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Sebastian Sallow 🔺️F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Chapter 13 - 14.2k words

Tags: NSFW / Dark Magic / Angst / Injury / PTSD

Chapter Master List and Ao3 link

Chapter Thirteen: Of Faerie Rings and Offerings

Sebastian

Another wild, Highland trail to follow, and more hours of tension, as they walked through the cold, morning fog. As hardy as he was, living outdoors and growing up through the unpredictable patterns of Scottish weather, Sebastian had wrapped a warm, wool cloak about himself before setting out with MC in search of their next location. He walked on ahead, MC lagging behind him, her breaths laboured and her mood quiet. She wasn’t up to full fitness yet despite the potions she took each morning, but insisted she was fine every time he paused to check on her.

Turning once again on the path, his gaze taking her in, a small crease appeared on his brow at the paleness of her face contrasting with the dark smudges under her eyes. The last two nights had been rough, sleeping out in the wild landscapes in their tent, the tension thick after the confrontation with Anne. His twin’s words had intended to cut, and they certainly felt heavy over his head, slicing open his fears that MC would leave him.

Waiting for MC to catch him up, he pulled his cloak closer against the damp chill, moisture heavy in the air from a lingering fog. MC slowed to a stop beside him, strands of damp hair stuck to her forehead and cheek. She gave him an enquiring look, glancing around at the endless sentinels of trees that surrounded them.

“Why have we stopped? Are we close to the fairy ring?”

“It shouldn’t be too much further,” he said, managing a reassuring smile. “How are you holding up? That last hill was quite the climb.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, her chin tilting up in that stubborn way of hers. “I told you to stop fussing over me like I am some kind of china doll that’s about to break.”

He grinned and brushed gloved fingers against her temple, smoothing back the loose strands of hair there. “I know. That doesn’t mean I listened, though. I am merely adopting the manly role and looking out for the fair maiden in my charge.”

Her look of disbelief was swiftly followed by a ‘pfft’ of laughter. “Oh, but of course!” She scoffed, planting her hands onto her hips. “Never mind the fact that my magic far outweighs yours in power, and if anything should befall us, then it is more likely going to be the fair maiden who saves the day. What, pray tell, will your manly role involve then?”

A spark of delight filled him at the sight of her mouth curving into a smile. Her laughter may have been an attempt to mock him, but he would take it. Her mood had dropped so low over the last few days due to the lack of ancient magic deposits, and the emotional weight she seemed to carry had put up tense walls between them. He wondered if she would rise to even riskier bait, his fingers shifting to capture her chin, tilting her face up towards him just so. Her eyes flashed, her mouth a tempting pout of pretty pink as he gave her his most wicked smirk.

“I can think of a few manly roles I could adopt to offer my thanks to the fair maiden for saving my backside,” he murmured, daring to lean close enough until he could feel her breath on his cheek. “Especially for a maiden as fair as you.”

“Smooth, Sallow,” she said, arching a brow, but not before she had visibly swallowed at their closeness. He had caught that dark spark in her eyes before she had quickly smothered it. Her hand caught hold of his wrist and tugged his hand from her chin. “But, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“I’ll take that as a challenge,” he grinned, tipping her a cheeky wink.

MC rolled her eyes and set off along the forest trail again. “Come on, let’s keep at it. You said the fairy ring was close. You can tell me more about your manly deeds with the Ashwinders as we walk. Impress me with your villainous skills.”

She threw a smirk over her shoulder and he felt his spirits rise a little as he stepped out to join her, matching her step so they could walk side by side, careful to avoid tripping on rogue rocks or tree roots.

“What do you want to know? I have some rather miserable tales about debt collecting on Rookwood’s behalf, or there is always the noble act of robbing from shipping crates arriving from far flung places.”

Her side eye game was strong as she shook her head. “I think you might need to check on the definition of what a noble act entails. What are in these shipping crates anyway? Do you know? I hope it's not beasts.”

He met her narrow eyed suspicion with a firm denial. “I stay well clear of any poaching,” he assured her. “That side of the gang is definitely not my area of interest.”

“No, you are far happier with the torture and thievery,” she said sourly. She frowned thoughtfully. “Does it get any easier the more you do it?”

The dark shadows of memories hovered greedily at the corners of his mind, and he adjusted his cloak, his face grim. “No,” he said regretfully. He sighed, his gaze scanning their surroundings, always on watch. “Thievery is probably the easiest job to do. Most of the crates that we stash have rare items such as spell books, or ancient artefacts from other countries. Those are the ones that intrigue me the most. I was working the docks for a while, particularly at Dover. Rookwood has a hidden lock up in the tunnels that are carved inside the white cliffs. Those tunnels date back centuries, carved out by Saxons or Vikings I suspect. Hidden by enchantments, Rookwood has quite a decent stash there.”

MC remained quiet, appearing to think this over as she chewed her lower lip. She gave him a curious glance. “Have you ever been tempted to sneak an item for yourself?”

He gave a sly smile, shrugging his shoulders. “I may have pilfered the odd book, you know me. But, not too often. I couldn’t risk being caught. I’m with the Ashwinders for a reason, and I can’t afford to lose sight of that over a few items. The time will come when I get my hands on his collection.”

Her expression soured and she dipped her gaze. Anne was a sore subject, but his determination to fix his sister remained the same. He couldn’t just let it go, not when they could be so close. After what MC had told him from her talk with Rookwood, killing him would lift Anne’s curse. It might even be worth the time in Azkaban to just end him and suffer the consequences. Anne would be well, Rookwood would get what was coming to him, but he would be parted from those he loved once again.

Lost in thought, he was surprised when MC came to a stop, his eyes immediately scanning the path ahead for any trouble. The path had widened slightly, the trees here mostly ash and old oaks, the ground a crispy carpet of browns and golds from the Autumn fall. Ahead was a clearing, a first glimpse of ancient stones set into a circle.

“This is it,” MC whispered, a look of intense concentration on her face.

Ancient stone circles were littered all over the Scottish wilderness, some called them fairy rings, others pagan ritual sites. Whatever they were called, there was always a healthy amount of respect and awe for these places. Untouched for centuries, they held a magical aura of their own, but it was the glow of ancient magic that they needed from this one. After nearly a week, they had found nothing.

“Do we need to move closer?” He asked, watching her carefully. He couldn’t see the traces, but sometimes he could sense a strange energy in the air, although this could merely be coincidence. After all, he had magical blood of his own, and magic could be sensed if one concentrated hard enough.

They moved towards the clearing slowly, the stones standing as solid and true as the day they were placed, any greenery that had dared to encroach seemed to do so with its own level of respect. MC moved towards the centre of the ring, turning in a circle as she studied the stones. Markings had been carved into them, symbols that were intriguing but very few looked familiar to Sebastian.

MC sighed, her shoulders slumping. She shook her head and gave him a defeated look. No ancient magic here, either. All that walking for nothing. What were they doing wrong?

The leather of Noctua Gaunt’s journal was supple and smooth, the book a pleasant weight in her hands. MC let her fingers slide over the cover, deep in thought as she sat with her back resting against a tree under a canopy of tall ash. She had never known her mother, and to read about her within the pages of a book was strange, disconnected. It made her appear as a character in a story rather than a living and breathing person, and yet, she was out there in the world somewhere if records proved true. The fear that lingered in MC’s heart that Elizabeth had met a similar fate to Noctua kept taunting her. Perhaps she was foolish to get her hopes up, and any daydreams about a reunion were neither helpful nor wise.

Elizabeth Gaunt had fallen for a Muggle. A forbidden love for a daughter who came from a line of pure magical blood, her family staunch believers in keeping magic within the bloodlines. The emotions may be written by a second hand, but MC still felt an affinity to a young girl who felt confused about her own feelings. The circumstances may have been different, but MC was confounded by the way her heart seemed to find itself torn between two very different men. However she tried to imagine a life with either of them, it always came to the fear that she would end up destroying them both, as Elizabeth appeared to have ended up destroying her own true love for daring to take what she wanted.

Leander had a pure soul, and she could not bear the thought of dragging him under the shadow of her darkness. She had warned him of such, and yet he remained. Sebastian carried his own darkness, their paths entwined so deeply that surely they were like kindred spirits. His twin thought otherwise. Anne’s bitter prediction that MC would destroy Sebastian in the end still echoed through her thoughts. Could it be so? As much as she resented Anne, her words had struck a nerve, nudging up against the old fears that she had carried throughout her whole life. That she was not worthy of love. Abandoned as a child, never adopted, always on the outside looking in, followed by a darkness that owned her. Always alone, even when she had bound herself to another.

To take the love that Leander offered so willingly would be a selfish thing to do. It terrified her when she saw that softness in his eyes, how fragile and untouchable it appeared, and if she broke it, which surely she would eventually, then it would be lost forever. The irony of it brought tears to her eyes. In not accepting what he had to offer, she proved only that she returned his affections. If she did not care, she would drain him of all he had to give. It would seem she did care, a lot.

Allowing a tear to escape and roll down her cheek, she thought of Leander, allowing herself to relax the solid walls of protection she had built around herself the last few days. Sebastian had excused himself, wandering off a way under the cover of lingering fog through the trees. The few moments of his absence provided precious time for her to vent the pent up emotion stuffed tightly in her chest. Closing her eyes, all she could see was Leander standing in the kitchen of Shell Cottage, his face a mask of bravery whilst his eyes glittered with his pain. Leaving him like that had been so very difficult, but in the end, it had to be for the best.

Taking a deep breath, MC took out the secret parchment and opened it out on top of the journal, tapping it with her wand and turning up nothing. No messages from Leander. Swallowing foolish disappointment, she reminded herself that she had a job to do, and she wouldn’t let him down. Wiping the tear from her cheek, she sat up straighter, writing quickly before Sebastian returned. The little tidbit of information that Sebastian had shared about the tunnels in the cliffs at Dover would be valuable information, and she explained quickly. Resisting the urge to add anything personal, she tapped her wand and sent the words on their way to her Auror.

When Sebastian wandered back through the trees, the low lying mist swirling around his boots, she gave him a wary look. Caught off guard for those brief seconds, she met his gaze and her heart thundered behind her ribs. His look was drenched in curiosity, he knew she was suppressing something, and she feared the questions he would likely ask. She wasn’t ready to answer them. She could feel his need rolling off him in waves, curling with the mists and snaking around her, his eyes almost begging for her to open up to him as he rolled his lower lip thoughtfully.

Dragging her eyes from him, she stuffed the journal back into her bag and got to her feet, brushing dirt and leaves from her trousers. Barriers firmly back in place, she slung her bag over her shoulder and glanced towards the trail. “We should get moving,” she said stiffly. “We have one more possible location to scout out before nightfall.”

Sebastian paused beside her, picking up his own bag and taking out the map. She could feel the strength of his gaze on her, but kept her own eyes averted, looking down at the markers he had drawn on the map. He pointed at the next location with a grubby finger, small scars that looked like burns from spells embedded on his skin. Hands capable of such destruction, and yet she found she liked looking at them, unable to help herself as she took in the veins on the back of them filled with his life blood. Hands that had held her, touched her in ways that left her breathless. Hands that could kill.

“There is a village nearby where we could stop for provisions,” he said, showing her on the map. “I’m almost out of snacks, and I’m pretty hungry.”

Risking a look at him, his expression was one of simple enquiry, the earlier raw need gone. Her lips almost curved into a smile. “You had a massive breakfast, Sebastian. How are you so hungry already?”

“It’s all this fresh air and exercise, love,” he smirked, patting his stomach. “It gives one an appetite.”

She dared to poke a finger into the softness of his tummy. He was by no means overweight, but neither was he lean and hard. He had that solid build, with just an edge of softness, a body that was both strong and capable of the most satisfying hugs. She felt warmth flame her cheeks as she recalled curling into him and falling asleep the other night. Clearing her throat, she lifted her eyebrows, flashing him a teasing glance. “Aww, cute and squishy like a teddy bear. Must be all the snacks.”

He scowled and rubbed his stomach again, looking down at it. “Are you suggesting I’m getting chubby?” He asked, pinching at his flesh through his shirt.

She stepped out along the path with a chuckle, glancing back to him, allowing her gaze to sweep slowly over him. There was nothing boyish about him anymore, except for maybe the twinkle in his eyes sometimes, and he definitely wasn’t chubby. Her eyes lingered on the cut of his jaw, darkened with a few days worth of stubble, the strength in his neck and shoulders. She knew all too well how easily he could lift her up. Her fingers clutched at her bag strap as she let her gaze wander down over his torso, lingering on thick, powerful thighs. Solid, strong, but fast, those legs could side step and fall into powerful stances during duels. He could run, too.

Biting her lower lip, her gaze lifted to meet him once more, and she could see the way those chocolate eyes had darkened. Staring each other down under the canopy of the forest, she felt the primal pulse of blatant desire flare in her blood, calling to him. His throat worked as he swallowed, his lips parting slightly as though about to speak.

“Don’t worry, I was merely jesting,” she said quickly, flashing him a quick smile. “I'm sure there are plenty of adoring fans at the duelling pit when you start flexing your prowess.”

Turning quickly so she could get a grip on her flushed state, she began to stride along the path, blood pumping. It wouldn’t do to get all carried away with intrusive thoughts. His mouth had always been distracting, and she had enough to figure out without adding ideas of what that mouth could do.

“I should hope so,” he cracked, following her, his boots thudding against the dirt. “It takes a lot of care and attention to look this good, darling. I wouldn’t like to disappoint.”

She huffed a laugh, throwing her eyes up towards the gently swaying branches above their heads, golden leaves fluttering down to carpet the forest floor in a blanket of fiery colours. “Always so bloody sure of himself,” she muttered.

Hands gripped her waist and she jumped with a sharp intake of breath, her feet stilling as he bent close to her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “I heard that,” he murmured, his fingers flexing in a tempting grip. “If you don’t believe me, you are most welcome to conduct a more thorough investigation. You would find me a very willing participant.”

Gulping in an attempt to steady her breathing, MC desperately tried to get a grip on the roaring of her pulse, every nerve ending seeming to bend and scrape to his will. “Oh, I have no doubt about your willingness,” she quipped, aiming for bored and unimpressed, but sounding dangerously close to breathy and needy. “It likely equals your level of audacity and randiness. Quite the scoundrel, in fact.”

His nose brushed up the column of her neck, his throaty chuckle sending shivers down her spine as her head tipped foolishly back a touch. All this wonderful fresh air, and yet she couldn’t breathe sufficiently. “I would wager that you secretly enjoy the scoundrel in me,” he teased, soft lips grazing against her skin, the scratch of stubble added just enough roughness to make her sigh. “You are quite the vixen yourself, MC. Do you even know what you do to a man when you look at him with that dark fire in your eyes? When you sway these delectable hips…”

His hands slid down to cup her hips, drawing her back against him so that her back was flush against that solid strength she had been appraising. No, she absolutely wasn’t leaning into him, her eyes closing as his hot mouth claimed a taste of her neck, over and over again, until she felt the tantalising tug of his teeth on her earlobe.

“Seb…” It was the ghost of a whisper through her lips, her back arching as the flat of his palm slid down to the top of her thigh.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he breathed into her hair, his fingers digging deliciously into the flesh of her thigh before he dragged them slowly upwards.

A soft sound left her throat as her knees trembled. Scoundrel, indeed. He knew what he was doing, and she let him, her skin inflamed with every heated touch of that wicked mouth. With one hand splayed at her midriff, and the other seeking out the curve of her hip and backside, her body was melting into his touch. How easy would it be to give in and let him have her? Like falling back into a feather pillow, surrounded by his scent, his arms, his kisses driving the wildfire in her blood to dizzying heights. So effortless.

“Seb,” she said again, firmer this time, her brows drawing together.

He spun her round to face him, his hand claiming her jaw as he pressed his hot mouth to hers in a dominant kiss. While her fingers clutched at his jacket, and her mouth opened to welcome the slide of his tongue, she felt the first flutters of insecurity and panic begin to dance in her chest.

This isn’t love, it’s obsession. She will destroy you.

Her hands were in his unruly mop of hair, his low groan into her mouth making her thighs clench as his hands moulded her curves. Their kisses had become desperate, ravenous, their hot gasps for breath loud in the surrounding quietness. But, the doubts filtered through the haze.

If you were to allow it, I would love you until the very end of existence.

Breaking the kiss with a whimper, MC squeezed her eyes closed against the voices in her head. Anne and her bitterness, Leander and his soft brown eyes full of love she could never accept, Luella Rookwood’s possessive hand on Sebastian’s arm. Her chest tightened but she couldn’t seem to let go of Sebastian, her hands curled into his black jacket as though her life depended on it. His eyes were aflame with hunger, dark and wild, his freckled cheeks flushed with passion when she dared to look at him. They shouldn’t be doing this. Every cell in her body was screaming for him, but that little cold slice of her that held all her fear and doubt began to cut through the fire in her blood. It had not been that long since they had held others in their arms, and tasted kisses from another’s lips.

He shook his head, his eyes turning pained. “No, don’t do that,” he begged, holding her tighter against him. “Don’t you dare start shutting down on me, not now. Please. Don’t push me away, MC.”

“It’s too soon,” she rasped, shaking her head. She stepped back, her arms straightening where she still clutched his jacket, holding him at bay. “I can’t.”

“Surely, you must feel this…this connection between us,” he said, grasping her arms in a tight grip. The desperation on his face, that flicker of fear in his gaze, it made her heart twist painfully. “Please, MC. I love you so much. You drive me crazy being this close, but so out of reach. What do you want me to do? I can’t stop how I feel about you, not ever.”

“You said you could wait,” she winced, his declaration joining Leander’s in the jumbled mess of emotions bubbling inside of her.

A pained look crossed his face and he let her arms go, his hands dropping to his sides and he looked away through the trees. “What am I waiting for, MC? Tell me that. Am I waiting for you? Or, are you going to tell me that you love him more, and then go off to live your life without me? Is that how you will break me, MC? Are you planning to leave in the end?”

A tear slid from her eye and she flinched, blinking rapidly against the swell and burn of more filling her eyes. Her lips parted but no words came. Would she leave him? Slowly letting go of his jacket, she turned her left palm up to look at the red scar there. She was bound to him until death, and therefore, he would always be a part of her. She could never fully turn her back on him, and neither could he do the same to her. But, was it enough?

Sebastian wrapped a hand around hers, squeezing it gently. “Don’t look at that, look at me,” he said softly. “When you look at me, I feel like you see me for who I truly am. You have seen the worst of me, and yet you stuck around. You are more than just a scar on my palm. You’re everything.”

“I…I’m scared,” she admitted, withdrawing away from him, her arms curling around herself as she stepped back. So long in the dark, alone and afraid. Now, she was surrounded by what she had craved for years, but she was too scared to reach out and take it. “What if it’s not real? What if it’s just the foolish, teenage dream you’re in love with rather than me? I’m not that girl any more. Azkaban changed me. I’m harder, colder, the darkness is always there waiting for me. What if I destroy you? What if I can’t give you what you want?”

He looked crestfallen. Those big, brown eyes of his made her think of an abandoned puppy, lost and in need of reassurance. “What are you saying?”

The truth had spilled from her lips and she cringed from it, slapping her hand to her mouth and turning from him. “I can’t…I can’t do this right now.”

He called out to her, but her feet kept moving, one in front of the other until she was running. Speaking the darkest, painful truth had split the fear into shards and now they were digging their jagged edges into her chest. It left a raw feeling there, replacing the heated desire that had bloomed so ferociously before. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, she ran. The path winding through the trees splitting off into tangents that she paid no heed to as her feet hit the dirt. Running from herself, running from the dark, and behind her, the inevitable steady beat of footsteps running after her.

Sebastian

When MC had run from him on the peaks above Hogwarts Valley, he had let her go. Her magic had blasted from the depths of the forest in her rage and pain, but he had not gone after her. This time, he gave chase. Instead of Apparating, she had run, and it would be no great effort to catch up to her. He had wanted her to open up to him so desperately, but when that thick shield she clung to had cracked, the vulnerability that had haunted her eyes had staggered him. She had said the darkness lingered there waiting for her, and that was something he knew all about.

The weak sunlight dappled through the forest canopy, flickering in shades and glimmers on her black hair, strands of it slipping loose from the braid that hung down her back. She was nimble on her feet like a sprite, but she was tiring quickly, her strides lagging as she ran aimlessly through the trees. He could hear her laboured breaths, his mind racing with all that had transpired between them in the last few days.

