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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 years

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Verboten - Chapter Eleven.

Update is a day early this week, guys! I’m at a wedding all day tomorrow and won’t have time on Friday, so enjoy :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Visuals - The Verboten cast of characters post

Words - 2,437

Warnings - Bit of angst, bit of fluff.

Tag list - In the comments! To be added/removed, please DM me :)

Chapter playlist - None for this chapter

“How many hours now?”

“Five.”

“My arse is starting to go to sleep.”

“I wish you’d fuckin’ go to sleep!”

“Can’t leave you guys to snatch up all the glory if I’m asleep when we swoop, can I?”

“We ain’t gonna be swooping anytime soon, I don’t think. He doesn’t usually move until well after 1am.”

Tyler and Jimmy had been sitting in the same unmarked Audi up the street from a known drug dealer in downtown Brisbane for the last five hours, the latter considerably less comfortable with the situation than the former. Being a former military man, Tyler knew how to bide his time well. Constable James Broadhurst, however, was a different matter entirely.

“30434, what’s the latest from your position? And is Jimmy still driving you mental? Over.” Came the voice of fellow senior constable, Ryan Atkins from his radio.

“30434, all quiet from here. How about round the back, Ry, anything notable? And yeah, he is. Wishing I could slip some ketamine in his water bottle or something, knock him out for a few hours. Over.”

The laughter of Ryan as well as the officer with him in a second concealed position echoed over the radio, Jimmy pulling a disgruntled face while opening a large bag of crisps. It was confirmed that the back entrance to the apartment block was all quiet, just the usual comings and goings from other residents and nothing notable.

Currently, there were four separate cars, three uniformed officers and one vehicle containing the plain clothed detectives overseeing the bust, waiting to roar into life and swoop upon the man within the building they were staking out, whom they had it on good authority would be dealing a very large amount of heroin on that particular night. A fire fight was expected, hence the heavy police presence.

“Crisp?”

“Nah mate, I’m good. Don’t get crumbs everywhere though or Alan will put pepper spray in your coffee again.” Alan was Seargeant Alan Bilston, their immediate superior, who expected all cars to be returned in the state they’d left the station in, and who also liked to torture Jimmy at whatever opportunity he got.

Jimmy shuddered at the thought, remembering well taking a sip and nearly choking, much to the delight of his commanding Seargeant. “That man isn’t right. He has a sadistic streak.”

“You do bring it on yourself most of the time.” Tyler was quick to point out, his cohort snorting and huffing through a mouthful of crispy fried potato.

He was quiet then other than his chewing, Tyler glad of the peace. Jimmy was a great guy, but perhaps not the best to be stuck in a car with for anything up to eight hours, as it looked very much like they would be that night. Not only was he more used to having to have such patience, though, Tyler did have an added advantage of a welcome distraction every so often.

‘I’m in the bath, relaxing. I can’t believe I did fourteen hours today. Fourteen! Are you still in the car?’

‘You’ve earned it. Was it that company who were a pain in the arse about the plan you drew up for them again? And yeah, I am, so my replies might be slow as I can’t look at my phone too much. Gotta be ready to move in at a moment’s notice.’

‘Understandable, and yeah, it was!’

‘Might have known it. I’d like to visit their offices and tell them what wankers they are for not trusting your financial projections for the rate they’re spending. If they do go bankrupt then you can’t say you didn’t warn them.’

‘Nope, they’ve been advised accordingly. I can tell them how to spend and how not to, but I can’t force them into doing it. Miss you, by the way.’

‘Miss you too, baby.’

Gradually, there had been much more affection arising between them, their text message chats not solely centred around sex. When one was having a bad day, the other would be the first they’d text, or just simple messages to see what they were up do, funny memes from the Internet, jokes, anything they considered share worthy.

However, the sexy tests still existed, of course.

‘So, if you’re done at any point before 1am, I think you should drop in for a quickie. I’m absolutely burning for you!’

‘Babe, you have something wrong with you, I swear. I fucked you for three hours last night!’

‘And? You know I can never get enough of that perfect dick. Don’t try and pretend you’re not insatiable either! I bet you’re thinking of all kinds of filth you wish you were doing to me right now.’

‘Of course. Mainly all revolving around me fucking you with my tongue. I miss that pretty little pussy.’

‘I’d be sitting on your face, then, because I really wish I was giving you a blowjob right now, so it’d have to be a sixty-nine. And you’d be spanking me at the same time.’

Grumbling, he returned his phone to his pocket, calming down again after feeling his arousal begin to stir. He received another message not long after, but ignored it to focus on the task in hand. Another hour with no movement passed, Tyler quickly checking his phone again.

‘Thought this might cheer you up if you’re bored.’

‘Blimey, I’m a lucky fella.’ He thought, viewing the picture of Zoey in a set of dark, leopard print underwear, looking utter mouth-watering.

“Is Ella still up?” Jimmy suddenly asked at his side.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Because you keep texting someone and grinning, so I figured the missus.”

“Nah, she’s likely in bed.”

“So, who you chatting to?”

“Will you stop fuckin’ bugging me?”

In his haste to put his phone away, it slipped from his grasp, landing in Jimmy’s footwell, his friend reaching to pick it up before he could reach for it. Closing his eyes, he prepared for it, a cold feeling of dread spreading over him. He didn’t want anyone else to know.

Picking up the phone, Jimmy couldn’t help but notice the scantily clad picture, first thinking it was Ella and how damn lucky Tyler was, still receiving hot lingerie pictures from his wife after ten years of marriage, until he noticed that it wasn’t.

“Mate, that’s Zoey! What the actual hell?” He exclaimed, Tyler snatching his phone back, shaking his head. “Well?”

“Do I have to spell it out?”

“You’re...what? Nah, man. I mean...” He floundered, unable to believe what he was hearing from his friend. “You’re shagging your sister-in-law? Your drop-dead gorgeous sister-in-law? Behind the back of the drop-dead gorgeous wife?”

He sighed, feeling like shit. “Yeah.”

“Fucking hell!”

“I know.”

Clamouring, Jimmy couldn’t find the words. “Fucking hell, Tyler!”

“Yes, I know! I’m a shit of a husband, having an affair with my wife’s sister.”

“Yeah, that does make you a dog, pretty much. But hell, you’re bangin’ two of the fucking hottest women I’ve ever seen, man! Lucky fucker.”

“One, and I’m not lucky. Not in the slightest with the mess I’ve fuckin’ got myself into, Jimmy. This ain’t cause for celebration.”

“What do you mean, one?” A pertinent question, he thought.

Sighing again, he succinctly explained things, Jimmy listening while they continued to view the apartment ahead.

“I think the most obvious thing I have to ask here is thus; why the hell are you still with Ella when it’s more than obvious you really don’t want to be, or, and I have another theory, but it requires bluntness.”

“Be blunt, mate,” Tyler urged, opening the centre console when he’d stashed an apple, taking a big bite.

“It sounds like Ella doesn’t want to be with you any longer, but doesn’t really know how to walk away from the security of her marriage, maybe doesn’t wanna break up the family either.”

He’d honestly never thought of it like that before. It made perfect sense, though. “You have a point, one that could very well be quite valid. Maybe she does want out but isn’t sure of a life away from what she’s known for the last ten years. I dunno, though. I can’t speak for her.”

“And what about you? Because you can’t go on with this kind of duality, wife at home, mistress on the side. What do you want? I mean, is this thing you have with Zoey just a casual fling, or is she worth leaving Ella for?”

There it was, the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

“This is where I’m torn. If Ella actually came correct and told me what the hell was wrong and admitted she wanted to try and work on our marriage, I’d put an end to things with Zoey. Except, that’d be tough. I can’t deny I’ve developed feelings for her,” he confessed, Jimmy’s eyes widening.

“What, you’re in love with her?”

“Nah, not love. But I think a great deal of her. She makes me happier than her sister does right now.”

“You’ve got a lot of thinking to do there, buddy. I’d say I don’t envy you, but you’re banging Zoey so I really kinda do! That chick is insanely hot.”

“Right?”

“So... come on, you gotta give me something here!” All sensible chatter was at a close, he guessed.

Tyler knew exactly what he was fishing for. “Fuck off, Jimmy.”

“Oh, come on! Is she a freak? She seems like a freak.” For that, he received a clenched fist to the chest, Jimmy doubling over with a grunt.

“Yeah, she absolutely is. But that’s all you’re getting, you perv.”

“I fucking hate you, bro! I was gonna ask her out, next time I was out and she was around! I might still, you know.” The way Tyler looked at him conveyed a lot, perhaps more than the big man at his side was truly willing to acknowledge, or even admit to himself, Jimmy thought, grinning in a way to indicate he was joking.

That night, they finally made their move forty minutes later, all suspect parties swooped upon efficiently and arrested, Tyler arriving home at close to 2am. He’d would have liked to stop off at Zoey’s, if nothing but to lie there cuddling her for a little while, but it was too late and he wasn’t prepared to wake her.

Sliding into bed quietly next to Ella, he had to ponder upon what that meant, that he’d just identified that he wanted to visit Zoey for something other than the purpose of their affair. It meant something he didn’t want to deal with yet, because if he did, he had to think on the consequences, if he left his wife for her sister, if what they had came out in the open, for everyone to scrutinise. It’d tear apart her relationship with her sisters, who were all she had of family.

‘Maybe you should have thought about this seven weeks ago, before you started piledriving her on a regular basis, you fuckin’ idiot.’

However, if he continued and someone found them out, it’d fear the family apart anyway. It was such a mess he’d got himself into, it truly was. Jimmy didn’t have a clue, envying him. Nothing about this was enviable. Whatever he decided, something would inevitably blow up, people would get hurt and life would never be the same again, all because he gave into a sexual connection he should have tried harder to fight.

Could have, would have, should have.

Sighing, he turned over, his tired eyelids fluttering shut for forty minutes, until Lani’s cries woke him up.

“You stay here, I’ll go. You’ve had less sleep than me.” Ella spoke, pressing her hand into his chest to halt him when he made a move to get up. Consideration. That made a change. Where there was no change though was her coolness towards, him, Tyler now no longer trying to even engage her. He was only back in the bedroom because the kids began asking too many questions, not for any other reason at all. He didn’t even bother kissing her goodbye whenever he left the house any longer, there was no point. She only pulled away or offered her cheek. It was useless.

Now, the woman he did receive kisses from...

“You look so pretty,” he told Zoey that evening, when he should have been at the gym, but instead, obviously, had made plans to see her instead. She hadn’t changed out of her work clothes yet, only arriving home half an hour before he got there, still in her wide leg grey trousers, a silk and lace camisole and her eyes made up dark, her hazel irises glittering out from the deep bronze shadow.

“Thank you. Fuck, I’m so tired.” Bending, he lifted her into his arms, kicking off his shoes and heading over to the couch, lying down with her atop him.

“Better?”

“Much. Sorry if I’m like having sex with a dead yak tonight, I’m absolutely knackered!” Yawning right on cue, she stretched and then leaned in for a kiss, Tyler tightening his arms around her.

“We don’t have to, you know. I’m happy to just settle for this, tiny.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? I’ve missed you.” Giving her a little nuzzle, Zoey smiled and curled into him more, exchanging kisses while he stroked her softly. It was lovely. She’d felt it creeping in for a while at that point, them acting less like it was just sex bonding them and more like, dare she even think it, but almost like they were dating.

