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kiruuuuu · 4 years

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More BB/Goyo in which Goyo is slowly going mad. On several accounts. (Rating E, fluff/humour/resolved sexual tension + smut, ~5.2k words) - written for @kiruuuuu seeing as she continued obsessing about these two after this piece.

Blackbeard is slowly but surely driving him insane.

One big part is the physical aspect, Goyo isn’t denying it – and if it were only that, he’d be as far from complaining as he could be. If his biggest problem was Blackbeard's attractiveness, he’d live in an almost ideal world with most of his dreams coming true, but as it is, the deep-seated desire burning low and slow in his groin merely ensures Goyo doesn’t forcibly eject Blackbeard from his life again due to all the other reasons the American is personally raising Goyo’s blood pressure. He should’ve expected this outcome and largely did, yet imagining having to combat vague incompatibilities while cruising high on happiness hormones which are released in laughable quantities every time he receives a friendly text over the holidays was somehow decidedly easier to stomach than dealing with actual issues face-to-face.

Goyo knows himself, as does Amaru, which is why he doesn’t disagree with her suggestion of meeting in public the first few times. He’s always been weakest right at the beginning of a fancy, daydreaming of scenarios that leave him short of breath and having to adjust his trousers, hoping they don’t betray him if he happens to be in a public space. Despite knowing better, he’s dived head first into physical relationships and paid the price for it, and after having slept with a married man once (without his knowledge, though the blame of hastiness lay upon him regardless), he vowed to improve. Besides, he suspects Blackbeard hasn’t dated a lot of men, so he should take it slow anyway.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared for the change in wardrobe following a throwaway comment about camouflage patterns because not only did Blackbeard take him seriously and dressed differently for their dates from then on (which is a turn on already), his shirts are also very tight. Not unacceptably so, but entirely too tight for someone with pecs this pronounced. In moments when it was hard to deal with Blackbeard's personality, Goyo reminded himself as to why he was still around by eyeing up Blackbeard's chest and Christ. He would love to grope him for hours. Maybe suckle on those puppies. God.

It doesn’t help that he’s changed his aftershave as well. Goyo felt genuinely bad complaining about so much right away, even if it was done through careful euphemisms and half-jokes he practised beforehand, and promised himself to compliment Blackbeard elaborately should he act on it – but never did he expect for Blackbeard to dip into the nearest shop with him to try and find a fragrance Goyo liked. He claimed he was tired of his old one but hadn’t found an excuse to switch so far, and offered his own opinions additionally to Goyo’s, meaning the entire thing felt organic and constructive instead of passive-aggressive or, worse, blindly compliant. As a result, Goyo stands that tiny bit closer whenever he can. Prolongs their hugs. Inhales consciously whenever they kiss. He loves a good-smelling man, and Blackbeard has turned from handsome to painfully sexy.

He makes sure Blackbeard knows, too. He might be picky and demanding, but he would like to think of himself as appreciative, so whenever he notices the American looking or smelling exceptionally good, he remarks on it. And the delighted expressions he reaps are worth feeding this inflated ego. He doesn’t think the other man has been complimented on his appearance much, certainly not by fellow guys.

The very first thing they fight about is punctuality. As inevitable as death. It turns into a recurring theme as they simply can’t agree on anything and Goyo’s laid-back attitude towards time sparks nothing but disbelief in Blackbeard – he does learn by setting their meeting half an hour before he actually arrives, but whenever he’s meant to pick Goyo up by car, he shows up on the dot and paces impatiently around the flat without taking his shoes off while Goyo finishes whichever task held him up. Blackbeard calls him rude, Goyo waves him off, and the whole drama repeats the next time. They even have a long talk about it, with Goyo stressing the importance of enjoying life at one’s own personal pace, and Blackbeard calling on politeness and prioritising others over tasks such as washing the dishes.

Related to this, Blackbeard always requires an exact plan while Goyo prefers adapting vague ideas to actual circumstances. There’s no spontaneity in most of Blackbeard's actions, he’s rigid and inflexible and it drives Goyo absolutely nuts. After having agreed on watching a film that night, they walk past a fantastic-looking restaurant Goyo instantly wants to try out, and Blackbeard flat out refuses. Just says no. Claims their original plan was superior simply because it was made earlier, and when Goyo points out that literally nothing is stopping them from having dinner together instead of sitting at the cinema for a few hours, Blackbeard is having none of it. He’s hungry, he agrees with Goyo’s assessment that the place looks inviting, and yet he won’t budge. How did he get to where he is now with this attitude?

Also, Blackbeard is loud. And by this, he’s not even referring to his deafening voice – he’s a pitchman manqué – but rather his behaviour as a whole. Nigh everyone can tell his country of origin due to him constantly approaching perfect strangers, which Goyo finds exceedingly rude. People just want to mind their own business, as does he, and he wouldn’t appreciate being accosted by some random dude on the street. Blackbeard has the gall to call him rude as a result and defends himself by pointing out he leaves the grumpy ones alone and has a lovely chat with the rest who seems to enjoy their talk. Blackbeard has no qualms cursing in public and calling out unacceptable behaviour, and Goyo preferred the ground to swallow him whenever his companion starts an argument with a line skipper or someone parking like an idiot.

What, am I supposed to just tut and walk away?, Blackbeard scoffs, his tone making clear what he thinks of the British nation as a whole.

There are countless other details: Blackbeard's apartment is messy. He can’t cook for the life of him, yet is an utter baking snob. He leaves the toilet seat up. He loves the worst kind of cheesy patriotic action films and accepts no criticism on this. The music in his car leaves Goyo’s ears ringing for the rest of the evening. He seems to think kissing is the only worthwhile public display of affection. He’s ignorant about most other cultures yet fancies himself open-minded because his best friend is Korean – this only means he compares anything and everything either to the States or Korea. Getting him to eat anything he hasn’t tried before is an uphill struggle. Except if it’s Korean.

Vigil seems to get a pass on nearly everything, and Goyo is beginning to think Blackbeard either had or still has a crush on the man. He’s empathetic and understanding as can be with Vigil, and almost seems to enjoy arguing with Goyo. It’s getting old fast.

And then there are those other moments. The ones so sharp and vivid they linger in Goyo’s mind long after the fact, bright and warm like a sip of good alcohol, and almost as intoxicating too. They end up eating in the restaurant after all, and Goyo is mentally preparing for the backlash if it turns out to be rubbish – not that he thinks it will be, but he’d rather outline his defence already. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering whether he’s the stubborn one in this case, with his insistence to get his way showcasing his own inflexibility. His mother taught him to be kind whenever he can afford it, yet past experiences and an underlying pessimism usually convince him he can’t. He knows she’d be disappointed with how often he chooses the less compassionate path.

“I’m not good at this”, Blackbeard announces out of the blue, throwing Goyo off once more. This happens regularly, him spiralling and conducting a whole other conversation in his mind, and Blackbeard interrupting his thoughts with something outlandish. Most of the time, Goyo is relieved about it. He tends to get lost and is glad whenever he’s brought back to the present.

Since there’s no indication as to what he means, Goyo needs him to clarify. “At what?”

“Just… this.” And Blackbeard gestures somewhere between them. “Compromising. Letting someone else into my life. Listening.”

I know someone else who’s terrible at all three of those, Goyo thinks and doesn’t say.

“But I like you. And I want to get better. So please be patient with me and talk to me. Okay?”

Blackbeard likes him.

Idiotically, hearing it out loud makes him giddy as if this was a new revelation, but then his brain latches on to the much more important implication of Blackbeard wanting to communicate, being willing to work on himself and on the both of them, admitting faults. It’s a beacon of hope and one he didn’t expect – Blackbeard has never struck him as particularly introspective, not with how he values arbitrary rules above creative thinking, yet it seems he underestimated him. He’ll have to correct his mental image and allow Blackbeard to improve.

“Yes. That sounds good”, he replies after mulling over Blackbeard's words for a bit, prompting a sigh of relief. And, to throw him a bone: “You’re doing good.”

A scoff. “Am I though?”

“You are. Why else would I say it?”

“I don’t know. You just…” Blackbeard lowers his gaze, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m nervous around you.”

Goyo laughs. Can’t help it, he bursts out with a brief laugh turning into a hearty chuckle because – Blackbeard gets nervous? He dreaded being in the same room as the American early on and never managed to settle down in his presence, and now he’s learning it was reciprocal? Had he known he could’ve scared him away, he might’ve confronted Blackbeard earlier, returned the sass, threw his weight around a little. Instead, they were watching each other like hawks for ultimately only marginally different reasons. Nothing about Blackbeard is adorable, but this is the closest thing to it: him being bashful, admitting his crush, relinquishing power and inviting himself to be mocked. Goyo is delighted.

“You don’t need to be”, he reassures and runs his fingertips over the back of Blackbeard's hand, a gentle gesture he seems to appreciate.

There are these moments which remind Goyo why he gave Blackbeard a chance in the first place, and they are what keep him going whenever Blackbeard starts arguing in favour of one of his ‘life principles’.

“I made a mistake”, Goyo states, not bothering to hide his fatalistic tone of voice.

Amaru is instantly entertained. Her optimistic and easygoing attitude is part of the reason why she got along so swimmingly with Goyo’s mother, and also why he’s endlessly grateful for her presence in his life: she helped him get past failures whenever his mum wasn’t available, and provided encouragement and support whenever he needed it. It’s also why he keeps bothering her with his problems. “Does it have anything to do with your new relationship?”

She watched from a distance as he made his first few questionable choices in his dating career, ready to pick him up and dust him off whenever he’d fallen down. He learned to accept and value her advice once he realised she was never wrong, so he’s hoping she can assist him with his current predicament. “How did you guess?”, he sighs, not requiring an answer. “They’re showing a documentary I’m interested in on TV this evening, and I mentioned it to Craig.”

“So now he wants to watch it with you?”, his aunt surmises, making him nod. “Which means you’d have to spend the evening with him without falling victim to his manly wiles.” He nods again, looking pained. “And you want me to give you the go-ahead for making up an excuse so you don’t have a bad conscience when you cancel on him.”

Well. Maybe she was the wrong person to approach about this. “When you put it like that, it sounds… bad.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don Goyo, you’re old enough to not need my approval. Which you’re not going to get anyway, before you ask.”

“I have a feeling I know what you’re about to say to me.”

“Just tell him. If you’re not ready, he needs to know. He deserves to know, César.”

It’s not that he isn’t ready. If it was for him, they’d have fucked in the nearest public stall on their second date, he’s been dreaming about strong arms and an insistent tongue for almost the entire month that they’ve been dating. He’s overripe, and still – it doesn’t feel right somehow. Like he should wait a little longer. They’ve gotten to know each other much better, anticipating each other’s moods, making small gifts here and there and texting daily. Even so, there’s just something.

“Don’t brood. Go and talk to him. Either he respects your boundaries and everything’s good, or he refuses and you can launch him into outer space. No matter the outcome, you’ll be off better than before.”

She must sense his hesitation as she tries to instil her wisdom a few more times before giving up and wishing him a pleasant night. He leaves, conflicted – he doesn’t want to hurt Blackbeard's feelings by rejecting him before even anything happens, and at the same time he’s not comfortable actually reaching below the belt yet.

He’s hoping Blackbeard simply doesn’t try anything. It’s the best case scenario.

About eight hours later, all Goyo can think between different versions of God this feels so fucking good is: this didn’t go to plan at all. Blackbeard is buried up to the hilt and Goyo is grateful for being momentarily distracted so he has an excuse not to think critically about what’s happening right then.

And it started out so well.

Goyo arrives only fifteen minutes late, which he thinks is more than reasonable even if Blackbeard doesn’t comment on it, and takes note of the slightly less messy flat – it’s not even that bad normally, some dirty dishes scattered around and pieces of clothing, but at least they give the otherwise relatively barren apartment some character. They kiss as a greeting, briefly, as Blackbeard is busy heating up something to eat, and then sit on the couch with plates on their laps, chatting about their day while waiting for the program to start.

It’s domestic. It should be relaxing and pleasant, not nerve-wracking, but after sitting next to Blackbeard for ten minutes of serious introduction and noticing how his sweatpants don’t really do a good job at hiding anything, Goyo knows he won’t do anything to stop him should he make a move. In a way, it’d be a relief: get it over and done with, don’t dwell on it, move on. The anticipation is putting him on edge, keeps his hairs standing up and his breaths measured. He’s hyper-aware of his knee brushing against Blackbeard's, the broad chest next to him rising and falling, the thumping of his own heart.

He can’t concentrate. Images flash on the screen, a soothing narrator recounts past horrors in a deep voice and historical photographs take turns. He’d actually been looking forward to watching this programme, and should’ve known doing it together with Blackbeard would end in disaster, yet wasn’t prepared for himself being the culprit. Blackbeard has beautiful arms, oozing latent strength and tanned nicely, the dark hairs making them even more appealing. Maybe he doesn’t shave his chest. He probably doesn’t, would consider it unmanly, and with how lush and full his beard is -

“Can I get you a beer?”

Goyo blinks. It’s a commercial break, he hadn’t even noticed. “No”, he says, and thinks: and I’d rather you didn’t have one either. The taste of it is revolting to him.

“I’ll just get one for myself then”, Blackbeard replies, already risen from the sofa, and makes the mistake of leaning down for a quick, once again domestic kiss. It’s reciprocated just a tad too enthusiastically, so Blackbeard pushes back and after a few more seconds they’re tongue wrestling with an uncomfortable height difference between them. The angle is awkward but the feel of it amazing – and this is something Goyo has openly admitted numerous times: he loves the way Blackbeard kisses. Adores it. Can’t get enough of it. It’s intense and deep and wet and leaves him panting every time, with this being no exception.

He drags the other man in, forcing him to steady himself with one knee on the couch, one knee right between Goyo’s legs and both hands cupping his face. This, too, is shockingly sexy, the way Blackbeard keeps him in place to take him apart. Goyo reaches out and runs his fingers over Blackbeard's body and dear God his thighs are like stone, and his back muscles pronounced, and his abs too. He’s tilted far back now, the bear hovering over him, solid and threatening and like a rock set in motion. Soul-crushing. Inevitable.

They kiss until the break is over, until at least one of them is making these embarrassing little noises, until Goyo’s lips feel swollen and his cock is harder than it’s ever been in his life, until Blackbeard breaks off, flushed, sweating and dishevelled, and Goyo wants to suck his dick or he’ll die. Making out has always been Goyo’s weakspot, and making out like this is guaranteed to leave him weeping and ruining his underwear, and he knew Blackbeard was gonna try something. He just knew. They wouldn’t have snogged like this without purpose, without an ulterior motive, without the intention of moving on to more sinful things now.

“We should”, Blackbeard starts and has trouble focusing his gaze, “let’s – I mean -” His sweatpants really don’t let him get away with anything. Unbelievably, he disengages and plops down next to Goyo. Apparently he wants to keep watching, which is the sensible thing to do.

Yes. A good idea. Getting caught up in the moment isn’t what Goyo wants anyway.

Blackbeard is radiating heat. His confident persona has crumbled, revealing a passionate yet considerate lover, a man torn between doing the right thing and doing what feels right. Right now, his upper brain seems to be winning, or maybe he figures if he behaves, Goyo will reward him regardless, or he’s hoping Goyo will stay the night and they can fuck later, or he’s playing hard-to-get. The last option would be hilarious, since Goyo isn’t interested in buying what Blackbeard is selling for now. They should really go back to watching TV, and when it’s over, they can talk a little, and then Goyo’s going home.

Two minutes later, he’s straddling Blackbeard's lap while shoving his tongue so far down the other man’s throat it’s a miracle he’s not choking, and nearly coming in his own pants from the bit of friction he manages to get between his dick and Blackbeard's taut stomach. He’s a fucking magnet and an oven with how hot he is, mewling into the kiss like someone who’s desperate for any kind of attention, like a starving or drowning or poisoned man, like – like Goyo. His beard is soft and smells good, and when Goyo’s hands stray below fabric, he finds more hair on a broad chest and buries his fingers in it. The rugged edge Blackbeard visibly sports continues where the normal gaze doesn’t penetrate, Goyo is relieved to discover, and he can finally feel up these gorgeous tits. Get his hands on them and massage them however he likes.

His nipples are delightfully sensitive and Goyo spends too much time teasing them while sucking deep purple bruises just below Blackbeard's collar until he’s worried about Blackbeard exploding under his merciless ministrations. Frotting has been knocked down in priority now that he can twist strangled moans out of the hard body beneath him, but when his cock throbs almost painfully at a gasp, he knows they can’t go on like this.

“Please give me a moment”, Blackbeard gasps out, cheeks rosy and eyes unfocused.

Again, a reasonable request. He should listen.

“Bedroom”, he snaps and it’s not even a suggestion. He can feel his hole pulsing with the irresistible desire of getting plowed and when Blackbeard, after a second of disbelief, picks him up to carry him through the flat, Goyo is thankful for his foresight to bring condoms and lube regardless of his intentions. He had a hunch Blackbeard would try something.

They only shed what’s necessary (and the shapely legs are somehow only improved with socks on, but Goyo has been told before that it’s a sock fetish at this point) and preparation is an unceremonious affair except for the fact that Goyo sucks on Blackbeard's nipples until they’re raw and too sensitive while fingering himself open. The American has a great body, he has to admit, well-developed muscles, some scars here and there, coarse black hair adorning tanned skin and an upward curved cock beautiful enough to have Goyo’s mouth water, so sitting down on it feels predictably mind-blowing.

He does most of the work, which is fortunate as he can experiment with angles until he’s found one that actually makes him go cross-eyed, and once Blackbeard draws the connection between his blissful groans and whatever’s happening between their legs, he starts thrusting up and dear Lord.

This isn’t what Goyo had in mind when coming over, and yet he can’t find the brain capacity to regret or even care right now, not with how urgent his lust is tugging on his nerve endings, forcing him to ride towards exhaustion and cramps and an impressive muscle hangover the next day. Being able to steady himself on Blackbeard's torso is surprisingly sexy and the sheer barrage of pleasure bursting through him every time he slams down his hips keeps him from touching himself, effectively prolonging his sweet suffering.

Moving in unison has never felt this good and for once, they’re on the same wavelength, exchanging devoted gazes and trading the odd kiss. It’s akin to a reunion instead of a first time, like they’ve rehearsed this song and dance to perfection in the past and, despite a certain rustiness, are quickly finding back into their old routine.

When Goyo comes, his vision goes colourful with how tight he’s squeezing his eyelids shut. He shakes violently while balanced on Blackbeard's hips and gasps for air, overwhelmed by the elation accompanying his release and shooting his sperm all over Blackbeard's mangled chest, over the lovebites and the red marks his hands left behind from carrying his weight. His relief is crushing, and so he slumps down bonelessly, allowing the other man to pump into him a few more times before announcing his own climax with a low moan. Instinctively, it seems, Blackbeard’s palms travel over the back of his sweaty t-shirt, petting him reassuringly.

Goyo doesn’t like it. It feels like too much, like overstimulation after a long, satisfying session even though his was hardly long but certainly satisfying. He shakes the hands off and climbs down, trying to catch his breath. Next to him, blue eyes snap to his face, too attentive. Blackbeard looks like he’s not sure what to say. Goyo could lighten the situation, compliment him, make a joke, or be sincere about how much he enjoyed himself. Because he did.

Even with the afterglow fading fast.

“I’ll go shower first”, he announces and leaves with a quick kiss that seems unsubstantial. He’s gone before Blackbeard has even taken the condom off, and the sensation of dirtiness clinging to his skin seems to go beyond bodily fluids. Scrubbing himself with the only loofah (and isn’t that a surprise) wouldn’t be right, so he uses his own fingers to wipe off the odd feeling.