Anne had rattled her with poisonous words, planting seeds of doubt in a mind already guarded against him. He loved his twin, but damn, he could throttle her sometimes. Whatever had gone down between MC and Leander haunted her thoughts, her gaze faraway and distracted, her quietness laying thick and heavy ever since she had returned from that meeting. That scared him more than anything Anne could say. Anne he could deal with. MC’s feelings for Prewett were a whole other matter entirely.

Despite the nagging fear that MC was in love with another man, he could not get that kiss out of his mind. He couldn’t be mistaken. The fire in her gaze, the way she had responded to his touch, it was tangible and explosive. He couldn’t be the only one who felt it, she had to feel that burn between them as he did. Certain that she did, the fear she had admitted to just now had her in a vice grip, and she was holding back from him. There was still hope. There had to be.

The path appeared to be widening out, a strange sound drifting through the trees, like sticks clacking together. MC slowed, her step faltering as a clearing opened up before them. The sound of a babbling spring joined the clacking sticks, MC coming to a standstill before a huge hawthorn tree decorated with ribbons and strips of cloth. Coming to a stop beside her, both of them catching their breaths, Sebastian felt his skin prickle with the sensation that came from being in a sacred place. He recognised the significance of the clearing immediately, his eyes taking in the offerings tied to the tree.

The clacking sticks were makeshift wind charms strung up on nearby ash trees, the breeze catching them and making them sound their strange music as the scraps of fabric fluttered and danced along with them. MC took a step back, her gaze full of curious wonder as she looked around the clearing, seemingly forgetting why she had run from him.

“What is this place?” She shivered, rubbing her arms, a look of intense concentration darkening her face.

“It’s a Clootie tree,” he said, his voice hushed.

“A what?” She turned to look at him, her brow creased.

“A Clootie tree,” he repeated, pointing up to the branches of the hawthorn. “Clootie means cloth. You find them near sacred wells or springs. People come to make an offering, dipping their Clootie into the water and tying it to the tree in the hopes of curing their loved one from some ailment. It’s sometimes done as a gift to the goddess, or spirit, that guards the sacred well, but mostly it is a prayer for good health.”

MC took a tentative step towards the tree, studying the offerings. Some of them were very faded, the fabric threadbare from age, others looked more recent, one a particularly lovely silk ribbon tied in a bow. “So, these are all likely to represent someone who is hurt, or sick?”

Sebastian nodded, solemnly. She turned to look at him again, a shadow of sadness in her eyes. “Does it work?”

“I’m not sure,” he shrugged, looking at a rather faded scrap of tartan. “It’s said that as the fabric wears thin, the ailment fades with it. It could just be a comfort, but as you and I both know, magic is capable of wonderful things. It may surprise you to hear that most of these were likely placed here by Muggles, though. It’s a Celtic tradition going back centuries. You will find these all over Scotland and Ireland, no doubt in Northern Europe, too.”

The soft look she gave him stirred at the hope he clung to. “Do you know them from personal experience, or through your reading?”

“Both,” he said, his smile sad. “I’ve read about them, of course, but when I was a small child, I remember visiting one with Anne and my mother. We gave an offering to the tree for my grandmother.”

“What happened?”

Sebastian looked at the offerings and swallowed thickly. It had been the first loss he’d experienced in his young life, but definitely not the last. “She died,” he whispered.

“I’m so sorry,” MC said, moving a little closer towards him.

“I remember standing there watching my mother tie the piece of cloth to the tree, and I didn’t believe it would make a difference. I think I even complained about how cold it was that day, the whole idea seeming silly and annoying when I had a new toy train to play with at home.” He bowed his head, worrying at his lower lip as old grief rose up to mingle with new. Always, those he loved had to leave. “Then when grandma died, I lay awake worrying that it was because I didn’t believe in the Clootie tree. It was my fault that the wish didn’t work, and if mother ever found out, she would blame me, too.”

He felt her hand on his forearm, gentle, reassuring. “It’s not your fault, Seb. People die, it’s the way of life. One young boy cannot hold back what nature intends. I doubt your mother would have blamed you, either. Terrible things happen to good people, and we must find a way to carry that loss. There is nothing you could have done.”

“But, what if there was?” He said, his voice hoarse with the emotion bubbling up his throat. “Everyone I love leaves in some form or another. It must all come back to me somehow, and no matter how many books I read, or how many shadows I battle, people still end up leaving. I have to find a way to fix whatever dark curse hangs over me, this rotten luck that steals all that is good and leaves me with nothing.”

She stared at him, wide eyed, lips parted, as he ranted. It seemed she was not the only one cracking open and spilling dark truths. Feeling ashamed of his failures, he put a hand to his face, his eyes squeezing tightly closed as the well of darkness inside of him threatened to spill over. His stomach churned. Shame and guilt, fear and self-loathing, all twisting together to form a lead ball that lay heavy within.

“Perhaps you are right to be wary of me, MC,” he said, voice cracking. “It could well be that I end up destroying you rather than you destroying me. Look what has happened to you already because of me.”

“Do you think Anne has a point?” She asked quietly after a moment. That flicker of worry appeared in her eyes again. “Is this a toxic obsession? What do you see when you look at me? You said I see you despite your darkness, but what of me? I’m just as dark, and definitely more dangerous with the power that I have access to.”

Risking her running from him again, he cupped her face, making sure that he looked directly into her eyes as he spoke. “Yes, you are powerful, and I won’t deny the excitement I feel when I see you unleash it. It truly fascinates me, but that’s my thirst for wanting to know about all things magical. That’s the Ravenclaw part of me that is all my mother. But, the more time that I spent with you, the more I realised that the girl behind all of that was worth knowing, too. I felt this affinity to you, like I could have known you on another plane of existence, or something.”

“A kindred spirit,” she murmured, a slight smile curving her lips. “You said that to me once.”

His own mouth curved in remembrance, his thumb stroking her cheek. “You know me better than anyone, aside from Anne. As I said before, you have seen my darkness, and you stayed. I am not afraid of your darkness, MC. It could be a mirror of my own, and if Anne thinks we will only destroy each other, then I am still willing to risk it. All the time you are willing to hold my hand as we face whatever it is we have to face, then I’m here. If you go down, then I’m coming with you, because if there is one thing I learned while you were gone, it’s that I am fucking miserable without you beside me.”

Her head tilted slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. “You’re a big softie underneath all that dark magic and fierce duelling, aren’t you?”

He gave her his most devilish smirk, leaning in closer towards her. “Don’t tell anyone,” he murmured, dropping her a wink.

“It’s a good thing I am a master of keeping your secrets,” she said, dipping her hand into the collar of her shirt and pulling out the silver chain that held the amulet. The blood stone glittered eerily in the dappled light of the clearing. “I swore on our blood that I would, but even without it, I would keep your secrets, Sebastian. Just as you have kept mine.”

Was it enough, though? He studied the amulet, mulling over the pact they had made. He remembered how strongly he had believed in his love for her. When she had asked if it was nothing more than a teenage dream, it had felt like a blow to his stomach. Looking at her now, her hair tumbling free from her braid, her face pink and blotchy from her tears, he couldn’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else.

“I should have married you instead of making this blood pact,” he said, taking hold of her left hand. He brushed a thumb over her ring finger. “We could have done it despite our age. We broke so many other rules, why not that one? We could have done it the old fashioned way and performed a Handfast ceremony, they are as good as law here in Scotland. You would have been mine forever.”

She gaped at him. “Marriage? Bloody hell, Sebastian! We were kids! Do you think it would have made any difference? Wouldn’t we still be standing here without a clue what we are doing?”

“Would you have gone to Prewett’s bed if we were wed?” The question fired from his lips, bringing his fear of her feelings for the Auror into the open.

MC reeled backwards, her cheeks flushing scarlet, and her mouth forming a tight line. “I could ask the same question of you with regards to Miss Rookwood,” she snapped.

“Ask it,” he said firmly. “Ask me, and I will tell you. I would not. She means nothing to me, nothing at all. But, Prewett is a whole other kettle of grindylows, isn’t he? I didn’t move on, MC, but I think you did. You moved on, and you’re too scared to admit it.”

Her eyes widened, and she stepped back, her hands darting up to fiddle with loose strands of her hair. “Admit what, exactly?”

“I know you have feelings for him,” he pressed, his chest heavy as though filled with rock. “As much as it kills me, I saw it in your eyes. You love him, and that’s why you have been so cold and distant with me. You are pushing me back, and I think it’s because of him. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Her lips parted with a harsh sigh, a small cry of distress leaving her lips. “It’s not the same,” she said, her voice breathless and high.

“You either love him, or you don’t, MC,” he said, shaking his head. “Am I a fool for thinking that the kiss we just shared meant something? Am I really waiting for you to break my heart?”

She put her hands to her head and paced, her chest rising and falling with tortured breaths. Each agonising second that passed without an answer seemed to make the weight on his chest grow heavier. She wasn’t denying it, his worst fears were manifesting right in front of him, and he felt sick. She was going to leave him for another.

“You are not a fool, Sebastian,” she said, coming to a stop before him. He almost held his breath as he waited. “But, you are right, I do need to be honest with you. I’m not going to deny that I have feelings for Leander. I cannot help how I feel, and I won’t do him an injustice by pretending that he doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Fucking hell,” Seb groaned, pushing his hands into his hair and looking up at the swaying branches of the trees.

“You wanted to hear this, Sebastian, and so you can damn well listen!” She said firmly. When he glanced back at her, she had her hands on her hips, her face determined. “He loves me. I know it, and I know he would do anything for me, but I can’t…”

She winced and looked down, taking a deep breath.

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t give him what he wants,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. She sniffed and put the back of her hand beneath her nose. “He offered me the chance to start a new life, and I turned him down. How could I accept such a thing when I cannot give him all of myself in return? I broke his heart because…because all that he wanted from me, that part of me, in here…” She patted her hand to her chest, tears rolling freely down her cheeks now as she looked at him. “I’m pretty sure that part already belongs to you.”

Her words washed over him, pulling him back from the edge, a stuttered gasp ripping from his chest. The relief that she felt that way had him staggering towards her and dropping to his knees. In that moment, there was no swagger, no smirking, just raw emotion as he buried his face into her stomach, his hands holding her as though she was made of precious glass. He felt her hand in his hair, the touch soothing, and sending shivers down his spine.

“I haven’t given up on us, Seb,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “There is still a lot to figure out, and that might take some time, but I haven’t given up.”

Sebastian nuzzled into her warmth, breathing her in and drawing comfort from knowing that she was his, but that niggling fear still lingered. She admitted having feelings for Leander. “And, Prewett?”

He bit his lip, expecting her to push him off, but he felt her shudder. He kept his face buried into the fabric of her clothing, afraid of what he would see on her face if he looked up.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she whispered. “He is a good person, and he deserves so much more than what I could give him. My darkness would swallow him whole. I have to let him go.”

For the first time since he had met Prewett in their first year at Hogwarts, he felt a pang of sympathy for him. There was pain and regret in MC’s voice, and while Sebastian hated the thought of them being close with each other, he could understand the pain of wanting someone and then losing them. That could have been him, he could have been the one to be let go of, and perhaps he still could.

“I will do whatever it takes, MC,” he vowed. “You know I am yours.”

Her hand swept through his hair, her fingers caressing the back of his neck as he remained there on his knees, holding her. The crude wind chimes clacked together in the trees above, the babbling spring gushed as it had done for centuries, and Sebastian allowed himself a moment of peace beneath the Clootie offerings. This time, he was going to believe in the sentiment that good things could happen.

“I don’t wish to break up the moment, but there is something you should know,” MC said quietly. Sebastian tensed, waiting. “I know you can’t see it, but there is ancient magic here. It’s glimmering around the trunk of the tree, little wisps of it trailing up and around the branches. The offerings are all touched by the magic, too. It’s actually rather beautiful.”

Sebastian lifted his head to look up at the tree, but of course, he could not see what she could. He could feel the power of the space, ancient and steeped with years of human emotion. People came here because they were sad, hurting, desperate. They came to make their offering to save their loved ones. That kind of emotional magic was bound to leave a mark.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, getting to his feet. A strange tingling sensation swept through him as the realisation dawned, and he grabbed MC by the hand. “We have been looking at the deposits all wrong. We are assuming that ancient magic would reside in ancient places, but what if that’s not the true source. It’s old, of course, but age shouldn’t dictate where it would gather.”

“What are you thinking, Seb?” She asked, her grip tightening on his hand as he gazed up at the tree.

“These offerings,” he said, gesturing up towards them as he looked at her. “They are emotional. What if that is what draws the ancient magic here? What if it's the emotion that manifests it?”

Her gaze lifted to the tree, her mouth parting as he saw the way her thoughts must be racing. A quiver of excitement trembled through him, as it always did when he stumbled across a brilliant idea.

“That would make sense,” she nodded, her gaze dipping shyly before she spoke again. “There have been instances where ancient magic has burst out of me without the use of a wand, and those moments have always been highly emotionally charged. I…I saved Leander from Dementors inside Azkaban without a wand. It just happened. So, the idea of ancient magic being attached to emotions is actually a good one. Let’s not forget that Isadora created the repository using painful human emotions, too.”

“I should have seen it sooner,” he said, his jaw clenching at how obvious it seemed now. “We could have been spending our time seeking out locations where emotional magic has been cast. Perhaps we would have been more successful.”

“Well, we know now, at least we think we do,” she said, her eyes brightening. “We need to test this theory. We need a location where something emotional would have happened. How are we going to find places like that?”

A thought began to turn in his mind, and he was reluctant to suggest it, but it would make perfect sense. The issue was whether he would be able to handle it. Looking at MC, their hands clasped, and the knowledge that she hadn’t given up on him seemed to lend him added strength. “Emotionally charged magic like the murder of a relative in extreme circumstances? How about that for a location to test the theory?”

Her blue eyes stared at him, and he could see the echo of his own shadows flickering there. They would never forget that day down in those catacombs, it would live inside them for the rest of their lives.

“Are you sure?” She asked, her worry creasing her brow.

No, he wasn’t sure, his guilt and fear seemed to stretch and crawl under his flesh. “I guess there is only one way to find out, sweetheart,” he said, and held her closer as he let the image of the Feldcroft catacomb entrance fill his mind.

The fresh, briney scent of the ocean greeted them as they landed on the cliff top near Feldcroft, the stiff breeze tugging at their hair and cloaks as they gathered their bearings. Tall pines creaked and swayed in the wind, the happy chatter of songbirds a peculiar juxtaposition to the ominous looking entrance of the catacombs. Carved ancient stones leaned amongst the twisted, gnarled tree roots that reached like claws towards the dirt beaten path. A tomb of the dead, ancient and long forgotten, clinging to magic crafted centuries before. The atmosphere spoke of age and dust, but she knew what lingered down there in the dark.

MC shivered and looked to Sebastian, taking in the paleness beneath his freckles, his eyes fixed on the darkened entrance with a hesitant look.

“We don’t have to do this,” she said quietly.

His hand massaged anxiously at her waist as he gave a jerky nod. “I’ll be alright. We need to see if we’re right about this.”

Taking his hand in hers, they walked into the entrance, leaving behind the soft autumn skies for the damp chill of stone and sand. Descending down the cracked stone steps, aged candles flickered into life casting an eerie pale glow to light their way.

“Do you think anyone has been down here since that day?” Sebastian asked, his voice low and tight.

MC scanned the path ahead, water dripping down the walls and the patter of a startled rat echoing down the tunnel carved into the rock. “It’s hard to say,” she said. “I’m sure anything worth any value was looted long ago. What would bring anyone here?”

“I don’t know, explorers, history lovers, desperate boys with grand plans of saving the world.”

MC paused to look at Sebastian, the brittle sadness behind his words making her question the wiseness of taking him down into these catacombs. She squeezed his hand, her own apprehension twisting in her chest, but she tried to suppress it. “I can go on alone, you know. I’m not afraid,” she suggested. “You can wait for me outside if this is going to be too much.”

His jaw tightened and he took a breath. “Come on,” he said, tugging her forward. “You are not going down here alone.”

It could almost make her smile how he still insisted on being her protector, despite the ancient power that lived in her veins. There was nothing in these tunnels that she couldn’t fight off, she was more than capable, but he still had the need to be her saviour.

They walked on, taking the twists and turns with their wands in hand, their other hands still tightly clasped. The candles lit up as they went, casting eerie shadows on stone walls and reflecting off the huge puddles that flooded the chambers. Their boots echoed off the stone flooring sections, the rest of the tombs appearing empty and quiet aside from the odd scampering rat.

“I had forgotten how much of a warren this place was,” MC murmured as they came out on a large curved balcony, the huge circular chamber supported by solid stone columns. Candles illuminated the space, revealing the shattered coffins and dusty urns on their shelves. Down in the centre of the chamber was a stone altar, abandoned, but left as it was last used. As they wandered down the slope, trying to remember which archway to take next, countless old skulls stared back at them with dark, empty eye sockets. “Can you remember which way to go?”

Sebastian paused near the altar, frowning slightly as he eyed the options. “There were so many ancient puzzles to solve to get through here, but it seems the doorways are all still open.”

MC stared at one archway in particular, goosebumps erupting along her arms as she felt a familiar hum beneath her feet. Her heart picked up the pace and she aimed her wand towards the entrance, a stale stench wafting from the dark maw. She could feel it. There was magic here. “This way,” she said.

They continued on, their hands still tightly wrapped around each other despite the sticky sheen of sweat that had gathered on their palms. Sebastian was quiet, his face drawn and eyes dark. MC could feel the tension on the back of her neck as memories of that awful day returned and replayed in her head, these walls echoing with the shouts, flickering with the spells of their fight with his uncle.

It was hard not to wonder what Solomon’s motives were, a question that had plagued her during long hours in the dark serving time for his murder. It was all together more strange and frustrating now that she had discovered he had known her as a very small child. It made her feel cold, numb, a sense of dread that this had all been a cruel trick of fate for them all.

All the while, she felt the pulse of magic begin to strengthen beneath her feet, the static in the air prickled on her skin, and she tried to remain calm. Sebastian couldn’t feel any of those things, but he could probably sense her tension as they entered a chamber with a staircase conjured from ancient bones. They both stood before it, a sense of dread looming over them, the entrance above the staircase flickering with a familiar blue and white light. The power throbbed and pulsed with renewed strength, and she felt the answering call in her blood.

“You were right,” she said softly, turning to look at Sebastian. “There is ancient magic here.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his gaze remained locked on the doorway, a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and he was breathing faster. He shook his head, pulling her back a step. “I can’t…”

She grabbed his arm, steadying him as he trembled, his eyes still fixed on the doorway with a wide, haunted stare. “You’re alright,” she soothed. “You don’t have to go in there.”

Tearing from her grip with a tortured groan, he clamped both his hands to his own head, deathly pale as he sucked in panicked breaths. The ghosts of the past were lurking in his eyes, remembering the darkness that had made him flee these tunnels years ago in grief and despair. Their lives had changed down here, his more than hers, at least for a time.

“I know this is tough,” she said carefully, holding her hand towards him. “But, I’m right here with you, okay? I can run in, absorb the deposit, and then we can get out of this place. We have what we came for, proof of your theory.”

He looked at her, his eyes dark and glazed with tears. “That magic can’t be good, MC. How can it be? I killed my own flesh and blood. So much hate…”

His voice trailed off, his eyes drawn back to the catacomb beyond.

“The hate is gone now, Sebastian,” she said, stepping towards him. Carefully, she placed a hand to his cheek, soothing him with soft touches. “The hate died with him. He’s gone. All that is left are memories, and a spark of magic that I can put to good use.”

“He’s still in here, though,” he said through gritted teeth, jabbing a finger against his head. “Even in my dreams I hear him. There is no end to it, but I know that it is all my fault. It is the burden I must carry from the choice that I made.”

Her heart squeezed and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. He was stiff and trembling, but returned the embrace. Her earlier observations about him no longer being a boy seemed to melt away as she stroked his back. Deep down, his inner child was still broken, hiding from the pain and guilt of his actions, drowning under the weight of his uncle’s cold cruelty. In these damp and creepy catacombs, he was still the boy slumped against the wall, watching what was left of his family vanish in the wake of his fury.

“We will be in, and out,” she promised, her hand soothing the back of his neck. “I only need a minute or two at the most to absorb the deposit, and then we can Apparate away from this place. We will never need to return here again, we can leave it in the past where it belongs.”

He buried his face into her hair and squeezed her to him. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice muffled.

She kissed his head, her own demons stalking through the dark of her mind, but she remained steady on her feet. Determination steeled her spine. “And I love you,” she declared.

