#I have to confess that a huge change in my thinking recently happened while volunteering

[freebooter4ever]

A friend called and something he said is nagging at the self-hating part of my mind....

I just...when im working i always use the excuse of 'im too busy to date' and when im unemployed im always too ashamed and depressed/worthless to date. That doesnt leave any moments TO date?

[enkas-illusion]

A Good Daddy

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Established relationship/marriage; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, light angst, smut, oral (f.receiving), piv sex, bondage, dom!gojo, sub!reader, brat taming, overstimulation, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, language.

Summary: Husband!Gojo with a pregnancy kink. When he sees you babysitting your close friend’s baby and can’t get the idea of seeing you with a baby bump, carrying his child, out of his head.

Author's Note: Satoru would be such a great dad and you can’t convince me otherwise! The kids are sure to be his exact clones, trusting him with their life cause they know their daddy is just that great 🥹🥹🥹. Daddy Gojo has taken over my brain and is manspreading on my thoughts! As always, I hope you enjoy this one shot. Thank you for reading! 

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Married Life (from UP) by Michael Giacchino / Daddy’s Home by USHER (aka Gojo theme™)

“Sup, how's it hanging? Long time no see,” you say coolly as you see your husband walking out of the kitchen towards you.

You have your knitting kit in hand, body nestling into the soft cushions of the sofa, belly feeling like it’s about to burst after the delicious dinner you just had. 

Satoru lifts your feet up before resting them on his lap as he sits on the opposite end of the sofa. He's massaging your feet with utmost care.

“Where do I even begin?! A lot has happened since we last saw each other about 10 minutes ago. I washed the dishes!” He sighs, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner while his palm presses flat on the bottom of your foot to stretch your achilles tendon, melting the stiffness away, “And what about you? How have you been, stranger?”

You hold the half knitted lavender patch up to show it to him, “I am making a beanie for Hina. It's getting colder so I figured she'd have a cute little warm beanie to go on her cute little head.” 

Satoru crinkles his nose at this before confessing, “Cute. Do we need to babysit her anytime soon again? I miss the little devil.”

“‘Toru, I doubt Rin and Kento go out without their baby that often,” you let out a breathy laugh when he massages the top of your foot with a soothing firmness.

“Maybe we should make one of our own then I'll miss her less,” Satoru pouts, trying to test the waters carefully to see if it was the right chance to bring up the topic. Afterall, it's what he had been thinking about the entire week.

The baby in question was 8 months old Hina, your best friend's baby. The couple rarely went out ever since they had the baby – so the handful of times that Rin and her husband Kento needed a babysitter, you’d happily volunteered, not minding it ruining your Saturday night plans.

And although Satoru would pout at this each time, he secretly didn’t mind taking care of the toddler with you. It almost felt like a ‘trial’ run for when you’d have your own kids in the future – mini versions of you and him. And so he looked forward to babysitting little Hina as he got glimpses of the motherly side of you.

Your husband knew that you wanted to wait a while before you made the huge decision of bringing a child into this world and he was on the same page… until recently. He knew he was having a change of heart on the matter when his daydreams of seeing you with a baby bump started to spiral out of control over the last month.

What broke the camel’s back was an incident from a week ago – when he’d rushed out of the room to tell you he’d won a game of Counter-Strike against Suguru, you’d gently motioned him to be quiet, cradling the sleeping baby in your lap. He silently made his way to you when he saw the baby was clutching a strand of your hair in her sleep. Since you couldn’t move, he took it on himself to free your hair from the toddler’s strong grip. But just as he did that, Hina wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb, holding it tightly in her sleep. When he looked up at you, you smiled at him with your loving eyes – it was when he’d decided that he wanted to impregnate you asap.

He had trouble falling asleep that night. You, on the other hand, were sleeping peacefully, after fulfilling your duty as the babysitter diligently. You’d wished Satoru goodnight right after handing Hina over to her parents, who’d returned from their date well into the night, leaving no opportunity for your husband to bring up the topic. 

With much difficulty when he did manage to fall asleep, he’d woken up sweating profusely at the wet dream he had where he came inside you instead of pulling out as per usual. He turned to his side trying his best to control his urges to recreate his dream as he slid his hand up under your tshirt to play with your soft nipples, making you stir in your sleep.

“Wifey… let’s make a baby,” he’d whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. You mumbled something incoherent as you turned to wrap your arm around his waist, still deep asleep. He sighed as he pulled his hand away, forcing himself to fall asleep, convincing himself that it was just his horny fantasies talking.

Oh how wrong he was! Here he was, a week later, baby fever running higher than ever. 

You look up from the knitting hooks, before giggling, “Yeah, right…”

“Love, I’m serious,” he mumbles, bringing your left leg up to his face to kiss your foot.

“‘Toru, why are you springing this on me so suddenly? You agreed we'd wait a while…” you sigh as you begin, sitting up as you pull your feet away from his hold.

“Yes but–”

“Satoru… we just got married. We need to get used to our married life first. We need to be with each other before we decide to bring a whole new being into this world,” you explain softly, telling him things he already knew.

“But technically, we've been together for almost 6 years now, I say we're beyond ready,” he protests.

“No, I doubt we're mature enough for the responsibility,” you retort.

“But imagine mini versions of us two running around the house,” he places his hands on your feet once again, pleading with a twinkle in his eyes akin to a kid begging for candy at a store.

“Please! My genes won't even fight, our baby will look like you,” you laugh.

“Then we can just make another one,” he says in a playful tone.

“Well… I have a feeling both of our babies will end up looking like you,” you roll your eyes at him.

“Then what about the next 2?” he says hopefully.

“Next 2? ONLY 2!” you scold him softly. He raises an eyebrow at you and you give him a calculated reasoning, “Just so that they have someone they share an unbreakable bond with and aren't lonely while growing up.”

“Exactly! I say the more the merrier!” he squeezes your feet in excitement.

“Satoru, I'm not a baby machine!” you slide your leg to his lap to nudge his thigh jokingly, “Besides, counting you I'd have 3 babies anyway.”

“Now you're just coming up with whatever excuses,” he snickers, slapping your foot away before shuffling to sit closer to you.

“Oh really?” you furrow your eyebrows as you sit up completely in front of him, sensing the conversation taking a serious turn. You place the knitting yarn and hook to the side on the coffee table.

“Yes really,” he kisses your temple to dissolve the wrinkle there. He always does that whenever you seem annoyed at him as he knows it never fails to make you giggle instantly. However, you simply fold your arms over your chest and give him a stern look.

“No… don’t do this. Talk to me Satoru, I’m serious…” you speak and he drops the playful act, nodding and signalling you to put your point across before he gets his chance to speak.

You sigh as you begin, “You’re the love of my life and I don't doubt for a second that you'd be an amazing father with time but I also believe you don't have the attention span or patience that taking care of a newborn requires, at least for now.”

“Are you being serious right now?” he folds his hands over his chest, sitting up straight.

The crinkle on your forehead fades as you try to find the best words to explain your point to your husband without seeming too harsh, “I'm sorry love, I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just saying… for example, when I was trying to get Hina to sleep, you were screaming at your xbox each time something happened. It made her wake up a few times before she finally fell asleep–”

“You should’ve told me, I would’ve tried to be quiet,” he pouts, slumping and leaning back on the sofa.

“‘Toru… I literally called your phone since I couldn’t yell at you but you were too busy with your game to notice.”

“You know I don't play everyday– okay, if it’s just that, I don’t see a problem. I can change that habit,” he says with a determined look on his face.

“Baby, I'm not trying to change you. But you have to realise that things change drastically when there’s a baby involved, whether you want them to or not,” you explain and he can tell you’re tired by the way your voice sounds. You bring your hand up to rub your temple, letting out a deep exhale.

He dips his head low, mumbling something along the lines of ‘but I'd be a good dad.’

“You tried to feed her chocolate saying she loved the taste! You're not supposed to feed them stuff like that till they're like… one! I don’t think you’re ready for such a huge responsibility just yet,” The tone of your voice is strict, a little louder than you’d like it to be and you already feel guilty at raising your voice at him.

He opens his mouth as if to say something but then shuts it back again. “What is it?” you urge him to speak.

“Nothing… it’s alright, I get it. You don't want me to be the father of your babies,” He mutters as he tries getting up. You grab his wrist to stop him from leaving, giving him a ‘you know that's not true’ look.

He sighs as he sits back down, “Okay maybe what you're saying is kinda true. I don't know much about babies besides the fact that they're like cute mini humans. But I can learn, you know? No one has a manual on how to be the best father but I know I will give it my 100%”

When he sees a faint smile return to your face, it encourages him to continue to convince you, “Maybe I might surprise you. Remember when you first thought I wasn't the type to take aftercare seriously but then you told me how surprised you were when I made you feel good during and after our first time?”

“Yeah,” you blush at him, rolling your eyes playfully, “You are good at that.”

“So let me show you baby… I’ll prove it to you, I'll be the best daddy,” He leans his weight on your body, trapping you between the cushions to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning into his mouth when his hands play with your breasts from over your t-shirt. 

When he dips his face down to your neck, sucking you where he knows will have you putty in his hand, you take a shaky breath, biting your lip at the sensation.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum– gonna make your pretty belly swell,” he whispers as his head moves down, lifting up your t-shirt along with your bra to expose your chest before latching his mouth onto one of your hardened buds.

You bring your hands down to place them firmly on his chest as you push him away lightly, letting out a heavy sigh. Satoru stops as he moves back up to look into your eyes, eyebrows knitted.

You simply let out another sigh as you break eye contact to look to the side. He waits for you to speak but when the moment passes, he pulls away completely. You pull your t-shirt down and fix your bra quietly, actively avoiding his gaze.

“I'm going to bed, night,” he mumbles, getting up off the sofa to retire to the bedroom without waiting for your reply. He didn't kiss you good night, he almost never does that unless he's really upset. But why can't he understand where you're coming from?

Can't you understand where he’s coming from?

You close your eyes briefly as you slump onto the sofa. You rest one arm on your forehead as your head starts going into overthinking mode. However, your train of thought is broken before it can reach a destination when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out lazily as you open the text you’d just received from Rin.

Rin:

Look how cute this is! I never knew I had this in my phone!

<1 attachment>

You download the picture and your heart flutters when you see that it’s a photo of Satoru holding baby Hina in a loving embrace. It’s a picture taken on your wedding day, your husband’s crisp white shirt wrinkled by the way he’s holding the baby and smiling at her lovingly. She must’ve been barely 2 months old at the wedding. You can’t help but smile at the photo, your heart aching when you remember that the same man is sleeping in the other room, upset with you. You’re pulled out of your thoughts once again when your phone rings.

“Did you see the picture? Aren’t they the cutest? I was just telling Kento about how I wish you guys should have a baby soon. It’d make Hina a big sister,” your friend squeals. You laugh back at her but it’s due to the absurdity of her timing.

“Seriously, I’d love to see Satoru being a dad,” she adds when you don’t say anything.

You laugh again, “Right, that makes it the two of you.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I mean that Satoru and I just had a small disagreement about this,” you press your hand to your temple, massaging it. 

Rin stays quiet for a moment before you hear her speak again, “Do you remember that day? He had taken off his suit coat, not because he was worried Hina would spoil it, but because he thought the fabric of his shirt was softer for her to rest her head on.”

You nod, not realising she can’t see you, before you reply with a quiet ‘hmm’.

“All I’m saying is that I know you fear him being too easy going, but Satoru is a serious guy, he knows when to take responsibility diligently,” your friend continues, reminding you of the things you already know and adore about your man. 

You almost tear up – you'd been overthinking this so much that you forgot to acknowledge Satoru for the man that he is. Of course he'd be a great dad!

Even if Rin hears you sniff, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead she asks, “Oh by the way, do you have her blue binky?”

“Huh?”

“It must be at your place. I can't find it here and Hina’s been raising hell cause it's one of her favourites,” Rin explains.

“Oh, just a min–” You look around the sofa, digging your hands into the creases and corners in hopes of finding it. 

“It's here!” you exclaim but your smile fades as you observe the tiny object in your hand, a realisation hitting you with the speed of lightning.

You had been projecting. Sure, having a baby was going to be hard but you were worried about being a bad mother more than Satoru being a bad father. Taking care of a growing life, who’s primarily dependent on you for everything, requires a lot of patience. Making sure your tiny human receives everything it deserves isn’t an easy task at all times. 

Yet, despite all of this, if there’s one thing you knew without a speck of doubt, it was that you wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else but the love of your life, Gojo Satoru. You're brought back to reality, breaking from your ruminations when you hear your friend’s voice calling your name once again.

“Sorry… hey– let me call you back?” you mumble.

“Sure, take care. Good night. See you tomorrow,” your friend speaks softly before hanging up. 

You drop your phone on the sofa as you get up to make your way to the bedroom. When you walk in, you find Satoru sleeping on his side, his back turned to you.

“Baby, are you asleep?” you speak softly. He doesn't respond but you know he's awake – he can never fall asleep when he's lying on his right side.

Shit, he’s really mad.

You quietly strip off your sweatpants and t-shirt, leaving you only in your bra and underwear before hopping on the bed to get closer to your husband.

“‘Toru, my love,” you coo softly as you kiss his cheek from behind. He turns to look at you, poker face on. You catch his eyes wandering down to your cleavage briefly but he doesn’t break his composure nonetheless.

You lean forward to press your chest against his, kissing him on the lips but he's annoyingly stiff. You sit back up as you pout at him.

“Please don't be mad at me baby,” you murmur as your fingers draw lazy circles over the expanse of his chest. Just as you move your hand down his torso, dangerously closer to his crotch, he grabs your wrist and flips your bodies so that you’re trapped under him.

Your giggles come to an abrupt halt and you bite your lip when you feel his hips press against you, fully aware of his evidently erect bulge.

“And why shouldn't I be mad at you?” He mocks, bringing his right hand up to your neck, his long fingers gripping the sides firmly.

“Because you love me?” You pout as you bat your eyelashes at him. He lets out a dry chuckle as his fingers choke you lightly.

“Not enough. Gotta try harder than that baby.”

“I'm sorry, ‘Toru… maybe you can forgive the mother of your future children,” you bring a hand up to caress his cheek.

“Hmm… should I?” He says, adding a bit more pressure. When you let out a quiet gasp, he dips his head down to kiss your parted lips hungrily. Your breathing gets heavier as his tongue explores your mouth, the sloppy wetness of your salivas mixing together making your pussy throb in excitement. Your hands move up to his hair, tugging at his blonde locks.

You whimper into his mouth when he bites your lower lip, pulling it out before releasing it with a soft plop. His grip on your throat releases as his hand slides underneath to unclasp your bra before hastily taking it off and tossing it aside.

You cup his face so that he’s looking into your eyes when you speak. His demeanour almost collapses at what you say next.

“Satoru… don’t pull out. Please fill me up. Don't stop till you put a baby in my belly,” you say timidly, the heat in your cheeks rising. He knows that you know just how much your words get to him and use it to your advantage often – usually he’d let you but this time, he doesn't want to let you have your way with him just yet. He wants to toy with you for a bit first.

“Maybe I've changed my mind?” he says with a smug look on his face. Your hands move down to his hips, hooking into the band of his sweatpants to push them down along with his underwear to his thighs, freeing his dick from its restraints. You lift your hips up to feel his hard on against your core. 

“I doubt,” you bite back, deceitful innocence in your eyes, “...but I could just go to sleep if you're not up for it.”

Your husband lets out a low chuckle as he grabs your jaw firmly, shaking his head at you, “You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you.”

In an attempt to rile him up further, you decide to mock him as you repeat his words in a condescending tone, “You're not going anywhere until– AHH!”

Big mistake.

Within a second Satoru flips you over till you're lying on your stomach, caging you in place with his knees dipping into the mattress on either side of you. He leans back to pull your underwear off and your heart picks up its pace when he grabs both your wrists to tie them behind your back with the flimsy fabric in a tight, makeshift knot.

He pushes your head into the pillow before landing a rough slap on your ass. He kneads the skin right after to soothe the stinging sensation.

“‘Toru–” you whimper. He ignores your pleading voice, simply tapping two fingers over your ass. You know what he wants and you obey immediately, lifting your hips up off the mattress. He folds your thighs further in till your back is arched with your ass up in the air, on display for him.

“You know what happens when you act bratty,” he kneads your asscheeks with both of his hands before clawing at the flesh. You push back in response and he laughs, “... or maybe you’re just a masochist.”

He lands another sharp spank, causing you to let out a tiny sob into the pillow. 

“Tell me what you want baby,” he teases. Your head turns to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face behind you but your movement’s restricted, rendering your attempts useless.

If there’s one thing that Satoru claims to lose his mind over is the look in your eyes. He often calls your eyes his ‘weakness’, confessing he’d do anything you ask of him when you look at him with those fucked out eyes during sex. So for him to take away his weakness, typically with a blindfold, is when you know you’re really fucked.

“Didn’t you have a lot to say just now, love?” he mocks and you feel two fingers glide over your exposed cunt. You sigh at the sensation, letting out soft moans when his fingers begin to play with your folds.

“‘Toru– more,” you beg and he slides two fingers inside you. You hum in pleasure but huff when you’re reminded of the annoyance of being restricted each time you try to move your arms.

His movements are excruciatingly slow and it’s making you lose your mind and patience. You try to chase his touch, failing miserably at getting him to push his fingers deeper inside you. Satoru lets out a condescending chuckle at your poor attempt, “Are you really that desperate for me baby?”

You huff and you’re about to complain but it turns into broken moans when he starts pumping his fingers into you – the squelching sound of your pussy blending with drawn out cries of his name.

“Aww, does my wife like it when I do this?” he teases, curving his fingers inside to rub your walls, massaging a particular spot that has you begging him for more. Your thighs tremble and your pussy flutters around his fingers. “Guess she really does!” you hear him squeal before he pulls his fingers out completely, depriving you of all contact within a second.

“Satoru! S– stop being so mean!” you scold him with shallow breaths.

“Satoru! Stop being so mean!” he laughs as he mocks you, his fingers lightly grazing over your folds.

“Baby… pl–please, I’m sorry,” you cry, desperate for his touch.

“What for, baby?” he nudges further, his finger inching towards your clit.

“For teasing you– mmh,” you whimper when he rubs over the bundle of nerves.

“But that’s not why I’m mad…”

“‘Toru please–”

“Yes?” he sings.

“Fuc– I’m sorry… I was wrong, you’ll be a great dad– ahh,” you squeeze your eyes shut when he pinches your clit.

“That’s it,” he coos softly and you feel him come up behind you to kiss your shoulder, “was that so hard, baby?” he moves down to bite one of your tied wrists, moving further down to kiss the skin over your tailbone. You feel his fingers dig into your ass, pulling the flesh apart before diving his face down as he begins lapping at your cunt with a brutal pace. 

Your ass jerks up at the sudden touch and he continues his ministrations, alternating between sucking your clit and licking down till his tongue’s dipping inside your hole, wiggling it in. You twist your wrists, feeling the urge to grab at something, anything to steady yourself, yet it’s a futile attempt.