Blackbeard is sitting on the edge of the bed when he returns, and now he can finally place the source of the awkwardness between them: he’s not babbling. Normally, he’d have commented on Goyo’s stamina, maybe how great his arse looked, recounted an anecdote of some sorts, or even attempted a lame joke, yet all he’s doing is watching. He looks a little lost. Silvery droplets are caught in his chest hair and when they kiss again, Goyo deflects a hug with the excuse of wanting to remain clean, demands that Blackbeard go shower as well.

The bed is large and tidier than the rest of the room, as if Blackbeard had anticipated them ending up here. Despite the general lack of colour in the apartment, the duvet is beautiful with a dark turquoise pattern. The cushions look fluffy, but not too soft. It looks inviting. Goyo did bring a spare pair of underwear, knowing their shoe and therefore sock size is the same, and he briefly pictures waking Blackbeard up by sucking him off. It’s unlikely to happen, with how different their morning routines are – what little he knows anyway – and still, the image is most tempting.

He gets caught in the hallway with one shoe on his foot already, the other in his hands.

His stomach drops and speech evades him out of shame as Blackbeard leans against the door frame, tight briefs highlighting all his best assets. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem disappointed or hurt, which does nothing to quell the burning feeling of being a disgrace eating away at Goyo’s insides.

“What are you doing?”, he asks, no reproach in his voice. Patience is one of his virtues and one he displays right now – if there was ever a moment when Goyo expected an outburst, an indignant rant, it’d be now. Instead, he picks up on a hesitant disquiet, an uneasy curiosity. Blackbeard doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s important, therefore he treats it with the same mindfulness he does any serious issue.

Goyo owes him this. If there’s anything he owes this man, it’s an attempt at an explanation. Since he’s formulated it before, talked it through with past partners, he’s not unprepared yet dreads bringing it up nonetheless. “I have… commitment issues”, he replies softly.

The answering silence is one of racing thoughts, he can read it on Blackbeard's open expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”, he eventually wants to know. For a guy with no idea of how to deal with this, he’s faring remarkably well.

“I am talking about it.” Defensive. He inhales deeply before continuing. “I have trouble opening up to others. I prefer keeping most of me to myself. I can’t trust easily.”

A nod. It hurts; it means Blackbeard has noticed but didn’t dare bring it up. Always the same thing. Goyo fights down a pang of annoyance – part of his mind tries to convince him they don’t deserve him: either they mention it, which makes them whiny complainers not ready to give him time, or they don’t, which means they don’t care enough. It’s bullshit and pops up in the back of his head every time. “Am I suffocating you?”

He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the notion. Blackbeard, who maybe suggests a quarter of their dates, who never complains about Goyo taking some time to reply to messages, who always accepts when Goyo wants to go home, seriously thinks he’s clingy. If anything, Goyo would like for him to be more overbearing, insert himself into Goyo’s life more aggressively. “No. You’re giving me all the space I need.” Too much, at times.

“Am I doing anything wrong?”

Well. What isn’t he doing wrong. Goyo’s heart melts a little over this brute trying to figure out why his lover is sneaking out on him, when it’s nothing but Goyo’s ugly side finally showing. He’s being unfair. “I didn’t want to sleep with you”, he says and knows instantly it was the worst possible thing he could’ve said, with how Blackbeard gains a look of horror, paling immediately, arms dropping by his side, slack, mouth working out an apology before the meaning has even reached his brain. Bad with words. This one he can’t really chalk up to bad timing. “No, that’s not what I meant. I wanted it and I liked it. I really did.” He’s flustered, flailing now, in unfamiliar territory, allowing the first thought to drop out of his mouth without scrutinising it first, and feels like it only gets worse. “But I – I had myself convinced I didn’t want it. Because, I don’t know. I’m -” Scared, he can’t bring himself to say. He knows it’d tear a wound which might not heal so easily. “Look. I’ll go. You don’t have to deal with this.”

No one should have to deal with him like this, sputtering and ashamed to the core, cheeks hot and composure non-existent. He wants to go home and hide for the next century and if Blackbeard told him now he’s not worth the trouble he’s causing, he wouldn’t even object.

“Don’t.” A plea. Heartfelt, for what it’s worth, but any other way and Goyo would already be putting on his second shoe. “I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I don’t know what you’d like me to do or say.”

Neither does Goyo. That’s the whole problem.

Blackbeard must be cold, nearly naked and standing in the faint draft coming in from under the door. He shifts his weight uncomfortably as they stare at each other. Please, Goyo thinks, unsure of what he even means by that. But when the next words hit his ears, he knows it’s what he’s been hoping for: “Just… come back to bed. Okay?”

The shoe hits the ground with a sharp sound cutting through the tense atmosphere between them.

Unsurprisingly, Blackbeard prefers being the big spoon. They fight over the blanket since Goyo needs it to sleep whereas Blackbeard insists it’s entirely too warm, and the familiar back-and-forth calms his racing heart. As does the gentle hand rubbing vague circles into his chest while they cuddle. After a few soothing moments, he asks the dreaded question of when Blackbeard's first alarm will go off, resulting in even more bickering.

“I really wanted to watch that documentary”, Goyo mumbles regretfully against the arm he’s cradling like a stuffed toy, partly because it’s wonderfully warm and partly because the skin-on-skin contact does funny things to his stomach. Being pressed against the length of Blackbeard's body is magical. He hasn’t felt this safe in a long while.

“Don’t worry, I recorded it.”

The reply, half lost in his hair, gives Goyo pause. If they could actually see anything in the impenetrable darkness Blackbeard requires to sleep peacefully, he’d turn around in indignation. “So you expected something like this to happen?”

He can feel the smile against his scalp. “Call it wishful thinking. Doing nothing but kissing did take its toll.”

Huh. Seems like he was right.

Blackbeard really did plan on trying something.

#rainbow six siege #blackbeard #goyo #blackbeard/goyo #thiod #fanfic #this is far from the last time you'll hear from these two #bb is trying so hard #good thing goyo threw him a bone iykwim #this is a hole I didn't expect to fall into

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averagesmw · 5 years

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Penny Haywood x MC (2)-Not a curse

Game: Harry Potter Hogwarts Mystery

Things to note: The reader is a Ravenclaw, Rowan is a chick in this

____________________

Not a curse

"Hello, Y/N! How is my favorite Ravenclaw doing today?"

I recognized that voice, that cute and friendly sound. Penny Haywood chose to sit next to me in the Great Hall for a meal

Normally, I would be more than glad to share it with her, but...not today

"Hi, Penny" Was all I could bring myself to say

Being as perceptive as she was, Penny noticed I was not in my greatest day in a matter of seconds. She had leaned closer, her eyes were fixed in me, she tilted her head to get to see my face better since I was looking down

"Y/N, what happened?" This time her voice sounded different, vulnerable

Another reason to not hide this from her

"I...I'm starting to believe what Merula said, about me being cursed"

The blonde gasped, her worry only getting worse, if I knew her better I'd say that she was hurt

"Why would you think that?"

That's when I mustered the courage to look at her, with sadness and guilt written all over my face

"When we discovered the vault, Rowan was so eager to unravel a mystery at Hogwarts, but as soon as we tried, she got blasted away into unconsciousness"

"Yes, I remember, I was at the hospital wing with you that day"

While the memory was not pleasant at all for her either, Penny was able to put that aside and just listened to me

"I wish that was the end of it, but it wasn't"

"Does this has to do with your training with Bill Weasley?"

She was quick to connect the dots, also the rumors she heard made it easier. I nodded just to confirm her theory

"We made some progress that time"

Ashamed, I looked away from her just a bit while I continued

" That being until Bill also got hit by an energy-draining spell. It wasn't as bad as Rowan's case, but it happened again"

A sighed followed my statement, by telling her this I would be exposed to her, but we wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't I trust her

"The thing is, Penny, I'm scared"

She was taken back by this. Not shook beyond belief, but those words would leave a mark

"Take me with you, we already survived that once, we can deal with it together"

Now I was the one that was shaken to the very core. That suggestion made me think of my worst fear at the moment, having someone else hurt because of my

And someone I fancy? That was not even a question

"NO!"

I practically yelled at this, my gaze returning to her in such a violent way. She was startled by this, but I think even some of our classmates heard us

The last thing I needed was another drama based on rumors, so I tried my best to calm down, let alone explain my behavior to the blonde

"I-I'm sorry, it's just that... I mean, it's too dangerous" That sentence was formed so badly, she saw right through it

"Y/N..." That tone, sweet, yet asking for the truth

I guess I do owe it to her

I looked at her again, deciding to explain myself to her, but at the same time, trying to give her some hints as to why I couldn't allow her of all people to get hurt

"I already got two people hurt, I don't want to add another one to that list"

She was taking this well, so I decided to continue with the core reason for my decision

"And you? I could never forgive myself if something happened to you..."

Out of pure instinct, my gaze returned to the table, avoiding eye contact with her, fearing she would take it the wrong way, or not even take it at all was looking back down

But fortunately for me, Penny would never cease to amaze me, the next thing I knew she was grabbing my hand, the sudden touch of her soft, small hand startled me at first

A bit confused by this, my eyes met hers, searching for answers this time, and what I found, was a smile

"Y/N, you've done so much for your friends and it's only been a year and a slice of another. Helping you with this is the least I can do"

The Hufflepuff stopped talking briefly, an idea had appeared to her and by the looks of it, she was willing to share it

"Listen, I can take care of myself, we both know that, maybe we can bring the gang to overwhelm the vault and together, we'll be able to beat it. After training, of course"

This was so much worse. What if everyone got hurt by my fault? But...then again...we are anything but weak when we worked together. I don't know, I had to think this through

"And if anything were to happen, I swear to you, we'll be there for you"

I felt Penny squeeze my hand gently, I swear ai could feel my face getting warmer by this gesture, and the confident way she behaved only made the next part so heartwarming

"... I'll be there for you"

After that meaningful conversation, I went to visit Bill at the hospital wing and he told me a similar thing, but that I should be the one helping the gang to prepare themselves, and so I did

I taught Ben a new potion and a couple of spells to Rowan and Penny. However, emergency struck Hogwarts and we were forced to divide, just like I feared

Penny and Bill were with me, but there was just so much courage to their presence, they wanted this as much as I did and together, we stopped the ice from taking over Hogwarts and not only that, but we found what would become our next clue to finding the rest of the Vault and subsequently, my brother

This adventure proved to me that I didn't have to protect my friends, or suffer for them, but fight by their side just like they were willing to do for me

We had become a team, beyond houses or years

The holidays came shortly after, hard to believe I was finishing my second year at Hogwarts, but I took the chance and stayed at the institution, it would also allow me to get some peace and quiet after all this bloody mess

I wasn't the only one with this mentality, Penny herself was the only one of our group that chose to stay behind as well

And while I received owls from Bill, Ben, and Rowan, I also got to spend some time alone with the girl I was growing so fond of

But there was something about her at first as if she was saddened by something or just overthinking things. Believe me, I know about overthinking

So what did I do? I made both of us a favor and actually took Penny out to drink something together at Hogsmeade. I heard they served some good drinks, and I heard right

You could say I had quite the date with her. A few rounds of butterbeer, an epic snowball fight and I even got to carry her back to Hogwarts, there was so much about it that would fondly remain in my memory

And the best part about it, it happened yesterday, so the memories were still fresh!

As for today, I was currently in the hospital wing myself, helping Madam Pomfrey to treat some of the students that were unfortunate enough to become injured in this joyous time

And may I say, they were a lot. It took a good three hours to get through them, I only felt progress had been made when I heard the nurse's voice calling me

"That would be all for today, I can take care of the rest"

I was adjusting a girl's pillow for her to rest when I looked back at the woman

"Are you sure, Madam Pomfrey?"

She just smiled at me, nodding with that motherly gaze of hers

"Yes, thank you kindly for your assistance. Please enjoy the rest of your day"

I thanked her before I took my leave, I would tell her to enjoy the rest of her day as well but honestly, I don't know when she gets to rest if she does at all

But I didn't get to put too much thought into it since I felt my stomach demanding to be fed, and well, I didn't eat breakfast just yet

Which reminded me, I was supposed to join a certain someone for breakfast

I entered the Great Hall and served myself something to continue the day. While I saw a few familiar faces, none of them was precisely the one I was looking for

In fact, I wonder where could she be at this hour? I certainly hope she did not eat without me

"Everything alright, Y/N?"

A small, cute voice made me snap out of it. It belonged to Chiara herself

Chiara was a Hufflepuff girl with short, silver hair that helped me deal with a pack of werewolves in Hallowe'en

"Oh, hello Chiara. Everything is alright, why are you asking?"

"Well, you've been standing in the entrance for a few minutes without doing anything, so It would be safe to say that something's in your mind"

I looked around to confirm that I hadn't even entered the place yet, good thing I wasn't standing in the way, or that there weren't as many students around to notice

Bloody hell, I have to stop going in too deep in my own thoughts

"I'm looking for Penny, we were supposed to eat breakfast together. Have you seen her?"

She put her hand on her chin, looking back at the hall for clues, but her shaking her head was answering enough

"I'm afraid not, I haven't seen her at all today, and we're from the same house"

That was hardly comforting, but I now had a new task for the day

"I guess I should go find her, thanks Chiara"

While I was about to leave the place, I was suddenly stopped by the girl, who held my wrist to keep me there

"Wait, you haven't eaten anything yet, have you? We wouldn't want you to pass out in the middle of the corridor"

I...I hadn't thought of that, she was right, I needed to eat something quick before I started my search for Penny

"You're right, Chiara, I'll take a quick bite before I'll do anything else"

She smiled once she heard that, feeling relieved that I had not neglected my own vital needs for my friends...again

"Thank you, Y/N. Why don't we sit together? I can help you look for Penny when we're done"

"Good idea, cheers"

And so we began to eat. I chose something small for the day, enough to let me keep going for a while. However the warmth of the place, the cheerful ambiance made me relax as soon as I took a bit off my sandwich, so chatting was inevitable

Chiara asked me what was my reason for remaining in school grounds. Telling her that I wanted to relax and also that I was assisting Madam Pomfrey seemed to be enough of an answer for her

When I asked what her reasons were, they were as simple as to help Hagrid take care of the creatures during the winter, this girl had a way with animals, it just made sense she would do something like that

A couple of minutes later, we finished our meal together and now with my friend's help, we could now focus on the Erumpent in the room, finding Penny

"Alright, let's begin with our search. I suggest we enter Hufflepuff's common room"

That suggestion, while smart, was quite bold. It was strictly forbidden to enter another house's common room. I should know, that time sneaking into Gryffindor's is still a thrilling memory

...But I don't know if that rule counts with the help of another Hufflepuff

"Are you sure we can do that? I mean, of course, you can, but I'm not sure I do"

I decided to express my concern to her. While Chiara was not exactly a criminal mastermind like I had to be to orchestrate our plans, she had a charming confidence to make up for it

"No, but Hogwarts is hardly as crowded, getting in should not be a problem"

...huh, I always forget how lonesome this place is at the time

"Fair enough"

Without further do, we ventured back into the halls, stairs and whatnot to find our common friend, asking a few people along the way and indeed, all seemed to indicate that she was still in there

After evading a prefect, Chiara guided me into their house's common room. They had such an interesting way to access it, with a cute musical riddle, as opposed to our door that would straight up ask us one

The interior was charming, and not in the "all houses are special" kind of way, but this place was so welcoming to everyone that stepped in, it even had some special plants that could talk. Chiara had to convince them that I was there to help Penny

Who would have guessed it? Even plants like Penny Haywood

Upon investigating the place, I was failing to find the blonde, until I heard a grunt coming from a room nearby. Chiara heard it as well and motioned me to follow her

We entered the seemingly empty room, only to find a blonde head still on the bed, bugger

"Penny?..." I said practically breathless, almost whispering

The sound of my voice made her turn around, still in her blankets and clearly not ready for the day. She was not doing well at all, but when she saw me, she still smiled

"W-Why hello...Y/N"

"What happened?" The silver-haired girl took a step closer, as worried as I was to find our always presentable friend in such a state

She looked fatigued, her voice sounded sore, nose was runny even a cough would leave her from time to time

"I d-don't know... woke up...like this.."

"What do we do, Y/N?"

Chiara looked at me looking for answers, and fortunately for us, I think I had one

"Hold on, let me check something"

I walked closer to Penny and gently placed my hand on her forehead, it was feverish. The blonde was about to say something until I stopped her lips with a finger softly blocking them

"Don't, just leave it to me, alright? I'll put you back together in a second's notice"

I leaned closer and gave her a quick peck on her forehead before going back up and...wait, what?

Where did that kiss come from? I-I mean it was more of a nurturing thing but still, what just-

"So, what do you think happened to her?"

The other Hufflepuff asked, but gasped right away before I could talk

"Do you think she's cursed!?"

It was so easy to jump into conclusions in this place, but I was fairly certain that it was not the case, no. I had seen these symptoms before, back when I was a child

"Not in the slightest. What Penny has is the flu"

"...The what?"

"It's an illness that while not lethal, it can make you feel all bleary, your body feels annoyingly sore and all you can do is rest"

Then I looked back at Penny

"Are you feeling like that, Penny?"

With squinted eyes, she just nodded. That was all I needed to get back to work

"Then I know exactly what to do. I'll be in the potions classroom"

"And I'll do my best to keep her stable...I guess?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. I had to reassure them that the situation was far from life-ending and that it could be treated with certain precautions, which I told Chiara, wouldn't want to get her sick as well

Now I was on my way to brew the strangest thing I ever created in a cauldron...a chicken soup

#penny haywood #penny haywood x mc #hogwarts mystery #penny haywood x jacob's sibling

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maplespritz · 5 years

Text

Random Event Generator

So, I love this challenge a lot, but unfortunately the list of random events has not been updated in a long time. I took it upon myself to add a lot of events to this list. Everything that I added is not italicized.

To use this list properly, use this website. List is under the cut! Just copy and paste this list into the text box on the web page and press the “Pick one!” button.

