#maybe ill post the hello hello chapter tomorrow night

[court-of-abs]

Update on “Maybe Tomorrow” [Final Chapter; Chapter 17]

Hello, hello my ducklings. 

It’s been nearly two years since I’ve last been on Tumblr and well over that time since I’ve written anything for my Elorcan fanfic “Maybe Tomorrow.” I actually just finished up reading a Court of Silver Flames and I remembered this page existed. 

As you all might’ve guessed, I never did finish writing that last chapter, or the epilogue, even. And while I no longer intend to finish writing that last chapter now, I decided it would be fun to post what I had written so far as well as a bulleted list for the ideas I had for the epilogue. Please keep in mind two things: this was written over two years ago and I’m not letting myself attempt to edit it (although I did read through it quickly) and there is a potential trigger warning: this chapter covers themes of mental health, therapy, and topics related to it. I’ll also be adding this warning to the previous chapter, as I feel in hindsight I most definitely should’ve included it.

This community and these books were my everything in 2017-2018. I was going through a pretty tough time then, and I am so so happy to say I’m doing much better now despite everything going on in the world. I still keep up with each series to this day (I even cried the BIG tears when I finished Kingdom of Ash) and it will ALWAYS hold a special place in my heart. 

Enjoy!! Let me know what you guys think <3 I miss and love you all, and I hope you’re doing well.

~

Naitivity. To herself, to her problems, to the pain flowing through her veins every step she took. That was why Saturday night had affected her so much.

In the almost nine years since their death, Elide had never acknowledged what had happened. She’d never grieved, barely faltered- she got away with it by not thinking about it, not talking about it. By not accepting the cards the fate had handed her, by turning a blind eye, it became so much easier to pretend it didn’t happen. It became so much easier to pretend she hadn’t changed.

Elide knew now that she wasn’t being strong for it. She was just being naive.

Elide wrapped her arms around herself and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering wheel of her car. She breathed, deeply, taking in the muffled sounds of students walking towards the front of the school- their voices, their laughter.

She smiled, then, thinking about what today was.

Then she frowned, thinking about what today was. The elections and then…

Another breath. In and out, just like the therapist had told her. Elide reached for her school books and swung open the door of her car, stepping out into the heat. She just needed to focus on today, just today.

And then, with the support of her friends, those that cared about her, she’d focus on the next. And the next, and the next…

Elide made it all of three steps away from her car when she ran into Aelin, Lysandra, and Manon standing by the rear of her car, their arms crossed and faces tight.

Elide swallowed and reached for the words she’d been saying over and over in her head for the last 24 hours. They were on the tip of her tongue-

“Manon!” Lysandra’s shout was cut off by Manon barrelling into Elide, pulling her into one of the most suffocating bear hugs she’d ever received. It was exactly what she needed.

“You scared the ever-living daylights out of us” she said into Elide’s hair.

Elide leaned her head on Manon’s shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Manon shook her head, and Elide watched as Lysandra and Aelin took a few steps forward, readying to pull Manon away should Elide need them to.

“There’s no need to be sorry, but Jesus, Elide, you just… disappeared after Saturday night. No one could get in touch with you all of Sunday, not even Lorcan.” Elide froze at his name. She mumbled another “sorry” into Manon’s shoulder and gripped her harder so that she wouldn’t notice.

“All right, all right” Lysandra said as she gently pried Manon’s arms off of Elide. “Don’t smother her.”

Elide smiled at her. “It’s alright-” and then Lysandra was gripping her in another extremely tight bear hug.

“Hey!” Manon shouted, scowling at Lysandra.

“You had plenty of time with her, it’s my turn now.”

“I got less than a minute-”

“Ladies” Aelin said, stepping between them. “This is about Elide right now, not you.” Aelin stepped towards Lysandra and Lysandra took a step away. 

“Don’t even try, Aelin. You’ll get your turn in a minute.” Elide giggled as Aelin sighed and took a step back.

Lysandra smoothed down the hair on top of her head and said, “Do you want to tell us what happened- after Saturday, I mean. It’s okay if you’re not ready.”

Elide smiled up at her, at all of them, and took a small step forward- Lysandra reluctantly loosened her grip.

“It’s true,” Elide swallowed, “what Maeve said about my parents. That’s all true.” She wrapped her arms around herself, tighter, remembering what Dr. Ren had told her.

“I’ve spent the last nine or so years of my life… in denial. My parents, when they died, they were all I had. I was horrible at making friends, and when Vernon became my guardian, well, you might imagine why he didn’t exactly give me someone to talk to. The SDD tried to get me to talk, to acknowledge what had happened. They worked tirelessly to try and convince my uncle that I needed therapy but my uncle doesn’t really believe in mental illness, of any sort, and I… it was just too much for me,” Elide tried to meet all of their eyes as she talked but the bareness of the moment forced her eyes down to the pavement, “I didn’t talk for almost an entire year after they died. I had no outlet for the pain,” her voice cracked on the word, “the utter pain I was going through. Eventually I learned it was easier to shove it all down. Everyone said that since I was young I would quickly get past it and I took that as meaning that I had to quickly get past it. And so I did everything you’re not supposed to do when trying to grieve about the death of your loved ones.” 

Elide gestured a hand to all of them, “I pushed people away... and I let the mention of the most amazing parents in the world become a trigger for my concealed anxiety and grief. And after Saturday, I couldn’t push it all back down after Saturday. And so nine years of pent up… everything came tumbling out.”

None of them spoke for a moment.

Then: “You talked to one hell of a therapist yesterday, didn’t you,” Manon said. 

Elide let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, he set me straight.” Elide said, tracing the lines on one of her textbooks.

“So you’re okay?” Lysandra asked, wrapping her arms tentatively around Elide.

“No” Elide said, “I’m actually far from it. But …” Elide cleared her throat and hastily brushed away a fallen tear. “That’s okay. I know that.” 

“Good” Aelin said. She reached for Elide, then, waving off a pissed Lysandra. “We’re going to be right here while you get through all of it, Elide. Absolutely all of it.”

“Thank you” Elide said, gladly accepting her third bear hug of the day. “And I’m sorry about how I reacted on Saturday, it must have been so scary for all of you. I’m really, truly sorry-”

“Don’t apologize” Aelin said, smoothing down her hair. “You don’t need to. What Maeve did was the definition of malicious, and you didn’t hear it but everyone booed her off stage after Lorcan rushed you out of the room.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t disqualify her from the race after that,” Lysandra said, and then she grimaced. “Gods I can still remember the look on her face-”

“Lysandra” Manon warned, “we all know she’s a bitch, but we don’t need to debate how much of one she is right at this second.”

Lysandra looked down at her feet and mumbled, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, really” Elide said. “I don’t mind talking about how much of a bitch she is at all.”

“Oh thank the gods” Lysandra sighed, rushing over to Elide and grasping her hand. “Let’s all go sit down somewhere and discuss this. It’s going to be a lengthy conversation- there is so much bitchy-ness about her that you don’t even know about it.”

“Are we really doing this?” Manon said, raising a single brow. “Doesn’t that make us a bit petty?” A snort from Lysandra.

They all turned to Aelin, but Aelin just shrugged. “What Elide says, goes.”

Manon’s jaw twitched and then she threw up her hands. “What the hell.”

Elide giggled as the four of them linked arms and walked towards the school together. Manon had been right- she had talked to one hell of a shrink yesterday. But she hadn’t just helped her sift through the memories, figure out how to deal with the pain.

Lysandra cackled at something Manon said, and Aelin smiled back at them, unrestrained.

No, she’d also helped her realize how amazing her friends were. And that was best part of all.

~  

If he couldn’t find her before the end of the day- he didn’t know what he was going to do. He just had to talk to her. He just had to know if she was alright.

His feet pounded into the concrete of the school parking lot... (I’m sorry I stopped typing here)

Here’s how I originally outlined the chapter (you can see some changes for when I actually sat down and wrote it):

Chp 17 Summary

Monday morning- day of election results. Elide is a mess. She hasn’t talked to anyone since Saturday night: this includes Lorcan. At school she’s confronted by friends and they’re all worried about her. They make up- Elide opens up to them about it. Lorcan clears things up with Rowan in the parking lot, they walk towards the school together. Then Lorcan comes over and asks to speak with Elide alone- they talk, and Lorcan gives her a new backpack (green like the carpet in the library). Asks if she could take care of Hellas for him- she says yes. They walk into the school hand in hand, knowing what they are and what they could be would have to wait for now.

Chapter Specifics

Outside of School

Elide sitting in her car again, contemplating the weekend. Reflective of first chapter- when she’s sitting there, not sure how things are going to go. 

Walks towards the school in a daze. Aelin & Co waiting for her a few feet from the school. Everyone is tentative but then Manon comes running over and gives Elide a hug. It’s just what she needs.

Elide says she’s sorry and opens up to them about her thought. They all just tell her it’s not her fault for any of it and they’re sorry that happened to her.

Lorcan & Rowan Meeting

Lorcan walking towards Elide when Rowan steps in front of him. The two tersely talk 

Flashback scene of sorts about what Rowan did for him the night before (Cain trying to goad Lorcan into a fight of sorts and Rowan stepping in)

at the end of it the two shake hands and are on good terms again.

Lorcan walks over to Elide and asks to speak with her alone. Bell rings for class to start but Lorcan leads them down a trail to talk.

He’s awkward until Elide leans up and kisses him. She tells him thank you

He gives her the backpack. Elide opens it up to find a copy of A Court of Wings and Ruin, and the picture of her parents protruding from it. 

Lorcan says he wishes he could have made her happy like that. Elide says he did. In the short time they had, he did.

Lorcan asks her to take care of Hellas. She says of course.

Elide leans up and kisses him again and says that she’ll always care about him. And maybe in the future they’ll be something (make sure you don’t rush this!!)

Lorcan starts stuttering and Elide shakes her head. She explains that as much as she cares about him, she knows how much the long distance thing will wear down on them- and that he needs to be his own person when he comes back to her.

Outdoors speakers announce that Aelin and her team had won the election as they approach the school building.

Elide walks into the school with Lorcan, prepared for the day ahead. And the next. And then the next, and the next…

Epilogue

I actually don’t have any notes for this (I THOUGHT I DID I’M SORRY) but I think I had it so that they bump into each other at Terrasen University or something like that and they start as friends but eventually begin dating and then get married in the library and the last scene is them at their spot in the library in their wedding apparel just holding each other (because I’m sappy like that)

Thank you all, again. Writing this was a pleasure and I could not have asked for a better community and support group

- Abs

#throne of glass fanfic #elorcan #elorcanfanfic #maybe tomorrow

[heavenlysageee]

Storms Like These

Chapter 3: Hydrangeas in Bloom 

fandom: BNHA/Dabi/Shinsou

pairing: Dabi x GN!Reader

word count: 1616 words

!Possible TW!: complicated grief, depression, mentions of death

>> Previous Chapter <<  >> Next Chapter<< 

a/n: thank you so much for keeping up with the story this far! i have been a little pre-occupied with stuff at home and university but i’m doing my best to try and continue the story!

»» — —  —   —  ♡— — — — ««  ♡  »»— — — —  —  — ♡ — — —  — ««

Reader’s POV

Your hands carefully wrap the clear plastic around the wildflower bouquet and set it to the side for an order. It’s one of your favorites, it isn’t restrictive, it’s a spontaneous but pretty bouquet. The sun was almost setting, which means you’re almost free. You untie your flower shop apron and glance over at Hitoshi surrounded by purple wolfsbane, his hair was so bright it’s like he belonged there. He was spritzing it with water and mindlessly checking for their health. As if noticing your glances, he brings one particularly ill-looking camellia plant over and carefully pushes it onto the counter.

Looking at you expectantly, he gestured toward the flower and said, “Alright, do your thing and save the poor soul.” 

You gently smile and your fingers snake around the base of the potted plant allowing your quirk to regenerate the life of the plant. You feel heat in your finger tips and little sparks of green are apparent while you watch the original rouge of the flower return into its venation. Once the flower regains its former beauty, Hitoshi grabs it and says, “Imagine what you could’ve done if you were a pro-hero like me. We would’ve been partners roaming the streets and protecting its citizens just like how we told mom we would.” 

Your hands quickly slip away from the counter and you turn away toward the window. “And I tell you the same answer over and over again Toshi, it’s just not my thing. We were kids. I promised mom I would take care of the flower shop and I know she wouldn’t want me to abandon it.” The slight tension that filled the air after you mentioned your mom was palpable. The silence was so painful that it almost physically hurt. Your hands balled into fists at your side and you try to relieve the awkward tense energy filling your body by doing menial tasks like counting stock. 

“I’m sorry, for uh, mentioning mom.” You mutter before timidly glancing at your brother who hasn’t spoken a word. His face was devoid of expression while he looked at you. Crap. I really struck a nerve this time around. 

He gave a half-smile and replied, “No one told you to abandon it. Just - consider it at least one of these days. I’d like to hang out with my blood, after all, you’re all I have left of mom.” Hitoshi untied his apron and folded it onto the counter quietly. He looked you in the eyes and spoke in small sentences, “I’m uh - gonna start to head upstairs to your apartment for a bit just to clear my head. I’ll see you in a bit.”

The guilt washed over you like an icy bucket of water. When Mom passed away, Hitoshi’s grieving process was complicated. After the burial, you couldn’t get in contact with him for 3 months, he just disappeared. Always leaving unreturned voice-mails and countless calls, you couldn’t take the stress of wondering where he was. You drove 3.5 hours to his place and stormed into his apartment. 

Before you could even open the door, your body froze. Whether it was the stupid sibling “intuition” or your own fear, it took every muscle fiber in your body to turn the spare key to his apartment. You opened the door and his apartment was absolutely horrific. The stench was a mixture of old food and unwashed laundry, plates were stacked high in the sink, shattered alcohol bottles and pictures of your mom littered the floor. When you got to his room, you found him on the floor curled up in a ball releasing the most gut-wrenching cry. His room was just as equally messy with the bed sheets haphazardly thrown off the bed, laundry basket overflowing, and no light in his room whatsoever. 

You’ll never forget that moment, you didn’t know what else to do except scoop him into your arms and hold him. You’re all he has left. He wasn’t wrong. 

Shaking yourself from the memory, the door to the storefront swung open with a little ring. “Hello, welcome to The Garden, how can I help you?” Familiar purple and olive skinned hands pressed flat against the counter filling your nose with a mix of leather and cigarettes. Your eyes trace up to find Dabi leaning onto your counter holding his chin up with a confident smile plastered across his face. 

“Hello angel, how’s it been since the last time we met? Missed me?” You rolled your eyes to try and hide the little sparks that flittered along your skin into your stomach. You met his eyes and brought your face to the same level as his leaving only a few inches of space between you two. “It was just last night, I couldn’t miss you even if I tried.” 

His eyes seemed to run down your features as if he was burning every inch of your face into his mind’s eye, stopping at your lips. “Well, I sure as hell missed you gently tending to me. So I just had to come back for round two.” This man is too damn smooth - it’s almost alarming. Straightening your posture, you returned your position at the register and asked him, “What’s the real reason you came to my flower shop and not my apartment?”

He straightened at your question and began to take a look around the entire flower shop. “You said I could ask you for help with absolutely anything. So I came here to your business to ask you for a favor as a prospective business partner.” You raised your eyebrows at his suggestion but figured it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. Crossing your arms you pivot your attention toward the burnt man in the leather jacket. “Go on.”

His lips upturned into a half smile and glanced at you from the side. “I can’t say it here though, it’s a bit of a private affair. You know, just between you and I. I can’t just let anybody hear it.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. What the hell is he talking about? What kind of favor is this? 

Before you could inquire any further, he shook his head and shoved his hands into his ripped jean pockets. “I’ll call you and we can just meet up at a joint I know. Somewhere you and I can talk comfortably.” He pulls his phone out and hands it over to you expectantly. You tilt your head to the side still clouded in slight confusion but texted yourself from his phone nevertheless. He grabs his phone back from you and his other hand slides cash across the counter toward you. 

You laughed a little, “Dabi, what is this for? You don’t need to pay me for giving you my number.” He shook his head and picked up one hydrangea, “I’ll contribute to your business in exchange for helping me. Consider this my expression of gratitude if you will. It’s a pleasure doing business with you dollface.” 

Once his lanky figure disappears from sight, you finish closing up the register and lock the store. You’re not sure what it is about him but he makes you feel valuable and pursued. Maybe it’s just your heart getting a little lonely or bored, but it’s a nice feeling to be chased by another person. You flip the light switch, do one last check that all the closing tasks are done and post a little post-it note for the opening staff to look at. 

Going up the stairs to your apartment you notice that Shinsou was standing in your kitchen drinking a bottle of water looking slightly disgruntled. You fell onto the couch and gave your legs a much needed stretch from standing the entire shift. Turning toward Hitoshi, you frown and ask, “What’s got you all mad like that for? You look more dead than usual?” 

Your question seemed to shake his mind out of whatever was bothering him and he put on the warm smile you liked. “Nah, it’s nothing. Just stressed about work, big hero things.” You shrug it off and flip through channels on the TV, “Yeah, no that sounds like something out of my specialty. All you bro.” 

He approaches you onto the couch and after a few minutes of enjoying each other’s company, he asks, “Do you keep track of all the customers in your store?” You chuckle and turn to him, “Uh, not really Toshi. There’s usually too many people to keep count of. You know, there’s weddings, funerals, and the usual couples or filial children.” Before you could continue any further he replies abruptly, “Just watch out okay? Like I told you, I’ve been assigned to a nearby area. So I don’t want you letting your guard down.” 

Giving him a comforting nudge, you smile, “You know me better than that, you know I’m not like that.” He looks down and seems to be satisfied with your answer. He stretches his legs out and leans back on the other end of the couch opposite of you. “You cool with it if I sleep over in the guest room for tonight? I’m a little too lazy to drive back right now. Plus, I have a shift patrolling here tomorrow anyways since it’s my first day with the agency I was telling you about.” You kick him in the calf with the one leg that was resting on the couch. “So that’s what you were planning all along loser?” You shook your head and continued watching the TV. Hitoshi playfully sings, “I didn’t hear a no, so I’m gonna take it as a yes.” 

#hitoshi shinso #dabi x gender neutral reader #dabi x yn #dabi x reader #mha imagines #touya x reader #bnha fanfiction #dabi fanfic #dabi my hero academia #touya x y/n #dabi x gn reader #dabi todoroki

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover - Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12

Summary: Claire and Jo go Christmas shopping; Claire gets a call at work that Lamb’s in the hospital in Boston where she fears she will need to spend the holidays without Jamie. In short: angst, but make it festive.

" This won't go back to normal, if it ever was It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because 'Cause I have to

Ooh-ah, you'll get better..."

CW: cancer, hospitals, illness of a loved one,

Notes: First of all, if you’re still here, thank you for reading, and thank you for bearing with me as I took a small hiatus. Hopefully I will be getting back to a more regular posting schedule, but work is really draining right now and it’s hard to find enough hours in the day to do everything. 

As you know, each Chapter of this fic is based off a Taylor Swift song by the same name. This one was particularly difficult to write/approach because I actually haven’t listened to this song in over a year. In early Summer 2019, a tumor was found on my grandfather’s brain. This was also the summer I discovered Outlander, and the summer Taylor Swift released Lover. The day after Lover came out, I broke down sobbing in my apartment listening to this song and thinking about my grandfather, knowing his condition was worsening. That night, I recieved the call that my grandfather had passed. He was the kindest, purest soul and I write this chapter in part as a tribute to him. Many of the experiences Claire and Lamb share are based on my own experiences with my grandpa that summer, and this version of Lamb is very much based on my Grandpa Jim. 

That being said, you may want to grab a box of tissues before reading, but hopefully not all your tears will be sad. I’m hoping to post again before Chistmas, but in case I don’t Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays--and Happy Hanukkah to any Jewish readers I may have--here is a Hanukkah present for you!

 Chapter 13: “Soon You’ll Get Better”  

         “All I want for Christmas is yooouuuuu” the sounds of Mariah Carey rang out throughout the small boutique gift shop in the heart of the village of Northport.

           “Good God, we’re only a week into December and I swear I’ve already heard this song three hundred times. I’m not exaggerating either. Two hundred and eight-four at the very least.” Jo scoffed exasperatedly.

           “Are you complaining?” Claire asked in reply. “It’s a great song--a classic really.”

           “Do you know how many incredible, amazing, beautiful, jolly Christmas songs there are in existence?” Jo was gearing up for one of their famous rants, “Yet, the radio stations only ever play the same eighteen songs, I swear!”

           “It must be more than eighteen.”

           “Fine. Twenty. Take this song for instance: Ingrid Michaelson has the most hauntingly beautiful cover of it--do you ever hear it? No! You only ever hear Mariah!”

           “I, for one, like Mariah!” Claire interjected, playfully defensive.

           “Who doesn’t? But she’s not the only powerhouse female vocalist out there! I’d just like to see a little diversity in my holiday music, is that so much to ask?”

           Claire giggled. Her best friend always had an opinion on everything and she loved them all the more for it. “Do you think Jenny would like this candle?” Claire unscrewed the lid a locally-made jar candle, taking a sniff before placing it under Jo’s nose. It smelled like Lavender and Sage with just a hint of Eucalyptus.

           “Does Jenny keep a lot of candles around, with all those children?” Jo chuckled back. “It does smell nice though.” Jo had only met Jenny a couple times when visiting Claire, but they had a knack for reading people and Claire was glad to have them along as a shopping partner.

           “I suppose candles aren’t really her thing. Jenny seems very practical, but I don’t know what she would need that she doesn’t already have, and Jamie’s been no help!”

           “I think you’re on the right track with the self-care/relaxation vibe, but maybe not something the children can use to burn the house down. What about an artisanal lotion set?” Jo inquired, gesturing at a nearby display.

           “Oh that might work!” Claire took a squirt from the bottle labeled ‘tester’ inhaling deeply as she rubbed it between her palms. “Ooo that’s nice, I would appreciate this if I were a hardworking mother.”

           “If things keep going the way they are with your man, LJ, you might just be before you know it” Jo made a lewd gesture with their hands, raising their eyebrows to make it clear exactly what they were implying.

           “Jo! You’re terrible” Claire shrieked, smacking her friend playfully on the arm. Besides, not much of that happening these days if you haven’t noticed, Jamie is literally across the ocean.”

           “Well, at least you can’t get knocked up from phone sex,” Jo replied. “What are you getting him anyway? I’m thinking something lacy and strappy, with little bows on it of course, to be festive. There’s a place down the street that might have something like that.”

           “Hmm” Claire exhaled. “We’ll see.” Claire knew lingerie was definitely going to be part of Jamie’s Christmas gift, one she would be most excited for him to unwrap. God, she missed him. It had been over a month and they were settling into a routine, video chatting every night, sweet texts back and forth throughout the day, the occasional phone sex when they were both sick with desire for one other--but nothing was the same as the feel of their bodies pressed against each other in the heat of the moment, chasing each other’s climax. Claire couldn’t wait to be reunited with him in every way.

           It was two days before Christmas break, only a few days left until Claire would find freedom for the next ten days and, most of all--the comfort of Jamie’s arms. Claire was sitting in her school nurse’s office, inhaling deeply during the first quiet moments she’d had all week. There was an uptick of student visits in the past couple weeks--a few were legitimate concerns tied to cold and flu season: students whose parents sent them to school when they weren’t quite well enough, overachievers who wanted to maintain their perfect attendance dragging themselves to school despite their bodies protestations. Most of her patients however, were suffering from something much more insidious: the eagerness to start their winter break early by skipping their classes. This time of year the air of the school felt different, students and teachers alike were burnt out, apathetic, and ready for a break. This attitude in the students fed into the teachers’ attitudes--overworked with the end of the marking period, trying to squeeze in Christmas shopping and decorating between grading. Claire did not envy Jo nor any of the other teachers during this time, but their exhaustion was so palpable in the air of the school that she was starting to feel it too. By tomorrow, most teachers would be shutting their doors and playing a holiday film, giving up on instruction all together--hopefully that would make for a quiet day for Claire. Really, if she could just get through the rest of the day it would be smooth sailing until Christmas--until Jamie.

           Her silent musings were broken by the blaring sound of her office phone. She was expecting a teacher, calling to send a student down, but instead it was the school clerk, Glenda. “Hi Nurse Beauchamp, we have an outside call for you, it seems like it may be a personal call so if there’s any students with you we can send someone down to watch them if you’d like to take it privately here in the office.”

           Claire's heart sank to her stomach. What could it be? She took a deep breath and swallowed to brace herself before replying “last student just left.”

           “Alright, I’ll transfer you now.” The click of the call transferring sounded through the phone.

           “Hello, this is Miss Beauchamp”

           “Hello Miss Beauchamp, I’m Tammy, a nurse at Mass General we’re calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Quentin Beauchamp” a nasally voice croaked through the phone speaker--the voice was impersonal like that of a cashier saying “have a nice day” for the thousandth time, not fitting of a potential harbinger of death.

           “Yes…” Claire replied, nervously, questioningly.

           “Mr. Lambert was admitted this morning after showing signs of cognitive distress. An initial cat scan shows a mass on his brain. He’s currently undergoing testing to see if it’s cancerous.”

           Claire’s lungs felt like they were about to collapse. Lamb had been diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago, but had been able to live with it through treatment. Claire also knew that cancer was insidious and could spread throughout the body rapidly and without warning. She knew it was very likely that the mass was cancer. She tried to find her medical professional voice, but a diagnosis was different when it was someone you loved. Instead, she croaked out, “when will you know?”

           “We should have the results by tomorrow. He’ll stay here overnight for monitoring and we’ll decide whether to admit him long term from there.”

           “I’m on Long Island, should I drive up?”

           “I’m afraid it’s too soon to tell, it could be nothing, but--” Claire cut her off, knowing exactly how bad it could be.

           “I understand. I’ll drive up this evening.”

           “Alright, he should be back in his room by then, he’s out getting his tests done now. It’s room 713 when you get here.” Claire wrote the number on a bright blue sticky note on her desk as the nurse spoke. “Have a nice day Ms. Beauchamp”

           “Hmm” was all she could reply, as if she could possibly have a nice day. She hung up the phone, and finally let the deluge of tears she’d been holding back free.

She allowed herself to cry for a few minutes to get it out, but she knew she had to get to Boston as soon as possible. She picked up the phone again and dialed the main office.

“Hi Glenda, it’s Claire. I need to take the rest of the day off--I have to go to Boston, my uncle…” she couldn’t say it out loud for fear of unleashing the tears again “Is Principal Gowan there, I need to let him know.”

“Oh Nurse Beauchamp, I’m so sorry to hear that, let me know if you need anything. Mr. Gowan’s in his office, I’ll transfer you to him now, if he doesn’t answer just pack up your things and go, I’ll take care of it”

“Thanks Glenda, I really appreciate it”

----------

           After getting the ok from her kind and understanding principal, Claire rushed back to Jamie’s apartment, hastily packed a bag (likely forgetting several things), informed Jenny where she was going--which was met with sympathy and genuine concern--and hopped back in the car for the journey to Boston. She entered the hospital doors several hours later, the buttons of her coat were tangled in her hair as she rushed, breathless, to the front desk to receive her visitor’s pass.