“Toru– too much,” your tears wetting the pillow as you feel your legs shake, threatening to collapse at any moment. Satoru is quick to sit up straight and you feel his shuffling movement behind you and see him toss the bundle of his clothes to the side before settling behind you once again, wedging his knees between yours to spread them wider. He taps his swollen tip over your folds, rubbing it back and forth to coat it with your wet slick. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel him push the tip in, splitting your walls to adjust to his length. Once he’s completely buried inside you, he grips the side of your hips to support you, “Gonna fill you up so good baby.”

“Oh god– Sa–toru–” you howl when he pulls almost his entire length out before thrusting back into you. When his pace builds up, your body jerks slightly forward due to the force of his thrusts. His grip on your sides tightens as he pulls your hips back to slam you back against him.

The sound of your skin slapping fills the air along with both of your moans and groans. When you wiggle your wrists again in a desperate attempt, the knot loosens just enough for you to wring your wrist free. You bring one hand down to support your weight while the other moves behind you to claw at his forearm.

Satoru hisses at the sudden contact as he twists your wrist, holding it against your lower back while his other hand snakes around your throat, pulling you back till you’re sitting up flush against his chest. His other hand hooks around your waist as he starts bouncing your torso up and down on his dick at the same time he slams up into you.

You free the hand behind your back to pull his face closer while twisting your neck to look back, kissing him frantically, the wet trail of your tears smudging and transferring onto his skin. 

At a particularly rough thrust, Satoru’s knee slides slightly, making his balance stumble a bit. He lets out a breathy ‘fuck’ as he pulls out abruptly. 

“‘Toru?”

“Shhh–” he orders as he grips your waist tightly to pull you down till you both are lying down on your left side, his chest pressed against your back. He adjusts his position to hook your legs around his, opening you up wider for him as he brings his hand down to guide his dick back near your entrance to shove it in your swollen hole. 

His hand is shaky as he brings it to your clit to rub circles as he resumes thrusting into you ruthlessly once again. You cry his name out loud at how good this new motion hits and he bites your shoulder. You know he’s close by how erratic his thrusts get.

His other arm that is placed beneath you comes up to pinch your nipples, the added stimulation is too intense for you as you feel the muscles in your stomach tighten more than they already have. His nose buries in the crook of your neck as his lips bite your skin harshly. When he starts sucking on your favourite spot behind your ear, it causes goosebumps to rise all over your body.

You claw at his biceps as you turn your head back to look at him. He looks so fucked out and the fact that he gets this way only for you is what overwhelms your senses even further.

“Fuck–” his eyebrows knit as he leans down to kiss you. You feel your body twitch as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter before letting go completely, causing your walls to pulse around his cock as you reach your orgasm.

Your moans are swallowed by his kisses and your grip on his locks loosens. When you break away from the kiss to catch your breath, you stare at his face and your eyebrows knit when you see the way a string of saliva connects your lips with his. Your chest heaves as you look into his eyes and you can tell he’s close. 

“Fuck– fuck– shi–” he grunts as he shuts his eyes, biting your shoulder once again and you feel him shoot his load inside, painting your walls. With broken thrusts, he slows down before stopping completely. He stays inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and shutting your legs close to keep his cum from spilling out.

You let out a tired laugh at this as you close your eyes, suddenly feeling hyper aware of everything that had just transpired, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. He readjusts your position so that you’re lying flat on your back, while he moves on top of you till his head is resting on the valley of your breasts. 

You open your eyes when you feel him tug at your wrist and you see him free it from your underwear that was still hanging limply there. As he holds the fabric up, you see that the elasticity of its band had been completely destroyed. You see red marks on your wrist where it was secured tightly. Satoru pulls your hand down to kiss your wrist, mumbling a ‘sorry’ and turning his head to kiss your other wrist.

You simply hum as you close your eyes again, calming your breathing and nerves. You feel him rub circles over your stomach before moving down to kiss you over your belly button. He brings both his hands up to intertwine his fingers with yours, peppering soft kisses all over your stomach.

“So… care to explain what changed your mind so quickly?” he asks.

You nod as you slowly open your eyes, gulping as you look down to meet his gaze. He moves up till he’s at your eye level, expectantly waiting for your answer, pinning your hands to the sides of your head.

You bite your lip nervously as you begin, “Sorry for insinuating that you’d be a bad father. It wasn’t my intention – I just got scared. I know you’ll be a great papa, I don’t doubt it for a second…” you look away to avoid his gaze, “... sorry for projecting my insecurities onto you– I’m just worried if I’d be able to be a good mom.”

“Baby… you’re so smart, yet sometimes you say the dumbest shit,” he chuckles softly as he brings one hand up to cup your face, “I’ve seen the way you take care of Hina… seeing you be so kind and loving is what made me go crazy about wanting our own babies. I want kids because I’d get to be a parent with you… so that you can be the mother of my children. Don’t go thinking about crazy hypotheticals like that!”

“Hmm, thank you baby. But taking care of Hina is easy when it’s only for a couple of hours at a time. Having our own baby will be like a full time job. I listen to the way Rin sometimes jokes that she doesn’t even have time alone with Kento cause she’s so tired oft–”

“Hey, hey… breathe,” Satoru interrupts you, resting his forehead against yours and your face relaxes as you close your eyes, taking deep breaths. “Even if all of that is true, you have me with you. I’m not leaving your side even for a second, my love. We’re in this together. Taking care of our baby and his pretty mommy is my responsibility and I’m gonna do it right.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes as you look up at him and he smiles softly at you, “I love you.”

You tilt your head slightly to kiss him before speaking, “I love you so much Satoru. I wouldn’t want to have anyone else’s baby.”

“Oh thank goodness! Wanting a baby only with your husband is the ideal thing after all,” he laughs breathily and you slap his chest lightly. 

“Besides, I think we’ll be ready by the time I actually conceive. I’ve heard that it takes a few months for some couples, so who knows, right?” you think out loud.

“Please,” he snickers, “I’ve got the best swimmers, there’s no way in hell you won’t be pregnant after tonight…”

You giggle as you pull him down till he’s lying on top of you completely like your own personal weighted blanket.

He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, “... but just to be sure, let’s go another round… make it certain.”

“‘Toru! I’m tired” you laugh as you try to pull him off of you but he continues kissing down your neck. You close your eyes at how sensitive your skin feels against his kisses.

“Then just lie down. I’ll do all the work, princess,” your husband winks at you before circling his tongue around one of your already hardened nipples. 

You hum contentedly as you rest your head back down, melting into the pillow and accepting your fate – you were going to have to run on very little sleep tomorrow.

~fin~

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 35

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----

Chapter 35

“I’m going to miss this little place,” Ron said. 

“It was a good place,” Harry agreed, using his wand to lift the final suitcase into the pile of things that needed to be sent to Nottingham. “Small, but nice. Nice and cosy, I’d imagine.”

Ron nodded, looking around at the still-furnished flat he would be leaving behind in a few short minutes. He really had liked living here — not so much for the place itself, but because of what it meant. It was the first place he and Hermione had shared together. The first place they could call their own, even if it never truly belonged to them. They didn’t even own the furniture, yet… it had felt like theirs. 

He remembered the nights falling asleep with Hermione in his arms or waking up with her beside him. Or waking up to find her already up — on weekends still in her pyjamas and a pot of coffee already made; on work days, dressed and showered and nudging him to also get up lest he be late. 

There had been times where they had curled up together under a blanket on the sofa, talking and laughing, sometimes getting into petty arguments about one thing or another. Sometimes their talking would become intimate, and it’d lead to kissing, sex, or just straight up romance where they would fall asleep holding hands. 

The kitchen was where they cooked food — Ron learning how to cook out of necessity with Hermione’s crazy work hours. 

Even the bathroom held some memories — especially the times (as rare as they were) where Hermione wasn’t in a rush and she’d let him jump in the shower with her. 

Of course, he knew these things wouldn’t change in their new place, but there was something special about it being their first. 

But he also knew that their new house would create so many more memories over so many more years, and he was looking forward to the rest of his life living there — with the absolute love of his life. 

“I’m also keen to see what you’ve done with the new place since I saw it last, though,” Harry added. 

“Not much,” Ron confessed. “It didn’t need much work. Just the protective enchantments, really. So no peeping neighbours wonder why we never have to garden, or why there is smoke in the chimney all year round.” 

The biggest change they’d made in the last month of owning the house and not living in it had been purchasing all of their own furniture. They now had their own bed, their own sofas, their own table, their own kitchen appliances (which Ron was still getting the hang of). They’d gotten the keys in December, slightly before Christmas, and had spent the last six weeks preparing to move into it, all at the same time trying to enjoy their short break away from work, and spending time with family. 

But everyone had volunteered to pitch in to help — Harry and Ginny helping with the packing, Hermione’s parents even making the two and a half hour drive to help them with the furniture deliveries. Molly had cooked them a week’s worth of meals so they wouldn’t have to worry about it. 

And today was the day. January, and finally they were moving into their new house. 

“The two of you are taking a lot of huge steps together,” Harry said after a moment, and there was an element of pride in his voice. “You’re in this for the long haul, huh?”

Ron turned to Harry, about to ask where he’d been for the past almost three years, but stopped himself when he saw Harry’s mischievous grin. 

“Ha, ha, very funny.” 

Harry shrugged, and then put his arm across Ron’s shoulders. “It really is great. I love you guys, you’re my family, and as much as you drive each other crazy, it’s a good kind of crazy. I swear you argue less now that you're together than you did when you weren't. You really love each other.”

“More than anything,” Ron said. Over the years, talking about his feelings to Harry had become slightly easier. In fact, talking about his feelings in general had become easier the moment he could admit them to Hermione. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d been forcing himself to keep quiet, terrified of the consequences were he to admit that his feelings for one of his best friends really crossed those boundaries of friendship. 

But then she had kissed him, and his barrier had been dropped, completely punctured through. She loved him, too, and all of a sudden, he could tell her, and he could tell the world — including Harry, who really didn’t want to hear about it to begin with.

Now, Harry felt like their biggest supporter. As if he really did want them to last.

Ron laughed lightly. "You should have heard us the other day. Arguing about what sheets to get for our new bed. We couldn't agree and it took us an hour to decide. They thought we were mad, the people in the shops."

Harry also laughed and shook his head. "I'm not really surprised. You ready?"

Ron nodded. Everything was packed now. Hermione and Ginny had taken Crookshanks and their owl, Arwen, over to the new place already, along with some other things. All that was left were the suitcases filled with clothes and other little things that wouldn't fit anywhere else. 

"It'll be sad to have you guys a little further away," Harry said as they both lifted their wands at the remaining stuff.

"You're only a Floo call away,” Ron said. "And we've set up Apparition boundaries too, not too far from the house — we thought it would be weird if any neighbours saw you exit the house but not come in, so that way you can at least look as if you walked."

"You moving has made me think about it a bit," Harry said.

"What, move out of Grimmauld Place?" Ron asked, not entirely surprised by that news. Harry had always said it was temporary because he’d always hated it there.

Harry shrugged. "It was never a long term arrangement. And it's already been longer than I planned. And it's huge for just me and Ginny." He hesitated a moment after that, looking uncertainly at Ron. "You'd, um, be okay if I proposed to her soon, wouldn't you?"

"What?" Ron asked.

Harry suddenly looked very uncomfortable. It had been a long, unspoken agreement that small details of Ron and Hermione's relationship were allowed to be shared, but Harry and Ginny's was taboo. Ginny may have been okay gossiping with Hermione about her brother's sex life (even though Hermione was adamant that never happened), but it was not something Ron even wanted to think about, let alone hear about.

But that wasn't even what shocked him… or annoyed him. It was the fact that for once, Ron had hoped to be the first. 

"I mean… soon?" Harry said. "You'd be okay with it, right? If I asked her?"

Ron didn't say anything for a long while, his wand hanging limply in his hand. 

No, let me ask Hermione first, he wanted to say. For the love of Merlin just let me have this one. 

But who knew when that was going to be. With the house, and then the furniture, and then the probability of that damn car neither knew how to drive (granted, Hermione had decided to learn) he'd had to reduce his payments to fortnightly and with fewer Galleons. 

"Well," he said, keeping the bitterness from his voice as best he could, "I don't really have a say, do I?"

"But you're my best mate," Harry said, "and her brother. Your opinion matters."

"I'm okay with it," Ron said. "I mean, it's not like I'm surprised anyway. You just caught me off guard."

Ron thought he'd handled that very well. He smiled, genuine. Harry mistook it as an approval smile. 

"I know it weirds you out," he said.

"Not nearly as much as it used to," Ron said. "As long as we continue with the whole need-to-know basis, then it's all good. When do you plan to ask?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't actually know. It is only a recent thought I've had. Not for a while, I guess." 

Ron nodded again, smiling. "Well, congrats, mate. I'm happy for you. Hermione will be too. We'll have a celebration once it's over with."

"Over with?" Harry chuckled. "You make it sound like it's some lengthy procedure you want to get out of the way."

"Well… the thought of it is kind of terrifying, isn't it? I mean… there's always a chance they'll say no. They'll change their mind even if they’ve assured you they’ll say yes. That they'll say they don't actually want to get married."

Harry didn't say anything for a long while. Suddenly, he looked mildly terrified, causing Ron to feel guilty. "Obviously, that's not going to be your case!" he added hastily. "It's just… a thought."

"I guess I never thought about that," Harry said. "I mean, she is playing Quidditch, she's rarely home… do you think she'll have time to even get married?"

"I'm sure it would be a top priority, mate."

But Harry didn't look overly convinced, and the guilt hit Ron like a slap to the face. He hadn't meant to worry Harry. He'd just been expressing his own internal fears he'd been too uncomfortable to admit to himself until now. 

"Just ask her," he said after a moment. "It's not going to go badly. Trust me."

"I've never done this before," Harry said. He turned to Ron. "How do I do it? How do I ask?"

Although he’d never admit it, Ron felt rather put out that their conversation had turned to Harry talking about how he was going to ask Ginny to marry him. 

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "I would have told you if I'd done it, don't you think? I can’t even afford a stupid ring, so you’re asking the wrong person.”

"Ring?” Harry asked, looking at Ron with a stunned expression. “I'm sorry, what?" 

Ron went red. He hadn't meant to say that. "Nothing," he said quickly. “I mean… forget I said that.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. “You have a ring?”

“Well… no,” Ron said, realising he’d already said too much. He may as well tell Harry the whole story. "That’s the thing. I went to… get one last year. In April. I was going to ask Hermione, but the ring I wanted to get was ridiculously expensive, so I've been paying it off each week. Well, fortnight since we got the house."

"You were going to ask Hermione to marry you?" Harry asked softly, apparently now more interested in Ron's story than his own romantic plight. 

"Yeah," Ron said. "I really wanted to do it right, too. But the shopkeeper won't give it to me until it's all paid off. It was supposed to be a year, so I'd have it this April, but with the house and everything, I've had to delay it a little longer. I probably won't get it until the following April at the rate it's going." He sighed again. "I was so ready to do it and everything; I'd even organised a whole romantic evening that I had to cancel because it was pointless otherwise. She was so confused. I think she realised what I was planning, and then I cancelled and… I don't know. She hasn't said anything about it. She hasn't said anything to you, has she?" 

Harry shook his head, shrugging. “Not a word. You mean to say, you’ve put it off for almost a year now?”

Ron nodded. 

Harry watched him for a moment. Then,“You're the biggest idiot I've ever met.” 

"Thanks," Ron muttered. 

"You're telling me you've been planning to marry her for almost a year, and the only thing holding you back is the fact that you decided to get her an engagement ring that is far too expensive?"

Ron shrugged. 

"She doesn't care about a stupid ring, mate. I can tell you that much."

Ron shrugged again. "It was the only one that felt right. I didn’t want to just get her any old one because it was cheaper. I chose that one before I knew the price and I knew it was right for her."

Harry laughed. "You're an idiot," he said again. "But while you're being an idiot, will you at least help me come up with a plan for Ginny? Seems you have some idea on what to do, which is more than me."

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "I'll help. Just don’t tell me the intimate details, will you? One of us may as well be getting married while the other is being an idiot."

Harry shook his head, still laughing. "I wonder if Hermione realises she's moving in with the biggest prat in the world."

Ron stuck out a leg to kick Harry.

"Is that any way to treat your future brother-in-law?" Harry asked.

"Careful," Ron warned. "I might just tell you I'm not okay with it."

"And I'd have to tell you that you were right — it's not really your decision, is it?"

They grinned at each other, and Ron felt glad that his friendship with Harry had stood the test of time and many, many obstacles. And that his best friend would one day be family for real. 

“We should actually get this stuff to the house,” Ron said, nodding at the pile of things they’d been tasked to transport. 

Harry nodded, and together, they Vanished the stuff to what would hopefully be the new place. Hermione had shown them the spell, becoming frustrated when they hadn’t managed it first go, muttering something about them going to make useless Aurors if they couldn’t manage a simple Vanishing charm. 

It felt like old times, like when they were back at Hogwarts and studying for exams. The only difference this time was rather than telling her to lay off them, Ron had pulled her towards him and kissed her. It had been the most effective measure in silencing her for the past few years. 

“Ready?” Ron asked, gripping Harry’s arm. Harry nodded, and Ron spun from the living room of the flat, landing a moment later in the living room of the new place…

...to a pile of suitcases and bags which had crash landed on the brand new coffee table he and Hermione had bought, causing one of the legs to snap.

Ron grimaced at the mess, and then looked up to where Hermione and Ginny were muttering about their uselessness in moving things.

“Well, how were we supposed to know where exactly it was going to land?” Ron argued as Hermione repaired the coffee table. “We couldn’t see.”

“I managed to get the other stuff in the correct places,” Hermione retorted. 

“Yes, well, we already know we aren’t as accurate with magic as you are. Rub it in, why don’t you?” Ron grumbled, shifting the bags and suitcases into the corner of the living room. “Where do these go, anyway?”

“Upstairs,” Hermione said. For a moment, Ron thought she was going to Vanish them up there herself, but when she didn’t move, Ron realised she wanted him to drag them up himself, probably as punishment for destroying their brand new table before they’d even officially moved in. 

“I’ll levitate them, at least,” Ron told her, to which she only raised an eyebrow. 

“A little help?” Ron said to Harry, who had been standing back slightly. 

Harry nodded, and they began levitating the objects, guiding them through the doors and upstairs. “She has a point, really,” Harry said on their way up. “We should be able to do that spell.”

“She’s just stressing as Hermione stresses in situations like this,” Ron said. “Everything has to go perfectly to plan.”

They let the bags fall onto the floor of the bedroom, where all that was there was a bed — made up and looking fresh and clean, and ready to be slept in. 

“Hermione?” Harry asked, nodding toward the duvet. It was a pale blue and white cover, which was one of the many small arguments they’d had about the decor of the house. Ron had not liked it, but then she had won the argument by stating she didn’t like the idea of Quidditch hoops in the garden, but she wasn’t telling him no to that.