Enjoy! <3

redecorate a room, redecorate interior of house, redecorate exterior of house, bulldoze and rebuild, add a room, remove a room, try for baby, move to a new house, move to a larger house, move to a smaller house, quit job, career change, family outing, family squabble, lose a friend, gain a friend, try for baby, throw a party, divorce/break up, kaching, motherlode, move to another town, cheater, adopt, fight another sim, picnic, paint something, write something, cook something, plant something, baby daddy/baby mama, give a sim your least favorite job, give a sim your favorite job, add a sim to your town, add 2 sims to your town, add 3 sims to your town, learn a new skill, earn a skill point, stop paying bills until electricity gets turned off, paint something, move out a young adult or older that is not the current main, move out all young adults and older that are not the current main, heir is now oldest (ongoing), heir is now youngest (ongoing), heir must be female (ongoing), heir must be male(ongoing), makeover a sim, makeover all sims in the house, main’s spouse/significant other cannot work (ongoing), main’s spouse/significant other must get a job (ongoing), collect 5 plants, collect 5 gems, collect 5 frogs, collect 5 mysims, date a coworker/classmate, go fishing, change aspiration, change everyone’s aspiration, mid-life crisis, buy a reward trait, add a sim to your town, add 2 sims to your town, add 3 sims to your town, learn a new skill, earn a skill point, heir is now oldest (ongoing), heir is now youngest (ongoing), heir must be female (ongoing), heir must be male(ongoing), main’s spouse/significant other cannot work (ongoing), main’s spouse/significant other must get a job (ongoing), eat cereal for dinner, eat cereal for every meal for one day, only eat cereal for a week, skip work for a day, don’t clean for a week, go vegetarian for a week, eat only fresh fruits and veggies for a week, sell everything and start over, pick up someone at the bar, pick up someone at the club, go swimming, workout for at least one hour, workout for at least one hour for five days, workout at least one hour once a week (ongoing), text someone, text someone you haven’t texted before, call someone, call someone you haven’t called before, find a penpal, find a penpal, hang out with a friend, collect 5 aliens, collect 5 microscope prints, collect 5 crystals, collect 5 elements, collect 5 fossils, collect 5 metals, collect 5 postcards, collect 5 space prints, collect a space rock, go to work with a career sim (reroll if you don’t have a career sim), go to work with a career sim for a week (reroll if you don’t have a career sim), do not go to work with a career sim for a week (reroll if you don’t have a career sim), give a sim a career, open a shop, collect a geode, start a club, join a club, leave a club (reroll if no sim is in a club), have a club meeting (reroll if no sim is in a club), rent an apartment, attend a festival, collect 5 posters, collect 5 snow globes, sing karaoke, eat from a food stall, give away apartment key, make street art, busk for tips, go camping for a weekend, go camping for three days, go camping for a week, rent a cabin for a weekend, rent a cabin for three days, rent a cabin for a week, explore a cave, go camping for a weekend, go camping for three days, go camping for a week, rent a cabin for a weekend, rent a cabin for three days, rent a cabin for a week, explore a cave, collect 5 insects, go out to eat, open a restaurant, make ice cream, movie night, movie watching party, make popcorn, adopt a dog, adopt a cat, “adopt” a frog or fish, sell a pet, train your dog to do a new trick, breed your pet, dress for the season, do a seasonal activity, make a new holiday, hang out with a special npc (father winter or flower bunny or patchy), wear a costume, grow a seasonal plant, gain a fame level, spend a fame point (if any), record a video or livestream, randomize one lot trait, randomize all lot traits, buy an item worth at least 1000 simoleons, do some yoga, go to a spa, burn some incense, go for a swim, become a vampire, date a vampire, date an alien, cure self of vampirism, have a vampire’s baby, gain vampire points (reroll if not a vampire), spend vampire points (reroll if not a vampire), creepy house makeover, have a child gain a skill point, have a child gain a negative personality trait (parenthood), have a child gain a positive personality trait (parenthood), make your house more kid friendly, buy a kids toy, visit the jungle, buy an archaeology table, gain a skill point, discover an archaeological find, explore a temple, find a treasure, find a secret lot in selvadorada, buy supply gear (reroll if not on vacation in selvadorada), taste the local food, visit a venue, get a drink at the bar, learn some of the local culture (reroll if not on vacation in selvadorada), finish a chapter in the strangerville mystery, eat the forbidden fruit of the Mother (strangerville), become a plantsim, buy an instrument, play basketball, pluck your eyebrows, get glasses, change an outfit, get braces, get acne, wear a costume for everyday wear for a week, get cosmetic surgery, lose weight, gain weight, gain muscle, wear cowboy boots, livestream a video game, drink some coffee, wear different makeup, wear weird makeup, dye your hair a fun color, dye your hair a natural color, dye your eyebrows a different color, get a tattoo, throw a luxurious party, buy a hot tub, decorate your garden/backyard, get a slip ‘n slide, get a pool, drain your pool, lounge outside, drown, kill a sim, freeze to death, burn to death, eat poor pufferfish nigiri, buy a rodent, die from rodent fever, be struck by lightning, be struck by lightning two times in a row, starve a sim, cause an emotional death, drink some lemonade, steal from a sim (reroll if not a kleptomaniac), throw a spooky party, add the haunted lot trait, add the cursed lot trait, add the off the grid lot trait, redecorate your garden, buy a wishing well, make a wish on the wishing well (donation first), make a wish on the wishing well (no donation first), redecorate a child’s room (reroll if no child’s room is available to redecorate), hire a butler, hire a maid, hire a gardener, order pizza, hire a repair service for any appliance breaks for the next week, repair everything yourself, put all electronics outside next time it rains, change one room into something else (eg bedroom into a bathroom), buy a microwave, only eat microwaved meals, go bowling, buy a bowling alley for your home lot, master bowling, learn to dance better (one skill point), adopt a baby, adopt a child, adopt a toddler, have a toddler playdate, have a child make two new friends, have a child host a sleepover, give your dog or cat a new outfit, add a ghost to your household, add a vampire to your household, add an alien to your household, have everyone in your household become plantsims, celebrate day of the dead, grow a death flower, make ambrosia, buy a money tree, add a basement, add a second floor, add an addition to your house, build a greenhouse, meet the tragic clown, become a tragic clown for three days, hire a nanny (reroll if you have no children), pick up a new hobby, build a rocketship, grow a cowplant, get married, get engaged, lose all of your money, lose your home, get a 5000 simoleon loan (pay it back within this generation), buy a bubble blower, buy a video game system, play video games for two hours every day for a week, randomize all traits for this generation, cheat on your significant other, figure out your sexuality, woohoo, go shopping, use the cupcake machine, buy a clock, make a shrine to anything you want, make a special room (a clock room or a painting room for example), dance party, get a part time job, get a freelance job, pick up a new hobby or skill, spend 3000 simoleons, wear an item of clothing from the opposite gender, make a new friend, take your child to the park, mourn a lost loved one, throw a party at a cemetery, change up your look (goth to prep for example), only decorate the house with handmade paintings, decorate the house with handmade sculptures, buy a vet clinic, visit a vet clinic, buy treats for your pet (reroll if you have none), move in a roommate, adopt a teen, runaway as a teen, get into a fight, make an enemy, get a scar, pull a prank, hack something, write a book, write a song, purchase a journal, age up a sim, give a sim a potion of youth, read a book, go streaking, visit Sixam, go to a hidden lot in any world, answer every social call for a week, have an affair with your neighbor, have a teenager throw a party while parents go on vacation, be evil for a day (if already an evil or mean sim be nice for a day), skip work, call in sick

#ts4 #s4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #the sims 4 gameplay #s4 gameplay #ts4 gameplay #ts4 random gameplay #s4 random gameplay #box of chocolates legacy #ts4 box of chocolates legacy

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emphoenixcat · 6 years

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Santa?

The Sanders Sides Christmas fic that nobody asked for! I basically made it because I had the random idea of Virgil dressed like SantaXD

Anyways this is my first attempt at a Tiny Sides AU, so don’t forget to thank @tinysidestrashcaptain for the amazing world of the Tiny Sides:)

Happy Holidays everybody! Hope you enjoy!

Virgil had to give the Dragon Witch some credit, she sure knew how to work a curse.

Roman and Patton were little kids again and unfortunately, Christmas was just a day away.

The two little Sides had been screaming about Christmas lists, Santa Claus, flying reindeer, and gingerbread cookies all week.

And at first, it was Patton who had grown small again. Logan reasoned that it had something to do with the impact the holiday had on Thomas’ heart. It made him feel more like a child again. It caused him to reminisce about past holidays and time spent with family. But Roman had argued with Logan, saying that the curse simply struck at random. About a week later Roman had become a child too.

Virgil had to agree with Logan at this point. It was no secret that the Sides currently impacted by the curse were the ones most affected by Christmas. It wasn’t like Virgil had ever felt included during the holiday season. And Logan was simply too logical to ever be completely sucked into the festivities.

The anxious trait was relieved that he had Logan to help him take care of the others. Roman and Patton never seemed to run out of energy. They had already been loud when they were adults, but now that they were young? They were absolutely impossible.

Every race, every scrape, every fall, every moment of teardrops or screams freaked Virgil out more than anything. He wanted to wrap them in bubble wrap and place heavy duty helmets on their heads, but Logan vetoed that idea. He said it was too extreme.

There was so much to worry about, but one worry was steadily increasing.

Santa.

That was all little Roman and Patton would talk about.

“I’m going to stay up all night and wait for him!” Roman had yelled.

Logan had shared a look with Virgil, “Uh, that isn’t the wisest course of action. Santa knows when you’re awake.”

“Then I’ll pretend to be asleep! Patton will be my backup! Won’t you, Pat?”

Patton nodded excitedly, “There’s no way we’re gonna miss him this year!”

Virgil dragged Logan away to talk in private, leaving the younger ones to finish decorating the tree.

“What are we going to do?” Virgil hissed once they were out of earshot.

“What do you mean?”

“How the hell are we going to put their presents underneath the tree if they stay up all night waiting for ‘Santa’?”

“Calm down, I’m quite positive they’ll fall asleep at some point tonight….”

“And if they don’t? We’re the ones responsible for ruining their belief in this Santa person.” Virgil crossed his arms and looked at Logan with a quirked eyebrow. “You want to be responsible for that?”

“Oh, it’s not like they’re actually children, Virge.”

“Maybe not, but the adult Patton still believes in this nonsense. You think he won’t remember something as heartbreaking as the discovery of no Mr. Claus? You really want to deal with a melancholy adult Patton this new year?”

Logan’s face paled, “....no”

“Good. Then I think the solution is pretty simple here. All you have to do is dress up as Santa before going down to put the presents underneath the tree tonight.”

“Wha--what? Why can’t you do it?” Logan asked indignantly.

“Are you freaking kidding me? I’m Anxiety, I certainly can’t do it! That weirdo is supposed to be jolly, remember?”

The logical trait shuddered, “Well, I’m hardly the better option.”

“We have no better options.”

“No. No, I simply won’t do it. This is ridiculous and you are overly worried about something that probably won’t even occur.”

“Logan”

“No. If you are so concerned, you dress up like the old geezer. I’m outie fifty thousand.”

Virgil sighed, “It’s five thousand.”

“Whatever!”

Logan left to go check on the others, leaving Virgil alone with his thoughts.

Well, I ain’t doing it. And when Patton is crying and heartbroken, that nerd is going to have to be the one to deal with it.

….but Patton will be hurt and you would’ve had the power to stop it, his mind protested.

And little Roman will yell at you for being a liar and it’ll be painful. Christmas will be ruined all because you and Logan are just too stubborn and selfish.

Virgil shook his head and scowled. Damn it.

So that night, Virgil tried his best to conjure a Santa Claus costume. He imagined a fluffy red jacket with white trim and a matching pointed hat to go with it. Then he imagined a fake white beard and grimaced. Ugh, I so don’t want to do this. It’s so freaking absurd.

“Hmm, I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

Virgil spun around to see a smirking Logan. The anxious trait’s cheeks heated in embarrassment.

“Well, somebody had to and you’re obviously too pig-headed to do a thing about it,” Virgil snapped at him.

Logan ignored the insult and analyzed the costume, “You are missing the red pants….black ripped skinny jeans do not complete the look, unless you’re trying to be emo Santa.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “I’m not listening to a word you say. It should be you in this stupid outfit.”

“At least, wipe the eyeshadow off. If they do spot you, you’re just going to frighten them.”

The anxious side grumbled and started wiping at his eyes with make-up remover. He sighed in defeat when all it did was reveal the natural dark circles underneath. Virgil finished fastening the fake beard on and pulled the hat down so that his purple hair could not be seen underneath. He grabbed the bag of presents and glared at Logan on his way out of the room. The logical side only chuckled.

Virgil tiptoed down the stairs, really preferring not to be seen. He inched quietly towards the tree, taking each wrapped present out carefully and placing them underneath. His eyes kept darting to the stairway, hoping he wouldn’t see a small Patton or Roman residing there.

Oh good, maybe they went to sleep after all.

Once every gift was placed neatly underneath the Christmas tree, he turned his attention to the plate of cookies on the coffee table. He had to eat some or the others would be disappointed. Patton had made them and Roman had decorated them.

So Virgil began nibbling on a few of the cookies. He was surprised to find that they were actually pretty good. He glanced at the lighted tree and admired his handiwork as he picked up another cookie.

What was I even worried about?

“Sa---santa?”

Virgil froze. Oh shit.

“Santa? Is it really you!?” the small voice said excitedly. And then, “C’mon Patton, it’s Santa! It’s really him!”

Crap. Crappity Crap. Virgil panicked.

Slowly, the anxious side turned around. He covered his face with his trembling hands and attempted to smile and sound cheery.

“Well, what do we have here? Two of Santa’s favorite kiddos.” Virgil said. He wasn’t really sure if Santa would say “kiddos” or not. Maybe though. Adult Patton said it all the time.

The two of them squealed with delight. “Did you enjoy our cwismas cookies? We--we made them ourselves.” Patton said.

“Ah, why yes---yes of course. In fact, I’d say they were the best cookies I’ve had tonight!”

Roman went up to Santa Virgil and tugged on his pant leg, “I didn’t think you’d wear pants like these.”

“Oh, um---I---Mrs. Claus forgot to wash my red ones. I just thought I’d try on what the kids are wearing these days….” Santa Virgil said sheepishly.

“Santa, why won’t you show us your face?” Patton asked curiously.

“I’m---I’m a rather shy guy, you see. Why else would I only come and visit once a year when everyone is asleep?”

“But what about the elves?” Roman jumped up and down with enthusiasm.

“Elves?” Virgil asked warily.

“Yeah, elves! You know, the ones who help make the toys!” Patton chimed in.

“Oh, those elves. They’re definitely uh---a hard-working bunch. I always make sure to bring back some cookies just for them.”

“Can we see your weindeer?”

“Ha--the reindeer? Uh no, sorry. I’m on a rather tight schedule and I really must be going. It’s really late, you two should go off to bed now.”

“Okay, Santa. But don’t forget about Logan or Virgil, okay?” Patton said

“You--you think they’ve been nice too?”

Patton and the tiny prince nodded in unison.

“But I thought that you didn’t think of Virgil as nice.”

Roman shook his head, “He doesn’t seem like it sometimes, but he tries. He just wants to protect us.”

Virgil nodded, trying to hold back tears. Damn, why am I crying?

“Ye--yes. That’s true. He cares about you more than you’ll ever know….Don’t worry, Santa’s got a gift for both of them. Off to bed now.”

Roman and Patton hugged him before walking back upstairs.

“We love you, Santa!”

“Santa loves you too. Uh, don’t forget to be nice. I really liked those christmas cookies and I wouldn’t want to have to miss out on them next year.”

“Don’t worry. We’re gonna be the most nicest kids ever!” Roman said, giving him a thumbs-up.

Virgil smiled as they retreated back upstairs.

He sighed in relief when they were finally gone.

Back in his room upstairs, he took off the Santa outfit.

“So, how’d it go?” Logan asked from out of nowhere.

The anxious side jumped, “Stop sneaking up on me!”

“Sorry. Really though, how’d it go?”

“None of your business.”

“They saw you, didn’t they?” Logan grinned.

“Out!”

Logan smirked teasingly before exiting the room.

Virgil didn’t care. He had done his part and he had been rewarded for it. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, smiling softly. They think I’m nice.

They think I’m nice.

#sanders sides fanfic #tiny sides #christmas #virgil sanders #emphoenixcat writes #food mention

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a-year-of-musicals · 6 years

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Day 160/365 - Sleeping Beauty

By Erdman Penner and George Bruns

After many childless years, King Stefan and Queen Leah happily welcome the birth of their daughter, the Princess Aurora. They proclaim a holiday for their subjects to pay homage to the princess, and at the gathering for her christening she is betrothed to Prince Phillip, the young son of Stefan's friend King Hubert, so that their kingdoms will always be united.

Among the guests are three fairies, Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather, who have come to bless the child with gifts. Flora and Fauna give their gifts of beauty and song, respectively. Before Merryweather is able to give her blessing, the evil fairy Maleficent appears, only to be told that she was not invited. Maleficent turns to leave, but when Queen Leah asks if she's offended, the evil fairy curses the princess, proclaiming that Aurora will grow in grace and beauty, but before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday, she will use her finger to touch the spindle of a spinning wheel and die. King Stefan and Queen Leah are horrified and beg the fairies to break the curse. Unfortunately, they are not strong enough to break it, but Merryweather uses her blessing to soften the curse so that instead of dying, Aurora will fall into a deep sleep from which she can only be awakened by true love's kiss. King Stefan, still fearful for his daughter's life, orders all spinning wheels in the kingdom to be burned. The fairies do not believe that will be enough to keep Aurora safe, and so they spirit her away to a woodcutter's cottage in the forest until the day of her sixteenth birthday.

Years later, Aurora, renamed Briar Rose, has grown into a beautiful young woman. On the day of her sixteenth birthday, the three fairies ask Rose to gather berries in the forest so they can prepare a surprise party for her. Briar Rose befriends the animals of the forest and sings them a song, Once Upon a Dream. While singing in the forest, Briar Rose attracts the attention of Prince Phillip, now a handsome young man. He races to find the owner of the beautiful voice and is instantly struck by Rose's grace and beauty. Briar Rose at first is frightened at his sudden appearance, as she is not allowed to talk to strangers, but Philip soon puts her at ease. They instantly fall in love, unaware of being promised in marriage sixteen years ago. Briar Rose asks Phillip to come to her cottage that evening and meet her family.

Meanwhile, Flora and Merryweather argue over the color of Aurora's ballgown, which attracts the attention of Maleficent's raven, revealing the location of Aurora. Back at home, Briar Rose is thrilled to tell her guardians she met a man and fell in love. The fairies finally tell Aurora the truth about her royal heritage, that she is a princess and already betrothed at birth to a prince, and tell her she must never see the man she met again. Heartbroken, she leaves the room. Meanwhile, Phillip tells his father of a peasant girl he met and wishes to marry in spite of his prearranged marriage to Princess Aurora. King Hubert fails to convince him otherwise, leaving Hubert in equal disappointment.

Later that night, the fairies take Aurora back to the castle and leave her alone in a room to wait for her birthday celebrations where she will finally get to see her parents. Maleficent then appears and magically lures Aurora away from the fairies and tricks the princess into touching the spindle of an enchanted spinning wheel. Aurora pricks her finger, completing the curse. The good fairies place Aurora on a bed in the highest tower and place a powerful spell on all the people in the kingdom, causing them to fall asleep until the spell on their princess is broken. While doing so, they overhear a conversation between King Stefan and King Hubert. From King Hubert's conversation with King Stefan, the fairies realize that Prince Phillip is the man with whom Aurora has fallen in love. They rush to find him, but he is kidnapped by Maleficent who is waiting for him at the cottage in the woods. She shows Phillip the peasant girl he fell in love with is the now-sleeping princess. She tells him she plans to keep him locked away until he's an old man on the verge of death, then release him to meet his love, who will not have aged a single day.

The fairies find and release the prince, arming him with the magical Sword of Truth and the Shield of Virtue. Maleficent tries to stop Phillip by surrounding Aurora's castle with thorns, but fails. She then transforms into a gigantic dragon. Eventually, Phillip throws the sword, blessed by the fairies' magic, directly into Maleficent's heart, causing her to fall to her death.

Phillip awakens Aurora with a kiss, breaking the spell and thereby waking everyone in the palace. The royal couple descends to the ballroom, where Aurora is happily reunited with her parents, while King Hubert is confused of how the two young royals met. Flora and Merryweather resume their argument over the color of Aurora's ball gown, magically changing it from blue to pink while the happy couple waltzes. The last color to appear is pink. Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip live happily ever after.

Favourite Songs: Once Upon A Dream (I love this and I also love the Tchaikovsky melody it’s based on), I Wonder, An Unusual Prince and Wine.

Favourite Character: Merryweather

She’s stubborn and always seems a little shortchanged, but she is the most realistic of the fairies and manages to keep Aurora pretty much safe until the whole spinning wheel incident.

