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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] Gavin’s Sky Date - Prologue

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date prologue, 云霄之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Do note that you have to read this before embarking on the actual date, because it contains background information and sweet domestic bliss you wouldn't want to miss :>

[ This date was released on 14 April 2021 ]

[ Part One: A Dream About to Take Flight ]

MC: Ahhh! My life is up to me. Not. Up. To. Fate!

The small dice in my furled hand is tossed around several times. When I loosen my grip, it rolls quickly on the map -- ‘2′.

Gavin: Hahaha--

Gavin laughs, but hurriedly retracts his smile when he senses my murderous gaze.

Gavin: It’s okay, things will definitely take a favourable turn in the next round.

Sulky, I let out of a huff. I watch as he picks up the dice, casually rolling a '5′. Then, he cheerfully shifts his own plane on the map by six spaces.

[Note] In the game of Aeroplane Chess, your plane can only leave the starting point if you roll a ‘5′ of ‘6′!

MC: ...

It’s a Saturday afternoon. Gavin and I had nothing to do after eating, so we randomly grabbed a set of Aeroplane Chess from the supermarket to play. But I didn’t expect to have such a terrible gaming experience!

Although it’s been the sixth or seventh round, I just can’t the ‘6′ I need to get my plane out of the hangar. On the other hand, Gavin has always been able to get it to take flight smoothly, and very quickly reaches the goal.

MC: Gavin, with your kind of luck, there’s no need to waste it on playing games with me.

After pondering for a long while, I offer him a serious suggestion.

MC: Let’s head out to buy a lottery ticket?

Gavin: Why don’t we play something else? The paper model from last time was only half done. Since we have time today, we could get it done at one go.

At this moment, the phone on the floor beside me rings. Seeing the familiar number, I tap on the hands-free function.

Nurse: Miss MC, the physical report done at our hospital is ready. Please bring your receipt and collect it within fifteen working days.

MC: Mm, got it, thank you.

Gavin is currently storing the Aeroplane Chess pieces into the box. Hearing this conversation, he gives me a puzzled look.

Gavin: Haven’t you already gone for a physical examination this year? Are you feeling unwell?

MC: No, no. I’m using the report for the registration.

I deliberately pretend to be secretive, leaning towards him. Then, I show him the registration form that I had submitted online beforehand.

MC: I’m going to get a Private Pilot License.

[ Part Two: First Day of School ]

On the first day of aviation training, I set the alarm to wake me up at 6.30am. Even Gavin is stunned at the level of enthusiasm I have for learning.

Gavin: The courses for the aviation license can get pretty dry. You have to be mentally prepared.

MC: Are you referring to things like meteorology, aircraft structure, air traffic regulations?

Gavin: Mm. Aside from the exams, such knowledge is necessary for aircraft pilots.

While he speaks, he lifts his head to give me a smile.

Gavin: But they definitely won’t stump you.

After packing my things, I grab a random jacket and prepare to leave.

The classes take place in the suburbs, and it takes an hour to get there. Despite waking up early, I’d be late if I don’t hurry up.

But Gavin is clearly not too worried about this matter. He holds a slice of bread in his mouth while looking at his phone.

Gavin: Since I’m sending you there, you won’t be late. Before your first official lesson, I’ll give you a flight class.

I walk over to him, pulling up the zipper of his uniform, and also picking up the motorcycle helmet from the table.

MC: To prevent this from being a mere flash in the pan, I want to leave the joy of flight to the end of the course. But if going by land would make me late...

Gavin rolls the bread into his mouth, taking the helmet from my hand.

Gavin: No matter the route, you won’t be late. Oh yes, what class are you taking today?

[ Part Two, Option 1: Principles of Meteorology ]

Instructor: I’ll ask some small questions to test your foundation and see if you take note of knowledge in this area.

He opens the PowerPoint presentation, then uses a laser pointer to point at the image on the first page - it's a cumulus cloud with a flat bottom layer and a high, upward curve at the top.

Instructor: Does anyone know what this cloud is called?

MC: Cumulus congestus cloud.

Instructor: Correct. The next question - when the International Civil Aviation Organisation observes cloud volume, how many segments do they divide the sky into?

MC: It should be eight segments.

I recall that Gavin brought this up before.

Instructor: Not bad, miss. You did preparatory work beforehand, didn’t you?

MC: No no, I have a friend who has a better understanding in this area, so I was just influenced.

After saying this, chuckles drift from the surroundings. The instructor nods in understanding.

Instructor: In that case, you won’t have a problem during the exams.

MC: ...I’ll do my best.

After all, my confidence is limited when it comes to exams.

Just as I’m thinking about this, I receive a notification on my phone. Gavin has sent me an incredibly large document file.

Gavin: I don’t know how to teach, so I compiled some materials you might need for the exam.

I grip my phone, suddenly feeling like the weather is so good that it makes one carefree and relaxed.

It’s just an exam. I’ll definitely be fine.

[ Part Two, Option 2: Aviation Regulations Class ]

At 2pm in the afternoon, the sun shines from above. I had a full meal, so fighting against the sleeping bug is a difficult challenge.

Instructor: Before the flight, the captain has to carry out the necessary inspections of the aircraft. Until the inspections are complete, you can’t take off. This regulation is easy to understand. In fact...

When the dullness of the course matches how fine the weather is, the entire classroom gets immersed in a drowsy atmosphere.

I take a few deep breaths and pat my face... but I still feel like sleeping.

Instructor: Okay, we’ll take a 10 minute break. You students look sleepy, so go wash your faces to freshen up.

The moment he finishes speaking, the sound of heads plopping down on the tables can be heard all around.

Just as I prepare to stand up and stretch, my phone suddenly vibrates.

Delivery boy: Hello, I’ve placed your take-out at the main counter.

MC: Take-out?

But I didn’t order take-out...

While I’m puzzled, the young lady from the main counter very politely brings the item to the classroom - it’s a cup of coffee.

There’s only one simple line on the note of the take-out: Persevere for a little longer. Gavin.

I retrieve the coffee from the bag, taking a tiny slip. The instructor walks past, giving me a glance from the side.

Instructor: Are you drinking coffee or milk tea? You’re smiling so happily.

MC: Being able to swim in the ocean of knowledge is always meant to be a happy thing.

The instructor gives me an expression which says, “like I’d actually believe you”.

MC: Instructor, let’s continue with the lesson. I’m not drowsy anymore. Learning for another four hours is no problem at all!

[ Part Three: Being Your Co-pilot ]

Gavin: Do you want to head out for a stroll after dinner? It seems to be really cooling outside.

I’m currently taking out plates from the kitchen drawer, subconsciously craning my head to glance outside.

MC: It’s going to rain, isn’t it...

Gavin: Really? I’ll check the weather forecast. Earlier in the afternoon, Eli mentioned taking out some time to wash his car at night. I even thought today would be a good day.

I step into the living room, setting down plates on the dining table.

MC: There are just some cumulonimbus clouds in the sky. It might not really rain.

Gavin scrolls through the real-time weather, then gives me a smile.

Gavin: It’s really going to rain.

He gets up, opening the rice cooker and scooping a full bowl of rice for me.

Gavin: At first, I even thought you’d find such theoretical knowledge boring. I didn’t think you’d learn them so earnestly. Looks like you really want to get the license.

MC: Of course. I want to be your co-pilot.

Although Gavin hasn’t even scooped rice for himself, he’s already served me a huge pile of vegetables.

Gavin: Sure. I’ll wait for the day you get your license.

Just as I’m about to talk about how assured I am about getting the license, I realise that the plate on my hand is becoming fuller and fuller.

Before I can even voice my question, Gavin responds.

Gavin: Learning is tough. You need to eat a little more. I also bought you ice-cream. It’s in the second compartment of the freezer. I remember you mentioning that as long as you eat something delicious during difficult times, you can press on easily.

MC: ...hahaha! Mm! After having this meal, I’ll complete all my post-class homework!

[ Aviation Terminology Class ]

MC: Calling for the control tower. Number N8596 has arrived, and is requesting for a landing gate.

Gavin (through the phone): Number N8596, you may use aircraft Gate Number One.

Gavin’s light-hearted laughter drifts from the phone.

Gavin: Shouldn’t your class end at 7pm? It’s only 6pm.

MC: The plan was to be dismissed at 7pm, but... for some reason, those in my class were really interested in the Aviation Terminology class, so they did their preparatory work in advance. The three hour class was over in one and a half hours. The instructor said that we already grasped all the key points, so we were dismissed early. What about you? How much longer till you’re off work?

Gavin: For me... less than half an hour. You could think about what to do with this unexpectedly free hour. I remember that there’s a new dessert shop opposite the cinema.

MC: You remembered? I never even told you about it. How could you remember? Officer Gavin, you better tell me the truth. You didn’t remember it - you specially searched it up.

Gavin: Mm, I specially searched it up. I even found that there are claw machines along the shopping street on the ground level of the cinema.

MC: Looks like what I’m going to do in the next hour has already been scheduled.

Gavin: Wait for me at the office first. I’ll look for you once I’m done with the work on hand.

[ Part Four: Flight Practice ]

Today’s the first flight practice class. The instructor is sitting in the co-pilot seat, watching my every move throughout the entire journey.

I wasn't nervous at first, but each time he glances at me, I involuntary wonder if I’ve done something wrong.

In an instant, I recall the fear of taking the aviation exam...

Until the plane successfully takes flight, I keep feeling as though the thing suspending in the air isn’t the plane, but my heart.

Instructor: It’s rare for you to make a trip up here. What’s there to be nervous about? Come, lift your head and look at the sky.

At this moment, countless gripes flash across my mind: What’s so nice about the sky? I’ve seen all kinds of skies. Right now, all I want is to fly the plane...

But the moment I lift my head, I’m rendered speechless.

Instructor: How is it? The first time I saw it, I was so stunned that I couldn't speak either.

MC: It’s really beautiful.

Sunlight casts a layer of golden hue on the soft and white clouds, blending the colours of gold and crimson.

I’m unable to describe how the scenery before me makes me feel.

It’s a feeling which... makes one feel that life has meaning.

All of a sudden, another thought surfaces in my mind: I wonder what went through Gavin’s mind when he saw such a sight for the first time.

The instructor sitting next to me glances at me from the side.

Instructor: Thinking about your boyfriend again?

MC: [blushing] ...no!

Instructor: It’s normal. Each time I’m flying, I can’t help but think of my wife. There isn’t a reason to it. It’s just a sudden thought, an involuntary reaction.

The instructor laughs as he gives me advice with a contagious smile.

Instructor: If you’re thinking about him, just do it. It’s fine. It’s a normal thing. When you see certain things, your natural reaction is to think of someone.

MC: ...Instructor, I usually can’t tell, but you’re actually quite philosophical.

I grab the joystick of the plane, watching as countless clouds drift past leisurely.

All I want to do is take a photograph of this moment for Gavin.

Date: here

Gavin watching as I drool over the thought of Eli scrubbing his car in the rain while wearing a singlet:

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #summary of the prologue: gavin is the perfect boyfriend

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angelicamerlinbarnes · 3 years

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Albus Dumbledore being an awesome teacher and human being

Bubblegum Bitch - MARINA

(Imma be honest with y’all, it’s mostly just him being a crackhead.)

He tells stories about Grindelwald, about their marriage and their beliefs and their lives together. All of the stories have lessons - sure, a lot of those lessons are about how NOT to make pasta, but they’re still lessons!

He likes to matchmake students using seating charts and certain magical spell assignments. He’s very good at it. I mean, he’s shit at figuring out who likes each other, but he is great at meddling, so Mcgonogall tells him who to mess with and he does as he’s told. They make a great team (and are invited to a lot of weddings). Couples they’ve helped include but are not limited to: Dean and Seamus, Luna and Ginny, Hermione and Harry and Ron, Sirius and Remus, Peter and Maxwell Needles, Peter and Regulus (that was later), Lily and Severus and James, Fred and Lee plus George and Lee, Charlie and Newt (queerplatonic), Leta and Newt (queerplatonic), Harry and Luna (queerplatonic), and Sirius and James and Remus (queerplatonic). They’ve been very busy.

He and Mcgonogall have teatime almost every day. They talk about their students and work on their matchmaking plans. There’s a lot of sass and deadpanning involved. Sometimes they invite Remus, Sirius, and James. (Not Peter. He doesn’t need the same level of torturing that they do.) Bubbles of all shapes and sizes and colors float around the room the whole time. It’s fantastic.

He accepts gossip in exchange for extra credit. He’s a really good secret keeper too, so a lot of students go for it. (It hasn’t broken any friendships. There’s an understanding among the student population that Dumbledore is like Ms. Potts from that Muggle film Beauty and the Beast - well-meaning and trustworthy, but terribly, terribly bored.)

Everything in his classroom is pink. And glittery. And covered in sequins. Once a student asked him why and he just smirked for a solid minute before whispering, “Lemonade.” (As if that makes any fucking sense.)

He once taught class in a full-fledged glittery ballgown that faded from light pink to deep purple. He did not once acknowledge it or act like anything was out of the ordinary. One student raised their hand and asked timidly, “Professor? Why are you wearing a ballgown?” And his brow furrowed as he frowned, looked down at himself, and muttered, “Thought it was a bathrobe.” (Harry does not let him live this one down. His dad is not much help - Severus took many, many pictures.) (Not that it mattered. On Wednesdays Dumbledore wears pink (glittery ballgowns).)

He speaks to kids who have parents, friends, and relatives in prison, whether for being Death Eaters or otherwise. He chaperones visits to Azkaban for them so they can see their loved ones. He casts protective and invisibility charms on them so only the one they’re visiting can see or hear them, and he teaches them Patronuses (with Remus’ help, of course). He often spends these visits on the other side of Grindelwald’s bars, playing wizard’s chess against him. (Sometimes Grindelwald gives him flowers. It always makes Dumbledore smile. There may be no one left in the world who understands why they love each other, but they don’t need to understand it for it to be true.)

He stands at the front of the classroom and makes funny faces during tests and waits to see how long it takes for a student to look up. His latest record is seven minutes.

When he’s teaching Grindelwald’s history, he makes snarky comments about his husband. They range from “I mean really. Who the fuck thought wizards ruling Muggles was a good idea?” (Rest in peace that one student who thought it was a good idea to say, “You did, Professor.”) to “Honestly, that man has no concept of romance. I ask him for a nice night out and he takes me to a Muggle rally about witchcraft and tries to impress me by playing practical magical jokes on the speaker. A toddler could do that.” (He often gets mushy during those stories though, usually trailing off like “But that time he took me to my childhood home for my birthday was sweet… brought me flowers for Ariana’s grave and everything. Sure, he killed her, but… he has a sweet side…” and from there on out he’s basically a lost cause and you might as well go to your next class because he’s not going to stop humming that fucking Elvis song).

He “loses” his glasses all the time by casting an invisibility charm on them and forces his students to search the classroom for them when they’re on his face the whole time. He thinks it’s funny. Harry does not. (But Severus and Mcgonogall do, and that’s really what matters.) (Severus and Mcgonogall and Dumbledore are a fantastic trio full of snark and sarcasm and shit, I have just decided.)

He makes little animals out of multi-colored magical dust and they fly around the classroom and perch on his favorite students’ heads. Once a dragon fell asleep on Newt’s head and wouldn’t leave even when class was over. Newt had to wait for the magic to wear off so it would disintegrate. (Of course, he had named it by that point and had a meltdown when it disappeared, so Dumbledore recreates the dragon (Robert) every class and just lets Newt coo at it, even during tests.)

He conjured and charmed two giant (I mean Egypt half-animal half-man guard statue size giant) fluffy pink teddy bears that are alive and stand on either side of him like bodyguards during class. A Slytherin student punched one in the stomach once and it vomited enough M&Ms over their head to completely bury them. The student’s partner, a Ravenclaw student, punched the other one in an ill-advised burst of illogical thought and received the same treatment, but in Skittles. (Luckily their Gryffindor aro-ace friend and nonbinary Hufflepuff friend stayed after class and ate until they could move again. Safe to say no one has dared punch the bears again.) (Though I hear they do give very good hugs. And they eat homework if you ask nicely enough!)

He has a bunch of cloaks that act as portals to realms like Merlin’s Celestiums (S.G.E., Soman Chainani). He gives one to each student for tests, and they are transported to their ideal test-taking environments, complete with whatever song they feel like listening to at any given minute playing all around them. Unsurprisingly, his students have the best grades in all of Hogwarts. (He also has a secret cloak that he uses for himself, to see Grindelwald. Grindelwald has his own matching one so he can always make it home for Thursday date night.) (They have been caught. Of course they have. But no one is going to challenge Dumbledore for his right to see his husband, even if he did marry a murderer.) (Sirius and Remus used to steal the cloak for their own dates. And later on James would steal it to take the two of them on friend-dates. Inspired by that, Dumbledore made a special cloak for Mcgonogall that he gifted her on her fiftieth birthday. The smile she gave him then is his favorite of all time.)

He bickers with Fawkes constantly. This often evolves into full-fledged screaming matches with spastic hand gestures, gratuitous spit, and angry hops on both sides. Once Dumbledore drew wand on his “useless babbling bastard of a bird”. No one has bothered to tell Dumbledore that Fawkes probably can’t understand a word of their arguments. (They do evacuate the classroom when these fights start though. The last time they stayed their hair was gone for a week, and when it grew back it was glittery and pink.) (Harry looked especially fantastic. Sirius thought he looked great. He laughed until he was in tears. Harry was not amused.) (Remus was.)

Sometimes he’s absent from class and Mcgonogall teaches them instead. When asked if he’s alright, Mcgonogall simply answers, “My partner is away on personal business for the day. Now, turn to page -” Soon enough people figured out that “personal business” meant “conjugal visit with Genocidal Maniac Husband™ in prison”. They stopped asking.

He gives all of his students the red button test (without knowing what it does, do you press the red button?). Those who pass get automatic A’s and a lollipop. Those who fail get a talking pet pygmy puff. The thing that usually trips people up is that Dumbledore considers the “correct” answer to be pressing the goddamn button. (Seamus is the only one who has ever passed (enthusiastically too!). Newt half-passed because Niffy the Niffler sat on it.) (Sirius and James would have passed too if they had not been the life partners of one Remus Lupin, whose creativity with threats and extensive curse-word vocabulary rivaled Mcgonogall’s even at the tender age of fifteen.)

He has floating war maps just lying around. He plays battleship with his students on them. What he neglects to tell them is that their moves have actual consequences in the world, as the maps are magical and reflect real battles and places. When Harry finds out (he blew up Denmark, completely unawares) he shows up at Dumbledore’s door soaking wet at five-thirty in the morning with a newspaper, his fists clenched, his face red, and his chest heaving. He wouldn’t stop glaring for weeks. (Alas, Dumbledore’s glorious beard has great resistance to fire spells.) (Following an incident involving the original four Marauders in their third year. Shhh… we do not speak of that.)

He has a habit of walking into random classrooms, gesturing for a student to come with him with his finger, and then taking them to his office for teatime. He usually asks them inane questions about a specific theme (fish, pasta strainers, socks, throw pillows, mooses, etc.) for hours until finally dismissing them. It drives Mcgonogall crazy. (She’s yelled at him plenty for “kidnapping students to ask them questions you know you could easily find on that Muggle infer-het thing! They have exams, Albus -” but he just smiles at her while calmly sipping his tea and she always ends up collapsing in the chair across from him with a sigh, taking the tea from his hands and chugging it before wiping her mouth, slamming it down on the desk, and asking, “So. Fish. What’s up with them?” and Albus just beams.)

He spends half of his class lessons babbling on about how Merlin was gay for Arthur and Arthur was gay for Merlin, but not in long tangents. Just a bunch of random comments without context, warning, or explanation. (He mentions “poetry” a lot and waggles his eyebrows for some reason, so… what’s up with that? (Merlin BBC))

He overshares A LOT about his and Grindelwald’s lives. It’s a problem because 90% of the time it’s something sweet or innocent like “Oh, he brought me a tiger lily that bloomed open to show a gold and ruby ring nestled inside on our first anniversary. That’s how he proposed to me” and “He used to hum while he did the housework, you know? He’d stand in the middle of the house and close his eyes and just hum. Almost entire symphonies too, just waving his wand in the air like a conductor” to “This one time in bed he…” and there is NO warning. The amount of things these poor children’s ears have had to endure… (*shakes head in mock disappointment*)

He often cooks during class using wandless magic. The pots and pans heat themselves and float around in the air. Sometimes Dumbledore dances and then they start dancing too. He whistles and creates a base beat for the sizzling, popping, clanging, and other kitchen noises to follow. This usually happens during tests. Oh joy.

He leaves the windows open when it rains, but somehow nothing ever gets wet. Harry and Hermione have a theory that it’s protection charms. (Really it’s a spell Severus made up when he was drunk because he was angry that umbrellas don’t have enough room under them for three, and he’s always been the most self-sacrificial person in his marriage.)

He regularly makes bets with Mcgonogall about the students’ love lives. Not money, but little things the other doesn’t want to do or buy. Dumbledore usually has to handle the Marauders’ detentions or give up one of his teddy bear guards for Mcgonogall’s experimental enjoyments. Mcgonogall has to do something embarrassing or let him borrow one of her glittery hats. They should really stop making bets at this point; the stakes and the winners are dreadfully predictable. He always wins when the bet is on a student’s sexuality or gender and she always wins when the bet is on who a student will end up with. Nonetheless, the bets continue. So too does their grumbling amusement.

He figured out how to make a broom invisible when he and Grindelwald first fell in love, so they could be showy with each other at their Greater Good rallies. They later used it for dates, prison breaks, and daring escapes complete with kisses under the moon. Once Grindelwald went to Azkaban, Dumbledore used it to find some privacy where he could grieve. Now, he uses it to travel around his classroom and Hogwarts and trick everyone into thinking he can fly by sheer will. Only Mcgonogall knows his secret. (And Severus, but Dumbledore doesn’t know that because he told him when he was black out drunk. So.)

He lets pygmy puffs sleep in his beard. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

He once taught class while teetering on his feet because he had somehow gotten himself tangled in Christmas lights from shoulders to ankles and couldn’t move. (Sirius wandered in and saw this, cried he was laughing so hard, and then warbled his off-key way through as many Christmas carols as he could remember for the rest of class.) (Dumbledore tried to Silencio him but just fell over trying to make the wand movement. He broke his nose. Sirius almost had a panic attack because he couldn’t breathe from how hard he was laughing. By the end of this he had curled up in a fetal position on the floor, Remus was lying down next to him and muttering jokes to him, Mcgonogall was trying to fix Dumbledore’s face, and Severus had taken over the class. Not that they got much done - James was visiting that day. And him, Sirius, and Remus all laughing about the same thing rarely leads to a quiet and calm learning environment.) (They gave him a joint present of rainbow Christmas lights for his birthday - “Happy Gay Day, Professor!” - and he was not amused.) (Grindelwald was though. So was everyone else.)

He tends to mix up holidays in his head and often decorates for the wrong one. He goes all out too. He’s kind of a disaster, and so is his classroom. It became such a problem that the Marauders actually took pity on him and made him a very big calendar with all the holidays marked on it in glitter and fake jewels and flowers. It sits behind his desk and occasionally works.) (Occasionally.)

