase and placed it on the bed “come on, jammies on and then bed.” “Can we cuddle? Perhaps with a back massage.” “That can be arranged, but I need you in your jammies to do that.” Aelin dragged herself up and grabbed her night clothes from her bag and got changed and Rowan did the same and both get ready for bed. Rowan was the first one under the blankets and once she joined him he pulled her to him, her belly facing him. His hands went to her back and started rubbing the sore spots. Aelin melted in his arms. “Thank you for today,” she mumbled against his chest, snuggling against him a bit more. She felt a kiss on her head and then laughed when he felt a kick “I think our girls had a great time as well.” “They did, but now they are exhausted like mum.” Rowan pulled her down to an horizontal position “Turn around,” he said to her when he noticed she was not on her left side. “But I want to face you.” “You know the left side is the recommended position. Turn around.” He helped her and once she was settled he climbed over and lay down in front of her “Sorted.” “You are such a mama hen.” She joked, running her hand through his hair. “Your hair getting longer.” “I was thinking about letting it grow. What do you think?” Aelin kissed him “very naughty thoughts right now.” Rowan laughed “I used to have them to my shoulder when I was t uni. Not practical for swimming but I loved it.” “I can braid it.” She smiled “Please let it grow back.” He leaned forward and gave her a kiss back “As you wish, my Queen.” Then he took her hand and placed it on his heart “Now sleep, please.” He told her gently, closing her eyes with her fingers. Then his arm reached out over her and pulled her as close as possible. “Goodnight,” he whispered to his favourite women.

Tag: @rowaelinismyotp

[thisisthehardestthing]

This Is The Hardest Thing

CHAPTER 1

Synopsis: A exchange student from the US in enrolled into UA when her father has to move to help with the increased crime rates in Japan. The final year of high school is a lot to handle, adding on top the class of 3-A and the trouble they get into will make for a wild ride.

Authors note: It’s been six years since I last wrote avidly. SO I am taking the plunge and posting chapter 1 (of idek) of this BNHA fic. @lookslikeleese​​ convinced me to just POST it and keep on practicing after I sent her an anon message, so this is basically what I am doing here. Quite nerve-wracking but, let’s just see where it goes? This is my first time writing it ‘x reader’ POV so I have a lot to learn :)

The title is still a WIP. I have named it as the above because it truly is the hardest thing to do lol

Pairing: I have a feeling this might turn into a Bakugo x Reader fic, but I am quite a slut and can’t make my mind up so who knows, maybe she’ll go through a few of the boys. They are all aged up to 18/19 and in their final year.

Triggers: ??? Not sure. This chapter is SFW. Let me know what I should tag here if anything.

Word count: 3.4k - felt like stopping it there. I have quite a few chapters already typed but I’ll drag it out.

link to chapter 2

This Is The Hardest Thing

Chapter 1

The gates of UA shined ahead of you as the car pulled up front, tires crunching over the gravel. The blue octagonal shape with bright gold letters were backlit by the early morning sun. A pink and orange sky reflected against the tall, glass buildings. It gave the world a sepia filter, one you wished to be true. The dark tinted windows cast a shadow in the car, shielding your face from the outside but did little to hide the nerves inside your stomach. Between your fingers, the dark green uniform skirt was bunched up and you took a deep breath, smoothing it out, trying to relax.

New school, new year.

Two figures were standing underneath the looming gates, hands clasped behind their backs and chatting to each other as they waited patiently for your arrival. One was extremely small, covered in white fur, and you squinted against the sun as you studied the figure. It was the Principal himself coming to greet you, along with a taller person that had messy black hair that partially covered his face, a thick scarf wrapped loosely around his neck.

The car stopped and you stepped out, a small black backpack in your hands that contained only a notebook, a few pencils and some other necessities. The Principal smiled and walked over to greet you hand raised in a wave, his short legs moving deftly.

“Welcome to UA!” He greeted, his voice was commanding and yet friendly. “I am Principal Nezu and this is your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta.” Aizawa lifted his hand slowly. He had a look on his face as though he had just woken up.

“Please to meet you.” You greeted and bowed slightly, your loose hair tumbled past your shoulders, the ends of your curls swaying in the cool morning breeze.

You hoped that the greeting was satisfactory. You had never lived in Japan before, being a transfer student from abroad. Your father, a top Hero in New York, was offered a job post back here in Japan and had seized the opportunity. He’d always wanted to bring you back to his home, where he’d grown up. It was your final year in a hero course and so it was frustrating to leave everything behind to move to an entirely new country. Being a Hero that helped everyone meant everything to him and you want to show your support. Besides, UA was one of the best schools in the world and you would never give up the opportunity to train with the kids that have been making waves all across the world.

The crime in Japan had increased exponentially over the past years, and any Hero worth his salt would jump at the chance to help. The request had come from the Number 1 Hero’s agency. Your family was in no way friends, but your father grew up in the same classes as Enji Todoroki, even graduating U.A. together all those years ago before taking the first job offer to move oversees. To be clear, Endeavor did not request your father himself. He was much too prideful to acknowledge he needed hep, but it was agreed by the city governors that a few more Hero’s were needed and so the simple letter came in the mail that changed everything.

“We hope you will enjoy your time here at U.A.” The Principal continued and you straightened back up. “It’s difficult to change schools in the final year, but we have no doubt that you will adjust quickly and be one of the top students.” You smiled at the remark.

“That sounds like it will be quite a challenge,” you replied, a small smile on your lips. “The class of 3-A has quite the reputation, even internationally, and I look forward to learning from them as well as the top-rated teachers here.” You bowed your head slightly again. This time it was overkill but you could never be too polite.

Aizawa’s eyes were trained on you, analyzing your words and the way you presented yourself. There was a shyness about you that confused him. He had read your file, knew who your father was, and yet you were being extremely modest. The Principal laughed, the scar on his right eye crinkling up.

“Yes, well, it’s true your classmates are a lively bunch. Let’s get you settled with signing the final paperwork. I have heard you did not bring much with you to move into the dorms, but that can be sorted out when the day is done.” They started walking away, and you slung the backpack that was in your hands over your shoulder as you followed, making polite small talk with the Principal all the way.

************

You had your class schedule in your hands as you made your way through the empty halls of the new school. The first bell of the day had already rung and your footsteps echoed against the tall ceilings. The glass windows let in the sunlight and it danced across the linoleum flooring. You were sure that every class was full of students and chatter, and yet you couldn’t hear a single thing.

The door of 3-A loomed above you, bright red, and you prepared yourself for the classmates on the other side of the door. They were infamous in your old school, first popping up two years ago during their sports festival when the boy called Izuku Midoriya went about breaking his bones while fighting the son of your fathers old school friend, and you let out a shaky exhale as your knuckles knocked. The door slid open and Aizawa stood there.

“Ah yes, right,” He mumbled, as if forgetting he was introduced to you just an hour earlier, walking back to the front of the class while you followed behind him. The class was lively, people all talking to each other, but as you stood in the front of the podium, they hushed down and wide eyes stared at you, taking you in.

“Everyone, we have a new student joining us today.” He gestured to you. “She has just transferred here from an academy in New York City, USA, and will be with us for your final year.”

You bowed for the third time today and introduced yourself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you knew you sounded robotic. Meeting new people and opening up was not a strength of yours, but you pushed through it, straightening back up and smiling.

You heard a scoff in the back and a boy with spiky blond hair leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. The consensus around the room was to ignore him and everyone started talking out loud again, welcoming you with smiles and enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes, welcome to UA and 3-A. You can continue this at lunch.” Aizawa shouted over the chatter. Everyone quieted down. “The first lesson of the day is general training to get your bodies moving after the summer holidays. Although, all of you had work and internships, so this should be a piece of cake.” He turned to face you. “There is an empty desk in front of Bakugo you can take later. Now everyone, get ready for your lesson and I’ll see you outside on the sports field.”

Aizawa handed you a metal briefcase with your gym kit in it. Your new classmates stood up and started filing out the door, whoops of excitement in the air. A pink-skinned girl with even pinker hair and thin horns came up to you and gave you a big hug. It took you by surprise, but you hugged back with one arm as your other held the briefcase.

“It’s so nice to meet you! Trust me when I say we are all happy to have another girl in the class.” She beamed, “My name is Mina Ashido!” Her eyes were filled in with black, and yet they shone with happiness.

“Hi, Ashido, I’m looking forward to studying with you,” you smiled back. She laughed in response and linked her elbow with yours to drag you out of the class.

“So formal. Let’s become friends, call me Mina.” With that, she dragged you out the door, following the crowd outside and into another building that house the gym and the changing rooms.

You dressed quickly, surprised that the suit was your size, and wondered what today’s class was going to be like. The girls in your class were all talking loudly, sharing stories of what happened to them during the holidays, and although they weren’t necessarily talking to you, you didn’t feel ignored. There was a large part of you that was hoping today was just regular sparring. You didn’t really want anyone to know what your quirk was right off the bat. It was something that you tried to down-play, instead focusing on hand-to-hand combat and honing your physical skills. The reflection of yourself in the tight suit made you smile. Your muscular thighs and arms were well-defined. Your hair tied up high in a pony-tail.

“You’re not wearing any shoes.” The statement came from Tsuyu Asui. She held up a long finger with rounded edge, placing it on her lips thoughtfully. As she looked down at your bare feet. You curled your toes under before flattening them back down again. You laughed, embarrassed, and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Yeah, I don’t like wearing them when exercising. I prefer to feel the ground.” It was also useful for your quirk as you could intensely feel the vibrations of everything through the soles of your feet and your hands if you needed to. Bare feet was something all your old classmates were already used to and it was just second nature to you. You had forgotten that people usually wore sneakers.

She gave a small nod and smiled.

“I can understand that, let’s go outside.” And you followed her onto the grassy field for the first class of the day, stretching your arms above your head.

Even though winter was around the corner, the sun was hot and there was no clouds in the sky. The cool breeze of this morning seemed to have died down, letting the sun warm everything up. Everyone was excitedly waiting for class to start. Basic training classes were always your favorite and it seemed like everyone was eager to show what they practiced during the summer.

“We will just start with some simple sparring, no quirks allowed, to get your bodies back into the swing of things. Everyone pair up.” Aizawa gestured to the field where white chalk was sprinkled in neat squares to mark the sparring boundaries.

“Hey, new girl. Let’s fight!” The boy called Bakugo shouted, he was frowning and his red eyes were glinting mischievously. His hair was seemed to be alive as he walked to one of the squares, not bothering to see if you had agreed. He was trouble and you knew that from when he won first placing the competition two years ago. You had snickered with your old friends when that picture circulated around the campus, whispering how crazy he looked. You shrugged and followed him, ready to move your body and see if he really was as good a fighter as he seemed to be.

Bakugo had his eye on you the second you walked into the class. He hated the fact that there was yet another person to beat out at the end of the year, even though he was not worried, just annoyed. He challenged you to make a point, show you that just because you were new, he would not take it easy on you.

Facing each other, you got into your fighting stances and for the first time in a long while, you were caught off guard. There wasn’t enough time to dodge and instead you blocked the high kick to your head with your forearms, grunting as your feet slid wide and digging into the grass with your heels to keep your self planted firmly. He smirked and jumped back.

“Welcome to U.A.” He stated, rolling his shoulders and jumping lightly on his toes as he got ready to attack again. You heard the murmurs from your new classmates about how Bakugo just ‘could not wait to start a fight’. You were ready the next time and both of you began to dance around each other. He sent a right hook, which you blocked, following with your own punch, which he dodged. It was a flurry of punches and kicks. He was getting angrier as it turned into a minute where he had yet to land a punch on you, and you could tell your new classmates were not used to this.

They had all stopped to watch. This caught your attention and you dropped your guard, not wanting to let everyone think you were a show off on your first day, and Bakugo sent his palm into your chest, making you fall back onto the ground. The wind was knocked out of you, but you quickly recovered and rolled away, missing the fist that had come towards your face by a second.

“Bakugo!” Iida shouted out, “Please be careful! It’s rude to attack our new classmate with such vigor.”

Katsuki ignored him though, straightening up and punching his fist into his palm.

“I just need to make sure this,” he gestured to your body that was now standing, breathing hard, “extra has what it takes to be in our class.” He was cocky, more so than you expected, and it irritated the shit out of you. You huffed and squared up. He wants to see what you have to offer? You’ll show it to him.

He rushed toward you again, throwing his infamous right hook, and you sidestepped, grabbing his muscular forearm and hurled him onto the ground over your shoulder. Jiu-Jitsu was one of your favorite martial arts and you followed him down, quickly mounting yourself onto his chest, still holding his arm. You were about to fall into an arm bar but he rolled to the same side you were about to lean back to. His sheer strength overcoming your legs that would’ve kept him pinned down. He ripped his arm away from your grip and had now flipped you so that his knee was on top of your chest, in the same place where his palm hit you previously, pressing down so that it was difficult to breath.

He had a wild look in his eyes, taken aback at the sudden improvement of your fighting and had his arm pulled back, smoke starting to leak out of his palm. Before he could bring it down, thick white ribbon wrapped itself around his wrist and pulled him back and off you, the grey whisps disappearing and the smell of burnt sugar lingered in the air. He thrashed against the fabric.

“Enough, Bakugo.” Aizawa boomed, his voice loud and commanding, “Go get a sip of water and calm down.”

You could see he was holding in insults, snarling out swear words under his breath as he tugged at the bandage tied tightly around his wrist. He had grown since his first year, calmed down a little, but his manners had not changed and it took a lot in him to hold back. Aizawa’s pinched the bridge of his nose as the scarf let him go and Bakugo gave one last glare in your direction before turning sharply on his heel and walking to the water dispenser against the wall.

It was for your safety that Aizawa had stopped the fight then, and you bit your tongue to keep in a retort that you could’ve handled it. A hand reached down to help you up. It was Uraraka. Her round face had a slight blush and her eyes closed as she smiled.

“Sorry about him, he gets defensive when there’s any kind of changes.” She explained, waving toward the figure that was now kicking the water dispenser, water flying everywhere. You took the hand, letting her pull you up.

“It’s okay. I kind of expected it.” Shrugging as you rubbed your chest with your palm, feeling a bruise forming where Bakugo’s knee had been pressing. There was dirt and leaves in your hair that you tried to pry out. During the sparring session your ponytail had come loose and your eyes dropped to the grass to look for the small hair-tie that you have no doubt lost to the grass God’s. You sighed and gave up working the grass out of your hair, instead tucking the messy locks behind your ears. The only thing that would help now was a shower.

You and Uraraka teamed up on the next round, playfully sparring and testing each other. You were surprised at just how good this girl could fight, which she explained was due to the internship in her first year. She was shorter than you, but that just made her quick. Soon, your five minutes were up and you switched partners. Within the two hour class, you were able to meet and get a feel of almost everyone.

The class was finished and you all headed back to the changing rooms to shower and get ready for the lunch break. Mina’s arms were slung across your shoulders as she asked where you studied before coming to U.A.

“I studied in NYC,” you started, opening the locker that had your school uniform hanging inside.

“Oh, then how come you speak Japanese?” Mina asked. She was already undressing.

“My father is Japanese, my mom is American.” You stripped the sweaty jumpsuit off and grabbed for the towel folded neatly. Mina and the girls all walked into the showers, and she continued her questioning over the roar of the water.

“That is so cool! Why did you move here?”

The warm water felt good against your aching muscles. The flight to Japan was long and you had only landed yesterday evening, barely giving you any time to see your father since he was already working late. He’d arrived a week before you. Lathering the soap between your hands, you scrubbed at the dirt on your arms, looking down at the purple bruise on your sternum with a frown.

“My dad got offered a spot at Endeavor’s agency to help weed out the rest of the League of Villains.” You replied. The water that ran into the drain was a light brown and you scrubbed the bottom of your feet before starting to tackle your hair once more. You winced when pulling out some more grass.

You heard a collective gasp in the shower room and the shower curtain next to you pulled back, the rings scraping against the metal. Mina’s head poked around, her pink head floating against the white curtain, and you screamed, turning towards the wall away and from her gaze. You weren’t normally shy but you couldn’t help your reaction.

“Your dad is Soil?” She asked. You winced. You hated his Hero name as it made you think of soiled underwear. But it was to-the-point seeing as he could manipulate the terrain and your father was a very straight-forward man. You nodded and she smiled wide, pulling her head back behind the curtain and you heard her go back into her own cubicle.

“Wow you’re so lucky. That man is HOT.” She exclaimed, there was a collective agreement echoing in the tiled room. You finished rinsing out your hair and turned the shower off before grabbing for your towel. As you stepped back into the main dressing area, you crossed your hands over your chest, a look of disgust on your face.

“Ew, that’s my dad you’re talking about.” Your mouth turned down and faked a gag. Mina rolled her eyes. You knew your dad was handsome. You had gotten your own good-looks, height and body stature from him. But you could not stand other people discussing it. Your mother had left him after enduring years of adultery and mental abuse of the way he jumped from women to women. If he wanted something, he went for it. She lifted her hands up as if in surrender and chuckled.

“Sorry, but it’s true.” You shook your head, getting dressed in your uniform.

“Lunch time!” Yaoyoruzu called out as the bell rang and you were glad you did not have to talk about it any longer.

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a/n AGH so there it is. Hope you enjoyed it lol

I’m going to log off and sleep now as it’s 1 am and I have work in the morning

Night everyone x

[hillnerd]

Waking Up- Chapter 2

Rating PG-13      A03    ff.net   [previous chapter]  

fic summary: The war is over, but there’s still plenty of battles ahead for Hermione and Ron. Her parents are still in Australia, Ron is hiding secrets, and she has to wonder when she’ll wake up and it’s not from a nightmare. My version of an ‘Australia fic’ - Romione abounds 

 Huge thanks to @amysthefardareismai for her wonderful indepth beta-ing, and @abradystrix for her lovely betaing and britpicking. Y'all are the best!

And thank you to the people who have read this and reviewed- I appreciate you so very much.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: cursing, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of suicide/ideation

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Taking watch seemed so unnecessary. Hermione's spells were amazing, and there were so many extra spells to alert them to the presence of people, why did they need to sit up late into the night staring into the woods?

The first few weeks were the hardest. His shoulder was tattered, and his sanity felt like it was in the same sorry state. Had the Ministry figured out that Ron broke in? Would his family be a target now? Were any of them maimed or dead because of him? Would it make his Mum love him less than she already did?

Ron shook his head at that last thought, and readjusted the locket. That bleeding locket. Every time he wore it he could feel it scrabbling at him. Back when he had Scabbers, one of the twins had told him about a Muggle torture where they'd put a rat on the victim's stomach, put a bucket over the rat, then heat up the bucket so the rat would chew right through them. They threatened to do that to him with Scabbers a few times before he started Hogwarts. It had frightened him, but he'd never truly understood what it could feel like until he'd put on the locket.

Every time he wore the locket he could feel it, gnawing through his chest, burrowing inside him, and shredding every piece of him apart.

The things it made him think were horrid, but worse was how it made him behave. He was used to a steady stream of vile self-loathing thoughts. What he wasn't used to was being unable to hide them. The thoughts took over his very being, and he became a complete arse when he wore it— he knew it and just couldn't seem to stop himself.

On watch he couldn't even occupy himself with doing something helpful because his whole body felt so weak. He wasn't sure if it was from his injury, hunger, or the locket— but he was completely depleted. He was useless, he could tell Harry and Hermione thought so.

Every time he told them to not say Voldemort's name they'd roll their eyes. Every time he mentioned they needed food, or a plan, they'd snap at him and talk down to him like he was a naughty three-year-old. Every time he couldn't do something because of his arm they'd scoff and act like he was making excuses. He'd always felt like a tagalong, but never more than in the last few weeks.

His one solace was that none of them were being all that useful anymore. There wasn't a plan of any sort. They had no goals. He couldn't think of a good plan, and Harry was leading them to nowhere. Meanwhile his whole family could be dead. No one cared though. Why would they? They had more important things to think of than the family of a teen so useless he couldn't so much as hold a mug in his left hand anymore. If he couldn't be a shield to them, what use was he? Why'd he ever think he meant anything to them at all? He was nothing.

Nothing, absolutely uselessly nothing.

"Ron?" he heard from the tent, startled out of his revelry. Hermione stood in the tent's entrance, but she wasn't properly bundled up for the cold. She was wearing a thin nightdress that seemed to float around her, and she looked so beautiful it made his breath catch. "What are you doing here?"

"Keeping watch," he replied, giving her a quizzical look.

"Why'd you bother coming back?"

"What?" Ron asked, looking at the locket and back to her. Where'd he gone? Oh right… He'd left them.

Harry came from the tent, looking fierce and sharp eyed.

"Why are you here?" Harry spat at him, eyes giving a faint red glow. "Hermione and I were better off without you— Always have been. Everyone sees it, why can't you?"

"Merlin, you're so pathetic," she sneered.

He didn't have an answer. The locket burned through his chest but he couldn't do anything to touch it, instead he found the sword of Gryffindor in his hand.

"You just thought you'd take a nice long holiday…" Hermione trailed off, wild hair floating about her, as she stroked a hand across Harry's chest. Ron stifled a whimper. He wouldn't cry in front of her. The locket beat as one with his heart.

"Oh Ron…" she said with a sultry pout. "The only thing you can do to stop the pain is to kill him."

Yes… All he had to do was take his sword and strike him, right through the heart and—

Fuck this, wake up, Ron!

He stood and he took steps towards Harry whose haughty eyes never wavered from his own. Hermione nodded and seemed to mouth to him 'yes' as he approached with the sword. He thrust the sword forward, stabbing haltingly through the ribs of Harry's chest.

Harry's face held no malevolence now. He was back to being the scrawny specky best friend, tired, brave, kind… And now with a look of scared uncertainty on his face.

