#the loop bringing out the worst parts of everyone until that’s the only part left

[midori-laboratories]

Frozen Ashes: Chapter 18 - Part 3: Homecoming Queens V

Book 3 of The Calendula Chronicles.

Story synopsis: Albert Wesker molded his captive into the perfect, pliable bait for taking out Rockfort Island's paramilitary facility, and cracking open the Ashford family’s secrets. But who’s really in control, once chaos breaks out?

The stakes have never been higher for Marigold, but she may not be fast enough to save everyone.

Book 3 of the Calendula Chronicles series. Written as the other side of The Antarctica Incident.

Want to catch up? The story's a ways ahead on AO3

Chapter summary: Marigold remembers to aftermath of that initial accident, and a plan is put into motion to head off the worst case scenario.

October 1, 1968: A manor in Devon, England

The day was shaping up to be bright, and unusually warm for October. Nineteen-year-old Marigold was steady enough to leave her bed by now for prolonged periods since the ‘accident’, but her father had cautioned her against going down into the rest of the house until her health had fully stabilized.

Meals had been brought up to her, and Poppy, already exposed when she had rushed out to greet them on arrival, was assigned to be the sole point of contact between her and the rest of the house staff.

The situation screamed quarantine. It wasn’t something she could justifiably do anything about.

Dr. Edward Ashford had been documenting her vitals since they’d come back home. Her father had called in a favor at a London research hospital when they’d touched back down on English soil, taking over a room filled with bulky machinery and screens in the dark hours of the morning. His own lab would have equipment…but the ultrasound machine, an innovative new technology, was the thing that had consumed his attention.

Alexander had been by his side, whispering. He’d startled when Marigold had asked why he was being so bloody loud about it. The headache she was trying to fight off had taken up far more of her attention at the time, but she didn’t miss the look the two shared, while they moved quickly to set up.

Earlier that year, she’d had an…indiscretion. She’d been the only truly unlucky one in the whole sordid mess (oh, but Luisa owed her, now, and she intended to collect, one day). The end result had left her insides scarred, rendering her sterile and with chronic pain. A mule for the marriage market. Joining her family in Africa had been a means to redirect her boundless energy to the family’s blossoming venture.

Drained from her ordeal, the young woman in the hospital gown initially missed how they’d stilled when the screen started to show images of her internals. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

Alexander had blinked owlishly, asking carefully, “How are you feeling?”

“Like I didn’t eat or move for far too long, and then got bundled into a plane for over a day,” she snapped back. “I’m tired, and I want to sit in the bath for a week. Assuming that my plumbing hasn’t officially gone AWOL, instead of just being broken. What’s happening?”

Her father spoke softly. “Lysis reversal. I was right…Marigold, dear, look at your hands.”

She’d down so, puzzled, realizing after a moment that all of her little nicks from fencing, the tiny scarring of living had disappeared. Even the smattering of freckles across her arms had gone away. “I don’t understand,” she had said finally, mind refusing to process the implications.

Her father had squeezed her hand then, and told her to go dress. They could discuss it when she was rested, and in her own home.

She finally spoke up an hour into the drive back. “Why the secrecy? Isn’t this the goal of what you’re trying to do?” Marigold had kept her eyes down, looking at her hands. Edward Ashford had paused for a long moment, settling upon, “The manner in which this happened worries me. I think it’s best to get you home and work out what’s happened before bringing Oswell into the loop.” There had been an edge in his tone, and Alexander had glanced at her with some worry.

There had been a hard glint in her brother’s eye that hadn’t been there before. Whatever had happened had malicious intent backing it.

Someone had tried to hurt her, and now something was rolling back all of the damage that she, and others had done to her body in the past. Making her into a blank slate.

Her father and brother had started the trip open and trusting to that little circle of researchers they’d gathered. Now they…weren’t.

Marigold had kept her eyes trained on her hands, only glancing up to gauge their faces. After a long moment, she finally spoke again, voice quiet. “Anything could happen, and no one would ever know, would they.”

The three of them fell silent for the rest of the drive, never quite realizing that those words had held the chilling weight of prophecy.

Now, Marigold made her way to her father’s study, letting herself in to sit in front of the huge desk which dominated the room. On the wall behind the desk, Edward had mounted his old messer blade from his university days. A faint dueling scar from a similar blade was on her father’s jaw, the old badge of honor of the men of the ruling classes.

She still felt tired, though it was a normal sort of tired, not the consuming fatigue that had defined the last week and a half as…Sonnetroppe…had settled into her system.

The desk was piled with diagrams, notes. Not all of it was research, Marigold realized. Some were schematics of a building.

Edward found his daughter hovering over a blueprint, not quite willing to actually touch to document. “You don’t leave these out,” she said slowly, trying to work out the shape of the reason he’d asked her to meet him in here.

“No,” he allowed. “We took control of an old iron mine a few years ago. It’s ideal for deep research- the climate is a bit hostile, but it manages any containment risk we may run into. Whoever runs it will have to live there, of course. Oswell was finished with these plans, so he passed them along.”

Marigold watched him, wary. “You weren’t planning to tell me this before.” It was said as a flat statement, an expectation. There had been no reason to bring a young girl with no real scientific acuity into such a sensitive enterprise, and they’d all known it implicitly. It hurt being cut out, certainly, but they had always seen- and more importantly, expressed -it as a protective measure.

Edward gave her a sad smile. “You didn’t seem interested, dear.” His jaw shifted in that way he had when he was skirting the truth. “And that was fair enough, letting you get on with your own life. But…this infection ties you to the project. No one else knows what’s happened, but eventually, they’ll need to. As soon as we understand what we’re dealing with.” He pulled out a plan from the pile, unfolding it. “Alexander mentioned that your memory retention has been improving, and you have your mother’s eye for security. If something-“

Marigold looked up sharply at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Alexander’s looking for something. Probably rifling through the waste bin again.”

Edward chided her as gently as he could manage. “It’s not like anyone had time to take baseline samples to compare what’s changed. Everything happened so quickly…”

A perfunctory knock came at the door, and Alexander let himself in. “I just got a call from the Paris lab. They’ve finished setting up. I told them we’re booking passage on the ferry for two days from now. We can pack light and have the rest sent later.” He looked up from his notes and seemed to brighten. “That’s for the new lab? You’ve decided, then.”

“Decided is a strong word, but it seems like I’m in for the ride,” Marigold said, a touch waspish. She frowned, pointed to a spot in a hallway that had been crossed out. “This goes nowhere. Why?”

Alexander drifted toward the desk and looked at where she was pointing on the blueprint. “You were serious about putting that in? I understand the need to keep quiet, but this…”

“It’s a contingency,” Edward said in a tight voice. “If James really did try to…” his voice faltered a moment. “He clearly felt secure enough to try it, and there was almost no reaction in the camp about it. I don’t wish to be caught flat-footed like that again.” He sighed. “The stakes are higher than I originally thought.”

Marigold looked at the blank space behind the marked wall on the plan, looked at the floor number. Whatever it was led below the very bottom of an already cavernous facility. “You’re hiding something in there? Why…” She stopped. four years of Swiss boarding school had taught her a thing or two about civil defense. “You’re building a bunker. In your remote lab.” She looked between the two men before her who seemed suddenly uncomfortable. “And you’re trying to hide it?”

Alexander grimaced. “It’s just something on the plans for now-” he started, but fell silent at Edward’s look. Alexander sighed. “I need to finish packing, if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped aware from the desk, and left the study.

Edward sighed, looking older than he had a moment ago. “He still wants to trust them,” he said wearily. “So do I, but I can’t ignore what’s right under my nose.”

“Why on earth would we need to go so far?” Marigold asked, watching her father closely. “The project seemed to be going well for all of you. Doctor Marcus seemed unhappy, yes, but that seemed normal enough, for him.”

“Oswell and I have…differing opinions on what the virus can be used for. Studying a virus and weaponizing it overlap so heavily that it seemed like there was no real, practical problem with the project at large.”

Marigold’s brow creased, and Edward waved his hand as if to clear the dark atmosphere from the study. “These are contingencies, at present, nothing more. I simply mean to be a bit more alert going forward. Harman should be returning from Arklay soon, and we’ll have a little more security in the future.”

Marigold could sense that her father desperately wanted to talk about anything else. “So, why has Alexander been raiding my toiletries bag? What’s the baseline even for?”

Edward seemed to sag with relief at the merciful change of topic. “Alexander’s been mapping its genome. Even if what happened to you can’t be replicated - and I think that might be true - he’ll be able to identify which switches get thrown when Sonnetroppe finds a viable host. That might be something we can work with.”

Marigold stared at her father, then bit back a laugh. “His Veronica project. Well, both of yours. You mean to tell me that he’s going to identify the intelligence gene by studying the most-“ she broke off, but still gave a bitter little laugh. “That’s a bit much to swallow.”

Edward fixed her with a sharp look. “No one thinks that of you, dear. Your brother always made it clear that you’re far cleverer than you let on- probably more so than is really good for you, to be honest. I really thought giving you some structure for the last few years would make it easier for you out in the world when you were grown.”

Marigold darted a wary look up from the plans at her father, and he made a small derisive sound in response. “Oh, come off it. I know I let you run a little too wild after…when your mother died. You looked after your brother like raiders would come carry him off if you stopped. I thought it would do you some good to get some distance.”

Marigold said nothing, but recalled how his researcher ‘friends’ had helped the decision to send her to a Swiss boarding school along. Prison does teach you to be a better class of criminal, she thought, so he’s not exactly wrong.

He reached out and tipped her chin up. “Besides, the family can only manage one genius per generation, anyhow. Too much ego, otherwise. There has to be a lot of muscle, a lot of cunning, to leverage that into something that’s actually usable. That’s your job.”

Marigold’s jaw tightened, mouth firming into a hard line. When she spoke again, her voice had grown small. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Edward took his daughter’s hand, gave it a squeeze. “You’re safe. We’ll monitor what we can - especially once we’re settled in Paris - and figure this out. It’s safer if you stay out of sight of the researchers, especially Stateside, but we will all work the problem out together.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about me, not with everything ramping up the way it has been. I’ve been…” Marigold grimaced, thinking of all the trouble she’d gotten into. All that heartache.

Edward looked at her. “You aren’t a burden, dear. Do you not see how much you carry?” He laid the diagrams on the desk, beckoning her over to fold the young woman into a rare hug. “You simply need to learn to carry it properly. You are my daughter, and you are a part of this family. What does that mean?”

Marigold smiled, in spite of herself. “None of us are in this alone.”

December 1998 (alongside Chapter 14)

“All of us have been in this alone, haven’t we.”

Alexia glanced at her, still a touch rattled from their discussion. She shut the front door to the mansion behind her, and the two walked side by side across the covered courtyard towards the elevators. “I suppose. Why?”

“I’m just thinking of something my father said to me. I don’t think any of us came through whole, carrying all of this alone. No one’s been safe.” Marigold’s mouth was set in a taut grimace. “Speaking of which, you know where the safe room is, yes? Alfred’s probably not steady enough to fly for a while.” Somehow, she had come out of this nightmare strangely sheltered, in a twisted way. She’d had people protecting her, some knowingly, some…less so. Don’t think that you can manage this, Annette’s voice rang in her memory.

Alexia shook her head. “Safety is relatively for the next few days, I think. I know of it, but not how to access it.” The faint worry line between Alexia’s brows deepened. “I don’t like this. No one felt they needed to share critical emergency protocol with me before. Grayson’s down there, and there are people down there. I don’t like it. Are you sure you should go alone? The infestation’s quite heavy.”

After a moment's contemplation, Alexia added, “Also, Grayson’s mentioned that the head of maintenance stole data when he was locked down in the stasis room. Donald McNally stole data and locked him down there before I woke. I’m not sure where he is, which means he’s staying away from the hyphae. He’s about…actually, your age. Large Scottish man, I believe.” Alexia frowned. “Grayson liked him, but, well, you know how trusting he is. I never liked him.”

“You don’t like - no, wait.” Marigold stopped herself. Alexia wasn’t fond of most people, but she was telling her about this man specifically for a reason. “What was the matter?”

“He used to scare me, before. There’s something wrong with a man who can seem that jolly without it touching his eyes. Now he’s just a man, but…if Grayson is worried about someone, they’ve gone very visibly rotten.”

Marigold fished a gaiter mask out from under her collar and slipped it up over her nose and mouth. “I’ll keep my face covered, then. Just to be safe.”

Alexia sighed. “You said that you were pregnant. How can you be sure it wasn’t a false positive? Those patches are strong- they would have kept you fully viral for…”

“Three weeks. I’m lucky I caught it when I did, the patches started about 10 days later. And… there have been other indicators.” Marigold fidgeted with the cuffs of her coat.

“How far along? Hypothetically speaking. If you find the infirmary, you should find more tests, by the way. They’re more accurate than the store-bought variety, from what I remember. No one was willing to risk a false negative during a season where no one could fly out.” She paused. “Bring as many as you can find back, you can get statistically significant results.”

“Six weeks, as far as I can tell.” Marigold's face was grim. “I haven’t let myself dwell on it. I’ve barely processed that it happened at all.”

Alexia nodded. “You said that’s an issue for later, and I happen to agree. We are going to revisit that bit of whiplash when the time comes. You’ve dealt with an outbreak? The corridors are rather narrow.”

Marigold waggled her hand in a non-commital gesture. “Only the edges of an outbreak. They really didn’t want Umbrella to know I’d survived Arklay. I don’t either. The zombies don’t notice me, exactly.” She squared her shoulders. “I can fight, If I must, but I may be able to just walk through.” She huffed. “I can maintain a bit of control on a few at a time. It’s not a comfortable thing to be aware of, to be frank. Someone showed me something called Thriller after Raccoon City. Let’s just say it wasn’t appreciated.”

Alexia gave a sharp, nervous laugh. “Less Michael Jackson, more Ellen Ripley, with that look. Here,” gives a copy of her keycard. “Hold tight to that, and avoid the ants. They’re…active. He’s…still sealed in Grandfather’s old lab. I’d be worried otherwise, as he’s rather venomous. If anything goes wrong, ‘knock’ as you did earlier. What did you do?”

Marigold tugged her mask down, licking her lips and rubbing the tips of her fingers across them before replicating the touch on one of a mass of hyphae in the hallway, across from the elevator. Alexia shuddered a little, both at the sensation and the sight of the hyphae withering into ashy nubs. Marigold grins at her. “That’s precisely the face I made. I’m sure of it.” She chuckled a little. “Oh, I missed our strange little family. No one else truly gets this.”

Her smile faltered a little as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “It’s the roses all over again,” she said. Alexia looked at her sharply, just as the lift doors opened. The two stepped inside.

#frozen ashes #calendula chronicles #marigold ashford #albert wesker x oc #resident evil fanfiction

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

School Nurse

@letstalkaboutfandomsbaby led me to yet another 2D man that I want to get wrecked by

How would a school nurse react to Hwajin’s presence? Dabauchery will ensue.

AN: this started out as a short little drabble, turned into a long smutty mess that I finally rangled in with romance because… after care. As a nurse I was getting to into the logistics of the pencil stab

TW: smut, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, power exchange, mild wound description (pencil stab), sex in a nurses office, oral sex

NO MINORS

Hwajin knew you would look good on your knees. You had a bratty, stubborn nature that he wanted to overpower. He thought you were too gentle with trouble makers. When he told you this, you argued that it was your job as a school nurse to take care of all the students.

How was it that you were so hostile with him but when it came to even the worst students you were so gentle. It irritated him. You actively avoided him. Maybe he wouldn't care if he didn't find you so damn adorable. Thoughts of you kept him company late at night.

Even when he forced you to take a baton after he saw a student get in your face yelling. The only person you used it against was him. Apparently you wouldn't allow him to pull students out of your office regardless of their offense.

He was shocked to learn that few students ever bothered you. The worst offenders would constantly make advances at you and since you would have his head, he disciplined them only once you were out of range.

And you were equally irate. He treated you like a child when you tried to present him with research that aggression towards children under the age of 18 was just as detrimental as ignoring their bad behavior. You weren't against addressing the students inappropriate behavior, but the number of visits to your office had tripled upon his arrival.

It become rare that schools had a nurse on campus, barely coming back in to practice following the hands off policy. And at the most part you were mainly treating the faculty and the more unlucky students. If the Ministry of Education wanted to bring in people like Na, would you even have a job much longer?

/

"What are you doing here? I'm not harboring any students," You hissed as the warden entered your office.

"If I remember correctly, I'm here to oversee the whole school. That includes you. Besides I actually need medical help."

Hwajin turned the lock on the door before unbuttoning his shirt. He turned around to show you a shallow hole between his shoulder blades. You tried to keep the blush from creeping on to your face as you scanned his muscular body.

Apparently a student surprised him by sinking a pencil into his skin.

"Violence breeds violence," You chided when the realization hit. "Oh god, did you kill the student?"

You were truly alarmed. He took slight offense to that question. He wasn't a great guy but he wasn't going to kill someone on the job.

"Just give me something to bandage this up," he rolled his eyes.

You motioned for him to sit on the medical table but of course he had to make things difficult, choosing to straddle a chair instead. In spite of his protests that he could take care of things himself you pulled on a pair of gloves.

"Don't be such a pain, Mr. Na. There's no way you can properly clean what's on your back."

You probed around the wound that was already angry and red. The blood has begun to dry. Trying not to cause unnecessary pain you attempted to visually assess the bed of the wound for any debris that may lead to infection.

Instinctively he howled in pain as you began to clean.

"Will you just put a bandaid over it so I can get back to my job?"

You had to admit you were getting some sick satisfaction from this. The wound was clean and you applied an anti bacterial ointment but it was in a location where the skin tended to pull and stretch so you were sure it would bleed throughout the day-

"Are you smoking in my office?"

Hwajin gave you a cheeky grin before blowing smoke toward your face.

The nerve. In retaliation you flicked the inflamed skin while avoiding the actual wound.

"Ouch, you're cute when you get angry," Na laughed.

Your cheeks were scorching, "Okay Mr Na, you're all wrapped up. Stop by at the end of the day so I can change the bandage."

He winked while buttoning up shirt, "I knew you liked seeing me."

"Out." You hissed.

As he walked down the halls he chuckled to himself. He couldn't wait for you to submit to him.

/

Through out the day your mind wandered to Hwajin. Him sitting in front of you, shirtless and rippled with muscle. The parts of his skin left unscarred were so soft compared to his attitude. You wondered if his palms were as soft or were they were rough and calloused.

As if on cue the man walked into your office, catching you during one of your fantasies. Was it already the end of the day? Sure enough, the clock showed school let out half an hour ago.

Just like before he secured the door and stripped off his shirt. The bandage wasn't soaked, but it did need to be changed. The day warped your work and some of the tape was lifted away from his skin.

This time politely in the chair, he hummed as you removed and replaced the soiled bandage.

"Starting tomorrow you should just leave it open to air. This is really just to keep you getting your blood on your shirt. If you start thinking you have an infection go to the hospital." You turned around to discard your gloves.

As you turned back, you bumped into Hwajin Na. He smiled down at you and ruffled your hair, "Thanks, nurse, you took such good care of me. You'll have to let me thank you."

He lowered his mouth to your whisper in your ear, "what should I do for you?"

Your were in a losing position, you didn't want to make eye contact but you couldn't stare straight ahead, he still wasn't dressed and it was too overwhelming. You settled on looking down toward his feet.

You quickly snapped your eyes back up when you notice a bulge trying to push past his pants.

"Uh, no need to thank me. It's my job." You stepped back against the wall, at least giving you a bit more space.

Hwajin placed his arms against the wall so he could close the space between you.

"What's wrong? You're flushed. Let's see if you have a fever." He pressed forehead against your. "You feel a bit warm, but not worrisome."

You stammered, "Uh, Mr Na, it's late so we should probably wrap up."

"Mr Na," he mocked you. "Why do you do that? We're both adults, you can call me Hwajin."

Your eyes darted around the room. Maybe you were being punked. Was he testing you?

"It's respectful, it would be rude to call you by your first name."

He brushed a stand of hair behind your shoulder, pleased with your response.

"Well I can think of other titles you could call me that I would enjoy much more."

You were struggling between your desire and your fear of losing your job. Surely he knew what he was doing to you.

Of course he knew, the gleam in his eyes made that clear.

"Well, it's pretty late and I don't know about you but I'm tired after today so I'll see you tomorrow."

He dropped his hands and you took that as the end of his teasing. But instead he hoisted you against him, grasping the back of your thighs.

"My poor little nurse, I've kept you so busy. How about you lay down and let me help you relax."

"Hwajin, put me down," You smacked his shoulder. Listening, he sat you down the cot you constantly sanitized. In spite of what you were saying you allowed him to crawl on top of you.

"Hmm, now you use my first name, little nurse? And here I thought you were respectful," he nipped at your ears.

You shivered.

"Well pick one," You groaned. "First, no last name, then no first name. What's left."

His tongue darted across your neck while began tearing at your clothes, "how about you just be a good girl and call me 'Sir'."

At this point the primal part of your brain took over as you pathetically began to rub against his thigh. Your Irrational brain didn't need a job, it just needed this man to fuck her.

Nearly all your clothes were discarded to the floor as his mouth began to tease your breasts. Your hand tangled in his hair when sink his teeth into your tender flesh.

"Talk to me baby," he sighed. "Use your words, ask for what you want."

You lay out a whimper and tugged at belt loops, "fuck me."

He pinched your in thigh, "Now that's not using your manners. Am I going to need to teach you to behave?"

You mumbled a response that he could barely hear, eliciting another pinch to your thigh.

You huffed, "fine, please fuck me, Sir"

Pleased with your response he tugged your panties to the side, stroking your soaked pussy with his middle knuckle.

"Atta girl. You're so fucking wet for me. How long have you been waiting to be my little slut?"

He slid one finger inside of you with ease, arching you back as moved inside you. You were trying to fumble at his the button of his pants but he pushed your hands off him.

With a growl he removed his hands and your underwear from your body, "Not yet, although I'm flattered how desperate you are for me. Turn over, ass in the air, show me what's mine."

You were happy to obey, sliding into one of your favorite positions.

"You're not be very nice, sir," You teased. "You could at least remove your pants."

His hands came down hard on your ass causing you to cry out in pain and pleasure.

"Watch what you say, unless you like being disciplined. You already know I don't tolerate disobedience. And as much as enjoy your screams, don't forget that just because school is over doesn't mean everyone is gone."

You bite your tongue as he spanked you again. He certainly wasn't holding back. But he was right, there were after school clubs and some teachers stayed as late as 8. His fingers found their way inside your warmth again, fluid dripping from your aching cunt. You had adjust to his rhythm of spanking when his fingers were at their deepest. You felt so close to release. When he withdrew from you yet again.

You let out a frustrated groan until his hand made firm contact with your pussy. Once, twice, three times produce a wet spanking sound. You couldn't hold in your tears, thankful you were a glutton for pain.

"You still with me, princess?" He cooed, getting off the bed. You nodded. "Good girl, hold that position for me just a bit longer."

You nodded again, words evading your mind. You appreciated the coolness produced by the cot. Hwajin repositioned the pillow that had fallen on the floor and removed his belt.

Standing next to you on the bed he finally directed you into another position. He helped you stand, barefoot on the linoleum floor. You were held against his chest as you gathered your bearings.

He nuzzled against your hair, "I'm not a gentle man, if you need to stop at any time you say so okay. And that's an order. Can you do that for me princess?"

You told him you would as he helped you sink your knees to the pillow. He ruffled your hair again, telling you how good you looked. Finally he unzipped his pants, his erect dick right in front of you.

"Look at me."

You complied, tearing your ways away from his cock.

"If you want my dick then prove it. Open up that pretty mouth of yours."

He grabbed you by the hair, guiding your lips his shiny tip. Your tongue circled around him, admiring his taste. You weren't usually self conscious but you couldn't help but be nervous you'd disappoint him. As you began wrap your lips around him, Hwajin inhaled sharply. He gave your hair a gentle tug.

"Eyes on me. Good. You're doing so well. All the way to the base, baby."

You were almost there when there was a knock at your door. Hwajin kept his grip firm on you, instead of allowing you to pull back he shoved his throbbing dick down your throat and began fucking your mouth while putting a finger to his lips. He was smirking like the devil. Your throat constricting in protest.

"Excuse me, nurse," one of the school kids called. Knocking again.

"Fuck," Na muttered as he released into your mouth. Tears spilled over your eyes as you struggled to swallow.

The nock persisted, "hellooo? Come on I need to pick up a physical form."

"She's busy, fuck off."

As the footsteps faded down the hall Na released you from his grasp. He couldn't help but laugh at you when you pouted up at him, your were glistening and your cheeks were rosy and puffy. God, next time he swore he would take a photo of you on your knees after sucking his dick.

"Really, you had to open up your loud mouth," You whined. "You could've just pretended no one was here."

He shrugged in response, helping you off the floor.

This time on the cot you were both undressed. Hwajin sucked and bite on your neck. You nudged him off telling him he was gonna leave a mark.

"You're telling me I can't mark up my little whore?"

"Just not where students can see."

That was fair enough, there were other places he'd rather leave bruises. Between your thighs. Your stomach. Your breasts. Proof that he had made you his.

He wouldn't bite too rough, not want to scare you off. He planned on making more of these moments with you. You were better in person. Exceeding his late night fantasies.

Finally he began to slide his cock inside you, your pussy searing with pleasure at his size. It was a struggle to control the volume of your moans.

"Does my little slut like that? You want me to stuff you?"

"Please," You cried, needing more or his touch. "Please don't stop, Sir. Please let me cum on your dick."

Hwajin began to pound harder into your tight pussy, admiring how your body reacted to the sheer force of him. Each time he snapped his hips against you, your lush breasts, along with the rest of your body, followed with an intoxicating jiggle.

You were exactly what he needed and he wished to consume you. His mind flashed to images of you tied up and exposed for him, placing all of your trust in him. Or he could snap a pretty collar around your neck and tie you to the bed with a leash, you would be begging him to fuck you like a bitch.

"Tell me need me," he growled. "That no one else can fuck you into submission and make you dumb with pleasure. Your mine and I don't share."

Tears rushed down your face as a mixture of pain and desire burst the pressure in your core. You clenched around him, babbling what he instructed you to and meaning every word.

The tightness of your orgasm shocked both you and Hwajin. Paired along with your heat pushed the man past his limit, releasing his thick cum inside of you. Even through the near blinding pleasure of his own release Hwajin felt a moment of worry, he hadn't meant to pour himself inside of you, he was fully aware he wasn't wearing protect and had gotten your consent.

Between your gasps and moans you were were repeating a breathy thank you. Unless he had died and gone to Heaven You were actually begging him for more of his seed. Crying out that you needed him to stuff you full. The man nearly confessed his love for you on the spot.

However he maintained his composure. Pressing closer to you and guiding you through the high of your orgasm.

He combed his fingers through your hair, whispering praises and reassurance. Telling you to relax into him, he wasn't going anywhere. Finally your grip on him relaxed as a gluttonous smile graced your lips.

Na propped himself up next to you with his elbow. His other hand cupping your face.

You looked at Hwajin, "This doesn't mean I'm going to ignore your behavior towards the students."

"You know, seeing you protective over a bunch of snot nosed punks makes me want to fuck you until your nine months pregnant. It would keep you out of my hair while you were stuck waddling around home safe and sound. Win-win."

You gawked at him. Joking that you had yet to see any paternal instincts from him.

"I am actually great with children so long as their raised right. Like hell I'd let my kids turn out like these delinquents."

The two of you bantered back and forth while re-dressing. It was dark by the time you exited the school. Na was lighting a cigarette the minute he was past the schools threshold. You began to tell him goodnight where the two of you should naturally part ways but Hwajin caught you by the wrist, a confused expression thrown your way.

“Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet," he said, cigarette hanging from his mouth. You were about to respond when he cut you off. "Round two will be so much better in my bed. You'll be lucky if You leave my place in time for work tomorrow. But we should probably feed you first. I gotta take care of my little nurse."

#hwajin na #smut

[fruitcoops]

Ok so what sbout remus/sirius being too sick to go to an away game so the other one has to go alone, and then tons of facetime conversations and "get well soon" videos from the team?

This is related to this fic about Remus and Finn bonding over terrible reporters--hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, and the Loops/ Talker bonding is for @lee-1012!

TW for illness

“You don’t look so good.” Remus frowned as he held the inside of his wrist against Sirius’ forehead. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Non.” Sirius sat up on his elbows with a groan, then almost immediately flopped back down.

“Yes.” He leaned back on his heels and checked the clock—they had two hours before they had to be at the airport. “Baby, I don’t think you should—”

“ ‘m going.”

“It’s not a good—”

“Gotta go. Games.” Sirius cracked one glassy eye open. “Two weeks away. I’ll take the first couple days off.”

Remus sighed through his nose and brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “You shouldn’t go on the plane if you’re sick. Not just for your sake, but for the rest of us. We don’t need everyone to come down with this.”

He received a halfhearted glare in response, but Sirius finally huffed and curled on his side to nuzzle against his thigh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, baby,” Remus said quietly, bending to kiss his temple. They hadn’t been apart for that long since before he was a player, nearly a year prior. Hell, he had never played a game without Sirius, let alone two weeks’ worth. “Lily will check on you, okay?”

Sirius mumbled an incoherent response and cuddled closer when he began combing his fingers through his hair. The second alarm beeped, loud against the quiet of their bedroom; time to go, he thought ruefully. Sirius touched his knee as he started to stand. “Love you. Be safe.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Go back to sleep,” Remus said as his heart clenched. “I’ll let Coach know what happened, but you’ve got to rest and take care of yourself. Hydrate or die-drate, yeah?”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“Sleep,” he repeated, kissing his forehead once more before hauling himself out of bed and tucking the covers around Sirius’ shoulders. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

------------------------

The clouds were a soft, pastel pink around them as the sun rose—Sirius’ favorite. If his phone was correct, Lily would be there soon to let Hattie out and make sure Sirius wasn’t pushing himself too hard. The thought brought Remus a bit of relief, but not enough to quell his concern.

Talker poked his forearm, snapping him from his reverie. “What’s going on?”

“Just worrying.”

“About Cap?”

Remus waved a hand vaguely. “And Hattie, and Lily, and whether he’s got a cold or something worse. Feels weird being here without him.”

Talker hummed his agreement and offered one of his earbuds. “Want to listen to half of Bohemian Rhapsody with me? It’ll give you five minutes and 55 seconds of relative peace.”

“It’s too quiet,” James groaned just before he pressed ‘play’.

Across the aisle, Remus saw Kasey roll his eyes. “Your husband is sick, dude, not dead. He doesn’t talk to you on planes anyway.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Bliz.”

“Oh my god,” Kasey muttered under his breath, securing his headphones tightly over his ears.

James let his head flop to the side with a baleful look. “Loops, you’re on my side, right?”

“I’ve got you, buddy,” he assured him. Talker stifled a laugh, and the opening chords began as more clouds rolled past. Remus let himself drift with them, taking deep breaths to soothe his worries; Sirius would be fine. He had the sniffles, or at worst the flu, and he would be join them for the second week in top form. There was nothing to worry about.

---------------------------------

“He’s got pneumonia,” Lily sighed.

“He what?”

“A mild case, but the doctor said it would take a week of antibiotics and rest before he’s close to a hundred percent. No hockey for about a month, too.”

Remus stared at the wall of his empty hotel room, lost for words. “Well, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty m—absolutely not, go lay down.” There was a rustling noise and two grumbling voices. “Sorry about that.”

“Will you put me on speaker real quick?” Remus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose until he heard a faint click. “Sirius? You there?”

“Yes! I miss you, and I was just going to tell you that it’s really not that—”

“Please sit your ass down. Lily, if he tries to fuck around and find out exactly how nasty pneumonia is, you have full permission to sit on him. I miss you too, love,” he added after a short pause.

“He’s blowing you a kiss,” Lily informed him. “Oh, and he’s giving me the puppy eyes.”

“Resist if you can. Love you both. Give Hattie lots of cuddles from me.”

“We will,” she promised.

The second the call ended, Remus groaned aloud and thumped his head against the wall before padding down the hall. Just my fucking luck. The door swung open after the second knock; Arthur’s face fell. “How bad is it?”

“Mild pneumonia.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep. Doctor said he’d be out for a month.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes and nodded, motioning Remus back towards his own room. “Get some rest, then. I’ll let everyone know in the morning. Any idea how he got it?”