Leander

Today’s briefing had an air of expectancy as Harrington shared information to those Auror’s gathered in preparation for tonight’s raid. Leander sat tense and alert, his fingers twisting around the smooth wood of his wand as he looked at the blackboard behind Harrington. A map of Dover had been pinned to it, markers along the coast suggesting tunnels that had been quickly researched by the archive team this afternoon. The Auror crew that manned the docks at Dover had been informed of the state of affairs by owl, and were on alert.

When MC’s secret message had come to him, his heart had jumped, his nerves still raw from their last meeting. If he was honest with himself, he had been running on automatic, like a steam engine powering through on sturdy rails. He was coasting, his head stuck in a loop of those moments in the kitchen with her. The scoop she had passed on to him about the Rookwood hideout in the tunnels had switched the pace, firing his head into action, and now he was firing on hot coals. Eager to get into the fray, his eyes were keenly alert as the instructions were given out.

“We are of the understanding that this hideout is not much more than a storage facility,” Harrington said, shifting his gaze around his team gathered. “Our inside information is newly received, and therefore not completely researched. In order to discover more, we need to investigate these tunnels. There will likely be enchantments, and Ashwinder guards, too. I want you in pairs so that you can watch each other’s backs.”

Leander shifted his attention to the blonde witch seated beside him to see her fully focused, quill poised above her little notebook. Montgomery had that eager to please aura that came from the newly qualified, and he remembered his first proper field work when he joined the Auror Office, that hunger to achieve and impress.

She felt his gaze on her and glanced his way, her eyes brightening with excitement. “I’m guessing it’s me and you, partner,” she smiled. “You’re not going to leave me behind this time, are you?”

He shook his head, smirking at her upbeat expression. “Indeed it will be you and I teaming up. Potentially, your first proper taste of facing down some Ashwinders. Are you ready for possible combat?”

A fire blazed in the depths of her eyes. “Absolutely,” she said firmly.

Back at his desk, Leander brushed his thumb over his Auror badge before slipping it back into his pocket, his attention drawn to the framed photographs of his family. The life of an Auror was one lived on a constant edge. Tonight’s raid was another gamble at becoming injured, or perhaps an opportunity to face Death himself. He knew the risks, as did his family. It was the chance you took when you signed up for this life. He wasn’t sure if it was something that you ever got used to, but you faced it all the same. He supposed that was where the bravery came in, and it was telling when you considered that a high percentage of the Auror Office had come from Gryffindor house.

Adjusting his tie, and donning his Auror robe, Leander tucked his chair neatly under his desk and straightened the quill placed in its holder before walking across to Montgomery’s desk. Already in her robe, she smiled up at him. “Is it time to go?”

“If you’re ready,” he nodded. “We are to take the Floo to the docks, and make our way up the cliff side from there. The border Auror team will direct us.”

“I’ve never been to Dover,” Montgomery said, tucking her wand away. “I hear the white cliffs are rather impressive, and topped by a magnificent castle. I never really paid much attention to history, but Dover is one of those places that really stands out.”

“It’s been a strategic border defence for centuries,” he replied, standing aside to allow her to pass through the office doors first as they walked. “It’s Britain’s closest dock for Europe, and so there has always been a strong border force for trade and military purposes. I have been there a few times. It’s very busy, but well organised by both a Muggle and wizarding world presence, and has been for hundreds of years.”

She gave him a warm smile as they approached the Atrium. “It sounds like you paid attention in history class.”

He felt a blush warm his cheeks, his fingers lifting to touch at his tie. “I suppose you could say that, and I do like to read. It’s a relaxing way to wind down out of the office.”

As they neared the rows of green flames flickering in the Floo fireplaces, they slowed their step, pausing before one of the portals.

“I do hope MC has given you correct information,” Montgomery said thoughtfully, offering him her arm. Leander slipped a polite hand around the crook of her elbow. “You don’t think she would send us into a trap, do you?”

Leander stared into the green flames, a tightness growing in his chest. “No, I don’t think she would do that. Her information is sound to the best of her knowledge.”

“You place a lot of trust in her considering she is an ex-prisoner,” she said, gazing curiously at him. “A prisoner who was convicted and sent down for the murder of an Auror, no less.”

Leander’s face hardened with determination. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Miss Montgomery. There is more to MC than what happened with that Auror, and I know that she despises Rookwood as much as we do. What she is doing for us is no easy feat. Deep in the Ashwinder camp, she risks her own life to pass on this information. I doubt she would do it needlessly, or recklessly.”

“I hope she deserves such stout loyalty, Mr Prewett,” she said, the green glow of the flames reflected in her shrewd eyes. “We are about to enter the aforementioned Ashwinder territory on her word alone. I merely seek a little reassurance as to our chances out there.”

“As an Auror, our chances are always hanging on the roll of the dice,” he said, but gave her arm a reassuring pat anyway. “Fear not, we are a good team, and I shall watch your back. That’s a promise. Shall we?”

Her smile had a twinge of nervousness, but she nodded her consent to leave. Leander stepped towards the flames, his hand linked to her arm, and stated the Port of Dover as their destination.

….*….

Echoes of the sea winds filled the dark, damp tunnel with eerie whines. They were old passageways, narrow and carved by hand through the chalk. Wands raised, and his senses on high alert, Leander stalked carefully through the dark with Montgomery. The Aurors stationed at the port had briefed them well, with some coming along to assist in the raid. He was confident that everything should fall in their favour.

The tunnel wound upwards, the occasional vent allowing fresh air to circulate, weak beams of light offering slight relief from the claustrophobic atmosphere. They came to a fork in the path and he looked to Montgomery, using hand gestures to signal which path to take rather than speak and risk the echo of their voices giving them away. She nodded and moved to take the path, but the sound of screams and explosions began to come from the opposite tunnel.

The fight was on.

There was no time to think, only act. Taking off at a run, with Montgomery at his heels, they hurried towards the sound of spell casting, the flicker and flash of magic soon beginning to light up the tunnel ahead. When they came to the end of the tunnel, the space opened up into a cavern with a low ceiling, crates and sacks of goods stored against the chalk carved walls.

Two Aurors were duelling with a group of Ashwinders, a few of them already down. Leander blocked a hex that shot past him, falling easily into fighting mode as he dived for cover behind some crates, firing a retaliation towards the rear of the cave. Using the storage as cover, he fought alongside his colleagues, ducking and maintaining a well trained combat strategy.

A crate to his left exploded, splinters and dust flying out in all directions. He felt something catch his cheek with a sharp sting, but ignored it, rolling behind some more boxes as Montgomery hurried to join him.

“Prewett! Are you alright?” She exclaimed, putting a hand to his shoulder to try and get a look at his face.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, immediately spotting a familiar blonde haired witch stepping out from behind crates. Her gaze fixed firmly on him with interest, her wand arm aimed and ready.

”Prewett?” She purred, a slow smirk lifting her mouth. She was prettier than her wanted poster, but there was no mistaking who she was. Luella Rookwood. “I do believe I have heard of you.”

A spell burst from the end of her wand, and Leander didn’t even think twice before he grabbed Montgomery and pulled her to the ground beside him as spells flew over their heads from all directions. If he hadn’t, the cast would have hit her right in the back, and his new partner was not going to get hurt on his watch. Montgomery grunted as she landed face first into the dusty floor, the brightness of the spell almost blinding him before he felt it slam into his chest.

He could hear a muffled scream, but his chest was on fire with a searing pain, his eyes seeing white spots from the lingering glare of the spell. He was thrown back against the crates, the back of his head making contact with a sickening crack that made the world seem to spin before it went out of focus.

It was pain, colours fading into darkness, an unbearable weight on his chest, and a female voice screaming his name. Then all was black.

Sebastian

The book lay atop his bed bunk. There was not a speck of dust on it, the cover exactly as it had been when he had first laid eyes upon it. As much as it was hard to comprehend how it could possibly be sitting there now right in front of him, a thrill of excitement at the sheer brilliance of it was enough to accept it.

“What should we do with it?” MC asked. She stood beside him, her eyes also fixed on the ancient tome.

“Hide it,” he replied immediately, picking up the satisfying weight and resisting the urge to hold it against his chest as though to protect it. “Under no circumstances can Rookwood get his hands on this.”

MC eyed the book and shivered, folding her arms tightly in front of her chest. She hadn’t touched it, but her eyes had been curious once the initial shock of its discovery had faded.

Upon entering the catacomb where the deposit had been found, she had moved towards the centre of the room, her gaze fixed upon something that he couldn’t see. His stomach had churned standing in the doorway, dark memories threatening to swallow him whole as he stared at the ground where Solomon’s body had fallen. Seeing his uncle dead on the ground had been jarring, of course, but the pain of loss had been greater when Anne had turned her cold eyes on him and then disappeared.

There could be no words capable of describing that sense of abandonment and loneliness.

As MC had paced slowly in a circle, her wand aimed at nothing, Sebastian’s gaze had been drawn towards the stone altar to the left of the room. Every candle and torch had been illuminated upon their entry, lighting up the space to reveal the scattered bones and debris, glinting off the macabre baubles of spider silk wrapped prey above their heads. To add to the visibility, a shaft of sunlight came from a hole in the ceiling, the beams highlighted by the dust motes they had disturbed, lending the chamber an ethereal look.

A sense of the impossible had washed over him, and he paused for a moment, seriously considering the idea that he had perhaps entered a dream. He’d blinked a few times, taking an uncertain step forward, his boot crunching on an old bone fragment underfoot. There, on the altar, had stood a book. It was propped up and open as though the reader would be back in just a moment, the pages bright from the nearby candle. Forgetting that MC was preparing to absorb the deposit behind him, he had approached the altar and a strangled sound of disbelief had escaped his throat.

Slytherin’s grimoire stood as solid and legible as the day it was made, right there on the altar, which couldn’t be possible. Anne had blasted the tome to pieces in her rage that day, destroying the chance of Sebastian ever experimenting with the aged magic again. At least, that is what they had believed. Until now.

Of course, he had brought it with them, unable to leave such a precious artefact of significance there in those wasted caverns. MC had been wary of it, and still was, her apprehension compounded by her recent discovery of her Slytherin bloodline. The look she gave him now back in the tent, a glint of suspicion there with her wariness, made him bring the book closer to his chest after all.

“The last time you used that book, terrible things happened,” she said carefully. “Perhaps you ought to hide it somewhere far out of reach lest you be tempted to use it again. I can’t believe it reincarnated itself. How does that even happen?”

“You sound like Ominis,” he moaned, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to begin mastering the dark arts. It’s merely educational. Isn’t it just brilliant, though? Slytherin truly was a master of magic. Of course he would enchant his books against destruction. It’s genius!”

MC sighed and shook her head. “I feel like I should enchant you against destruction,” she muttered, removing her cloak and dropping it onto the bed.

His smirk at her words faded as he watched her open her bag and take out a hair brush, loosening her braid so that she could smooth out her hair. She was making herself comfortable in his space, and that was a promising sign. Perhaps she would stay in here with him rather than return to her own tent within the camp. He certainly had no objections to that.

“How do you feel after absorbing the deposit?” He asked, admiring the way her hair shone like silk in the glow of the lamp.

Her hands stilled and she bit her lip, her eyes sheepish as they swung towards him. “I have a confession to make,” she said, twisting the brush in her hands. “I didn’t actually absorb the magic deposit.”

His eyes widened. “Why in Merlin’s name not? Was that not the plan?”

Her mouth tightened. “It’s Rookwood’s plan. I found that once I was there, I didn’t want to take that magic into myself. Like you said, it couldn’t be filled with much good considering the circumstances of how it came to be. Much like Isadora’s huge repository under Hogwarts, it seemed to seethe with darkness. I don’t want that inside of me, Seb, even more so when it was so personally connected to us both. I figured we have enough darkness between the two of us already.”

“So, it’s still down there?” He frowned at the thought. What if another like MC came along and discovered it?

“Not exactly,” she said, dropping the hair brush onto the bed. “I moved it.”

He watched as she slipped a shiny phial from her pocket and held it up. “It’s in here,” she said, giving it a wiggle. “This is a flask made of goblin silver. It was a gift from Professor Fig. It belonged to his wife. Through my conversations with Lodgok, I learned a great deal about how ancient magic and goblin silver can work together. So, rather than absorb the magic into myself, I will store it inside this until I have decided what to do with it. Of course, much like Slytherin’s book, nobody else can know about this.”

“You have my word,” he said, stepping closer to admire the silver flask.

“I mean it,” she said, her face firm. “This is strictly between us. I don’t even want the Ministry to know about this. Our little secret.”

He met her gaze, his fingertips reaching to touch against the silver chain at her neck. It felt like bonds were strengthening between them, she was gradually becoming closer, and it warmed him. “Our little secret,” he whispered. “I cannot help but wonder, though, sweetheart. Why not just absorb it into yourself? Surely that would be much safer than risking this flask falling into the wrong hands.”

“Even if someone did get their hands on this, they wouldn’t know what was inside unless they were a vessel of ancient magic,” she said, smoothing her thumb over the pretty silver. “I’m the only one who can see it, so to anyone else, it’s just a lovely trinket. As for not absorbing it myself, I’m not sure I want it, Sebastian. It’s already such a burden to carry, and it is becoming all that anyone sees when they look at me. The girl with all the power. Do I really need any more of it?”

Her eyes were dark and fathomless, pools you could get lost in. They truly were a pair of lost souls in the dark, but she was beginning to trust him again. He stroked back her hair, his fingers sliding through the silky softness. As he pressed a kiss to her forehead, she closed her eyes. “That's not all I see,” he murmured. “We will keep the magic safe until all this is over. After that, we will have the rest of our lives to figure out the rest.”

As she was about to lean into him, a commotion sounded from outside the tent, raised voices and the thudding of feet. They exchanged a quick glance of curiosity before he swiftly conjured the book into a hidden pocket. MC did the same with her goblin flask and they withdrew their wands.

“Is the camp under attack?” She asked as they hurried for the exit.

“It could well be,” he replied, adrenaline already beginning to spike as he paused to lift the door flap. He gave her a look. “If it’s Aurors, then let’s hope this doesn’t blow your cover. That article in the Daily Prophet about you was rather damning.”

“They wouldn’t risk it,” she said, shaking her head. “The only one in contact with me is Leander, and he wouldn’t do anything like this without telling me first.”

Sebastian arched one eyebrow. “Such faith you have in him,” he muttered sourly.

“Let’s just see what’s going on out there, shall we?” She snipped, jabbing her wand towards the entrance.

The sun was descending behind the peaks of the mountains as they emerged from the tent. A few Ashwinders were gathered at the campfire, heads bent in discussion. The rest of the camp appeared quiet, no sign of the camp leader, and Sebastian turned his attention towards Rookwood’s tent. The lamps outside were lit, and Ashwinders were entering. He whistled to catch the attention of the nearby camp members. “What’s happening?”

The taller of the two turned, his gaze lingering on MC. “A raid down at Dover, apparently. Lulu turned up all battle worn, spitting fury. She’s in with the boss man as we speak,” he said, aiming his thumb towards Rookwood’s tent.

“Dover?” Sebastian frowned. “What kind of raid?”

“They found the tunnel stores. Whole place was crawling with the bastards. The fight was bad, think we lost a few,” he grunted. Then his eyes gleamed as a wicked grin curved his mouth. “Got ourselves a couple of captives, though. Should make for a bit of sport.”

MC visibly stiffened beside him, and Sebastian felt a chilling realisation trickle down his spine. Keeping his gaze on the Ashwinder, he nodded. “Sounds like there are stories to be shared,” he said smoothly. “I will check in with Rookwood in a moment.”

The Ashwinder merely shrugged and turned back to his companion. Before another word could be uttered, he clamped his hand around MC’s wrist and Apparated them both a short distance away into the trees. As they landed onto a thick carpet of leaves, she gasped, stumbling slightly.

“I wish you would bloody warn me before you do that,” she snapped, brushing the loose curtain of hair back from her face.

He didn’t want to believe that this warmth she had been showing him was an act of trickery, but the nagging suspicion clung like ice claws to the back of his neck, the dark shadows of his insecurities crowded his head and obliterated all else. The shadows were lengthening, dusk already claiming the darkness under the trees as though in sympathy with him. He watched her carefully, his body tense.

“Tell me it wasn’t you,” he asked slowly.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

He huffed and began to pace, pushing his hand through his hair. “I’m not sure how you would do it, though, that’s the problem. I mean, you have been with me the whole time.” He turned his gaze back onto her. “It’s just funny how we have a little conversation about the tunnels down at Dover, and now the place is crawling with Aurors. Is it a coincidence, MC? Or was that your word they acted on?”

She went very still, her face closing off into that cold way she had when she felt threatened. “Even if it was by my word, aren’t we on the same side here? You make it sound like the raid was a personal attack on you.”

“I don’t care about the damned raid,” he said, stepping towards her. “I’m more interested in the idea of you using me to gain information on the sly. How would you even get that message to Prewett so fast? You have no owl to hand, and you haven’t left my side. Is he nearby? Is he following us?”

“It sounds like you don’t trust me, Sebastian,” she said, her jaw tightening.

“I want to,” he said, his voice pained. Those cold fingers of fear tickled at his neck. “If you want information, you only have to ask. I am on your side. If you were going to pass anything on to the Aurors, why can’t you tell me?”

Her eyes dipped away, her head bowing slightly, and that curdling jealousy twisted thickly in his gut. “It’s because it's him, isn’t it? Whatever secret thing you have going on with Prewett, you don’t want me involved.”

“You already know I am his informant, Sebastian,” she sighed. “Why is it such a surprise that I would tell him things? We all want the same outcome here. Isn’t that the priority?”

He began to pace again, thinking fast. Pushing back the encroaching darkness that waited in the wings of his head, he tried to focus on the raid, and the implications of it. Above all else, their self preservation came first. If the Aurors were tortured, or worse, cast upon with Imperio, then their cover would be blown.

“Do you think Prewett would have gone to the tunnels?” He huffed a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Wait, of course he would go. He can’t help himself.”

“Wait, what are you suggesting?” Her face paled and she turned her gaze back towards the glow of the camp fires through the trees. She shook her head, fear in her eyes. “No, no…”

“I hate to say it, but I doubt Prewett is one of the captives,” he said begrudgingly. If there was one thing he could credit to the man, it was his ability to hold his own in a duel. He would never tell the proud Gryffindor, but he had been one his toughest opponents growing up. All the more reason to bait him all the time. “Whoever it is, they are a risk to you, and what we are doing here.”

“Where would they take captives? That holding tent where Rookwood had that lad beaten?”

Sebastian sighed and nodded. “Most likely.”

He blinked, and she was gone, the crack of her Disapparating a sharp echo under the trees. He stared at the spot where she had been standing mere seconds ago, his gut twisting sharply. “Fuck,” he swore, gritting his teeth.

Her pulse seemed to throb in her ears as panic restricted her throat, but she kept her steps calm and deliberate as she stalked down the side of the tent where she had witnessed the punishment of that Ashwinder lad. Peering around the corner, she saw two guards at the entrance, and assessed her options. She merely wanted to look. She just wanted to know if it really was Leander inside the tent. If so, her actions had put him there.

Thinking of the violence with which the Executioner had treated one of their own in punishment, it made her shudder to imagine what they would do to two Aurors. Even if it turned out not to be Leander, could she allow such a thing to take place? In order to maintain her cover, she might have to, and she didn’t think she would be able to stomach it.

Perhaps walking boldly up to the guards and asking for admittance would be enough. She was very powerful after all, Rookwood’s little pet. Or perhaps a swift Petrificus Totalus would be in order. Either way, she had to know who was in the tent.

As she was about to step out, a hand clamped over her mouth and she was yanked backwards. Her muffled squeal was silenced as Sebastian fixed his pointed glare up close to her face, his brows drawn down in temper.

“What do you think you are doing?” He hissed. “Are you trying to get us in the shit, or what?”

She struggled against his grip, but he held her firm. She glared at him, hoping her eyes would singe his stupid face. Just when she thought things between them could reach an even keel, he had managed to piss her off yet again, throwing around his over protective jealousy. In her efforts to wriggle free, his hand slipped a little and she managed to open her mouth enough to give him a sharp nip with her teeth.

“Ah, you little bitch,” he hissed, shaking his hand. “You bit me!”

“You want to treat me like an animal, then expect to get bitten when you corner me,” she said, her words a harsh whisper. “Don’t grab me like that again!”

“If you go in there and do anything to help those captives, the game is up, MC,” he insisted, taking hold of her shoulders, his face firm.