"Ron?"

Blood blossomed across Harry's chest and Hermione screamed. Harry fell in a heap and blood splattered the snow-covered ground.

Wake up! WAKE UP!

With a jerk of his leg Ron finally escaped. His left arm was entirely numb, and he clenched and waved it to get feeling in it again. It stuttered and halted as he tried to rotate it. He pressed fingers harshly into the scarred flesh around his shoulder, willing it to wake up. He'd dealt with his arm acting up ever since he'd gotten splinched all those months ago, but normally he could get feeling and use back into his arm if he kept at it enough. Pain streaked down his arm like a fresh burn, making him let out a hiss. Pain was better than numbness, he supposed. Though it hurt something fierce, he stretched his arm out at that one funny angle he knew worked to get his arm going again.

What a fucked up dream. He hated the ones that were rooted in something real.

He looked to the camp bed beside him and Harry was there, lying asleep, peacefully dozing away on a heavy dose of Dreamless Sleep. With that particular potion, Harry could sleep through just about anything. Ron reached over to check his friend was truly breathing, then checked his pulse and lifted the duvet to make sure there wasn't any blood. He felt like a wanker and a creep for doing it, but he was desperate for peace of mind.

He almost killed his best friend those months ago. Well, it wasn't really him— it was the locket - but for just an instant the locket almost made him do it. Harry had looked so afraid of him that night. He'd even jumped away when the sword came down on the locket, convinced for a moment that Ron truly had betrayed him, truly wanted him dead.

They'd never talked about it since, still had trouble believing Harry could fully trust him again. He'd gone on about Ron saving his life and destroying the locket, but Ron knew the truth. He was no hero. He was a snivelling bastard who'd almost killed his best friend in cold blood.

"Fuck…" Ron groaned to himself. He didn't want to go down the self-hating path for another night. It didn't do anyone any good. That's how the locket had gotten to him. Not able to come up with counterpoints to his self loathing, he got up from his too short bed.

He arranged the blankets so the bed looked occupied. When he left it looking empty Harry had the habit of seeking Ron out, and he didn't want Harry missing out on sleep. Satisfied with the composition of his pillows and bedclothes, he cast a spell to replicate some snores and snuck down the stairs.

He wished he could wake Hermione, wrap his arms around her and bury his face into her bushy hair, but she needed the rest too. Plus he didn't want to get flack from his sister for sneaking into her room to use Hermione as a comfort blanket. Instead he went to the bathroom for his morning shower.

As he waited for the water to warm he looked in the mirror. He wasn't as god-forsakenly skinny as he had been, but he still looked a right unshaved mess. He'd never seen an Inferius before, thank Merlin, but he imagined his pale skin and deep purple bags under his bloodshot eyes could make him pass for one. Stooping under the shower head that was at least half a foot too low for him, he twisted and waved his left arm some more. The feeling still hadn't entirely returned to the blasted thing. The last three fingers were almost entirely devoid of feeling except for the odd painful prickle in his pinky. Considering all that he'd done and survived it was a small penance to pay. He turned the knob until the water was so hot he turned red as a fresh boiled chizpurfle, but his arm and fingers had feeling and could finally move normally again.

Done with his shower he put on his watch and checked the time. Two fourteen… He briefly considered taking a Dreamless Sleep potion. It seemed to work for Harry. Usually Harry was mumbling or yelling out in his sleep, but since the war he had been rather quiet. Whether it was the potion or lack of the Voldemort connection, Ron wasn't sure. He didn't want to ask Harry— that'd just bring attention to the fact that he had been the loudest damned roommate to put up with over the last seven years.

Ron opened the cabinet and looked at the neat row of draughts he could easily take. No one could fault him for it. He hadn't slept a full night in weeks. He held one in his hand and nearly uncorked it before he stopped himself. What if something were to happen and both he and Harry were too out of it on potion to help? He'd never be able to forgive himself if something happened and he'd not been ready. He'd gone through that too many times this year. He'd never let it happen again.

Mind made up, he put the potion back on the shelf and went downstairs for his nightly vigil. Compared to his watches when they were on the Horcrux hunt, the ones at the Burrow were almost pleasant. Sure he was dead tired, lonely and felt a hollow pit of sadness— but he couldn't complain. If anything it gave him a chance to mourn in private. Any other time of day and he'd be surrounded by people that needed him to appear strong, but in the middle of the night, all expectations fell away. He could freely be a grouchy depressed git, and no one would have to suffer his ill moods. He was determined to never be the same arsehole he'd been with that locket around his neck.

He was able to look out into the night from inside from the comfort of home, with plenty of food to power him, and a handy clock on the mantle to tell him everyone was alright..

They'd removed Fred's clock hand when he died at some point, when Ron wasn't sure. He didn't want to ask. He'd entered the Burrow a few days after the final Battle, everything had been set right, the house was clear of dark spells and the ghoul's butchered body had been buried, his room was back to normal (aside from a few posters they'd been unable to clean the gore from) but the clock was missing Fred's golden hand.

Every night that Ron sat in their living room, four hands would point to 'home' and four would point to 'away', unless one of his brothers was visiting the Burrow or had a late night at work. Since the war had ended, no one's hand had been on 'mortal peril,' for which he was immensely grateful. He glanced up at the clock on the mantle to make sure this was still true and his stomach flipped like he'd taken a step and missed it.

George's hand was firmly set on 'prison.'

Alarm coursing through him. Ron bolted for the stairs when the familiar sound of someone apparating made him freeze. He glanced at the clock, hoping George had come home, or one of his brothers apparated to tell them all what happened. The hands stayed firmly in place.

Someone else had apparated onto their property. His family closed off their property to all but the closest of confidants with a series of wards, but without the Fidelius Charm in place it was possible for people with enough power or cleverness to break through.

He saw the person's silhouette, tall and quick moving towards the kitchen door. Ill-lit by the waxing crescent moon, he couldn't tell who it was. The intruder was almost at the door. There was no time to get help. Ron was by himself. The only advantage Ron had for certain was surprise. There was no way the intruder could know Ron was awake, and in the dark, no way the intruder would have spotted him.

Ron quickly perturbed the kitchen door, and crept along the wall to the scullery. He cast a silencing spell and wrenched the window open. He threw himself through it and scrambled to fit his shoulders through the narrow opening. It felt a lot smaller than the last time he'd attempted this escape route at the age of twelve. He crept as quickly as he could around the side of the house.

He peered around the house. The stranger gasped as the perturbence spell threw their hand away from the door.

Ron steadied himself, then in a low voice cast his spell. With a noise and a burst of red light the intruder was knocked off his feet, unconscious. Ron ran to the body and wrenched it over to see the slack face of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Oh shit!" Ron cursed, taking a few steps back. He'd just cast a Stunner on the new Minister of Magic! Would he end up in prison like George? No… Of course not. It was Kingsley… He was defending his home in the middle of the night. Surely he couldn't begrudge Ron that?

"Rennervate!" he nervously incanted.

Kingsley gave a gasp and raised his wand, pointing it at Ron.

"Sorry... thought you were an intruder," said Ron, his wand still pointed at Kingsley.

"I gathered that," Kingsley said in his low calm voice, eyeing Ron's wand with raised eyebrows.

"You need to prove you're you. Who were you with for the Seven Potters mission?"

"Hermione. We rode a Thestral together. Who were you with?" asked Kinglsey, wand still trained on Ron.

"With Tonks," he said, voice tight at the thought of her.

They each lowered their wands.

"But really, I'm sorry 'bout the Stunner," Ron said, stooping to help Kingsley stand. He was surprised to find himself a little bit taller than the Minister.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I'd have done the exact same in your position," he said, putting away his wand and giving a wince at the movement. "I didn't expect anyone to be up."

"Yeah, well…" Ron didn't bother trying to come up with a reason. "Are you here about George?"

Kingsley nodded as he brushed the dirt from his robes. "Your mother must still have that clock of hers."

"Did he blow something up? Someone up? What happened? Is he ok?" Ron prodded impatiently.

"He's safe," said Kingsley, infuriatingly enigmatic. Safe. For all that meant, George was alive but sentenced to a life in prison for Ron knew not what. Safe now. Did that mean he was unsafe before? What had George done? Ron was bursting with questions, but didn't feel he knew Kingsley well enough to feel entitled to answers. "He's not in extreme trouble either, all things considered. As for all the circumstances, I'd prefer to only tell it once. Would you like to get your parents?"

The thought of waking his brittle mother to this made Ron feel a tremble in his gut.

"I'll get Dad. Mum, she… she needs her sleep after everything..."

Kingsley nodded in agreement, following Ron into the house as he unperturbed the door and snuck upstairs to wake his father.

It was an odd sensation to sneak into his parents' room for the first time in many years. Suddenly vibrant memories of sneaking in to cuddle between his parents, and finding other siblings hogging the bed struck him as he opened the door. No matter how many kids were in their bed, they always made room for more. If they had to, they'd spell the bed wider to accommodate everyone. No one was ever turned away, no matter what.

Part of him wanted to curl into the bed and have his mum hold him and tell him all his nightmares were rubbish, there were no monsters, and everything was ok. He couldn't do it, of course. Besides the fact that he was an inch or two shy of six and a half feet and eighteen years old, he knew monsters were very real and all his nightmares were rooted in horrid memories. There also was the fact that his mother was in an incredibly fragile state, one he'd never imagined he could see her in. If anything, he should be the one holding his mum.

As gently as he could, he shook his father's arm. His dad immediately opened his eyes, but was slow to sit up, so as not to jostle the bed.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, fumbling a bit for his glasses.

"It's ok. Don't wake Mum. I need you to come downstairs. Kingsley's here," said Ron, keeping his eye on the form of his mother, hair in long braid, as she usually did for bed. She'd done that since he could remember.

His father quickly followed him, putting on a dressing gown as they went down the dark narrow hallway. Dad did the same practiced look at the family clock and gave a gasp.

"George is fine, Arthur, but that's why I'm here," said Kingsley, his voice instantly calming. "George has been arrested for apparating under the influence to the top of Tower Bridge."

"THE Tower Bridge?" Arthur spluttered, looking aghast. "There could have been hundreds of witnesses!"

"He did it so late at night that we were quite lucky. Only one person actually saw him Apparate up there and they've been Obliviated. He was seen by many other Muggles on the bridge, but they didn't see him do any magic. They called it into the Muggle police reporting there was a man on top of the bridge, and they were concerned he was a jumper— "

Dad hissed in response. For an instant Ron almost laughed. They couldn't possibly think George was going to kill himself, could they? The very thought was mental!

Someone that young wouldn't opt for death. George was only twenty— far too young for anyone to contemplate dying… But life and death decisions were the sorts everyone had been making the past few years. You could be vibrant and laughing one moment, then a lifeless corpse under a pile of debris the next. Ron could practically smell the pulverized stone, and hear Percy's wails as he held Fred. His corpse had more joy on its face than George did now.

The more he thought about it, the more terror gripped at Ron. Suicide didn't seem that far outside the realm of reality. His brother had shut down and withdrawn from everyone. The few times he'd allowed anyone to see him, which was only in Muggle places like his hotel lobby or nearby restaurants, he'd been all bloodshot eyes and dark dull looks.

George very well could be that bad off.

"He… he wasn't going to jump, was he?" Ron asked, his voice small and childlike, despite its timbre. He felt his ears turn red.

"I really don't know. He was arrested on the spot by a pair of patrol officers from the M.L.E.S. —

Magical Law Enforcement Squad," said Kingsley before turning to Dad. "I'll do everything I can to keep news of this getting around, Arthur, but I can only do so much. He still needs to be bailed out."

"Of course," Dad somberly said, dazedly turning to the stairs. "I'll… I'll just put on some clothes… I'll let Molly sleep until I know more."

"I'm coming too," Ron insisted. The thought of sitting and waiting for news at home left a clawed out pit in his stomach. He'd done enough waiting around for shitty news the past year.

"You don't need to," Dad weakly protested.

"I want to. I'm up and dressed already, and… and I won't be able to rest until I see him and know he's ok."

His father nodded in assent. Ron was glad no one had thought to ask why he was up and dressed in the middle of the night. He hadn't expected them to. Most people's odd habits were rather accepted after the war, probably because everyone was too spell shocked to take the time to notice other people and do anything about it.

He'd thought at the end of the war he'd feel relief and happiness; that he'd finally be able to smile and celebrate. So many magical folk were in that boat now. The few papers he'd looked at had smiling faces, victorious ticker tape celebrations in Diagon Alley, and people thrusting mugs into the air to toast The Boy Who Lived, victory, and whatever rubbish made people happy.

Ron had crumpled the newspapers and set them on fire the day of Fred's funeral.

This must have been what it felt like for the Order after the first war. Yeah, they won— but it felt impossible to celebrate. So many people were dead or worse. People they knew— not some random heroes… Good friends, elves, kids, his brother… All kind, good, brave people who deserved to live.

For the survivors who knew them, it was nothing but funeral after funeral, bearing witness to breakdown after breakdown… How could anyone ever laugh again without the guilt immediately coming in, let alone celebrate? Was it any wonder George was such a wreck? He thrived on laughter before Fred's death. Even on Potterwatch, on the run and Death Eaters on their tails, the twins had been hilarious and clever.

"Did you see George?" Ron asked Kingsley.

"I did, but only briefly," said Kingsley before looking at Ron and seeming to see the hungry desperation for more information. "He was very intoxicated and was dozing in a holding cell. I had him put in his own cell, and there's someone watching him for safety's sake… just in case."

In case of what? In case George actually was 'a jumper' on that bridge? It took everything in Ron's power not to curse out loud. He and Kingsley knew one another, but not all that well and never as peers— and now Kingsley was Minister of Magic. Even if it was the middle of the night Ron didn't think it'd go over all that well to let loose a string of foul fucks, shits and buggers.

"How'd you know about him getting arrested anyways?" Ron asked, trying to distract himself from thoughts of his brother's mental state.

"I made it clear to the law enforcement staff that any notable business to do with the Order of the Phoenix would always need to be brought to me. Apparating to the top of Tower Bridge would count as notable."

"Yeah, that'd just about do it," said Ron with a shake of his head, looking for a quill. He dashed off a note to the family just in case it took a while to get George out of jail. He didn't want them to wake up alarmed at not only George being imprisoned, but Ron and his dad missing as well. He supposed he could have gone up to undo the snoring charm on his bed, but decided to leave it on the off chance he'd make it back before everyone was awake.

Dad was quickly back down the stairs fully dressed, though his thin hair was sticking up as bad as Harry's in the back.

They Flooed to the Ministry, as Apparition directly into any of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement offices was strictly forbidden by those who were not official staff of the department.

It was strangely disconcerting to not be on a deadly mission, undercover, getting his brains hexed out or getting his shoulder splinched. For the past few years Ron hadn't been to the Ministry except to break in. Part of him kept expecting someone to jump out from behind a column to arrest them all. He instinctively had his wand out until Kingsley gave it a pointed look. He quickly stowed it, his face flushing.

As they went through the Atrium of the Ministry there was a significant blank spot where the disturbing 'Magic is Might' statue had stood. Without people, and without any statue, the Atrium echoed with every footstep they took. They took a golden lift that said in a cool female voice "Level Two, Depart of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

The hairs on the back of Ron's neck prickled as they stepped off the lift. The last time Ron had been in this hallway he'd been Polyjuiced as Reg Catermole, stupidly attempting to make Yaxley's office stop raining. Nerveless clammy hands, so much smaller than his own massive ones, had shakily held his wand. If he hadn't been able to get that damned office to stop raining he could have ended up being responsible for the imprisonment, and perhaps even death, of Mary Cattermole. Then, just when he thought his day couldn't get more mad, his Dad had stepped into the lift.

Tension and relief had become so intermingled that he didn't know which he was feeling. For the smallest moment he had felt the childlike impulse to run up and hug his Dad, babbling about how fucked up everything was, to have his level-headed father fix it all. He'd know what to do about the Cattermoles, Yaxley, the Horcruxes— all of it!

It could have been the last time he ever saw his father. Between him, Harry and Hermione, Ron knew he was the one who would most likely die on their mission given his track record. If he could at least give his dad one last hug or find out the family was all ok… But there was no doing any of that. If he fucked up, he could get Harry and Hermione killed. He could doom everyone by being an overly emotional tit. He hadn't dared to look his father in the eye. If he had started, he didn't think he would have been able to stop from openly staring and trying to drink in one last look at his Dad. No, it had been be so much safer to just stare at his shoulder and get the fuck away as soon as he could. So Ron had avoided his father's gaze, gave his thanks for the Charm help, and darted off from the elevator, not sparing a backwards glance.

"We'll be going to the M.L.E. Court and Justice Center," his father said, bringing Ron back to the present.

With a shake of his head, he made himself focus up. The war was over. He didn't have to worry about any more 'this may be the last time I see you' moments. At least he hoped so. He had his Dad right at his side, in the same corridor, and he could say or do whatever he needed to. After all, Ron had survived all that stupid shit, somehow— others hadn't. He didn't even know if the Cattermoles were alive… and he hadn't thought of them in months. What a selfish sod he was.

Not far down the corridor was the 'Magical Law Enforcement Court and Justice Center', behind a large pair of oaken doors adorned in ostentatious carvings of medieval looking witches and wizards in various noble poses levitating scales of justice. It opened into an equally fine marbled room with many doors to courtrooms, offices and more, empty of everyone but a lonely old mustachioed guard nodding off in the corner.

Going through a door that read 'Prisoner Detention and Processing Center' the feeling was instantly different. The long arched dark-bricked room felt almost intentionally grubby, with rickety wooden seating screwed into the cheap tiled floors. At the back of the room were a series of formal wooden counters, all empty save a few exhausted-looking officials. Next to them sat a giant metal door that more resembled a Gringott's vault.

The rest of the sad-looking room looked like it could use a good scrubbing. Along the wooden rows of seats sat a few tired individuals filling out forms or listlessly staring at vault-like door for a loved one to finally be let free from jail. There was one young woman with three sleeping children piled around her as she filled out her form.

Ron accidentally caught her eye and gave a tight smile of acknowledgement. She gave a gasp and stared at him with wide eyes, seemingly recognizing him. For someone who barely was recognized by his own professors at school it was an odd sensation to have a stranger stare at him so. But then Ron realized he was with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic. That must have been it, then. She was actually looking at Kingsley. Giving a wry smile at his own folly, he followed his father and Kingsley to the counter.

The surly paunchy woman sitting behind the counter sat up and gave a similar gasp as soon as she saw them.

"Mr Minister, sir!" she spluttered, sitting up high in her seat as a few purple forms flew out from around her. "H-how can I help you, sir?"

"We're here regarding a Mr. George Weasley. I'd like him processed for release as quickly as possible."

"Oh, yes, of course!" she said, gathering some forms and putting them on a clipboard with a little inkwell and quill at the top. She gave Kingsley a smile, but it had an unnatural set to it, as if she wasn't very used to smiling at all.

The packet of forms she'd gathered was formidable, and Ron could see his father looking at it with grim determination.

"Maybe I can help fill them out," said Ron, looking it over.

His dad shook his head and pointed to the top of the form— they had to be filled and signed by whoever was helping post the bail, and only them.

"Why don't Ron and I get us all some tea?" Kingsley offered. Having nothing better to do and feeling utterly useless, Ron nodded and followed Kingsley out of the processing center and down the hall to Auror Headquarters.

"I've been wanting to have a talk with you," said Kingsley as soon as they entered the hall.

Ron almost looked around him to see if Harry was there.

"We'll be needing your testimony soon for a few Death Eater trials, as well as Harry and Hermione's testimonies…"

"Oh yeah— yeah, whatever you need," Ron hastily said, putting his hands in his pockets to stop himself from swinging them at his side.

"Thank you, we all will appreciate that."

As far as talks go this one seemed rather benign. It was not like he couldn't have just said that on their way to the Detention Center.

They went past a number of cubicles to a small interview room with a cheery window displaying a sunny summer day outside the window, despite it being the middle of the night.

"I think we have a hangover potion somewhere here, too," Kingsley said, looking around the room in a few cabinets. "So, Ron, now that the war's over, do you have some plans for your future?"

Ron wasn't used to attention being on him like this and felt his ears go a bit red. The only thing he could picture in his future was Hermione, but he couldn't very well tell Kingsley that.

"I haven't been thinking much about the future, to be honest. Been more… just surviving, y'know?"

"I do, yes," Kingsley said before giving a low 'aha!' and taking out a small blue hexagonal potion bottle clearly labelled Hollace's Hangover Cure. "I imagine it will take a lot of time and rebuilding before that feeling of 'just surviving' goes away. Not just for us individuals, but our whole world. There's so much work we need to do to stabilize it, and give people faith in the institutions they once took for granted."

"Yeah, well it doesn't help the Ministry's been filled with a bunch of corrupt blood purists and puffed-up cowards," said Ron, going over to the tea station and beginning to make a pot. "At the beginning of the war I thought, 'people wouldn't let all that anti-Muggleborn stuff happen,' but they did. It all fell apart in days."

"The difference is that we now have a real chance to fundamentally improve our departments with better personnel. Most of the blood purists and corrupt individuals are in prison awaiting trial," said Kingsley, taking a seat on the edge of the sturdy oak table. "Of course, this means our government is gutted. The Auror department for example is very depleted, and we will be needing new Aurors to help round up all the loose Death Eaters, and other people who need to come to justice."

Ron nodded along, still a bit uncomfortable being alone with the Minister of Magic, even if it was just Kingsley.

"Making sure all our Aurors are honest men and women, aren't blood purists, and are able to put up with the rigors of the job… It's not easy to find good candidates."

"Yeah, I can imagine."