So they had bought that one.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I get the Quidditch stuff, she gets everything else in the house, and I’m okay with that. I really want the hoops.”

Harry chuckled. “Married life, I guess.”

“Not yet,” Ron reminded him. 

“As good as.”

“Yeah,” Ron said with a small smile. It was.

A moment later, Hermione and Ginny came into the room as well, laughing at the sight of Ron and Harry staring at the bed. 

“You moved a few bags and you’re contemplating taking a nap, are you?” Ginny said. 

“No,” Ron and Harry said together. 

“We were just commenting on the duvet,” Harry added. “It’s… nice.”

“A good thing you don’t have to sleep there then, isn’t it, Harry?” Hermione said. “Ron doesn’t like it either.” She looked at Ron, amused. “Mum and Dad just got here with a few extra little things we realised were missing this morning. Is everything gone from the other place?”

“Yep, it’s just the keys to pass on now. Where’s the cat and where’s the owl?”

“Crookshanks is exploring the garden, and I told Arwen she could stretch her wings.”

They made their way back downstairs and into the kitchen where Hermione’s parents were both standing by the bench. A pile of small bits and pieces sat atop it, and a bag full of groceries.

“We thought you might need a head start,” Jane said, smiling. “So you don’t go hungry. Though, I hear Molly has you covered for that as well?”

“Mum would never let us starve,” Ron said to Hermione’s mother. He took the bag from the bench and looked at Hermione. “I may need some help with what goes in the refrigerator,” he added.

“If it’s cold, it goes in, if it’s not cold, the pantry,” Jane said. 

“Thanks,” Ron said, and he began unloading the butter, some milk and eggs into the refrigerator. Arthur had spent a good thirty minutes admiring it when they’d put it in a week ago. 

“Fascinating,” he had kept saying. “And, Ron, you’ll be living with elektisity. Amazing!” Much to the amusement of Hermione’s parents, who had also been there.

Ron had to remind him that Percy was also living in a house with electricity with a gentle nudge to go and bother him. 

Now, Ron continued unloading the groceries. Hermione’s parents had bought some vegetables as well, which stumped Ron. Harry had to help him sort them out. 

“Merlin, that’s going to take some getting used to,” Ron said. “The flat was all magic. We didn’t need one.”

“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure,” Jane said kindly. 

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione added, smiling at him. 

He returned her smile. Anywhere with her was home. 

“Well, perhaps we should go to our hotel for the night,” Jane said after a moment. “Check in. We’ve decided to stay in Nottingham, just to see the two of you settled in. In case there’s anything else you need.”

“Thanks,” Ron said, and he didn’t just mean for the food. Ever since getting the house, they had been so busy that he’d not had a chance to really thank her parents for the help they had given for the house. “I mean… for everything, not just today. For… the house.”

Both of her parents smiled. “It is the least we can do, Ron,” her dad said. “To get the two of you set up.”

Sixteen thousand Galleons equivalent wasn’t a small thing, but Ron didn’t push the matter. He was grateful for the help, because without it, they wouldn’t be standing there right now. 

“We’ll go back, too,” Ginny said. “I’ve got tomorrow off, but training starts again on Monday. We’re going out for dinner tonight, me and Harry.” She beamed. “It’s been forever.”

“Enjoy,” Hermione said. “Maybe try the Floo back to your place. Make sure it works. It was a hell of a lot of paperwork to get it connected, so you may as well use it.”

“Will do,” Ginny said, grinning at them. “Enjoy your first night in your new place. Try not to break any more furniture.” She turned to Hermione’s parents then, and added quickly, “I do mean literally. Ron broke the coffee table earlier.” She looked back at Ron and Hermione. “We’ll drop by again tomorrow. See you.”

The four of them left after that, Harry and Ginny Flooing back to Grimmauld Place, while Hermione’s parents drove back down the driveway toward the city of Nottingham where they were staying. 

Ron threw his arm around Hermione’s shoulder as the car disappeared down the road and they closed the door behind them.

“Tomorrow we give the key back, and then this place is truly ours,” he said. “Just you and me.”

“How do we spend our first night in our new place?” Hermione asked. 

…

It was nearing ten o’clock at night, and just as Ron had imagined all those weeks ago, they sat on the sofa, curled up together with a blanket thrown over them. It wasn’t even that cold, but it was comforting and the romantic in Ron had insisted. 

“This is nice,” Hermione said, and her voice sounded faraway, as if she was almost asleep. 

Ron drew her closer towards him, his thoughts wandering into something resembling pure bliss, only interrupted a few moments later by an intrusive memory that he’d brushed aside until now. 

“Apparently I am helping Harry figure out a way to ask Ginny to marry him.”

“What?” Hermione lifted her head off Ron’s shoulder and sat up. “Since when?”

“Since this morning, apparently,” Ron said with a shrug. “He asked me if I’d be okay with it, which… well, yeah, I am. Then he asked me if I could help him do it. I mean, I assume he meant helping him find a way to ask her that doesn’t seem ridiculous and cheesy.”

“That’s great news!” Hermione said, and she sounded genuinely thrilled. If there was any thought in her mind about when she’d be getting engaged, she hid it very well. “Oh, I’m so happy for them. Do you know when he’s planning it?”

“No,” Ron said. “You know Harry — if it’s something that involves even a small plan, then he prefers to dive right in, head first.”

“Ginny did say they were going to dinner tonight…” Hermione began.

“Yeah, but he asked me for help,” Ron said. “And I haven’t given him the slightest bit of help.” He thought back to earlier that day, and Harry’s amusement over the whole ring situation. “Except, I guess, what not to do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked. 

“Nothing.” Ron shook his head. “Just something that happened while we were packing up the stuff at the flat. You think Ginny will say yes?”

“Certain of it,” Hermione said. “Though, with the Quidditch season starting up again soon, I can’t imagine when they’ll find the time to get married. They’ll have to squeeze it in between a game, I guess. And that all depends on whether the game has actually finished before the next one is due to start.”

Ron laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Hermione asked.

“Well, I’d hope — and correct me if I’m wrong if I’m assuming too much — that Ginny would actually consider missing a game or two for her own wedding.”

Hermione flushed, and it was obvious that the thought hadn’t actually occurred to her. “I… I suppose you’re right.”

Ron watched her for a moment. Now he knew she definitely was thinking about their own potential wedding. She had an air of guilt about her. 

“If you and Harry find you’re struggling, I can offer some suggestions, too,” Hermione said after a moment. “I do think, considering it’s Harry and Ginny, something simple. Or something Quidditch related.”

“Maybe at a Quidditch game?” Ron suggested.

“Harry wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself like that,” Hermione argued.

“Good point.”

“A dinner is a little cliche, but nice and simple, and if it’s in the house, then there’s no one else around.”

“Wouldn’t that be boring, though?” Ron asked.

“I think it’s romantic,” Hermione said. “I think it would be nice for them to become engaged just at home, no one else around…”

Ron smiled at her. 

Hermione flushed a little, and added quickly, “But I mean, if, um, Harry doesn’t want to do it that way then there’s other options. Start by asking him, I guess. You’re good at that kind of thing, Ron. Better than he is. I’m sure you’ll think of something. It’s so exciting for them!”

Ron’s smile widened. “I love you,” he said. 

She responded by kissing him. 

…

There was a cool breeze floating through the window the following morning. Ron shivered. What was it doing open in January? It was far too cold for such a thing. 

And then he remembered. 

Their first night together in their new place had become heated, especially when they’d decided to come to bed. They’d needed to open the window after a bit, just to cool themselves down. 

And now it didn’t help in the morning that he’d fallen asleep without any clothes and the blankets were tossed down around his waist. 

He groaned and rolled over, drawing them back up to under his chin. “Morning,” he said groggily, reaching out an arm to place around Hermione. She didn’t respond, but he could feel that beneath the blankets she also had forgotten to get dressed. He snuggled into her, partly for warmth and partly because he was still very much remembering how he had fallen asleep and wanted to be as close to her as possible.

Her even, gentle breathing lulled him back into a sleep. He didn’t know for how long, but he was woken again by Hermione shifting against him. She rolled over and before he could even open his eyes, her lips were on his again. 

“Good morning,” she whispered, snuggling into him. Her skin was so warm and soft against his. 

He grinned, still through closed eyes. “Very good morning,” he said, moving his arm under the blankets and drawing her closer towards him. “You’re so warm,” he added, suppressing a shiver. “Dumb idea, leaving that open all night.”

“I was going to close it, but then I fell asleep,” Hermione said, keeping her voice low. 

Ron drew her even closer to him, sinking lower under the blankets. A moment later Hermione pulled away. His eyes sprung open as she reached for her wand, pointed it at the open window and then snuggled back in under the covers.

“We don’t have to get up today, do we?” Ron asked. 

“I’m okay to stay here,” Hermione agreed, and she kissed him again.

And they would have gladly stayed in bed all day, enjoying their new house (and each other’s company), but at some point (Ron didn’t know and didn’t care what the time was) there was an annoying disruption.

A rush of flames, and then a shout that sounded a lot like Ginny’s from the bottom of the stairs. “You two up there?”

“Great idea linking the fireplaces,” Ron groaned, pulling away from Hermione unwillingly. “Your best idea yet.”

Hermione, also looking rather annoyed at the interruption, sat up in the bed in a very flustered state. “I don’t think we’re in any state to go down just yet,” she said. 

Ron definitely wasn’t, so they laid back down, Hermione flicking her wand to open the window again. 

“I doubt they’re sleeping,” Ron heard Ginny say, probably to Harry. “It’s midday. Honestly.”

And then there was silence, with any luck the two deciding to go back home. Though, Ron knew that was wishful thinking. 

“I suppose we should get up,” Hermione said after a while, once the cold air began to become a nuisance again, and not a relief. 

“Annoying little sisters,” Ron grumbled as they both sat up and attempted to find something to dress into. Nothing had been unpacked yet, and by the time Ron had found a shirt and a pair of jeans to throw on, Hermione was opening the door in her pyjamas that she definitely had not worn last night.

Harry and Ginny were waiting in the kitchen, both with a mug of hot tea in front of them. 

“Sorry, should have sent word when we were coming over,” Ginny said, and to Ron’s surprise, she actually looked a little embarrassed. 

“Yeah,” Ron replied, unable to contain his annoyance at their unwelcome intrusion. “Also should have used your brain.”

Hermione gave him a whack across the chest.

“Ow.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione said, accepting an offer of tea that Harry had just poured. “We were just about to get up.”

That was so far from the truth that no one believed her, but no one said anything. 

“So, how’s the place?” Harry asked. “You’ve settled in alright?”

“Yep,” Ron said. “There’s a lot more space than we’re used to, but that’s alright. We’ll get used to it, I’m sure. It already kind of feels like home.”

“I’m glad,” Ginny said with a smile. 

They moved into idle chat after that, Harry and Ginny talking about their date night, and then moving onto work, and the new Quidditch season. It wasn’t until Hermione jumped up from her seat and said, “Harry, can I see you in the next room?” that the conversation died.

“Is that some secret work business going on in there?” Ginny asked. 

“I dunno, maybe,” Ron said, though he had a feeling that Hermione was sharing all her sudden ideas about how to propose to Ginny in the next room. He repressed a sigh.

“Harry told me what you said to him yesterday,” Ginny said after a moment. “About the ring. You’re an idiot.”

Ron glared at her. 

“I’m serious,” Ginny continued. “You. Are. So. Stupid.”

“I’m not getting into this discussion with you,” Ron said. “It’s too late now, anyway. I can’t back out, and I don’t want to.”

Ginny stared at him for a moment, then shook her head again, stating, “You’re an idiot.” 

“That’s what George told me when I told him what I did.”

“Yeah, well, he’s right, too.”

Ron couldn’t say anything, for Harry and Hermione returned, Harry looking rather overwhelmed. 

“We should head back,” Ginny said. “I have to be back in Holyhead at seven in the morning tomorrow.”

“Good luck for this year,” Hermione said. “We’ll try to get to some games to see you play.”

Ginny smiled, giving Hermione and Ron a hug each. “Thanks. We have a pretty strong team. I’m just glad to be playing this year at all.”

“You deserve it,” Hermione said. 

“Thanks. See you guys, and enjoy the rest of your afternoon. We’ll remember to Apparate next time, or send word first. Sorry.”

Once they had gone, Hermione turned straight to Ron and said, “You need to help Harry. He’s clueless.” And she took another sip of the freshly brewed tea. 

[thisentertaining]

As the Blue Spirit Howls

Zuko was not a good shifter.

Azula could switch between her wolf and human skins between steps. Not Zuko, he needed several minutes before he even started the shift, and that was on a good day. If it had been Azula who Animal Control found in that alley, they would have walked away convinced that their eyes had played a trick on them. There had never been a dog there.

But Zuko's long transformation would have only revealed his kind to the world. Father may think he has no honor, but he wouldn't stoop so low as that. Even if that meant being dumped in animal shelter, trapped as much by the 24/7 security cameras as by the cage bars.

He had the worst luck. -

"Come on guys!" Aang said as he lead his friends through the clamoring barks of the shelter. "I want to show you my favorite dog! He's a sweetheart."

Aang lead the pair to where a monstrous beast of a dog was growling with raspy barks loud enough to drown out the rest of the shelter. His bright white teeth contrasted against golden eyes and a bright red scar that stretched over the side of his face as he lunged against the cage door.

Sokka laughed nervously. "Did the word 'sweetheart' change meaning when I wasn't looking?"

Chapter 2

Read On Ao3

“Come on guys, I want to show you my favorite dog! He’s a real sweetheart.” Aang said excitedly, voice raised to be heard over the loud barking that filled the air. Katara and Sokka followed behind, Katara looking around and coo-ing at the animals as Sokka frantically took ‘artistic’ pictures and boomerangs to post to his Instagram. The eldest of their group was proud to boast a couple hundred thousand followers. He had deleted comments, and his friends hadn’t had the heart to tell him that 99.9% of those followers thought that it was a parody site making fun of ‘artsy’ Instagram accounts. The .1% was the two of them.

“I think it’s great that you’re doing this Aang, this seems like the perfect place for you.”

The younger boy grinned with a blush as he accepted the praise. “Thanks! I just really wanted a place where I could help out!”

“And play with cute animals.” Sokka said with a snort.

“That helped.” Aang admitted, dragging them along to one of the back corners of the shelter, the section with less cute puppies wagging their tails and squirming, and more hardened looking dogs who watched them warily with low rumbling growls or furious barking. He of course, lead them to a cage where the dog was doing both.

It was a huge beast, a husky mix likely, though it was hard to tell. It looked like the dog had been shaved bare recently, though inexplicitly it’s fluffy black tail hadn’t been touched. The light smatterings of bristly fur that was starting to grow in on the rest of him did nothing to cover the smattering of scars that littered a body just this side of starvation. It certainly didn’t hide huge burn that stretched fully across one side of the dog’s face. It covered his squinting gold eye completely, touched a bit of his snout then wrapped around his head to completely mangle one formerly-pointed ear.

The dog’s face was a mess of color, from the pink skin, the black fur trying valiantly to grow in, gold eyes, bright red burn, and the bold white teeth that were stark against his lips as the dog maintained a constant warning growl. The growl only got louder as they neared, until it morphed into the loudest, most grating barks that the sibling had ever heard. Still, Aang continued forward as the monstrous dog started snapping, pacing, and lunging against the kennel wall.

Huge black-padded paws sent the kennel doors bulging as the dog snarled and threatened, his raspy barks drowning out the others in the shelter. Huge teeth snapped, and only the bars of the cage separated them from the children’s faces as the dog stood on long legs. Its tail lay inert between its legs, moving with the furious lunges of his body but not in any way that even remotely hinted at a ‘wag’.

“Uh, did the meaning of the word ‘sweetheart’ change when I wasn’t looking?” Sokka asked as Aang moved towards the cage latch. Aang simply grinned at him and slipped into the kennel.

“Wait!” Cried Katara frantically, obviously not expecting the boy to actually go in. She looked around in panic for a staff member who could stop her friend from being mauled by the beast.

However, the dog had backed away from the door as Aang opened it, and while his growls and ear-splitting barks did not cease, he was no longer lunging but pacing back and forth along the back of the kennel. Aang sat crossed legged on the cage floor and scooted forward until the dog had no more room to pace and it lay down with a huff. The growls and barks continued, but it did nothing more as Aang started freely petting its short, bristly fur. “His name is Blue Spirit, or Spirit for short. They found him in the alley behind the Blue Spirt bar. We’re pretty sure he was abused.”

“Duh.” Sokka muttered, but Katara jabbed at him with her elbow.

Aang continued, seeming to barely notice the interruption. “They even sent some officers to the bar, but no one would confess to recognizing him or his owner. I know he looks pretty scary, but he’s actually really sweet.”

The dog snarled, and let out a sharp bark, as if protesting the characterization. Aang immediately cooed and scratched his back harder. “Yeah, youse a sweetheart, yes youse are.”

The dog growled again, but didn’t so much as snap. Instead, he seemed to be leaning into Aang’s touch more and more. Katara cocked her head before moving to go into the cage as well.

“Wait!” Sokka protested. “He was psycho like 2 seconds ago, I don’t think this is a good- no of course you don’t listen to me. Why would you listen to me?”

The girl slipped into the cage and shut it carefully behind her. The dog eyed her warily, but didn’t even bother to growl at her like he had with Aang. Instead, it huffed out an irritated sound and looked away.

“See!” Aang beamed as she hesitantly knelt beside him. Katara offered her hand for him to sniff, which the dog did exactly twice before looking away with another huff. “He can tell if you’re nervous and isn’t so loud. He’s actually loudest once he starts to trust you. It’s kinda cute.”

The dog jumped to its feet, barking loudly into Aang’s face as though in protest. Sokka let out a bark of laughter and finally entered the, now cramped, cage as well. “Don’t worry boy, you aren’t cute. You’re big, tough, and scawwy, right buddy?”

Blue Spirit growled at Sokka, making him yelp, but the older teen didn’t move from his spot in the cage. With a calculating glance at his friend and sister, Sokka pat the dog on the head twice, as which point Spirit seemed to realize that no one was really intimidated by him anymore and turned to attack one of the rawhides in the cage. The dog brandished the toy at them when he tore off a chunk as though to prove that his teeth were powerful and to be feared. The group simply cooed at him and resumed petting.

_______

Zuko huffed and dropped the rawhide, collapsing with his head on his paws. This kind of stuff never happened to Azula.

“You should see him when little kids come in.” Aang continued babbling.

Of course, Azula was a much, much better shifter than him. A prodigy. Just thinking the words left a bad taste in his mouth. That may have been the disgusting dog food he’d been forced to consume for the past month.

“They don’t usually come back this far, but if they do then he doesn’t do anything. Just lays down calmly in the back like a good boy, no barking, no growling.”

Zuko was not a good shifter. He just didn’t have good control over his shift.