“Not a clue.”

“Thanks for the update, Loops. Sleep tight.”

“I will,” Remus lied as he headed back for a sleepless night between cold sheets.

----------------------------

Lily sent updates every few hours; most reported that Sirius was sleeping well and looking better with each passing day, but Remus couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly guilty. If something happened while he was hundreds of miles away, he would never forgive himself. He had sworn in front of their closest friends and family to be there in sickness and in health—what kind of husband ditches their partner for one of a million roadies?

This one. He stabbed a piece of broccoli and shoved it in his mouth. And then he goes and makes an idiot of himself for the world to see.

The interview was supposed to be easy, but he couldn’t let it roll off anymore. Not when he couldn’t answer their questions even when he wanted to, not when he was states away from the love of his life while he was sick, not when he felt helpless and shoved aside in every current aspect of his life.

“So.” The chair next to him creaked as Talker planted his full weight in it and set his plate decisively on the table.

“What.”

“Oh, pissy Loops. Haven’t seen you in a while. Talked to Cap yet?”

“Yeah.” Another piece of broccoli fell victim to his frustration.

“How’s he sound?”

“Better.”

“Sweet.” Talker continued to munch away on his dinner. “Anyone ever told you that you have the general disposition of a wet cat when you’re upset?”

Remus tried and failed to keep down a smile. “I seem to recall you bringing it up on occasion, yes.”

His dark eyes softened and he bumped their elbows together. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

“Really, Loops. Cap’s going to be just fine. Lily doesn’t sugar-coat this kind of stuff, and he’s a tough guy. Mild pneumonia doesn’t stand a chance. Besides, we’ve only got four days left and we need you to kick some ass out there.”

If Remus was a little more emotionally vulnerable, he would’ve burst into tears. Instead, he settled for leaning his temple against Talker’s with a quiet ‘thanks’ and allowed himself to be pulled into a side hug. Across the dining hall, Finn shot him a thumbs-up and a wink. “Love you, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Talker teased. “The internet is already coming to your aid, you know.”

“About…?”

“Not only have those asshole reporters become a new meme, you’ve also got a shit ton of people bringing up past mistreatment of athletes in the press room. You’re the face of a revolution, Loops.”

“I’ve been the face of too many revolutions for one person,” he groused, not even bothering to duck out of the way when Talker ruffled his hair.

“Well, one more won’t kill you.”

---------------------------------------

Remus’ heart raced as he stepped off the plane. The logical part of him knew that Sirius would be waiting outside the security gate, but everything else screamed to see him now, now, right now so he could be sure he was alright. At least he had sounded healthier on the phone the night before—Remus wasn’t sure what he would do otherwise.

“Deep breaths,” James reminded him as they walked toward the baggage claim. “I’m sure he’s—”

An excited shout broke through the thick crowds. Remus’ heart skipped a beat, and then he was running, racing through the people that parted for him as his vision tunneled. His carry-on hit the ground with a low thud that he hardly heard as Sirius lifted him straight off the ground and held him tight.

“I love you,” Remus said immediately, locking his ankles around Sirius’ lower back and squeezing his eyes shut. “Are you okay?”

In lieu of a response, Sirius pulled back and kissed him, cradling one side of his face in his warm, warm hand. Two weeks may as well have been an eternity. He broke away after a moment, searching his face for any signs of illness or pain. “I’m fine,” Sirius said softly, as if he could read his mind. “I promise. A little tired and sore, but there’s no lasting damage.”

“Don’t do that again,” Remus said into the side of his neck as he hugged him close. He smelled like home. “Not when I have to leave.”

Sirius’ arms were steady around his back. “I won’t.”

“I’m going to grill you on everything as soon as we get home.”

“I know.”

“But right now, I’m just going to hug you because I missed you and I worried myself into a hole, like, every night.”

He could feel Sirius’ smile against his shoulder. “I know.”

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #thomas walker #talker #james potter #lily potter #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #sick fic

[rafaelblackbird15]

Teen Wolf Fic Recs Part 2: Steter

It took me quite awhile to gather all these together, so please enjoy discovering more parts to the incredible world of Teen Wolf, provided to you by the wonderful writers of our fandom.

Leave comments and kudos for these writers if you can, they really deserve it, they're wonderful. And it's my honour to try and share their creations with tumblr.

These are Steter, Stiles Stilinski/Peter Hale fanfictions. Read them at your will. Check the tags on the actual fics for warnings and such.

I have included links to authors that write a lot of Steter as well, and some of their fics for examples. I'm sorry this post got so long, haha, but enjoy the stories, they're worth it.

If any of the links don't work, just comment and I'll fix it.

Check out my other Sterek fic recs [Part 3] and [Part 4] and Steter fic recs [Part 1]

*********

Broken Bones and Broken Bonds by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 20148

Chapters: 4/?

Summary:

Stiles kind of wished that he’d at least tried weed before this. 

Or something, you know? Maybe taken up a graffiti hobby, or even just skateboarded in front of City Hall often enough to get a citation. 

He wished he’d done something to be deserving of the looks people gave him now, rather than just being the recipient of his dead father’s unused power. 

**********

Stigmata by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1661

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

He feels so hollow that he almost wonders if he's been turned inside out. This emptiness he feels; is it the vastness of the entire world?

How do you fill a world? With people, he supposes. But his people no longer want him.

He needs people.

*********

Beefcake Mountain by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 14565

Chapters: 7/7

Summary:

Shortly after moving back to Beacon Hills, the left hand of the Hale Pack opened a text from a mysterious number.

"Is there a mirror in your pants? Because I can see myself in them."

What the f—

**********

Steter Week 2019 by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

Works: 4

Complete: No

Summary:

There isn't a summary listed so I've included the first fic underneath:

Marvelous Miss and Magnificent Mischief by twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

Words: 3346

Chapters: 1/1

also Part 1 of the Magnificent Mischief series

Summary:

“Marvelous Miss and the Magnificent Mischief!” the carnival barker shouted just outside the corridor with all the food tents. “Come see Miss Paige do amazing tricks with her talking raven! He not only speaks, but he jokes! He teases! He philosophizes!”

********

Author: twothumbsandnostakeincanon(somanyofthekids)

This author has a lot of wonderful Steter fics, and their writing of the pairing is really worth having a good look through.

*******

Blood Runs Cold by Smalls2233 on Archive of Our Own

Words: 111408

Chapters: 22/22

Summary:

“So then why are we letting Scott and Derek search for it if you know it's useless?”

Peter looked down at Stiles and cocked his head with a grin. “Because I think seeing my nephew and your best friend run around like headless chickens while I think up a plan is hysterical.”

“And the plan is…?”

----

Trusting Peter Hale is something that Stiles had repeatedly told himself to never do. He had seen first hand the results of Peter's plans and schemes, but when a shadow began tormenting Beacon Hills, he found that sometimes he'd have to to play along with Peter's games.

This story does include a dose of Chris&Stiles interaction about midway and carries on throughout, and then Chris/Peter towards the midend, which also carries on. And it kind of dissolves into Chris/Peter/Stiles. If that's not your taste, that's fine, because the majority of the story is Stiles/Peter, and that majority is really really good Steter.

**********

No One Listening Tonight by Smalls2233

Words: 6985

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

That left… well it left Peter and only Peter. Relying on Peter for help was only slightly better than stabbing himself through the eye with a hot poker. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Of course, there was always the option of packing up and letting whatever was trying to destroy the town succeed this time. Stiles snorted under his breath as he thought about how that would probably leave him with fewer injuries than dealing with Peter would. But unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Stiles knew he needed to head downtown to Peter’s apartment and pray the man was willing to work with him.

----

Stiles stumbles into a magical trap forged by a wannabe warlock.

*********

Author: Smalls2233

*********

Blue by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3179

Chapters: 2/2

Summary:

Derek brings both Scott and Stiles to the hospital to prove a point about hunters, but Stiles isn’t sure the point he’s getting is the point Derek’s trying to make. Especially when his black and white world explodes into color the moment he looks into Peter Hale’s eyes.

*********

The Long Way Around by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 15569

Chapters: 3/3

Summary:

When Peter leaves Beacon Hills for good, he expects that to be it for the broken bonds of the last remaining members of the Hale pack. Fate and Stiles Stilinski aren’t of the same opinion.

**********

Prowl by Wynnebat on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3454

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Laura's body is never found, but instead of continuing with his murder spree, Peter gets distracted by the scent of his mate. Stiles gets very distracted by the huge wolf that starts showing up at his house all the time.

**********

Author: Wynnebat

This author writes some really interesting, deep stories about Steter that are really beautiful.

**********

your last white lie (everything is not alright) by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 4023

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Stiles says yes, and things go downhill from there.

**********

reflect by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 569

Chapters: 1/1

Part 1 of the dig your teeth in and tear until you taste (peter/stiles oneshots) series

Summary:

(previously posted to tumblr)

When he dreams, he can sometimes still hear his mother’s voice, explaining it to him: Reflections are the price we pay for what we are.

*********

sentire by snowdarkred on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1027

Chapters: 1/1

Part 2 of the dig your teeth in and tear until you taste (peter/stiles oneshots) series

Summary:

[to feel]

Stiles hears the whisper of death before it strikes.

**********

Author:

snowdarkred

This author writes some really intense, interesting stories about Peter and Stiles. Not as long as some fics are, but they're really good adaptions of Steter with a lot of feeling.

**********

The Striking Complication by aurevell on Archive of Our Own

Words: 27235

Chapters: 4/15

Summary:

The smile slips off Stiles’s face. “Hey, um. Why am I here?” he asks, voice unsteady. “I’m—I have this weird feeling like I shouldn’t leave you. I’ve felt all day like...” He can’t finish the thought.

Peter looks as surprised as Stiles feels. A strange expression passes over his face, there and gone before Stiles can decipher it.

Stiles snaps awake each morning with the sense that he’s missing something. Weirder still, he can’t wrap his head around his sudden, inexplicable trust in Peter Hale, who seems to know way more than he’s letting on. Nor can he guess why a half-remembered nightmare seems to haunt his every move.

Rinse and repeat. Because time loops suck, apparently.

*******

Author: aurevell

This author has 11 Teen Wolf fics under their belt. 5 Sterek and 6 Steter. Happy rummaging!

**********

the teeth right down to the blood by sazzafraz on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2133

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

‘We’re pretty fucked right now.’ Scott says. Stiles doesn’t speak but there’s something singing in his bones that says Scott got the message anyway. (In which both are bit and things are gruesome.)

This has a sprinkling of Scott/Stiles, Scott/Stiles/Peter, and Scott/Allison as well as Steter, but it's worth the read, a good story with an interesting concept.

*********

Author: sazzafraz

This author doesn't have that many Steter stories, although they do have a few. Although they do have some pretty lengthy Teen Wolf fics about other characters of the show.

***********

Everything goes (wow) by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 8215

Chapters: 5/5

Part 1 of the Aranea & Babewolf series

Summary:

It was supposed to go like this:

1. Peter summons demon to the circle.

2. Demon remains in said circle until Peter outlines their contract.

3. Demon agrees to elegantly crafted contract, becoming loyally bound to Peter and Peter alone.

Instead, the creature steps casually out of the circle, tosses its things onto the leather sofa, and starts immediately meddling in Peter’s immaculate space, touching all of Peter’s very expensive things.

*********

It's only by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2905

Chapters: 3/5

Part 2 of the Aranea & Babewolf series

Summary:

“Darling, please don’t pout.”

“You’re pouting.” Stiles pouts, from the upper corner of the library, everything from his hip bones down an angry mass of hissing fangs and venomous chelicerae. “Why would we ever go back to that garbage town? Everyone there is the worst, the only good thing is the very rad and awesome curse I laid.”

*********

You are a memory by midmorning_bomb on Archive of Our Own

Words: 900

Chapters: 1/1

Part 2 of the Little glimpse series

Summary:

If he has to bleed to breathe warmth back into Peter’s icy body, he will.

Because Peter’s done the same for him.

********

Author: midmorning_bomb

This author has 16 Steter fics. A little unfriendly to some of the other characters, but it's only kind of obvious because it's not subtle about it, and not exactly underserved. Has some really interesting ideas as well as some kind, well developed Steter. Definitely have a read through.

***********

#steter fic rec #steter #stiles x peter #peter x stiles #peter and stiles #stiles and peter #teen wolf #fanfiction #fic rec #fic recs #teen wolf fic rec #stiles/peter #peter/stiles #ian bohen #dylan o'brien #teen wolf fandom #fandom #fanfic #the hales #peter hale #peter hale and stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski #stiles pairing #stiles ship

[dr3amofagame]

originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol

(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)

but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3 

i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)

tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault

Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.

Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.

“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.

“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”

“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages  and then we get here and nobody’s here-”

“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.

“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”

Sam pauses.

“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”

“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”

The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”

“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”

Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”

Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.

“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”

“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”

Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.

Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”

Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.

“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”

Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.

“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”

“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”

“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”

Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.

“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”

“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”

Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”

“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”

“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”

“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”

The world goes white.

[Dream was blown up by Dream.]

[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]

[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]

#-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !! #-> my asks #tw torture #tw abuse #tw injuries #tw suicide #tw murder #tw explosion #tw death #tw violence #tw emotional distress #prison arc #pandora's vault

[applerubyy]

Ciao Adios

Summary: When you find your boyfriend cheating on you yo decide to expose him in the pettiest way you can think of.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (some Loki x Reader if you squint)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cheating and cursing (I think that’s it?)

A/N: Hi! So this is my first time writing and posting anything here so if its terrible please tell me nicely :). This is some AU where everyone lives and all is happy ok? Also english is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Anyway, if it turns out that some of you like it I think I’d be willing to do a part 2 if you like. Hope you enjoy it! <3. Btw, the gif is not mine so credit to whoever made it.

Crack. That’s the sound of your heart breaking, ripped to pieces in just a few seconds. And no, you were not exaggerating. Seeing your boyfriend kissing someone else while taking off their clothes would do that to a person. And in his office of all places.

How did you not see that coming? They had a lot in common and they did spend a lot of time together but you were just so naïve thinking that he was the most trust-worthy person ever that you looked the other way and believed him when he told you she was “just a friend”. 

Just a friend my ass you thought as you calmly walked to your room. No running, that would draw attention to you and you didn’t need that. No crying either, because once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop. Walking down the hallway and taking the elevator to your floor feels like it takes forever. 

Time is funny that way. It has that annoying tendency to slow down or speed up at the worst times. Like when you were in college and the clock seemed to literally stop, you would look at the time and it was 10:20 am and check again after what felt like half an hour for it to be 10:25 am. Or like when you are having fun with your friends at a club and you see it’s 12:30 but when you look again a few minutes later it’s 2:40. Right now it feels like the former, time seems to have slowed down. Maybe Dr. Strange did something to it? No, that’s stupid, he wouldn’t play with time that way.

Finally the elevator pings open and you rush to your room. Well, it’s not only your room anymore. You share it with him and everything is a reminder of what you just saw. The art supplies on the desk by the window, the famous shield leaning against the wall near the door, the messy bed where you sleep together every night …

And every single thing brings tears to your eyes until finally, the dam breaks and you let the tears fall down. You bring your hand to your mouth to muffle a sob that brings you to your knees. Crying is the only thing you can do right now because your brain is stuck on a loop. All you can see is Steve kissing her, unbuttoning her shirt with one hand while the other grabbed her ass. And all you can hear are their moans, Sharon’s whimper when he touched her and his groan as he did so. 

And now you are full on crying and choking on air because that scene keeps replaying itself over and over no matter how much you want it to stop. And you do, Gosh you do because there is so much your heart can take and this is too much. It shatters you in more ways than one. It makes you question everything you thought you knew about him, about her, about your relationship and about yourself.

You remember the first time you met him. You were already in college and looking for an internship. Luckily you happened to be the niece of the one and only Pepper Potts. And who wouldn’t want to work near Earth's mightiest heroes? You sure did. You were studying journalism and communications in New York and working with the Avengers was the ultimate dream, one that was about to come true.

Your first day was uneventful, it consisted mainly of coffee runs, delivering files and passing messages along. That was until your third coffee run where you ran straight into a wall, well actually it wasn’t a wall but it felt like it. The coffee spilled everywhere, on your clothes and his, and you were going to fall on your butt if it wasn’t for him grabbing your arms to steady you. Imagine your surprise when you looked up to see Captain America himself.

And that’s the moment your love story started. It seemed like something straight out of a romantic comedy and you loved it. It started with flirting, a date and then another, him asking you to be his girlfriend and finally asking you to move in once you graduated. It felt like a fairytale.

Tony wasn't very happy about you and the Capsicle but he saw how happy you were so he tried to be happy too. Tony was your uncle even if you didn’t share any blood. Growing up you would visit your aunty Pepper in New York and he was always around, you even stayed at his house when Pepper and him had to work. So, you two became really close even before he became Iron Man and started dating your aunt. 

The same thing happened with Rhody. Your close relationship with Tony meant you were close to him too, seeing as he was one of the most important people in his life. Rhody treated you like his niece and was the only one he didn’t make fun of which you took as the ultimate compliment. 

So those three you knew before you started working at the compound and before Steve. But once you started working there you met the rest of the Avengers. Being Pepper and Tony's niece and Steve's girlfriend meant they all wanted to get to know you. 

You met Bruce Banner, the Hulk, and you became really close. But that was thanks to his close relation with Tony and all the time you spent with him working on his social media presence to make sure people saw him as more than just the green monster who smashes things. After a while of working there they promoted you and now you manage the Avengers social media.

Nat and Wanda became your best friends from the moment you met. You just clicked and hung out as much as possible, being the only girls on the team meant they were really happy to have another female added to the mix. As for Vision, he liked you because Wanda did, simple as that.

Bucky and Sam were the funniest people ever, their constant bickering always brought a smile to your face and they welcomed you with open arms. Happy that their friend had finally found someone to be with.

Thor and Clint were like the fun uncles you got to see every once in a while. The God of Thunder was like an excited puppy and would hug you till you couldn’t breath every time he came to Earth and Clint would joke around with you and FaceTime you when he was with his kids because they loved you (“best babysitter ever” that called you).

You met Peter when he started working for your uncle. He was a sweet kid and your love of memes, vines and pop culture made you instant friends. He would ask you for advice on girls and tell you science jokes.

But we all know not all fairytales have a happy ending and this one definitely didn’t. You’re feeling so many things at once. There’s anger, sadness, jealousy and something else you can’t put your finger on. You keep crying and are unable to move from your kneeling position on the floor. Checking the clock you realize you’ve been on the floor crying for an hour so you stand up.

Taking a shower seems like the best thing to do, your head is pounding and your face is all puffy. As you shower it hits you, that other feeling swirling around is inevitability. In a way you always thought he was too good for you, you always thought he would eventually get tired of you and trade you for someone else. 

It just hurt too much that it was her, the woman he shared so much with. The niece of Peggy Carter, his first love. An agent of S. H. I. E. L. D.  Someone who risked their life for the world like he did. Someone prettier. Someone better than you.

Yeah, you were definitely on a self-pity party. But you needed to be miserable for a while, to cry it all out, to hurt so that you could move on to the next stage of grief: anger. And when that came, there was no stopping you.

You weren’t a mean person, or a petty one. You gave everyone countless opportunities and forgave way too easily so you never really got angry. But when you did, when you said enough is enough, yeah, you better watch out. That could be the meanest bitch you ever met and she had no mercy.

So you got out of the shower, dried yourself and started getting ready. Tony was throwing yet another party about who knows what and you were not missing it. You liked parties, they were the perfect excuse for wearing pretty dresses and putting on make up. And tonight you were going all out. 

Your inner bitch was concocting a plan and you were going with it.

You hear the door open and prepare yourself to put on the best acting of your life. You take a deep breath and in the sweetest voice you can muster say: “Steve is that you babe?”

“Yeah doll it’s me” you hear him say. A few second later he pops into the bedroom and gives you a peck on the lips as you continue with your makeup.

“How was your day?” Steve asks as he takes off his clothes, probably to take a shower. “I missed you today, i went by your office but you weren’t there” he says with a small frown between his eyes. You could stare at his blue eyes forever but snap out of it when you remember what he did. 

“Oh not much, i left work earlier to get ready for tonight” you answer. Shit your work. You really did leave like that, but after tonight hopefully they’ll understand. “You should start getting ready, the party starts in thirty minutes”.

He smiles at you and tells you he’s going to take a quick shower before getting dressed. He goes to the bathroom and you feel like breaking the mirror but instead take a few deep breaths and remind yourself he’s getting what he deserves later on. With that in mind you finish applying you makeup and smile at yourself, you look good. Moving on to your hair you decide to do some loose waves and that’s it, you really don’t know how to make those complicated updos.

Steve gets out of the shower and starts putting on his suit. Men really do have it easier you think to yourself when you see all the work you had to do and he just showers and that’s it.

You take your dress out of the closet and admire it. It really is beautiful. It has a deep plunging neckline that shows a lot of cleavage and is skin tight with a slit on one side. The fact that it is silver with sequins makes it even better. Pepper helped you pick this dress. 

You put on the dress and admire yourself in the mirror. You look good. Behind you, you hear a whistle and turn around to see Steve watching you lust in his eyes. He comes closer and grabs you by the waist, pulling you to him.

“You look stunning” he says as he wets his bottom lip. “I can’t wait to take it off of you when we get back”. Lying cheating bastard.

“Can't wait” you lie as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. This is just a kiss goodbye you tell yourself. One last kiss before he’s out of your life and probably runs to her. Tears threaten to fill your eyes but you hold them down. Not now.

You break the kiss when the need to breathe is too strong. Grabbing his hand you start walking towards the door and say: “Come on, we’re already late”.

——————————————————————————

The party had already started once you walk in and in true Tony fashion it is elegant and extravagant. Everyone is there: S. H. I. E. L. D. agents, the Avengers themselves, politicians and a few famous people. 

You and Steve walk to the bar and order drinks. A whiskey for him and a strawberry daiquiri for you, yes you are that basic but hey, it tastes awesome. He offers you his arm and with drinks in your hands you start looking for your friends. A lot of people stop you on the way, nobody wants to miss an opportunity to talk to Captain America.

One thing, or rather on person, catches your attention: Loki. He’s sitting on one of the cushions alone with a drink in his hand. It’s weird to see him there. Sure, he was redeeming himself for what he did in 2012 and Thor said he was doing better but he rarely left Asgard (he “hated mortals”) and when he did come to Earth it wasn’t for a party.

As if he could feel you staring he turns his head and locks his eyes with yours. You weren’t going to lie, he was gorgeous. He was incredibly tall, had those charming green eyes and was actually funny (but you’d never admit that to anyone). But you were in love with Steve and never saw him as anything more than Thor's hot brother. And everyone in the Avengers was hot so that’s not saying much.

You turn away from him and see Nat and Wanda on the dance floor and you tell Steve you’ll see him later and to go find his friends. He’ll need them after tonight you think to yourself. You greet the girls and start dancing with them, for a moment forgetting about what you saw today and putting Loki out of your mind.

The three of you decided to take a break and order some more drinks. Once at the bar Wanda orders for you and when your drinks arrive you go back to the dance floor. You spend the next few hours dancing, talking to your friends and pretending that nothing's wrong. Talking to Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Hugging Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong. Kissing Steve and pretending that nothing's wrong.

The fact that Sharon is at the party doesn’t help at all. When you see her talking or touching him you feel like you’re gonna lose it but you remain strong. You remind yourself of your plan and try to keep them out of your mind.

There’s a small stage at the far end of the room and you see your uncle Tony step on it and grab the microphone.

“Hello everyone and thank you for coming to another one of my amazing parties. I hope you are having a good time and taking advantage of the free bar over there” he points to the other side of the room and continues, “Now for what we have all been waiting for: karaoke! And yes, i want everyone to sing something because that’s the whole point of this. I'm looking at you Manchurian Candidate, you’re singing”.

With that he gets off the stage and passes the mic to Sam who decided to sing a Marvin Gaye song. He’s pretty good actually but you can’t fully concentrate on him because your mind is going a thousand miles an hour for what it’s going to happen later.

More people go up and sing their songs and you applaud when they’re done. Nobody is talking much, they're all too busy either laughing at the others performance, drinking or actually listening to the songs. You’re sitting with Steve to your right, Bruce to your left and the rest of the Avengers nearby. You’re your own little group.

It’s finally your turn and as you walk to the stage you can hear your friends whistling and cheering you on. Once you’re up on the stage you choose the song and start singing. 

Ask you once, ask you twice now

There's lipstick on your collar

You say she's just a friend now

Then why don't we call her?

So you wanna go home with someone

To do all the things you used to do to me

I swear, I know you do

Used to take me out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when I ring you up

Don't know where you are

'Til I hear her say your name

Used to sing along when you played guitar

That's a distant memory

Hope she treats you better than you treated me, ha

As you continue singing you get more and more confident and take the mic. You walk off the little stage and over to your friends while dancing and you can see them smiling, clapping and having fun. They have no idea how much i mean all of this you think. You look at Steve and he’s completely oblivious. Good, you want to take him by surprise. You arrive at your little circle of friends and start singing the chorus.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

Ciao adios, I'm done

Ciao adios, I'm done

You keep dancing and go back to back with Wanda who’s also singing along. You then turn to Nat and she grabs your hand and makes you do a little spin. 

After three, after four times

Why did I bother?

Tell me how many more times

Does it take to get smarter?

Don't need to deny the hurt and the lies

And all of the things you did to me

I swear, I know you did

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You go up to Tony and he starts dancing around you busting out some dad moves. You laugh and keep on singing and dancing.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her

Kissing and having fun

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (no, no, no, no)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

And now you take her out in your fancy car

And make out in the rain

And when she rings you up

She know where you are

But I know differently

Now she sings along when you play guitar

Making brand new memories

Hope you treat her better than you treated me

You walk back to the stage as you sing and step up. You put the mic back into place and sing the last part of the song.

I'm onto you, yeah you

I'm not your number one

I saw you with her (with her)

Kissing and having fun (and fun)

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done (I'm done)

Ciao adios, I'm done (you get on with your life, I'll get on with my life)

Ciao adios, I'm done

If you're giving her all of your money and time

I'm not gonna sit here wasting mine on you, yeah, you

Ciao adios, I'm done

When you’re done people are clapping and cheering and you look to your friends to see them all smiling. You look at everyone and make a little mock bow and when you straighten you see Loki sitting on the same couch as before. But this time he’s looking at you and he’s laughing, not smiling and cheering but actually laughing.

You look back at your friends and say “Thank you, thank you” with a smile on your face. You continue , “I wanted to dedicate this song to my boyfriend Steve” you point at him.

“In case it wasn’t clear enough, i wanted to tell you that i saw you with Sharon”. You could hear a pin drop. No one was talking and all eyes were on you. This is what you wanted, to humiliate him as much as he did you. And what better way to do it than publicly? Oh but you weren’t done.

You could see Steve's face going pale and nobody knew where to look, if at you or at him. Tony look ready to murder him as did Rhody, Pepper, Peter and Bruce. Thor, Clint and Vision looked shocked. But Bucky, Sam, Nat and Wanda looked guilty.

Your heart breaks a little more when you realize they knew. You can’t really blame Bucky and Sam for not telling you, they were Steve's friends after all. But you thought the girls were your friends, that they would have told you. Apparently you overestimated that friendship.

You keep on smiling and continue “So… I’m breaking up with you. Hope she was a good fuck and wasn’t uncomfortable with the fact that you were once in love with her aunt”. You do a dramatic pause and make a little disgusted face. “Anyway, if I’m lucky i´ll never see you again. Have a great life!”

And with that, you walk off the stage and make your way to your friends. Steve is rooted to the spot and his face is red with embarrassment. You walk up to him, look him straight in the eye and give him an evil smile. He gulps and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something and then closes it. He does is two more times and still nothing comes out.

You turn to your group and look at Wand and Nat, who can’t seem to be able to look you in the eye. You sigh and say: “Who want enemies when they can have you as their best friends right?”. They look up then and start talking. Telling you how sorry they are and to please forgive them. You raise your hand to silence them and they do.

You go to your aunt and uncle who look like there should be smoke coming out of their ears and say: “I’m gonna stay in a hotel for the night, can’t stand to be here anymore”. Tony scrunches his eyebrows and look at you like you’re crazy.

“Hell no. You’re staying here. We can find him another room to sleep in but you’re not leaving. If anyone’s leaving is Mr. Star-spangled over there” he practically screams the last part as he points at Steve.  

You take a deep breath and hug him. It takes him by surprise but he puts his arms around you. “I appreciate it uncle Tony but i can’t stay at the compound, it just hurts too much” you say as you let go. Turning to your aunt you hug her as well and say: “Thank you for everything but I quit”.

The moment those words leave your mouth everyone starts talking at the same time telling you how crazy you are and to think about it. You just smile at them and tell them you already made up your mind. “I'm gonna go pack a bag and ask Happy to take me to a hotel nearby. Please make sure he doesn’t follow” you say as you point to a still red-faced Captain America. 

With that you turn around and leave. The room is silent for a few seconds before you hear your friends all screaming at Steve. You look around for a second and notice that Loki is staring at you with a smirk on his face. When you look him in the eye he raises his glass at you ant takes a sip. 

You give him a small smile and walk through the doors towards the elevator.  

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #loki x reader #loki imagine #tony stark #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction

[plant-flwrs]

hi! could you do a draco x reader imagine where it’s enemies to lovers and one night at a party draco gets drunk and confesses his feelings?

drunk // draco malfoy

masterlist!

a/n: i literally had an idea exactly like this n my drafts omg but it was smut :0 wut r the odds. n e way, hope u like it, thanks for the request anon!!

summary: You and Draco are enemies until one drunken night leads to a confession of secret feelings.

(4.4k)

----------

It was no secret that the Slytherin house was plagued by Draco Malfoy. The house was split; people who went along with Malfoy’s bullying and those who hated the boy. You were proud to say you definitely did not get along with Draco.

Over the many years of mutual torment between the two of you, you had both improved on your ways you made the other’s life a living hell.

This week, you had decided to casually mention to Ron that in his sleep, Draco sucked his thumb. You had no idea if this was true, of course, but you knew Ron would tell everyone he knew. 

In retort, Draco had been stealing any of your school work you left out in the common room. He would return it a few days later with all your work erased. 

This was typical. It would have been unusual if you didn’t have the added stress Draco gave you.

The worst part was the classes you shared. You shared a fair amount of them, being in the same house and finding a lot of your courses to be the same. The both of you were fairly smart, proving to be good competition. 

Charms was your least favorite. You had an awful memory, and when you had to remember the physical movements with the vocal spell, you struggled miserably. Draco did fine in Charms, which made it even worse.

Today was particularly difficult, having to memorize at least ten spells, each with different movements and verbal aspects. You sulked out of the room, loosening your green tie in frustration.

“Finding Charms a little hard today?” Draco mocked, raising his voice so it mimicked that of a baby’s.

“Not as hard as that Transfiguration test was for you last week. How much like a tea pot did your poor little mouse look like? I seem to recall it still had its tail,” you retorted, feeling better already about Charms as you looked at Draco’s sour expression.

“So what? What good will a mouse teapot do me? At least I can cast a gouging charm without nearly killing half the class,” Draco shot back, taking an intimidating step closer to you.

The two of you stood off in the middle of the hallway. This often happened after Charms, for it was the last class of the day and neither of you had anything better to do than shout at each other.

You rolled your eyes at the boy and crossed your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t even come close to killing anyone, Draco. Your such a drama queen,” you teased him, enjoying the flush on his cheeks. 

“Oh shut up,” he managed to still sound fierce, even with the pink hint on his face.

“Gonna cry about it?” you teased further, hoping to rile him up more.

He squinted his eyes at you and gave you one last critical look. He lifted his lip in a sneer and stalked off, Goyle and Crabbe following after him.

That was how you and Draco interacted. You would tease him, press his buttons, and he would get incredibly angry. It either ended with his storming off, or him saying something hurtful enough that actually made you sink to his level. He didn’t do it very frequently, because usually it resulted in him having a bruised eye for a few weeks.

You were happy to stand up to Draco, because not many other people did it. He was often too favored by Snape to ever get too badly hurt by Harry, and everyone else was too scared of him. Snape didn’t often interfere with the interactions between you and Draco, and you assumed he simply did not care.