"A lot of young witches and wizards fancy becoming Aurors when they're young, but put them into battle simulations and they drop out rather quickly when faced with the reality of it. You've been living in those conditions for months on end, so you understand just how gruelling it can be."

''You mean barely making it to the end of the day with four limbs?" Ron said with a snort, giving his bad arm a bit of a stretch. "Yeah, not exactly something I'd recommend to most people."

"Well most people don't have your skill set. Tonks went on for days about your abilities at Harry's removal from his home last summer."

"She did, did she?" said Ron, a sad smile forming as he thought of Tonks and her infectious enthusiasm.

"She and Remus mentioned you'd shown interest in becoming an Auror."

"I… I have… I mean… I did."

Ron swallowed roughly. He didn't remember ever talking it over with them. Then again, most of the adults of the Order never had much to say to him. And he'd certainly never thought he was someone the adults ever discussed when he wasn't around. The only time they seemed to actually consider him was when they asked if he was willing to fly in that Seven Potters debacle the prior summer. Even then he was 'just another Weasley decoy.' Even Fred and George took the piss from him, saying he was just another spare Weasley for the mission.

"Given your experience and skills, I think you'd be a wonderful addition to the Aurors."

Ron's mouth gaped open. "Wha—? Me?"

"Of course."

"But they're… To be an Auror you have to be a true elite. You've got to be great at dueling, smart, a pro at defense," he rambled, going red when he realized he was explaining it to Kingsley, of all people.

Kingsley had an indulgent smile on his face.

"Sounds like your credentials, then. Plus you've probably participated in more battles than some of our current Aurors.''

At one point, not all that long ago, Ron would have beamed at such a comment. He found himself feeling more grim. He didn't like how many battles he'd been in. He wished he could have avoided them all, really.

"Now, I know you were interested in the Aurors before the war, but I wasn't sure if you were you wanting to join because Harry was, or is this a career you were seriously considering for yourself."

All the decisions Ron had made the last seven years seemed to be based around Harry or Hermione. He couldn't think of any of them that were just for him…

"A bit of both, I guess… It's always been Harry and me."

"But if it were just you, would this still be a career you'd want?"

No one had asked him what he wanted before. Not really. The only time he could think of was when he became Prefect and his mother had asked what he wanted as a gift. That had been overwhelming, and it was fairly trivial. This was a whole career!

In his career orientation with McGonagall she'd just sort of skimmed over it, her mouth going tight and an unimpressed look on her face when he said he was considering becoming an Auror. She'd gone off about what he'd need to qualify for it, and by the end of their meeting it seemed like insurmountable odds for him to ever become one. She was quick to let him know that should he fail to acquire high enough test scores, there were plenty of jobs other than Auror he could qualify for… He couldn't think of a single thing he was good at beyond chess, and last time he checked, that wasn't a career option. But here was the Minister of Magic, an ex-Auror, saying he was good enough.

He realized he'd been quiet a long time when the kettle began to whistle.

Kingsley seemed to sense Ron's mind had completely seized, and continued talking as Ron fumbled with the tea.

"So what do you say? You're as battle-ready as anyone and highly trusted— Of course the other side of it is, you've been through quite a lot in the past few years. To subject yourself to any more battles and duels... I'm not saying the Aurors are in non-stop battles, of course, but it can come with the job, and I'd understand if you'd want to steer clear of it."

Ron could walk away and odds were, he'd never have to participate in a duel to the death again. The idea was terribly tempting. He had no fucking clue what he'd do instead, or what he'd be any good for really— but he could take his time and figure it out.

"Are you…" Ron blanched and rephrased. "You're going to talk to Harry about this too."

"Yes. And a few others your age as well, such as Hermione and that Neville Longbottom. Really any of the of-age students who participated in the Battle of Hogwarts and survived it would be excellent candidates. But you, Harry and Hermione truly are the elite, in my opinion."

Harry he knew was destined for this, no matter how much Ron wished his friend would stay out of danger— that just wasn't him. Neville was never someone he'd have thought of for the Aurors, but he'd more than proved he had the grit for it. Hermione… Ron hated the idea of her stepping into danger ever again. She had just as much ability as anyone, and had been fighting right alongside Ron all those years— but he still thought of her as an innocent somehow who wasn't as hard and fucked up as him and Harry, or even Neville.

"Maybe you shouldn't ask Hermione," Ron found himself saying out loud.

Kindsley's eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

Ron flushed, knowing he'd overstepped. She'd hate him for saying something like that to Kingsley. "She's brilliant, of course, and could be an amazing Auror, but it's not what she's meant to do… She's meant to— to change the world or something. She could organize and set up the whole Ministry better than anyone, save house elves… You know, stuff like that."

"You'd prefer her safely behind a desk."

"Merlin's balls, yes!" Ron blurted before he could stop himself. "Sorry… Yes…"

"You can curse with impunity in my company," Kingsley said with a laugh, before sobering. "I'll still put forth an invitation to her for the Aurors, but I do agree— her particular skill set would do very well on the bureaucratic side of things."

"That's all I'm saying," Ron said, hand defensively raised. "I mean, of course I want to keep her away from all the action as much as I can. In the end she'll do what she wants and I'd never stop her, but really she'd be so much happier doing law-makery things and getting to use that big brain of hers. She's just not meant to be out there dodging curses and dealing with all that shit out there!"

"Are you?"

Ron hesitated.

He was so tired… but there was so much that needed to be done, so many people that needed to be hunted down so Muggleborns like Hermione could be safe. Harry would never stop, and Ron didn't think he could either, not yet at least. Thinking critically on his skill set, and not letting his insecurity rule the decision, he probably could hold his own as an Auror. Enough to watch Harry's back at least.

"Been doing my fair share of it for about seven years now… what's a few more?" he said with a shrug before his eyebrows shot up. "I haven't got any NEWTs though!"

"I'm temporarily relaxing those requirements."

"Then yeah… I'm in."

"You don't have to commit yourself now, of course. This is an important decision and I want you to take all the time you need."

Ron nodded, but his mind was already made up.

"We'd need to do just a bit of training so you're familiar with laws and everything before you're fully qualified. About seven months or so for those of you who qualify for the abbreviated training, but deputy Aurorship could start as soon as a week from now. I have some paperwork about it all to send to you, Harry and the others. You can expect it in the next day or so."

"Thanks."

With Ron's future decided, they made their way back to the Processing Center with hot tea in hand.

They found his Dad sitting where they'd left him, but he was missing the clipboard of paperwork.

"Almost done?" asked Ron.

"They're processing him. Should be done any minute," said his Dad with a wan mirthless smile. Everyone in Ron's family seemed to be a master of this smile: a 'things are fucked— what can I be but polite, and give you the worst shitty close mouthed grimace of an upturned mouth there is' smile.

"I'll see if I can hurry things along before I leave," said Kingsley, putting the hangover potion on the seat beside Ron.

His Dad thanked Kingsley, who gave a nod and went to talk to the same woman as before.

"You two were gone a while," said Dad, reaching a freckled hand over to take tea from Ron.

"Yeah, Kingsley wanted to talk to me…" Ron leaned over in his seat to put his elbows on his knees. "He asked me to join the Aurors."

His father's eyes widened a bit, but that was the only indication of surprise he showed as he took a long pull of tea.

"Did you give him an answer?" he hesitantly asked.

"I told him yes."

His Dad nodded before closing his eyes and sitting back to rub his fingers under his glasses.

"You think I should've turned him down?" Ron asked, suddenly uncertain.

"No… No, I wouldn't expect you to do that," said his Dad, giving a shake of his head.

"You wouldn't? Cause I considered it…"

"No," he said simply, taking another long sip of tea. That same tight smile was back on his Dad's face, making Ron's stomach feel cold and heavy.

"Why?"

"Because out of all my children, you are the one who always runs headfirst after danger if you think it might help someone."

Ron gave him an incredulous look. "All of us Weasleys are like that…"

"Well we all face danger head on when it comes at us, and do our part to help a righteous cause, but you? You're the one Weasley who's been chasing adventures down since the age of eleven."

"I've not!" Ron protested, feeling a rush of anger. He wasn't some adrenaline junky or glory hound. "Who the hell wants to do and see all the stupid bloody things I have? I'm not out there 'adventuring for fun' or whatever. If I never saw another bit of action again, it'd be fine by me!"

His dad had a rueful look on his face. "I should've phrased it better. It's not about you seeking out adventure to satisfy a selfish urge . It's about doing what's right. If there's the wildest hope some action of yours will help, you put your life on the line to do it. Sometimes I wish it was someone else's child who would step up instead, but…"

"Other people's children are stepping up," said Ron, thinking of people like Harry, Hermione and Neville.

His Dad gave a sigh and put a hand to the back of his neck. He looked so weary and aged, and so very tired.

Ron hated that he'd made his dad's night even worse. "M'sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be sorry!" his Dad said with a small smile. "You should be proud of yourself! Being offered Aurorship when you haven't even graduated from school? It's quite an accomplishment."

He wasn't so sure. The bracing talk from Kingsley seemed to be fading, and the nerveless anxiety of not being enough wormed its way to the surface. After all, Kingsley was offering the position to tons of people.

"You've done so much," said Dad.

Ron gave a shake of his head and stared at his trainers. He'd barely scraped out of the war alive, and had a long list of failures: leaving the hunt, almost killing Harry, failing to save Hermione at the Manor, failing to save Fred. He failed so much and so many people.

"I'm very, very proud of you, Ron," said his father, hand clapping hard onto Ron's scarred forearm. Ron looked up from his hand to see his father had tears in his eyes.

Ron had never had his Dad look him in the eye and say something like that before. Sure, he'd congratulated him a couple of times, said he loved him and such. This was very different from those times. There were so many unsaid things in his father's look. There was a world-weary sadness shining in his father's eyes - fierce pride, fear for everything Ron had faced before, would face in the future, and so much fatherly love.

Ron felt his eyes prick with tears, and he had to look away to keep them from falling.

"Can't blame me for hoping you'd retire from danger, can you?" his Dad said, with a sniff.

Ron gave a short laugh.

"I'll be careful… I really will," Ron said, though he knew it wouldn't do anything to calm his Dad's worries.

"I know," his father said before slumping in his chair. "Oh, your mother is going to be a wreck…"

The two of them groaned at the thought.

Ron wasn't sure if she'd be proud or worried sick. Both? Either way he was fairly certain she'd be crying and screaming about it. He wasn't looking forward to that.

The sudden loud clanking of the metal door opening made them both stand up. A very scruffy looking George stumbled forward, not looking either of them in the eye as he approached, an M.L.E.S. officer at his side. He swayed a bit, and stank of alcohol and body odor. He'd looked awful coming through the door, but this was nothing compared to up close. Ron hadn't seen him in a week, and he doubted George had showered or shaved since he'd seen him last. Even at the end of the battle, completely encrusted in gunk and debris, George had looked better than this.

"Well, Mum always thought we'd end up in jail," George said with a humorless smile. Ron winced at his use of 'we.' George hadn't completely stopped using 'us' and 'we' since Fred died, and every time he slipped up it hurt.

"You two able to take him from here?" the officer asked, looking thoroughly done as George patted him on the shoulder and gave him a goofy smile.

"Yes, I signed the paperwork. We'll take him home," his Dad answered. The officer quickly extracted himself from George's grasp, straightened his uniform, and went back through the door. "Let's go home, son."

"Fat fucking chance," said George, before he let out a creaky wheezing laugh that sounded so foreign and callous, Ron couldn't believe it'd come from his brother. "Morning, Dad."

"Yes, what a wonderful morning it is," their Dad said, fixing George with a withering glare that made Ron step back.

George stupidly blinked at him, before giving another cackle.

"And Ron! You're here too! It's a fucking family re-nunion. Onion? Reooonion. That's it. How are you?"

"Spiffing," said Ron with a roll of his eyes. George reached up and put an arm around Ron's left shoulder. The sudden weight of his brother, along with the inches of height difference, made Ron stoop over in an uncomfortable lurch that made his shoulder throb in pain. "Merlin you reek, George."

"'S'no way to talk to your older brother!"

"Let's go," said Dad, putting a hand on George's elbow which he quickly shrugged off.

"D'rather sit in that cell!"

"George, I signed a surety bond that said we'd stay with you until you were sober. The bond keeps you from being able to Apparate or Floo, or even travel at more than five kilometers per hour on your own until you're sober. There's literally no way you can travel on your own right now, aside from walking."

An ugly mutinous look passed over George's face.

"M'not going to the Burrow."

"Then where do you want to go?" asked Dad with more patience than Ron could have managed.

George closed his eyes and swayed so far back that Ron thought he might fall over, but he miraculously kept his footing.

"Dunno," he said, letting out a big sigh. "I can't handle… I don't wanna be home, okay?"

"How about your hotel?" asked Ron.

George leaned back again, and Ron hissed with pain as his brother's weight twisted his arm at a funny angle a second time. The silence went on for a long time before George said, "I dunno…"

George gave another laugh and looked around as if he'd accomplished something.

Ron had to keep himself from throttling his brother.

"We're taking you to your hotel then," said Dad. They limped along with George until they were clear of the Anti-Apparition spells at the Department of Law Enforcement. They simultaneously side-alonged George to his hotel room, where he promptly threw up in the middle of the floor.

The smell of his sick was nothing compared to the smells hitting them from the room. Trays of food were growing mold and had flies surrounding them, molding towels and clothes were all over the room, and it smelled so awful Ron nearly was sick himself. Even half the bed had plates and other detritus on it.

"Oh George…" said Dad looking around the room. He gave a shake of his head and banished the filth from the bed so Ron could lay George down.

"Do you think we can get him into a new room?" Ron asked.

"It is a bit late in the night for that… Plus it's a Muggle hotel, so that complicates payments quite a lot."

Ron looked around the room, realizing how much work it would take to clear it of mess if he was to try and keep the various plates and towels instead of just banishing them all, when he saw the extra door in the room.

"George, where does that door go?"

"Wha'door?" his brother moaned, eyes closed tight.

"The one next to the-the shiny box thingy on the table."

"Telly."

"Yeah, tell me."

George gave a grunt and opened his eyes enough to roll them.

"Box thingy's a telly, sod!"

"Oh it's a tellyvision!" Dad enthused.

"Not now!" Ron gritted out. "The door next to the telly-thingy. It goes to another room, yeah?"

George gave an unhelpful shrug.

"What are you thinking, Ron?" asked Dad.

"I'm thinking we can break into the room next door and put George up there for tonight— meanwhile we can clean up his original room."

"When room service is available we can get some clean sheets and such for this room," Dad replied.

Ron gave a nod and did a Hominum Revelio on the room next door. It was thankfully empty. They unlocked the door and floated George over. Despite his weak protests, he was asleep and snoring away within minutes.

Cleaning the grotesque room was a task akin to the scrubbing of Grimmauld Place, but they found their rhythm, and by the time the sun was close to rising, the room was clean enough that Muggle housekeepers could easily see to clearing away the now spotless dishes and stack of still slightly mildewy, but folded, towels.

Out of anything to do, father and son sat on the end of the semi-clean bed that still needed new sheets.

"Well, that's about as done as we can do until the housekeeping staff is available," said Dad, giving his glasses a polish. "You should probably get back home. I can stay here and tend to George."

"No I'll stay," Ron volunteered. He didn't like the idea of returning to the house with nothing to occupy him, or worse, having to tell his mother what happened to George. "You have to work today, don't you? And I don't have anything."

"I suppose it's best I tell your mother anyways."

"Or maybe we could put off telling her?" Ron asked hopefully. "I mean, she's just now doing okay…"

"It'd be difficult for her to not find out in some way, though," said Dad with a shake of his head. "There's no way I can lie to her about something like this."

"Well, maybe we can put it off until everything with George is a bit more settled?"

Dad gave a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I... suppose. If she hasn't seen the note you left yet."

George chose that moment to stumble into the room, squinting at them.

"Well, I need to get a move on if I'm to retrieve that note before your mother sees it… Going to be a long day," Dad said, giving a low grunt as he stiffly rose.

"Sorry," George mumbled.

"Yes, well, we have a lot to discuss later, don't we?" said Dad, lips forming a tight line, before Disapparating from the room. Ron and George were alone, the latter pale and wincing at the lights of the room.

Ron got the hangover potion from his pocket and handed it to George, who downed it in one go and immediately regained the color in his face.

"Oh that's loads better," he said, standing tall, though still many inches shorter than Ron.

George looked around the room, embarrassed and most likely stunned to be able to see the floor.

"Thanks for cleaning up… getting me and all... "

Ron gave a nod, not quite able to bring himself to look his older brother in the eye. It was easy enough to just go through the motions and clean a room up, but now, just sitting still, it was a lot harder not to feel the dangerous stillness in the room, or to ignore how wrecked George looked.

He imagined his brother on top of the bridge, drunkenly swaying on the edge. His throat tightened until he could barely swallow. He wanted to ask George about it. Wanted to push him against the wall and tell him what a sorry sod of a brother he was, and drag him back to the Burrow. Or just hug him tight and beg him to be ok.

"You — you need some tea," Ron mumbled, looking about the room for a kettle, and willing his eyes to stay dry. Spying a plastic kettle in the corner, he waffled about with the unlabelled buttons on it, but nothing happened. It took a lot of prodding before he realized it wasn't plugged in. "And you need a shower. You smell like a troll."

"Of the two of us, at least I don't look like one," George replied with a frown.

"I can get us some food and tea while you're showering," he said, ignoring the dower look on George's face. "How do I do that room service thing?"

"With the phone— but I'm not wasting my time trying to teach someone thick as you how to use it."

"I know how!" Ron answered back, more curtly than he intended, taking the phone off the receiver. It had been years since he'd touched a phone, but all the loud sounds he'd detested then were the same with this phone. It made the familiar horrid tone in his ear. This one didn't have the dial of numbers like the one he'd used in Ottery St Catchpole, just plastic buttons. "What's the number?"

"Zero..." said George, looking at him with a scrutinizing look. He sat down heavily beside Ron. "When'd you learn to use a phone?"

Ron put his hand over the receiver. "Like four years ago. Hermione and I practiced using the phone every summer since third year."

Ron pressed the zero button, and the phone made a sound signaling a connection was in progress. A clipped female voice answered.

"Here at Crandon Inn, your comfort is our pleasure—"

George did a wanking gesture as the woman said pleasure. Ron worked hard to swallow a laugh and keep his composure.

"Er, yeah, I need to order— " Ron began, but the voice on the other line barged ahead.

"To speak with the front desk press 1. To speak with guest services press—"

"When did all this 'phone practice' take place?" George asked. "I know we would have taken the mickey for calling Hermione every summer. How'd you keep it from us?"

"You never paid attention to me," Ron said shortly, putting the phone back to his ear.

" — ning press five. For travel accommodation services press—"

"I've always paid very close attention," said George. "At least when there was something as juicy as 'phone practice with Hermione' to make fun of."

"To speak with billing press seven. To speak with maintenance press eight."

"What button do I press for food?" Ron stage whispered to his brother who was smirking.

"I thought you said you knew how to work a phone."

"I do! I missed the number because you've been talking nonstop! Which number?"

"Press nine."

Ron pressed nine.

"Here at Crandon Inn, your comfort is our pleasure. To speak with the front desk press 1. To speak with guest services press 2."

Ron pressed the button again, but all the menu did was repeat itself.

"Are you sure it's nine?"

"Yeah," George said with raised eyebrows. "At least I think it's nine for food."

"You had a million plates in here! How do you not know the number by now?" Ron groused.

"Press nine again. It should work."

"Here at Crandon Inn, your comfort is our pleasure. To speak with the front—"

"It's just repeating itself again."

"Are you sure you pressed nine?"

"Yes!"

Ron pressed nine a few times for emphasis.

"Here at Crandon — Here at Crandon — Here at Crandon — Here at Crandon Inn, your comfort is our pleasure. To speak with the front desk press one."

"Once more. With feeling!" George said wearing, a broad smile on his face, leaning over to press the button for Ron.

"Oh you arsehole! Fuck off before I hex you!"

Ron gave a scowl and aimed an ill-aimed punch at George. Even in his dehydrated state, George was able to easily dodge him and scamper to the bathroom, a grin on his face.

"You better be showering in there, because you've been making my eyes water!"

It wasn't until the water was running, and food was ordered, that Ron realized he'd seen his brother genuinely smile with mischief in his eyes for the first time in a month. It was irksome that George acting normal meant Ron was a target for teasing, but he'd much rather that than any alternatives.

The food arrived, as well as new sheets, by the time George had finished his long shower.

George had little to say as he began his meal at the desk, so Ron sat across from him on the bed and went off for a while about what he'd been up to at the Burrow as well as his and Kingsley's chat.

"So you're going to be an Auror?" George asked rather quietly.

Ron gave a shrug. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Well at least I have three years to get used to it... That's how long the training is, yeah?"

"Usually, but… He's cutting it all short. I'd be a Deputy Auror in a week or so as soon as I fill out all the paperwork. Full fledged Auror in like seven months."

"But— But you're only seventeen!" George spluttered, dropping his egg-laden fork.

"Eighteen," he replied, warily eyeing his brother.

George abruptly pushed his chair away from the desk and paced to the window. He wrenched open the curtains and stared at the view, his arms crossed.

"Why you?" George rasped out, before turning around to glare at Ron. "Like, why the fuck would Kingsley ASK you?"

Ron's fist clenched, and the cold uncertain feeling swam its way down from his stomach to his feet.

"You're only a kid! He can't be serious! You've only just barely survived this stupid bloody war, and he's trying to put you on the front-line again, and doesn't even have the decency to properly train you!"

"He said he reckoned I'm— I'm good enough given what all I've been up to…" Ron muttered, feeling his earlier confidence shattering under George's acerbic gaze.

"And you! You stupid wanker, you said yes!" George swore, kicking over a chair before giving the wall a hard punch that left a dent in it.