“And I swear he glares the ones that do scare the kids into submission. I saw a toddler pull his tail once and he didn’t even flinch.”

That wasn’t to say that he shifted unexpectedly like the movies portrayed it. That wasn’t the issue, that had never been his issue. His problem had always been the opposite. He was great at maintaining the shift, both as human and wolf, but transitioning between the two? That was harder.

“That’s really sweet.” The girl replied.

He growled again in rote protest against Aang’s favorite descriptor for him, but the new boy had just found that spot behind his good ear and he was too busy pressing into that hand to argue any more.

The shift that took his family seconds would take him several minutes of intense concentration. The more emotional he was, the longer it took. It had been taking a lot of time lately.

“Okay, fine, he’s growing on me.” The strange boy said, obligingly digging into that spot even harder. The girl was running her hands over his back, and Aang was carefully looking at his paws in a way Zuko knew was an actual vet’s trick. He wondered idly if that was what the boy was interested in doing. Volunteering in a shelter would be a good move if he was.

If Azula had been woken up in that alley by animal control (Azula would never have fallen asleep in an alley. He wasn’t sure what she would have done if she’d been kicked out and disowned and was half-starved and homeless, but it wouldn’t have involved sleeping in a dirty alley after licking disgusting drying beer off the ground in attempt to get any moisture into her parched body) she would have just shifted, yelled and threatened, and they would have walked away embarrassed that they had mistaken a girl for an animal, convinced it was a trick of their minds.

“I knew he would.” Aang said proudly. When had his tail started wagging? Why couldn’t either of his forms be good at lying? “Just don’t get too close to his face, especially the part with the…”

But not Zuko. By the time he had the been able to fight through the exhaustion, hunger, and blurriness from his reluctant drink to even start the process of shifting, they had already forced him into a cage in the fan and were slipping that stupid hoop-stick thing off of him so that they could close the door. He’d been so distracted on trying to shift that he hadn’t fought properly to escape.

A stupid mistake.

One of many.

“I can’t believe someone could do that.” Katara said softly. “Especially to a dog as sweet as this.”

He hadn’t been a dog at the time. He’d taken the form of a loyal son. That had been another mistake. He once thought it was a mistake he could fix. He’d given that up the night in the alley. Now he could only hope that this mistake wouldn’t be as permanent.

“Well, that’s the thing… you see-“

“Aang, we cannot get a dog.” The girl protested and Zuko blinked. They were getting a dog? Oh, right. “You know what Officer Fong would say about pets.”

Zuko’s brows furrowed. Fong… he knew that name. That was one of the officers who placed people into witness protection. More specifically, he was the officer who had organized the concealment of a witness known by the codename Avatar. The witness who supposedly held the key to ruining Father’s entire livelihood.

“We have Appa! And Momo!”

The witness who Zuko had been relentlessly hunting since the day that Father disowned him.

“We have Appa because he’s a licensed, therapist prescribed therapy dog to help your trauma and keep you from accidentally karate chopping people.” The boy said bluntly. “We have Momo because you can sneak him around in your pocket when they move us.”

The witness whose capture was supposed to ensure that Zuko could return to his home, to his family.

“It’s not karate, its-“

The witness who he had given up searching for when yet another dead end left him with an empty stomach, and a tiredness that allowed him to finally give up on the insane dream that Father still cared for him at all.

“Aang, if I have to listen to your list of martial arts that you’re magically good at one more time, I’m going to fall asleep on the dog.”

Zuko would have growled at that, but his mind was moving to quickly, his heart feeling like it was exploding in his chest. It couldn’t be. Avatar was supposed to be a hardened gangster, or a skilled hacker, or shrewd fixer, or… not a kid. He wasn’t supposed to be some kid.

Aang pouted. “We aren’t supposed to have social media either, Sokka.”

Maybe it wasn’t. Fong had to have several cases, right? (Never mind that Avatar was supposed to have two companions, not eyewitnesses but people he had told everything. Codenames Boomerang and Bender)

“I can’t disappoint my fans Aang. Besides, no one knows it’s me. There are no faces, no names, no comments, I don’t even tag our locations.”

Zuko had to know. Fong was good. It was hard to get any information on Avatar, but Zuko was able to get a few tidbits here and there. The pertinent one: he was supposed to have tattoos. Supposedly he had blue arrows on his head and hands.

The girl sighed loudly. “Not this argument again.”

He had hair covering any head tattoos, and Zuko didn’t see anything on his hands, but he had to be sure.

“Great, then we can go onto a new argument. So, Appa is great but he’s more my dog than anything because I have to take him like, everywhere. You guys deserve a pet too and Spirit is- uh. Spirit?”

Zuko had risen to a sitting position and met Aang’s eyes before leaning over and very deliberately licking a large swath down the boy’s wrist. His tongue came away covered in a bitter tasting powder that sat thick and heavy.

“Did you guys see that?” Aang asked, voice raspy in awe. “He’s never done that before, with anyone. It’s a sign!”

“Awww.”

“Aang. That does not change anything.”

“But Katara-“

They were arguing, but the words were rushing around Zuko, lost in the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the small wrist, and the pointed tip of a tattoo that he had revealed.

[laurasinele]

Magpies

Prompt 4: “I know you didn’t ask for this”

Fanfic from: the Harry Potter series

Tags: preslash Drarry, epilogue what epilogue, heavy dialog, seven years post Battle of Hogwarts, ofc, Harry & Draco’s friendship, mental health, guilt

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of war, mentions of death

Ao3

Outside the window a couple of magpies were fighting over an apple, effectively distracting him from his reading. Not that he was very focused to begin with. One of the birds had picked a rotten apple from the orchard ground and the other was trying to steal it. They cawed angrily and flopped their wings in ampulous, threatening motions while clashing talons. Draco was engrossed by their belligerent dance, open book forgotten on his lap.

The hinges of the reading room door screeched as it opened. All the elfs in the Manor had left to work at Hogwarts or the Ministry immediately after Draco informed them of that possibility, so there was no one left to oil the joints nor announce visitors. Not that there was any need. The only visits he got regularly were Ministry’s agents on Ministry’s business or his designated/volunteered auror, checking weekly on the conditions to his house arrest. Mother wasn’t allowed to leave St. Mungo’s and his aunt Andromeda, who was trying to forge a family bond with him, was always sensible enough to owl before coming. By the works of the DMLE, the doors and floo system would not open for anybody else. 

Aware of this at all times, Draco didn’t pause his keen observation of the magpies’ strife. It was Friday after all, and Auror Appleworm made always her appearence on that day at the time of her best convenience.

“I would have prepared lunch for us both, had you come half an hour earlier”, said Draco as he rose and put the book aside, still looking out the window.

“Thank you Malfoy, I’ve already eaten”. 

Malfoy startled at the male voice, and then startled again when he realised who it belonged to. He turned slowly, disbelieving, his aristocratic training supplying a small surge of nonchalance thanks to which he managed to pocket his hands and look calm. 

“Excuse my surprise, I was expecting Mrs Appleworm, as usual. To what do I owe the pleasure, Potter?”

Harry remained near the door, politely waiting for an invitation to sit. His auror robes were impeccable, their maroon bringing back to Draco’s memory their quidditch matches.

“Mrs Appleworm’s daughter went in labor this early morning. She is going to take some months away, although we are trying to convince her to retire and enjoy her grandchildren. Septuplets”, he added at Draco’s curious expression. 

“Oh, my. I thought she wasn’t due until next month. I trust they are all healthy and well”

Harry nodded, “I paid a visit on my way here. They are all well and Agnes and Mr Appleworm are over the moon”.

“I’ll have to remember to send them a present”. 

An awkward silence settled between them while Draco reigned his nerves and Harry looked around the room, taking in the elaborate shelf-cases, the light upholstery and drapes, and the yellow wallpaper. It was nothing as he remembered the Manor. 

“I made some changes”, offered Draco, guessing Harry’s train of thought. “Now that I am the only inhabitant I figured I could make this house, eh, more welcoming. Please, do sit down”, he finished gesturing towards the armchair next to his, by the other side of the window. “And please excuse my manners earlier, I was caught in two magpies fighting over a piece of apple in mid flight right outside the window”

Harry looked perplexed at that confession and a small smile graced his face while he approached the window. “They don’t look like fighting now”, he said as he spotted them through the window, resting atop of an ornamental stone cornucopia, grooming each other. 

Draco followed Harry’s pointing finger and he couldn’t contain a delighted exclamation upon finding the two birds. 

“They must have learnt to share, then. Now, what can I do for you, Auror Potter?”

--

They fell in a comfortable routine. Every Friday at precisely 2 o’clock, Harry appareted outside the reading room door and knocked before entering. Draco would put aside whatever book he had picked from the list the Ministry had provided as one of the conditions to keep him out of Azkaban and, after the compulsory questions and tests, they’d settle in an easy conversation that could go on until dinner time. Draco would always politely extend an invitation to stay and Harry would always politely refuse. They’d talk about quidditch, muggle culture —a big part of Draco’s assigned readings—, recent news, what were the Manor’s elfs up to…

Over time, more than seven years if he wasn’t mistaken, Draco had struck a sort of friendship with Mrs Appleworm. He had started to forgive himself for his acts of war and his past arrogance upon learning how she saw him. A veteran auror and elderly mother, when she looked at Draco Malfoy she saw an abused child never too rotten to mend. Draco might not think as benevolently about himself yet, but he was willing to get there someday, which was a huge step forward from the self-deprecating, self-harming depressive state Agnes Appleworm found him in. This days he barely indulged in regret and sadness and fear. He stayed firmly attached to calm and apathy. 

After five weeks of Mrs Appleworm leave, eagerness joined those two main emotions. Draco found himself eager for Friday afternoon well early in the week, and Saturdays and Sundays were usually filled with a peaceful sensation akin to happiness. It felt good to face Potter once a week for a few hours. It gave his before and after a certain continuity. They never talked about school or the war, not even a passing mention, but the fact that Harry Potter existed, and acknowledged Draco’s existence, made all the memories and every movement away from them and past his prior ways, somehow more real. 

That afternoon, however, Harry’s dark mood was all over the place, making it impossible for Draco not to ask if everything was alright. 

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing important. I just had a tough session with my therapist last evening”, said Harry with an apologetic smile. 

“A therapist? Like a muggle psychotherapist?”, Draco couldn’t refrain to ask, surprised as he was. Harry scoffed.

“A muggle psychotherapist, actually, yes”. 

Draco made a very polite, very English face of understanding and promptly looked through the window in search of and urgent change of topic, for he could not possibly fathom a non-personal, prim and proper way to continue this conversation. Providence delivered in the form of two magpies landing on the windowsill. 

"Oh!", softly exclaimed Draco, inexplicably delighted. "Would you look at that!" 

"Are they the same two?" 

"I couldn't tell…"

Both young men fell silent, watching the birds. They had landed side by side with a fraction of a second between them. They had looked around with that avian sort of movement that made most corvids look offended, and then started to skip all along the windowsill, apparently without purpose but very pointedly ignoring each other. 

After a while, Draco could not take the ominous feeling that scene had sparked in him, and turned to Harry, who was still transfixed by the magpies' bizarre dance. 

"Should I ask? About your therapy". 

Harry smiled as if he had been expecting the question, and didn't say anything nor looked away from the birds for a little while. 

"Why, Malfoy, what would you ask?", inquired Harry, finally looking at him with a placid expression, devoid of any hostility Draco might have anticipated. At this, Draco shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly and gave a spontaneous response that seemed to be aching to be spoken.

“What is it for. Although I can imagine. How is it going. Or whether it helps or not”. After a very brief pause he added: “How are you”. 

Harry laughed softly, throwing his head backwards. He covered his face with his hands and sighed. 

“I am fucked”, he declared meeting Draco’s gaze. “I’m a child soldier with PTSD, abandonment issues, identity issues and claustrophobia. I’m an abuse victim and have a deep distrust towards any authority figure. This, added to my natural tendency to bend rules results in ‘severe misanthropy and incapability to work within a hierarchy’”, he said, signing in the air the quotation marks before dropping his hands on his lap with mild frustration. “Every fatherly figure I ever had aside from Hagrid and Arthur Weasley is dead. All my friends are war heroes with similar issues, so we barely talk about normal stuff. So to avoid feeding each other’s neurosis we barely talk, full stop. My adopted family was so invested in actually making me one of them that they unconsciously pushed a relationship that ended up feeling unsettling close to incest and finished awkwardly and dramatically, distancing me from them. Oh, and right when a single month had passed without the press pestering me, tomorrow the Prophet is going to be all about me being queer because the guy I met at a muggle gay pub last Friday happened to be a squib, and he knew exactly who I was. So, uh, yeah. I’m fucked”.

Draco’s eyes were wide in shock and concern. He hadn’t known what to expect when he had enunciated the hypothetical questions he would make, but he was pretty sure he’d have been shook even if he had imagined the half of what Harry had just said. 

“I am deeply sorry, Potter. I shouldn’t have brought the subject up”.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I hadn’t wanted to”.

“Nevertheless, it is none of my business”.

Harry scoffed, this time a tad irritated. When he spoke it was patent that he was trying to refrain from lashing out completely onto Malfoy:

“How is this not your business? My psychopathic tutors certainly aren’t, but all the rest? My parents’ death? Voldemort’s return? The war? You were a part of it ever since you were born!”. Draco only managed to mouth like a fish, watching as Harry grew more and more indignant. “You conspired and helped to set on the battle at Hogwarts. At a bloody school!”, he boomed now. “You put a cursed necklace on a student! You let the Deatheaters into the castle! You were a bloody little soldier just like I was!”.

Draco rose from his seat, trembling with rage and shame: 

“I didn’t have a choice, Potter! I was born into it! I didn’t ask for any of it. I didn’t ask for this!”

From his armchair, Harry was looking up at him, at first with defiance. Upon hearing this, watching Draco looming over him, eyes wet and breathing deeply, his features softened. 

“I know you didn’t ask for this. It was uncalled for. I am on edge since I knew about the Prophet, but that’s not an excuse. I am very sorry for yelling at you and bringing up the past. For the record, I think you’ve already done more than enough to repay your debts and change your ways”. 

Draco was still staring, still looming, still breathing heavily and holding back his tears with all his power. He stood there for a few beats, and then he sat back down slowly, not taking his eyes off of Harry. A few moments of silence elongated between them, faces flustered, bodies tense, eyes locked. Finally, Draco relaxed into the backrest and spoke calmly:

“I never knew you were mistreated as a child. It’s an abomination”.

“I never knew you would be learning about muggle culture willingly”. 

“It’s part of my sentence”.

“Hermione told me you wrote her like six feet of an apology letter and asked for books, music and films”, shot back Harry with a mischievous grin. Draco rolled his eyes, mocking annoyance:

“You can’t keep secrets anymore”.

“Not between Hermione, Ron and I, no”.

They smiled at each other with something warmer than the pleasant politeness that had grown between them during the past weeks. Harry broke eye contact first to look out the window. Draco kept looking at Harry, letting the list of his presumed flaws sink in. They both spoke at the same time: 

“The magpies are gone”.

“Did they know?”.

Harry looked at him, seeming at loss.

“Sorry, who knew what?”.

“The new head of Muggle Relations and her husband. About you being queer”.

Harry avoided Draco’s eyes and bit his lower lip. “No they didn’t. If I don’t tell them today, they’ll find out tomorrow and they’ll be pissed I didn’t tell them. Luna Lovegood was the only one that knew besides my therapist. We had a one night stand some years ago. In the afterglow we were talking about this and that and I told her I liked guys. She said that people is people no matter what they pack, and love is love. Honestly we were high and I’m derailing. You’re the third person I tell this and I’m not getting any good at it”. 

Draco smirked. He rested his elbow on the armrest and his face atop his open palm, his little finger tracing the corner of his smile.

“I used to think I was asexual. Many honorable wizards were by birth or choice. Something to do with amplifying magic with your ‘life drive’”. Harry stifled a laugh and Draco smiled wider. “I used to think I’d marry Pansy Parkinson, or Millicent Bullstrode or one of the Greengrasses, force myself to produce one single heir and dedicate my life to study potions and being a socialite. Then I saw Cedric Diggory on a broom”.

Harry gaped, completely pleased with this piece of gossip, and maybe also with the fact that he and Draco Malfoy were talking about Hogwarts and it was not a sensible topic.

“Cedric whispered in my ear that I should bath with one of the clues for the Triwizard Tournament and I still get the chills when I recall it”. 

“He was stupidly handsome”, murmured Draco looking away, suddenly aware of the cause of Cedric’s death. “And stupidly brave. Like you”. He looked back at Harry just in time to notice he was flustered. He told himself it was because they’d been talking about Cedric. 

“I have to go soon. I have owls to send”, stammered Harry standing up to take his cloak and leave. Draco stood to see him out.

By the door they stopped and looked at each other, not knowing exactly what to do. In the end Draco offered his hand and said:

“Thank you. For telling me all that. And acknowledging that I’ve changed. And volunteering to be my counselor. I know nobody else beside Agnes was willing to come here and not beating me up”. 

Harry ignored Draco’s hand, his earnest look of gladness invading all of Draco’s range of sight. He pressed his lips together and dove for a hug. It was a tight, deliberate embrace, oozing sincerity and the true, deep affection that only likeness invokes. Draco wrapped his arms loosely around Harry, completely dazed by such gesture.

“Thanks to you”, whispered Harry on Draco’s ear. “For trying, getting there, and leveling me all the way up to here”. He stepped away and out the door, and a muted snap confirmed that he was gone until next Friday.

Draco stood there, the chills running through his spine. 

[percywinchester27]

Unconventional Roommates (Part-7)

Word count: 4.8K

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Series Summary: Now that his brother is at Stanford, for the first time in his life, Dean does something for himself. He takes a step towards chasing his own dreams and moves away from Lawrence to start college, which is both thrilling and scary at the same time. Only catch, in this unknown town, he is stuck with the MOST infuriating female on the planet- the roommate from hell!

A/N: Thank you so much for all your love, guys. It means the freaking world to me!! This is also written for @spnfluffbingo

Square filled: City fair

Shout out to @deanssweetheart23 for being an absolute Darling and being my beta on this one. I love you, girl <3

Unconventional Roommates masterlist

"This is bullshit!" Dean concluded. "There's no word like that."

"There is, too."

"What's TSAR?"

"A Russian monarch."

"It's CZAR!"

She smirked. "It goes both ways."

Oh yeah, she was right, Dean remembered having read something about that in a comic book, but he wasn't going to back down now. Not with her anyway and not when it would earn her 45 points."

"If you want to play Russian words, go play with freaking Russians."

She snickered. "You have the worst comebacks, I swear, but you're cute when you're pissed. Did anyone tell you that?"

He wasn't cute! What was she playing at?

"Admit it, there's no way you're winning this one."

Why? Why did she have to have the superior air? Yeah, she was winning, but he still wasn't admitting defeat.

"I'm going to clear the slider and add new letters," he declared.