#erdman penner #george bruns #sleeping beauty #walt disney #disney #ayearofmusicals #a year of musicals #music criticism #musical theatre #musical #musicals #aurora #briar rose #princess aurora

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lilacmoon83 · 3 years

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Swan

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 8: A New Journey

Eight Years Later

Fall 2000

Storybrooke, Maine. It was a quiet little town, in the middle of the woods that no one knew existed. And that was exactly how they liked it. While most even in the town were unaware, the people that lived in Storybrooke, Maine were not of this world. A terrible curse had brought them all to this land to take away the happy endings. The Evil Queen had cursed them all to punish Snow White, separating her from her husband and her daughter. But through a series of events, Snow White and Prince Charming had awakened, escaped Storybrooke to find their daughter, and set out into a new world to raise her. They had saved their baby from a very lonely life, rescuing her from a hard life on the streets. Along the way, they had also rescued August, who was really Pinocchio from their land, learning of his father's lies that led to Emma being sent to this world alone in the first place.

Unfortunately, Regina had tracked them down on the outside once she learned of their escape. But that entire fiasco had ended up with her on the run as well. Maleficent had become the peacekeeper between them, oddly enough, and they struck a deal. They returned to Storybrooke to live a comfortable life.

Regina agreed to let them be as long as they left town before Emma's twenty-eighth birthday. But with Maleficent's return and her daughter along for the ride, Regina began to change and her romance with the Dragon Queen was rekindled. She settled down into a life with her and helped raise Lily.

Due to the return of love to her life, her hatred of Snow began to dissipate and she was finally able to see objectively that her step-daughter was not the true cause of Daniel's death. A tolerance developed between them and slowly, it grew into a friendship since Emma and Lily's own friendship saw them spending a lot of time together.

Maleficent finally convinced her wife that there was no need for the Charmings to leave town, even when the time of Emma's twenty-eight birthday approached and eventually Regina agreed. The Charmings had a lot of pull with the people and inevitably when it did break, they could tell the people of Regina's journey to redemption. Not everyone would accept it, but they were convinced that most would when they realized their lives had been good and comfortable, despite their missing memories.

The time came though long before that when Lily and Emma graduated High School and began to think about College. Since time didn't move for any of them and they were still under the magic of the curse and not aging, Storybrooke had never needed a University or college.

Upon graduating, August decided to attend college in Boston. Snow and David loved him like their own, so naturally they had been worried and scared the whole time. But August enjoyed college and drove home to visit as often as possible, which they loved. The lure of big city life and a degree in journalism had led him to live in Boston after graduation though when he took a job with a well known, large newspaper publication. Snow and David were very proud and August still visited as often as he could. He called them Mom and Dad now and promised that nothing would change that. And it hadn't.

But now they faced the same with Emma, while Maleficent and Regina faced it with Lily. The girls were excited to go off to College in Boston and moving into a dorm together. Emma wanted to study criminal justice and Lily was undecided, but eager to start with general studies. Reluctantly, they were letting their babies leave for college and knew the girls would always return to them. They felt better about it too since August promised to visit them on the weekends to check on them.

As expected though, Snow was a mess, as her husband finished packing Lily's car. Regina had upgraded and gifted her Mercedes to Lily as a graduation present.

"You'll call when you get there?" Snow asked, as she hugged her oldest daughter, while balancing their baby daughter on her hip. Snow and David, like most in Storybrooke, were not aging, but still able to conceive. They weren't so sure they would be able to once back in Storybrooke, as they had gotten pregnant with Riley on the outside. But it seemed the pause in aging was not affecting their ability to have children.

"Of course, Mom...and we'll be fine," Emma assured, as she knelt down and hugged her eight-year-old brother, Riley, and her four-year-old brother Luke. She then stood up and gently kissed her baby sister, Mia Rose, on the head.

"Okay...you're all packed, princess," David said, as she dove into his arms and he hugged her tightly.

"I love you, Emma," he said, as he cradled her head and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I love you too, Daddy," she replied, as Maleficent and Regina finished fussing over Lily and the girls got into the car.

"Drive safe and call us when you get there," Maleficent called. The girls nodded, as the two families waved to them and they drove off.

"Mommy...will Emmy be back soon?" Luke asked.

"Not for a while, sweetie...but we'll see her in a couple months for the holidays," Snow answered.

"Yeah...and before that, we'll all probably go visit Emmy in the city and your big brother," David said, as he put his arm around Snow and kissed the baby on the head.

"Can we get cocoa?" Riley asked. They smiled.

"Yeah...let's go visit Granny and Ruby," Snow said, as they set off into two with Maleficent and Lily.

~*~

After the four hour drive, Lily and Emma arrived in Boston. They were starving and met August at a restaurant near campus. After he treated them to dinner, he saw them off to the campus and made sure they got there without incident. He promised to see them soon and proceeded to call their parents, while the girls settled into their dorm.

"Okay...listen up. I'm Owen, grad student in anthropology and also your dorm supervisor," the man announced. He looked like he was about August's age to Emma.

"I'm pretty laid back so as long as you get to your classes on time, don't make a lot of trouble, and are in your dorms by midnight, we should get along fine," he said.

"Now…I don't mind small gatherings, but there will be no large parties. Also, if you get caught with alcohol in the dorm, it's an immediate expulsion from this dorm," he warned, as the students started to disperse.

"Oh and the dining hall closes at seven. If you don't eat by then, you'll have to find food off campus," he called, as he noticed the two girls were not filing out to go eat like most of the others.

"The kitchen closes soon if you want to eat," he said.

"Oh, we ate already. My older brother lives in Boston so we met him on the way here," Emma replied.

"Nice...what does he do?" Owen asked.

"He works for the Boston Caller. He's a beat reporter," Emma replied.

"Nice...that's a great paper. Your parents must be proud," he mentioned. She smiled and nodded.

"They are...but I thought my Mom was going to cry a river when we left home," Emma said.

"She kind of did," Lily teased.

"So did yours," Emma reminded her, as the other girl nodded.

"So where are you from? Out of state?" he asked. They nodded.

"It's a really small town that no one has ever heard of," Emma said.

"Yeah...Storybrooke, Maine. The most boring town on the eastern seaboard," Lily joked and they noticed the man before them had gone rigid.

"Is everything okay?" Emma asked. He forced a smile.

"Y...yes, what was the name of that town?" he asked.

"Storybrooke, Maine," Emma replied.

"Have you heard of it?" Lily asked.

"Uh no...can't say that I have. Get settled in and have a good night," he said, as he slipped into the hallway and found the nearest pay phone. He waited and soon a female voice answered.

"Hello?"

"It's me...I think I can find that town I told you about," he whispered.

"How?" the woman asked. He glanced down the hall toward the room where the two girls were.

"Because I just met two freshman students that say they're from there," he replied.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"Yes...we need a plan," he replied.

"Find out everything you can without seeming suspicious," the woman said.

"I will...but one of them mentioned a brother that works for the Boston Caller. I'll see if I can get a name," Owen said.

"Good...I'll get everything prepared. Then when the time is right, we'll nab them and make them take us there," she said.

"I can't believe this is happening...I never thought I'd find that place again," he replied.

"Good things come to those who wait...we'll find your father," the woman said.

"Thanks…I'll see you soon," Owen said, as he went to his office and pulled up the student files. He found the blonde girl.

"Emma Swan...from Boston," he read. The blonde girl, Emma, had mentioned a brother and it looked like she was registered under a Boston address. Which meant the parents likely did this to conceal their town. He moved onto the next girl and his blood ran cold, as he recognized her last name.

"Lily Mills…" he uttered, as he recalled that woman, the Mayor, Regina Mills, that he and his father had encountered in that freak town. Could it be? Did he really have Regina's daughter, along with her best friend? He saw that Lily was registered under the same Boston address as well, making it all the more suspicious.

"I'm going to find you, Dad...and these two are going to lead me right to you," he said, as he got a devious glint in his eyes. They would lead him there...willingly or not...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #August W Booth #Regina Mills #Maleficent #DragonQueen #Lily #romance #family #adventure #Swan

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airanke · 6 years

Text

Liquor on your Lips

Holiday prompt #1!! Sent in by @nadiaofazeroth!!

🍷 ….holiday drunken shenanigans!

Pairing: Vol’jin x Tyrande Whisperwind.

“Let’s get drunk at midnight.”

Vol’jin’s mind swam, his breath hanging in the air like frozen clouds. Durotar was unbelievably cold in the winter months. He pulled the fur cape he wore more fully around his shoulders, thanking the Loa that he’d decided to give growing a beard a shot. The short hairs that had started growing at least kept his chin from being frostbitten by the cold. Orgrimmar was far behind him, but he could still hear the music; he could still see the lights behind his lids when he closed his eyes. The night air was frigid, and the clock - wherever it was - struck midnight. Loudly. It was as if a gong had been struck right next to Vol’jin’s ear. The chieftain shook his head as if to rid himself of the noise.

Sure, he was a little. drunk Winter’s Veil always brought the good things with it: music, dance, gifts, and booze. Vol’jin had made his rounds, and now, he’d escaped the rambunctious city, with a bottle of spiced liquor in one hand. He recalled that some Alliance members had found themselves dragged into Orgrimmar by none other than Malfurion Stormrage - and Vol’jin hadn’t been surprised.

After all, Malfurion was the leader of the Cenarion Circle, and they were a decidedly neutral faction.

Unfortunately for Vol’jin, he’d noticed too late that Tyrande Whisperwind had been dragged along as well. By that point, he’d already gotten himself tipsy, and just couldn’t stop staring at her from his peripheral vision. She always seemed to be there.

Loa damn it, she looked good in her long white dress, golden accents about the edges and intricate swirls sewn along the hip area. A capelet with a hood kept her head and shoulders warm, and Vol’jin could only assume that the dress was sleeveless given the presence of long gloves on her arms. Her green hair stood out beautifully against the white, and framed her face like a picture.

Vol’jin cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to know how many times she’d probably caught him staring - but then again, he’d caught her staring at him too. Maybe it was the armor he wore, yes, that had to be it. He hardly looked like himself - hell, he’d go so far as to admit he looked far more regal than he normally would.

The liquor burned his throat; a searing pain that filled his chest with warmth.

Black cape, dark gray fur lining the top and bottom. The material wasn’t heavy, no, it was lightweight and allowed Vol’jin easy movement. Silver thread had been used to stitch a geometric pattern along the back. Similarly, Vol’jin’s armor was black with silvery accents, and primarily composed of leather. Again, lightweight - he’d worn it because black retained heat, and since this morning the air had been unsavory. His only solace had been in absorbing whatever he could of the sun’s rays.

And like how Tyrande’s hair stood out so starkly against the white, his red hair stood out like a sore thumb against the black.

A hiss escaped him when a sea breeze blew his way, and it reminded him - as he tugged at the collar of his cape again - that he was grateful it didn’t snow in Durotar.

Soft footsteps finally reached his ears, and Vol’jin turned his head to look over his shoulder.

Damn it.

Even in the dark, Tyrande stuck out vividly against the cold blue sky. Her eyes shimmered like the moon behind her. Pale teal light framed her in an ethereal halo, and Vol’jin’s mind went utterly blank. He stared, wide-eyed, until she raised one of her long brows.

“Haven’t you stared enough for one evening, troll?”

“You be one ta talk, night elf,” Vol’jin retorted once his mind allowed him to think again. She huffed, crossing her arms delicately under her bust. Vol’jin averted his gaze, grateful that even with his mind in a haze, he could still maintain some semblance of control.

Tyrnade moved forward, silently, to stand beside him.

“Don’ be telling me dat you followed me ovah here,” he said, humor on his voice. Tyrande snorted - but then, to his bemusement, she sighed.

“Yes, and no. I hope you are aware you’re the only one over here. I remembered seeing you leave the city. I wandered in the opposite direction for a while before deciding you must have come this way. So no, I didn’t follow you, but yes, I did seek you out.”

Vol’jin chuckled, shaking his head, “you… why?”

He chanced a glance at her to see her pretty lips turned down in a frown; and her eyes, they were fierce, “my husband has decided to get himself utterly smashed, and then he decided he wanted to dance with everything that moved.”

Tyrande’s eyes drifted to the bottle gripped tightly in Vol’jin’s hand, “I see that you are doing something similar.”

Immediately the troll jabbed a finger into the center of her chest.

“I don’ be smashed,” he said, his eyes pinching inward, “jus’ drunk. Bu’, not ta de point dat I can’t be tinking straight. I be making my rounds. Dis be de last ting I have ta polish off.”

Tyrande lightly slapped his hand away, and Vol’jin was amused by how even the motion of her hands was delicate. The strength that she possessed was easily hidden by her flowy clothing. Vol’jin knew better than to think that any part of Tyrande was weak.

Quite the opposite really, and it was something he had always admired about her - but did she have to come out here alone?!

“And again,” apparently drunk Vol’jin did not appreciate the continued silence, “you be one ta talk.”

“Excuse me?”

“I c’n smell it on ya breath, Tyrande,” he chirped, lifting the bottle to his lips as he eyed her, “you be drinking too. Mebbe dat’s de real reason you came out here, eh?”

She scowled at him. Vol’jin hummed as the liquid slid down his throat again.

Seconds after he lowered his arm, Tyrande snatched the bottle from him. Vol’jin pouted, but there was something incredibly sexy about the way she wrapped her lips around the tip of the bottle, and how her slim fingers curled around the neck--

Vol’jin quickly looked away, well I suppose that’s one way to get myself warmed up.

There was no denying it. Whenever he and the priestess were in the same room, tensions rose. Their gazes constantly crossed paths, whether indirectly or because one of them had caught the other staring. Tyrande, Vol’jin knew, often saw herself above him. She often made it a point to stitch her words together in such a way to get under his skin.

The chieftain saw through her. Her intricately structured sentences were always deconstructed by him, and it was easier for him to take jabs at her than it was for her to take jabs at him. Sometimes she succeeded. Sometimes she got him riled up, but more often than not, he was the one getting her riled up. Sometimes they had to be pulled part, because they got in each other’s faces.

Being out here, alone, under the moon in the cold winter air was no different. Her warmth radiated onto his arm. He was acutely aware of her presence, right there, next to him. Perhaps this was a mistake; wandering out here was a mistake, drinking as much as he had was a mistake. He would be a liar to deny that he found her attractive - but that wasn’t why he pestered her. No, he admired her from a distance, and pestered her because she was so desperate to pester him. Given the chance, Vol’jin would rather have lengthy discussions with her about what wood made the best bow, and what fletching made the best arrow.

Tyrande boasted expertise with a bow that many couldn’t rival, himself included. Vol’jin even entertained the idea of discussing her magic against his magic, especially the healing aspect of it. Shadow hunters and priests weren’t so different, after all, despite the fact that shadow hunters were hailed for utilizing both light and shadow without being devoted to either.

He snatched the bottle back from Tyrande, deciding she’d had enough, “I don’ recall hearin’ ya ask.”

She grabbed onto the fur of his cape, and feeling her press her breast against his arm made Vol’jin dizzy. He held the bottle easily out of her reach, lips pulled up at one side in a delicious smirk.

Tyrande could feel heat flooding her face. Delicious smirk? Was the alcohol making her delusional?

“Give it here, troll.”

“Not de question,” he purred, and this time it was his turn to knock away her hand, “an’ not my name.”

Even in her drunken state, she was not inclined to give in so easily. She grabbed onto the fur of his cape again.

Vol’jin’s height annoyed her. His voice annoyed her - Elune everything about him annoyed her!

And Tyrande knew why.

She’d locked the reason in a dark cage, in the deepest confines of her mind. The priestess couldn’t accept it as true. Every day she denied the obvious signs that Malfurion had grown complacent in their relationship. Every day she let herself sit there and smile when he came back to Darnassus late, apologies pouring out his mouth for his absence before he would promptly fall asleep with his head in her lap.

This alcohol was bringing that reason back out of its cage. She was unlocking it, with her own hands, turning the key little by little the longer she found herself staring into Vol’jin’s molten eyes. She knew that if his eyes glowed, she’d be reminded of the sun. This fact infuriated her as much as it flooded her body with a forgotten warmth.

Vol’jin annoyed her because Tyrande found him attractive.

As much as she wanted to, Tyrande could not deny that the tension between them was sexual. There were numerous things that drew her to him: his personality, his cunning, his unexpected intelligence. His overall calm demeanor, and the sprinkling of prankster that came with it. There was the musculature of his back, the way he drew back an arrow, the taut muscles in his arms…

And the flirt that he kept so well under wraps. She’d drawn it out of him once or twice with her attempts at getting under his skin - but those moments were always when they were out of sight, and out of mind of the other leaders. Tyrande refused to admit that she sometimes let her fingers dance over his skin on purpose.

“I would appreciate it if you would let me have the bottle, Vol’jin,” she said through her teeth. He cocked a brow, molten eyes darting to the bottle before settling back on her.

Her hazy mind stuttered to a halt when his eyes very obviously shifted to her lips.

Tyrande’s mouth pursed into a pout when Vol’jin took a swig from the bottle himself - and then his lips were on hers.

Oh, she let her mouth part against his, oh.

Was the burning in her belly from the alcohol, or from his proximity? Her fingers went slack in the fur of his cape. Short bristles rubbed against her chin and cheek, and she found herself wonderfully trapped between his impressive tusks.

His tongue just barely grazed her upper lip when he straightened, freeing her from the ivory cage.

“How be dat, eh?” Vol’jin asked, his expression smug, “dat good enough fah you, priestess?”

As he took another swig from the bottle, Tyrande found herself fingering her lips. The fire in her belly still blazed. Her cheeks were terribly warm. She wanted to feel his weight against her lips again.

Vol’jin lowered the bottle. What a smooth move that had been - a mistake - letting her have a sip of the alcohol she so desired just so he could feel her supple lips on his - it was a mistake.

He’d expected Tyrande to fall into a daze, and anticipated that at any moment now she would slap him. That would be perfectly acceptable and perfectly deserved on his part.

What Vol’jin hadn’t anticipated was for her to grab his tusk and pull him back in for a fiery kiss.

“And kiss so much that our lips burn.”

The bottle slid out of his fingers, forgotten. Silken fabric brushed against the skin of his neck as Tyrande shifted from gripping his tusk to gripping around his jaw. He returned her kiss with fervor, slipping his tongue into her willing mouth.

Oh Loa, she tasted heavenly. A mix of wine and whiskey, and Vol’jin couldn’t get enough.

She has a mate, his conscious hissed.

A moan dripped from her lips, and its taste was like honey.

She has a mate - Vol’jin furrowed his brows, drawing back just so he could run his tongue over her lips, slipping his hand under her hood and into her luscious green hair.

She has a mate, his conscious argued bitterly.

Vol’jin wrapped his other arm around Tyrande’s waist, hand pressed firmly against her lower back as he pulled her flush against him.

His loss then.

Her breaths were warm against Vol’jin’s cheek, just like the line of her body was warm against his. Tyrande’s teeth ran along his tusk before she returned to kiss his lips. Vol’jin showed his appreciation for the gesture by trailing his fingers up her spine. Her mouth was fire and warmth and he really couldn’t get enough.

“I could bed ya, righ’ now,” he growled against her lips. Loa he was getting drunk off her tongue. The skin of his neck was set ablaze by her touch.

“Bed me then,” she said, her mouth pressed hard against his, “show me how a troll makes love, Vol’jin.”

He drew back to stare at her with wide eyes. She kept her grip on his face, eyes lidded, judgement clearly clouded. Vol’jin almost picked her up; almost wrapped her legs around his hips.

Vol’jin settled for letting his hand drift back down her spine to sweep over the swell of her rear.

His conscious screamed at him, fighting tooth and nail with the alcohol that left his otherwise clear mind in a haze. Clearing his throat, Vol’jin looked toward the ocean and reached up to pull Tyrande’s hands away from his neck.

“Hokay,” he breathed, clasping her hands together between both of his, “how ‘bout you jus’ slap me an’ we call it a night.”