A little voice sounded in the back of her mind then, one she tried to ignore as they lay there lost in sweet kisses, one that told her not to invest too much. After all, he was still married and she knew that if Ella did ever come round, his priority would be to making things work with her. His commitment was to his wife, not her.

That night, after they’d lay there talking and she’d gotten ready for bed, he stayed with her until she fell asleep, stroking her hair and smiling down at her.

“Sleep well, beautiful. Fuck, I hate leaving you.” He kissed her head softly before letting himself out, going home to gladly turn in.

“How was your work out?” Ella asked as he climbed into bed.

“Good, thanks.”

“G’night.”

He didn’t even know why she was asking. She didn’t care any longer, and if he was honest, neither did he. The difference between the woman he’d left and the one he’d returned home to couldn’t have been starker.

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imaginesupply · 3 years

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Homecoming - Chapter Five

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Five starts after the cut. (Chapter Four can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

A/N: I am aware of the neutral, perhaps positive, portrait of the police I painted in this chapter. I am fully conscious of the recent (and not so recent) instances of police brutality happening all around the world, many – if not most – of them motivated by racism and other despicable ideologies. With this chapter, I did NOT mean to express support for the police forces. I simply had this ‘plot’ idea come to my mind and decided to write it. There is no ulterior motive.

While all my personal experiences with the police have been positive, I am aware that my ethnicity gives me privilege and that many people are not as lucky as I am. This both angers and saddens me. It has to change.

Black lives matter. Minority lives matter.

Chapter 5

Chapter warnings: Cockwarming, irresponsible driving (kind of), car accident (not serious), police (but no police violence), very mild violence, language (perhaps a little bit worse than in previous chapters but nothing you don’t hear in real life, I guess), mentions of mysogyny.

Ada yawned with Sy quickly following suit. “You can drive my car if you want, Sy. It’s not that new anymore, you know.” She offered, gracing him with the most angelic smile she could muster. It was the first time she was granting him the opportunity to drive her car.

Sy laughed next to her, his left hand moving over the center console to rub her thigh. He had that stupid grin again, that looking endearing with his current droopy eyes. “It’s your car, darlin’. Besides, you’d kill me if I ever so much as got a scratch on it.” He chuckled, suppressing another yawn. “And I know you’re only offering because you want to sleep.”

His wife gasped, a look of mocking offense on her features. “They’re your nephews!”

“But you were the one who said yes,” Sy countered, his eyes closing again as he made himself more comfortable on the car seat. The drive home was only about one hour and a half, but it was the perfect length for a nap.

“What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh?” Ada laughed, gesticulating wildly as was her habit. “Yes, Joshua, I understand you’re taking my pregnant sister-in-law to the hospital. No, I will not look after your kids for the night. It’s our date night.”

Next to her, Sy grimaced. She did have a point, even if he had been looking forward to going bowling with her: Ada was a sore loser which always ended with lots of fun for him. At least, his sister and the baby were okay. Just a normal case of Braxton Hicks, apparently, whatever that was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was good thing Ada didn’t want children because he’d freak out if she started having contractions four months in. “You fell asleep on Luke’s bed at one in the morning when you tried to get him to sleep for the third time and I had to spend the whole night entertaining them with tea parties because they wouldn’t tire!”

“Hey! That’s not cool!” She protested accusatorily, her eyes on the road as she switched lanes to take the next exit. “I didn’t know you couldn’t give kids sugar after a certain hour!”

Sy huffed, shaking his head. They’d had the great idea to bring donuts because according to his dear wife, sugar always made you feel better when you was anxious or down, and the kids had been aware something was off with their mom. “We suck at this parenting thing.”

“You don’t say!” Ada laughed, before loudly cursing at driver who’d just cut her off, something which never failed to make Sy smile. “The nap’s going to feel heavenly once we’re home.”

Sy hummed in agreement, his head falling back against the headrest as he drifted off, hiding his eyes from the sun with his cap. Ada glanced sideways at him, shaking her head. Part of her wanted to shake him awake. If she had to suffer, so did he. But he was right, she had slept more than him and he looked too peaceful to disturb, especially with some leftover glitter still on his cheeks.

Suddenly, there was a mild thump and the car stuttered before stopping, startling Ada who jumped on her seat.

"Shit!" She cursed. "Did I just...?" She began to panic, her eyes moving to the red car in front of them, too close. She had bumped it while she had been distracted by her husband’s stupid, sleepy face!

"Yes, yes you did," Sy laughed next to her. Ada was a good driver and she loved driving, but she was easily distracted and Sy never failed to tease her about it. This time, however, he could tell she was scared from the way her chest was heaving with her shallow breaths. "Want me to deal with it, darlin'?" He offered, tilting his head at the other driver who had just come out of the red, broken-down car.

"No!" Ada protested all too quickly, taking off her seatbelt and grabbing the necessary documents from the glovebox, accidentally hitting his knees in the process. "I am an independent woman who don't need no help," she muttered, trying to convince herself of her own statement. In the eight years since she’d had her gotten her licence, she had never given any of her cars a single scratch, let alone gotten into an accident.

Sy grinned at her antics but tried to hide his amusement, not wanting to make it worse. "All right. I'm here in case you need me, okay?" With a determined nod in his direction, Ada stepped out of the car and attempted to summon the Annalise Keating or the Olivia Pope inside her, whichever she could find in herself.

The man from the red car, who seemed to be in his early forties and balding, was already inspecting his vehicle for damage – looking mighty pissed as he did so. Ada approached the impact point from the other side, noticing the bump on the man’s old car. It didn't look too bad, she sighed with relief. Her own car barely had anything. Ha! She would have to use this as an argument next time Sy and her started discussing cars. Her black Citroën DS5 was sturdy and not just fancy looking, unlike what he said.

"Hello, sir," she said calmly, the man instantly looking up at her. Damn! He really looked furious, seething even. "I am so sorry for this. I was a little distracted- Anyway, it doesn't matter. My insurance will cover whatever repairs your car may require."

"You stupid little bitch!" The man shouted, out of the blue.

Ada gasped, backtracking. The muscles in her jaw twitched. What the fuck was wrong with him? "I understand your anger, but there's no-"

"What were you even doing behind that wheel?" He snarled, gesturing at her car, her baby. "Who the hell lets women like you drive cars like that?!” The man cursed, aggressively waving his hand in the air.

She just stood there, still in shock. Did... did he just bring misogyny into a fender bender situation?! "Women like me?!" She repeated, quite stunned.

"Aye! Bitches like you have no business driving-”

Ada flinched at the man’s words. He was starting to breech the distance between them, moving too close to her. Ada jumped again when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder before realizing it belonged to Sy and letting herself exhale slowly. Thank God he didn’t listen to her and stayed in the car!

"I get that you’re pissed, but that's no way to talk to a lady. You should to apologize," Sy told the man, making it sound very much like an order and very little like a suggestion. The driver huffed before coming closer, his face about as red as the car as when he started laughing. Ada instinctively hid under Sy's arm, though she aware of the ridicule of the whole situation.

"That's your whore? You let your whore drive your car?!"

Okay, this was going too far. It left her lips before she could help it, "that's my own goddamn car, you wanker!". Maybe it was time to stop borrowing insults from Tom.

Ada could almost hear how his jaw clenched when she felt Sy's whole body tense up against hers. "Call her a whore one more time and you're gonna wish she had run you over instead."

This was escalating. Ada bit her lower lip. She was going to have to be the bigger person here. "Look, I'll just go grab my phone from the car and call the police. They'll deal with this." Ada announced, dislodging herself from Sy’s grip before turning around to get to her car.

Her hand had just wrapped around the car door handle when there was a clouting noise, quickly followed by a loud thump, this time. Ada immediately turned around at the sound. The angry driver was out cold on the ground, blood rushing out of his nose and forehead, with Sy looking down at him, the same blood tainting his fist.

"Oh shit!"

°°°

A lanky guy, smelling heavily of pot, was thrown inside the almost full holding cell by the same officer who had arrested him. Sy was amused at the sight until the guy, after a full survey of the room, started walking him up to him before sitting down on the bench far too close for his liking.

Exhaling through his nose, Sy tried ignoring the smell and closed his eyes again. He didn’t expect the nap he had been looking forward to, to be in a stinky cell with stinky men but it would have to make do. At least, after the man sitting closest to the entrance had commented on the leftover pink glitter that still shone in Sy’s beard, nobody had bothered him anymore – not after he quite literally made the man piss himself with just one stare. That man wouldn’t have survived a single day in Baqubah.

"It's cramped in here," the new guy commented nonchalantly though his eyes were fixed on Sy. Out of politeness - damn Ada and her insistence on good manners! - Sy acknowledged his useless statement with a noncommittal hum.

"Name's Ben, by the way," he said, stretching out of his hand but Sy didn’t move a muscle. What was it in his current posture - crossed arms and spread legs - that made him appear friendly enough for a chat, he wondered, rolling his eyes behind his closed eyelids.

"And you are...?"

Sy groaned out loud time. "Not interested."

Ben didn’t get the hint and proceeded to ramble off about how he got caught selling pot near the university. Sy was actively working on drowning out his voice when the sound of fast and angry clicking heels on the concrete floor caught his attention. He smiled. Ada. Apparently, she hadn’t changed and was still dressed for date night, wearing a dress and stilettos, even though they had only meant to go bowling and eat at a steakhouse.

Somehow, everyone in the holding cell must have been intrigued by the same sound because all conversation suddenly stopped, the men all hoping to eavesdrop.

"I am here for Syverson. I wish to talk to him."

"Ma'am, I apologize but we are not allowed to let him out of his cell."

"Not a problem. Just give me the keys and I'll let him out myself!"

Every person in the holding cell laugh with Sy grinning quietly, amused at how she sounded distinctively more foreign when she was mad. He was used to her accent in more intimate settings, but he was enjoying the sound of it during her current outburst which was followed by an uninterrupted string of curse words and insults alike, all coming from her delicate mouth. First, in English, then French. Spanish. Portuguese. Italian. Sy frowned at the last one, he didn’t recognize it. Was it German? He'd have to ask her.

"What a woman, huh," the guy next to him deadpanned, still not giving up on a conversation.

Silence fell again as everyone attempted to listen to the rest. “I swear to God I’ll hang your heads up in my living room if –“

Sy only huffed, leaning back against the cold wall. "You can't even begin to imagine."

"You know her?" The pothead quipped up.

"Yeah," Sy replied. "She’s my wife." He said it loud enough to make sure everyone was able to hear it.

“Oh,” came the nasal voice next to him just as they heard heavy, resigned footsteps become louder.

A different policeman stopped just behind the door, a colleague just behind him as he fished out the right key from his pocket. “Syverson,” he called out loudly. “There’s a woman here for you.”

Sy got up at once, unable to hide his smug smirk. Ada always got her way.

°°°

“What the fuck were you thinking, Sy?!” His wife blurted out as soon as she was let inside the interview room, the young officer locking the door from the outside. Then, turning around, she caught sight of her husband handcuffed to the table and her shoulders instantly slacked, her anger vanishing almost instantly. “What you did was disproportionate,” she sighed, her voice calmer as she took a seat in front of him, the cold iron table separating them.

"He called you a whore, I just punched him!" Sy protested, leaning back on the chair. "My response was disproportionate - disproportionately small."

"You knocked him out cold!" Ada reminded him, her voice pitching higher than usual but the only response she got from Sy was a smug grin. "He might press charges, you know. It's battery."

Sy rolled his eyes, sitting up straight. "He’s an asshole."