           When she arrived at Lamb’s room, he was asleep. She didn’t want to wake him, but she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know she was there before settling into the armchair beside him to await his awakening. He looked so frail and small in the hospital bed, not at all like the strong, spirited man who had raised her. He had left the television on--some sports channel was playing a highlight reel of various golfing moments. No wonder Lamb fell asleep. Claire was staring at the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere: worried about Lamb, wondering if she’d remember everything when she hastily packed, wondering what the future held. Would she have to spend Christmas in this hospital room? A golf ball soared across the Scottish Highlands on the screen. Jamie. Jamie was coming home Christmas Eve, she was supposed to pick him up from the airport, supposed to spend her holiday break with him, experience her first Hogmanay with the Murray family, be surrounded by love and laughter and family. Lamb was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to take the train down, spend Christmas with them. Every plan they had made was shattered into a million pieces. Would she even be able to see Jamie? She thought about the presents she’d bought for him, not yet wrapped, piled in the closet but definitely not hidden, especially considering it was his apartment. Of course he’d understand--she could tell him where they were, but the magic of unwrapping would be lost, it would feel entirely unsentimental. It was bad enough that she felt her gifts weren’t sentimental enough--what could she possibly get him to show how special he was to her? How could she communicate that with an object? If she were a painter she would paint him a painting, if she were a songwriter she would write him a song, but she was simply Claire, and practical gifts were all she knew. She had purchased a cozy blue sweater to match his eyes and keep him warm in the brisk London winters, a cool multi-tool the size of a credit card that would fit in his wallet and help him solve a variety of problems, a protective case for his phone, and a box of artisanal beef jerky.  She had also procured a complicated piece of lingerie with a big red bow across the chest for him to unwrap the night of Christmas, which she knew he would enjoy. Everything was thoughtful enough and mostly practical, but she longed to be able to give him something truly special--a grand gesture to match her feelings for him. Claire glanced back at her uncle and immediately felt guilty being so selfish. I hate to make this all about me. Lamb always had a knack for helping her realize what was important when life’s situations overwhelmed her. She needed him for perspective, but how could she talk to him about this? How could she tell him how she felt? She knew it was wrong, but she was mad at him for getting sick so close to Christmas. Who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do if there’s no you? The tears were welling up in her eyes as she watched her most beloved uncle sleep--hooked up to machines, pale and listless in the hospital bed.

           Claire slipped into the adjoining bathroom to try to compose herself--she didn’t want her uncle to wake up and see her upset, she knew he would try to comfort her, to be the rock he always had been for her. She was here to be his rock this time, she needed to stay strong for him. She looked at herself in the mirror, telling herself it was going to be ok--her uncle was strong and he’d been fighting a long time--he’d continue to fight. Soon you’ll get better. She had to convince herself it was true, pretend it wasn’t real, it wasn’t so bad. She knew it was a delusion, she could see it all over her glass face when she looked in the mirror. She was genuinely afraid that this could be when she lost him, if not physically right away, he could be lost mentally. She’d been hoping for years he would get better, but now it seemed he’d taken a turn for the worse. She took a few deep breaths and offered up a prayer. She wasn’t usually religious, but they say desperate people find faith, so she decided it was time to try. God? Jesus? Whoever is up there. I know I don’t much deserve anything from you, I’m not sure I’m exactly on good terms with you, but I’m inclined to believe you care and you are good. Besides, I’m not really asking anything for myself, not really. I just pray my Uncle is ok, I pray he gets better. He has to. Please don’t take his brilliant mind away from him. Please let him be ok. Please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever it takes to help him. Just please, please, don’t take him away from me. I need him. Please let him get better. Please let him get better. Claire continued to repeat the words like a mantra as she returned to her bedside chair. She stared at the collection of orange bottles on the tray table. Please let them help him get better. Please let him get better. Please, please, please let him get better.

           Claire had no idea how long she sat there, repeating those words to herself, but her silent appeal was interrupted when a nurse entered the room to check her uncle’s vitals.

           “Hi, I’m Brenda, I’ll be the nurse on duty tonight.” Brenda erased a name on a small whiteboard in front of the room and replaced it with her own.

           “I’m Claire, I’m his niece.”

           Brenda had made her way over to the other side of the bed and was checking the monitors beside the bed, making notes on the chart in her hand. “I hate waking them up, but I’m going to have to.” Claire was glad that she was much kinder than the nurse she had spoken with on the phone earlier—had that really been earlier? It seemed much longer since that phone call. “Excuse me, Quentin? Sir?” Brenda gently nudged his arm to awaken him. Lamb’s eyes fluttered open and he looked disoriented, Claire watched him carefully hoping that his disorientation was solely from being awoken mid-sleep and not from any neurological damage.

           “Hi Uncle Lamb” Claire stammered, hoping she sounded cheerful anyway.

           “Claire! My girl! You came all the way to see your old uncle!”

           “Of course I did! How are you?” she replied warmly.

           “Oh, I’m fine, they’re taking good care of me here.” Lamb’s voice sounded genuinely content and Claire felt comforted for the first time since the hospital had called her earlier that day.

           “Hello sir, my name’s Brenda, I’ll be your nurse tonight. I just need to ask you a few questions and check your vitals.”

           “What is your name?”

           “Quentin Lambert Beauchamp”

           “Good. When is your birthday?

           “March 23th, 1939”

           “Good, and who is the president?”

           “Well, unfortunately…” both Claire and Brenda giggled at how Lamb began his sentence. Claire was well aware of Lamb’s opinions of the current president of the United States, and was glad to see he hadn’t lost his sly sense of humor or his disdain for the man.  She was also glad he knew who the president was, hopefully his mental capacities were more promising than the worst-case-scenario her mind was conjuring.

----------

           Claire stayed by her uncle’s side for the rest of the night, only leaving the room twice, once to find something to eat from a vending machine, and once for her nightly call to Jamie. She allowed herself to break down when talking to Jamie, sobbing over the phone. Jamie did his best to comfort her through the speaker, desperately wishing he could be there for her in person. Claire wished the same, longing to curl up in his strong embrace, and bury her swollen face in his chest. She couldn’t bring up the fact that she might have to spend Christmas in Boston. She was enough of a mess without facing the reality that they wouldn’t see each other, and when Jamie promised they’d see each other soon at the end of their call, Claire hung up quickly as another wave of emotion overtook her and she buried her face in her hands to cry some more.

           The next morning, the doctor came in with Lamb’s results. Claire grasped Lamb’s hand, unsure of who was holding onto whom for comfort as the doctor explained that the mass on Lamb’s brain was in fact cancerous, but it was still relatively small and had been caught early. He explained that they could operate on it and remove it, however there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t come back or that they’d be able to get it all out. It was moments like these where Claire desperately wished she was already a surgeon, that she could feel in control of the outcome--though could she operate on her own uncle? Would she be able to hold her hand steady enough to do a good job? No, perhaps it was best left to the veteran surgeons in Boston.

           After discussing all the details and options with the doctor’s, Lamb decided to go through with the surgery. It was scheduled for the day after Christmas and Claire resigned herself to the sobering fact that she’d be spending the holidays in the hospital. As the florescent hospital lights lit the room with an unnatural glow, Claire couldn’t tell him she was scared. She had to stay strong, she had to keep it together and remain positive and supportive.

           ----------

           Claire spent the next few days devoted to her uncle, rarely leaving his bedside. Lamb had forced her to spend the nights at his apartment, which was probably for the best. She wasn’t sleeping well to begin with and the recliner at the hospital was only making matters worse. Claire was present and doting on him from morning to night though, helping her uncle order his meals, assisting him when he needed to use the restroom, adding and removing pillows and blankets as needed, or anything else he needed or wanted. Lamb had been moved to the cancer floor, and the window of his new room had a nice view of the Boston skyline. Lamb was making the best of a bad deal, he bragged about his ‘luxury accommodations’, he cracked jokes often, he liked the nicer nurses, he ordered extra dessert with all his meals and was in generally pleasant spirits. Claire could see the cracks in his cognition though. Sometimes he would change the topic he was discussing mid-sentence, and he couldn’t seem to keep time straight. Whenever anyone would mention Christmas, he would act surprised to know that it was coming up, and at one point he hinted at Claire that she might just get those roller skates she wanted for Christmas, a gift she had not asked for since she was eleven years old. He didn’t seem to know what year it was or how old Claire was. He did know who Claire was though, and for that she was thankful. He also knew who the president was whenever the nurses asked, always beginning his answer with a short preamble to make known his disdain.

Before they knew it, it was Christmas Eve and Claire couldn’t hide the sadness she felt on her face. She was glad to spend the evening with Lamb, but she had been looking forward to her first big family Christmas. She had filled in Jamie about Lamb’s condition and her subsequent stay in Boston over the course of their phone calls that week. She had also describe the Christmas gifts she had purchased for the Murrays, Jo, and Lamb, so Jamie would know the rest were for him. Jamie had agreed to put the Murrays gifts in gift bags and distribute them for her. They were meant to exchange family gifts that evening, the morning being reserved for Santa, and Claire was heartbroken to be missing out. In a matter of hours, and for the first time in two months, her and Jamie would be on the same continent, yet they wouldn’t be able to see each other. There was no way Claire could get into the Christmas spirit under these conditions. The hospital, despite being modestly decorated, was not the most festive atmosphere. Even a troop of Girl Scouts caroling their way through the hospital halls did nothing to assuage the weight of losing everything Claire had been looking forward to for the past two months.

           “What’s a matter, my dear?” Lamb asked, showing genuine concern for his niece.

           “It’s nothing, I’m fine, I promise, I’m just wishing things were different today.”

           “Why today? Is it something special? I can’t seem to remember.”

           “It’s Christmas Eve. You were supposed to come to Long Island and meet Jamie. We were going to spend the holiday with his family.”

           “Yes, I remember, that’s today? Oh dear, I haven’t gotten your gift yet I’m afraid.”

           “That’s fine, Lamb, I’m afraid I left your gift at home, so we’ll have to do that part later. We can take a raincheck on gift exchanging. I was just really looking forward to you getting to know Jamie.”

           “I’m sure I’ll meet the lad soon; he seems really special to you.”

           “He is; I know you’ll like him.”

           “I already do.” He patted the top of her hand and turned his attention back to the sitcom on the television, providing humorous commentary to try to cheer Claire up.

----------

It was late Christmas morning. Uncle Lamb was napping again and Claire had switched the television to the Hallmark Channel--usually her guilty pleasure this season, today it was simply reminding her of how her Christmas was proving to be less than magical. For her there would be no Christmas kisses, no magical snowfall, no saving the small town family business or learning to love Christmas again. All that awaited her this Christmas were fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and nurses visiting every 6 hours to check her uncle’s vitals. This Christmas would be decidedly the most un-magical she had ever experienced. She had had her share of unconventional Christmases in the past, in fact, she never really was a Christmas person, but it had started to feel special to her when she was living in New York. This Christmas though--this was one she was looking forward to more than ever before. Claire spent most of the morning crying, grieving over all she was missing. She should have spent the morning curled up in Jamie’s arms, watching the children open presents. She could picture the Murray’s living room, trashed with colorful wrapping paper from end to end, each child in their own private world fascinated by their latest favorite toy, Jenny and Ian beaming through tired eyes.

Claire was surprised Jamie hadn’t called her to fill her in on the details yet. He had called yesterday when his plane arrived--groggy and jet-lagged, his communication skills were not the most eloquent, but he tried his best to make her feel better. She hadn’t heard from him at all this morning though, not even a Merry Christmas text. Surely the jet lag would have woken him up as early as the children, and they must have been done opening presents by now. Claire tried to rationalize that Jamie was just spending time with his family, but she couldn’t help feeling hurt and ignored. She thought she was important enough to him that he could take a moment away from his family to at least text her, or to find some way to make her feel included from afar. Had his feelings changed in their months apart? Did coming home to a messy apartment turn him off? Did she find his Christmas gifts and come to think she didn’t care enough to get him something more thoughtful? She thought about calling him, but a mixture of pride and fear kept her from acting first, not to mention she couldn’t stop crying over these sappy Christmas movies.

Suddenly, a voice from the doorway rang through the room, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!” Claire looked up in confusion, momentarily unable to comprehend her surroundings and the disruption that had just entered them. Santa? No. The tall figure filling the door frame was dressed like Santa, beard and all, but the unmistakable Scottish burr gave away his true identity. If Claire hadn’t already been crying, she certainly was now. Jamie was standing in the doorway, dressed in a Santa suit, carrying a large, blue IKEA bag overflowing with wrapped presents and what appeared to be Christmas decorations.

“What?” Claire could hardly believe he was there, she rose from the chair and the couple met in the middle of the room for a hearty embrace. Claire buried her face in the soft, fluffy suit covering Jamie’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Perhaps the setting wasn’t a snow covered street in a small town, but this was her own Hallmark movie moment--and to be honest, those Hallmark guys had nothing on James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Jamie held her close, and tight, planting kisses in her curls and whispering softly to her.

“I’m here, mo nighean donn.” He caressed her shoulders with his thumbs, not releasing his embrace in the slightest, breathing in her scent, trying to absorb her fears and pain.

All of the commotion had awoken Uncle Lamb and after witnessing the couples’ embrace for longer than was comfortable, Lamb loudly cleared his throat to remind them of his presence in the room.

“Uncle Lamb!” Claire unfolded herself from Jamie’s embrace, keeping one arm around his back. Jamie sheepishly pulled the fake beard down around his neck to reveal his face and removed his Santa hat, clutching it tightly in the palm that wasn’t holding Claire. “This is Jamie, my Jamie. Jamie, this is my Uncle Lamb.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad it’s not Santa Claus, or we’d have a lot of explaining to do to the lad!” Lamb chuckled back.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” Jamie reluctantly released Claire from his grasp to step beside the bed, extending a firm but gentle hand to Lamb. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, lad” Lamb replied, patting Jamie’s hand with his before releasing their handshake. “And don’t you worry about me, I have the best nurse there is taking care of me.” Two sets of proudly smiling eyes met Claire across the room.

“Oh I dinna doubt it for a second. Your niece is a rare woman.”

“Glad to see we’re in agreement. Now what’s all that?” Lamb gestured towards the large tote discarded near Claire’s feet.

“Aye, I thought I’d bring you two a bit o’ holiday cheer.” Jamie pulled a large cardboard box from the bag and extracted a small tabletop Christmas tree from it, unfurling each branch carefully and placing it on the countertop across the room, plugging it in to reveal fiber optic lights changing colors dreamily. “I usually insist on my Christmas trees being more, well, alive, but under the circumstances this’ll have tae do.” Jamie and Claire spent the next half hour or so festooning the room in garlands and placing tiny ornaments on the small tree. Claire tried to ignore that more than half of the bag was filled with brightly wrapped gifts, not sure whether she was hoping they were all for her, or hoping that they weren’t. After all, she didn’t have anything to give him and she didn’t know if he had looked through his gifts yet nor if he had appreciated them.

While they decorated, Jamie filled Claire and Lamb in on the events of the last few days. Jamie had called Jenny to tell her not to bother picking him up from the airport. He had planned on renting a car there and driving straight to Boston. Claire could hear Jenny’s voice loud and clear through Jamie’s imitation “ya clotheid! Have ya gone daft? Yer barely able to form coherent sentences amidst the jet lag from yer Christmas Eve flight, and ya wanna drive five hours tae Boston in that state!?! Claire willna appreciate ya ending up in a ditch on the side of the road as a Christmas present ya eejit!” Jenny had made a fair point, and Jamie had agreed to sleep at home and left shortly after he awoke that morning, staying only long enough for the children to open their stockings, and to watch their faces alight with surprise at the sudden appearance of piles of presents under and around the tree.

“I’m glad you took Jenny’s advice, but most of all I’m glad you’re here.” She embraced him again. “You didn’t have to do this though, Jamie, I know how important your family is to you.”

Jamie stepped back and lifted Claire’s chin with his thumb, looking into her eyes. “You are important to me, Sassenach.” he replied, with a sincerity that penetrated Claire’s heart. Claire responded by kissing Jamie chastely on the cheek, knowing her uncle was only four feet away--politely trying to ignore them and watch the television which he had flipped to an all-day marathon of A Christmas Story on repeat. Jamie’s welcome intrusion broke up the monotony of hospital life and seemed to give Lamb a better sense of what day it was.

“Now that we’ve got the place looking good and festive, I believe it’s traditional to exchange gifts on Christmas day.”

“Jamie, it’s too much, I--”

“Oh? Thought they were all for you, didja Sassenach?” he teased. Claire blushed. Of course; she hadn’t really--but who else would they be for? Surely Jamie wouldn’t spoil Lamb, a complete stranger to him, quite so much, and no one else was there. She looked dumbfounded as she tried to come up with a defense but Jamie stopped her. “Dinna fash, Sassenach, Jenny wrapped your gifts for me and Lamb before I could see and I bought them along too. She thanks ya for the wee lotions, by the way.”

“God bless Jenny! That woman is a Saint.” Claire also silently thanked God that she had left the present she was planning on wearing for Jamie that evening in her dresser drawer, that was not a gift she wanted Jenny to see, and was definitely not something she wanted him to be opening in front of her uncle.

The three exchanged gifts, save Lamb, who had nothing to give but smiles and approval for the young couples’ thoughtful gifts. Jamie was genuinely appreciative of Claire’s gifts, although she kept insisting that she hadn’t finished shopping and there was more to come; to which Jamie humbly rejected, claiming it wasn’t necessary. Jamie’s gifts to Claire were thoughtful and meaningful, the most touching ones being a print of a painting of the rose garden he had ordered from the Botanic Garden’s gift shop and a bracelet engraved with the words perennis amor, which caused Claire to tear up and embrace him tenderly in spite of her uncle’s presence.

The three enjoyed the rest of the day thoroughly. A Christmas Story played in the background and they laughed and shared stories with one another. Jamie was a born storyteller and Lamb was elated to have a fresh audience to recount his many adventures to, so conversation flowed naturally between them, with Claire occasionally interjecting. Claire mostly just sat back and admired the two men who were most important to her, filled with joy that they were getting along, that Jamie was there, that it was Christmas. For the first time in several days she had hope and peace. She was surrounded by love in that hospital room as well. She had all the things Christmas was said to bring, and for that she was grateful. Jamie had made her greatest Christmas wishes come true without her even asking and she felt lucky to be alive.

The hospital staff served their version of Christmas dinner for the small family, and while Claire was sure it paled in comparison to whatever Jenny had made, it was quite delicious, especially considering it was hospital food. Jamie ate in the armchair next to Lamb at Claire’s insistence, since the two were deep in conversation, and Claire sat in the chair on the other side of Jamie, taking in her magical Christmas scene, better than any Hallmark movie could depict.

After dinner, Jamie was fading fast, listening to one of Lamb��s stories with heavy eyes.  She took one of the spare blankets and covered Jamie. “Looks like you’re still not over your jet lag”

“Hrmmphh, I ‘spose not.”

“Do you want me to go get you a coffee? I doubt the cafe downstairs is open today, but there’s a cappuccino vending machine a few floors down that isn’t terrible.”

“Aye Sassenach, that’d be bonny. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all, my love, I’ll be back soon.” Claire squeezed his hand before leaving the two men alone.

Jamie listened to her footsteps down the hall, and waited until he heard the ding of the elevator before he cleared his throat to speak frankly to Lamb. He sat up straight in the chair to ward off the sleepiness, having a few important things he wanted to say before Claire came back.

“Lamb, I need you to know, Claire is the most important person in my life. I love her sae much and I’d do anything for her.”

“I’m glad to hear that, I can see how happy you make her. She lights up when you’re around, it comforts my old heart to see.”

“I need you tae know, I’m very serious about her. I ken we haven’t been together that long, but I know--I know deep in my wame that I’m meant tae be hers. I want ya to know that I intend on spending the rest of my life making her happy, and while I havna bought a ring or ennathing yet, I wanted to ask yer blessing” Jamie paused for a moment before adding, “just in case.”

“Of course you have my blessing, son. I couldn’t be more glad to know that Claire will be so well cared for after I’m gone, truly.” Both men looked somber, knowing full well that this could be their last conversation, hoping dearly that it wasn’t. Claire returned with three cappuccinos in hand, surprised by the mood in the room.

“Everything alright, gentlemen? Don’t tell me Ralphie shot his eye out!”

“Och! Everything’s fine, Claire! I’m just tired is all, I’m sure this wee cappuccino will cure me in no time!” replied Jamie, eagerly taking a cup from Claire as she set another on Lamb’s tray table. The rest of the evening was quiet as Jamie took a nap, while Lamb and Claire watched A Christmas Story more intently then they had all day. Claire didn’t want to leave him alone so early on Christmas so she let Jamie nap until Lamb was asleep soundly for the night. The sense of joy she had felt all day was still present, but the nagging worry she felt about Lamb’s coming surgery was starting to settle in as well. Claire woke Jamie gently and Claire whispered softly to Lamb that they’d return in the morning, squeezing his hand before the couple quietly left the room.

----------

They walked out to Jamie’s car, since he still had his stuff packed in it, but Claire drove them back to Lamb’s apartment where she’d been staying. The cappuccino was helping Jamie stay coherent, but he was in no state to drive. They were quiet on the drive home, but kept their hands locked between the seats, grateful just to be in the presence of one another.

When they arrived at Lamb’s apartment, Jamie was so tired, he didn’t even want to brush his teeth, let alone do any of his usual nightly routines. However, he had spent the morning sweating in a polyester Santa suit over his clothes, and although he took it off shortly after his surprise arrival, he felt in need of a shower. Claire showed him where the bathroom was and made sure he had everything he needed, and got herself ready for bed.

Jamie showered quickly, not bothering to wash his hair, and only cleaning the parts of his body where any stench would be most concentrated, figuring the water would take care of the rest. A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, ready to collapse into bed, but not before embracing his sorcha. He scooped her into his embrace and she buried her face in his bare, firm chest, warm from the shower. He smelled clean, and fresh and most of like Jamie. “I’m so happy you’re with me, Jamie. You have no idea how much it means to me that you’re here.” the emotions of the day hit her again and her voice caught at the end of her sentence as tears filled her eyes once again. Jamie kissed her forehead softly, down to her nose, and landed on her lips, giving her the firm, passionate kiss they’d both been longing for all day--and for months before that.

“Mo cridhe.” Jamie breathed when they separated. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll no’ leave you alone when ya need me.”

“Oh Jamie” Claire was still crying, “I’ve been so worried. I’ve been trying to stay strong for Lamb, but I feel like this won’t go back to normal--if there ever was a normal with him. I’m scared he’s going to get worse, or--” her sentence dissolved into a fit of sobs, which she tried to stifle on Jamie’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay strong when you’re with me. I’ll be here to help you shoulder the burden. I’ll be here to soak up your tears. There’s two of us now, Claire.” He pressed a kiss into her curls. “You can feel your feelings now, mo cridhe. Lay your cares on me. Come now, let’s get ya tae bed. I’m no’ sure how much longer I can stand myself.”

Claire fell asleep wrapped safely in Jamie’s embrace, free to be herself fully. Free to be vulnerable she felt safe, she felt loved, she felt comfortable, and most new to her--she felt she had the hope and strength that she could carry on, no matter what was to come. She slept better than she had in weeks, secure in the embrace of her eternal love.

End Notes: Thanks again for reading!! By the way, the Ingrid Michaelson song Jo mentions is hauntingly beautiful and you should listen to it. Also, I hope you liked Jamie's surprise. This was going to be a lot more angsty of a chapter but Jamie refused to let Claire suffer and had other plans. I know this was full of a lot of emotional ups and downs, and hopefully we can all find some comfort in the fact that just because Christmas/the holidays may look different for a lot of us this year, it can still be special, and there's still light, joy, love, hope, and peace to be found in the midst of the darkness.

#lover #soon you’ll get better #Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #outlander fic #jamie x claire #angst #cancer #hospital #claire beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #joe abernathy #uncle lamb #christmas #fluff #angst and fluff #emotional rollercoaster #christmas fic #inspired by taylor swift #cw: cancer

[oikawaplssteponme]

𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖: part 5

“It’s always been you. Has it always been me?”

✨part 1

✨part 2

✨part 3

✨part 4

pairing: Tobio Kageyama x fem!reader

rating/warnings: [a few swear words but that should be it]

synopsis: You liked him. He liked you. Easy right? Well, maybe not as easy as you thought.

a/n: hiii 💓 sorry i didn’t post this part sooner, ive been busy with other such things :) this is chapters 9&10 and things will be getting interesting the next few parts after this 🤭 just a reminder that my requests/asks are open all the time and so is this taglist. just ask and ill add you :)) okay enjoy xx

•

Nine: all that matters

You felt as though someone had taken your heart, stepped on, and gave it back to you. You couldn’t think of any plausible reason why Koi would say that to you. This wasn’t the same Koi that always supported you. You knew that if you were in her place, you wouldn’t have said those things, even if you truly believed them.

“Don’t give me that face Y/N, it's just my opinion. See this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d freak out,” Koi huffed.

“Well I’m obviously not gonna like hearing that you think that the guy I like doesn’t actually like me.”

“Hey now I never said that. All I said was that I think that I’m more his type than you. That's no reason to get pissy with me Y/N. The truth can hurt.” Koi crossed her arms and looked you dead in the eyes. You couldn’t tell whether you wanted to cry or scream.

“Hey ladies, get into first formation,” your coach interrupted. You took a deep breath and got into your spot.

Your practice felt like it lasted forever. You wanted nothing more than to just get as far away from Koi as possible. She acted as if nothing was wrong, continuing to joke with you all practice. You played along.

“See you tomorrow Y/N!” called Koi as she turned to walk home. You waved goodbye and began your trip home.

“Hey wait up!” you heard a voice say behind you. You turned to see a sweaty Kageyama running towards you. Your face instantly lit up. Once he got up to you, he gave you a tight hug.

“Oh my gosh you stink,” you joked. Kageyama released you from the hug.

“Oh sorry,” he blushed.

“It's okay,” you smiled at him, taking his hand as you walked home.

“How was practice?” you asked.

“It was good. We have a practice match tomorrow, you should come watch,” he said. You turned to him with the biggest smile.

“You want me to come watch you?”

“Yeah why wouldn’t I?” Kageyama squeezed your hand. You felt butterflies enter your stomach.

~

“Do you want to come inside to study?” you asked, pointing to your house.

“Yeah sure,” smiled Kageyama.

You walked up to your front door and went inside. Once again, your family wasn’t home yet. You led Kageyama up to your room and you set down your bags. He sat down on your bed and you made your way to your closet.

You were still in your sweaty practice clothes so you decided to change. You grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. Not thinking twice about Kageyama, you simply got changed. After you were dressed, you turned around to see a red faced Kageyama.

“What?” you asked. He caught his breath.

“Uh, nothing,” he said as he snapped back into reality. You chuckled and grabbed your school bag and went to sit next to him. He grabbed his bag as well. You pulled out your homework and began to complete it. Kageyama grumbled as he struggled through his english homework.

“Do you want help?” you asked. Kageyama looked at you and shook his head. He knew you had one of the best grades in class but he wanted to try to do it himself.

“Nope, I’m good,” he replied. You nodded and went back to your work.

~

You finished your homework in less than an hour. You repacked your school bag and set it on the floor. You moved to rest your head on Kageyama’s shoulder.

“Are you finished yet?” you pouted. He smiled.

“I can finish it later,” he said, putting away his things.

He wrapped his arm around you as you two laid back on your bed. Your head rested on his chest. You couldn’t help but feel so at peace whenever you were with him. Well, that peace was short lived when Koi’s words began to run through your mind again. You felt your gut clench.

“Kags?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a type?” Kageyama gave you a funny look.

“What do you mean?” he asked. You sighed and sat up to face him.

“I guess what I’m asking is, am I your type?” You worried that Koi might be right. Kageyama tilted his head.

“Why does it matter? I like you,” He said taking your hand. He could tell something was wrong. You still felt uneasy.

“I don’t know. Someone said some stuff to me and it got me thinking. Well, overthinking actually,” you frowned. Kageyama pulled you towards him.

“I promise that whatever they told you isn’t true. You’re all that matters,” he said. Kageyama placed his hand on your cheek, moving his thumb back and forth. You smiled pulling him into a tight hug.

“I promise Y/N,” he whispered in your ear. His soft words sent a chill down your spine. You released him from the hug but pulled him into a kiss. He kissed you back sweetly, holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck while he held onto your hips.

“Hey Kags,” you stopped kissing him for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Please make sure your phone is on silent.”

~

“I should go,” yawned Kageyama. You pouted as you checked the time. 10:23pm. No part of you wanted him to leave.

“I think you shouldn’t,” you smiled, gripping onto his arm. He laughed.

“Trust me I don’t want to but I was supposed to be home 20 minutes ago,” he replied. You sighed, letting go of his arm and sitting up.

“Is your practice match right after school?” you asked.

“Yeah. It's in the normal gym,” he said. You nodded. Kageyama grabbed his school bag and his other things. You two walked downstairs before reaching your front door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he smiled.

You knew you would but there was just something about seeing Kageyama leave that broke your heart. You didn’t think saying a simple goodbye would be so hard but it was. You became so attached to him and you weren’t even dating; technically at least.

“Okay,” you whispered. Your eyes felt glossy but you didn't know why. It just felt like each goodbye wouldn’t be followed with another hello.