He’s queerplatonic partners with Mcgonogall. They held a friend-wedding and forced Severus to be the flowergirl. Harry officiated, Remus was Dumbledore’s best man, Sirius was Mcgonogall’s, James wasn’t given a job cause he was crying too much, Lily was in charge of taking care of James, and Peter was the ring bearer (he only lost them TWICE and they were ring pops anyway). Mcgonogall screeches at him a lot and Dumbledore can be depressive and neglectful because he misses Grindelwald but they love each other so it works. (And they’re the prime source of advice for James, Sirius, and Remus regarding their own queerplatonic relationship, for better or for worse.)

He puts his feet up on the desk even though it’s bad for his knees. Mcgonogall told him it’s bad for his knees and he has stubbornly put them up there every class since. (His knees are killing him but he will not give in to “a paranoid, batty old witch who doesn’t know shit about what’s good for me and wouldn’t if she was hit with an Imperio and I told her -” “I’M YOUR FUCKING PARTNER, YOU BLASPHEMOUS ARROGANT BRAT OF AN OLD FART!”)

Instead of walking around his classroom, he struts. (Yes, it worsens his knees.) He does strike poses, he does make obnoxious expressions, and he does look fabulous. WORK! (Yes, that was a Hamilton reference.)

He once taught class without a face because Mcgonogall cursed him for “fucking up the alphabetical organization of my tea, you old twit. Honestly, Albus, it’s not that hard”. (How did he teach without a mouth, you ask? Easy, he used intermediate BSL (deaf students, plus Azkaban isn’t great on old men’s ears and he and Grindelwald are both gettin’ up there) and Sirius interpreted.) (Incredibly wrongly, crudely, and foul-mouth-ly, but nonetheless he interpreted.)

He has difficulty understanding the straight people in his class. He is fully accepting of everyone and wants the best for all of them, but when it comes to relationship advice, he’s shit.

Excerpt pulled from Pensieve of a conversation he had with a student who identified as female:

Dumbledore: “So your boyfriend is a dick, is what you’re saying?”

Student’s best friend: “Yes. Merlin, he’s such a dick. Would you believe he -”

Dumbledore: *looks at student and points to her best friend* “Why don’t you just date her?”

*cue red faces and sputtering*

(They did not take his advice.)

He wears bowties ALL THE TIME. If he’s not wearing a bowtie, there are bows in his hair and tying the ends of his beard together. Once he wore pigtails. It was great.

He has a habit of bursting into song randomly and performing full-blown Broadway musical numbers (yes, he can rap Guns and Ships at full speed). This usually involves all of the complex moves to be expected in a musical - dramatically climbing up the stairs while looking forlorn, leaping onto the desk and squatting as you launch into a whispered limerick, speedy costume changes - you know, the works. Sometimes Sirius and James back him up, if they’re there. Severus will take over teaching with a bored look on his face (“What are you looking at, Harry?” “Dad, there’s -” “I don’t see anything interesting happening, Harry.” *glares*) while Mcgonogall screeches at Dumbledore to “GET THE FUCK DOWN, YOU NARCISSISTIC HEATHEN!” It’s a problem.

When the Marauders challenge the dress code, Dumbledore is the first Professor to encourage it. While Sirius is perfectly confident in a skirt and Regulus isn’t far behind (neither is Severus, surprisingly), James and Remus are far more insecure. Dumbledore wears a tutu to class one day to show his support, and Remus wouldn’t stop smiling the rest of the day. (James just turned bright red and beamed when Sirius started laughing.) He also backed Lily up when she wore pants (along with Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary) by convincing Mcgonogall to wear pantsuits for a week. (Sirius, despite being a hardcore gay, was quite affected by this. Remus did not appreciate the water spit in his face and refused to kiss Sirius for a week.)

He plays Cecily Smith (Will Connolly) on the ukulele on late nights and stares out at the stars thinking of Grindelwald. Sometimes he forgets to turn off the Sonorus from earlier that day and ends up broadcasting his little song to the whole school. Sirius and Remus will dance to it in the common room while James watches his partners with a happy smile on his face (and Peter sleeps, because he’s tired and doesn’t force himself to stay up simply for the purpose of being cool or finishing that one assignment that isn’t due for another two weeks) (I’m sorry, do you feel called out?).

This man has weed brownies stashed away in his desk and he does eat them during class. He also offered one to Remus once, who is the only student that knows about the stash and tends to use marijuana for medical purposes (helping with anxiety and pain regarding the full moon, courtesy of my beautiful girlfriend who has never read nor seen Harry Potter but nonetheless insists to me that Remus Lupin is a stoner who wears red beanies). This prompted Sirius to ask for one, which Dumbledore refused, but then James joined in and they started a riot by standing on their desks and pumping their fists in the air and screaming, “BROWNIES FOR ALL!” while Remus giggled into his hand and was no help at all, so Dumbledore gave them each a brownie just to shut them up. (Sirius wouldn’t stop rambling about how pretty Remus’ eyes were, James was babbling on about unicorns, Severus was hissing at something no one else could see, Regulus was hissing at the same thing for some reason, Peter was crying because he couldn’t tell the difference between hamsters and gerbils and guinea pigs, and Lily was muttering pi under her breath until she fell asleep.) (Mcgonogall was unimpressed.) (No teatime for eight weeks. Damn.)

Dumbledore cares about all of his students, however little he shows it. He wants them to lead a better life than he did. And maybe fall in love with better people than he did.

#albus dumbledore #albus wulfric percival brian dumbledore #mcgonogall &x dumbledore #&x means queerplatonic i have just decided #grindledore #wolfstar #james &x remus &x sirius #severus & mcgonogall & dumbledore #james x lily x severus #albus dumbledore is a crackhead 2021 #i dunno please enjoy this shit #i'm really fucking tired #harry potter #have a nice day y'all

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years

Note

hi I'm back again. Anyways; as always you don't have to answer if you don't wish! How do you think the residents would react to a young Pureblood MC? (I'm talking about young like a minor.) With that Gen Z in a nutshell personality. Obviously no romantic feelings, just in your opinion how do you think they'd react? all of my questions are just "coincidentally" oddly specific aren't they, totally

Oh shit whaddup I love the idea of Gen Z MC!!! Young pureblood it is, here we go! I’m going to be moving from the assumption that they’re like Comte/Leo; very sympathetic to humanity and sometimes have existential crises (trauma babeyyyyyyyyy). As such, I’ll also be assuming she’s not super close to her family given she rejects the larger vampiric hierarchy/superiority paradigm, memes and modernity, all that jazz

I hope this fits the bill! c:

Under a cut bc is a lonnnnnnng boi~ Click after Napo to see everyone else’s! No explicit triggers that I’m aware of, but if anybody sees anything I missed feel free to let me know

Comte’s reaction:

Absolute baby, he has decided this is his grandchild--no he will not change his mind or take constructive criticism. Get’s ESPECIALLY concerned when he starts to see signs of that “nothing in life matters 😎” nihilism, but doesn’t pester them about it or becomes naggy. Growing up he had similar issues with the prospect of eternal life surrounded by creatures with a mortal lifespan, so he doesn’t judge. He’s more like nah we all hit that vibe, let’s see if we can get their mind off it c: I feel like Gen Z really understand and appreciate the importance of culture and art, so I feel like they would bond a ton over trips to museums/plays/concerts! Invites them to tea time if he ever sees them particularly silent (ah yes, repression) or particularly tired, and does his best to ensure their safety without being intrusive (has briefed the men to escort/accompany her as needed, though Sebas usually does it).

If he sees fangs out around baby he will thrash the shit out of the perpetrator--unless it’s an accident. No excuses. That’s a child. Doesn’t give a FUCK if they’re another pureblood even with all the arranged marriage bullshit. He said what he said. (Remember that biting between vampires or vampire + human relations is considered something that’s only done between intimate partners, so he is having none of that for a minor)

Leonardo’s reaction:

Also certified granddad, but he’s the one that enables shenanigans and is just like “oh worm” when it comes to the existential dread (it’s a Tuesday). At first though Leo is basically that meme like: (Stupidman = Leo, Maddie = MC)

Not all purebloods are necessarily dangerous, but most are either incredibly indifferent to the plight of others (especially humans) or actively range from like playing social mind games to being sociopathic murderers/etc. the list goes on. As such, Leonardo is suspicious to no end until he sees that the kid really doesn’t have any ill will in her. She jokes with Sebas (they quote vines on the daily) and works with him normally; even when Leo asks Sebas he’s just “????? bro she’s just my kouhai, thanks for worrying tho”. One day he’s tasked with escorting her to grab groceries and assorted things for the mansion, and she freezes in place before bolting across the street. Turns out she saw a kid trip in the road and fall, and a carriage was moving fast from the other side--it likely wasn’t going to be able to stop. She scoops up the kid and holds them close, and when the parents try to thank her profusely she just seems more uncomfortable with the praise than triumphant. She didn’t want the kid to get hurt. If she could do something about it, it was as simple as that.

From that point on they’re hella chill and hang out together, usually just bonding in silence. If they’re an artist, he’ll offer them pointers and technique manuals--will help however he can. If not, they’ll just be reading together in the library now and again. If she falls asleep, he’ll tuck her in and watch over her (cue red eye meme when the door opens, but then it’s just Vincent so he c:). He’ll often pay close attention to her eating habits to make sure nothing’s amiss with her health since she’s still a growing pureblood. If she struggles with what she is a lot (given she’s sympathetic to human beings) he’ll synchronize his Rouge drinking with hers to make sure she doesn’t starve herself ;-;. Even if she’s just forgetful about drinking/eating, he’ll do what he can to make her life easier (that’s how he shows his affection uwu)

He will, of course, also tease her about being a baby until she kicks him in the shin while Comte sighs and tells him to knock it off with a smack upside the head

Napoleon’s reaction:

Not granddad energy, but you better believe he’s in a weird territory between sheer admiration and “I am your older brother now, eat your vegetables” “But I don’t even need vegetables” “Eat your vegetables and I’ll take you to a crepe shop” “............deal”

Basically it’s unlikely MC is super close to her siblings or even has any (pureblood children are a rare feat) so she’s like......wary, but then she just ???? this is.....kinda nice? Just having somebody that cares in a chill way, but still fully encourages her to throw men across the street if they’re hurting women/children (high fives her every time). He’ll often invite her to the swordplay lessons with the kids alongside Isaac’s teaching; she’s free to join in the learning, or honestly just hang out with people closer to her age (he’s v concerned about her having friends that she can relate to and talk to freely).

Protective in a subtle way, like Leonardo. Escorts her places and helps her carry groceries without fail when Sebas is running other errands. She becomes his crepe shop cover buddy whenever he has an intense hankering for sweets: “wanna go to that crepe shop around the corner” “you’re just too chicken to go alone, fool” “do you want crepes or not nunuche” “............BOKBOKBOK” “aight that’s it **gives her a noogie**” (they go anyway and have a marvelous time rating the crepes from best to worst, they got a whole list goin’)

Glares Arthur down if he so much as LOOKS in her direction

Mozart’s reaction:

Mozart is just the “what is with this sassy, lost child?” meme. Doesn’t dislike them, but they are just not remotely threatened by his haughty disdain by any extension. And he HATES IT. The MC is always just “Okay, boomer” and he just ?????? He doesn’t know what it means but it’s openly dismissive, so he mad.

Like idk if y’all know this meme, but it’s the same energy as:

It’s only when he notices she’s always punctual and careful with his requests that he starts to warm up. For example, she makes him a mocha by combining the way he likes his coffee and hot cocoa to perfection when he falls asleep at his piano. (She feels bad for him after Comte explains because--though he’s got a stick up his butt--he’s clearly distressed in his new surroundings ;-; Plus, the kind of perfectionism Mozart exudes is an extension of internalized shame, and when she begins to see that she really shifts her approach.) As such, he begins to soften to her presence. He begins to see that she isn’t indifferent to his existence, it’s more that she sees no need for intimidation and believes admiration is earned (basic respect isn’t a privilege, it’s a right). When he figures that out, he stops being so barbed and terse--starts to relax. Offers to let her stay and listen to his pieces if she wants, and she’s honestly touched given his clear struggle with vulnerability. Cuddles with Schelm at the window as he plays, and they become good friends.

As a result, Mozart becomes fiercely protective despite her sturdier nature as a pureblood and has hissed venom at Arthur about the fact that she is off fucking limits. Doesn’t leave her alone in the same room as the other men unless it’s with Jeanne or Comte; he don’t trust like that.

Arthur’s reaction:

Sweating a lot at the sudden collection of baleful eyes sticking to his back everywhere he goes, but figures he brought it on himself to an extent. That being said, he can’t really get a word in edgewise given she just walks away when he tries to engage in conversation or compliment her.

Tough nut to crack this one, but he doesn’t let it discourage him. The only way she’ll give him the time of day is to play chess--and she kicks his ass soundly every single time. He’s fascinated by her extensive analytic ability, but she keeps silent about her strategies and thinking. Dazai and Theo always love to watch him get his ass handed to him, but he considers it a really interesting experience; it gives him insight into her mind, no matter how much she tries to hide. Patient, efficient, brutal--this kid has seen some shit, probably.

It’s after that point he just concedes she probably won’t let him in, though it doesn’t diminish his curiosity about the future; and perhaps traces of dread. What does the future look like for both her and Sebastian to be that stoic and aloof? It worries him...

Vincent’s reaction:

Vincent is v v impressed by her sense of self, and honestly sees a lot of Theo in her. She’s a little more reticent than Theo, but she has this same commitment to protecting the vulnerable and penetrating through the lies/shitty convictions of others. She is not a person who bends easily, but even so there’s a quiet kind of gentleness to her: she always chats to him v calmly, asks if he needs anything and is doing okay, doesn’t get impatient when he drops things or forgets his apron for the laundry. I think he would respond very positively to her presence, even if it wasn’t intentional. He just brightens up like a little sun and asks her out to picnics for fun; he has no greater intention than enjoying her smile and silly antics (he doesn’t always understand the references, but the way she executes it with so much dry wit--like Theo--makes him laugh). He just feels the warmth of family/familiarity around her ;~;

Ironically, they’re both exceedingly concerned for the other because they’re too self-sacrificing jkashlgdks like this is 100% a case of “I can’t let a young lady risk getting hurt” “Vincent I’m literally indestructible please just let me do this” “But it still hurts” “But I don’t want you to scar--” (This conversation extends so long that the author felt it would be more beneficial to add an etc. here).

He admires her and trusts in her abilities more due to the nature of her maturity, treats her like a cherished friend and sometimes younger sibling (not condescending but very indulgent; gives her the last of his sweets for example, or pats her on the head when she’s feeling gloomy--more of a wholesome puts her first). But make no mistake, he will throw hands in milliseconds if she gets ganged up on or can’t handle a threat--he just lets her handle most things bc she’s capable~

Isaac’s reaction:

Torn. Because on the one hand, she’s very serious and conscientious about her work--doesn’t want to inconvenience or trouble anyone--and he relates to that heavy.

HOWEVER.

She’s also got insanely chaotic energy when the mood strikes, so when Dazai starts doing his random shitfuckery you better believe MC is upping the ante. (I’m talking AH. ENSLAVED MOISTURE. levels). So Isaac essentially oscillates between thankful for her fortitude to bashing his head against a table for every second he knows her.

In all seriousness though, I would see Isaac as being pretty concerned. Like Vincent, they’re both self-sacrificing to a fault--and he doesn’t want that for her, especially given how young she is. Often tells her not to overdo it or to ask for help if she looks overwhelmed, though it’s not condemning; he says it softly with a neutral look on his face. (He considers it a Certified Mood^TM). He just wants to give back all the care she puts into helping around the house. He doesn’t feel right watching a kid work so hard without reminding her that she should find time to have fun and live for herself too. There will be plenty of time when she’s older to get serious.

He has a fairly easy time interacting with her because of his experience with kids; he takes her seriously (when she’s not clowning) and treats her autonomy with respect. If anything, she’s probably the protective one. She knows he’s an aberrant so she pays laser attention to when he’s suffering and brings him Rouge (not scared because she’s stronger than him and not human lmao, and she sees no need to put Sebastian at risk). When that uni pres pesters him, she goes cold and angry and asks the man to step off when she sees him start to downspiral. They’re essentially on equal footing (he has more life experience, she has more bodily strength/confidence). They're just chill and kind with each other (babies of the mansion, beloved by all).

Theodorus' reaction:

Because he is a manchild, he will be chill/generally indifferent until Vincent starts being indulgent with her (bro-con). He won't be violent or anything like that, but he will pout a storm and try to verbally shoo her away. Because she's a woman, intelligent, and likely a feminist--this will become hilarious because she will not remotely take him seriously. She will just ignore him or roast him in seconds before moving on with her day. Otherwise he doesn't care much because he doesn't have time to play babysitter (unless there's no one else to help).

At the most, he'll make sure she's safe and use the excuse that Vincent would be upset if he did anything less. If she likes/loves dogs and plays with King while she's there, he'll soften up and thank her for taking care of him. If she makes hella pancakes, he'll be the proudest about it--ruffling her hair. If she protects Vincent in any capacity, he'll be torn between jealous, grateful and impressed; he likes a kid that can hold their own and take responsibility within their abilities.

So their relationship is v much like a chill uncle with their niece; fond, but not necessarily super close or spend a ton of time together. He has his priorities, but he won't be an asshat (mostly).

Jeanne's reaction:

Jeanne is confused on so many levels. He doesn't dislike her spunk he's just staggered by her level of sheer reckless, righteous rage. (And he's a bit wary in the face of another pureblood as a potential enemy) but after a bit more time around her he relaxes. She's fairly simple to understand when you get to know her; cares about others to a fault, existential dread, overworks herself. Stays watchful, but he just treats her like the younger kids that Napoleon brings by the weapons shop when they need armor for practice. It can get a little funny because he’ll just be like “uhhhh uh kids like sweet stuff right? Here have some of the macaroons somebody brought by earlier, I don’t like ‘em that much anyway.” And she just “??? Thanks???” He doesn’t mind being around her, just doesn’t really know what to say so they often fall into comfortable silence after exchanging small talk. She likes that he isn’t complicated; what you see is what you get with Jeanne. It’s nice not to have to keep her guard up every second of the day,

When he sees her feeling particularly down, he’ll take her to that little field of white lilies behind the mansion during a full moon night. The silver light seems to make the petals emit an ethereal glow, and she makes him a flower crown in thanks. He listens kindly if she wants to talk, and if she doesn’t--that’s okay too; he’ll just give her a head pat.

Honestly he finds a lot of relief in the fact that she's a pureblood, because he feels less nervous about her being fragile or her getting fatally hurt when he’s not around. Will still be very gentle with her and protect her when she’s in proximity

Mission Status: Fucking Wholesome

Dazai’s reaction:

Big brother time? It’s big brother time!!!! He instantly makes it his subtle mission to look after her, though he’s v lowkey abt it. She takes one look at this depressed mofo climbing in through the window and just goes “aw yeah, this guy FUCKS” and they become besties at a glance. They basically make a game out of who can be the most absurd whenever they’re in the same room. Comte and Leo find it utterly hilarious, Napoleon is digging a grave for Isaac in the backyard (we all know his heart won’t be able to take it. Mozart is probably next. A moment of silence for our fallen.)

I just imagine them like that one post (@/acoolguy):

Dazai: You ever have to shake your leg because there’s a rock in it? MC: That’s your bones Dazai: Every day I learn some more

He’ll always share treats with her and brings her along for walks if she’s feeling wanderlust; he knows how hard it can be, how restless the heart becomes so far from home. He does his best to distract her with their ongoing jokes, but one day it starts raining very suddenly while they’re out. He rushes her under the nearest tree with broad, broad leaves and settles his haori/overcoat over her head. He looks incredibly serious as he looks to the sky--almost glowering at the dark clouds gathering, He doesn’t look at all like his usual fun-loving self in that split second, even though he’s back to his good-natured chirping “Guess we’ll just have to wait out the downpour. MC, are you cold? I should have been more careful.” She shakes her head and shares the coat with him, holding it out insistently until he relents. Their hands brush and she notices they’re freezing, but she doesn’t say anything. She seems to sense he has a lot on his mind, and leans her shoulder against his. The silence feels fragile; she doesn’t want to risk shattering it--shattering him. It is often said that it is an act of great courage to wipe away someone’s tears. But it can also be an act of great gentleness to turn away, to pretend one cannot see them fall (whether visible or not).

One day, after MC returns to her own time, Dazai returns to his room to find two shadows hanging from his window. Though a little crude--they’ve obviously been made by a beginner--it’s clear what they are. Rain ghosts. (Sebastian later explains it was MC’s wish that he have them, and Dazai only smiles very, very gently in response.)

Shakespeare’s reaction:

MC gets one look at him and knows something’s off. She can’t quite tell what it is, but he doesn’t feel like the rest of the family. She can sense something behind him, something lurking; but she can’t quite place it. (Comte has mentioned before that purebloods can sense each other, so I imagine MC knows right off the bat he isn’t a normal sired vampire--she just doesn’t know enough to identify exactly what it is.)

That being said, she is sus. He keeps talking like some kind of weird ass court jester/fae, and she hated his work when she had to do it for school (only enjoyed the Hamlet memes because, let’s be real, that shit is uproarious). When he tries to coax her to see Vlad with him, she says “'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.” And he just freezes in place before he starts laughing. Considers their battle of wills well-played, and warns her not to go out alone--doesn’t bother her again. Though sometimes enjoys listening to her conversations with others for good roast material. (No he is not taking notes, no this new chara is just fire and feral for no good reason--nothing to do with MC)

Sebastian’s reaction:

The l o r e, MC. Give him the forbidden pureblood lore. Will be incredibly curious and ask about what vampires are like outside of the mansion, for science of course. If he senses discomfort though his questions will die down completely--it’s not his intention to make her uncomfortable. He’s just curious!

Despite his stoicism he’s actually a very, very understanding and warm person. Will listen to any teenage jadedness or hopelessness with fond patience, recalling the days he was similar. He’ll offer what advice he can. He’s not one to be preachy, but if he sees someone at a loss, he’ll offer what he thinks might be a productive direction for them. Given her removal from her home and parents--even though she’s already well into high school--he’ll sympathize deeply with her position. Will be a firm but gentle guardian (hello Mansion Mom #2), offers her candy every time she does a chore exceptionally well or offers assistance without prompting. She’s sus and takes it reluctantly at first, but after she tries one in private secretly loves them. Sebas is just silently “you like krabby patties don’t you, squidward”. If she’s honest, she’s comforted by the sense of normalcy and care he gives, the harmless joking and easy respect for others (unless otherwise provoked).

When she finds out about his hobby considers him to be a Fucking Nerd^TM and wants to shove him into a locker, but in reality is endeared by how much he genuinely cares about the men. She thinks it’s a harmless fascination, and she senses the oddest...ephemerality about him. Because of this, she becomes pretty protective; he’s a human and he’s too nice for his own good. While she identifies in one sense, she worries in another. Pureblood are sturdy, but humans can’t necessarily sustain that kind of constant self-giving for long...

Also bc my tag game too strong adding it here: #i love the prospect of pureblood MC trying to bring Sebas and Napo together #MC: bruh i got this #Sebas, full of gay panic: wait, MC nO--

Meme tl;dr in the tags also for your enjoyment! I’m sorry this one took a little longer than most to finish!