Now, it was her turn to roll her eyes although she knew he hated it when she did that. She took a deep breath, hoping to calm down. Sy was looking entirely unbothered, but she was freaking out at the situation. "I'll try to convince him not to press charges and offer to cover the medical bill on top of the car repairs in return."

"Medical bill?" Sy asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"Yes. After the police took you into custody, he was brought to the hospital. From what I heard, he has a broken nose, needed stitches on his forehead and got a concussion." Sy only huffed with a smirk. "This is not funny, Syverson!"

"It wasn't funny when he called you a whore either," Sy countered. He was right. It was also very pleasant to see that dickhead in pain, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

"Look, my friend, Gale, who's a lawyer, is on her way. I'll get you out of here tonight. He’ll either agree to drop the charges or I’ll bail you out."

The corners of his lips twitched. He moved his hands as much as the chain allowed, to grab hers and squeeze them in his large ones. "Are you worried about me, darlin'?"

What a teasing little shit he could be! Of course, she was worried about him! He was in a cell! Feigning innocence, Ada smiled, running her thumbs over the back of his hands. "I am not. However, seeing what you did to that prick just got me really horny and I would like to have you back in my bed tonight," she whispered, watching as her husband’s smug grin slowly disappeared as she got up and grabbed her purse, heading to the door.

"You better get me out of here quickly!" Sy called after her.

°°°

He was returned to the holding cell, the officer uncuffing his wrists again once the bars closed behind him. There were two new faces, but he also recognized that at least three men had left already. Unfortunately, pothead was still there.

“I saved you your spot,” Ben smiled wildly, gesturing at the vacant portion of the bench next to him. “The guy in the red shirt was going to sit here but I told him it was occupied.”

Sy merely hummed, taking the seat that had so generously been saved for him. Hopefully Ada would get him out quickly because he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with his chatty neighbour.

“Was she mad?” Ben asked, whispering loudly and defeating the entire purpose of a whisper in the first place. “Did she yell at you?”

Despite his closed eyes, Sy could feel Ben’s stare on him as he awaited an answer. “No.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully, shaking the uneven bench as he did so. “If we go to prison, I want to share a cell with you.”

If Ada didn’t get him out of there quickly, he was soon going to get charged for battery again.

°°°

Sy stood by the counter, his attention on the ugly Christmas decorations he hadn’t noticed when they brought him in hours earlier. Somehow, he had managed to forget all about it. And fuck, he still needed to get Ada a present!

“Here are your things,” the young officer told him as he slid over a transparent plastic bag.

With a curt nod, Sy ripped it open and fetched his wedding band first, before looking for his wallet and belt. He was already heading to the door when he turned around at the last minute. “Did Mrs. Syverson post my bail?”

“No, the charges were dropped.”

Huffing with amusement and a hint of pride, Sy zipped up his coat and headed to the front door. He swiftly descended the stairs in front of the precinct, his face illuminating at the sight of her. She was still wearing the black dress and the fancy shoes, her makeup now lightly smudged around her eyes.

As soon as he was close enough, his hands moved to Ada's waist and he leaned down to kiss her, only for her to pull away at his touch. "Not so fast, big guy," she teased, a glint in her eyes as she grabbed something out of her coat pocket he couldn't yet identify. "You're still in trouble."

Sy threw back his head, his laugh booming through the night sky as he finally saw what she was holding up in front of him. Handcuffs, and not the fluffy ones either.

"Now gimme your hands," Ada demanded, making him cock his brow at her authoritative tone.

With a chuckle he obeyed, presenting her his hands. "Yes, ma'am."

Sy watched keenly as she fumbled with the cuffs to get them around his wrists, and then seized the right opportunity to take the upper hand, easily taking the cuffs away from her small hands.

With a shriek, Ada found herself bent over the black hood of her own car, her cheek pressed up against the slick surface and her husband's body pressed up against hers. She could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke. "Mrs. Syverson, you're under arrest for unlawful teasing back in the questioning room." Ada scoffed, the sound weakened by his heavy weight on top of her. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you do say can and will be held against you in-"

"Your dick!" Ada suddenly blurted out, a little too loud given where they were, and Sy immediately stopped, clearly surprised, but she quickly felt him laugh against her back.

Before she could join him, Sy smacked her ass, effectively silencing her. "Guess I'll have to fuck that attitude out of you," he grunted before pulling away and fastening the cuffs around her wrists.

Ada kept complaining as he carefully dragged her inside the car. Despite her struggling, Sy easily opened the right backdoor and threw her on the backseat, mindful to fasten her seatbelt before closing the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth went agape when Sy sat down behind the steering wheel and proceeded to push back the driver’s seat and readjust all the mirrors.

“Are you shitting me?” She exclaimed, leaning forward on her seat as much as the belt would allow. He was messing up with all her settings and the grin on her face made it very clear that he was doing it all on purpose just to get her riled up.

“Language, darlin’,” he chided, turning on the engine. “Didn’t you ask me to drive earlier, anyway?”

Ada groaned in response, shutting her eyes tightly before opening them again. “You know very well that was-“

Sy didn’t let her finish, the tires squealing on the tar as he sped out of the parking lot all too fast. Ada involuntarily cringed at the noise. “I’ll make you pay for this!”

“We’ll see, kitten. We’ll see.” He was entertaining by her determination even though her eyes were already closing.

As expected, Ada fell asleep within five minutes despite the handcuffs keeping her arms in an uncomfortable position. Her head lolled before it finally came to rest against the window. He watched her though the central mirror, an adoring look in his blue eyes as she sighed contently the very moment she had fallen asleep. While he had managed to rest while in the cell, though not as much as he had hoped, he knew Ada had been up all afternoon trying to sort everything out and get him out. Sy had noticed her exhaustion as soon as she started fumbling with the handcuffs, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy.

He stopped at a junk food drive thru on their way home – night had already fallen and he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He doubted she had either. Her eyes didn’t even flutter under the bright neon lights and once he parked the car on their driveway and went to carry her inside along with their food, after undoing the cuffs, her body was completely limp in his arms. It was only when he accidentally let her shoulder hit the doorframe as he tried to lead them inside their bedroom, that she woke up again. “Ouch!”

“Sorry,” Sy murmured and kissed her forehead before laying her down on the bed and setting down the bag on the mattress next to her. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air even as he helped her out of her coat and dress, and then the shoes. “Did you get us food?”

“Tenders and fries.”

Within an instant, she had ripped the bag open and was clutching the bucket of chicken to her chest, moaning as soon as she took a bite. He smiled knowingly at her– she had been hungry after all.

Hurriedly, Sy took off his clothes and slid in bed behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. They hadn’t slept together the previous night as they babysat the kids and he had missed the feel of her soft body against his. A content hum escaped him as his already partially hard cock nestled against the roundness of her ass.

Ada chuckled at his reaction, the vibrations of her body sending sparks of pleasure to his growing erection. “I have an idea,” she whispered, her voice becoming seductive again as she started rubbing herself against him.

Sy groaned deeply and tightened his grip on her waist, forcing her to still even though he was no longer sure for what he now hungered more; food or his wife. “We’re both hungry and exhausted,” he reasoned with her, his fingers moving some hair away from her neck so that he could kiss her there.

“Let me,” she insisted, a grin audible in her voice. Her hands disappeared under the bedsheets and she slid off her panties before retaking her initial position as the little spoon. Behind her, Sy groaned as her delicate fingers took hold of his cock, giving it a few pumps before guiding him inside her warmth. He muffled a soft moan against neck at the snug feeling of tight her walls, his arm tightening around her again. She let out a quiet gasp at the stretch, it hurt a little despite her still being sufficiently wet from when he had pushed her against the hood of the car. But once he was fully inside, Ada sighed at the pleasure of being again. “Now we can eat.”

°°°

There are two more chapters to go! Next chapter will include Christmas tree decorating. I am running behind on schedule so I cannot guarantee the last chapter will be posted by Christmas but I’ll do my best.

°°°

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader #syverson fluff #henry cavill fluff

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driversmutbucket · 3 years

Text

Suspension

Headmaster!Kylo AU x reader

(The vibe - except no facial hair and longer actual hair).

Warnings: power dynamics, switch!reader, switch!kylo, verbal abuse, orgasm denial. Only very mild NSFW

Hello chaps. A wee multi chapter fic I have been writing 100% in my head (why am I like this?!) for a few weeks. About time I put it to paper tumblr. I have no idea where this is going, as usual. 👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼

Many described your new workplace as a real-life Hogwarts. The 17th century boarding school was grand, roaming ivy accented the tall arches of the exterior walls. You loved the sliding vertical windows, which were made from, what seemed like, hundreds of small square panes of glass bordered by thick metal glazing bars. The school sat on a large former-estate, no other buildings or civilization in sight.

Parents paid out the nose for their little darlings to attend. It was an interesting mix of emotionally neglected and rebellious rich kids, ultra-smart and relatively normal scholarship kids and stuck up spoilt-brats.

If the school was a Hogwarts, then the headmaster was a Snape.

He was notorious. Or so you heard.

You had heard murmurings of junior school students bursting into tears at the mere sight of him.

You could hardly be blamed for stopping dead in your tracks- or rather- teachings, when the classroom door creaked open and all your students went dead silent, some as white as a sheet.

You knew this was Headmaster Ren from the reaction alone. But when the tall, pale and bizarrely handsome man stepped into the classroom, you could have been knocked over by a feather.

You were expecting an ugly, miserable old git with a thorn in his side.

“Please pretend I’m not here Miss y/l/n.” His voice was deep, smooth and foreign, American? Why had no one mentioned this. You felt betrayed by the lack of information your colleagues had provided, blindsided.

The students followed him with their eyes as far as they could without physically moving as he retreated to the back of the room and sat on a stool. Crossing one leg over the other. Your eyes lingered for a moment on the third button of his dress shirt that seemed to be working just a bit too hard.

You cleared your throat, “right, well, as I was saying, this term our first module….”

You could feel his eyes on you as you leant against your desk and spoke about the outline for the term.

You eventually managed to relax, dishing out the necessary supplies for the first exercise as you explained what you expected the students to produce by the end of the class.

After watching for a time, you notice one of the shyer girls, Molly, hadn’t begun.

You pulled up a stool next to her at the table.

“Why haven’t you started Molly?” You asked gently.

You noticed Headmaster Ren was now walking around the tables slowly, looking at what the students were doing.

“I’m scared.” Molly whispered, her bottom lip quivering.

“Of the Headmaster?” You asked, quietly.

She nodded.

Bloody hell, you thought, glancing at your unreasonably handsome headmaster as he walked around the tables, hands behind his back and stony expression hardening his already strong features.

“How about I stay and help you until he buzzes off?” You smiled at the young girl.

Molly looked up at you, slight shock flitting across her freckled face. You winked, and picked up the protractor.

The only plus of having Ren hovering around would have been that the students were on their best behavior. But they weren’t even speaking, “why are you all so quiet? Feel free to compare your drawings and see what your neighbor has done, they might have some valuable tips!”

The students looked at you startled. You sighed, “well if you don’t I will just start picking students to come and show the rest of the class their progress at the front here.”

That worked a treat, a low hum of chatter and rustling of paper broke out, breaking the godawful, pin-drop silence.

You watched Ren, a flicker of amusement passing briefly over his features.

The bell rang, and the students bolted when you dismissed them.

Headmaster Ren loitered, you could feel his eyes appraising you.

“A pleasure to finally meet you headmaster.” You offered, finally making eye contact as he walked up to your desk.

“Your teaching style is interesting.” He said coldly.