“Hey I’m just a couple houses away, and I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning. Don’t be sad Y/N,” Kageyama set down his bag to pull you into a hug. You gripped onto his shirt.

“Okay,” you said faintly. You physically couldn’t say anymore because if you did you would just tell him to stay. Kageyama moved his hands to hold your face. He noticed the water forming in your eyes. You just smiled, shrugging your shoulders like it was no big deal. He kissed the top of your head before releasing his hands from your warm face. He picked up his things and opened the door.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He gave you one last kiss on the head.

“Goodnight Kags.”

•

Ten: girlfriend

You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn’t. You felt incomplete. You felt silly about how strong your feelings had gotten for Kageyama. How attached you had become to the short-tempered setter. Everytime you were with him, it just felt as if the world had stopped and it was only the two of you. You always worried about people leaving you. You knew that if Kageyama did, you would never recover. After what Koi had to say about him, you were doubtful over yourself. Thoughts like those are what kept you up at night.

When morning arose, you were more than excited to get your day started. You immediately got yourself cleaned up and changed in your uniform. Your coach had cancelled your practice today due to being sick so it was perfect that you could make it to Kageyama’s practice match. You even packed a bag of clothes to change into after school for the game. You grabbed your bags and went downstairs. You put on your coat and hat after grabbing something to eat. You put on your school bag and went outside.

He wasn’t there. You waited for about 5 minutes for Kageyama but he wasn’t there. You felt your heart sink. Was there a chance that he forgot? He wouldn’t forget, he promised. You knew that if you waited any longer you would be late, so you decided to start walking. You walked by yourself for some time, looking back every so often to hopefully see Kageyama. You had been walking for almost 5 minutes before hearing fast footsteps behind you.

“Y/N!” You turned to see a sprinting Kageyama. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you forgot about me,” you said once he finally caught up to you. He tried to catch his breath.

“No, no I would never. I left my volleyball bag at my house so I had to go back and get it. Then I noticed that the lights in your house were all turned off so I assumed you had already left,” Kageyama explained, “I’m sorry if I scared you.” You turned to him and kissed his cheek.

“No worries Kags.” He took your hand and you walked the rest of the way to school.

~

The school day was long. You were so eager to watch Kageyama’s game that time seemed to never pass. You would check the clock constantly but of course nothing would change.

Finally when the bell rang signaling the end of the day, you sprung up from your seat rushing to your locker to grab your change of clothes.

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called. Your heart sang seeing it was none other than Kageyama.

“ Hi Kags,” you smiled.

“Put this on.” He handed you a black hoodie. Your eyes grew. You took the hoodie with joy. Before you could say anything, he was running to the gym.

“I’ll see you at the game!” his voice trailed off as he continued to run off. Your face was hot and tense from how hard you were smiling. You grabbed your bag and headed to the locker room.

You happily changed into a pair of leggings, a strappy tank top, and Kageyama’s hoodie. The hoodie was soft and it smelled like a mix of pine and vanilla, just how Kageyama often did. You were just about to leave the locker room when someone walked in.

“Oh hi Y/N, what are you doing?” asked Koi.

“I’m gonna go watch the boys volleyball practice game,” you said, without even thinking twice about it.

“Oh that sounds fun! Mind if I join?” Koi asked. You tensed up. You couldn’t say no without sounding mean but you also were still mad at Koi for those things she said the other day.

“Are you sure? It's just a practice match, it's probably gonna be really boring,” you said, trying to come up with anything that could convince her not to come.

“Yeah, we can cheer on Kags together,” smiled Koi. Your heart stopped. Did she just call him…

“Uh sure, then let's go,” you said.

~

The pit in your stomach only grew as you walked closer to the gym with Koi. Once you got inside, Kageyama spotted you right away. He ran towards you and wrapped his arm around you, not even acknowledging Koi.

“You look cute. Where is that hoodie from?” joked Kageyama. You smiled, giving him a nudge.

“Very funny. Uh Kags, you know Koi?” you gestured towards your friend who seemed to be annoyed by the lack of attention she was getting.

“Uh yeah I think so,” he said, looking at Koi. Koi gave him a big smile.

“Hi Kags. Good luck today,” smiled Koi. Did she just say it again?

“Oh uh thank you,” Kageyama turned to look at you, “I’ll see you after the game okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Good luck,” you replied. He gave you a hug before running back to his team.

You and Koi sat on the floor of the upper level of the gym. You dangled your feet over the edge and rested your arms on the railing that kept you from falling.

“So you and Kags huh?” said Koi suddenly. You turned to face her.

“Uh yeah, what about us?”

“Oh nothing,” she said, “just thinking out loud.”

“Right,” you sighed. You didn’t have the energy to ask her about it more. Whatever she had to say you knew it wouldn’t be good.

The practice game was against Nekoma High School. You had heard of them before due to their reputation around Karasuno. They seemed to be a very well rounded team.

The first set was tight but Nekoma took it. Kageyama seemed flustered with himself. He was off today and couldn’t understand why.

“Shake it off, get this next set,” you cheered. Kageyama didn’t look at you as he normally did when you cheered. You couldn’t blame him though, you knew how seriously he took volleyball, practice game or not.

“What’s with Tobio?” Koi asked. You shook your head.

“I’m not sure,” you replied.

“Maybe something is making him nervous,” she said. You turned to look at her, seeing the sly smile appear on her face as she looked down at Kageyama. You looked at Koi, then at Kageyama, and back at Koi. I know damn well she doesn’t actually think she is making Kageyama nervous. He never gets nervous.

“Maybe,” you sighed.

~

“Get this point Kageyama!” yelled Daichi. It was the second set and Nekoma was at set point. Kageyama was up to serve. You watched intently as he spun the ball in his hands.

“Let’s go Kags!” shouted Koi. You rolled your eyes without even thinking. Kageyama jumped and looked up to the two of you. He didn’t really make a face, he just looked at Koi, then at you, and back down to the ball.

The whistle blew and Kageyama tossed the ball up for his jump serve. The toss was off, causing him to hit the ball straight rather than with a downward spin.

“Oh god…” you mumbled to yourself as you watched the ball travel much farther than suitable.

“Out!” yelled the Nekoma libero. He let the ball drop. From where you were seated, you couldn’t really see whether or not the ball was in. The whistle blew and you looked to the ref, seeing him give the point to Nekoma.

“Well that was a shit game,” said Koi as she got up from the floor.

“They tried their best.”

~

The two of you went downstairs and waited outside the gym as the boys had their meeting. You sat on the ground and Koi sat on the bench. You watched as the boys slowly started to trail out of the gym one by one. Kageyama was the last one out. His head hung low but he made his way over to you.

“Hey,” he said softly. You got up to face him.

“Hey you played well, okay?” You gently moved some of his hair from his face to see his sweet eyes.

“You’ll get them next time Kags,” chimed in Koi. Kageyama brought his head up.

“It’s Kageyama, please.” He said plainly. Koi’s eyes widened and so did yours.

“Oh yeah sorry.” She said. You looked at Kageyama.

“Did you want to head over to my house? We can grab some boba on the way,” You asked. He nodded, taking your hand.

“Great let’s go, I’m starving.” said Koi, moving to stand next to Kageyama.

“Oh uh Koi I think-“ you began.

“Koi, I was hoping to spend some time with my girlfriend...alone. If that’s okay with you,” interrupted Kageyama. Your heart stopped. Girlfriend? Koi huffed.

“Yup totally fine. I’ll see you two later.” Koi rolled her eyes and left without saying another word. You looked at Kageyama with wide eyes.

“Girlfriend?” His face turned a bright red.

“Oh uh yeah I’ve been meaning to ask you. Sorry, I just said it without thinking.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously. You smiled.

“I was starting to think you were never gonna ask,” you said with a smile. Kageyama smiled back at you and you started to head to your house.

~

[taglist OPEN: @vangoghpoets @vangoghmusings @lilnuances @jennasquishy8 @ladybird-00 @moonlightsof @maii-thirsts @tamaguchi (the tags were acting funny so I hope I got the right usernames, if not and you wouldn’t like to be part of the taglist lmk!)]

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu tobio #tobio fluff #tobio x you #hq #kageyama #always you. 🌸

[cilldaracailin]

Heaven for Everyone

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys!

It has been an age since I have posted some Robyn and Taron and as I explained earlier, I am breaking my rule of not posting unless I have another fic on the go but it’s been too long and I just don’t know when I am going to start the next story so I would rather share what I have so far with all of you.

I am actually getting used to the pink of my laptop so writing has become easier however, I realised that it messes with the colours of my pictures for my chapters so I hope the ones I picked are ok!

Anywhoo, enjoy this next series and thanks for sticking around. So much harder to write these days as I have been so stupidly busy.

Lots of love Suze xxx

*I don’t know Taron or his family and this is all just fiction*

PS I don’t normally tag people but because it has been a while... @fuseburner​ @hitmeonmytspot​ @primaba11erina​ @turkish276​ @tronder1​ @killingkitties​ Sorry if I forgot anyone! xxx

1

“Mules had nothing on me when it came to being stubborn.”

Robyn groaned, cursed and then hissed in pain as she let go of the handle of her small case, switching to hold it with her left hand instead. She was tired, cranky and in no form for trying to battle her way once more through another airport crowd. Dublin was bad enough but Heathrow was always heaving and she walked with speed towards the exit of the baggage claim to get out into the fresh air outside the arrival’s hall.

Any excited thoughts of seeing Taron again were at the back of her mind and she yawned as she walked bringing her right hand to her face to rub her eyes, cringing again as a twinge seared through her right hand. Her last twenty-four hours had not been what she had expected and as she made her way through the airport, she felt very overdressed in her smart black pants and fitted white check suit jacket but she didn’t have time to change her clothes before she left for the airport. She was quickly getting very used to rushing when it was anything to do with traveling Taron but her rush this time was caused by her own misfortune.

She had spent the last eighteen odd hours sitting in the reception of a private medical clinic in Dublin waiting for an X-ray. It was her own fault really and when the outdoor gate to the garden of the creche slammed shut, she hadn’t been keeping an eye on it and she should have known better when the door was notorious for slamming closed with the wind. Just so happened her right hand rested on the metal door frame as the door slammed, catching her hand between the metal frame on both sides of the gate and her high pitch scream was loud enough for Emma to come running, thinking something had happened to one of the children who were outside playing. Emma quickly opened the gate and Robyn cradled her right hand, tears on cheeks as a sharp deep pain ran through her, a long black bruise already formed on the back of her hand and palm of her skin, her hand trembling in agony.

Robyn walked into the creche, Emma on her heels and ran the cold water in the sink in the kitchen, gingerly putting her hand under the cold spray, moaning as the light trickle of water hurt her.

“You need ice, not water.” Emma grabbed a cold compress from the fridge which they used for the children and wrapped it in a tea towel bringing it over to Robyn at the sink. “Here.”

Robyn let Emma wrap the compress around her hand but she cringed and whimpered as Emma placed too much pressure on her hand. “Ow stop.” She pulled her shaking hand away.

“Can you move your fingers.” Asked Emma as she guided Robyn to one of the chairs at the table, making her sit down, seeing her cheeks pale. With a hurtful sob Robyn carefully moved her fingers one by one but if she tried to close her hand it stretched agonisingly against the quickly deepening bruising.

“Robyn you need to go and get this hand checked out.” Emma placed the useless cold compress on the table and she then very carefully lifted her supervisors hand, turning it over. “It looks really bad Robyn.” Along with the black, blue and purple bruises that covered her hand, there was an obvious line of blood where the gate had actually broken the delicate skin of her hand on both sides.

Robyn looked to Emma with sad watery eyes. “Taron.” She said quietly, watching as her manager walked to the press to pull out a first aid box and put it on the table. Emma opened the black tabs and flicked the lid over, routing through all the plasters and bandages to pull out some antiseptic wipes. “The premier.” Robyn added in a whisper as Emma ripped open the first packet, taking the wipe out and gently took her hand, very carefully wiped the long graze with the antiseptic liquid feeling Robyn immediately try to pull her hand back but Emma kept a somewhat tight hold of her hand to prevent her from drawing it back to her chest.

“Taron is not going anywhere Robyn and will still be there whether you arrive tomorrow or Friday.”

“My flight is tomorrow!” Robyn cried.

“And weren’t you the one telling him only two days ago that his health comes first? So does yours. You need to get this seen too. Your fingers are shaking.”

“It hurts.” Robyn replied looking to her swollen and damaged hand, hissing as Emma hit a very tender spot on the palm of her hand with the antiseptic wipe.

“The most perfect sign that you need to go to the hospital.” Emma discarded the bloodied antiseptic wipes into the bin and picked up the instant ice pack which she crushed to activate the cold inside. She pulled some paper hand towels from the dispenser behind Robyn’s head and wrapped the ice pack in two towels on either side before she placed it on the back of Robyn’s hand, feeling her pull back again but she held her hand in place. “You need this. Your hand is swollen and the ice will help but more important you need a doctor.”

“Emma I will be sitting waiting for ages. This weekend is so important to Taron”

“And the weekend will still be there but your damaged hand may not. The bruising is turning black Robyn. I’d imagine you’ve done some sort of damage to your hand. You need to get it checked out and make sure you haven’t injured any of the tendons. That blasted gate.” Emma fumed.

“It was my own fault.” Robyn admitted. “I know well that the gate slams. I just wasn’t watching what I was doing.” She grumbled. “I should have been paying more attention.” Robyn took a long breathe. “Emma, I have to go to Taron. I promised him I would go. He has organised the whole weekend for me, helped Stella get me a dress, made plans with his publicist and organised the hotel too.”

“Robyn…”

“I need to see him Emma. He was still so ill on Monday morning when I left him. Talking on the phone is not the same as physically seeing him, even though I can hear the change in his voice, I need to actually see him.” Robyn looked to her manager. “I promised him Emma. The few days together are so important to him and he has been such a wonderful friend to me, coming to spend St Patrick’s Day in Kilcreen and then coming for RENT and coming early too and setting up the tent and...”

“Robyn…”

“It’s just something I have to do. Go and see him. Support him for his movie.”

Emma watched as the words ran from Robyn’s mouth, her whole body becoming overly fidgety as she spoke, her tone clear with yearning for the need to see Taron. “Robyn, I know how much your time with Taron means to you and how excited you have been for this weekend even more so after what happened last weekend. I know how much you love him, how this man means the world to you but this hand needs to be tended to by a doctor.”

“Emma…”

“Go to one of the swift care clinics Robyn. You have private health care insurance. You know they take half the time compared to a hospital.”

“Yeah I suppose.”

“There is no suppose Robyn. I am not letting you fly anywhere until you get this checked and I can easily get Taron’s phone number from your phone and tell him what happened.”

“Ok Ok no. No!” She repeated with a firmer tone. “Don’t call Taron. He doesn’t need to know. He has already been through enough.”

“So, who am I calling to take you to the hospital?”

It was her dad who drove her in, maybe speeding a little too fast to get her into a private clinic and once inside Robyn thought it would have been a quick visit but after she spoke to reception, she realised she was in for a long wait as the medical service was backed up. Robyn told her father to go home and she sat for five hours before she was even seen too, the doctor booking her in for an X-ray but that took another couple of hours and then she had to get an MRI of her hand too and as Robyn was picked up by her father once more just after ten am the next morning, she was completely pushed for time to get ready to fly to London to meet Taron. She was so thankful for having her case packed the night before and only had to throw in a few extra things, her dad driving her to airport to catch her flight. A flight she was fully intending on making despite her wrapped and swollen hand.

The doctor had summarised that her hand was not broken but very badly bruised and luckily the MRI scan had shown that she had not damaged any tendons but was going to be severely bruised for a few weeks, finding the use of her hand hard and painful until the bruising and swelling eased up. He had cleaned the straight line wound again and wrapped her hand loosely, not putting too much pressure on it and prescribed her some painkillers, advising her to keep it elevated in a sling when at home in the evening and to avoid using her right hand for a few days.

So far she had not kept her hand elevated and probably used it more than she should have and was struggling with only having the use of her left hand even though she naturally did things with her left hand but she was getting frustrated with everything around her and the fact that she hadn’t told Taron what had happened yet was weighing heavily on her mind especially after she had lectured him on keeping his health as his main priority. Even unlocking her phone was a problem as she used the finger print of the right index finger of her right hand normally but had to hold the phone her in throbbing hand and unlock it with the pin code now.

Thankfully having Taron on speed dial made things a little easier for her and she made her way into a little corner of the terminal to make her call so she didn’t have to try and pull her case with her sore hand.

“Hey chicken!”

His voice was light and excited and she held in the sigh she was desperate to make. His whole mood had lifted each day she had spoken to him and he was finally feeling like his old self, though he still coughed every now and again.

“Hey Taron.”

“So, you’ve landed then?”

“Yep. Heading for the exit. How has your morning been?”

“Tiring but good. Early morning TV is always a treat.” He replied with a chuckle. His recovery was quick as he didn’t leave the hotel bed in Paris until he had to get his flight to London and the complete rest and antibiotics quickly cleared his chest infection though he still found himself coughing at times, even doing so on live TV, apologising to the presenter afterwards.

“I am glad it went well Taron.” Robyn had hoped he wasn’t pushing himself again but she had been able to watch the interview on her phone while sitting in A&E and he was animate, smiling and laughing and it was a wonderful sight to see and hear. His whole face beamed and in a way, she was so glad he was caught coughing on camera as it further explained the truth in the story of why his press junket ended so suddenly. Once again, the media had been extremely accepting of Taron’s circumstances and Robyn’s visit to him, which came across as a very quick one, as no one did actually see her leave his hotel and her visit was only seen as a supportive gesture to Taron as he sat sick in his hotel room.

“Me too Robyn. I was dreading it to be honest especially after what happened in Paris but it was fine.”

She found a small smile on her lips, her right hand held against her chest as it throbbed. “I watched it.”

“You did?”

“Sure I did.”

“So you got up early to watch me on TV at seven.”

Robyn inwardly groaned as she nearly got caught up in her lie. “Of course I did Taron.” She quickly replied. “Biggest supporter, remember? And I watched it on my phone in bed cuddled with cwtch under the covers.”

He chuckled. “Yeah I know and I am glad cwtch saw it too. I miss that dinosaur.” Robyn found herself rolling her eyes at his comment. “Have you walked out of the exit yet?” He asked her.

“Not yet.”

“Ok well it won’t be Anthony this time picking you up. I have organised a different driver for you that will bring you to the hotel. He will be holding a sign with your name. He is called Clive.”

“That’s fine Taron. What time do you think you will arrive at?”

“Hopefully just before five. I have a few more phone interviews to do, to make up for missing the ones during the week.”

“Taron…”

He immediately heard the warning in her voice. “All organised last-minute Robyn once I was feeling so much better and I am happy to make up for the ones I missed. It’s an hour tops and then I will be on my way to you.” He heard the long sigh that came from her. “And I am free for the rest of the day and I have a dinner to make up to you.”

Robyn looked to her aching hand. She was really in no mood for dinner, trying to find something to wear and going out. She was exhausted with no sleep the night before and still trying to catch up on lost sleep over the weekend previous, she was desperate for a shower and a nap. “Let’s see how you go with your timing Taron.”

“I will be with you around five Robyn. It’s just after two thirty. Go and head to the hotel room and I will see you very soon.”

“Ok Taron.”

“Robyn are you ok? You seem, well I don’t know. Quiet. Not as argumentative with me as your normally are.”

“I am fine Taron.”

“You still nervous about tomorrow?”

“A little. Yeah.” She hoped her voice was steady. She was very nervous about the premier but right now it wasn’t her main concern. It was his reaction when he saw what had happened to her and how she hadn’t been upfront with him straight away.  

“Anything else I can say to ease your mind?” He asked with genuine concern and a softness to his voice.

Robyn felt even worse about her lie to him now. “You have been wonderful Taron. Just some jitters. They will pass.” She closed her eyes as a burning sensation travelled through her hand as she bent her fingers without thinking.

“I will be right beside you.”

“I know.”

Taron looked over his shoulder felt a hand rest there, Lyndsey behind him giving him a nod. “Robyn I gotta go but I will see you very soon ok? Go back to the hotel room and have a nap.”

“Naps are no fun my myself.” She replied, a little smirk on her lips, smiling as Taron laughed. “But I will raid the mini bar instead and watch the TV.”

“Sure Robyn. Go wild.”

“I will. See you soon rocketman.”

Robyn ended the call and awkwardly put her phone in her shoulder bag but dropped her case on the ground, followed by her bag which slipped off her shoulder. She cursed as all of her belongings ended up on the ground.  Picking up her shoulder bag, she used her left hand to put it over her head and then swivel it around so the bag rested at her left hip. Reaching down she picked up her case and finally made her way out of baggage claim and into the arrivals hall where she immediately saw a very well-dressed man holding a sign with her name. She walked over to him.

“Hi I’m Robyn.”

“Miss Quinn. Nice to meet you. I am Clive.” He held out his right hand to shake hers and without thinking, Robyn did the same and she recoiled immediately as he shook her hand hard and she opened her fingers to let his hand go.

“Sorry. Sorry.” She quickly apologised. “I’ve hurt my hand.”

“Oh no sorry.” Clive instantly let go of her hand. “I have a strong handshake. Let me take your bag and we can get going to the hotel.”

“Great.” She gladly let him take her case, happy to not have to drag it any more. “Thank you.”

“This way.”

Robyn followed the driver out of the airport and to the set down only area where the blacked-out car was waiting for her. Clive opened the door for her, allowing her to get into the car while he took care of her case. She sat on the left side of the car so it would be easier for her to get her seatbelt on and once buckled in, realised she hadn’t taken her bag from off her shoulder, so unbuckled the seatbelt to take her bag off before strapping herself back in. Once she was finally ready for the car journey, Clive was back in the driver’s seat.

“It’ll be about an hour with traffic Robyn.”

“That’s ok Clive.”

“We will be there around half three.”

Robyn nodded and closed her eyes, laying her head back against the seat. One of the perks she was becoming very thankful for in knowing Taron was that she never had to drag a suitcase through the London underground any more and having him organise a driver to ferry her around was quickly something she was getting very accustomed to.

A fifty-minute driver later, Clive dropped her off at her hotel for her stay for the next two nights, passing her bag onto one of the staff at the hotel door. After she had thanked Clive, Robyn stood staring at the stone brick walls of the Montcalm hotel Taron had given her the details of at Marble Arch. It was another stunning hotel, with beautiful red brick walls and two pillars at the front glass entrance to the lobby. Robyn was suddenly glad she hadn’t had the chance to change out her work clothes because as she walked through the white marble lobby, decorated in fine and ornate gold details, she felt more suited to the hotel in her work clothes compared to her normal gear of jeans and a jumper. Her smart work clothes made her feel like she belonged in this extremely expensive hotel. The staff employee with her suitcase had already left it at reception for her and gave her a smile as she walked past him which she returned. Robyn approached the marble lit reception desk with a tired smile.

“Good afternoon ma’am.” The woman behind the desk smiled.

“I would like to check in please.” Robyn replied.

“Can I get the name of the booking please?”

“Sure. It’s Taron Egerton.”

The woman at the computer did a slight double take with the name she mentioned but typed Taron’s name into the computer, her eyes glancing to the lady in front of her before going back to the screen and typing some more. “Is there another name on the booking?” The receptionist asked.

Robyn looked to her. “Taron told me the booking was under his name. A room for two nights for two guests.”

“No other name?” She asked again.

“Maybe Robyn Quinn? That’s me.”

“Do you happen to have any ID on you?”

Robyn was way too tired to dealing with the uncalled attitude from the woman but opened her bag to pull out her purse, handing over her Irish driving licence. She waited as the receptionist looked to and from the photo on the pink piece of paper before she handed it back over.

“Ok so two nights in one of our Park Lane Suites.” The receptionist handed over a piece of paper. “Can you sign here please?”

Robyn looked to her right hand. Holding a pen was possible. Holding a pen tight enough to sign her name was going to be a problem but she refused to show the woman who stood in front of her, judging her, that she was incapable of signing her name. So with a shaky hand, ignoring the tremors of pain, she signed her name on the page, glancing at the price of the room for two nights, keeping her face as still as possible so her shock couldn’t be seen. The extravagance of the hotels she was getting to stay in had quickly upped its game and price and as she slid the paper back across the counter, she was wondering if Taron had paid for the stay from his own pocket. She watched as the receptionist typed some more into the computer. “And you are a guest of Mr. Egerton?”

“I am his friend who is staying with him at the hotel for the next two nights.” Robyn replied.

“So his guest?”

“His friend.” Robyn said with a firm tone. “Shall I just ring Taron for you to let him confirmed his reservation?”

“No need. I have you both here.”

“Fantastic. So I can check in then.”

The receptionist looked to her with a raised eyebrow. “Just getting your keys sorted now.”

“Wonderful.”

With a few more clicks her keyboard, an impatient sound coming from the typing, Robyn waited for about twenty seconds before the room card keys were pushed her way. “All checked in. Room three three three, third floor. With your booking, you have full use of the wellness centre, pool and gym. There is also a free spa treatment included in your booking which you can arrange by dialling nine on your phone. That will put you directly through the to the wellness centre and spa. Your suite also gives you access to the club lounge and the breakfast buffet as well as reservations for dinner and lunch in our Crescent restaurant which you can book through us here at reception. You can take the lifts to the left to the third floor to get to your room.” The receptionist looked to Robyn. “Do you know what time Mr Egerton will be arriving at?” She asked with a wicked smile.

“I am not actually too sure. Mr Egerton is quite busy at the moment and his schedule is not running to a timed plan but as I know what room we are in; I can easily give him a quick phone call to let him know and he can just come on up to our room. No point in him calling to reception when I can just contact him myself.” Robyn slid the keys towards her and picked them up. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Are you Robyn?” Another woman came to stand behind the reception desk with a badge that said ‘manager’ on it. “Robyn Quinn?”

Robyn looked to the smartly dressed lady and nodded. “Yeah I am.”

“My name is Cleo. I am one of the managers here at the hotel. Taron called earlier. Wanted to make sure your check in went as smooth as possible explaining he was caught up in work and would be arriving later. Everything ok for you so far?”

Robyn looked to the first receptionist with a slight smirk and then back to the manager. “Everything has been fine so far thank you.”

“Good. I am glad. Taron has also asked me to keep one of the room keys here at reception for him. He will get it when he arrives and then he can let himself into the room. Said something about naps.”

Robyn felt her cheeks blush but handed back one of the keys. “That is fine by me.”

“So anything I can do for you Robyn?”

“At the moment, no thank you.”

“Well if you need anything please don’t hesitate to call reception. Gloria here will be very happy to help you or myself. Would you like some help with your bag to your room?”

“Do you know, I think I can manage it myself thanks.”

“Please enjoy all our facilities Robyn. You have full access to the spa too.”

“Gloria was telling me about that.” She looked to the receptionist who was flushed red with her annoyance. “I might wait until Taron arrives before we both decide to use your spa facilities. After his day of work, he might enjoy a dip in the pool.”

“Sure. It opens till nine anyway so you have lots of time to take a wander to it and please do take a swim. The pool is heated.”

Robyn smiled. “We might just do that. Thank you so very much.” She looked to Gloria with a grin. “I will be sure to call if I need anything.”

Making sure to take her case with her left hand, Robyn turned away from reception feeling a sense of accomplishment and victory and walked to the lifts, though now without the distraction of the smart-arse receptionist, her focus was back on how tired she felt and how her hand still ached. Once in the lift she pressed the button for floor number three and when the door opened on the third floor, she was met with a stark dark contrast to the brightness of the white lobby downstairs. The corridors had black walls, doors and ceiling, the carpet a black colour too and although it should have made the hotel seem gloomy and dull, the spotlighting in the ceiling and along the floor added a second layer of colour and light and it was spotless. Robyn walked down the soft carpet, feeling it bounce under her feet and she could only grin as she reached room three three three, the corner room.

“Bloody corner rooms.” She murmured letting go of her case. Her injured hand was making the easiest of tasks, like holding her belongings and opening a hotel door impossible but somehow, she managed to hold the key against the black lock and a little white light appeared letting her know the door was unlocked. Now faced with another every day task of opening the door, Robyn pushed down on the handle with her left hand and used her hip to hold the door open while she grabbed her case and almost stumbled into the room.