Tyrande gazed at him confusedly - then her face lit up like the lights they’d left in the city. She jerked her hands out of his, bringing them both up to cup her own cheeks.

“... as much as I would be, um, more than willing to take you up on that offer, it would seem as though I - well - returned the favor,” and she hated how her fumble with her words made Vol’jin chuckle.

“Den I guess I bettah be getting ya back ta… Orgrimmar,” he said, blinking. She smirked at the fact that he’d almost forgotten the name of the city.

“I suppose you should,” she mused, turning on her heel, and adjusting her hood. She was grateful that Vol’jin had opted against offering her his arm. It let the walk back to the city be smooth, and peaceful, and once the two reached the inner gate, they went their separate ways.

But Tyrande continued to feel Vol’jin’s gaze - and he hers, until the Alliance members finally bid their farewells, and departed from Orgrimmar.

(( This could have gone a completely sexual direction BUT I CHANGED MY MIND I CHEATED YOU ALL. ))

#WoW #World of Warcraft #Vol'jin #Tyrande Whisperwind #Volande #LISTEN I KNOW THERE ARE VOLANDE SHIPPERS OUT THERE #WHERE ARE YOU #COME HITHER TO MY BOSOM #//BRICKED #Air writes #Holiday prompt

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captainoftherollyjoger · 7 years

Text

In Sickness and In Health

I know this has been done a million times, but it’s my take on Killian with a cold. Plus a bit more cuteness and a nice surprise!

@thatwolfbookgirl this is for you, you wanted whiny Killian, here he is! Hope you like it!

Ao3

Emma was finally home, she trudged up the blue steps to her front door, her arms full of bags from the weekly shop. Killian had mowed the lawn like she asked, she also noticed he had finally planted the flowers that he had been growing in the shed. She was feeling exhausted from her trip, she had a slight idea why, but she wasn’t a hundred percent yet, she had bought some tests to make sure. No need to worry Killian just yet.

As she entered their house, she heard several loud and violent sneezes come from the front room which then led to a large blowing of a nose and a grunt. Oh no. Killian was ill. She did not have the energy for this right now, as much as she loved him, he was his worst self when he was ill. Especially when it was with a cold. He certainly played the man flu card. Maybe she could shut the door, maybe he hadn’t heard her, she could disappear for a few days. Take a holiday.

“Swaaaaaaan!” Damn. She looked down at her wedding ring and sighed. In sickness and bloody health, didn’t God know how bad her husband was when he had a cold? A total number of three he had had since they knew each other, and each felt longer than the last.

The first, they were only friends, he caught one just after he brought her back from New York. She didn’t have to deal with him much on that one, he wasn’t her obligation.

The second, he caught one when Elsa was about, pretty much the whole town did, but his stupid coat and revealing chest made him more prone. That one she had to look after him for, it was her chance to prove how much he meant to her in the early days of their relationship. Boy had she proved it, he wanted this and that, he felt like this, he moaned for days on end to the point that she had to trick Henry into spending an hour or two with him just so she could get a little peace and quiet. She felt bad, but she had had enough.

His third, that had been the worst of all. He caught it just after he came back from the Underworld, they had been to the depths of hell and honestly when he started whining about a little sniffle, she was going to send him back there herself. Unfortunately, that little sniffle turned into the biggest pain in her ass she had ever experienced, many times she thought about fleeing the country, she would never have to deal with him or his colds again.

She loved him, of course, they were true love, and she knew he was grateful for her care, he always made it up to her when he felt better. What annoyed her was he didn’t realise how much of a big baby he was. Well, it was time to show him. This time she would record him being the wet arse that he is.

Once she had put the shopping away, Emma pulled out her phone, set it to record and placed it in her shirt pocket, she didn’t want him to know she was filming. He would ask too many questions and she needed him to not change his behaviour for the camera. She wandered into the living room, an empty box of tissues sat on the coffee table and it’s contents were littered around the couch, the floor, and the table. Killian was lay down on the couch in his usual jeans, dark shirt, waistcoat and leather jacket. His boots were still on, covered in dry mud which had cracked onto the couch. This was going to be five days of pure hell. She had to keep her temper, it was no good upsetting him, moody and ill Killian, that was a burden worse than any dark curse. In fact, she prayed for them when he was ill.

“Hey, hubby.” She smiled, it may have been slightly fake. She leant down and kissed him on his temple. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m dying, Swan.” He rolled onto his back and put his hand on his forehead.

“Looks like you’re auditioning for Shakespeare.” She giggled. This wasn’t even the worst of it yet, it was just a blocked nose. She still had streaming eyes, a cough, and other ailments to come.

“Why are you laughing?” He pouted. “Can’t you see I’ve been struck with the most deadliest disease?”

“It’s a cold.” She sighed, then walked away.

“Where are you going?” He cried out. “I need you.”

Emma sighed. She sauntered over to him with a coy smile, he raised an eyebrow at her when she tried to lie on top of him.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to play doctors and nurses?” She smirked, then started kissing his neck.

“Emma Jones! I am hardly in a fit state for such activities, I feel practically violated.” He gently pushed her off him and turned to face the back of the couch. She laughed heartily at him. Okay, he was sick.

“Sorry, handsome. Come here, let’s get you bathed and changed. You’re getting mud all over the couch.” He turned and did as she told. They walked upstairs to their room, she now turned off her camera, he was already like a zombie. He sat on the edge of the bed whilst she took off his shoes, the bath was running and she lit some candles which were designed to try and decongest his nose. She removed his pants and his many upper layers, then guided him to their ensuite bathroom.

“It’s too hot!” He moaned, when he dipped his foot in. She put some cold in. “It’s too cold!”

“Get in the bath, Jones.”

“Are you joining me?” He wriggled his eyebrows and then sneezed, he wiped his nose with his arm. “Ugh.”

“No wonder I fell for you.” She said, sarcastically. “A minute ago, you said I was violating you. So, get in the bath, I have things to do.”

“Fine.”

Whilst Killian was in the bath, she went to their downstairs toilet along with her test. It gave her the time she needed, hopefully.

She was wrong.

“Emmmmaaaa!” Why? Honestly, why? She closed the bathroom with a bit too much force and stomped upstairs. She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and put on a smile. She entered their bathroom.

“Yes, dear?”

“Wash my hair.” He thrusted the bottle at her and she rolled her eyes. She poured the shampoo onto her hand then massaged it into his hair. “That feels great, love. Thank you.” Maybe it was worth it, he was appreciative at times, and she liked the intimacy they were having.

“Now, are you rinsing yourself, or do I have to pour the jug over you?”

“I can manage.” She kissed his cheek and left the room.

Downstairs she went back to the bathroom, she was nervous. Were they going to have a baby? She hoped so. They had been married for two years now. She peered over the sink. It was positive. They were having a baby. Tears started to fill her eyes, she was so happy. She couldn’t wait to tell Killian, but it would have to be another time. She didn’t mind.

Emma wiped her eyes and went back upstairs, she was trying to keep her excitement contained.

“Emmmmma!” Not hard to do. She entered the bathroom again. Her previous joy was now in the back of her mind. “Can I have a towel?” She reached to the radiator, pulled it off and held it up for him, he stood up and wrapped himself in it. She reached her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

“I love you.” She smiled, this one was very sincere. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he finds out.

“I love you too.” Then he sneezed. “Swan, there is no greater torture than bearing a cold.”

“I imagine pregnancy is one.”

“I have no womb.” He pointed out and walked into the bedroom. She followed him.

“Aren’t you lucky?” She chuckled.

“Aye, I’d hate to deal with your monthly situation, love. Though I do like caring for you when you’re not feeling your best.” He looked up at her in adoration. She wished she could say the same.

“Oh, you.” She pinched his cheek, maybe a little too hard. He didn’t complain but she saw him rub it when she let go. She took out the hair dryer and dried his hair for him. Wet hair wouldn’t do him any good, he always had really soft hair, she was kind of jealous. She helped him with his pyjamas, a black t-shirt and some Star Wars pants that Henry had gotten him for his birthday. That reminded her, she had to call him to stay clear of the house for a week. Regina wouldn’t mind, after all, they all knew how bad Killian could be. “Now, hubby. Lie down.” He did and she pulled the covers up over him.

Emma made him some chicken soup and cut him up some baguette. She brought him a hot chocolate with cinnamon too. He smiled at her when she placed the tray on his knee.

“I can’t taste anything!” Back to moaning. She was sat on her side of the bed, trying to read a book. “It’s not fair, Swan. Why don’t you get any burdens like this?” She blinked a few times.

“I dunno, but my head is starting to hurt.” She sighed. He was dripping soup down his chin. “You’re so messy.” She reached for a tissue and wiped his chin for him.

“I’m not a child.” He took it off her and wiped his own chin. No, he wasn’t. But soon they would have one. They’d be wiping plenty of chins then. He finished his meal, then Emma tucked him up into bed, he had demanded a hot water bottle, she obliged.

Killian slept restlessly through the night, he was constantly kicking her, or trying to clear his nose. He was boiling hot thanks to his water bottle, he insisted on cuddles and demanded that he be the little spoon. Through the night he complained of headaches and at three in the morning she was giving him a massage.

By morning, she was exhausted. As was he. She brought him some toast and orange juice with some medicine, the worst part of caring for him. She could never get him to swallow pills, so he used syrup. It was still a task.

“I’m not taking that, Swan.”

“It will help with your headache, handsome.” She smiled. She poured the liquid onto the spoon and went to feed it him, he turned his head the opposite way.

“Killian.”

“No.”

If he wasn’t helping her, then she wasn’t going to be nice. She grabbed his hair, pulled his head towards her, opened his mouth and shoved the spoon in it.

“Emma! You’re mean.”

“It’s for your own good.” He stuck his tongue out at her, which gave her the perfect opportunity to shove another mouthful of medicine down his throat. She smiled and tapped his cheek.

“Good boy.”

A week later, Killian was finally feeling better. His nose was clearing, he didn’t feel as drained, though Emma certainly did, his ears still had to pop, but all in all, he was his old self again. She had shown him the videos of his petulance, which he felt guilty for, but he looked cute. He had helped clean the house and rid it of his germs, he thanked Emma with little hugs and kisses for taking such good care of him. He’d bought her flowers as a sign of appreciation and treated her like a queen for the next few days.

They were snuggled up on the couch watching a movie together, they had brought down their quilt and Killian was snuggling into her. He gave her little kisses and she felt him tracing idle circles on her hip. It was time.

“Killian?” She whispered. He must have been dozing in and out of sleep. “Hey, hubby.” She gave him a little nudge.

“Mm, sorry, love. I nodded off.”

“I have something to tell you.” She smiled.

“What is it, you can tell me anything.” He kissed her jaw and she smiled.

“What if I told you there was three of us watching this movie?” She tried to hint.

“Three of us? Is Henry around?” He looked up to see if he had missed Henry’s arrival.

“No, but maybe in a couple of months, there’ll be four of us living here, instead of three.”

“Is someone moving in?” He honestly looked so cute. She couldn’t believe he wasn’t catching on.

“What do you always say is in me?” Now that was obvious.

“A little pirate, Swan. But, what does that have to do with anything…” Click. He went tense. “Emma, are you? Are you pregnant?” She nodded. A massive grin immediately appeared on his face. “We’re having a baby! Are we actually?” He was extremely excited, that much was obvious. “When did you find out?”

“Last week.”

“You mean, I put you through all that, and you were carrying our child?” He looked really guilty.

“Hey, I don’t mind. You’re my husband, I took a vow to look after you.” She smiled.

“But-”

“Shh, let’s just celebrate what’s to come. We’re having a baby, and Henry gets a sibling.”

“Does the lad know?”

“No, but he’s said he’s wanted a sibling for a while now. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

“Emma, I can’t believe it. After everything we’ve been through. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He looked at her belly.

“And I love you too, and Henry. We’ll be quite the family.” He chuckled.

#cs fluff #killian jones #ouat #emma swan #captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #cs baby #cs oneshot

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lilieevans-blog · 7 years

Text

Build-A-Daddy

or “the college au where lily is a single mom struggling with finishing school and raising a child, and james discovers he quite likes babysitting” (AO3)

(p.s.: thank you to @gxldentrio for being a lovely beta reader!)

Chapter: 1/2

She’s just another face in the crowd.

But she stands out.

She’s battling her way through the waves of I’m late-s, I should have gone to bed earlier-s and Why haven’t I started that bloody paper yet-s entangling themselves in people's legs. They trip, but she bears on.

Her hair is made of flames; they lick their way through the sea of people, turning them to ashes, burning a path for her - James is entranced. Her brow is furrowed with decision, and she doesn’t hesitate to nudge someone out of her way with her shoulder, or to make herself bigger with the size of her backpack which looks like it could make her topple over. She parts the flood with sheer determination in her eyes.

She’s unstoppable.

“Hey!”

He goes unnoticed.

“Hey, er - you!”

James can’t resist. He has to talk to her.

The girl turns around and the force with which her backpack hits him almost makes him fall over, but he catches himself just in time.

“Oops, I’m sorry!”

“No worries, er…”

The girl glances at the clock that hangs in the school corridor, then balances on her heels, looking at him expectantly. James realises she’s waiting for him to say something; he’s the one who interrupted her march after all.

His mind, usually overflowing with colours, blanks out.

“Er - ”

He curses himself. He had been so busy trying to get her attention that he hadn’t thought about what he would say to her if he actually got it.

She peeks at the clock again, then takes a step back.

“Listen, I really need to go - sorry!”

She turns around and dives back into the crowd that swallows her whole.

“But -”

It's too late. She's gone. James shakes his head, then runs a hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on the spot from which she dropped out of sight.

∞

He starts seeing her everywhere; in the library, walking past the fall of the Roman Empire and the Renaissance, in the corridors between classes, at the bus stop on campus. She’s a spark that bursts out of a fire, only to die out just before he has the chance to catch it.

This time he notices her in the cafeteria. He’s sitting down at a table when he distinguishes her now familiar crimson hair. She’s in the queue waiting to pay, a sandwich in one hand, a twitch in the other, while she taps her foot to the beat of a seconds clock hand. She doesn’t have a tray in her hand. She’s eating out. Damn it .

“Earth to James.”

James blinks and slowly sits down, his eyes glued on the girl.

“James’ middle name is -”

He snaps out of his entrancement and plunges onto the long-haired boy sitting next to him, covering his mouth with his hands.

“You promised, Sirius! You promised you wouldn't say anything!”

“Let me go!” says the boy, his voice muffled by James’ hands.

A second later he jerks his hand away, howling with pain. The people in the Great Hall steal glances at them.

“You animal! You bit me!” he says unfazed by the attention they’re getting.

Sirius bites the air and looks at him with a self-satisfied grin.

“Kinky,” says Remus.

James glares at him and latter squints his eyes giving him a fake smile.

“What was the sole center of your attention this time?”

“A girl probably,” Peter purrs.

Sirius swings an arm around James’ shoulders.

“A girl? You should have said so immediately! When do we get to meet her?” he says loudly, turning around to look at the queue.

Remus strains his neck and Peter gets up on his chair, standing on his toes.

“Cut it out! She’ll see you!” he says grabbing Sirius by the chin, forcing him to look in the opposite direction.

Sirius bares his teeth at him.

“Who’ll see you?” says Marlene dropping her tray on the table with a clatter, then plopping herself next to James.“James’ COTW,” says Remus.

Hestia, who’s arrived with Marlene, takes a seat next to him.

“James’ what?” she says, her soft-spoken voice barely audible over the roar of the cafeteria.

“James’ Crush of the Week.”

“I thought he already had a crush of the week.”

“Technically, he's had four,” Peter says taking a bite out of his sausage, having given up the search of James’ new crush.

Marlene turns around, perching her elbow on the back of her chair.

“So, who is this mystery girl? Anyone I know?”

James peers at the queue again, then slumps in his chair.

“She's not there anymore,” he says, his lower lip dropping like a child’s.

“Poor bloke. Can’t keep a girl satisfied,” Sirius says leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head.

“Neither can you,” snaps James.

“But that, my friend, is for a whole other reason.”

“She probably saw the lot of us staring and ran for her life,” says Remus.

Hestia nods approvingly.

“Clever girl.”

“What sort of friends ruin your only chances to speak to the girl of your dreams?” he says glaring at them.

“So this would be James’ fifth GOHD ?”

“Sixth,” says Peter counting on his fingers. “No, wait! Seventh. Two of them he's met this week.”

“I'm sensing a pattern here…”

Marlene snorts.

“Yeah, it's that this love-struck dork will have the hots for anyone who sets their eyes on him for more than five seconds.”

Sirius gasps, his eyes alight with understanding.

“That explains why he's always been in love with me,” he says snapping his fingers. “I mean, I keep telling him he's like a brother to me.”

“Kinky,” says Remus, his lip curled.

“The chances of me being in love with you are lower than those of me kissing Filch!”

Sirius clutches his heart.

“Ouch.”

“How did you meet this girl anyway?” says Hestia, honest interest in her voice.

James messes up his hair and sighs.

“I saw her in the corridors, but I don't know who she is. I haven't seen her around before.”

He looks up at them with hopeful eyes.

“Do you guys know her? She’s got deep red hair and these amazing green eyes. Like emeralds,” he says a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Remus snorts.

“Have you already written sonnets about those eyes, James?”

“He's probably written his next essay on them.”

“I know her,” pipes in Hestia.

James slams his hands on the table, making Peter jump and spill lemonade all over his Star Wars t-shirt.

“Prick!”

Sirius snickers.

“You do?! You’ve got to introduce me to her!”

“But - ”

“Hestia, you don't understand! My life depends on it!”

“But, James - ”

James throws his arms in the air.

“Hestia, I thought we were friends! Friends are supposed to be there for one another! And have each other’s backs!”

“James - ”

“Hestia, what if she was actually the one? The true love of my life? What if she’s really my soulmate, my better half, my kindred spirit, the Juliette to my Romeo, the Isolde to my Tristan, the Angelina to my Brad? Would you really want me to miss the single opportunity that whatever God above - thou be merciful - has given me to meet them? What if I never find someone again? What if I chase aimlessly after love for the rest of my life, because you didn't want to introduce me to her? What if I grow old alone and end up raising an army of fifty-three cats? What if I depart this miserable life alone? Do you really want to live knowing that it’s your fault? Do you really want that weight on your shoul - ”

James feels a splash of cold water hit his face and his fringe slaps against his forehead, soaking wet.

“God, that was getting annoying,” says Marlene banging her empty glass on the table.

A roar of laughter bursts out of Sirius’ mouth, while James’ falls open.

“What goes around comes around,” Peter chants.

James spits water out of his mouth.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Perfect timing, Marlene,” says Sirius while holding his sides. “He really needed a cold shower.”

“Hey look.” says Remus whose squinting face is a couple centimeters away from Peter’s chest. “It looks like pee is leaking out of this storm trooper’s suit.”

∞

James stuffs his paper between his books and empty wrappers - the contents of his messenger bag practically spilling out - unbothered by the fact that it is getting completely crumpled. The last thing he wants right now is to get started with McGonagall’s corrections, but given that his mates have disappeared to God knows where and that his football is currently sporting a hole the size of a ping pong ball in it, he has nothing better to do on his agenda.

(Yes, he has checked. Multiple times.)

He opens the door of the Art History Department and walks down the small flight of stairs, two steps at a time. It's a perfect day to play football, he notes bitterly. The breeze has chased all the clouds away, letting the sunshine warm the fields on this pleasant autumn afternoon. Unfortunately, practice won't start until Wednesday, by when he will have to have bought a new ball. His feet falter and he finds himself walking in the direction of the sport shop close-by. It won't hurt to just have a quick look after all.