“Oh, ok?”

“You don’t prefer silence in your classroom Miss y/l/n?” He tapped his lips with his pointer finger, as if in deep thought.

“No, I don’t think art class is the place for silence.” You crossed your arms with a small frown.

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, “I see, perhaps my idea to inject some young blood into this institution was a flawed one.”

Your frown deepened, and you met his eyes, was he baiting you?

“Headmaster, I hardly think that is fair!” You said calmly but sternly.

You swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had a teacher, let alone, a new hire, challenge me.” He continued.

“This is absolutely absurd.” You tried your hardest not to scoff. Your patience wavering.

“What is absurd, Miss y/l/n?” He locked eyes with you, you swore he was challenging you.

“You.” You snapped, “this ridiculous conversation is over.”

Before you could chicken out, you strode out the classroom door.

—

The summoning to Headmaster Ren’s office was hardly a surprise.

What was surprising was that it took a week.

In that week you had seen why he struck the fear of god into everyone.

Except for you.

Quite frankly he struck you as an arrogant, controlling, stuck up, wanker. Albeit a sexy one.

His explosive temper reminded you of a spoilt teenager. You had lost count of the number of times you had had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

But tonight you had been unable to stop yourself. You had rolled your eyes. You had to admit, you went into the meeting on the defensive.

You met his rising temper with a calm, stern teacher voice, even though you wanted to scream at him.

“Headmaster, if you are going to continue this conversation behaving like a petulant child I will simply leave.” You sighed, standing in front of his desk with your arms crossed.

He was whiteknuckling the arms of his office chair. His hands were so big….

That’s when your gaze drifted to his crotch.

There was no mistaking it. He was hard.

You slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. Had you misread lust for hate?

“Are you fucking hard?!” You hissed, breaking your calm and collected facade.

He moaned. It was deep and guttural. Your nipples hardened and your cunt betrayed you as it began to throb.

Planting both hands on the desk, you let your gaze linger on his straining black dress trousers. There was no doubt he was packing. You very slowly let your eyes wander up his large torso. His three piece suit seemed like overkill for a Headmaster, but he pulled it off. His cheeks were flushed, the first time you had ever seen color grace his pale skin. His plush lips parted slightly as he panted, blown pupils watching your every move.

“You are disgusting.” You spat. “Arrogant, conceded, fucking wanker.”

His eyes rolled back in his head. You couldn’t believe this was happening. But you were high on the power you held over him. His reaction egged you on.

“Are you going to cum in your pants like a teenager Ren?” You scoffed, feigning disgust.

He didn’t reply, but his hand drifted toward his zipper.

“Don’t you dare.” You snapped. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.” He gritted out.

“Yes….?” you prompted.

“Yes, Miss y/l/n.”

“Good boy.” You cooed, breaking into a smile.

You turned on your heel and walked out of his office and down the hall his raging yells echoing behind you.

—

Let me know if you want to be tag-listed

#headmaster! Kylo Ren #Kylo Ren x reader #boarding school AU #let see where this trash train takes us

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 9 ~The Christmas Spirits~

Previously in Christmas Eve Rush

Her hand flew to her chest, and her eyes almost popped out at the realisation. "Good Lord. You're in love with her, aren't ye? It's all over your face. Oh my God!"

"Please? We dinnae have a lot of time," he whispered, almost close to tears. "Ye're the only one who can get through to Claire."

A few heartbeats passed as he held his breath.

"Fine! Let's do this!" Suddenly spurred by excitement into action, she quickly grabbed a piece of paper and pen and handed it to him. "Write down your number, and I'll update you after I've called Claire."

"Ye will?"

"Yes, yes ..." she muttered. "Come on, chop-chop!" She clapped her hands at him.

Elated with the turn of event, he didn't waste any more time and rapidly scribbled his number and pushed the piece of paper back to her. "Thank ye. I owe ye big time." When an afterthought came to him, he shoved his hand into his pocket, took out a spare key to his cottage and placed it on the table. It was meant to be for Claire. "Another favour, I have a dog and kitten in the house and ..."

"I got it." She grinned and made a shooing motion. "Now go!"

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Claire sat at the airport's cafe, every sound of someone's laughter and the sight of happy couples holding hands, driving a knife into her chest. She still had a few hours to go before its time to go through security. With a heavy heart, she miserably flipped the pages of a glossy magazine, unseeing its pages' articles and pictures. It had taken every iota of her resolve and will power to leave Broch Mordha, and now Annalise had made her book a later flight because her friend was on the way and wanted to talk. Damn her for making this more difficult! In truth, she wanted to know what Jamie had told her friend and wondered what he would have said if she'd confronted him instead of running away. Now that she was finally out of his life was he even thinking about her? Staying in Broch Mordha would have most probably increased the likelihood of her believing his excuses and running back into his arms. She just couldn't handle the emotional fallout.

"I beg your pardon, is this seat taken?" a soft feminine voice asked.

Claire briefly glanced up, offered a weak smile and motioned for the woman to sit. She wasn't in the state nor mood for small talks so she put her head down and pretended to read, hoping the woman would take a hint.

Restless, she glanced again at her phone to check the time. Annalise should be here soon. Is she planning to fly with me? I hope not! She noticed the cafe was beginning to get busy with people waiting for love ones to arrive or the check-in counter to open. Tomorrow at this time, she'd be home. The thought of spending Christmas in London in the cramped apartment made her doubly miserable. She loved the open spaces of the Highlands and quaint villages. Although the weather could be quite grim, the landscape's natural beauty and loads of fresh air more than made up for it. With its tranquil settings, it was an ideal place to start her writing career. She'd put it on hold for far too long, working for a publishing company that gave her very little satisfaction and yesterday she'd even fantasised of moving to Broch Mordha and making it a reality to be closer to Jamie. How could I have been so stupid?

"Highlands in December is romantic, isn't it?" The woman sharing her table smiled pleasantly. "I love this place. There's something magical about it, don't you agree?"

Ah, another English woman to fall for the Highland charm! She was about to give some generic answer about the Highlands' ancient history lending the romance a hint of mysticism when the harsh truth chose that moment to free itself. "Kind of deceiving though, isn't it? I got caught up in that so-called magic, but some wanker decided to exploit it and use my heart to make fertiliser. I've only known him for a couple of days, but I can't stand being in this place anymore without thinking about him and his stupid, stupid handsome face. And the way he looked at me." She blew a breath and blinked back the tears. "I guess I was just plain naive and a bloody dimwit for thinking smooth talkers only existed in big cities like London. I tell you what, they're rife everywhere and you can never be too careful."

If the woman had been surprised by Claire's outburst, it didn't show. "Now, now, I'm quite sure there is a perfect explanation. Lovely and sweet as you look, I see the wisdom that belies your age in your eyes. You don't seem like a person to be taken by someone's smooth line at all."

She let out an almost deranged laugh. "Well, obviously, I am. I took one look at a beautiful face, and all logic went south. So there," Claire huffed.

The other woman looked away and sipped her tea. She was much older than Claire thought - in her forties maybe or could be fifties, but it was hard to tell. She had a dark, sleek modern bob hairstyle that contradicted the mumsy grey slacks, woollen jumper and lack of makeup and accessories. Her face was kind though, and there was a serenity in her demeanour she found comforting and familiar.

Claire regretted her oversharing and decided to shut her mouth and continued reading.

"I met my husband many years ago here. Not far from where we are now. A place called Broch Mordha."

Claire's head shot up. "Oh! Is your husband Scottish?"

"No, he's English. We met one summer while watching a Highland game. He lived in Broch Mordha while doing some research for work, and I was on holiday. We fell in love and eventually married. And every year from thereon we celebrated our anniversary here. It's a very special place for us."

"That's very sweet," Claire remarked, trying not to think of Jamie and what could have been for them if he hadn't been a knobhead.

The woman let out a soft laugh and daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Sweet isn't the description I would have used to describe the circumstance of how we met; nevertheless, it turned out my darling husband is my soul mate and marrying him had been the best decision I've ever made in my life."

"Good for you ..." Claire whispered, subtly glancing once more at the time on her phone. She hoped Annalise would be here soon because the last thing she needed right now was to hear someone else's happily forever after. But in the end, curiosity got the better of her. "So what made you change your mind about him?"

The woman sighed and took out her book. "My husband was an insensitive clod, and when he eventually saw the error of his ways and asked for forgiveness, I gave him a second chance. Forgiving him didn't change the past, and I realised in the end, if I hadn't forgiven him, my actions would have robbed me of the best years of my life. And of course, a beautiful daughter who turned out to be everything I've ever hoped for and much more." She smiled and then turned her attention to reading. Obviously, oversharing was now over.

"I see ..." Claire muttered. Well, what had she expected? A magical solution? She almost laughed out loud. No such thing!

It was too late for her and Jamie anyway. She was on her way to London, and he'd probably moved on now that she was gone. It was definitely better this way. Out of sight, out of mind.

**********

He switched off the ignition of his car and texted Annalise to inform her he'd arrived at his destination. She'd messaged him earlier letting him know Claire would be at D'Lish cafe. Scanning his vicinity, Jamie drew in a lungful of air. He'd only been in Inverness Airport's parking lot a few minutes, and already his nerves were on tenterhooks. From the congested traffic and beeping cars to stressed people madly rushing about, Jamie realised how far from his world he'd strayed, and the distance was only under an hour's drive.

He hadn't even stepped out of his car, and already he was counting the minutes till he was back within the peaceful haven of Broch Mordha. But he'd made up his mind. He wasn't going back without Claire and had taken his passport with him just in case he would have to follow her all the way to London. How he was going to manage that with his unpredictable episodes, he had no idea. He hoped he would be able to keep his panic attacks at bay long enough until he found her and convinced her to come back home.

"I'll walk in with you," Harry said quietly out of the blue as if he'd sense his trepidation. "My flight isn't till later, and my wife is probably enjoying her cuppa tea somewhere."

The tightness in his body relaxed, and Jamie nodded gratefully. Harry seemed to always understand his situation, popping out of the blue at the strangest times. Jamie had never questioned it and put it down to simply Harry being unusually perceptive and a good friend.

They quietly walked side by side towards the airport and when they entered the building, moving bodies and a sea of faces swarmed his vision. The racket and clamour of people going about their business surrounded him, and Christmas crowds trying to make it home before Christmas jostled too close, their cacophony of voices chattering excitedly.

Jamie swallowed the mounting panic and fixed his thoughts on Claire, breathing deeply in through his nose and with a heaving chest, letting it all out with a whoosh. His eyes darted and saw people smiling and nodding animatedly, laughter and children's squeals infiltrating his consciousness, their sound accompanied by an air of anticipation that told him it was a season of joy.

Jamie managed to put a grim smile on his face and concentrated on getting one foot in front of the other, apologising now and again whenever he accidentally bumped into someone, almost stumbling like an intoxicated man. Although aware of Harry's presence, perspiration coated his skin, and he could feel a bead of sweat running down his temple. The usually comfortable soft fabric of his sweatshirt chaffed and squeezed him like a clamp almost suffocating him. The chaotic din typical of an airport during the holiday season came in a huge rush of waves, at first faint, then building to a deafening sound that roared in his ears, shattering his foundation and foothold.

Oh, God, please, not now. Jamie knew it was happening. Attempting not to panic, he began to employ a technique that more often than not worked. He tried listening to his mother's singing in his head, the one that stuck most in his mind and brought him comfort when he'd been amidst a conflict in a war zone, a song that sang him to sleep when he was a wee bairn.