She stopped and stared in front of her, the door closing of its own accord behind her. Leaving the case where it was, Robyn walked further into the room. In front of her was a large living area with a very comfortable looking two-seater grey couch, desk, TV mounted to the wall and coffee table, a bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket with two glasses on it. To her left and behind her a bathroom, with full size bath come shower, toilet and sink. It was spacious and elegant, little touches like a plant and some pictures on the wall to add some more dept to the room. The window was large and let natural light in through the net curtain, dark gold curtains pushed back against the cream colour walls.

“Where is the bed?” Robyn asked out loud. “Only a chair.” She noticed another door to her right. “Couldn’t be.”

She opened it and walked through and her jaw dropped. To her right was not only a very large bed but a very large four poster bed with curtains. The wooden frame had dark brown curtains with a white checked pattern and they matched the yellow and brown bedding and pillows. Robyn walked into the room and tried to take everything in around her. She headed straight for the bed, her hands running down the curtains. She had never seen a four-poster bed before, let alone have the opportunity to sleep in one and she definitely would have made a run and jump on the bed if she knew both hands could catch herself but she wouldn’t risk the move. She walked to windows, the brown and yellow curtains matching in with the bedding perfectly. Taking a glance out the windows, their view was of some street of London but if she looked to her left, she could see Marble Arch through the curtains, Hyde Park behind it. She strolled past the bed and quickly realised there was another bathroom in the suite and again black was the main colour of focus with white furnishings, another full-sized bath and rainfall shower.

“Your gonna love that Taron.” Robyn mused as she leaned against the doorframe. She looked to her right and regretted the glance to the mirror. She looked a fright, her hair in a very messy bun, with no make-up on and deep black circles under her eyes. “No wonder Gloria was so bitchy. Least my clothes look good.”

Robyn headed back into the separate living area and just stood, trying to comprehend what on earth was going on with her life lately. Before she met Taron, she could happily stay in the cheapest hotel with a single bed, no room to move and the tiniest bathroom but now she was in a hotel room that was nearly bigger than her living room and kitchen together. It would never be something she could chose herself, never being able to afford it and she was quite happy to stay in the tiny rooms but taking her adventures with Taron opened her eyes to what a life of luxury actually looked like and when he was willing to share it with her, she was going to enjoy it.

She walked to her case and pulled it into the bedroom. She moved to put it on her side of the bed, looking to the bedside locker and frowned. On the locker was a tablet sitting on a silver alarm clock. She bent to look at it more clearly and the screen displayed what looked to be different functions for the room such as lights, air-conditioning and room service.

“Not touching that.” She said out loud, sitting on the side of the bed, dropping her shoulder bag into the bed, taking her phone out. She sent Taron a quick text to tell him she was checked in and settling in the room. She stood up and slightly kicked her case so it fell to the ground the right way up. She unzipped it and pulled out her toiletry bag and some more cosier clothes. She stuffed her swimsuit back into her case understanding now why Taron had asked her to bring it. The hotel had a pool which he obviously wanted them to make use of but she wasn’t too sure how that was going to work out now with her busted hand.

Robyn had to make two runs to the bathroom with all of her belongings, becoming seriously hindered by not being able to put pressure on her right hand and once she had everything she needed, closed the bathroom door and turned on the rainfall shower. It was going to be a struggle to strip and re-dress but she was going to have to find a way because her hand was going to be out of use for a least a week before she could even try to use it properly. It was certainly going to make for an interesting weekend.

Taron was giddy as he sat in the car on the way to hotel and the smile couldn’t be wiped from his face, Lyndsey teasing him as they parted ways until tomorrow.

“I like you like this. I definitely like you like this better than four days ago.”

“Don’t remind me.” Taron was still completely ashamed of the mess he had gotten himself into in Paris and was happy to try and make up some of the interviews he missed out on over the phone especially that he felt so much better, apart from an odd cough and had caught up on his sleep, his whole face bright now that his overtiredness had left him. “I am excited to see Robyn, actually properly see her this time.”

“‘Cos you didn’t see her last time?” Lyndsey asked with a grin, seeing Taron’s face flush. “I was in the hotel room in Paris with you too and I know the hotel you chose has a pool Taron.” She laughed as his neck turned red too. “So, going for a swim later?” He didn’t answer her as he pulled his jacket on. “Go and enjoy your time with her. I will meet you outside the hotel tomorrow at nine am sharp.”

Now as Taron sat in the car, the nerves that were missing from Paris were back with full vengeance and along with his nerves were his butterflies and he was very fidgety in the car and couldn’t sit still. Paris was a blur to him but this weekend was one he had been ready and waiting for, for weeks. Even before he had asked Robyn to go with him, he was ready for this premier. His health scare in Paris had opened his eyes to a lot of things and the most important one was that he knew without a doubt that Robyn was in love with him. Her affection and devotedness to him, where she put every ounce of energy she had into looking after him made it more than obvious to him. This weekend was his chance to return the favour and it was his mission to make her feel as comfortable as possible, especially as she stepped completely out of her comfort zone once again. Having him go visit her was an entirely different situation to her coming to see him for one of his events and this one wasn’t just a little red-carpet event. It was an official move premier complete with what could be described as an overwhelming media presence and Taron only wanted Robyn to feel safe.

Bringing his right hand to his mouth he coughed three times. It still lingered in his chest, normally appearing after a lot of talking or strenuous movement and his cough turned to a slight yawn. He looked out the window as he felt the car slowing down, the car pulling into the hotel he had organised for the next two nights. He had spent Wednesday at home in his flat, mostly sleeping and tiding but when Lyndsey asked if he wanted a hotel organised for the premier, Taron had to think about it for a little while. He decided in the end to book a really nice hotel for himself and Robyn for two nights, and not just a room but a suite so they would both have the space they needed to get ready the next day but more so for Robyn to get ready. Stella had a whole Friday plan in place while he was working and he was sure Stella was going to need to the space of a suite. His flat was not ideal and although not overly far from London, the hotel was much closer for travelling to Leicester Square and keeping the hotel close, meant that if they chose to leave early, their bed for the night was not too far away. He then planned to bring Robyn to his flat on Saturday so he could show her around and just relax the whole day together.

The car stopped and Taron opened the door to let himself out, thanking the driver for taking his case out for him. The Montcalm hotel was definitely one of the more extravagant hotels in London’s Bayswater district but Taron had wanted something really special for Robyn, though knew in his heart that she wasn’t any way materialistic. However, he was happy to spoil her. He wanted to spoil her.

“Thanks.” He said to the driver who had brought him from his early afternoon work to the hotel and he walked through the glass doors into the bright lobby, making his way to reception.

“Good afternoon and welcome to the Montcalm Marble Arch.” The receptionist gave him a wide smile. “How can I help you today Mr. Egerton.”

Taron felt his breathe hitch at the back of his throat. He should be used to being recognised but it still always made him slightly nervous. “I just want to check in and grab the key to my room. I know my friend has already checked in.”

“Of course. That is no problem at all. My name is Gloria and I will be able to help you with anything you need.”

“I would just like the key to my room please.”

“Sure.”

Taron watched as the woman typed on her keyboard and could feel a little frustration and annoyance building inside him. He just wanted to see Robyn and all he needed was the key to the room, having already rang the hotel earlier to ask them to keep a key at reception so he could get into his room quietly himself without disturbing Robyn if she was sleeping. He tried to hold the angry puff of air in, but it left his lips loudly. He felt like he was standing for more than a minute before she even looked to him.

“So, your guest…”

“My friend.” He quickly interrupted.

“Your friend has already checked in.”

“I know. I have been speaking with her. Can I just have my key please?” Taron asked again.

“Gloria, there is a bit of a queue forming there. Do you need help checking this man in?”

Taron looked to the second woman who walked behind reception. Glancing to her name tag, it read Cleo, the word ‘manager’ under her name. He recognised the name from the phone call he made earlier.

He took a step to his right, so he was standing more in front of the manager. “I would just like the key to my room please. I rang earlier about keeping one of the keys to my room. My friend Robyn has already checked in.”

“Yes, Mr Egerton, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I have your key right here.” Cleo reached under the desk to take the key for his room and handed it to him. “Room three three three on the third floor. Like I said to Robyn, if you need anything at all please just call down to reception and Gloria will be happy to help you out.”

Taron looked to the other woman behind the reception and shook his head. “I think Robyn and I will be ok thank you.”

Cleo looked to Gloria and then to Taron, immediately picking up on the tense atmosphere. “If you need anything at all Taron, dial zero and you can ask for myself Cleo or Stewart. We will be very happy to answer any question you have.”

“Thank you.”

Holding the key card in his left hand, Taron grabbed his case and quickly walked away from the desk, trying to turn his mood around before he saw Robyn. He was thoroughly irritated by the unprofessional behaviour of the hotels receptionist and hoped Robyn hadn’t been subjected the same nonsense. Standing in the lift, he shook his annoyance off and turned his thoughts to seeing Robyn. His excitement for the premier along with the nerves had grown and he was so ready to get dressed up with her again and share with her the movie he had finished filming because of her quick actions eight months ago.

Once out of the lift, he strolled down the dark carpet, following the numbers until he reached the suite. He knew he had maybe gone a little overboard with the suite for himself and Robyn, both having stayed in a so-called normal hotel room before but for the special occasion of a movie premier it just added to the excitement of the weekend and he just kept telling himself that the extra space would be used. He was just sorry he hadn’t been there to see Robyn’s reaction when she walked into the room because he knew it would have been a good one. He also knew their next hug was going to be an amazing one and Taron was determined to make it a tight one, ready to put his everything into hugging her, knowing it would say more than his words could for her actions last weekend.

Robyn definitely struggled a little in the shower. Not as much as she thought she was going to and that was probably down to the fact that she didn’t wash her hair. She managed to get dressed into a pair of jeans except she unexpectedly had found herself in a slight predicament with the back strap her bra. She had closed the strap but once she had pulled it up and fixed the shoulder straps, quickly realised that the back strap was twisted around and itchy and uncomfortable and she couldn’t turn her right hand the right way she needed to open it and she was so tired at everything taking so much extra effort. Her head turned at she heard her name called and recognised the soft tones of a calming male Welsh accent.

“Hey Taron.” She called back very relieved to hear him.

He had wandered into the living space and then into the bedroom. Once he didn’t see her curled up on the bed, he called her name, Taron hearing her answer him from the bathroom.

“Come out when you are ready chicken. I am gonna chill on the bed.” Taron took two steps to the bed when he stopped when he heard Robyn reply.

“Actually, could you come and help me please?”

He looked to the closed bathroom door. “Robyn?” He was completely taken aback by her answer.

“The door is unlocked. It’s ok. I kinda need your help.”

Taron shrugged his shoulders and walked to the bathroom door and opened it, shielding his eyes a little with his hand. “Robyn?” He heard her laugh a little and answer him.

“You can look Taron.”

Taking his hand away from his face, Robyn stood in front of him with her t-shirt half on, covering the front of her body. Her hair was tied up is a very messy bun, messier than normal and her face was a mix of frustration and weariness. “Can you help me?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

Robyn turned around so her back was facing him. “Can you open the back of my bra strap and close it again for me? It is all twisted.”

Taron stood shocked for a few seconds at what Robyn was asking him to do and knew she felt the hesitation from him but she turned around so her back was to him.

“Please Taron?” She looked at his reflection in the large mirror. “It’s all screwy and I can’t fix it.”

“Yeah sure of course.” He stepped closer to her. He had been in this position before, having to move her bra straps when he was cleaning her shoulder wound in Florida but he hadn’t quite been asked to actually open her bra but as he looked to the lacey black material, he could see what Robyn meant about it being screwy. The right strap was twisted around awkwardly and he couldn’t imagine it was comfortable for her. He slipped his index and middle fingers behind the soft material of Robyn’s bra and with the help of his thumbs unhooked it and then turned the right strap around it sat flat against her back. “Which row do you want it hooked into Robyn?” He asked her.

“Second please.”

As she asked him, Taron closed the hooks back in place. “All done.”

“Thank you Taron.” Feeling immediately more comfortable, Robyn used her left hand to hold the neck of t-shirt and slipped her head through, again using her left hand to fix her stripped t-shirt on her body, before she turned to Taron who was looking at her with a half grin and confused face.

“So, Robyn what is going on?” He asked her. “I mean I am sure hooking a bra is a skill a woman learns as a young teenage girl.”

“Probably the same time as teenage boy.” She chuckled back but Taron didn’t laugh.

“Robyn what is going on? You have been so different on the phone all day. You just seem a little deflated.” He reached to take her hands but she took a quick step back, Taron’s face becoming worried. “Robyn.” His eyes widened as she held up her right hand to him. “Fuck Robyn.” He reached over and very carefully took her hand in his much larger one. “What happened?” He didn’t miss how she wouldn’t look at him as she spoke.

“The side gate to the garden in creche slammed on my hand. The wind caught it and my hand was still on the metal frame when it slammed.”

“Robyn…” Taron’s voice was barely audible. His eyes were glued to the painful looking bruises on her hand. He had seen her hand black and blue from when she had given him CPR before but as he turned her hand over, her previous dark bruises were nothing compared to what she had now. Along with the discolouration on her skin, was a long thin welt front and back, red raw and extremely sore looking. Deep multi-layered discolouration’s of black, purple and very dark blue marred her hand and when he went to touch her skin, she pulled her hand back immediately. “Sorry, sorry sweetheart. Robyn this looks really bad.”

Robyn finally looked at Taron and apart from looking so rested and healthy, he looked extremely worried and concerned.  His eyes were wide and beautiful and they pierced through her. “I had it checked out by a doctor. Nothing broken, no tendon damage. Just really bruised.”

“When did this happen?” He asked her lightly taking her fingers in his. “Sorry chicken, I didn’t hear you?”

Robyn had whispered the word but closed her eyes as she repeated the word a little louder. “Yesterday.”

Taron looked to her. “Yesterday.” He ran what he hoped was the lightest of strokes over her hand. “You saw a doctor?” He watched her nod. “Dr Greene?”

Once again, Taron completely surprised Robyn with how much he listened to her, how he remembered the name of the doctor who she had brought him to see, who took his stitches out. She looked back to her hand as she answered him. “No not Dr Greene.”

Taron put his left hand under Robyn’s chin to make her look at him. “Robyn, did you go to the hospital?”

She looked to her hand again. “Yeah I did. Well not so much a hospital but a clinic for those with private health insurance.”

“And?”

Robyn was a little distracted by the very delicate movements of Taron’s thumb over her knuckles, his touch soft and staying away from the hurt part of her hand and it took her a moment to answer him. “Sat for a long time to wait for an X-ray and then for an MRI. All clear. Just bruised.”

Taron looked to her, finally making eye contact and keeping her eye contact, seeing the pain in her eyes along with an intense tiredness on her face. “How long?”

“Most of yesterday afternoon and all night.”

“Jesus Robyn.”

“I am fine Taron. I will be fine. Just makes doing things a lot awkward.”

Taron suddenly stopped his thumbs moving. “Yesterday.” He mused. “Robyn, I spoke to you earlier on and you didn’t mention this happened. I even asked you if you were ok.” He dropped her hand carefully, taking a slight step backwards. “You didn’t tell me yesterday either.”

“Taron…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He took another step back so he was standing in the bathroom doorway. “Isn’t this something you should have told me happened?”

“Taron…” Robyn moved to take a step to him but again he moved back and could immediately feel the change in his mood and this was exactly what she worried about happening, how his reaction was going to be.

“You should have called me yesterday.” He said to her, an obvious hint of irritation in his voice. “You think this is something you couldn’t tell me? That I wouldn’t want to know?”

“No Taron, of course not.”

“After everything we have been through Robyn and you couldn’t tell me that you were in hospital all night getting an X-ray and MRI for your hand which you have severely hurt?” He turned and walked into the bedroom. “Jesus Robyn.” He stopped in front of the bed and turned back to look at her. “So, it’s ok for you to come running to me when my publicist calls you but you can’t call me when you need me? When you need someone?”

Robyn followed him out into the bedroom. “Taron…”

“No Robyn. It’s fine for you to do all these things for me but you won’t let me do them for you? You don’t even think I would like to know that you had hurt yourself, that maybe you needed someone to talk to? To be there for you?”

“It was late Taron.”

“You said afternoon too. Could have called me then.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Not like I was doing anything at home in my flat after my flight home from Paris yesterday morning. I lay in bed watching TV.”

Robyn stood a few steps away from him. His tone had now turned from slight anger to disappointment and hurt. “Taron…”

“You just ran to me Robyn. You literally ran in your heels in Paris to come to help me and you held me for nearly two days straight but you won’t even give me the option to return the favour to you.”

“Taron…”

“I mightn’t have been able to run to you Robyn but to talk to you in the phone, to keep you company while you sat in the hospital, I could have done that. Like I said, I wasn’t doing anything else yesterday.”

“Taron I…”

“You need to get over this Robyn. This trust issue you have because it is just closing you off to anyone who wants to help you and soon no one will want to even try because you won’t let them in.”

As soon as Taron said the words and Robyn’s whole face changed, tears forming in her eyes and he knew he had completely messed up. Even more so when she turned without a word and walked to the door of the bedroom, opened it, walked out and slammed it with a bang.

“Fuck.” Taron cursed, wincing as the door slammed, running his hand up and down his face and then through his hair. He knew he was in trouble and had said words he knew Robyn would never forgive him for, words he could never take back.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Adventures #Hurt #Discomfort #Worry #Excitment #Reunion #Robyn and Taron

[rainandhotchocolate]

Blackout - Part 8

A/N ha I’m not even going to try and say something about consistent posting. I am tired but I am sorry :( pls forgive, I hope this chapter makes up for the time it took to write xx enjoy

Part 8

Sirius’s head pounded painfully as he turned over on the couch, nearly falling off. The other three boys were lying in different states of disarray across the room. James was lying on his stomach, hair splayed around his head like a halo. Remus was curled into a ball around a couch pillow and Peter had fallen across the armchair, head lolling to one side.

Sirius groaned as he sat upright, a wave of nausea hitting him painfully. He took three steadying breaths and tried again, pushing himself up with his forearms and stumbled into the kitchen, beginning to rummage through his pantry for a bottle of anti-nausea potion he’d been saving for just this moment. His balance swayed and he felt himself sliding sideways as he quickly grabbed the bottle and the edge of the cabinet swung back into the side of his head.

“FUCK,” He swore loudly, leaning against the countertop and closing his eyes as the pounding in his head became worse. Sucking in a breath he took a swig from the potion. It took affect almost immediately, his entire body relaxing.

“What the fuck is going on?” Remus’s sleepy, angry voice came from the living room.

“Nothing.” Sirius brought the potion back into the living room and handed it to Remus who drank deeply and placed it beside James’s head. He snored loudly and nearly hit the bottle over.

“How are you feeling?” Remus sat up, leaning against the fireplace.

“Oh, real peachy,” Sirius snorted, sitting back down on the couch. “It’s all a bit of a blur.”

“Mmm,” Remus hummed, looking down at his dirty fingernails.

“What?” Sirius narrowed his eyes.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“No… why, what did I do?”

Remus grimaced, running a hand through his hair.

“You made some calls.”

“Oh please, be more vague.”

Remus rolled his eyes and took in a deep breath.

“You made some calls to Lily… and Y/N.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do I want to know what I said?”

“Something along the lines of professing your undying love for Y/N whilst your face was in her fireplace.”

Sirius closed his eyes and placed a hand over his forehead.

“Fuck.”

There was a loud banging on Lily’s front door and she grumbled loudly as she stumbled down the stairs and opened the door.

‘What?” Lily huffed, raising an eyebrow at the four rugged boys looking staring at her from the front steps.

“Is Y/N here?” James asked, rubbing his eyes as if he couldn’t see her properly. Which was likely due to the lack of glasses.

“No, you realise it’s 11am on a Tuesday, right?”

“Ahh, work.” Remus nodded sagely. He leaned slowly against the doorframe.

“Would you like to come in?”

There was a chorus of “Yes please.”

The boys traipsed inside, heading straight for the kitchen where James began pulling out the eggs and bacon and passing them to Sirius who pulled out the pots and pans. Peter slumped on the table.

“Sleep well?” Remus gave Lily a kiss on the cheek and a very sleepy smile.

“I did, I’ve been sleeping in so much lately you guys actually woke me up.”

“Merlin, I expected to be interrupting your day off, sorry we woke you.”

“I really should be up and about anyway,” Lily waved him off and joined the boys in the kitchen. “So do any of you want to explain last night?”

She smiled around the kitchen as the boys avoided her gaze.

“No? So you all just let Sirius get so destroyed he decided to call me?”

“In all fairness it was Y/N he was trying to reach.”

“Not helping Peter,” Sirius groaned. “I wanted to come over and apologise. I feel awful.”

“I’d say that’s the hangover,” James snorted, narrowly avoiding a slap on the back from Sirius.

“They were welcoming me back into town.” Remus chimed in, “Though I mean, classic Sirius to make it all about him.”

Remus winked and Sirius groaned louder.

“I actually hate all of you.”

“Breakfast is served!”

James placed two plates of eggs, bacon, spinach and tomatoes on the table and began handing out plates for the rest of them to start eating. Once they had finished, Lily squeezed Sirius’s arm and nodded towards the living room where he followed her.

“Are you ok?”

“I really don’t need the first degree right now, Lily.” Sirius rolled his eyes and lay on the couch.

“I’m honestly asking.” Lily gave him a look that always made Sirius uncomfortable. It was the one she gave him when he was burning his parent’s letters in the Gryffindor fireplace.

Sirius huffed and stared up at the ceiling. It was a pale blue colour. Sirius wondered for a moment why they had bothered painting it.

“I know you might not want to talk about it, but you don’t need to apologise to her.”

“I don’t?” Sirius still stared up at the ceiling but felt himself zoning back into Lily’s voice.

“She’s not a complete idiot, it’s not like she didn’t know you were still in love with her.”

“Definitely helping, Lils.”

“I mean that she wasn’t more freaked out by it. But you do need to bloody talk to her.”

“What do you thi-!” Sirius sat up to face her, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re not talking to her, you’re trying to bring back your old version of Y/N. You need to just talk to her, like a friend.”

Sirius looked at her momentarily. Like a friend. As if they were ever friends.

“She just needs people to trust right now, ok?”

“Ok.”

Y/N arrived home around 7, finding James and Sirius lying on the floor of the living room and listening to a new muggle record, and Lily reading in the next room eating a large bowl of cereal.

“Welcome back,” Lily smiled up at her, placing a bookmark into the book and putting it on the table. “How was work?”

“Ok, I think. It’s weird getting my head around things I sort of know but sort of don’t. And I’m not really sure what they expect from me.”

“I’m sure they expect that you don’t know everything right after being in hospital,” Lily laughed, “Cereal?”

“Sure.” Y/N raised an eyebrow but joined her at the dining table all the same. “What are the boys listening to?”

“New joy division album, I picked it up this afternoon. Not too bad.”

Y/N just nodded her head, leaning back into the chair and watching through the doorway. Lily handed her a bowl of cereal and a spoon, returning to her book. The boys were humming along now, clearly having already listened to the record at least once over. Sirius’s face was soft and calm, hair surrounding his head in a halo of black curls. Y/N could see the glint of a gold earring in his right ear and felt up to where she had her own rounded gold earrings on.

“I think I’m going to head up to bed.” Y/N lifted up the bowl of cereal and turned to Lily.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/N took her bag and bowl upstairs and closed the door so she couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the soft wind blowing from outside the window in the guest room. She lay back on the bed, digging into the bowl of Rice Krispies Lily had given her and munching down as she stared at the wall in front of her. Lily had decorated their guest room with wallpaper that moved around as she watched it, the stars slowly moving around the room and circling the large full moon on the roof.

Y/N found herself drifting in and out of sleep, consistently waking up with a jolt and sitting up in the now pitch black room. Around what she thought must be 2 or 3am she decided to finally get up and stretch her legs. The house was quiet, calming. Y/N made her way down the stairs and into the living room where the large back doors looked out into the yard and the clear night sky. She pulled open the back door and sucked in a breath of fresh air, stepping out into the garden.

“Hello?” A voice called from around the side of the house and Y/N jumped, creeping forward to look around to the garden chairs James had set out over the summer. Sirius was leaning forward, similarly caught off guard by Y/N’s appearance.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t realise… I can go.” Y/N smiled awkwardly at him but he shook his head.

“No, it’s ok. I mean if you don’t mind me being here.”

“No, of course not.”

A silence fell over them. Sirius moved over to give some room for Y/N to sit and she joined him, leaning back and looking up at the stars. They said nothing to each other for a few moments, just the noise of the cool breeze and Sirius’s breathing breaking the silence.

Y/N could feel Sirius glancing at him every few moments and so she turned to him.

“Yes?”

“Sorry,” Sirius laughed, “I wasn’t sure whether or not I should offer you a cigarette.”

“Oh.” Y/N didn’t expect that. “Do I smoke?”

“No, I mean you smoked other things, but not cigarettes.” Sirius laughed, “But you sometimes liked one when you were stressed.”

“Right.” Y/N tried to remember the taste or smell, but all she could remember was watching Peter try one day at Hogwarts and coughing so much he began to gag.

“I’ll take that as a no, do you mind if I have one?”

“Go for it.” Y/N nodded her head towards him and he pulled out a packet and a lighter. He lit it and sucked in a breath, breathing out a spool of smoke into the air.

“How are you feeling after last night?” Y/N asked after a moment.

“Oh please, not you too.” Sirius placed his head in his hands, but Y/N laughed.

“I was very flattered, I promise.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Ok maybe a little embarrassed.”

“That’s more likely,” Sirius sat up and looked at her. Y/N was smiling at him. He felt his heart jump.

“Do you feel ok though? I am surprised you’re not more ill.”

“Peter has a knack for potions, he was feeding us anti-nausea all day.”

“Ahh, of course.” Y/N remembered Peter was found brewing a Polyjuice potion in his fourth year. A great potioneer, but not so great at hiding.

“So how was your first few days at work?” Sirius took another breath in from his cigarette, looking back towards the garden.

“Eh, ok. I don’t know, it all feels a bit weird, you know?” Y/N wasn’t sure he understood but he nodded sagely all the same.

“I think you just need to get back into the routine of it. You’ll figure out where you stand soon.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Sirius grinned, “I basically have a map to your future.”

“Oh really?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and felt herself relaxing into the chair, lifting a leg up and under herself.

“I can’t tell my secrets.” Sirius shook his head and pretended to lock his lips.

“You’re useless,” Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes at him.

They sat there talking for the next little while until Y/N began leaning more heavily against the chair and Sirius could see her eyes fluttering shut every few seconds.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Sirius put out his second cigarette and hooked an arm under her waist to lift her off the chair.

“Ok,” She mumbled, her head lolling slightly as she stumbled beside him, leaning into his arm, head against his chest. He brought her up to the guest room and into her bed, pulling the covers over her shoulders. She grabbed his arm as he turned to leave.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Ok Y/N,” Sirius chuckled softly, “Good night.”

Taglist:

@averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana​ @avengersassemblee​ @maraudersandco​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood​ @sirius-lysad​ @evyiione​ @minerva26love​ @aikeia​ @gollyderek​ @greatwombatblaze​  @songforhema​  @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527   siobhanhope    delightfuldela     nadinissavage     fleurmoon    treestarrrrrrrr    @with1love1anu     @findzelda    @brighteyedmichelle    a-dorky-book-keeper   placeforcoolusername    damalseer   @approved-by-dentists @placeforcoolusername  @eury-dice3  @bookscoffeeandracoons  moonstarrnghtsky  cherrycolakxsses  kamilantya  play-morezeppelin    mknight080904

#rainandhotchocolate #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #marauders x you #marauders imagine #marauders x reader

[missdreamsalot]

The Queen’s Guard- Ch.1

A/N: Hello, everyone! This is my first attempt at a Fanfic and I’m both nervous and excited about finally posting the very first chapter. I’m still quite new to this platform and haven’t been quite active up until now but I love Choices and want to be a little more lively here. Thank you, and I hope you guys like this!

Book: The Royal Romance

Main Pairings: Leo x OC, Liam x OC.

Future Pairings: Maxwell x OC, Bastien x OC, Drake x Olivia

Summary: A rotten apple in the family threatens their lives and there is only one way to get rid of bad blood.