You left Charms for the day feeling significantly more confident than when you had entered. You failed miserably at the assignments, and that upset you, but your little victory over Draco made up for it. You walked with Pansy to the Black Lake, books clutched tight to your chest as shields against the cold air nipping your skin. Your scarf clung to your neck and did its best to defend your vulnerable lips.

“You really can’t go?” you asked again, adding a slight whine to your voice.

“I can’t,” Pansy replied regretfully, “I’ve got loads of work to do, and my mum’s been on me about it recently.”

Pansy had fallen behind in more than a few of her courses. You supposed you could blame yourself a little, but didn’t like to think that hard about it. You and Pansy had been fast and loose recently, attending almost any and every party you could find, and spending a little more money than usual on certain substances. You justified it, though, thinking you’d be spending just as much at Hogsmeade every weekend.

“It won’t be any fun without you, though,” you said, still hoping she would change her mind.

“You’ll have Daphne,” Pansy said teasingly, “give her enough firewhisky and she’s a hoot.”

You giggled with Pansy, thinking back to the last time Daphne got drunk at a party. She had climbed on almost every elevated surface to dance, and when she ran out of tables to stand on, she had tried walking on the heads of the nearest first years.  

“Can I help you on some of your work? Get it out of the way?” you offered, practically desperate at this point.

“Would you? That might actually work,” Pansy exclaimed, rushing to the nearest tree to sit against with her school things.

You trailed after her, sitting next to her and pulling out some of your quills. You looked dutifully at Pansy’s Ancient Runes work, starting to write in your best attempt at your best friend’s handwriting. 

You knew there was an ulterior motive in wanting Pansy at the party, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. She was usually the only person who could effectively stop you from drunkenly interacting with Draco. She was the only one who could keep you two separate. As much as you hated Draco, something in your drunk subconscious always made you drawn to him. You needed her at that party.

Pansy stole a glance from her Potions work, looking at you. She smiled thankfully, tucking her short hair behind her ear and returning to her work.

The two of your worked silently for as long as you could, but the sun was against you. It crept away, hiding behind trees and clouds. The two of you began to collect Pansy’s scattered books in the dusk, some faint and lingering sunlight peaking through trees branches lighting the ground. You pulled your robes closer to you, feeling the air get colder as the sun was no longer there to warm you. You and Pansy struggled back to the castle, avoiding stray tree roots carefully. 

The both of you heard leaves crunching from a few feet away. You ignored it, figuring it was just some other students making their way up to the castle for dinner, too. The light was fading more and more, and you and Pansy were just about to clamber out of the heavily forested area when something hard knocked into your shoulder from behind. Draco had come from the left of you, walking past you and throwing his shoulder into yours. You stumbled forwards, but Pansy’s vigilant hand was quick to steady you before you could fall forwards.

“Merlin!” you said out of surprise, before you realized who it was.

His hair looked white in the moonlight that now illuminated the field. The bottom half of his face was shadowed by a tree, but you could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was smirking. You rolled your eyes, feeling your feet firmly planted on the ground again, and began walking past Draco with Pansy’s arm looped in yours.

“Scare ya?” Draco snarled, taking a few long strides to walk in pace with you and Pansy.

“The only thing about you that scares me, Draco, is your nasty breath,” you said, pretending to sound sweet.

Draco scoffed, and you made a disgusted face, pretending to smell his breath from the few feet you were away from him.

“Honestly Draco,” Pansy said from beside you, struggling to hide her smile but going along with your joke and lifting her hand to cover her nose, “you’d think some of your daddy’s money would go towards toothpaste.”

You laughed earnestly, looking to Draco so you wouldn’t miss the offended face you knew he always made. He wasn’t doing it though, his brows weren’t furrowed and his lips weren’t curled. He looked off. His eyes narrowed but his lips were spread into some sort of crooked grin.

You narrowed your eyes back at him in suspicion, which he noticed. He quickly snapped out of whatever he was in, and his usual sneer was directed towards you and Pansy as he sulked off to the castle.

You and Pansy sat at the Slytherin table in your usual spots. Draco was a few people away from the both of you, as he usually was, but you both ignored him. It was easy to do, especially recently. Blaise had taken a peculiar interest in Pansy, and wherever Blaise went followed his friend Klein. 

Blaise was busy fawning over Pansy, watching her with a dazed look as she brushed her hair from her face. Klein kept his eyes locked on you, something you did not mind.

The boy was a year ahead of you, and he was the interest of just about every Slytherin girl. His green eyes were piercing, especially against the black hair that fell onto his forehead. He always kept his tie remarkably straight, and you often found yourself twirling it in your fingers to tease him. 

Tonight, he and Blaise walked with you and Pansy around the grounds before curfew. 

“Are you going to the party on Saturday?” Blaise asked Pansy, bringing his arm up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, and upon seeing your pitiful face she continued, “I’ll try, but no guarantees.”  

“Are you going?” Klein asked you, pulling a hand from his pocket to adjust his green tie.

“Of course,” you smirked, “I would never miss a party.”

Klein stared at you for a moment longer, and aware of his gaze, you bit your lip. You liked to mess with him, he was always so uptight and serious, it was fun to see him unwind just at your little actions.

You and Pansy said goodnight to the boys as you went to the girls dorms. 

The next day was odd, for as you came down the stairs to the common room, you saw Draco. It was not odd to see Draco in the common room, but it was odd for him to not immediately find you in a room and insult you. Instead, he merely locked his eyes with yours and stared at you. When you crinkled your face in confusion, he looked away, turning his attention back down to the book perched in his lap.

“Ready for breakfast?” Pansy asked, coming from behind you on the stairs.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, still looking at Draco as you followed her out of the common room.

In Potions, Draco didn’t torment you. In Transfiguration, he only stared at you, no sneer or grimace present. Most strangely, in Charms, he didn’t even bat an eye when your wand movement was off and your spell rebounded and hit Hannah Abbot. 

You apologized to Hannah profusely, even offering to walk her to the infirmary as her hand began to swell two times its normal size. She blushed, obviously embarrassed by the affliction, but insisted she could go by herself. She made sure you knew she forgave you, smiling politely as you followed her to the door and watched her go down the hallway. You shouted one last apology at her as she turned the corner, and she lifted her swelled hand in a friendly wave. 

Draco watched the entire interaction from his seat, his eyes following you as you held Hannah’s large hand in yours to look at the damage you caused. He looked at the guilty expression on your face, the red tint in your cheeks. He felt two things bubbling in his stomach: adoration and rage. He felt adoration, as he had been feeling for you for a while, and felt rage because he felt this way.

He swallowed hard as your eyes met his. In your flustered and guilty state, you shot him an annoyed look. He widened his eyes, embarrassed to be caught staring, and plunged his face downward to look back into his Charms textbook.

Draco had been weird lately, you noticed. For it was the third day, Friday by now, of no loud arguments in the hall, no insults in the common room, and not even a stray dinner roll being launched at your head during dinner (yes, he did that often). You and Pansy, however, were too busy doing her late work to do anything about Draco. She really was behind, and it was hard for you to do her late work as you had new assignments to do yourself. Pansy found a similar difficulty, leading you both to spend your Friday night poured over textbooks in the common room.

“Hard at work, girls?” you and Pansy looked up to see Blaise and Klein.

They fell into the couch across form you where you sat at a wooden desk against the wall. You had pulled two large armchairs to the table, the leather giving you some sort of relief as you bent over the work. Klein’s long arms stretch the length of the two person couch, and his stalky fingers tapped against it. Blaise leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at Pansy. Klein eyed you hungrily, obviously enjoying the sight of your tie undone and your skirt riding up as you sat with your legs tucked beneath you.

Normally, you and Pansy would have engaged the boys, entertained yourselves with their mindless presence, but you had real things to do. Blaise and Klein may have been handsome, but they definitely weren’t the company you wanted right now.

“Hello Blaise,” Pansy mumbled tiredly, not looking up from the Transfiguration essay she was about to finish, “how’re you?”

“I’m alright,” he said airily, leaning back into the couch and taking Pansy’s simple question as an invitation to stay and talk.

You fought the urge to groan, not looking up form the Arithmancy problems you scrawled over and over. 

“How about we sneak to the kitchens tonight?” Klein suggested, and you heard the smirk in his voice without having to look at him.

“We’re busy,” you said curtly, clenching your jaw as you came across a difficult set of numbers.

Pansy looked up at you from her paper, flashing you a warning look. You rolled your eyes, giving her an exasperated look. She raised her eyebrows, her face becoming stern. You sighed, releasing the tight grip on your quill.

“I’m sorry boys,” you forced your sweetest voice, “we’ve got loads of homework to do before the party tomorrow. Another time?”

Blaise looked disappointed, but accepting. Klein stood to his full height, and your eyes followed him as he grew. He looked down at you with a playful smirk, licking his lips.

“Of course. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded and Pansy waved kindly to Blaise. You decided then that you were no longer interested in Klein. He had been fun when he got flustered just from a glance, but now he was becoming like every other teenage boy. His smirks made you want to gag, and his lingering looks were creepy. You figured you’d tell him tomorrow night, if you still cared that much by then. 

You and Pansy continued to work until Pansy slouched back in her chair and groaned loudly.

“I can’t get it done tonight. I’ll have to work on it tomorrow,” she pouted, but looked resolute.

You didn’t bother to attempt another guilt trip, or convince her otherwise. Pansy’s mind was made up. You had to go to this party alone. Pansy wouldn’t let you stay in the dorm all night with her, either, so it’s not like you even had a choice. At least Klein wouldn’t bother you. He seemed to only have the guts to come up to you if Blaise did too, and he wouldn’t come up to you if you weren’t with Pansy. Now all you had to do was make sure not to get roped into an argument with Draco. You had to be the bigger person for one night and make sure you wouldn’t do anything you’d regret in the morning.

Pansy was right, she couldn’t get all her work done that night. She sat on her bed with books sprawled around her. You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the clothe hugging your body. You looked good, you felt good.

“You’re going to be fine,” Pansy reassured you for the tenth time as you sat at the end of her bed, “you can go to parties without me.”

“Okay, but if I come back here tonight having lost a shoe or something, it’s your fault,” you joked, smiling as Pansy laughed.

You, Daphne, and Millicent stayed in your dorm for a little while longer. You moved some clothes around in your trunk, lifting a hidden compartment at the bottom. You retrieved two bottles of firewhisky, handing them to Daphne and Millicent. You closed your trunk, meeting the impressed expressions of the girls. Usually Fred and George Weasley provided alcohol for the school, known for their impressive parties. You and Pansy, however, had your own supply you liked to keep for rainy days. While this wasn’t a rainy day, you couldn’t help the need for a little liquid courage as you had to go to your first party without your best friend. You took the bottle from Millicent and Pansy giggled as she looked up from her Ancient Rune dictionary to watch you take a large swig of the drink.

You felt it burn as it traveled down your throat, and it spread through your body like a warm blanket. You handed the bottle back to Millicent, and the three of you finished off an entire bottle. You didn’t want to go downstairs until you heard the music become loud enough, and by the time you were putting the empty bottle back in your trunk, the party roared downstairs. 

The three of you said goodbye to Pansy and went to the common room. The music became louder and louder as you got closer to the party. Soon, Daphne was dragging you and Millicent to a large table with assorted drinks. You watched a boy on the other side of the table pouring himself a heavy amount of a clear liquid. He met your eyes and handed you the bottle. You looked at the label but all that was there was a cartoon drawing of a witch with bubbles spouting from her mouth. You raised your eyebrow at the boy, and he smiled, taking a sip of his drink. You filled your own cup with the liquid, drinking it quickly. It burned more than the firewhisky did, but it was still enjoyable.

You felt your head feel lighter as Daphne clasped onto your hand to pull you out to the dance floor. You danced with her, and as you moved your cup slid from your hand. You and Daphne looked at it for a moment, the cup spilled over as a wet spot formed on the carpet. You looked back up at each other and fell into a fit of giggles. 

You continued to dance, looking around the crowd with ease. You felt like someone was staring at you, but you couldn’t find anyone in particular. The music and alcohol coursed through your veins. You felt lighter than you had in months, no worrying thoughts of homework or boys, or even Draco Malfoy.

The second you thought about how you weren’t thinking about Malfoy, you were immediately thinking about him. Part of you missed the hateful sparks between you, the natural narrow of your eyes at the sight of him. 

Your body tensed involuntarily, and your drunk subconscious was already hoping to see his blond hair in the crowd. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking of what to say so Draco’s stern face would devolve into a furious expression. 

You slowed next to Daphne, a wicked look overtaking your dazed face.

“What is it?” Daphne shouted into your ear, pulling you closer by your arm.

“I’ve got to go find someone,” you shouted back, “I’ll be back in a second.”

You were moving through the crowd before Daphne could reach out and stop you. A small voice in the back of your head sounded a bit like Pansy, her familiars warnings from the last party you were at with Draco. She had found you as you were just about to pour your drink down his front, and her soothing words floated into your drunken mind like good-natured clouds.

“He’s not worth it, honestly. All the stress he causes you is going to give you wrinkles, you don’t want wrinkles. Leave him be,” Pansy was right then and she would have been right again. Alas, Pansy was not here and her words did not echo loud enough in your head as you finally found the blond.

He was draped across a leather couch. His legs dangled off the arm as his head was perched on a pile of blankets. At the floor, Crabbe and Goyle hunched over, goblets clutched loosely in their seemingly unconscious hands. Draco’s eyes were closed, his long eyelashes delicately hovering over his pink flushed cheeks. His hair was pushed off his forehead, falling in handsome tufts onto the blankets under him. You stood there for a moment, interchanging which leg to rest your weight on.

“Are you going to say something,” Draco suddenly drawled, barely loud enough to be heard over the music, “or are you content to sit in silence for once?”

You scoffed, taking a breath that made your chest rise. You walked towards him, curling your warm fingers around his legs and flinging them off the arm of the couch. His body twisted and his eyes opened at the touch. You sat next to him, at least a foot between the both of you.

“What do you want?” he asked, leaning over to take Crabbe and Goyle’s full goblets from them. He handed you Goyle’s as he drank from Crabbe’s.

“Just wanted to see if you had done anything embarrassing that I could tell the whole school about tomorrow,” you lied, taking a considerable sip from the goblet.

Draco scoffs next to you, “Not yet, darling.”

You gave Draco a glance. He seemed distressed about something. The way he cradled the goblet in his hands and drank with an urgency was the way someone drinks when their upset.

“What’s got your panties all tied up, Draco?” you asked teasingly, leaning in his direction slightly.

Draco looked at your lidded eyes, the natural smirk on your pretty lips, the outfit you wore that you looked absolutely amazing in; he couldn’t feel any rage as he looked at you that night.

“You,” he said softly, staying stiffly straight but turning his head to face you.

You felt your cheeks warm, looking at him with a curious smirk.

“Really?” you indulged, wondering what else Draco may drunkenly confess. His words weren’t slurring like yours, but the faint pink flush on his cheeks and his unseemly kindness told you he was not sober.

He nodded silently, looking down at the goblet in his lap.

“Draco,” you said, turning to rest your back against the arm of the couch as your legs spread on the cushions. Your feet were inches from touching Draco’s thighs, and he tensed as he looked at the lack of space, “You’ve been acting odd with me recently.”

Draco, if possible, tensed even more at your statement. He was not nearly as drunk as you thought he was, or as you were.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he stuttered, biting his bottom lip. This was the first time you had ever seen Draco Malfoy seem flustered. 

“Draco?” you slurred, not speaking again until he turned his face to yours.

You moved forward, bending your legs so you still didn’t touch him, but so your face was close to his.

“Do you fancy me?” you drawled, intrigued. 

Draco’s previously tense and stiff stature seemed to relax, as if a secret was released that he had been bottling up. He brought his goblet to his lips slowly, and you did the same, the both of you finishing off what Crabbe and Goyle had been drinking. 

“If I’m going to be honest-” Draco had turned his head to you and began speaking, but you weren’t listening. His lips looked so soft and his eyes looked so kind, you couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him.

He was surprised at first, unmoving against your lips. You smiled, still against him, and it seemed to make him realize what was happening. Within seconds, one of his hands was on your waist as the other was on your cheek. You sighed into the kiss, tasting a cinnamon flavored alcohol on his tongue as he slid it into your mouth. Your brought your hands to his neck, unable to stop yourself from playing with his hair. You ran your fingernails across his scalp and down to the nape of his neck, smiling again as he moaned into your lips.

You pulled away when it felt like your lungs needed air, which they did, and kept your eyes closed. Your shoulder fell into the side of the couch, your forehead resting on Draco’s shoulder. 

You felt yourself drifting off into a drunken sleep, your body feeling heavy as it slumped into Draco’s.

“I really like you, Y/n. I really do,” Draco confessed from beside you, stroking your hair, “I think you’re the most clever person I’ve ever met.”

You felt your heart swoon at his confession, wondering if he said it because he thought you were already asleep, or if the alcohol was affecting him as much as you. You shifted, bringing your legs to fall into his lap, to which Draco wrapped his slender fingers around your thigh and pulled your closer to his body.

“I hope you’re not too drunk to remember this,” he mumbled, his own eyes fluttering shut as the both of you fell asleep. 

#draco #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x slytherin #slytherin #hogwarts #harry potter #hp

[arrowflier]

A fic prompt if you'd like: Mickey opening up to Ian about details of his childhood and the abuse he suffered. In 11x06 after Terry is brought home Mickey says he could do anything to him now like "piss on him and let him air dry" and "use his mouth as an ash tray". To me it sounds like those are examples of things that Terry has done to him.

Content warning: child abuse

the things he did

“You’re so much better than that.”

Ian’s words echoed in Mickey’s head while the cooked dinner together. They resonated as they sat side by side at the table to eat, shoulders brushing, rings glinting in the harsh lights of the kitchen. They played on loop as they retired to the living room, alone for once with everyone else out for the night who knew where, sitting close on the sofa as mindless sitcoms droned on from the television.

“What if I’m not?” Mickey asked abruptly, when it got to be too much.

Ian turned to look at him, face full of shadows in the blue light from the tv.

“What if you’re not what?” he questioned, confused, and Mickey shifted away from him, bringing a knee onto the sofa between them to face his husband.

“Not better than that,” he answered, and saw Ian realize what he was talking about. It was in the way his eyes softened in that harsh light, the way his lips turned down at the thought that Mickey might question himself.

He always took it personally when Mickey did that.

“You are, Mickey,” Ian reassured instantly, just as expected. “I know you are.”

Mickey shook his head, looking down. His fingers scratched at the label of his beer, tearing it from the condensation-wet bottle.

“You don’t,” he said quietly. “No one fucking does.” He shook his head, looked up again into Ian’s green eyes. “You don’t just come away from a life like that and turn out alright.”

Ian looked like he wanted to argue. His chin was already pushing out, his lips pressed tight and thin.

Mickey didn’t give him a chance.

“If you knew half the things he did to us, man,” Mickey laughed humorlessly, averting his gaze again. “He should be on death row right now, not sitting next door with a roof over his fuckin’ head.”

“Tell me,” Ian prompted softly, but Mickey shook his head.

“You don’t want to hear this shit, Ian.” At least, Mickey didn’t want him to hear it. Didn’t want him to think of Terry when he looked at Mickey’s face.

“I do though,” Ian countered easily. “Wanna know everything about you, Mick.”

He was always saying things like that. Always trying to challenge the barriers Mickey put up.

But Mickey always challenged his, too, so he supposed that it was a fair enough trade.

“Fuckin’ sap,” Mickey said anyway, glancing up at Ian’s face and down again. “Gonna change what you think of me,” he added more quietly, and bit his lip at how pathetic it made him sound.

“Mickey,” Ian said. That was it, just his name. But it made things better, somehow. “Nothing can change how I feel about you,” Ian went on. “Besides, I was there for some it, remember?”

Mickey snorted, and took a swig of beer.

“How could I fuckin’ forget?”

They sat in silence for a long moment, only the sound of the clock ticking behind them and the strains of an annoying jingle on the TV filling the room. Ian didn’t scoot any closer, didn’t ask Mickey again. He just sat in his presence, calming sipping his own drink, and waited Mickey out.

It was a technique that never failed him.

“It wasn’t too bad when our mom was there,” Mickey started out of nowhere. “She was strung out most of the time, but she cared, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair, scratched his neck. “At least in her own way.”

“And when she wasn’t?” Ian prompted gently. Not pushing, just providing a guiding hand.

Mickey shook his head. “When she wasn’t, things really went to hell.”

A beat. The TV had changed over to some new infomercial, an obnoxiously eager voice droning on about the ‘next best thing’, whatever that was. Mickey ignored it. They both did.

“Iggy and Colin were already used to it, I think,” Mickey expanded. “They were around more the first few times she left, when Mandy and I were still in school. They knew what was coming when she was gone for good.”

Ian made a sound, deep in his throat. He set down his glass on the coffee table, overlapping the multitude of condensation rings that already marred the surface, and grabbed up the carton of cigarettes that lay there. He lit it with a spare lighter, took a drag, and passed it over to Mickey’s waiting hand.

“What about you?” he asked casually. Too casually for the way his fingers shook when Mickey took the cigarette from him.

Mickey scoffed. “Me?” he repeated, then took a drag himself. He held it in as long as he could, breathed it out in a plume of smoke that hid the new wetness in his eyes.

“I was a naive little shit whose mamma hadn’t warned him how bad Terry could get,” Mickey said, then took another hit.

“The first time he hit me—really hit me, not just a cuff around the ears for mouthing off—he laid me out flat on the kitchen floor. I had eaten the last side of bacon, see,” he explained. “Mandy made it for me after school. And Terry’d been savin’ it for after whatever run he was out on.”

Ian stayed silent.

“Couldn’t tell him it was Mandy’s fault,” Mickey went on. “He didn’t care that she was a girl.” Mickey flicked the ashes off the end of the cigarette, watched them fall. Watched the tiny burns it made on the knee of his jeans. “Didn’t care until she was useful.”

Ian swallowed hard at the reminder of what Terry had done to his best friend. But this was about Mickey right now, not Mandy, and as much as she was entrenched in that part of his life, it wasn’t what he needed to get out.

So Ian scooted closer, brushed ashes off Mickey’s knee and rested his hand there, waiting.

Mickey stared at the point of contact, then at his cigarette again.

“You know he used to burn me with these?” Mickey asked abruptly, waving the lit stick in his hand. “Think it was an accident, the first time. Caught me suckin’ on a candy one when I was a kid, told me I needed to man up. Tried to stick a lit one in my mouth, but he was drunk. Used the wrong end.”

He tongued the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t eat for two days while it was healin’.” He chuckled, shook his head. “I was suck a fuckin’ wimp back then, man.”

“Not the worst thing he’s put in my mouth, though,” Mickey continued, on a roll now. His voice was faint, full of that absent quality it got when he wasn’t really there. When he was reliving his nightmares in real time.

“Stumbled into my room more than once looking for the toilet,” he confided. “Forgot there was a second door, I think. He usually just went in the corner, but he got me on my bed more than once.”

Mickey paused, looked up at Ian through his lashes.

“You know why I don’t breathe through my mouth anymore?”

Ian shook his head.

“Wakin’ up to the taste of piss will teach you that trick real quick.”

The cigarette was gone, now, and his beer was only dregs. Mickey stared at a space over Ian’s shoulder, breathing heavy, refusing to let his eyes spill over.

He was done crying for the kid that let his dad walk all over him. He was done crying for Terry. He was done with all of it.

And he really, really wished that were true.

“Frank locked me in the basement, once,” Ian stated suddenly, taking the empty beer bottle out of Mickey’s hand and placing it with his own glass on the table. “During one of my mom’s episodes, when she wouldn’t get out of bed.”

Mickey just looked at him. Let Ian take his hand, turn it over to hold it in his.

“He told Fiona I was at a sleepover, and she believed him—forgot I didn’t really have any friends.” Ian grinned, then, but it was empty, almost sharp.

You had friends, Mickey wanted to say. You had family. You had me.

But the first and the last were lies, and the middle wasn’t always a blessing.

“Lip found me two days later,” Ian told him. “He got suspicious when he saw Frank taking food down there; he was an asshole, but he wasn’t gonna starve a kid on purpose, at least.”

Ian laughed, and rubbed his free hand along the leg of his pants.

“He just didn’t want to look at me.”

Mickey gripped his hand tighter.

“Why are you tellin’ me this?” he asked. “It’s not a fuckin’ competition, man.”

“I’m just saying,” Ian pressed on. “We don’t have to be our dads, Mickey.”

Oh. And there it was. Ian, his husband, ever the optimist.

“What if we don’t get that choice?” Mickey questioned. He’d seen it often enough, after all. Milkoviches that tried to get out, tried to do better for themselves and their kids.

But they always ended up back where they started. They always ended up under Terry’s roof, and under his thumb, just waiting for another chance to break free.

Ian shrugged, and pulled him closer, tucking Mickey’s head into the space between his own neck and shoulder. Mickey made a grumbling sound, but went without protest, tilting his head so that his nose rested near Ian’s collarbone.

“Then I guess we have to kill each other,” Ian stated blandly.

Mickey gave a stunned, barked laugh, breath hitching and releasing in a wash of hot air over Ian’s neck.

“Ian, what the fuck?” he managed, but Ian only gripped him tighter, pressing his face into skin so that he couldn’t speak.

“It’s for the greater good, Mick,” Ian assured him. “Mutually assured destruction, and all that, right?”

He ran a hand down Mickey’s back, scratching lightly.

“I lock you in a basement, you take me out,” he declared. “You piss on me—well, without my permission at least—”

“Ew, Ian, Jesus Christ—”

“I get to murder you in your sleep.” Ian pulled back just enough to look at him, Mickey meeting his eyes without a struggle this time. For all the macabre discussions, Ian’s eyes were bright.

“Deal?” Ian asked, and Mickey finally smiled.

“Yeah, alright, tough guy,” he agreed. “It’s a fuckin’ deal.”

#thanks for the prompt! #daily speedwrite #fanfic #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #tw: child abuse #angst #but they'll be okay

[noxnights]

From One O’Hara to Another

Credit for all these amazing characters goes to @lumosinlove and big thanks to @heyitssmiller for betaing!

CW: struggling with coming out

Finn wants to come out to Alex.

-

Finn was alone in the apartment. Logan and Leo had gone out to dinner and Finn had decided to take some time to curl up on their couch with a blanket and a book and fall into a new story. Except now he was staring at the pages, not reading a word. 

He hadn’t told his family, any of his family, about him and Logan and Leo. Leo’s family knew of course and Logan’s sisters had been aware of their feelings since Christmas. But Finn just couldn’t. Every time he called Alex he choked on his words. He wanted Alex to know so badly, but with every missed opportunity he felt worse and worse. Alex had to know something was up: he’d seen Logan and Finn during college, and there was that one night when Finn had called him, unable to speak, he had cried for the better part of the call. 

Finn felt like he could tell everyone else, he didn’t worry about new teammates or friends, but with his big brother the fear of losing him outweighed everything else. And the worst part was he’d been brushing off how much stress trying to tell Alex was causing him. Logan and Leo knew he hadn’t told Alex yet, but when they asked he’d just shrugged saying he’d rather do it in person. He didn’t tell them how many phone calls, facetimes, and texts had been almosts. He didn’t tell them how much he was hurting. 

That was his first mistake, he realized as he sat there alone. He hadn’t wanted them to think he was ashamed or that they were unloved. He shook his head a little at the thought, he wasn’t thinking rationally; Finn knew they were a team and he could rely on their support. He could put some of the weight he was carrying down. 

Feeling exhausted, and knowing his boys likely wouldn’t be back for several more hours, he decided to head to bed early. 

When Finn woke up, light was streaming into the room and he lay between Leo, who had an arm loosely circling his waist, and Logan, who had intertwined his legs with Finn’s. He stayed there breathing in his boys, letting their presence, their warmth, comfort him. He would do it, he would tell them what was going on as soon as they woke up. He took another deep breath: in-out, in-out. 

Logan stirred after another minute, always one to notice when his boyfriends’ breathing had changed. He propped himself up on one arm, taking the other hand and running it across the crease of Finn’s brow.

“Fish? Everything okay?”

Finn’s voice felt tight. He nodded, but he knew tears were collecting in his eyes. He swallowed hard, trying to breathe.

“Fish?” Logan asked again.

Finn just closed his eyes and shook his head. Nothing about this should be so difficult, but it was. When he opened his eyes again Leo was awake too, looking at him with concern- a mirror to Logan’s face. 

“Finn, what can we do to help?” Leo tried, always ready to offer up whatever he could. 

Finn just turned over, burying his face in the pillow. He could do this, he just couldn’t do it while looking at them. 

“You remember how I told you I was just waiting to see Alex in person to tell him about us? How I said it wasn’t really a big deal?”

Both boys murmured affirmatively. 

“I- well, that’s not exactly true. I-I’ve tried to tell him so so many times, but I can’t.” Finn flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, where the glowing stars he’d gotten for Leo hung- they were grounding, a reminder of the night that had changed so much for the three of them. A reminder of their beginning. It allowed him to get his next words out: “I am so scared and it’s only getting worse. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for Finn,” said Leo.

Logan added, “we’re not upset or angry at all. It’s up to you when you come out and- well I think Cap and Loops’ situation affected us more than we like to think it did.” 

Finn nodded, he knew they were both right. “Yeah, I just, I want to tell him, I’m going to tell him, but what if he…” Finn left the thought unfinished. He couldn’t even say it.

Leo brushed his hand through Finn’s hair while Logan spoke up. “Finn, I know Alex, he won’t react badly. All he wants is for you to be happy, and-” Logan hesitated before continuing, “I mean we- we weren’t the most subtle in college, were we? You told me how he’s always been there for you and he’ll be there this time too. I’m sure of it.”

It was silent for a moment before Leo spoke, a certain softness laced his words. “If- if you wanted to just start by telling him about you and Lo, and you know wait to mention me, that’d be okay with me. Just so you know.”

Finn turned to face Leo immediately, “Baby- no. Not a chance. I- I would never leave you out or behind. I’m scared, yes, but I want to tell him because I love you. I love you both and I want him to know the people I love as the people I love. I- I know why you’re offering but I would never lie about loving you. I need you to know that.”

“I know. I just, I thought it might be easier, and I want you to be able to tell Alex. I want that for you.”

“I do too, and I think more than anything I needed to tell you guys. I needed to let go of some of the weight I’d been holding.” Finn brought both boys in for a kiss and whispered “I love you’s”. 

Talking with Leo and Logan had helped a lot. He was still extremely nervous, but it no longer felt so impossible. Leo’s offer had given him some answers: he wanted to share his loves with one of his favorite people in the world. Realizing that showed Finn how he was stronger than his fear.

He waited until Leo and Logan were out again, running errands and seeing a movie, and then went to the three of theirs room. He lay back on the bed and dialed Alex’s number. 

The phone rang once, twice, then “Hey O’Hara, how’s it going? Oh- you’re never going to guess where I am!” 

For a moment Finn didn’t say anything. This would be just like every other time. 

Alex’s voice came through the phone again, “Finn?” 

“Uh- yeah- hey.”

“What’s up? Everything okay?” 

“Um, no not really. Well actually, yes everything is great, but also right now not really.”

“Okay, do you want to talk about it?” Alex sounded confused. Of course he sounded confused, Finn knew he wasn’t making any sense. 

Finn tried again. “Do you remember that time, while I was at Harvard, I called you?”

“Yeah. Of course.” There could only be one phone call Finn was talking about.

“Okay, well it’s kind of about the same thing, but the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

“I- yeah I’m dating someone- someones actually.”

“Fish! That’s great! I’m so glad you found-”

Finn cut Alex off. If he was going to say it he had to say it. He had to get it all out. “It’s- I’m dating Logan and, and Leo. Both of them.”

He heard Alex take a breath, and, in turn, he knew Alex could hear him crying. 

“Finn, you know it doesn’t matter who you love as long as you’re happy. That’s the only thing I care about.”

“I know, or well I do know that, but I was- I just mean a lot of people don’t react well to someone, especially someone in their family, being bisexual, and even more so to them being polyamorous. I didn’t want to lose you, but I love them. I had to tell you. I love them.” 

“This changes nothing between us, except that now we can double date. I love you no matter what, and you know I’d never judge you for any of that.” Alex paused letting the call hang silent for a moment. “I mean it’d be a little hypocritical of me.” 

“Hypocritical?” Finn croaked.