He stopped a few metres away from the cafe where Claire was supposed to be waiting and took a moment to draw in oxygen, clinging to his mother's singing in his head. Goodnight, you moonlight ladies. Rockabye, sweet baby, James. Deep greens and blues are the colours I choose. Won't you let me go down in my dreams? And rockabye, sweet baby, James.

He dimly recognised where he was, busy eateries, cafes and shops lined a wide area, a focal point for those waiting for love ones to arrive or passengers before heading to security that led to the departure area. Someone's child screamed nearby, and the sound of suitcases dragging on its wheels seemed to rumble and reverberate on the ground. Christmas light decorations that normally shimmered unobtrusively and gave a soft glow suddenly seemed to flash all around him, and the Christmas songs playing in the background became disembodied sounds. Jamie froze, gripped in the throes of a colossal panic attack that forced him to sink halfway to his knees.

Everything seemed to fade in and out, but it was Harry's voice he eventually clung to, his mother's singing hushing into the recesses of his head. The Englishman repeated his name and grabbed hold of his elbow, preventing him from collapsing to the floor and leading him firmly away from the moving crowd. Jamie pitched himself against the giant column and fought the crippling dread chipping away at his sanity.

He glanced around frantically, but Harry's hand grabbed his face and forced him to look straight into amber eyes.

"Breathe, Jamie. Everything is going to be alright. Just keep breathing."

"H-Harry ...I n-need to ..."

"It's alright. I know. I'm not going anywhere. Just breath."

Jamie unzipped his jacket and fought for air, sucking in a lungful. And then, again and again, gasping and coughing as he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees. Harry's strong hand massaged his back in a circular motion, the older man's presence calm and controlled, breathing with him, encouraging to gradually take in more air.

It took a while to normalise his breathing, his heart to calm down and the cold sweat to evaporate. As he regained more control, though wobbly at first, he straightened up. Gathering his bearings, he ignored the odd looks from passersby, by now already used to it.

Harry gave him a reassuring smile. "Feeling much better?"

Jamie managed a nod as the initial feeling of shame and embarrassment took over the panic attack. Why am I even here? Claire deserved so much better than this and all his fucking issues. On top of it all, he'd managed to make her feel cheap when he was nothing but just half a man. There was no way she'd go back to Broch Mordha with him.

"Oh no, you don't. I know that look in your eyes. You've made it this far, old sport," Harry whispered fiercely, straightening his jacket. "Don't you even think of going back home without trying!"

Jamie blinked, confused. What the fuck? What does Harry know? But there was no time to ask questions, as he caught a glimpse of Claire past Harry's shoulder. She was in the cafe in the motion of getting up, her head bowed down while speaking on the phone.

Last night, he'd held Claire in his arms and now, the reality of the moment hit him hard as he saw her hand gripped the suitcase next to her, reminding him she's waiting to board a plane. He could hardly think over the furious pounding in his chest as a combination of relief at seeing her and fear of rejection surged through him. He barely registered himself, moving towards the cafe when Harry put a hand on his arm. He turned to meet his friend's eyes. "You're on your own now. For now. Remember to breathe."

Jamie swallowed hard and nodded.

"Now go and hurry."

**********

Claire panicked, her eyes darting around the cafe. Annalise had just called and confessed Jamie was on his way to talk to her. Her friend had insisted on giving Jamie a chance to explain and that he'd made a mistake.

But Claire couldn't do this. She didn't have this sort of experience nor the emotional strength to handle this kind of situation. All she knew and was aware of was how much Jamie had hurt her with his words.

She quickly stood up, said goodbye to the woman sat on her table, grabbed her bags and made her way out of the cafe. She kept her head down and tried not to look around in case Jamie spotted her. She began to walk faster, weaving through crowds of travellers as she wheeled her suitcase, images of Jamie encroaching her thoughts. A new voice was trying to make itself heard, telling her maybe she ought to listen to what Jamie had to say. But what was there to say? She'd seen what he wrote with her own eyes, and there was no explaining himself out of it.

She was just getting into the queue for the security check when a shout cut through the hubbub surrounding her.

"Sassenach!"

She stiffened, and her hand went slack around the suitcase's handle, sending its bulk toppling to the floor. It took a few heartbeats for her to turn around and face Jamie, afraid her resolve would collapse if she looked at him. When she finally saw him, he stood a few yards away, suspended in a sea of bustling chaos. Perspiration beaded his forehead, his face pale and eyes a little wild as they searched hers, snagging on the way she snatched her suitcase to an upright position and pulled it closer to her side. As always, ever since she first laid eyes on him, his unusual male beauty made her chest ache. A head taller than most, he looked out of place in the busy surroundings, his blue eyes penetrating through everything in their wake to reanimate her heart.

She waited for something to happen, but he just continued to stare at her, his body swaying a little. He looked like he was about to faint. Worry, combined with fear prickled her skin when she recalled his accounts of his PTSD condition. She'd made it this far, and now she was torn between going over to him and making her way to the security.

"What are you doing here?" she said a little harshly.

"Dinnae go in that plane.”

"It's too late for that."

Anguish fogged his handsome features. "I need ye to hear me out, Sassenach. Please."

Claire shook her head. "What is there to say, Jamie? That text you wrote, told me everything already."

"Please let me explain ..."

"I already know what you're going to say, Jamie. You're going to say you didn't mean to write that text. It's classic and cliche at the same time and utter bullshit." Claire's shoulders sagged, and she swallowed hard. "No, I'm sorry, I can't ..."

She started to step into the queue, but stopped, her heart caught in her throat when a passerby in a rush accidentally bumped into him, and he almost vaulted over. She saw how much it took out of him just to remain upright. She made a move to come to his aide, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand, telling her he would say his piece without any help. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took several deep breaths, discomfort, and distress in this busy environment evident on his face.

"You don't look well, Jamie. You should go home," she said, glancing around, aware of people looking at him.

"Damn it, Sassenach," he wheezed. "I'm gonnae make ye listen even if it kills me."

A stabbing pain went through her heart. "I can't do this, Jamie. I'm going."

"No!" He took another unsteady step forward. When Claire stayed put, relief washed over his face. "What I wrote to my sister about you was wrong ..."

Rage replaced the hurt she was feeling. "You made it sound I was just a notch on the bedpost," she snapped, angrily.

Jamie winced as a woman nearby gasped and glared at him, but they both ignored her. "No, Sassenach. You were never that ..."

"Your words winter fling said it all. What else could it mean?"

"Sometimes, what I think and what I feel doesn't translate into words ..."

"Or you don't think at all," she interrupted, tipping her head back to keep the tears from falling.

His head dropped. "No, I didnae think. What I said was inexcusable, and no explanation or apologies would take any of the hurt I caused ye back."

"It was a horrid thing to say about someone!"

His face flickered with regret and self-loathing. "It was, and I'm an arsehole for it."

"They why? Why Jamie? Is that how you talk about your conquests?"

His face paled even more. "No! You're not that at all. What we had was special, and I've never felt like this about someone before."

"You could have fooled me ..."

He took a careful step forward as if afraid she would bolt. "Sassenach, I said what I said not because that was what I thought about you and that's the truth. Partly, I text those words to get my sister off my case. She was badgering me for getting involved with ye because she was worried about me falling for someone from the city due to my condition. Another part of the reason I wrote that had to do with my fear of getting emotionally attached. I thought by labelling what we had as temporary, it would be easier to let ye go when the time comes. It was wrong ...so wrong. I wish I hadnae said it."

Claire could barely see him through the blur of tears. The awful pain she'd had in her heart all morning waned a little. She forced her feet to move, but the emotion in his voice kept her rooted in place.

"Christ, everything happened so fast between us. And I was rushing ahead before I could comprehend what was happening. When ye told me ye live in London, I was convinced that nothing could come out of this ...us ...whatever this is we have ....because I wouldnae ken how to live in yer world and it wouldnae be right to ask ye to give up yers. When I asked ye to extend yer stay, my intention was to make as many memories with ye because I needed to face the truth of my limitations. I was determined not to be that someone who held ye back and made ye regret what ye could've done. I said to mysel' whatever time ye could give me, I'd be grateful. Yet, here I am, begging ye not to get on that plane."

She wanted to go to him, take him in her arms and forget what had happened, but she needed more. She needed to know that this thing between them was more than just a handy itinerary with chemistry tossed into the mix. For her, it had always been more, but he's a man, and maybe it's just all about sex for him.

"Sorry, Jamie." Bracing her shoulders, she pulled her suitcase behind her and joined the line for security check-up.

"Wait!"

She and every person within hearing distance in the queue turned around to look at him.

This time, Jamie didn't flinch and looked at her straight in the eyes with unwavering intensity. "I cannae let ye go without giving it my best shot. I've used my condition as an excuse for far too long, yet not once did ye ever look at me as someone damaged. I dinnae want my condition to stop me anymore from going after what I want. I swear to God, ye havenae seen persistence yet, Sassenach. Ye have nae idea what it looks like until ye've seen it on me. I've fought for my life in a war zone before, and I'm doing it again now. If ye get on that bloody plane, be rest assured I will be on the next flight behind yours. I will show up in every God damned place ye go to until ye give me the time of day. And I willnae stop until I get it through yer pretty head how much ye mean to me. And if ye come back to me, I promise ye, I'm gonnae work my arse off to prove to ye every day how special ye are. Even if it means moving to London to be closer to ye. All I'm asking for is a second chance."

Looking at him, she knew he meant every word, and there was an intensity about him, that told her he would go through with his threat of following her to London. A lump stuck in Claire's throat, so huge she could barely speak. Her face crumpled, and she let the unshed tears she'd held all morning flow. Unable to stand a moment longer without feeling his arms around her, she let go of her grip on her suitcase and began to make a move towards him. Jamie fell back a few steps, both hands flying to rest on top of his head, relief and disbelief visible in every line of his body. She covered the distance separating them in three steps and flung herself into strong arms that circled around her without hesitation. Applause, cheers and whistles from passengers who had witnessed the scene erupted around them, making them both laugh through tears.

"Jesus Christ, Jamie," she stammered with a hiccup. "You really know how to cause a scene and really make it count."

A hand tunnelled through her hair, gripping her neck so he could angle her head and kiss her. "I'm so sorry, Sassenach. Oh, God, I'm so sorry," he muttered against her lips. "I was an idiot. I thought I wasnae gonnae make it."

A shudder passed through her. "I almost got on a plane and spent Christmas on my own."

Jamie fell back into the nearest seat, taking Claire with him. Obviously spent from all the emotions. "Dinnae remind me ...ever again, please. But just so ye know, I have my passport with me. I was ready to come after ye. Today."

Claire clung to him tighter. "It's Christmas, and we're together. Let's just focus on that."

"Christ, I thought I knew fear." His breath shook and fanned her skin. "That was the scariest situation I've been in."

She let out a sigh, inhaling his scent from the crook of his neck. How had she thought for one second that running away would have been a better option? She thought of the woman she spoke to earlier in the cafe and smiled.

Jamie shook her a little. "Ye're going to think this is mad, but I dinnae want to take another second for granted, so I'm just going to say it, so ye ken once and for all."

"Say what?" she whispered. Jamie tilted her face up for a slow, deep kiss, then stood, lifting her in his arms.

"I'm in love with ye, Sassenach. I ken it's too soon, but I want it out there just in case something happens and I dinnae get another chance to say it, or I do something stupid like making ye cry. Life's too short for over-analysing things and keeping something like that to myself."