He was right, but she kept her head up, determination making her rigid under his hands. “I’m not stupid, Sebastian. I know there are risks, but…” She wavered, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. “I need to know if he is in there. I can’t just stand by and do nothing and let them hurt him.”

Sebastian dipped his head, frustration coming from him in waves. “Fine,” he hissed, and began to drag her away towards the rear of the tent. “Then we check it out first, but out of sight. This way.”

He dragged her around to the rear of the tent and dropped to the ground, loosening a tent peg just enough to pull the fabric up. He nodded to the flattened grass before him. “I’ll hold it up, you get down and have a peek.”

She dropped to her knees and pressed her cheek to the cool grass, a faint glow from a torch appearing under the flap of fabric. She squinted against the light after the dimness outside, her eyes adjusting. Her gaze swept the tent, and then she tensed when she spotted the two figures sitting on the dirt flooring, tied back to back against a post with rope. One of them was a petite, blonde girl, no more than twenty, her head hanging low against her chest. The other was a very familiar, tall red head, covered in blood, his body limp and apparently unconscious. Tears burned her eyes as she pushed herself upright, a hollow opening up in her chest.

“It’s him,” she said, the words not much more than a whimper. “Gods, it’s him.”

She met Sebastian’s eyes, not even bothering to swipe away the tear that rolled down her cheek. The hardness she saw in Sebastian’s eyes filled her with a sense of foreboding, but then he sighed, his shoulders dropping. A look of determination came into his gaze, a spark of hope flaring in her chest.

“Alright,” he said, spinning his wand artfully in his fingers. He met her gaze. “I guess this is where I prove that I will do literally anything for you, MC. We need a plan.”

To be continued...

Ivy Montgomery is an OC belonging to @eternalremorse and used with her kind permission.

Taglist: @slytherin-paramour @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @evaslytherpuff @sevprince-91 @loving-him-was-red13 @lucy-withthediamonds-inthesky

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett #leander prewett x mc #blueraineshadows #blood bound

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sissylittlefeather · 4 months

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Your Love's Been a Long Time Coming: Chapter 6

A/N: I'm on a roll with this one and I have the series planned to the end, so don't be surprised if I get the rest of these out relatively quickly. I'm excited to take you on the roller coaster that is the end of this one. But I think you'll love how it ends! Just hang in there!

Need to catch up? Masterlist here.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, implied sex, alcohol use, angst

Word count: ~2.7k

Reminder: this is FICTION. Please do not come at me if your favorite people don't act the way you think they would/should. It's called fanFICTION for a reason. Thanks 😬

She fades into the background easily, watching the feud that happens between Ann Margaret and Priscilla, her love for him never diminishing, but they never finish the conversation that they started.

******

Vivian spends the next year in abject misery. She moves to California in an attempt to get away from anything that reminds her of Elvis and try to jumpstart her acting career. That doesn't cure her lovesickness though. She misses Elvis desperately, kicking herself for wasting all that time telling him no. But then she realizes that even if they were together, he probably would've left her for Ann Margaret. The few times she does see him, it's obvious that he's smitten. This is the most in love she's ever seen him and she desperately wants to be happy for him. But she just can't. She runs through several guys before realizing that she's tired of the emptiness. She takes a vow of celibacy and tries to focus on her career and her hobbies. Writing poetry helps a little, but most of it is about Elvis so she ends up crumpling it and throwing it in a trash can or a fire. Just when she runs out of money and is about to go back to her stepfather in Germany, she stumbles upon modeling and finds herself more successful at that than acting. She throws herself into it, trying to ignore her pain. All in all, there doesn't seem to be a reason to go on, but she keeps trudging along, hoping something will change eventually.

******

Elvis spends the next year in a lovestruck bubble of happiness. Ann Margaret challenges him and enlivens him and brings out the best in him. She's everything he never knew he wanted. He knows he still has Priscilla at Graceland, and at night, after Ann has fallen asleep, he feels the guilt of leaving her behind. The promise to marry her still hangs over his head.

But in the really late hours on nights that he struggles to sleep at all, he thinks about Vivian. Where is she? What is she doing? Does she ever think about him? He knows how unfair it is to even have that thought, but it's there nonetheless. A couple of times his mind even drifts to the conversation they started and didn't finish. How might things be different if they had finished it? Would he have said no to Ann if he knew he had Viv? That's a question he can't answer.

Overall, he's happy. He's having his cake and eating it too.

And then Ann Margaret does an interview where she tells the reporter that she and Elvis have plans to get married. He knows this isn't possible, no matter how much he loves her. He has an agreement with Priscilla's family to marry her. And beyond that, he's not even sure that Ann would be the best choice for his wife. At the end of the day, she's too much like Vivian, too independent and headstrong. Too focused on her own career. That doesn't mean he wants to end things with Ann Margaret necessarily, but Priscilla doesn't give him an option. She wants the contract honored, and soon.

So Elvis ends the affair with Ann Margaret shortly after his conversation with Priscilla. He knows he's done the right thing, but that doesn't mean he isn't hurt. He sinks into a deep depression, refusing to leave his house or see anyone, including Priscilla. After a week, his Memphis mafia guys start to get really concerned. They're not sure what to do to bring him out of this funk.

Finally, one of them comes up with the idea of calling Vivian. They know he hasn't seen her in months, but she's managed his low moods before with grace and strong but subtle encouragement that eventually brought him back. She's their last hope, a desperate grasping at a final straw. They call her, hoping she'll agree to come.

******

Vivian find herself on the porch of Graceland with a grocery bag in one arm, knocking loudly with her other hand. She's not quite sure what she's doing here, why she agreed to come, but here she is. Turns out her heart can't tell him no, no matter what he's put her through.

She knocks again. She's been standing out here for almost fifteen minutes and the bag is starting to get heavy. The bottles clink together as she shifts.

"Elvis! It's me!" She breaks down and hollers through the window, hoping he will hear her. Finally, she hears movement inside the dark house. After a few more minutes the door opens just a crack.

"What are you doing here, Viv?"

"The guys called me. So I'm here. With presents." She jiggles the bag in her arms and the bottles clink again.

"I don't drink, Viv."

"Yeah? What have you got to lose?" She hears him sigh deeply and then he opens the door. He's disheveled in a way she can barely comprehend. His hair is everywhere and he clearly hasn't shaved recently. He has on a robe with no shirt underneath and pajama pants.

"Oh, Elvis."

"Don't fucking say anything." She walks through the door and sets the bag down, turning to face him. Then, she cups his cheek with her hand gently.

"Does it hurt this badly?" He breaks down and grabs her tightly, weeping on her shoulder. He whispers into her hair.

"I made such a mess, Viv." She wraps him in her arms and squeezes him tightly.

"I know, honey. But it's gonna be okay." He backs off of her and wipes his nose with his sleeve like a child.

"What are you here for?" She smiles gently.

"Well, first I'm here to clean you up and help you feel like yourself. And then we're gonna drink. Because you need a little fun." He nods and takes the hand she offers him. She leads him up the stairs to the bathroom where she starts the shower. She turns and heads towards the door, but he grabs her elbow softly.

"Please stay."

"You want me to stay in here?"

"Please." She nods and sits on the lid of the toilet, turning away as he undresses and steps into the shower. He showers and then she hears the water turn off.

"Viv, honey, can you hand me a clean towel?"

"Of course!" She grabs a luxurious black towel and hands it to him. When he steps out of the shower, he has it wrapped around his waist, his hair fluffy and wet, water droplets glistening on his shoulders. Her mouth drops a little at how sexy he looks in this vulnerable state. It takes everything in her power not to rip the towel off and take him into the bedroom and...

******

"Viv?"

"Yes! What?"

"You're staring at me."

"Oh, God, I'm sorry." He smiles a little, enjoying the impact he's having on her. "You want me to blow dry your hair?"

"Yes." A relieved smile crosses his face and she seats him in the chair. As she dries it, he gives her instructions on how to do it, sounding more like himself. Next, she grabs the razor and shave soap.

"Whoa, hang on. Do you know what you're doing?" He asks, nervous.

"My stepdad broke his hand once when I was in high school. I can do this." He nods.

"Okay. I trust you." He leans his head back and she goes to work lathering up his face. She drags the razor gently over his skin, removing the hair. She's careful and meticulous and he revels in the feeling of being cared for so attentively.

Maybe she would be a good wife.

Once she finishes shaving him, he puts on a pair of fresh pajamas. Then, he tosses a pair at her.

"Get comfortable. Please."

"These are going to look ridiculous on me."

"Good." He smiles and she goes in the bathroom to change. He's thoroughly enjoying her company. He didn't realize how much he had missed her, but now she's here and his affection for her washes over him like a tidal wave. She comes out of the bathroom and sure enough, she looks silly in his giant pajamas. But something about seeing her in them makes him want to rip them off of her.

"Elvis."

"Yeah?"

"You're staring at me." He laughs for the first time in a week and gestures for her to follow him. On the way down to the tv room, he grabs the grocery bag from the foyer. It's true that he doesn't drink. But tonight? Tonight feels like a good night to break his rule.

Once they're settled on the couch in the tv room with a movie set up on the projector, he pulls the bottles out of the bag. She's got a bottle of vodka, a bottle of soda water, and a bottle of peach schnapps.

"Which one of these is for me?" He asks curiously. She laughs.

"I know you're a little bitch about alcohol, so I got you something that tastes good. The vodka is for me." He nods, smiling, and she goes to the bar, grabbing a couple of glasses. She makes them both drinks and they relax to watch the movie.

Two drinks later, Elvis is already pretty tipsy, laughing openly with his arm wrapped around her. Vivian does a couple of shots to try to catch up with him.

"Hey! I want one of those."

"No, Elvis, you really don't, baby." He snickers.

"You called me baby."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, I like it, honey. More pet names. Call me more pet names." She giggles, the shots finally starting to kick in.

"Baby. Honey. Sweetie. Lover boy." He laughs at the last one.

"You can't call me lover boy without being my lover, babydoll."

"Babydoll?!"

"You don't like it?" She makes another drink for each of them and Elvis throws his back quickly.

"Elvis! Slow down! I can't keep up."

"Come on, doll face, now who's being a little bitch?"

"Well, I definitely don't like little bitch." Elvis erupts in his big-joy laugh, leaning over to rest his head on her knee while he does. She finishes her drink and makes another for each of them.

"Which one do you like best, sweetheart?" He asks, swirling his drink in his glass.

"I'm not sure, babe. Which one do you like best?" She answers, taking a sip. He takes another long drink and then turns to look at her, his eyelids heavy.

"I like this, darlin'."

"The alcohol?"

"No- well, yes- but I like being here with you." All of a sudden he gets really serious. The memory of the conversation that didn't happen comes screaming back to him. He drains his glass and then sets it on the coffee table.

"What?" She looks at him inquisitively, her eyes glazed over with drunkenness.

"You 'member that conversation we were s'posed to have. 'Fore I left?" She finishes her drink and nods.

"Yeah?"

"I was just thinkin' 'bout it, that's all." His southern accent comes out so much stronger when he's been drinking and it makes Viv giggle.

"What?" He asks, a wide smile on his face.

"You just sound like a good ole country boy right now." She mimics his accent and he laughs loudly again.

"I am a good ole country boy." She's lying back against the corner of the couch, so he crawls up between her legs and she puts her hands on his cheeks.

"I know. I like it." She kisses the end of his nose. Her deep-ocean eyes look into his intensely. "I love it."

She leans in slowly, pressing her lips to his. He pulls away first, pressing his forehead into hers as he hovers above her.

"Viv." He whispers. Then he backs away, his eyes flicking between hers and then down to her pretty mouth. He leans in slowly, lips parted, capturing hers in a sensuous kiss. His tongue grazes hers so gently, as if asking for permission.

Then he dives in fully, never looking back.

******

When Elvis finally starts to wake up, he crinkles his nose and whimpers. The headache is already beginning behind his eyes and he's so thirsty he feels like he might die if he doesn't get some water soon. He feels movement on his chest and opens his eyes to a head full of dark hair. That's when he remembers: Vivian. His mind races as he tries to think through what might've happened last night. He kissed her, but that's the only thing his foggy brain can grab onto. His heart skips a beat as a thought crosses his mind and he lifts the covers a little to try to assess the situation.

They're both naked. He swallows deeply and looks up at the ceiling. Oh shit...

He feels her shift a little on his chest, her breasts pressing up against the side of his body. She groans and stretches and he knows he has to say something.

"Umm... Viv?"

"Yeah?" She groans again, obviously feeling the effects of her drinks last night.

"Are you wearing... anything?" Her eyes pop open and she sits up suddenly. When she realizes that this means he can see her chest, she lays back down quickly and starts to slink away from him under the covers.

"Oh, God. Oh no." She whines. He grabs her and pulls her back onto his chest.

"No. Don't leave."

"Elvis, I... we-"

"I know. But I don't want you to leave. Not yet." She relaxes a little against him.

"Do you remember anything?" He tries to force his mind to focus on last night. All he sees are flashes, him running his hand up her leg, the sounds she made when she climaxed, one moment of looking into her eyes while she was on top of him, his hand on her cheek.

"Just flashes. You?"

"No, just flashes for me too."

"I remember it being really good, though." She whispers her response.

"Me too..."

They lay together in silence for a while, Elvis's mind going crazy wondering what she's thinking. He goes back to the conversation that never happened. Does she love him? Could this actually work?

"Vivian, you know, we could finish our conversation now." She sits up and looks into his face, hers painted with a look of anguish.

"No, we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because the same reason you can't be with Ann Margaret is the same reason you can't be with me."

"Priscilla."

"Yes." He puts his hand on his forehead.

"Goddamnit. Man, I really screwed myself, didn't I?" She sighs deeply.

"Elvis, you told me once that she makes sense to you. Is that still true?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then there's your answer. I don't make sense to anyone. You should marry her." His heart breaks for Viv. He wants to tell her that it doesn't matter, that she does make sense to him, that even if she didn't he would love her. But he doesn't. He knows what the right thing to do is.

So he loosens his grip on her and she gets out of the bed. She finds her clothes from where she left them to change into his pajamas last night. He lays in the bed as she dresses, trying to keep himself from crying. Losing Ann Margaret was bad, but this is pure torture.

When she's fully put back together, she stands in the doorway just looking at him and he notices that she's crying and has been the whole time.

"Vivian..." He says it softly. Then, he gets out of bed and grabs a robe from a chair, wrapping it around himself. He walks to where she's standing and she collapses into his chest, sobbing. He holds her in his arms and kisses the top of her head. "I'm sorry."

She nods into him and then pulls back, wiping her face. He tries to catch her eyes but she won't look up at him. Without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, down the stairs, and through the front door, leaving him standing in the doorway. When he hears the front door latch, he falls to his knees and sobs.

Vivian is gone. He proposes to Priscilla in December of 1966.

******

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @jhoneybees @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley x oc #Elvis x Vivian #Elvis Presley x Vivian choquette #your loves been a long time coming #ylbaltc

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librarylexicon · 2 months

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20 Questions for Writers

EDIT: Now with question 17!

Tagged by @cuephrase (ty bb!!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

32 (that are attached to my account).

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

283,405. I very nearly posted 100,000 of them last year, and only noticed when I looked at my stats in January. If I'd known, I would have posted something else to get it over that line!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, just Batman, but in the past I've written for Harry Potter, Anne of Green Gables, Little Men, Tintin and a handful of other fandoms. I have a Road to Avonlea fic tentatively in the works, and might return to any of these fandoms if inspiration strikes.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All the Corners That Are Left is an outlier in my stats because it has more than three times as many kudos as the runner-up. It's an exchange fic that was my first foray into posting Batfam fics, and I liked writing it so much that it actually sparked a loose series of Post-Crisis oneshots, currently called Corners.

Family Crisis is my beloved canon divergence AU of War Games. It's the first fic I started writing for Batman, and I'm so happy that people are reading it. It's very comics-oriented, but still easy to follow without having touched a comic (imo).

Harry Potter and the Time-Turner is the first multichapter fic I ever wrote and completed, back when I was in my early teens. I won't reread it, lest I die of cringe, but I'm bemusedly grateful that it still gets hits and kudos.

Home Assignment is a Dick whump fic I drafted quite a while ago, and finally had an opportunity to finish and publish when I signed up for a Dick Grayson event. I had fun playing around with unreliable narration in this one!

In Retrospect is a HP fic that was written for a challenge where I was given five prompts and a week to produce five one-shots. I chose to make mine interconnected missing scenes set during and after Deathly Hallows, and particularly like how Painfully Abnormal turned out.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! It's a habit that's carried over from my fanfiction.net days, and I receive a manageable amount of comments, so I try to respond to every one. (The only reason I might not is when someone leaves a string of comments that are all very brief. In that instance, I tend to reply to the final comment only.) I adore reading and replying to comments! 🫶

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I've always been an angst lover. The Last Enemy, one of my oldest fics, ends with (canonical) apparent character death, and For the Sake of Our Son ends with both main characters (canonically) dying. How fun!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Other than a shipfic that's now anonymous, I don't know! I tend to go for uplifting or satisfying endings without necessarily aiming for happy ones (although I rarely have unhappy endings). Maybe You Know I Love You? I do also have a handful of Batman ficlets that I recently wrote for a zine, and there's definitely fluff among them.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I think I got some on fanfiction.net back in the day, but the most hate I've received that I can remember is people being salty about a couple of fics I began when I was a teenager and never finished. I'm sorry, but it's been almost a decade! Yes, you can and should resist the urge to tell me that you don't respect authors who abandon fics!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope!

10. Do you write crossovers?

While I've toyed with quite a few crossover ideas over the years, I've only published one, which is a Rise of the Guardians and Peter Pan one-shot called Lost Boy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I can't recall any specific instances, but many of my fics have been on the internet for a long time, so they've definitely been scraped for knockoff sites, if nothing else.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, three times! Harry Potter and the Time-Turner has been translated into French, Shirley Not has been translated into German and At Home, They Call Me Tintin has been translated into Chinese. (Links to these translations are in my fanfic masterlist on Dreamwidth.)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I'm open to the idea! I'd have to really know the other author and get over my control freak tendencies, though...

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I don't ship much (to the point where I have plenty of NOTPs), but I do love TimSteph, and I have soft spots for DickBabs and BatCat (Bruce/Selina) as well. All-time favourite, though? That would have to be Anne and Gilbert from the Anne of Green Gables series.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Before the War(drobe). Narnia fandom, I really want to return to you someday, but I have a couple things to do first!

16. What are your writing strengths?

My most positive comments almost always mention characterisation. I also think I write dialogue pretty well. In my mind, well-written dialogue is essential to good characterisation.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Even though I write about characters who are superheroes, I rarely write about them BEING superheroes, because I struggle with action scenes. Also description, but I like to think I've grown better at it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't like to use non-Latin characters in my fics for readability reasons, and I don't like to include dialogue in another language if I don't know the language. So, when my characters speak a language other than English, I either just use an English translation with a dialogue attribution (e.g. She said in Spanish) or just use the attribution without the dialogue, depending on whether or not the POV character understands the language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter! I wrote for it before I knew what fanfic was. I also joined the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum on fanfiction.net back in the day, which led to my most prolific ficwriting period.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

My favourite fics tend to be my most recent ones, because they're the ones I've spent the most time on and am most proud of. I can never pick one of anything (as you've probably noticed), so my current favourites are:

Family Crisis – longtime labour of love and Bruce character study

All the Corners That Are Left – Dick character study feat. Jason

Flight Mode – Tim character study feat. Bruce

Phew, that was a lot of questions! I think a lot of people have already been tagged 😅

Scrolling through my mutuals and no-pressure tagging @silverwhittlingknife @geevesthevieve @batrachised @freyafrida and @silent-silver-slip and any other fic writers who see this! 🫶

#mine #tag game #bants and fanfic #fanfiction

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covenofthearticulate · 9 months

Note

⏳ favorite canon era/time period + why

🎤 if you could ask anne rice any three questions about tvc, what would they be?

⏳ ok I went a little crazy trying to find an ask where I previously talked about this but my tagging system is a mess and tumblr's search function is garbage so ANYWAY it's fine I'll just go off the rails again because my absolute favorite time period is always post-qotd/pre-totbt! It's the late 80s! Everyone is dealing with the fallout from Akasha in totally different ways! Everyone is more connected AND more isolated than ever before!! There's a chilling coldness that sets in once the dust settles, and everyone begins to go their separate ways from the Night Island.