Alex gave a shaky laugh, “yeah, I was actually going to surprise you this week and uh- hopefully have you meet, or uh- really just reintroduce you to my partners. Which maybe we can still do? You bring yours and I’ll bring mine?”

“Yeah, yes! One hundred percent. Wait- reintroduce, does that mean I know them?”

“Maybe…” Alex said slyly. “But really, from one bisexual polyamorous hockey player to another, it’s going to be okay Finn. I’ll always love you and I’m proud of you for telling me.”

“I’ll always love you too, and Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you too.”

Finn could hear Alex’s smile, “thanks Fish, how does Saturday- tomorrow- sound?”

“Tomorrow? Aren’t you in Florida?”

“Actually I um, I’m already in Gryffindor.”

“You’re in Gryff right now?”

“Yeah- I’m staying with my people, remember how I said I was going to surprise you?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that got lost in all the other news.”

“Fair enough.”

“So tomorrow, around one for lunch? You bring yours and I’ll bring mine?” Finn clarified, using the chance, the freedom he now had to talk about his boyfriends. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, even that simple phrase made him giddy with joy.

“Yeah, tomorrow. You bring yours, I’ll bring mine. Love you Fish.”

“Love you too Alex.”

#leo knut x finn o'hara x logan tremblay #Leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #alex o'hara #o'darwin #Coast To Coast #Sweater Weather #o'knutzy #oknutzy #lumosinlove #coming out #Harry Potter

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The aftermath of Merlin snapping, and yelling at Arthur in the middle of the forest;

Arthur pushes for change, the gang takes bets on when Merthur will happen, and someone, somewhere, is grumpy.

Part 2 of Merlin’s Angry Outburst. 

Part 1   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Once Arthur has a first draft of the repeal, the first people he brings in on it (with Merlin’s approval, of course) are the 5 knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana.

(Morgana, who later that evening comes back to Arthur's chamber in tears (Merlin is also there) to reveal her magic, and thank him for not being Uther.) 

All of them enthusiastically agree, after only a little conversation.

Elyan and Leon are the most... dubious, but only because of the practical factor, they don't disagree with the actual repeal.

After months of the gang working in secret, they reveal their best draft to the council. At least half the council are new members that Arthur appointed, the rest are left over from Uther’s time.

They argue back and forth for a while, half vs half. A few of the older members, who were around before the purge, slowly start changing their minds.

In the end, it takes them maybe a month to get a majority, and Arthur overrules the remaining opposition. He is King after all, technically, he doesn’t even have to have a council.

Days after the agreement is reached, Arthur goes out personally to collect a few specific Druids, who had been waiting just outside the border for the go ahead.

It takes maybe another month to go through all the laws thoroughly, changing and editing and altering what needs to be altered. With the help of Arthur's close advisors on the political aspects, and the help of the Druids, Merlin, and Gaius, on the magical aspects (what should be allowed freely, what should be monitored, and what should remain fully banned).

The city celebrates when the announcement is made, they all loved the new King anyway, and had been overjoyed with the drop in executions, and deliberate ignoring of small instances of magic.

After a feast to celebrate the new found freedom among the people, the gang gathers once more, in private, and Merlin tells a shortened version of the story he'd told Arthur all those months ago.

None of them are that surprised (Gaius, Morgana, and Lancelot already knew, of course).

If they hadn't suspected Merlin of being a sorcerer before this whole thing started (Leon, Gwaine, and Gwen definitely suspected) , then they had certainly begun to in the last few months. They cheer when Merlin finishes telling them "just how often I've saved your oblivious arses" .

They cheer even louder when Arthur announces that he would be made court sorcerer, and it would be made official in a ceremony before the week ended.

There are no cheers when Morgana stands.

Curious eyes land on her, probably due to how terrified she looks, but the small encouraging nods and little smiles she gets from her brother (her Brother), Merlin, and Gwen, give her the strength she needs to tell everyone of her magic as well.

They see she is frightened, they imagine how difficult it must have been, being at first Uther’s ward, and then his daughter. They smile gently, and she receives hugs a plenty. Once all the congratulations are out of the way, she sits back down next to Gwen, still shaky and full of adrenaline, but happy.

She spends the remainder of the group’s quiet celebrations with her hand gripped in Gwen's under the table.

(Read this how you want, I personally envision it as the start of something)

So the days draw on, Merlin is announced Court Sorcerer, Arthur hires another manservant and gives Merlin a large set of chambers in the same hallways as Arthur's, complete with all the books on magic Arthur can find, and several of the magical artefacts that had previously been kept locked away (Merlin and Arthur are the only ones who are able to gain access to the room, something magicky I guess).

(No one mentions that that corridor is supposed to be for royalty only. Leon figures they're bound to realise that they're in love with each other any day now, and then Merlin will practically be royalty anyway so... might as well cut out the middle bit of having to shuffle chambers again later on).

The kingdom is prospering, and for months after the initial announcement, and implementations of the new laws, sorcerers and nobles from all over Albion, visit Camelot, to give congratulations to the King.

They give gifts and provide knowledge.

The Druids, however, are a slightly different story.

The ones who had been helping with the paperwork, had been... odd(?) around Merlin. But they respected his wish to keep all of that under wraps, or at least until it was announced publicly.

Arthur and Gaius know the whole Emrys story. Lancelot and Morgana know bits of it... but other than that... as far as anyone is concerned, the newly promoted Court Sorcerer is just another wizard.

The new Druids entering the kingdom are paying brief respects to the Forever King (I mean... at this point, he's still only King of Camelot... which is what he was before the magic ban repeal), before staring in reverence at the Court Sorcerer stood by his side.

They respect his wishes to keep the worshipping and gift giving to a minimum, though they still come to him for requests of miracles and ask him to perform druid ceremonies (blessings and name-givings and weddings and funerals (though they prefer to call them celebrations of life, rather than commiserations of death) and such).

Merlin can only brush off so many displays of such awe before the rest of The Gang demands to know what’s up, at which point he has to come clean about the whole... “Most Powerful Warlock To Ever Walk The Earth” thing.

Much to Merlin’s chagrin (and everyone else's amusement) the Druids still insist on calling him Emrys. The stubborn ones sometimes even go for "My Lord Emrys", which gets them a scowl from Merlin (and barely concealed laughter from everyone else).

Maybe... later on... when Morgana is more comfortable with her magic, after a few months practicing with Merlin (with a supportive Gwen Always at her side) , she is announced as the Court Seer.

Merlin had never had much luck with prophetic visions, but once Morgana’s fear died down, once she learned to let it flow, and breathe through it, the visions come easier, and kinder.

She stops seeing only visions of doom, and worst case scenarios, instead she has dreams of the many paths the future may take.

She does not panic when a path seems grim and dark, for she has a King and a Warlock and Gwen, by her side. Always. And they work through the future together.

So the ban has been repealed officially for around 6 months.

Arthur is a couple months away from completing his second year as King. And he and Merlin are still beating around the bush.

The betting pool for when they’ll finally get together has been growing bigger and bigger. Practically the whole castle is in on it now, with Gwen and Morgana as the ring leaders. Whoever wins... will be very lucky.

(It's Leon in the end, he pays attention, and he know what his boys are like. But he's a noble and has no need for the money, he pays for a few rounds of drinks and donates the rest to one of children's homes in the lower town).

But the war comes first.

~

Camelot has been prospering, and has many supporters throughout Albion, but one of the kingdoms, it doesn't matter which, you decide, does NOT like this.

Scouts and small patrols have been needling Camelot’s borders for months now, and Arthur and his Council (and Inner Council) have been making quiet preparations. They know that some sort of... something, is coming soon.

Especially when Morgana begins to dream of battles and blood and lightening.

They prepare for, and expect, a full scale war, but they hope for some negotiations and a peace treaty with the opposition.

Their hopes are dashed, when a messenger is escorted into the throne room, wearing The Opposition’s colours, with a letter.

Said letter is an angry rebuttal of everything Camelot stands for, full of accusations of abandoning tradition, and spitting in the face of great leaders, of which this soft boy-king should NOT be counted as. 

At the end, there was an official declaration of war.

The messenger boy was obviously scared to death, and once Arthur read the P.S, which invited Arthur to torture and/or execute him to the whatever extent he wants, he understood why. Without any hesitation, he offers the boy a job in the stables, a new wardrobe of clothes, and a servant’s bed in the castle.

After the official council meeting on the matter, setting up war committees, laying out contingency plans, organising the distribution of emergency evacuation plans, and discussing potential aid that could be requested from allies, Arthur pulls the gang together, for their own meeting.

“We knew this was coming, and there is no need to panic yet. Our outer borders are well patrolled, and we’re still getting up to date reports. The city walls hold strong, but I want to send out patrols to warn the villages of what’s coming. Start closer to the border, and work our way in. Leon?”

“My Lord, I have teams prepared for exactly that already, I just need to give the word and they’ll go.”

“Good. Morgana, I need you to try and keep focusing your visions, if we have even a small idea of how they might try to initiate the first battle, it’ll be a huge advantage.”

“Me and Merlin have been practising some new techniques to control where and when I can see, we’ll write everything down, and ask the Druids if they’ve seen anything as well.”

Arthur holds in a smile at the confidence in her voice. He is unendingly proud of how far his sister had come, and made a mental note to tell her that when all this was over.

“Brilliant, keep me in the loop. Gwen, when we’re done here, go and let the forgery know, the Royal Household will pay them extra to push out as much long range ammunition as they can. Arrows and crossbow bolts, we need as many as they can produce.” Gwen nods, and Arthur finally looks towards Merlin:

“And Merlin, I need you to be ready. Don’t wear yourself out too much in the next few weeks, I need you in good condition, if we’re to win this with minimal casualties-”

He glances over at Morgana before he continues:

“If the two of you could also ask the Druids if they have any volunteer healers. Make sure they know they aren’t obligated to come, but any help in the infirmaries would be greatly appreciated.” Morgana nods once more, as does Merlin, before he speaks:

“There’s a camp a couple hours ride outside the city at the moment, we’ll head out at first light-” He pauses and closes his eyes for a second, tilting his head, before looking to Morgana:

“They’re expecting us.”

Arthur addresses the room again:

“Right. I think that’s all for now, anyone have anything to add?”

Gaius responds after a moment:

“My Lord, if I could make a request for a few servants to help me set up supplies for the infirmary? Extensive preparations will need to be made to ensure that I have all I’ll need. Preferably people with rough herbal knowledge, if at all possible.”

Arthur nods straight away, responding:

“Yes, of course, I’ll ask the Housekeeper and the Steward who they can spare this evening, and they’ll be ready for you in the morning. Anything else?” At the silence in the room, Arthur tells everyone to get to work.

Leon marches straight down to the training grounds (Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan following him) to ring the summoning bell and inform the knights of the developments, and their tasks.

Gwen heads straight to the forgery (her and Elyan still oversee work there, but they have employees (and a few trainees) to run it) to give the Kings order.

Gaius shuffles out, and makes his way back to his quarters, already making mental lists of ingredients needed, and work to be done.

Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin are left, the royal siblings thinking to themselves, and Merlin thinking to someone else. Arthur contemplates that the whole mental link thing he had going on with the Druids was extremely useful.

Both his and Morgana’s thoughts were interrupted by Merlin huffing, and clenching his fists as he opens his eyes, obviously unhappy with whatever was said:

“Merlin?” From Morgana has the Court Sorcerer looking up from scowling at the table. He replies after wiping the frown off his face:

“Oh, it’s fine. They just made a... stupid suggestion is all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Stupid? Doesn’t sound like the Druids. What was it?”

Merlin looks mildly uncomfortable at that, and replies slowly:

“It... doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you another time. It’s late, you should practice some meditation and head to sleep, no potions tonight. And remember to keep some parchment and a quill by your bed, so you can scribble down anything you see-”

Merlin stands abruptly and heads towards the door:

“-I’m going to check the wards on the outer wall, and push a little more energy into the wells. I’ll see you both bright an early.” With that, Merlin heads out the room swiftly.

Arthur looks to his sister questioningly, but she shrugs as she responds:

“Who knows. “I’ll tell you later” means he doesn’t want you to know, OR he’s hoping I’ll forget because he doesn’t want either of us to know. He’s right though, I should meditate for a while-”

Morgana stands at this:

“- hopefully I’ll see you before we head off, if not, I suppose it’ll be dinner in the evening. Good night, brother.” Morgana leaves the room gracefully, heading in the direction of her chambers.

Arthur thinks for only a moment, before rushing off, catching up with Merlin as he readied his horse, preparing for the journey to the outer walls:

“I’ll come with you. I find I quite enjoy watching you do magic, and to be perfectly honest, I could do with some fresh air to help me think.”

Arthur pretends to ignore the slight blush that dusts Merlin’s cheeks, and readies his own horse. The two of them ride out of the stables and make the journey down the cobbled roads in comfortable silence, side by side.

They take their time on the journey, and the 15 minutes of companionable silence is finally broken by Arthur, who looks at Merlin curiously, as he says:

“So what did they suggest?”

Merlin looks up sharply at that, broken from his deep train of thought as he dumbly replies “What?”

“The Druids. What was the stupid suggestion?” Merlin’s eyes widen at that, and he blushes once more as he looks determinedly forward:

“Oh. That. I told you, it doesn’t-”

“Merlin...”

“Oh fine! They suggested that I... that I forge a mental link with you. Like the one I have with them.” The sorcerer purses his lips at that, and continues to avoid Arthur’s gaze:

“You can do that? Well... would it be such a bad idea? I mean we aren’t going to be able to meet and discuss things as often as I’d like through this whole ordeal. AND you’re basically the Kingdom’s powerhouse, I’m sort of relying on your magical know-how here. Surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing? For us to be able to converse across the battle fields?” 

Arthur, in an effort to not be hurt, reminds himself that he doesn’t know all that much about magic, and it very well could be a stupid suggestion, instead of one that Merlin is just personally opposed to.

Merlin, in response, looks to Arthur in great shock, before sighing and looking down to his horses mane:

“It.... is possible. And fairly easy, technically. But it would be painful, AND permanent. I wouldn’t be able to undo it after we won. And a temporary connection takes far too much energy to maintain, even for a short time. I just figured you wouldn’t want me in your head for the rest of our lives.” He tries to inject a little humour into his words, but it falls flat, and he just seems sad.

Arthur pretends he doesn’t notice however, and responds quickly:

“How painful are we talking? I mean I’ve been hurt pretty badly before. And... how exactly does it work? Would we be able to read each other’s mind constantly, without the other knowing? Or what?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows in shock at that, and his answer comes out slowly as he looks at Arthur:

“Like... a really bad headache? Imagine the hardest you’ve ever been hit, without passing out. It would last for a few minutes after the connection is initially forged, but would fade slowly over the next day or so. And no. Once the connection is established we wouldn’t be in each other’s head all the time, we would just be able to sort of... project our voices to one another. Other thoughts would be safe, even if you were thinking about me, I wouldn’t hear it unless you were thinking to me... if that makes sense.” 

By the end of his explanation, he’s looking nervously at the King, who is deep in thought:

“Hmm. Ok. I... only if you agree but... it might not be a bad idea. Even after the war is over. There have definitely been times where I’ve needed your opinion on something but you’ve been elsewhere, or we’ve been in the presence of someone else. Of course we’ve been fine so far, if you don’t want to, but-”

Merlin interrupts him, speaking quickly:

“I’m fine with it. I agree, it would be useful. So... I can bring what we need back from the camp tomorrow?”

Arthur nods firmly:

“Yes. The sooner the better, we can do it tomorrow evening, if that’s enough time for you?” Merlin once again looks shocked at this, as Arthur stares at him:

“Oh! Yeah, Yes. That’s fine. Like I said, it’s not particularly difficult, and I can ask Gaius to prepare us something for the pain during the day. Are you... are you sure? It is Permanent.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and huffs:

“Yes, you said that already Merlin. Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded his head decidedly, and spoke confidently:

“Yes. You’re right, it’s not a bad idea. Come on, if we hurry, we’ll make it to the walls, and then to the main well, and then back to the castle, before dark.”

The pair of them hurry their horses, and after another 10 minutes of comfortable silence, they finally reach the City Gates.

The guards give a quick bow, and The King and The Court Sorcerer jump off their horses before handing the reigns to one of the Gate stablehands.

Arthur (and the guards) watch in barely concealed wonder as Merlin presses his hands against the rock of the wall, and closes his eyes.

The golden glow can still be seen from below his eyelids, and he hums slightly as he frowns in concentration, seeming to push into the wall.

Arthur sees a short of... sheen, ripple across the rock, and extend into the sky. Merlin steps back and nods, admiring his handy work:

“They’re holding strong, I’ve extended the height as well. Kilgharrah and Aithusa should be the only ones able to get over it without alerting me now, from the air at least-”

Merlin heads to retake his horse, Arthur following him, before he continues:

“Though I still want to check the tunnels again at some point in the next few days.”

“Of course. Relax Merlin, it’s barely begun, and the borders still hold strong. We’ve plenty of time before things kick off in any way.” He makes sure to speak quietly. A public announcement hasn’t been made yet, and it would be bad if rumours started spreading before The King had time to put together a proper disclosure.

Merlin nods distractedly, and urges his horse to go faster as he heads towards the main well, in the town square. It’s late, not long until sunset, so there shouldn’t be many, if any, people there. Arthur speaks again:

“Why are we visiting the well? I wasn’t aware of any problems?”

“There aren’t any, but once the announcement is made, and once the outer villages are told what’s happening, we’ll have hundreds, probably thousands, of people flock to the city for safety. I just want to make sure we’re prepared for such an influx, and boost our water levels a little.”

Arthur nods at his response, but doesn’t say anything. He chooses instead to admire the man Merlin had become. He held himself differently, more strong, confident in who he was. Just like he had back when he was still a manservant, he served Arthur, and his people, above and beyond his job description. Merlin took upon himself, not only the politics he was supposed to oversee, but the personal safety of both the King, and every Camelot citizen, and he did it all with an alarming amount of grace.

Arthur sometimes catches himself thinking that it was almost as if Merlin was built to be a king. He may not like the spotlight, but he was a protector, and leader, unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you, Merlin. It feels like years ago now, that you yelled at me in a forest.” He says it with a grin, but Merlin flinches. He continues before The Sorcerer interrupts him though:

“Really Merlin. Thank you. You were right, I would’ve got there in the end, but it wasn’t fair for people to suffer in the mean time, and you took the fall in their place. You’re a hero to your people... and to me. You should be proud of your accomplishments, I know I am.” 

Arthur resists the urge to duck his head as Merlin looks at him in bewilderment, a definite flush on his cheeks as he replies:

“I... thank you, Arthur. I always had faith in you-” Merlin begins to grin before he continues:

“-and besides, someone had to knock you down a peg. Perhaps you should hire someone to take you into the forest and yell at you every once in a while.”

Arthur laughs at that, and Merlin tries to push down the blush as Arthur responds:

“Now Merlin, why on earth would I hire someone for such a job, when I already have you?”

Merlin chuckles as he answers:

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it, My Lord. Hold the horses, I’ll just be a minute.” With that, Arthur realises they’ve made it to the well, and dismounts as Merlin has, holding both of the horses reigns as he watches Merlin approach the well.

The Sorcerer crouches down, and once again closes his eyes in concentration as he presses his hands into the stone of the well. The glow is a little less bright this time, but Arthur admires it nonetheless.

Merlin finishes quickly, and gathers his horse from Arthur once more, nodding towards the castle.

Arthur follows as Merlin hurries towards the looming building. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a rush, but he only begins questions it when Merlin hurriedly hands the horses of to a stablehand, and continues to run up the castle steps.

Arthur can only just keep up with Merlin, not having the breath to ask him what’s wrong, before Merlin suddenly comes to a stop, catching his breath for a moment to go through a door leading to the highest balcony on the West of the castle:

“Merlin... what.... what are you-”

Merlin wordlessly interrupts The King as he points to the skyline, the sun only a few minutes away from touching the horizon.

There’s not a cloud in sight, and the sky is painted in oranges and pinks in front of them, bleeding into deep purples and blues behind the castle.

Merlin finally mutters, not looking away from the sunset:

“Call me a girl all you want Arthur, but nothing compares to this. It’s beautiful, I come to watch it whenever I’ve got the time.”

Arthur had only glanced briefly at the sunset before looking back at Merlin in wonder, a fond smile on his face (not that Merlin would notice).

He stares at the side of Merlin’s face, the orange sky making the gold in his eyes look even brighter, and the glare of the fading sun making his hair shine. A gentle breeze has Merlin shiver slightly, and Arthur’s smile widens as he responds, so quietly he’s not even sure if Merlin hears him:

“Hmm. Beautiful.” He doesn’t look away.

~

THIS IS COMPLETED! All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific let me know✌️

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #arthur #king arthur #the knights of camelot #the knights know about merlins magic #arthur knows about merlins magic #court sorcerer merlin #merlin/arthur #sir leon #leon #sir percival #percival #sir lancelot #lancelot #sir elyan #elyan #sir gwaine #gwaine #morgana #good morgana #gwen #guinevere #fluff #merlin is a bamf #bamf merlin #powerful merlin

[1kook]

commercial break ; THREE

this is a netflix & chill drabble kook’s pov during their argument in d&b !

summary; But Jungkook loves the sun. warnings; post-fight, drinking, heart ache :( miscellaneous; everyone say thank u kim namjoon 🤩 word count; 1.5k

notes; a lot of people wanted to know his thoughts during the iconic d&b fight scene so here’s the closure we all needed </3 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second the last syllable departs from his lips.

Jungkook doesn’t mean it, that much he knows right away, but even still… there’s a silent moment of shock between the two of you, one where even he is surprised by his own tongue.

You move first, phone whipping across the room.

Now Jungkook has seen a lot of scary things in his life. He’s seen horror movies and walked through a cemetery at night once. He’s come home way past curfew and had to face the wrath of his normally lenient father. He’s sat front row in his first ever college seminar. Yet none of that fear, that anxiety, that dread, compares to the level of emotion he feels wrap around his throat the moment you get up.

“___, wait,” he calls out frantically, hands shaking the further and further you get. He has to tell you he doesn’t mean it, that he would never mean it. But how do you follow up a statement like that? Even when he catches your eyes, beautiful irises colder than the bottom of the ocean, he doesn’t know what to say. He stutters through an excuse he wouldn’t have believed himself and watches you slip further away.

Jungkook can’t let you leave, not when you’re so hurt and he’s so confused, but what else can he say? He doesn’t know, and when you angrily send him back inside he feels every bit the scolded child. Funny how that works.

He calls and calls until he realizes the muted hum from upstairs is the phone you left behind. He’s crazy and in love, desperately scouring through your social media accounts for a sign you’re safe and home. (You were on Twitter three minutes ago, so that’s a relief.) But even then he can’t relax, turning his own words over and over in his head.

Jungkook values a lot of things in your relationship. There’s a beautiful understanding that comes with being in love, a new sense of comfort he’d never felt before. You make him feel warm and in love, keep him grounded when the world threatens to swallow him beneath its surface. You care for him and he for you.

Where those thoughts had come from, he didn’t know. All he knew was that one minute you were picking at the edges of his patience, and the next he was shooting a dagger into your chest.

Self-reflection, Namjoon had always said, the key point to understanding oneself. Usually, that’s followed by some tips on yoga, on calming the mind, but his leg won’t stop bouncing and there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around his throat so that zen mentality will have to wait for now. A harsh exhale, foot thumping against the floor.

Carefully, he unscrambles his thoughts.

There were times you were childish and, for the most part, Jungkook didn’t mind. You brought out the most beautiful things in life with just your laughter alone. You roped him into doing things he never could enjoy growing up, which made him rekindle his love for old hobbies. If sunshine was a person, Jungkook is sure it was you.

You were bright and ever-burning, always with a mission in your head, even if it was something as small as cleaning your windows that day. A star, he thinks, except your smile alone garners the power of ten supernovas combined. The amount of joy and euphoria you’ve brought him this past year was immeasurable. You made him smile, even when you were tired, rising every morning and setting every night dutifully just like the sun.

But too much sunshine could be hot, scorching even.

His mom had mentioned it once, very early into your relationship, how you were a little too childish for Jungkook. He had angrily defended you, stormed out of his parents' house like he was ready to leave them all for you. (Would he? He likes to think so.) But a mother’s advice always haunted one the most.

Yes, your youthful outlook made his life colorful and bright, but there were times he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone… not as outgoing.

Someone plain and always collected. Someone who would gently remind him of his deadlines, and watch all his favorite documentaries with him. Someone like him, he supposed, who matched his interests perfectly.

It sounds awfully boring.

It sounds terrible to be damned to such a dull life, especially now that he’s had a taste of you. You, who brings laughter and sunshine everywhere you go, his amazing other half. He’d hate it if you always did what he wanted— he loves when you pick at everything he likes because you let him do it back! Jungkook’s head was a never-ending spiral— that much he’s known from a young age. But with you in his life, it became fun and exhilarating. Gone was the dark tunnel and in its place was a twisty slide with loops and turns that defied all laws of gravity. It wasn’t a scary place anymore and it was all because of you.

You, who he might possibly lose forever. His own negligence was to thank, an inability to voice small issues until they piled up and became this big, warped monster that no longer pertained to his original frustrations. It was an ugly thing, so twisted and vile, taking the thoughts he seldom had and weaponizing them against you.

Was that it? Had those mindless thoughts been the root of today’s brash decisions. Jungkook wants to blame it on that, but part of him knows it’s his own inability to share his feelings that led to that spontaneous outburst. There were obviously some things he still needed to work on, but pinning it all on you, his dazzling ray in the sky, was the worst move he could have made. Self-reflection, he repeats to himself.

His heart is still pounding in his ears, drumming obnoxiously loud as if it wants to torture him for his actions. His phone rings across the room and Jungkook lunges for it, hoping and praying it’s you.

It’s not.

It’s just Namjoon calling to wish the two of you a happy anniversary. “You two having fun?” he teases before Jungkook can get so much as a greeting in.

“Hyung,” he chokes out hoarsely, glancing down at the ground. “I-I said something to ___,” he whispers even though there is no one here to hide from but his own crippling thoughts. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

His voice cracks a little. He hides it with a gulp so dry it hurts. “What?” Namjoon asks. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “Are you busy right now?”

—

“You need to go to bed,” Namjoon tells him, ambling the two of them up the stairs. Jungkook snorts, sliding against the entire wall on the way up.

“I refuse,” he announces. He has to pause on the next step because he’s pretty sure there’s about four of the same step whirling before his eyes. Beside him, Namjoon sighs. “Hyung, I can’t see.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, deciding the stairs are too much of a hassle and guiding them back to the living room instead. “Couch,” he informs him before rather carelessly dumping him onto it. “Listen,” he begins, crouching down beside Jungkook. “It’s like, 4 AM… and I have work tomorrow. So I’m going to leave,” he says, slowly pointing in the direction of outside. Jungkook nods, even though Namjoon is definitely pointing upside-down backward. “Okay, JK?”

“That’s me,” he agrees, letting his head slump back against a throw pillow. Namjoon groans.

“That is you,” he concedes. “And you need to sober up before you try talking to ___ again.”

The mere mention of your name turns a switch on inside him. “Can’t,” he whines, features twisting up together. “She hates me. Will cut my balls off.”

Namjoon goes to protest but eventually stops himself. “Yeah, well. Probably.” Jungkook wails at his friend’s poor attempt at consoling him. “Sleep a little and then head over to hers, okay?” He pats him on the cheek once before finally making his exit.

Jungkook can’t believe this. How embarrassing. If you saw him right now, you’d clown him for getting this drunk off wine. But he truly understands it now. It was the devil’s drink, so sweet and cooling only to suddenly slap him across the face with his own insobriety. Oh, his head was going to ache badly later.

Well, that was a problem for later’s Jungkook, he decides as he slinks off the couch and back into the kitchen. There’s a new box of cherry vodka he’d bought just for tonight—or last night, technically—because he knows it’s your favorite. And well. He misses you so much he’ll do anything to feel close to you again.

He’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, swing after swing going down his throat until he’s got three extra fingers and a new middle name. Just that when the sun finally filters through, so warm and bright, he finds himself missing you again. His feet take him out the door before he can think twice.

The morning rays bring with them a wicked headache that almost has Jungkook throwing up into his bushes. Part of him, the last droplet of reason, tells him he should change. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday and they reek. Furthermore, the sun is hellbent on soaking up every inch of his black clothing.  

He should change if he doesn’t want to suffocate in this heat, under this blazing sun in the sky.

But Jungkook loves the sun.

He walks on.

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jjk fic #mine

[catxsnow]

CIRCUS FREAK D.G.

Request: okay so i was listening to rewrite the stars and got the idea where the reader is a socialite from a very wealthy family, and she fell for dick grayson but her family doesn't approve because he's not a real wayne/rich. so can i request that? thank you once again!!🥺❤️

Warning: swears, having really shitty parents

A/N: That gif just melts my heart every time I see it. 

Word Count: 2k

Dick Grayson was an unexpected surprise in your life.

Your parents were the kind of people that expected you to marry a literal prince. They wanted you to continue the family legacy of money, power, and popularity. Generations of marrying important figures to keep the family name from being tainted. Your family took pride in their place in the world.

When they moved to Gotham, there was only one family that was going to be good enough for your parents: The Wayne's. Bruce Wayne was the richest person in the city - maybe even the entirety of the country. When you parents wiggled their way into his life and to his famous gala's, you were to be dragged along as well.

Your parents pointed out dozens of rich men, those who owned big businesses or were part of world affairs. They wanted you to talk to them, date them, and eventually marry one of them. It wasn't those snobby men that you were intrigued by. It was the man across the room with a genuine smile.

At the time you weren't aware that this was Bruce's oldest adopted son. He didn't seem like the rest. Dick wasn't trying to prove his worth by being there, in fact it almost seemed like he didn't want to be there at all. Behind his smile, you could see that he had places he'd rather be - but his kindness to others never faltered.

Out of all the people in that room, he was the only one that you wanted to talk to.

Dick felt your eyes on him. He looked up from the person he was having a conversation with and gazed at you from across the room. A smile lit up his face at the sight of how stunning you looked. He no longer cared about the man he was chatting with - he wanted to go talk to you instead.

That was how you met the love of your life. The second that he asked you to dance, you knew that you never wanted to let him go. You danced your heart away that night, twirling and spinning until your legs were ready to give out on you. Being with Dick... it was like floating in the stars.

You met with him again and again after that night. Every meet up seemed to last shorter than the previous, you never seemed to get enough time with him. There weren't enough hours in the day for you to be with Dick as much as you wanted to. He had cut down on his over time at work, even patrol to be with you.

He was in love.

You weren't like the rest of the snobby rich, young adults that attended these gala's. Unlike so many of these families that just wanted to make money, you wanted to make the world a better place. Dick respected that about you. While you were both trying to change the world in different ways, it seemed to bring you closer together.

Bruce knew who you were. He was aware of your parents and their appearance in Gotham. Thinking like a business man, he assumed that you were only interested in Dick for the money in his name. Upon meeting you, he could clearly see that wasn't the case at all. You were completely head over heels for him.

The issue arose when Dick was meant to meet your parents for the first time. Every man that you had brought home to them wasn't good enough. They drove him away until you were left heartbroken. As the son of Bruce Wayne, you assumed that they would approve of him. Even so, Dick was brave enough to stick around through your parents wrath.

Dick was dressed in his best suit. You were looped around his arm in your best clothes as well. The two of you stood outside the doors of the fanciest restaurant in the city. Your parents were already inside and waiting upon the two of you. Dick leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Stop worrying so much."

"Aren't I supposed to be telling you that?" You chuckled. Dick rolled his eyes and led you through the doors. Truth be told, he wasn't nervous. Throughout all his years, he had impressed every set of parents that he met. Yours couldn't be that different. "Just... don't think of me differently after today, okay?"

"I would never, my love," Dick assured. You switched from having your arm around his to intertwining your hands. The server led you towards the table your parents were sitting in. They looked to be in a good mood. Hopefully they would keep it up when you arrived with Dick.

Dick Grayson should have been nervous. After knowing you this past half a year, he didn't think that anyone related to you could be cruel. You were the kindest person that he had ever met, always worried about everyone around you before yourself. He assumed that it was your parents that raised you like that.