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp theo #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp jean #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp sebastian #gen z pureblood mc #i had a lot of fun writing this! I hope this met your expectations friend! c:#comte and leo: uwu grandparents #mozart: okay BOOMER #napo: HAHAHA shithead siblings i love it #arthur and shakes: wouldn't you like to know weather boy. 'where are your parents??' (parts one and two)#vincent and isaac: BRUH S A M E S I E S #theo: **meme voice** 'is there anything worse than a rapist?' BOOM 'a child.' 'N O!'#jeanne: endearing but out of touch uncle while dazai is WOOOOO LET'S DRINK BLEACH uncle #sebastian: ah yes ty for the modicum of brain cells and competence that also shatters gender norms my good bi bitch #**Gilligan's cut to MC and Dazai wearing sunglasses and matching hats that read 'i put the (me) in disappointment'**

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bailey-reaper · 3 years

Text

The Lord of the Manor (3)

Summary: It seems the best laid plans will go awry when the local nosy aristocrat comes calling. Rather than visiting his brother, Barok finds himself having to play host to Lady Darlington. It’s his worst nightmare as far as social affairs go and he’s keen to have the woman leave, all the more so when she brings up a particularly sore topic...

Content Warnings: angst + me taking artistic liberties re: the van Zieks family

Other parts: (1) | (2)

Lady Darlington was anything but a darling, with her viperous tongue, predator-like gaze and unscrupulous sense of decorum... in fact she was more demonling than anything else, in Barok’s opinion. Yet, he knew better than to waste time ventilating such a view – Lady Darlington was greatly skilled in twisting narratives to suit her agenda along with turning on the waterworks seemingly at will. She was formidable in her ability to be vexatious.

“Forgive my delay, madam,” he said as he entered the parlour, “I was not expecting you...” a veiled way of hinting that her uninvited attendance at his home was unwelcome.

She smiled coyly, “No need to apologise my lord, it is I who am sorry for dropping in quite unexpectedly. I was simply too excited to hear that the Master of the van Zieks family was back home. And–” she turned her head to the side, looking away with a demure expression, “Forgive me if I seem somewhat paranoid, but I find whenever I do announce my presence it would seem you are otherwise engaged...”

“A mere coincidence, I assure you,” he replied, with no semblance of sincerity, “Well then, what brings you here?”

“My my... it seems you’ve been a prosecutor far too long, what ever happened to social niceties?”

“In truth, I’ve never been one for such things. Perhaps the life of a prosecutor suits me well for that reason,” his gaze drifted out the window to the pleasant afternoon, which he could have been spending atop Black Gale on his way to his brother’s grave. (And I certainly have no inclination to practice them with you, madam) he thought to himself.

“Hmmmm,” Lady Darlington hummed in an almost sing-song manner, “And yet here you are, back in the family estate after... what? Five years? Have you grown wearing of the ... abrasive mores of Court?” she took a small lace fan from her handbag and lightly fanned herself.

(Ever the odious viper...) it took all his composure to resist scowling at that question, “Not at all, madam, I simply wanted to return home for a little while. That’s not a crime, is it?”

“Oh no, of course not, dear sir!” her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but that did not escape his notice. He knew something unsightly was about to be said, “But I have heard of the rather... disturbing tales that follow you wherever you go.”

“Oh have you now? And what might those be?”

“Why, your title of ‘the Reaper of the Old Bailey’ of course! It was such a shock to hear that the sweet young lord with the face of a cherub had grown up to become such a... menacing figure amidst the streets of the capital! Do you think it’s true? That the soul of your dearly departed brother follows you like a grim cowl and claims victims in your stead?”

There it was, the topic he had expected the moment she brought up his return. Of course she’d come here to satisfy herself about the ‘Reaper’. He sighed heavily, “How should I know, Lady Darlington? I do not presume to see ghosts, nor do I think that I am any such ‘reaper’. Still, if the vulgar classes want to paint me in such a light then I won’t waste my time arguing with them,” he made a point of peering at her as he said ‘vulgar classes’.

“Hm, I see,” she seemed suitably disappointed by his reply, which made him feel ever so slightly better, “I suppose you’re right. It’s just a fanciful tale to delight the peasantry.”

“Indeed...”

“Well then, what of you? How have you been, My Lord? It seems like ever such a long time since I’ve seen you at a function or a party. It’s almost possible to think that your esteemed bloodline is no longer with us!”

“I am fine, thank you,” Barok studiously decided to ignore her bait, “My responsibilities as a prosecutor keep me busy, but I do still find time to attend some gatherings. Perhaps you’re just not in the right place at the right time.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” Lady Darlington mused, “And what of your love life, dear man? Have you found a wife yet? Klint was already long married by the time he turned your age! As far as I’ve heard, you’ve not courted a single eligible member of the aristocracy. It’s worrying, you know, people will talk!”

(As they do about Oscar Wilde, you mean?) he thought bitterly, “Madam, I fear that is a rather personal matter and quite the veiled accusation you’re making... May I suggest that you trouble yourself with the love lives of others, who I am sure would be most grateful for your concern.“

Once more she appeared disappointed by his clipped response, “Very well, my lord, but should you ever decide to emerge from your self-imposed celibacy, two of my lovely daughters are of courtship age and I’m sure you would find one of them most suitable.”

So that was it. She had come to the manor in order to flog her daughters like cattle at some farmer’s market. He scoffed, “I shall make a mental note,” and he would - a mental note not to attend any local gatherings, lest he be set upon by Lady Darlington and her daughters.

“Very good,” she smiled, clearly unaware of his intentions, “I must say... it’s most nostalgic to sit in this parlour once again. I believe the last time I was here, Klint was regaling me with his recent exploits while his darling lady wife took tea with me.”

“I’m afraid my exploits are far too gruesome for polite company, unless you’d like to hear of the awful things men do to one another in order to keep hold of their power and increase their wealth?” he leveled her with a cold glare; the comparisons to Klint were unnecessary.

He knew he did not, indeed could not, measure up to his brother.

“Ah... no, as you say, not something for polite company...” she appeared to have turned a shade paler, no doubt thinking of the grisly things that were reported in the papers from time to time, such as the unsightly murder of Lord William Russell.

“Though, I suppose if you are keen to know what I’ve been getting up to, I could tell you about the recent case of a cannibal I prosecuted. That one was a little less gory than the others.”

“A... A cannibal?!” Lady Darlington’s voice had somehow managed to hit a pitch that would no doubt pain any animal with the misfortune to hear it.

“Yes,” Barok nodded, his expression solemn, “A member of a Lord’s staff, in fact. The cook. You know, she was--”

“M-My is that the time!” the lady announced, looking at the grandfather clock and shooting out of her chair abruptly, “Forgive me, My Lord, truly I would love to stay and hear this... fascinating little story, but I fear I must be off.”

“So soon?” he tilted his head and smiled, “Very well, I shall save it for next time we meet.”

“Um. Yes. Quite. Until next time, then!”

“Harvey,” the butler appeared mere moments later upon the master of the house calling his name, “Would you mind showing Lady Darlington out?”

“Not at all, My Lord.”

“Take care, Lady Darlington,” he called after her as she disappeared out of the parlour. Finally, he was alone in the peace and quiet with nothing but the crackling fire and grandfather clock to disturb the hush.

Barok laced his fingers together and rested his chin against the lattice. He found himself thinking about a conversation he’d had with Klint about the ‘art of socialising’ when he was a child and his brother had recently become the master of the house.

“Come now, little wolf, you mustn’t shy away from social affairs!”

“But they’re terribly boring, brother...”

Klint smiled gently, “Yes, I know, truth be told I’d much rather be playing in the mud with you, or taking Balmung for a walk. But, for the good of the family, these things must be done.”

“Why must they?”

His older brother looked thoughtful for a few moments, before fondly ruffling his little brother’s fluffy curls, “Think of it as a game of war... a bit like chess, I suppose: where you want to keep as many allies as possible, while avoiding making enemies. It’s a silly little thing that the nobility do to keep themselves occupied when they have precious little else occupying their lives.”

“I think I much prefer chess.”

“As do I,” Klint agreed, “Shall we play a game once this party is over?”

Barok nodded enthusiastically, “This time I shall get a checkmate!”

“Oh will you now? That’s quite a bold statement!”

He had not gone on to get the checkmate he said he would, but he’d still enjoyed playing chess with his brother all the same. The little moments like that, after Klint had become the incumbent lord of the family, were precious indeed. He knew his brother had many things grabbing at his time, yet he still made sure to give what he could to his little brother.

Lady Darlington’s surprise visit had scuppered his plans for that day, so he decided to make do with a visit to the master bedroom. He’d been very clear in his instructions to the staff upon becoming the incumbent Lord – Klint’s room was to stay as he’d left it. The only things he’d permitted were for the bed to be stripped down and the wastebins to be emptied.

The first thing that struck him as he opened the door was the scent of his brother. It had faded over time, of course, but there were still wisps of it in the air: the mix of leather, beeswax, cedar wood and amber from his cologne. It was a scent he’d had specially made; his signature. The fact it was slowly fading was yet more proof that his brother’s existence was starting to recede from the minds of others. He had no doubt Lady Darlington’s barbed references were to rile him up and make him say something in outrage, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Barok agreed with her on that point, amazingly: he was no replacement for his brother, and he never felt it more keenly than in the company of other members of the aristocracy. His brother had been able to put on the most charming and suave of personas when he needed to ‘for the good of the family’, as he ‘d put it. Such a talent did not come easily to Barok. He just didn’t care what the wider world thought of him. While he would keep up appearances and carry himself as one of noble blood, he had no family to protect or lineage to fret about. There was nothing left -- only him.

Slowly he sunk to his knees and looked around the silent space, devoid of signs of being lived in. Klint was gone, and he was all that remained of the bloodline. What a sorry state of affairs this was shaping up to be...

#drabble #barok van zieks #klint van zieks #angst

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 4 years

Text

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON -CHAPTER 20 - PERMANENCE

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 20

Permanence

Hello all, Here is chapter 20 of Edinburgh to Boston. There are several things that you need to know when you read this. It begins directly after the King’s Gambit. In fact it is the same day. We pick up after Jamie teased Claire in bed. The chapter encompasses several days. It starts on a Tuesday and ends on Sunday night before they return to work on Monday morning. There is some concern that readers could get lost because of the changing days, so I just labeled each section with the day of the week for convenience.

I want to thank scubalass as always for her work as the beta, which is not an easy task. I can be pigheaded at times.

I give you Edinburgh to Boston, Chapter 20, Permanence. For better or worse, here goes nothing.

Tuesday afternoon:

“Come here mo chridhe, ” he beamed holding open his arms to her.

Claire eyed him suspiciously, “What are you planning to do?”

“I want tae kiss ye, ” he chuckled.

“Oh no, you don't. You're not going to get me all riled up again and not finish the job. I'm no fool you know.”

“Never thought ye were. I just thought we could start at the beginning and see where it takes us,” he proposed as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sound like a plan?”

Claire launched herself into his arms, ”Aye, that sounds wonderful.”

They were entwined in each other’s arms luxuriating in the closeness. He stroked her with a practiced hand. Caressing her. Adoring her. Whispering words of love in her ear. They kissed and ignited an inferno. They burned bright and hot becoming blazing twin suns. He moved over her covering her body, He wanted to possess her body and soul.

“Ye are mine, Sassenach. Now and forever. Body and soul. Whether ye will it or no’. Mine.”

“Yours,” she whimpered.

And loved her tenderly, then furiously until they were sated and sleepy.

Claire yawned contentedly, “I never knew playing chess could make you so tired.”

Jamie chuckled, “‘Tis a verra rigorous game.” He pulled her against his chest wrapping his arms around her. They closed their eyes and fell into a blissful sleep.

The bedroom door opened without a sound. Claire crept into the room, careful to not wake a sleeping Jamie. He was still napping after their “chess game”. Quietly, she pulled the drapes closed muting the vibrant mid-afternoon sunlight so not to disturb his slumber.

She brought a cup of tea with her and placed it on the bedside table. After arranging pillows against the headboard to lean on, she eased herself onto the bed making herself comfortable sitting with one leg tucked under the other. Normally, she would drink her tea in the kitchen or sitting room, but today was Saturday. This was her last full day with Jamie before returning to her flat, and she didn’t want to miss a single second with him. She shook her head admitting that thought was utter rubbish. After all, she would be seeing him every day at the hospital. But she would be spending time with him as a professional colleague and not on the intimate level they shared this week.

Fragrant tendrils of steam rose around her as she inhaled the familiar bouquet. Oolong. She was pleased that Jamie liked it too. She sipped the tea savoring the taste. It was slightly sweet, fruity, with a honey aroma. What could be better than drinking your favorite tea in bed and watching your lover sleep? And she did love to watch him whether asleep or awake.

She turned to see him asleep on his back, arms crossed over his chest looking like one of the carved figures on the sarcophagi she had seen in Egypt with Lamb. His full lips were slightly parted as he breathed softly through his mouth.

Suddenly, he became restless, muttering something in Gàidhlig. A tender look crossed Claire’s face as she brushed away the curls that fell over his forehead.

“Shhh, I’m here,” she comforted.

Jamie calmed; a smile crossed his face for the briefest of moments, then vanished. His breathing evened and his face relaxed as he descended into a deeper slumber. Her forehead crinkled in fascination as she stroked his hair once more only to watch his smile reappear then disappear as it had before.

“I love you, Jamie Fraser,” she whispered. “I knew from the moment you were introduced during the staff meeting that you would carry my heart in your hands.”

The conference room had several areas that one could hide in and not be seen. Claire took her usual spot where she could work on her messages without being observed. Another useless weekly faculty meeting. The Chief droned on about creating the preeminent Cardiothoracic Service in the entire U. K. To this end he hired an up and coming surgeon to join the team. He would bring new energy to the stalled department. The Chief extolled the accomplishments, awards, and research activities of the new team member.

There had been many applicants for the position. Claire wondered who he had chosen. It certainly wasn’t the woman she had suggested.

“I would like to introduce you to Dr. James Fraser. Come up here dear boy.”

A giant of a man rose from his seat in the audience gracefully striding toward the podium.

The two men shook hands exchanging general pleasantries.

“On behalf of the department, I extend our warmest welcome and wish you much success,” droned the Chief. “I’m turning the microphone over to Dr. Fraser for a few words.”

The first thing Claire noticed was his voice. It was deep, smooth, luxurious, and warm. It flowed over her wrapping around her like a favorite blanket. She noticed a definite burr to it that vibrated with command.

She couldn't see from her vantage point causing her to shift her position a few chairs over.

Claire looked up and saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall with fiery red hair and the deepest blue eyes. He was engaging, serious when it called for it, and charming. The audience was enthralled.

After he finished speaking Dr. Sandringham returned to the podium.

“You may have heard, the hospital has decided on a trial of pairing surgeons together as a measure to improve quality care in a cost effective manner. In our department two surgeons have been chosen to pilot this new program based on my recommendations. The two surgeons designated to lead this programme are Dr. Fraser and Dr. Beauchamp. Claire, where are you, my dear? Come and meet Dr. Fraser.”

Claire’s mouth hung open like a landed fish unable to believe what she heard. She had overheard the rumors about some trial programme partnering surgeons together. “Sandringham! Up to his old tricks,” she thought. “Well, he would not get away with this one. He thought he could stick the newbie on her, but she already was overworked. Why not have MacPherson do it? He sits all day watching the Scottish stock market while she’s busy operating, doing the consults, or running a clinic. Claire decided she wouldn’t let the Chief get away with it this time. She would tell him to bloody well find someone else to hold hands with Fraser, was it?” Closing her mouth she slowly stood. Her hands flew to her hair, trying to smooth it into place but knew it was useless to try.

She walked up to Fraser and immediately got lost in his blue eyes. Claire made a little gasping noise then extended her hand, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I guess you’re stuck with me.” She blushed crimson red. Something she hadn't done since her youth.

He took her hand in his massive ones tipping his head toward her, “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. At your service and I assure you the pleasure is all mine.”

At that moment, something passed between them. The attraction between them was magnetic. It pulled at them speaking of a time yet to come, of words yet unsaid, and of things yet to happen. The force drew them as if they were pieces of lodestone being pushed together. They gazed at each other wondering if the other felt it too.

Dr. Fraser reluctantly let go of her hand, gave her a lopsided smile, “I look forward to our first case together, Dr. Beauchamp.”

Claire never did have that conservation with Sandringham. It was the best thing she never did. She smiled at the recollection of their meeting and slid down to curl into his side. Her head came to rest on his chest while her leg found its way over his. She found contentment and peace lying next to Jamie. She felt at home. Home. Now that was a strange concept to her. She and Lamb lived life like a pair of gypsies, never having the opportunity to put down roots. She enjoyed her travels with Lamb. It was fun and fascinating like being on perpetual vacation. There was, however, something missing in her life. A place to call her own. A place where she could leave her imprint. Like owning that blue and white vase she had seen during her travels years ago. If she only had a home to display it in. It would say, ‘Claire lives here.’ The idealization of home represented a place where she could feel safe, secure, and happy. She had hoped that she could have made that a reality with Frank, but that was not to be.

Jamie grunted then turned to his side pulling Claire into the refuge of his arms.

Then it struck her. Safe, secure, and happy within his arms. Home did not have to be only a physical place or structure. It could be a person too. Smiling broadly, she realized that she could wander the face of the earth with Jamie for the rest of her life and still be home. He was her home now. She basked in the warmth of his embrace, knowing she truly had found her home at last.

Looking at her suitcase in the corner, Claire thought it probably a good idea to leave a few things here since she would stay here on occasion. She mentally reviewed its contents deciding on what she should keep here.

Her thoughts drifted toward her flat. It was “home” but the space seemed rather plain and utilitarian. Just a place for her to eat, keep her clothes, and sleep. She had little interest in decorating the place since she never had company. To be honest, she never wanted company or invited anyone over. Claire had been content living her solitary life with Ginger, but now everything has changed. Ought she spruce the place up? What about new drapes for more privacy? At least new bed linens, towels for the bathroom. Maybe a throw rug and a few pillows would be nice. She didn’t want Jamie to think she lived like some cloistered nun.

Claire froze. Perhaps she should reciprocate and make room for him if he wanted to leave some things there. Would he even want to come over to her place? She began to bite her lip with worry. God, this was all so new and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“Mo neighan donn, yer thinking so hard I can hear ye.”

Claire startled at his voice, “I’m sorry did I wake you?” She turned to face Jamie looking directly into his sapphire eyes.

“Nah, ye dinna wake me, but are ye alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just lost in thought.”

“About what, my own? ‘Tis it serious?”

“No, no, no. Just deciding on what to leave here. And reciprocating for you at my place. If you would want to stay that is,” she asked shyly.

“Is yer bed big enough? Ye ken I need a lot of room,” he smirked, giving her a lustful look.

“Was he asking if it was big enough to fit him or was he asked about something else, Claire wondered.”

“I do believe... I’m sure it’s... Fine. Yes,it’s fine. Um, what are we talking about?”

“Yer bed, Sassenach. I wanted to know if it’s big.” He pulled her into his embrace, pressing his hips against her belly.

Claire felt the length of his arousal. “I think it will be more than satisfactory.”

“I would be delighted to spend the night at yer place anytime yer willing to have me,” he smoldered at her.

“Good, very good,” she babbled into his lips.

“Aye, ‘tis good indeed.”

They snuggled together enjoying the quiet and the feel of each other.

Jamie leaned down to place a kiss on Claire’s brow. It was creased and furrowed. He felt her tense for a moment then relax.

“Claire.”

“Hm?”

“What else is on yer mind? Ye canna hide it, something else is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.” His finger traced a line over her cheek trying to soothe her.

Claire tipped her head forward and her hair slid across her face like a veil protecting her from his scrutiny, “You know what the rule of thumb is with sexual partners? You not only slept with your partner but with everyone they previously slept with.” Her eyes shied away unable to settle on him. Swallowing the lump in her throat she continued, “As you recall I went to Lamb’s after Frank raped me,” she stopped and took a deep breath to gather her strength again. “Lamb convinced me to go to the hospital. I told the examining doctor that I had evidence that Frank had multiple partners. So, I was tested for every conceivable STD, and by some miracle, everything turned up negative,” she exhaled. “I had them all repeated when I got back to Scotland after the divorce. Again, everything was negative. I just wanted you to know that I am clean. I should have told this sooner, Jamie. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

She searched his placid blue eyes hoping to find understanding.

The look of him described his mood, eyebrows pulled down together and his lips narrowed forming thin lines. The very picture of anger. Not because of what she told him. But because he hoped they left the ugliness of Frank behind them. But he should have realized that after her past and current trauma more revelations would arise over time. All he could do was be there for her to support her. And he would for as long as she needed him to.

He cleared his throat, “Since we are talking of such things, ye may as well know that I have been tested too. All negative. And I havenae been with anyone else since I have been tested.”

Jamie stopped and looked at Claire. She still had a troubled look about her.

“Do ye have something else ye want to tell me?”

She gave him a sidelong look, “I brought this up because we have not practiced safe sex.” She paused waiting to see if anything registered with him.

“Aye, ‘tis so and...”

“I have an IUD Jamie. I didn’t want to have children with Frank. Things became more and more unsettled between us and I didn’t want to bring a child into that relationship. My residency, my fellowship. It all seemed too much. So we don’t have to worry about birth control either.”

Jamie went a pale, ashy color. Christ, he didn’t think. He really didn’t think. He lusted after her just like a stag during the rut. No thought of the consequences for her. No, he only thought about himself and wanting her. He felt ashamed.

“Claire, I’m sorry. I dinna think. I just wanted ye so bad. And me a doctor. I should have…”

Claire raised a finger to his lips to silence him. “It’s alright. And I wanted you too. I don’t know if I could have stopped myself either Truthfully, we both share the blame. We should have spoken about this beforehand. I should have told you sooner about the IUD.”

She quieted allowing a few moments to pass before speaking again, “There is nothing to worry about. We’re both young and healthy. Except for your penchant for getting injured,” she quipped giving him a sly look.

“Then ‘tis a good thing I’m in love with a doctor so ye can tend my wounds,” he smirked giving her a crooked smile.

“Is that why you want me? So I can tend your wounds.”

“Nay Sassenach. I want ye because I love ye. Now enough talk, just let me hold ye,” as he pulled her closer to his chest.

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

Time is an ethereal thing. It flies swiftly as if borne on the wings of Mercury. Try to grasp it and it will slide through your fingers like grains of sand. For lovers, time is but an enemy. Always pushing the present into the past making the now just a sweet memory.

Wednesday morning broke clear and sunny, but a dark cloud hovered over Jamie. Four more days. That’s all that he had left with his Sassenach. Four days. Then Claire would return to her own flat on Sunday. Time took on a sense of urgency for Jamie Fraser. He was sorry about what happened in Boston, but it worked out, in his point of view, for the best. Leaving Boston early gave him these four days with her all to himself. And he would not waste a single second of this precious time with his Claire.

Beauchamp had always been something of a recluse, never socializing with other staff members. He knew her habits and wants intimately in the operating room, but privately not very well. He knew how she liked her coffee, which scones were her favorite, and she ate whatever she liked without gaining an ounce. She liked to sleep on the left side of the bed. There were, however, a myriad of other things he did not know about her. If he wanted to take care of her, and he did, he would need to know more about her. Uncovering the mystery of Claire Beauchamp would become his life’s mission. He decided they would spend their remaining time together doing as new lovers do, learning the ways of each other.

Each day for their remaining time, the couple did everything together.

The mornings were spent together making breakfast. Claire would bake a batch of scones. Jamie would scramble the eggs while the requisite parritach bubbled and burped in its pot. They teased each other, stealing glances, and small touches as they worked together. It made for a thoroughly enjoyable way to start the day.