His phone beeps, and he opens it, then curses under his breath. Goddammit, that woman can read his mind.

He’s just received an email from McGonagall reminding him of the due date of his paper - that is, in two hours. Begrudgingly, he turns around and drags his feet towards his flat, through the Forbidden Forest, which is the student’s nickname for the park on campus that it had received after last year’s infamous Easter holidays. So infamous had it been that some faculty members - and by faculty members he means McGonagall - had had to draft a series of decrees particular to these events.

(Such of these decrees include:

It is forbidden to push a fellow student on the playground’s swing high enough that they do a complete 360.

It is forbidden to use the slide, causing a fellow student to get stuck in it.

It is forbidden to sneak into the school’s kitchens and steal three pounds of butter in order to unstick forenamed fellow student.

It is forbidden to play on said playground, resulting in the escape of scared children from it.

It is forbidden to climb the trees whilst pretending to be the baboon from The Lion King.

It is forbidden to build a fence around a section of the park and call it the Independent Republic of the Marauders.

It is forbidden to make Professor McGonagall, or any other faculty members, the Public Enemy of the Independent Republic of the Marauders.

It is forbidden to threaten aforementioned faculty members with exile or execution when they attempt to cross the borders of the Independent Republic of the Marauders.) He doesn't worry about how long it takes him to get his flat, given that it’s practically on campus. For the price he pays, he doesn’t expect anything less than that. Luckily, sharing it with Sirius, Remus and Peter makes it affordable, although a bit crammed from time to time. Not that he needs to worry about the rent. He could have easily afforded with all the money he inherited.

A little boy cuts him off. He’s toddling after a flock of pigeons, as fast as his small legs can take him, clapping his hands together in front of him. The birds taunt him; they stay still until he's a second away from catching them, then take flight, leaving the boy grasping at thin thin air. It doesn't wipe the smile off his face though. On the contrary, his silvery laugh echoes through the empty park.

James turns on the spot. There is no one around. He looks over at the playground. No one there. Not on the bench, not on the slide. Not on the empty swing that balances in the wind, its oxidised hinges piercing the stillness with a grating, shrill cry. Where are the boy's parents? He's barely older than one, he can't have possibly gotten here by himself.

He turns around again and finds the baby sitting on his bum, looking shocked. He’s just fallen down. The birds have taken flight and he looks around him with big, watery eyes, his mouth slightly jutting.

“Ma-ma? M - ma-ma?”

He scrunches his face and starts crying, his mouth wide open, and his wails quickly overwhelm those of the swing.

James panics. He strides over to him, but hesitates, and his arms fall at his sides, useless. He has no idea what he should do. Should he pick him and try to calm him, even though it might look like he’s taking him, or should he just sit with him until someone arrives? He runs a hand through his already messy hair, pats his sides awkwardly, his darting eyes searching in the distance, then finally decides to sit down next to him, waiting for his parents to come. The baby’s cries are as loud as an ambulance’s siren, and he hopes that whoever’s looking for him will hear him soon.

“Hey, hey little fellow,” he says with a soothing voice.

“Harry!”

James turns around and sees her running towards them; the girl, the one he’s been seeing everywhere. She screams urgency with her open arms and her flaming hair.

At the sight of her, the little boy named Harry reaches out to her, clutching his small, chubby hands and she picks him up as soon as she reaches him.

“Oh my god,” she says squeezing him and resting her chin on his head “I'm never ever letting my eyes off you again. Never.”

She kisses his forehead, cheeks, neck, nose. Anything she can find. Harry squeals with delight.

“I - I found him here and I had no idea what to do. He started crying and I didn't see anybody around and I couldn't leave him, so - so I just waited.”

“Th - thank you,” she says wiping her eyes with her free hand.

“It's nothing really. It was pathetic.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and studies her. Running a hand through her hair with shaky fingers, she takes a deep, forced breath. She notices him looking and chuckles awkwardly, before tucking her trembling hand under the baby’s arm.

“Are you - er, okay?”

She laughs again, but it ends up sounding like a cry. She breaths deeply.

“Er, y - yeah. Yeah,” she says nodding as if trying to convince herself. “I'm fine. I should, er - ”

“I'm James, by the way,” he pauses, then rubs his neck. “I don't know if you remember this, but we've meet before. In the corridors - ”

“Yeah, I remember. I'm sorry I wasn't particularly nice with you. I was in a hurry.”

She shrugs.

“Don't worry about it,” he says.

He looks at her expectantly.

“What?”

“Would you mind telling me your name?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I'm Lily. Listen, thank you again, but I should - ”

She’s going to leave again.

“ Wouldyouliketogetsomecoffee ?” he blurts out before she has the time to disappear.

“Sorry?”

“Would you like to get some coffee? Or tea. With me.”

She shifts Harry from one hip to the other.

“Er - ”

“Some water?” he says in a high-pitched voice.

She glances at Harry who’s poking a strand of her hair, before yanking his finger away as if he were playing with flames. He squeals with delight when a ray of sunshine catches it on fire.

Lily sighs.

“Okay. Sure.”

A smile tugs at James’ lips.

∞

James grabs the two mismatched mugs and heads to the table where Lily is playing with Harry. They’ve walked into a small cafe, barely five minutes away from campus. The tall window panes on each side of the door let in a clear light that brightens up the whole space and reflects on the checkered clothes that cover round, dark-wooden tables, a small vase of a single, fresh flower on each one. The back wall is covered with a shelf so full of books it seems it could topple over any moment, while the one behind the counter shows a display of teapots of all sizes, shapes and colours.

James sits down and watches Lily lay a napkin on Harry’s head and the little boy scrunches up his face with delight the moment she pulls it off his face. He’s made of rosy cheeks, missing-toothed smiles and giggles that make James’ chest swell. She sets the napkin on his head again and James can almost see the boy shiver with anticipation under it.

“Peek-a-boo!”

His clear laugh fills the air and Lily kisses his temple, laughing against it. A little old couple sitting at the table next to them whisper to each other while stealing glances at them, their faces wrinkling with the lines of past smiles.

“He’s got your eyes,” James says suddenly.

She looks at her son, her eyes shining with happiness, and tucks his fringe behind his ears, unaware of the mop of hair standing up at the back of his head.

“Yeah, he does. He’s the spitting image of his dad though.”

“Does he also go to Hogwarts?”

The question wipes the smile off her face and she nods slowly. They fall silent. James kicks himself mentally.

“I - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. I’m not bitter about him looking like his dad.” she says, laughing to herself. “We were never together. His dad and I. One-night stand. I know. Stupid.”

Her lip twists and James scratches his neck.

“It happens.”

Lily snorts.

“Yeah, if you’re stupid enough.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“How would you know?” she says arching her brow. “You've just met me.”

“I just do. And I’m rarely wrong,” he adds with a cocky half-grin.

She shakes her head, but her eyes betray her; they smile.

“It’s true! You look smart!”

“Tell that to my grades.”

“Oh, don’t be modest. I’m sure you smash all your exams.”

She snorts again, but doesn’t contradict him.

“So what are you degreeing in, Mr. I’m-always-right ?”

He puffs his chest out.

“English lit and history of art. You?”

“Bio-chem.”

James crinkles his nose which makes Lily laughs.

“What? You didn’t do well in high school in chemistry?”

“Oh no, I aced my finals,” he says, a smug look painted on his face. She rolls her eyes, but it doesn't discourage him. “What about you? What did you get in your A-levels?”

“A star.”

“See,” he says pointing his hand at her. “I told you you looked smart!”

Harry slams his fists on the table, bringing their attention back to him and Lily strokes his cheek.

“He looks like a nice kid.”

“He is,” she says nodding unconsciously. “He just takes a lot of time.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know, school, being a mum, everything.”

She chuckles.

“I have a sitter that looks after him while I’m in class. The rest of the time I take care of him.”

“When do you study?”

“When he’s asleep.”

“At night?”

She nods.

“And how much sleep do you get?”

“Enough.”

Her voice wavers and she clears her throat to cover it up.

“How is that working out then?”

“I’ll tell you when I find out.”

She tries to make it sound as a joke, but her voice has no real mirth to it. It falls flat on its face.

James knows he should stop badgering her with questions, but he can’t stop himself. He’s just curious. Curious about how she manages to look so alive when she’s got a baby clinging to her side and her education hovering above her head like a sword ready to drop. He wonders if her bones were forged under miles of earth, her heart beating to the fall of the hammer on her skin.

“Why don’t you hire a sitter during the afternoons?”

“My parents don’t have the money. They’ve already gone out of their ways so I could come to this bloody school, and for Harry. And they live too far away to be able to take care of him. And I don’t have enough time for a job. I barely have enough time to study. Or sleep.”

She says this in a deadpan voice as if she has repeated it to herself a thousand times, looking for loopholes, alternatives, tearing its structure apart only to build it back again with her bare hands, stone by stone, to make sure no solution has gone unnoticed. No detail undetected. Any detail. Even a tiny one. Anything that she could hold on to.

Guilt twists at James’ gut. It’s so easy for him to forget about money since he's never had to worry about it. He’s never known the crude reality of not having enough of it; his childhood carries the memories of soft velvet curtains and fine china, not those of unpaid bills and hand-me-down clothes. Those possibilities have never even crossed his mind.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

Her eyebrows shoot up.

“For what? Getting pregnant? Because I'm not. Sure, since he takes most of my time and energy, it would have been easier if it had happened in ten or fifteen years, when I have a job and financial stability, but I would never regret having him. Never.”

“Good.”

They look at each and he is certain that if he weren’t sitting down, the resolve that radiates out of her eyes would have knocked him down.

Now he knows. She wasn't forged with fire and coal. She runs on it everyday. It makes her function. It's flows through her veins and spills out of her head, blinding anyone who gets in her path. It fuels her.

She’s flame and smoke and spark.

She is the fire.

∞

They walk back to campus, Harry stammering on his bandy legs in front of them.

They take a few steps, Harry stops, picks up trash from the floor, inspects it, smells it, tastes it, spits it out (Lily’s orders). He stumbles forward, falls and picks himself up using a total of seven body parts (James counted). He picks up a rock, shows it to his mum, Lily feigns amazement, shows it to James, he imitates her, Harry giggles. James picks a flower and tickles the little boy’s nose with it. The latter wrinkles his nose, rubs the tickle away, giggles, but he scrunches his nose up at James, a silent invitation to do it again. He complies, Harry grins, little teeth poking out under his lip.

By the time they arrive at the bus stop, Harry is sitting on James’ shoulders, wiggling his small fingers into his hurricane hair. Lily apologises, but James insists he doesn't mind (he loves it). He whistles a song, while Harry babbles along, and, in the end, what should have been a five minute walk has melted into a twenty minute game, the streets their playground.

They stop in front of the Hogwarts library and James picks Harry off his shoulders, then sits him on his hip. Lily’s eyes are fixed on the flower her son is twirling in his hands.

“He seems to like you.”

“What isn't there to like?” James says gesturing to himself.

Harry claps his hands in agreement. She chuckles. He smiles. She checks her wrist; watchless.

“I should probably go. ”

“ CouldIhaveyournumber ?” he says simultaneously.

Lily twists her mouth.

“You'd like to have my number?”

“I'd love to actually.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“But - ”

“Listen, I don't have time - ”

“For what? Exchanging numbers?”

“No, just for - ” she runs a hand through her hair and heaves out a sigh. “Listen, I just don't have time for other people. When I'm not with Harry, I'm in class, when I'm not in class, I'm looking after Harry, when I'm doing neither, I'm doing homework, writing essays and papers, finishing lab or group projects and when I'm doing none of those things then I'm doing something terribly, terribly wrong.”

“I -”

“I mean, look! I can't even get coffee with a cute guy without Harry being there!”

He can’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth.

“Hey, hey, hey! It's okay, it's okay. I'm not asking for anything. I just thought that a friend’s number is a nice thing to have.”

She hesitates.

“Plus, I'm an excellent sitter. First month is free of charge, too,” he says winking.

She chuckles.

“Okay, fine.”

“I'd knew you'd come around. They always do when I throw in the free babysitting.”

“Wait until you offer to change diapers for them. They’ll be all over you then.”

“They already are.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

James hands her his phone.

“I'll send myself a text if that's okay,” she says. “You don't have to type in your number in my phone that way.”

She hands it back and James can't help let his fingers linger on hers for a second.

“Your phone.”

“Your baby.”

They exchange.

“So, say bye to James, Harry.”

“Ba-bay, ba-bay,” he says clutching his little hand.

James ruffles the boy’s hair.

“Bye, little fella.”

“That was nice. Er, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“I guess I'll see you later.”

“I would hope so.”

She waves goodbye and turns around. James watches her leave for a moment, then opens his phone and Lily's contact pops up. He throws his head back with laughter.

“See you soon, Hot Mama No Drama!” he says to Lily's back.

She turns around.

“Too much?.”

“No, it's perfect. Catchy and classy.”

Waving one last time, she doubles the corner and disappears, leaving James with an unmistakable giddy feeling fluttering in his chest.

∞

James loves going to their home. It's made up of a small bedroom, a cramped kitchen and a living room, all filled with an array of furniture thrown in together without much thought, baby toys or papers and essays lying on each possible surface. It’s not much, but it works.

He loves that when he walks through the door, Harry’s face breaks into a smile; a smile that could keep him warm on the coldest of winter night. How the little boy now reaches out to him with his small arms and giggles when he throws him in the air then catches him. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

He loves how Harry has picked up little habits from him, like ruffling his hair, to Lily’s great dismay, or grabbing his glasses and pushing them clumsily onto his nose, decorating the lenses with his fingermarks. He gives up on ever having them clean now.

He loves how he laughed that time James spiked the boy’s hair up with water. How the little boy looked to his mum, his belly pushed out with pride and his face beaming with a grin that could eat the whole world.

He loves how Lily smiled in return. Hers is a smile that could set James on fire.

On the best days, the three of them will eat together, sat around the small table between the fridge and the wall. They’ll take turns waving a spoon like an airplane in front of Harry’s face, or making a spectacle of themselves to distract him long enough and stick the food in his mouth before he realises it. James will then spend hours and hours playing with Harry, giving Lily time to catch up on her homework. She’ll sometimes look up at them and wonder how his energy never wavers, how he can play with him for so long - dancing, showing him stuff, running after him - and make Harry laugh and squeal like no one else. It’s innate for him. He doesn’t have to think about it.

She’ll realise she’s falling for him and curse herself for it. She doesn’t have time for friends, much less a boyfriend. She has to take care of Harry. She has to study so she doesn’t waste her parents’ money. She has to pass this bloody year.

On other days, she’ll learn of the three boys he calls his brothers. Of the one who ran away when he was sixteen and that he welcomed in his house like his own. Of how his parent’s died barely two years later. Of how he wouldn’t have made it without his friends.

On bad days, he’ll learn that her grades have been dropping ever since Harry was born. How after moving into the city, she lost contact with all her childhood friends. How her sister hasn’t spoken to her ever since she got pregnant. How she sometimes think she won’t be able to make it too the end of the month without cracking into pieces. How she feels tired all the time. She’s being worn too thin. She’s not big enough. She can’t reach that far, can’t stretch that much.

James wishes he could help her. He wishes she would let him pay for more babysitting hours, so she could have more time to herself, but he knows she would never accept, so he doesn’t ask.

Instead, he spends as much times as he can with them, talking to her, helping her out. His friends think he's gone mental; playing babysitter during his free time when he should be getting ahead on coursework, making sure his grades don't suffer from the neglect. But he loves it. It feels natural to him. It’s rewarding.

When Harry said his name for the first time, James thought nothing would ever be able wipe the wobbly smile that stretched across his face. He ran into the bedroom where Lily was studying at her desk, grabbed her hand and pulled her into the living room without an explanation.

“James, what's wrong? Is Harry hurt?”

They burst in through the door, his hand still around hers and Harry looks up at them from the floor, toys in hand, his eyes still wide open with surprise from James’ sudden exit from the living room. James crouches next to him and gently pushes Harry's hair out of his face.

“Say it again, Harry.”

Wame is his simple answer.

“Did you hear that?” James says turning to Lily. “He said my name!”

“Wame!” Harry says louder this time, reacting to James’ excited tone.

Lily can't help but laugh at James’ boggled expression.

“Lily Evans, tell me you heard it too! That was my name!”

“Are you sure?” Lily says, teasing him. “Because it sounded more like ‘lame’ to me.”

“That was my name! You said my name, Harry!”

“Wame! Wame!”

In a rush of happiness, he springs up, picks Lily up and hugs her, and she can't help the heaps of laughter bubbling out of her mouth like a waterfall.

“He knows my name!”

“That was lame , you idiot! I heard it!”

He lets go of her, her body sliding against his, their faces mere inches from one another.

“Liar, liar, head on fire,” he whispers.

Lily doesn't say anything. She can't concentrate when they're so close together and her t-shirt has ridden up from him putting her back down and his arms are still around her waist and his lips are so close she can feel his breath on her chin.

She remembers how many times she's drilled the thought into her mind that nothing can happen between them. Nothing. She can't let that happen. She can't depend on him like that.

But she doesn't listen. Doesn't care. She feels herself slowly inching towards him, her lips parting, her eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Something pulls at their trousers and they both look down to Harry's grinning face, the tension broken.

“I Wame.”

They let go of each other awkwardly and Lily picks Harry up.

“Wame,” he says jumping excitedly in his mum’s arms.

“That's right little fella.”

∞

James looks down at his notes, not really seeing anything he's been writing until now, and doodles absentmindedly. The professor’s voice is like background noise to him as he traces the outlines of a football and starts filling in its pentagons with his pencil. He looks up at the clock. Still twenty-five minutes to go; too long to go.

“Mr. Potter. Did you hear my question?” says a piercing voice.

James notices that the professor has stopped talking and that all the heads are turned towards him.

Unfazed, he says,

“I'm afraid I didn't, Professor.”

“Well, I will say it again. Might you be able to tell me the similarities and differences between Egyptian and Mesopotamian art?”

James flips the pages of his book, searching for the answer.

“I'm afraid you won't find what you're looking for there, Mr. Potter. See, this information you can only get from listening to me.”

“Or google. Which amounts to pretty much the same thing,” he says with a crooked grin on his face.

Some of the students snicker.

James knows he shouldn't talk to his professor that way, but his bratty attitude that he worked so hard on to leave behind him in high school can't help but resurface in Mr. Stebbins’ presence. Everything about him infuriates him; from the way he speaks as if it were an honour to be in his presence, to his growing baldness and his twitchy mustache. It sends him through the roof.

“Well, I see that you don't know the answer to what I'm asking, given your childish answer,” he says straightening out the sleeves of his blazer.

James peers through his notes quickly and tries to decipher his scribbles.

“As I was saying - ”

“Actually -” James says putting his hand up. “- if my notes are correct, which I hope they are because I've been writing down what you've been saying, the main common characteristic between Egyptian and Mesopotamian art is that both of them are monumental, because they're meant to suggest - rather boldly might I add - power and authority. But there is one small difference. Egyptian art represents the power of divinities, while Mesopotamian, that of the leaders.”

He finishes his answer by dropping his paper on the desk and smiling at him. Mr. Stebbins’ mustache twitches.

“Very well.”

He turns towards the rest of the class and resumes as if nothing had happened, ignoring James until the end.

∞

“That was absolutely wicked, mate. Probably the best practice we’ve had this season,” Sirius says flinging his sports bag onto his shoulder.

James nods vaguely and they walk out of the locker rooms, their feet taking them, past the Art History department, through the Forbidden Forest, knowing that it’s the fastest way to their flat. James only half listens to Sirius’ chatter, his mind too enthralled by his own thoughts.