"Not before I get home. Don't you dare pick them to your advantage," she warned.

"Alright! In the morning then," Dean agreed. She had only asked him to pick them in front of her. He still had the whole night to arrange them in the bag so he could strategically pick what he required.

"Oh, just so you know, I'm going to shake the bag in the morning," she grinned before closing the door in her wake.

"Damn it!" Dean swore, giving up on the game. It was a lost cause.

Out of all the things that had magically appeared from Y/N's room under the pretext of drying, the Scrabble board was one of them along with heaps of books. All sorts of complicated math and economics books.

She had Tuesday nights off, so, after her fretful confessions of Tuesday morning, Dean had come up with the idea of getting her to talk again. Because, knowing her, she would have retracted herself into that shell of hers so far in, that the backside would be the front now.

That had prompted Dean to knock on her door at 6 pm sharp and it had started their days long game of playing scrabble. To say she was good at it was an understatement, but Dean didn't mind. Between their completely opposite schedules, they barely got time to fill up the words.

He did leave an hour early from work so he could play, even if it meant driving like a maniac to get to Bobby's early after classes. And Dean suspected that even Y/N left for work a little late. That gave them about two hours to play the disjointed game and Dean would be lying if he said it wasn't the best part of his day. The folks at the newspaper did find it funny when they found him pouring over the dictionary there, but all in all, he did believe that he stood a chance.

Dean tapped his feet impatiently on Saturday evening. She had promised to be ready when he got off work, but when he'd returned back home, her door was still locked, massive attack blaring from somewhere inside.

"You're not ready?" Dean yelled, banging at the door.

"Give me 15 minutes," she hollered back. "I just need to shower."

He was nervous about the evening, not just about getting the perfect pictures, but about spending time with Y/N outside of their little apartment. Suddenly, she would become more real. After all, Dean knew nothing about her, but he was worried all the same about how she would do in a place so crowded with people.

The door opened just enough to let her pass through, and Dean was surprised to see her in a skirt. It was dark grey in color and pleated. If one looked closer, it had random speckles in a lighter grey shade and it fell up to her shin. She wore her usual black turtleneck underneath a dark brown jacket and the pitch black beanie. What part of her legs the skirt didn't cover, was covered by dark green striped socks and black converses.

Dean had to grin at her choice of wardrobe. Trust her to not give a flying fuck about her appearance.

"Ready to go?" He asked.

She nodded, looking nervous, slinging her satchel across her body. For a change it almost looked empty.

"Alright, then." Dean picked up his Camera. "Let's get this show on the road."

Y/N was quieter than usual as they walked, her eyes darting around them like she was scared that she might actually have to talk to people.

"Have you been out recently?" Dean asked, more to kick start a conversation than anything else.

Y/N looked at him again, in her peculiar way, her eyes piercing into his so that he felt naked.

"Yeah," she said. "With my sister."

"You love her a lot, don't you?" Dean deduced. Her voice always grew tender when she talked about her sister.

"At least I don't mumble about her in my sleep."

"That's how you knew!" Dean guessed. "That's how you knew about Sam! You heard me mutter in my sleep."

Her expression quickly became regretful. "I- I didn't mean to pry. But you were calling out to him the other morning when I got home. Then once more a couple days back. You sounded worried. You kept muttering "save Sammy," she looked up at him through her long lashes, curiosity burning in her eyes.

Dean knew she wouldn't ask, because she never volunteered any information about herself, but also that she really wanted to know.

There was nothing to hide.

"When Sam was a baby, about 6 months old, his nursery caught fire. And my mom… well, she was in there with him. She didn't make it out of there and I had to carry Sam out of the burning house. The kid has been sort of my responsibility since then, you know. Save Sammy… cause he's all I've got now."

He paused for a second. "I have nightmares about that night. I don't remember much except carrying Sam out and the heat and the sirens, but the nightmare doesn't go away."

He looked towards Y/N to see that all color had drained out of her face. She looked like she had seen a ghost. Then, she made a very loud effort to control her expression and said faintly, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, it was a long time ago," he said, but all his attention was diverted to Y/N's reactions. Her face was an open book. It was the most expressive face he had ever seen. For someone who pretended to be so sullen all the time, a minute ago her eyes seemed to be brimming with so much empathy that Dean was taken aback.

"If you don't mind me asking, how old were you?" She asked hesitantly. So despite her self-control, she was invested in his life enough to care how old he was.

"A little over 4 I think."

Dean was ready this time, waiting to watch her expression fall apart into wordless pain. She did not disappoint.

"That's awfully young."

He shrugged. "Like I said, it was a long time ago."

Her face still looked like a mask of horror, pained and Dean impulsively did something he wouldn't have dared. He reached out to hold her hand.

"Hey, it's okay."

Y/N jumped a little at his touch, but Dean held her tighter, marveling at the unique texture of her hand. It was very smooth, the raised contours of her palms were like silk stretched over delicate glass.

"It's not fair," she said, her deep voice tender.

Why? Why was his pain affecting her in this way? Over the month that Dean had known her, he'd made a mental board to try to figure her out. Initially, he'd put her under the stoic, stubborn, proud, impossible and violent category. But he had so much more to add to her now. Y/N was intelligent and careful. She was smart and helpful. She cared. But more than that, she was scared. She was terrified of showing her true self- the girl who worried over being misunderstood, who was quick to apologize when she was in the wrong, who felt another's pain so deeply that it rankled her.

That girl inside her, hidden behind the cold exterior was precious. And the question: 'What had happened to make her this way?' bothered him more than it should.

As he tightened his grip on her hand, Dean vowed that he would make sure that, that girl inside her had a great time tonight. Because she deserved it.

Y/N gave a tiny smile at his gesture and threaded her finger within his. Hand in hand, her satchel swinging at her side and his Camera hanging around his neck, they entered the fair.

While passing underneath the huge awning announcing the fair, Dean looked at Y/N, once again taking her nervous expression. Her clear Y/E/C eyes were murky with doubt, and that was unacceptable because Dean had resolved to solve the mystery that was this girl. The fact that she was still holding his hand and not judo flipping him on his ass was a start, right?

"How about we play a little game?" He suggested, inspiration making a sudden appearance.

"Game?" She asked, wary.

Dean gave her a reassuring smile. "Yeah. It's simple enough."

"I'm listening."

"Alright," he said, trying to be as encouraging as possible. "We'll ask each other a question alternatively. The only rules are that you have to give an answer and it has to be the truth."

"How would you know if I lied?" She challenged.

"I wouldn't. But I trust you to not lie, because I won't either. There will be questions that you don't want to answer, or I don't, but that's the game, you have to answer it in a way that it's still a truth but doesn't actually give away the answer. That's the game."

She went quiet. Not that Dean could blame her, given her evasiveness.

"C'mon,"he urged, smiling crookedly. "You're the bluntest person I know, I'm sure you'll come up with something when you don't want to answer."

She smiled back as crookedly, accepting his challenge.

"Fine. But, I start."

"Okay," Dean agreed. "Shoot."

"Why are you here, Dean Winchester?" Her eyes were impenetrable. There was no saying what she was thinking, but, Dean understood her question more because of that. She wasn't asking about the fair or the college. She meant this life. Why was he living it?

She'd turned the game on him. Her first question itself would give away more about him than anything he could ask her. That is if he answered it fully.

He wanted to say he was here to live the big dream, because he wanted to study, because he wanted to live for himself. But looking at her open face, he blurted the truth, something he'd always known deep down. However, he had buried it inside so well, that he hadn't even admitted it to himself. Until now. "I- I came here because I had no choice."

She didn't say it out loud, but the questioning curiosity in her eyes was so pronounced, she might as well have molded it into words.

"I didn't have any family left there. Sam left for Stanford a year ago and that town, Lawrence, it just reminded me of everything that I had ever lost. It felt empty, lonely. I felt empty and lonely. I knew if I stayed there any longer, it would pull me down to a place I didn't want to go. And I wasn't sure if I would ever come back from there."

He didn't look at her at first, confused and a little ashamed at his own admission. However, her impossibly smooth fingers clutched his hand tighter. She understood. Somehow, she really did.

"Alright, your turn," she said, her voice huskier than usual.

"Is black your favorite color?" Dean asked, starting light. He figured they could both use it.

Y/N seemed surprised, but she answered, anyway. "No. It's red actually."

Yeah. The red door. How could he forget?

"I wear black so much cause it is easy to blend in and I can avoid human interaction. Isn't that the aim of living?"

Dean laughed.

"What does your brother look like?"

Well he hadn't expected that question. "He's tall… taller than I am."

"Whoa!" She gave him a once over, no doubt trying to picture Sam.

"He's intelligent and kind, but the kid is lanky and a nerd."

"Nerdier that you? The one fighting over TSAR and CZAR?" The subtle irony in her voice wasn't lost on him, after all she had nerded out over that, too.

"Dean!" Cas' familiar voice called and Dean turned around to see him and Meg walking towards them hand in hand.

Y/N reflexively hid behind him a little, not in a scared way, but in a way that suggested just how non-trusting she was of human interaction.

But Dean knew how to make it better. He let go of her hand and lightly placed a hand behind her back. Y/N stiffened, but other than that gave no sign that she was uncomfortable. Yet, Dean waited for a second or two to make sure she was okay and then slowly urged her forward. "Guys, I'd like you to meet roommate, Y/N." Then he turned to her. "These are my friends Cas and Meg."

Cas looked astonished, taking in Y/N's appearance, but Meg just reached forward and extended her hand. "Death metal or Punk rock?"

"Both! Always both," Y/N raised an eyebrow and Dean had never noticed how perfectly sculpted it was.

Meg grinned, like it was some sort of initiation test that Y/N had cleared.

"You're a lucky boy, Dean!" Meg said. "That's good music in your room."

Dean wanted to bring up Marina and the Diamonds but, wisely, he bit his tongue.

Y/N gave her a tentative smile and Meg and Cas exchanged a look. Dean very well knew the intent behind it. Even though they had just met her, it was hard not to see how pure and unabridged her smile was. Even if they didn't understand the rare phenomenon that it was, both of them could still feel its wholesomeness.

"C'mon," Cas tilted his head towards the centre where most of the sparse crowd was accumulated. "If you want good pictures, you need to hurry before this place starts teeming with people." He grabbed Meg's hand and pulled her forward.

Dean hesitated, unsure whether to follow them or not. "Where do I even start with?" He murmured.

Y/N stepped forward, offering her elbow. "I know! There!" She pointed towards the Ferris wheel.  "It's beautiful and the centre of everything, you'll get great shots there. By the way, you just lost your turn of asking the question."

He, however, stood transfixed. The multicolored and exuberant lights from the huge, rotating Ferris wheel were casting a surreal reflection in Y/N's excited eyes. Eyes that had turned into clear glass in the setting hues of the evening's backdrop. The brilliant lavender and ultramarine, sprinkled with the reflected light from the wheel seemed like ethereal stars in the inverted sky of her eyes. Beautiful didn't even start to describe it.

"C'mon!" She jumped on the balls of her feet. "It'll get crowded soon. You need to move your ass."

Still stunned, and unwilling to look away, Dean hooked his elbow in hers and let her lead him further into the fair, astonished with every step at her growing excitement.

"You've never been to a fair before, have you?" He guessed.

She looked at him, visibly trying to curb her animated expression and failing all the same. "No. I've never had the time."

Of course. She worked harder than most people.

"I've always wanted to go up on one of those," she eyes the Wheel with wonder again.

And right then, he would have dragged the damn thing back to the apartment if she wanted. Dean had never been up on those things either, even though he'd taken Sam to fairs all the time when they were kids. Mostly it was shooting targets and candy floss for him, but Sam had known better than to insist on the Ferris wheel when he was old enough.

Y/N didn't let go of his elbow as they waited in line for the ticket behind another cheesy couple. The girl gave Y/N a once over, not in a mean way, but just surprised at the dressing sense, before quickly averting her gaze when she saw Dean staring.

Y/N pulled out cash and paid for the tickets by the time the couple in front of them had receded and Dean regretted his momentary distraction. She shouldn't have had to pay. Then something more pressing occurred to him as he saw her checking the tickets.

"You bought two of those?"

She looked confused. "Of course. One for you and one for me."

Simple.

"You go on, Y/N," he gulped. "I'm not coming up there with you."

"Oh, c'mon!" She clapped him on his back. "It'll be fun. Don't be such a kill-joy. Look how high up it goes."

He was looking. That was the problem. Dean gulped again, sweat dewing on his forehead now. Two instincts warring against each other. The one that won was the eagerness to see Y/N happier than he had before.

"C'mon, grumpy pants," she beckoned to him. "It's gonna start now."

Dean looked up, prayed to a deity he knew didn't exist, then followed Y/N into the small booth. It looked like tiny Gazebo, with four seats. Since not many people were lined up, the guy coordinating it smirked and shut the tiny door after them. Dean was quick to take a seat and buckle himself in. Even though he wanted to see her face light up, he wasn't ready to die on a stupid ride which was a one way ticket to heaven. For crying out loud it went up too! Besides, he had Sam to think of… He couldn't subject his brother to an embarrassing obituary that said he had died in a stupid Ferris Wheel.

"Wow. You look white," Y/N commented, inspecting him like a specimen in a glass jar from a high-school biology lab.

Dean was instantly self-conscious. "Stop looking at me like that! And you accuse me of being a creep."

She laughed… like the sparkling of a freshwater stream falling high up from the mountains, and it eased some of his fear.

It lasted for a very short while, for soon, the little compartment jerked and the wheel moved, taking him higher and higher with every passing second.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore under his breath, closing his eyes tightly. How many times was the thing supposed to go up and down, anyway?

His held his breath, heart in his mouth, waiting with baited breath for it to go till the top so it could finally go down. He could feel when it reached its apex and Y/N exulted.

"Look!"

Reflexively, he opened his eyes. The entire bay was stretched out in front of him. Little buildings against the now black water. Gorgeous would have been the word if he could articulate it. The view lasted for a second, before the compartment was going down and Dean instantly regretted wishing for it. The way up was better. Going down literally felt like falling. Like he was gonna die.

He counted seconds for it to finish, concentrating on Y/N's awed expression when the wheel suddenly lurched to an halt, with them almost at the top.

Well, damn!

"Shit! This can't be happening," he breathed as they stayed mid-air, suspended in what seemed like a different plane.

As he was trying to concentrate on easing the rising panic, he heard her laugh, high-spirited.

"Dean, look!" She said, and he did, because for the first time since he'd known her, she'd called him by his name. Not his full name, not Winchester, not even Romeo… but Dean. And he could swear it had never sounded so good, like it was meant to fall off her lips, in that oddly husky voice.

Before Dean could even contemplate his own shocking emotions, he looked up to see her, leaning over the edge completely, only supporting her body by grabbing the corner column of the compartment.

"Jesus, girl! Are you crazy?" Thoughtlessly he jumped out of his seat, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in. "You could have slipped and fallen down."

Even the thought punched a pit of his stomach.

But she was still smiling, radiant. "Relax," she rolled her eyes. "Nothing's gonna happen to me." Again, she smiled her secret joke smile, and bent over.

Dean pulled her back again, but this time, he lost his footing and fell back into the chair, Y/N softly falling over him. Her hands landed by the side of his face, chest pressing into his. He couldn't move even if he wanted to, and Y/N was making no efforts to move either. She wasn't shying away, or looking awkward. Instead, she was staring intently into his eyes, without blinking. It was disconcerting.

He squirmed a little underneath, and she finally pushed against the back of the seat and moved off of him.

"You have beautiful eyes," she declared. "There's gold specks in it. I never noticed." Y/N stated it like she was discussing the weather. That wasn't weird at all.

He cleared his throat. Funnily, it was hard to find his voice again, but with some effort, he did anyway. "Just don't lean in, please."

"Chill. I have a great balance."

"All the same, just don't."

"Wait a second." Her eyes narrowed. "You're scared of heights, aren't you?"

She wasn't laughing, but something in the set of her mouth told him that she was, at least, a little amused. And he wanted to deny it, he really did, but he also knew that she wasn't asking him a question. She was just confirming what she already knew. So, he gave in.

"What gave it away?" He hung his shoulders.

"You mean apart from the fact that you look like you've seen a ghost and that you're literally shaking?"

He said nothing, waiting for her to make a quip out of it. She didn't.

In fact, she was looking at him with that tender expression again, one that hinted at the ocean of empathy she had somewhere hidden in the depth of her heart.

"Why did you get on the wheel?" She asked. "You could have told me earlier."

Like hell he was going to tell her the real reason behind it, not before he could, at least, make sense of it in his own head.

"Come here," she beckoned to him, and he almost shook his head. She was standing by the edge after all.

"Trust me?" Y/N asked, and the answer presented itself to him as easily as the next breath.

"Yeah."

She extended her hand further, "Then, come."

He took it, his wear worn skin rubbing against her smooth one. Then, he took one step at a time carefully till he was right next to her.

Y/N slipped a hand tentatively around his waist, giving him all the time to step out of it if he wanted to, but Dean didn't and she tightened her hold, firmly holding the pillar with the other hand. "I'm not going to let you fall, okay?"

It should have been funny because Y/N was much smaller than him, in height and otherwise, but he could see that she meant it.

"Now look," she pointed towards the horizon.

The line of tiny streetlights bordering the water looked like a necklace of sort, glittering brilliantly. More than that, the criss-cross of more lights from the low slung houses behind it, seemed like a huge net, impossibly confining the dark water from flowing over it. It was so calming, that Dean forgot he was supposed to be scared.

"Stunning, isn't it?" Y/N whispered, and he was suddenly aware of how close he was standing. Close enough for him to recognize the honey-cinnamon scent coming off her, the smell that he'd come to attach with the comfort of a home in this unknown town because every corner of the apartment smelled like that. He found it apt, because she was strong like cinnamon, excess of it would burn, but also inexplicably sweet like honey.

"Yeah, pretty stunning." Sure, the view before him was good, too.

Then it occurred to him.

"Wait a sec," he said, stepping back and fumbling with the camera around the neck.

"Ooohh, it's perfect," she said, clapping her hands in a most not Y/N way. But then again, at this point Dean wasn't sure what exactly was the Y/N way. "Now you get to click steady pics for the paper."

She stepped out of the way, leaning against the column on one side, so Dean could have a clear frame of the bay. And he did. Dean took complete advantage of the opportunity, clicking as many pictures as he could, but soon he found himself clicking the pictures of the graceful silhouette standing against the side. At first, it was just the dark figure, but soon, he zoomed in further, concentrating on high cheekbone, her face as he looked into the sea, her finger resting at the edge of her lips.

The wheel swayed a little and then began rolling once more. Y/N was quick to reach out to him. "It's okay. There's just one more round. Then we'll be done."

Dean let her guide him to the seat and buckle him up, not because he couldn’t do it himself, but because no one had ever done it for him. There had been no one. The unfamiliarity of the whole situation made it difficult to do anything but be a spectator in the turn of the moment. She sat beside him, quietly taking in the splendor before them and he allowed himself to forget his fear and just live in the second. Revel both in the beauty ahead and her warm touch.