They spent their days talking about their lives, family, and adventures. Jamie told Claire tales of the highlands acting out parts of the story, making her laugh until her sides would ache and tears streamed down her face. Hearing that Claire had never read The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings Jamie took it upon himself to rectify this breach in her knowledge of fine literature. He would read to her, complete with the required sound effects and character voices, as she laid on the settee with her head in his lap. Claire pronounced the book as their book. They watched the telly poking fun at each other's choice of programmes. And they played chess over, and over, and over again never managing to finish a single game.

That was the way of it until Saturday morning arrived…

Jamie rose before Claire deciding they would do something a little different today. It was something he wanted to do for her and he hoped it would please her.

Claire awoke to feel quite refreshed as she stretched luxuriously. The duvet slid from her body exposing her breasts to the chilled air of the room and her nipples instantly hardened. She chuckled to herself debating the value of leaving a nightgown and pyjamas here since she always ends up sleeping naked next to Jamie. Going to the en-suite, she quickly showered then brushed her teeth. Sneaking a peek at her hair, she sighed then wrestled it into submission. She put on one of Jamie’s old tee-shirts (which she knew she would take home with her) and padded out into the kitchen. Jamie was not there and breakfast had not been prepared.

“Jamie?”

“In here, Sassenach.”

Claire followed the sound of his voice finding him sitting on the settee fully dressed in jeans, jumper, and boots. His jacket, scarf, and cap were draped over a chair waiting for him.

“Are you going somewhere,” she inquired.

“We,” he emphasized, “are going somewhere. We have been in this flat since we arrived back in Edinburgh on Monday and I thought it would be nice tae take a walk. Besides that, I have some things that I need tae attend tae. I made ye yer coffee. Drink it as ye get dressed, aye?”

She grabbed her coffee and took a drink of the dark rich brew as she hurried off to get dressed all while wondering what Jamie had on his mind. She dressed quickly pulling on her skinny jeans, a jumper, and her boots. Claire did not remember packing these jeans but happy that she did. She turned to look in the mirror observing her bum and she liked what she saw. She smiled smugly and knew Jamie would like it too. She stuffed her hair up into her hat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, then grabbed her coat.

After depositing her cup in the sink, Claire found Jamie standing at the door with his coat on. She twirled for him, “Do I look alright for our day out?”

He looked at her, admiring how her jeans fit over that magnificent arse wondering if going out was truly a good idea or not.

Jamie swallowed hard, “Aye, ye look verra bonnie.” He held open the door bowing to Claire,” Come along Sassenach the day awaits us,” he urged her out the door before he changed his mind.

For a winter day in Edinburgh, it seemed rather warm. Still, the air had a deliciously crisp and refreshing feel. Jamie reached out, took hold of Claire’s hand, and knitted their fingers together.

Dr. Fraser was well known in the neighbourhood. People, shopkeepers called out to wish him good-day. Heads bent low chattering away like a clan of sparrows that the good doctor had a lady. Jamie smiled knowing full well what the gossips whispered in hushed tones. He grinned as he took his arm and wrapped it around Claire’s shoulder pulling her into his side as close as possible. Let’s give the old bletherskates something to talk about, he thought. And he bent, placing a kiss on Claire’s crown. Mine, he thought and he wanted the whole world to know it.

Claire looked up at him as she snuggled closer to his side.

They stopped in different shops along the street, picking and choosing things they liked. Jamie bought another book to also become their book. Chess had already become their game, but adding another wouldn’t hurt. Or two or three. Jamie smirked wondering how they could get creative with the new games. So the day went, they walked from shop to shop choosing things that they both liked destined to become theirs.

“Dr. Fraser! Dr. Beauchamp!” they heard a voice call out.

They turned in the direction of the voice. Jamie on seeing the man broke out into a broad smile.

“A charaid!” he returned the call. “Come, Claire,” he urged tugging at her hand.

A tall balding man of slim wiry build and merry blue eyes stood outside a florist shop waving excitedly at them.

Jamie and the man clasped each other’s hands engaging in a rapid handshake and back-slapping in the manner of old friends.

“Claire, ye remember Ewan MacDonald, do ye no’? We operated on his Da, Graeme, last year. ‘Twas a triple bypass if I recall correctly.”

“Why yes, I do recall. How are you Ewan and your father, how is he doing?” Claire inquired as she took hold of his hand.

“Ach, he’s braw Dr. Beauchamp, just braw, thanks tae ye and Dr. Fraser. Some days we need tae remind him that he’s 80. Always on the go. ‘Tis a sight tae behold,” he grinned. “Where are me manners? Why do ye no come into me shop for a bit and warm-up?” Ewan offered.

“Tapadh leibh,” Jamie smiled. He placed his hand on the small of Claire’s back encouraging her to go forward.

It was like being magically transported from the chill of winter to the warmth and beauty of summer. The shop was perfumed with the scent of fresh-cut flowers, flowers growing in pots, small and large potted foliage plants, dish gardens, and terrariums. An assortment of plain clay pots as well as hand-painted terra cotta planters were scattered around the workbench. In an out of the way corner of the shop exquisite vases could be found for sale.

Claire spied a young woman caring for seedlings sprouting under grow-lights. “If you gentlemen would not mind, I would like to look around,” she said happily.

“Of course, Dr. Beauchamp. Enjoy yerself,” replied Ewan.

Jamie called to her as she turned to walk away, “Claire, I dinna ken what yer favorite flower is. Could ye tell me?”

“Well, I love all flowers. But, you will think me silly if I told you what my favorite flower is.”

“Yer no’ a silly woman, Beauchamp. Tell me.”

“It’s forget-me-nots.”

“Forget-me-nots? No’ a rose or an orchid or something like that?” Jamie looked puzzled.

“No, forget-me-nots. I planted them on my parents and Uncle Lamb’s graves. The flowers mean remembrance when people are parted or after death,” her face and voice becoming solemn. After a moment, Claire added, “But, they also represent a growing affection between two people, as well as true and undying love.” She looked into his eyes, as blue as the forget-me-nots she spoke of. “So, my favorite flower is the forget-me-not, ” Claire smiled and turned away to join the woman working with the seedlings.

Silent communication crossed between the two men. Jamie raised his eyebrows in question while Ewan vehemently shook his head no. Jamie glared at him, his lips becoming thin. He would not take no for an answer.

“‘Tis winter,” Ewan hissed.

“Aye, ‘tis winter for sure,” Jamie confirmed.

“I dinna ken where I can find any!”

Both men turned their gaze toward her. Claire glowed with happiness. As she spoke, her graceful hands fluttered animatedly as she described something to the woman.

Ewan turned to look at Jamie and saw his love for her written all over his face as he watched her.

“Ye love her!” Ewan exclaimed in a soft low voice.

“Does it show much?”

“That it does, mo charaid, that it does,” he chuckled while shaking his head. “And the ladies of the neighbourhood thought ye to be a lifelong bachelor,” he snorted. Ewan sighed heavily, rolled his eyes toward heaven then shook his head yes. “Fer ye and Dr. Beauchamp, aye, I’ll make it happen. I ken a man, a horticulturist by the name of John Bartram, who may have what ye want.” Ewan paused, “He’ll have tae overnight them. It can be pricey, ye ken?”

Jamie nodded in agreement and clapped the man on the shoulder, “For Monday morning, aye? ‘Tis our first day back tae work and I’d like tae have a wee posy tae leave on her desk. ”

“Aye Dr. Fraser. Monday ‘tis.”

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a woman of science and did not believe in luck, chance, or coincidence. If such things existed, they didn’t apply to her. It was odd that only this morning she thought of the blue and white Chinese vase she wanted to buy all those years ago. How was it that by some strange twist of fate its twin is sitting on the upper shelf of a florist shop in Edinburgh? She gravitated over to where the vases were for a closer look. Could some serendipitous force have led her and Jamie to this shop today? Perhaps today if luck did exist it would favour her after all. Maybe this was a second chance to have it and this time it would not slip through her fingers.

Jamie saw Claire looking at the vase covetously. He drew Ewan’s attention to the vase pointing at it with his chin. Whispering to him, “Put it in a bag for me will ye?”

“Aye, Dr. Fraser.”

“Claire,” Jamie called to her. “‘Tis time for lunch. My wame is empty.”

“I’d like to speak to Ewan before we go, alright?”

“Ewan, that blue and white vase you have on the second shelf I’d like to buy it.”

“Oh, Dr. Beauchamp, I am sae sorry. It should not be there. Someone else purchased it. I just forgot tae take it down. In fact, the person is coming today tae pick it up,” Ewan said as he reached to take it down. “Siusan, would ye be sae kind as tae wrap this up.”

A look of pained disappointment slipped across Claire’s features at the news.

“I dinna ken ye sold this vase, Ewan.”

Ewan scowled at his shop girl. “I just did tae Dr. Fraser. ‘Tis a gift,” he whispered as he tipped his head toward Claire.

Siusan turned to look at the couple then smiled, “Ach, aye,” she whispered back. “I’ll tend tae this immediately.”

“I shall keep an eye out for another one like it, Dr. Beauchamp. If I find one, I’ll let ye know,” Ewan took her hand and gave her a gentlemanly bow pressing a kiss to her hand.

He smirked as he heard Jamie growl with annoyance.

“Ye ready, Claire?” Jamie questioned as he grabbed hold of their packages.

“Yes, quite ready. I did so enjoy visiting your lovely shop. I do hope to see you again soon. Please give my regards to your father.”

After shaking Ewan’s hand, Jamie took hold of Claire’s hand guiding her toward his favorite cafe for lunch.

After seating, Jamie ordered a soup, sandwich, and chips. Claire opted for the soup and a salad.

Claire was uncharacteristically quiet during lunch. She left her soup untouched and glumly pushed and poked at the greens on the plate.

Jamie gently raised her chin up trying to read her face without much success. “Sassenach, can ye tell me what’s on your mind?”

Claire gave him a sad little smile. “I’m not upset, truly, it’s...well, more reminiscing about something that happened a long time ago,” she replied as her hand reached to snatch a chip from his plate.

“I’d like to hear about it,” he encouraged.

She munched on Jamie’s chips one after another as she contemplated the telling of her story.

Jamie frowned as he watched his chips disappear little by little into Claire’s waiting mouth. He signaled the server, pointed to his plate of missing chips ordering two more.

“It happened when Lamb and I were in China for one of his excavations. I had gone to the market to buy supplies when I spotted this beautiful blue and white vase in a little store. Every day I would stop to admire it. I really wanted it, but I didn’t have a place to keep it,’ she said while snatching away another chip. “It didn’t seem practical to carry it around the world with me so I settled for admiring it in the window. One day I went back to look at it and it was gone. The shopkeeper told me someone bought it. When I saw the one in Ewan’s shop, it looked so much like the one in China. I thought I had a second chance to buy the vase, but I guess it wasn’t meant for me to have,” she said dejectedly.

Jamie leaned over and rummaged in the bags. “Do ye mean this one?” He placed the blue and white vase on the table in front of Claire. “I meant to give this to ye after dinner, but ye look so sad now, I couldna wait.”

Claire gasped in shock as she took in the vase sitting on the table in front of her. It took several serviettes to remove the chip grease from her fingers. With a shaking hand, she reached out and stroked the vase proving to herself that it was indeed real.

Claire looked from the vase to Jamie then back to the vase. “You bought this for me?” her voice filled with emotion.

“Aye, I saw how much ye wanted it so I bought it for ye.”

She got up and launched herself at Jamie taking his mouth in a fierce kiss. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.” Two fat tears broke free and rolled down her cheek.

He cradled her face in his large warm hands and used his thumbs to gently erase each tear away.

“Sassenach, dinna cry. ‘Tis only a vase.”

Her face sprang up abruptly. “Only a vase, only a vase! You couldn’t be more wrong, Fraser. It’s not just a vase, it’s-it’s-it’s just everything,” she stuttered.

It didn’t matter to Jamie that they were in a cafe, he pulled Claire closer to his chest, offering her the comfort of his body. His hand ran across her face as he whispered into her hair, “Claire, why don’t ye tell me all about it then.”

For Chrissakes, Beauchamp, you’re in a public place. What do you think you’re doing making a spectacle of yourself? Claire moved to get up and return to her seat, but Jamie held her fast.

“No. Stay where you are. I dinna care who sees us and neither should ye. Now, if ye dinna mind I’d like to hear ye story.”

She nodded her head, then wrapped her arms around his neck wondering how to explain this to him.

“I envy you, Jamie,” she began. “You had everything that I have ever wanted. Parents who loved you. Siblings who loved you, played with you, even fought with you. Friends, school mates. A regular school you went to every day. Sporting activities. Even your damn chess club,” she glared at him. “And, of course, there was Lallybroch. Every day you went to your home, to your room where you could study, daydream, and sleep in your bed.”

“Among other things,” he mumbled.

“Beg your pardon. I didn’t hear that.”

“‘Tis nothing,” he blushed, “Please continue.”

“When I saw the vase, I thought it signified home, my home,” she emphasized. It meant I lived there. It would be a place I would go to every day. To me, that vase represented everything I had ever wanted, had hoped for. The vase meant safety, security, permanence, stability.” She searched his face to see if he understood what she meant and she saw the dawning of understanding. “Mind, I don’t regret my childhood at all. It was magical, a wonderful opportunity most children will never have. And I loved Lamb, so very much. But, sometimes I just wanted…”

“Tae be like every other bairn, aye?”

“Yes. Normal. Not always on the move.”

“I see.” He paused, letting what she said sink in. “Do ye ken, Claire this is what I had in mind today. I wanted ye tae have things at the flat that would make ye comfortable, so ye would ken ye belonged there. No’ a guest. I wanted ye tae ken ye belonged there just as much as I do. That ‘tis your home if ye want. Anytime ye want, whenever ye want. I was worried that ye might think this too fast or too soon tae be talking like this, but maybe no’.” He looked at her with a look of sincerity causing her to become overwhelmed by his statement.

Claire leaned forward resting her forehead against his. “Thank you,” she whispered to him.

“For what, a leannan ? I just want ye tae be happy and I want tae be the one tae make ye happy.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her fingers.

Her lips parted as though to say something. She changed her mind and bent forward giving him a passionate kiss. Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist pulling Claire in to deepen the kiss.

The sound of dishes and cutlery crashing to the floor caught their attention ending the kiss. All eyes were centered on them. Customers gaped with eyes bulging, and mouths agape. The young waitress, with a serious crush on Jamie, had dropped the plates she was about to serve. Claire’s cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the kiss.

“I think we have worn out our welcome.”

“From the looks of things, I’d say yer right,” he agreed.

Claire stood, her chin held high as she brushed away imaginary wrinkles from her jumper. She put on her scarf and coat while Jamie did the same. He left money on the table with a rather sizable tip and gathered up their belongings. The shaken waitress came toward the table as Claire grabbed another crisp.

“Best crisps in all of Edinburgh,” she declared. And they walked with dignity out the door.

He grabbed her hand, each looking at the other as they strode off cackling like two loons.

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

The weather changed during the day as the sun disappeared behind a mass of gray clouds. A cold, piercing wind blew biting cheeks and noses turning them cherry red. By the time they arrived back at Jamie’s flat in late evening, they were cold and hungry. Completing all the errands had taken a considerable amount of time. They warmed their fingers and toes in front of the fire Jamie started in the fireplace. They spread their purchases out on the floor while they discussed the proper place for each item.

“I’ll leave ye to it mo chridhe, while I heat up dinner for us,” Jamie said as he walked into the kitchen.

Claire nodded in agreement as she set about her task. She picked up the last bag and brought it with her to the sofa. It contained the vase. Carefully, she took the vase out and unwrapped it. She turned it around admiring it. It did look like the one that got away. Claire studied the room and finally came to a decision. A credenza, that Jamie used as a bar, stood off to the side displaying glassware on the left and the right. But the center was empty as if waiting for something special to claim the space. Carefully, she placed the vase centering it between the stemware. Stepping back Claire gave it a critical look. She broke out into a broad smile pleased with her decision.

Such a simple ordinary thing, a vase. To Claire, this homey object had been the symbol of the home she longed for and it needed to be shared. Shared with the man who held her heart and had become her home.

“Now it feels like home,” she murmured.

Jamie entered the room silently walking quickly toward Claire. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her against him, placing a tender kiss to her temple.

“What are ye about, mo nighean donn? Are ye no’ taking yer vase home with ye?”

Claire turned in his arms resting her cheek against his chest listening to the strong steady thrum of his heart. She stood on tiptoe gently kissing his lips murmuring, “It is home here with you.”

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

It was Sunday already. Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire wondered how time had disappeared so quickly. She felt the spectre of loneliness try to creep back grabbing at her heart and soul with its icy fingers trying to reclaim them. This time she would not allow it. There was love in her life now. Jamie had turned her life around. He filled her life with love, laughter, and tenderness. He banished her pain and emptiness and she felt alive again. Loneliness would never have a chance to possess her again. And the once ever-present shadow vanished like the early mountain mist with the coming of the bright morning sunlight.

Claire stood staring into Jamie’s closet. She had taken up his offer to leave a few of her things there. She left her favorite little black dress, a pair of heels, some work-appropriate skirts and blouses, and a new lab coat. Her hand ran over his clothes and began to conjure an image of him dressed in them. Inhaling deeply she smelled his garments. Masculine. Pure unadulterated Jamie untainted by anything else. There was no other way to describe it. The scent would comfort her during the nights away from him. Besides, she stole his tee-shirt. The one she would wear to bed and imagine his arms wrapped around her while she slept.

Then there was the bed. The bed they had made love in, discovered each other in. Closing her eyes, Claire remembered what they had done throughout the week. The touches, lips grazing, moans of fulfillment. Last night and this morning were different. Their love-making became more desperate. An attempt to fend off the impending separation. Never had she felt such love, joy, and sadness. It would have to last, to be enough until they could be together again.

“Are ye ready Claire?” Jamie called from the sitting room.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

He drove her home and carried her bags up to her flat.

“I can take it from here,” Claire said in a hushed voice.

They stood there for what may have been a second or an hour. Neither wanting to be the one to say goodbye.

Jamie placed his hands on her hips pulling Claire against him, his head resting on top of hers. The warmth of his body calmed her and she relaxed into him.

“Jamie, I don’t…,” Claire sniffled.

“Hush, mo ghràdh, I’ll see ye tomorrow. Naught more than twelve hours,” he soothed.

“Do ye need me to pick up yer wee beast for ye?” he asked.

“No, the Bugs will be over with her in about an hour.”

“Then I guess I should be on my way and let ye get settled in. It will be a long day tomorrow for both of us.

“I guess so,” she mumbled as she looked up at him.

Wordlessly, Jamie brought his lips down to hers, kissing her tenderly.

“Sleep well, m'eudail. I love ye.”

Jamie hesitated then turned and left looking as if he had just lost his best friend.

Claire stood rooted to the spot watching him as he walked away wanting him to stay here with her.

I didn’t tell him I loved him back. Panic ensued. She raced outside just in time to see Jamie drive away.

Dismayed, she trudged back into her flat. Fuck! She swore, annoyed that she didn’t tell him and that she missed him before he drove off. I’ll call him. No, I’ll text him. Better yet, I’ll do both as soon as he gets home.

Claire took hold of her luggage and wheeled it into her bedroom. She hoisted it up on her bed, opened the case, and started to remove her things. There was a rap at the door along with the doorbell ringing.

“Hallo?”

“Claire, ma dearie, we brought yer lass home,” answered Murdina Bug.

Claire opened the door and Ginger bolted into the room almost knocking Claire over in the process. The dog spun around in excited circles, yipping a greeting to her mama. Claire squatted down to the dog’s level stroking her soft fur.

“How’s my girl then?” she laughed. The dog rolled over demanding belly rubs which were promptly given.

Oh, here is the soup, I promised ye. I dinna think ye would have the time to make dinner.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bug you didn’t have to do this.” The soup was still warm and had a wonderfully rich aroma making Claire’s mouth water.

“‘Twas naught. Arch and I needta be leaving ye,” she said as she thrust the container of soup in Claire’s hands. “We’re on a date,” she beamed as she looked up at her husband. “The lass has been fed and had a good walk so there is naught for ye tae do. Ye’ll bring her before ye go tae work? She’s a good helper with those rascals. Keeps them in line, ye ken?”

“Yes, you’ve told me what a great help she is to you. We’ll be there in the morning. Enjoy your evening.”

Ginger sat at attention, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She nosed Claire’s hand looking for a scratch behind the ear. She sneezed. There was something wrong with her mama’s smell. It was different. Ginger licked her mama’s hand. That was fine, she tastes normal. A cold wet nose sniffed at Claire, her ear, hands, arms, eventually finding its way to her legs. The smell was strongest here. The dog inhaled deeply and let out a powerful sneeze.

“My sweet girl, are you sick?” Claire began to fret. She ran her hands over the dog checking her as best as she could. Her eyes were clear, nose cold and wet, nothing dripping from it. Her breathing did not seem labored. Claire dismissed the sneezing to a dusty room.

“We must clean up. It won’t do to have you sneezing. But first things, first,” she winked at the dog.

Claire reached for her purse taking out her cell. Quickly she sent off her text to Jamie. Before she had a chance to call him, her phone rang. It was Jamie. She smiled answering his call.

Ginger was perplexed by the change in her mama. She raised her nose high in the air turning her head in different directions, sniffing. She followed her nose to the bedroom. The smell was stronger there. Whatever it was it seemed to be coming from her bed. Walking over to the bed, she stood on her hind legs so she could smell Claire’s open suitcase. It positively reeked! Ginger didn’t know what kind of animal her mama had been with while she was away, but she did not like it. Not one bit. The dog jumped up on the bed, took Claire’s clothes out the suitcase scattering them over the bed. She pawed at the clothing until she found what she was looking for. Found it, Ginger thought. The odor was strongest on a shirt and on some of her mama’s clothes. The small clothes that mama wore covering her between her legs. She used her nails to scratch at the shirt trying to tear it to pieces. When that didn’t work she chewed it. The shirt was a soggy mess lying limp like an old rag doll by the time she was done. For good measure, she rolled over the clothing wanting to eradicate the scent. Mine, the dog thought. This is my mama and I will not share. After she removed the odor from the intruder, and thoroughly covered the garments with her fur, she left the bedroom.

She settled in her bed knowing that she would get a scolding for what she did. Ginger didn’t care. After all, she was protecting her mama and that was her job. She knew her mama would not see it that way.

The dog watched Claire walk into the bedroom. Wait for it, wait for it.

“GINGER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!,” came the bellow.

Claire charged into the sitting room waving Jamie’s sodden shirt. It was covered in dog hair as well.

“What have you done young lady? Hmm? I was going to sleep in this tonight. And all my other clothes need a good washing too,” Claire frowned holding up her fur covered panties.

The dog looked up at her with large soft chocolate brown eyes full of remorse. She covered her face with her paws as an act of contrition.

“Oh, all right. You did that because I was gone so long and you missed me,” Claire sighed. She patted the dog on the head in forgiveness. “Just don’t ever do that again. OK?”

She woofed happily, madly wagging her tail.

Two hours later saw the laundry completed. Claire sniffed Jamie’s shirt. The scent may not be as strong as before, but it definitely lingered. It seemed as if his smell permanently embedded itself in the fibers. Deciding to make it an early night Claire completed her nightly ritual, pulling on the tee-shirt marveling at its softness. As it skimmed over her body, it reminded her of Jamie’s loving caresses.

Jamie. She missed him already. Badly. Only eight more hours before I see him again, she consoled herself.