It's like this razor-thin balance of finding hope in the dawning of a new era, and being absolutely petrified realizing that the abyss of infinite time is once again open, and everyone is free to do anything they want.

For Louis and Lestat I just find this period especially captivating because like, we go from having this tender moment at the end of qotd where Louis is so terrified that Lestat is going to leave him, but then when we pick up the next book five years later, they're living separately and just kind of drifting on their own. I think that gap between the books is so interesting and has so much potential for delicious angst LMAO like they're trying so hard to find a way to be together, but they just can't seem to figure it out (and this goes beyond loustat!! I just read your NYE devil's minion fic and it ripped my heart out a little bit LOL I swear I'll write up a proper comment on ao3 but the way daniel feels them drifting is so beautifully written and it just fills the whole piece with a beautiful tragedy).

🎤 asdgfchsvdkchjg I was hoping I wouldn't get this one LMAO I'm not necessarily one of those fans who pours over all of Anne's q&a's. Not that I'm not interested, I just feel like I'm more excited with what's on the page, and also the way people squabble about speculative things she has said in interviews and stuff just makes me uncomfy, so I don't engage in that level of fandom a whole lot. Also I don't think any of my questions would be that smart and have probably been asked of her before but ANYWAY here's my attempt lol!!

please tell me more about Mojo LMAO please I need to know his favorite chew toys, his favorite position to fall asleep on Lestat, did he ever tear up the courtyard garden, did they make any other dog friends???

Are you satisfied with Lestat's overall arc, from the very beginning of iwtv through to the last book? When you sit down to write him, how often do you have a general arc set, and how often does he surprise you when you're in the middle of writing? Is there anything you would change about his specific narrative, looking back?

What do you see as each character's biggest hope/goal and biggest challenge, post-blood communion?

#oof sorry this is so long lmao #THANK YOU FOR SENDING!!!#;answered #vampire meta

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mdhwrites · 9 months

Note

Thanks for your response to my ask about the Guardian’s choice! You make a good argument; adherence to logic shouldn’t come at the cost of thematic consistency and compromising the message you’re trying to tell with your story. I do think logic and thematic consistency can coexist in stories, but that’s a whole other argument I won’t get into.

I’ve read some of your thoughts on Anne’s arc in season three, and it was both surprising (and fairly refreshing) to see someone argue that the way Anne reacted to the events of True Colors was appropriate for her character and fitting for the show, since so many viewers think Anne (and season three as a whole) should have been far more angsty. It’s given me a lot of food for thought regarding an argument I’m still conflicted on. I think you made a valid point that Anne is far too young to properly process such trauma, and that Amphibia has never really been that angst-focused of a story.

With that said, I think the reason so many people expected the story to go darker, even if that would go against the previously established tone, was because of how severe True Colors got with its stakes. While I understand your arguments, I don’t think people can necessarily be blamed for assuming a more serious tone would be an appropriate continuation to True Colors.

So do you think season three could have been darker while still maintaining its identity as Amphibia? Take Olivia & Yunan, for instance. That episode is often cited by fans as the darkest episode, but it still has good instances of humour and levity, so it never really gets bogged down by the dark stuff. The only downside is the tonal whiplash that occurs when following episode transitions back to wacky hijinks with the Plantars. But it shows, in my opinion, that Amphibia can go darker while not losing the wit and charm that defines it in the process.

Now, I don’t think season three would have worked if every episode was as dark as Olivia & Yunan, but I’m still curious as to whether you think the show could have been able to still be itself while adopting a darker tone.

Sooooo... No. I talked about this before but people are OBSESSED with trauma nowadays, especially in cartoons. However, if you actually understand basic storytelling, literally the most basic storytelling format, let alone fantasy storytelling... True Colors doesn't do shit.

True Colors is the start of the darkest hour for our heroes where all hope appears to be lost. Now when I say 'darkest hour', I'm not referring to genre or theme. I am explicitly referencing the Hero's Journey here with that statement for a reason. That's how ubiquitous it is. How many shows have the main character, or their best friend, get fucking stomped on shortly before the finale so as to give everyone the motivational boost they need to take on someone so much larger and more powerful than them? A LOOOOOT of anime, especially shounen anime, does this. If you look at the Rescue Sasuke arc from Naruto, fucking EVERYONE almost dies in that arc and it doesn't make the show more mature or dark, it is just the amplification of stakes to make the challenge and victory for our heroes all the more exciting.

This framing even fits with the narrative uses of the shocking elements in True Colors. Sprig getting his life threatened and Marcy being stabbed are catalysts. One pushes Anne to a new level while the other forces everyone to be ripped apart so that they can go on the journeys of self discovery that will make them ready for the final fight. Before then though... True Colors is still fun and 100% Amphibia. It ends on a dour note but spends the majority of its run time still being the same fun self that Amphibia always was with bits of seriousness because it's a season finale. Even Sprig having his life threatened is met with the same grandness of emotion that fits the show so well. The melodrama that makes epic fantasy so fun.

And then the show gives itself time to breathe and be back to itself for half a season to make sure that you understand that the show is still going to be what you expect from it. Injury may be more possible now but Amphibia is still Amphibia. It was never going to become Game of Thrones cartoon edition like I feel like some people push that it should have become. Admittedly, most of those people seem to quite literally only be interested in the show for the trio which is missing the forest for the trees.

There is one other element that signals to the audience that this isn't a real big deal. After all, who gets stabbed?

The sacrificial lamb.

Marcy is the weakest part of the show. I know that's controversial but unlike the rest of the characters, she is the one who is always playing to a narrative role. The only one that the writers would actually be willing to fridge for the sake of another character or shock value (with Frobo being the closest to ever have this happen to otherwise). So even if I had not been spoiled on it already, I would never have expected Marcy's stabbing to actually amount to a lot. She was never a genuinely important character. A fun, likable character? Sure. It'd be like killing Willow in TOH though. You killed the person who mostly just existed for others to react against? Why should I care about that?

And the show doubles down on this issue. I actually don't like Yunan and Olivia as an episode much. I don't think it's much darker than a good number of other S3 episodes (though I do understand why people consider it the darkest). Not any darker than Commander Anne at least because the darkest element to me is the fact that the world is fucked. But Marcy? Even Olivia admits that Marcy only matters because of her intelligence and its relation to Andrias. She doesn't give a single fuck about Marcy as a person besides, you know, thinking that a teenage girl shouldn't have her autonomy taken away from her.

But her autonomy was never there to begin with. Not to me at least. Her fear is the only one treated seriously in the episode, the other two are jokes pretty much, and even then it's all about Sasha and Anne, which her character was always facilitating more than her actual relationship with them. It's why I don't like Marcy at the Gates because Marcy is mostly just a smart cardboard cutout for Anne to angst against and the scavenger hunt episode is the same way. So yeah, we get an episode about her fear that then ends with her being fridged a SECOND TIME and the only real exploration of that is for making Andrias sad. I don't really find that dark, I just think that sucks.

But it NEVER meant the show should be darker. The fandom just wanted that because it'd be brave and edgy and blech. Especially since again, no one in the fandom seems to be willing to recognize that the girls do deal with their trauma. Hell, Sasha does by wanting to throw Marcy away and be told that she doesn't need to care about her friend anymore. Doesn't have to think about what happened.

So while I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to have expected the show to get a little more mature post S2, asking for it to get 'darker' A: requires understanding what that actually means because TOH fans really struggle with understanding what 'dark' means for storytelling as well and B: actually requires stuff to happen that isn't a part of almost any fantasy story. You can talk about how awful it would be to actually have to happen to you but fantasy works off different logic. Dark fantasy is not just fantasy where a couple people get stabbed. Dark fantasy is where the entire system is corrupt and the story is exploring how those elements can be twisted to sin, greed and pain against others. Not just having characters cry, at least to me.

Hell, just as a last minute shout out: The toads from a meta perspective are actually one of the darkest elements of the series. They are oppressors, they are cruel and they profit off of the need others have for protection due to this being a harsh environment to live in. They practice the calculus of war and are self serving to the point of dehumanizing other races to justify their conquests. No one talks about that though because the show doesn't portray it darkly because this isn't dark fantasy. Instead, they're funny and relatable and actual people because framing does have a large part to do with a story's tone.

But stabbing? Lord of the Rings doesn't suddenly become more serious when Boromir dies. Besides mourning him, it doesn't signal a shift in the majority of the storytelling. It exists more to amplify stakes and to add tension to the journey and sell the new threat. That doesn't make it dark though, that just makes it a more exciting adventure with a sad moment for contrast.

Marcy getting stabbed is unfortunately just another side of that same coin so many stories use. So many regular fantasy stories, not dark fantasy ones.

======+++++======

As a note: Yes this ask, and kind of this chain of asks, is what motivated my previous blog about the confusing nature of 'dark' stories.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#amphibia #amphibia critical

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psalmsofpsychosis · 8 months

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tell me about your favorite movies and books!! i wanna dissect your brain (lovingly) (affectionate)

Choccy my belovedest you broke in through my bedroom window at 3am with the hardest question asked of mankind huh 😭❤️❤️ i have so many favs!!! i dont remember any of them!! but. i will try to make an effort because i love you 💕 so! 5 movies/tv shows and 5 books ayy

For Media,

• City of God!!!

the pace of this movie is insane, i call it the movie that never sleeps, both narrative wise and production wise. It's constantly in motion and a whirlwind of a wild story but it never loses its ground and its significance, which is not something i can say about

• Shameless US

jesus. listen, Shameless US is as wonderful as it's shit, in equal measures. It's a story that feels like the best unprotected sex of your life that also gave you Hepatitis B. ShU travels into territories noone dares to tread, and sometimes it's a cheap hitch in the back of a junkie's stolen van, and sometimes it's a first class experience in Bono's private jet; no inbetween. It's insanely creative, insanely unapologetic and honest, hits like an unexpected 2am urge to go scream from the rooftop of your house, and it's quite frankly unforgettable, both in its bad and good moments.

• Tokyo Godfathers

MOVIE OF ALL TIME!!! MOVIE OF ALL TIME I TELL YA!!!!

• Doukyuusei

This bitch here is SO dear to me, i dont even know how to describe it. It's quite different from the manga, and i love the manga so much i think about it more than 3 seconds and i die, but the story feels more fluid in movie format. To me Doukyuusei is the best example of how you can tell the richest and most fascinating and intriguing story without ugly shock value or Angst TM or stupid twists; just life as it happens. The Manga's characterizations are so intricate and complex and distinct it blows your mind, not a single stereotype in sight. I really need Doukyuusei to be some kinda food so i can eat it for the rest of my life.

• Corvette Summer

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I have no excuses. This is my trademark movie, the Farimah TM movie, i've claimed it and i bite anyone who gets close. It's so saccharine it rots half of your tooth halfway in and i love a good "take of life all you can; for the love of gods want something, anything, take what is yours and never apologise twice" story. I adore how flirty and sweet and soft this movie is. Plus, yeah, Mark Hamill and Annie Potts. The dream sandwich.

• Honorary mention: Blue Eye Samurai

Simply the most intelligent piece of media i have seen in the last 5 years, holy fucks. It works your brain on 99 different subtle levels to the point that it makes you glad to possess a brain and being able to comprehend stories. It's a challenging watch, intellectually, emotionally— solid makes you proud to understand it the way you'd be proud after finishing a 6k piece puzzle.

And as for books, i've mostly been indulging my fiction thirst with fanfic and flash fiction, and been mainly reading nonfiction in terms of published stuff, so, yeah, it's gonna get a bit technical. sorry.

• Tara Campbell's "Angels and Blueberries"

This story healed 15 years of my childhood trauma with 30% discount.

• Anne Waldron Neumann's "Monologues with Euphemisms"

There's something about flash fiction that forces people to get creative and by gods creative they get. The structure of this piece is so unconventional and sturdy it makes my brain sing 99 motown tunes. Speaking of story structure though,

• Jane Alison's "Meander, Spiral, Explode"

This is a book about story structure. I read it in pieces the way you read poetry and philosophy essays. Take of that what you will. Like, this is such meta read; you can analyse the book itself on its narrative flow and rhythm. I think i learnt more about Aristotle's idealogies reading this book than i learnt by reading Aristotle's essays. and this is the second "nonfiction that reads like poetry" book on this list. The first one is,

• Carlo Rovelli's "The Order Of Time"

Yep. Quantum physics is art to me by nature, but Rovelli really drives the art part home, and he's so sexy for it. This book is so lyrical and it plays with your heartstrings as much as it plays with your brain, i dont care about what category it falls under; this is top notch fiction to me.

• John Luckovich's "The Instinctual Drives And The Enneagram"

an older read i keep picking up every other half year, since i got into Luckovich's theories back in 2017, but yeah, this book is basically the foundation of majority of my worldviews, the spine of it. Luckovich is such thorough and unconventional thinker, getting into his stuff uprooted my brain in uncomfortable ways, and it's been an exhilarating journey.

• Honorary mention: Peter A. Levine's "Waking The Tiger"

Honestly? if i had to give someone one single book to read in their lifetime and nothing else, this would be it. I reference this book mentally in my everyday life so goddamn much i think it's etched into my DNA at this point, this book and Luckovich's theories on human instinct.

Thank you for picking my brain love, be sure to drop the diagnosis in my inbox later 🤣❤️

#wanted to throw in Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrel for media and Carlos Fuentes' Aura fir books too #but ayy the list got a weird number as it is #anyway i love you hope you're doing wonderful and thank you for the ask bae 💓💞💖✨️#tell me some of your fav stuff too 🥰#Farimah answers

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myalchod · 10 months

Text

20 questions for fic writers

Stole this from @backjustforberena because procrastination tastes delicious and also I love a good excuse to babble. Not tagging anyone else, but if you want to steal it and tag me in your replies, I'd love to read your thoughts in turn.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

110 currently.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

249,772. Which is a whole heck of a lot more than I ever thought I'd write. (70k of those were in the last year, which is pretty amazing for me when I think about it.)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At present, primarily Fate the Winx Saga, with a side of House of the Dragon on occasion. I tend to be a serially monogamous fangirl, but right now that seems to have an Eve Best asterisk. A number of others previously, most recently BBC's Musketeers.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Never and Always (Musketeers, post-S2 Milathos-centric canon-divergence AU, also the longest thing I've written for posting ... or possibly ever?)

A Pear and an Apple (X-Men comicverse, Kitty Pryde, for Jewish Comics Day)

Lessons (Musketeers prompt fic that just kept going; me writing completely against type except insofar as I am a people pleaser)

instinctively (FtWS, Silrah kink meme fill for a sex pollen prompt)

Show Me (Musketeers, Milathos sparring plus baby's first proper smut)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I'm consistently pretty far behind, but I like to try to show appreciation for the people who take the time to comment. (Whether I do or not, commenters are a gift and I love you all.)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh dear god. Considering my predilections, I'm not even sure what would win -- considering I've used the angst tag 26 times, there are definitely a few contenders (and in hindsight, there's things without that tag which could count). I think I'd probably put it as a toss-up between let's pretend i'm a man (because in my head it does not end well) and that thunder in your lungs (despite the tag I wrote later). (Despite the death count, I would not give it to who shall i say is calling?, mostly because canon?)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably gonna give that to the fading year. Is this in large part because of @anne-in-dreamland's ridiculously soft and gorgeous art for that last scene? Entirely possible. 💙

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Rarely. I feel like I write niche enough fandoms that it's not commonplace, at least. The occasional ones I've gotten have felt more bewildered than really hateful. (Hate commenting is bad, people. Do something better with your time.)

9. Do you write smut?

I didn't for the longest time, but was convinced to try in my last fandom and found I actually enjoy the challenge -- though I have to be in the right frame of mind and it has to fit what I'm writing. There's a puzzle to both the headspaces and the words, and I like trying to figure that out.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Also rarely. I have a couple that made it to AO3, and both were with the Sandman comics, which lend themselves well to that.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, which hopefully means never.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of -- I don't mind the idea but find the idea of it being done without explicit permission to be unaccptable. (I've had one fic podficced, which was such a flattering request.)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Only one, for the March Madness challenge on the Winxsource server ... and I don't know if I'd call that co-writing given the blind activity and the crack. The two collaborations I have posted were for RBB, with some wonderful artist partners.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I refuse to choose. All of my idiot children are precious emotinally-constipated morons.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oof. The easy answer would be Between Midnight and Dawn; the framework is all sketched out, but thanks to the circumstances I hit such egregious writer's block on it that I don't think I'll ever be able to go back and finish it. This makes me sad, because I've got some parts of future scenes written out that I love, and I very much liked the concept and that (entirely unplanned) AU and how it took on a life of its own, and the fandom was so lovely and supportive, but ... alas, no. On an unposted front, I'm beginning to realise I will probably never actually write the House of the Dragon AU where Rhaenys and Meleys limp home after Rook's Rest and everything changes as a result. Intentions good, but the distractions are infinite, and right now they show no sign of flagging.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that I handle emotional beats and introspection fairly well, and I enjoy playing with word choice and sentence structure -- which people respond to positively, so let's go with that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action, my behated. Extended dialogue, my equally behated. Plot, my kryptonite. And yet. (If you know, you know.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Depends on the length of it, whether translation is necessary (or the requisite understanding can be inferred), and how it fits. It has its place, but it has to be handled carefully or it can really be unpleasantly jarring.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Trek (TNG, mostly). In pencil, on notebook paper, starting in my preteen years, and lost to the ages ... which is probably for the best.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Once again, I refuse to choose, because I'm certain that once I do I'll think of another one I love. Each and every thing I've written has had a purpose: to get something out of my brain, to explore an idea, to push myself to grow as a writer ... As long as I got something out of it, and hopefully someone (or someones, even better!) enjoyed it, that's good enough for me.

#writer things #meme me

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staytheword · 2 years

Note

Hii! How are you?

You are my favorite fic writer, and your writing is amazing (+ all the synonyms and better words to say 'best writer ever')!

I was wondering... Do you have any favorite authors or books that inspire you?

Hope you're doing well 💗🖤

hiiiii 💕 I'm good, what about you?

That is so nice of you to say 😭 This made me smile so much, that is unbelievably kind, thank you, thank you. 🥺 I'm very touched, there are so many fantastic writers out there, thank you for giving time to what I write 😭

As a student of English lit my list of favorite authors is waaaay too long, but I'll try to keep this short 🙈 One of my favorite authors is V.E. Schwab, she wrote the Darker Shade of Magic series and The Invisible Life of Addie Larue. She's a really fun writer, her imagination is insane, and I absolutely adore the way she writes. She has those sentences, oh my god... I have to pause and repeat them in my head, they're THAT good. I admire her a lot, in my delusion I hope one day I can write as well as she does, she's definitely someone I look up to writing wise. She inspires me a lot. She writes darker universes, flawed characters, about life and death, magic, the past... Her books are fascinating to me. If you're into fantasy series and magic, I really recommend A Darker Shade of Magic ❤️

For more recent fiction I also love Stephanie Garber and her Caraval series, it's lighter, so much fun, a real love letter to fairytales. She's absolutely magical in her descriptions and universe, and she's SUCH a sweet human being. A good YA duology I read was We Hunt the Flame. I am a big fan of the Six of Crows duology too (I like S&B as well, but my heart is very very very very soft for the Crows I love them so much).

I love reading Ruth Ware, I don't really relate to her characters but her plots are AMAZING. For thrilles, Paula Hawkins! Most people know The Girl on the Train but I actually preferred her second book, Into the Water. I have to read her newest. Who else... Emily Henry is really fun for romance (especially People We Meet on Vacation). For a class I read Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi and it really made an impression on me. I am a BIG horror fan and I usually, in my personal projects, only write ghost and horror stories so I definitely love those (Stephen King is a must, Joe Hill too).

Some of my favorite books include Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palaniuk, The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, every single book by James Sallis, The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, Kurt Vonnegut is always good too, I also really like Eric Emmanuel Schmidt for French literature! And if I had to chose a favorite French Canadian writer it would be Patrick Sénécal. He is wild.

Since I study "older" literature I also have favorites in that category that might seem more obvious, but they still inspire me. The Brontë sisters are incredible, Jane Austen, Ann Radcliffe, they are great women writers who have really captivating female characters! Toni Morrison is amazing, and I really recommend her. Sheridan Le Fanu is a great Gothic writer. The Yellow Wallpaper is one of my favorite pieces of writing ever, with Poe's The Black Cat. Mary Shelley, Thomas Hardy, Elizabeth Gaskell...

I read a lot of manga recently too! Chainsaw Man is so much fun, Demon Slayer broke me into a million pieces (in a good way), Spy x Family is SO fun as well...