When the wheel finally stopped and it was their turn to get out, she helped him still, making sure he wasn't woozy.

"I want to say that you should have stayed down, but it wouldn't have been worth it without you," she said as they walked into the now bustling road.

"Y/N." Dean stopped.

"Yeah?"

"I want to say that I should have stayed down, but it was totally worth it because of you."

She looked down, the lashes creating a shadow across her cheek and pulled the beanie further down, completely covering even the lobes of her ear. Dean didn't know enough to be sure… but was she… could she actually be blushing?

"If it isn't Miracle Winchester!"

Dean groaned, turning to the sound of the voice he didn't want to listen to right now.

"If it isn't annoying Nick."

Nick sure had the sort of voice that made Dean forget every other thing except the annoyance towards him, but not today. Today, he couldn't get the warm afterglow of Y/N's laughter out of his head. That's what made him steal a look at her. Nick noticed.

"So that is your girlfriend?" It wasn't a question. It was a sneer.

Dean would have dissected his tone, would have been angry about what that tone implied- that somehow Y/N was beneath him. Was it the way she dressed, the way she looked? Or was it something else?

But he couldn't. Because the moment Nick uttered the word 'girlfriend,' Y/N's head whipped in Dean's direction. The unfathomable, unwavering coldness back in her eyes. He wanted to yell 'no… come back!' to the girl who was overjoyed about riding a Ferris Wheel for the first time. But she was too far buried underneath the sullen mask.

And for the first time Dean couldn't find the right curse words to yell out at that asshat. But for the life of him, all he could do was curse his luck because that idiot might have ruined what had been turning out to be the best night in a while.

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

A/N 2: What do you think will be her reaction? ;) Will she storm off, or will it be something else?

A/N 3: Please do consider reblogging my work and leaving feedback. Reblogging helps spread it, and also helps against the “best posts first” option tumblr has. The more the notes, the less chance of it getting buried beneath others posts. And the comments are what keep me going. I love you guys and I’ll be in forever grateful <3

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[swanslieutenant]

from the sea - chapter two

Summary: When Emma becomes sheriff, the pressure of running a department with a dwindling budget becomes nothing but an exercise in frustration. That is, until she finds an unlikely ally in the town treasurer, a man who her kid Henry is convinced is not an ally at all, but rather a villainous enemy. Season 1 AU, Cursed!Killian.

Rating and Warnings: Teen.

Catch up: ch1

Read on AO3

Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter! I’m glad people are enjoying this :) 

A couple of days after her meeting with Newport, Emma heads over to Granny’s for her morning coffee. She’s already received a call from a little old lady complaining that someone keeps stealing her lawn gnomes and is planning to get the coffee to-go when instead, to her great delight, Henry is at one of the little tables. He’s seated by himself, a half-eaten plate of waffles to his left and his storybook propped open to his right.

“Emma!” he exclaims, eagerly waving her over.

It only takes a fraction of a second for Emma to decide that the old woman can wait. “Hey, kid,” she says, sitting down opposite him. “You here on your own?”

He nods. “My mom had to go to work early this morning. Granny’s watching me until my bus gets here.”

Ruby swings past, pouring Emma a cup of coffee before flitting away with hardly a word to her. Granny’s diner is busy this morning, people at every table, a line forming out the door. There’s a cold chill to the air from a storm that drifted in from the Atlantic last night, wafting in every time the door opens again. It seems everyone in Storybrooke is out searching for a hot beverage to warm them up in its wake, and the line had made her hesitate about getting the coffee at all, but now, seated with Henry, she’s glad she didn’t just keep on walking.

“So, what’s the story today?” Emma asks, sipping from her mug and peering down at the book. It’s upside down to her, but it looks like a scene in a dark, stony castle. A figure, features obscured by a black cloak, is exchanging blows with two guards Emma recognizes from other tales as the Evil Queen’s Black Knights.

Henry shrugs, and flips the book shut. “Just doing some fact checking.”

Emma looks at him, torn between amusement and concern, but simply nods at his serious expression. “Okay.”

He leans closer to her over the table and says, in a low voice, “Too many people here for Operation Cobra talk. My mom’s got spies everywhere.”

Emma nods seriously, and takes another drink of her coffee. Of course, she does.

The conversation turns to Henry telling her about his day at school yesterday. She nods along, thinking carefully for the right words to respond with when its her turn to speak. She always finds it a bit challenging to know what to say to Henry, always hovering on the edge of uncomfortable unfamiliarity that comes with each interaction with him. She never thought she’d be seated across from the child she felt growing within her for nine long, lonely months, the child she gave up and never expected to see again, and now here she is ... and she never knows quite what to say.

But at the same time, that unfamiliarity and uncertainty appears to be lessening with each and every moment she spends with him, the words come easier and easier; Emma’s not sure if she feels comforted or terrified by that just yet.

He’s talking about his classes, chattering excitedly about the recent English project. It is clear Henry shines in his English classes, and Mary Margaret has even commented on his proficiency in it. Emma feels a small bubble of pride grow in her chest, hearing him talk so proudly about his recent book report that earned top marks, and she asks, “Is English your favourite subject?”

He nods eagerly. “Yeah, for sure. What was your favourite in school?”

Emma opens her mouth, but then closes it again. It had been pretty hard for her to really focus on school when she’d been younger, having been uprooted and moved between schools as she shuffled from one foster family to the other. She’d tried her hardest, striving to do as good as she possibly could, but still. It had been tough.

“I guess my favourite was science,” she says, finally. When she had stayed in once place long enough to actually get invested in her classes, she’d always loved learning anything science-related and she’d especially excelled at human biology. If things had been different, she might have even considered going into a career in that field. She’d daydreamed about being a doctor one day: treating people, helping people, saving people. “Yeah, science.”

But Henry clearly doesn’t share her fondness for the subject: he makes a face at the mere mention of the word science.

“Science is hard,” he says, and his voice rings with dejection.

Emma’s heart sinks a little at his expression. “What do you find hard about it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just … complicated.”

Emma hesitates, the feeling of unfamiliar territory once more flushing over her, but she swallows it down. “Uh – do you need any help with it?”

He glances up at her, looking taken aback. “Really?”

Emma almost backs out of her offer, but she swallows back the fear of the unknown with a quick nod and smile. Henry returns her smile and immediately pulls out a bright green binder from the backpack beside him. He flips it open, undoing the rings, and hands Emma the worksheet. The current unit appears to be basic geology, mostly on ways to differentiate between different types of rocks and minerals. Emma feels like she hasn’t looked at this stuff in a thousand years, but she just smiles positively back at Henry. “Okay, kid. Let’s go through this together, yeah? Tell me about the different types of characteristics of rocks and minerals.”

They continue on for several minutes. Henry is tentative at first with his answers, but grows more confident as they work at it; by the time Emma has moved on from the general characteristics to the specifics of each identifier, Henry is much more assured in his answers. She is quizzing him on the Mohs hardness scale when Granny bustles up to their table, looking frazzled and at her wits’ end.

“Henry, it’s almost 8:15; your bus will be here soon, but I’ve got this huge order for the sailing guys that I need to get to them before they pack up and leave –”

“I’ll walk him out,” Emma volunteers immediately. “You get back to work.”

Granny shoots her a grateful look. “Thanks, Emma. Coffee’s on the house.”  

Henry stuffs his school stuff away, while Emma rises and swipes a paper coffee cup from the edge of the counter, pouring her half-full mug into it. They head out the main doors together, and it is perfect timing too, as the old, rattling school bus is just creaking to a stop down the road as they exit.

Henry yelps and takes off running, backpack nearly flapping up and over his head.

“Oh, okay, bye!” Emma calls as he swivels around the corner of the fence. She jogs forward to watch him take the last few steps towards the bus, and adds, “Have a good day at school!”

“Thanks! Bye, Emma!”

For a single, wild moment that seems to last an eternity, watching Henry clamber aboard, waving merrily at her as he steps on, she imagines this is an ordinary day. An everyday routine. Having breakfast while she helps her son with his homework, and walking him to the bus. Such normal things that she’d never even imagined doing with that small little baby she’d given up so many years ago.

Thoughts of the ‘big things’ had crept into her mind through the years, no matter how hard she’d tried to harden her heart against it. She’d spent countless hours wondering what his first words were, when he would have started walking, what he wore to his first day at school, whether he was nervous or excited or both. But stuff like this? Something so normal? She’d never even given it a thought.

If things had been different, she’d –

She clenches her jaw and stops the thought in its track. No use wondering about that, she thinks firmly, steeling herself against the tightness in her heart as the bus pulls away from the curb, Henry waving from the window.

There’s no way to change what really happened, what her life really is.

And she has to live with that.

Emma stares after the bus until it disappears around the corner, lost in her thoughts. She’s so distracted she doesn’t even notice when someone speaks right beside her.

“Alright there, Swan?”

She jumps, swiveling around to see Wes Newport standing there. He’s dressed in a black pea coat today, the collar popped rather dramatically in a way that makes his appearance even more striking than the first time she’d met him.

“Oh,” Emma says, hoping her voice doesn’t reveal that she was getting emotional over a goddamn school bus. “I’m fine, I just – um – what are you doing here?”

He gestures to Granny’s behind them. “I was going to get a coffee and some breakfast, but the queue inside is just ridiculous. I’ll have to suffer that old machine we have at town hall instead.” His tone is light and jovial, and Emma feels a strange rush of relief that he seems to have no intention of turning the conversation back around on why she was staring longingly after a school bus.

She makes sure of it, saying, “Yeah, it’s super busy in there today. And, uh, not to put any pressure on you just yet, but speaking of town hall … have you talked to Regina yet about my budget?”

“I haven’t,” he confesses. “Friday was full of meetings, and she was already in a foul mood by the time I ran into her at the end of the afternoon. I figured I’d let her cool down over the weekend, and ask her today. I’m just heading into the office right now, actually.” He looks up to the dark, gloomy sky, and frowns. “Hopefully the rain will hold off until I get there.”

Emma raises an eyebrow; town hall is across town, at least a twenty-minute walk. “You’re walking all that way?”

He nods, and his eyes drift out across the street, towards the harbour and the waters of the ocean, turned choppy and grey by the cool weather. “I like walking along the boardwalk.” But then he frowns again. “Although, I’ve left it a little late this morning. Another reason to forgo the coffee, I suppose.”

He waves in departure, heading towards the boardwalk. Emma hesitates for a moment; the address of the little old lady and her lawn gnomes is just across from town hall, and before she can talk herself out of it, calls after him, “I could give you a ride.”

He pauses, turning back to face her, brows rising in surprise. “To town hall? Isn’t that out of your way?”

“I’ve got a call on Apple Avenue to get to, and town hall is right there.”

He looks taken aback for another moment, but then smiles. “That would be great. Thanks.”

Emma leads Newport to her little yellow Bug. Though he is perfectly polite the entire way over to her car, which is still parked a couple blocks down near the loft, and her lie detector doesn’t go off once in their entire conversation, but she can’t help her feeling of distrust and suspicion. Henry’s words of caution still niggling in the back of her mind don’t help either, nor Mary Margaret’s assertion of his nasty relationship with Mr. Gold. She may not believe he’s the living and breathing version of Captain Hook (especially with how he looks; has Henry ever even seen that Disney movie? Young and handsome and with no twirly mustache doesn’t exactly fit the bill of Captain Hook in her mind) but the allies with Regina bit? That’s an actual possibility.

She kind of feels like an idiot for offering him a ride – he is a stranger and one that works for Regina at that – but she figures that in spending a bit more time with him, even if it is only the fifteen or so minute drive, she can get to know him a little bit better and decide whether he’s just another of Regina’s pawns or not. And honestly, she tells herself firmly, she’s just being neighbourly, offering a man a ride so he doesn’t get rained on before the day has even begun. It also doesn’t hurt, she rationalizes again as they turn the final corner to her car, that this particular man is in charge of her department’s budget and endearing herself to him is probably something she should be doing anyways.

When they reach Emma’s car, Newport makes a comment about how its bright colour lights up the streets of Storybrooke, especially on a gloomy day such as this, and it sends an unexpected thrill of delight through Emma.

Okay, so maybe this won’t be too bad.

He tells her about last year’s sailing races as they drive by the harbour, where at least a dozen sailboats are berthed, thick, white sails billowing in the cold Atlantic wind as their sailors work tirelessly to reel them in safely. Emma feels a heavy pang looking at the boats, remembering a particular time when she’d watched similar races in the warm ocean in a small town just outside Tallahassee, waiting and waiting for a man who never showed up. She chances a glance at Newport, hoping he hasn’t noticed that she’s gripping the steering wheel tighter than normal, but he is completely preoccupied, gazing out at the sailboats as if he wished nothing more to be out there himself.

Emma remembers him mentioning that he’d lost his hand during a sailing accident, and feels a twinge of empathy for him. She’s never known quite what to say to someone else who has suffered a tragedy, even though she’s sure she’s one of the world’s leading experts. Talking about anyone else’s personal disasters tends to bring up her own, and those are raw wounds she’s never healed from.

Instead, she settles on a much more neutral topic, or at least attempts to. “You still sail?”

He turns back to her as they round the corner, the harbour and sailboats disappearing behind them, his eyes darker and shuttered. “No. I haven’t in many years.”

Even though she’d angled for ‘no tragedy-talk’, there is a hollow, painful wistfulness in his tone, and they descend into silence for several minutes. Her own thoughts have drifted back into the past in their silence, as she’s sure Newport has too. But, a few minutes he starts chattering again as if nothing had happened, pointing out Frediano’s Gelato, a small ice cream parlor run by a father and his daughter as Emma turns down another avenue. When Emma admits she hasn’t been there yet, he places a hand across his heart as if he is personally offended.

“They have the best spiced pear gelato I’ve ever tasted,” he says, as the car rumbles past. “You wouldn’t even think that would taste good as an ice cream, but it does. They also have one where they mix rum in with cinnamon and chocolate with a sprinkle of sea salt, and trust me, Swan, that is something you have to try. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“Rum,” Emma repeats, laughing. “Rum and ice cream?”

“You think it would be bad, Swan, but it isn’t. It tastes more like cinnamon and chocolate than anything, but the rum adds a little kick.”

“I’ll say,” she says, shaking her head with a chuckle. “I guess I’ll have to add the gelato shop to my rounds when I’m checking for drunk drivers.”

He laughs again. “How about you? What’s your favourite ice cream?”

“Rocky road,” Emma says automatically. “Henry’s favourite place is Any Given Sundae, right near Granny’s. Have you ever tried that place?”

He nods, and they continue exchanging favourite spots for the rest of the drive. Emma hasn’t been in Storybrooke long enough to have tried everywhere, and she’s surprisingly interested to hear about Wes’s preferred places. His favourite fish and chips place is a family owned establishment on the main street called Dave’s Fish and Chips, and he scolds her for not having gotten fish and chips yet – “You live in a seaside town, Swan!” – and he loves the Italian place simply called Tony’s Restaurant across from the Storybrooke cannery, which has Emma joking about The Lady & The Tramp. Internally, she’s rolling her eyes – leave it to Storybrooke, fairy tale capital of the world according to Henry, to have a restaurant literally named after an iconic Disney scene.

They lapse into a companionable silence for the last few minutes of the drive, and when Emma pulls to a stop in front of the bright yellow town hall and Newport gathers his briefcase from the floor, a strange sense of disappointment that the drive is over settles onto her.

“Thanks for the ride, Swan,” he says, propping the door open. “I really do appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

He turns to her before he hops out, shaking his head. “I forgot to ask – have you made that list of points for the budget that I can give Regina yet?”

She nods. “It’s at the station though.”

“That’s okay. I’ll try to see if I can convince Regina without them, but if not, I’ll swing by tomorrow morning and fetch them.”

Emma almost points out she could fax him a copy, but Newport is gone before she gets the chance. She watches as he jogs up to the doors and disappears within with another wave of departure.

After a morning filled with meetings and a late lunch date with some new property developers, Regina has been steadily at work for at least an hour and half when a knock on her door interrupts her pace.

“Come in,” she calls, not bothering to keep the irritation from her tone.

The door opens, revealing Wes Newport, briefcase in hand. He’s frowning and looks apprehensive, an unusual expression for him. He’s usually coolly confident, the glimmer of his former life still showing through, and this trepidation intrigues her.

“Wes,” she greets, beckoning him in, pushing the pages of work aside. “How are those tax forms coming along?”

“Fine,” he replies, closing the door firmly behind him, the latch loud in her wide, echoing office. “I’ll have them done by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.” He pauses, lifting his fake hand and scratching absently behind the back of his ear. “I actually came to discuss something else with you, Madam Mayor.”

Her mouth curls into a frown, not liking the tone to his voice. “By all means,” she says, and gestures to the empty seat in front of her desk. “Take a seat.”

He remains standing, bending down to set his briefcase down at his feet, and clasps his hands in front of him, his real one fiddling anxiously with the glove covering his prosthetic. He appears to be having some sort of internal struggle – a side effect of his life here – and he nearly stumbles over his words as he finally spits out, “I informed Sheriff Swan about the budget cuts, and she wasn’t happy.”

Regina’s lips thin into a grimace. Here it is. She’d known this was coming, sooner or later, as it always is these days. Sending Emma Swan out of the town limits with the woodcutter’s two brats had failed, and this subtler approach of telling her she wasn’t wanted in town had been her next gamble on getting the woman to leave Storybrooke. It had been just that – a gamble, and she’s not surprised that Emma would fight back.

“Oh?” she says, the single word slipping out in a hiss.

Newport narrows his eyes at her, and his voice is sharper as he says, “I did mention how this would create problems when you first brought up the idea, and I still stand by my thoughts. There is simply not enough money allotted to the sheriff’s department and Em-Sheriff Swan agrees with me. She’s put together some points as to why she thinks it needs restoring, and I’ll have that to you by tomorrow, but I wanted to see if there was any need for that. I still believe a respectable budget for her is of more use to the town than some of the other allocations. It’s not too late for me to make some changes without the sheriff having to come in at all.”

Regina leans back in her chair, surveying Newport, her eyes narrowed. She’d expected Emma to put up a fight, yes, but she hadn’t thought her treasurer would be on Emma’s side.

When she’d cast the curse, she’d kept Captain Hook close to her for the simple reason that he is useful. He had been the only one to succeed where all others had failed: killing her mother in Wonderland where Cora had taken up shop. And even though he was almost entirely focused on his vain search for vengeance, his soul darkened by the impossible task, it hadn’t dampened his resourcefulness - a perfect trait in an ally.

True, he had been of questionable loyalty in their old land, serving only himself and his own demented end; that had been the first thing she’d changed that when casting the curse, redirecting his devotion to the memory of his dead lover into obedience and allegiance to her. His fake memories provide him with a good enough reason for the loyalty, and sure, that irritating honourable streak she’d never even known him to have hasn’t been suffocated out entirely – he still likes to disagree with anything he finds to be ‘bad form’ – but in the end, he always bows to her requests.