He was wrong, very wrong. Your parents seemed to be angered the second that you two sat down at the table. Dick was on his best behavior. He made sure to give the biggest smile, shook their hands, and referred to them with the utmost respect. It didn't seem to matter, the second they laid eyes on him they weren't impressed.

When you told your mother that you were bringing a Wayne to dinner, they assumed you meant a real Wayne - not an adopted one. Bruce was far too old for you, Damian far too young. Tim was the one that they were expecting, even if he was considerably younger than you as well. Even if he wasn't a real Wayne, he was the one to run WE.

Dick Grayson was nothing but a circus freak.

A boy who was born from poor parents and grew up in the circus. He was the exact opposite of what your parents wanted of you. Even with being adopted by Bruce, it wasn't enough for them. You were tired of pleasing your parents. Dick was the love of your life, you knew it in less than a year of being with him.

"You're lucky Bruce Wayne adopted you. I suppose living in a circus you had no where to go but up," Your mother spoke. She sipped her wine, acting as if what she had said was a compliment. Dick's eyes widened in shock but he remained quiet.

"You're not a real Wayne, though, right? Like Bruce's inheritance isn't going to go to you, it'll go to his youngest, the blood son?" Your father pitched in. "(Y/N) are you sure you want this one? What about the other, the one running Bruce's company - at least he has something going for him."

"That's enough!" You raised your voice. Your parents were not-so-subtle about their dislike towards Dick. They shamed his upbringing, saying that he was lucky to be taken in by Bruce rather than continue his life in the circus. Though you knew their words hurt him, he stayed calm throughout the matter.

You on the other hand, couldn't hear anymore of it. "Who the fuck do you think you are to say those things? Huh? You're nothing but snobbish pricks who only want me to marry for money! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of seeing you on your high fucking horse thinking you're better than everyone!

"I'm ashamed to call you my parents. You don't care about Gotham or your own daughter! You only care about yourselves and money. Have fun being fucking miserable, I'm not putting up with your shit any longer. Never again."

The restaurant had gone silent. All eye were on your table, listening in to the scene that you were causing. Your parents sat there in shock. you had never showed any signs of aggression like that before. Not once in your life had you went against them so fiercely and so publicly. Unfortunately, they blamed this attitude on Dick.

Before they could say anything about your outburst, you grabbed Dick's hand and nearly dragged him out of the restaurant. You were beyond angry. So full of rage, humiliation, even guilt. You so desperately wanted this dinner to go well and it had gone anything but. Dick finally stopped you from racing back towards his car.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as he looked down to you. Without hesitating, he pulled you into a much needed hug. You sobbed into his chest, your heart aching for the words that your parents said to him. He didn't deserve that, any of it. Dick was too polite to stand up against strangers like that - especially when they were your parents.

"I'm sorry," You whispered. Dick kissed the top of your head before wiping away your tears. When you asked him not to judge you for your parents, he never thought you would mean to this extreme. Still, he kept with his promise. You weren't your parents, you were nothing like them.

"Don't be," Dick assured. He had gone through far worse things than some angry parents. He got broken, battered, and bruised every week - a few hurtful words shouldn't have fazed him. But seeing you so upset because you cared this deeply about him? That broke his heart far more than what your parents said about him.

"My parents are horrible people. They've always only cared about keeping the family name as an important figure. I've pretty much would be stuck in an arranged marriage if they got what they wanted," You squeezed your eyes shut, remembering the hurt looks on Dick's face as they spoke poorly about him.

Dick didn't know what to say. To be honest, he was still in shock over the events that had just happened between you and your parents. Firstly with how horrible they were, and secondly, how quick you were to stand up for him. You had only known him for six months and you were willing to throw away your relationship with you parents for him.

Realizing just how committed you were to this relationship sparked something in him. He knew that he loved you, and even if it was a relatively short time together with you, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Dick was completely and utterly in love with you.

"You're not a freak, Dick," you continued as he didn't speak. Without him saying what was on his mind you were left to believe that he was thinking the worst. He no longer wanted to be with, he didn't love you anymore. It broke you to think like that, you would do anything to change it. "You're not a Wayne, you're a Grayson. A Flying Grayson, that's the man that I love."

"I love you," Dick finally spoke his mind. Relief flooded you; that was what you wanted to hear. "You aren't your parents, I see that more than ever now. Just like how I'm not Bruce. We're meant to be our own people, to live and grow and discover who we really are. Right now, I know that I'm meant to grow with you."

"You make me a better person every day, Dick Grayson," You smiled up at him. Dick pulled you closer by your hips and lowered his lips to yours. He didn't care about the random people walking by you or the sound of car horns in the background, you were all that mattered.

It didn't matter if you parents didn't approve of him. He had your heart, and you hoped that he never let it go.

#dickgrayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing imagine #nightwing oneshot #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #batfam one shot #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #fluff #angst #fanfic #fic

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 2

Here we gooooo :) Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey, @remedialpotions, @not-steve42, @jamezbot, @gryffindorhealer, and the majority of the HG server for their help <3

If you’ve just arriving, here is Chapter 1. :)

_____________________

D A Y  +  T W O 

He’s driving her mad. Absolutely fucking mad.

Ginny grips the hose in an attempt to water the rose bush outside their window, but her eyes are unfocused, unseeing.

This entire thing was such a terrible idea.

She should’ve insisted on another Auror as backup on her first solo mission. Someone less attractive. Someone she hadn’t shagged up one side of the Burrow and down the next.

But the request was difficult to grant in the first place. It took Ginny a full year of documentation to prove this was a necessary use of resources. Attica (and Unspeakables in general) don’t tend to be well-liked by the older Aurors, which made Harry the best fit. The only fit. Everyone— from Kingsley to Attica to even Hermione— agreed. And even aside from the sheer convenience of it all, Ginny’s years of experience with the Thought Chamber and Harry’s ability to sniff out trouble like a niffler after gold made them a brilliant combination to tackle… this.

It’s just a pity, then, that she still finds him so bloody attractive. Even though he’s become a bit of a brooding, sarcastic mess.

Ginny blinks down at the bright pink petals, their leathery flesh beaded with water droplets. Maybe the problem’s that she hasn’t spent much time around him since then. He still comes around for Sunday roast, of course, when his work schedule permits. In spite of what Mum went through, she’d never allow Harry to feel unwelcome. It’s his house as much as theirs— and yes, Ginny still lives at home. It’s the least she can do to maintain a degree of normalcy, even though everything irrevocably changed when It happened.

Ginny’s hands begin to shake around the hose; her brain starts to spiral. The Burrow is less welcoming now. Their hugs are more forced. Their family more distant. And although everyone functions on a basic human level, Ginny knows in her gut that the remaining Weasley siblings — Harry most certainly included — are still going through the motions to cope.

And maybe it’s because she really hadn’t had a libido in nearly five years, but fuck, it hasn’t taken much to come rushing back. Her thighs press together as her head fills with another series of intrusive thoughts instead. But she can’t suppress the memory of Harry emerging from the shower this morning, his top-half dripping, his bottom-half toweled. Not that it matters much, not when she knows every fucking inch of—

“I think that bush is good now!”

Ginny jumps, a string of swears springing to her lips. “I— fuck.” She turns to the unexpected voice. “Sorry! Let me—”

But Oliver from last night merely leans over to turn off the hose. “You’ll quickly learn that sort of language isn’t great for Arcadia, Jen,” he intones, finger wagging.

Years of training allow Ginny to blush in chagrin. To shove aside the telling-off she’d have provided a long, long time ago. “Sorry.” She winces. “It’s just a habit, leftover from—”

“—London, right,” he finishes, his eyes never leaving hers. “Anyway. Listen. Sharon and I would be honored if you joined us for dinner tonight.”

“Did I hear something about dinner?” Harry strolls out of the house, the door shutting behind him with a satisfying thump. “Goodie! As my wife knows, dinner is my favorite word.” He rests his chin on her head, sliding his thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans. Ginny’s heart clenches in familiarity even as her face remains placid. They agreed to all of these terms beforehand… to feign public affection. To seem utterly smitten. It’s just funny how they’ve both relied on old habits.

Ginny reckons that makes sense, though. After all, it worked for them once.

She turns towards Harry with a pout. “But Pookie Pie, I thought your favorite word was snuggles! We certainly did enough of that last night.”

Harry’s chuckle rings out with false bravado as he tucks her hair behind her ears. “We did something, all right. Not sure if snuggling is the right word for it. What do you think, Oliver?” Harry whips around to face him. “What’s your favorite word for… marital relations?” His eyebrows waggle suggestively above his glasses; Ginny stomps on his foot to keep herself from laughing.

Oliver, however, does not find them delightful. “I think this is for you. From Mike.” He points to a box that he apparently rested on the ground while Ginny was drowning the roses.

Harry bends over to pick it up. This does nothing to distract her.

“Couldn’t Mike erm…” Ginny shakes her head to clear it. “Sorry. Couldn’t he bring it over himself? He lives just—”

“Out of town on business, I’m afraid.” Oliver’s voice turns cold as he peers at Ginny again. “He won’t be back for weeks. Months, maybe.”

Ginny makes a noise of concern and rests a fist on her hip. “Huh! That’s funny. What out-of-town business could a primary school teacher possibly have?”

Oliver’s eyes narrow, but his grin remains. “Teacher business, I guess.”

“When can we speak to someone about the trampoline?” Harry blurts, slicing the tension. “I’m missing my exercise, Ollie. It’s how I stay fit. You won’t like me when I’m not exercising!”

With that, Oliver’s grin finally fades. “Well, you can ask Mr. Gogolak, but I don’t think anything will come of it. He’s available tonight from 5 o’clock to 6:13, on the dot. He lives just up there, on the corner. Anyway, I’ll be off.” He gives a parting wave and turns to walk up the drive, but Harry isn’t done.

“Not sure how we’ll manage to make that and dinner, though,” he calls. “Don’t we have to be indoors by six?”

But it seems Oliver is absolutely intent on being elsewhere, because he opts to walk backwards and yell from the street. “Of course not!” he shouts. “Six is only the move-in deadline.” Then he barks out a cruel laugh, throwing his hands in the air. “Any idiot knows that dinner starts at 7!” With that, he sends them a final glare before lumbering away, his brown loafers crunching on the pavement.

Harry and Ginny snort in unison; if Oliver hears them, he doesn’t engage.

“See you later!” Ginny confirms, ensuring it’s loud enough for him to hear. Then she drops her voice to a stage-whisper and cups her hand into a regal wave. “Hope Sharon removes that stick from your arse before dinner tonight, you miserable sack of shit. Suck my dick!”

Harry laughs. “As much as I appreciate the support, Muffin Cakes, that’s one insult that just doesn’t work when you say it.”

And Ginny doesn’t know what comes over her next… she really, really doesn’t.

Because in the blink of an eye, she’s pushed Harry against the front door with a petulant pout. The pulsing between her legs returns with humiliating swiftness; it’s a blessing, really, that Harry’s dreadful at flirting and picking up on cues. They’re in public, but this is the furthest thing from acting.

Nonetheless, Harry’s Adam’s apple bobs as her arms drape around his neck. She watches, rapt, as his eyes darken. Apart from that one slip-up last night, he’s excelled at his job… and as she leans into his hard chest, she realizes how she really feels: she's jealous. Dreadfully jealous.

How dare he be better at this? What in hell gave him the right to soak her knickers with a single look? She’s had years of professional training and a lifetime of practice, but it comes naturally to him— this pretending shit.

And for fuck’s sake… he’s a lot better at it.

“But it’s been ages since you’ve been in my knickers, Baby Bear,” she croons, batting her eyelashes. “How would you know?”

She intends it playfully. A gentle way to put him in his place. But to her surprise, something stinging and sober crosses Harry’s face.

The moment’s over… absolutely over.

In a flash, he pushes her away and gestures at the door. After you. She nods, still turned on but now confused. The whole thing reminds her of ancient history, where she waited for him after each quidditch practice and thought, wished, prayed that he’d touch her… all while hoping to God he wouldn’t.

It takes until they’re inside for her to figure out why he’s upset.

He locks the door behind them with a wave of his wand— and when he whips around, his face is twisted into such a brooding scowl that it pins her on the spot. Shit.

“It goes without saying,” Harry mutters, voice dangerously low, “that there are some things a bloke just doesn’t forget.” He lets out a deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering. “Ok?”

Oh.

Ginny’s cheeks flush as it all comes rushing back. She’s honestly forgotten how… attached he was to that ability. How much he prided himself on being able to please her. How he worshipped her body with such respectful, hushed reverence that it still features in her fantasies.

It seems there’s a limit to his acting skills, after all. A line that he just won’t cross. She should be chuffed that she got what she wanted. Instead, her stomach throbs with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it.” He waves his hand over his shoulder and trudges upstairs, leaving her in hollow silence.

Right.

_________________________________

Mr. Gogolak crosses his left leg over his right and swirls his brandy tumbler. Between the ruddy patches on his cheeks and the way his words slip over each other, it’s not his first of the evening. Harry’s reminded of Slughorn. In the worst possible way.

“Anyway.” Gogolak waves at the massive tabbed binder to his left. “As the rules clearly stipulate, a trampoline would lead to other things. Unsavory things.” He raises his eyebrows and takes a sip.

Harry’s eyes flit around the room, trying to take it all in. The decor is… nice, he supposes, if you want every guest to be aware — beyond a shadow of a doubt— that You’ve Been Abroad, thanks. Multi-colored felt flower vases dot the floating shelves above Gogolak’s head, each a pop of color in a room that’s otherwise painfully beige. Scrolls hand-painted with renditions of Buddha and Lokta hang on the far wall. And above them… Harry cocks his head, puzzled, and tries to place where he’s seen that particular mask before.

“Of course,” Ginny agrees with a fervent nod. “We understand the need for decorum and cooperation, don’t we, Hen?”

“Where‘s that mask from?” Harry blurts, nudging his chin up.

Ginny rubs her temples in frustration, but if anything, Gogolak seems flattered.

“Oh! That.” His face flushes with pride as he takes another drink. “That’s a wrathful Mahakala mask. From Tibet! I bought it cheap off a street orphan during my last trip. Can’t say he had much need for it, what with being starving and living in the street.” His laugh booms over the sitting room.

Harry tries to focus. He’s there for Ginny. He’s there for Ginny. He’s only backup. But ah, bugger, after the other shit today it’s too much, and—

“Ha!” Harry returns his humorless laugh. “Isn’t poverty hilarious, Jen?”

There’s an anxious pause.

Ginny ends it with a fake giggle of her own. “As you can see, Mr. Gogolak, my husband is growing a bit testy without his exercise!” She nudges Harry in the ribs— hard enough to make her point, but not hard enough to hurt. “So if we could only have the trampoline, then—”

“‘Fraid not,” Gogolak slurs, peering down at his brandy again. “See, there’s a reason Arcadia has been named Best Village for so long: People simply love to live here!”

“Oh?” Ginny returns her teacup to the table. “Everyone loves to live here?” She rests her elbows on her knees, her voice dropping to a discreet whisper. “What about the people who’ve gone missing, then?”

At first, Gogolak is unperturbed. Then his smile deepens, his eyes traveling from Ginny’s face down to her chest. For fuck’s sake. This arsehole can’t be serious! Harry’s gut swirls with something visceral and protective. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as his hand inches for the wand in his back pocket. Ginny catches his hand on the way and interlaces their fingers with an almost imperceptible, “Shh.”

“Well, well, well,” Gogolak drawls, leaning back to full-on leer at her. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Should’ve known. You’re a ginger, after all.”

Wrong answer.

“Not sure what the color of her hair has to do with her question,” Harry says stiffly. It’s the politest thing he can manage. Ginny squeezes his thigh.

Gogolak faces Harry instead, his face a mask of delighted malice. “Your wife is very beautiful, Mr. Petri,” he drawls. “You must forgive an old man for noticing.”

“Pee-tri,” Harry grouses.

Is it possible to accidentally Avada Kedavra someone with your eyes? Surely he’d be forgiven for that, yeah? He counts five deep breaths, his face burning, as he waits for Ginny to take the lead.

He’s still a bit taken aback at how quickly things changed. He thought he was irritated with her earlier, but now he realizes that frustrated is a better word. They haven’t been together in ages, but she has to know what she still does to him. It wasn’t like she’d grown less beautiful. And while he’s not proud of how things ended, he’s spent the last five years taking pride in knowing her. In being her first, as primitive and knuckle-dragging as that sounds. Because no matter how bad things were, he was always able to make her…

Yeah.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Had he deluded himself into thinking it was as good for her as it was for him?

Ginny clears her throat again. “But what of the people?” she prompts. “The missing people? Like Eric Highland, who lived in our house until last August, when—”

“Oh, him!” Gogolak booms out another uncomfortable laugh and drains the rest of his tumbler. “Well, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but—” He makes a slitting motion across his throat and pours himself another drink. “Committed suicide. Quite a mess.”

Then Gogolak stills, his eyes widening; for the first time this evening, he looks vaguely embarrassed. “Oh, but not in your home, of course!” He waves his hand dismissively. “We’d never, you know, let someone move in after that. Would affect property values, you see.”

Harry’s heart pounds in his ears as Ginny clenches his hand, for once. He wonders if he’s ever given less of a shit about property values.

Another span of uncomfortable silence stretches between them… but this one grows more furious and heated with every second. The version of her he knew before would have Bat Bogeyed this wanker before she took a breath. But everything’s different now.

“That’s… not the preferred term,” Ginny finally manages, her voice strained. Harry grips her hand more tightly; that odd rush of pride returns. He knew she’d say something. There’s not a single version of her that would let that go.

Gogolak’s brow furrows. “What do you—”

“—Took his life,” Ginny interjects, her voice ringing with the righteousness Harry only dimly recognizes from the woman he knew before. “Or died by suicide. Or had terminal depression.”

He holds her hand even tighter as she draws a deep breath, shifting in her seat. Get him, Gin. Get the bastard. Whatever you need, I’m there.

“Committed is a word that… implies a crime,” Ginny finishes. But her words sound careful now. “It just adds to the stigma that people with mental illness are problematic. Words mean things. So.”

Gogolak presses his lips into a thin line. “Forget I brought it up.”

“I will,” Ginny says coolly.

Ginny hadn’t thought much could be worse than the meeting with Mr. Gogolak. Unfortunately, dinner with Sharon and Oliver is proving her wrong.

“This is free-range chicken, of course,” Oliver drawls, gesturing towards their plates. “Got them at the organic market. Anything for health!”

They’d already been treated to iceberg lettuce salads and glasses of generic Merlot. Perhaps she should have anticipated chicken breast and rice as the thrilling main course.

Harry cuts his chicken breast with a sigh. “That’s a pity, Oliver. We all know that caged chickens are tastier!”

Ginny muffles a snort with a cough and reaches for her glass of wine.

Sharon pauses, fork mid-way to her mouth, to peer at Harry, bleary-eyed and confused. Oh, for fuck’s sake; what was it about suburbia that removed one’s ability to recognize a joke?

Oliver changes the subject before Ginny gets the chance. “Where did you two meet, anyway?” he grunts. “And how long have you been married?”

Ginny smiles, preparing the canned response they practiced for months. They met in uni through mutual friends. They both work in computers, and last year, they finally realized it was time to leave the big city.

Harry shatters all of that with three words.

“Magic camp, actually!” he announces, throwing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

Fuck. She analyzes her chicken with newfound intensity and tries to imagine something sad.

“Huh,” Oliver says flatly. “Wouldn’t have taken either of you for magicians.”

Sharon has the grace to act embarrassed. “Now now, love,” she chides, reaching for the breadbasket, “I’m sure people have loads of hobbies that aren’t always obvious to everyone!”

“Exactly!” Harry grins and reaches for a piece of baguette. “Besides, it’s mostly Jenny who’s mad for it. Card tricks, pulling bunnies from hats, sawing women in half. Even—” he pauses for a dramatic gasp— “magic wands! You name it, she loves it.”

“Well!” Sharon raises her eyebrows; it’s clear she’s feigning being impressed. “If I’m ever in need of disappearing something, I’ll know who to call!”

Aha! The perfect opening!

“Speaking of disappearing,” Ginny starts, as casually as possible, “we checked with Saint Julian’s Primary. It’s not true Mike left on business.”

Sharon’s smile freezes and melts with such speed that Ginny feels a pang of sympathy. Poor Sharon. She’s really just doing her best to be a pleasant hostess. It’s Oliver who has the clear ulterior motive.

The man in question takes another sip of wine, unfazed. “And why did you have interest in contacting a primary school in the first place? Bit weird for a grown adult, that.”

Harry releases another fake chuckle. “Oh, Oliver, you’re such a prankster!” He bites off some bread. “Surely you’re not turning the tables on my wife and accusing her of being the weird one. After all, all she did was ask about the whereabouts of a lovely member of our community. Right?”

He gives Oliver such an exaggerated wink that even Ginny almost believes him. “And besides…” Harry’s hand wraps around her shoulder again. “Do you reckon we should tell them?” he murmurs, voice laden with his expectation.

Ginny rolls her eyes, fully intent on a thin-lipped, silent warning about making shit up… but Harry’s earnest expression stops her. His green eyes blink behind his glasses, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. Before she knows what’s happening, one of his warm hands cups her chin while the other comes to rest on her stomach.

Oh. She sucks in a breath, her heart pounding— because for a moment, she forgets where she is. She forgets they’re faking. She forgets they split up and chose separate paths, that they weren’t looking through a portal of what could have been, should have been, before their lives turned to shit.

“Not yet, of course,” Harry murmurs, appearing for all the world like he’s drinking her in as his fingers tap at her stomach. “But soon. We hope.”

And with that, he abruptly clears his throat and turns back to the Skinners. “Anyway, that’s why we called Saint Julian’s,” Harry adds, nonchalantly as you please. “Always good to be prepared, eh?”

“Oh, how exciting!” Sharon cries, clasping her hands together. “And yes, I agree— preparedness is key.”

“Knew you’d be happy for us,” Harry says with another wink. “Quite an exciting time, I’m sure you understand.”

It’s then that Ginny finds her voice. “So. Erm,” she starts, trying to focus. “They hadn’t heard from him. Mike. The school, I mean.” She takes another sip of wine to get her bearings back. “Any idea where he could’ve gone? You understand why we’re a bit worried, especially if we’re planning to—”

“No,” Oliver snaps, nostrils flaring. Sharon’s fork clatters to her plate; if swearing were allowed in this house, Ginny’s confident she would’ve let one slip. “I don’t understand, and you’ll find that snooping isn’t a past-time I appreciate,” Oliver finishes, drawing himself up taller to puff out his chest.

Ginny lets out an incredulous chuckle. “But Oliver… this is a matter of safety. We’re worried about our neighbor.”

“Yeah, Ollie-O!” Harry clucks his tongue, relaxing further into his chair. “Perhaps Arcadia isn’t as perfect as we were led to believe.”

Oliver just fixes them both with a stern glare. “Nope,” he says flatly. The p pops. “You’re wrong. Per usual.”

For six seconds, the four of them sit in painful, frigid silence. Ginny feels Harry’s hand reach behind him… inching closer to his wand...

“Jenny!” Sharon finally chirps, her voice a falsetto. Oh, thank fuck. “I need to walk the dog. Would you join me?”

___________________________

Captain Bone’s toenails tick on the pavement as Sharon holds his lead. Ginny peers at him with unexpected affection as he prances beneath the street lights. Dogs are too high-maintenance for her to even consider, but something about this one is undeniably appealing. As if he hears her, Captain Bone turns to Ginny with a slobbery grin.

Sharon laughs. “He likes you. He’s a sucker for a pretty girl.”

Ginny scratches beneath the thick leather collar with Captain Bone emblazoned on a bronze plate. He throws his head back for more access. Poor Captain Bone. The whole collar looked horribly uncomfortable. “I like him too,” Ginny agrees as he flounces away. “I’m afraid work keeps me too busy for a dog, though.”

Sharon waves this away. “Nah. I’ve seen the way Henry stares at you.” She flashes a knowing smile as they continue strolling, side-by-side. “I reckon if you really wanted a dog, he’d oblige.”

Captain Bone halts, mid-step, and picks up his leg. Sharon removes a waste bag from her pocket.

“You’re probably right,” Ginny mutters. She’s not sure why that feels like admitting to a scandal.

Sharon sighs. “The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. Like he’s holding the whole world in his hands.” Her voice grows wistful, distant; Ginny has a feeling she’s not actually talking about Harry at all.

“Well, we are newlyweds.” Ginny mashes her kitten heel — a clothing acquisition specific to this assignment — into the pavement. “I’m erm. Sure that’ll change.”

But Sharon just stares at Captain Bone as he does his business. “Maybe,” she says softly. “But I don’t reckon Oliver ever looked at me quite like that.”

Ginny blinks at Sharon beneath the streetlight, the fluorescent throwing her features into sharp relief. Wrinkles fold the corners of her eyes. Bits of gray sprout at her scalp beneath the warm chestnut color. Her smile may have been natural once, but now it’s forced. Uneasy. Ginny grimaces. This poor woman… imagine thinking you couldn’t do better than a wanker like Oliver.

“Shit!” Sharon swears, ripping Ginny from her reverie— and soon, she sees why. Captain Bone charges down the street, his lead scraping the ground like a limp noodle. “I wasn’t holding him tightly enough,” she whispers, horrified. “I’ll have to—”

“No,” Ginny says, taking off her heels and thrusting them into Sharon’s arms. “Let me!” And with that, she’s off, bare feet slapping the pavement.

“Don’t blame you for trying to get away,” Ginny mutters, rounding a corner. “The place is bloody creepy. But next time, Captain Bone, could you do this in broad daylight? Nighttime ‘round here is—”

Wait.

Ginny stops, dead in her tracks. A weird sensation creeps over her, crawling against her skin. All the street noise vanishes. Crickets stop chirping; wind stops whistling. She looks around, panic rising in her throat, but nothing looks amiss. She can’t shake it, though… their eerie, numb ringing that fills her head, and—

Like a thunderclap, it all comes back. The faint wind returns. Bugs resume their buzzing. The electric lamppost makes a dull crackling just above her.

Weird. Very fucking weird.

Luckily, Ginny specializes in weird; in the aftermath of whatever the hell that was, she’s more confused than frightened. She takes a few more shaky steps, making every observation she can (temperature, cloud pattern, weather conditions, insect movement)... and that’s when she spies something glinting to her left. Something golden and stuffed in a storm drain.

No. Ginny’s heart pounds as she rushes over, sinking to her knees. It can’t be…

But the closer she gets, the clearer it is: Mike’s chain necklace… the medallion of Saint Julian. Right beside Captain Bone’s pretentious leather collar. For the first time, fear floods her stomach. She surreptitiously reaches for the wand tucked into her waistband. “Accio necklace.” It soars through the gate and into her hand just as Sharon’s footsteps round the corner.

Ginny shoves the necklace into her bra— and it’s only then she realizes that there must’ve been something strange and slimy hanging from it, because whatever the fuck that was is now pressed to her right nipple.

Blech. It takes every bit of her willpower not to shudder and gag. She manages to school her features into innocent concern as Sharon finally catches up.

“Well,” pants Sharon, hands on her thighs, “did you find him?”

“No,” Ginny laments, genuinely upset. She gestures towards the storm drain. “But for some reason, his collar’s down there.”

Even beneath the streetlamps, Sharon’s face turns white.

______________________________

Harry’s back muscles contract in agony as he hunches over the laptop. This whole assignment is a painful reminder that he’s not as young as he used to be. How many hours did he spend snoozing on the lawn at Hogwarts without so much as an ache? But a single bloody night on these shit couches, and he’s popping Paracetamol like sweets. He shifts in place; must be time for another dose.

“Hear anything?” Ginny emerges from the walk-in closet in a towel turban and fluffy white dressing gown, two evidence bags in her hands.

Harry glares at the laptop screen and tries very hard not to remember that one of those bags contains a lacy black bra— one he definitely hasn’t seen before. For the past hour, he’s been in an envious haze of wondering if she bought it for the mission or bought it to wear for someone else.

Either way, it consoles him that deep down, she’s still Ginny; she took this necklace and shoved it into her bra without letting on that something vile and gross was pressed to her ti—

He shakes his head to clear it, but that hurts his neck. For once, though, he embraces the pain. Anything to shift his focus.

“From the props department? No.” Harry sighs and retrieves the medicine bottle from his luggage. “I swear, I have no idea who they got to make the moving boxes and pick the couches, but I’m fairly sure Victoire could do better.”

Ginny scoffs at this. “Well, of course Vic could do better. She’s the most perfect, adorable human alive,” she says fondly, tossing the evidence bags in the transporter box.

It’s plain cardboard, easily disguised as a standard moving box. But with three taps of her wand, the bags evaporate, presumably materializing in a Ministry lab somewhere. Not that Harry cares about the specifics. This is a key example of the sort of detail that’s less and less intriguing the longer he holds this job.

“But I was actually asking if you’d heard anything about Mike and — hey, what are you doing?”

“Paracetamol,” Harry mutters, popping open the bottle. “I’m getting old, Ginny,” he warns, rising to his feet with an exaggerated grimace. “Dunno why you thought it would be a good idea to go on a mission with an old man.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the bathroom. “You don’t need to be so bloody noble. Please join me on the bed. We could make it longer, even, if you—”

He clears his throat to cut her off. That would be a terrible idea on all counts. Silence on the other side of the door tells him that Ginny either realizes this or chooses not to press the issue. Good...

“Erm. There’s no hits on Mike,” Harry calls into the bathroom. “I reckon he’s dead, Ginny. Credit cards and car haven’t been touched.”

The tap turned on behind the door. “Can’t say I’m shocked,” Ginny admits, voice muffled, “but— holy hell, who taught you how to squeeze toothpaste?”

Harry smirks and returns to the computer. “Myself, probably.”

Ginny lets out another irritated groan. “And the toilet seat’s up!” She strides out of the bathroom. “Strike two!”

Harry hears the distinctive sound of clothing hitting the floor beside her bed but wills himself not to turn around, not to turn around, not to—

“Well.” Ginny sucks her teeth as the bedding rustles. “I suppose I should take all of that as a good sign, really. You clearly don’t have girls in and out of your flat.”

Oh?

Harry’s heart thunders in his ears, his stomach flipping in hope. She takes that as a good sign? Really? He glimpses over his shoulder before remembering he’s not supposed to look.

And just as quickly, he regrets it.

Because Ginny’s sprawled back against the bed, her face so white that she nearly blends into the linens, but his eyes aren’t too focused on her face. They’re drawn down, down, down… down to her creamy chest, dotted with chocolate freckles. Down to her breasts, which he definitely still knows every inch of, even as they rest beneath a black lace vest he hasn’t seen before. Down to the shorts that hug her hips and graze the tips of her thighs… the same thighs he spread open and dipped his head between as she tugged on his hair, her cries breathy and panting in the garden’s evening mist.

Ah, fuck. That one does it. Harry adjusts his basketball shorts as discreetly as possible, but another glimpse at her face tells him he didn’t need to worry.

“I can’t believe I said that,” she whispers, eyes filled with horror.

Harry clears his throat. He honestly forgot she said anything. Now he just feels guilty for eyeing her up while she spiraled.

“I’m so… fuck. This is so unprofessional.” She sinks her head into her hands. “Please, Harry, forget that I said anything. I’m so sorry. That was—”

“It’s forgotten,” he rumbles, his voice deeper than he realized. “Legitimately. I’ve already forgotten it.”

She shoots him a weak smile through the slits of her hands. “I know you haven’t. But thanks for saying it.”

Harry offers his best expression of bafflement as he picks up a pillow from the end of her bed. “Haven’t a clue what you mean, Unspeakable GW. See you at 0-700 hours.” He stops halfway out the door and gives her a military salute. “Unless, of course, you decide to start a bit later,” he adds seriously, “in which case I’ll see you… erm. 0-whenever-the-hell-you-wake-up-hours.”

Ginny giggles, settling against the pillows again.

“Thanks,” she says after a moment, peering at her cuticles. “For… everything. And especially for forgetting—” She makes a vague hand gesture as her cheeks flush the most fascinating shade of pink.

Harry stills, one hand on the doorknob.

He wants to make her feel better… but really, it’s more than that. He wants to tell her that his heart still jumps into his throat when he hears about an Unspeakable being injured on the job. He wants to admit that he avoids Sundays at the Burrow not because he stopped caring, but because he cares too much. He wants to confess, in a rush of passion, that she wasn’t just his first: she’s his only. That he reckons she’ll always be his only. That exchanging work for Them was the stupidest thing he ever agreed to, regardless of the circumstances.