Ron didn't dare move from the bed as he watched his brother's furious reflection in the window. He wished his own senses would flood with anger at the insination he was basically curse fodder. He wished he had a ready defense of his abilities and that he could proudly state 'of course Kingsley chose me, I'm fucking amazing.' There was nothing but roiling uncertainty and hurt washing over him. He couldn't be mad and couldn't defend himself with conceit he didn't feel at all entitled to. Would it be this way with everyone he told of the Aurorship? Them mourning him as a lost cause or raging at him because they knew he'd fail?

"Do you want me to go?" Ron asked, carefully rising from the bed. George didn't make a sound, but turned and strode towards him, the same raging look on his face. Ron flinched, readying himself for a blow that never came. Instead he found his ribs crushed into an embrace. Shocked, it took a moment for Ron to free his arms enough to hug his brother back.

"You better keep yourself safe," George mumbled into his shoulder, his hold painfully tight.

"Course," Ron swallowed.

George finally broke the embrace, but kept a hand firmly clamped on Ron's shoulder, finally looking him in the eye. "I mean it."

"I know," Ron said, his voice tight.

"Blimey… An Auror… And you didn't even finish school!" George said, a small smile on his face. "Become Ronnie the War Hero and they just offer you the prestigious jobs, hmm? "

Ron looked to the ground, blanching at the title of hero.

George elbowed Ron in the side a bit. "I might not be as heroic as you, but maybe I can finagle an attaché position or something."

"Kingsley's offering it to anyone who fought at the Battle of Hogwarts and is of-age. I'm nothing special."

"Oh c'mon, Ron," said George, giving a roll of his eyes.

Ron just stared at him. There was nothing to say. They both knew it was true. Ron might have stood beside a lot of special people, but there was absolutely nothing special about him.

"Want to show me how this tellything works?" Ron asked, walking to the box and tapping on some of the buttons that didn't seem to do anything.

"Naw, I'm knackered," said George, taking his wand and spelling his fist print out of the wall. "I'm just going to sleep last night off. You should go home and get some sleep yourself."

"I'm fine, I can stay."

"To watch me sleep?" George asked, before crossing his arms. "Or are you just wanting to play babysitter?"

Ron didn't have a proper answer for that, and knew his worry was showing on his face.

"I'm fine, Ron."

"Then why'd you go to that bridge?" Ron hoarsely asked. He hadn't really meant to say it. He didn't want to push his brother too far.

"I dunno. I was pissed," said George in a hardy sort of voice. He tousled a hand through his hair before giving a forced smile. "Had a right nice view, didn't it?"

Ron didn't smile back, and his brother's expression faded into a hard look.

"You'd better get back to the Burrow, before Mum worries," said George. He sat on his bed and turned out the lights with a flick of his wand, leaving the open window curtain the only light in the room. "Get yourself some real food instead of this hotel muck."

"You could come round and have some real food too."

George bit his lip before giving an uttered, "Maybe…"

Ron stood frozen. "You won't do last night again, will you?"

"You mean get pissed as all fuck? Yeah I imagine I will," George bit out, but his expression softened when he looked at Ron again. "Not doing it anytime today, though. I'll… just be here."

That had to be good enough.

Ron leaned down to give his brother a hug that was lightly returned.

"Now fuck off, I need to sleep." said George, giving him a flash of teeth and a punch to the arm.

Ron closed the window curtain to enclose the room in darkness, and Apparated to his room at the Burrow.

The bed was still arranged to look like he was asleep in it with the snoring spell sawing away in a passable imitation. He stopped the snoring spell, put his wand on the bedside dresser, pushed the blankets out of the way, and stripped down to his boxers. As he laid down he felt his whole body sag with relief to finally rest a bit.

He had just begun to pull his covers into place when the door quietly opened.

"Oh good, you're awake!" Harry had a tenuous smile on his pale face. He was looking rather relieved and in need of cheering. As tired as Ron was, and as much as his body protested, he sat up and gave a squinty eyed smile in return.

"Yep, I'm awake!" Ron tried to enthuse.

"We put some breakfast aside for you with a warming charm," said Harry, sitting on the camp bed.

"Cheers," said Ron with a nod.

"I think this was the first time you've had a lie-in since last summer. Makes things feel a touch more normal."

Ron gave a distracted hum and grabbed the jeans he'd just been wearing moments ago, jerking them on to avoid Harry's gaze.

"Ginny thought it might do us some good to leave the house a bit today."

"Sounds good. You haven't been out of the house except for funerals and Hogwarts rebuilding," said Ron, looking about for the shirt he'd been wearing earlier.

"And you've not left here except to see George last week…" Harry added, speculatively eyeing him. "So maybe we could all go out somewhere."

"Yeah fine."

Ron finally spied his shirt. It was wadded up in the low-ceilinged corner just beyond Harry's camp bed and knelt down to retrieve it.

"Maybe we can all go down to the village?" asked Harry.

Ron's voice suddenly felt strangled. "The village?"

A skittering frenzy of fear lapped at him. His fists clenched and he rose so sharply he immediately bashed his head against the ceiling with a horrible crash that left him seeing stars.

"You okay?" Harry asked with a laugh, giving Ron's back a pat.

A chill went up his spine at the touch on his back. He quickly lurched away from it, nearly punching out at Harry, but covered the action by giving his head a rub.

"Yeah, I'm just..." Ron managed to let out, tightly gripping his shirt and willing himself not to freak out because he'd been touched. "Just too bloody tall for this room."

"You're too bloody tall in general," said Harry, a grin on his face. "If not the village, we could play Quidditch or see how the Lovegood's rebuild is coming?

"Quidditch sounds good," Ron answered, putting his shirt on and hoping he sounded casual. Harry idly chatted about what he'd been doing that morning, giving no mention of George or Ron's mum. Dad must have gotten back in time to get rid of the note. Even if he was entirely sleep deprived Ron felt immense relief that he wouldn't have to deal with that business anymore for the day. [NEXT CHAPTER]

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AN: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please let me know w/ your words! :)

[star-birthmark]

Just Ask Him (A BruAbba Fic)

Merry Christmas everyone! Though I don’t personally celebrate it, I wish everyone the best on such a beloved holiday! 

Here is my piece for @jjba-secret-santa. Of course, I just had to get my idol @headoverjojo to write for, but Tricia, I hope you like what I wrote, especially since I never do ship fics lmao. 

But without further ado: Just Ask him: A BruAbba Fic (3.1k words)

Snow began in the early evening to cascade over the city of Naples. The roads were being paved, shops were closing for the night, and the humble citizens were retiring to their families and friends. The city was calming down, lulled to sleep by the falling snowflakes and the smell of hot coffee and freshly baked cookies. Libeccio was no different, Narancia was becoming drowsy after coming back home from a mission, Fugo was finally able to set his book down out of fatigue, Mista was trying to get comfortable in his chair, the three of them watching Leone pace back and forth in front of the table, the four of them all waiting for Bruno to get back from a meeting with Don Giovanna. The air in the room was heavy, each mafioso nervous at the outcome of Abbacchio’s leap of faith. 

“It’s not a big deal man. Just tell him, don’t freeze up like that time. It’ll all go well.” 

Abbacchio growled. “Easy for you to say, you don’t even have a boyfriend to propose to.”

Mista pouted at the insult but Fugo was still able to smile at his friend’s expense. 

“I think it’s beautiful Abbacchio. I bet Bruno will ask you himself one day, but it’s inspiring to see you take life by the horns and work to propose to him yourself. You know, if I think about it, it’s almost sort of like something you’d seen in one of those romantic novels.”

Narancia looked over at Fugo, nodding vigorously at the comparison. “Hah! You’re so right! A fallen, broken person finds their hope in their own little beacon of light, and together they ride off into the sunset-”

“Fugo, Narancia. Can you both please shut the fuck up, you’re making me nervous. I’m gonna do it, it’s not a big dea-”

Abbacchio was soon cut off by the door opening, the four of them turning to see Bruno briskly walk in, his movements fast and stressed. Abbacchio opened his mouth to speak but Bruno walked right past him, sitting at the table and slamming down a large stack of papers. Abbacchio nervously combed his hair with his fingers and straightened out his clothes, ready to finally speak his truth to the love of this life. Bruno, the ever-busy capo, however, remained oblivious as always. 

“Hi everyone sorry I’m late. I’ve got a whole new stack of projects for us to do, but if we put our heads together, we can definitely get them done by Christmas. There are some casino troubles near the west side of the city. Fugo that’ll probably go to you.”

Fugo tried to interrupt, to no avail. 

“Buccellati, Abbacchio wants to tell-” 

“A few corrupt figures, Mista that’s yours. Be careful though, I heard some reports from civilians and they all have the people on their side.”

Mista tried to interrupt as well, seeing his senior mafioso fidget in his stance, panicking that they couldn’t grab the capo’s attention. 

“Wait but Buccellati, Abba-”

“Oh don’t worry Mista everything will be fine. I’ll take over a lot of the conciliation and follow-ups on last month’s work. Some investigative work. That can be for Narancia, and hey wait where’s Abbacchio?” 

When the three men at the table pointed behind their capo, the leader turned around to see his boyfriend standing over the table, a nervous smile on his face. The silver-haired man, expecting his love’s usual warm smile in return, was instead meant with the blank, busied face of a capo, oblivious to his boyfriend’s feelings. 

“Oh, there you are Abbacchio. Can you join Narancia on some of the investigative stuff? You know, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah sure but there’s somethi-”

“Hey listen I’m so sorry everyone, it’s been a very long day and tomorrow is going to be even longer I bet. I’m really tired is it alright if I head to bed now?” 

“I mean sure but-” 

“Thanks, Mista. Alright, have a goodnight everyone. Abbacchio, I’ll meet you upstairs.” 

Bruno placed a firm hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder before heading up the stairs to the apartment above the restaurant to rest. Abbacchio was left speechless, his eyes twitching in frustration. The radio that had been playing just finished its rotation of Christmas songs and Narancia had come up with an idea, beginning to snicker. Mista looked over at him, confused. 

“Hey, Mista I got a good Christmas song to sing, ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack frost nipping at your nose. Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow. And Abbacchio will find it hard to sleep tonight.’” 

The two men broke out into loud laughter, the older goofball practically tearing up as he stood up. “Why the hell were you so nervous Abba?!”

 He turned to Abbacchio, who was giving the two idiots a deadly glare. 

“Can it morons. I’m just worried that he’ll say no. You don’t gotta go making fun of me.”

He rolled his eyes, heading up the stairs to head to his bedroom with Bruno. 

Even before he became the Don’s second in command, since joining Passione, Bruno Buccellati had always been able to afford incredibly nice, incredibly expensive things. The small private bedroom in the group’s hideout in Naples was no exception. The moment Abbacchio opened the door to their bedroom, he felt his breath hitch in his throat as it always did. The crisp black and white palette of the room was so incredibly Bruno, yet the touches of gold and purple were so incredibly him. The warm, dim light worked to set the mood between the two partners, even if one of them was still hard at work instead of heading off to sleep. 

Leone worked to quiet his fast-beating heart, rushing over to the dresser to prepare for bed, looking at himself in the large porcelain mirror over the sink. 

“How is everything in Rome? How is Don Giovanna doing?” 

“Everything is fine. Giorno is fine. There’s a Christmas ball in a few nights. And, you can call him Giorno you know?” 

Abbachio rolled his eyes at the other’s short, blunt, busy, answers. While he was washing the makeup off his face, Bruno finally took himself away from his work long enough to notice his boyfriend in front of him. When Leone looked up from the sink, Bruno quickly looked back down, an unspoken awkwardness between the two of them. Abbacchio sighed and soon tugged his long jacket over his head, causing the capo’s eyes to glance up to see his lover’s slim yet strong chest and the little tuffs of silver hair that frame his face coming into view as he took pulled the collar over his head. Bruno smiled before returning to the papers on his desk with a renewed sense of purpose. 

Leone looked down at the ring box that he had hidden away in his drawer and closed the door to it. ‘Not tonight’ he thought, watching Bruno pull his hair out (literally and figuratively) at the work he was doing. Walking towards the light of his life, Abba soon turned to lay in their bed, wishing to give Bruno some space. The tired, nervous grump eyed his dark-haired leader with a quizzical eye. Why the hell does he work so hard? Though he admired the other’s work ethic, the man couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his boyfriend’s refusal to just go to bed.

“Come to bed Bruno… You of all people should know of the importance of sleep.” 

Bruno looked over at his boyfriend with a confused look on his face, before putting the papers aside and rubbing his tired eyes. 

“Why should I know the importance of sleep?” 

Deciding his sleepy love needed some physical assurance, Abbacchio smirked before getting up from the bed and walking behind his capo’s desk chair to encase him in his strong arms. Running his black painted nails over the leader’s chest, Leone made a point to trace his fingers along the lines of his lover’s lacey chest tattoo, not even needing to see it to get the lines right. It was a little tick that the taller man had that calmed both of them down. The fact that the ex-cop had his love’s body so perfectly memorized was a fact that they both relished in. Abbacchio looked down at his capo, an ache placing down on his heart. 

Damn, he loved this man so damn much. 

Raking his fingers through the other’s jet black hair and meticulously undid the other’s hairpins, as well as the braids atop his head, knowing all the actions that made the fierce stand user melt in his chair. Bruno sighed at the calculated touches and soon bit his lip, starting to breathe heavily. 

“Well? Why should I know the importance of sleep?” He muttered nervously. 

Abbacchio smiled. “Because I never let you get any.” 

Now, it was Bruno’s turn to roll his eyes, reaching around to playfully hit the other man’s arm before getting up from his desk. 

“Alright alright, I’ll come to bed. But we both know I’m the one that doesn’t let you sleep. You’re always begging for me so…” Leone pouted his bare lips. 

“Hey, we switch off…” Bruno smiled playfully, removing his suit top before tackling Leone onto the bed. 

“Then let’s see which one… happens… tonight.” 

Leone giggled as he watched his boyfriend’s attempt to dirty talk, only for it to be unfairly disrupted by his adorable yawning. He sighed and held his shorter companion in his arms as the two of them laid in bed together. 

“Alright… goodnight Bruno…” The capo blinked his eyes opened and rubbed Abbacchio’s arm. 

“I swear, I’ll take you out tomorrow night on a date to the Christmas fair. I’m just tired.”

Upon hearing his golden opportunity to propose that next day, Leone chuckled and kissed Bruno atop his head, telling his busy lover that he couldn’t wait.

Slipping the wedding band into the pocket of his overcoat, Abbacchio was just about ready to leave his room, staring at himself in the mirror and nodding. He was ready. He was gonna do it. He was finally going to man up. For Bruno’s sake. 

“Abba! Are you coming?! We need to get presents for everyone!” 

“Coming Buccellati!” 

Rushing down the stairs to join him, the two men soon leave the hideout into the snow-covered streets of Italy. It was Christmas Eve, the city abuzz with activity and the holiday spirit. Bruno, the ever-recognizable figure of the town, received his usual greetings. 

“Merry Christmas Signore Buccellati!” 

“Have a splendid holiday Buccellati!” 

“Buccellati! How about you join us for a drink? We’d be honored to spend a bit of the holiday with you!” 

Bruno courteously waved back to them all, until he was stopped in his tracks as his partner’s hand grasped his, their fingers snaking together. Bruno looked up to see Leone’s cheeks redden in jealousy. Abbacchio frowned. Sure, Bruno had an image he needed to upkeep, but it hurt that none of the people were acknowledging him. They knew his name as well. 

Bruno giggled a bit. “Jealous, Abba?” 

Leone grumbled until his gaze was directed towards the other’s ocean blue eyes. Bruno held his boyfriend’s face in his hands, stroking the other man’s sharp-angled cheekbones and jaw as if to soften them just as he softened the mafioso’s hard, tough interior. 

 “You know I love you, Leone… So much.” 

Just then, the snow began to come down harder than before, covering the two lovers in a white, wintery veil under the haze of the night. Bruno leaned up and brought his lips to Abbacchio’s, helplessly grabbing the other’s coat to remain at the taller man’s height. His lipstick painted lips smiling longingly, Moody Blues’ user wrapped his arms around Bruno, lifting him slightly off the ground. Bruno screamed from the change in altitude, causing them both to laugh, then give each other another short peck on the lips. 

Leone stared down at the love of his life. Bruno Buccellati… with his dark hair and hat covered in the white snow. With his red scarf wrapped tightly around his head to keep his sensitive ear warm, but still left a window open for his adorable freckles. With his bright eyes and even brighter smile. With his caring view of others, his willingness to protect, to be the light for others in the darkness. 

Leone gulped, he didn’t deserve him. 

Bruno shifted on his feet nervously as the young couple held one another under the heavy snowfall. The silence was bothering him. 

“Is everything alright Abbacchio?” Finally waking up from his thoughts, the taller man quickly nodded and decided it was time. 

“Everything is amazing Buccellati. I want life to be like this fore… ver.”

With a metaphorical punch to the gut, Bruno’s cell phone rang in his coat pocket, instantly grabbing the capo’s attention. Abbacchio closed his eyes, the interruption cutting deep as Bruno was pulled away from the moment again. Watching his boyfriend turn from a loving man to a calculating capo, Abbacchio soon became walking away and heading into one of the shops, wanting to clear his head. Bruno watched him leave, frowning deeply as he listened to his associate speak over the phone, his hand reaching into his pocket and taking a golden ring out, inspecting the initials of BB and LA engraved into the material. Bruno sighed, upset he had missed his chance. 

- - - - - - - -

The music gracefully flowed over the entire banquet hall, the food was being served, and secret negotiations were being made. There they were, all of Passione’s elite at Don Giovanna’s party, enjoying the immense wealth that the underground had bestowed upon them. Giorno sat in the front of the room, heavily guarded by his teammates and friends. The room, one that the Don had dubbed his second choice, glimmered with a golden sheen in the moonlight that evening. Flowers that Giorno had created himself adorned each table, as well as the perimeter of the dance floor, where the capos and other leaders were seen dancing with their partners. Everyone looked stunning. A song soon ended, with Bruno finishing his third courtesy dance with someone other than his own partner. A partner who was far too anxious to even consider dancing with his boyfriend. Mista watched his friend nervously fidget with his suit, rolling his eyes. The gunslinger watched Bruno walk over to Giorno, the capo nervously looking around the room for this love as he struck up a conversation with the head of Passione. The young blond and the gunslinger shared a glance before nodding, each turning to their respective lovesick friend. 

“Ask him already. He will say yes.” 

Mista asked Leone. Giorno asked Bruno. Both men pacing nervously back and forth, fiddling with their ring, not seeing the other at the other end of the dance hall. 

“Do you know that?” The two men asked. 

“Yes. Just trust me on this.” 

“What if he says no? I don’t deserve Bruno, Mista .”

           “What is he says no? I don’t deserve Abba, Giorno.”

Both friends sighed. “Don’t you love him?”

“...Of course I do.” 

“What do you love about him?” 

Giorno asked, causing Bruno to smile. Abbacchio smiled at Mista’s question. 

“I love how he’s not afraid to be himself.”

          “I love his patience, how he’s so willing to help me through all my dark                 times.” 

“I love his stubbornness. I love how he never backs down from a fight.”

          “I love his loud laugh when something is really funny.” 

“I love how amazing he looks in makeup.” 

          “I love how peaceful he looked waking up in the morning.”

“I love when he cooks for the two of us. He’s not very good but he tries… For me.”

          “I love when he asked me to be his boyfriend on the shores of Capri.”

                     “I love him. If it were up to me, I’d marry him right now.” 

                    “I love him so much Mista, so much. I need to go ask him.”  

Mista and Giorno both smiled, slapping their friend on the back before pushing the two men to the dance floor, only for the young couple to bump into each other. Both Leone and Bruno stared at each other with a small nervous laugh. Abbacchio gulped before taking Bruno’s hand in his. 

“Can we talk? Out on the balcony?” 

Bruno nodded quickly, pulling Leone along to the balcony of the large estate. The party far away, yet the music still pouring in, Leone moved to speak. 

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Bruno’s eyes widened, the gears starting to turn in his head. “U-um… I have something as well.”

“Oh wait so you go first.”

“No no Abba. I insist.”

“No, really it’s… it’s stupid.” 

Bruno reached up and cupped his lover’s cheek, smiling sweetly. 

“Amore, with you, nothing could ever be stupid. I love you.”

Oh god, he was in love. Throwing caution to the wind, Leone swiftly grabbed the ring box from his pocket and knelt down, the bright moon shining over the city reflecting off the golden ring that he was presenting for his boyfriend. 

“Bruno Buccellati… you’ve made me the man I am today. I’ve grown so much as a person ever since meeting you, and I can only pray that you’ve grown since meeting me. Bruno… Caro… Will you marry me?”

A rush of tears flooded the young capo’s eyes as he vigorously nodded, his words failing him in the time of intense emotion. A giant smile formed over Leone’s face and all worries he had were washed away with the falling snow. Quickly slipping the band on his love’s finger, Abbacchio embraced his better half, his lips crashing down on Buccellati’s. The snow fell and nestled into their expensive clothes and into their styles hair, but neither man could bring himself to leave the other’s lips. When they finally broke for air, Bruno eyed the other’s bright red cheeks through the wispy hair of his bangs. Taking the moment of distraction, Bruno brought the ring out from his own pocket and slipped it on Leone’s finger. Abbacchio looked down at the luxurious ring on his unworthy finger, and his heart fluttered in his chest. 

“Is this what you were going to tell me?” Bruno nodded, his eyes squeezing shut with joy as his whole body was consumed with happiness. 

“You just got to it before I could. I want to spend the rest of my life with you Leone.”