She smiled through fresh tears. "I'm in love with you too, Jamie. And next time you say something stupid, I'm just going to get into a fight with you about it, instead of running away."

Jamie's laughter rumbled in his chest before his face turned serious. "Merry Christmas, Sassenach. May it be our first of many more to come."

Claire reached out and clasped his face with her hands and laid a soft kiss on his lips. Her heart broke open, and for the first time, all the pieces clicked together in a perfect puzzle, and everything made perfect sense. Because she'd learned early on you needed to take the bad with the good and embrace it all. Despite Jamie's condition and fear of uncertainty, she'd taken a gamble and trusted her guts, and by giving him a second chance, they'd ended up with the best thing of all.

Love at Christmas.

She knew it wasn't going to be smooth sailing forever. There were going to be long talks of how they ought to proceed with their relationship, compromises to be made, and probably many teething problems during their phase of getting to know each other. But as long they both keep their hearts open, they should have a fighting chance.

"Merry Christmas to you too," she whispered, her voice raspy with emotion.

"Shall we go home?" he murmured, smiling.

"Yes, let's go home."

Hand in hand they left the airport and headed back to Broch Mordha to celebrate Christmas.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, thank you for your best wishes and feedback from the previous chapter. This latest update was supposed to be published on Christmas day. Unfortunately, because I was so overly ambitious about the storyline, I was unable to deliver. I didn't want to rush it after having gone through the story in my head many times. Rushing it probably would have made me miss many of the elements I wanted to put in this story.

Anyway, I had a lovely quiet Christmas. With everything that's happening globally, it was more of a time for reflection for us instead of celebration. I am just grateful that my love ones are safe and healthy and hope you're own dearests are as well. As for this story's direction, I don't know how many chapters there are to go, but I can safely say there is another one after this. I will try to publish before New Year, and if I am unable to do so, I wish you all a New Year full of exciting possibilities, good health and lots of love. Keep the good vibes rolling and take care. X

#melodyheart #all I want for christmas is you #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

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Fic: Rules of Engagement Chapter 2

Summary: Henry and Em have been friends for almost ten years and involved in a casual affair for just as long. The rules were simple: no romantic attachment and their friends and family couldn’t know. Easy enough to do right? However, when new complications emerge, Henry and Em will need to navigate this relationship of theirs, if they can even call it that. Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 04 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 06

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Emeline)

Wordcount: 4,5K

Warnings: some fluff and a tiny bit of angst

Author’s notes: I want to thank all the comments I got on the first chapter. I didn’t expect this series to get so much recognition. Thank you! Here’s chapter 02. I do hope you all enjoy it and once again I would love to read your feedback.

Chapter 02 - What are the odds?

As soon as Henry stepped out the car in front of the church, he couldn’t help but let his gaze wander, looking for Em. It was almost second nature to him by now, whenever he would meet their friends, his eyes instinctively looked for her.

This time they landed on Todd first, standing outside and holding his baby girl Sophie in his arms. Henry could already feel the smile tugging on his lips as he made his way over, adjusting his button-down and blazer in the process. Last time he had seen the girl, she had just been born, only a week before he had to travel and start shooting The Witcher, but Todd and Clara made sure to keep him updated with pictures of his future goddaughter.

“My God, mate! you’re huge!” Todd commented voice full of awe and Henry chuckled, too distracted by the baby in his friend’s arms.

There was a huge pink bow on top of her brown curly hair and her eyes were bright blue and staring at Henry as he made a couple of silly faces until he got a bubbly giggle.

“What are they doing to you?”

“You don’t want to know. Sorry, I’m late. My flight was delayed.”

“You’re not all that late. Em had wardrobe trouble and Clara is giving her a hand,” Todd said, chuckling as Henry offered his hands up to the toddler, and to his surprise, Sophie actually reached for him, asking to be taken and Henry smirked. “She’s 6 months and already under your charms,” Todd clicked his tongue, handing over the girl.

It was no secret that Henry loved children and children loved Henry. Not only that, but he was also actually good with them. Maybe it was all the nephews and nieces, maybe it was just his natural gift, but kids tended to be in his best behavior with him.

Someone’s got a booboo? Call uncle Henry to kiss it better. Crying fit over a stolen toy or a no? Uncle Henry will hold them until they feel better. Don’t want to sleep? Uncle Henry will tell stories and even do all the voices. Sugar high and need to tire them out? Uncle Henry is on the job with a good dose of Kal…

Henry truly didn’t mind being only a call away for his family and friends. Being the last-minute babysitter whenever he was in town and having a chance of spoiling them rotten. He loved being Uncle Henry but he just couldn’t wait for the day he would be the dad.

First, he needed to find a good partner but so far, his relationships had crashed and burned, some more epically than others. And Henry wasn’t getting any younger. He would hate to be one of those fathers that had their first kid in their fifties, but he was slowly approaching his forties and had yet to meet the woman he wanted to have that kind of commitment with.

Shaking himself out of those thoughts that would lead nowhere, Henry followed Todd to a sideway entrance of the church so they could go in without making much of a fuss. It seemed almost fate that just as they stepped inside, a small hidden door opened and both Clara and Em stepped out.

For a second, Henry just stared, because Em looked so beautiful in that form-fitting soft pink dress, her dark hair falling in elegant waves over her shoulders. He didn’t even notice the sigh he let out or the small snort that came from Todd.

Henry wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself, but he made an exception when it came to this because Em might be the only woman he ever really felt like he could have a long-term relationship with. They just clicked in every aspect.

She was funny and goofy, unafraid of giving him hell whenever he was getting a big head. She could be almost brutally honest at times, but Henry had become quite good at calling her out on it with just one look. Em never failed to make him laugh, and he knew that, aside from Clara, he was the only that got her to completely loosen up. And, of course, he couldn’t forget, that the sex was amazing.

Henry was still dreaming about their last encounter last month, the feel of her without any barriers, and how much trust she laid on him to even suggest such a thing. He loved her even more for it and if only she would stop being so stubborn and accept that she loved him too and that they were perfect together, Henry wouldn’t have this problem. Because he knew Em wanted kids too.

They had this conversation one drunken night about a year ago. She had just broken up with her latest boyfriend, for reasons he couldn’t remember, and came over with a bottle of bourbon ready to drown her sorrows.

It was a cool spring night and they lied in his garden watching the night sky and passing the bottle back and forth, complaining about life and love and everything in between. Kal lodged between them, snoring loudly and making them both fall in a fit of giggles every once in a while.

“Ok, confession time…” Em said, turning sideways to look at him. The way she squinted her eyes to see him made Henry laugh. “I miss the kingstache.” She traced the smooth skin of his upper lip and Henry grinned wide.

“You?” he asked in disbelief. “The one that mocked me the most? That called it a porn mustache?”

“Yes, alright?” she pouted at him knocking against Kal, alcohol impairing her coordination. The dog looked up startled and confused before slipping away from between them. “I miss it. It felt good, especially…”

“Especially what?” Henry asked, turning sideways too and now they were so close he could smell the whiskey in her breath; their noses almost bumping against one another.

“The feel of it whenever you were eating me out,” Em confessed, lip tucked between her teeth as they stared at each other. “And only you could rock a mustache like that, ok?”

“I love how honest you get when we put some alcohol in you,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her lips.

It was supposed to be just a soft peck but Em fisted his hoodie, holding him still while she explored his mouth in a sloppy kiss and Henry felt his body responding to it. The heat spreading, the stirring in his trousers but he pulled away and gave her a stern look.

“We shouldn’t. we’re drunk and nursing breakups…” he warned but she cut him off with another kiss. This one lasted longer, especially as she pressed her entire body against his, one hand coming to scratch his scalp just like Henry loved it and he moaned into the kiss.

“That’s why it’s perfect,” she mumbled. “We can fuck it out of our systems and move on… I don’t want the next guy to be a rebound.”

“Oh, but I can be? That’s lovely.” He arched an eyebrow, hurt and offended. She sat up and rolled her eyes.

“Like I wasn’t a rebound after most of your girlfriends, Hen? You know what? Forget it. I’m leaving.” Em got up in unsteady feet and Henry was by her side in a flash, helping to keep her upright. She could never hold her liquor all that well.

“You’re too drunk. Just stay here. I can get the guest room ready if you’re that pissed at me.”

“I’m not…” she sighed, resting again his chest, but looking away from him. “I really thought Alex was…”

“Really? I always knew he was a wanker.”

Henry felt the warm huff of her laugh against the exposed skin of his throat before she finally looked up at him, chin resting on his sternum, her big and warm brown eyes glassy, lids lowered, her cheeks flushed from alcohol. It was a beautiful sight and he loved how much shorter Em was; how she fitted in his embrace like she belonged there. Henry pushed the thought aside as he guided her inside and up the stairs.

“He was jealous of you, you know?” she flopped on the bed and let Henry take off her jeans, sweater, and bra. “I think he guessed that we have sex on occasion.”

Henry only hummed in reply, picking up one of his old shirts and helping her to put it on. It fit her almost like a dress, hanging almost at her knees, the neckline loose and slipping over her shoulder. He shouldn’t think it was this cute, but he couldn’t help himself. He bent closer, kissing her softly and Em sighed against his lips.

“I’m gonna grab some aspirin for you, please don’t hurl on my floor.”

She gave him a clumsy punch on the shoulder that Henry barely felt, and he chuckled all the way to the kitchen. He wished he could tell Em that he was glad Alex wasn’t the one and that he would like her to see Henry might be. They’ve been doing this for 8 years now and it was probably the longest relationship he had with anyone. If you could call periodically hooking up with a good friend a relationship.

He got back to the room and Em was already asleep, head buried on his pillow and Henry felt bad for waking her up but if she didn’t take anything right now, it would be worst in the morning. For both of them. He shook her lightly and she blinked blearily at him, but still accepting the pill he put in her hand and the sip of water he offered.

“Thanks, Hen. I love you,” she slurred, and Henry chuckled, setting the glass aside while he took off his clothes.

Em would always blurt that out when she was this drunk and it always warmed his heart, giving him hope until the bright light of the day came and he realized that no matter how many times she would say it, Em would still fight this pull between them.

“You’re welcome, love.”

He crawled in bed with her and Em immediately settled against him, tugging on his arm until Henry was spooning her, holding her tight. She was such a cuddler and he loved it. He loved to fall asleep with his nose buried in her head, inhaling the scent of sugar and spice that clung to her. He loved the feel of her warm skin and the soft snores that she never admitted she let out or the way she clung to his hand until she fell asleep.

It was sweet torture to have her like this, knowing that when morning came, Em would be out the door, both of them going their separate ways. But at least for those blissful hours, in the darkness of the night, Henry could pretend otherwise.

For a while, there was only silence and Henry thought she had fallen asleep again. He was almost drifting off himself when she spoke again.

“You will be the perfect partner for some lucky lady out there,” she whispered, her voice surprisingly coherent considering how drunk she was. “And a great dad.”

“Thanks, Em,” Henry smiled and kissed her temple.

“I’m terrified of having kids,” Em confessed quietly, turning in his arms so they could look at each other in the darkness. “I mean, I didn’t have the greatest role model for a family.”

Henry pushed some hairs away from her face, looking at the big doe eyes staring at him with a glimmer of wetness. He knew her mom left when she was very young and her dad was… well, interesting.

“Do you want to?” he asked, thumb caressing her jaw. “Have kids, I mean?” she nodded, a flitting smile sneaking into her face.

“Yeah, two,” she said softly. “Because I hated being an only child. Good thing I had Clara. How about you?”