Oh, and of course, that he still fucking loves her. Harry rubs his forehead, frustration gnawing at his stomach. Why in hell did he admit that to himself? You never admit that to yourself. What an idiot.

Still, they have a mission… a moronic, suburban mission filled with every literal and metaphorical breed of Karen imaginable. But as worthless as Harry considers this whole assignment, her neck is on the line if they come up empty-handed. And she values her assignment— and her neck, he reckons— quite a bit.

So he makes the choice to both reassure her. And to be foolishly honest.

“Erm… for what it’s worth?” Harry croaks, staring down the dark corridor to avoid meeting her eyes. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted in my bedroom, anyway.”

Before she can reply, he closes the door and walks away. His cheeks burn as he pads downstairs, but Harry knows it’s best to leave it, really. To save them both the awkwardness.

Even if it means sleeping on this shit couch forever.

#harry/ginny fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #x-files #canon compliant #au

[senseandaccountability]

Hey, did you get a chance to watch season 6 of Lucifer? What did you think of the finale?

This is going to be salty (sorry) so I put it under a cut for people who prefer joyous things in the feed.

I didn’t like the final season.

To be brief: It felt like a story where the writers knew how they wanted it to end, and therefore the plot ruled over the characters. It wasn't a main plot I enjoyed at all, and it was told in a way that made it difficult for me to appreciate even the small bits I liked. (Ella reveal. Ghost Dan.) I thought it suffered from a jarring tonal shift and when it comes to several overarching themes, I felt it negated/trivialized previous seasons. In many ways it also managed to be both cheesy and cruel, often at the same time. I had the impression it was a compilation of (unfortunately rather boring) fandom wishes and tropes more than authentic storytelling.

To be anything but brief:

I dislike the season in part because it undid a lot of great things about Lucifer as a character.

By the end of 5B Lucifer had come full circle. I think that season finale is great. The Lucifer vs Michael fight was so well done thematically - he fought himself, and unlike the first fight in 5A when he wants to hurt his twin he had now reached a state of personal growth, of compassion. Not even when Michael kills Chloe does he deserve death because everyone deserves a second chance. And then the funny and pitch perfect “Oh, my me”. Ambiguous enough about the details to fuel the fandom, clear enough about the themes and the lore to offer closure. (No, Deckerstar didn’t have a date or much of a snog but I can fill in the blanks there though I am aware that many fans were disappointed by the lack of on-screen love.)

Excellent way to end the show.

Except they didn’t. S6, I feel, tried to tell the same story all over again, only not as well or even coherent.

Over the seasons it’s been pretty clear that while Lucifer can be caring, he mostly cares about the handful of people in his life. S6 even touches upon this, has him trying to care for random people in their hell loops. But S5 already did this, but better, with Michael. The family dinner with God was excellent, it showed broken people all around and had Lucifer, the self-centered drama queen of the family realizing that he’s not the only one that’s been hurt. It showed the best and worst of them all. Sparing Michael, considering Michael worthy of redemption, was peak growth for Lucifer as a character because in that moment he also considers himself worthy of the same thing. That’s when he truly forgives himself. I thought. And then season 6 shows Michael as a prisoner in Hell, just once, never to be mentioned again. Is that a second chance? Is that redemption? Is that really the symbolism they were going for or just a spiteful and stupid little addition because LOL SOME PEOPLE DESERVE HELL. (Do they? Says who? The show doesn’t answer that because the show that focuses on the neutral character the Devil and the totally untarnished place Hell doesn’t much care about such divisive matters, but more about that soon.) I dislike the season, in parts because I wasn't satisfied with the moral/quasi-theological backdrop. The system is wrong, Lucifer concluded by the end of 5B. Season 6 has him return to the system, as an Afterlife Coach of the Damned. Is that really the best they could do?

I mourn all the cool possibilities of what Lucifer, the advocate for free will and defender of desire, could have done with hell as a concept. Blown it apart, closed it, tossed the keys to someone else and rode off in the sunset. At the very least he could have altered it so that it’s no longer solitary confinement but a collective of doomed souls trying together to achieve redemption but hey, never mind me, I’m a bleeding-heart socialist and I don’t believe in revenge and I don’t believe in God but if I did, God would forgive. Otherwise, what the hell is the point?

I parsed through the season with my husband, a real-life minister who doesn't think anyone deserves hell and who gets to suffer my long-ass questions about the theological themes of popular culture a little bit too often. Because we both felt slightly insulted after watching. "Is this bullshit what they offer me?" my husband asked me as the timey wimey time travel plot unfolded. But timey wimey bullshit aside, we concluded that the real reason we were both so annoyed and frustrated with the season is because it highlighted how flat the background lore really is. I mean, I guess they wanted to be yay, neutral and non-divisive themes galore! It’s good to be good, folks! If you’re not, well, I guess you might have your spine broken by the Devil or sent to a never-ending hell loop but let’s not talk about religion! The main issue, for me, with the whole system of heaven and hell and earth on the show is that for every equation, there’s a part missing. The show has borrowed the character from the comics verse but left the entire lore and its internal logic behind. It borrows a bit of moral philosophy, but cuts away the troublesome bits otherwise Lucifer can’t both be on a redemptive path and happily slaughter people in fits of vengeance; it uses Heaven and Hell and vaguely also the concept of sin but never answers any questions about it, apart from the central message of course: it’s up to you. In fact, the show discourages questions about the lore because it has no answers. It doesn’t care. The ending of the show brushes off the much needed systematic changes of heaven and hell like it’s just another joke. (Want to know a show that has compassionate writing about morality while managing to be very funny? The Good Place. And you know what, morality should be serious. I’m a softie and again, a bleeding-heart, but it’s important to be a good person and it’s important to get a chance for redemption. It matters. It’s not just a minor detail.)

Which brings me to the damn therapy theme. I know a lot of people like it and I have also liked it a lot in previous seasons. I have. It’s been quirky. (Also highly unprofessional, but hey.) But as the key to your afterlife/redemption/second chance it’s just not good enough.

It is so very, very individualistic that it makes my skin crawl. It’s the ultimate American solution to systemic injustices and suffering - hey, it’s up to you, man. You decide if you deserve hell. You decide if you deserve Heaven. You make the difference! You can do it! Live the afterlife dream, achieve all your goals, get a hell loop that no longer loops but… stays in one static place where at least you’re moderately happy. Navel-gazing into your soul is certainly one way to get some insights into your mistakes. But it’s not redemption. Redemption is an active choice to be a better person. You don’t have to earn redemption or deserve it. And redemption isn’t the same as forgiveness either. Redemption is the opposite to pointless, everlasting punishment. It’s hopeful and it’s ugly and it’s full of purpose and the chance to be better and add something good to the world. Even Lucifer doesn’t get to do that on the show. He deals only with the already doomed. The here and now on Earth fades into the distance as Deckerstar, too, gets their happily ever after in Hell. You’ll get pie in the sky when you die. Or you get to shag on a throne in Hell. Either way, life on Earth doesn’t matter. (Here the show lean into some really dodgy Christian themes, I’d argue, but hey, it’s not about religion! It’s just a fun romp about a reformed bad boy!)

“Hell is just revenge porn for fundamentalists and other people who believe in eye for an eye. I just want there to be a level of collective forgiveness and hope, you know?” I told my husband whilst chugging down beer. As you do when you watch crap that makes no sense. “A level of hey, I’ve got this, I forgive you, you can do better. Go and do better. And then the actual opportunity to do so, even if it's just reliving your life as a ghost again and again until you figure out what went wrong.” “Honey,” my husband said. “I hate to tell you this since you’re an atheist but that level you’re talking about? That’s Jesus.” Well, screw that.

I really don’t want to need Jesus to make sense of a story. I just want decent bloody storytelling.

#lucifer critical #lucifer season six #lucifer spoilers

[lumosinlove]

Sweater Weather

part xvii

A/N:

Hey team!

I just want to pop in before the chapter to say a HUGE thank you to those who sent me letters!

Thanks to Hannah for your letter and O’Knutzy necklace! It’s AMAZING.

I want to thank Giana for your gorgeous letter (I’ll answer your questions in a separate post and I’m so glad you’re writing again!)

Thank you Kennedy for the painting, earrings, shark sticker (yay marine biologist!) and letter with the dried flowers :)

Thank you Alba for your SW art and your letter—yay to being there from the beginning!!

Thanks to Sophie for your kind words and letter!

Thank you Stephanie for your letter (and beautiful handwriting wow) and of course your gifts! I love the bookmarks and pin!

And last but certainly not least thank you to Alaena! I love that you included what asks you sent in XD and the STICKERS. I can’t decide if I want to put them on things or hang them all up on my bulletin board :) They’re incredible.

Thank you everyone, you’re all so thoughtful and kind!!

With SW ending soon (at least this fic, but this universe will never be over for me!) it is so incredibly lovely to hear what it means to you all. I feel so luck every single day that you guys love this team as much as I do. You thank me for this story, but I think the best part of fiction is that it expands and evolves differently in each mind it touches. Tumblr is such a freakin gift because I get a little glimpse into how you all think about these characters. So, I’m saying thank you to YOU. It’s truly a privilege to hear from you all. <3

If you feel like sending me anything, there is a link to my P.O. Box in my tumblr description! <3

Okay my mushy rant is done. Here’s chapter seventeen :)

~

Remus forgot his own birthday.

Lily had to remind him, bringing out a cake while he and Sirius had spent the day playing with baby Harry. Harry Potter. Harry James Potter.

The team adored him. Remus would never forget the sight of an entire team of hockey players, fresh off a plane, and crammed into a hospital room to peer at the small head of dark hair in Lily’s arms.

Minus one. Minus two, if what Sirius said was true, and Remus was part of the team. Remus had looked at the picture that Pascal had sent him from beside a sleeping Sirius and a heart monitor.

He had looked at the picture, and then at Sirius, and the relief doubled.

Four broken ribs. Bad, but it could have been worse. So much worse. A few days in Vegas to be monitored, just in case. Then, home.

Home for Remus’ birthday, home and in pain, but smiling none-the-less. Harry was a welcomed distraction from it all—the press, the hurt, the uncertainty. Lily seemed to know this without it needing to be said. Remus had told her she had enough going on without worrying about a cake, but Lily had just waved him off and cut them all large slices of the chocolate fluff.

Sirius, meanwhile, had somehow slipped a simple golden necklace around Harry’s neck, and when Remus looked down next, there it had been. A shining gold star pendant. The message had been clear. Sirius’ name-sake and Sirius himself—something to make a wish on.

Remus took a weeks off of work, all that he could.

Road-trips were a blur. Practices were anxious. The team was anxious.

March 27th.

Eight weeks. Sirius had been out for eight weeks. Resting, and stuck in his big house. Remus never thought he would be so thankful for Regulus.

“I’d rather be here than Slytherin any day, even though he whines like a baby when you’re gone.”

“Non,” Sirius would protest.

Regulus would raise an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

Remus would sneak into Sirius’ bedroom whenever he got home late, press one, two, three, four gentle kisses across his chest, and take his place on the other side of the pillow, carefully placed so that Sirius didn’t roll over during the night.

Sirius whined a good deal about that, too. And getting back on the ice.

“I just…I want to be back in case we make it to…” the playoffs.

The team was close. So close.

Sirius had only recently been allowed to come to the rink, suit and all, for home games to sit in the team box. It was strange, looking up from the bench at the jumbotron and seeing the image of Sirius there, standing with his arms crossed, sometimes with a beanie on, making his eyes look intense as he focused on the game in front of him. He was completely unreadable—to everyone but Remus. Remus could tell when he was happy with the team’s playing, when he was annoyed at their opponents. The internet was crawling with gifs of Sirius’ stormy eyes. Remus had more than a few saved, and they frequented the team group chat.

Remus looked up now, but all the jumbotron was showing was James, who had been taking lead in Sirius’ absence, talking quickly to Finn. Remus could see his own legs in the background.

The Stars were up 4-1, and there was ten minutes left in the second period. If they won this game, and they won the next game, they were in. And Sirius would be back the week after that—hopefully in time for the first playoff game, and not for an all-too-long summer vacation. Although, honestly, right then, Remus thought Sirius deserved either one. A chance at the Cup, or a break, a chance to rest up. To be together.

Leo was in net, Kasey resting up his thigh that continuously bothered him. Leo was skating a slow circle after the Stars scored yet another goal, tracing the blue crease with his stick. Remus could practically feel his furious calm.

“Big Rig may experience different weather up there, but he sure as hell has more gravity. Tremzy,” James knocked his helmet with his glove. “Don’t let him catch you, eh?”

“We gotta come back from this shit,” Finn said as he followed Logan over the boards. “For Leo. Leaving him out to dry out there. No.”

“For Cap,” Thomas said, coming back over the boards and breathing hard.

“Gotta put my baby in that silver crib!” James followed his wingers, a center for now.

“Cookie, Bluey, Ringer, be ready,” Coach called. “You’re on deck.”

“The oven is hot tonight,” Elias Cook said, pouring water over his neck.

“Stop saying that,” Kasey shook his head. “Jesus.”

“He can’t help the heat, Baby Bliz,” Thomas said.

Kasey just shook his head and looked back to the game.

Remus leaned in over Thomas’ shoulder. “That was a hit, Talkie, you good?”

“I’m hot,” Thomas said around his mouthguard.

Remus snorted, patting his shoulder pad. “You sure are.”

James lined up for the face off, Finn and Logan jostling against Benn and Perry. Logan dug his skates in when the ref dropped the puck and James whipped it back to him. Logan darted forward into the Stars’ zone, tailed closely.

“C’mon, Tremz,” Remus murmured.

Logan shot the puck off to Finn who got battered against the boards almost immediately by Benn, but got it smoothly to Olli, who sent it sailing back towards the Stars’ net. James was there behind the crease, Khudobin pushed out the wrong way—

James curled it in from behind and the Gryffindor goal horn blared.

“Fuck!” Thomas rose to his feet, knocking his stick against the boards. “Atta boy, baby-daddy!”

4-2 until the buzzer sounded and they were heading back down the tunnel. Remus glanced up at the screen one more time, and only just caught Sirius, smile plastered on as he was shown shaking the hands of a few older men. Remus suppressed a smile, and followed the team off of the ice for second intermission.

The locker room was subdued, and Sirius came in while Remus was crouched by Logan, taping up a jammed finger. He walked up to Coach first, leaning his elbows on the podium where he controlled the projector. Remus watched as he pointed to a few of the plays drawn up on the whiteboard, Coach nodding along.

“I can do this,” Logan said. “Leave with your moon eyes.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but tore off the tape and rose. “You’re all set. Try and keep it safe during third.”

“Oui,” Logan said, already sliding his headphones back on. Finn rose to get a fresh jersey, brushing a palm over the back of Logan’s neck on his way. Logan’s eyes followed him as he went to Leo next, who was sitting with his elbows on his knees in his stall, head down and airpods in. Finn squeezed himself in beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He leaned in to press a few kisses to his neck, murmuring soft words. Leo closed his eyes and pressed into him.

“Hey.”

Remus turned away from the two to meet Sirius’ eyes. He was smiling, a good break from the grimace Remus had become used to.

“Hi,” Remus said and pressed a hand over the familiar bandage, thick beneath Sirius’ suit and shirt. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m good,” Sirius leaned down, right in the locker room, and kissed him. His mouth was gentle, leisurely. “I feel good.”

Remus smiled into it, and took his hand. “Good. Come on.”

Sirius followed him, hand in Remus’, into the training office.

“Ten minutes until show time,” Remus said in the dim space and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck. “Are you really feeling okay? Been on your feet for a while, I’ve been watching.”

“Loops, I come back soon. I’m healed, I’ve started light exercise. It’s just a matter of insurance.” Sirius leaned into him, lips brushing his. “You seemed to think I was fine last night.”

Remus grinned. “Yeah, I definitely think you were fine last night.”

Sirius smiled, but then his expression turned more grave. He bit his lip, and ran his hands up and down Remus’ sides a few times, almost as if to comfort himself. “Fuck, I want this for the team so bad.”

Remus nodded. This was a conversation they had been having more often than not. “I know. And they know. You want it for them, but baby, they want it for you. They’re out there doing their fucking hardest for you. I don’t think you should start preparing for the worst. Not yet. Hockey’s a fast game.”

“We’re just—we’re so close. And fucking Grayback and…and if we win this game, we just have to beat Vegas again and we’re in. And I won’t get to fucking be out there because of fucking Grayback. And he’s not even suspended anymore—”

Remus kissed him, and Sirius mumbled for a moment into it before relaxing.

“Two games,” Remus said. “Home. Then Vegas. We beat Grayback, take a chance at the cup away from him. That’s the best we can do.”

Sirius looked at him for a long moment. “How are you so okay with all of this?”

“What’s the alternative? Obsessing over him? He’s not worth it. At all.”

They looked up at the sound of the team noisily making their way back down the tunnel, shouts and whistles, trying to psych themselves up for a come back.

“Third,” Remus said, then tucked his fingers into Sirius’ hair and kissed him again. “You’re competitive. I love you for it. But, baby, you’ve already beaten him. You beat him a long time ago.”

Remus kissed Sirius’ slowly smiling mouth again and again before rushing out the door.

Sirius made his way back up to the box. He watched the other members’ eyes follow him as he slipped back into the private room. There was an absurd array of food and drinks on a table, designed to impress members and investors. Sushi rolls and miniature hot dogs, popcorn in Lions colored cardboard boxes. Red-frosted cupcakes and lion head cake-pops. Sirius took a cupcake. He’d already beaten Grayback. Remus had just kissed him. His ribs had healed well. It all called for a cupcake.

“Really letting yourself off, eh?”

Sirius looked up at a man. He was wearing a white collared shirt under one of Sirius’ jerseys. Obviously a fan, obviously nervous, obviously important given the way one of the managers was looking at him talking to Sirius.

“No,” Sirius said plainly. “I’m having a cupcake.”

There were laughs from around him, as if Sirius was the funniest guy in the room. Sirius didn’t feel funny. This guy was making him miss puck drop.

The man held out his hand. “I’m Mike. Real doozy you slapped the world with.”

Sirius took it tightly, cupcake in his other hand. “I wasn’t aware that I did the slapping.”

“Probably broke a lot of hearts though.”

Sirius looked at Mike the way he looked at opponents on the ice. He watched him blink, watched his body language change.

“I was thinking about my own heart. Désloé, how do we know each other again?”

“Oh. Well—”

“Right,” Sirius nodded. “Enjoy the game.”

Sirius walked towards the box’s edge, unwrapping his cupcake. He could see the entire stadium from up here, the teaming mass of red and gold, the team readying themselves on the ice. A tiny glimpse of Remus on the bench. Coach was gesturing and talking. He watched his own face on the jumbotron as he took a bite of the dessert. He found the camera and flashed it a thumbs up, waving his arms upwards and listening to the crowd’s cheers roar in time with his hands. He caught glimpses of rainbow flags in the crowd, signs with number twelve decked out in the colors. It was a nice contrast to the signs that Sirius saw on his way into the stadium. Defaced number twelve jerseys, slurs, people jeering at his window as he drove through security. Interesting, to see who was inside, and who was not.

The puck dropped and James won it. James who, despite them being down, was hot tonight. No doubt riding the adrenaline of Harry and Lily at home, of being named temporary captain, of being so close to what they all dreamed of.

Sirius couldn’t think it, not even in his head.

The puck seemed to be frozen in the central zone, both teams battling too hard. A stalemate in aggressive trench warfare. Back and forth, back and forth with no progress. Sirius crumpled the cupcake wrapping between his fists and cupped them together, shoulders tense.

“Allez…” he whispered to himself.

The camera was on him again, and he looked stony even to himself. He raised his eyes to it and pointed a finger down at the game. Show that, he mouthed.

The Lions goal horn blared. Logan had scored.

Sirius knew the camera caught his reaction on camera. He put his fists up, relief bubbling out of him in a shout.

“Allez, Tremzy!”

The crowd was going wild. Finn slammed Logan into the boards in celebration and the jumbotron replayed the beautiful tip-in. 4-3. Things weren’t so impossible anymore.

Sirius squeezed the wrapper in-between his hands again and set his elbows on the ledge.

“Play Kuny, play Kuny…” Sirius muttered under his breath. He would match Oleksiak. Sure enough, Coach sent Kuny’s line over the boards a second later. Nado and Evan Kane followed him, Fox and Sunqvist on defense.

“No power plays,” Sirius prayed. “Come on, Nado, no stupid penalties.”

“Do you always talk to yourself in French while playing?”

Sirius stiffened. Mike was back.

“Non, parfois je parle en russe.”

Mike blinked. “What?”

“Laisse-moi tranquille, homme intrusif,” Sirius grinned sharply. “I said only sometimes. Usually on the bench.”

That seemed to make Mike happy. “Hey, you’re really superstitious, right?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

Like being alone in the team box, Sirius thought bitterly. Like getting a blowjob from my boyfriend before a game, you know, that doozy I slapped the world with?

“There’s a lot of them,” Sirius said. “If you’ll excuse me, I really have to watch this.”

Mike nodded quickly. “Oh, of course, of course.”

Sirius shifted away a little when he didn’t move, tried to focus on the ice. The puck had dropped and it was on Evgeni’s stick. He was carrying it quickly up the ice, seeming to cut through the players with his broad shoulders. Sirius imagined he could hear his deep voice, calling for Nado to look alive. The pass connected, but Seguin tapped it out of Nado’s hands from behind and sent it up the ice quickly to Benn.

“Merde,” Sirius said. The Lions were changing and then it was Pascal’s line with Elias and Brady, Olli and Timmy on defense. Benn managed to get around Olli, and then—

Leo was pushing far out of the crease and aggressively jabbed the puck right from Benn’s stick and onto Pascal’s waiting one. Leo slid back into the crease like a water snake. The stadium was chaos.

Knutty, Knutty, Knutty, was the chant. It filled the air itself. The jumbotron showed the bench briefly, Logan and Finn and Thomas grinning up at the stands. Pascal still had the puck.

His solid form darted up a clear channel, catching the Stars in a slow shift change. He was in front of the goal, Sirius squeezed the wrapper between his palms. Pascal faked by lifting his left leg, Khudobin went for it, and Pascal slid it right between his pads, neat and tidy.

They tied the game. They tied up the game. Sirius pushed back from the railing with a long breath as a TV break began. The Lions ice crew came out to some pop song and began their sweep. Sirius looked down at his bench and yearned to be with them. He rubbed his hand absentmindedly over his ribs. They were healed. He had a few more sessions with Remus left and then he would be back. He would be back.

He thought of the hit.

He hadn’t known what was wrong. There had been no air in his lungs. But Remus had been his first thought. He knew who hit him, he had seen his face before he hit the ice.

Remus.

This would hurt Remus.

“Wait, has a what?”

His own voice over the jumbotron drew him out of his thoughts. It was a pre-recorded interview, one of the fluff ones that they played for fun to entertain the crowd.

Marlene’s voice from off screen repeated the question. “Which one of your teammates has a life-sized Stormtrooper, R2-D2 and C-3PO action figure in their apartment?”

They showed his own face again, laughing and thinking. “Oh. Um.”

It switched to James, arms crossed and actually thinking about it. He pushed his glasses up his nose and laughed. “I don’t know, Finn and Leo? That seems like a weird Harzy thing.”

It cut to Finn. “That’s not weird. I wish it was me. I’ll convince Nut, don’t you worry.”

Pascal looked unimpressed, sitting easily in the chair. “There is only one person this could be, and that person spent the first two months of his time in the U.S. with only the phrases, You’re my only hope, and I’m your father, to his vocabulary. Oh, and the word no.”

Sunny was laughing. “I know exactly who this is.”

Nado looked pained. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve seen Star Wars now? Do you have any idea?”

Finally, the screen cut to Evgeni, smiling, tongue jokingly between his teeth. “Good for English, you know?” He held up his hands. “I am Force.”

The video ended with a swoop of the Lions’ logo, and even Sirius could help but smile. There was eight minutes left in the period.

Eight minutes to pull ahead.

They would do it.

The Stars had called a time out, and so James, Logan, and Finn were milling around the ice together, keeping their muscles warm. Leo was looping around the goal.

They were ready.

Seguin faced off against James, both of them leaning forward.

Seguin won it.

There was a fleury when James was pinned to the boards by Oleksiak, but Logan was there to steal the puck from beneath his feet.

The clock had dwindled down to four minutes when a whistle blew with a slashing penalty on the Stars. Pascal and Thomas joined James on the ice for the power play unit.

Sirius could feel the energetic restlessness of the crowd. They all knew what this could mean. Sirius let out a shaky breath and looked at the wrapper in his hands. He thought of Remus. Remus, and his long list of superstitions. But what pulled him through had been himself. Sirius held it anyway, but he held his Lions closer.

They were ready.

They set themselves up in a triangle, a tic-tac-toe, in front of the Stars’ goal. The sent it to each other quickly, boxing the defensemen in. Finally, James got it to Evgeni, who slapped it with a one timer and—

The goal horn. 00:24 seconds remaining.

The crowd was already singing with victory. The Stars tried for one last push, but Leo snatched the puck right out of the air with his glove.

00:03.

Done.

Sirius pushed his hands through his hair in relief. “Merde.”

Sirius was out of the box before anyone could even think about congratulating him, jogging down the private staircase and towards the locker room. He made it to the player’s hallway before he was stopped by a smiling Alice.

“I know, I know,” she said. “Can we just get a few questions in?” She gestured over to where Marlene was standing with a microphone, talking to a dark haired girl holding a camera. Alice raised an eyebrow. “It’s only Marlene.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

Alice patted his arm. “Congrats, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Sirius said and shoved his hands into his pockets while looking at Marlene expectantly.

“Okay, McKinnon, let’s go.”

Marlene scoffed. “Nice to see you, too. Hi Cap, how are you? Ribs, mind, in general.”

Sirius relaxed a little. If he had to do interviews, he preferred Marlene above all else. “I’m healing well. Ready to get back on the ice.”

Marlene narrowed her eyes at his short response and he smiled. That made her smile. Those were rare for the press, and she had just caught one.

“Any thoughts you want to share about how the majority of the world is responding to you lately? By my calculations, you’re quite the icon and inspiration—not that you weren’t before of course.”

Sirius laughed a little. “Oh yeah? Um,” he cleared his throat. When he looked up he could see Remus down the hall a little ways. He was talking to Kasey who was still fully dressed. Remus looked beautiful and strong and…And Sirius just… He hated questions like this but he just—

“Someone is always going to find something wrong with you,” Sirius said. “With what you say. With what you do. My job is not to please, you know? My job is to play hockey, sure, but, really, my job is to be the person I want to be, do the things I believe are right, do the things I love. With the people I choose to love. I think that’s everyone’s job,” Sirius found Remus beyond the cameras again, along with everything he had ever wanted. He looked back to Marlene. “That took me a long time to learn. They say, have a thick skin and an open heart. Before, all I had was a thick skin. Now, I’ve found someone who can help me have both. I didn’t even realize how much I needed that.”

~

“And that was an interview with a surprisingly heartfelt Captain Sirius Black,” Lee Jordan broke off in a laugh. “Earlier this game we also got to see him telling the cameras, show the game, show the game. Pointing down at the ice. Outstanding. That’s a layer of the Captain that I don’t think we see very often. From what I hear, the dude’s funny, though, Dean. Now, let’s take a look at the Lions’ top scorers. With the Captain out, that would be Logan Tremblay, James Potter, and, that’s right, one of the oldest in the league, Pascal Dumais…”

“What is that?” Remus said, appearing in front of Sirius where he was waiting in the PT room and drawing his attention away from the television. Remus peered at his hands.

“Oh,” Sirius felt himself flush as he looked down at the cupcake wrapper, more like a tiny ball of oily paper now. “I was holding this when Logan scored, so…”

Remus laughed. “So, you had to hold it the entire period. And now it’s practically falling apart. You’re not keeping that.”

“But it—” Remus grinned as Sirius surrendered the wrapper. “Fine.”

“Hey,” Remus said, and Sirius looked up. Remus was flushed from the game, eyes bright with the win. He leaned up and kissed him hotly, then softly. Sirius had to blink a few times when he pulled away. 

“You always had an open heart,” Remus said. “That’s obvious to anyone who knows you. Who loves you.”

Sirius smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Someone cleared their throat. “Sorry…”

They looked up to see Kasey, now in just some basketball shorts. “Hi.”

“Hey, Bliz, I’m ready for you,” Remus said, then looked up at Sirius. “I can get the subway back if you wanna go home to Regulus.”

“Non, non, I’ll wait,” Sirius said, and bumped fists with Kasey on his way out.

Remus smiled after him for a moment, then at Kasey. “So, thigh?”

Kasey nodded, eyes shifting downward, then back to Remus again. “Yeah.”

Remus paused, brows drawing together. “Kasey, are you—”

“Hey, Kase?” Natalie appeared in the doorway. She had her long blonde hair drawn back in two dutch braids and a Blizzard jersey on over a gray sweatshirt with the hood spilling out. Her smile wasn’t as bright as usual.

“Hi, Remus,” she said. “Baby, I’m gonna go say hi to Marlene. Just text me when you’re all set okay?”

“Hi, Nat,” Remus said slowly.

Kasey nodded, accepting a kiss on the cheek. “Okay.”

He hopped up on the table and lay on his back while Remus got ready.

“Just the thigh that’s bothering you?” Remus said carefully. He pushed Kasey’s shorts up his thigh to get at the tense muscle and carefully began kneading the muscles. The post-game played softly on the television while Remus waited for Kasey to speak.

“Will it always be like this, Loops?” Kasey asked quietly after a few moments.

Remus looked up at where Kasey was reclining on the padded table with his fingers across his chest. Remus, if he was being honest with himself, had been waiting to have this conversation with Kasey for a while.

Kasey looked back at him. “It acts up more often than not. I can’t play if I can go down, I…I can’t—”

“I know,” Remus said softly. “I know, Kase. Look.” Remus moved down to his knee, smoothing the muscle firmly. “This injury…it’s a tough one. It takes a long time to heal. It takes time and endurance. So, my answer is no. It won’t always be like this. It just takes time.”

“What if I don’t have time?” Kasey’s voice was even quieter. “I’m a goalie. Sometimes we have less—”

“Kase,” Remus looked at him. “You’re twenty six years old. You do.”

Kasey groaned as Remus pressed his knee out to the side, loosening the muscle slowly. “Fuck.”

“We’ll do some strength training next practice, okay? We’ll make a schedule, I’ll work with you. And we have a day off tomorrow. I’ll send you some videos to do at home if you want, or you can rest.” Remus smiled a little. “Or Natalie can help you stretch.”

Kasey smiled and it seemed easier. “When you say stretch…”

Remus laughed. “That’s the point. Look, you will heal, but you also have to enjoy the rest of your life. Hockey’s everything, and not everything at the same time. I’m gonna give you some salve, okay? And then you’ll be good for the night. Rest.”

Kasey nodded. “How’s Cap doing?”

“He’s okay,” Remus said, warming up the muscle salve between his palms. “Wants to be out there with you guys.”

“We want him there,” Kasey sat up on his elbows and watched Remus’s hands. “What about baby Black?”

Remus snorted. “Good. I mean, happy he’s here. The whole Snake runaway thing is sort of up in the air. The Snakes have their lawyers on his ass about his contract, and Minnie thinks he might have to go public with some pretty horrific stories to prove that they breached it.”

“Horrific stories…”

Their eyes met somberly. “I know.”

“Jesus,” Kasey sighed as he sat up. He pushed his hair out of his face and looked down at his leg. “That feels better. I…I feel better.”

“Good. Try and stay off it as much as you can, okay? Nat loves you to death, don’t tell me she won’t get you what you need.”

“Oh, she will,” Kasey smiled and eased himself carefully off the table. “Thanks, Loops.”

“Bliz,” Remus said, and Kasey turned to look back. “You have time and life and everything else. Really.”

Kasey nodded. He smiled a serious sort of smile. “You’re right. I get in my head.”

“You’re a goalie. That’s part of the job.”

Kasey laughed, flipped him off, and closed the door behind him.

Sirius was waiting for him on one of the couches in the player’s lounge, eyes closed and beanie on his head. His shoulders looked broad in his dark winter coat and suit.