I think everything I read and see (I love movies and tv) inspires me. I'm really challenging myself with fanfiction because I usually write much darker stuff, so it's been really fun! I'm channeling my inner romance lover. I love authors who write with their heart, who own their concepts, who push themselves. I love it when the emotion is so raw you can feel it on the page. If things are too superficial I just can't get into it. Anything with angst and drama and complexity and flaws is what really gets me. I love to be challenged when I read!

SORRY for this long answer. I could talk about books all day. If you ever want to discuss more please do not hesitate I will be happy too! <3

#ask #this is so longa sifhaosfasf sorry #DO NOT ASK ME ABOUT BOOKS...... LMAO #(i'm joking please do)

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js589 · 2 years

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For the ask-game, so many good questions but here we go:

1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10 😆

Oh boy, so many decisions!

I answered only those that others have not asked; I hope you don't mind!

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

From chapter 96 ("Tomorrow, Too") of Disharmonic Aria:

With that, she takes a half-step forward and embraces him. He gathers her into his arms in return, but his embrace isn't sweet; it's painful. He's half crushing the breath out of her as he clings to her in futile desperation, and it's all she can do to keep breathing when her heart feels like it's being ripped in two.

Though they refuse to weep openly, bittersweet tears stream down their faces for the past they cannot change, for the present they've worked so hard to create, and the future whose uncertain form looms nearer and nearer.

I'm proud of this because I think it's actually the first time I've really let myself go to the "This could end with us dead" part of Roy's ultimate goal. I hadn't written plain angst in a month of Sundays before this, and I really love the way it came out.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I'm going to get slightly creative here and use a text exchange from chapter 2 of Ineffable Chemistry rather than spoken dialogue.

[Anne]: I'll have a bit more flexibility with my time once school actually starts since I'll be working at the bookstore only 2 days a week. (And one of them will be Sunday since it's an easy day.)

[Gilbert]: Why do I get the feeling you write while on shift?

[Anne]: Sorry, but no points for guessing the obvious.

[Gilbert]: I was unaware we were keeping score.

[Anne]: …

[Gilbert]: ?

[Anne]: Just trying to work out how competitive conversation would be scored.

[Gilbert]: Well, bring your ideas to lunch on Friday and we'll compete then?

[Gilbert]: *compare

[Anne]: Points deducted for wrong word/possible Freudian Slip.

[Gilbert]: WOW

[Anne]: But yes, I'll see you Friday. :)

[Gilbert]: See you then.

I just really like my snarky flirting, and I'm very proud of this coming together in a way it wouldn't have if it had been spoken. I mean, it might have worked well, but I think it works better in this format. (I also think people are a bit braver over text.)

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Ooh, toughie. In FMA, Piece By Smoldering Piece, simply because I don't have the time like I used to (and I got stuck on part of chapter 2).

Overall, I'd say Stranger Than Fiction for the Anne With an E fandom. It took a lot of planning because it is a longer chapter fic, and I don't often write those. It was also an idea born from something that was in canon, so creating a different backstory to it was a bit of a challenge .

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

Text

in which harry asks you for a favor and you get so much more out of it.

hi loves! here is my fic for @majorharry 20k fic challenge called ‘Do You Love Me?’

thank you to my lovely beta readers @fromyourstrulyh @bopbopstyles @stellarboystyles & @detroitkiwis love y’all!

enjoy 8.6k of friends to lovers bestfriend!harry with tiny angst and some smut!

prompt: “Should—Should we kiss?” & “Do You Love Me?”

please please leave feedback! a reblog and/or comment means so so much to writers!

・・・・

The sound of a hard knock was what startled you from your sleep.

You hadn’t heard it the first time, thinking you were just dreaming of someone knocking as you were peacefully sleeping. But the sounds were getting more aggressive as the minutes were going by, and you groaned hoping the person on the other side of the door would just leave. But they didn’t. You groaned as you sat up in bed, still half asleep as your hair was a mess. The time on your phone that kept lighting up from receiving text messages read 6:17 a.m, and all you thought was that the person trying to contact you and pounding on your door better have a good reason to wake you up at this ungodly hour.

Barefoot, you walked towards the door, truly not giving a shit of what you look like at the moment as you prepare to tell the person to leave you the fuck alone.

But the person behind the door was the one and only. The person you were closest to in life that was standing on your doorstep with a cup of coffee and a bag of, what you hope is, food. The man who is the earliest of the birds, and will wake you up at times when you should be sleeping for reasons unknown.

“Harry? Are you serious right now?” The first words that come out of your mouth from hours of sleeping are annoyed and gravely.

“Well aren’t you just a delight in the morning,” he chuckled, slipping by you to get into your house. You groaned, not prepared physically or mentally for a conversation when the sun had just risen not too long ago.

He walked over to your kitchen table, setting the coffee and bag on top of it, and you could already smell the bacon that’s in your favorite breakfast sandwich from a small hole-in-the-wall place around the corner.

That place held a special place in your heart--in yours and in Harry’s because it was the place you first met him.

It was during the summer almost three years ago when you first moved to the city. You were getting to know the place and looked for great places to eat. After a search around the city and many Yelp reviews, you decided on ‘Cindy’s Food.’ You didn’t know how you ended up there, but since you had just moved, you were tight on money and your feet ached from the many steps you took in search for some food.

Cindy’s Food was a self seating kind of restaurant with lovely staff and amazing food. It was an overall diner, and some people wouldn’t look twice at this place, but you were glad that you did because you wouldn’t have met Harry.

You decided to take a seat in the middle of the restaurant without knowing what it would lead you to. As you ordered, you scanned the place and thought how comforting it was sitting there; not really paying attention to the people who sat as well. And the food arriving at your table took you out of your thoughts, impressed with how fast the service was.

As you took a bite, you realized that your order was wrong. It was good, by all means, but not what you ordered. And you hated confrontation, especially when it came to the service industry, being a server as well once in your life.

“Not good?” The man from the table beside you said, and your brows raised as you realized he was talking to you.

“It’s good. Just not what I ordered,” you said as kindly as possible, not wanting to sound like one of those people who make a fuss about everything.

“Are you going to tell them to change it?” You shook your head. “Why not?”

“Just don’t want to start anything. And it’s good anyways, so I’ll eat it. That gives me the chance to try the rest on their very large menu,” you chuckled, making him smile.

“I’m Harry,” he beamed from his seat as you noticed the dimples on his face. And not realizing how important he’ll become later in your life.

As the weeks went on, you had gone back to Cindy’s Food and your eyes had perked up when you saw Harry sitting there in the same exact table when you had first met him. He waved you over and asked you if you’d like to join him, to which you accepted.

“Are you gonna get the meal you originally ordered the last time you were here?” He asked, making you laugh.

“Yeah, think I’m gonna get that.”

And the rest was history.

After many meetups at the diner, Harry had finally had the courage to ask for your number when you two had parted ways. He immediately texted you when he got home, and asked if you’d like to hang out another time. And you said yes every time.

It was a friendship that had come unexpected, but you were glad for it. Moving to a new place was scary for you as you worried of not making any friends, but the first day after you completely settled and moved everything in, you had met Harry.

And it became your thing--to bring each other your favorite meals from the diner; it was just something you two did.

“May I ask what you’re doing here when you know this is my time to sleep?” You crossed your arms.

“Yeah, I know, I know. But I risked facing a grumpy sleepyhead in the morning to visit you,” he took out the food from the bag. “But I come with gifts so you can’t be all that mad at me.”

You shrugged, “Luckily, you did bring gifts or I would have let you in.” Harry fakes gasps, dramatically pretending to be hurt.

“Is that any way to treat your best friend? The one who brings you food every three days?” He crossed his arms as well, matching your position. The action made the corners of your mouth turn up, knowing he loves teasing you.

“Alright, alright. Thank you for the food. And remind me to get you a spare key since you lost yours...again.” You grabbed your sandwich, unwrapping it before taking a bite. The hot food was divine to your taste buds once you took a bite; fulfilling your hunger.

“I didn’t lose it. Just misplaced it.”

“Misplaced it for 4 months?” You raised your brows as you took another bite. Harry’s pauses, lips turning up.

“Okay, just get me a new one so I don’t have to deal with you asking me what the fuck I’m doing here and interrupting your sleep,” he said before taking a sip of his black iced coffee.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I need a favor…”

“Oh, this is gonna be good.” You put your sandwich down on the wrapper and lean forward.

Harry was nervous. Knowing he can tell you anything and everything, he felt a bit anxious. You were waiting patiently for him, knowing him all too well that he likes to take his time when it comes to speaking.

And when Harry saw the look on your face, patiently waiting for him to say something with bright eyes, giving him all the attention, he stumbled.

“I, uh…”

“You know you can talk to me about anything right?” Your tone changed into a concerned one, wondering why Harry seemed so anxious.

Harry nodded his head, “Yeah. Just a bit nervous.” You said a soft ‘okay,’ giving him time to collect his thoughts.

After a minute of Harry being in his head and figuring out how he can ask you nicely without sounding weird.

“Whatever you have to say is not gonna sound weird, y’know,” you said as if you were in his mind.

“So, I’m going back to my hometown and I was wondering if you would like to come with me?” He asked nervously, scratching his temple; a habit he does when he gets nervous. You gave him a look as if it were telling him there was nothing to be nervous about asking that question.

“Harry, of course! I would love to see Anne again. Miss her to pieces,” you smiled, continuing back to your sandwich, taking big bites.

“She misses you too. But I was wondering if you’d like to go as my girlfriend?” Your chewing stopped as you looked at him with wide eyes.

It was the one moment where you were speechless; always loved chatting ever since you were younger and nothing could shut you up. Up until now.

“Your girlfriend?” You said after you swallowed your bite. He nodded, hoping you wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you...asking me to be your girlfriend?” You asked softly, but your heart was pounding loudly. The word girlfriend and Harry in the same sentence made your heart flutter as you wished so badly that the meaning and person behind the word ‘girlfriend’ meant you.

“Well…fake girlfriend that is.”

“Your fake girlfriend…” you repeated, still in shock and somewhat speechless because there was a tiny bit of hope in you, wanting him to ask you to be his real girlfriend. The idea itself made you anxious because you’d been in love with him ever since the friendship started, and you hated the idea that he had to pretend to be in love with you when you’d be doing the complete opposite.

“It’s stupid, never mind,” Harry brushed off as if it was nothing, going back to his food and coffee.

“Wait, no, no. I’d love to be your fake girlfriend, but can I ask why first?” You needed answers. It wasn’t unusual for Harry to ask for favors, but this was a different kind of favor.

“Mum told me that there was this neighborhood picnic thing going on during the weekend, and this girl I dated from uni-”

“The nagger and clingy one?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Anyways, I told you we were in a long term relationship, practically all throughout uni. And so she’s going to be there,” he explained.

“So you need me to be your girlfriend to make her jealous?”

“Not necessarily jealous because I’m very much over her, but apparently she’s engaged. And if I tell her I’m not dating anyone at the moment, I just know that she’ll say some shit like we could’ve been together still or something. I don’t know! I just need you there.” Harry’s eyes were filled with plead, wanting his best friend on his side throughout the whole weekend.

Reaching across the table, you placed your hand on his, and looked him in the eyes. “Harry, I’ll be there.” A breath of relief came out of him, putting his head down, happy you agreed.

“Thank you so much. Need you to be there so bad.” You smiled in response.

“You just want me to be your girlfriend,” you teased adding a laugh.

Harry laughed nervously as you continued eating, having no idea how right you were.

・・・・

The ride back to Harry’s hometown was filled with loud tunes along with singing your heart out, and eating way too many snacks.

It was about a three hour card ride, and he had told you that you brought too many crisps and whatnot, but you told him that it was necessary.

There wasn’t a moment of dullness between you two. Always laughing, talking, and singing during the minutes. And when a silence washed over you two for a while, it was a comfortable one as you two sat, never feeling awkward. There were times when Harry would take a peek at you as your eyes were strained out the passenger window; noticing how peaceful you looked when you were simply lost in thought, and when you felt his eyes on you, you would turn your head towards him, he would quickly look away. And you had done the same: you would glance at him as he was focused on the road--admiring his features that you don’t find beauty elsewhere, thinking how insane it was that he needed a fake girlfriend, and that you were the one he picked.

When he pulled into his driveway, you immediately ran out of the car, seeing Anne at the doorstep, beaming brightly.

“Anne!” You jumped into her arms like a little kid.

“Oh, darling! Missed you so much. It’s been ages,” she hugged you tightly. “Don’t go so long without seeing me again.” She placed both hands on the sides of your face before wrapping her arms around you for a warm hug.

“I won’t. I’ll take a trip up here even if Harry doesn’t come along,” you said, and Anne chuckled, agreeing.

“Harry is being forgotten at the moment,” Harry said as he walked up to you and Anne with both bags in his hands.

“Always needing attention. Come here, sweetheart. I missed you just as much.” Anne hugged Harry, making him smile as he was in his mother’s arms.

“You probably missed her more,” he teased.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Anyways, let’s go inside!”

The house was the same as you remembered. Only being in their house a handful of times, it still felt comforting and like home. It wasn’t a large house, just right for their small family and for welcoming guests.

“Think Harry can walk you up to his room. You both are sharing right?” She questioned with her brows raised. Harry had called Anne the day prior and told her the situation happening at the moment. Of course, Anne thought he was a bit crazy for that, but she supported his reasoning, knowing that he knew what was best for himself.

Harry looked at you and you nodded. “Yeah, we're going to share. Thanks, mum. We’ll just put our stuff away.” He led you two up the stairs as he carried both of your bags. It was only a weekend trip, and you packed for a little more than usual as you were indecisive of what you wanted to stun his hometown neighbors with, so you brought all of the options.

“You’re okay with sharing a room?” He asked, wanting to make sure you were alright with it.

“Of course. We share a bed all the time when we have sleepovers,” you told him with a smile. “Besides, I’m your girlfriend now, so it should be fine.”

Harry’s heart pounded a little harder, and you didn’t notice his sudden change of expression as you were shuffling through your belongings. You had no clue that he wanted that statement to be true. He’s dreamed of it since the friendship was 6 months in, realizing you were more than special when you planned a whole day of adventures when he had a bad day prior. It was that moment he knew how much you cared about him, how much it meant to you to see a smile on his face.

And appreciated the fuck out of it.

He was in deep already. But he didn’t have the courage to ask you out yet; afraid of the rejection you might give him that will leave a dent in your friendship. He didn’t want that, and to his knowledge, he was all you had.

“Think Anne knows something’s up?” You suddenly asked, causing Harry to snap out of his thoughts.

“She knows. Told her about it so she doesn’t act surprised we’re acting like a couple.”

“Great idea. So, what should I expect for tomorrow’s picnic?”

“Uh, everyone’s friendly for the most part. The oldies will gossip when they see us together, probably thinking ‘oh, good thing Harry found someone to settle down with,’” he said, giving his best impression of an old person. You chuckled at his goofiness, always loving his jokes even if they’re painfully horrible. It was just the effort that made you smile.

“And what about your ex?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her in years so I don’t know how she is right now. But if she’s still anything like she was when we were together, then she’ll most likely stare you down. Be too possessive over me, probably to give you the message that she was the best girlfriend I’ve had, which is not true by the way.” You nodded, taking everything in and trying to handle the situation in your head if that were to happen.

“Who’s the best significant other you’ve ever had?” You asked, curiously.

“Don’t know yet. Never had the ‘best.’” He looked at you intently as it got quiet. The way he’s looking at you tells you that he wants to tell you something really bad, and you can physically see it in his eyes how much he’s holding back. You almost ask him to tell you, but if he’s controlling himself, there must be a reason why, so you don’t push it.

“I’m sure you’ll find whoever it is.” Your heart slightly sank when you said those words, ignoring the crack of your voice that just caused pain in your chest.

Harry badly wanted it to be you. He wanted to show you off and be proud to call you his. Not like he’s not proud of calling you his best friend, but he longed for more. And you were so close yet so far, physically and mentally. He had no idea what you were thinking.

And you were thinking of wanting to be called his girl, for real. The minor crush you developed on him the first few times you hung out with him blossomed into way more than you expected. But you didn’t know how you’d handle it or if you’d even do anything about it, so you’re trying to stay sane and keep your feelings intact.

“Yeah, maybe. Just have to look at what’s right in front of me,” Harry leaned on his dresser, crossing his arms as he looked you in the eye. His stance was incredibly hot, and you wanted to jump his bones from the tension radiating between you two. And you were about to, not being able to think straight nor able to control yourself, but the soft knock on the door and the sound of Anne’s voice brought you right back.

“I have dinner ready. Come down when you’re ready,” she said through the door.

“Will do, mum!” Harry responded back, and you turned your back towards him, bending down as you pretended to search for something in your bag; not able to look him in the eye after your uncontrolled thoughts.

“I’ll, uh…I’ll meet you down there?” You turned your head slightly and looked up, seeing him open the door.

“Yeah, I’ll be down there.” He nodded before shutting the door and leaving you alone.

You leaned back, your bottom hitting the floor as you let out a huff, thinking.

This was going to be a long weekend.

・・・・

The rest of the night was filled with chatting with Anne; catching up on each other’s lives and filling her in on if Harry is really doing okay than he says he is when he was in the restroom.

You always loved having a talk with her, seeming like you could for hours and never have anything to fill the void that is silence. You three shared stories as you drank a glass or two of wine before she called it a night.

“She loves you,” he said after he bid Anne goodnight and watched her walk up the stairs.

“Yeah, I love her too. She’s the best,” you smiled.

“That she is. Always teasing me that we should get together,” he slurred. The words slipped out of his mouth. At this point he blamed the wine, but he only had a glass and a half, and it was definitely something he thought about often.

“Maybe you should listen to her,” you said ever so softly it was only audible to you, that Harry barely heard.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’m gonna head up. You comin’?” You got up from your seat, and waited. He followed you up the stairs, trying very hard to look at his steps rather than your ass that was swaying five steps before him. But he may have had a peek at it and loved the view.

You two got ready for bed, taking turns in the restrooms before laying side by side on his childhood bed.

“Goodnight, love,” he said softly as he turned on his side towards you.

“Goodnight, Harry,” you turned on your side, back facing him as you wanted to be the little spoon tonight. You slightly shifted back as Harry moved forward until your bodies were touching. He wrapped his arms around you, his face in your hair as you drifted off to sleep, feeling the most comfort in his arms.

And you could’ve sworn you felt his lips on the back of your neck before you were lulled into the state of unconsciousness, dreaming of the man behind you and wishing there were no more secrets between you two.

・・・・

The sound of Harry’s alarm woke you up as you were laying on the opposite side from when you fell asleep, but this time you were cuddled up to Harry’s back.

Your body was insanely hot due to the body heat of yours and the sleepy person who won’t wake up to turn off his own alarm.

Groaning, you sat up slightly, reaching over him to grab his phone and turned off the god awful sound. You fell back in bed, Harry not waking up or moving in the slightest as you shook his shoulder gently. And he felt it. He heard his alarm as well when it first started ringing, but as he opened his eyes, he felt your body on top of him, turning off the alarm. Harry was going to say something, but he was admiring your side profile in the morning as he looked at you with squinted eyes while your hair was a mess. It was something he wanted to wake up to every morning. And if it was you, he had no reason to complain.

“Wake up,” you groaned. Not budging, you shook harder, thinking how in the world can this man not feel the shaking. “Wake the fuck up, Harry.” Now you were slightly more awake, you sat up, hovering over him a bit. You tapped his face lightly, squishing his cheeks, and grabbing his wrist to wave his hand. “Don’t know why you set an alarm if you’re not going to wake up.”

After a little more shaking, you sighed, laying back down on his back as you looked up at the ceiling. Harry finally groaned and turned on his other side, facing you before cuddling up to you, laying his head on your chest. His arm wraps around your torso pulling you closer, and you chuckled as you put your hands in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly while enjoying the peace and quiet.

A few minutes went by, and you felt a smile against your chest.

“Are you awake?” You tried looking down, but he only snuggled closer.

“Maybe,” he mumbled against your skin. “Don’t stop.” He placed your hands back into his hair and you rolled your eyes.

“How long have you been awake?” You asked, continuing to scratch.

“A while.”

“You’re lucky I always give you a few minutes to spare, but we gotta get ready. C’mon,” you unwrapped his arm from around you and shifted out from your previous position, getting off the bed. Harry groaned from the missing feeling that is your body against his, and it was nice pretending to still sleep and just enjoyed cuddling together.