After plumping the pillows and pulling back the duvet, Claire snuggled in the bed. The room was dark with only the faintest light from the moon cast shadows along the floor.

Claire tossed and turned. Turning with such regularity the sheets twisted until it resembled a coiled snake. A car drove past. A siren's wail.The creaks and groans of the flat settling. All the noises of the night creating an unwanted symphony determined to keep her awake. At one point, Claire looked at the opposite side of the bed and imagined Jamie lying next to her. It was so real her hand reached out to touch him. But he was nothing more than illusion. It was no use. Sleep continued to elude her. The reason she knew was she missed Jamie.

Her phone began to vibrate. Claire wondered who would be calling at that late hour. Jamie’s name blazed across her phone.

“Hi.”

“I dinna wake ye, did I?”

“No. I was staring at the ceiling if you must know.”

“Aye, me too.” Jamie hesitated for a moment, “I canna sleep. I...I miss ye. The bed is empty without ye in it.”

Claire exhaled softly. “I miss you too. The bed seems too big, too lonely without you in it. What are we going to do?”

“Maybe, ye can, if ye dinna have plans, maybe ye can spend the weekend with me?”

She chuckled softly, “No. I don’t have any plans. It’s a date. I’ll make the arrangements for Ginger.”

“That’s great, Sassenach.” He hesitated not wanting to end the call, but knew he should, “Claire, ye need yer sleep. Ye have a big day ahead of ye. Try and get some sleep. I’ll see ye in the morning.”

“You’re right. Get some sleep too. You’ll need to be on your toes with the students trailing you about.”

“Aye, yer right,” he laughed. “They always have a lot of questions.”

“Jamie?”

“Aye?”

“I love you.”

“As I do ye. Good night Claire.” Jamie turned on his side, grasped Claire’s pillow,wrapping his arms around it pretending he was holding Claire. He buried his face inhaling her fragrance and promptly fell asleep.

Sighing, Claire turned on her side and buried her nose inside Jamie’s shirt, breathing in the subtle scent of him. Comforted, she fell asleep too.

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

STD - Sexually transmitted diseases

bletherskates - gossips, nosy-bodies.

Tapadh leibh, - Thank you. I used the formal expression because Ewan is older than Jamie.

a charaid - Friend

Siusan - no this is not misspelled. It is the Scottish spelling for Susan according to my references and it means lily.

a leannan; m'eudail. - darling

mo chridhe - my heart.

If there is any questions, suggestions, comments or gentle criticisms, please don’t hesitate to leave it. I love hearing from you. I hope you enjoyed this.

#edinburgh to boston #chapter 20 #permanence #outlander fanfiction #My writing #Here Goes Nothing #@scubalass

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jackyjango · 4 years

Text

Perfection!

Cherik Week- Day 7: Free

Written for this glorious gifset! :D

I wanted to end this with a happy (and crack) fic, because they deserve to be happy ever after!

---------

If Erik were a poet, he would have written elaborate odes to Charles’ plush arse. Lines and lines of flowing poetry dedicated to the softness of the skin and the firmness of the flesh- the way the tender skin dimples sweetly under Erik’s possessive fingers. If Erik were an artist, he’d fill canvases with the round contours of Charles’ --glorious, might he add-- half globes and his thick, meaty thighs. He’d capture the rosy tint that rises to the skin under the press of Erik’s palm with masterful brush strokes and immortalise the constellation of freckles that dot his skin beautifully. If Erik were so spiritually inclined, he’d build an altar to the sweet flesh, kneel in front of it and apply his tongue to worship. But Erik, fortunately or unfortunately, is none of those things, so all he can do now is simply ogle the marvelous in front of him- Charles’ round ass and thick thighs, and the way it fills his jeans. The fact that it wiggles in the air now and then from where Charles is bent over to search something behind the mantle is only spurring on his endeavour. So he stares some more, mouth agape and throat dry, and marvels to himself, ‘Perfection!’

‘What was that?’ Charles asks, turning sideways towards Erik.

Erik doesn’t find the need or mood to answer that question, so he goes back to ogling his boyfriend’s arse.

Charles turns to him after a minute or two of searching. He’s panting, hair beautifully tousled, cheeks deeply coloured and eyes twinkling bright in the golden candlelight. For a moment Erik’s breath catches. Now, Erik’s not a poet, but if were-

‘I couldn’t find any more candles,’ Charles says, cutting Erik’s musings short. ‘What about the generator, were you able to fix it?’

‘No,’ Erik shrugs. ‘The battery inside the generator has corroded and the plastic coating has melted into the canisters. It’ll take me at least a day to repair it.’

‘Okay.’ Charles drawls, no doubt weighing in their options. ‘How far is the nearest town? Maybe we could get some help.’

Erik had already considered that option. The nearest town is a three-hour trek downhill. A three-hour trek which is a waste of time and energy. Time and energy which can be spent in more… productive endeavours.

Charles overhears that thought. ‘What are our other options here, Erik?’ He asks, sighing heavily, ‘The wires are out, so is the generator, and we can’t even get help.’ He looks around the small space of the cabin that is lighted in patches by the three candles they were able to unearth earlier. The candles will last them till daybreak at best. ‘Did you have a plan for the evening?’ Charles asks hesitantly.

‘Plan?’

‘Yes,’ Charles says slowly now, his eyes widening with every word. ‘I thought this was meant to be a surprise for me, so I didn’t pry earlier. But I thought you had a plan for the evening.’

Why would Erik have a plan for the evening when the whole point was to have no plans at all?

The last three weeks had been extremely difficult for all of them, between the mid-terms and the festivities and the birthday celebrations, both of them had been extremely busy-- Charles with teaching and grading, and Erik, well, with… everything else. Erik hadn’t been able to hold a proper conversation with Charles without one of the brats dragging Charles away. Erik hadn’t been able to take a quiet smoke break without one of the younger ones pulling on his trouser legs. It had been tolerable in the beginning, adorable even, but it had begun to lose its charm sometime during the second week. And Erik was sure to go ballistic by the end of the third. All he wanted was to get away for a day or two from the brats, have a quiet night away from the kids and the mayhem of the mansion. He’d all but kissed Raven when she’d mentioned a cabin upstate that could be rented this time of the year. Of course, he’d expected the said cabin to have a working electrical system and dry logs resting in the fireplace, but that isn’t a huge setback as far as Erik is considered. He’s lived worse.

Of course Charles overhears that thought. His jaw drops and his eyes go wide as saucers. ‘You made me trek three hours and brought me here just so you could get away from the kids?’

Erik doesn’t see what’s wrong with that.

Charles is all but glaring him down now, his sharp, blue eyes throwing daggers at Erik. Erik should be intimidated by the look, but Charles’ overall appearance doesn’t support him all that much. He’s panting lightly with pinked cheeks and hair sticking out in places. If anything, he looks extremely adorable. Now, Erik’s not an artist, but if he were-

‘I thought you brought me here to celebrate our anniversary,’ Charles says finally, glaring intensified.

‘Anniversary?’ Erik asks dumbly. ‘What anniversary?’

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to ask, because Charles is practically seething now. ‘Our third year anniversary. Since when we began dating.’

‘Oh, has it been three years already?’ Erik asks, and it only serves in adding fuel to the fire.

In Erik’s defense, though, the period between the time they met, and they settled into a relationship is all very hazy. Erik doesn’t know exactly when he’d been charmed by Charles to call him his friend, he doesn’t know exactly when Charles had wormed his way into Erik’s heart, he doesn’t know exactly when the school they’d started with a few students began to feel like family, and he doesn’t know exactly when he’d begun falling in love with Charles. Though Charles terms them as thus, all those chess matches played every night for months on end and taking private dinners away from the congregation of the students hadn’t felt like ‘dates’ to Erik. Partly because he didn’t know or have experience with dating and partly because he’d had no clue what love felt like before Charles. Besides, he’d no idea whether or how they’d celebrated the first two-year anniversaries.

Of course, Charles overhears his thought, for his anger abates slowly. ‘Oh, what do I do with you, Erik?’ he asks, tone exasperated and fond; like he does when one of his younger students refuses to eat their greens.

‘Marry me.’ Erik shrugs casually. ‘Simple.’

Charles gapes at him like a fish while his mental fingers rummages through Erik’s brain for signs of a joke or a prank. But Erik isn’t joking or pranking. Granted that he was slow to realise that he loved Charles, but there was no doubt in his mind that he’d marry anyone else once he did. He’d end up marrying Charles one way or another. So it doesn’t really matter when or how that happens. Does it?

And of course, Charles hears all of it.

‘We don’t even have a ring,’ Charles says at last, a little lost.

No. Erik doesn’t. He could always fashion a ring out of one of the nails holding the wood planks in place, but Erik doesn’t want to make a ring out of rusted and cheap metal. Charles deserves only the best.

‘No,’ Erik agrees. ‘We don’t. But we do have this.’ He removes the silver chain that permanently resides in the pocket of his trousers and moves towards Charles, cupping the chain and the locket in his palm. Each curve of the locket bears a black and white photo of his father and Mother. Erik falls to one knee in front of Charles and holds out the chain in one hand. If Erik were a poet, he’d write elaborate love poems describing his love and affection for Charles, but he isn’t. So he simply says, ‘I promise to make you tea just the way you like it and give you scalp massages every day for the rest of our lives.’

‘Yes, you idiot. I’ll marry you,’ Charles chokes out and throws himself into Erik’s arms.

Later when they’ve dragged in all the ragged cushions and rugs from all parts of the cabin and made love in a warm nest (and after Erik worships Charles’ and his arse with all the reverence he deserves) surrounded by three grand candles that Erik asks Charles, ‘This is not so bad as anniversaries go, is it?’

‘No, my love’ Charles says, gazing adoringly at the silver locket on his chest and looks up at Erik. ‘It’s perfect!’ he says, kissing Erik sweetly on the lips.

#cherik #cherik fic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #cherik week- day 7: free #wohooo #I wanted to end this week with a bang #so I wrote a vrack fic for it #he he he #:D #jjcherik

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dragonologist-in-the-making · 4 years

Note

Hey babe, can you write something about Sirius x reader!Hufflepuff (she’s very sweet and kind) Where they are together But when it’s full moon, and Sirius and the Marauders left Hogwarts A group of 6 year of slytherin they decide to annoy and curse her and when Sirius returns the next day he gets so mad that he goes to the Slytherin common room to take revenge End fluff and soft Pleaseeeeeee I love your work

Title: Curses

A/N: thank you for the request and your lovely words!! I hope I did this justice for you! Also I don’t think it’s known when Professor Sprout started teaching/became head of Hufflepuff but she went to school at roughly the same time as McGonagall so I took a liberty in assuming she might be the head of house in marauders era too? I also don’t think the timing of this really works out but lets just pretend it does for my sanity? Thank you.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: one swear word, reader gets cursed but with nothing life threatening. Not proofread so my poor grammar.

Requests are still open!

As you walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, you quickly scanned the room, smiling once your eyes settled upon the tightly knit group all sat together, one seat left open for you. You waved to the friends from your own house, but quickly moved towards the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to your boyfriend Sirius, who made sure that his arm was wrapped around your waist and his lips were on your forehead in no time.

“Good morning, love.” You smiled brightly at him, as you started pulling some food onto your plate and pouring yourself a drink. Greeting the rest of the marauders (plus Lily Evans, although by this point you could both be considered honorary members), you tuned into their conversation, which happened to be their plans for the night ahead. The night of the full moon, where they would all go to help Remus through his monthly transformation. You thought it was brilliant that the boys helped him, and you made sure to remind Sirius how highly you thought of his actions every time the full moon came around, but that didn’t stop the hours you would spend worrying in your bed when they were gone, just hoping that none of them would be beaten up too badly when you saw them the next morning.

Because of this, Lily had taken it upon herself to spend these nights together with you, so you could both have something to do to distract yourself, or at least someone there who understood what you were going through if you couldn’t. It was at her words that your head turned away from your food, as she directed her words towards you.

“So, (y/n), whose common room is it tonight?” She asked, her fiery red hair pulled up into a casual ponytail and her inquisitive eyes not as bright as they usually were. They always dimmed on this day.

“I think yours might be best. Everyone in Hufflepuff is still celebrating from the win against Ravenclaw yesterday.” You said, referring to the Quidditch match you had all been to watch the day previous. The party had been great, you spent all night laughing and dancing with your friends until Professor Sprout had entered the common room in the early hours of the morning, threatening you all with detention unless you went to bed. It was fun, but hearing the whispers of a second party tonight, which you knew would at least be attempted, just wasn’t something you thought you could put up with.

“Gryffindor it is!” She beamed, and you thought how grateful you were to have Lily on these nights now. They had been incredibly lonely before she had given in and given James his part, and it had clearly worked out well enough for her to be in on Remus’ secret too, and it meant that you had another girlfriend who fully understood your life, knowing all the secrets you had to keep from your other friends. “I’ll meet you outside when the boys head off, so I can let you in.”

…

You arrived outside of the portrait of the Fat Lady just as five people were clambering through to get out. Seeing Remus look worn out already, you went and hugged him, whispering how you would see him tomorrow with a whole array of chocolate treats from the kitchen. Saying a quick goodbye to James and Peter too, you wished them safe and turned to Sirius. You fled into his arms, holding him tightly around the waist as he did to you too, stroking through your hair reassuringly. You pulled away, knowing this wasn’t the time to be wasting time, pressing a short but firm kiss to his lips, a push of your love onto him.

“I will see you in the morning.” You stated, more of a threat than a promise of a visit.

“You will see me in the morning.” He reassured, one hand still in your hair as the other caressed your cheek.

“And you will have no more than a few minor scratches.” You told him, knowing it was something he couldn’t really help, just as he knew that he could come back with a relatively serious injury and you would never be angry at him or at Remus, you would just take a moment to curse the world before rushing to heal him up and not stray from his side until he was better.

“No more than a few minor scratches,” He confirmed this time, snapping into a rigid position with his hand to his forehead in a salute. He relaxed as you rolled your eyes, leaning in towards you one last time. “From Remus, at least” he winked as your cheeks lit up, smacking his chest as you couldn’t quite meet his gaze, resulting in his laughter booming across the corridor. You pushed him away towards his friends, encouraging them to go, and with one last kiss and statements of your love, the four boys were gone, leaving you and Lily.

“Well, I guess we should head in then.” Lily sighed, telling the password to the portrait before you both clambered through the hole. You had learnt from experience that trying to do some homework in this time was near impossible and was always so poor that it had to be redone at a later date anyway, and so you used these nights as a break, a time to play some wizard’s chess, exploding snap, or just sit about and exchange the gossip you had heard from around the castle.

After a few hours you stretched, feeling tired as the warmth of the fire had been washing over you for hours. Standing up, you smiled at Lily. “I should go, curfew is getting pretty close and the last thing I need is to be found out of hours.” You said, smiling ruefully, not wanting to leave her company but knowing you didn’t have much of a choice. She hugged you goodbye, saying that she would see you in the morning. Climbing out of the portrait hole, you walked quickly back to your own common room, not wanting to spend too long walking around the corridors.

You were walking through the entrance hall, having only passed a couple of stray students also heading back to their common rooms before they were caught out, when a cold voice rang from behind you, calling your name. Fear washed over you, but you decided stopping would do no good for you, and so you continued on your journey, quickening your pace.

Quickly, before you even knew what was happening, you heard the words “Mucus Ad Nauseum” being shouted from behind you, and you felt the force of a spell hit you squarely in the back and you stumbled slightly in your step as you immediately felt your head grow heavier and your throat tighten. “This is what happens when you date a blood traitor, (y/n).” You turned just in time to see the wild black hair flying around a corner, back down to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room. It didn’t matter if you had seen who it was anyway, you would recognise that voice anywhere. Feeling yourself grow more and more lightheaded, you stumbled your way back to the Hufflepuff common room, into your dorm and practically collapsed on top of your bed.

…

The morning sunlight hit your face, waking you up from your groggy state and making you groan as you sniffled, sore throat and heavy head to complete your state. You sighed, quickly swinging yourself out of bed and getting ready in time for breakfast, trying to hide your paleness and red nose with makeup, although there was only so much you could do. In an almost trance-like state you walked over to the Gryffindor table, now with two seats empty as Remus was no doubt upstairs recovering on his own. Reaching for a mug of hot tea to soothe your throat, you opened your mouth.

“Morning. How was your night?” Your voice was thick, and scratched at your throat as it escaped you, but you hoped it could be put down to early morning sleepiness, which luckily it seemed to be.

“Relatively easy compared to most full moons, we barely had to – blimey, (y/n), what’s wrong?” Sirius asked as he studied your face, at the slight sweat that had broken out on your forehead as well as the greyish tinge to your skin. At his words, three other heads turned to look at you, surprise covering their faces too.

“I’m fine.” You reassured, avoiding their sceptical glares. “Guess I’ve just come down with a cold.”

“But you were completely fine yesterday!” Sirius exclaimed, frowning as he examined himself closer.

“Yeah, (y/n), even when you left last night you didn’t have so much as a sniffle, and now you borderline have the flu?” Lily asked. At her words, something seemed to click in Sirius’ mind, and he brought out his wand, uttered a few words under his breath which immediately made you feel much better as your illness cleared away within seconds. The effect was so quick it almost gave you headrush.

“So who cursed you?” he asked hotly, not caring to keep his voice down.

“Sirius, really, it’s fine. It was just a prank, I didn’t even see who it was. It was just a harmless joke-“

“Harmless? Fine, if you didn’t see who it was then I’m sure McGonagall can help us.” He stated, standing up and making his way up towards the staff table where she was sat. You jumped up, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back.

“No please, it’ll only get worse if she knows that I snitched.” You pleaded, and he turned back to you, pleased that you had finally given something up.

“She? So you do know who it is?” He asked, staring into your eyes as you defiantly started back. After a minute or two, you gave in, knowing that he would never give this up and that he would find out either way, but at least maybe the whole school didn’t have to.

“It was Bella.” You sighed, using the name he always used for her, unable to break the childhood habit even as he watched her grow into everything he hated. You watched the anger light in his eyes as he snapped his head over to the Slytherin table, where Narcissa sat but her sister was missing.

“That little bitch.” He snarled, storming out of the great hall with his wand gripped tightly in his hand, ignoring your shouts after him.

…

You had been pacing the Gryffindor common room for what felt like hours, although you suspected it had barely even been one. Lily and James had brought you up here, and after leaving a pile of chocolate on Remus’ bedside table you had gone back downstairs, wringing your hands as you couldn’t take your mind off what could possibly be happening in the dungeons.

The portrait swung open and your boyfriend clambered in, still seething but seemingly unhurt. You raced over to him, and he gladly took you in his arms, guiding you over to the sofas in front of the fire.

“What happened? Are you okay? Why on earth did you go after her?” You asked, racing through all your questions, making Sirius chuckle slightly as he pulled you onto his lap.

“Well, she should definitely know now that cursing you isn’t a good idea for her own safety.” He reassured you, and even though you were worried about him, and you didn’t approve of his actions, you couldn’t help but feel the happiness swelling through your chest at how much he cared for you. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want me to do anything but you’re just so pure and you would never hurt anyone and you didn’t deserve it and the fact that she’s my own blood-“ he seethed, as you cut him off.

“Hey, blood isn’t family, you know that,” you cooed, taking his hands in yours. “You’re not them, you left them, and that is the greatest show of courage I’ve ever seen. She went after me to target you, because she knew it would hurt the most. Because she knew that I’m your family know, we’re your family.”

“I love you, (y/n), I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Sirius.”

#harry potter fic #harry potter #sirius black #padfoot #marauders #marauders era x reader #marauders era #young sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius x hufflepuff!reader #hufflepuff #hufflepuff reader #reader insert #request

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paradox-psyc-hoe-sis · 4 years

Text

Remus Lupin dating a hufflepuff would include...

Remus lupin x hufflepuff!reader, the marauders x platonic reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: no smut but talk of sexy times (sfw)

A/N: I'm back, babey! Recently took a smol hiatus but I'm back and better than ever. Here are some headcanons of what life would be like dating young Remus Lupin as a hufflepuff; I might do something similar with the different houses and the other marauders, but idk yet. As per usual, if you want a request then by all means shoot me a message! I write for the umbrella academy, marvel and Harry Potter so feel free to request anything :)) - Aphrodite

(Also I'm sorry I didn't spell check this, please forgive me)

• Every moment between you two was adorable!

• Being the semi-traditionalists that you were, it was a mutual agreement to take things slow and steady. But Remus was so infatuated with you - and you with him - that neither could deny the ever growing spark you shared.

• He'd always invite you on study dates in the library every Saturday, but most of the time it was just an excuse to see more of you.

• You'd always bring along a snack from the kitchens to the library, a different pastry or bake every week.

• "Guess who brought muffins!!!"

• When you aren't looking, he likes to leave cute messages on post it notes and hide them in your bag or throughout your books.

• "The only thing sweeter than those muffins is you, my love"

• You totally know when he does it, you've caught him a few times.

• However, you like to return the favour.

• "Maybe next time we 'study', you can let me Slytherin to your arms for cuddles"

• He loves the puns you make. Despite always being followed by an eye roll, he really does love them.

• He keeps all his notes from you in his bedside table and will read them after a particularly rough full moon 🥺

• Obviously, Remus was terrified to tell you his secret, but it went less dramatically than he thought it would.

• When you acted so truly selfless and reassured him that you'd be there for him no matter what, it really made him tear up. You promised to always be there after every full moon.

• You two can always be found cuddling in the gryffindor dormitories, 24/7.

• When you have a free period or a day free from studying, Remus will sneak you past the common room and into the dorms, where you'll just lay in his bed. All day.

• He's definitely the big spoon, he loves to hold you as tight as he can. But sometimes you'll lay your head on his chest, facing the ceiling, and he'll run his fingers through your hair.

• The boy is a human radiator, so you could practically hug him and his warmth all day long.

• One time you slept over with the rest of the marauders, and upon waking up, realised you had started your period. On Remus's sheets.

• "Hey, it's alright. I know this stuff happens, let's get you cleaned up."

• He was so mature about it all that you probably fell in love there and then.

• While you had a shower and changed the sheets, he went to Hogsmeade with James to get you some pads and snacks.

• Not needing a heating pad because he's just so damn warm gosh darn it

• While you and Remus were growing closer, you had an unexpected friendship with Sirius.

• I say unexpected, as when you first met you were positive he'd be trouble.

• "Moony, you never told me you were dating a hufflepuff! What a cute little cupcake she is." (Delivered with a wink)

• Let's just say, you may or may not have threatened to "shave off your pretty little locks if you call me a cupcake again."

• Although, this rivalry soon turned into friendship when you realised your senses of humour were identical.

• When Remus is busy and can't hang out with you, Sirius will take you to hogsmeade or play a game of chess to pass the time.

• Funnily enough, Sirius became oddly protective of you, letting Remus know that if he ever hurt you he'd be dead.

• Remus was always calling you a cute name, despite the circumstance.

• His favourite things to call you were babe, sweetheart, love, and snickerdoodle.

• You just stuck with calling him Remy, Moony, or honey (he'd never admit it, but he loves when you call him 'honeybuns')

• Remus is smart, and so are you. But when you're together, you share half a braincell.

• He's literally such a dumbass.

• "Babe, do you think toads can sense fear?"

• Cue you looking into the camera like Jim in the office.

• Whenever somebody tries to make any comments about Remus being a werewolf you are the first person to defend him.

• Nobody was afraid of you lashing out because you're "just a harmless hufflepuff". Their opinions changed when you punched a Slytherin prefect in the face for calling Remus a monster.