The two fiances embrace under the heavy snowfall, both relishing in the other’s warmth. When they finally arrived back to their table for the meal, the couple found an envelope with a note written out to them. Immediately recognizing their teammates’ handwritings, both men remained embarrassed as they read the word: 

“We knew you could do it. 

To happiness and many years together. 

Merry Christmas you two.”

            - The Don and Friends

[i-guess-im-a-fanfic-writer-now]

hiya, so for today, i’ve got a short fic, about 2000 words. i haven’t mentioned i’m a fan of Doctor Who, but like,,, i fucking love that show, and therefore i have decided to write a little fic where the Doctor comforts reader after a rough day with their relatives on New Year’s Eve,, also in this fic i used he/him pronouns for the Doctor because i’m super queer and i have a massive crush on 13, and i’m thinking of maybe doing something else for a fic with her, idk what i’m doing yet

i hope you enjoy this! also i want all of you to know that my precious cat is sleeping with her face on my head and she is purring so loudly i can barely hear myself think and i love her

i hope you have an okay day today, make sure to take care of you

tw: mentions of physical abuse, some swearing, verbal/emotional abuse?

_________________________

It was New Year’s Eve, and you yet again had no choice but to hang out with your relatives. It usually sucked for the most part. You had no choice but to sit at the table with all of them while they chatted and watched television together, screaming and laughing extremely loudly. You’d have to deal with their views, that were pretty much the opposite of yours.

It was definitely going to go badly, that you knew. You just weren’t sure for how long after it you’d be physically unable to leave your room out of exhaustion from being around your relatives.

The entire morning, everyone was running around, trying to get everything ready. You thought about leaving your room and helping, but immediately rejected the idea, knowing that it would cause you more harm in the long run: being insulted and picked apart for not doing things “the right way” would be a bad way to start the morning.

*I’ll just stay in my room probably. At least for the next couple hours*, you thought, already tired.

You checked a few news headlines and went over to social media, talking to your friends through texts. It lifted your mood a bit.

A few hours later, there was a knock at your bedroom door, and you quickly hid your phone as whoever knocked barged into the room without warning. Pulling your covers over you a bit more, you pretended like this sudden intrusion awoke you, and you sleepily gazed at the person in your doorway.

“Get up, I need your help. It’s noon. Why are you so lazy? Nevermind, just get up already.”

You complied, slowly sitting up. The person left your room in a hurry, shutting the door on their way out.

After getting dressed and going through your morning routine as quickly as possible, you went off to help our relatives with setting up for the night. It was quite hellish: they were yelling and screaming, and insults were being thrown around the room even more aggressively than on normal days. It was really wearing you out and you were already beginning to feel like shit, so every so often, you would go hide in the bathroom to get away from all the madness.

Some hours later, everything was set up, and you went back to your room to calm yourself down. You pulled your phone out of it’s hiding spot and looked through your social media, hoping for some messages from friends. You messaged with a few people, and then decided to send a message to the Doctor, hoping he’d receive it, wherever he was. He’d dropped you off with your relatives for the holidays, and you hadn’t seen him in little over a week now. You really wished you had told him about how your relatives treated you, but you were too afraid to scare him. You were too afraid that he would get angry. What if he got mad at you for not telling him earlier? What if he got mad at them, for how they were acting? And if he did, what would he do about it?

Since you found each other, you’d seen so many worlds, beautiful or horrifying, you’d gone on countless adventures, finding monsters and creatures and people in need of help. He brought you to places with fantastic views, and you sometimes got to relax from all the action that was going on during most of your trips. You loved the action, but sometimes, a nice view, whether it was a sunset on another planet or a supernova seen from the TARDIS, was quite refreshing. The Doctor would stay next to you, speaking of his home planet, Gallifrey, or of the places he’s visited, or of things he’d done in worlds with his previous companions. You enjoyed every second of it. You got to see places that barely any other human had.

After a while, he responded. He was off doing something on his own, and you really didn’t like that. He always got in trouble, and you liked being there to help him out. You liked being there for him, in hopes it would make him feel less lonely. He certainly felt like family to you, real family.

He said he’d be there for you at the end of the day if you needed him, but as soon as you wanted to reply to him, there was a loud bang. Out of sudden panic, you hid your phone again, turning it off before doing so, and sure enough, the same relative barged into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, I’m just relaxing.”

“Shut up and don’t fucking talk back to me. We’re having dinner in a bit, start getting ready.”

They left your room once again. In half an hour, you chose some clothes that you liked and matched well. You put them on and looked in the mirror for a second, making sure your shoulders were relaxed and your jaw wasn’t too clenched.

You left your room, leaving your phone again. You really didn’t need your relatives to know of the Doctor, because if they found out, they’d probably take your phone and prevent you from ever going outside without at least one of them present.

During the dinner, it felt like all your energy was being sucked out by your relatives. Insults were being thrown at everyone, and you just sat there, barely touching your plate after ten minutes of being there. The name calling wasn’t stopping, and your relatives were already acting pretty drunk: yelling, laughing uncontrollably at things that weren’t actually funny, slurring their words in an unusual manner. You were starting to get tired, and excused yourself to the bathroom to relax for a minute or two.

When you got back, they were all watching television, criticizing everyone on the show. You cautiously asked your parent if you could leave and go to your room, and thankfully, they accepted. You excused yourself.

When you got to your phone again, you sent a message to the Doctor, asking if he could park the TARDIS in your room, just for a bit. He accepted, and you hastily asked him to turn off the brakes of his time machine. Moments later, the blue box stood in front of you, and slowly, the doors opened. A familiar face looked out, and you felt so relieved, finally seeing him after all this time.

You jumped off your bed and hugged him tight, him hugging you back even tighter, and in that moment, you felt at home.

“Hi! I missed you, Doctor!”, you said softly, smiling at him. He returned the smile.

“I’d like to show you something. Shall we?”

You nodded, and the two of you walked in, closing the doors behind you. You greeted the TARDIS.

“So, Y/N, how was your day?” He had a cheerful grin on his face, and as much as you hated to bring the mood down, you really couldn’t pretend right now: you just didn’t have this kind of energy.  He pushed a ton of buttons and pulled a lever.

“It, um, honestly.. it kind of sucked. Thank you for coming.”

“What’s wrong?” A concerned expression now rested on his face.

You bit your lip and crossed your arms in a protective stance. “I don’t.. I don’t have the best relationship with my relatives. They can be... intense, sometimes.”

A small moment of hesitation from him.

“What exactly do you mean by “intense”?” He slowly came closer to you.

You looked at the ground and shook your head.

“Y/N, you can tell me. It’s alright.” His voice softened, though his face was still showing worry, and you started feeling guilty about it. Maybe you’re doing the wrong thing, telling him about it. Maybe you should just stay quiet. He’s already got enough to worry about, he doesn’t need to worry about you and your relatives on top of all he was dealing with. 

“I just... it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Clearly not. You said your day sucked. I’m here for you. You know, I always talk about me. Tell me. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His voice was almost down to a whisper, and he gently put his hand on your arm.

“I don’t know.. I, uh, I don’t know if should... if I should tell you. I don’t want to worry you. I don’t want to worry you more.”

“Y/N, what is it? Please. Let me help.”

When you looked at his eyes, he was making those big round eyes of his, as he usually did when he was sad but wouldn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to make you sad. It’s okay, really.” You smiled weakly.

“What do you mean by “intense”? Do they..” A sudden expression of sad realization came across his face. “Do they hurt you?”

Your stomach dropped and you for a while, you didn’t respond. Eventually, you mumbled “It’s okay” again, and he pulled you into a hug. 

“I’ve got you. You can talk to me, you know? You’re my friend. I’ll always be here. If you don’t want to, you’ll never have to go back. Maybe I could.. adopt you? What about that?” He smiled.

“I’d... I think I’d like that.”

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed by as you were still hugging.

“Sometimes.. sometimes they call me names. Like.. like stupid, and stuff like that..”

“They’re arseholes. You’re really smart. And I think you’re pretty fantastic. Why else would I take you with me?”

You smiled. “Thank you, Doctor.” You didn’t really believe him, because it was hard believing nice things about yourself, no matter who they came from, but you knew he wouldn’t lie about this.

“Can I ask you a question?”

You nodded.

“Do they.. do they hit you?” His features softened again, and you could feel your heart skip a beat from the anxiety of telling him about things.

You nodded again, but much weaker.

“I’m sorry. All of that is horrible. None of this is okay. I’ve got you. I’ll always be here. I want you to know that you didn’t deserve any of what they’ve done to you, alright? I want you to know that. Please don’t ever doubt that, Y/N.”

“Thank you.” Your voice sounded more like a squeak at this point, from how quiet it was.

“We’ll figure this out”, he whispered. When the hug ended, he took your hand and led you to the doors of the TARDIS.

“Hey, I wanted to show you something, remember? I thought it might cheer you up a bit.”

When he opened the doors, you could see countless stars, maybe even galaxies. It was beautiful. All types of galaxies were there: spiral, peculiar, irregular, and more. There were so many colours and lights. You’ve always been fascinated by space and stars, which was one of the reasons you’d gone with the Doctor after you met him. His knowledge and appreciation for space always impressed you.

The two of you sat down at the edge of the doors, though you hesitated.

“There’s a shield around the TARDIS, so we can’t fall out.”

You smiled. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“Earth”, he pointed somewhere far away, yet very precise, “is there. See, that galaxy over there? Yeah, that one. Earth is right down there.”

“It’s so small.”

“But it is quite important.” He smiled at you and squeezed your hand gently.

“Yeah.” You put your head on his shoulder. He often let you do that. He even told you it’s comforting for him. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”

“Oh, thank you..” You could tell you caught him a bit off guard. He began pointing out other galaxies, telling you their names, and sometimes told you about some of the planets in the galaxies, of their stars, of those who live there.

You had no idea how long you stayed there, listening to him speak of planets you hadn’t visited yet, of things he’d seen while travelling. After a while, you’d forgotten everything about your relatives. You knew you’d be okay with him. You’d figure it all out and he’d be there, and you would feel at home.

[gwoongi]

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 ✰ dad hoseok

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 jung hoseok / reader genre: parent au, fluff, tiny smol angst words: 2384

“Yeah! So, go and tell the mean kids at school that Pokemon is cool and you can like it no matter who you are! Pokemon has no gender!” Well, Yeojin still didn’t like her Pokemon bedroom but she did still like Pokemon, and Hoseok pretended not to look when she rushed towards Jeongguk on Thursday evening and hugged his waist, telling him how awesome he was because he introduced her to the best show on planet earth, the show with no gender!

a/n: a short side fic for The Honey Project!! bringing back everyones favourite daddy of biology!!!! also happee easter !!! (happy easter everyone! who is it? ITS UR UNCLE....) ((this is sort of inspired by real events!! so before u say its weird...it happened ok.....it happened....kids r weirdos....and they complain about everything))

warnings: baby angst, hoseok being the best dad ever, jung yeojin is a brat

Hoseok thought he was a pretty good Dad.

Everything he had learned about parenthood was either from Seokjin, who had spent at least seventy hours in total on Google looking at websites about how to be the best Uncle- although Dad also applied- to a child that anybody could ever be, and also from his own experience with his Dad. Where his own Dad lacked in family talks and midnight cuddles, Hoseok filled in with Yeojin, a growing bundle of fluffy, curly hair that reached her chin and big doe eyes that Jeongguk claimed were genetically from him, even though that was literally impossible.

His own family, and the unreliable websites Seokjin bookmarked on his University computer, failed to mention how mentally tiring it is to raise a child. At first, neither himself or you had come to realise how hard it would be when the baby you birthed started using words, becoming more vocal about their thoughts and feelings and how it was apparently so annoying for either of you to hug them, or kiss them. You’d heard of teenage angst but not raging-three-year-old-angst. That was new, and certainly something that WikiHow had forgotten to mention.

But Hoseok loved his daughter, even when she threw temper tantrums about being fed carrots or when she screamed at four in the morning because her blanket had slipped through the gaps in her crib. It was definitely a parent thing that nobody understood unless they had mini-me’s of their own. There was nothing in the world that could stop Hoseok from loving Yeojin the way he did. He often sat there, in her bedroom on the floor by her crib with her hands wrapped around his fingers or actually inside the crib, slotted in a curled position with her head of hair on his torso; Hoseok liked to admire the bits and pieces that looked like you, the first love of his life; from the way Yeojin had your longer eyelashes and face shape, with a smile that shone the way yours had on your wedding day, or moments after Yeojin’s birth. Sure, she had features of Hoseok’s but none of those were even comparable to the gorgeous way that Hoseok now had a daughter who looked everything like the woman he fell in love with.

Yeojin, like all children and humans, got older- she grew out of teddy coats bought by Yoongi and out of the crib Hoseok remembered everybody assembling, and gradually the colours of her bedroom turned into phases of her interests. Aged three and she wanted Barbie everything, and both Hoseok and yourself were hesitant to drown the walls in sickly pink and off-whites. Because, you were that age once, and pink is a colour you grow bored of very easily. Aged four and it was her newfound obsession with Pokemon, no thanks to Jeongguk and Jimin stealing her every Friday for Uncle-Bonding-Time, and of course, there had been no complaints when purchasing oversized plushies of Pikachu or cute little outfits of random Pokemon.

Yeojin complained though, when she turned five a year later and decided that Pokemon wasn’t for girls, because some kid at school had laughed at her Pokemon lunchbox and told her she was acting like a boy.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being a boy,” Hoseok had told her, petting her hair in her bedroom and wiping away the sniffles. You came in shortly after with the sacred jar of cookies that Yeojin always tried to reach for in the kitchen, and she reluctantly took a handful. “And, a lot of girls like Pokemon. It’s definitely not just for boys!”

“Yeah! And, what about Misty and Serena, huh? They’re girls,” you offered for input. “I remember watching Pokemon too. Pokemon’s cool.”

Hoseok nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! So, go and tell the mean kids at school that Pokemon is cool and you can like it no matter who you are! Pokemon has no gender!”

Well, Yeojin still didn’t like her Pokemon bedroom but she did still like Pokemon, and Hoseok pretended not to look when she rushed towards Jeongguk on Thursday evening and hugged his waist, telling him how awesome he was because he introduced her to the best show on planet earth, the show with no gender! Perhaps Jeongguk had teared up upon hearing those words, but Hoseok wouldn’t say anything.

“I think I like Harry Potter now,” Yeojin said, five and a half, sitting between Haseul’s legs as her Aunt’s hands threaded through her hair, parting and creating plaits.

“Oh, yeah?” Haseul said, smiling. “Harry Potter’s super cool.”

“Do you like Harry Potter?”

“Yeah. I think he’s a nice guy.”

“Mom likes Harry Potter,” Yeojin continued, playing with a slightly tattered Pikachu toy. “She told me so. And Dad does too, but I don’t think he’s as serious as Mom is. Mom had the robes! They don’t fit me, though.”

Haseul finished her plaits and wrapped her arms around Yeojin. “Well, maybe because Mom and Dad like Harry Potter, if you ask nicely we might be able to go visit Hogwarts this Summer. At Universal.”

Yeojin’s eyes sparkled. “Really?”

Haseul nodded with a grin. “Mhm. I’ll ask Mom for you.”

That’s why Yeojin swore to a secret song of Haseul being her favourite Aunt, because even though Auntie Seunghee took her to see movies and look at animals and let her use her Nintendo Switch when she went to visit, Auntie Seunghee had never offered Harry Potter.

Yeojin picked herself up off Haseul’s bed with a frown, straining to listen out into the house for Haseul’s feet when she heard the front door open, and Moms voice float through. Yeojin contained a giggle when you called up to her with a, “Honey, I’m home!” and she replied with a, “Hi, Mommy!” and nothing more. Yeojin would go downstairs when she heard Mom say she could go to Harry Potter World, because Auntie Haseul had promised it already.

“Why would you tell her that?” Yeojin heard your voice say, over the sound of the kettle boiling. Yeojin paused on the landing, listening with a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Haseul…”

“Look, I just...threw it out there,” Haseul defended, “as a suggestion. If she’s into Harry Potter...and you’ve wanted to go there for like, years….kill two birds with one stone!”

“Yeah, and are you gonna help fund this trip?”

“Of course,” Haseul replied. “Me, and Flat Eighteen! You know they’ll love to come. And, we haven’t been on holiday since first year of Uni! Portugal, super fun, but simply not enough.”

“It’s nice, what you’re trying to do for her and us, but,” you started, before sighing and at that moment, the kettle sprang to a pause, “I just don’t know if we can go there right now.”

Haseul stopped, too. “Is money bad?”

“No, not at all. We’re so financially secure it’s actually scary,” you assured. “There are...other reasons. Preventing us from going, I mean. You know why.”

Yeojin didn’t stop to listen. She had heard enough.

“She’s been sad all day?”

Hoseok came home at four thirty, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up whilst tossing his bag into the cupboard under the stairs. You stood in the doorway leading out into the kitchen with your arms folded, rubbing up and down with a frown on your lips.

“Yeah, I don’t know why,” you frowned, happily accepting Hoseok’s warm hug as he stepped towards you. You extended your arms out and wrapped them around his neck, squishing your cheek against him as his lips kissed at your hair, and then his head tilted down to kiss the space between your earlobe and jaw. “She seemed happy when I got to Haseul’s. Then, she was all...grumpy.”

“It’s not your fault, before you even say it,” Hoseok muttered, twirling you slightly. He pulled away slightly after a few minutes, smiling the best he could before quickly bringing your lips to his in a kiss. “I love you. I’ll talk to her, okay?”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Hoseok turned to head towards and up the stairs, in the direction of Yeojin’s bedroom. Her door was closed shut, the colour of the sky-light spreading underneath the door and Hoseok quietly stepped forward and knocked, the noise loud enough yet still quiet. From behind the wood, Yeojin had moved off her bed and he could faintly hear her feet moving across the carpet.

“Yeojin, baby, it’s Dad. Can you let me in for a second?” Hoseok called gently, his hand on the door-handle, ready. “Please?”

Yeojin grumbled something, stubbornly, and pulled open the door, leaving Hoseok’s hand stinging with surprise. His brows raised with the expectancy of an apology but nothing came, only the sight of Yeojin retreating back towards her bed where she lay down and pulled the covers up over her head.

“Go away,” Yeojin groaned.

Hoseok let himself in. “Yeojin, your room is filthy.”

“Don’t shout at me!-”

“I haven’t shouted,” Hoseok replied quickly. God, he didn’t remember being this difficult aged four, especially when the sun was shining outside. Although he didn’t remember much about being four, really. He moved to sit on the bottom of her bed, playfully grabbing at her ankle under the sheets. Yeojin squirmed with a noise of surprise. “Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

“No.”

“I’ll tickle you.”

There was a beat of silence, and Hoseok half wondered whether or not Yeojin would climb out of her protective shield of blankets, but she did, sitting up with crazed curls and looking at her Dad with watery eyes. At once, Hoseok felt his body crushing with anxiety, and without even thinking about it, he opened his arms invitingly for a hug and she crawled towards him, her bottom lip trembling, then her chin on his shoulder and hands stuffed in his jumper.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Yeojin sniffled into Hoseok’s shoulder. “Mom said no to Harry Potter World.”

Hoseok paused, looking at his daughter- “Harry Potter World?”

Yeojin nodded. “Yeah. Haseul said we could go in Summer, but Mom said no.”

“She said that?” Hoseok asked, not really believing it. “Did she say that to you?”

“Well, I heard her say it in the kitchen at Haseul’s house,” Yeojin explained. “Haseul asked and Mom said something about being scared and so that means no. I’m nearly six- I know!”

Hoseok’s eyebrows raised as he stared at Yeojin, trying not to laugh. Of course, as a parent, he knew the reasons why other parents said no. He thinks that if Yeojin had asked him, too, he would have said the same thing. Money was definitely not an issue for Universal studios this summer, but considering Yeojin’s birthday was close coming, alongside the giant fact that they had already planned a Summer vacation to Japan with Uncle Yoongi and Jimin, who was still on the quest for Professor Min’s heart, and the surprise of a sibling, hopefully, if everything went well, Hoseok knew that Universal Studios was possibly a long lost distant dream. Unless Uncle Yoongi and Jimin caved in and said, “Sure!” to an unexpected day trip to Japan’s own Universal.

“Hey, if Mom didn’t say that to you, then you don’t know what she said,” Hoseok frowned, reaching for her to look at him. “Not knowing for sure causes trouble.”

Yeojin scrunched up her face. “Mom hates me having fun.”

“Hey!” Hoseok scolded. He never raised his voice at Yeojin, not ever and not even now, but the hardness of his tone made Yeojin shrink with her head dipped towards her chest with shame. “Your Mom loves you more than anything in the world, and you should know that! Mom wouldn’t do anything to make you upset.”

Between Hoseok’s armpit, Yeojin huffed. “I know…”

“And,” Hoseok continued, hugging her tight, “I’m sure Mom will love to take you to Harry Potter World. Mom loves Harry Potter! It’s a bit too soon to go this year, though.”

Even when Yeojin huffed indignantly, she knew her Dad was right. Hoseok had hugged her tighter and pressed little kisses to her cheeks and temples, telling her how much he loved before before she climbed out of his arms, downstairs and into the kitchen where she clung to your leg, saying nothing. She didn’t really have to say anything, and it was Hoseok’s turn to lean in the doorway at the sight of you crouched with your arms around her, the sun looking golden on your skin and hair, golden dust in her eyes.

Like all kids, Yeojin got over it extremely quickly.

Hoseok discovered that all Yeojin really needed to keep her happy and occupied was a sibling, and then you finally- after months of trying- crawled on top of him with a giant smile that could blind at five fifteen in the morning, the words, “We’re having a baby again,” whispered into his mouth. The temptation to scream and tell Yeojin right away was shoved away until Yeojin came back from Uncle Seokjin and Namjoon’s house a little while later, once everything was certain, with both man on her arm, walking into the kitchen decorated with one sparkly balloon and a little envelope on the counter.