“Don’t wanna. It’s too early.” His face was smashed into the pillow, and his words came out muffled.

“You were the one who put an alarm at 9. Besides we have to help Anne get everything set up like we promised,” you said, looking through your bag for some clean panties and deciding on what you wanted to wear.

“You’re just a kiss ass to mum,” he teased, and you dramatically gasped.

“I am not! I can’t help but be naturally lovable and wanting to help my favorite member of your family,” you smirked, and Harry perked up from the bed at that.

“Take that back,” he sat up, and you shook your head as you proceeded to look in your bag. “You don’t mean that,” he ripped the blanket off of himself, revealing him in shorts and a bare torso. You tried your very best not to ogle him, but it was harder than expected, so you just took a peek; passing it as a teasing look.

Even though you’ve seen him countless times shirtless, the sight of his body felt different every time. You wanted nothing more than to trace the black ink of his tattoos with your fingertips and run your hands across his body. The thought made the rush of adrenaline running through your veins that made your heart beat ten times faster, and that certainly did not help your feelings for him.

Harry was now standing from the bed, slightly pushing you onto your back on the floor. Your eyes widened at his actions, not knowing what he was planning to do, but you got your answer when he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand to raise them and used his other to tickle your sides.

“Harry!” You screamed along with laughing.

“Take it back!” He continued tickling you.

“Can’t…take it back…when it’s true!” You said between laughs, trying to roll around to get out of his grasp.

“Tell me I’m your favorite!” He smiled.

“Okay, you’re my favorite!” You gave in, and he immediately stopped, letting your arms go. You caught your breath, giggling at how childish he is sometimes, and he had the same smile as you.

Suddenly, a soft knock on the door was brought to yours and Harry’s attention.

“Are you two okay in there? Heard screaming and movement,” Anne said through the door, and you immediately face palmed yourself.

“Yeah, we’re okay, mum. We’ll get ready now,” Harry said back. Once he doesn’t hear a reply back, assuming she left his door, he turns back to you.

“Great, now she probably thinks we were having sex,” you told him, covering your face.

“It’s okay. Nothing wrong with that,” he said softly that you barely heard him, and he quickly changed the subject. You looked at him to see his eyes already gazing back to yours, and as you were going to ask him to repeat himself, he beat you to it. “Anyways, you wanna shower first?” You nodded your head, collecting your stuff and heading over to the bathroom, thinking about the long day ahead of you.

・・・・

It didn’t take long for you and Harry to get ready. The only thing you couldn’t decide on was what to wear. You were standing in front of Harry in a robe and your hair wrapped up in a towel with two options in both your hands.

“I’m sure both will look nice on you,” he gave you a small smile as he was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You rolled your eyes for what seemed like the millionth because he's not giving you a straight answer.

“Alright, I’m going with this one,” you put the other dress on the bed and took the one you were going to wear with you to the bathroom. Harry waited on you, tapping his hand on his leg before you walked out of the other room. His head immediately lifted up, seeing you in a pretty white floral dress that stopped above your ankles. He noticed you clipped the front pieces of your hair back, and you slipped on some sandals.

“Wow…”

“Do I look okay?” You asked. Although, you didn’t really care about other people’s opinions, you deeply cared about Harry’s; always wanting his side of the story and his thoughts. And you wanted to look nice for him because he is introducing you as his girlfriend, so you didn’t want people talking badly about either of you.

“You look incredible,” he stood up, walking towards you. You blushed, looking at his outfit. He was wearing a pastel yellow button down, a bandana hanging loosely off his neck, and some black skinny jeans along with his Chelsea boots.

“Thank you. You look nice too,” you flashed him his favorite smile that’s delightful to his eye, and his heart swooned. The sweet look in your eyes was enough to tell him that he was falling for you…hard. He had already fallen, but this time, it’s extreme.

“Shall we get going?” You asked. He nodded and followed you downstairs.

・・・・

The walk to the park was just down the street and took about 10 minutes—15, maybe because each of you, Harry, and Anne were lugging around baskets that were filled with food, blankets, and board games.

Throughout the whole walk, you talked to Harry about how you should act. You didn’t want to overdo or underdo it.

“Just act like you’re in love,” he stated simply. And you thought about how easy that would be since you are in love with him. You wouldn’t be acting whatsoever, but you needed the reassurance for the physical limit.

“Okay, easy-” you blurt out, and Harry caught it. He turned to look at you, but you had already changed the subject. “What about physical stuff? Like I need to know the limits,” you said quickly.

“Uh, no limit. Feel free to do whatever. Everyone knows I’m pretty affectionate, so maybe just always…touch me?”

“Noted. I’m excited,” you smiled at him, and he smiled back.

When you got to the park, you were the first ones to arrive. The space being available, you three set up the blankets and towels under the tree on the grass and the food on the picnic table. And within seven minutes, everyone started to arrive.

Many hugs and smiles were present all around as Harry introduced you to everyone. You made sure to latch onto Harry’s arm every time, and gave his childhood neighbors big hugs.

“So lovely to see you! Who’s this one right next to you?” Cathy from across the street asked as she hugged Harry.

“Cathy, this is my beautiful girlfriend.” You and Cathy hug as she gives you a tight squeeze, making you feel welcomed.

“Oh, Harry. I’m so glad you’ve found someone. A gorgeous one too,” she nudged him and winked at you causing you to chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m a lucky one,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and smiled down at you, dimples poking out. Inside, Harry felt anxious introducing you to everyone, and you sensed that. Knowing Harry so well, you knew the exact moments when he was feeling nervous, and that’s this moment; and his fingers were picking at the hem of your sleeve, trying to keep himself calm.

A few minutes later, Harry heard a voice he could recognize anywhere. It was loud along with her laugh. And Harry knew it was showtime.

“She’s here,” Harry whispered into your ear. You turned your head and saw the new face that you knew was his ex girlfriend. She had a big smile on her face, dragging her fiancé with her as she met everyone, showing them her new and fancy ring.

“Has she seen you yet?”

“Don’t think so.” Your backs were facing her as you were grabbing some food, plates in hand. And she was about any minute to walk up to Harry and greet him.

“Should—Should we kiss?”

Harry looked at you, taking in the question you had just asked before nodding his head.

It was the very first kiss you were going to share with him, and you two wished it were under different circumstances, but a kiss was a kiss, and you were going to make it special either way.

Harry leaned in as you met him halfway, slightly standing on your toes to reach him. And as your lips touched his, everything else melted. When you wrapped your arm around his neck as he did around your waist, everything vanished. It was like there were no secrets between you two anymore, and you were kissing because you loved each other. There were no fake relationships or fake kisses, just the presence of each other as you two molding your lips together.

It was a sweet kiss. No rush detected and no tongue action either. Just the feeling of each other’s lips pressed together was enough for the two of you to go wild.

It was then when you two realized that you were still around people when you heard a voice call out for Harry’s name. You didn’t let go at first until they called out a second time, and you hesitantly pulled back, seeing Harry’s lips pinker than before and his face flustered. You two looked at each other for a bit, a blush creeping on your face realizing you had just kissed your best friend.

“Harry?” He turned his head to see his ex girlfriend smiling at him.

“Oh, hi.” She reached to hug him, holding on a little longer than you wanted, but you kept your cool. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. How are you?”

“Good. By the way, this is my girlfriend. Baby, this is Ash. Known her since college,” he introduced you to her. A fake smile was plastered on her face, hugging you as well, and you cringed, wrapping an arm around her. But your heart immediately fluttered when you remembered Harry calling you baby, like it was so natural for him to do so.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said politely.

“You too. Heard so much about you,” she replied, not looking at you at all, rather than looking at Harry. You chuckled and looked at him, finding it rather humorous that she said that when the ‘relationship’ isn’t even real. Harry’s eyes were on you the whole time, matching your smirk as you two tried to hold your laughs in.

“Anyways, I gotta say hi to everyone else. It was nice meeting you again,” she turned to you, and you smiled. She turned back to Harry, “we should catch up?” Harry only nodded as she walked away. You two watched her walk away, and until she was far enough, you both bursted out in laughter.

“Oh gosh, that was weird,” he said.

“Yeah, a little. Did you see her big fake smile towards me?”

“It’s very obvious, isn’t it?” You nodded your head, catching your breath. Harry puts an arm around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. “Don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here,” he smiled down at you, making you look up.

His eyes were bright; sparkling from the sunlight but also gleaming because of his sight on you. You boldly decided to kiss him on the cheek, and his face was warm from his blush.

“I’m always going to be here for you.”

・・・・

The gathering went on smoothly. Although the weather started to get a bit chilly as the day went by; no one minded as they wrapped themselves up in their coats and blankets.

“Harry, I’m gonna walk back to the house to get a coat,” you told him as he was in conversation with one of his old schoolmates.

“I’ll go with ya-”

“No, no. Keep talking. Anne is coming with me to put away a few things.” He nodded and gave you a kiss on the cheek, telling you both to be careful.

You and Anne walked back to her house, arms linked as you two chatted.

“Darling, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Are you in love with my son?” Your breath hitched at that, and Anne felt you physically tense up, thinking that was a bad question to ask. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that-”

“No, it’s okay! But to answer your question: yes, I am,” you told her honestly, not daring to lie to her at all.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know…I’m not sure if he feels the same, and I can’t lose him,” you said softly. The mere thought of Harry not in your life anymore broke your heart. You needed him, and even if you’d have to sacrifice your feelings for him, then you wouldn’t tell him.

“Harry may be a lot of things, but he’s not an idiot. That being said, he’s not an idiot to not feel things for you. I know it’s scary to think about him not being in your life, but trust me on this one, yeah?” You slowly nodded, taking in her words. If Anne is telling you he has feelings for you, then she must be right.

Besides, mother knows best.

・・・・

Meanwhile at the park, Harry was grabbing himself a plate of crackers and cheese until someone decided to accompany him.

“Hey,” Ash said as she stood on the opposite side of the picnic table.

“Hi. What’s up?” He responded, continuing to get his favorite cheese.

“Just wanted to talk to you.” Harry nodded, urging her to continue. “So, how did you meet your girlfriend?”

“We met at a little diner. She was new to the city, and it pretty much went from there,” he smiled at the thought of you, and remembering how you two met. He’d do anything to go back and relive that time.

“That’s nice. It’s too bad we didn’t make it, huh?” Harry was caught off guard, not sure if he heard her right.

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean we were together for a while--practically throughout uni and after that. I always thought we were going to get married-”

“You have a fiance…” he looks at her in disbelief, not knowing what to say other than the obvious.

“Well, yeah. But you were my first love,” she walked over to the other side, where he was standing, and Harry slowly backed away from her while looking at her with wide eyes. “And I don’t know who else you dated after me, but I didn’t know you downgraded so much-”

“Excuse me? Don’t think you can talk to me when you’re talking shit about my girl. Can’t believe you would think you would get away with saying that right in front of my face.” Harry was angry--he had a right to be. Girlfriend or best friend, he was always going to have your back. “She’s the most kind and selfless person I’ve ever met, and she’s been nothing but nice to you ever since she met you. Go talk shit somewhere else because if you think your opinions are going to change the way I see her, then you’re absolutely wrong because I’m in love with her.” Harry storms off, his food forgotten as he doesn’t give Ash a chance to speak.

He huffed, brows furrowed as he walked home. He walked at a fast pace, needing to be away from the scene. As he walked, he heard voices ahead of him, and found you and his mum laughing. Quickly, he met you two halfway.

“Oh hi, Harry,” you greeted as you and Anne stopped walking.

“Can you come with me please?”

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” Anne asked concerningly.

“I just really need to talk to her,” he responded. You and Anne looked at each other, and she gave you a reassuring smile.

“I’m gonna go back,” Anne rubbed his shoulder, knowing that something happened for him to act this way, and proceeded to walk back to the park.

Harry grabbed your hand, and he was lucky that his home was only a few steps away, thankful that he decided to walk fast.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” He doesn’t say anything but leads you to the front door, unlocking it. Even in his frustrated state, he’s still a gentleman as he lets you walk in first. Once inside, you asked again. “Are you okay?”

Walking over to the couch, he grabbed one of the pillows and screamed into it. Your concern for him had raised, not knowing what happened. You sat beside him, rubbing his back as he let out his anger and frustrations into the pillow.

After a few more seconds of screaming and a minute of silence, he finally lifted his head from the pillow, facing you. The look on your face was nothing but worry as your brows were pulled in. He took his thumb to smooth out your forehead, and your brows immediately retracted back to normal from his touch.

“When you were with mum, she came to talk to me,” he stared. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for his words. “It was okay at first, but then…” he proceeded to tell you what Ash had said to him. How shocked he was to hear what was coming out of her mouth. He told you about how he told her off, and to not talk shit about you in front of him.

He was proper angry, and you placed your hand on his cheek, caressing his skin with your thumb.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” you gave him a small smile, and his face relaxed in your hand.

“Of course. It felt so good to say out loud,” he said, and immediately closed his mouth.

“What felt good?”

It was now or never. Harry finally had the chance and opportunity to tell you how he really felt about you. And it may be the end of the friendship, but he’s hoping and wishing you’d reciprocate the feeling.

“That I’m in love with you.”

Your lips part, shocked to finally hear him say the words. The ones that you’ve been dreaming of since forever.

“Harry…”

“I know I shouldn’t have said that, but I needed you to know,” he stood up and began pacing in front of you.

“You love me?” Harry stopped and went back to the couch.

“Yeah, I do. Do you love me?” He asked nervously. He wasn’t prepared for the rejection and the hurt, but when he saw you smile, his fears went away.

You nodded enough to make you feel dizzy, and your head was spinning from happiness. “I love you, Harry. I love you.”

“Wait, what? Really?” You nodded excitedly, smiling so big that your jaw was hurting. “Shut up!” He gasped, and you slapped his shoulder playfully.

“I really do! Have for a while now,” you admitted. Your smile turned into a shy one as you were confessing the love you have for him for years.

“There’s no way that you,” he points at you, “love me,” he points back at himself. You chuckled, grabbing his face in your hands and squeezing his cheeks together.

“Well, I do. Believe it, baby.” Your thumb caressed his cheek, feeling his smooth skin under your finger.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly as you felt him smile against your neck. “I can’t believe it. You love me?”

“Yes! I have for a while now,” you kissed his neck. Slightly pulling back, your eyes met his. “Kiss me? For real this time?”

Harry’s smile peeked out, taking your face in his hands and connecting your lips together. The kisses were heated, but they weren’t rushed. The two of you wanted to enjoy the moment alone with no interruptions—finally having one another in each other’s arms.

“Wasn’t��faking it…earlier. The kiss—wasn’t faking it,” he said between kisses. You took the opportunity of his mouth opening to place your tongue into his mouth; tongues touching for the first time. It was like a spark shocked you once it happened, the chemistry between you was strong.

“Take me upstairs,” you whispered.

He slowly got up, not wanting to leave your lips, and he picked you up bridal style and took you to his room. He gently laid you on his bed and hovered over you, meeting your lips again.

“Do you want this?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Yeah, do you?” You looked deeply in his eyes, telling him like you really mean it. “Just want to be close to you. Don’t have to do anything else.”

“Want this so fucking bad,” he reassured you by kissing you.

“Want this off,” you said, lifting his shirt up. He sat on his knees and swiftly took off his shirt, and you were once again, amazed by his body.

“A shirt for a shirt?” He teased.

“No fair. I’m wearing a dress,” you pouted, and he kissed your bottom lip, making you smile.

“Alright, fine.” He got off the bed and started unbuttoning his pants slowly. Your eyes raked down his tatted body, stopping at where his hands were. Harry pulled his jeans down, revealing him in his black underwear that hung low on his hips. You bit your lip in response to seeing him half naked.

“God, you’re so hot,” your voice was low and sultry, and Harry’s dick hardened a little more.

“Thanks, baby. Your turn?” He smirked. You nodded giving him a quick kiss as you two switched positions; you standing up and him laying on the bed.

Back faced to him, you bent down and slowly brought the bottom of your dress up, exposing your legs—and then your panties. Suddenly, your dress wouldn’t lift up and over your waist. Harry watched you stop and try again, still not being able to get your dress off.

You dropped your head, laughing to yourself before you turned around and you gave him a soft smile, embarrassed you stopped the show.

“Everything okay, baby?”

“Uh, yeah. Just a minor inconvenience. Do you mind…unzipping my dress? That was the reason why it wasn’t coming off,” you nervously chuckled. Harry smiled thinking you were the absolute cutest.

“Of course, turn around.” You did, and unzipped your dress, pressing kisses as your skin was more exposed as he unzipped it. “Thank you. That was probably so embarrassing. Tried giving you a sexy show, but failed.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Already love ya as it is. Don’t need to put on a show for me,” he reassures you. You walk closer to him, hugging his head to your chest. His hands raked the back of your thighs, making goosebumps appear on your skin.

“I love you,” you said looking down at him. His smile was so big after you said those words, and you made sure to say them for the rest of time if it meant to see him smile like that.

“I love you more.”

You backed away from him, taking off your dress fully. The beauty of your body was indescribable. He just wanted to press kisses on every inch of your skin and appreciate how lucky he is to have you, and how happy he is that you’re able to trust him to show yourself like this.

Kisses were being felt on your stomach, your sides, and up to your chest. You reached behind you to unhook your bra, exposing your chest to him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” was the first words he said when he saw you fully. Without hesitation, he wrapped his mouth around your nipple as the other was being fondled by his hand, and proceeded to switch. You arched your back, silently begging for more of his tongue on your skin and he happily complied as your hands found his long hair.

Your hands push his shoulder back on the bed, and he situated himself to sit against the headboard as you went to straddle his lap.

“I’m too needy to stop, but can we take it slow?” You asked him as you littered kisses to his shoulder.

“Of course. No need to rush anything.”

After a few more kisses to his skin and his lips, you start to rock your hips. Harry’s groans softly while his hands find your ass, guiding you.

“You’re so hard. Think—know you’re big.” You pressed your forehead against his, kissing the tip of his nose.

Harry was already rock hard, but to hear you talk and praise him like that made him painfully harder.

“Hard for you. ‘S all for you, baby. Been hard the moment I saw you walk out with your pretty dress on. You wet, my love?” He said back.

“Mhm. So wet, baby—since the first time you kissed me. I wanted to ride you on the picnic table,” you moaned, hips rocking faster.

“Fuck, who knew you had such a dirty mouth?” His hands scratched your back up and down, lightly.

“Only you. Been waiting to use this mouth on you.” He hadn’t known if you meant vocally or physically, but he was completely okay with either one.

You whimpered as your clothed clit moved against his cock. Both of you were on edge, waiting out the feeling because if dry humping felt this good, you wondered how it must feel when he’s inside you--just a couple of layers away from feeling his bare skin on yours.

“God, yes. C’mon, baby, know you’re close. Take what you need,” he moaned, wanting you to come before he does. You sit up, no longer pressed against his chest, and swivel your hips faster. Eyes pressed shut as your hands fly into your hair. He can see that you’re focusing on getting there as you bite your lip and tilt your head back, so he decides to help. Harry presses his thumb against your clit and circling it as you continue to move against him.

“Fuck, Harry.”

“Almost there?” He asked.

“Mm, yeah. You?” Your body was shifted forward, knees on either side of him as you sat on them. Harry continued rubbing your clit, and you reached before you to stroke him through his underwear.

Moans and praises were the only thing that was heard from the both of you as you two rubbed each other to your orgasms. Your body jolted as his hips bucked up, reaching peak.

“Fuck, yes,” you collapsed onto his chest, catching your breath.

“So fucking good.” His heart was pounding; raking his nails softly against your back. “Never dry fucked anyone before, and didn’t think I was gonna cum that hard,” he chuckled. You lifted your head to kiss his jaw.

“But I’m all wet, baby,” you teased.

“Your mouth…is fucking…filthy,” he kissed you in between his words, causing you to giggle.

“You love it.”

“Hell yeah I do.”

A minute or two of silence was present between you two, embracing and cherishing one another as your bare chests were pressed against each other. You lifted your head up to meet his, smiling before pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Mmm,” he hummed into your lips, and you pulled back.

“Maybe we should change? We’re both sticky in our pants,” you chuckled, and he nodded.

“This was all your doing--riding me like that. Wonder how you’re gonna feel when my cock is inside of you,” he smirked and your jaw dropped, but you got slightly wet again from his words, your thighs clenched together at the mere thought of it.

“And you say my mouth is fucking filthy!”

“I learned it from the best,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. You got off of him and the bed, bending down to get a fresh new pair of panties until you heard him call out for you, “Hey.”