• At night, you'll both sneak out of the common rooms and meet in the kitchens for midnight snacks.

• You making some tea, and him eating some chocolate while talking to the house elves.

• You were always the best in your year at herbology, Remus however didn't stand a chance. He wasn't terrible at it, but certainly needed your help during lessons.

• "Y/n...what in God's name is that!?"

"...babe that's a celery."

• The summer between fourth and fifth year, he had the worlds biggest growth spurt.

• He was a little bit taller than you before, but when you returned to school for fifth year, he towered over you like a half-giant.

• This means that you could steal his fuzzy jumpers with them falling down to your knees.

• Sleepovers at the gryffindor dorms were a common occasion, but sometimes Remus would come to your common room late at night to have a dance party.

• Quietly playing the mixtape he made for you while you both danced around the area.

• You both had your first kiss towards the middle of fifth year, almost a year and a half after you first started dating.

• Remus came top of the class on an important DADA test. When he told you, you instinctively kissed him.

• You pulled away almost straight after, apologising for not asking for consent. Before you could say another word, he pulled you closer to him and placed another kiss on your lips, running a hand through the back of you hair.

• When you broke apart, you rested your forehead in the crook of his neck as he whispered in your ear.

• "I love you, y/n."

"I love you more, Remus."

• He wasn't really a big fan of PDA, but would happily do whatever you wanted.

• When the marauders were planning a prank, Remus made sure you were as far away from the action as possible.

• "What if we get y/n to be the bait? She could get-"

"James, there is no way y/n is going to jump into the great lake with weights ties to her ankles."

• You both did it for the first time near Christmas of sixth year.

• Peter was long gone home. James and Sirius had both left that morning to go back to the Potter's, offering you both a place to stay for the holidays. However, you were both happy to get some alone time.

• In the evening, he lit candles in the dorm and did cute stuff like that.

• He was so so nervous, but was still a gentlemen through and through, always asking if you're comfortable and making sure what he's doing is okay.

• It was really sweet, and both of you were really happy afterwards.

• Sometimes you'd share a bath with him in the prefects bathroom. The rest of the marauders always joked about how there'd be a bit more than bathing involved, but they were wrong.

• When you would share a bath, Remus would bring a book and read to you, doing silly voices for each of the characters just to see you smile. Neither of you ever did the Devil's Tango in the prefects bath, as it was always just for a nice relax.

• Speaking of books, Remus was always reading one. Sometimes you'd cuddle up next to him while he read, and he'd quietly read each line.

• Sometimes you'd do the same, reciting small poems from muggle books.

• He never told you, but after you had your first kiss his boggart changed. It changed from the moon to himself as a werewolf, holding your dead body.

• Gruesome, he knew, but it was significant to him.

• Along with his boggart changing, your patronus changed. In your third year you learned how to conjure a patronus, and yours was a porcupine. Yet in your sixth year, you discovered it to be a werewolf.

• Remus full on cried happy tears when he found out.

• After the worst full moon yet, Remus ended up in the hospital wing for 5 days. He was found unconscious, and woke up 2 days later to see you and Madam Pomfrey by his side.

• You took notes for him in class, brought him a few new books and bars of chocolate, and spent every free moment in the hospital wing with him.

• He had three long slashes across his face when you found him in the shrieking shack, yet he looked so calmly asleep.

• "When you told me you wanted to start having lie-ins, I didn't think you'd sleep for two days straight."

• You were the first person he wanted to see after such a terrible night, and despite your jokes, he was so grateful to have you next to him.

• "I hope you're not going to break up with me now that I'm ugly."

"You? Ugly? How could you ever think such a thing?"

• On valentines day, he enlisted the help of the marauders to make things perfect.

• After a date at Madam Puddifoots, you returned to Remus's dorm to a beautiful view.

• Fairy lights were strung along the bed frames, rose petals in a trail along the floor, your favourite scented candles burning on the bedside tables, and a teddy bear bigger than your entire body sat on Remus's bed.

• Turning around to face your boyfriend, you saw that he held 3 boxes wrapped in red paper.

• "Happy valentines day, m'love"

• Placing the gifts on the bed closest to him, he picked you up and wrapped you in a bear hug.

• You crocheted him a jumper in his house colours and got him a leather bound copy of his favourite book.

• He made you a bar of chocolate with your favourite flavours, bought you a chunky cardigan that he knew you wanted, and placed a painted, small wooden box in your hands.

• "Open the box, love." He stated with a smile. He seemed a little nervous, but eased up as he saw you smile.

• Inside the box was two aeroplane tickets to Paris.

• "It's not much, but I was wondering if you'd come with me this summer?"

• This was followed by a lot of happy screams, to say the least.

• When quidditch season came around, you both loved to support the other's house.

• You'd sport Remus's red and yellow jumpers when gryffindor was playing, and he would go all out with yellow and black spirit when it was a hufflepuff match.

• However, when it was hufflepuff against gryffindor things got way too competitive.

• You didn't speak to Remus for a week after gryffindor won.

• "Come on babe, just talk to me! I didn't mean it when I said that hufflepuffs are as good at quidditch as they are at their owls!"

• Professor Mcgonagall didn't really know much about you, being from a different house and all, but she saw how much Remus changed being with you.

• He seemed really well taken care of, and for once he was unconditionally happy.

• After dinner one night, Mcgonagall asked to see you in her office.

• "I just wanted to say thank you for taking such good care of Mr Lupin. It may be unprofessional for me to see him as a son, but I do, and I'm grateful that he has someone like you to support him."

• From that moment forward, she saw you as a daughter, and invited you to have tea with her every week.

• You didn't know it, but every full moon she'd add 50 points to hufflepuff, she could never thank you enough for looking after Remus.

• After you both graduated, you almost immediately moved in with each other.

• With the help of James and Lily, you bought a small cottage a few hours away from hogwarts.

• Every other wednesday, Sirius and Lily come around for a girls night while Remus and James catch up.

• A few months after you moved in together, Remus realised what he wanted, and for once he wasn't afraid to ask for it.

• It was a beautiful Saturday evening, the sky was purple from the sunset. Both of you were sat on the porch swing in your back garden, surrounded by magical plants and flowers, when he got down on one knee.

• "Y/n y/l/n, I've loved you since the day we met. I couldn't wish for anyone better than you, and it would be my dream to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 2, Ch. 1

PART 2: THE YEAR OF MISCHIEF AND SNEAKING AROUND Chapter 1 - Summer at the Burrow

Nova

I have to admit that my Summer before going to the Burrow wasn't that bad at all. I managed to convince my mum to not visit our relatives in America, which already made things 10 times better. What made my Summer even better was the fact that a few days after we came and stayed at my aunt's in Scotland, one of her Abraxans had a baby!

Not only did I witness it, about which I still don't know how I feel as there was a lot of blood, but I got to stay at my aunt's for a week more to take care of the little guy. I decided to call him Angel since his wings gave a light yellow hue. He was the sweetest thing and the day before I left he managed to fly off the ground for the first time, which of course made me very proud.

While at my aunt's I wrote to Charlie and sent him one of the pictures my aunt took of Angel and me. I told him that I was there when he was born and that I wished he could witness it as well. It wasn't even a few days when Pip flew back with his response. He said that he was so jealous and wished he could be there as well and couldn't wait for me to come to the Burrow to hear all about it.

—

Charlie wasn't in the best of moods lately. As he brought home such good grades his mum found him very responsible and gave him the babysitting duty for his younger brother Ron and his sister Ginny. The only good thing was that Bill got an even worse job as he had to look over Fred and George and make sure the house is not on fire as their parents made a quick visit to one of their friends.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for both of them as I knew that their Summer was nothing like they hoped for on the train back from Hogwarts. Nonetheless, I couldn't wait to spend the last month of my Summer at the Burrow. I would plan tricks with Fred and George, tell bedtime stories to Ginny and play Wizard Chess with Ron if it meant spending some quality time with Charlie and update the list we've made in our First Year about which creatures were in the Reserve at Hogwarts, for which we were not supposed to know until our Third Year.

My dad felt so bad that he would only be able to see me for a few weeks that he bought me a brand new book on creatures that featured some that were recently discovered, along with some never before published notes of Magizoologist Newt Scamander. I shrieked as he told me all about what the book has to offer and decided not to tell Charlie about it as I knew I would finish reading it before I get to the Burrow and could lend it to him. And besides, I didn't want to make his Summer even worse.

A few days before my mum was supposed to accompany me to the Burrow, I couldn't help but feel a bit nervous as I was meeting Charlie's entire family. I only knew his brother Bill that I've met at Hogwarts and their mum, who picked them up when we came back from school.

—

I found my mum in the kitchen the morning of my departure. I stood in the doorway, rubbing my eyes as the sunlight from the kitchen window hit my eyes a little too bright for my taste. She was pacing back and forth and murmuring something to herself.

“Morning, mum.” I yawned.

She was still pacing, stopping for a second, turned to the counter where she had some sort of a list and wrote something down.

“Mum?” My voice louder now.

“Oh, Nova, darling. Good morning.” She beamed at me. “How did you sleep?” She looked down at the list and started scribbling something again.

“Good, a bit nervous.” I admitted.

For a second I thought she didn't hear me as there was no response, her quill still on the paper.

“Why are you nervous, sweetheart?” She finally put the quill down and came to me, looking concerned.

“Well, I will be spending a month with the Weasleys, what if they don't like me? What if Mrs. Weasley sends me back?” I frowned.

My mum let out a chuckle. “Sends you back? Oh, sweetheart, I'll be lucky if I ever get you back!” She brushed my hair with her fingers.

“You're one of her son's best friend and you helped him study, I bet she can't wait for you to stay with them as much as Charlie.” That put me in a better mood.

I remembered the moment when Bill told his mum that I helped Charlie achieve such good grades and she thanked me and gave me the biggest hug, one that I only received from my mum on similar occasions.

“Are you all ready and packed?” She interrupted my train of thoughts.

“Yes!” I nodded.

“Got your robes, your wand, your hat, your tie?” She was reading from her list and I nodded again.

“Now, remember I will meet you in Diagon Alley to go shop for your Second Year books. Molly and I agreed that it would be easier if you just go to Diagon Alley with them and I'll meet you there.” She smiled at me.

—

Speaking of Diagon Alley, I did convince my mum to go once at the beginning of Summer so that we could visit Tulip mum's shop. I couldn't convince her to buy all my books in advance though as the list for all the books we would need in our Second Year hasn't arrived yet back then.

Tulip's mum has the most beautiful little coffee shop. It was so cozy and everything looked so homey. My mum met Tulip that day and while I was sitting next to them, sipping on my tea I couldn't guess which of them was more excited to meet the other.

Besides seeing Tulip in July, I didn't get the chance to see either Tonks or Penny. I missed them both so much and I couldn't wait to find a compartment with them on Hogwarts Express on 1st September.

I did, however, correspond with them regularly. It made Pip happy as he was starting to get bored as I attempted to draw him from every possible angle and he just couldn't wait to get away from me. I also assumed that he missed my friends so I tried to use our family owl as little as possible to give him the possibility to visit all the friends he made. Lucky bloke!

Penny, so far, had nothing but an amazing Summer. Her beach vacation went great and she got tanned and her hair was now even more blonde than before because of the Sun. Apparently, she all sent us the same letter as I received a letter from Charlie the very next day as he questioned and tried to understand why going to the beach and do Muggle activities was better than being covered in mud while playing Quidditch.

Tonks' letters on the other hand were nothing but amusing. In a couple of them, she described all the pranks she pulled on her parents. In a few, she was groaning and complaining how their family cat will be the death of her and just last week she sent me a picture of her scratched arm and written next to it was Artwork by Merlin. I chuckled at the sweet name the cat had compared to his behavior.

—

“Don't forget Pip and your drawing books and the self-doodler Charlie gave you and the necklace, HE also gave you.” I rolled my eyes as she winked at me.

I've heard being a teenager wasn't a piece of cake but I thought it was like that because of our stubborn hormones, not parents being more interested in your love life than yourself. She has been going at it every time Mrs. Weasley and her corresponded and I've learned that if I just stay quiet as she gives her remarks, sooner or later she will give up. I did, however, make her mad when I tried to intercept one of the letters Mrs. Weasley sent her as I was sure they were already planning our wedding.

My mum enchanted all my belongings to fit in a small rucksack which I put over my shoulder. I held Pip's cage in one hand, Floo Power in the other as I stepped in our fireplace and was ready to appear in front of the Weasleys.

“THE BURROW!” I said clearly and disappeared in green smoke.

I coughed as I got ashes in my throat, stepping forward into Weasley's living room and putting Pip's cage down.

It was just like Charlie described to me in one of his letters, except I didn't feel it was too small or cramped. It was nice and homey and it smelled like Mrs. Weasley was baking cookies.

There were blankets folded on the sofa and a self-knitting jumper on the armchair. I looked around and it was not at all as I expected it to be. I thought that mum told Mrs. Weasley I was coming and thought someone was going to wait for me. If I'm honest, I was hoping Charlie would be there to greet me.

“Who are you?” I heard a rather grumpy voice. I turned my head and saw a boy with glasses and very curly red hair stand with crossed arms, inspecting me. I smiled.

“I reckon you're Percy.” I put my bag down and stepped closer, extending my arm. He looked at it in suspicion and rolled his eyes. “You're Charlie's friend, aren't you?” He shook my hand. I think he was not happy to see me.

“You can leave your things next to the sofa.” He showed with his hand. “I'm pretty sure mum said you'll be staying in Ginny's room or something.” He was just as strange as Charlie described him.

Before I could say another word to him I heard someone walk down the stairs. It was a little boy that could only be Ron. His hair reminded me that of Charlie's when he just woke up and came down for breakfast in the Great Hall. As he caught on to what was going on, his eyes widened and he gasped.

“Blimey! You're Nova!” He came closer, being rather bad at hiding his excitement. I offered him a hand just like I did with Percy. Ron shook it immediately.

“Your hair really is blue!” He couldn't stop staring at it. I giggled. I already felt much better as Ron definitely gave out more of a friendly vibe than Percy and was actually excited to see me.

“Dad's at work, mum's upstairs with Ginny. I reckon Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie are outside.” He smiled and pointed at the door behind me.

I didn't even have time to turn around when I heard my name.

“Nova! You're here.” Charlie ran to me and hugged me. “And right in time for Quidditch too!” He couldn't hide the excitement.

I saw Bill standing in the doorway, his hands crossed on his chest, smiling.

“Welcome back, Nova. I'll get mum. I'm assuming she doesn't know you're here yet.” He squeezed me into a hug and ran upstairs.

“Nova, these are Fred and George.” Charlie pushed the twins toward me.

“Hi, Nova.” One of them waved.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Said the other one. “Charlie talked about you all Summer.” He added.

“Ouch!” Was the next thing that came from his mouth as Charlie gently punched him in his arm.

“Oh, Nova, dear! You've arrived.” Mrs. Weasley came downstairs with the biggest grin on her face. She opened her arms even before she reached me and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Hi, Mrs. Weasley, thank you for having me.”

“It's Molly, dear. No daughter of Olivia's will call ME Mrs. Weasley.” She swung her hand and smiled.

“Where's your mum?” She put her hands on her hips and looked around.

That was a good question as she should've been here by now.

As if Molly's question made her appear, Weasley's fireplace burst into green flames and there was my mum.

“Oh, Molly it's so nice to see you. Nova, you forgot the jumper Molly gave you for Christmas.” She hugged Mrs. Weasley and waved with the jumper. I felt blood rush into my cheeks.

After they stopped chatting and my mum kindly refused lunch for the third time as she had to go to work, she came to me, gave me a tight hug, and whispered in my ear that I should behave and be nice to the Weasleys. She kissed my forehead and before I knew it, disappeared in green flames.

Charlie wanted to take me to play Quidditch with them immediately but Mrs. Weasley stopped him saying that Bill and he should show me around the house, make me feel at home, and take Pip and my bag up into Ginny's room.

Ginny's room wasn't really Ginny's as I recognized it as Charlie's immediately. Posters of Dragons and other creatures were everywhere and there was even one of a Quidditch team.

“I sleep in Bill's room ever since Ginny is old enough to sleep in a bed.” He said, scratching the back of his head, his cheeks pink.

“I love it!” I exclaimed as it looked almost the same as my room just a little messier and less blue.

I then got to see Fred and George's room and Ron and Percy's room. Bill's room was a bit bigger than the rest, of which Charlie was quite proud. I saw that Charlie was already making it half his own as there were Dragon posters on the walls above his bed.

Ron told me all about the family Ghoul and how I shouldn't be afraid if I hear someone sing and smash things in the middle of the night. He also showed me his Wizard's Chessboard that he proudly inherited from his grandfather and asked with his adorable big eyes if I would play a game with him after dinner.

Fred and George, of course, showed me their prized possession of fireworks, Dungbombs, and a small machine that I had no idea what it was for until I placed my hand on it and it shook me, making me jump backward. I bet Tonks and Tulip would be best friends with the twins.

After lunch, Charlie's wish of playing Quidditch with me finally came true. I got Percy's broom as according to him he didn't want to play with us anyway, as he handed it to me and went upstairs to his room.

I had so much fun playing Quidditch with the boys. It was Fred and George against Charlie and me and Bill was our referee. I knew Charlie was good at flying but as he caught the Snitch within the first five minutes of our first game did I realize just what a natural he was.

We played until Mrs. Weasley called us in for dinner. When we came inside, I saw a man already sitting at the table and I assumed that had to be Charlie's dad.

“Arthur this is Nova, Charlie's friend.” Molly nudged Mr. Weasley as we sat down at the table.

“Ah, right. You arrived today!” He remembered. “How were your travels?” He asked as he put some peas on his plate.

“Uh, fine sir. I came here on Floo Powder.” Mr. Weasley chuckled.

“Oh, but of course, silly me for asking. And please, it's Arthur and not sir.” Charlie and Bill chuckled this time, me not even realizing that I called him sir.

I was an only child and having so many people converse and pass the plates with food here and there was so fun to watch. Bill and Charlie almost fought for the last piece of pie, Percy left the table earlier as he said we were too loud and Ginny couldn't stop giggling when I put a pea in my nose and crossed my eyes. I think she would find Tonks' nose and hair changing even funnier.

After dinner, I took Charlie to what was now mine and Ginny's room and finally showed him the book my dad bought me. I told him all about it as he grabbed my hand and brought me back downstairs. We sat on the sofa as he turned the pages slowly, with sparkles in his eyes.

Every day after that was almost the same. Percy was annoyed by us. The twins pulled a prank here and there, making either Bill or Charlie chase after them. I helped them degnoming the garden and Bill later called us back outside to give us a gnome which Charlie tried desperately to befriend, despite the obvious refusal from the other party.

We played Quidditch almost every day and now decided to switch teams every other game as Charlie and I won so much that Fred and George thought it wasn't fair to them as they thought I wasn't as good as I appeared to be. The thing is, neither did I. My parents didn't let me have a broom so the first time I flew was in our Flying Class and even though I managed to call my broom on my first try I didn't think of myself as a good flyer, let alone a good Quidditch player.

In the evenings, when Charlie and I weren't reading each other's books, I was helping Molly in the kitchen as she was telling me stories of her Hogwarts days with my mum.

Ron beat me in every single chess game but he still thought there was space for improvement and even gave me a compliment saying I was getting better.

The twins kept asking how Hogwarts was and that they couldn't wait to meet Tulip and Tonks when I told them that I have friends that love pranks just as much as they do.

Every night when Ginny had to go to bed, I took her upstairs and read her stories from her The Tales of Beedle the Bard book, and even though I've read some of them more than once she didn't mind, as long as I read to her.

—

Most nights, when we were already supposed to be sleeping, Charlie and I snuck out of our rooms and sat on the bench in front of their house or we took one of the blankets from the sofa and placed it on the ground in the garden. We loved looking at constellations and shooting stars as we talked about our expectations of our Second Year, wondering how Tulip, Tonks, and Penny are doing, and couldn't help but admit that we couldn't wait for our Third Year when we would finally start Care of Magical Creatures.

Of course, we couldn't hide our excitement as we remembered that this year Hagrid was going to take us into the Forbidden Forest and Charlie couldn't help but wonder if he would go deep enough into the Forest could he find a Dragon. I chuckled at the idea, even though I couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

One night Bill heard us talking outside as he went down to get a glass of water. Instead of scolding us and telling Molly, he laid down next to us and reminisced at the time he was our age. He made me and Charlie laugh so much as he pretended he was 100 years old and started all his stories from his First and Second Year with 'when I was your age'.

Bill also loved watching me draw and gave me pointers where he thought I could do better, it was like having an art teacher that was wiser but without an ounce of talent for drawing.

I don't even know how else to describe the month I spent with the Weasleys. It seemed that my life kept getting better and better and I couldn't wait for what was in store for me and my friends in our Second Year. Charlie and I made a dare that Tonks will lose it again during the final exams, that Penny will scold us all the time, and that Bill will sooner or later find out that we have been sneaking into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid.

I loved the Weasleys so much and if Pip wouldn't bring me a letter from my parents a couple of times per week I would have forgotten that I wasn't a Weasley. Well, that and the fact that I had blue and not red hair.

It was the best Summer and even better as I imagined it before coming to the Burrow. I had so much fun with Charlie no matter what we were doing and every time Bill joined us it was nice as I got to bond with him as well. Every night when I finally went to sleep, I couldn't help but think just how lucky I was to have met Charlie that day in the Courtyard.

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legendofzeldaalinktothepast · 3 years

Photo

Solar Power

Fandom: She-Ra (2018)

Ship: Platonic Scorpia and Entrapta, mentions of romantic Scorpia/Perfuma

Words: 2204

Rating: G

The princesses are having a sleepover, and Scorpia is having trouble fitting in; fortunately, Entrapta understands where she’s coming from.

Scorpia shoved the window open and took in the fresh, summer night air. 'Breathe, girlie. It's gonna be fine.' she reminded herself, counting her breaths and taking comfort in the silence around her. Just taking a moment to herself immediately brought her anxiety down a few notches -- at least enough to think straight again.

'Ugh... I knew this would happen. Why do you always get so nervous around them? It's not like they're gonna bite you!' she thought, rubbing her face with her claws.

She turned towards the bathroom sink and splashed her face with some cold water, finally grounding herself. 'Alright, Scorpia. You can do this! You're supposed to be the tough girl, and you've handled far worse than a slumber party!' Slicking back her hair, she took one last deep breath and unlocked the bathroom door, heading back towards the main living room. 'Just think of it like the bunks at the horde. It's basically that, but with more perfume and less-ugly pajamas!’

The sound of chatter and scent of baking cookies filled the hallway. Excitement rose up in Scorpia's chest; while she was never fond of eating sweets (years of consuming those bland horde rations really screwed with her taste buds), the smell of them was definitely pleasant, even nostalgic in a way.

Once Scorpia reached the living room, she bit her lip; now came the struggle of joining the crowd. Again. 'Ugh, no, don't think of it as a crowd! That's exactly what caused my little meltdown in the first place.' she thought, shaking her head. 'I gotta think of it as... Little clusters. Clusters I can handle.'

And she wasn't wrong; while all of the princesses were hanging out in the same general area, they had also formed smaller, more manageable groups... Catra, Adora, and Glimmer were chatting in the kitchen while the cookies baked. Perfuma and Entrapta were playing a game of chess on the floor nearby. Spinnerella, Netossa, and Frosta were standing by the fireplace, while the youngest of the three loudly told a story, which the married couple listened to with amused expressions. Mermista, an outlier, had fallen asleep on the couch.