“Is it my birthday already?” Yeojin asked confusedly. She turned to Namjoon, “You said it was next month.”

“It is, honey,” you said, leaning on the counter with Hoseok next to you, his fingers knotted around your own. “This is an early surprise, okay?”

She nodded, taking the envelope from you when you pushed it towards her.

Like deja-vu, Seokjin and Namjoon shared teary laughs and hugs when Yeojin tore open the envelope and saw the writing screaming that she was going to be an older sister. Suddenly, she had forgotten all about the grudge against Harry Potter World and was transfixed on the words and then her Mommy’s belly.

“Really?” she squealed excitedly. “Really?!”

“Yes!” you told her with a smile. “You’re gonna be a big sister!”

“You kept this one quiet,” Seokjin scolded, smacking Hoseok’s shoulder half-heartedly.

Hoseok shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah, well. At least we planned this one.”

“What does that mean?” Yeojin asked.

“Nothing, honey.”

(“Can we call them Harry? Like Harry Potter?” Yeojin asked, her lips against your stomach.

You immediately stared at Hoseok and then back at Yeojin.

“Absolutely not.”)

[poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow]

Tiny Dancer part 4

Sorry for the wait, y’all, here’s the next part of @fucking-petticoated-swashbuckler‘s and my fluffy, fluffy fic

Read Part 1 here!

Read Part 2 here!

Read Part 3 here!

There was a perfect, undisturbed layer of fresh snow on the balcony outside when Spot walked through his living room to the kitchen. The sunrise and the lights strung up outside the buildings illuminated each small patch of snow that had yet to be ruined by cars or pedestrians, causing it to glimmer and sparkle elegantly.

Spot made himself an espresso and stared out the window. The roads below were empty and quiet, save for the odd bus or truck; everyone was sleeping in on Christmas, it seemed. Spot checked his watch - it was only 7:57. He had more than a few hours before he had to leave for the gathering at Specs and Jack's place.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he walked over to the couch and collapsed, sinking comfortably into the cushions. His mind wandered back to a few weeks ago, when they’d all drawn names for the gift exchange.

He still wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a conspiracy on his friends’ part that he drew Race's name. Especially since moments before, Race had drawn Spot’s.

Spot remembered all their friends laughing about it; Sarah had even nudged his arm with her elbow and whispered something about it being “meant to be”.

What was he even supposed to give to Race? Did he like anything aside from ballet?

Oh, yes. Of course he did. He also liked tap. And hip hop. And jazz.

Spot had realized while shopping for the gift that he didn’t really know much about Race at all. His first thought was a poster of Baryshnikov, before he remembered he’d seen two already in Race’s apartment a week prior. So Baryshnikov was out.

Of course, he wanted to impress Race. Give him a personal gift. They’d been working together every day for almost two months now. They were friends. Friends gave each other personal, thoughtful gifts. Gifts that said “you mean a lot to me”, gifts that said-

Why was he so worried about this? Sure, he had spent the past couple weeks after the name drawing stressing over the perfect gift to get Race, until he had finally found something suitable. He may have asked Race a few pointed questions, trying to get more hints about what he liked. But that was just what people did when they cared about their friends.

Right?

At least the whole gift thing had become a distraction. His heart still skipped a beat when he saw Race casually showing off his 180 degree développés to his classes, but he felt more comfortable around him now. Less awkward. It gave him less time to wonder whether Race was intentionally trying to prove he was a dance god, or if he was just so amazingly talented that it was just out of habit that every movement was perfect, from the smallest tendu to the most technically challenging jump sequence.

Why was it that dance seemed to bring out qualities you wouldn’t expect that person to be able to exhibit? Ballet turned Race from an obnoxious, full-of-energy, childish person into someone with discipline. Precision. From someone you couldn’t possibly keep up with in any capacity to someone patient and almost mature. When Race danced, he was the epitome of grace, every step exact get still relaxed. In short...beautiful.

Woah, where did that come from? Spot shook his head vehemently, stood up from the couch and poured himself a glass of cold water in the kitchen.

Christmas. It was Christmas. He needed to stop thinking about work. About Race. Jesus, why was his whole life centered around Race now? It was probably because they were spending so much time together after months of not seeing each other at all. Yeah, that made sense. But he saw other people a lot, too. He had just seen Smalls and JoJo the other night! And he wasn’t thinking so much about them. There was just something about Race-

A loud knock at the door interrupted Spot’s thoughts. Thank god.

He left his glass in the kitchen sink and crossed the living room. When he opened the door, he found Sarah standing there, dressed in a Hanukkah sweater and grinning from ear to ear.

“Sarah?” Spot said, feeling confused even as he stepped aside to let Sarah come in. “It’s only eight-thirty. We don’t hafta to be at Jack and Specs’ till twelve.”

“C’mon, Spot, where’s your holiday spirit?” Sarah asked. “I thought we could go get breakfast before we go. Me and you. We haven’t hung out together in weeks!”

“I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, but I was with Les and Davey. It’s not the same.”

Spot shook his head and smiled. “You were saying something about breakfast?”

“I knew food would be what it took to get my best friend to hang out with me for once in his life.”

This time Spot laughed. “Alright, just give me twenty minutes so I can shower.”

“Twenty… Spot, you look and smell fine and I’m hungry,” Sarah whined, feigning impatience but still obviously fighting off a laugh of her own.

Spot rolled his eyes. “Make toast. Or there’s leftover pasta in the fridge. I don’t care. Help yourself.”

Sarah groaned dramatically. “Fine. Just be quick so I don’t waste away. Come on, Spot, it’s Christmas. Catholic act of charity, or some shit?”

“One: you’re Jewish. Two: what’s the act of charity? Showerin’ quickly so you can eat?”

“Um...yes. ‘Ubi caritas et amor deus ibi est,’ bitch. Or whatever you catholics say. You’ve made me listen to at least ten settings, probably.”

“Come on. Ola Gjeilo’s Ubi Caritas is perfection and you know it.” He glanced at his watch. 8:36. “You know what, yeah. I’ll shower as fast as you- no, not as fast as you want me to. I’ll be out and dressed in twelve and a half minutes. Time me.”

“Alright.” Sarah flopped onto Spot’s couch and took out her phone. “Ready...set...go.”

When he walked out of his room, Sarah nodded approvingly. “Twelve minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Nice job.”

“Told you I could do it,” Spot replied with a smirk. “Now let’s go get some breakfast.”

The place Sarah had chosen was a nice little diner that was thankfully open on holidays.

“So.” Sarah leaned forward excitedly, her elbows on the table and her hands supporting her head. “What’d you get Race?”

Spot sarcastically mirrored Sarah’s pose. “You’ll find out in…” 9:02. “... about four hours. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Alright, I can be patient. So…” Sarah took a slow sip of her coffee before speaking again. “Speaking of you and Race…”

Spot felt his breath catch. “Yeah, what about me and Race?”

Sarah raised her eyebrows and exhaled accusingly with a teasing smile. “So you two… haven’t gotten… close? Recently?”

“I mean, we work together, so yeah, we’ve gotten closer, ‘cause we work together…” Spot knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. What was wrong with him? He was never like this.

“Spot.” She was shaking her head. Eyes closed, a small smile slowly spreading across her face. “Just stop. Do you like him?”

He could feel the heat rising into his face. Quickly. Shit. “In what way do you mean?” A small laugh escaped Sarah’s lips. “We’re friends. So I like him as a friend. Any other ways you had in mind?”

“Spot, you’ve been my best friend for like fifteen? Sixteen years? I know you. You get flustered every time you look at him.” Spot winced, but she kept going. “And when you talk to him, shit, Spot. You’re a fucking mess. So I’m calling bull on this ‘no homo’ bullshit you have going on. Is this internalized homophobia or what? Do you just-”

“Please, Sarah. Not now.” He opened his mouth to continue as their food arrived, then closed it again and sighed loudly.

Sarah waited an agonizingly long thirty seconds before continuing. “All I’m saying is that it’s been two months. At least figure out what you feel for him, because it’s at least something.” She paused again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put all this on you on Christmas. I just love you and-”

“I love you too, Sarah.”

Sarah sighed. “Just… promise me you’ll talk to me about this shit. I get worried.”

“I promise, Sarah. You don’t have to worry about me.” Spot stretched his hand across the table and put it over Sarah’s, smiling softly at her. “Alright, let’s not talk ‘bout this anymore for right now. How ‘bout we eat?”

Sarah grinned and picked up her fork, then pulled her plate of pancakes closer. “Yes! I’m starving.”

After breakfast, Sarah and Spot walked around for a bit, taking in the icicles on the trees and the snow that had once again begun falling from the sky in light, delicate flakes. Then it was time to head to Jack and Specs’.

They were two of the first people to arrive. Jack and Specs were there, of course, as were Davey, Les, and Crutchie, all lounging around the living room.

Sarah laughed as she walked in. “Of course the Jews are the ones who show up early for Christmas.”

This got a laugh from everyone else, too, and Sarah left Spot’s side to go sit between her brothers on the couch, placing her present under the tree on the way. Specs glanced at Spot’s own present, still in his hand, neatly wrapped in green paper and topped with a bow.

“You wrap that yourself, Spot?” He asked with a cheeky grin. “Sure is a nice job.” Spot rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Specs, now come off it,” he retorted, shoving Specs aside with his shoulder a little too hard to be playful and setting the present next to Sarah’s. Then he sat on the end of the couch, content to sit there quietly and listen while Les regaled his brother and sister with tales of his first semester of senior year.

“And in Physics the other day, Mrs. Mullen totally-”

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting Les. Sarah jumped up enthusiastically and opened the door, revealing Smalls, Finch, Mush, and Blink. They all came in with smiles and greetings and presents, and after a while the living room had filled up as more people arrived. And somehow, Race had ended up on the couch, sitting snugly against Spot to make room for other people. And once in a while, Race’s hand would accidentally brush Spot’s, and Spot had to pretend that his heart didn’t flutter a little every time it happened.

Soon, everyone was there, talking and joking, and Specs clapped his hands a couple of times to get their attention.

“Alright, guys,” he said once the room was quiet, “who’s ready to exchange some gifts?”

“The people want food, Specs!” Sarah called. Everyone laughed. Specs blushed a little in embarrassment, but he grinned.

“Of course! How could I ever forget?” He dramatically gestured to the kitchen. “There’s a spread of refreshments in there, prepared by Crutchie and yours truly. Paper plates are on the side. Help yourselves!”

“Didn’t you just eat breakfast, Sarah?” Spot asked under his breath, grinning. Before she could respond, Race tapped Spot’s shoulder.

“Get you a drink?”

Spot spun around quickly to face him, almost accidentally falling into his lap in the process, and Race laughed. “Careful.”

“Uh...sorry, yeah, I’d love a drink.”

Race nodded, still grinning, and got up, heading for the kitchen. Sarah nudged Spot with her elbow.

“Smooth,” she whispered. Spot felt his face turn red and took deep breaths to calm his heart rate as Race returned, two bottles in his hands.

“The finest House IPA,” Race joked. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“You know, Spot, I’ve never figured out how you became a complete lesbian stereotype.” Sarah evidently couldn’t stop her hysteric laughter. “Your taste in beer. The flannels. The beanies. The-”

“Yes, Sarah. We get it.” Spot could still feel an unstoppable grin spreading across his face. He glanced over to see Race holding back a laugh of his own.

Having Sarah close by made it easier, somehow. When she was there to break the tension, Spot felt like it was just a little easier to breathe, even when Race’s hand brushed his again as he handed him the beer bottle.

For a while, everyone ate and talked some more, until Specs stood up again.

“Now it really is time to exchange gifts,” he announced with a laugh. Everyone cheered.

The presents were handed out to their respective recipients, and soon the room was full of boisterous laughter and wrapping paper and ribbons.

Spot turned his head before opening his present to find that Race had done the same. “You go first,” Spot initiated after a pause.

Race smiled. “You sure?” Spot nodded.

He could feel his chest getting tight, his heart racing as Race tore into the wrapping paper.

“Hey look! A box! Thank you, Conlon, I’ve been wanting one for a while!”

Spot rolled his eyes, laughing slightly. “Look inside the box, Higgins.”

Race carefully removed the top of the box and peered inside. “Pointe shoes?”

“Not for you to wear, obviously. They’re signed by Megan Fairchild. I know how much you love her.”

Race bit his lip as he looked back at Spot, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Well, that’s good. I think they’d be a bit small for me, anyway.” They both laughed. “Thank you, Spot. I love them.”

And when he leaned forward to give Spot a hug, Spot’s heart threatened to beat right out of his chest.

“Alright, Conlon.” Race’s voice cut through Spot’s thoughts, and he looked up with a start. “Your turn.”

The package in Race’s hand was flat and square. Wrapped surprisingly neatly for something he assumed Race had wrapped himself. Spot took it from him and carefully slid his thumb through the tape, keeping the paper intact. The wrapping paper fell to the floor to reveal a sleek black frame, inside of which was a vinyl record.

He leaned closer to the glass, reading the small words on the label Race had made. “Elton John. Tiny Dancer.”

“Remember that choreo you did? Senior year?”

Spot felt his smile reappear as he remembered. “Of course.”

Race put his arm around Spot’s shoulders, causing his head to spin. Maybe it was the alcohol?

“Do you like it?”

Spot rested his head on Race’s muscular shoulder for a moment, then looked up at him. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

And when Race moved to hug him again, for once he felt perfectly in control. Maybe he did have a crush on Race. But right now, he was perfectly content in his platonic embrace.

[ginnyweatherby]

Mother Knows Best

Remember when I used to write cutesy, canon Stanfou fics?  Yeah, what happened?  This is just a short little piece I wrote that features Lefou, but mostly focuses on my OC Madeline because even though she is of my own creation, I love her.  I’ve put my girl through a lot, though, so I decided to write something happy for her.

Happy Mother’s Day, Madeline, and to all the other mamas out there!

It was hard to believe that only a year ago, Madeline was struggling to fit into her dress and wondering if Maman would even want to see her for Mother’s Day.  She remembered the tense brunch at a nice restaurant, her sisters trying to keep the conversation going smoothly in between Maman’s sharp quips, while Madeline just tried not to cry.

She was only three months along at the time, but she had learned to love the baby, and she simply wished her mother could do the same.  At least Chloe and Emma were excited, their chatter filling the awkward air between their mother and the eldest Durand sister.

But now, Madeline was a mother.  Charlotte was her little six-month-old bundle of joy and she couldn't be happier.

“You look so pretty to go see Grandmere today,”  Madeline commented, as she adjusted the flower headband on her daughter’s head.  It matched the fluffy purple dress Maman had gifted her, since she didn't like many of the hand-me-downs Charlotte usually wore.

Charlotte stuffed her fat fists in her mouth, drool oozing onto her hands.  She’d recently cut her first tooth, and by the looks of it, was in the process of growing a few more.  Madeline made a mental note to bring a few teething rings along with them today.

“That's right,”  Madeline cooed, smoothing the little girl’s dress before setting her safely on the floor while she got herself ready.

She figured it wouldn't matter if she wore the same dress as last year.  It was a lovely green one, and she rather liked the way she looked in it.  Last year, she had trouble closing the zipper due to the baby growing inside of her, but this year it sat comfortably around her - even with the little layer of baby fat she still sported around her middle.

“I don't see how I'll be able to eat today, since you and Papa spoiled me so well this morning,” ��Madeline said, as she rooted through her meager jewelry box for a pair of earrings to match.

Lefou had managed to keep Charlotte quiet until nearly eight (Madeline couldn't remember the last time she’d slept so late), only waking her up once he’d prepared a grand breakfast for her.

She didn't expect anything for Mother’s Day, since Charlotte was still a baby, and she and Lefou weren't together, but he managed to surprise her.  Toast, eggs, her favorite cereal, coffee, juice… she hadn't eaten so well in weeks.  It was made even better when Lefou placed the tray on her lap, and exited the room - before he returned carrying a smiling Charlotte, who held a card in her hand.

Charlotte gurgled from beside her, and Madeline saw she had located her favorite teddy bear, the one Lefou dubbed “Pookie”.

Once Madeline was satisfied with her appearance, she pulled Charlotte (and Pookie) into her arms as they exited the bedroom.  It was almost eleven; they would have to hurry if they wanted to meet Maman on time.

Lefou was in the living room, weekend daytime television playing as he surrounded himself with his textbooks.  He worked so hard to make good grades, in addition to his demanding job.

Madeline was proud of him, even if she did feel bad when she saw the dark circles under his eyes and the tired smiles he exchanged with her over breakfast in the mornings.

“Are you going to see your mom today?”  Madeline asked, as she threw a teething ring and spare bottle into her bag.

“Jacqueline and I are meeting her around one,”  Lefou said, not tearing his eyes away from his work, chewing on the cap of his pen.

“Don’t work too hard, it's Sunday,”  Madeline teased, but she knew all too well what it was like trying to keep her marks up while still balancing home life.

Lefou laughed, finally looking up at her.  “You two look nice.”

“I just hope it goes better than last year’s Mother’s Day catastrophe,”  Madeline said, adjusting Charlotte on her hip.

“Of course it will,”  Lefou assured her.  “Charlotte will be there, and she can make anyone smile… isn't that right, sweetheart?”  He added, directing his attention to their daughter.

Charlotte blew a slobbery bubble in response.

Madeline kissed the side of her head, and said goodbye to Lefou as she carried the baby out the door.

Charlotte will be there.

She knew Lefou hadn't meant much by those words, but they were amazing all the same.  

Between all her surgeries, and the uncertainty when Charlotte was first born, Madeline wondered if her daughter would even live a few weeks, much less make it to Mother’s Day.  While the breakfast was delicious, the fact her baby was so happy today was the greatest gift she could have received.

She met Maman and her sisters at the restaurant, Emma immediately insisting on holding her little niece.  Charlotte loved her aunts, and was always excited to see them again.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama,”  Madeline said, politely, offering the tiny box in her hand.  She didn't have much money this year, but she had scrounged up enough waitressing tips and couch cushion change to get her mother a nice pin to wear on her favorite jacket.  It was of a daisy, her favorite flower.

Her mother offered a smile of gratitude before they followed the waiter to their seats.

Emma placed Charlotte in a high-chair at the end of the table, as they gave their drink orders.

“She's getting so big,”  Chloe commented, tapping Charlotte’s nose, causing her to giggle.

“Bigger every day,”  Madeline agreed, as she perused the menu.  Thank goodness too.

Their lunch went by without much of a hitch at all, much to Madeline's relief.  Charlotte was getting a little fussy in her chair so she had switched to her usual one-handed eating, while holding the baby in the other.

After awhile, their waiter returned with two roses in his hand.

“Mama, I think those are for you,”  Madeline said, remembering last year when their restaurant had offered her mother a chocolate for the holiday.

“One is,”  the waiter agreed.  “One is for you.”

Even though Madeline had been a mother for six months now, it hadn't registered that others saw her as such.  For so long she was known as “the girl who got pregnant” or “The Durand girl - the one with a baby now.”

It was nice to be seen as a mama, no strings attached.

“Careful of the thorns,”  The waiter said, eyeing Charlotte as he handed Madeline her flower.  “Happy Mother’s Day to the both of you.”

Once he’d left, Maman offered to hold the baby, while Madeline finished her dessert.

Charlotte was getting tired, and therefore fussy, but Maman didn't seem to mind.  For someone who struggled to accept her at first, there was no doubt that she loved her granddaughter more than anything.

“I hope you've treated your mama for Mother’s Day,”  Maman said, cradling the baby close to herself.

Charlotte replied with a long yawn.

“That means ‘yes’,”  Madeline translated.  “Charlotte and her papa made me breakfast in bed this morning.”

“Did you now?”  Maman asked, adjusting Charlotte’s collar, as the baby began to settle.

“She's shaping up to be a pretty good cook,”  Madeline said, finishing up her slice of cake.  “Even if the toast was a little on the dark side.”

“Maybe she can come cook for my birthday,”  Chloe said, with a laugh.

Emma (ever the Sci-Fi fan) began rambling on about how the toast being on “the dark side” reminded her of a new movie she was dying to see.

Madeline tuned out her youngest sister as she looked around the table.  She couldn't contain a smile from coming over her face, nor would she have wanted to.

Last Mother’s Day had been tense and awkward.  The smiles were tight and the conversation short.

Today, everybody’s smiles were genuine.  Chloe and Emma were picking from each other’s plates, Charlotte was asleep in her grandmother’s lap, and even Maman looked happy.  She couldn't remember the last time Maman looked really, truly happy.

Their meal ended shortly after, and soon Madeline was saying goodbye to her family.

“Happy Mother’s Day again,”  She said, kissing Maman on the cheek, as she took care not to wake the sleeping infant in her arms.

“Happy Mother’s Day, darling,”  Maman said in return, brushing a strand of Madeline’s dark hair away from her face.  “I hope your first one was a special one.  There’s many more to come.”

When Madeline returned home, Lefou was still out with his own mother and sister, so the apartment was quiet.  She laid Charlotte in her crib, before returning to the living room to catch up on some of her own studies while she had the place to herself.

She removed her jacket, and something fell from her pocket onto the floor.

She picked up a little gray box, confused where it had come from.  She didn't recognize it.

Inside was a little locket.  Silver, in the shape of a heart.  When she opened the locket, she found a picture of Charlotte on one side, and a snapshot of Madeline holding Charlotte on the other, smiles on both of their faces.

There was a note taped to the back of the box that she hadn't noticed at first.

Happy Mother’s Day, Maman!  I love you!

Love, Charlotte Mae

P.S:  Grandmere has good taste in jewelry.