But not, apparently, anymore.

Newport is waiting patiently for her to respond, watching her closely as trying to read her mind. She smiles coolly at him, and says, “And where do you think the money will come from? You yourself said at the last meeting that the budget is stretched thin.”

“It is,” he agrees, picking the briefcase up to just set it down on her desk, popping it open to rifle through the papers within, and she glares at him, which he ignores. “But it can still do with some reshuffling. I’ve already drawn up some plans for it, here –”

She snatches it from his grip, nearly ripping the page in half. It’s perfectly balanced in the way he wants it - a couple of local events, especially the bi-monthly Seaside Market, have suffered the worst cuts in order to restore a nearly full budget to the sheriff’s department. And, true enough, it is much more manageable and reasonable than what she had requested at the last meeting. More equally balanced and fair across the board.

Regina hates it.

But Regina is learning from her mistakes when it comes to Emma Swan. She has to be delicate. Cutting the department’s budget was another mistake, fueling Emma’s fire instead of quenching it. And, if Emma has already been able to manipulate Newport into fighting for her on this issue, Regina knows that pushing back against it will only cause more trouble for her with her never-ending Emma Swan Problem.

Time to cut my losses, she thinks grimly and hands the papers back to Newport. “Fine.”

His mouth drops open in shock. He begins to say an enthusiastic thank you, but she holds up a hand for silence, and he shuts his mouth instantly.

There is still something to be gained from this. First Graham and Henry, and now Newport. With apparently little to no effort, Emma Swan is able to twist the people around Regina into being hers instead. With Graham, it had escalated too far without her knowledge, and she has no intention of letting that happen this time.

Newport is her treasurer.

“It’s up to her, not you. If Ms. Swan can make a case for herself, I’ll consider it.” She glances at her watch. “Tell her to come in for three o’clock.”

Newport quickly agrees, gathering his things and departing under the space of ten seconds. Regina waits a few moments, listening to his footsteps fade before pulling out her own phone and dialing.

“There is something I want your opinion on,” she says once the line has been picked up on the other end. “Be here at ten after three and not a moment later.” And before she even receives a response, she disconnects the call.

Note: I thought I'd explain the references for Killian's cursed name too, in case some of you are wondering. I think some of you got the reference of Wes, which is after Westley from The Princess Bride. Newport is more of a niche reference; there was a real English captain named Christopher Newport who is believed to be one of the inspirations for J.M. Barrie's Captain Hook. He reportedly lost a hand in a battle and replaced it with a hook, and there's even accounts of him presenting crocodiles to the king of England at the time!

[shieldmaiden-tabris]

Something’s been bothering me since I watched 4x03 and it all really came to a head tonight watching 4x07. Analysis w/ talk of torture and mental health under the cut. It’s rambly so I apologize if some parts don’t flow nicely, I’m very tired right now. Feel free to add your thoughts! Sorry about the length!

So let’s talk about Caleb and Ben...

Caleb Brewster is absolutely breaking my heart. Watching Simcoe torture him so violently was hard enough, but watching the aftermath has turned out to be more distressing and more frustrating on a totally different level. We as an audience have been able to clearly see that Caleb Brewster is not okay for several episodes now. There are such noticeable changes, you would have to be purposely ignoring them not to see them. His voice is obviously different; at certain times when he speaks, his words are completely monotone with no accent at all, like he doesn’t have the strength to form his words. He’s smiled maybe three times in these last two episodes, but even then they’re not his real toothy smiles that make his eyes squint. He’s quiet and distant. Watch the scenes he’s in but that don’t focus on him. His stare is completely blank. Caleb Brewster is clearly, obviously not okay whatsoever. 

The biggest giveaway is his silence. Caleb has borne the blunt of everyone’s bad tempers in these last few eps. Ben snaps at him for telling Abe about their plan to catch Arnold. He gripes at Caleb for not paying attention and later, when Caleb tries to stick up for Mary, Ben cuts him off completely. When he goes after Mary to try to offer some words of comfort, she lashes out and takes her anger and worry out on Caleb by blaming him for Abe’s current situation. Normally, Caleb would fight back. He would say something snarky and witty and things would carry on as usual. Throughout the course of the show, Caleb’s sense of humor has served as a constant of sorts. No matter what happens, no matter how dark things get, Caleb’s usually right there with a witty one-liner or a joke or a story to lighten the mood. Hell, when he was being dragged away to be interrogated, he still took the effort to taunt Arnold, telling him, “the red really does suit ya!” For Caleb, humor is a weapon to fight back and a shield to protect himself and those he cares about. He uses it to uplift others and to taunt enemies and to protect himself from being vulnerable. For Caleb, humor is just a part of who he is as a person. 

But instead of fighting back when Ben and Mary snap, he just takes it. He sits there and just takes in the words they throw at him and its so heartbreaking because that’s just not him, that’s not fundamentally who Caleb is. Caleb-precious, unflinchingly loyal Caleb- is ultimately punishing himself for something he thinks he did. So not only was he physically tortured in a disturbingly brutal manner, but now he’s grappling with this false knowledge that he gave up the people closest to him to the man who will stop at nothing to kill them all. He thinks he put everyone he cares about in immediate danger and that if any of them get hurt, it’ll be all his fault. We know he never gave Simcoe the names. That Simcoe figured it out on his own and told Caleb the lie to get inside his head. Still, because of his only semi-lucid state brought on by the pain of torture, Caleb doesn’t know for sure. Maybe not knowing is the worst part. And even if he starts to believe that he didn’t give away their identities, there’s still the issue of his silence. In 3x04, Caleb even says his silence is what gave him away. We get the most insight into Caleb’s character when he’s not talking at all. When Caleb is silent, something is absolutely wrong. Given his moments of silence in the recent episode, my god, the guilt must be eating him alive. 

Yet, his closest friends haven’t even seemed to notice, carrying on like nothing is wrong. I’d like to focus primarily on Ben because he seems to be the primary culprit, and because Mary’s anger is a lot more understandable and easier to trace given what we know of her character and loyalties. Once again, her husband is putting himself directly under the noses of people who want to kill him and she has no idea of his current whereabouts or even if he’s still alive. And this seems to be a reoccurring theme with Abe. Let’s also remember the story Rivington posted and how that must have sent her sick with worry. She just got him back, just got him home, and now he’s leaving again. Now all of this doesn’t necessarily just excuse what she said to Caleb, but it makes it more understandable. 

Benjamin, on the other hand... Ben’s complete lack of attention to his best friend’s suffering is much more frustrating. He showed initial concern for Caleb, and actively urged him to take it slow and let himself heal. When Caleb confessed his fears about exposing the ring, Ben tried to reassure him. But then the mutiny happened and Ben got wrapped up in the aftermath. Now, beyond that initial concern, Ben doesn’t seem to understand just how bad things are for Caleb. Given that they’ve been best friends since childhood, Ben should be the first one to notice that Caleb is suffering, especially given the abrupt changes in Caleb’s behavior.

This most recent episode 4x07, has me so angry with Ben I can barely even type. You don’t grab a person who has survived severe physical and mental torture and scream at them and then tell them that they should have told you about this just because you weren’t paying enough attention. Everything about Caleb has been screaming, “I am not okay,” since he returned to camp and yet you haven’t heard him at all. Caleb is supposedly someone Ben cares about.  I understand that Ben is going through a lot. Believe me, I get it. 

Like let’s look at what Ben is dealing with right now. Washington is seemingly obsessed with capturing Arnold and would prefer if all of Ben’s attention and energy be concentrated on that. Soldiers are becoming restless and even though this most recent mutiny was stopped and the ringleaders executed, but how much longer will it be before even more decide they’re tired of these conditions? Meanwhile, the Culper Ring is under threat of exposure and now that Simcoe knows Culper’s identity, Ben has to salvage what he can. He’s worried about Abe being right under Arnold’s nose and now he’s being shipped to Virginia so that’s a huge kink in the plan. Plus, now that Mary and Thomas are in camp, he has two more people for whom he feels responsible (although Mary can handle herself, I mean obviously, but still, precautions). When Ben snapped at her, it was just a glimpse of the frustration he’s got to be feeling as responsibility piles on him. In the wake of Arnold’s betrayal, he’s pretty much running damage control. Again, doesn’t justify his actions whatsoever, but maybe explains it a little better.

Ben has had his fair share of traumatic endeavors throughout the show. Sackett was probably the best example. Then there was Sarah. And then there’s what happened before the show. Sam. Nathan. (Sidenote but the more I read about Nathan and Ben the more I’m convinced they were soulmates, I mean I ship Tallster hardcore and damn, Ben has two hands if you get me). Personally, I’m beginning to wonder if Ben isn’t seeing what’s really going on with Caleb because he can’t allow himself to do so. Because at the end of the day, who’s been the one person to remain by his side? Who’s been the one constant since this war even started?

Caleb. It’s always Caleb. No matter what changes, no matter how bad things get, Caleb is always okay. He’s the one guarantee Ben has left. He volunteered to sneak into York City with no guaranteed way out to try and rescue Abe after Abe was caught and imprisoned. This is a man who loves his friends, who is loyal to a fault, who would rather die than betray them. And Ben knows this. Ben doesn’t blame him for what he did or did not say while under Simcoe’s knife and he makes that known. But other than that, he’s been so wrapped up with other things that Caleb has fallen to the wayside. It literally took Caleb falling apart for Ben to notice. 

Perhaps that’s the most distressing thing of all. 

[riverboat-valkyrie-blog]

McMercy Week: Day 5 - Healing

Also available here

"Bullseye!"

McCree's fist pumped the air as his dart struck the center of the board. A certain medical prodigy next to him laughed, as she threw her twentieth bullseye into her own board. "Nice aim McCree, it only took you ten tries to hit the board!" McCree tried to think of a smart rebuttal to the admittedly accurate observation, but it died in his throat, as Athena's voice entered the room. "Agents McCree and Zeigler are requested in the briefing room immediately". The two looked at each other, before silently agreeing to continue later.

 They jogged out of the cafeteria, and a minute and a half later, they burst through the doors of the briefing room. The briefing room at Gibraltar was little more than a bedroom with a table for six in it, but it got the job done. At the table already was Gabriel, Ana, and Genji. "Apologies if I interrupted you two," he said with a smirk and wink at Jesse, "but there have been reports of a small omnic insurgence in Canada. All we know is that they are a group of omnics who fought in the crisis have raided a munitions warehouse, taking with them experimental explosives. Their numbers grow by the day, and it's up to us to stop them. While we could let the Canadian army deal with it, they would take too long and aren't as well trained as us. We also can't let Overwatch deal with it, as getting authorization to operate in Canada would give them too much time to grow. That's why we're here. This mission will be executed by just the five of us. Our size will allow us to slip past the border and crush the insurgence before they become a serious public menace. We'll meet at the drop ship in half an hour." Gabriel stood up and started towards the door before turning back "Oh, and don't breathe a word about this to anyone, especially not Jack".

 "Ya know, for a discreet operation, you may want to change your look a bit" Jesse said as the two walked down the hall to their rooms, looking over Angela in in Valkyrie suit "What's wrong with my look?" she said, curious. "Well darling, I hate to break it to ya, but glowing blue wings aren't exactly stealthy" he said. "And spurs are?" That was able to shut Jesse up for the rest of the walk.

 2 Hours Later

 "Shit shit shit!" McCree yelled as the hallway started exploding behind him. The group had traced the insurgents to an abandoned complex, which he and Genji had volunteered to scout. He had no idea what caused them, but the explosions were going off in a chain reaction, gradually heading towards him. He started running, but large steel doors at the end of the hall started to slide shut. He had almost reached the doors an explosion knocked him to the side, throwing him on the floor before being showered in rubble.

 When the explosions stopped and McCree got the strength to stand, he took his communicator and called Angela. Hey Angie, think you could join me down here? I just got off the receiving end of an explosion". Her voice was laced with worry as she responded "We heard the explosion and I saw your vitals drop. Stay still, and I'll try to retrace your footsteps". His vision was getting fuzzy and he noticed there was blood flowing from a cut to his head, but he tried to continue "Hey Angie, if we-" he stopped as he passed out.

 Angela had tried (and failed) to stay calm when talking to Jesse, but she was terrified for him. Genji had rejoined her Gabe and Ana shortly before the explosions went off, and when it did, the whole building shook, and the sound thundered. As soon as Jesse passed out, they all ran towards the building. Genji led then through a series of abandoned hallways before he held up a hand at a doorway. "Thermal readings suggest that the explosion happened behind this door" he then hunched close to the door, listening. "It appears the insurgents are behind this door as well. How do we want to deal with them?" Genji whispered. All eyes turned to Gabe, who hefted his two shotguns. "Well, we seem to have lost the element of surprise, so let's blow through this door on my mark".

 Meanwhile

 Jesse was flickering in and out of consciousness. The first time he woke up, he tried to stand up, which caused him to stumble into a wall, and with his luck, bring the roof down on top of him. The next time he woke up he heard the sound of rubble shifting and felt the gentle thumps that accompanied the stride of omnics walking. Jesse figured his luck could be worse, they could have found him unconscious in the open, or have uncovered his hiding spot, although it was only a matter of time. He knew that they would find him eventually, and he was in no condition to fight. Hell, he was barely able to move one arm. He heard the omnics coming closer, and he figured that this was the end, as he passed out once again.

 McCree didn't have many regrets in life. His screw ups tended to be huge but sparse. The list included: Joining the Deadlocks and the infamous train heist that ended with countless deaths on all sides, all of which McCree was responsible for. But as the end stomped slowly towards him, he started thinking about the time he'd spent with Angela. They had met when Jesse had been assigned to teach her how to shoot, and their friendship had only grown from there. They had watched awful movies together, started a Watchpoint-wide Pong tournament, and had recently started going up to the roof at midnight. They had grown incredibly close during that time, and Gabe loved to tease him about it. He was hoping he could confess his feeling for her at one of their midnight meetups, but if something didn't happen in the next twenty seconds, His time with her would be cut short. And that was his greatest regret.

Thankfully, something did happen. The door that had been previously shielded by the blast doors was blown off of its hinges has Gabriel strode into the room, looking like he was ready to defeat an army. The first omnic turned, only to be struck by Ana's rifle. It shuddered for a second before Gabe's shotguns blew it into lego brick sized scrap. The other omnic fired a burst of bullets at the group, but Genji's short blade returned them to their owner, and the omnic fell. The group rushed past them, before looking around confused. Genji said, "He isn't here, are we too late?". "No" Angela didn't want to entertain the possibility. "I could use my halo. It's still a work in progress, but at this range, I should be able to find him." She opened a container on her suit and brought out the golden piece. Using it, she was able to see Jesse outlined a deep red under a nearby pile of rubble. "This way hurry!" She led them to the spot, and Gabe and Genji started to lift the rubble. Underneath they found Jesse. he looked awful, but he was in one piece. Angela dragged him out and began her work. When his vitals leveled out a few minutes later, she breathed a sigh of relief.

 And then the blast doors closed.

 They had tried everything. Gabe shot the doors, nothing happened. Genji went into the air vents, only to find the blast doors sealed them off too. With the extra down time, Angela took full notice of the hallway. There weren't any doors or other hallways that branched off of it. It was essentially just a tube ready to contain whatever got caught in it. Then she froze. Footsteps echoed on both sides of the hall, slowly growing louder. Genji and Gabe ran to join her Jesse and Ana. "We're sitting ducks in here. We can't defend both sides if they come at us at once. We'll have to find a way out of here" Gabe growled. "I think we all know there are only two ways out of here" said Ana. They sat in relative silence for a second until Genji spoke up. "Despite the odds, we must not give up. For the sake of our friends back at base, and for Jesse, we must beat the impossible odds. And even if the odds are unfavorable, we are the most likely to pull it off" His words resonated with everyone, giving a thin layer of confidence. "We must strike where they least expect, we must fight to our dying breath, and we shall fight until their bodies are laid to rest." There was a short silence before Gabe started a slow clap, "Excellent speech there, but there's still an army forming outside both ends of this room". Genji just looked at him and repeated, "then we shall strike where they least expect. At least, I will." Ana tilted her head towards him "If you are going to do what I think you will, you may find my nano boost useful. You haven't used it before, but it will increase your strength and speed." As the two discussed Genji's sneak attack, Gabe started looking at the plentiful amounts of rubble and got an idea.

Originally the plan was to hide all of them in the vents, but only Genji, Angela, and Ana could fit. Gabe then decided to build fortifications out of rubble, and by the end, he was impressed. Not only had his team built shoulder high walls around the center part of the room, but they had also piled rubble at the doorways, hopefully annoying the omnics a bit before they killed them. Now, they all stood in the center of the hall, behind the relative safety of the rubble walls. Genji was climbing into the ventilation shaft, Ana was loading lead rounds into her rifle. Gabe was thinking about all the ways the defense could go wrong, and Angela was sitting by McCree, checking that her pistol was ready.

 The doors opened.

 They didn't slowly slide open, nor did any fanfare accompany them opening. They silently slid open in two seconds, and then everything went wrong.

 The rubble setup as an annoyance was instantly blasted back at the heroes in the center, forcing them to duck into cover. The omnics were all Null Sector models, and up front and center was an eradicator. It raised its gun, and fired into the ceiling, right where Genji was. His vitals dropped, and he seemed ready to die any second. Then, troopers flooded the hallways on both sides, firing at the fortifications. A stray shot hit Ana, and she collapsed, critically injured. Gabe got some shots off, destroying some, but came to the same fate as Ana, and he collapsed on the floor.

Angela then looked down to Jesse. She knew she would be next, and then he. There were surrounded by fifty omnics on each side. Knowing there was nothing she could do to save him hurt her. Ever since the Pong tournament, the bond between the two of them seemed to grow constantly stronger. It wasn't until their first midnight meeting on the roof, until she realized how much she really cared about her wannabe cowboy. Now, surrounded on both sides and against impossible odds, Angela felt something stir inside of her. The feeling grew and grew until she felt her suit vibrating with power, and with a shout, she released it into the air with a yell, "Rise, my friends!".

 Genji's systems had shut down to prevent excessive damage, so he had to listen to the fight play out, powerless to do anything. Eventually, there was silence, and then he felt a slight sensation. It was a warm caring feeling, but before he could fully process it, he heard Angela's cry, and he was instantly healed.

 Angela looked down to Jesse. His wounds had healed, as well as Ana's and Gabes, but they were seconds from being over run.

 "Ryūjin no ken o kurae!" Genji yelled as he burst out of the vents. He was completely healed, and now he had unleashed the full fury of his dragon. When he hit the ground, Ana shot up and shot him with her nano boost, then she turned around, pulled two more out, and shot Jesse and Gabe. Genji became a green tornado of death and pain, Gabe screamed a blood chilling battle cry before lunging into battle. Jesse shot up from the ground, one hand on his pistol, the other on his flashbangs. Angela attached her damage amplifier to him as he ran to Gabe's side. he flash banged and shot one, fanned the rest into an eradicator on the right, before rolling, and coming up fanning the hammer, finally destroying the eradicator. Angela switched to her healing beam, and patched up the three attackers as needed, but with Ana's boost, it was hardly needed, so she pulled out her pistol, only to feel a prick in her arm, and then, bloodlust.