Masterlist 

Warnings: Violence, Language, Sexual Content, Angst, Dark Situations, Character Death

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of The Royal Romance, or Rules of Engagement; they belong to Pixelberry. I only own my OC’s.

Enjoy~ *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

CH 1: Ghosts

In the Ramsford Estate, Elle sat quietly at the vanity of the room she occupied for the past summer. She stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror. Her long, brown hair had dulled, olive skin had paled, and the light of her green eyes had been extinguished.

A month had passed since the day of the Coronation, 30 days since the man she loved broke her heart, and the 720 hours of self-loathing had crippled her at last.

A broken cry escaped her lips as she hugged herself tight. How could she had been so foolish to think that it could work? He had his place and she had hers – a place that she hid from everyone in order to protect them, to protect him.

She knew she couldn’t stay much longer, no matter how much she wanted to fight for him, it simply wouldn’t be possible. Her enemies would only continue to draw them apart. The pictures that were published was only the tip of the iceberg and from there it would only spiral into darker depths, unleashing more suffering and heartbreak.

‘It’s over’, she thought.

Out on the patio that same evening, the night air danced through Elle’s hair as she stared up at the sky. She returned her eyes to Maxwell’s face that had dropped into sadness upon her declaration of leaving and returning home.

“I want to fight with you on this” the younger Beaumont brother started, “and I want to say to give it a little more time, that things will get better, but-“ he sighed, rubbing his face in frustration, “I don’t know when or if it will. I blame myself for putting you in this position, and I’m sorry-“

“Maxwell,” Elle placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. None of us could’ve predicted this. It’s out of our control.” It truly was. The capacity of which they can change things was out of their hands.

Suddenly the world swayed, she grabbed the front of her dress as her stomach churned and she groaned miserably.

Maxwell perked up in alarm as the color drained from her face. “What’s wrong?”

Elle waited until it passed while contemplating if she should express the truth to Maxwell-A truth that even herself could not come to terms with.

She shook her head, “Nothing, I just-”

“Forgot to take your iron?” Maxwell finished.

Her eyes met his and she smiled faintly. “Yes,” was all she could muster. A few moments later he returned with a glass of orange juice and an iron pill.

“Don’t tell me you forgot you were anemic?” Maxwell stated lightheartedly as he handed her the supplement first. “You need to take better care of yourself!”

“I do,” she spoke softly. After gulping down the last drop of juice, she gave the glass back to him and again her eyes found their way back to the starry sky. For an instant, she found herself drifting away and, instead of the stars, there were two of the brightest eyes looking down at her- tender, iridescent, and blue…” but I can’t do that here.” She continued, “Thank you for being there for me, Maxwell. You’re such a great friend. Honorable at that...”

“You make it sound like I’m never gonna see you again,” Maxwell pouted. She blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“I-AH!”

He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly against him. “Don’t worry! If you ever need anything, I’ll always be here for you!”

“Okay, okay!” she exclaimed, patting his shoulder soothingly. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

Before they knew it, Elle was walking the tarmac to the plane that would whisk her way. She looked back, giving one last wave to the Beaumont brothers, Maxwell waving enthusiastically, while Bertrand stared as intensely as ever, giving her a final nod of acknowledgement.

As she took her seat, the tears finally spilled and her eyes never burned so painfully.  

The jet began its departure, rising into the brilliance of the clear, blue sky and leaving behind a man who could only dream to be with the woman he loved.

6 Months Later /// Present Day: Cordonia ///

Liam sat at his desk hunched over a flood of papers. He was in the middle of finalizing a public statement when there was a knock at his door. “You may enter.” He called out; his attention glued to the paper in front of him. With a dramatic swirl, he signed the parchment in satisfaction.

“Hello, baby brother.”

Liam looked up with a smile that didn’t quite reach his once lively blue eyes. “Leo.” He stood up and they shared a hug before parting. “How are you doing?” He began rustling through the documents, piling them haphazardly until they were neat enough that he placed his main piece front and center; ready to go.

“Well, if you checked your phone every now and then you would know.” Leo teased, wandering over to the drink cart.

“Sorry, it’s been a bit hectic lately,” Liam grabbed his coat draped over the back of his chair and dug into the inside pocket. As he pulled his phone out, his keys fell out and hit the floor. He bent down to pick them up and gazed over them for a moment, his eyes settling on a particular keychain. He ran his thumb over the miniature statue of liberty before placing the keys back.

His older brother chuckled, “I was only messing with you. No need to apologize.”

Liam turned to face his brother who was already holding out a glass of bourbon for him. “Thanks.”

“My life is viewed as a bit of a train wreck but,” Leo shrugged with a gulp of his drink, “it’s a wanted one.”

“Always the devil may care attitude huh, Leo?”

“You’re surprised?”

Liam shook his head as his lips quirked up in a grin while he scrolled indifferently through his phone.  

Leo peered at him over the rim of his glass, taking note of how exhausted he looked. His once-tamed blonde hair was disheveled due to the many times of running his hands through it, and he was hunched forward with an unseen weight on his shoulders.

“Li?”

“Hm?” Liam met his brother’s gaze, his phone closing with a click.

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Liam chuckled, but it was an empty one. “What brought this on?”

“You look like shit for one.”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, but what escaped was only a breath of air. He gazed somberly at the dancing flames in the fireplace. The door to the study opened then and Queen Mother Regina walked in. She smiled softly upon seeing her stepsons.

“Well, I’m glad to see us all here.” She took the couch in between them, setting a thin folder down on the low table. “What was it you wanted to discuss, Liam?”

“Hello to you too, Regina. I’m okay thanks for asking.” Leo interjected nonchalantly.

“I thought you would appreciate me getting straight to the point. I’m sure your itching to get out of here.” Regina stated. “You look well though. I see the divorce holds no ill will for you among other things.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Still giving me shit for that? Of course, you are.”

“I warnedyou about her and looked what happened.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably.

“Right, I’m sure you predicted that she would cheat on me with the bartender. I appreciate you looking out for me.” Leo uttered with contempt.

“I’m leaving.” He blurted out. Both parties turned to Liam at his announcement.

Regina was first to respond, her eyes glimmering with concern. “What do you mean by ‘leaving’?”

“On a break of sorts.”

The Queen Mother relaxed internally. For a moment she thought he was abdicating the throne and that would not have boded well for the kingdom. “First and foremost, Liam...” she started. “Have you spoken to Madeleine about this?”

“No. I wanted to disclose it with you two first.”

“She’s your wife. I think she holds precedence.”

Liam exhaled sharply. “Regardless, I plan on leaving in two days. I’ve already scheduled a press conference for tomorrow morning.

Regina remained silent for a moment, considering his words. “I suppose I should’ve seen this coming. You’ve been opting out of important social events and avoiding the press. Your absence has already become noticed by the people. However, do you know how this is going to look? The people will question ‘why all of a sudden’. So, why now, Liam?”

Liam stared at the now empty tumbler in his hands. “There is nothing to it. I simply need some time to myself. They’ll understand. A lot has happened.”

Leo’s heart bled for him as he looked at the shadows that settled underneath his brother’s eyes. He didn’t know the particular details about what happened following the events of the social season, only that the woman that had captured his little brother’s heart left without a word, taking a bit of it, if not the entire thing with her. Leo knew better than to allow Liam to deal with it on his own, but he couldn’t quite find the right words to say without it awakening a considerable amount of pain. He had approached Drake about it and Leo was only met with a biting remark from the snarky man.

“Maybe if you stuck around long enough, you’d know...”

Leo knew better than to fire back, taking into account that it was situation that made Drake react the way he did and that, well… his words stung more than Leo would like to admit.  

When the scandal had surfaced at night of the Coronation, Leo knew that it was nothing but a despicable ruse to get the foreign woman out of the running. If it was one thing he regretted the most it was leaving his little brother to endure it on his own. Liam had his close companions, yes, but there was a bond between the brothers no one else can reciprocate. In the end, Leo had selfishly decided to leave, having had enough of the royal crowd. He had taken advantage of his brother’s selflessness asking Liam if he wanted him to stay knowing well enough the he wouldn’t allow him to do that. Liam knew of his distaste towards the royal lifestyle and its overbearing rules. He had insisted that it was alright and was quite determined to figure it out and that, more importantly, he didn’t want Leo to miss out on the motocross tour that was starting in the following days. In turn, Leo did not hesitate to pack his bags and leave.

Leo remembered him saying, ‘Everything will be fine.’ He would only find out later that it would turn out not to be.

Regina sighed before continuing. “Liam, I understand the pain of losing someone you love. Go on, take the time you require to heal your heart. Nevertheless, don’t forget, what is important. Following your father’s death, the Cordonian people need you right now. You cannot abandon them for long. It is your duty to represent our kingdom, bestow strength and trust within our people, but they are beginning to lose faith in you as a king. You need to prioritize their needs and reestablish stability,” Regina paused for a breath, carefully thinking about her next words. “But you needn’t do it alone...Liam, you have your queen and now it is time to consider other things…”

Dread seeped through the blood in Liam’s veins. He knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable much longer. He understood his duties as ruler for a country he loved dearly, but the past 7 months had been hard on him and his father’s death only added to the unrelenting agony in his chest.

“…an heir will bring on tremendous rapture…a flourishing kingdom…”

Liam stopped listening as her words continued. They trailed off in echoes and swirls inside his head with no grasp.

Liam wanted her. The woman that visited his dreams every night. He dreamt of a life with her. There was love, laughter, and endless bliss. That’s how he pictured his future once and thinking about it now made his heart ache much more. He felt like he was suffocating. His chest was tight and his eyes burned from the swelling of unshed tears.  

Liam swallowed his anguish and forced out his next words, “I will…proceed with such circumstances when I return.”

“Liam-” Leo began, but when Liam looked up at him with sadness his gaze and half a smile, he realized there was nothing he could say that would make him feel better. He slumped in his seat.

A heavy silence descended them until Regina cleared her throat. “Is there anything else you wanted to address, Liam?”

Liam shook his head. “I have said everything that needed to be said. Thank you for your time. You may be on your way now.”

Regina gave a curt nod. She reached over for the folder on the table and opened it. Removing an article, she stood and faced Leo.

She handed him a pastel green envelope. “I received a correspondence from Evangeline, your mother, several days ago and it’s addressed to you…”

Leo stunned, didn’t know what to say. He grabbed the letter with uncertainty.

“What you decide to do is up to you.”

“Thank you, Regina.”

The Queen Mother gave him a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry about earlier. You didn’t deserve that. I just don’t like seeing you get hurt- either of you. Life is not an easy tread…” She looked over at Liam for a brief moment. Although he was hunched over fiddling with his wedding band, his gaze was a million miles away. “you simply have to do the best you can. Anyways, I’ll leave you boys to it.” She exited the room, leaving her sons with their thoughts.

Leo flipped the letter around in his hands contemplating what to do. Why contact him after all these years? She never made an effort to contact him before. Did he really want to reconnect with the woman that abandoned him? The one that left him feeling alone and unloved? His gaze shifted, descending thoughtfully on the bright flames crackling in the fireplace. He stood up and sauntered over to bring the letter above the blaze.

“Leo!” Liam gasped. He felt his brother’s hand enclose his. “Think about this.”

Against the illumination, Leo could make out the scribbles of black ink etched across the paper- her handwriting. He sighed heavily, his heart and mind in a battle of emotions-anger, hope, sadness, or elation. He didn’t know what to feel.

“At least read what she has to say.”

Leo withdrew. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“’You’re right, as always’ is what you meant to say.” Liam added humorously. Leo shoved him playfully, packing the letter in his jacket.

“You’re not going to read it now?”

“I’ll do it on my own time. I need to process this.” Leo poured himself another much-needed drink and immediately chugged it down.

Liam’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. He peered at it inquisitively as it flashed the familiar unknown number. This was the third one from the mysterious caller this past week. He answered the call. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello? May I ask who’s calling?” Leo locked eyes with Liam, brows raised in curiosity. Liam shook his head. There was nothing but white noise at the other end. “Hel-” The call ended abruptly with a ding.

“That was strange.” Leo commented.

“It wouldn’t be the first peculiar occurrence. I’ve been getting them randomly over the past three months.”

“Have you had Bastien look into it?”

“My King.”

The two men turned as the head of the king’s guard made his presence known.

“What is it, Bastien?” Liam inquired. He sensed something was wrong.

“It seems there has been a breach in security. An intruder-a woman. We have her contained if you would like to see her.”

Leo whistled, “This day just keeps getting rather interesting.”

Bastien looked grim,

“She says she is here to kill the King of Cordonia.”

#choices #choices leo #choices liam x oc #choices liam #choices leo x oc #trr leo #leo rys #prince leo #king liam #choices trr #trr fanfic #choices the royal romance #trr #pixelberry #the royal romance #trr liam

[jj-lynn21]

A Castlerock New Year’s Eve party

Notes: I reworked this one one short story instead of three small chapters. I know its New Years Eve but it is also creepy So it is a good fanfic to start off October. These characters will continue into an All Hallows Eve story I am I working on. Also I write The Kid/Henry Deaver a little different than most. He is based on the rumor that he is The Crimson King in the Steven King Universe. Word count 3,033

Warnings: creepiness, smut,

tags: @loomiz​ @super-pink-a-palouza​ @ill-skillsgard​ @waywardtigersandwich​ @dreamtherapy​ @grandpa-sweaters​ @goblincxnt​ @dragsraksllib​ @bskarsgardlove92​  @taintedglass​

Genevieve and her best friend Nadine, prepared for their yearly New Years Eve bash.They always invite practically the whole town of Castlerock, but only the very brave showed up. For most people that have survived in Castlerock long enough, know it’s no a place to be out during the night. Hell, the local bar has been closing at 8pm since the last disappearances.

But they revel in the possible dangers lurking around every corner especially in the evening hours. They have seen some weird shit growing up around here. Like part of the town of Derry falling practically underground like there was an earthquake, but no earthquake ever registered there  Parents kept children inside the whole year before that happened.

Now that they are adults they feel, either embrace the darkness that goes on around you or you let it drive you madd. Most people in the area lean towards the crazy side but pretend to be completely normal.

“What if we put on the invite for everyone to wear cloaks this year?” Nadine suggested.

Genevieve agreed. “I love that idea. Oh, we need to find that Kid that they say went missing from the prison and hasn’t been seen since. Did you see his wanted posted? He’s fucking hot. We need him at the party.”

“We need him?” Nadine Smirked. “More like you think you need him because he is creepy as fuck.”

“You say, creepy. I say, hot.” Genevieve laughed. “What ev. I want to find him. I want to know his story.”

Nadine huffed. “Fine, we can do some research and see if  anyone is talking, which I doubt because no one in this town talks about anyone who has gone missing weather they are a good person or bad.”

“He’s good. I just know it.” Gen grinned. “I mean he is at least as good as me.”

Nadine cackled. “Oh, so, the bar isn’t that high,”

They giggled continuing shopping for party supplies. This task is not so easy in a town like Castlerock. No after dark parties, equal no great party supply stores. They buy left over red Christmas lights and some cool looking statues from Pop’s, who never asks questions why anyone would need anything. The décor is complete.

A trip to the grocery to get chips, dips and hotdog tots and they are done for the day. They left invites in every mailbox and a handful at each store. This is mostly to tell the town they don’t care about their petty fears. Tomorrow night this party is a go.

Gen is walking down the street alone. It seems something is gnawing at her to head into the woods. The ground is covered in fog; it is dark with a chill to the air. Her small flashlight and this feeling kept her on a path leading through the woods. The hat on her hoodie pulled up over her head keeps her warm enough. She stopped when she saw a small cabin up ahead.

A little frightened she walks to the cabin anyway. Genevieve feels something is waiting inside. The hairs on the back of her neck rise as she opened the unlocked door slowly.

“Hello, is anyone here?” Only her echo is returned.

The room is silent. The darkness blankets it other than her flashlight with its one beam of light. She lifted the flashlight up slowly. An iron cage in the corner of the room comes into view. Gen started to walk over. Hearing shoveling she stopped. Gen pointed the flashlight towards the sound. It’s him. It’s The Kid on the wanted poster. He is caged like an animal. His big sad eyes meet with hers.

 “Who left you hear like this?” Genevieve asked.

He said nothing just looking at her pleading for help with his expressive eyes. She looked for the opening of the cage. Seeing the padlock, she rummaged through her mini backpack to find anything to help pick the lock.

“I’ll get you out of there.” Genevieve kept looking threw her bag as she toldl him, “Just let me find something to pick the lock. I’m really good at it with just the right…Oh, yes, this safety pin will work.”

Genevieve worked on the lock as The Kid watches closely. It barely takes her a minute to pop the lock. She opened the door. Taking his hand, he leans on her a little as she helped him to the couch. Gen ran her hand through his thick brown hair holding the flashlight between the two of them. He caressed her cheek with his large hand.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

He managed to speak in in whisper. “Here they have been calling me Henry, but I go by other names. You can call me Red or Henry like others do. Thank you, My Queen, for opening that cage. I knew you would come eventually.”

Goosebumps ran over her body. He leaned in kissing her lips as a thank you. His lips are dry and chapped. When he moves back watching for her reaction she dug in her backpack and find some cherry Chapstick. Gen applied it to his lips gently.

“This will help make those lips feel better.” Genevieve put the flashlight down between them so she could hold his chiseled jaw as she applied the Chapstick. “I’ll get you a drink from the kitchen if the water is working. Some of these old cabins…”

Genevieve gasped as he touched the inside of her thigh. He ran his hand up slowly unbuttoning her jeans as he watched her reaction. It seems like a split second they are naked and she is riding him moaning out as he rests his hands on your hips.  As she rolled her hips, he thrusts powerfully pushing her to the edge  of ecstasy.

Genevieve wakes in a sweat breathing heavily. Her mind swirls as she tried to remember the dream that brought her to this state. All she remembered is there is a cabin in the woods she needs to get to, but maybe during the day would be better.

When daylight breaks she gets ready for an adventure. Gen is not sure what She will find, but she brings some bottled water and turkey sandwiches in case she gets lost. She has heard of people getting lost, never to be found again, in these woods. Plus, there is something about them that always makes her ears ring.

Genevieve has never told friends that because they love to have bonfires in the woods to try to scare each other with stories they have heard about the area. It doesn’t bother her enough to ruin a good time. Once she has a beer or three Gen doesn’t even notice the ringing.

Sticks and dried leaves crackle under her feet as she makes her way through the woods. Unsure where she is exactly going, she trudges along watching for the cabin in your dreams. Gen shakes her head thinking, Why, would I ever come out here alone? Then she sees it through the trees. It’s a pretty rundown looking cabin.

Silence drops around the area as Genevieve gets closer to the cabin. She thinks, That’s not weird at all, but I’ve come this far. She goes to the door. Looking around she knocks because who is dumb enough to just walk into a creepy old cabin. No one answers. The door creaks as she opened it slowly. It smells musty and dirty. No one seemed to be in there. Gen starts to turn to leave and then she heard the shoveling.

Genevieve turned her head seeing him in the cage. Her eyes widen as he looks to her innocently. It’s the Kid she has wanted to find. The one, she dreamed of finding here. Could that even be true? She is not sure what to say or do. Maybe she is just dreaming again. It all seems a bit bazaar.

His voice is barely audible. “You’re here?”

Genevieve whispered, “yeah.”

He replied, “To help?”

She asked. “Who are you?”

A slight grin appears on his face. “You know.”

Gen swallowed hard as they stared at each other for a few moments.

He whined. “Help?”

Genevieve is a little hesitant, but he seems so fragile and helpless. She still doesn’t really know what is going on. All she knows is this strong feeling to help him. She looked around the room and in every drawer for a key. Only in her dreams is Gen a master at picking a lock. She can feel him watching her as she tore up the place looking for the key. She finds it taped under the coffee table when she overturns it.

Gen holds the key up. “I found the key, Red.”

She thinks, Where did I get that name from? But she is sure that is his name or one name he likes to be called anyway.

He smiled. “Good girl. Open the door, Now.”

Shivers roll down her spine as he emphasizes the word, now. A small wicked grin crosses his lips as she unlocked his prison. He stumbles a bit as he gets to his feet trying to walk. Genevieve tries to help. They sat on the couch. She watches his hands as he studies her closely. It seems neither trusts the other in this moment.

Genevieve finally broke  the silence. “I brought water and sandwiches.”

She got up mostly to get some distance between them. She has never been so unsure about a person’s motivations in her life. Gen set the table back upright and put her bag on it.

As she got out the packed stuff, she questioned him. “How long has it been since you had food or water?”

He sighed deeply. “A while.” His body was stick thin. His face a bit gaunt. His eyes sat back in the sockets deep but still large.

Gen untwisted the cap on a water and handed it to him. He took small sips as if conserving it in case it is the last thing he ever drinks. When she handed him the sandwich, he took it apart carefully. Then he balled up the bread to eat.

When Genevieve  watched him stuff it in his mouth she laughed. “I guess the rumor of you being a carb addict was correct. You should eat the protein to, so you heal.”

As he chewed up the bread he noded.

She took a swig of bottled water. “If you want, I can take you back to my loft to get cleaned up?”

. “Yes.” He croaked

 “My Friend and I are supposed to throw a New Years Eve party tonight, but I can stay home and take care of you.” She mentioned even though she originally wanted him at the party. “I don’t think you should be alone or be around a lot of people right now.”

 “We should go.” He countered.

That surprises her. “You want to go to the party with me?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

 “Okay, I’d like that.” Gen smiled. “Do you think you can walk? Oh, I should find you different cloths. Maybe there is some in the closet.”

He watched as she went towards a closet. He took off all his clothing throwing them in the cell. “I can walk.”

 “This will have to do.” Gen pulled a long brownish-red cloak from the closet. “It will be perfect for the party.” When she turned around she gasped. Then grinned. “Okay, Big Red. Put this on. And let’s go.”

He puts on the cloak. Then they head to her place.

When Genevieve let him in the door he ducked. She felt bad her loft apartment had such low ceilings since when he stood the top of the cloak brushes the ceiling.  He sat spread out in a large chair.

Gen is not sure why, but she has a desire to sit at his feet looking up at him. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

He sits up to caress her cheek.“Yes, my Queen.”  She leaned into his touch.

The way he says it gives her chills. He tilts his head seeming to contemplate something. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Genevieve shuddered “I uh, I think I should know more about you before anything, I mean before we go to the party.”

He nods in agreement as he thinks of a clever story to ease her mind. “I don’t remember how long I was in that cage or how I got there really. I don’t even know why. If you need to know why I am sorry I can’t tell you. I was a fiction writer obsessed with how science fiction dealt with time and space. I was mostly alone other than my gold tabby, Randal, who seemed to worship me. He was a little asshole but still wanted me to care for him. You know animals?”

Gen giggled. “Yeah, I know. So, have you written anything I might know?”

He shrugged, “I don’t think so. I self-published once. That seems like ages ago or maybe after now.  I’m not really sure.”

His words confused her. “After now?”

He answered, “Yeah, I created something or someone else did. I can’t remember now.”

She nods concerned his lack of concentration.“I think you need to eat and drink more to clear the cobwebs from your brain.”

He caressed her cheek again as Gen looked to him for answers. “Yeah, I think that is what happens now or should happen or did.”

Genevieve blinked several times as if that would help her understand. “Okay, weird, you relax in here.”

She headed into the kitchen to put on some steak and eggs. Gen hummed as she bustled around to get things together. She put the steaks on and seasoned them. Then she cracked the eggs beside them still humming the last song she heard as she shook her bum a little. When Gen did a little turn, she jumped seeing him standing naked in the doorway.

“I’m not sure I meant for you to get that comfortable.” Gen tried to laugh it off.

“Are you done yet?” He gave her a wanting look. “I need you.”

Genevieve turned back to flip the steaks. “It depends on how rare you like your steak.”

He came over behind her watching the steak and eggs cook. After a few minutes he put his hands on her hips.

. “Turn it off.” He pleaded. “I need you. I always need you.”

Gen is surprised to feel his arousal so prominently. She reached to turn off the stove. Then she turned to look up at him. Holding her hips, he pulled her away from the stove. He did not break eye contact. She could not tear her eyes away from his. As he reached down undoing her jeans she pulled off her hoodie with the t-shirt underneath it. Gen stepped out of her jeans and panties as he griped her face with both hands plastering his lips against hers. As she moved backwards, he continues to kiss her hungerly. She hit a wall. He pulled her hands over her head as he positions himself to wreck her. She moaned out at the complete fullness she felt. The utter intesity of the moment.

He captures her mouth in another kiss as Gen felt yourself getting close to her peak. He looked at  her with a devilish grin when she screamed out “YES OH FUCK YES!” as her orgasm hit. He groaned as he came soon after. Slowing to a still he held Genevieve close not wanting to lose their closeness. He leans his forehead to hers.

Gen ran her fingers though his drenched hair when he let go of her wrists.  “I’ll always find you. I don’t fully understand but I’ll always find you.”

He nods, “Most of the time you do.” He pulled out. “I live for these times.”

“Yeah?” Gen smiled. “We can stay here.”

“No we have to go.” He sighed. “ Put on your cloak. I’ll put on mine.”

Genevieve took a deep breath. “I think, we eat, shower and then get ready and go to the party.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

About three hours later they go to the party. When Nadine sees them her eyes are wide.Her heart practically stops. Jealousy swells in her thoughts.

“Oh, wow you actually…” She looks to Henry. “Your Henry, right?”

He nods a yes since he knows that is the name he is called here. She looks to Genevieve. She silently mouths, you fucked him? Gen blushed. He grins walking in front of Gen knowing what Nadine is feeling. He stays close to Genevieve without saying a word as she socializes with friends. They can’t believe he is there. He just  nodded no expression on his face unless Gen turned to him in which case, he gave her a partial smile and sometimes a small kiss.

When the countdown started on the television Nadine screams, “ITS TIME. LET’S GO EVERYONE!”

Genevieve pulled The Kid outside with the rest of the crowd. He pulls her to face him as they go into the woods. A countdown to midnight goes on through cellphones as everyone laughs dancing around in their cloaks. Gen winced when her ears start to ring. He looked at her with dismay and fear in his eyes.

Several people are screaming, “Five, four, three, two…”

Genevieve put her hand on his cheek. “Don’t worry. Nothing really ever happens in these woods.”

The countdown continues as they walk near a clearing

” …two, one HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

He grabbed Gen. “Don’t worry you’ll find me another time.”

He kissed her passionately as long as he could keep her close to him as others are kissing and hugging and wishing each other a Happy New Year. But eventually Gen is pulled away to hug and kiss Nadine and others. Her hand still holds his but slowly he slips out of her grasp.

When Genevieve no longer felt him, she looked around. He is no where to be seen. Her chest hurts. Her ears are killing her. She stumbled around the scene.

Nadine helped her back to her place. “What happened? Where is he?”

“He’s gone.” Genevieve cried. “But I’ll find him another time.”

#castlrock #fanfic #fan fiction #the kid #henry deaver #red #big red #the crimson king #bill skarsgard #creepy #sexy #smut

[lokimostly]

Polaris (Ch.1/?)

Loki x Reader, Pirate!AU Word Count: 2,768 Warnings: none Summary: Your life has always been set in stone. Born to a wealthy merchant family in the Caribbean, you’ve spent your years as an heiress in the daytime, escaping at night to wander the streets of St. Thomas. Now, on the eve before your life settles into mundanity for good, you discover someone who could change everything-- if you choose to trust him, that is.

A/N: The bitch is back! (Me. I’m the bitch). I’m super excited for this, and I hope you are, too! It was promised a long time ago and it’s finally here. Let me know what you think~~ 

Chapter Two ~ Chapter Three  ~ Chapter Four ~  Chapter Five ~ Chapter Six ~ Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Eight ~ Chapter Nine ~ Chapter Ten ~ Chapter Eleven ~ Chapter Twelve ~ Chapter Thirteen ~ Chapter Fourteen

Night fell like a curtain of embroidered silver stars over the port of St. Thomas. The moon rose in a honey-colored crescent over the black blanket of the sea, where the last ships of the day were tied to the docks: all of it visible from your window, the double panels open and welcoming the warm summer breeze. Mid-July was beautiful in the Caribbean.

This would be your last July here. 