You turned to look at him, a dopey smile plastered on his face as his cheeks were flushed. A sight you fell more in love with.

“I love you, baby.”

His words made your heart swoon, thinking you could get used to hearing that all the time now.

“Say it again,” you said with a blushing smile.

“I love you.” His voice was slow and raspy as he looked you in the eye, telling you he means it everytime.

“Do you?” You asked teasingly.

“So fuckin’ much.”

“I love you too, my love.”

feedback is appreciated here! <3

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sunflovverharry · 4 years

Text

Sweet Time

a/n: soo, I took the liberty of changing the pov in the song to be from harry’s perspective instead of the oc’s, but i’m quite happy with how it turned out. i recommend you listen to the song this fic is inspired by while reading as it might give some more depth to what’s going on inside harry’s head than what i already give throughout the story. Thank you for reading and please reblog if you enjoy it xx

This fic is a part of @harrystylescherry playlist fic challenge which i’m super excited to be part of! Remember to read the rest of the entries and show your support <3

Pairing: Harry x OC Delilah Warnings: Angst, fluff, language Word count: 4.7k

It seems bad luck runs through all of Harry’s relationships. The three he’s had that lasted long enough to be considered serious all ended because of the same reason - Harry’s fame. Mixing their jealousy of the women media connected him to; and anger that he couldn’t be with them every time something important happened made him exhausted. His girlfriend was supposed to support him in every way possible, just as he would support them and know that if he could spend more time with her, obviously he wouldn’t be flying to god knows where for who knows how long. It clearly wasn’t enough for his exes to know that if he could, he would, but his life isn’t run only by himself. He has managers and a record label who tells him what to do and when.

Lucie had been ringing his phone for the last hour without any answer and it surely must have pissed her off because the texts she sent after weren’t pleasing to say the least. Harry had been in the studio for a while and his phone had been silenced so he could solely focus while creativity was rolling through him. He had told his girlfriend that he would be unavailable for most of the week with writing and recording as much as possible, but he’d call or text whenever he was free. Thinking she had understood, he didn’t care to text her right before entering the studio to tell her she wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him for a while, but after seeing the texts he thought to himself he should’ve texted her.

“Why the fuck aren’t you answering??” “Harry you better answer your fucking phone this instance or we’re over!” “Seriously Harry what is more important than me, your girlfriend!!” “Are you with another woman???? ANSWER ME YOU FUCKING DICK”

No, it wasn’t the first time Harry had been subject to her angry texts, probably drunk off her ass and having no one else to be mad at. He knew he shouldn’t put up with the way she’s treating him, but when they’re together she acts completely different. She never raises her voice at him or asks who women he’s seen with are. They always enjoy their time together, cuddling on the sofa while watching a movie or going to her parents’ for a Sunday roast. Though she’d never be seen cleaning or cooking, telling Harry that it wasn’t her job to do so when he could have maids and chefs.

Even his mum had told him she wasn’t what he needed in a girlfriend. A snobby, gold digger who has jealousy and anger issues ultimately wasn’t someone he had time for. Those texts were what made him decide that he had to end the relationship now, before it’s too late.

A week later he made it home from Los Angeles and he wasn’t surprised to see Lucie running towards him after hearing the car doors slam outside. She always acted as if nothing happened while he was gone. He couldn’t believe he had wasted almost a year on this girl and before she could get any closer to him he told her they were done. Yes, it sucked to tell someone they weren’t wanted any longer, but it was the right decision in the end and his mum would surely be happy he got rid of her.

A year after breaking up with Lucie, his third girlfriend (who honestly might have been a little too into his fame and money than he realized at the time), he met Delilah. To be honest, Harry had told himself that he wanted to stay single and focus on himself and his upcoming album, but Delilah threw his plans out the window after only a month of dating - or what he called “just friends getting to know each other”. Delilah on the other hand called them dates and could only hope it would expand into something greater than that.

Harry had been sat in the restaurant they were meeting at for half an hour, hoping Delilah wouldn’t be much longer. He was grateful she had texted him to let him know she’d be running later than expected as the traffic was crazy and she had to stay at work an hour longer than anticipated. If she hadn’t let him know, he’s sure he would have cried from the embarrassment.

Not knowing how much longer she’d be, he called his mum. Her voice had always calmed him down and that’s exactly what he needed at this very moment - sitting alone in a restaurant at a table for two in a secluded corner waiting for what might be the prettiest girl he’s laid eyes on.

“Hello my sweetness. How are you?” They got into talking about Harry’s surprise trip home for his sister's birthday in a couple of months. Anne and Harry were planning a surprise birthday party for her and it wasn’t something he’d ever want to miss. After minutes of talking about the surprise and anything else popping up into the conversation, Anne asked what he was doing. It wasn’t that he had hidden the fact that he had a new friend on purpose, but he supposes that he wanted to keep this one private - even from his mum who knows everything going on in his life.

“Just having dinner with a friend who’s running a tad late which is why I called you.” He wasn’t sure he was able to keep the excitement out of his answer. Though Delilah was only a friend and he certainly wasn’t looking for another relationship that would end up breaking, he already liked her more than he probably should.

“Oh, I see. A friend friend perhaps?” Anne snickered, knowing that if she pried long enough, he’d have no choice but to spill. This time it wouldn’t happen though as he saw Delilah walking towards the back of the restaurant and the table where he was seated waiting patiently for her.

“Sorry, mum, my guest has arrived. I’ll call another day, love you.” Harry didn’t hear the ‘love you’ his mum said back to him before pulling his phone from his ear and hanging up. Pocketing his phone while standing up, he smiled at Delilah who looked stressed but beautiful in her very classy outfit paired with some killer heels and Harry didn’t even want to think about how much they hurt her feet.

When they both finally sat down, the chatter never died down and the wine never stopped pouring.

It took a while before she earned Harry’s trust, but it was proof that he did trust her when he invited her over to his house for the first time after five months of dating. She had proved to Harry that she took his privacy seriously and she, too, wanted to keep whatever it was they had going on between only the two of them. Almost as if it was something sacred, and really it was.

Harry had been over for movie nights and dinners at Delilah’s plenty of times, even going as far as staying over a handful of times. She gave him complete reigns of what they did and never pressured him into going out in public and there wasn’t a suspicion (that Harry knew of at least) of why he didn’t want to go any further than light groping and making out before pulling away. When he wanted to talk to her, she would be there for him.

Delilah had her legs thrown over Harry’s thighs and his hands were lightly massaging her feet tired from a long day at work. They had ordered pizza from what Harry called ‘the best pizza place he’s ever been to’ and when Delilah took her first bite she couldn’t help but moan at the explosion of taste in her mouth. It really was the best pizza. This was only her second time hanging out at Harry’s house, only wanting to come when he invited her as to not invite herself into his most private space.

Harry had shot her a message earlier in the day asking her if she’d like to come over after work seeing as it was a Friday and therefore the night didn’t have to end as early as a weeknight. Of course, he didn’t tell her that, but he wanted to have the option open for her to stay the night if he felt comfortable enough by the end of the night to ask her.

Delilah could Harry’s head was spinning in all directions while mindlessly continuing to rub her feet, up to her legs. She could positively say none of her exes had ever given her a foot massage, making Harry look even better in her books (though he didn’t need it, he was already better than any of her expectations and she could only hope she reached his expectations).

“What’s wrong, sweets?” She had taken up the nickname for him after hearing his mum call him something similar, but not wanting to steal her nickname for him. Harry smiled every time she called him that, loving the feeling he got in his stomach from how it sounds coming off of her tongue.

“Just thinking and going in circles round my head.” It didn’t give away anything other than he was stressing or worried about something Delilah had no idea what it could be. Sitting up, she planted a kiss to his cheek before smashing their cheeks together in a tight hug - all she wanted was to be there for him if he wanted to talk, or just sit in silence together. Hopefully he’d have the guts to throw her out if he wanted to be alone.

Harry giggled when she didn’t let up her strong hold around his neck, not nearly enough to choke him, but enough to hold him in place. He turned his head to look at her quickly before melting their lips together in what can only be described as an expressive and intense kiss. Delilah didn’t know what he was trying to express, but it must be something good with the way he’s pulling her onto his lap, their lips never separating more than a second.

“Would you want to stay the night?” He had gone through every pro and con in his head, but Delilah showing him she was there for him without trying to pull anything out of him made up his mind. There was no doubt he wanted her to stay at his place for the night and he’d drive a hard bargain for her to even think about saying no.

There was no need for a bargain though, Delilah nodding her head quickly before pulling him in for another kiss, or two, or three. She wasn’t worried about not having pajamas here or her toothbrush or her trusty face cleanser. None of it mattered even slightly, when all she could think about was how much trust Harry was putting in her. For a minute there she was the happiest she’s ever been and as Harry’s nerves subsided he was the happiest he’s ever been.

The couple went for a short drive to Delilah’s apartment to pick up some essentials, as well as the supermarket to buy ingredients for breakfast in the morning (and new bathroom essentials to keep in his bathroom for times when she would stay the night). By the time they got back to Harry’s, they were ready to hop into bed - a bed she had yet to try out, but was sure would exceed all her expectations.

Harry was tucked into his bed on the side he regularly slept on when Delilah walked out of his ensuite, ready to lay down right next to him. Knowing from the past times they’ve shared her bed that he’s a big cuddler, she was excited to see how much more comfortable and cuddly he’d be in his own bed.

Though Harry felt safe and trusted Delilah enough to share his house with her and have her sleep over, something was still holding him back from asking the big question that they both probably knew should have come earlier. Even his mum was unsure why he hadn’t asked her yet or let her meet the woman he’s spending all his time with.

By the seventh month of dating, she was starting to question herself. If she wasn’t doing anything wrong and he still trusted her, why would he not have asked her to be his girlfriend already? She thought it was pretty clear to everyone that knew about their ‘relationship’ that she wouldn’t say no.

“So, Delilah, how’s it going with Harry?” She was out for drinks with her best girlfriends and the only ones she had told about Harry - except her parents, of course. It was an unwritten rule to not talk about boy trouble or anything of the sort on their nights out, but it was clear Delilah’s head wasn’t in it. Something had to be up with her and the only thing her friends could think of, was Harry.

“We’re good. He’s feeling safe and comfortable with me. We’re going to his mum’s next weekend to relax before he leaves.” Her voice was definite and if her friends didn’t know her they wouldn’t think anything was wrong with their relationship. Delilah spends a lot of time with him and the past month she’s slept over most nights, even on the days she’s had work the next. Harry had cleared out more space for her in his bathroom vanity and closet - which he knew was way larger than what he really needed, but had still managed to fill with no problem.

Delilah sipped on her drink as she went back into her head, thinking about how tonight was just like any other day. Harry will pick her up exactly ten minutes after she calls to tell him the night is over, he’ll hold her thigh on the drive back to his home while she talks his head off about nothing. When they arrive home, they’ll do exactly what they always do when she stays the night - wash their faces together, brush their teeth and while Delilah finds her outfit the next day Harry goes to get a water bottle he always keeps in the fridge that they will share throughout the night. It’s become routine and the domesticity around it makes Delilah’s heart flutter.

“Have you had the talk about going official? Becoming boyfriend and girlfriend? I thought maybe he’d asked by now with how you’ve been. I mean, you basically live there by now.” Lyla tried to pull out the thoughts swirling around Delilah’s head without being too invasive if she really didn’t want to talk about it.

“I don’t know honestly, I think we’re doing great and I’m so happy with him. I don’t want to force him if he isn’t ready, but it’s been seven months and he hasn’t said anything about making it official no matter how much it feels like it already is. I can’t imagine he doesn’t feel the same. It’s pretty obvious what we’re doing is exactly how it’s like being in a serious relationship.” She braced herself and let it all out - all her thoughts about not making it official yet or how domestic their relationship has become over the past couple months. She would be indescribably sad if Harry wasn’t to actually feel like she thinks he does and that might be the reason why she hasn’t had the guts to be the one to initiate the conversation.

The next couple of weeks went by smoothly for the pair. With Harry being gone for most of it, she had a lot of time for herself to go through her feelings and get the chance to figure things out. She tried to hide her - what felt like crushed - feelings from Harry, not wanting him to pry for her to open up and ruin everything. She agreed with herself that if they had to do things slower than normal because Harry needed the time to get there, then that would be okay as long as he actually would get there one day. There was also no way she could leave the man behind just because he’s been hurt in the past and is now - overly - precautious. The very least she could do to save what they had was to try and help him realize that she wasn’t going anywhere and didn’t want anything but the best for him, and she wanted to be the best.

Delilah came home from work to Harry cooking a storm in the kitchen late one afternoon after he came back to London. It wasn’t that she didn’t know he could cook that surprised her, no, he was always making them dinner - with or without Delilah’s help. What did surprise her though, was the romantic set up in the living room that she had never seen before.

Harry was in deep concentration standing over the stovetop where he had vegetables boiling, along with the chicken he’s grilling. It’s getting close to done when he heard his front door open and he didn’t bother turning around, knowing it could only be one person - Delilah. The girl he’d been obsessed with for the past eight months. But, fuck, he was terrified of getting infatuated with someone again, only having been burnt by it in the end previously.

There was something so raw and new with this one, though, such a breath of fresh air for him. It was like he was supposed to go through those bad relationships to end up here - with the perfect fit for him. She never took it to heart when he couldn’t be there for some things, having to leave the country for weeks at a time, but encouraged him to go, have fun, text me when you land. The first time she told him so, he was speechless and couldn’t move his feet for seconds before he got back to earth.

The first time he slept over at her place was pivotal for him and him realizing where this could go, and that was over six months ago. He had told himself to take it slow, enjoy the moment and not do anything because he felt it was the right time. The right time was usually never right in the end because he still wasn’t ready. If he were to lead a relationship with Delilah it would have to be on his terms, mostly because he didn’t want this one to go wrong. This potential relationship with the girl of his dreams was something he needed to get right. If that meant waiting a little longer to make it official, move in together or start a family - now he’s really thinking far into the future - then he would do so because he knew in the end it would save them both from heartbreak.

Ever since him and Delilah got closer his mum saw a change in him, though the insecurities and unease he had from former relationships were still haunting him. The first time he voluntarily spoke to his mum about her, she told him to follow his heart and only time could tell if she was the one for him. The last time he spoke about her, Anne told him he had to do something, because even though they act as if they’re together, she doesn’t have the security blanket of love that she needs to stay with him. That really set fire to his plans - knowing he had to do something about it before it was too late.

Therefore he ended up deciding on making her dinner and putting in effort to show his romantic side that she hasn’t seen a lot of was the way to go. He wanted to go all out for her to show that this is what he wants and he feels safe and secure enough in himself and them as a couple to make it official. It’s what he craved.

He heard Delilah’s feet softly moving on the hardwood flooring to get from the entry to the kitchen. He also knew she had smelt his cooking and seen the rose petals, candles and blankets scattered all over the living room. There was no doubt she was suspicious over the reason for his doings, but at the same time she held back and waited for Harry to make the first step.

“Hi lovey, dinner is almost ready. You want to change into something comfy before we eat?” Harry only turned around for a single second to try and see if her face could tell him anything about how she’s feeling.

“Smells delicious. Be back in a tick, sweets.” The grin creeping out from his lips couldn’t be stopped after hearing her call him his favorite nickname. He hopes it means she’s happy with him. While Delilah changes upstairs in their - pretty much - shared closet, Harry dishes up the plates and finds her favorite red wine to drink with the meal. Right as he finishes putting everything in its place, she descends from the staircase and Harry finally takes a moment to admire her. He finds her beautiful in a pair of leggings and one of Harry’s hoodies she decided to steal. Before getting completely lost in her beauty, he coughs and reaches his hand out to tell her to come sit with him on the floor in front of the sofa.

Harry wanted to wait until they had finished their meal to bring their relationship up, hoping to enjoy their little impromptu - on her end at least - date night before getting serious. Delilah was smiling and wouldn’t stop gushing over his surprise making him feel better about what was to come. He was sure she would say yes, but the little doubt he had left in him wouldn’t go away until he got his answer and knew for sure.

Later in the evening, they were still sitting on the floor, talking about their days and upcoming events. Harry’s hand was running along her legs thrown over his lap and hers were holding the wine glass recently filled up again when he felt the need to get everything off his chest.

“Darling. I know I’ve taken things slow with you, slower than we both probably wanted, but I hope you know I haven’t been stringing you along for nothing. Tonight I wanted to show you how much you mean to me and how much I’ve grown to care for you. I hope you knew that anyway.” Harry was smiling at her while coming clean with all his thoughts and feelings.

“I’ve loved the naturalness of how we’ve moved through our friendship. Nothing with you has ever felt forced or uncomfortable, maybe because you let me take my time and have control over what I can. I can’t tell you how much that has meant to me and I want you to know that it hasn’t gone unnoticed. The domesticity around us feels so easy and I hope that doesn’t ever change. Because we’ve been acting as if we’re together, it kind of slipped my mind that we’re not, but tonight I wanted to ask you, finally, if you want to make it official and be mine?”

After making it official, there was nothing holding them back from each other. They were together as much as their lives allowed them to be and Delilah even surprised Harry by going to his first show on tour in Los Angeles. He thought she didn’t get the time off of work to be able to come, but Delilah knew he wouldn’t be upset with her lying about it when in the end it would make him happy. They had been official for six months at the time and were practically inseparable. Neither of them knew how they would do with the distance over a longer period of time compared to the two to three weeks he was usually gone for before coming home. Sure in themselves and what they had, they knew they’d get through this, too.

Delilah hadn’t gotten the chance to surprise Harry much over the past year since she got to know Harry, unlike how he had managed to surprise her quite a few times. They were often small, but thought out and always showed her how much he appreciated her. For the longest time; she had been thinking about how she could surprise him without him finding out - and her chance came landing right into her hands with him going on tour. She called Jeff the minute she thought of it, the day after Harry asking her if she would be able to come out for a couple of days during his tour, preferably the first show.

Jeff and Delilah had managed to keep the secret from Harry for over a month with Jeff buying her a plane ticket for the day his first show was. She got picked up by a driver at the airport and drove straight to the Forum to catch him on stage singing his heart out. Though she was only able to see him for the last fifteen minutes of his first show, it was exactly what she imagined - Harry dancing around the stage, singing to a crowd so loud she thought her ears might lose hearing.

Right before Harry was set to come off stage, Delilah was guided through the backstage area to Harry’s dressing room where he would finally see her and hopefully get surprised. She was sitting on the black leather sofa with her hands fiddling in her lap as she waited the short while. It was clear he was getting closer as the loud screams got quieter. Excitement, nervousness, happiness, restlessness. They were all feelings running through her, the anxiety easier to feel when she finally heard his laughter moving through the hallways and she knew he was only meters away from her.

Only seconds later she saw the door handle jiggle before the door opened just a crack as he was still standing in the hallway talking to someone Delilah couldn’t quite distinguish. Finally, he pushed the door further open and he was turning toward her, no idea someone would be waiting for him, nevertheless, his girlfriend he thought was stuck at work back in London. His eyes landed on her and for a while, he just stood in front of her still in the doorway thinking he was seeing things. When he understood that she was actually sitting in front of him his eyes couldn’t help but glaze over while shutting the door - he wanted this moment to be between him and his girl, no one else. Harry practically ran toward her, thinking he couldn’t get to her fast enough, and Delilah just about managed to stand up before he threw himself at her.

For a long time they stood on his dressing room floor, Harry’s arms around her neck and Delilah’s around his waist as they held each other close. Both of them had tears rolling down their cheeks, not from the three weeks they had been away from each other, but the sentiment of her actions. All the small things she had done for him since day one, waiting for him to feel comfortable and ready to dive into what they hoped would be a future together, always asking before doing something he might not be okay with, being too kind and gentle with him, always, and lastly her surprising him on tour. Something suddenly clicked in his head as he smelled her cherry blossom perfume he loved so much - this was it; Delilah was it for him, it was she he had been waiting for to come into his life after going through too many shitty relationships and breakups. There was no way he would let this one go when she understands him and loves him for everything he is (though they hadn’t said that yet - Delilah being afraid to scare him away and Harry wanting to wait until one day it slipped and came naturally).

Delilah, too, felt the same. She knew he was it for her - showering her with the affection and tenderness she needed from someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. They were perfect together and if taking it slow was the way to go with Harry then she would continue to do so forever, making sure he is always comfortable and safe with her.

Thank you for reading, will hopefully be back with another chapter of my fwb series soon <3

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