“I always thought at least three,” he replied, smiling too. “I want my house full, just like I had growing up.”

“At least?” she cocked an eyebrow at him, and Henry chuckled and shrugged. “I guess that sounds good too, maybe a little chaotic… I mean, how would that work with you and your wife working full time?”

“I would take some time off, of course…” Henry said, lying on his back, one arm around her, the other bent beneath his head. “I’m doing pretty well financially, and I could afford to spend some time off-screen or maybe take smaller roles, local productions…”

“You really thought this out, huh?” Em asked head tilted his way and Henry nodded. He lost count how many times he envisioned this scenario, the only thing that usually changed was the face he pictured for the woman in his life. “You would turn the guest room into a nursery?”

“At first, yeah, but I definitely would want a bigger place,” he said, drawing patterns on her arm. “A little farther away from the city, with a nice kitchen and a big master bedroom. A garden so Kal can run around and the kids could have a playground, maybe even a treehouse…”

“That sounds nice, I’d like that,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering close, her breath evening out. With one last smile, Henry kissed her brow and let himself drift off too.

That conversation had stayed with him for way longer than it should. Em didn’t remember any of it of course, but Henry did because it seeded something in his heart that he had to work hard to ignore whenever they were together.

Henry guessed it could be seen as a small blessing that their hookups weren’t happened all that often anymore, even if they were both single. He also couldn’t help but notice that when they did end up together, Em seemed to fight the pull that existed between them until she finally relented and fell in bed with him. It made him wonder what changed. Why she felt like they couldn’t have this anymore.

“Henry! You’re here!” Clara greeted him with a kiss on the cheek before she looked down at her daughter comfortably settled on his arms. “And you already charmed Sophie, I see.” She looked at Todd with a grin. “You owe me a tenner.”

Todd rolled his eyes, taking the girl from Henry so they could walk into the church with their daughter, while Henry and Em took their places at the altar, side by side and he gave her a sideways glance to have a better look at her.

“You look nice.”

“You too,” she smiled at him. Her soft, glossy lips looked so tempting that Henry had to discreetly shift his stance to adjust himself.

“What was wrong with your dress?” His gaze lingered on the generous neckline that gave a very nice view of her cleavage. “Looks really good. Especially your tits. They look bigger somehow.”

“Henry!” Em hissed sharply with a glare, but he could see she was fighting off a smile. “But you might actually be right because I busted a seam under my arm and Clara had to sew it back together.”

Before Henry could comment on anything else, the ceremony started and they returned to their best behavior. Todd and Clara brought Sophie forward, handing the girl to Henry and Em so she could be baptized and they were named her godparents.

It was hardly a surprise for them that the couple had invited them, especially because Henry had Todd as a fifth brother and he knew Em viewed Clara as a sister, but they were both honored by the invitation.

Once the ceremony was over, everyone started to head to Todd and Clara’s place for the celebration. Henry was about to ask Em for a ride since he had taken a taxi but froze when he saw her heading to a car with a guy he didn’t know.

“Hey Todd,” he caught his friend who was on his way to say goodbye to a few guests that wouldn’t be able to make to the party. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Jack,” Todd said, following Henry’s gaze, catching sight of Em chatting with the blonde man. “He’s a friend of Clara’s. He and Em met a couple of months ago.”

“They’re dating?” Henry asked with a frown and uncomfortable burn in his stomach, like acid reflux. He had to swallow hard against the urge to puke.

“I don’t know,” Todd shrugged. “But they seemed to have hit off pretty well.”

As if on cue, Em’s laugh rang loud and bright as Jack held the door open so she could slide inside, and Henry had to clench his jaw to stop himself from cursing. From the look on Todd’s face, his friend noticed.

“Need a ride?” he asked, pulling Henry’s attention back him. “My brother is heading off right now.”

“Yes, thanks.”

Henry tried to push the thoughts of Em and the Jack bloke aside, pay at least a little bit of attention to whatever Todd’s brother was droning on and on, but it seemed to be an impossible task. Fortunately, the younger man didn’t seem to need his interaction to make conversation, so Henry just hummed occasionally, looking out the window. He wondered why Em didn’t mention Jack at all last time they saw each other.

Sure, it was a quick visit, but they did talk a lot before they ended up in bed together. It would have been nice to know in advance that she was dating. Was she dating? Em didn’t strike him as the kind of woman that would hook up with someone else if she was seeing another but maybe that was why she was so reluctant to sleep with him last few times?

Before Henry could reach any conclusion, they arrived and he thanked Todd’s brother for the ride before letting his gaze wander through the small gathering of people, locating Em. She was unsurprisingly surveying the cake and pastries since her bakery provided every single treat offered at this party.

Henry didn’t taste anything yet, but he knew they were delicious. Em had a unique talent for baking and it was no wonder her store was becoming more and more popular. He knew part of it was her perfectionism. Even though her team worked with her for years now and knew exactly how she would plan tables and displays, she still needed to survey everything, making sure it was up to her standards.

He took a step in her direction, but before he could go any further, Clara called his name and caught his arm in a soft but firm grip, giving the guest she was talking to a small smile of apology before tugging him to the side.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” she smiled and for a relatively small woman, she could be very intimidating. It was something to do with her piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see right through him. “Have you met Jack?”

“Not really,” he replied in surprise and confusion. Sometimes it felt like Clara could read his mind or something.

“Let me introduce you to him, then,” Clara said, pulling him along and Henry didn’t have in him to protest. He was after all curious about the man. “And please, be nice and make an effort to like him.”

“What does it matter if I like him or not?”

Clara turned to face Henry, her eyes narrowed as she stared him down, and weirdly enough, Henry felt like shrinking into himself at the weight of her stare. No wonder she was such an amazing prosecutor. That one stare was enough to make him want to confess all his crimes.

“So, you don’t know?”

“Know what?” Henry asked. This was one of the most cryptic conversations he had ever had, and he had to do interviews about DCEU without giving any spoilers. Clara heaved a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re Em’s judge.”

“Sorry, I’m what?”

“Em’s judge. For a man’s character. If you don’t like a man she’s seeing or interested in, she’ll dump their arse like a hot potato. You never noticed?”

“No! Clara, that’s… insane! I have no saying in who Em dates.” Henry huffed an awkward breath as he watched his friend. She could not be serious, but from the way she was looking at him, he knew she met every word.

“We both know you don’t have to say anything.” Clara rolled her eyes at him. “Honestly, I’m surprised that Alex lasted as long as he did considering your face turned sour everything time he was around. It was like you had shit stuck under your nose. But regardless if you believe it or not, could you make an effort with Jack? I really think he could be great for Em.”

“Fine!” Henry sighed just wanting to get out of this conversation. “But not right now. I haven’t eaten in six hours and I’m starting to get dizzy.”

“Thank you!” She flashed him a bright smile. “Head to the kitchen and grab something. Brunch will still be a while.” She came to her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before walking away before Henry could even process what was happening.

Henry stood there for a few moments like gaping fish, still trying to wrap his head around the entire conversation but giving up because when it came to Clara, she was lightyears ahead of them on some things. He might as well do what he was told and get a snack before he passed out.

To Henry’s surprise, when he got to the kitchen, he found Em at the sink, finishing up a sandwich that she handed him as soon as he stepped closer.

“What’s this?”

“Toasted wheat bread, no crust, turkey slices, and that tasteless cheese you actually like. Honey mustard, but no mayo,” she said, leaning against the counter and giving him a smile when Henry’s stomach rumbled. “I figured you didn’t have time to grab a bite to eat at the airport...”

“I didn’t. Thanks,” he grinned at her, taking a bite and groaning loudly, making Em chuckle.

“Settle down, Cavill. It’s not that good,” she joked, popping a piece of turkey on her mouth, but grimacing. “Urgh, this taste like cardboard.”

“You’re ok?” he frowned at Em.

“Yeah, just feeling a little queasy all morning,” she replied. “But I have to eat something or my blood sugar gonna plummet.”

Abandoning his sandwich for a second, Henry moved closer to her, resting the back of his hand against her forehead and then neck, frowning lightly.

“You are a little hot.”

“Thanks,” she flashed him a cheeky smile that made Henry chuckle.

“You know what I mean.” He cupped her cheek and it was a testament of how bad she much be feeling if Em was actually letting her guard down and allowing this small intimate moment in a place anyone could walk in on them. “You might be coming down with something.”

“Fuck! I hope not. This is one of my busiest months,” she let out a long exhale, and maybe it was just Henry’s wishful thinking, but he thought Em might have stepped closer, almost leaning into him and all he wanted was to take her in his arms and hold her.

“Am I interrupting?” Clara cleared his throat, making them both jump and turn to stare at her guiltily as she looked at them with a knowing smirk.

Henry wondered why she seemed to be everywhere. He knew it was this sort of gift every great hostess had but it could be very annoying when all he wanted was some privacy with Em.

“No,” Em recovered first, stepping away from Henry. “I’m just not feeling well, and Henry was checking up on me.”

Clara just hummed, coming closer and mimicking Henry’s actions, her brow drawing into a frown.

“I don’t think you have a fever, but you’re a little hot. Maybe it’s just that time of the month?” she asked, giving Henry a sideways glance.

“No, I had my period…” Em trailed off with a thoughtful frown as if she couldn’t exactly recall and Clara chuckled.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d joke you’re pregnant,” Clara teased with a smile. “I mean, the bloating and nausea and all that? Anyway, just lie down for a while. You’re probably just overworked.”

Once again, Clara was gone like a quick whirlwind, leaving Henry and Em to stare at each other in shock. He knew his eyes were wide and he was stunned into silence. Em just looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“No!” she snapped once Henry recovered enough to try to say something. “Don’t even think it, Henry. It was once and I have an IUD. It can’t be.”

“You’re right,” he agreed quickly, but his heart was still thundering in his chest, his hands sweaty and he could barely breathe, terror and excitement mingled together in his chest, but he didn’t dare to voice it. Not when Em looked like she was about to throw up.

“Clara’s right. I’m just tired,” she sounded like she was trying to convince herself, not Henry. “I just need a good night of sleep. That’s all. So, we’re not gonna talk about this, because it’s impossible. What are the odds of actually happening?”

Less than 1 percent, Henry found out later, once he was at home and couldn’t sleep, still thinking about the entire thing. He googled it to calm his nerves, surprised by the hint of disappointment he felt at learning it was next to impossible. It wasn’t enough to stop him from thinking and wondering, though.

Enough so that when he heard the sound of his doorbell, Henry nearly jumped out of his skin. It was a noise he practically had forgotten about since Kal would always announce newcomers way before they could ring it. But Kal was back in Budapest. It didn’t make sense to bring him over when Henry would only be staying a day.

Henry glanced at his clock, frowning at the late hour as he made his way downstairs and pulled his door open. Em pushed her way inside, her face tearstained and a mask of fury as she threw something his way. Henry caught by reflex, before staring at her in confusion.

“I hate you, Cavill! I fucking hate you!” she declared, sniffling and hugging herself.

“Em, what…?” he didn’t get to finish his question, because she gestured at the object he was still holding. Henry finally looked down, eyes widening when he realized it was a pregnancy test. One of those pharmacy types and it was positive.

“I did five of them. All positive,” she said, rubbing her face dry and glaring at him. “Damn you and your fucking Superman sperm!”

Henry stared at her wordless, still clinging to the white stick in his hand.