“And that’s when I popped down on one knee and asked Flitwick to marry me. He said yes! We’re getting married January seventh. A snowy wedding! Can you imagine?” Sirius says practically jumping on his toes.

James turns to him, his eyes wide open with incomprehension.

“Are you off your rocker?”

“Look at that! You’re actually listening.”

“I’m sorry! I just can’t stop thinking about her. I haven’t seen her in two days and she’s not answering any of my calls.”

“Hm, I wonder who you could be talking about… My, my, this is a hard one.”

“I’m serious! I’m really worried about her.”

“Mate, get your shit together. She’s probably too busy studying and forgot to call you back.”

“I dunno. Could be. But if that were the case, why hasn’t she called me? I could look after Harry while she finishes her work.”

“Because you’ve got work to do on your own! You’ve got football practice three to four times a week! You’ve got mates to hang out with!”

“Yeah, I dunno,” he says stuffing his hands in his pockets and kicking at the ground. “I still think it’s fishy.”

“Go to her flat and see what’s up then. Actually, no. I can get used to this absent-minded version of you. It’s not everyday that I see get you knocked to the floor by a ball to the head.”

“Prick,” he says nudging him in the shoulder. “Also, I didn't know you had a thing for Flitwick.”

“Oh, my love for him has never been a secret. I might even go through with that wedding proposal. You know, for science.”

∞

James rubs his eyes as he tries to chase the sleep out of them, and lets his head fall on his desk. He sighs.

He's been trying to start McGonagall’s essay for the past hour, but his words won’t commit to paper as easy as they usually do, for every time he lets his mind relax, his thoughts rush back to Lily. Why should he care about if he believes Jane Austen to have either a conservative or radical approach to the issue of class in Pride and Prejudice (© gradesaver.com) when he hasn’t heard from Lily in three days?

He checks his watch. 22:27. It's still fairly early, but he might as well call it a day and try finishing his essay tomorrow, so he unlocks his phone hoping to see a reply from Lily. He's answered with disappointment. Maybe he should drop by her place tomorrow to check up on her, as Sirius suggested. But what if she's trying to cut him off? What if she’s seen those missed calls and just chosen to ignore them? The last thing she would want is for him to be waiting at her door.

As if it had been aware of his hesitation, Hot Mama pops on his screen and his phone starts vibrating. She's calling him; actually calling him.

“Yes?” he answers before the first ring has the time to end.

“James?”

“Yes. Thank god! I've been trying to call you for days! Where have you been?”

“James, can you come? Please.”

James freezes. Lily has never asked for his help before. Her voice sounds wrong and shaky and he can almost see trembling fingers holding up her phone.

“I'm on my way.”

He hangs up and practically falls out of his chair as he jumps for the first pair of shoes he can find. He grabs some money, his phone and his keys and he's out the door.

∞

James knocks on the door and Harry’s cries reach his ears before it flies open, Lily standing in the doorway as she bounces a howling Harry on her hip, and her tear-stricken face practically breaks at the sight of him.

Here's the boy who's never asked anything of her. The boy who helps them out of the pure goodness of his heart and who never expects anything in return. The boy who just gives and keeps giving.

In this moment, the only thing Lily wishes is to forget about everything. She wants James to hold her until there are no more tears left inside of her to cry, no more knots to break and let go of. She wants things to be taken care of for her. She doesn't want to care anymore.

But she can't let that happen, so she gets a hold of herself and straightens up.

“I'm sorry I called you this late, but I have a test tomorrow which is worth a huge part of my grade and I can't screw it up, I can't fuck it up and Harry won't stop crying! I've been trying to put him to bed, but he won't sleep, he won't eat, he won't watch cartoons and he just won't stop crying and this test is super important and I - I just don't know what to do!” Her voice breaks. “I can't - ”

“Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, it's okay,” he says with the most soothing voice he can manage, as she wipes the tears under her eyes. “Here, I'll take Harry.”

“I'm so useless. I can't even take care of my own son without needing help!” she says looking down, her arms crossed across her chest. “I'm a useless mum.”

“Hey, listen to me,” he says squeezing her shoulder. “You're not a bad mom. You’re an excellent one, and Harry is the luckiest baby ever to have you, but everyone has their limits, okay? Even the best mums.”

Lily sniffs her nose and nods numbly.

“Now. I'm gonna try to calm Harry down and you should probably try to get some rest - ”

“No! I have to study for this test!”

“Fine, then study for your test. But wash your face first, maybe even take a shower, have a cup of hot chocolate, listen to a song you like, it'll make you feel better.”

There's a moment of silence.

“Do you want to study in the living room or bedroom?”

“Bedroom. I'll take Harry's crib out for you.”

Her tone is dry and she doesn't look up from the floor, before she goes and fetch it.

Once Harry's bed is pushed into the living room and Lily is settled at her desk, James tackles on the task of calming Harry down. He tries everything - reading to him, showing him pictures, singing songs - but nothing seems to work. Harry's face is now so red that James thinks it might explode like a ticking bomb. He doesn't understand how Lily can study in these conditions, with the air so hot it seems like the walls are closing up on you and Harry’s wailing pounding on your temples like hammers.

In the end it's walking around the room that does it. He gently bounces him in his arms and hums to him and, soon enough, Harry's head gradually leans into his shoulder, his mouth open, but no sound comes out; only drool dampening James’ shirt.

James is shocked at the sudden absence of noise; everything seems overly still, almost dead, if not for Harry's slow and regular breathing. It's beautiful.

He can't believe it. He actually did it. He's so happy he could scream if it wasn't for the baby sleeping in his arms, so he casually punches the air instead while mouthing his celebration. He lays him gently in his crib and lets himself fall into the sofa, his brain so clouded with exhaustion that he's ready to hibernate for twelve months straight. But he remembers Lily is still studying in her room and in half a second he's up, any desire of sleeping having been cleared from his head. He tiptoes to the room and knocks on the door softly, but there is no answer, so he cracks it open.

A tangle of deep red hair spreads out on the wooden desk, Lily's face pressed against the opened pages of her book where a coloured and complicated graph is shown. Her back expands slightly as she breaths in, then out.

James is astounded at how young she looks. Twenty one. Not a child anymore and barely an adult. Just twenty one. She doesn't look like a single mother only just out of her teenage years, juggling finishing school and raising a baby. Twenty one, like him.

He slips one arm under her knees and one around her shoulders, hoping that she sleeps like a rock. She grumbles softly in his arms and her arms snake themselves around his neck instinctively, her head resting on his chest. He places her on the bed and pulls the covers up, then looks at her one last time, brushing her hair out of her face with his fingertips, before walking out and settling for the couch. He falls asleep immediately as if it were the most comfortable bed in the world.

∞

When Lily wakes up, despite the annoying beeping of the alarm clock drilling into her skull, she feels more rested than she has in a while. She stretches and, as her fingers bump into her pillow, she realises she's in her bed. She rubs her eyes, her eyelids feeling lighter than they have in weeks, then props herself on her elbows, and, at the sight of her open chemistry book on her desk, last night’s events push back into her sleep-fogged mind. James must have carried her to her bed. She can't help colour rushing to her cheeks at the thought of him picking her up and tucking her into bed, and a surge of gratitude flows in her chest; not just for making sure she slept well, but for everything else too.

She gets up and walks out of the room to find James, head resting on his palm while he watches over Harry playing with his favourite doll, looking completely disheveled with his droopy eyes and his slept-in hair, flat at the top, completely unruly on the sides, but adorable nonetheless. She smiles to herself. This is a sight she could get used waking up to.

James hears her coming in and props his head up.

“Morning. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty good. I almost forgot what it's like to sleep in a bed,” she says stretching her back.

James’ eye twitches, which she assumes is from tiredness.

“When's your test?” he says ignoring her comment.

“11 a.m.”

She walks to Harry and presses a kiss to his forehead, then sits down on the couch. They sit next to each other in silence, watching a sleepy Harry who mumbles and talks to himself, oblivious to the grown ups watching him as only a baby can be.

Lily wants to hold James’ hand. She wants to lay her head on his shoulder while he wraps his arms around her. She wants to be held by him more than anything she's ever wanted; but she won't let herself do that, so instead she thanks him. He nods.

“Anytime.”

“I wouldn't have minded you sleeping in the bed by the way. It's big enough for both of us and the couch doesn't look to comfy.”

He shrugs.

“Don't you have any morning classes?” she says trying not to get frustrated by his lack of responsiveness.

“Yeah, I missed them already.”

Lily straightens up.

“Wait, while I was asleep?”

“Yeah, but it's fine, really.”

“You should have woken me up!”

“It's fine. It's an 8 a.m. class. I don't go that often,” he says trying to sound lighthearted.

“I don't want you to do that, James.”

“Do what?”

“Skip classes to babysit Harry.”

“It was just this one time!”

Lily scoffs.

“You think I haven't noticed how much time you spend here? You think I'm stupid enough to not know how much work you also have?”

James leans back on the couch and puts his hands behind his head.

“Maybe I'm just brilliant and know everything already.”

“I'm serious, James. I don't want to have to depend on you. God, it was so stupid of me to call you last night,” she says dragging her hand down her face. “You shouldn't have dropped whatever you were doing last night to come!”

“I wasn't doing anything!”

Lily just glares at him and he starts to sing I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends under his breath, trying to diffuse the tension.

“James - ”

“A little help doesn't hurt from time to time. And I don't mind babysitting Harry.”

“I've got a babysitter for that.”

“Then why didn't you call her yesterday instead of me?”

James feels a twist of guilt at his gut for bringing this up.

“Well maybe I will next time.”

“And how will you pay for it, may I ask?”

“I'll get a job,” she says matter-of-factly.

“The only possible way you can get a job is if you stop sleeping altogether which you already do little of.”

Lily looks like she's about to interrupt him, but he cuts her off.

“You know I wouldn't mind lending you some money.”

Lily springs up.

“I don't need your money! I don't want your charity!” she yells, her fists clenched. “I'm perfectly fine without it! I can work for things myself!”

“I never said you couldn't!”

“You just did!”

“You’re reading what I’m saying wrong.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Listen, - ”

She sighs.

“No, James, you listen. I’m sorry,” she says sitting back down. James looks at her, a concerned crease between his brows. “You’ve been nothing, but incredibly nice to me and I’m being a complete arse. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It happens to all of us,” he says with a carefree shrug. “Don’t think you’re so special that you’re the only person capable of being an arse.”

“It doesn’t seem to happen to you.”

“That’s just because I’m the most perfect man in the world. Mothers adore me. They all wish I was either their son or their son-in-law.”

Lily chuckles in spite of her temper.

∞

James unlocks the door to his flat and curses Sirius for thinking big panel windows were a good idea as the gloomy, but blinding, light pours in and maims his sleep-deprived eyes. He covers them with his hand and lumbers through the living room, managing to walk into what little furniture they have. Finally, his shins bump into the couch and he lets himself fall onto it.

“Look at what the cat dragged in!” Sirius says, walking out of the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers, a few strands of hair falling casually out of his bun, and holding a bowl of cereal in his hand. “You've got some explaining to do, young boy. I don't think Moony, Wormtail and I fancy your unexpected disappearances. We've been feeling rather neglected.”

“Spent the night at Lily’s,” he says with a dramatic sigh.

“Did you hear that lads! He said he spent the night at Lily’s!” Sirius says, shouting towards the kitchen and gesticulating which makes his milk spill. “That makes me feel loads better.”

Remus and Peter’s heads pop out of the doorframe almost immediately.

“Well, that explains his face. Don't take his personally, but you look like shit, mate,” Remus says through a mouthful of croissant.

“I do take it personally,” James says his voice muffled against the couch.

Sirius gives him a sly wink.

“Didn't come around too much sleeping, did ya?”

“I hope you were quiet at least. You know for the baby’s sake,” Peter says, his lips curling.

“It wasn't like that!”

“Of course it wasn't,” the three of them say in unison, rolling their eyes.

“I'm serious!” he says, his head shooting up. “She called me because she had to study for a test and needed help with Harry and then I just stayed the night.”

“Of course he did,” Sirius says.

“Perfect little daddy he is,” Peter adds.

“Hey, if you're planning on running away with this girl to play happy family, mind giving us a couple days’ notice? Not that we'd care about not seeing you anymore, it's just so we have enough time to get another rich flatmate,” Remus says buttering his croissant excessively.

“Har, har.”

“Aw, come on, don't be sore about it. We actually miss you loads when you spend all day at her place.”

“Don't tell him that, it'll go to his head,” comes Sirius’ disembodied voice from the bathroom.

“I'm not listening to any of you anymore,” James says covering his ears with cushions.

“Now, now don't get all upset,” Peter says playing mother hen and covering him with a blanket which he can't help snuggling into. “Poor boy needs his beauty sleep. Otherwise, look at what happens to his hair. It's a mess.”

“Not listening!”

They continue picking on him for a few minutes which he tries to block out as best he can by singing nursery rhymes offensively loud. Once they get bored and move on to another game, James realises that he has actually missed them and how little he has seen them these couple of weeks; at lunch time, when he wasn’t with Lily, in the afternoons, when he wasn’t at Lily’s, and at night, which he had yesterday spent at Lily's. Although he doesn't want to admit it, maybe she had a point. He was neglecting his life for her.

It’s not completely of his own accord but, after that day, he starts spending less time at her place because, regardless of having made up after their little fight, Lily had really meant what she had said. She gradually starts to limit the time he spends at their flat. Although at first he assumes it's because she wants to spend time alone with Harry, as the days go by her excuses to not have him over get weaker and less believable.

“I made brussel sprouts last night and it stunk up the whole flat.”

Replaying what she told him earlier that day, James scoffs with disdain, blowing his fringe out of his face. He knows that she's doing it for him, so he can spend his time with his friends or getting ahead of his workload, and sure, a bit more of spare time is nice, but he isn't sure he likes it better. Nowadays, two or three days might pass between each visit he pays them. Yes, he still messages Lily as much as he can, but not seeing her almost everyday isn't the same. And he barely sees the little boy. He misses them.

As the days go by, autumn settles into winter and covers the town with a white coat which sends everyone into a holiday frenzy as colourful lights twinkle in every window, mistletoe is hung in every corner and Christmas carols get stuck in people's heads on hours end; everyone except Sirius, that is. He hates holidays, he says lying through his teeth. And joy, and kittens, and happiness and anything pure, Peter adds, personally offended when he comes back from his temporary job where the dress code is a full Santa suit.

Term ends one week before Christmas Eve and soon enough students start packing their bags and hopping on trains to visit their families, which sinks the campus into a restful state, the snow drowning out what little sound there is. Remus, Peter and Sirius, being part of that first shift of students, take a train to the Pettigrew's, which is where the four of them have been spending their last couple of Christmas holidays since James’ parents died. However, he decides to stay back and spend a few days with Lily all to himself since Harry isn't with her. Some relatives of hers who were on their way to her hometown to spend the holidays passed near Hogwarts and took the baby to his grandparents.

Lily, instead of relishing of a few days of freedom, takes up the opportunity to sign up for a week job at the library. But even though she does work full days, it's refreshing to spend time with her when she doesn't have to worry about Harry or school. James can sometimes almost catch a glimpse of what she used to be before she got pregnant. Lively, carefree, teasing. Young.

On his last couple of day on campus, he invites her to dinner with him.

“Dinner? Where?”

“Just this place I know.”

“What's the dress code?”

“Casual is fine. Oh, and I'll pay. As a Christmas gift,” he adds seeing that she's about to protest.

“But I haven't bought you anything for Christmas!”

“You don't have to. Please just let me do this. It's Christmas!”

James juts his bottom lip out and she looks at him for a minute, then sighs.

“Fine, fine. Okay. You're worse than Harry when you do that.”

James grins.

“Pick you up at seven?”

∞

Friday. Seven p.m. He knocks on the door and after a few seconds it flies open.

“I thought you said casual was fine!” Lily says before he has the time to say hello.

“I did!”

“But you look nice!”

“I always look nice,” he says strutting into her flat, making a show of his outfit.

He's wearing a light blue dress shirt that hugs his chest and shoulders nicely, some casual, but well-fitted trousers and ankle wingtip boots, his peacoat and dark blue scarf thrown over his shoulder; even his hair looks particularly nice, not messy, but tousled.

“Give me a minute,” she says running into her room.

She slips out of her originally beige jumper which has lost its colour from all the times Harry has burped, drooled and vomited on it, pulls out her fanciest garment , which is a deep green cashmere jumper that she never wears, then slips into a pair of black jeans and straps on her tall black boots. She looks into her closet mirror, pulling at her sleeves and decides to twist her hair into a low bun, pulling some strands of hair out of it to frame her face. It’ll have to do. She slips on her coat, flings her purse on her shoulder and walks into the living room.

“You look nice,” James says getting up from the couch.

“Oh, shut it,” she says hoping that a blush doesn't appear on her cheeks.

“Wait, there's something - ”

“What?” she says her hands flying to her face, fearing she has a booger in her nose.

He doesn't say anything. He takes his scarf and wraps it around her neck, then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“There,” he says, the hint of a smile on his lips, lightly tugging at the scarf, causing her to take a step forward. “Don't want you catching a cold.”

“You sound like my mother,” she jokes, trying to hide the fact that her breath has caught in her throat.

“Well, someone has to take care of you.”

She rolls her eyes, but lets the comment pass.

“What about your neck?”

“I can put the sides of my coat up. Now - ” he says pulling up his arm and bowing slightly. “ - m’lady.”

She follows his antics and puts her arm through his.

“M’lord.”

And they're out the door.

They walk into a nice, low-lit restaurant and a waiter ushers them to a table covered with white linen; they follow, their heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. They sit down and soon enough their drinks are written down and menus typed in flowery, but legible writing are handed to them. Lily opens hers and her brow immediately creases with suspicion.

“Where are the prices?”

“Your menu doesn't show them,” he says scratching his neck.

“Oh, please, James,” she says slamming it shut. “We're not in the nineteen-fifties.”

“I just want you to order what you want without worrying about the price.”

“Worry about the price? If you're paying I just want to make sure I'm ordering the most expensive dish. How's their lobster?” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Not as good as their filet mignon.”

James chuckles and shakes his head while Lily calls the waiter and asks for another menu.

“Ooooh, twenty pounds. Now that's a juicy piece of steak, isn't it?” she says her eyes gleaming at him with mischief over the brim of her new and improved menu.

James rakes his teeth over his lips, trying to bite his smile away.

They order and their conversation flows all throughout the dinner, only slowing down once their entrees arrive, and between the eating, teasing and laughing, they barely have time to catch a breath.

“I can't believe you had Sprite with your filet mignon,” James says once she takes the last bite out of her plate, his own being empty. “You know a little bit of red wine would do wonders to it.”

“Yeah, well I don’t drink alcohol. Haven’t since the day I found out I was pregnant,” she says her mouth stretching into a line. “I was drunk off my arse the night I got pregnant.”

“Oh, I didn't - ” he says stumbling on his words.

“Would you like some dessert?” says the waiter who's just arrived at their table.

Saved by the bell.

Lily smirks, looking at James from the corner of her eyes and says,

“Gladly.”

The waiter whips out two menus, clears the table and leaves. Lily peers over the dessert list, humming innocently and often looking up at James to tease him.

“I think I'll have…” she says once the waiter comes back, her voice thick with fake hesitation. “The triple chocolate cake.”

“Interesting choice,” James says.

“And you, sir?” the waiter says turning to him.

“Nothing, thank you.”

“I'm not sharing my cake with you,” Lily says once it arrives.

“I didn't say anything.”

“But you were getting ideas,” she says, her eyes narrowing to slits.