 Angela woke with a start inside the drop ship. She was lying next to everyone, except Ana. Sitting up, she saw the older woman with her back to her, preparing tea. She must have dragged them back, and Angela was pretty grateful. "You know, you should probably tell him soon" Ana started, startling Angela. "I've seen the way you two look at each other and don't think I don't know about your midnight escapes. I honestly think you two would be good to each other, and I'm not just saying that because I have money on the line." Angela looked up "Angela, it's good to see you're up. Everyone is fine, except for McCree. His arm's nearly been blown off. I applied basic first aid, but you'll need to do the rest." Angela's response was stopped by a sudden cry. Jesse had awoken, and he wasn't looking good. During the fight he must have blocked some incoming fire with his arm, and with Angela nano boosted into a blood frenzy. Unfortunately, there wasn't much left of his arm to heal, and when she noticed early signs of infection she made a choice that she hoped he wouldn't hate her for.

  One Week Later

 Jesse woke with a start. He had dreamed of him and Angela living a happy life together away from all the crisis and wars. Then the dream shifted to them prancing in the snow, throwing snowballs at snowmen. He kept thinking about his dreams as he brushed his hair with his left hand. He froze, then tried again. He refused to look at it, but he knew. And as he brought his hand down in front of his face, his fears were confirmed. As he lay in bed sobbing, Angela entered the room, and ran over to McCree. She embraced him and didn't say a word until he had calmed down. "I'm so sorry libeling," she whispered, "I'm so sorry". McCree said nothing, but they stayed in each other's embrace long into the day. 

 One Week Later

 Angela had gotten him walking in just two days. His prosthetic arrived on the fifth day, and he'd been learning how to use it until the seventh day. On the seventh day Angela said she wanted to show him something. He obeyed, and followed her down the halls, until they arrived at the cafeteria. It was empty, save for two dart boards. She turned to him and smiled, lifting two darts from her pocket. "Want to pick up where we left off?"

[its-allaboutfanfic]

Unbearable (Kili x reader)

Word count: 2022

Warnings: death of reader, a lot of crying. This is also my first fic I wrote in english, so don’t be too hard on any (possible) grammar mistakes. The next ones are going to be more cheerful, I promise (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ . 

Author’s request: Enjoy! (✪㉨✪) and send me some requests, if you want.

~*~

It didn’t take you long to analyze the situation in front of you and you closed your eyes one last time to mentally prepare yourself, before you started runnning.

The second you took a glance of the situation happening a couple of metres in front of you, you somehow knew how all of this was going to end.

While you were running, a smile actually started to creep up your face, despite of all what was surely coming next. Because now, you were going to become useful, for once at least.

Since the day you joined the companion of Thorin Oakenshield, every single dwarf and even Bilbo with his courage, seemed to outshine you. Everything you did was average through and through. Your skill in archery, your sword fight, your stamina and hell, even your cooking was unremarkable and it had made you sick since day one.

You had volunteered to accompany the king, because just like every other dwarf you wanted to win back your mother land at all costs, but what you weren’t planning, was falling in love with one of your companions.

Yes, you admitted it, especially now for that it didn’t quite matter anymore, anyways. You had hopelessly fallen in love with Kili and his bravery, his strength and his sometimes childish sense of humour.

Your love was never returned, though.

Kili just didn’t seem to be able to look at you the way he was looking at Tauriel, a beautiful elf-maiden who was, and you hated to admit that, not nearly as unlikable and awful as you’d liked her to be. So you didn’t have any other choice than silently watching Kili confessing his love to her and feeling your heart aching and crumbling in return.

Nobody seemed to notice your love, but this was a circumstance you were highly glad about.

You were always one to endure your pain alone without bothering anyone with it.

So you loved and suffered alone and it didn’t take long until the only thing you wanted was for this journey to end, so that you could gain some distance between yourself and Kili and you started to hope, that maybe your love would fade when you wouldn’t have to see him and his gleaming eyes every day anymore.

You had tried to avoid him as much as possible, but Kili, as friendly and open minded as he was, had often started conversations with you and you couldn’t help yourself but fall in love with him even more everytime.

Sometimes, there’d even been moments, when you’d found something in his eyes, that’d made you believe for a second, that you’re feelings maybe weren’t just one-sided, but soon after that Tauriel was either seen or mentioned, and then his admiration for her was clearly recognizable and there was no need to only suspect it.

You always came to the conclusion, that that glimpse in his eyes that you’d thought you’d seen had only been wishful thinking and a clear sign of you desperation.

You increased your speed, you ran faster than you ever did before with your target right in front of your eyes. The pale ork didn’t seem to notice you as you raised your hand while running,  he was too focused on the dwarf he was going to kill in any second. At least he’d try, because you wouldn’t allow it.

When you reached them, you let something out that sounded like a weird war howling and stabbed him in the head, as well as you could, with the jagged stone you recently had picked up. Unfortunately, you didn’t manage to pierce his head or cause any serious damage, but it was enough for him to release the one you wanted to safe from his grip. Kili.

The dwarf fell down with a thud and you quickly shielded him with your body as you went to stand in front of him, facing the ork.

You had accomplished to reach them before Bolg could seriously wound Kili and that was all you had aimed for.

But now you had to handle the other problem: to defeat the ork. Unluckily, you were unarmed, because at the moment you had seen the seriousness of Kili’s situation, there hadn’t been enough time for you to look for any other weapon than the stone you had quickly grabbed from the ground.

However, let’s be honest, even if you somehow could’ve been able to find a sword or something like that, the probability of you winning against the spawn of Azog was rather low.

Still, you didn’t regret coming for Kilis help a bit. Hell, there was no way you could’ve stopped yourself.

It didn’t take long for Bolg to recover from your pathetic and desperate attack, and he turned to you, growling out of anger.

And as you kept eye contact with the huge ork, never avoiding his gaze, you strangely didn’t feel an ounce of fear.  You knew you were going to die, there was no escape, so there wasn’t anything else left to do for you, then to… let go. To let go of life and welcome death.

So you banished your all of your fear and you still weren’t afraid, when he raised his sword and stabbed it right through your chest.

Every ounce of air was seemed to be taken from you, as he slid the blade out again and the ground you then fell on, felt oddly soft and secure. You gasped.

Somewhere you heard a scream filled with unbearable heartbreaking pain, and this persons sorrow, somehow, felt so much like your own and hit you so hard, that tears started to form in your eyes.

You wanted to help this person, but your whole body had went numb and you could feel neither your arms, or legs, or any other part of it.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of what seemed like red fire and suddenly, Bolgs head fell right from his shoulders. You didn’t care though, you had done what you wanted.

You turned your attention away from him, as you recognized tiny rain drops falling on your face and as you wondered when it had started to rain, you then realized, that there was no raining and the rain drops in fact had been tears.

You slowly turned your head and finally noticed Kili, who had pulled you to his lap, his arms wrapped around your body, while you were pressed to his chest.

How could you not have noticed this? Suddenly you felt the absurd need to laugh. Wasn’t it sad, that the first time he held you in his arms, you couldn’t even feel them? Couldn’t feel the warmth they send to you body?

You saw the tears that fell from his eyes and felt your heart cringe at this sight. Interesting, how physically you weren’t aware of your body, but your heart could still feel every emotion and seemed not to be damaged.

„K-Kili…“, you croaked, causing a cough attack you tried to surpress.

„I am here, (Y/N).“ By Valar, his voice was, although it was full of sadness and pain, still the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Maybe in another life, you would have been allowed to get sung to sleep by and wake up to it every day.

Oh, how you wished for this heaven to become true, but you couldn’t imagine that Valor would grant you this. Still, even the thought of it gave you a warm and peaceful feeling.

„Stop crying, … p-please.“ Tears, that now belonged to your own eyes, started to run down your cheeks. „I’m very glad that after all, I could con-contribute something good to our journey“, you had a hard time trying to spit out the words you needed to say and you could literally feel your life floating away more and more.

Kili stared at you with a mixture of shock and ache „Why do you say something like that, (Y/N)? How could you…“

„No Kili, lis…ten to me“, you interrupted, your voice getting weaker and weaker. You knew that you hadn’t much time left. „Before I g-go, I want you to know that I am very hap..py right now for that I was a-able to safe you. You’re going to be a gr…eat king and the dwarves will need … you,“, you coughed, but forced yourself to keep talking. „s-so please p-romise me some…thing.“

Kili gently cupped your cheek with his hand, as he wished his and your tears away with his thumb, his eyes never leaving yours „Anything.“

„Don’t change… ever…“ This were your last words, for that your view went black after them and didn’t ever light up again, at least not in this world.

„(Y/N)?“, Kili stroke your (H/C) hair. „(Y/N), please, you have to wake up.“

His vision went blurry again and he pulled you tighter to himself, silently sobbing into your neck.

Why did this world had to be so cruel? At first he had lost his brother, his second half and now you, a companion he had learned to like and value. You had been so young and… precious. Far too precious for this cruel world.

But still, the pain he was feeling about your loss was way too… strong. It was as if he had lost another family member but nevertheless slightly different.

During the time you had appeared to throw yourself in front of Bolg, it came to him, that he hadn’t once given a thought to Tauriel, who had still to be anywhere here too.

After he had seen her kill Bolg, he hadn’t looked for her again.

At the beginning, where Tauriel was fighting against Bolg and was nearly killed, he had thought that if she’d die, he’d die right along with her, but now, as Kili was breathing in your pure scent and hugging your lifeless body, he realized, this wasn’t normal grieve as well. Maybe it should have been you, that he should have protected with his life. He let go of a scream, a scream full of sorrow and loss and he didn’t care who was watching or listening.

How could he have been so blind? He had been blinded by Tauriels silky skin and her elvish grace, so that he hadn’t been able recognize the one, who had been by his side all the time. You.

                                                        ~Time skip ~

Its been a few days since the war was over, but Kili didn’t really care how many.

He had heard that except of you and Fili, every dwarf of the companion had survived. Legolas and Thorin had killed Azog together and after the leader of the orks was dead, it didn’t take the others long to defeat the remaining orks who hadn’t had escaped.

Coming back to the prince, since you and his brother died, Kili wasn’t doing well. To be completly honest, he was miserable and he wished, that he would have died alongside with you. Of course he hadn’t forgotten the promise he gave to you, but he had to give himself a few days to grieve about the deaths of his brother and you.

When they had taken your body away from him to set everything ready for your burial, he hadn’t been able to look Tauriel in the eyes. But instead of cursing and screaming at him, like he would have deserved, she had simply taken his hands in hers, kissed them softly and had said: „I understand.“  

After that she had left him and the forest elves and was never seen again.

He felt bad about how he had treated her, just as he felt bad about and regretted a lot of other things and he desired for everything to have been turned out different, but this was a hopeless wish and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Thorin would perish one day, Kili was next in line to become the king and for that he would prepare himself. He had to fulfill a very important promise, at least.

[applespotnews-blog]

Megaupload wasn't only for privateers: irate clients in a tight spot for the time being Megaupload was taken disconnected by the administration in view of pilfered content.

By taking Megaupload disconnected and accusing its pioneers of criminal movement, the feds are planning to drive purveyors of illicitly dispersed copyrighted substance bankrupt. Be that as it may, in doing as such, they've additionally disposed of an administration that was utilized by many to share records obtained and appropriated in a consummately lawful way.

Megaupload is most outstanding for the appropriation of pilfered motion pictures, recreations, programming and so forth, however a specific rate of the site's use—the amount, we don't have a clue—was honest to goodness. We connected with perusers today to discover how and why they utilized Megaupload to convey and secure substance that didn't encroach anybody's copyright, and what they plan to do now that the webpage is off the Internet.

There is no lack of record sharing administrations, obviously. Why might somebody who's not a privateer utilize Megaupload rather than, say, Dropbox, which probably is under no risk of conclusion? Perusers and supporters on informal communities reveal to us that liberal stockpiling distributions, convenience in sharing, and quick transfer paces were among the key reasons.

While we expect most by far of clients would have their substance moved down locally, there is no promptly obvious path for Megaupload clients to recapture documents they've facilitated on the administration. Discounts for holders of premium records is another uncertain issue. We've asked a Justice Department representative if any strategy for re-downloading genuine substance from the servers will be accessible, or if the substance will in any case be on the webpage ought to Megaupload ever be permitted back on the web.

Accordingly, a Justice representative refered to the site's FAQ which secured the likelihood that their documents may one day be lost or blocked off: "This is as yet a continuous matter," the representative told Ars. "It is vital to note that Megaupload plainly cautioned clients to keep duplicates of any documents they transferred. Megaupload.com explicitly educated clients through its Frequently Asked Questions ('FAQs') and its Terms of Service that clients have no restrictive enthusiasm for any of the documents on Megaupload's servers, they accept the full danger of finish misfortune or inaccessibility of their information, and that Megaupload can end site operations without earlier notice."

Simple to share

"We do an OK measure of video stuff here thus I need to move too-huge for-email documents around with some normality," staff lawyer Michael Weinberg of Public Knowledge tells Ars in an email. "I like locales like Megaupload in light of the fact that they don't require a record—you simply transfer it, get the connection, and send it out. It is likewise simple to advise other individuals to utilize it since you don't have to make another record."

Open Knowledge is a conspicuous SOPA rival, and Weinberg was utilizing Megaupload all through the SOPA level headed discussion and straight up until yesterday's activity against Megaupload. "As it would turn out, throughout the end of the week I utilized my home portable workstation to pull down the flood of the House Judiciary Committee SOPA markup," Weinberg says. "I needed to exchange it here to work with the goal that I could cut it up into a video we were utilizing. I transferred it, however before I had an opportunity to download it Megaupload was closed down. I can't represent everything occurring on the site, however Megaupoad was giving me a totally real administration for a totally genuine end."

Peruser Mark Ellul lets us know "I utilized my record for online stockpiling and reinforcements, likewise to send my own home video documents from Spain to Australia, so my folks can see HD recordings of their granddaughters. I have gotten tweets from DJs who utilized it to share their legitimate manifestations. Clearly there was a pilfered utilize, however there were such a large number of employments to have boundless space in the Web. Presently I think that its difficult to confide in any administration, in light of the fact that Dropbox or any of alternate contenders could be brought around the FBI."

The free Megaupload benefit enabled transfers of records up to 2GB in size and aggregate stockpiling of 200GB. Expense based arrangements offered boundless capacity.

One client in Colorado who passes by "daveIT" in the Ars discussions said he paid for the superior administration for expanded speed, and utilized it to work together with a companion in Alaska on music tracks. "Not a gigantic blow actually—other than wasting the opportunity to re-transfer tracks on my moderate DSL," he composed, taking note of that with Megaupload he had transferred documents 6GB to 8GB in size without any issues.

Maybe to top it all off, the peruser might be in a tough situation in getting a discount. "I had quite recently restored my membership for 2 months and this happens several days later...wondering on the off chance that they will discount that??" he composed. "They'll most likely need it for case!"

Megaupload vital for Android engineers

Another peruser lets us know in the gatherings that "I'm an Android telephone devotee, and Megaupload was one of the most ideal approaches to disperse custom ROMs and other Android mods. Indeed, the ROM my telephone is running right now I downloaded from MegaUpload without further ado before it was closed down. There are various comparable destinations for this utilization, yet Megaupload was dependably the quickest."

On Google+, Massimiliano Fanciulli tells Ars "I've utilized Megaupload for circulating betas of my application Sleepy before distributing it on the Android Market. It was fast and simple to transfer and offer things."

Fanciulli said he may begin utilizing Google Docs to share records. Different clients recommended RapidShare, FileSonic, Dropbox, or even Amazon's Simple Storage Service (despite the fact that Amazon's designer centered administration is for all the more in fact slanted clients).

Proficient performer Suzanne Barbieri messaged us to note that she utilized Megaupload to store and offer music to some degree in light of the fact that the greater part of her ventures "are too vast for something like YouSendIt. A Megaupload free record enables you to send documents of up to 2GB. I have no clue where I will transfer documents now." Barbieri tells Ars the pre-discharge tracks she makes are classified and expected just for the beneficiaries' utilization, so she doesn't care for the records being in the US government's hands.

"I do session work in my home studio and transfer the records so the customers can download them," Barbieri says. "The work I accomplish for them is generally dire with tight due dates, so I must have the capacity to transfer documents. A dispatch administration would be excessively costly and too moderate. I additionally utilize Megaupload to get my own particular music to my record mark."

One peruser confesses to having utilized Megaupload "for both legitimate and risky purposes," including dispersion of changed Minecraft customers to companions, and for acquiring uncommon collections and recreations. "At whatever time you expected to send a few extensive records to somebody, it was anything but difficult to simply zip them and dump them onto Megaupload or another such site," he says. "Another special extra was obscurity."

Another peruser lets us know of getting to Phish show MP3s—which are dispersed legitimately in light of the fact that the band grants recording. Loot Beschizza, overseeing editorial manager of Boing, noticed that advertising individuals utilize Megaupload to send the site "everything from high-determination pictures to unreleased collections, recordings and such for us to audit and distribute."

Vancouver occupant Geoff Luk says he volunteered to take photographs and recordings at the 2010 Winter Olympics and utilized Megaupload to store documents that were 4GB in size. "The greatest loss of my media is two ISO DVD pictures that I made from PPT slideshows and photographs and video taken while I was volunteering with the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympic Games," he says. "As the group I took a shot at was tremendous (around 75 Downtown Vancouver, and another 25 in Whistler/Blackcomb), it was near difficult to physically share both DVD duplicates of the photographs, recordings, and ISO documents after the Olympics had finished."

Luk says he has everything went down locally, in spite of the fact that transferring documents again to another administration will be badly designed.

Clients say government activity "excessively wide a brush"

One Ars peruser recommends in the discussions that clients who lost access to content and paid for administrations they now won't get ought to record a class-activity suit against the US government. "I am not saying that dispersion of illicit substance is alright, yet murdering all other honest to goodness content as a kind of a " inadvertent blow-back' for this situation is most likely not alright," the analyst composes.

While such a suit appears to be probably not going to succeed, the assessment is intelligent of clients' outrage about the lost administration. A book manager named Cassandra Olivia says representation creators and editors she works with utilize Megaupload to trade records for survey, and that she utilizes it herself for sharing family and get-away photographs with relatives who are "recently mechanically sufficiently proficient to tap on a connection."

"I'm happy my Megaupload record was simply reinforcement despite everything I have the photographs some place, however now I need to retrain my family into utilizing Dropbox or comparative," she says. "Bringing Megaupload down without recognizing encroaching and non-encroaching substance did the honest to goodness clients an insult and was an infringement of due process. Excessively wide a brush, I think. I trust I get my record, and my photographs back."