“Hi, handsome,” Remus said, leaning over Sirius with his hands resting against the back of the couch on either side of his head.

Sirius’ eyes opened and he smiled. “Salut.”

“Ready to go home?”

“Regulus says he’s out with Leo. Day off and all that,” Sirius tilted his chin up, silently asking. “House to ourselves.”

Remus pushed himself back upright. “Let’s go.”

~

“I’m glad Regulus had Leo,” Remus said as he stood in Sirius’ massive but mostly empty closet. He picked out one of Sirius’ t-shirts and sweatpants and pulled them on. “They’re both eighteen and both have a lot of pressure to deal with, even if it’s, you know, different pressure. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, I’m happy,” Sirius said as he came back into the bedroom from the bathroom. His torso looked lean in his his sweatpants, the bruising finally faded. "And thankful to Leo. He didn’t have to reach out, you know?” Sirius collapsed onto the bed with a smile, bouncing a little. “Now, let’s stop talking about my brother.”

“Nope, no bed yet. Come on.”

“Loops.”

“You want to play next week, you do this with me now. Let’s go.”

Sirius let Remus wrangle him downstairs and into the gym. Sirius put on some music and then Remus lay him out in just his sweatpants on a soft mat and led him through the breathing exercises and some of the light core work that was on his recovery plan. Sirius kept his eyes on Remus the entire time, the two of them laughing as his hands wandered to Remus’ hips. Remus had to admit that, now that Sirius wasn’t in pain, watching him spread out on the mat like this got him. His softly moving chest, his hard muscles, the shadowed curl of his hair on his temples. He let it get him, there in the privacy of Sirius’ basement. Sirius noticed.

He smiled the next time he raised up in a crunch, abs working, hands behind his head. “Maybe I could use some incentive.”

Remus raised an eyebrow from where he was by Sirius’ bent knees. “Oh?”

Sirius pushed up and held there until Remus bent so he could kiss Remus lightly, then lowered back down.

The next time he came up, he brought Remus down with him. He parted his knees so Remus could settle between them. Sirius’ chest was warm from the exercise, his heartbeat even. Remus sighed into his kisses.

“We should go easy, we have the party at Pascal’s tomorrow—”

“I’m perfect,” Sirius said, and rolled them gently so that Remus was on his back now, Sirius hovering over him. “I feel perfect. I want you so bad.”

It had been a bit of a challenge. They’d been on strict no-sex orders, given to them rather sheepishly by Sirius’ doctor while he was still in the hospital. It had been a lot of Remus trying to sneak a quick jack-off in the shower, trying not to make things harder on Sirius, only to come out of the shower to a glowering, turned-on boyfriend.

Getting the all clear had been spine-melting, and it had sort of been that way ever since. Still, sex was few and far in between. Regulus was in the house more often than not, and even if it was a big house, Remus didn’t think it was the best idea to invite him to stay only to sneak off to Sirius’ bedroom.

Regulus had received the message quickly though, and told them clearly enough when he would be out for a while.

Remus shuttered when Sirius’ hardening cock dragged across his own.

“Fuck, are we really doing this in the gym?” Remus panted out a laugh. He was already so turned on that it ached. His dick pressed insistently against the band of his sweatpants, and when Sirius next dragged his hips down, the loose fabric pulled away to expose the shiny head of his cock. Remus moaned. “Sirius, fuck…fuck, I—”

“No lube,” Sirius said. “Shit, I…”

Remus just pushed Sirius’ sweatpants down over his ass, making his cock fall free, bobbing and stiff, and tugged his own sweatpants down until his hips and thighs were exposed. Remus pushed their hips together, mouth open. It was plenty wet, Sirius cock already beginning to shine at the head.

Sirius fucked his hips forward steadily against Remus, the friction making him squeeze his eyes shut. Remus felt Sirius’ lips against his neck, and wrapped his arms around him. He felt sort of frantic with it, lazily happy with how much he loved this.

“Love you,” he murmured as Sirius pushed forward with a well-aimed thrust. “Fuck, baby, yeah…”

“Not bad for a core workout,” Sirius said into his skin.

Remus laughed, even as pleasure sparked at the edges of his vision. His cock felt heavy and sensitive against his stomach.

“Don’t overdo it,” Remus said. “Here.”

Remus pushed at Sirius’ shoulders until Sirius groaned and rolled onto his back.

“I’m fi—”

His complaints died on his tongue when Remus pressed up all along his side, cock trapped between them, and wrapped a hand around Sirius. He kept his strokes even and tight, running his fingers down over his full balls, the vein on the underside. Sirius was hot in his hand, precome thin and leaking over the back of Remus’ hand. Remus kissed Sirius, tongue sliding into his mouth, and more heat trickled over his fingers. Remus felt like he could come just like that. It was almost—surreal. He was so turned on, especially for not even having done that much. He had just been taking Sirius through his exercises one moment, and then Sirius had taken him between his thighs and he was done for.

“Re, let me,” Sirius breathed, and his fingers found his own cock for a moment before wrapping around Remus’ shoulders to reach behind him, rubbing over the swell of his ass.

Heat pooled in Remus stomach and made his hand stutter, gripping Sirius tighter. “Fuck, yes…”

Sirius’ fingers were soft and slow as they worked their way inside of Remus. It was a little dry, but Remus let his temple pitch forward onto Sirius’ chest as Sirius fingered him. He stroked Sirius slowly, dazed by the contrast between his own pale fingers and the darker, flushed skin of him. He wished he could see Sirius’ hand.

“There,” Remus gasped suddenly. “Ah—”

Sirius pressed him in gentle, slow strokes. It was different, being touched there and not his cock. Remus pushed into the feeling, his cock trapped and still between them. It wasn’t enough to do much except let Sirius’ fingers build a painfully slow pressure inside him. His eyes were lidded as he stroked Sirius’ cock until it was rock hard in his palm. He threw a leg over Sirius’ thighs so that Sirius could push into him deeper, finger curving against his prostate.

Remus just moaned.

“I’m gonna come soon, mon loup,” Sirius panted, hips straining up once, twice. “Loops—”

Remus sped up his hand, swiping his thumb over the swollen head, and then Sirius’ hips jerked. Come dripped lazily over Remus’ fingers, more and more of it, in thick white pulses. Remus’ dick throbbed at the sight, at Sirius’ fingers, tense from his orgasm, pressing hard inside of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, gasping. His hand had stilled against the base of Sirius’ cock, and he could feel him pulsing there, cock throbbing through his orgasm. Sirius’ head had fallen back against the mat, his chest rising and falling quickly beneath Remus’ chest. It was a mess on his hips and Remus’ fingers.

“Fuck. Oh—” Sirius moaned as Remus started stroking him again. His cock strained valiantly, but it was spent and softening. “C’mere, Loops, fuck.”

Sirius turned into Remus, fingers twisting inside of him. It gave him a better angle, and when he moved next, he doubled down.

Remus could only hold onto his shoulders, pliant against the mat.

“Can you come like this, sweetheart?” Sirius said gently. “Just on my fingers?”

Remus already felt like he was coming. There was sweat on his temples and chest, and he felt Sirius’ kiss the salt away. His cock was taught against his stomach, an angry red now. Sirius stroked inside of him evenly, but in quicker time. Remus didn’t even have time to catch one breath before the next was stolen.

“I’m coming—” Remus said, but he knew he wasn’t. Not yet. But he was sure he was. He groaned and Sirius kissed his exposed throat, his back arched up, pressing down on him.

“C’mon, baby,” Sirius said. “Fuck, look at you.”

“I’m coming,” Remus said again, voice breaking, and the calloused pad of Sirius’ finger pressed against him hard, and then he really was. It tore out of him forever, spilling against Sirius’ tan skin. Sirius cradled Remus against him, saying soft things in French until Remus could open his eyes again. Sirius took Remus’ dick gently in his hand, easing a last shiver of pleasure from him. Remus smiled a little deliriously and curled closer to his warmth.

“Bath?” Sirius whispered.

“We gotta clean this,” Remus laughed. “Fuck, I feel like my brain is gone.”

“I’ll clean,” Sirius said, and tilted Remus’ head up for a kiss. “Go get the hot water going.”

That sounded fine to Remus.

~

Lily opened the door to Pascal’s house with Harry cradled in her arms.

“Sirius fucking Black I swear to god you triggered my labor.”

“You say that to me every time you see me.”

She stepped aside. “And will continue to do so.”

Remus stepped through the door first and took Harry from her, holding him close so that Sirius could press a kiss to one of his chubby cheeks. He wasn’t heavy, but Sirius wasn’t suppose to lift very much. Harry smiled at him and Remus watched as Sirius smiled back, murmuring in French.

“Where’s Regulus?” Lily asked.

Sirius shrugged, still making faces at Harry.

“Out with Leo,” Finn’s voice suddenly said. He was sitting on the couch with Logan tucked up against his side. “Yeah, uh-huh, Leo’s replacing us with your brother.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “That’s not true.”

Finn raised his eyebrows, as if to say he wasn’t so sure about that. Logan nudged his jaw with his nose until he pressed a light kiss to his lips. Remus smiled.

He could see the long road that was behind them and the long road ahead at the same time. It was better that way.

Most of the team was there. The living room had a huge banner that read Congratulations Logan! and beneath it a smaller one: for finally moving out of my basement! 

Sirius laughed hard. “I didn’t get one of these!”

Pascal shook his head from where he was playing cards with Sergei. “I knew you would leave eventually. This one, I wasn’t so sure.”

“Hey,” Logan groaned.

Remus laughed and snapped a picture of Sirius in front of it.

“Can I have that for my instagram?” James asked.

“Baby, too much instagram, okay, I love you so much, but…” Lily winced.

“But I have a baby now,” James stood to Remus’ other side, and then Remus had two fully grown hockey players making baby talk surrounding him. “That’s what instagram’s for. Isn’t it, my little lion?”

Harry laughed delightedly at his father.

Kasey and Natalie were sitting on the couch beside Logan and Finn. Natalie had Kasey sitting between her legs on the floor, fingers running through his hair as she talked to them. Kasey seemed to be talking very seriously about something with Katie, who seemed to be wearing three princess dresses at the same time. She was sitting in his lap and he was nodding along, responding whenever she waited for him to.

Remus handed Harry back to Lily when they went into the kitchen to get drinks. Celeste was in the kitchen with Anya, and Thomas seemed to be helping, too, along with Noelle.

When Sirius said he was surprised to see her, she waved him off, taking a sip of her wine. “I’m the resident Tremblay sister representative. We were all pretty worried about Lolo for a minute there, but…” she smiled. “If only we knew. Not one boy, but two. Plus,” she looked over at Thomas, who was focusing intently on what Celeste was saying and stirring on the stove. “I have my own reasons.”

“Talkie’s a good one,” Remus said. “You lucked out there.”

“Right?” Noelle laughed, then nodded at Sirius. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Remus and Sirius said at the same time.

Noelle laughed again, and then her expression became more mild. “And…” she looked towards the living room, where they could distinctly hear Logan’s laugh. “I know none of this was easy for you two, but I’m happy you were there for my brother. Maybe not in the way you wanted to be…in the way any of us wanted…but you showed him it was okay to be who he is. I think Finn would have gotten to him eventually but I think it would have taken a lot longer. I’m glad he’s happy now. And that’s largely thanks to you two.”

“The delicious smells of success,” Thomas suddenly sang out, slightly off-key. “Breathe in the delicious smells of success, hey, Christmas, come over here and look at this goodness.”

Noelle laughed. “Oh, I’m already looking at it.” She sent Remus and Sirius a last smile. “Anyway, I said my piece.”

Remus laughed as she returned to Thomas’ side, tucking herself against him.

“That was sweet,” he said and rubbed his hand gently over Sirius’ chest, sort of out of habit by now. He could feel the bandages there.

Sirius kissed Remus’ temple. “Yeah.”

“Sirius, mon cher,” Celeste kissed Sirius’ cheek when she came over from the stove. “You are okay? Of course you are, Remus is with you. No more big empty house and take out meals, oui?”

Sirius laughed. “Way to sell me out.”

Remus snorted. “Like everyone didn’t already know.”

Celeste laughed. “C’est vrai.” She sighed, patting Sirius’ chest, near his ribs. “I am still so angry about Grayback, honestly.”

“Aren’t we all,” Pascal said, coming over. Celeste wrapped an arm around him.

“You and me both,” Sirius said, taking a sip of his wine. “But it’s over. I have to let it be over or else I’ll go insane.”

“You’ll be back out there soon,” Pascal said.

Sirius smiled. “Only thanks to Loops.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “It’s you who does the hard part.”

Pascal laughed. “As if getting this boy to do what he’s told isn’t the hard part.”

Remus laughed. “Hm, true.”

“Celeste, the goodness looks ready to me,” Thomas called over from the stove.

Celeste laughed and leaned back towards the doorway to the living room.

“Dinner, everyone!” she called.

It only took a few moments for the kitchen to become crowded with people lining up with their plates.

“Hey,” Evgeni bee-lined between them for the wine bottle, but stopped on the way to give Remus a kiss on both cheeks. “Get Captain laid, no more grumpy.”

“Kuny,” Remus said.

Nado, behind him as always, cracked up. Sirius laughed, too.

“Merde, Kuns,” he said. “Subtle.”

“Very,” Regulus’ wry voice suddenly said from behind them as he and Leo entered the kitchen.

“Just in time!” Celeste said, handing them both plates. “Where have you boys been?”

Leo shrugged. “Just—hi, sweetheart,” he cut off as Finn wrapped his arms around his waist. “Just touring around Gryf. Got lunch.”

“Yeah, Sid’s is the best,” Regulus said.

Sirius spluttered mid way through serving himself dinner. “I told you that.”

“So?”

“So, you believe Leo and not me?”

Leo grinned. Regulus shrugged.

Remus spent most of dinner holding baby Harry and watching Sirius tickle his tummy while he laughed. James looked ready to cry at the sight. Lily took him back to be fed when they moved to sit around the living room with dessert, but Remus didn’t mind. He just leaned back into Sirius’ chest, happy with his team around him.

Logan looked red in the face from all the jokes implying why he was so eager to move in with Leo and Finn. Adele had stuck close to him all evening, sitting on his free side. Logan had his arm around her. Remus had overheard him assuring her that he’d be over to visit all the time, which he thought was unbearably sweet. Leo looked resigned and amused to the teasing, and Finn just looked thoroughly pleased, sitting between them with an arm around each.

Remus felt a kiss being placed on his neck.

“Maybe we could celebrate more than one move tonight,” Sirius said into Remus’ ear.

Remus held Sirius’ arms across his chest, turning to look at him. “What?”

Sirius just smiled and pulled Remus out of the living room and into the butler’s pantry of the kitchen. He took Remus’ hands in his warm ones. “You should move in with me.”

Remus took a slow breath in.

Sirius slid his hands up Remus’ forearms. “I want you to move in with me.”

“Baby…”

“Besides,” Sirius smiled. “Your mom will be coming to town soon with any luck,” Sirius knocked gently on the wooden cupboard behind Remus’ head with a smile. “Better not to disappoint her.”

Remus laughed, reaching up to press his hands to Sirius’ cheeks. “Better not.”

Sirius leaned down to nudge their noses together. “Live with me. You sort of already do, and I…I love it so much. I love having you near.”

Remus nodded. “Yes.” He kissed him once, and again, and again. “Yeah, I want to.”

Sirius smiled into their next kiss, and that was how Logan found them.

“Alors,” he said, hands up. “Sorry. Just got sent in for some more wine. God knows I need it.”

Remus flushed and laughed as Logan reached down for a bottle from the wine fridge.

“Carry on.”

“Oops,” Sirius snorted when they were alone again.

“I’ll have to get a car,” Remus mused as Sirius hugged him against his chest. Sirius lived just outside the city center. “No more subways and city walking from out here.”

“I’ll buy you whatever car you want.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sirius squeezed him closer. “It’s what I said. I want to. What else do you want? Tell me.”

Remus smiled and tilted his chin up to look at him. “You.”

~

It had been hard, saying goodbye to Sirius for the short road trip to Vegas. It was strange going without him.

“Force him to keep doing his exercises,” Remus had told Regulus firmly.

“Will do,” Regulus saluted.

“Miss you already,” Sirius had said softly when he dropped Remus off at departures.

“Just a few days,” Remus kissed his across the seats, and then kissed his new star necklace. “They’ll win.”

“Shh,” Sirius laughed gently.

Remus just smiled. “You’ll see."

Remus was in the visitor’s PT room, making sure it was well-stocked. Just in case. Moody was already in there, leaning against the table and watching the pre-game. He greeted Remus with a nod, and Remus pulled out a box of supplies to sort through while listening.

“—first time the Lions will be on the ice with Fenrir Grayback who, as we all know, received a two game suspension after a hard hit on Lions Captain Sirius Black, breaking four of his ribs. We know that the Lions organization was especially not happy about the lack of severity shown by the League. I suppose we may see what the players have to say about this tonight. I expect the Lions will push especially hard for a win in honor of their wounded Captain—not to mention that winning this game would secure them a spot in this year’s Stanley Cup play-offs. Marc-André Fleury is back with his rainbow stick tape, his second time showing support for Black. It’s nice to see. Let’s take a look at who else we’re watching tonight. First, we’ll talk about Logan Tremblay…”

“One game,” Moody grumbled. “One game.”

“One game,” Remus repeated. “Sirius really wanted to be out there tonight.”

“I don’t think Grayback knows what’s coming for him now that he isn’t,” Moody laughed gruffly. “You saw those boys when he took Sirius out. They’re fresh out of a day-off now. Rested, furious, determined.” Moody tilted his head. “I feel good things in my leg.”

Remus laughed. “Well, thank God.”

Sirius was sitting with his brother on the large, leather couch in his TV den, anxious and waiting for the second period to resume. The commercials were muted and he was waiting for Regulus to work his way up towards saying whatever it was that he was holding back. Sirius could tell there was something.

“Your house is ridiculous,” Regulus said around his Chinese takeout—not for the first time.

“I was young,” Sirius said defensively. “I thought buying a house like this was, like, required.”

“Stupide,” Regulus snorted.

“—a nasty hit on Finn O’Hara by Ryan Reaves, but he seems okay,” the commentator said, replaying the hit, and Sirius tensed. He didn’t need a replay of that. They cut back to commercials again.

“Do you think they can actually force me to go back?” Regulus said suddenly.

When Sirius looked over he was poking mildly at his noodles.

“I won’t let them do that.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “You’re Sirius Black, not God.”

“I won’t let them do that,” Sirius said again. “Tu comprends? I will not. And Minnie won’t either.”

“Maman says—”

Sirius sat up. “You’ve been talking to her?”

“I have to sometimes,” Regulus grumbled. “Legal stuff. Minnie’s always there.”

“It doesn’t matter what she says. She is—”

“Yes, I know what she is,” Regulus snapped. “I’ve been living with her—until a few months ago, in case you forgot.” He glowered around the room. “While you were in your big fancy house…”

Sirius blinked. “Reg…”

“I’m not—mad at you. I was, but I’m not. I mean, I’m doing what you did, aren’t I? Making a better life, damn the consequences?” Regulus sighed. “There are other Snakes who want out, you know.”

Sirius sat up. “Like…witnesses? Reg, you could compile a case.”

“They’re worried they’ll never get back into the League,” Regulus said. “I’m trying, but…I don’t know, Sirius.”

Sirius’ heart ached. He looked down at his chicken and rice. “I wish I could tell you what to do.”

Regulus looked at him, gray on gray, and nodded. “I know.” He glanced at the TV. “We’re back.”

Sirius secretly liked that. Looking at the Lions play with his brother, and hearing him say we.

“O’Hara didn’t need any help getting up, even if he looked a little rattled. Now, speaking from experience, I don’t know about you, Lee, but I was waiting for O’Hara’s line mate, Logan Tremblay to have something to say about it…Tremblay did not challenge Reaves, though.”

They were lining up for puck drop, James at the center against—

Grayback.

“You know, Dean, I think that’s a testament to these young Lions, really all the Lions. They call them the cubs, you know. You can tell how much they want this. They band together, they listen, they work…I think it’s pretty rare to see such fine communication in an entire team.”

Grayback won the face off.

“Fuck,” Regulus breathed.

Sirius wished he was there, standing beside Remus, on the bench, jumping the boards—anything. Instead, he was sitting on the couch, eating take-out. Helpless.

The entire first period, and the majority of this one had been back and forth. The score was still 0-0. They were fighting. Hard. Fenrir passed it to Tuch, who knocked it over to Engelland. Engelland took a hard shot, and Leo caught it in his glove.

“Another amazing save by Knut,” Dean said. “Rookie goal tender Leo Knut has blocked 29 shots in this game so far, most of them with his glove. I love seeing that sort of technique from the younger players, you know?”

“Absolutely Dean. And it looks to me like Coach Weasley is giving the Blizzard, Kasey Winter, a nice long rest as he looks ahead to hopefully a long and successful playoff run.”

Sirius leaned forward as play started up again. Evgeni barreled against Reaves and Fenrir, evading a two-on-one with a slick pass to Nado. It was hard hockey—it looked a little like play-off hockey. Brutal, hard-hitting, and determined.

It stayed like that until half way through the third.

“Fucking hell,” Regulus said. “How does this game still have no score?”

Sirius shook his head. His heart was in his throat. He had texted Remus at the second intermission.

Boys are fired as hell, Remus had said. Good feelings. They don’t even seem tired.

Harzy okay? he had said.

Yes. Then, a minute later. Boasting that you’re checking on him XD

That reassurance was the only thing keeping Sirius sane.

“We have to break their defense,” Sirius was half watching the battle on the ice and half running through plays in his mind. The clock read twelve minutes.

Sirius could have laughed. He pressed his necklace pendant between his palms, his steepled fingers against his mouth. He wasn’t religious. He just wanted this. For all of them.

Pascal’s line was out.

“Come on Dumo,” Sirius said.

Sirius watched Pascal and Fenrir line up for the face off with tense shoulders. He waited, and waited, and then the referee was straightening again, looking at Pascal and pointing away.

“Fuck,” Sirius cursed. “He’s kicking Dumo out of the circle.”

“I wonder what he said.”

Sirius silently begged Pascal to be careful.

Brady took Pascal’s place. He won the face off, and Sirius and Regulus shouted.

He passed it easily to Pascal, who dragged it along the boards.

“What’s he going so slow for?” Regulus demanded, fist hitting the couch.

Sirius only saw what was coming next because of the TV angle.

Pascal had his head down, and Fenrir was skating hard towards him on the ice.

Sirius and Regulus were on their feet in a second, shouting at the television. They couldn’t warn him.

Sirius couldn’t even breathe properly. It seemed to go on in slow motion, all of it. Pascal, his—his father, really, his protector. The man who had taken him right from under his mother’s grasp. Pascal who knew him better than anyone. Maybe even Remus.

Fenrir was obviously going in for the hit. He was probably confident that he could get away with it again. Just like he had with Remus. With Sirius. If he so much as touched Dumo—

But he underestimated Pascal Dumais just like had last time.

Pascal, puck on his stick, let Fenrir get closer, and closer, and then deked right. He spun on his right blade harshly and kicked off the boards like a goalie did on a goal post. The effect was that he went rocketing out of the way, right towards the Golden Knights’ goal, and Fenrir slammed into the boards with his own full-force.

The game didn’t pause for him. It only stopped when the goal lit up red as Pascal shot a clean line into the top left corner of the net.

Six minutes and three seconds remaining. 1-0, Lions. The Lions bench was on their feet, sticks banging against the boards as Pascal skated down for glove taps. The TV showed his familiar face, smiling. He looked into the camera for a moment, and Sirius swore Pascal was looking right at him.

He won’t get you again, the look said. Pascal tussled Remus’ hair with his glove. Or any of us.

Six minutes felt like six hours, longer and longer with each one of Leo’s saves. They showed his face during an offside whistle. He tilted his helmet up for some water. His blonde hair was darkened and drenched with sweat, but his blue eyes were fierce. He tapped his mask back down, and went back into a crouch. Sirius had never been so proud of Leo fucking Knut.

Shots were traded ferociously, the puck practically bouncing between the zones. Leo saved it with his blocker, a few bouncing off of his helmet, some dangerously close to his neck guard. He pushed off one post and dropped into a full split, the puck sliding snugly against his pad until he scooped it up like a hawk.

“Fucking hell, Leo,” Regulus mumbled.

“Right,” Sirius said. “Merde.”

Three minutes. James had four shots that very nearly went in. Logan had five close-calls. They were panting on the bench, squirting cold water down their necks, but they were keeping the score. They were protecting their lead.

Two minutes.

The Golden Knights pulled their goalie, the net was empty, and still no one scored again.

When the buzzer finally sounded, Sirius was breathing like he was on the ice, too.

The bench exploded, spilling out onto the ice. Finn threw his gloves into the air right before Logan crashed into him.

They had won the game with one goal, and three periods of sheer will-power.

Sirius hugged Regulus hard. He watched as his boys jumped on each other against the boards, knocking Leo’s helmet for his shut-out and grinning. They were clinched.

They were going to the playoffs.

#sweater weather #lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #lumosinlove sweater weather #coops #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #lumosinlove oc #lumosinlove ocs #o'knutzy #Thomas walker #Kasey winter #harry potter #Harry Potter fic

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Other Side

Part Two

Genre: KSJ Soulmate au

Warnings: none, it’s pure fluff with some emotional jazz I guess

Word Count: 8.8k

Yuri jams her body between me and the door, staring me down as I rattle the handle.

“You locked it!” I shout, seeing red. The door doesn’t budge as I continue to try to break out, the sounds of people shouting outside only spurring me on.

My friend gives me a stern look before nodding. “The door is locked, yes. It will stay like that until you get your heart rate under control. And you want to know how-”

“Yeah, whatever. Get it set up.”

I wave her off, Yuri laughing as I’ve come back to my senses a bit. She rummages through her bag before pulling out a handheld heart monitor. While she pulls a chair over I sink down to my knees, sitting against the door for support.

The second I lean against it, the door jolts. It would appear that Jin has finally arrived.

Yuri has a wide-eyed gaze as she watches the door shake. Jin’s voice rings out loud and clear as he comes to the realization that the door is indeed locked.

“Key. Now.”

Several voices answer him, but he pays them no heed.

“Who locked it.”

His voice is low and monotone, barely sheathing the sharpness that’s threatening to break free and cut down anyone in his path. Just the mere sound of it is enough to make my heart jump again, and I close my eyes against the stars in my vision.

Yuri notices and kneels before me, looping the heart monitor around my finger before lightly tapping my shoulder.

“The senior assistant is on his way, he’ll get Jin under control. For now, do you think you could tell him to calm down and put the heart monitor on?”

I know what she’s saying, but it still takes me a moment to wrap my mind around her words. Once I do, I take a deep breath and give her a shaky nod.

“Sure.”

Rising from the ground, I pause and beg the rational part of my brain to make an appearance. A wry smile cuts across my face.

“This is probably the worst first day ever.”

Yuri shrugs. “Or the best.”

Shaking my head, I knock lightly on the door. I have to do it a couple of times before it’s quiet enough out there for Jin to hear me.

When it’s quiet but nobody responds, I attempt to speak.

“Seokjin?” I wince at how informal I sound, but I’ll just have to dwell on the logistics of it all later on.

Footsteps draw nearer until they’re just before the door. “H-Haneul? Are you ok?”

My cheeks burn bright red as I realize that he remembered my name. “I’m fine, but I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything,” he responds without a moment’s hesitation. “What do you need?”

Finding encouragement in Yuri’s proud smile, I close my eyes and lean my head against the door. “There should be another heart rate monitor in my bag; I left it in the other room. You need to put it on.”

“You...want me to leave and grab it?” There’s a note of panic in his voice which matches the hitch in my breathing as I think about Jin leaving.

“No! No, don’t leave.” I take a deep breath, fighting to remain in control of my senses. “Just have someone grab the bag and bring it back. Yuri said that the senior assistant will be up shortly - he’ll know what to do from there.”

I’m sure that there’s a crowd of people outside the door, because I hear several feet hurrying away. Despite hearing Jin’s obvious aversion to leaving, I still start to panic as I imagine him leaving.

What if he doesn’t come back? I mean, Bighit probably won’t want me for the job anymore, seeing that I’ve complicated everything. Maybe Jin’s disgusted with me and will just leave before word can get out that his soulmate is a soulmate assistant. My status alone would result in a PR disaster as is-

“Haneul?”

I didn’t even realize how hard I was pushing up against the door until I hear Jin’s voice on the other side. Head jolting up, I gulp down air to fill my empty lungs.

“Yes?”

Now that Jin has calmed down a bit, he sounds a bit timid. “They brought your bag back. Is it ok if I open it?”

“Oh.” The ghost of a smile flickers across my face. “Yeah, that’s fine. The monitor should be in the right outermost pocket.”

I listen intently as my bag is unzipped and Jin begins trying to work the heart monitor. A few people help him with it, while someone else says something about grabbing a chair. About a minute of silence passes before Jungkook’s timid voice rings out.

“Um...Miss Choi?”

“Yeah?”

“What is your heart rate at right now?”

Yuri holds the actual heart monitor, and she quickly consults it before answering. “Haneul’s is currently at 162, it appears to be dropping at a consistent rate. What’s Jin’s?”

Before Jungkook can answer, somebody else arrives. There are low voices consulting outside the door; one of them I recognize as Sejin. I’m about to start pounding on the door and demanding answers when the newcomer speaks up.

“Yuri, are you in there?”

Yuri jumps up. “I am. Is everything ok out there?” When I give her a questioning look, she mouths ‘senior assistant’ to me. I let out a long sigh, feeling a little relieved to know that someone legitimely qualified is out there with Jin.

“Jin is doing fine, however his heart rate is still abnormally high. Jungkook told me Miss Choi is coming down from 162. Is that still the case?”

“She’s down to 158 now, still dropping as it should.”

There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “It would appear that Seokjin here is having a harder time getting his heart rate under control. He’s stuck.”

If my heart wasn’t still beating so fast it would have probably spiked from the panic that sets in. Resting my hand on the doorknob as though it will magically unlock at any given second, I ask what I know I must.

“May I know what his heart rate is, sir?”

“You’re the soulmate?” He sounds a bit uncertain, but Yuri steps in before I decide to break down the door and strangle him.

“She is, but she’s also a highly trained central assistant. Haneul is in control of herself, there’s no need to worry.”

Yuri sounds firm enough that it leaves no room for argument. I make a mental note to buy her dinner or something after all of this blows over.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Seokjin is maintaining a heart rate of 198.”

I gasp before putting my hand over my mouth. “198?” I hiss, whirling to look at Yuri. She has a cool and calm expression on like a mask, but I can see right through her. I would be doing the same thing if I were her; but I’m not.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for my entire life; it’s the moment I was just dreaming about last night! Yet I should have known that it wouldn’t be so easy. Not only is my soulmate one of the most recognizable idols in the world, he’s also experiencing what is commonly referred to as “stationary shock”.

In other words, Jin has something going on in his head or heart that has him staying in the initial wave of shock that usually only lasts the first 60 seconds.

Yuri is asking questions, but it sounds like she’s speaking underwater. While she’s doing her best to understand the situation, I ease the heart monitor from her hands and stare down at the numbers there.

Instead of continuing to decrease, my numbers remain the same as well. This is what I was expecting; Jin’s predicament directly affects my own. How can I relax when I know that he’s on the other side of that door in a state of shock, unable to calm down?

My feet carry me away from the door, wandering over to a nearby window. Standing before it, I notice with a start that it’s beginning to snow.

The clouds, heavy with water, have decided to gently let go of their burden.

Perhaps I’ve lost just enough sanity to start pondering the lives of nimbus clouds, because suddenly my mind is rushing with the possibilities of the clouds before me.

Just like that, my mind begins to race with all the information I’ve learned over the years about stationary shock. Usually the people who experience it are the same ones that have a history of anxiety when it comes to the topic of soulmates.

There’s a famous example of a couple from the 1960’s that had an encounter similar to anybody else’s; except for the fact that the woman's heart rate refused to come down. What usually takes fifteen minutes ended up going over the three hour mark.

Little things brought her heart rate down: talking to her friends, drinking water, and voicing her thoughts. However, what ended up being her saving grace was her soulmate who took matters into his own hands and talked her down. From their conversation soulmate specialists were able to deduce that she had major anxiety in regard to soulmates due to personal issues. It was only as she was able to open up to her actual soulmate that her heart rate was able to come back down and away from physical harm.