'Hmm... which cluster to join...' she thought. In all honesty, Mermista's sounded the most appealing, but just flopping down and falling asleep next to her probably wouldn't make a good impression. Even she knew that. 'Maybe I could listen to whatever story Frosta is telling? That'll give me an excuse not to talk, but at least I'd be part of something!' she thought with a grin. With her goal clear in mind, however, she'd completely forgotten about Entrapta and Perfuma playing chess right in front of her, and ended up stepping on their board.

"Oh, uh, hey, girls!" Scorpia greeted, awkwardly waving a claw. "Sorry about that, I'm such a ditz, heh..."

"That's okay, I'm a ditz too!" Entrapta grinned.

"Neither of you are a ditz! Accidents happen." Perfuma smiled warmly, picking up the chess pieces.

Scorpia's heart fluttered. "S-still, I didn't wanna ruin your game! Here, lemme help." She sat down on the floor beside them, helping place the pieces back on the chess board. "Let's see... This one goes here, I think. Queens go next to the horses, right?" Scorpia said, holding the queen and knight piece in each claw.

"I-it's alright, I mostly remembered where my pieces were!" Perfuma reassured, taking the pieces from Scorpia's claws and placing it back on the board.

"Heh, me too!" Entrapta said, eagerly placing her own pieces back on the black and white tiles.

"Mind if I join the game? I've never played this before!" Scorpia said.

"Oh, unfortunately it's only a two player game..." Perfuma smiled sadly. "But once we're done with this round, you can play against Entrapta!"

"Checkmate! Scorpia's turn!" Entrapta grinned, making her knight piece jump over Perfuma's king.

Perfuma narrowed her eyes. "Did you re-arrange the board in your favor? I am almost positive your knight was not that close to my king."

"Maaaaybe." Entrapta folded her hands politely and tilted her head.

Perfuma rolled her eyes. "Well, it's no big deal," she said with a shrug. "After all, winning isn't everything! What matters is we had fun." She rose to her feet, smoothing out her night gown. "Scorpia, you can take my spot now! I think I'll get myself some tea."

"Thanks, flowergirl." Scorpia said with a wink. Perfuma rose to her feet, and Scorpia scooted over to where she'd been sitting. As she set the chess pieces back to their original places (or well... to the best of her ability. She really had no idea how this worked), she found her gaze shifting back and forth towards Perfuma, even long after she'd headed into the kitchen.

Entrapta gave Scorpia a nudge with her pigtail, causing her to jump. "Do you want me to tell you the rules?" she asked.

"Oh, uh... Nope, I'm good." she said, too ashamed to admit she had no idea how to play chess.

Entrapta cackled. "That's good, because I didn't want to! Chess is soo boring, but Perfuma really wanted to play it, and it only felt fair since she's been listening to me tell her about my newest robot all night -- her name is Sandra, you should meet her! But anyway, let's play something else!"

Scorpia didn't respond; her gaze was still cast towards the kitchen, and anxiety still lingered in her chest. It took her a moment to even process Entrapta's suggestion. "Oh! Uh, sure! What kind of game?"

Entrapta cupped Scorpia's face. "First, let's play a game called 'Tell Entrapta Why The Heck You're So Nervous Right Now'."

Scorpia burst into laughter; for the first time that night, she'd begun to loosen up a bit. "Oh, I dunno, just... I guess just. I've never been really good at these kinds of things, ya know?"

"Oh, I totally know!" Entrapta nodded. "Like, the whole... People thing. Especially when it's other princesses." She blushed a little.

Scorpia smiled. "Yeah... I'm glad at least someone does." she sighed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a lot of fun, and I'm glad I was invited! But... When everyone seems to fall into their little groups, and it gets loud and overwhelming... I dunno, I just feel so wrong, like I shouldn't be here."

"Ohh..." Entrapta said, tapping her chin. "Hey, you wanna go outside?"

"Uh, sure! What are we gonna do?" Scorpia asked, confused by the sudden shift in topic.

"Follow me." Entrapta said, and before Scorpia could question any further, she lifted herself up by her pigtails and scurried towards the door. Scorpia hauled herself up to her feet, glancing back one last time -- Perfuma had permanently joined the kitchen cluster, and Spinerella glanced Scorpia's way for a mere split second before turning back to Frosta -- and then continued out the door.

For a moment, she'd wondered if Entrapta had just up and vanished -- but soon enough she spotted her, sitting on the branch of a nearby tree. How she'd gotten up there so quickly was beyond Scorpia. She approached her with an amused expression on her face. "Whoa... You sure know how to climb."

Entrapta giggled. "Yeah, come on up! It's nice up here!"

"Ah, but... I'm a little heavier than you are, are you sure it's safe?" she asked; even with a body as tiny as Entrapta's, the branch seemed to be bending ever so slightly beneath her weight.

"Well... I could take some of the tools out of my pockets!" Entrapta said. At first, Scorpia thought the idea was absurd... but then she began pulling wrenches out of her pockets, one by one, and for a moment Scorpia thought it would go on forever... But soon enough, there was a pile of wrenches and various tools on the ground that probably weighed even more than Scorpia. How Entrapta had managed to fit all of those in her pockets was beyond her.

"There we go! Now it should be safe for you to join." Entrapta smiled.

"Heh, I guess I can't say no, now." With a grunt, she lifted herself up onto the branch of the tree, seating herself beside Entrapta. It took herself a moment to balance properly -- what she had in strength, she lacked in grace... But at least it wasn't too high, so if she fell, she'd get a couple bruises if she was unlucky.

"You ever hear of solar powered technology?" Entrapta asked, tilting her head.

"Yeah! That's stuff powered by the sun, right?" Scorpia said.

"Correct!" Entrapta said. "Like, one time I made a solar powered robot, and when I forgot to charge her battery, she had a lot of trouble functioning at night, or on super cloudy days... But when I do remember to let her charge in the mornings, she's able to do the most amazing things!" Entrapta flapped her hands. "Her name's Sandra!"

"Oh right, you mentioned her earlier!" Scorpia said, though she wasn't quite sure where Entrapta was going with this.

"Yeah! I think you'd love to meet her." Entrapta said. "Anyway, there was a reason I brought this up... Oh, right! Well, sometimes I'm kinda like Sandra. If I don't take some time to charge myself up -- in this case, just sitting somewhere quiet, maybe even twirling a wrench around -- and I go into a place with lots of people and noise, I kinda just break down, like Sandra! So that's why I always make sure to find some kinda quiet place when I go to sleepovers. Usually I just climb around in the vents, but I had a feeling that wouldn't be your thing, so that's why we're outside!"

"Oh, I know what you mean" Scorpia brightened up. "That's really nice of you. I tried doing a little recharging in the bathroom, but... Then I started worrying people would think I was sick, so I headed out before I was actually... You know, ready." She sighed, leaning her head against the trunk of the tree. "Like, I really do love being with the girls, but... They're so hard to connect with sometimes, and it gets noisy with all the talking and music and smells of perfume and food... None of which are bad, by the way! It's just... too much at once. Especially when Perfuma's around, I mean..." Scorpia blushed, not sure if she wanted to elaborate.

Entrapta scooted a little closer to Scorpia. "No wonder you looked like you weren't having fun. You weren't ready to come hang out with people. And what's Perfuma have to do with it?"

Scorpia blushed. "Ugh, she's just... Really pretty, you know? And I'm not really sure where we stand..."

"Is Perfuma your girlfriend?" Entrapta asked.

"Mmmmmaybe." Scorpia turned her head to the side. "Kind of? I don't know. Ugh, but she's so outgoing and extroverted and good with people, and I kinda worry that I'm getting ahead of myself and that I'll look like an idiot if I assume she is, and it turns out she doesn't feel the same..."

"You'll probably look like an idiot either way." Entrapta shrugged. "But if you are dating, and you assume you're not, that'll probably hurt her feelings. So it’s better to assume that you are. I mean, I'd be flattered if you assumed you were my girlfriend, even if I see our relationship as more platonic."

Scorpia chuckled. "Guess you're right about that." she said with a sigh. "You're a really good friend, you know?"

Entrapta blushed. "Thanks... I've been trying really hard lately, and well... Sometimes people still think I'm a bad friend."

"Hey, I think they just don't really get you." Scorpia shrugged. "But I do, because I'm the same way."

Entrapta flapped her hands. "Yes! That's very true! Our brains were wired in similar ways, so it only makes sense that you'd get me!" she said. "But you know what? That doesn't mean the other princesses won't like you! And that doesn't mean Perfuma doesn't, either. Like, it was really hard for me to get along with Perfuma too, but now I play chess with her, and she asks me questions about robots!"

"Yeah, I guess that's true." Scorpia smiled. "Thanks for letting me talk this out with you, girlie. I'm feeling a lot better, now..."

Just then, the door behind them swung open. "Hey, dweebs!" Frosta called from the castle, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Karaoke starts in five minutes, so ya better get your butts in here if you wanna sing!"

Scorpia brightened up immediately. "I'll be right there!" she called. "You coming, Entrapta?"

"Mm, need a few more minutes to recharge..." Entrapta said, kicking her legs. "But you can go in without me! I'll probably be able to listen from out here, anyway."

"Hah, that's true! Especially when I'm the one singing." Scorpia climbed back down from the tree and landed on her toes. "See ya in a bit!"

"See ya!"

Once Scorpia was back inside the castle, Entrapta turned her gaze back up towards the full moon. "Hmm... I wonder if I could make a solar and lunar powered robot..." she mused to nobody in particular, reaching down with her pigtail arm and retrieving one of her wrenches from the grass.

#she ra #fanfiction #scorfuma #autistic entrapta #autistic scorpia #working on posting opalescent tides btw! just thought id repost a couple of oneshots while im at it #solar power

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iihappydaysii · 4 years

Text

title: the stranger

rated: m (tags on ao3)

pairing: jamie/john, john/OMC

word count: 2.8k

summary: This time when Lord John comes to Helwater, he's not alone, and Jamie can't possibly be jealous. No absolutely not. Not jealous at all.

read on ao3

. . .

This time, when Lord John Grey came to Helwater, he was not alone. A man had come with him.

In a deep indigo coat with bronze buttons, the stranger was well-dressed, but not as finely as Grey. His tricorn was sat slightly askew over cropped black hair. He was deep in conversation with Grey, and when Jamie stepped forward to take their horses, it felt as if Grey had barely noticed him at all.

Certainly, there were times when Jamie had bristled at Grey’s appearance, going so far as to pretend he hadn’t seen the man. But the coldness had never run the other way and they’d come to some form of a truce in the year after Willie was born. Based on the difference in behavior alone, it was hard not to wonder the identity of the man who had so thoroughly captivated Lord John’s attention.

As he guided the horses away, Jamie glanced curiously over his shoulder to see Grey laugh—a full-bellied thing—at something the stranger had said.

Grey and his nameless companion had come mid-morning, but it was dusk before the major arrived in the stables to speak with Jamie. It wasn’t necessarily unusual that it had taken so long. Grey often had business to do with the Dunsanys, but ever since Willie, they had spent more time together. For better or worse.

“Good evening, Jamie,” Grey said. “How have you been? Willie’s grown so much since I was here last.”

Jamie stopped pitching hay. “Aye, he has, hasn’t he? I canna believe how quickly it’s happened.”

“That’s what my brother says about my nieces and nephews.” Grey gave him a warm but not too eager smile. He found, inexplicably, that he missed the usual eagerness the major brought with him.

“I’m done here, if ye would be interested in a game of chess?” Jamie asked, before realizing it may have been the first time he’d been the one to offer rather than Grey.

“Well, I do have an engagement this evening, but I believe I have time for one short game.”

Jamie stabbed his pitchfork in a hay bale and grinned, cat-like, as he appraised Grey. “Dinna fash, Major. It willna take me long to best ye.”

Chess was Jamie Fraser’s game. He had a mind to see two or three steps ahead of his opponent. Grey was a good player, better than most Jamie had played, but he only rarely beat Jamie and that was usually when Jamie was tired or distracted or lacked a particular interest that day. Or on occasion, when he felt a strange sort of pity for the man, though that happened more rarely than he believed Grey thought it did.

Jamie was just two moves away from winning. All he needed to do was move his bishop up three and the game was his.

Grey was washed pale in the petal pink dust, the glow highlighting the tiny lines around his eyes. His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he watched Jamie’s hands.

Just move your bishop up three, a voice spoke in Jamie’s head.

His finger grazed the tip of the bishop, but he didn’t lift it off the board. With a sigh, he moved his knight instead.

What are you doing, man?

Jamie ignored that voice in his head again. Was it crime to make a bad chess move? Or to want to spend time with someone who regarded him as an equal? Or to be fascinated with the pink, round mark at this crest of the major’s cheekbone—?

“Jamie?” The sound of his name in Grey’s voice roused Jamie from his thoughts.

“Hm? What is it?”

“It’s your turn.”

“Oh right.” Jamie cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Now, Jamie realized, moving the bishop wouldn’t help anything. He’d wandered his way into a trap of his own making.

In just three turns, Grey had him in checkmate.

“I distinctly recall you saying you were going to best me,” Grey said, levity in his voice as he stood.

“Ah, well. Even I canna win every game.” Jamie smiled. “Would ye allow me to try and regain my title?”

“Normally, I’d happily oblige, but I do have an… engagement.”

“Aye, ye did say that.” Jamie felt a strange warmth in his cheeks, like the flush of embarrassment or—dare he think it—rejection.

“We’ll play again, though, before I go. And tomorrow, I was thinking a short ride and tea outside with Willie.”

“I’ll see you then, Major.”

Grey stood from the table and nodded, before walking away down the path and into the trees. Jamie watched him leave.

The next morning, before he was to meet Grey and Willie for tea, Jamie wandered down to the creek. He’d realized how much he smelled like the horses and the hay and felt it would do him good to clean off. He also decided to slip on his second, slightly nicer set of clothes, setting what he’d been wearing yesterday aside for a good wash. He stole a leaf from a mint plant in the garden and chewed it.

On his way to find Grey, he noticed himself in the reflection of a window, and he was glad he did because somehow in his washing, he’d missed a streak of mud near his ear. He brushed some straw off his coat, then continued on his way.

Outside the front steps of Helwater, Willie was in Grey’s arms, his small hands patting Grey’s cheek. Suddenly, Grey pretended to bite at Willie’s fingers and the boy broke out into a fit of giggles. Moments later, Willie poked at the man’s cheeks again and Grey snapped. Willie laughed once more, and Jamie couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at his cheeks.

They had a sweet relationship, Willie and Grey, Jamie could not deny that.

Jamie was opening his mouth to speak when the front door of the house opened and the black-haired stranger bounded down the stairs towards Grey.

Grey’s eyes met the other man’s and he smiled.

Jamie was frozen, words trapped in his throat, when Grey finally noticed him. “Morning, J… Mr. Mackenzie. I have to introduce you to a friend of mine. Mac, this is my friend Mr. Matthew Taylor.”

Jamie forced politeness, though he shouldn’t have had to force it. Mr. Taylor seemed kind enough—a merchant, he’d explained. He lacked an air about him that most had upon meeting Jamie, either fear of his visible size and strength, or a mocking of his status. Mr. Taylor seemed to regard Jamie simply, as just a fellow man. However, Jamie had to suppress a feral urge to crack the man across the mouth with his knuckles when Jamie realized the man would be joining he, Willie and Grey on their morning excursion.

Willie was on his back, chewing on his left foot and making all manner of nonsensical noises, and they had eaten almost all of the sandwiches and drained the last of the tea, when Jamie finally figured it out.

Taylor’s shoulder was against Grey’s shoulder, for maybe no other reason than the small log they were perched on, and Grey had whispered something in his ear. Had Jamie not known the truth of what Grey was then it would’ve been impossible to make the discovery he’d just made, but Jamie did know and it was suddenly clear. Lord John Grey was attracted to this Mr. Matthew Taylor, with his solid jaw, muscular arms and eyes like willow bark.

Jamie figured, from the perspective of an objective observer, this merchant of Grey’s could be considered handsome, but—again, from the perspective of an objective observer—his handsomeness was not in the same caliber as Grey’s. Though, objectively, there would be few men in England or Scotland that could consider themselves among the major’s ranks in terms of attractiveness. Objectively speaking.

He wondered what Mr. Taylor would think if he knew when Lord John was appraising him with that look, he was likely imagining what he would like naked as the day he was born.

A dark part of Jamie’s mind imagined telling the merchant, considering that it might scare him off, but he knew, in truth, he wouldn’t do that to a man who’d become, not a friend, but something that was very much the same shape.

Regardless of these thoughts, Jamie somehow managed to make pleasant conversation with the two men until it was time for Willie’s nap. Taylor had gone back inside at Grey’s insistence, and Willie had drifted off to sleep with his chubby arms around Grey’s neck and his face pressed into the crook.

To not wake Willie, they spoke to each other in whispers.

“Did I do something to offend you?” Grey asked. “….Recently, that is?”

“Why would ye ask me that?”

“Why would I…? You were hostile that entire time.”

“If ye think that was hostile, I dinna think ye want to see me truly hostile,” Jamie said through bared teeth.

Grey snorted. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted the opportunity to apologize if I offended you in some way. It felt as if things have been softening between us and I hoped not to lose any progress we might have made.”

“Ye dinna offend me, major. I’m simply tired is all. I dinna sleep well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Jamie. I do hope you feel better.” Grey smiled, adjusting Willie in his arms. “I should put Willie down to sleep.”

Jamie swallowed and gave him a curt nod, before turning his back. For some reason, this time, Jamie did not want to watch the man walk away.

That night, it really was true that Jamie couldn’t sleep. He found himself tossing and turning in the loft, unable to find a comfortable position, or a comfortable thought—that wasn’t Grey—to help him float away from consciousness. He was nearly there, finally, thinking of the Scottish moors, when he heard strange noises outside the stable.

Worried about possible thieves, they’d had a few encounters recently, Jamie slid out of the stable, grabbing his pitchfork as a makeshift weapon along the way. He was plunged into darkness, but could hear light footsteps and rustling leaves. Jamie stepped around the back of the barn. There was a laugh and a distinct “shh…” then, he noticed a lantern on the ground. The light was faint, barely turning the figures into dark silhouettes, still it was obvious who Jamie was looking at and what they were doing.

Grey and the merchant were embracing, kissing, not a sliver of that lantern light able to fit between them. It wasn’t something Jamie had ever seen before, not really, two men kissing like that, like lovers, for no other reason it seemed than that they both wanted to.

“We shouldn’t do this out here,” Taylor whispered, as Grey leaned in to steal another kiss. “Someone could see us.”

“My rooms upstairs, then?”

Jamie stood hidden where he was, protected by the sanctuary of the barn’s dark shadow. Once they were gone, Jamie returned to his bed in the loft above the stable, but he did not sleep.

He lay there, fighting with his own thoughts and the memory of the sound of their lips moving wetly against each other. Jamie couldn’t help but picture what they must be doing right now. Taylor divesting Grey of his clothes, revealing the even fairer skin hidden beneath the fabric. Would they leave bruises on each other’s bodies? And who—Christ— who would spread their legs for the other? The vision of John on his back, knees pulled up, waiting there for that man to open him up like a woman… Jamie resisted the urge to snap something in two.

Only then did he realize that despite the rage, he’d grown hard against his leg. Maybe if he just squeezed his eyes tight and thought of something awful, like the rank scent of a prison, the problem would resolve itself. Instead, his mind wandered back to the scene in his mind of a naked Grey laid out on bedsheets. This time, however, he forgot to imagine the merchant and the vision no longer made him angry, it just made him ache.

Jamie let out a broken cry and reached into his britches. When he found his release, with little effort, it was with the names of God and John Grey on his lips.

The next day, when Jamie was playing chess with Grey, he had never been more distracted in his life. How could he focus on which piece to move where when all he could think of was what he had done last night? And who’s face he saw in his mind while he chased down his pleasure? Not to mention, Jamie had seen Grey kissing Taylor the night before and knew they’d disappeared into Grey’s room to… do what lovers do. The rage boiled up inside him again. He accidentally knocked over three chess pieces when he tried to make a move.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” Grey inquired.

Jamie bristled. “What? Why would ask that?”

“You mentioned it yesterday. That you weren’t sleeping well… that’s all.”

“Oh, yes. Right. I slept fine actually, Major.” Liar. There wasn’t much reason to lie, or any at all, having Grey believe he’d not slept well was actually the best move he could make, but its closeness to the truth made Jamie uncomfortable.

In an embarrassingly small number of moves, Grey bested him again.

“Twice in a row,” Grey said, smiling that smile that made him look more wild animal than British lord. “I think that’s a first.”

“I ken it is,” Jamie said, under his breath.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to step out before a second game again today.”

“Plans with Mr. Taylor,” Jamie said, still under his breath, as he stood.

“You dislike him,” Grey said and it wasn’t a question.

Jamie thought he might like the man well enough if he kept his bloody hands off John Grey.

“I dinna ken the man well. I have no opinion.”

“Now that I find hard to believe.” Grey smiled, a small thing, mostly to himself. “He’s an honorable man and good company. In time, I think you’ll come to like him.”

Jamie’s chest tightened and it forced out his breath. “He’ll be returning to Helwater?”

Grey smiled another one of those secret smiles. “Yes, I hope so.”

“Well.” Jamie clenched his jaw, pulling back his shoulders. He thought of how his father told him to make himself big if he encountered a predator in the forest. Grey wasn’t dangerous and yet he felt threatened. “If that’s the case, you’ll want to be more careful about where you two… act out your lusts.”

His face went pale white, realization sweeping over him. “Oh God, Jamie.”

“We’ve had a problem with thieves recently. I heard noises and I thought… what I found was a different crime all together.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Grey shut his eyes. “I certainly didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Jamie didn’t reply, but as Grey was standing there, cheeks pink from embarrassment, his body tense, Jamie’s mind betrayed him. He wondered what would happen if he stepped forward, put one hand under Grey’s chin and another on his waist. Could he kiss the man strong enough and deep enough to chase away thoughts of his merchant? Was there still enough want, enough passion, in Grey for Jamie that Jamie could take him for his own if he wanted?

There were only a few steps between them. It would be easy enough to find out, but what would Jamie do if Grey pushed him away? What would he do if he didn’t? No matter what his body was telling him last night, no matter what the ache in his chest was telling him now, like a dog chasing down a horse, Jamie would have no idea what to do with Grey if he actually caught him.

“I promise,” Grey said. “You won’t have to see that again. I really do have to be going now though.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you… for the game.”

Jamie nodded. This was his chance. He could be like that dog, reach out for this man and try to figure out what the hell to do, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, stupidely, looking at Grey, until the man tipped his hat just slightly and walked away.

In that moment, Jamie saw the paths in the woods of his life diverge. He’d taken this one, but he’d have to spend his life with the knowledge that the other path existed, out there somewhere, and on it, Jamie Fraser was kissing Lord John Grey.

#lord john grey #john x jamie #my fic #outlander nonsense

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hovercraft79 · 5 years

Text

Winter Song

Ch 2: Winter Wonderland

Chapters: 2/31 Word Count: 1,681 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Rating: General Warnings: none Summary: Taking advantage of an unexpected visit, Pippa convinces Hecate to enjoy a pleasant evening taking in the holiday sights.