[the-queen-of-the-light]

Both Winners in the End

Happy Christmas to @tatianathevampireslayer!!! I hope you have an excellent holiday and enjoy this little fic!!!

Director Danvers - sports au [explicit]

Available over on AO3

Alex could feel the burning, spreading through her limbs, her lungs, her everything, but she wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop. They were close, so close. Just one more first-place event and they’d win it all. National City University’s swim team had never made it past regionals, but this year the team was making school history. They had been training for this all season. Long hours in the pool, swimming laps, running drills, feeling like they were drowning but coming out the other side stronger, faster, better.

It had gotten them here, to nationals, to the last leg of the last relay, tied for first with the University of Metropolis. Both were just a couple points away from winning the whole meet, and all of it was riding on this event. With every stroke, every burning breath into her tired, aching lungs, Alex could see one of Metropolis’s relay members in the next lane over. Neck and neck. And what a lovely neck it was … a lovely everything, really.

L. Lane—or so the leaderboard had read. U of M’s top sprinter.

Alex had already raced her twice today but had only successfully beaten her once. That alone would have captured Alex’s attention. It didn’t hurt that her competitor fit her team suit nicely and somehow managed to make even a ridiculous swim cap look stunning. But no, it was the confidence with which the smaller women strode around the deck. It was the cheeky little smirk and wink that she shot Alex’s way right before the final event started. She was beautiful, cocky, infuriating, and Alex was not going to let her win again.

As they reached their final turn, only a 25-yard sprint to the finish, Alex pushed herself harder than she ever had before. Taking only two breaths for the whole length, she felt her body slicing quickly, smoothly through the water. She threw herself at the touchpad, slamming her hand into it with every ounce of strength left in her body. She’d barely surfaced—dragging in a ragged gasp of air—before she ripped her cap and goggles off, scanning the leaderboard above.

First.

By two-hundredths of a second, they’d gotten first. She slumped against the edge of the pool, chest heaving as she desperately tried to draw air back into her exhausted body. A small grin spread across her face as a disbelieving laugh escaped. First. Alex dropped her forehead against the edge of the pool trying to calm her racing heart.

A quiet throat clearing had Alex glancing to her left. Lane. God, was she an absolute vision. She’d lost her cap as well, and a halo of short dark waves surrounded her face. She was pink with exertion and had goggle marks ringing her brilliant green eyes, but Alex felt that they just added to her beauty.

“Hey,” Lane huffed out through her own ragged breathing. She reached her hand over the lane guide, offering it to Alex. Alex took the smaller, water-wrinkled palm into her own, and they exchanged tired smiles. “Good race.”

“You too.”

Neither of them released the other’s hand—not that Alex minded. She quite liked the feel of the smaller woman’s hand within her own. The air around them seemed to crackle with a tension borne of the competition and adrenaline still pumping through their blood. Using her grip on Alex’s hand, Lane pulled herself closer, propping herself up on the lane guide.

“Pretty close. I almost caught you there at the end.” The corners of Lane’s mouth lifted up in a flirty smile as she cocked her head to the side, appraising Alex with those bright, burning eyes.

Alex knew for a fact that Lane was right—that this was probably the closest race she’d ever had—but she was unwilling to give in, to give up the teasing competition with this beautiful woman. Narrowing her eyes playfully, Alex drew herself even closer by their still-clasped hands, so the pair were almost nose-to-nose, legs brushing beneath the water’s surface. “You wish,” she growled.

“Watch yourself,” Lane purred, while her foot brushed up the inside of Alex’s calf. “I may still catch you.”

The wink Lane sent her way had Alex nearly spouting something far too forward, but before she could respond, the hands of her teammates were clasping her arms, pulling her out of the pool. She was immediately enveloped in hugs—Lane’s previous flirtatious words drowned out by the victorious shouts and cheers of her team.

Nationals. They’d just won nationals!

Alex was almost glad that Coach M’orzz had held her back to talk after the rest of the team was dismissed. The locker room just off the pool deck was shared between four other teams and had been insanely hectic before the meet began. Thankfully, by the time Coach let her go clean herself up, the place was blessedly empty.

She headed to the locker that her bag was stored in and quickly stripped off her suit, wrapping a towel around her body. Humming quietly to herself, she made her way over to shower cubicles, ready to get back to her hotel to celebrate with her team.

Alex squeaked and dropped her bag when she turned the corner, finding herself with unexpected company. A small, towel-covered figure stood in front of the row of mirrors trying to detangle a mass of dark waves—waves that Alex recognized immediately.

Attempting to quickly regain her self-control, she stuttered out, “H-hey, uh sorry.” She reached up to run a hand awkwardly through her hair, peeking up at the barely covered woman through her lashes. “You- uh … you’re Lane, right?”

The smaller woman shot a quick smile over her shoulder. “Yeah.” Alex shifted from foot to foot, unsure whether she should introduce herself as well, but Lane's voice lilted over her last name with a quiet questioning, “Danvers?”

Alex just nodded mutely, a small thrill running through her. Apparently, this beauty had been paying just as much attention to her, too.

“What- uhh … what are you still doing here?” she asked, fiddling nervously with the edge of her towel. God, why was she so anxious to see what would happen here, to see where it might lead? It was just some girl … No. Not just any girl … the competition. The beautiful, talented competition. The competition with exquisite, muscled shoulders that were currently dancing beneath smooth, taut skin as she shrugged.

“Just taking my time. Getting a comb through chlorine-hair can take a while, ya know?”

“I- um … yeah,” Alex mumbled, still not sure what to do with herself, but reluctant to end the conversation. No, she had quite liked the way their brief exchange in the pool had gone. The memories of Lane’s foot teasing up her leg and her breath tickling over her face filled her senses. Yeah, she’d ... liked that quite a lot. She shook herself out of the reverie, asking, “But won’t your team be missing you?”

Lane raised an eyebrow, making eye contact with Alex through the mirror as she shot her a lopsided smile. “Nah. They’re not really in much of a celebrating mood.”

“Oh,” Alex mumbled, tugging at the ends of her hair. “S-sorry about that.”

Spinning to face Alex, Lane gave her a knowing smirk. “No, you’re not.”

“No,” Alex agreed with a soft chuckle. “No, I’m really not.” She ducked her head, feeling a little guilty about bragging, not wanting to be a sore winner.

Suddenly, Lane was right in front of her, one hand on her shoulder as the other gently lifted her chin. Alex looked into her eyes, surprised. The soft expression, the gentle touch, it felt so unexpected, but so welcome. Lane whispered, “Hey, you have every right to be proud. You won that race fair and square, Danvers.” Alex’s awed looked melted into a small smile at her words, but the moment didn’t last long. Lane stepped further into her space, her gentle smile stretching into that same cheeky smirk from earlier. “Doesn’t mean that I can’t take you.”

Alex’s jaw dropped, and she released an indignant squawk, “Excuse me?”

“Come on, Danvers,” Lane said. Her eyes danced as the corners crinkled with her smile. The fingers on Alex’s shoulder shifted, sliding over bare skin to brush delicately—teasingly—over the side of Alex’s neck. She refused to shiver, refused to give Lane that satisfaction. The tension in her muscles, though, only made Lane’s smile broaden. “Another round and I totally could have blown you out of the water.”

Their eyes burned into each other before Lane slowly reached up to catch a drop of water that had fallen from Alex’s damp hair, her thumb brushing Alex’s check in the process. Alex couldn’t contain the shiver that started at the base of her spine and slithered upwards, out to where her nerve endings were going haywire with every touch of Lane’s warm skin on her own. She tried to cover it with bravado, managing a breathy laugh as she stepped further into Lane so they were, again, nose-to-nose. Feeling Lane’s body flush against her own sent a sharp tingle of competition, of anticipation, of something, just, more searing low within her belly. “I’d like to see you try.”

The words settled around them, heavy with tension. For a moment, they each waited to see what the other’s next move would be, but god, the air felt thick around them. Electricity seemed to flicker over their bodies, charging every point where bare skin touched. It was too much—a powerful need that had been building since they’d first locked eyes.

Together, they fell into each other, lips moving with a gasping, burning want. Lane’s tongue flickered out, smoothing wetly over the seam of Alex’s lips, and, with a sharp tug from the fingers woven through Alex’s hair, her mouth opened in a gasp. Lane slipped her tongue in and Alex felt like Lane was trying to consume her whole. She pulled back to catch Alex’s bottom lip between her teeth, and Alex couldn’t help the gasps spilling out of her.

She whined as Lane nipped and tugged at her bottom lip, letting her head fall back in pleasure.

Alex felt her back pressed against the wall behind her, a thigh slipping between her own. Towels parted, falling out of the way until Alex felt warm, smooth skin pressing against her aching center.

Lane moaned, “Fuck, Danvers,” against her skin, kissing her way along Alex’s jaw, raking her teeth across that delicate skin. She whispered, breath flittering over the shell of Alex’s ear, “You’re so wet … and all for me.”

Alex’s eyes slipped shut in pleasure and she moaned—fingers scrabbling for purchase on bare shoulders—when Lane pushed her leg more firmly against Alex’s arousal. She ground down, seeking more friction, while Lane’s hand slipped over to her towel-covered chest.

Then, suddenly, all touch was gone, and Alex was back in the girl’s locker room—wet, needy, and gasping out for Lane’s touch. Her eyes refocused to find Lane smirking over her shoulder as she stripped off her towel. Alex stood dumbfounded by the sheer expanse of smooth, tan skin covering gorgeously muscled thighs, back, and ass. She watched as Lane strutted naked towards a shower stall, flicked on the hot water, and paused, only briefly, to ask, “You coming, Danvers?”

It took a moment for Lane’s words, spoken in a soft, sultry voice, to reach her lust-clouded brain. Then she was stumbling over herself as she stripped off her towel and followed that glorious ass into the shower.

Lane immediately pressed her front to Alex’s back, enjoying the way their wet skin slid smoothly, sensuously, together. She ran her fingers down Alex’s arms to catch her wrists and place them, palm-forward, against the wall, making sure they were stretched up above Alex’s head.

“Think you can be good and keep your hands right there?”

Alex scoffed, shooting a playful glare towards the smaller woman. “If you want to catch me, Lane, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.” She rocked her hips back defiantly, pressing her ass against Lane’s center. Alex revelled in the small moan that slipped passed Lane’s lips, the faintest crack in her cocky facade.

“Hmm,” Lane hummed. “I guess I’ll just have to work harder then.” Her teeth found a sensitive spot on Alex’s neck, and Alex surprised herself with how quickly she fell compliant under Lane’s talented tongue. She moaned, dropping her head back against Lane’s shoulder to give better access, leaving her hands right where Lane had placed them.

“I thought you were going to put up more of a fight.” The words husked over Alex’s skin, tingling, and she could feel the smile against her cheek.

“Oh, shut up,” she growled, turning her head to bring Lane’s lips against her own, reveling in their warm, sweet taste.

Lane’s hands wandered over her slick skin, brushing down her back, along her sides, and finally around to meet over the hard planes of her stomach. Alex moaned into the kiss, whimpering as Lane pulled back.

“Please,” she whined.

Instead of giving in to Alex’s whines for more, Lane smoothed one hand up her body to massage her breast, giving her hardened nipple a teasing squeeze and flick. Alex’s little gasps and pants only seemed to prolong her torture as Lane moved across her chest to give the other nipple equal attention. Lane was toying with her, experimenting with how every brush, pinch, and twist made Alex twitch, but god, she didn’t mind at all. She needed more.

Alex couldn’t stop herself from grinding her ass back into Lane, seeking out any sort of relief. Her fingernails scratched at the tiled shower wall as she clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to control the need seeping through her blood into every inch of her body. Water slid over her skin leaving her hot and sensitive, and every cool whisper of Lane’s breath over her heated flesh had her trembling. Still, she waited. She let Lane continue her exquisite torture with every touch, every stroke, until finally—finally—one of her hands slipped lower, settling in the soft curls above her dripping center.

“Damnit, Lane! Please,” Alex moaned, tilting her head to lock eyes with the other woman, trying to convey the desperate aching desire, to tell her how badly she needed to be touched.

Lane pressed a kiss against her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, before tugging gently on the curls threaded around her fingers. “Spread your legs for me.”

She hadn’t even finished speaking before Alex was wantonly following her orders. So much for staying ahead, but Lane was just so damn good. She spread her legs wide so Lane could cup her center. She could feel her own arousal dripping into Lane’s palm, coating her fingers. So wet. She was already so wet, so close. She groaned when Lane brought her fingers up to Alex’s mouth, running her own arousal over her lips until she opened her mouth to suck them clean.

Lane’s hum of approval filled Alex’s ears. She strained against the heated body behind her, as her her heart pumped faster feeling the fingers moving back down her body. Her hips jutted forward when they finally started kneading firm circles over her clit. With each loop, Alex cried out, rocking against that perfect touch. Another set of fingers tweaked her nipple in time with each stroke, and Alex felt herself slipping closer and closer to the edge.

Her body thrummed with arousal, tensing with each touch.Her fingers curled against the wall. Her legs trembled and shook … But she needed more, needed Lane inside her. As if reading her mind—or maybe just the shaky thrusts of her hips—Lane moved her hand, circling Alex’s entrance while her palm pressed firmly against her clit. Her dripping arousal made first one, then two fingers slide easily inside—pressing, curling, and spreading. Alex squeaked, then moaned at the sudden entry, reveling in the stretch.

Lane’s quick pace had Alex crying out, and god, she was as taut as a bowstring, ready to fly. With just the right curl of her fingers, just the right flick of her thumb, just the right bruising bite against Alex’s shoulder, Alex careened over the edge. Her scream echoed around the empty locker room as she fell limp in Lane’s arms.

Fuck, Alex thought, panting harder than she had after any of her races that day.

She moaned as Lane slowly slid her fingers out of her, but didn’t try to find her footing yet. Instead, she relaxed into the warm hold of the woman behind her, humming contentedly.

Lane chuckled and pressed a kiss to the mark she’d left before whispering, “Told you I’d catch you, Danvers.”

“Alex,” she huffed a reply, turning in Lane’s arms to face. “You should call me Alex.”

“Lucy,” The smaller woman offered in return, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a gentle smile.

“Well then, Lucy,” Alex teased, nudging her with her nose, as her breath danced across their wet skin. “If this is what it’s like, I don’t I mind being caught by you.”

Lucy just grinned in response, tightening her hold around Alex in a gentle squeeze.

Alex placed a small peck on Lucy’s lips before nipping her jaw lightly. “Now,” Alex whispered, loving the look of awed anticipation settling across Lucy’s features as she dropped to her knees. “I think it’s my turn to … catch you, too.”

(Specialy thanks to the best beta in the world for saving this fic from ruin, @poppyssupergirl)

[ohpapiseo]

the ways in which i show i love you [V]

@taetaetrashhh

Hi Momo! I’m your Secret Santa from the fic exchange hosted by Kait and Candi! I’m so sorry I’m a day late, but I have written you a small(ish?) story that I hope you’ll like! It’s cute, heartwarming, slice of life, it has it all. I hope you like it! Merry Christmas <3

pairing: V x Momo (reader) genre: romance, college!au, christmas with bts, slice of life, baking cookies, christmas trees, i tried to do most of the prompts

22nd December, 2017

Momo and Taehyung were at the place where the Christmas trees were sold. This year, the both of them wanted a tree that was slightly bigger than last year, one they ended up having to pull through the snow to get to Hoseok’s truck that was at the other end of the street.

“Oof! This is- too- heavy-” Taehyung wheezed as the rope began to burn through his gloves and cut into his fingers. Pulling a tree for almost half a mile down to their ride was not a good idea.

“Babe, can’t we just call Hoseok to come over or something?” Taehyung had muttered as he dropped the rope, his arms already feeling so tired.

“No, where the heck would he park? Look at all the cars!” Momo looked at him as she gestured to all the cars parked along the sidewalk. There was no way Hoseok could park his truck here, and Taehyung sighed as he realised that she was right.

“Come on, just a little further, Taehyung!” Momo whined, her breath coming out in white smoke. It was far too cold for them to be having this conversation, and they had heard of a snowstorm approaching during the Christmas weekend, but they hoped that it would ease up.

With the current rate of snowfall, though, that possibility seemed slim.

As the two reached the orange truck, Hoseok stepped out to help them load the tree onto the back, the three of them grunting as they lifted it. Thankfully, some people on the street were kind enough to give them a hand.

“You’re definitely going big this year, huh?” Hoseok helped Taehyung tie the tree into place, and Momo laughed, patting his back.

“Are you working again, Hoseok?” She asked, and Hoseok had nodded but with a bright smile on his face.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay at the retirement home with a few others so we can take care of them and help them have a wonderful christmas.” He smiled kindly, as they got into the vehicle. “That snowstorm seems very likely and I don’t want it to be a situation where staff can’t get in so we’re all going tonight.”

Taehyung smiled at him as he fastened the seatbelt. “You’re very kind for spending your Christmas with them, Hoseok.” “They need someone too, if their families can’t come and take them home. Sadly, that’s the case for a lot of them.” Hoseok smiled wryly, and the car was filled with silence as they pulled out onto the street.

“I guess you guys need to go to the supermarket to buy some stuff?” Hoseok had asked, and Taehyung nodded, instructing them to pull over at the superstore once they passed it.

Now armed with a week’s worth of groceries, Momo and Taehyung were ready to take the weekend head on. They were hoping that it wouldn’t snow as bad as the weather station was telling them, but it was always better to be prepared.

“I really wanted to go to the ice rink, it had better not get worse.” Momo huffed as Hoseok drove them back home.

“How come you both waited so long to put up a tree? Most people do it at the beginning of December.”

Momo sighed - it was only because the both of their courses had become so demanding that there wasn’t any time to properly prepare for Christmas. Now that university was over for the holiday, they had some more time to relax.

“Uni.” They both replied monotonously. Hoseok could only laugh.

“You’ll miss it when you’re both working for yourselves.” Hoseok chuckled as he turned into the road that went up to Momo and Taehyung’s house. “Or you won’t. I love my job, so…” “Perhaps.” Taehyung chuckled, and the conversation ended there as they reached the house.

Once Hoseok had helped the couple to get their tree inside their house, he left quickly, saying he had no time to waste and really needed to get a move on. Momo thanked him for his help, sending him off with some muffins she had baked that morning.

“Well, looks like we’ve got a tree to decorate.” Taehyung grinned down at Momo as he put an arm around her, the both of them watching the car disappear into the main road.

“How does a hot chocolate sound before we get down to business?” Taehyung bent down to kiss Momo’s cheeks, cold and turning pink from the chilly weather. “Let’s get inside and warm up, muffin.” “Yes, Taetae, let’s.”

A few minutes later, they got to decorating the tree, carefully (or in Taehyung’s case, clumsily) putting up the tinsel and fairy lights, and other decorations. A lot of this involved wrapping tinsel around their necks and belting out to christmas classics that were bursting out through the stereo. Taehyung even had the brilliant idea of putting some of the hanging decorations around his ears, which he forgot about until they both sat down for dinner.

(Momo promised to never let him live it down).

“Who’s going to put this up on top?” Momo asked, holding onto the angel figure in her hand. Taehyung rolled his eyes, before turning to her with an obvious look.

“Of course you are. Because you’re my angel.” He laughed, and Momo turned towards him with a blush on her cheeks.

“Don’t just say stuff like that!” She hit his arm in embarrassment as she looked away.

“But it’s true. Come on, baby, do the honours.” Taehyung nodded at her eagerly, and Momo smiled as she walked closer to the tree, standing on her toes to be able to put the angel on top.

“What a beautiful sight.” Taehyung held his hands out to make a frame with his fingers, focusing on the tree and the sparkling lights, before he moved his hands to capture Momo, admiring her through his ‘lens’.

“Stop being so silly…” Momo turned away, the blush on her cheeks more prominent. “I-It’s getting really warm in here, I’m going to turn down the heating!”

Taehyung simply chuckled as his girlfriend rushed out of the room on the pretext of ‘heating’ problems.

Christmas Day, 2017

It was a cold morning, which was no surprise. Taehyung got out of bed, immediately looking for the jumper he wished he had worn to bed the night before. He picked up the present he had bought for Momo from under the bed, trying to noiselessly carry it out of the room and place it under the Christmas tree.

As he opened the curtains of the living room to look outside, all he could see was snow, more snow, the faint outline of the houses and trees and… more snow.

“This was supposed to get better today, it’s still the same as last night.” Taehyung sighed, knowing what this meant - him and Momo were basically boxed in for Christmas.

But knowing his girlfriend, she would be cheerful and optimistic about it, imagining it now he knew she would say something like “Oh, don’t worry, Tae, at least we’ve got the heating on!”

“Taehyung?” He heard her sleepy voice, and the sound of Momo coming down the stairs. With a sleepy grin, she walked over to him, standing on her tiptoes to peck his lips.

“Merry Christmas, my angel.” Taehyung smiled, kissing her forehead gently. With a shy smile, Momo wished him back, before she turned towards the window, seeing the storm outside and falling quiet for a minute.

“Looks like we’re stuck in here, babe.” He mumbled, glancing towards her with a frown, however, like Taehyung had predicted, she was not upset, and decided to take it as a positive experience.

“We still have the electrics working. Let’s make some cookies today.” Momo’s eyes lit up. Taehyung knew how much she loved baking. With their busy university life, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for Momo to make cakes and the likes, but now with the holiday season, Taehyung knew she wouldn’t pass up on the chance.

“Gingerbread?” Taehyung grinned, and Momo nodded excitedly.

“I even bought piping bags and icing sugar to decorate them! If they turn out nice, we can give them out to the kids on the street.” “Woah, there. If we work on the cookies, then who’s going to cook the turkey? And the vegetables? We’re supposed to go all out this year, right?” Taehyung raised his brows, wondering how they would do everything in such a short time. It was nine already.