As I watch the snowflakes drift through the sky, I come to the root of it all.

“I have to make him snow,” I mumble. Turning around to where Yuri remains talking through the door, I wave to get her attention.

It takes her a moment, she’s clearly focusing hard on the issue at hand. The hint of a smile cracks her icy expression before she walks over to me.

“What’s up?”

“I think I have to make him snow.”

Yuri tilts her head to one side, looking at me quizzically. “Snow? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s going through stationary shock, isn’t he?” Once she nods, I continue on in my plea. “Don’t you think this could be like that couple, you know, from the 60’s? We need to get him to snow...you know, open up. Let everything go.”

She hesitates, entertaining the idea for a moment. “First we need to go through the normal procedures; chances are the normal steps will bring him down a bit.” Yuri stops me before I can jump into action. “Everyone is bringing up different items for him to go through, Mr. Chung is having him drink some water and stretch right now. Let’s just see how that goes first, alright?”

I look at her incredulously. “Who on earth is Mr. Chung?!”

Yuri laughs, “The senior soulmate assistant, loser. So let’s just let him do his job before we try to pry the nasty truth from your soulmate, ok?”

Blushing madly at the casual way Yuri mentions my soulmate, I give her a reluctant nod. “Fine. But if he’s not better in ten minutes, everybody leaves and I get to do it my way.”

“Let’s say twenty.”

Glaring, I clench my jaw. “Fifteen.”

Yuri sighs before walking back over to the door. “I’ll see what I can do.”

☆

Focusing on the five senses is the first thing all soulmate assistants are taught to do when faced with stationary shock. It helps the person to calm down when they can focus on one thing at a time.

First: Sight.

“Ok Seokjin, my grandchildren have a horrible habit of making fun of how many crooked teeth I have,” Mr. Chung starts. He sounds ultra calm and soothing, I find myself sitting before the door again and being lulled into a calming state just by the sound of his voice. “I’m going to give you my best smile, please pay attention and tell me if my grandchildren are right.”

A few seconds pass before Jin says anything. “You have a lovely smile.”

“Thank you very much, that means a lot coming from an idol such as yourself. Shall we move on to the next step?”

Second: Sound.

“Would you like to listen to some music? Perhaps there’s a piece that helps you to think clearly-”

“No.” Jin’s voice is solid as he rejects the idea. “No music, please.”

Ok, scratch that.

Mr. Chung goes through the other senses, bringing up some tea for Jin to drink and taste, wafting smellings salts under his nose, even bringing up an RJ for him to hold and touch. We’re coming up on fifteen minutes when I give Yuri a knowing look.

“Yuri, Mr. Chung...this is crossing into dangerous territory,” I squeak out, trying to breathe properly. “I think it might be best to give Jin some space for a little while.”

Yuri stares at the door, waiting for Mr. Chung to speak. Holding my breath, I drop my head in my hands and stare down at the floor even as tears prick at my eyes.

This must be my punishment for not being patient enough to just wait for my soulmate.

Right now, sitting so close and yet being undeniably separate, I feel that this is the consequence for not trusting fate enough to just trust its timing.

Now that I’ve fought and clawed my way to the top, I’ve put my soulmate in danger. My heart begins to tear itself apart as I realize that while I’ve been ready for years to meet him, my soulmate was not.

Jin wasn’t ready, and I’ve taken that away from him.

Hot tears are threatening to spill out onto my cheeks, but I brush them away before they get the chance. This isn’t about me, this isn’t the time for self-pity. This is about making sure Jin comes out of this alright.

“Han?” Yuri taps my shoulder, handing me something. I look down to see it’s a paging device. “We’re going, but if you need us, press this button. We’ll be just down the hall.”

I gape up at her, surprised that my request was granted. “You’re actually leaving?” Suddenly my stomach suddenly sinks as I realize that I didn’t really think past this point. “What am I supposed to do?” I whisper.

Yuri fixes my hair, giving me a glowing smile. “There’s a reason he’s your soulmate, Han. Just do what feels right.”

If I wasn’t nearly sobbing before, I definitely am now. Trying my best to swallow my emotions, I nod at her. Yuri walks over to the door, knocking on it.

“We’re ready on this side.”

There’s a few footsteps outside the door and I imagine they’re moving Jin away. For good measure I turn away from the door. The last thing we need is face-to-face contact jolting our heart rate again. I’m not sure how much more I can take of this; let alone Jin.

The sound of the door unlocking reverberates through my entire system, and I cling to the chair I’m sitting on for dear life.

“Quickly, quickly,” Mr. Chung instructs. A moment later, the door shuts and locks again. I can hardly breathe as I hear them moving away, a muffled conversation taking place between Mr. Chung and Jin.

Then all is silent.

Suddenly alone in the room I gaze down at my monitor, watching at my heart rate jumps around a bit before settling back down at 142.

Still too high.

According to Mr. Chung, Jin’s heart rate came down a little bit during the 5 senses procedures, however it was still dangerously high. If everything has stayed the same he should be hovering around 160.

My ears strain to hear if Jin has returned to the door, but I hear nothing. As the seconds tick by I become more and more concerned, remembering my thoughts from earlier.

Jin clearly was not ready to find his soulmate. As far as I know, he had some major issues to work through before we met.

How am I supposed to feel right now?

How am I supposed to react when I’ve finally met the person I’ve been searching for my entire life, only to find that they weren’t ready to receive me?

The question that I’ve buried deep down for the entirety of my life comes bubbling back up to the surface in the face of this new dilemma.

Am I somehow too much?

As I get up out of my chair and sit with my back to the door, I stare out the window at the growing winter storm.

How many times have I wished to let myself go like that? No more small flurries that have people stopping to enjoy before scurrying on; I want to let go of everything I’ve learned and held inside until it’s a blizzard that has cars stopping and school cancelled because to ignore the blizzard is to ignore me.

My vision is blurry as I look down at my hands, almost expecting to see snowflakes falling from them.

Fate is a funny thing. It decided to pair me; a reserved girl with an endless internal blizzard raging and Jin. Jin, the man that flaunts himself with no reserve and infinite confidence.

I wonder if Jin has ever looked inside himself and felt like he was too much. The thought is a comforting one.

A slight push against the door notifies me to the presence of someone else sitting on the other side. Back to back, with only a slab of wood between us, my soulmate and I huff out a sigh at the same time.

It takes me by surprise, and it clearly does for him too. Jin chuckles, the sound sending a thrill through me despite my depressing thoughts. I chew on the inside of my lip, thinking of what to say.

The voice of my friend who found her soulmate years ago comes to my mind, taking me off guard. “And you think he isn’t ready to be found? Nobody ever is. But I can guarantee that the two of you are both ready to be loved.”

Like a lightbulb turning on over my head, I realize that I’ve been worrying over the wrong thing. Sure, maybe Jin wasn’t ready to be found yet. But if I’ve met him doesn't that mean that I should love him regardless?

“Hey Seokjin.”

Leaning my head back and closing my eyes, I can almost hear Jin’s deep breaths. No doubt he’s still trying to breathe deeply so he can get his heart under control.

“Hey Haneul.”

Those two words are enough to have me floating off the ground, a silly grin spreading across my features.

“Do you still have RJ over there?”

“Oh yeah, he’s right here.”

“Is he doing alright?”

Jin chuckles. “He said he’s fine. How are you?”

“I’m ok, I think.” My eyes drift open again and stray back to the window. “Did you know that it’s snowing right now?”

“Really?” Jin sounds strangely familiar, like we do this all the time. “Is it just a little?”

I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No, it started slow but now it’s really coming down.”

“Good.” I would never be able to guess that Jin is still going through a bout of tachycardia judging from his even tone of voice. “I’d rather it be a blizzard than anything.”

“Me too!” I exclaim. “Much more satisfying.”

“Mm.”

It’s silent again, but this time I don’t feel like the walls are caving in on me. A quick glance at my monitor has me smiling.

I’m down to 135. Once we reach 80 we can open the door.

My heart rate spikes again at the thought of opening the door, and I take a deep breath to calm down.

“Would you describe it to me?” Jin’s voice is quiet, but I hear it clearly in the silence of the room.

“The snowstorm?”

“Yes.” He’s quiet for another moment before adding, “Please.”

Squinting, I stare out the window. “The snow is white.”

The door rumbles as Jin laughs. “We both know that’s not what I meant.”

Laughing to myself, I try to come up with something poetic for my soulmate. “Like I said earlier, it started off slowly. I could see that each snowflake was individual as they came down. Now, they’re in clusters, all big and fluffy. The kind that people try to catch on their tongues, you know?”

“Ooh, right.”

I pause, trying to figure out what else to say. “It makes it look not so cold. Earlier it looked kind of miserable and freezing, but now with all the snow coming down it just makes me want to walk around outside. It’ll be warmer, and quiet.”

Jin hums in acknowledgement. “I like it when it’s quiet after it snows.”

“Me too.”

“That’s probably why we’re…” Jin trails off, and I understand why he doesn’t say it. Just to even think about being soulmates with him has my heart clenching.

“Yeah, probably.” I supply.

“So how’s your first day at your new job going?”

I croak out a laugh, rolling my eyes. “Do you want the honest answer or the lie?”

“Both, please.”

How is he so polite even in teasing? The media has always portrayed him as a free spirit that doesn’t care much about what others think, and yet he’s said please more times in the past twenty minutes than I’ve heard all week.

“It’s great, thanks for asking.”

It’s quiet before Jin speaks up again. “Which one was that?”

I shrug, my shoulders rubbing up against the door. “Probably both, I haven’t decided yet.”

Jin’s laugh sounds loud and clear, but I can’t help but wonder what it would sound like if there wasn’t a door between the two of us right now.

The minutes pass as we continue to chat, each minute bringing my heart rate down a bit more. Once I reach 100, I let out a shout of triumph.

“What happened?” Jin asks.

“I hit 100! What are you at?”

It’s quiet for a long time before Jin responds. “Do you want the honest answer or the lie?”

My stomach drops but I try to keep my tone light. “Honesty is always the best policy.”

“It says 154.”

My eyes grow wide as I sit straight up, wincing as my tailbone feels sore from sitting on the hard floor for so long.

Jin hasn’t hardly dropped at all and it’s been...18 minutes since we were left alone.

“You’re not saying anything.”

I scramble to come up with something to say, but I don’t want to push him too hard. How am I supposed to get someone to open up to me that I only met thirty minutes ago?

Honesty is the best policy, I guess. “I just thought we were getting along well, that’s all.”

I wish I knew Jin well enough to picture what expression he’s wearing right now, but all I can imagine are his wide eyes as he reached out to me when we first saw each other.

“No, we are,” Jin reassures me, guilt evident in his voice.

Turning around to sit cross-legged before the door, I stare it down like I can see through it to Jin. “So...what are you still so freaked out about?”

Jin doesn’t answer, but I hear him shuffling about and suddenly a card slips under the door. I grab it, flipping it over.

“We’re going to have to open this door eventually, aren’t we?” Jin asks as I study the photocard he just pushed under the door.

“What does Jimin’s photocard have to do with that?”

In response another card slips under the door, followed by another and another until I have six photo cards spread out before me. I’m about to ask where his own photo is until it comes flying under the door, Jin’s serious face looking up at me from where he sits in the picture.

Adding it to the collection before me, I furrow my brows, still not understanding what he’s trying to say.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard of me, right?” Before I can answer, Jin continues speaking. There’s an edge to his voice now as his anxiety makes an appearance. “You’ve probably seen photos just like these for years now. People say that we look beautiful, like some fallen gods or something. Untouchable, yet so many can’t seem to keep away.”

Biting down on the questions I have brimming in my mind, I allow Jin to continue without interrupting.

“This is what people are trained to see. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to be loved. But they just don’t get it. If they could see past all of this - the photos, the extravagant clothes and performances, even the funny shows! If they could see this. Right now, me cowering on one side of a door, hiding from my s...soulmate, they wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You have to say that! You’re my soulmate!” Jin’s voice rises in desperation, making me wince. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s ok,” I breathe out. “Go on.”

Jin pauses before speaking again. “I’m not like everyone else. I wasn’t meant for this life. I’m not saying that I’m not grateful for every second of it; I am. It’s brought me more joy than I ever thought possible, but have you ever stared into the faces of thousands of people who love you and do everything for you, and just knew, deep down, that you don’t deserve it?” Jin is nearly panting as he asks the question again. “Have you, Haneul? Have you ever had millions of people love you but it leaves you wide awake every night staring at the ceiling because no matter how you do the math, there is no way you can ever make it up to them? I don’t deserve this, but you do deserve to know that I am not everything I’ve been portrayed to be.”

Suddenly I find myself wishing for rain rather than snow. The snow is silent as it falls, right now I need rain to pound against the windows and roof, to drown out the ache in my chest as I listen to Jin’s voice shake.

“I...I can’t open this door for you, Haneul. Because what you’ll see is so much less than what you’re expecting, and I can’t stand it.”

I never thought it was possible to drown on dry land, but as I gasp for air I find that there is none. I’m drowning beneath the emotions that Jin has thrown out into the void with such disdain, I’m drowning with the knowledge that I don’t know.

I don’t know what it feels like to be loved by people I’ve never met and still feel like I’m not enough. My own problem seems to wither in the face of Jin’s; feeling like I have to hold back just so I can fit into normal society.

As I stare down at the photos, I wonder which is worse: not feeling worthy of an unconditional love, or knowing nobody will ever love you for who you truly are.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter which is worse. At the end of the day, we’re both hurting.

Slowly gathering up the photo cards, I push them back under the door one by one. Jin says nothing as he collects them.

“First,” my voice is thick with emotion but I push through. “I have heard about you. I’ve seen your face literally everywhere, it’s exhausting to think that I was staring at my soulmate this entire time without knowing it was actually you. On the bright side, now I don’t feel so guilty for thinking that you were cute.”

Jin’s dry laugh tells me that he’s not feeling much better and is certainly not much more inclined to open this door.

“Second, I have no idea what that’s like. It sounds...terrifying and beautiful and just weird. Do you actually have that many fans?” I shake my head. “That’s not the point. You’re worried that I won’t want you because you’re not the ‘Jin’ that the world knows?”

Jin gives a muffled response that I interpret as a yes.

“In what world would that make you less in my eyes? I was never expecting to be paired with a world-renowned star and you feeling so inadequate about it all only confirms that I’m not paired with one!” My voice rises as my heart starts to pump harder. “In all reality, I’ve somehow been paired up with a person that’s normal enough to realize that they’re in way over their head, but they’re brave enough to keep swimming. So instead of tiring yourself out and refusing to let me see you for who you are, why don’t you let me throw you a life jacket or something?”

Jin sounds defensive as he questions me. “What are you even saying?”

“I’m making an analogy, Seokjin, let me think.”

He lets out a startled laugh, not saying anything else. As I ponder what to say that can have any sort of effect on him, I remember the storm outside.

Stretching and scooting even closer to the door, I close my eyes against the rising embarrassment. “Just, this is how I think about things sometimes. Hear me out, ok? Then you can decide how you want to do this. It’s your decision as much as it is mine, I won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I promise.” I barely make it through my promise, squeezing my eyes extra tight in hopes that he won’t just decide to get up and leave right now.

“...I’ll listen.”

Rubbing the temples of my forehead, I send up a silent prayer that this will make sense.

“It’s snowing, right? I think you might be like those clouds outside right now. You’ve traveled all over the world, picking up little bits and pieces along the way. So many have looked up at you, wishing they could be up there in the sky with you. You’d love to bring them up with you, wouldn’t you? But it’s impossible for a cloud to pick up a person and carry them to the sky.”

“Ok,” Jin interrupts, and I notice with no small amount of relief that he almost sounds like he’s smiling. “I get where you’re going with this, but first I just have to say that I can’t believe you’re comparing me to a cloud.”

“Are you quite finished?” I quip out, grinning.

“For now.”

Sighing, I continue on. “Well, you’re afraid of what people might see if you let go. They’re so used to clear blue skies that you don’t want to scare them away with a bit of bad weather. Sure, sometimes you can send down a few snowflakes. You know, the kind of flurry that melts by morning. People like that, the snowflakes are beautiful and it let’s them know that you’re living in the same miserable world as the rest of them.”

“But?”

“But I think you’re like me. There’s so much going on inside of you; like doubting you deserve everything you’ve been given. You’ve become so good at managing your persona that you’ve forgotten how to let go when you need to. And you’ve forgotten that your soulmate is the one person guaranteed to not mind at all when you feel like everything is too heavy to hold onto anymore. I wouldn’t even bat an eye. It’s normal to feel that the weight of people’s love is sometimes too heavy to bear, Seokjin.”

I’m not sure if I should wait for him to respond, but I sit there quietly as I collect my thoughts. A glance back at the window shows the snow coming down in those same thick clusters as before, the world outside turned into a sheet of white.

Lost in my thoughts, I don’t even realize that minutes pass in silence. This small sliver of time has become infinite for the two of us. We’re too busy looking up at the clouds in our minds and wondering if today will be the day they rage and storm to notice a thing as trivial as time.

“Haneul?”

Jin’s voice brings me back to reality, the door a cruel reminder to our predicament.

“Yeah?”

I can hear him shuffling around again before he speaks. “What if when I start, I can’t stop?”

How do I tell him that I don’t have an answer? I’ve wondered the same thing my entire life.

“I...I’ve thought the same thing.” I admit.

“Really? About yourself?”

“Yeah, of course. Actually, I bet everybody has. But I’ve never heard about anyone going insane from venting their emotions and being honest before, so I think you’ll be able to stop.”

Jin breathes deep, and I wonder if he’s breathing better now. I don’t want to ask what his heart rate is just yet.

“And...you’ll be with me, right?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, with the lifejacket, remember?”

Jin joins in the laughter, the sound easing up some of the stress laid on my shoulders. “You need to decide if we’re talking about clouds or swimming.”

“Right, right.”

What I hope Jin is starting to understand is that I’ll willingly jump in alongside him and swim the length of the ocean if it means he’ll open the door.

It’s been so long, I want to say. I’ve been waiting for you for so long. Can’t you open up?

“See, what I can’t believe is that you didn’t keep my photo card.”

I look at the door with an incredulous expression. “Are you kidding me?! You hypocrite, you need to decide if you’re an arrogant idol or tortured soul!”

We burst out into laughter, amazed at the strangeness of the situation.

“What, I can’t be both?” Jin asks, still laughing.

“Whatever. Do what you want. You don’t happen to have a cushion that you could slide under the door, do you?”

“No, no cushions over here. I feel your pain though; these tile floors are merciless.”

I hum in agreement, switching positions so my legs don’t go numb. It’s quiet for a little while before I yawn, suddenly exhausted by the events of the day.

“So…” Jin starts. “What made you want to become a soulmate assistant?”

I purse my lips, wondering where to even begin. “I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of soulmates, I guess. Why we have them, what their function is, what leads us to them. It just made sense to pursue a degree in soulmate studies, and then obviously this was the next step.”

“So you just applied for Bighit out of the blue?”

Shaking my head, my eyes drift shut as I try to figure out a way to explain this in a way that doesn’t make me sound crazy. “I applied on purpose, it wasn’t just some random job to me. It made sense. I wanted to travel the world...find my soulmate along the way. This job provided the perfect opportunity to do just that.”

Jin must be changing his position as well, I hear him groan a little on the other side. “Well, congrats. You found him, and all within the comfort of Seoul!”

I chuckle, nodding. “That’s right. Now I think it’d be nice to travel, though. I think I’ll be able to enjoy it more.”

“Where do you want to go?”

There’s a part of me that wants to ask if he’s going to join me, but I bite back the comment for now.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Before, I just wanted to go everywhere. It gave me higher chances of finding my soulmate. Now, though, I’m just realizing that I’ve never thought about going somewhere for the fun of it. Do you have any suggestions?”

“I might have a couple.” Jin pauses. “You really wanted to find me that badly?”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment at his question. “I..yeah, I guess I did. But I was also terrified of finding you.”

“Really?” Jin’s tone is so curious, it makes me smile. “Why would you be scared of finding me?”

I roll my eyes, wanting to tell him that he was obviously scared of being found. Instead I just answer him. “I was worried that you didn’t want to be found.”

It’s silent as Jin processes the new information. I begin to wonder if I’ve made him uncomfortable with my honesty, I can hear him taking slow, deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.”

The way he’s apologizing I know that he really didn’t want to be found. Letting out a dry laugh, I apologize as well. “I’m sorry, too.”

Jin moves around outside, I can feel the door moving under his weight. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

“I mean,” I start, grinning at his innocent view on things. “If you think about it, this is really just another day for me. This is my job, after all.”

Jin snorts. “Don’t tell me you’ve been in this position before.”

I shake my head, forgetting that he can’t see me. “No, never quite like this.”

“Can I…” His voice trails off while I strain to listen, making sure to not miss a single syllable. “Would it be weird if I took you to dinner tonight? You know, to celebrate your first day at your big new job.”

There’s a part of me that wants to tease him for asking me out before even opening the door, but there’s a part of me that’s too busy melting at his kind gesture to say anything of the sort.

“On one condition.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jin huffs. “We’ll open the door soon, I’m almost down to where I should be-”

My laugh cuts him off. “Well, yeah, I guess that’s a pretty good idea but I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll let you take me anywhere if you give your photocard back.” I jump away from the door as I hear loud noises from the other side, the door itself shaking. “What is going-”

My question is answered as Jin’s photocard is shoved under the door, a bit crumpled but worth it. I can’t keep in my laughter at Jin’s eagerness, Jin himself cracking up.

“I’m so glad you didn’t ask for someone else’s,” he pants, making me laugh even more. Carefully smoothing it out, I place it between my phone case and phone. Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I sneak a glance at my monitor.

72.

“Hey…” I hate to have to ask, in fear of what the answer may be, but I have to. “Has your heart rate come down at all?”

When I hear his machine beeping, I start to panic.

“Seokjin? Seokjin what’s-”

“Sorry,” Jin’s sheepish voice floats through the door. “I took it off a little while ago, I’m just booting it back up.”

I’m completely frozen, staring holes through the door. Slapping my hands against it, I vent my anger with him for nearly giving me a heart attack.

“Don't” bang! “do” bang! “that to me!”

The classic windshield wiper laugh that I’ve come to associate with Jin is what answers me, making me roll my eyes and slump back down. A few more seconds pass as Jin fiddles with the machine, trying to get it to read his heart rate.

“Hey!” He shouts excitedly. “I’m ok!”

This has me straightening right up. “Really? What does it say?”

“77!”

I gasp, grabbing the paging device but stopping before I can press it. “Wait, so you’re feeling better now, right?”

Jin laughs, the sound much lighter than before. I can almost feel his relief through the door. “Yeah, I’m great.”

“So...can I get out of this room now?”

The second I ask the question I curse myself, wishing I hadn’t. I probably should have talked to him a bit more, prepared him more before I threw this onto him.

Jin is quiet as he speaks. “But then what happens?”

I chew on my cheek as I ponder how to best prepare him for the rest of the day. “Well, we say hi to each other first. I’ll probably show you where the loose thread is on your sweater, it’s been driving me crazy this entire time.”

He laughs. “You noticed that?”

“Yeah, I did. I’m sure I have food on my face or something, don’t I? That would be just my luck.”

“No, you don’t.” Then, quieter, “You’re perfect.”

As a blush overtakes my face I choose to pretend I didn’t hear him. “We’ll have to go through the typical procedures, you know, going over the packet I have in my bag that’s for new soulmates, that kind of stuff. We actually have a really boring day ahead of us, Seokjin.”

“Just Jin.”

I blink at the door. “Oh, o-ok.” Then, “I’m just Han, if you want.”

“Like Han Solo?” I hit the door again, making Jin laugh. “Kidding, kidding.”

We chat for a couple more minutes, going over the plans for the day. It’s as I’m finishing to explain the trust exercises we’ll have to perform that Jin interrupts me.

“Sorry, but I just realized that I’d much rather have this conversation face to face. If you don’t mind.”

My eyebrows jump up at how confident he sounds. “Really? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Just, go easy on me, ok? I’m not all I’m cracked up to be.” He tries to brush it off as a joke, but it’s clear that he’s still feeling a little insecure. I guess that’s something I’ll just have to help him with over time, starting with today.

Pressing the pager, I smile as I watch the snow fall. “As long as we fix your sweater, I’m happy.”

Jin is laughing, claiming he can’t find any loose thread when the sound of footsteps approaching stops him.

“How’s it going, Seokjin?” Mr. Chung’s happy tone greets him.

“It’s going pretty well,” Jin politely replies. “I think we’re both ready to get up from off the floor.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Yuri’s voice rings out. “We should have brought you a chair, that’s all our fault.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jin responds as he groans getting up from the floor. “You don’t have to worry about me. Han, on the other hand, is a little intense. You might want to watch out for her analogies.”

“Hey!” I shout as everyone laughs. Mr. Chung checks Jin’s heart rate, making sure everything is clear and ready to go. Getting up from the floor, I smooth out my clothes. I head over to the window area again, checking my hair in the reflection.

Looking up at the snowy sky I hear the door unlock.

Whirling around, I stare at it as though it might suddenly come to life and attack me. When a soft knock sounds, I jump back.

It opens just enough for Yuri to stick her head in, grinning once she sees me.

“Hey, are you ok if we just use this room for the rest of this day? Or do you wanna switch?”

I’m mute, waiting to see my soulmate. I just shrug, letting her know that I don’t care. Thankfully Yuri is an expert in anxious soulmates, so she interprets my meaning just fine.

“You can head in, Seokjin.” Yuri says as she heads back out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I cling to the window frame, knuckles white as I stare out at the storm. Focusing on breathing in and out, I don’t even notice that Jin has entered the room until I see his reflection in the window.

The world moves slowly for a moment as I look up at him in the window, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he waits for me to turn around.

His cheeks are pink, the periwinkle color of his sweater offsetting his dark brown hair that he has swept back. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek like I am, causing his lips to pout.

“We might not be able to go out and eat if it keeps snowing like that,” Jin breathes out. Even though we were a mere inches apart before, the only thing keeping us apart being a door, I can’t help but hold my breath as I hear him speak.

Taking a deep drink of whatever courage I have left in me, I turn to look at him over my shoulder.

He almost looks away upon meeting eyes with me, but something keeps him planted where he is in my gaze.

“That’s alright,” I mumble, eyes sweeping over his face and heart clenching as I see him shifting from one foot to another, clearly uncomfortable to be under such direct scrutiny. “I don’t mind cooking.”

Jin gives me a soft close-lipped smile, his cheeks rounding out. “Me neither.”

I turn back to the window, standing on my tiptoes as I watch the people scurrying below. One person is trudging along holding more bags than I thought humanly possible, making me smile.

“Come look at this,” I wave Jin over, hoping to let him know that my attention is no longer solely on him.

Jin ambles over, pausing for a moment a few steps behind me before taking the last couple of steps. I point down at the person holding their bags, grinning as another person stops to help them.

Through the reflection in the window I can tell that Jin isn’t watching them at all, his head pointed down but his eyes looking over at me. Something tells me that if he knew I saw him, he’d pass out right here and now, so I pretend to not know.

As the two people share the load of bags and walk toward the nearest bus stop, I sigh. “See? There are still good people out in the world.”

My hands are still clinging to the window frame, my tight grip the one thing that gives my anxiety away. To my eternal shock, Jin raises one shaky hand to my own, his warm hand resting over mine before gently detaching it from the window and smoothing it out.

Neither one of us dares to breathe as he repeats the action with my other hand, taking extra care to smooth out my clenched fingers before releasing them.

I look up at my soulmate, my exhausted heart managing to pick up some speed as I find him looking down at me already, his eyes alight with stars.

His voice is low as he mumbles out, “You’re different from what I thought you’d be.”

The way he’s looking at me feels like walking out into the world the morning after a blizzard, everything hushed and glittering. It has this way of making my own thoughts quiet down, focusing on just this one thing.

I’m not sure how to put anything into words, so I just smile up at him. “That’s good, right?”

Jin nods, a bit of his hair falling forward with the action. “Yes.”

My attention returns to the snow outside once I see the tips of his ears going red. My smile is reflected in the glass, and my heart stutters as I see Jin’s mesmerized smile mirror my own. Locking eyes in the hazy reflection, I laugh a little.

“What’s so funny?” Jin asks, turning to look at me.

Shaking my head, I look down at my shoes before glancing up at him. “I’m probably not what you expected because I compared you to a cloud.”

He grins, looking down at his shoes before glancing up at me. “Yeah, that stung a little. I try very hard to maintain a nice figure, and yet here you are, comparing me with a big, fat fluffy thing.”

Laughing at his offended expression, I shrug. “I had to come up with something! It’s weird; for all the times I’ve dreamed about meeting my soulmate, I’ve never come up with what to say. That was the best I could do under pressure.”

“No, you did great, really.” He smiles easily now, feeling a bit more comfortable. “You’ve never really thought of what to say, though?”

I shake my head. “No, have you?”

Jin gives me a long look before nodding. “Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” I nudge him, Jin swaying on his feet as though I had shoved him across the room. I roll my eyes at his dramatic manner, loving every second of it.

“I’ll tell you under one condition.”

“What?”

Jin sighs, coming to stand behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up with goosebumps as he brings his arms around me, gently grabbing my hands and slowly bringing them up to cover my eyes.

“You’re not allowed to look at me while I say it.”

He keeps his hands over mine as they rest over my eyes, effectively shutting out the rest of the world. I keep in my laugh, not wanting to deter him.

“Ok, I won’t peek.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Jin’s voice is low and quiet as I nearly jolt out of my skin when I realize just how close he is. He waits to make sure my hands aren’t going to move from my eyes before he removes his hands, one coming to rest on the small of my back before he moves away. I’m left feeling suddenly cold, almost reaching out for him but reminding myself to stay still.

His voice comes from before me, just off to the right as he begins to speak. I can almost picture him leaning against the windowsill, watching me with those bright eyes.

“I’m not extraordinarily talented at a lot of things,” Jin starts, the sound of his voice immediately begging me to gravitate toward him. “I can’t paint you beautiful things or write you award winning songs, because sometimes the things that go on inside my head can’t be translated onto paper. I might not be able to sing for you the way you’d like, because my voice has a tendency to shake when I’m alone with someone I care about.”

Warmth fills my chest at his words even as I want to tell him that none of it matters. His lack of skill in all areas of life is only natural, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s better at it all than he lets on.

“I’ve been learning to play the piano, but I’m no Beethoven. If I mess up the keys it’s because I can feel you looking at me, and I just can’t help it.” Jin pauses, taking a shaky breath. “There might be times when I can’t be there for you, because I’m over on the other side of the world on some stage, but there are a few things that I can promise you I’m good at.”

Jin’s hands are warm as they wrap about my own, slowly pulling my hands away from my eyes. I blink them open, looking up to see my soulmate standing before me, still leaning up against the windowsill just as I pictured. His cheeks are pink as he looks down to where he holds my hands in his, making no move to let go.

“I can work the knots out of your shoulders when you have a long day at work, and I promise to remember your favorite meal. When we’re far away from each other, I’ll send you annoying messages every chance I get so you know that I’m thinking of you.” I chuckle a little, the sound bringing Jin’s eyes back up to my face. “I’ll keep the receipts for everything I ever buy you. The dishes won’t be left in the sink overnight, and I’m really good at listening.”

My vision begins to blur as tears threaten to spill over, but Jin doesn’t stop. The snow falling behind him frames him in a winter wonderland, and my mind burns the image into my memory.

“I’m not very good at much, but I’ll be good to you.”

Staring at him, I start to see the pieces that Jin hides from everyone else. I squeeze his hands, pledging to take the time to learn everything that there is to discover about him.

My eyes drift down to land on the single loose thread on the collar of his sweater, and I laugh even as a tear escapes me.

Reaching up to pluck the thread, I give my soulmate a wink which he immediately returns almost out of habit.

“You remember asking me how my first day of work was going?” When he nods, looking a bit confused, I continue. “I know what the honest answer is, now.”

Jin looks intrigued as he gives me a shy smile. “What is it?”

Stepping in a bit closer, I pull his arms around me before lightly feathering through his hair. “Pretty great.”

The last thing I see before Jin leans forward to plant a delicate kiss to my forehead are the clouds that have finally stopped snowing, no longer weighed down by their heavy burden.

Fin.

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