You fastened your cloak and set one final look to your bedroom door – locked, of course – before leaning over your nightstand to blow out the lone candle that flickered warmly. You shouldn’t have been awake at this hour; you had a pressing day tomorrow, a day which had already caused several quarrels with your father. 

You also shouldn’t have been climbing out your window.

The dark material of your cloak weighed heavy on your shoulders as you bunched up your dress and swung one leg bravely over the windowsill, bracing yourself against the suddenly-stronger wind that teased and pulled at your hair, enticing strands around your face to come loose. You pulled your other leg over and shifted carefully, searching with one foot for the foothold you knew to be there.

A-ha. You planted your foot onto the brick, pushing out carefully – a fall from this height would be deadly – and stood with practiced balance. You exhaled softly, calming your nerves as the wind blew against your back and rippled through your dress. A gecko skittered across the wall and disappeared over the crest of the roof. You watched it go before pushing the panels of your window shut, leaving them unlatched for you upon your return, and began your descent. 

You kept your hands on the windowsill and found the next brick. This convenient path of rugged stone was your tiny stairway to the world at night, to the city below, to freedom. Even though you’d done this so many times before, the taste of anticipation at the adventure to come made your heart flutter happily inside your ribs. 

Your feet hit the cobblestone without a sound and you breathed a happy, exhilarated exhale, pulling up your hood. You cast one last glance at your window before turning and heading down the alleyway, towards the twinkling light of the oceanside town.

The night was yours. 

Despite the sweltering warmth of the night, you pulled the fabric of your cloak a little tighter when you slipped by the front of your father’s estate. Even at this hour there were servants around, standing post at the iron-wrought gates or mingling outside the door to the kitchens. All it took was one pair of eyes, and your little expedition would be ruined.

Not that it mattered, really. You doubted that you’d ever get the chance to do this again.

You would never claim to hate your life. There were just certain aspects of it– the formalities, the frivolities, the bone-crushing corsets – that you could happily do without. But being the only child of a moderately wealthy shipping merchant meant that you were born into these things, and expected to die in them. 

You relaxed as your feet carried you further downhill and out of sight from your estate. The streets turned narrower and more crowded despite how late the hour was. Soon, you were making your way through crowds of people: sailors, harlots, vagrants, fishermen, maybe even pirates… not that you would know one if you saw one. Everyone thrived under moonlight.

You would never get the chance to live like these people, so the most you could do was get close. Close enough to taste the salt of the sea, to imagine the feeling of coarse rope between your hands. There was so much you would never experience that you so desperately wanted to: what it felt like to get drunk on cheap tavern liquor, how to handle a ship in a storm, the taste of someone’s lips against yours… 

Well, not the kissing part. Out of everything life had to offer, romance was furthest from your desires. Partly because you’d never been interested in anyone – which was far from a problem in your opinion – but also because it would be forced on you so very soon. The marriage that had been arranged for you since before your birth was coming to a head: you were meeting your fianceé tomorrow. The thought of it made your stomach turn in upset. 

The way you saw it, marriage was the final nail in the coffin of an adventurous life, and you were about to be buried alive.

Once you were in the thrall of the seaside crowds close to the docks, you removed your dark hood and pulled out your braided hair. You inhaled the sweet, salty stench of the ocean, mixed with putrid perfume and the alcohol-ridden breath of the people who passed you by. The ships rocked gently, their wooden bodies creaking like aching joints. Lamplight and candlelight made the port feel like a living being with glowing eyes, blinking away the dark.

It was wonderful. But what to do?

You had every intention of staying out till dawn. Whether or not this was destined to be a remarkable night, you were determined to make it so. It was your last hurrah of freedom – consequences be damned.

The corner pub was positively throbbing with noise, like a pulse point of energy. Somewhere in the clamor you could hear someone playing a four-string fiddle. The sweet sound was mixed with raucous laughter and the occasional breaking of glass. 

A perfect start to your evening.

You slipped in past the crowds outside and immediately found yourself immersed. Tankards clanked together, barmaids wove in between tables, and in the darker corners of the room men played cards and laid wagers amidst cigar smoke and sordid expressions. Everyone here felt open: there was no hiding behind etiquette or polished niceties. There was no stiffness or reservation like you were used to in the daytime. 

Despite the hoots and wholly inappropriate catcalls of the soldiers, you slipped in entirely unnoticed. Free to observe without interruption. You briefly considered buying a drink, but discarded the idea almost immediately. You didn’t care for the taste. Cards, maybe? A quick glance at the tables told you no – there were no women playing, and you wouldn’t dare venturing to a table of burly men on your own. Your nighttime excursions had earned you a few friends through the years, but you couldn’t find any of them in the bar tonight. It was probably better that way – you wanted this night to yourself. 

You found a banister to lean against, wondering what to do, when a laugh caught your attention. It wasn’t the rough and weather-worn roar of a sailor, or the tittering giggle of a barmaid. This laugh was clear as a bell, deep and light at the same time, drawing your attention almost by force.

The source of the sound was sitting at a round table, mid laugh with a tankard in hand. He was unlike any sailor you’d ever seen: fair skin and slick black hair that tumbled down in gentle waves against his shoulders. A jawline you could cut your finger on. The white, bishop-sleeve shirt he wore opened in a wide V that travelled almost halfway down his chest, revealing a scandalous amount of toned muscle. His smile was wide and brilliant and wolfish.

Your heart did a somersault in your ribcage. He was devilishly handsome, there was no denying it. The stark contrast between him and everyone else in this grimy seaside pub was staggering.  But there was something about him that frightened you- something lurking beneath the depths. You couldn’t put your finger on it.

You decided not to stay and find out. You turned towards the door, and immediately collided with someone. The glass bottle in their hand hit the floor and shattered. For a split second, the tavern was entirely silent. Even the fiddler in the corner had paused mid-tune.

Then the sound resumed. The fiddler continued his jig; laughter howled and chairs scraped across the wooden floor. Your heart was in your throat as the sailor you’d just slammed into – and also cost a full bottle of rum – turned around with an ill-fated look in his eye.

Oh, god, he was enormous.

“Hello,” you began nervously. Why did your voice have to tremble so much? “I’m terribly sorry–”

“What do we have ‘ere?” He growled, snatching your wrist and squeezing it painfully tight so you couldn’t run. His eyes raked over your figure, surveying you like a choice cut of meat. His breath reeked of alcohol. You grimaced and tried to pull away, but his bear-like hand only tightened its grip. “No, I don’t think so,” he drawled, obviously more than a little drunk. “You got a debt to pay.” 

Your eyes widened and you shook your head - you’d left your coin purse at home. “I’m sorry, I— I don’t have any money,” you pleaded, trying once more to get away from him. It was a futile attempt. The sailor yanked on your arm and you yelped as he pulled you forcefully against his chest. You resisted the urge to throw up – his shirt smelled even worse than his breath.

“Please,” you begged, cowering in spite of yourself as he towered over you. To think you had felt so brave only minutes ago. 

The sailor gave you a nasty smile full of rotting teeth. “I weren’t talkin’ about money.” 

Before you could think of a response (how were you going to get yourself out of this?) you felt the ghost of a hand on your back and a clear, polite voice that spoke through the noise of the tavern. 

“That won’t be possible, I’m afraid.” 

The sailor’s sluggish eyes drifted upward and his grip on your wrist loosened as he realized who was speaking: the dark-haired stranger, whose sea-green eyes were staring at the sailor with a fury so cold it made you shiver. This glare was elegantly countered by a charming smile.

“I’d be more than happy to mitigate the debt,” he continued politely, sounding very much like he intended to do no such thing, and would seriously hurt the man if he accepted. The sailor, despite being as drunk as he was, picked up on this subtlety, and dropped your wrist entirely. He muttered something indiscernible – with a few inelegant profanities directed your way– and went back to the bar. 

You rubbed your wrist like it had been shackled, letting out a shaky sigh of relief. You hadn’t realized how fast your heart was beating. Now you had a chance to compose yourself, maybe find some of that courage you had been wanting for. 

The dark-haired man leaned down and whispered into your ear, “if you’ll allow me to escort you outside, milady.” His warm breath on your neck made you shiver.

So much for composing yourself.

You managed a nod and made your way out of the bar with him close behind. You wove through the crowds easily, but people seemed to part for him instead, making way like he was some kind of prince.

Or maybe a pirate.

The thought occurred to you as soon as he stepped out onto the cobblestone street and beckoned for you to follow him, heading a little ways from the lights and crowds of the bar. He walked with a certain gait that you could only describe as cat-like: keeping his shoulders squared, but with a sort of elegance that made him seem quick on his feet. Like he always knew where he was going. 

And against your better judgement, you followed.

“Thank you,” you began, still holding onto your wrist. He slowed, and turned around, gazing at you with eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. You shivered. 

“Tell me,” He said, raising a dark eyebrow and setting his hands on his hips as he stepped towards you, “What’s a girl like yourself doing in there? Shouldn’t you be at a gala somewhere?” He sounded like he was teasing you, but the smirk on his lips threw you off. 

You bristled, feeling your pride swell up a bit. “You don’t know what kind of person I am.”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid your dress speaks for itself,” He pointed out, nodding to your fancier-than-usual clothes. Your face flushed and you pulled your cloak around you. He was right. Despite your attempts to dress down, you had never owned anything that wasn’t embroidered with lace. The fact that he saw right through your disguise in less than a minute was more than a little embarrassing. 

The handsome stranger eyed you curiously, watching as the gears in your mind turned over. He held out his hand to you– elegant fingers outstretched in silent offering. You looked down at his hand. Despite its initial beauty, you could see now that his fingers were calloused, and a few white needle-thin scars lined the palms of his hand. Curious.

“Allow me to walk you home,” he said. His words were phrased so sweetly, they were practically dripping with honey. 

You forced yourself to remember why you were out here. What awaited you tomorrow, and for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t let your last night go to waste.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Why did you feel like you owed him an apology? You had nothing to be sorry for. Yet something about those sea-green eyes had you entirely at his mercy.

His eyes narrowed and he retracted his hand. “Why not?” 

“It’s just… this is my last night.” His brow furrowed, but you continued on. “I don’t get another chance to do this, and quite frankly I’m not looking forward to the rest of my life.” You swallowed, staring at him and setting your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I can’t.” 

The handsome stranger merely stared at you. There were micro-expressions that crossed his face while he mulled over your words: a twitch of his eyebrow, a slight narrowing of his eyebrows. It should not have been so fascinating to watch a man think. Then again, he had destroyed a lot of your so-called certainties tonight: most particularly, the idea that you would ever want to kiss someone.

But god above if you didn’t want to press your lips against his. You were so distracted by them that you hardly heard him when he began speaking.

“Let me help you, then.”

You blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Let me help make your last night worthwhile.” 

Your eyes narrowed with suspicion and you crossed your arms, trying to figure out why on earth he would offer to help you. “Why?”

He shrugged and smiled, holding his arms out. “If you’re so intent on getting into trouble, you might as well have a friend.” 

“We’re not friends,” you muttered, though the idea was sounding more appealing the more he talked about it. No, snap out of it! He’s playing you like a fiddle, your conscience pleaded.

Unfortunately, you were no longer listening to your conscience. His hand was extended to you once more, and he gave you a look that said ‘go on. Be brave for once.’ 

You were never one to shirk from a challenge.

“Don’t you trust me?” He asked. 

There was that teasing tone again. You held back a snort. “Absolutely not.” 

He grinned. “Smart girl.”

~

Hours later, when the sky was beginning to dim, you climbed the uneven brick wall with tired muscles and lifted yourself onto your windowsill, taking a moment to stare at the city. Even at near-dawn, the lights were still twinkling. The moving specks along the docks that you knew to be sailors were beginning to load the ships with crates and barrels. You breathed in the smell of ocean air, closed your eyes, and savored it for a moment before opening your window carefully, sliding off the sill and landing on the wooden floor. You latched the window behind you.

Your room was undisturbed. You took off your cloak and folded it quickly, shoving it into your dresser. Your dress came off just as fast, despite how tired you were; it fell from your shoulders and pooled on the floor around your feet. With a contented sigh, you fell into your bed, where sleep took you the minute your head hit the pillow. 

And as the sun rose, you dreamed. 

Next Chapter  _____

A/N: Thanks for reading! The tag list is wide open. Tell me what you think! <3

Tag List: @neontiiger, @un-consider-it, @jessiejunebug, @nerdypisces160, @lokiisntdeadbitch, @e-wolf-90, @cursedmoonstone-blog, @kikaninchen-2, @bluebellhairpin, @evy-lyn, @midnight-queen-1, @travelingmypassion, @harrybpoetry, @adefectivedetective, @absolutecraziness13, @kumikokagato, @randomfangirl7, @timetraveler1978, @tarynkauai, @arcanethamin, @ornate-ribcage, @julianettedoe, @kinghiddlestonanddixon, @yespolkadotkitty, @befearlesslyauthenticc, @ladybugsfanfics

#loki #thor #marvel #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x oc #loki fanfic #pirate!loki #reader insert

[scullysexual]

titanic au | multichapter-au | au | multiple parts | historical au | msr | mature | ao3 | 3/13 |

For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who's had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

It’s officially on AO3 however only the first two chapters are posted. Chapter three will be posted either tomorrow or Sunday depending on what time I’m working with. @today-in-fic​

- - -

A Jewel Beneath The Moonight: Chapter Three.

She extends her hand instead and Mulder gawks at it before his own hand grips hers and they shake. An electric buzz goes through her- one she can’t say she’s ever felt before as she beholds the man in front of her.

She’d seen him before, earlier, near the gate, felt him staring at her and when he wasn’t looking, she’d stares back at him.

She didn’t believe in fate, it was just coincidence that they would meet again, after all they’re stuck on a ship- a big ship but a ship all the same, they’re paths were bound to cross again and probably again another time.

But that buzz. Dana couldn’t explain it, she didn’t think anyone could.

They break contact, arms falling back to their sides.

“Scully…” Mulder says, testing her name out on his tongue. It sounded weird to be called by her surname; she was Dana to her family, sometimes Dee to Charlie, and Girl for the family she’d worked for briefly in London, but never was she Scully.

She liked it. And she liked it coming from him.

“I saw you earlier,” she says. “Staring.”

He looks away, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Scully shrugs, smiling slightly. “It’s fine. You get used to it.”

Mulder looks at her shocked. “I wasn’t staring because you’re…you’re…” He struggles to find the words.

“Poor?” Scully offers, not feeling as offended as maybe she should be.

He shakes his head quickly. “No! Because you’re…”

“Fox!”

Scully turns to find an entourage of people walking towards them. An older Mulder leads the pack as the rest follow.

“I thought you’d gone back to your room?” the older man says.

“I went to get some air, see if that would help,” Mulder explains.

Scully watches the scene unfold in front of her, her eyes flicking back between Mulder and who she can only presume is his father.

“Well, we’re all heading back now, perhaps you would like to come with us?” It wasn’t a question.

Mulder nods and Scully doesn’t miss the way they outwardly ignore that she’s even there. She’s not naïve to what the upper class, English upper class especially, think of her, of her country and her ‘outlandish’ ways so she stands in silence, gladly to be invisible for this moment.

“Let’s go then,” the father says, reaching for Mulder’s arm.

Scully doesn’t miss the way Mulder tenses for a second then relaxes. She wasn’t always the best at reading people but she can see here that there’s no real relationship, no love, and as she watches the two she realises she has no affiliation with this type of dynamic. She may not of always seen eye-to-eye with her parents, her own father especially the older she got, but there was love there, that was one thing she had a lot of.

She watches Mulder begin to walk off, feeling for him in that moment and maybe he’d felt that sympathy, turning back to look at her, a sad smile across his face.

The next day brings Charlie dragging her down the corridor. He’d made a few friends last night it seems and he seemed anxious for her to meet one of them.

“Charlie, where are we actually going?” she asks, slightly annoyed, she had better things than be dragged down a hallway by Charlie.

“Hugo,” Charlie says turning back to her. “He mentioned last night that his daughter had come down with something and he was worried.”

Scully sighs, rolling her eyes. “So you mentioned me?” she huffs.

Charlie shrugs, stopping as they reach Room 52. “I just said I had a sister who was good at medicine and she might be able to help.” He knocks on the door twice then begins to walk away, Scully notices, catching his arm and pulling him back before he could go any further.

“You’re not gonna stay with me?”

“You’ll be fine,” Charlie says, taking his arm from her grasp. “Just do what you do.” He walks off then leaving Scully alone in the long corridor.

The door opens and a large man stands in the doorway, towering over Scully.

“You are Charlie’s sister?” the man, who Scully assumes is the Hugo her brother mentioned, asks.

“Aye. Your daughter is sick?”

Hugo nods, stepping out of the way to allow Scully into the small space.

A girl no older than eight lies in a bed, from where she stands Scully can see the sweat dripping down her face, hear her ragged wee breaths. Dana steps into the room, donning the Doctor Scully persona she’s already made up and walks over to the bed.

She sits in the space near the edge. “Hello. I’m Dana, what’s your name?”

“Agnes,” the little lass splutters.

Scully smiles, “That’s a pretty name.” She touches Agnes’ forehead feeling the head radiating off her. Turning to Hugo, she asks, “How long has she been like this?”

“Three days,” Hugo answers holding up three fingers to indicate. “They said they would not let us on ship but we begged and we told them Agnes would get better but she has not.”

Scully nods, looking back down at the girl.

“Do you know what is wrong with her, Doctor?”

A thrill ripples through Scully to hear be referred to as a doctor. She pushes that thrill aside, however, there’s time to bask in that later.

She moves from the bed to the wash basin in the corner. Grabbing a cloth nearby she runs it underneath the cold water before rinsing it and returning back to Agnes, placing the cloth against her forehead.

She thinks back to the journals, to her own gathered knowledge of caring for Charlie when he was sick.

“It’s just a fever,” Scully says. “It’ll break soon and I’m sure Agnes will be back to normal.”

Hugo looks as though he’s about to cry. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, thank you.”

Scully smiles, warmth spreading through her. There’s a knock on the door then and Hugo’s sincere expression turns to one of confusion. He turns back to the door, opening it slowly.

On the other side stands Mulder ducking slightly in the short doorway and looking entirely lost.

Scully stands, dumbfounded at why he’s here.

“Mulder?” she asks.

“You know this man?” Hugo asks.

“He’s a friend,” Scully clarifies. “Take Agnes out to the docks as much as you can, the fresh air will do her some good.” Hugo nods as Scully leaves, her hand grasping Mulder’s as she pulls him away from the door.

“What are you doing down here?” she asks now that her attention isn’t divided.

“I was looking for you,” Mulder says. “Your brother said you were in Room 52 so…”

In his other hand, she notices he carries a black book. Still holding his hand she guides him along the corridor to the exit.

“Come on, you cannae be seen down here.”

They pass through the Galley on their way to the deck, many people gawking at Mulder and his fancy clothing on the way out. Scully tries to get him out of there as soon as possible but not missing Charlie’s frowning questioning look as she goes.

Once outside, she lets go of his hand.

“You’re a doctor?” Mulder asks, completely surprised.

Scully blushes, trying not to let it show. “Not really,” she admits. “Though I’m trying to be. It’s why we’re here, everywhere else said no so we thought maybe America would be better.”

It still pains her to remember the looks of disbelief she got when she went into the schools and hospitals asking for a place. Some had looked at her like she was seriously ill, others thought she was joking and some even laughed in her face. She was ready to give it all up, to sail back to Ireland and forget about it all, marry some farmer’s son and have some children, all until Charlie won the tickets.

“That’s amazing,” says Mulder. They begin they’re walk down the deck to the gate that separates third class from second.

Scully smiles, not quiet sure she’d heard the words right, and tucks a piece of her behind her ear.

“It’s worth trying, I suppose.” They pass through the gate, ignoring the incredulous looks the second class passengers give them as they witness the rules be broken so poignantly and a clearly first class passenger conversing with steerage.

“What’s this?” Wanting to steer the conversation away from her, Scully reaches for the black book in his hand. She gasps as her hand touches real leather, feels the material under her fingers tips.

“That’s not…”

She opens the first page and is completely taken away by the imagine that stares up at her.

A drawing of a girl between seven and nine stares back at her, her hair in pigtails and the biggest smile on her face as she jumps in the waves.

Scully stops frozen, staring at the drawing in complete amazement.

“Mulder…” she says, unbelieving what she sees before her. “Did you…did you draw this?” she asks.

Mulder nods. “I was eleven,” he says, redness forming on his cheeks. “It was the first one I drew.”

“There’s more?” Scully asks, wanting to see more of this beauty. She flips the page- an old man sitting on a bench in the park, flips another page- a girl playing with a skipping rope, a boy playing football. “Mulder, these are…” She flips more pages, finds more drawings, each one increasing in detail. “These are incredible.”

“Here,” he takes the book from her, sitting down on the bench and Scully follows. “Let me show you my favourite one.” He flips the pages further along, Scully catches glimpses of each piece of art, more and more impressed with his talent. He stops on a page that shows a woman sitting in a restaurant or diner. Mulder hands the book back to Scully and she takes it, staring at the drawing, all it’s intricacies.

“There was this restaurant in New York that we used to go to all the time and every time we would go there, that woman would always be there.” He points to the clothing. “See how her clothes are all moth eaten? I thought, maybe, something had happened to her husband and she went back to the first place they met, or the first place they had dinner together, and she was just waiting for him to come back. Waiting in that same spot, never moving, as the moths eat her clothes…”

Scully gazes at the drawing, lulled by Mulder’s voice and story, completely enraptured by all of it. See could see it. See the restaurant, see the woman as though she was real, see the story being true.

“That’s beautiful, Mulder,” she says, turning her head slightly to look at him, her heart filling up with something unexplainable for a stranger she had only met last night.

“Do you have anymore like that?” Before receiving an answer she flicks through more pages. She catches a glimpse of the next set of drawings, and a glimpse is all she needs before Mulder snatches the book away and Scully just Ohs.

“Sorry,” Mulder apologises, nervously. “You weren’t meant to see them. Nobody’s ever seen them.”

Scully doesn’t care though, she’s interested, having got a small peak at another part of Mulder’s mind, she wants to see it fully.

“Show me,” she says, daring him to.

“Are you sure?” she asks, the book clutched firmly between his fingers.

“I want to see them.”

Slowly he hands the book back to her. She reopens the page she was on and is met with a full-bodied drawing of a naked woman.

Scully isn’t jealous, she can’t be, Mulder is just a person she barely knows (but also knows everything about) and he’s entitled to his life, to draw who and what she wants, but while she looks at the drawing, Scully can’t help but wonder who this woman was to Mulder. Was she someone he once cared about? Or was she just something to draw? Scully glances to Mulder, hoping that empathy, that connection the two seem to have with each other, is strong enough to read minds, strong enough for him to answer her silent question.

It isn’t.

And it doesn’t.

Scully moves on, to the next page. This one a series of close-ups consisting of breasts and vaginas, but it’s the page next to it that Scully becomes interested in. A series of hands, some the same hand and others different, all from different angles.

“Why hands?” she asks.

“They tell who a person is,” Mulder says. “Like yours…” He takes her hand off the page, holding it close to his face. “I noticed they’re always clean.” He thumb runs along her fingers, gliding across her nails and sparks shoot through her, from fingers to toes. “And you cut your nails regularly. They’re soft, too.” He turns her hand over, palm now facing him as his thumb runs along there too. “Despite your poverty, you’ve never been forced to work.”

With his analysing done, Scully takes her hand back and looks at it.

“How wrong was I?” He asks, waiting for her to tell him he was very wrong.

Scully smiles, moved but slightly scared. “You’re not,” she whispers and a smile breaks across his face.

“You have a real skill, Mulder,” Scully says, she looks back down at the drawings. “You see people, for who they really are.”

“I try to.”

Scully stares at him, frustrated at how modest he is but also humbled by it. He honestly doesn’t see what a rare gift he has.

“What about you then?” he asks, taking the book back and closing it. “Aside from fixing people, what skills do you have?”

A mischievous smile appears across Scully’s face. Perhaps he’s expecting something along the same lines as his, but there is only one other skill Scully can think to show him.

She stands up. “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

Curiosity now replacing his modest expression, he follows Scully along the deck and through the final gate to first class, once again thrilled by breaking the rules but feeling completely free of the consequences. She finds the most secluded area and looks out towards the sea.

“Now,” she begins capturing Mulder’s full attention. “This is a skill that I’m very proud of.”

“Okay…”

She gives one last mischievous smile, fully planning on shocking Mulder, ready to gauge that reaction.

Just as she was taught, she gathers up as much spit as she can, puffs lips out, pulls her head back and shoots forward over the railings as a ball of spit flies out into the ocean.

She looks to Mulder when she’s done, finds him completely awe struck.

“Miss Scully,” he admonishes with a smile and light of voice. “And I thought you were above your kind’s crude ways?”

Scully laughs, pleased with herself and pleased he isn’t offended by such a minuscule thing.

“There are some things I have in common with them. You try.”

He looks at her for help. “I don’t…?”

“It’s easy,” she says, shaking her head. She begins the process again. “Get as much spit as you can, gather it together, lips puffy, head back, swing forward and shoot.” Another ball of spit shoots into the air and falls into the ocean again.

Mulder tries, doing as she says, and his attempt is pitiful, most of it falling down his chin. Scully laughs.

“You can do better than that.”

She watches his second attempt, watches him try his hardest to get as far as her spit went.

Not quite there but better than the first time.

Lost in teaching him how to spit far, Scully doesn’t hear the group of people approaching, continues to gather spit, making less than appealing noises to do so, it’s only when she’s sees Mulder has gone rigid beside her that she stops and turns towards the four women who stand there.

“Fox?” The oldest woman says. “What are you doing?”

“I was just, um…”

The woman’s eyes fall to Scully, her gaze strong and unforgiving.

“Rules are set to keep order,” the woman begins to explain. Scully thinks she’s saying them to Mulder but her stare doesn’t weaver from Scully. “They keep things as they’re supposed to be, nothing out of place, nothing in the wrong place.” Her eyes move to Mulder. “You know that, Fox.”

Mulder nods. “I do, Mother. But I thought this could be an exception. See, I invited Miss Scully onto the deck.”

His mother’s lips pursue at the mention of Scully’s last name, a thin line forming.

“Scully.” The woman’s eyes fall back to Dana. “A very old Irish name, isn’t it?”

Scully shifts uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than any of the women to not acknowledge her presence, but she’s on their deck and that is a wish that is soon not to be granted.

“Aye, Ma’am,” says Scully.

“What does it mean?”

Dana thinks for a moment, her mind backtracking from it’s anglicised form to the Gaelic form and translated form.

“Student,” Scully answers, unsure of the relevance of this question.

The mother only huffs in reply.

“You know the rules, Fox.”

They make eye contact, her and Mulder, a promise that they’ll see each other again sometime.

“I need to get back to my brother anyway.”

As she goes to leave, she catches Mulder’s eyes once more. He glances down to his hand and her eyes follow. The book.

She leans closer into him, using her arm to conceal the book and takes it, quickly moving it in front of her.

“Miss Scully!” A younger, more clear-cut voice rings through the air and Scully turns, moving the book to behind her back.

“Yes?”

The youngest girl steps forward, standing next to Mulder’s mother.

“How would you like to join us for dinner tonight?”

“Phoebe…” Mulder whispers through gritted teeth, even Mrs Mulder turns to the girl in utter shock- the other two women stand watching.

Surprised too, Scully thinks for a second. “You want me to join you for dinner in first class?”

“Yes,” Phoebe says, a grin itching across her face. “My invitation since you seem to be a friend of Fox’s, I think it’s worth getting to know you.”

Scully knows how this works, knows she’s in a catch-22; she can’t deny this request but by agreeing she’s submitting herself to a night of humiliation and cattiness.

Scully supposes she’d just have to be catty back.

“Of course I will, Miss…?”

“Miss Green,” says Phoebe. “Soon to be Mrs Mulder.” Her left hand moves in front of her right, the gigantic engagement ring that could not doubt feed her and Charlie for years if they got their hands on it, shines on her ring finger.

Scully looks briefly to Mulder who, quiet accurately, looks away. Maybe the mention of a fiancé would have been grand, Mulder.