She eats away, making a show of groaning at each bite and dramatically looking up at the ceiling as if thanking the gods for whoever had made the cake. James looks at her through it all, his chin resting on his palm, not saying anything, the spark in his eyes and the half smile on his face speaking enough on his behalf.

Lily heaves out a big sigh.

“Fine,” she says pushing the plate toward him as a knight would drop her sword, accepting her defeat. “You can have some. Just stop looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

“I wasn't looking at you with puppy dog eyes!” he says, picking up the spoon nonetheless.

“Well, you were looking at me weird.”

They fall into silence for the first time during the whole evening and Lily takes the opportunity to reach under the table for her purse and pull out a shiny red paper bag out of it, then settling it on the table.

“What's this?” James says looking up at it.

She leans back into her chair and crosses her arms.

“Your Christmas present,” she says nodding at it.

James eyes’ widen.

“You didn't have to do that,” he says wiping his mouth on the napkin.

“Don't thank me yet and open it.”

He unfolds the wrapping paper and pulls out a pair of antlers, the small bells hanging on them chiming with glee . He looks back at her, his face torn between confusion and amusement.

“I want you to wear them all day on Christmas Day, in and outdoors, and send me a picture of yourself while doing it.”

“Easy.”

“Look into the bag.”

He pulls out a round red nose with a string attached to it.

“That too.”

He lets out a hearty laugh.

“I'll do it. But I think you underestimate me here, Evans. I've been seen in much more an embarrassing attire.”

“Like what?”

“Like that time Sirius, Peter, Remus and I were invited to a fancy dress party and Sirius thought it was a good idea if he went as Frank N. Furter and I as Rocky.”

“Sounds like a hell of a party,” she says trying not to think about how appealing the view of him in nothing but the tight golden shorts must have been.

“Oh, it was. And if I remember correctly I think Sirius and I lost a bet and were forced to kiss. Not that it would have been the first time.”

She throws her head back with laughter.

“I’ve got to say I'm not entirely surprised.”

“Well, I’m not complaining, Sirius is a handsome bloke. He's got boys and girls fawning over him.”

“Is that a bit of jealousy I'm sensing?”

“Never.”

Once the bill is payed and the waiter tipped, they decide to walk instead of hauling a taxi despite the stormy weather, the restaurant not being too far away from Lily's flat. Their shoes leave footprints in the fresh layer of snow, a crunching sound accompanying each step, while their bare hands redden from the biting cold; but they let them hang at their sides, not bothering to put gloves on or stuff them in their pockets, and their fingers brush against one another.

They arrive in front of her door and Lily falters when reaching for her key, hesitation settling itself into her face. She could invite him to go inside, like she has hundreds of times before, but this time she feels that something is different and she's not sure of what could happen next. Actually, she is sure. They would kiss; and one item of clothing would feel like one too many, and then thing would lead to another and he would probably end up spending the night at her flat. Or at least that's what she hopes that would happen. But this is her only friend standing in front of her looking at her with uncertain eagerness in his eyes which looks adorable on him, but makes things so much harder, and she doesn't want to do anything that would ruin what they have. She doesn't want to go back to the way things were before meeting him.

James reads this on her face and saves her from having to say anything. He opens his arms to her and she embraces them gladly, grateful for the warmth that surrounds her when she settles her head on his chest. In that moment she almost cracks; almost invites him to stay the night, because what could be better than falling asleep in these arms so familiar it seems she's known them her whole life, her head tucked under his chin, while the rise and fall of his chest cradles her?

“What time is your train tomorrow?” she says, her voice muffled against his chest.

“8 a.m.”

His breath tickles the top of her head and she can hear his voice vibrating in his rib cage like a small bee.

“You shouldn't go to bed too late then.”

“Yeah. I should probably go soon,” he says softly.

Stay .

But she doesn't say it out loud. She lets go of him begrudgingly and it might as well take every ounce of willpower she has in herself.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, his voice forming a cloud of steam.

“Merry Christmas. Don't forget the picture.”

The corners of his mouth shoot up and she can't help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss them.

So she stands on her tiptoes and does it.

But before he has the time to react she's said goodbye and gone inside, leaving him with a lingering feeling at the corner of his mouth. It drops slightly and he shakes his head, then reaches in the inside of his coat, pulling out a letter. After placing it on her doormat, he rings the bell and exits her building into the cold night.

When Lily hears the doorbell she's barely had the time to take her coat off, but has already regretted her impulsive act about a thousand times. She staggers to the door, afraid she'll have to give him an explanation, but when she opens it there isn't a single person standing on the doormat, but an envelope instead; and it’s addressed to her, her name written on it with James’ neat handwriting. She bends down and opens it.

My Dearest Lily,

I know I said that this dinner would be your Christmas present but, if I have to be completely honest with you, it was all a ruse to be able to buy you dinner, and buy myself time to think of an actual gift. Indeed, I've been racking my brain these last few days to try and figure out what Lily Evans would want for Christmas, and today, it struck me. Time. That's what Lily Evans wants.

And Time I shall give you…

I looked up the average wage of a babysitter in England and I am pleased to tell you that in this envelope you will find enough money for a full day’s worth of babysitting, that is, twenty-four hours.

I know what you're thinking; I know that you don't want my charity, but this isn't it, for it is a Christmas present and it would be extremely rude to give it back.

Now Lily Evans is free to make use of these hours however and whenever she pleases, but I would want to inform her that I would be more than happy to spend more than a great deal of them in her presence.

Merry Christmas!

With love,

James

When Lily finishes reading it, tears rush to her eyes and she's not sure if those are of joy, sadness, or simple exhaustion.

Maybe a little bit everything.

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storyplease · 7 years

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[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.

It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.

It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.

Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.

So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.

And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?

Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.

Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.

And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.

Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.

That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? Could they be?

The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.

You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.

Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.

You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.

Why haven't you noticed this before?

You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.

You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!

You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.

Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.

Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.

The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.

"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.

You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.

You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.

You need answers.

#original fiction #writing prompt #from reddit #a little tongue in cheek

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almightygodismydependence-blog · 5 years

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Judgment Is the Light

By Zhao Xia, Shandong Province

My name is Zhao Xia. I was born into an ordinary family. Due to the influence of dictums like “A man leaves his name behind wherever he stays, just as a goose utters its cry wherever it flies,” and “As a tree lives for its bark, a man lives for his face,” reputation and face became particularly important to me. Everything I did was to earn other people’s praise, compliments, and admiration. After getting married, the goals I set for myself were: I will have a more prosperous life than others; I must not allow anyone say negative things about how I treat the elderly or about my behavior and conduct;

I will ensure my child gets into a well-known university and has good prospects in order to bring me more glory. Therefore, I never quarreled with my in-laws. Sometimes when they spoke harshly with me, I would feel so wronged that I would secretly cry rather than show them any kind of attitude. When I saw others buy clothing for their parents during Chinese New Year or other holidays, I would immediately go buy some for my mother-in-law, and only of the best quality. When relatives came to visit, I would help with the shopping and cooking. I was still entirely willing even when it was difficult or tiring. Out of fear that I would fall behind others, I left my baby daughter behind just a month after giving birth to her to go straight back to work. As a result, she suffered from malnutrition, becoming just skin and bones because I wasn’t nursing her. It wasn’t until she had received 100 injections of nutrients that she took a turn for the better, while I was so tired that my back was aching every single day. Though it was difficult and tiring, I endured the hardship and expended myself tirelessly for the sake of gaining a good reputation. My hard work paid off, and in just a few short years, I became well-known as a good daughter-in-law in the village, and my family became wealthy and were envied by those around us. As a result, my in-laws, neighbors, relatives and friends were all full of praise for me. In the face of the praise and compliments from those around me, my vanity was greatly satisfied. I felt that my hardships over the last few years were not in vain—I felt really self-satisfied. However, my serene life was disrupted after my brother-in-law got married. His wife always spoke to me mockingly, saying that I had ulterior motives in treating our mother-in-law well because I was only interested in her money. She always said that our mother-in-law was biased toward us since she gave us more things than she gave them; she was always stirring up trouble over this. I felt very wronged and wanted to hash it out with her openly in order to proclaim my innocence, but I was afraid that it would ruin the positive image that I had built up with others. So, I would force myself to hold back, and when I could bear it no longer I would cry it out in private. Later on my sister-in-law really overstepped her bounds by taking over the land that had been parceled out for my side of the family. I was shaking with anger and couldn’t eat or drink for days. I even wanted to fight it out with her. However, realizing that it would cause me to lose face, damage my reputation, and make those around me look down on me, I just swallowed it. However, I was so pent up that I was in torment. I moped around, sighing all the time, feeling that life was too painful and tiring, wondering when there would be an end to a life like that.

Man’s end really is God’s beginning. Just as I was in pain and feeling helpless, Almighty God reached out to me with His hands of salvation. One day, my neighbor asked me: “Do you believe that there is a God?” I answered: “Who doesn’t? I believe in God.” She went on to say that the God she believes in is the one and only true God who created the universe and all things, and that in the beginning, mankind lived within God’s blessings because they worshiped Him, but after being corrupted by Satan, they no longer worshiped God and thus came to live under God’s curse and in pain. She told me that Almighty God of the last days had come to bestow the truth upon people and to save them from the abyss of misery. She also shared fellowship on her own experiences in her faith. After hearing her fellowship, I felt that I had found my closest confidant, and could not help but spill out to her all the pain in my heart. Afterward, she read a passage of God’s words to me: “When you are weary and when you begin to feel the desolation of this world, do not be perplexed, do not cry. Almighty God, the Watcher, will embrace your arrival any time. He is watching by your side, waiting for you to turn back. He is waiting for the day your memory suddenly recovers: becoming conscious of the fact that you came from God, somehow and somewhere once lost, falling unconscious on the roadside, and then, unknowingly having a father. You further realize that the Almighty has been watching there, awaiting your return all along” (“The Sighing of the Almighty” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). God’s words flowed into my heart like a warm current, consoling my painful and sad heart, and I could not stop tears from rolling down my face. In that moment, I felt just like a wandering child in pain who had suddenly returned to the embrace of her mother. I had an indescribable feeling of excitement and emotion. I kept on giving thanks to God for taking me into His house and caring for me when I had nowhere else to go. I quietly resolved to follow God with my heart and soul. From then on, I began reading God’s words, praying to God, and singing hymns to praise God every single day; I felt so relaxed and had such enjoyment in my heart. Through attending gatherings and interacting with brothers and sisters, I saw that they were just like a big family even though they were not related by blood. Their interactions were simple and open, without pretense, duplicity, jealousy, conflicts, or scheming. They did not bully the poor while favoring the rich, they were all able to treat everyone with sincerity and full equality, and we would share fellowship on God’s word and sing hymns in praise of God. I had a real sense of freedom in my heart. This is how I fell in love with this life of the church that is loving and warm, fair and joyous. I became convinced that Almighty God is the one true God who created the universe and all things, and I resolved that I would follow Him to the very end.

Through reading God’s words, I came to understand God’s urgent desire to save mankind to the greatest extent possible, and saw that many brothers and sisters were doing their utmost to give and expend themselves for the sake of spreading the gospel of the kingdom, so I also became actively involved in the preaching of the gospel. One time, I went to preach the gospel to a potential believer. It was a very busy time for farming at the time. Seeing how busy she was with farm work, I went to work alongside her while sharing testimony of God’s work of the last days. I never imagined that after three days straight of sharing fellowship with her, she would not only have no intention of accepting the gospel, but would instead yell at me: “You really have some nerve! I already said I don’t believe but you won’t stop preaching.” Her words really struck a nerve with me. My face burned as though I had just had my face slapped in front of a crowd, while my heart ached with wave after wave of dull pain. I thought: “I came to preach to you with the best of intentions and exhausted myself helping you with your work until my back ached, but instead of accepting the gospel, you treated me like this. How heartless you are!” I felt extremely humiliated and did not want to talk to her anymore, but I also felt that giving up like that was not in line with God’s will, so I prayed silently in my heart and held back my grievances so that I could continue to share fellowship with her while helping with her work. But no matter how hard I tried, I still could not get through to her. I collapsed like a deflated balloon upon returning home. Her words kept cycling through my head. The more I thought about it the more pain I felt: “Why bother? All I get in return for my good intentions are jeers, slander, and abuse. This is so unjust! No one has ever treated me this way. Spreading the gospel is simply too painful and difficult! No, I cannot go out to preach the gospel any longer! If I continue preaching I won’t have any face left to see anyone.” Just when I felt so wronged and in such pain that I was no longer willing to preach the gospel, the words of God enlightened me: “Are you aware of the burden you shoulder, your commission, and your responsibility? Where is your historic sense of mission? … They are poor, pitiable, blind, and at a loss, wailing in the darkness, ‘Where is the way?’ How they yearn for the light, like a shooting star, to suddenly descend and disperse the force of darkness that has oppressed men for so many years. Who can know just how anxiously they hope, and how they pine day and night for this? These men who suffer deeply remain imprisoned in the dungeons of darkness, without hope of release, even on the day that the light flashes; when will they weep no longer? These fragile spirits who have never been granted rest are truly suffering such misfortune. They have long been sealed off by the ruthless ropes and the history that is frozen in place. Who has ever heard the sound of their wailing? Who has ever seen their miserable visage? Have you ever thought how grieved and anxious God’s heart is? How can He bear to see the innocent mankind He created with His own hands suffering such torment? After all, mankind are the unfortunates that have been poisoned. Though they have survived to this day, who would have thought that they have long been poisoned by the evil one? Have you forgotten that you are one of the victims? Out of your love for God, are you not willing to strive to save those who have survived? Are you not willing to use all your effort to repay the God who loves mankind like His own flesh and blood?” (“How Should You Attend to Your Future Mission” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Reading between the lines of God’s words, all that was revealed was His concern as well as His worry and care for innocent people. God cannot bear to see people created by His own hands deceived and harmed by Satan. God continues to bitterly await mankind to return to His house soon and receive the great salvation He has bestowed upon them. Yet when I was faced with a few harsh words from the person I was preaching to, I felt wronged and tormented and grumbled about the hardship and suffering. I even lost my willingness to preach the gospel because I had lost face. Where was my conscience and reason? I was not someone who was considerate of God’s will. In order to save us, corrupted humans in the last days, God has been continuously hunted and persecuted by the CCP government, abandoned, condemned, blasphemed and slandered by religious circles, and misunderstood and resisted by us followers of God. The pain and humiliation God has suffered is too much, too great! However, He has not abandoned His salvation of us, but has continued to supply mankind’s needs in obscurity. God’s love is too great! His essence is too beautiful and kind! My hardships today are nothing compared to the suffering God has endured for the sake of saving mankind! I thought of the fact that I was also a victim, someone who had been harmed by Satan for years. If God had not stretched out His hands of salvation to me, I would still be struggling painfully in the dark, unable to see the light and the hope of living. Having enjoyed such great salvation from God, I should bear the humiliation and pain to do my utmost to cooperate with God, fulfill my duty properly, and bring the innocents who are still being harmed by Satan before God. This is more valuable and meaningful than any job in the world, and is worthwhile no matter how much suffering must be endured! Thinking of this, I no longer felt that preaching the gospel is a painful thing, and instead felt that I was fortunate to be able to offer up my meager abilities for the sake of spreading the gospel of the kingdom. This was my honor as well as an exaltation of God. I made this resolve: No matter what kind of hardships I have to encounter in my gospel work, I will give my all and rely on God to bring more and more people who yearn for the appearance of God before Him to comfort His heart! After that I threw myself back into gospel work.

Following a period of practicing this, whenever I encountered someone I hoped to convert who had a bad attitude or spoke harsh words to me while I was fulfilling my duty, I was able to deal with it properly and continue to bear witness to God’s work of the last days with a loving heart. Because of this, I felt that I had changed somewhat and no longer cared as much about my face and status. One day, the leader of the church asked me how I had been doing lately and also fellowshiped with me on God’s current will and way of practice. When I found out during the conversation that she would be transferred to another church to fulfill her duty, I could not help but feel a wave of excitement, thinking: “Maybe I’ll be made the leader of the church after she leaves. If so, I must really do well in my work!” Just as I was feeling secretly happy, she said that another sister from my village would be coming tomorrow. My heart churned as soon as I heard that. I thought: “What is she coming for? Is she going to be made the new leader of the church?” I could not help but grow anxious: “She has not believed in God for as long as I have, and she’s from the same village as me. If she is made leader, how will that impact my face? How would our brothers and sisters see me? They will surely say that I don’t pursue the truth as much as she does.” I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I tossed and turned at night, unable to fall asleep. During the gathering the next day, I honed in on the tone and attitude of everything the leader was saying, desperately wanting to know who would be chosen as the new leader of the church. Whenever the leader looked at me as she spoke, I felt there was some hope that I would be made leader. My face would fill with joy and I would nod and agree with whatever she said. However, whenever she faced the other sister while speaking, I would become certain that that sister would be named leader, and feel frustrated and in pain as a result. Over those couple of days, I was tormented by the concept of face and status to the point that I became anxious and distracted. I lost my appetite and even felt that time was passing particularly slowly, as though it had been frozen. The church leader saw what kind of state I was in, so she flipped through The Word Appears in the Flesh, and found two passages in God’s words “Why Aren’t You Willing to Be a Foil?” for me to read. God’s words say: “You are now followers, and you have some understanding of this stage of work. However, you have still not put aside your desire for status. When your status is high you seek well, but when your status is low you no longer seek. The blessings of status are always on your mind.” “Although you have gotten to this step today, you still have not let go of status, but are always struggling to inquire about it and observing it daily…. The more you seek this way the less you will reap. The greater a person’s desire for status, the more seriously they will have to be dealt with and the more they must undergo great refinement. That kind of person is too worthless! They must be dealt with and judged adequately in order for them to thoroughly let go of that. If you pursue this way until the end, you will reap nothing. Those who do not pursue life cannot be transformed; those who do not thirst for the truth cannot gain the truth. You don’t focus on pursuing personal transformation and entering in; you always focus on those extravagant desires, and things that constrain your love for God and restrain you from getting close to Him. Can those things transform you? Can they bring you into the kingdom?” Each line of God’s words was like a knock at the door of my heart, making me feel that God was beside me, monitoring my every word and movement. I could not help but reflect on my thoughts and actions over these past two days. I realized that my view of seeking was too base and too influenced by axioms of Satan such as “As a tree lives for its bark, a man lives for his face,” and “A man leaves his name behind wherever he stays, just as a goose utters its cry wherever it flies.” I always desired status so that I could win more praise from others, which resulted in me being tormented by face and status to the point that I became anxious and distracted, lost my appetite, couldn’t sleep, and made a fool of myself like a buffoon. Only then did I understand that such an environment was set up by God in accordance with my own state, and that it was God’s love coming upon me. This work of God today was to save me, to help me escape the dark influences of Satan so I could achieve salvation, to have me see clearly that my mode of seeking ran contrary to God’s will. I would not have been able to receive God’s approval even if I had believed in Him until the end. I would have been left with nothing! I therefore prayed silently to God: “Oh God! I am willing to obey Your work, walk on the path of faith in accordance with Your requirements, and put effort into Your word to achieve understanding of the truth and cast off my corrupt disposition. Regardless of whether I am made leader, I will pursue the truth and focus on changing my corrupt disposition to satisfy Your will.” After understanding God’s will, I felt especially calm in my heart and enjoyed fellowship with other sisters no matter which aspect of the truth of God’s words it was. After the gathering, the church leader said that, based on the recommendations of the majority of brothers and sisters, the other sister would be the new leader of the church, and that I would help with her work. Internally, I was very calm and accepted this readily, agreeing to work in harmony with her to fulfill our duty.

#Almighty God #God's blessing #gospel of the kingdom #praise God #God's word #God's work #praise of God

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