Notes: This story is part of the B-Sides: Stories from the world of Hecate’s Summer Playlist series. It is a prequel to that series. I really don’t know what I was thinking setting the fluff stories before the romantic relationship begins, but there you go.

The title of the story comes from the Michael Bublé cover version of the song and there’s a bit of Brenda Lee’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree tossed in for good measure.

As always, many thanks to Sparky for signing up again to proofread and edit for me – even during church! The last bit was added after she finished, so any mistakes there are all mine. She even knew that the first car I had in mind didn’t come with back seats. Sparky rocks!

Also, I’d never heard of a Morris Minor before this fic and now I want one REALLY bad.

Hecate quietly closed the door with her hip, careful not to wake the woman still curled on the sofa. She noted the fire had burned almost all the way down. The morning sun shining through the windows cast long shadows around her sitting room, making Pippa look lovely.

She set the tray down on the coffee table and took a moment to study her friend. Her friend. There were so many years that she didn’t believe she would ever be able to call her that again. Gratitude surged in her chest, as strong as her magic ever did.

Pippa looked lovely, of course, but, sleeping, she also looked peaceful. Younger, even. The lines hadn’t disappeared from her face, of course, but they’d relaxed. Hecate couldn’t help but think that the marks of time’s passage made Pippa even lovelier.

Slowly, Hecate lowered herself to her knees next to the sofa. “Pippa?” She whispered. “I’ve brought you some breakfast, Pipsqueak.” She rested a hesitant hand on Pippa’s knee. “Pip?

“Hhhmmm….” Pippa stretched, peeping one eye open. “G’morning, darling.” She stretched out on the sofa, arms pressing over her head until she quit yawning, then pulling them back under the covers. “Brrr… Is it still snowing?”

“No…cold and clear.” Hecate nodded at the tray on the coffee table. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat… I got everything that was sweet.”

“You know me too well, Hiccup.” Pippa pressed herself into a seated position and patted the sofa next to her. “C’mon, Hiccup. Let’s eat.” She paused, one hand on a blueberry muffin, one eyebrow arched, waiting for Hecate to join her. It only took a moment for Hecate to scramble onto the sofa.

Hecate summoned her tea set, sending a thin stream of magic into the pot to boil the water before adding the tea. A few moments later, Pippa was spooning a frightening amount of sugar into her cup.

“So…what shall we do today?” Pippa asked around a mouthful of muffin. “It’s like the whole day is ahead of us – I don’t want to waste it.”

Hecate opened her mouth to say she didn’t know, when a knock at the door interrupted her. She felt a sudden rush of guilt, like they’d just been caught after curfew. The sheepish grin on Pippa’s face told her that the blonde was feeling much the same way. With a quirk of her lips, Hecate swept across the room, opening the door to a smiling Ada.

“Good morning, Hecate.” She leaned around Hecate and smiled at Pippa. “Well met, Miss Pentangle!”

“Well met, Ada! I hope you don’t mind that I imposed myself upon your hospitality? I’m afraid we were too engrossed in our chess game last night and failed to notice the snow. Hecate insisted I stay.”

“And right she was to do so, my dear.” Ada eyed the tray full of breakfast sweets until Hecate waved her into the room and summoned a third tea cup. “Thank you, Hecate, dear, I’d love to.” She pulled one of the wing chairs closer to the coffee table and dug in.

After a few moments of companionable munching, Ada swallowed the last of her tea and turned to Pippa. “I wonder, Miss Pentangle, if –”

“Pippa, Ada. Please call me Pippa. Now that Hecate and I have rekindled our friendship, I hope to be spending more time here socially. If that’s all right with you?”

Ada clapped her hands together. “I think it’s delightful…Pippa. I look forward to having you around the castle. In fact,” Ada refilled her cup. “I was wondering if I might convince you to come back next weekend? I find I’m in need of a judge for our Spell Science Fair.”

“I’d love to,” Pippa’s eyes darted to Hecate. “If that’s all right with you, darling. I wouldn’t want to wear out my welcome.” Pippa willed her hand to lay flat on her thigh…refusing to clutch at the blanket still covering her lap.

“I’d hate for our girls to not have a judge.” Hecate replied, stiffly, staring at her manicured nails.

Well, Pippa thought, not exactly a ringing endorsement, but...this was Hecate. Pippa watched Hecate rub her thumbs together, shoulders straight but tight, eyes blinking rapidly, breathing unsteady. Pippa smiled. It may have been thirty years, but she could still read Hecate. And Hecate was saying loud and clear that she wanted to say yes, she was just too afraid to expose that much vulnerability. “Since Hecate doesn’t have any objection to me crashing on her sofa, then I’d be delighted to accept.”

Not a single woman mentioned the fact that Cackle’s had multiple guest rooms.

****

Hecate closed the door on Ada’s retreating form. “Did you get enough to eat?”

“I did, darling, thank you.” She patted the sofa next to her again. “So. What shall we do today? I mean it, Hiccup, I want us to do something fun. We haven’t been together on a Saturday for ages.”

“Thirty years,” Hecate said, looking away.

“Don’t think about that, Hiccup. It doesn’t do either of us any good. We’re both here now. It’s a beautiful day, and OH!!!” Bouncing up and down, Pippa grabbed Hecate’s hand. “I know just what we can do! Let’s go down the mountain to the city. It’s getting close to Christmas – we can go shopping for Yule and Christmas gifts…have lunch…once it gets dark we can go look at holiday lights.” She swung Hecate’s hand back and forth. “Please? Say yes, Hiccup, please?” She put on her best wishing face and batted her eyes. “Please?”

Hecate rolled her eyes. “I refuse to wear an ugly Christmas sweater.”

“Never!” Pippa threw her arms around Hecate, pulling back the instant she felt Hecate stiffen. “Come on then. Get dressed in your best Ordinary outfit; we’re going to town.

****

“Oh, Hiccup, isn’t it beautiful?” Pippa stared breathlessly at the village before them. “I’m so glad you suggested transferring to the village.” Like something out of a postcard, the tiny village of Moreland-on-Heath glittered before them. Twinkling lights zig-zagged over the street, dappling the cobblestones in color. Pippa stepped over to one of the black iron lamp posts and breathed in the scent of the evergreen wreaths that hung from each post. “Mmmm…it smells like Christmas, Hiccup. Come smell.”

Hecate rolled her eyes, but walked over anyway, pleased to please Pippa. She dutifully sniffed the wreath, nose twitching as she tried to reign in a sneeze. She failed. “CHIOO!”

Pippa giggled and summoned a handkerchief, eyes twinkling as she held it out. “Sorry, darling.” She waited while Hecate blew her nose and dabbed at a watering eye. Once Hecate seemed back in sorts, Pippa threaded her arm through Hecate’s. “Do you hear the carolers? Let’s go that way.”

Wandering arm in arm down the street, they oohed and ahhhed over each twinkling storefront. One business had gone all out and transformed their building into Santa’s workshop, complete with artificial snow swirling down on them. Dancing toys and busy elves marched through the workshop. Even Hecate’s gazed up in wide-eyed wonder.

“Look over there, Hiccup!” Pippa pointed to a coffee shop that had taken a decidedly more modern turn. Cool blue and pink rope lights outlined the building, giving it a vintage neon-light vibe. A dozen pink flamingos, each wearing a tiny Santa Hat, lined the walkway to the entrance. In place of a Christmas tree, an enormous red and green lava lamp glowed from inside the front window. “Wow…this is just…wow.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it. Is that a rocket?” Hecate examined the gleaming silver rocket, fascinated by the lights that flashed in time to the music playing in the background. She cocked her head, Brenda Lee’s ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ filled the air. She turned to see Pippa studying a candy-apple red Morris Minor convertible that was being driven by Santa Claus with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer riding shotgun, nose glowing brightly. People seemed to be taking turns climbing into the back seat to take photos with Santa and Rudolph. She didn’t even have to ask. Of course, Pippa would want a picture.

Without saying a word, Hecate sidled over to the line, taking up a space at the rear and watching. In only a few minutes Pippa turned to speak, frowning when she didn’t see Hecate. Her head whipped back and forth as she scanned the crowd for Hecate. Before she panicked, Hecate flicked a bit of magic her way, letting it bounce off the blonde’s shoulder. Pippa spun around and spotted Hecate at once. Her face broke into a brilliant smile when she realized that Hecate was in line for the photograph.

Pippa practically ran to take up her place in line with Hecate, bouncing and hopping until they were able to climb into the back seat of the Minor. Pippa scrambled in first then turned around and held out a hand to Hecate. Hesitating, Hecate stared wistfully at Pippa’s hand before reaching out and taking it, smiling shyly up at Pippa as she climbed in beside her. As they settled into the back seat, Hecate noticed that Pippa’s ponytail was caught in her coat. Before she could think to much about it, she reached over and pulled it free, running it through her hand an extra time before smoothing it against Pippa’s back. She glanced away, but not before she caught a glimpse of the brilliant smile that lit Pippa’s face. Before Pippa could say anything, the photographer had them smiling for the camera.

****

Later that night, Hecate stood in the doorway to her bedroom, smiling as Pippa slept on her magically enlarged sofa. On the other side of the room, near the door, hung a new picture of two women bundled into the back seat of a car, beaming. Hecate was leaning into Pippa’s side, and, while it didn’t show, she knew their gloved fingers were laced together in Pippa’s lap. For the first time in a long time, Hecate Hardbroom was looking forward to the holidays.

#ww2018winterfluffevent #hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #pippa pentangle #lights

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imaginedilestrade · 6 years

Text

The Lestrade family.

A/N: A little Addams family for you all to end the week! I loved this movie growing up! I still watch it every Halloween 😁 Y/N/N means your nickname 😊

Warnings: None!

Greg sauntered into the bedroom in his dressing gown and dreamily sighed seeing you lying on the bed with your eyes shut. Your blood red lips and crimson nails standing out against the black sheets. You were a dream.

"Look at her," he admired from above, talking to Thing beside him "I would die for her. I would kill for her." He softly smiled, utterly enamoured by your ethereal beauty "Either way, what a bliss." Your lips curved into a small smile as you woke up hearing his words. "Unhappy darling?" Greg asked.

You smiled "Oh yes..." you stretched ever so slightly allowing your joints and bones to crack "Yes, completely." Greg sat down on the side of the bed next to you, you placed your hand on his cheek and carefully stroked his skin with your thumb "Greg," you raised your other hand and shielded your eyes "The sun..." you groaned feeling the rays that were seeping though the blinds on your face "Il me perce comme un poignard..." you lightly moaned knowing fully what sort of reaction you'd get from Greg.

"Y/N..." you smirked, knowing that tone all too well. "That's French." And he enjoyed listening to every single word you spoke of it.

"Oui."

Greg practically pounced on you to take your arm with his hands and place kisses all over it before standing up and dramatically fighting the light. It made you smile as he lunged towards the blinds to close them. He looked down at you again with a proud smile on his face.

"Greg...?" You hummed his name, the tone made his knees weak. He turned around to look at you "Last night," he smirked at the thought "You were...unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon." You playfully pouted at him "You frightened me." Propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at Greg, you smirked "Do it again." A breathy growl escaped Greg's throat before he pounced on you and attacked your neck with kisses. He slowed his motions, dragging a rugged groan from your throat before it turned into a whimper when he pulled away.

"Tea is ready, darling."

---

You were in the conservatory with Greg, snipping the bright red rose blossoms from the waxy, sharp green stalks and letting them fall to the ground. Greg was playing chess with Thing.

"It's a milestone, Y/N/N. This very evening...our twenty fifth seance." He sighed before moving another piece and taking a drag from his cigar, the smoke mixed with the sweet roses and your tea which was beside the vase you were placing the flowerless stems in. You snipped another flower as he continued "All those years, gnawed by guilt, undone by woe, burning with uncertainty!"

"Oh Greg," the way you cooed his name sent a chill down his spine, he turned to look at you. Greg bit down on his lip seeing you in that long black dress you were wearing that nipped in at the waist and hugged all the right parts. His eyes roamed up from your feet to your face, a wicked smile playing on your red lips "Don't torture yourself. That's my job..." you snipped another stem and noticed Greg stiffening at the sound.

His shoulders eased "Y/N..." he purred warningly.

"Imagine, my darling, if Fester did come back. Half-alive, barely human, a rotting shell..."

You heard Greg shudder "Don't tease," he was on the verge of begging. You proudly smiled and got on with what you were doing. Thing snapped and pointed over to the window, when you and Greg looked out, Thing moved a piece.

"Tully is here, Greg."

While Greg spoke with Tully, you spent the time with Margaret, his wife. "I think I might have something for the charity auction," you hummed as Lurch and your mother helped you find what you were looking for. You opened the closet and pulled out a bag "Uncle Nicknack's winter wardrobe." You pulled out another bag "Uncle Nicknack's summer wardrobe." You pulled out another bag "Uncle Nicknack..." You purses your lips and looked around "Ah! There it is!" You walked over to the cupboard and picked up a golden finger trap. You sat down next to Margret and told her what it was "It's a finger trap from the court of Emperor Wu."

You smiled as Margaret hushed over it "Ohhh Y/N! This is too extravagant!" She snapped it from you and admired it "Perhaps a little too extravagant for the auction."

"Let's keep it!" Your mother spoke up.

"Mama, it is for charity. Widows and orphans." You and Margaret shared a smile before you added "We need more of them." Margaret's smile faltered slightly. She went back to looking at the finger trap feeling it tighten around two of her fingers. "Margaret," you said her name with a sigh "About the seance tonight, I wish you'd come. I'm terribly worried about Greg. He's not sleeping, he's not eating, he's coughing up blood-"

"-he coughs up blood?!" Margaret cut you off.

You longingly sighed "Not like he used too..."

---

You watched the rain as it poured, the cool breeze sending a chill down your arms before feeling your husband wrap his arm around your waist to pull you close. It sent an even bigger chill down your spine.

"It's a miserable night." Greg's husked voice lingered around your ear, pressing a small kiss just under your lobe.

"I know, darling. Perfect seance weather." You stopped Pugsley and Wednesday out in the rain and called them in "Put down the antenna." You could hear the faint laughter from your children and turned to Greg, softly smiling to himself. A few moments later Margaret and Tully arrived "Welcome. You're just in time."

You all sat around the large table, Pugsley slowly brought out a butchers cleaver. You looked at Greg, the corner of your lip tugging upwards "Pugsley..." he warned and stretched his hand out to take the knife from his son, he eventually handed it over.

You all began to call for Fester. Thunder and lightening cackled out side, between the bursts, there was a knock on the door.

It made you jump and you were never one to flinch with fright. You looked over to Greg who abruptly stood and rushed to the door, everyone was hot on his heels. When he opened it he gasped "Fester?!" There was a wide smile on his face as he lunged towards his brother and hugged him. Fester looked at you, there something...off about him. You decided to keep your concerns to yourself for now. A psychiatrist, doctor Greta Pinder-Schloss, explained that he had been lost in the Bermuda Triangle for the last 25 years. You weren't convinced. You sat on the edge of the sofa, gently rubbing Greg's shoulder. He was ecstatic. You wanted him to be happy.

Later that evening you were laying on Greg's chest in bed as you heard faint screams from below. "My own brother, back. I have goosebumps, Y/N/N."

"I know..." you softly hummed as you traced your fingers over this chest, he brought your fingers to his lips and gently kissed them.

"Those screams can only one mean thing," Greg smiled.

You were burning your gaze into the ceiling, trying not to let your concern seep through "Yes." You whispered "He's home."

---

Over the following days you kept a closer eye on Fester, Greg was still ecstatic. That was until you were returning from the charity auction. Fester was sat in between both you and Greg, Greg had Wednesday sitting on his lap with her head against his shoulder as she began to drift in and out of sleep.

Fester was messing around with the finger trap you had originally donated and then bought. "How do you get it off?" He asked.

You looked over to Greg and shared a concerned look, it was at that moment you realised your husband had felt the same way you did. Even Wednesday expressed concern.

"There's a trick to it," you clicked it and pulled it off him, tightly clutching it on your hand afterwards. When you arrived home, Greg wandered off while you took your children upstairs and read to them.

"Oh no..." you could hear him ranting between train noises.

"He's playing with his trains again..."

Pugsley groaned.

You could hear Greg rambling on, a little mumbled, probably die to the cigar he'd have in his mouth "How can he not remember to take it off?! It was a party favour at his tenth birthday! He wore it for two years!"

You let out a sigh when you felt the house start to shake. You put both the children to bed and grabbed your cloak, plaguing it around you and pulling up the hood before going for a a stroll outside. It was quiet, well quiet until Fester came out and began huffing around "Hello," you politely smiled "Care to walk with me?" He nervously agreed. You took him through the cemetery, explaining the tombs to him before coming to a halt "You know, The Lestrade's value family more than anything. We will not hesitate to retaliate anyone who crosses us..." Fester picked up on your light threat "Do you understand?" He gulped and frantically nodded his head. You gave him one last look before disappearing inside.

Over the next few days Greg was becoming more and more isolated from you and from everyone else. He spent best part of the day with his trains, the noise drove you up the wall. You asked your mother for advice before it hit you. Greg loved parties.

You organised a party to cheer him up and to celebrate Fester returning. You had invited everyone that you knew, even cousin It was planning to come. "Oh Y/N," you felt a gentle pressure on your hips and Greg's hot breath linger around your ear. He spun you around, your heart swelled seeing his smile "This is perfect, not as perfect as you," he pressed a kiss to your lips "But very close."

"I'm glad you like it darling..." he took your hand and spun you on the dance floor, expertly twirling you through the spaces between guests.

"I don't just like it," he peppered your hand with kisses "I love it. Almost as much as I love you." He spun you again and then passionately kissed you. Between the twirl and the kiss, your head was spinning. You noticed him looking around over your shoulder "Where's the children? I haven't seen Wednesday all night..."

You too then realised you hadn't seen Wednesday in a while and asked around with Greg. Most of your guests didn't know. Your mother did and she and Lurch took you outside to the graveyard. You found Wednesday sleeping on top of a coffin in the family mausoleum. Greg scooped her up and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"What would she be doing out here?" You stroked her cool cheek with the back of your finger. You all returned back to the house only to find the gate firmly shut over with Tully on the other side refusing to let you back into your house, you demanded an explanation.

"Well," Tully began with a smug smirk "Since Fester is the oldest living Lestrade, he automatically gets the house!"

You shared a confused look with Greg "W-what?!" He laughed at how absurd the whole situation was.

"There isn't a court in this land that will let you live in that house!" Tully barked.

He was right.

A few days later at court, Fester was granted the house and you and Greg as well as the rest of the family were living in a cramped little motel room. You had never seen Greg disintegrate as a person before. He was so unbelievably upset, especially learning about The plan 'Fester' had conjured up with Abigail who had been posing as his psychiatrist, doctor Greta Pinder-Schloss.

You and the children tried to do your part, Wednesday and Pugsley sold lemonade (even if it was unsafe for human consumption) and you got a job at a nearby nursery. That didn't work out too well however, the children burst into tears the second you stepped into the room.

You sat upright in bed with Greg blissfully sleeping in the pillow that was your arm and the side of your hip and thigh. You looked down at him, your heart was now breaking at how broken he was. You stoked his cheek as he slept "I'm going to fix this..." you whispered and pressed a kiss to his head before getting up and leaving the motel room. Little did you know, Thing was following you.

---

When you knocked on the door of the Lestrade mansion, Tully opened the door. "I wish to speak to Fester," you didn't even wait for him to invite you in, you barged right in but as soon as you did, you were ambushed and tied to Greg's torture device. Tully slowly pulled it tighter, stretching your limbs.

"You've done this before.." you painfully groaned with a smirk on turn face before he did it again, making you wince.

Thing had seen everything who had rushed back to tell Greg. He was as a fast as a bolt of lightening when he learned you were in danger. He sped to the mansion and burst through the window "Mon Cher!" He went wide eyed seeing you in such a state.

"Darling! Be careful!" You cried as Tully lunged at him with a sword. Thing tossed Greg one and the two battled it out before Greg advanced on him and managed to grab hold of Tully's sword.

Greg crossed both blades at his throat with a proud smirk on his face, it fell when he heard a gun cock. He turned his head and looked over his shoulder, the gun was pointed right at you. "Put them down," Abigail warned Greg. He slowly placed him on the floor in front of him "Now open the vault."

He walked over to the bookcase but stopped to talked to you. Your wrists were burning with the friction of the rope against your skin. "Y/N..." he drawled out your name and swallowed hard "Seeing you like this...my blood boils." His voice was laced with anger and lust.

"As does mine..." you whispered and moved your face closer to his.

"This wheel of pain," he began "To live without you, that would be torture!"

Your eyes softened, you wanted nothing more than to hold his cheeks in your hands and kiss those soft lips "A day alone," you softly spoke "Only that would be death." You both leaned in and-

"Knock it off!" Abigail snapped. You both stopped just as your lips ghosted over one another's and turned to send the woman a deadly glare, one wasn't phased by Abigail was too engrossed with opening the vault. "Open the vault Lestrade! No tricks!"

"But could we just-" Fester spoke up but Abigail quickly cut him off.

"No! Go with him! Make sure he opens that vault!"

Greg and Fester went to the bookcase, Greg's finger lingering over the book that opened it. Fester had another idea. He pointed to the book next to it: 'Hurricane Irene'. Greg sent Fester a curt nod and the two grabbed the book opening it in the direction of Abigail and Tully. The two were whirled around the room and thrown outside into pits dug by Pugsley and Wednesday. Greg rushed over to you and freed you from the wheel, you fell into his arms and your lips landed on his.

"Perhaps, in a different situation, that wheel will come in handy...?" He wickedly smirked.

"Perhaps..." you hummed and kissed him again before you were disturbed by a groan coming from the corner. Fester.

Only this time it was Fester. The real Fester. When he fell to the floor something inside him lit up again and he remembered who he was. He really did suffer from amnesia after his trip to the Bermuda Triangle. You watched Greg and his brother embrace in a hug and smiled to yourself. Your husband was happy again.

---

You sat on the couch knitting away as the fire roared and crackled. Wednesday was carving a pumpkin, Pugsley was showing his uncle Fester his homage to him-dressing up as him for Halloween. Margaret was dressed as a fairy princess, accompanied by cousin It who was dressed as a cowboy and your husband was smoking a cigar with a smile on his face.

"Lets play a game!" Greg announced "What shall it be? 'Wake The Dead'?"

The children and Fester cheered, it was their favourite. "Are you coming?" Fester asked as they began to go outside.

"We'll catch up," you smiled and locked your arms with Greg, walking a little slower than everyone else with what you had knitted in your free hand.

The two of you stood by the door, watching everyone having a joyous time in the graveyard. "Oh, Y/N," Greg pulled you close to him, most of your weight was pressed against him as he held you tight and spoke into your hair "What a night. Everyone together at last. What more could we ask?"

You looked up to him and stood up slightly, he raised a brow when he felt your warmth and weight disappear from him "Greg...?" You held up what you had been knitting. It was too small for him, too small for you, too small for Wednesday, too small for Pugsley. He gasped every so slightly, finally making the correlation.

His eyes wandered down to your stomach and then back to you meet your gaze "Cara Mia..." he blinked "Is it true?"'

You nodded "Oui, mon Cher."

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed you with as much passion as he could muster, you could feel him smile into the kiss uttering 'I love you' in every language he knew into your skin until it was burned into it.

You both pulled back to catch your breaths, Greg placed his hand over your stomach as gentle as he could. He could hear his other children laugh in the distance. There was a smile on everyone's face.

The Lestrade's were happy.

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

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