“Of course, Miss Green. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

#txf #titanic au #as usual support is appreciated #i love validation #it is my oxygen #sorry if this is ooc #i cant judge currently #im that tired #also wanna point that out #i went from shitting myself posting this #to it now looking all professional #and not being scared anymore #and thats literally thanks to the reception the first two chapters received #thank you

[loverjohnny]

TAKE ME HOME (Johnny Suh x OC x Qian Kun Fic)

TITLE: Take Me Home (Uni!AU)

GENRE: Fluff x Angst x Smut

PAIRING: Johnny x Chihye (OC) x Kun

WARNINGS: Mentions of illness, adult themes, swearing/cussing [chapters with smut shall be marked with an (M)] 

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY: Johnny and Chihye were high school sweethearts who fell apart after Chihye mysteriously moved away without telling anyone, not even the love of her life. Two years later, they cross paths once again. Are they still meant for each other? Or is Chihye better off with a fresh romance and a hopeful future with Kun?

A/N: Just like I said on my first post, I’m new to this whole gig of writing fics. If there are any errors you’d like to point out and clarify, please let me know. :) I hope you enjoy! Leave me some feedback. <3 

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

With his hair still dripping wet and a towel around his waist, Johnny emerged from his bathroom as he hurriedly searched for his phone, which rang with 10-minute intervals, in his chaotic mess of a room.

“Fucking hell! Where is that goddamn phone?” he said as he scrambled through his dark bed sheets, fresh from the sins of the night before.

Behind him, a young woman clothed only in his university shirt held the sleek device in her hand, “Looking for this?”  

“Thanks,” Johnny said as he was putting his dark jeans on. He then took the phone from her, and placed it right in his back pocket. “Listen, Belle. I was thinki⁠—“

“It’s Mel,” she corrected him.

“Sorry, Mel. So listen, I gotta go get to class. It’s my first day back and I’m obviously about to be late,” he picked up his notebooks on the bedside table and stuffed them into his backpack.

Hugging him from the back, Mel replied with a seductive grin, “No worries, babe, it’s all good. Maybe I can get to see you after then?”

For Johnny, it has” been a routine to sleep with girls that he had no plans of committing to. After all, that’s all he really needed—a quick fuck. His soft, dark hair and light brown eyes were only a bonus to his charming and alluring personality. On top of all that, he was intellectual and had a say on everything ranging from politics to philosophy to music. It’s no wonder the girls would swoon over him. Even if they knew him for his reputation, they were all romanced by the idea that they could change him for the better.

But deep down, Johnny knew he would never change.

He knew that he would never settle down, not until she came back.

He knew that he wouldn’t come home to anyone, not unless she came home.

Not even to him, just home. Johnny just wanted her home. Johnny just wanted to know that she was okay and that she was still her. But ever since she left him without warning two years ago, things were never the same for Johnny.

Johnny turned around to face Mel, “Uh, I can’t really do later.”

“Maybe tomorrow?”

He removed her hands, which were now around his neck and answered, “Well… maybe not ever. I’m sorry. I’m just… it’s school again and—“

Before he could even finish talking, Mel removed his shirt that she was wearing and threw it right into Johnny’s chest. She quickly changed into the dress she had worn from yesterday and headed straight to the door

“Mel, I’m sorry. You know, I just don’t think I can handle a relationship while—”

Right as she was about to leave, she turned back to Johnny, “You know what, forget it. They were all right when they said I couldn’t trust you. I thought I could change you but you’re just as sick as they say!” She slammed the door.

Johnny stood in his apartment unbothered. It wasn’t unusual for him to hear that very same dialogue as he had done so a lot of times before. Letting out a big sigh of relief that she had finally left, he picked up the t-shirt on the floor, got his bag and walked towards the door.

Riiing riiing riiing!

“I thought I turned this damn thing off,” Johnny whispered to himself. Annoyed by the nth alarm that went off that morning, he reached for his phone from his pocket to turn it off. But as soon as he saw the notification that lit up his screen, his irritation from the moment before had instantly turned into a mood of melancholy.

4th year Anniversary with Jung Chihye today

To anyone who has been a victim of timing, whether it was good or bad, one would definitely understand how significant the precision of fleeting seconds are and how they can change everything.  On the morning of Johnny’s first day back in college, the hands of the clock worked in his favor. Two minutes before the bell rang, Johnny was able to find his way into his seat beside his good friend, Doyoung.

“God, Johnny. I don’t know how you’re able to fuck around and still do well in school,” Doyoung said to Johnny as he rolled his eyes.

“Is there anything I can’t do?” Johnny jokingly replied.

“Keep a girl and actually want her?”

“Ha ha. You are very funny Mr. President. So is there anyone we know in class today?”

Johnny scanned the room and looked around before he suddenly froze. At the far end, across the rows of tables, he saw one particular face—one that was all too familiar for him—his ex girl friend Chihye.

He must’ve lost all the blood in his face when he saw her. She was there, she was actually standing just feet away from him. He wanted to run to her, he wanted to call her name, but he couldn’t. Mouth opened and completely disoriented, Johnny sat in his chair staring at her until she hurriedly ran out the room.

Johnny snapped back to reality when Doyoung waved his hand right in front of his face, “Uhh hello? Johnny? I was talking to you? I won’t be here to conduct interviews for our org applicants next month so you’re going to have to take over.”

“Ah, uh, right. Yeah. Wait, hold on. I think I just—“

“Did you see the ‘Ghost of Christmas Past’ or something? You just blanked out, Johnny,”

“No, it was not a ghost nor was it Christmas. But definitely my past,” he replied. “Oh, so it’s some girl you bailed on before. You’re lucky she didn’t come to punch your guts,” Doyoung said mocking Johnny, “Why don’t you go follow her? She probably didn’t see you. If she does, then she’ll want to punch you for sure.”

“You know what, I will. Tell the professor I had a bad stomach ache or something, will you?”

Faster than lightning, Johnny came back to his senses and followed Chihye out. However, he didn’t expect to see the volume of the crowd that filled the wide corridors. He frantically searched from left to right, but to no avail. Desperate to find his ex girl friend for answers, he ran as fast as he could across the multitude of students only to bump into another familiar face.

“Johnny?”

“Jung Jaehyun,” he said answered as he pulled him into a hug.

Jaehyun was just as stunned to see him, “Johnny, I can’t believe it. You’re studying here, too? Out of all the people, I didn’t expect to run into you.”

“Jaehyun, you’re here. Where have you guys been? I mean, how’s your family? Your mom, your dad, your grandparents, your—“

“My twin sister?”

“Your sister… is she with you?”

“She is, Johnny. Look, why don’t you guys stop by the house tonight. Bring Mark and Ahra, too, if you still keep in touch with them. We’ll explain everything about, you know, why we left…”

“Alright, Jaehyun. I’d like that. I’ll see you then,”

“She’ll be there. I promise,” replied Jaehyun.

That morning, Johnny felt like time was working well for him—like he had full control of it. But if only he truly could, he would press the fast forward button to that night, to the minute he was going to be with her again.  

#nct #nct 127 #nct johnny #nct johnny suh #johnny #johnny suh #youngho #seo youngho #nct fic #nct fanfiction #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #johnny fic #johnny suh fic #johnny fluff #johnny smut #johnny angst #johnny suh smut #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh angst #wayv #wayv kun #wayv qian kun #qian kun #kun fic

[elenajohansenauthor]

#tumblrspiritweek, Wordy Wednesday, Part I

Since this is all about our own work, now’s a good opportunity for some #shameless self promotion. I’ve already posted the first chapter of my first novel, What We Need to Survive, a few times, but not recently.

The overview: post-apocalyptic romance, grim world but hopeful message, first of a trilogy following the same couple, potential triggers = global collapse due to illness, rape mention, gun violence, other weapon violence, onscreen character deaths (not the mains! yes there is a happy ending!)

I KNOW THIS ISN’T NECESSARILY WHAT EVERYONE WANTS TO READ RIGHT NOW. I’m not trying to be insensitive, but I also couldn’t know in 2015 when I published this that I’d be trying to make a living as an author through an actual pandemic. I am writing other things that don’t have plagues in them (and I will post the first chapter of my current WIP later today) but I love these books and I’d be sad to give up on them just because the real world sucks right now.

So I get it, if this is the wrong time for you to read this. Check back later today for some rock-star action.

If you’re still here through all of that, this book is currently on sale for 99 cents and the trilogy omnibus edition for $4.99;or if you’re up for reading it in a timely fashion and leaving an honest review, I’m always willing to send out [free, digital] review copies, hit me up.

Below the cut: the first chapter in its entirety.

Chapter 1 - Cigarette Lighters

August 23rd, 4:23 pm – Somewhere along US-36, Central Ohio

Paul kicked a rock out of his path, watching it bounce and skitter down the highway.

He saw no point in wasting breath on cursing the weather. One squall of rain caught him earlier in the day, forcing him into the cramped shelter of one of the abandoned cars dotting the road. But the boom of thunder in the distance worried him. He’d spent plenty of nights out in the open. Sleeping in the rain was miserable enough, but he imagined sleeping through a storm would be next to impossible.

He looked up, but thick forest on both sides of the highway hid all but the narrowest strip of sky. Blank, unbroken gray hovered above him. There was no way to judge how close the storm was, except for the unreliable system of counting Mississippis.

The closest building he remembered passing was at least half an hour behind him, maybe an hour. The closest town he’d left behind yesterday afternoon. Turning back might get him to shelter before the storm struck, if he hurried.

Or it might not. The road ahead curved away from him, and the trees could hide anything.

Paul kept moving forward, faster under the threat of rain.

Ten minutes later, he spied a gas station and picked up his pace even more.

As he got closer, the station didn’t seem promising. Most of the windows gaped empty, broken down to their frames, and the front door hung askew on a broken hinge. The first fallen leaves of the season littered the parking lot. Shards of glass from the broken windows and random bits of trash lay scattered among them.

The rain started as Paul reached the edge of the parking lot. He sprinted for the cover of the roof protecting the pumps.

Hard-won caution kept him from dashing the rest of the way inside. Instead he approached the building with slow, deliberate steps, holding up his empty hands. “Hello in there!” he called. “Anybody home?”

There was no answer, but Paul remained wary. When he was a few yards from the open door, he stopped and called again. “Is anyone there? I ain’t lookin’ for trouble, just a place to get out of the rain.”

A shuffling sound came from his right, and a movement that flickered in the corner of his eye. He turned toward it and saw a gun pointed in his direction. The gunman himself hid in the shadow of the empty window frame.

“Stay where you are!” the man shouted. His voice was deep and authoritative, the kind of voice that focused the attention of anyone who heard it. Paul didn’t doubt it belonged to a man willing to shoot him, if necessary.

“No trouble,” Paul repeated. “I was hopin’ this place was empty, ‘cause I’d rather be inside than out with a storm overhead. But if I ain’t welcome, I’ll move on.”

“Stay right there, and give me a minute!”

Paul did as the man ordered, watching the gun in the window, which didn’t move. He guessed the man was talking to someone inside, but he couldn’t hear anything. While he waited, the rain grew heavier, pinging on the corrugated metal of the roofing like the highest notes played on a huge steel drum.

“You got any weapons?” the deep-voiced man called out.

“Just the knife on my belt,” Paul answered. “No guns.”

“You can wait out the storm with us in here, then be on your way. Sound reasonable?”

Paul lowered his hands. “Yeah, that’s good.” The gun disappeared from the window, and the knot of tension in Paul’s chest loosened. He hadn’t believed he was going to get shot, but he was relieved to be right.

Unless they were going to rob him the minute he walked in the door. But it was too late to run now. If they meant to take his supplies, then the man with the gun could shoot him in the back when he fled.

Best to play along.

A man with dark brown skin and chin-length dreadlocks appeared in the doorway. He was shorter than Paul, but that didn’t mean he could be dismissed as a threat, since he was much more heavily muscled. His straight-backed posture and firm gaze shouted military to Paul. Or maybe cop. And he sported a holster on his belt. The man with the gun.

Unless there’s more than one of ‘em.

When Paul didn’t move, he flashed a grin, wide and startlingly white. “Come on in,” he said, beckoning with one hand. He stood aside to let Paul through.

The inside of the station wasn’t in any better shape than the outside. The metal shelving units were empty, all the chocolate bars and potato chips gone. Glass-fronted refrigerators lined the back wall, but those were empty, too. At the counter, the cash register lay on its side, the drawer popped loose. Paul guessed that had happened in the first few days, when looters thought money still meant something. It hadn’t taken long before that wasn’t true anymore. Dark patches stained the white linoleum floor. Paul hoped they weren’t blood. Though they probably were.

“I’m John,” the man said. His voice sounded almost friendly, and Paul lifted his hand in automatic reaction to meet John’s for a shake. He dropped it when he saw there was no hand offered.

“Paul.” He settled for giving John a nod instead.

John turned and headed for an open space beyond the counter. Paul meant to follow, but he stopped short at the sight of a girl crouched under the window. She was small, her thin limbs folded in on themselves to take up as little space as possible. Her black hair was oddly uneven in length, not quite reaching her shoulders. Paul guessed it was growing out from whatever shorter style she’d had, before. Her wide eyes watched him with silent tension, like a fawn ready to bolt to safety.

Paul hadn’t met many kids on the road, but most of them looked a lot like her. Frail and frightened, not ready to face what the world had become since the plague had ruined everything.

Before Paul could decide what to say to her—or even if he should say anything at all—she shot to her feet and followed John across the room. Her ill-fitting clothes didn’t completely hide the curves of her body, and the swing of her hips was shocking and compelling at the same time. She wasn’t a young girl at all. Her head wouldn’t even reach Paul’s shoulder, but she was a grown woman, right down to the angry toss of her hair.

But still frightened.

Paul let her have her distance from him. With any luck, the storm would pass before nightfall, leaving him time to move on and make camp somewhere else for the night. He’d shared makeshift shelter with strangers before, talked, and traded, but he never slept well. And it was no great leap to guess the woman didn’t want him there.

Though she had let him in, at least. That was why she’d been at the window, Paul guessed—John had checked with her before giving Paul permission.

Lightning flashed outside. Paul counted four-Mississippi before the thunder rolled over the building. After the next strike, he counted three.

If the light were better, he could pass the time scribbling in his notebook. A half-formed song had haunted his thoughts for days, and he’d welcome a chance to jot down the lyrics. But it would be a waste of ink and paper trying to write by lightning flashes.

If the company were better, he could talk and see about some trading. He was running lower than he liked on food, though he had enough to see him through the next day or two. The towns on this stretch of the highway all seemed to be one or two days apart, so he expected to hit another one tomorrow. He could spend a day searching houses for supplies.

Glancing around the interior of the station, he wondered if there was a rack of local road maps. So far, he’d been navigating by the ones posted on the walls at rest stations. But it was too dark to see much of anything, except a weak glow from the far corner. Someone had lit a candle. He heard low voices talking. John’s, he recognized. Another one, lighter and higher-pitched, he assumed was the woman’s. But there was a third, too, higher still and squeaky.

Another flash of lightning drew Paul’s attention back to the window. No need to introduce himself to the others if they were only company while the storm lasted. With nothing else to do, he cleared a space on the counter, sat on it, and watched the storm.

There was a light patter of footsteps. Paul turned just as someone reached out to touch his arm. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Paul replied. The boy looked about nine or ten. His skin was almost the same deep brown shade as John’s. The glow of the candlelight behind him traced the edges of his short corkscrew curls, giving them a faint golden sheen.

“Do you want to trade with us before we eat dinner?” he asked, half-polite and half-shy. “Maybe we have something different, if you’re tired of what you got.”

“Sure.” Paul slid off the counter top and followed the boy over to the others.

John sat cross-legged with his back to one wall. “Aaron, I told you not to bother him.”

Aaron shrugged as he settled beside John. “I just wanted to see if he had any different food we could trade for. I’m tired of peanut butter crackers.”

In the corner, the woman sat with her knees drawn up before her. She flicked a glance at Paul but said nothing as he pulled off his pack and sat down several feet away.

“You might be in luck, then, Aaron,” Paul said. “I’ve got some granola bars. The s'mores kind, I think.”

Aaron gave him a big smile that was nearly identical to John’s. Paul didn’t want to leap to any conclusions based on the fact that they were both black, but they looked enough alike to be father and son. So far, they were acting like it.

Paul stole another glance at the woman as she stared into the candle flame, ignoring everything else. Her skin was a lighter golden brown, under the smudges of dirt. And despite the realization that she wasn’t a child, she didn’t look anywhere near old enough to be Aaron’s mother. So who was she, and how did she end up with them?

The sound of a zipper snapped his thoughts back into focus—Aaron had a battered red backpack on the floor in front of him. He reached in and pulled out two packets of crackers.

Paul rifled through his own supplies and turned up two granola bars in exchange. He was about to ask what else they might want, open-ended, to see if he could draw the woman out at all. Before he could, he heard wet, squelching footsteps from the front of the building. He leaped to his feet, whirling to face the newcomers. Three of them, two women and a man, all middle-aged, all splattered with rain.

“Easy, Paul.” John’s voice was firm. “They’re with us.”

“If we’d known the rain would start so soon,” the man said, “we could’ve just set these outside and let the storm fill them up.” He had a large metal water bottle in each hand. One he passed to John, the other he set on the floor beside him as he sat down. “So you made a new friend while we were gone?”

A soft snort came from the corner, but John answered them without acknowledging it. “Just sharing the roof until the storm passes.”

The man pulled off his baseball cap, ran a tanned hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, and smiled. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to get rained on.” He stuck out his other hand, which Paul shook briefly. “Mark.”

“Paul.”

“And this is my wife, Sarah,” he went on as one of the women sat down on his other side. The rain plastered her short blond hair to her forehead, but she smiled too and passed the extra bottle she carried to Aaron.

“Nice to meet you, Paul,” she said.

The final newcomer was still standing, looking down at Paul with a curious intensity. “Hello there.” Handsome, Paul mentally tacked on, because that was the exact tone she used. Since she was staring, he did too.

She was tall, or maybe she only seemed tall because she was lean and angular. Her hair was a riot of messy red curls in dire need of a wash, but she was pretty, in a faded, tired sort of way. Before the plague hit, she must have been beautiful. Before her eyes grew ringed with dark circles and her cheeks hollowed out from lack of food. “I’m Alison.”

Paul nodded. Alison tilted her head to the side for a moment, clearly waiting for more. When she didn’t get it, she strode past him. Behind him, which made his shoulder blades itch before he realized she was going to the small woman’s side.

Who still hadn’t given her name. Someone would, though. Paul could be patient.

Alison leaned against the wall and tapped it twice with the extra bottle in her hand. The sound reminded Paul of a food dish being set on the floor for a pet. Without looking, the woman reached her hand up, palm flat, and Alison set the bottle on it. Neither of them said a word.

When Alison sat down between her and Paul, closer to him than he would have liked, he had to resist the urge to pull away. No sense in being rude if he was only here until the storm let up.

“So, Paul,” Mark said with forced cheerfulness, “which way you headed?”

“East.”

Mark’s lips twisted behind his dark scruff of a beard, which hadn’t gone as white as his hair yet. “Damn, us too. I was hoping you were coming from there, so we could get an idea what the road ahead was like.”

Shaking his head, Paul said, “Sorry I can’t be more help.”

“Maybe you can,” Sarah said. “Do you have anything to trade?”

With an easy smile, Paul asked, “What d'you need?”

Sarah pursed her lips as she thought, and the cuteness of the expression took years off her face. “Extra socks?” she asked, hopeful enough that Paul knew she needed them, but resigned enough that she didn’t expect to get them.

Paul shook his head and turned to Mark. “Smokes.” Which earned him a light slap on the shoulder from his wife. “What, it’s been weeks now!” But Paul’s answer was another shake of his head.

John had Aaron seated in his lap and was finger-combing the boy’s hair. “I’m not holding my breath that you’ve got any natural-hair care products. I’m more likely to get struck by lightning. Inside.”

The dry, deadpan tone startled a laugh out of Paul. “I ain’t even got anything for myself right now,” he said, scratching at his dark blond hair. “I’m way overdue for a wash, and dunkin’ my head in a river ain’t the same. I’d shave it all off if electric razors were still a thing.”

Mark gestured at him. “You’ve got a knife.”

“I’d cut myself to ribbons. I think I’ll keep bein’ shaggy for now.”

Aaron, sensing his turn, piped up. “Any books? I’ve read the one I have about a dozen times by now.”

“Not much of a reader,” Paul answered. “What book you got?”

“Treasure Island,” Aaron said. “I like adventure stories.”

Alison snorted. “You’re living in one.”

John gave her a narrow-eyed look over Aaron’s head, but he didn’t say anything.

“Pain killers.”

The sharp and sudden request focused Paul’s attention on its source, the unnamed woman. Gone was the frightened doe of a girl—now her eyes were hard and flat. “Half a bottle of aspirin,” he offered. “What’ll you give me for it?”

“All I’ve got to spare is food. Cheese crackers, chocolate bars, take your pick. Or a can of Red Bull, if you’re afraid to sleep in here with us tonight and want to stay awake instead.”

“Nina …” John said with more than a hint of warning in his voice.

So she’s got a name after all.

“It’s thunderstorm season,” she said. “We’ve been lucky so far they haven’t been worse, but this one’s not going to pass over in an hour like you hope. We’re going to be here overnight.”

Alison hunched forward, elbows on her knees. “How do you know?”

“The weather here isn’t much different from where I grew up,” she answered with a slight shrug. “I lived with this every summer as a kid.” She turned back to Paul. “Anyway, does that work for you?”

Medicine of any kind was valuable, even the common stuff like aspirin. Food was never a bad trade, but he doubted she had enough to spare. “You hurt?” he asked, stalling.

“Cramps,” she answered shortly, and Paul suppressed a grin.

Any urge he’d felt to smile, though, disappeared when Alison spoke. “I’d think you’d be glad you’re having them.”

Paul found the bottle in his pack and rolled it across the floor toward Nina. It stopped at the toe of her boot, and she stared at it without speaking. “Don’t need any food,” Paul said, though it wasn’t strictly true. “I’ve got enough for myself for now. But since y'all were here first, I figure anything left in this place is yours, and I saw some lighters in the display on the counter. I’d be happy with a few of those. Seems like a good thing to have, and they might come in handy for trades down the line.”

Off to his other side, John and Mark traded a stunned look—Paul guessed they hadn’t noticed the lighters. Mark got up to retrieve them. “Let’s see …” he said, counting. “If we each keep one for ourselves, that leaves six for you. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Paul said. Mark brought them over to him, and out of the corner of his eye Paul watched Nina. She didn’t reach out to take the aspirin until the lighters were in his hands. Mark distributed the rest of them while Nina swallowed a few pills with a swig from her water bottle. She noticed Paul watching and nodded at him. He figured that was the closest she would come to thanking him, so he gave her a smile. Not the huge, dazzling grin that his mother had once told him would break hearts someday. Instead it was the small curve at the corners that his girlfriends, over the years, had all told him was sweet. He used the first one on women he wanted to impress—the second was usually reserved for the ones he was already close to. But the last thing he wanted to do was make Nina think he was attracted to her.

Even though he was. Illuminated by the candlelight, Paul could see she had beautiful eyes, big, vividly blue, and fringed with thick lashes. He had a pronounced weakness for women with gorgeous eyes.

But Paul could see Nina wasn’t like some of the other women he’d met on the road in the aftermath of the plague. The ones just as lonely as he was, who were willing to trust him for the length of one night before they parted ways in the morning. He never looked back, and neither did they. There hadn’t been many, and it had been weeks since the last time, so it was only natural he’d find himself falling in lust with someone.

Even if prying words out of that someone was a challenge.

Before the silence between them stretched on too long, Paul forced himself to look away. “Alison, you want anything?”

#tumblrspiritweek #writeblr #What We Need to Survive #my writing #first chapter #self-promotion

[azaraspirit]

Transfusion: Ch2 teaser!

I had to post a teaser before work tomorrow! probably gonna edit the hell out of this but i wanted to give you guys a little something! hopefully ill finish the chapter wednesday and edit and have it all posted by this weekend!

summary: you and peter sneak out of the avengers tower. what could happen?

tagging some folks: @starksparker @thollandthot @hoforhaz @hazshauntedbelle @blissfulparker @thollandss @angelic-holland @angelhaz11 @madmadmilk @heyhihellowhatsup0 @hypnotized-so-mesmerized @peppermintpete @osterfield-holland-andcompany

“You’re taking us to a gas station?” you asked dully, seeing the Delmar sign across the street.

“Don’t judge. It’s so good. C’mon!” You both ran across the street, not waiting for the light considering it was dead, not a single moving car in sight.

“Hey, Peter!” an older greeted from behind the counter.

“Mr. Delmar!” Peter beamed. “This is my new friend y/n!”

The man seemed rather friendly but you had your guard up. He was a complete stranger. “Hello.” you greeted with a little wave.

Wow that was cute, Peter thought to himself, smiling.

“Why you here so late, Pete? Isn’t it a school night?”

Peter shrugged. “We were getting hungry and I thought y/n and I could have the best sandwiches in Queens.”

The man muttered something in Spanish, rolling his eyes. Peter spoke back in Spanish also which caught you off guard. You had no idea he could speak another language.

“Trying to sweet talk me, eh Parker?” he grinned. “What will it be?”

Peter looked up at the menu when you noticed something warm brush against your leg. You looked down to see a furry cat rubbing itself on you. “Aw, hello.” You bent down, never really getting to pet one before. “So soft.” you giggled.

“Hey, Murph likes you.” Peter chuckled, petting it as well. The kitty purred into his hand and went back to you. He perched on your knees, making you sit down on the floor.

Peter ordered for you both, not really caring about food anymore as you got lost in the soft fur of the cat. Murph rubbed his face against your cheek, making you giggle.

“Looks like you have some competition there, eh Parker?” Mr. Delmart teased as he handed him your sandwiches.

“Funny, Mr. Delmart, real funny.” Peter replied as he handed him the money.

“Must be a good person.” Mr. Delmar spoke up so you could hear, giving Peter his change.

You looked up. “Huh?”

“Murph doesn’t like many people but those he does have a good heart. Like Parker here.”

Peter shrugged. “I try.” He handed you your sandwich. “Try it. It’s good.”

You got up, gently setting Murph back down to take your food. You pulled the wrapper back, inspecting it before taking a bit. Your eyes widened as you hummed. “Damn, that’s good.”

“Told you!” Peter chuckled.

You and Peter stayed at the shop to eat the rest of your sandwiches, Murph still at your feet, meowing for attention. When you finished, you picked him back up, the kitty purring.

“You better come back now ya here?” Mr. Delmar asked you.

“I will, promise.” you smiled, kissing Murph on his head.

“It’s getting late, we should get back.” Peter said. “We’ll be back again soon, Murph okay?” He gave Murph a good head scratch.

“Bye, Murph, I’ll be back soon okay?” you told him.

The cat meowed sadly from the counter where you put him as you and Peter left, saying goodbye to Mr. Delmar.

“That was so good.” you said, happy that your stomach is full.

“Told you. Who knew Murph would like you so much.” Peter said.

“Guess I’m a good person, right?” you smirked.

“Right.” Peter nodded. “Let’s get going before anyone notices we’re gone.”

“Hey, I noticed you didn’t give him my last name.” you said.

“Oh, well he doesn’t know I’m Spider-Man so if he knew you were a Banner, he might figure it out.”

“Oh, okay yeah that makes sense.” It never occured to you having to keep your identity a secret. The world knew about the Avengers but you, not so much.

“Just gotta keep your last name on the down low.” Peter explained.

“Banner is a common one though isn’t?” you smirked.

“I’m serious. I don’t think your parents want the world to find out about you.”

“Oh, Peter being serious. Watch out, everyone.” you mocked.

“Funny.” Peter laughed.

“I haven’t known you for very long, Pete, but if there’s anything I do know, is that you don’t have a serious bone in your body.”

“Nuh-uh, take that back.” Peter pouted.

You paused, about to look both ways but thought why bother because there weren’t any cars around. You walked into the street, your hands in your hoodie’s pocket.

“Take it back, y/n. I can be serious.” Peter demanded.

You stopped walking half way in the crosswalk, turning to face Peter. “Okay, I’m sorry. You can be serious. Sometimes.”

“Thank you.” Peter said. His eyes widened, his hairs standing up on end. His spidey senses were going crazy but he couldn’t see any threat. “Y/n maybe we should-Y/n look out!”