“Taehyung, why are you being so pessimistic?” Momo frowned. “You’re usually the one that says ‘It’ll be okay’ first…”

Taehyung pouted, holding his arms around her as he pulled her close to him. “I just wanted this to be a perfect Christmas, baby. I know how excited you were to go skating on the ice rink, and now there’s so much snow we can’t even open the windows.” “Taehyung.” Momo shook her head, slowly kissing him. As they parted, she gave him a loving smile.

“It’s alright, darling. You’re here with me, and that’s the most important thing right now. I’m most happy when I can spend Christmas with you.”

Now it was Taehyung’s turn to blush, but he soon smiled the familiar boxy smile that was unique to him.

“There we are. You’ve been too stressed out over a perfect Christmas. Loosen up, okay? Let what happen, happen.” Momo grinned, before she turned to make her way upstairs. “I’m gonna take a shower. You should get the stuff out and start prepping.”

That morning was spent baking the cookies - Taehyung was insistent that he was following the recipe to the dot and that Momo shouldn’t worry so much and trust him a little. Taehyung had also learned not to burn the cookies after the first batch came out awfully wrong.

Once the icing was ready, Momo decided to leave Taehyung to do the honours while she prepared the turkey for stuffing. She almost regretted the decision upon inspection, but Taehyung looked like he was having so much fun regardless, it looked like he had become a little kid again and he had an intense determination in his eyes.

Momo couldn’t bear to take the fun away from him. Her heart warmed at the sight of Taehyung, and she went back to preparing the Christmas dinner, a smile on her lips as she thought again about how much he was enjoying himself.

However, Taehyung surprised both her and himself at the end of the decorating the cookies, the last five batches were much better than the first five.

“You did good, Taehyung. Do you want to try some?” “I thought you’d never ask.”

Momo snorted as Taehyung took a couple of the cookies and began to munch on them, his face lighting up as he looked at his girlfriend with bright eyes.

“Wow, this is delicious. You’re amazing, Momo. I almost don’t want to give them to the kids and just eat them all myself.” He looked at her pleadingly. Momo firmly shook her head, holding her hands on her hips as she frowned.

“Don’t be selfish, I’ll make more of these tomorrow. We have so much dough and icing left anyway.” Momo suggested, and Taehyung agreed with a small smile, though she knew that he’d much rather keep these for themselves nonetheless.

Later that evening…

“Dance with me, angel.”

Taehyung held his hand out to Momo, who looked up at him in surprise. After about an hour of just dancing to and singing Christmas songs, Momo was quite worn out. She wasn’t expecting to have to dance so soon

A slow number began to play through their music system, and Momo remembered it to be the first song her and Taehyung had ever danced to together, when he had taken her to the Christmas ball in high school, as his date. The same song to which he confessed his love to her, and dance that consummated their relationship to one another.

Taking Taehyung’s hand, she stood up and brought herself to Taehyung, putting her arms around his neck as he waltzed them around the living room, moving gracefully to the song and losing themselves in each other’s eyes.

“Momo.” Taehyung mumbled, gathering her attention. “I love you, you know?”

She let out a hesitant laugh. “Of course I know? Why are you telling me this again, baby?” “So there won’t come a time where you don’t feel like you are loved.” He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. Taehyung was quite sombre during moments like this, as opposed to his generally eccentric, excited self. This was a side to Taehyung only a handful of people, including Momo, got to see.

“You are loved. And you matter to me, so much, and I love you, Momo, I can’t say it enough. I do.” Taehyung whispered, now bending down to kiss her lips. Momo’s eyes shut slowly, and she kissed him back, the both of their hearts, their never ending love overflowing into their kiss.

“With all the horrible things that happened in the world. With people not understood, people in despair, in pain, who feel like they have no one… I want you to know you have me no matter what, baby. Okay?” Taehyung said quietly, reaching out for another kiss.

Momo nodded, her heart swelled with affection for her boyfriend, who had matured beyond his years, it sometimes felt like. They were both still young, though adults. And Taehyung by her side was only proving to be a strength, someone she could rely on, someone that loved her no matter her imperfections. To him, Momo was beautiful, inside and out.

And Taehyung was beautiful to her too, for the same reasons. He never failed to bring a smile to her lips when she was down or thought too hard.

“I love you too, Taehyung.” Momo said back as they slowly danced to the music, now nearing a close. Her mind flashed back to their first dance once more. She had fallen so deep for Taehyung by that point, and that day had proved her wrong in thinking that she could not possibly fall any more in love with this wonderful boy.

And today, on Christmas Day again, Momo was proven wrong. As they danced and laughed, Momo found herself falling in love all over again.

[antanddec-a-l]

Fic: In the air

One shot. Fictional. Stupid title, I know. I always have trouble with finding one. I hope you still like it. Ant and Dec were on a 2 1/2 hour flight to Portugal for a short holiday. As the flight wasn't that long, the plane didn't have a first class with beds, but only a business class with comfortable seats, that could be lowered pretty far, but resembled nothing like a bed. The business class was almost empty, except for a couple that sat three rows behind them. The flight in general was pretty quiet. There weren't many people who flew to Portugal shortly before Christmas. Dec felt extremely tired, but he couldn't sleep. Usually he slept on his stomach or side, but that was impossible in their seats. Whenever they flew to Australia, they had beds, so it wasn't a problem, but here he was struggling to find a comfortable position, sleep seemed to be miles away. Ant watched his best friend sleepily. He was ready to doze off, being just as exhausted as Dec. Yet he couldn't go to sleep as long as he knew that his best friend wasn't able to sleep. He knew about Dec's problems with having to sleep on his back and tried to think of a solution. Then an idea popped in his head. He sat up, but kept his seat in it's previous position, somewhere hovering between horizontal like a bed and vertical like a normal seat. "Decky, come here" he said silently and beckoned him over with his hand. Dec looked at him surprised, but obeyed. Tired as he was, he got up from his seat and stumbled over to him. Ant wrapped his arm around his waist and guided him to sit on his lap. Confused Dec sat down, straddling his friends thighs. He felt weird sitting like this on his best friends lap until Ant wrapped his arm around him, hugging him tightly. "Rest your head on my shoulder" Ant whispered next to his ear. Dec didn't need to be told twice. His head felt heavy from being so tired and he sighed in relief when it came to rest on his friends shoulder. Ant smiled softly when he felt his best friend relaxing in his hold. They stayed like this for a minute, before Ant lowered himself back into the seat. Dec tensed up at the sudden movement. "Relax, pal" Ant rubbed his back soothingly, feeling Dec melt into him at the gentle touch. "Think you can sleep like this?" he whispered into his ear. Dec nodded softly, feeling as Ant clasped his hands together beneath his thighs to prevent him from sliding down. Now that he was laying comfortably on his stomach, on his best friend no less, Dec felt his eyes drooping and soon he was fast asleep. Ant felt quite pleased with himself, having been able to help his best friend to sleep. Dec's body acted like a nice warm blanket to him, except that he was far more heavy, but not too heavy for it to be uncomfortable. In fact it was quite the opposite. The weight on top of him felt oddly comforting and soon he found himself drifting off as well. He didn't know how long they had slept when he awoke to Dec shifting on top of him. "You okay?" he asked quietly. "No" Dec groaned. "Hafta pee" he mumbled into his shoulder. Ant, who had expected something worse, couldn't help laughing at that. "Why does one always have to pee when it's the most comfortable" Dec murmured, still hiding his face in his friends shoulder. "I don't know" Ant was still smiling. "Better go pee then. I don't think you're comfortable right now are ye?" Dec shook his head as he felt his bladder complaining in his lower abdomen. Reluctantly, he got up and went to the toilet. Ant closed his eyes once more, but without Dec on top of him, there seemed to be a draft. He was missing his body warmth already and shivered slightly. Dec returned 2 minutes later, already longing to lie back down again. Still he wasn't sure if Ant wanted to have him so close once more. Hesitantly he shuffled over to him. "Can I lie back down again?" he asked sheepishly, seeing as Ant had closed his eyes. At his question however they opened. "Course you can" he smiled at him. "I'm cold without you as my blanket. Dec smiled relieved. This time he didn't feel awkward sitting down on his lap, before snuggling up to his chest. Ant wrapped his arms around him as if to welcome him back. "Feeling better?" Ant asked smiling. "Much" Dec sighed and let his eyes close. Ant chuckled at the obvious relief in his friends voice. They continued to doze for the next 20 minutes, before the captain announced they would be landing soon. Dec stretched himself in Ant's arms, before nuzzling his friends neck gently. "Thanks" he mumbled and kissed his neck softly. Ant felt himself getting all warm and fuzzy at the gentle kiss. He brought his seat back into its upright position, but continued to hold his best friend. Both of them didn't seem too keen to leave the warm embrace, so they continued snuggling. Ant returned the gentle kiss, making Dec blush and hide his face further in his friends shoulder. They stayed like this until the plane touched down at its destination, having completely forgotten that they should have been in their respective seats with their seat belts on. But that didn't matter now that they had landed. "We should cuddle more often" Dec said when they finally let go of each other. "Yeah, we should" Ant agreed smiling, before they left the plane. The End

[carbonjen]

I love your Hogwarts AU! Can we perhaps see how their relationship is like after Dick graduated? Perhaps weekend date at Hogsmeade or something?

So I liked this idea, but I also wanted to write a bit of what their post Hogwarts lives would be like as well. It was really nice to revisit this AU!

I would also like to note that I’m closing prompts so I can work on the ones I have. I’ve slowed down in answering them but that’s because I’m working on some other fics that will (hopefully) be seeing the light of day soon. 

After Hogwarts

Jason and Dick really should have seen the impact that Dick’s graduation would have on their relationship. Dick was only one year ahead of Jason, meaning they would only have one year apart. It was something they hadn’t talked about much as the end of the year had approached for Dick. They’d spent most of that time in Dick’s bed studying whether it was for their finals or their bodies.

The summer they spent at the manor was a little more complicated. Dick found a job with the ministry working in muggle relations and had to relocate to London while Jason stayed alone at the manor in Dick’s room while Dick got settled in London.

“Hey,” Dick told him as he held Jason close one night. “The apartment that I’m going to set up there will be ours, it’s going to have all the muggle things we want it to have, we only have a year, and then you get to live with me in our own place. I’ll visit you on the weekends when I can and I’ll send you letters every day.”

Dick held true to his word. As he got acquainted at his job and Jason got acquainted at Hogwarts for his final year, Dick sent him letters every day. Sometimes Dick outlined his day in full, and other days he send Jason lyrics to songs he liked and the names of restaurants he promised to go to with Jason. Jason replied every day, telling Dick about the gossip and drama going on, how classes were, and answering Dick’s questions about what was going on around campus.

Then one day, Jason got the letter he’d been waiting for, Dick was coming to visit, he was going to watch the quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor and then they were going to stay in Hogsmeade for the weekend.

The night before Dick’s arrival, Jason wasn’t able to get any sleep. He wouldn’t be able to go into Hogsmeade the next day to pick Dick up from the train station because he had to prepare for the quidditch match. He knew he had to get as much rest as he could but he was too excited. It had been over a month since he’d seen Dick, both of them busy with their respective lives and unable to see each other.

Jason was barely able to focus in classes the next day, but he put his nervous energy into the quidditch match. When there was a lull in the game, Jason searched the stands and grinned when he saw Dick there waving to him and wearing a red and gold scarf. Jason played hard during the rest of the game ensuring a Gryffindor victory and Dick met him outside the locker rooms as soon as Jason was showered and ready.

Jason pulled Dick into his arms and held onto him tight, taking in Dick’s scent, the feel of him and the way their bodies slotted together. Dick pulled away from the hug, holding Jason by his shoulders.

“You got taller!” He said as he looked at Jason. Before, Jason had been the same height as Dick, but now he was at least a few centimeters taller. “I can’t believe it, I’m shorter than you!”

“That doesn’t mean you’re short, Dick,” Jason told him as he wrapped an arm around Dick’s waist and they started walking off campus, Jason’s bag slung over his shoulder.

“I know,” Dick said as he kissed Jason’s cheek. “I’m still just as capable and I have the whole weekend to show you.”

Jason expected the weekend to pass quickly, but he didn’t expect it to fly by as fast as it did. They stayed in the room Dick had gotten in the Three Broomsticks for a majority of their time there, but sooner than Jason would have liked, they were in front of the train station and Dick was holding him before he said goodbye.

“I’ll miss you,” Jason whispered as he kissed Dick’s cheek over and over again.

“I know,” Dick said. “Just one year,” he told Jason as he played with the lapels on Jason’s coat. “Less than that, and we’ll be able to be together again.”

“Write me a letter as soon as you get back,” Jason told him. “God I wish we could have cell phones here, then I could call you and text you.”

Dick pulled him into another hug, burying his face in Jason’s neck. “I’ll visit your for Halloween,” Dick said. “And then we’ll have the winter holidays. I’m trying to make sure there’s a position for you in the ministry when you finish school so you can start in London as soon as you’re done.”

“Thanks, Dick,” Jason said as he pulled Dick into a long kiss. The train whistle sounded and Dick pulled away, a frown on his face. He squeezed Jason’s hands one last time before he boarded the train, Jason waiting until it was just a dot on the horizon before he went back to Hogwarts.

-

“Do you have everything?” Dick asked, looking at Jason’s lone trunk on the train platform.

“Yes,” Jason said for the umpteenth time as he pushed his trunk on the cart towards the train station exit.

“It just doesn’t look like a lot,” Dick said as he helped Jason lift it and carry it out of the station. They walked along the busy London streets, the trunk between them.

“Magic, Dick,” Jason told him. They walked for a few minutes before they stopped in front of a sleek black car. Dick opened the boot and looked at Jason’s trunk for a few moments.

“We may need magic now,” Jason said as he and Dick tried to situate the trunk into the back of the car. After a few minutes and a few covert spells, they finally had it slotted inside and they were driving through London traffic.

“There are so many amazing radio stations,” Dick told Jason as he cycled through his presets. “Sometimes I’ll drive to work so I can sit in traffic and listen to music. Even the ads are so interesting. You wouldn’t believe the things they have ads for. We even get mail with advertisements!”

Jason grinned. “I’m glad you enjoy looking at them,” he said. “Because I can promise you they get tiring.”

“Well I’m not tired of them yet,” Dick said. They drove towards Kensington where their home was situated, it was hard to think they already had a home and all Jason had to do was move in. “Jason, you’ll love it here, it’s so bright and there’s a garden. It’s quiet too.”

“I’m excited,” Jason said as he squeezed Dick’s hand. “How much of a mess is it going to be.”

“I cleaned before you got here,” Dick promised him. “I wanted to make sure we could go straight to the bedroom as soon as we got home.”

“Of course you did,” Jason said with a small smirk as they drove towards the posh neighborhood. When he’d found out Dick had gotten them a several bedroom home and thought it was small, Jason had laughed. It was nice to know they’d be living in a safe area and he admired Dick’s excitement over the place they were going to call their own.

They finally arrived, Jason laughing when he found out they had a garage, a luxury in a neighborhood like this, and he grabbed his trunk, Dick helping him carry it inside. Dick was right about how bright it was, there were plenty of windows that illuminated the bright space and he could see the greenery outside instead of busy streets.

“Did you decorate this yourself?” Jason asked as he took in the pale wood floors, the expensive fixtures and the stylish look of the entire place. It looked like something out of a magazine.

“I had help,” Dick said as he and Jason carried the trunk up the narrow stairway. They walked down the hall and to the large bedroom, the sheets were mussed and there were clothes tossed on the floor but it smelled like Dick and it made Jason happy. They set the trunk down and Jason collapsed down on the bed, Dick settling next to him.

“This place is amazing,” Jason told Dick. “I never thought I’d be living in a place this gorgeous with someone as beautiful as you.”

“To think,” Dick said as he looked at Jason, a smile on his face. “All it took was you hitting me as hard as you could with a bludger.”

Jason laughed and pulled Dick into a kiss, “So,” he asked. “The bed here hasn’t been broken in, has it?”

“Nope,” Dick said. “It’s been waiting for you.”

[silver-soliloquy]

@abibliophilehobbit your tags yesterday about the terrible struggle to find Eight/Charley fic reminded me that I still owe your some fluff, so: have some ridiculously domestic cuties being cute! (AO3 link)

There’s nothing like a long, hot bath to unwind after a long day of people trying to kill you, Charley had decided immediately after moving into the Tardis.  This is a universal fact, she assumes, but it’s especially true given the vast array of bubble baths and scented oils stocked in the Tardis bathroom (well, one of the Tardis bathrooms, but this one always seems to appear near her room when she’s especially tired).  She usually foregoes the hair dryer, though—the Doctor showed her how to use it once, but it always blows too-hot air in her face and makes her hair stick up in odd ways when she tries it herself.  Wretched piece of technology.

She towels her hair off instead, trying not to drip water down the back of her warm pajama top, as she wanders through the quiet Tardis halls.  She’s not quite ready for bed yet, and the only thing better than a bath is a few peaceful hours with the Doctor.

She finds him in the library, as usual, with two cups of tea waiting.  She sips hers gratefully as she settles in; it’s the herbal blend she likes to have in the evenings—well, the relative evenings—while the Doctor’s cup is his usual oversteeped earl gray.  He’s so bouncy all the time, she has no idea if cutting off his supply of caffeine would make any noticeable difference.

The Doctor tuts at her hair, still damp and bedraggled from her careless toweling, and beckons her to his end of the sofa, abandoning his book and teacup to produce a comb from one of his bottomless pockets.  “Charlotte Pollard, I imagine your mother would have some things to say about your hair care routine,” he says, settling her in front of him, and Charley laughs.

“You should’ve heard the fit she threw when I came home with it cut short,” she says.  “I think she’s long given up that fight.”

“Well, I haven’t,” he retorts, and sets about attacking the wet tangles.  He goes slowly enough not to pull, and works out some of the bigger knots with his fingers before he goes over them with the comb, and it’s—lovely.  Her mother would have a thing or two to say about the way she practically melts into his lap, that’s for sure.

The Doctor chatters as he works, as usual—something about 51st century conditioners and the near-miraculous properties thereof, and how he’s going to take her to one of the massive spas there next time they want a holiday, but Charley doesn’t bother listening too closely.  The fine comb feels nice on her scalp, and the Doctor’s careful hands feel even nicer.  Between that, the warmth of the tea, and the lovely cadence of his voice in her ear, she wants to curl up like a cat in his lap and fall asleep right there.  There’s probably a reason that would be a bad idea, but she can’t think what it is right now.

“There—all finished,” the Doctor says finally, and Charley mourns the loss of the comb for a moment before the Doctor begins carding through the strands with his fingers, checking for hidden tangles or styling it somehow or just playing with it, in the absent way he does sometimes.

“It’s getting quite long, isn’t it?” he adds, and Charley forces herself to focus enough to answer.

“It has grown out a bit,” she admits.  “I haven’t had it cut since the R101—well, it’s difficult to find a salon in the midst of uncovering alien plots and staging revolutions and running for our lives and whatnot.”

The Doctor hums noncommittally.  “I never bother with haircuts much, myself.  I never seem to remember to make an appointment.”

“I never would have guessed,” says Charley wryly.

“Still,” he muses, curling a lock around his fingers, “I could cut yours for you, if you want.”

“What, really?”

“I’ll have you know, Miss Pollard, I am a veritable artisan with a pair of scissors,” he says sternly, as Charley giggles.  “Why, Kenneth Battelle himself said—”

Charley groans.  “Oh, no, no name dropping, it’s too late for name dropping!  I haven’t the faintest idea who that is, anyways.”

“He styled Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn’s hair, among other things.”

“I don’t know who they are, either!”

“Ah that’s right, you wouldn’t, would you.”  He huffs a quiet laugh, and he’s still close enough that his breath stirs her hair.  It’s not exactly unusual—the man has absolutely no sense of personal space—but Charley pauses to savor the moment anyways.

“At any rate, I could cut your hair for you,” he adds.  “If you’d like me to.”

Well, it has been annoying her a bit—it’s long enough to touch her shoulders now, and it keeps getting in her face.  It’s nearly impossible to keep track of time in the Tardis, but she probably would’ve gotten it trimmed by now if she were still back home.

It’s odd, thinking about the life she would be leading if she hadn’t made the decision to board the R101; she doesn’t much like dwelling on it, even the harmless little domestic details like haircuts.  “Would I have to move?” she says instead.  “I’m too tired to move.  My feet refuse to be of service, after all that running they did today.”  She wiggles her toes in the air, to demonstrate.

“Of course not!  Let’s see, I have scissors in my pocket somewhere—one moment—ah yes, and this will do nicely.”  He grabs the quilt draped over the back of the sofa and wraps it around Charley’s shoulders, a makeshift barber’s smock.

“Won’t the hair get on the sofa?”

“Yes, but we can clean it up later.  Or the Tardis can.  Either way, not a concern.”

“If you say so.”

“Quite.  Now, what length would you like?  A trim, or a bit shorter?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know.  Can you put it back the way it was when we met?”

The Doctor considers this, tugging at locks of hair and fussing with his comb. “I think we can manage that, yes. It was about the length of your chin, wasn’t it?  A little longer, to allow for the curl.”

“Whatever you think is best, Doctor,” she says—name dropping aside, he probably does know more about hairdressing than she does—and closes her eyes contentedly as the rhythmic snip snip of scissors starts up behind her.  The Doctor hums as he works instead of chattering (Charley hopes it’s because he’s busy concentrating on making sure the ends are even), something operatic sounding that she vaguely recognizes from one of his records.  Even if she looks in the mirror in the morning to find a dreadful mess, it will have been worth it, she decides, and hums along with the melody.