#mysmileyspideyboi #my fics #transfusion fic #peter parker

[timelock97]

Time Never Stops

Chapter Eight: A Change in Plans

Word Count: 2491

Prologue   Ch 1   Ch 2   Ch 3   Ch 4   Ch 5   Ch 6   Ch 7

Warnings: Fluff, maybe some language

(Y/S) - your state

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I pack the last shirt into my suitcase before looking back at the wrapped gift sitting on my dresser. I smile as I walk over to it and pick up the pink and blue wrapped gift and bite my lip.

~

"You're pregnant," Izzy whispers, next to me.

I let out a soft giggle. I stare at the two pink lines in the test while placing a hand over my mouth. "I can't believe it. I mean, I can believe it, but I didn't think that it would happen this way." I place a hand over the nonexistent bump of my lower stomach.

"What are you going to do?" Izzy whispers, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

"You know I've always wanted kids. I see Tom in two weeks, and have a doctors appointment the morning before I fly out so I'll confirm it before hand. Then I guess I 'll just have to tell Tom."

"(Y/N/N), how do you think he will react?"

I let out a laugh, "We plan to spend the rest of our lives together, so I guess we'll just have to find out."

~

I carefully pack the package into my suitcase where Tom won't just pull it out all willy-nilly. I check my phone, noticing that Tom had texted me late the evening before, I can't wait to see you tomorrow, little lovely wife. Sleep well, I love you. I smile, zipping my suitcase and walking with it to the front door of my apartment. With one final sweep of the apartment, I grab my backpack and suitcase, lock up the door, and head down the stairs to drive to my doctor's appointment.

~

"Hey, Dr. Price." I smile, reaching out to shake her hand.

"How are you, dear?" She asks, squeezing my hand.

"I'm good, I actually had something to talk to you about since we were originally going to change my birth control."

"And what would that be?" She smiles, sitting down on the stool in front of me.

"Um, so I have been feeling sick for the past few weeks, moody, having to pee constantly and out of curiosity I took a pregnancy test and, well, it came back positive."

Dr. Price quickly grabs her chart, "Sexually active?"

"Yeah, I would say that," I laugh.

She stands moving to grab a few things out of her drawer. "I am going to assume you want us to confirm?" She raises an eyebrow at me, and I nod at her. "I need to draw blood."

"Yeah, I figured that." I squeeze my hands together in anticipation. "I'll be okay to fly today, right?"

"Yeah, ma'am." She states as she moves to my side, "Now, tell me, what is his name?"

I laugh, shutting my eyes as she begins preparing my arm. "Tom, he's my best friend. I've known him my entire life." I let out a small laugh, smiling at my feet.

"I bet this wasn't part of the plan."

"Definitely not."

"Well," she moves from beside me, "we are all done. It'll be about 10 minute, then we could do an ultrasound if its positive?"

"Sounds perfect." I whisper. Once Dr. Price slips out of the room, I let out a soft sigh, sliding off the table to grab my phone from my purse. I smile seeing Tom had texted me.

-

Thomas💙

How's your app?

My Future💍

Good, should be out of here in thirty

Then I am off to the airport.

Thomas💙

Cannot wait to see you, love

My Future💍

Can't wait to be with you again

I'm in need of cuddles

Thomas💙

I will give you all of them

But Z did want to take you for the afternoon

Dress shopping for the premiere

My Future💍

Sounds like fun

But cuddles first

Thomas💙

Done 😘

-

I sigh as I sit back on the table, scrolling through social media until the door opens again.

"Just me," Dr. Price says, smiling, "Congrats, you are indeed expecting. Let's get you ready for an ultrasound, yeah?"

I nod, grabbing my purse, and following her down the hall to another room. She instructs me to lay down and pull my shirt up before squirting the gel on my stomach. I wince at the cold, letting out a surprised squeal, making her smile. She mores the wand around before we both hear the faintest sound.

A heart beat. My baby's heart beat.

She turns the monitor toward me. "You look to be about eight maybe eight and a half weeks along. So that right there," she points with a pencil, "is your little one!"

"Can I get a picture?" I whisper, seeing her nod beside me before she wipes the gel from off my stomach.

"I'll have everything ready for you up front." She states before leaving me in the room.

I smile and place my hand on my stomach. "Hello in there, little one."

~

My eyes scan the L.A. airport for any signs of Tom. The latest text stated that he would be coming to get me with Zendaya, since she had a car. I drag my suitcase beside me, smiling at a few fans who waved and called out my name as I made my way to where Tom should have been.

I immediately giggle once I see him. Tom is standing on a bench, skimming the crowd for me with a sign that says, my love, in big swoopy letters. I take out my phone and take a quick picture to post later before picking up my pace to get to him.

Tom finally sees me, or I can assume so when he smiles brightly and hops off the bench. Within a few feet of the pick up area I see Tom moving toward me, and I take the chance to throw myself, as carefully as I can, into his waiting arms.

"Hello, love," he mutters into my neck, smiling as he places a few kisses there.

"Hey, handsome." I pull away, only to be pulled back to him in a kiss. I tangle my fingers into his hair as he deepens the kiss, dipping me playfully. The sound of camera shutters pulls me away from the not-so-private moment as I lock eyes with a few paps on the edge of the airport.

Tom notices my gaze and waves with me to them. "I didn't think they would follow us here-"

"Not like you told them you were coming to get me. Besides, it could be a lot worse." I run my fingers along his jaw, "We could have been doing something a lot worse." I tease, making him roll his eyes at me.

"Well, let's head out, huh, pretty girl?" He asks, taking my hand in one of his then grabbing my suitcase with the other.

"Let's go, Spidey."

Tom drags me out of the airport to a black car that I can tell is Zendaya's. He opens the back door for me before turning and putting my bag into the trunk.

"(Y/N)!" Zendaya squeals from the front before half heartedly leaning back to pull me into a hug.

"It's so nice to see you again, Z." I whisper as I squeeze her one more time before pulling away, being shooed to the side by Tom so he can slide in beside me.

"So, did Thomas tell you that I was taking you shopping?" She asks me before pulling out of where she was parked.

"He did-"

"Did he tell you that we are doing it now so you two can have the rest of the afternoon to do couple things when we get back?"

I look at Tom, who is looking away sheepishly, "He did not, but I will assume it was after I already on the plane." I take Tom's hand into mine and bring it to my lips, pressing a soft kiss into the knuckle.

"Well, let's go kids, I have a special spot to get our dresses, (Y/N/N)."

The evening comes quickly, and I am officially ready to fall asleep. I smile and press a quick kiss to Tom's temple before looking at Zendaya and Darnell. "I am gonna head to bed."

"What!" Zendaya shouts moving away from the fridge with a bottle of wine in hand, "but we were going to drink and catch up!"

"I haven't really been feeling well the past few weeks, and alcohol really isn't the best idea. Besides, I am still on (Y/S) time," I say, feeling Tom's arm slide around my waist and press a kiss into my jaw.

"Want me to join you, love?" Tom mutters, looking up at me with soft eyes.

"Only when you are ready, handsome." I whisper, cupping his cheek. I turn and look at everyone else before departing from his side to hug Zendaya and Darnell before walking up the flight of stairs to where Tom and I were sleeping for the night. "Goodnight, everyone!" I call as I shut the door behind me, stretching my arms over my head before grabbing my suitcase from off the floor and getting ready for bed.

I sit in bed, wrapped tightly in one of Tom's hoodie that I stole from his bag, and scroll through social media. I smile at the images of Tom dipping and kissing me at the airport, one hand cupping my jaw and the other supporting my back while my arms are wrapped around his neck.

"Love?"

I lift my head and see Tom poking his head in the doorway. "You okay?" I ask as he slips in and shuts the door behind him.

"Never been better," he states, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it at me, causing me to laugh, before walking to the dresser. "Just figured I would come and lay with you." He rummages through one of the top drawers before pulling out a pair of sweats, winking at me.

"You are so strange. Holland." I tease

"What?" he teases back, biting his lip, "I can't enjoy the fact that my girlfriend finds me attractive?"

"Oh you can totally enjoy that," I smile, crawling out of bed and walking toward him as he finishes changing. "But I also enjoy the view so-"

Tom cuts me off with a quick kiss, his hands catching my waist, "Naughty-"

"Honest," I whisper against his lips.

He hums softly before looking at me, cupping my cheek in his hand. "(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"You have been feeling ill?"

I let out a small laugh, "Yeah, but I'm fine, promise."

He nods, nuzzling his nose to mine. "Lets crawl into bed, I do believe I owe you some cuddles."

Once curled up in bed, I trace my fingers along his face, mesmerizing the way he looks in this moment. Looking at me with sleepy eyes that are cozier than the warm fireplace on a cold winter's night. The dips on his features that remind me how much he has grown since the first day we have met. The misalignment of his nose from the multitude of times he broke it. The way his curls fall on his forehead in waves-

"What are you thinking about, love?" Tom whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Just thinking about how much you have grown and changed since we were little." I say, cupping his cheek.

"We both have." He smiles, his hand resting on the side of my neck.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, you can ask me anything."

"Have you ever thought about the future, like our future?" I whisper, watching as the corners of his mouth turn up in the corners.

"Think about is almost everyday." He states, kissing my forehead before looking back at me. "I think about you and me going to premieres, me coming home to you in London, hearing little feet patter down the hallway on Christmas morning, I can imagine it all. And you're always there, my love. Always a part of it, ever since I was fifteen."

"Really?"

"I mean," he rolls so he's on his back, pulling me with his so my head rests on his chest. "You've been a part of my whole life, so there was never a doubt that you wouldn't  be there."

"And you've even thought about kids?" I look up at him, looking through my eyelashes.

"All the time, I mean, seeing you with babies always makes me want kids. It seems you are always drawn to them, like, you always get so soft and whisper 'can I hold them?' and it's honestly the cutest shit ever. " He blushes, biting his lip, "It's also actually a huge turn on-"

"Tom," I groan, giggling at him. I look back up at him, smiling. I press a quick kiss to his lips before crawling off the bed.

"Where are you going, love?" Tom whines, reaching out for me.

"Imma grabbing something," I say, unzipping my bag. "Be patient."

Tom groans, making me laugh again. I grab the wrapped gift and walk back so I am seated in front of him instead of crawling in beside him. I look at him, holding the gift in hand.

"What's wrong, love?" He whispers, cupping my face.

"Nothing is wrong, I just was going to wait until after your premiere to tell you but," I giggle looking down at the gift before slowly putting it in his hands, "What a better time than the present?"

Tom looks at me before slowly moving to take the gift fully in his hands. Tom carefully picks at the tape and pulling out the small bundle of clothing.

"'My Daddy is my favorite superhero' ?" Tom chuckles, confusion crossing his face. Tom looks up at me before noticing something else inside the package. I play with my lip as he slowly pulls out the pregnancy test. His eyes snap up to mine, his mouth gaping.

"I think we have a change in plans, Tommy." I whisper, a tear sliding down my cheek.

"You're pregnant, love?" He whispers, brushing his thumb under my eye.

"Yeah, I am, Tom." I smile, pulling the photo from out of my hoodie pocket, handing it to him. Tom covers his mouth, tears falling down his face. "Tommy-"

"They're happy tears, love," he pulls me toward him and kisses my forehead. "I am so happy."

"I was honestly worried you wouldn't be-"

"Why wouldn't I be happy," Tom cups my face, smiling at me, "I'm having a baby with my best friend, my little lovely wife, my dream girl." He shakes his head before pressing a kiss to my lips. When he pulls away, he takes the time to kiss my eyelids, each cheek, my nose, my forehead, and finally my lips again. "And I wouldn't change it for the world."  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! Reblog and comment!

@revenantwriting​ | @bellagrayson-wayne​ | @jackiehollanderr |  @snowxbarryxendgame

Chapter Nine

#time never stops #tom holland x reader #bestfriend!tom holland #best friends to lovers #bestfriendstoloversau #tomhollandxyoutuber!reader #dad!tom holland #cg writes

[celilasart]

The Little Potions Boy - Chapter 3

I’m so sorry that chapter 3 took me so long to finish, but tumblr gate happened and it just sucked all my motivation right out of me. And then the chapter just kept getting longer and longer, but everything is relevant to what is going to come. So here it is! Read Chapter 3 under the cut or on AO3 💚 Chapter 1 can be found here

Thursday, 3 December 1998

“You take care of yourself and come back safely, alright?” Draco stroked the snowy owl over her beautiful head before sending her off on her long flight across the ocean. Seeing Susan always reminded Draco of the snowy owl of a certain Gryffindor, and how said Gryffindor’s face used to light up when he saw her at breakfast.

Draco took a deep breath, put his gloves back on and went back to work. Thinking about Hogwarts wasn’t a good idea. He had so many regrets; things he shouldn’t have done because he should have known better, things he did even when he did know better… And with the regrets always also came the memories of his friends, the good ones when they had all been together, laughing in the Slytherin common room, and the bad ones when he had lost them one after the other. Vince in the Fiendfyre. Greg and Theo, who would be in Azkaban for another year or two. Pansy and Blaise, who had both been shipped off to some relatives abroad, waiting for … what exactly? For time to pass? For people to forget about their association with Him?

Draco sighed and continued filling up the water bowls. No, thinking about Hogwarts didn’t do him any good. He couldn’t change his past and he was stuck in a present where he couldn’t even afford to write to his mother without saving up, so letters to friends were unfortunately out of the question at the moment. Ironic for someone working in an owlery… But at least he had “his” owls for company.

This close to Christmas, the owls of the Owl Post owlery were working overtime. Merchants, customers, friends or family members: everybody was using them to order products, deliver goods and presents, or send letters. Owning just one owl was simply not enough at a time like this, and so a steady flow of customers kept everybody at the Owl Post office busy. This day had been especially long. There were currently 97 owls in the owlery and a few dozen should return from their errands during the night. Taking care of all them was a very time-consuming task, even with magic. On top of that, Mr Willis had held one of his famous “You’re a Death Eater, this is a punishment, work harder” speeches which had cost Draco even more time, so now he was once again the last to leave.

Heavy snowfall greeted him when he locked the old oak door of the owlery, and he was just walking into Diagon Alley through the narrow passageway which led around the building when he heard weak chirping to his right. Draco knew that birds were very good at hiding any sign of injury or illness, so he had learned over the last few months to observe all his feathery friends very closely and notice the smallest irregularities in their behavior. A distressed sounding bird, even with a tiny voice like this, was like an alarm signal to Draco’s ears, something he simply couldn’t ignore.

He held himself very still and listened for the sound, hoping he would be able to make it out again despite the wizards and witches still strolling through Diagon Alley now that the shops were closed. There it was! The weak chirping seemed to be coming from the entrance of the Owl Post office. Draco walked closer and continued to listen.

Two little box trees with Christmas decorations and fairy lights were in front of each shop, giving the Wizarding district a festive look, especially with all the snowflakes whirling around. Under one of those small evergreen trees, Draco found a tiny dirty bird, shivering in the icy cold and chirping miserably.

“Oh, you poor little thing,” Draco whispered and crouched down. “Let me warm you up first and then we can check if you’re injured, okay? Don’t be afraid, it’s just a bit of magic.”

With very slow, deliberate movements, Draco took his wand out of his winter coat and whispered a warming charm, pulling his magic back as much as possible. The bird was so small that he didn’t want to overheat it or cause burns.

Next, he cast some diagnostic spells he had learned during his first few days working at the owlery. Mr Willis might have been a grumpy old man, but he knew how to take care of owls and had taught Draco the basics.

“Hmm… these readings are worrisome, little one. Your wing is injured and you have a slight concussion.” Draco looked at some of the readings which were still floating through the air. The bird seemed to enjoy the warming charm and cocked its head to the side, following the floating numbers with a curious gaze.

“High stress levels, that’s understandable. Hmm… but this here’s not good; it looks like the beginnings of pneumonia. How long have you been sitting out in the cold?” Draco waved the readings away with a flick of his wand.

“Okay, tell you what. We’ll try a tiny numbing spell for your wing, all right?” Draco explained to the bird exactly what he was doing. Of course, he knew that birds couldn’t understand wizards as well as magical owls did, but he had noticed that the owls always reacted to the tone of his voice, so he kept whispering soothingly.

“Now that you aren’t in so much pain anymore, I can immobilize your wing for easy transportation because we really need to get you out of the cold.” A murmured spell and another flick with his wand, and … “There, that should do it.”

Draco put his wand away, opened his coat further and took his left arm out of his coat sleeve. Now he could take the bird carefully into his gloved hands, while one arm was inside his coat. The bird looked like a ball of admittedly very dirty feathers and fit perfectly into his palm. It didn’t seem to be afraid at all, looking at Draco trustingly.

“Merlin, you are filthy.” Draco was chatting with the bird, cradling it to his body. He held the winter coat closed with his right hand and hoped it would offer enough protection from the icy wind and snow while he walked back to his flat on Knockturn Alley. “Were you dragged through the mud by a cat? Or did you hit something in flight and fall into a puddle? The first thing we’ll do at home is get you cleaned up, and then we’ll have dinner. Does that sound like a plan?”

Draco’s flat didn’t really deserve to be called that. It was just a run-down single room with adjoining bathroom in the cellar of a shop on Knockturn Alley. Slippery, uneven stairs led down to the entrance, but before he could walk those down, he saw frantic movement in one of the first floor windows. And sure enough, a few seconds later his landlord stormed out of the house, clad in a thick woolen robe, horrendous Christmas-themed joggers and pink slippers.

Great. Draco had hoped to avoid an encounter since he knew exactly what it was about. He tried to keep the bird hidden, pulled back his shoulders, and hoped this wouldn’t turn ugly.

“Malfoy! It’s the third! Where’s the rent?!”

“Good Evening, Witherby. I’m sorry, you’ll get it as soon as the Owl Post office pays me.” His hand holding the bird was shaking inside his winter coat. Please don’t let him discover the bird on top of it all. “We’re overrun with customers this close to Christmas. It must have slipped Willis’s mind that it was the first two days ago. I’ll remind him about my salary tomorrow.”

“Humph,” Mr Witherby narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. He was almost a head shorter than Draco, but that didn’t change the fact that this was his shop, his house, his cellar, and if he wanted, Draco would be homeless in a heartbeat. “You do that, boy,” he said between clenched teeth, stabbing a finger repeatedly into Draco’s ribcage. “You bring me that money. Just because I knew your father doesn’t mean you get to stay here for free! Got that?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Draco nodded once, said “Good night” and was finally able to flee down the stairs to his room. When the door closed behind him, he walked the three steps to his bed on shaky legs and sat down heavily.

“Merlin,” Draco muttered.

Excited chirping brought him out of his thoughts, so he shrugged his coat off and held the bird closer to his face.

“Hello, you! I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you wait,” he said, trying to go for a cheerful and carefree tone. His little guest had quite enough troubles which needed to be taken care of first before Draco could think about wallowing in self-pity.

“Right,” Draco yawned and got up from the bed. “Bath, food, sleep. First you, then me. And maybe a name for you, what do you think?”

Draco chatted on while rearranging a few things on his work table, making space for the bird with one hand before carefully setting it down and taking off his gloves.

His room didn’t hold much. A single bed was standing along one wall with a small bookshelf at its head. He’d engorged his favourite potions books and a few of his dragon sculptures when he’d moved in, and left most his other possessions shrunken down in one of the trunks at the end of the bed. Seeing those familiar items always gave him a sense of safety and home. The same could be said about his blue cauldron and his brewing utensils which were on the work table standing opposite the bed. A small sink with a cupboard above it was on the wall between bed and work table, and right next to the sink, a door led to the bathroom. Draco had tried to make the place as comfortable as possible, hanging up the posters he’d had in his dorm room at Hogwarts, on which famous Quidditch players zoomed around on their brooms or posed enticingly. A huge Slytherin banner was stuck to the wall next to the entrance. Above the banner, a tiny charmed window close to the ceiling gave the illusion of a view into rolling hills under a starry sky. In reality, the window just let you see the dirty facade of the houses opposite; not even a tiny bit of sky could be seen through it, no matter what angle you tried. So Draco had charmed the window as best as he could, and had tried to replicate the view out of his bedroom window at the Manor. On the floor of his basement room was a thick warm rug, also from his room at the Manor. He’d had this dark purple rug forever and loved curling up on it with a blanket, a cup of tea and a good book. He could read there for hours.

But first things first! Draco looked at the dirty bird, which was more mud brown and grey than anything else right now, and fetched his wand from his coat on the bed.

“Well then, what do you actually look like under all this dirt?”

Draco performed some complicated wand movements and spoke the accompanying cleaning spell — an appropriate one for birds since it didn’t destroy the water-repelling properties of their feathers — and came face to face with a still disheveled, yet clean red-yellowish bird. It had about doubled in volume, now that the dirt wasn’t weighing down its feathers, and looked like a ball of fluff on thin legs, quite a few feathers still going in all directions.

Draco just stared at it, and the bird stared back at Draco — with its cute green eyes, encircled by dark round markings.

“I…,” Draco swallowed. Fuck! This damn bird looked like a certain disheveled Gryffindor, glasses and house colours and crazy hair and all. Only the famous scar was missing. He narrowed his eyes, pulled a few times on his bottom lip while thinking and then said determinedly: “Git.”

The bird, which had started hopping around on the table, exploring its surroundings, was currently facing away from Draco. When it heard the one-syllable word, it looked back, watching Draco curiously.

“Your name’s Git. I think it’s fitting.” Draco proclaimed. “You’ll probably be nothing but trouble,” he grumbled, then couldn’t help himself and continued: “But damn it, you’re a cute ball of fluff, aren’t you, my boy?” He stroked Git over his tiny head, then accioed a small plate, filled it with a careful Aguamenti and put it in front of the bird.

“Now let’s see what we have to eat for you. I think I have some owl treats left. You could nibble on those for tonight, and we’ll get some more appropriate food for you tomorrow. Maybe some sunflower seeds? Would you like that?”

Draco rummaged through one of his trunks while talking to the bird. He never got owl post here, his mother’s letters were always delivered to the Owl Post office, so he didn’t have any treats at hand, but maybe there were still some between his Hogwarts things.

“Oh, wait, I might have a few in my coat pocket.” And yes, there were two owl treats and a few crumbs left from his work day. “There you go. Bon appétit, mon petit.”

Draco let the owl food drop on the table next to Git’s plate before being finally able to take care of his own needs.

After a hot shower and some cold dinner with bread, cheese and a green apple, Draco felt infinitely better. He’d eaten at his work table next to Git and shared his food with the little rascal. The bird had wanted to nibble on everything.

Now, Draco was sitting on his bed, leafing through one of his potions books, while Git was still on the work table, hopping around, inspecting everything and chirping happily about his discoveries.

Draco had had to put up heavy silencing charms when he moved in because of his nightmares. He renewed them regularly, which meant that Git could now make as much noise as he liked without any fear of disturbing the landlord.

Ah, there it was. Draco had finally found the chapter about mending bones, and was now trying to figure out how many drops of Skele-Gro he could safely administer to Git in order to heal his wing. Thank Merlin, all the potions and ingredients from the Manor — at least those which weren’t confiscated by the Ministry — were also in Draco’s trunks. Buying potions really was out of the question with his meager funds.

Draco yawned again and rubbed his eyes as the letters started swimming on the page. He really needed to get some sleep; he only had to figure this out first. The day had been hell, and tomorrow, it all began anew. Just this time, he had a little fireball of a bird to keep him company; at least until Git was well enough to find a warm spot during winter.

Notes

Bon appétit, mon petit. = Enjoy your meal, my little one.

#drarry #25 days of drarry #25daysofdracoandharry #25 days of draco and harry #the little potions boy #draco malfoy #harry potter #epilogue what epilogue #fairy tail retelling #based on the little match girl #by hans christian andersen #gosh #i'll try to catch up #harry's chapters should be a bit shorter at the moment #until both of them meet at least #thank you so much for sticking around #i hope you like our new character #on day 4 we're back with harry in romania #thank you so much for reading

[cosmosogler]

hello everyone!

today was the last day of group therapy.

i got up a little early since i went to bed so early last night. i was feeling a lot better this morning so i uploaded my new comic and went to class. i even got there on time, for once...

the day was mostly a lot of work. and i got it done! except for one thing, but, i am very tired, and i have a final to study for, and emailing jobs will have to wait until probably wednesday afternoon, just because i will be cramming in as much work as i can tomorrow in particular. i finished all my grades today, but, i still have an entire quantum assignment to finish that’s due on the same day as my em final... definitely need it done tomorrow. arthur’s checkup is also in the morning, and then i have therapy and the em review session, and ugh, it’s a lot of running around, and i still feel fairly ill. ill enough to be painfully lethargic, especially since i got home at around 6...

anyway, group therapy. i always get kind of weirded out when people like me or say i said a lot of intelligent things that made them think, or inspired them. my last group coordinator called me a leader... i feel like the coordinators in this group didn’t let me do that. although i know i talked too much anyway. after spring break, when i was told i couldn’t talk that day, i just didn’t bring up any more of my problems to the group specifically. i feel like i missed out because of that, but, i had something really important to share the day i was told i couldn’t share, so, i kept it to myself. 

i really liked the group members that stuck around. they felt like friends, toward the end, even though right away those first few weeks i felt “on the same page” in a way. it’s disorienting when people remember my jokes and think they’re still funny later... like, i guess, i’m not used to having an effect on people. i’m not used to being able to meaningfully affect my surroundings, even after living on my own for years and years now. at least it’s easy to trust when animals love me... they don’t have a reason to lie or leave. i’m not used to people wanting specifically my presence. 

my mother’s told me that my siblings think of me the same way but man it’s so hard to gauge what they actually think. i feel disconnected from them most of all, in a way. maybe because i moved away when i was 14 and did so much of my growing up away from them (and them from me). i know i’m far closer with each of them than they are with each other... and our conversations have an easygoing “language of our own” kind of situation. but when i try to describe them i’m kind of at a loss. i guess i’m too used to the way my mother describes them, which is, not as charitable or at least neutral as i want to be. 

will i be like this forever? am i so easygoing around my friends because i’ve got years of experience with this kind of thing, or is it because my brain says i only matter to them when i am physically in the room with them? maybe it’s both... i’ve had too many close friends leave so abruptly and quietly. it’s so hard to make new connections. and then it’s so hard to invest in those connections and trust them. it’s like i beg people for companionship and then when they hang out with me i just push them away or don’t say anything at all. so it’s like they see me in the distance waving and yelling and then when they get over to me i just stand there and stare at them silently. maybe it’s unnerving. 

like... i so desperately want close friends but at the same time i want anything but friends. ha. 

last week one of the coordinators mentioned i looked sad or tormented or something, and i asked “do i look *that* depressed?” and she said “yes!” so this week i asked, like, what specifically makes me look depressed? what does that look like? and she couldn’t answer. she’s given vague answers and metaphors all semester though it barely ever feels like she says anything specific and it ties my brain up in knots trying to figure out what the hell she’s talkin about. she’s new... today she said it was my way of talking, my cynicism. nothing about my appearance that i could change or see. it made me feel confused again. more abstract traits that i have no way to track or recognize... i guess i could talk to my therapist about it tomorrow. 

i dunno. not really getting as much activity on the comic as i was hoping for, these last couple scenes... it always gets like that with major story developments or chapter milestones. the final scene in the last chapter got like 1 note... maybe it’s the time of semester. it feels like the ebbs and flows of attention happen so fast. i was getting near 10 notes a post, a few months ago, but now i’m back down to less than 5 it feels like. it’s hard to keep track... i have a few regulars that catch up every few weeks so the numbers hop up 1 per post after i’ve already gotten used to the lack of attention. well... i just have three more things to draw for this arc. i can get started on the last tiny comic tomorrow when i need a break.

today i felt so exhausted when i got home i forgot i left water on the stove to boil for too long and had to re-start my whole dinner process. it came out alright but then i near forgot to eat it. after i gave arthur his meds (kinda late) i huddled under a blanket and played pokemon for an hour or two. next up is the elite four... i’m gettin’ there... it will be nice to see the end of the game at long last. i have amassed enough resources that once i get to the postgame i can just buy everything i want at the battle tree and then have all my pokemon be completely battle-ready... if anyone wants to play... you know, a couple months before the new one comes out, haha.