“What are we gonna do?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know how.

chapter 01 x(tbc)x chapter 03

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#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x original character #fanfic #series #rules of engagement

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 27: The Writing on the Wall

It was admittedly a relief to still find themselves inside the familiar stone corridors of Hogwarts, even if the moment they were dropped into was quite horrifying to find in their school.

"Is, is that blood?" Pettigrew squeaked in protest, quickly backing away from the wall, his eyes flickering to the nearest torch bracket. Even though he'd half expected it, he still almost screamed at the sight of Mrs. Norris hanging there.

"This place has gone mad," Potter breathed behind him, he looked likely to be sick as he jumped forward and dragged his friend farther away. "Who, who would-"

"Not even we hated Filch and his cat that much," Sirius agreed, keeping his back firmly against the wall.

Regulus stayed right where he was at the far end of the corridor, wishing more every moment he could leave it altogether, especially as he caught sight of where the book was.

Pettigrew must have as well, as he swallowed hard and looked back at his mate still holding tight to his shoulder. "I'll give you one guess where that book landed."

He reached up and patted his hand, perhaps even squeezed it for a moment as if to reassure, and then slowly and carefully went back and plucked the book before the flames could lick at the pages where it sat just above where the cats tail was wedged in.

He quickly darted back to his friends side with a relieved sigh, but didn't immediately feel up to turning it open. "What do you think is happening here James?"

"Don't know," he said so quietly it was almost impossible to hear from so far away. "I've got a bad feeling Harry's going to find out though." He had his back turned to all of them now, eyes trained on the corner he could no more pass. Regulus suddenly realized how vulnerable he was, with the four Marauders clumped up down there, and the other three crowded in front of a door and across from the threatening, still glistening letters. He again glanced down the empty hallway, flickering with shadows of an empty castle, and almost wished that the story would dump them in that time instead. At least they'd be surrounded by other students and teachers, rather than eight teenagers having to figure all this out alone.

Pettigrew began in a taut voice of Filch arriving to discover the same as them, and his reaction was as vivid as it was sad to hear. He didn't particularly care for the caretaker more than anyone else, but he'd certainly never prayed upon his cat for such a vengeful reason as killing it like someone in this castle would some day.

"I suppose this rules Filch out as a suspect," Remus muttered more for something else to hear other than death threats being issued by Filch. He was eyeing the door Longbottom, Smith, and Evans were now trying to open, but having no more success than any before. Instead his eyes began examining the scene, hoping for some clue as to what happened here.

"Never thought of him as a possibility," Sirius needlessly agreed.

They both relaxed just a fraction when Peter kept going on into the teachers arriving, and Dumbledore taking control of the scene at once. Despite already having been in Lockhart's office and not wanting a repeat experience, even that would have felt better than hanging around in a corridor with a dead cat.

Until their headmaster passed along the news this was not so.

"Petrified?" Longbottom echoed, to confirm he'd heard as much. "What on earth can do that?"

"A few things," Remus couldn't help himself prattling off at once his knowledge of beasts. "Certain arachnid venom, gorgons, a few spells-"

"So, are we still in danger from any of that?" Evans cut in with a look that wasn't quite hopeful, but looked more like she wanted to be.

"Nah," Sirius decided, clearly bolstering up some false bravado now that it was clear the threat at least didn't seem to be upon them soon.

"Sirius, this is not a nah kind of situation!" Remus protested, swatting him upside the head.

"And what is, pray tell?" Sirius demanded back as he rubbed at the spot while smirking at his friend. "I find this a perfectly good time to try and enjoy life, while we still have it!"

"Shut up Black!" Frank snapped at once.

"Be real Longbottom," the other returned with a haughty sneer. "If this pattern continues, I'll bet my house we're going to end up in the presence of whatever did this," he gestured needlessly at the cat.

"Not necessarily," Alice insisted, looking to Evans to support her theory. "Not if a person did this, we haven't seen another human since all this started. So, as long as it was a wizard that's somehow done this-"

"What person do you know that petrifies an old man's cat for fun?" Lupin protested, turning on the two of them to defend his friend, even though he himself had just scolded him. "I'm sorry I even said that, there must be something running around the castle that's doing this. If a person wanted to go after Filch, they'd take him, not his cat."

"I don't think so," Evans sided with the other two, "it must be a person orchestrating all of this, and just because we don't know of the magic yet doesn't mean it's not possible. We don't run around this place thinking we own it," she finished viciously.

Peter looked between his friends and the other group before deciding to hurry along before he was asked to voice his opinion. Personally, he hoped they were right, and feared his friends were instead.

Regulus kept himself, and his opinions, out of this for now. Even as he felt he had a bit more to the answer, it was nothing concrete. He well remembered a story his mother had told him about the Chamber of Secrets, and of a horror spoken within said to be Slytherin's own monster. He didn't know if Sirius even remembered the same, his brother had never been very good paying attention to their mothers stories. He had no more idea than anyone else though what it could all mean, or even if it was a valid threat. Anyone, like that Malfoy kid, could have done this themselves just to get a scare out of the school, but he didn't think that likely, especially as Potter asked of his friends;

"Think my kid's nuts?" He spoke softly though, true worry in his voice for why a child of his would be hearing voices.

"No," all three of his friends assured him at once.

"It's not as if he's Sirius', then the poor thing wouldn't have a chance," Pettigrew poked fun.

"Harry didn't tell the teachers he heard the voice for the same reason none of us would, they would call him crazy," Lupin more lightly pacified. "We know that Harry's telling the truth though, so there must be some explanation."

"Besides going off to live in a madhouse, like mine," his brother agreed.

Regulus scowled but chose to ignore his brother and try to understand how Harry hearing such a thing could fit into all of this.

Lily listened uneasily as she questioned the same, and didn't have quite the same conviction some child of Potter's wasn't just a tad loony, but hearing voices didn't seem to be one of the issues with that. Instead she turned to Alice and Frank and asked, "why do you think we've been locked out of a bathroom of all places? That's never happened before." They'd been lucky a fair few times now to stumble across one of those about as often as food, and she'd been hoping their luck would hold.

"Perhaps the castle's doing us a favor, that's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom after all," Alice shrugged.

Upon hearing that Filch had not been able to clear the words from the wall, Frank uneasily stepped forward, and gave the script a prod with his wand. Nothing happened, so he tried a few different spells, and he could no more erase it with magic than with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. Knowing he wouldn't dare do this under normal circumstances, but curiosity very much getting the better of him, he instead used a more powerful bit of magic and gouged some of the stone wall right from the letter C, which finally came free.

"Frank!" Alice gasped in protest as he went back over to them, twisting the bit of smooth stone this way and that in the light.

"I want to know what this is," he insisted without remorse. "That's quite some powerful magic used to get it up there."

"They could have just wrote it up there and used a permanent sticking charm," Evans pointed out.

"No, I don't think so," he hesitated for a moment before pulling his dragon-hide gloves out of his pocket, now thankful for his mothers paranoia of instilling he wear them while brewing any potion. He slipped them on and rubbed his finger vigorously against the red mark, and still nothing happened, though this time he hadn't really been expecting it too. "I think this is blood, but of what kind I can't imagine."

"There's not a lot of creatures whose blood is like that," Lupin spoke up quietly from behind them, and they all turned in surprise, not having realized he'd come forward to speak to them, but having watched Longbottom had piqued his curiosity.

"You know which ones do?" Frank asked, genuine curiosity mixed in with some weariness, he'd never had a pleasant interaction with a Marauder before this.

"Sure," he agreed, the troubled lines on his face making him look older than his years should. Up close they all noticed how pale his skin was in the dim lighting and his unusually grey bangs, though not many people really got close enough to notice or care about such details, he spent too much time with people the school was more than happy to leave a wide berth. "If I'm right though, we're going to have a problem."

"This school is full of wankers!" Potters protest cut in, and Lupin looked back up and around curiously as if he'd forgotten what they'd just been talking about. "How could any of them think my son would be the heir of Slytherin!"

Lupin went back over with an exasperated expression in place, and Lily wondered if his friends ever grew as tired of Potters theatrics as she did. Who cared what the school thought about one lone student? She wanted to call Lupin back over and demand he finish whatever he'd been fixing to say, if he had an idea of what had put that blood up there he should share it.

She'd misread his expression though, Remus was just as exasperated as his friends for this student population even considering such a thing. He happily went back over to the fold of his friends and snarked right along with James and Sirius, albeit under his breath so only the three of them could hear, as Peter kept going right up to Binns's class.

The history lesson Binns offered over the subject was probably one of the most interesting things to ever actually happen in that class, and it was quite depressing they couldn't enjoy young Hermione making this possible considering the topic. They all felt too bad for Harry immediately after the fact, the kid actually trying to convince himself of what the school thought. James was no more related to Slytherin than any other pureblood, and they all wished they could be there to tell him as much.

Regulus finally listened back in with interest again as the kids circled back to this location again to search for clues. He couldn't imagine they'd find any with so much time passing after the fact, but with his eyes still flickering between the open corridor and the dead cat, he certainly had his fingers crossed they would. Sadly, scorch marks and spiders meant nothing to him, and he scowled and muttered about wasting time as Ron let his friends in on his arachnophobia problem.

"That's not fair!" Lily protested as her son decided to follow his friend into the very bathroom they were being blocked from.

"I'm sure we'll get sent to another room soon with a loo," Alice told her sympathetically.

"No, not that," Lily rolled her eyes, "I just hate being left out, if Myrtle saw something I'd rather hear it from her than Potter's friend over there."

"I doubt Myrtle's in there," Frank reminded. "We haven't seen a ghost anymore than, well, anything else. Hell, Mrs. Norris actually is the first living thing we've seen around here," and she's not even really alive right now, he finished in his head.

"Think she's been in the castle the rest of the time, or is she just here now because she's-?" Alice paused and swallowed awkwardly without finishing. Petrified or not, she looked quite dead from here.

"Hard to say," Frank scratched uncomfortably at his neck. "I wouldn't be too surprised if whatever happened didn't work on animals though, it didn't on Hedwig."

Myrtle proved to be of no help to anything, which explained why the Marauders looked so bored with the interaction, which surprised Lily a bit. If she'd thought about it at all, she would have expected them to enjoy hearing of the encounter with a ghost, they seemed to consider themselves rather experts on them, as much as she caught them chatting with all others in the castle.

Then Percy came and shooed the kids all away, and really it was starting to feel like quite the waste of a chapter until Hermione offered such an interesting solution.

"They really think it's Malfoy that much?" Peter quickly stopped before the last sentence to verbalize his surprise.

"More likely him than Harry," James sniffed, though he too seemed to agree this was beyond a second year.

"Polyjuice Potion though?" Sirius was blinking with a rather disturbed expression in place. "Of all the ways they decide to get the answer?"

Remus agreed with a good laugh as Peter finished with the excellent point of Ron's on how this would even be possible.

They were surprised not to be interrupted by being yanked away, but Evans laughing. Leaning against Myrtle's door with pure mirth on her face as she tried to gasp out her surprise of a twelve year old managing such a thing. Then the door she was leaning on swung open behind her, and she fell out of sight.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Marauders #reading the books #wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Regulus Black #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #Lily Evans

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Posting this a day early because it's my day off. I have the next chapter done, and in the meantime, I'll be working on The Princess and Her Sultan for those who have been patiently waiting and because I miss writing for that universe.

I have to warn you, this chapter is a bit absurd lol, but it's fun, I promise. And the end of the chapter will give you a hint for what's to come in the next chapter.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 6

Hans forces a tight smile on his face and hesitantly shakes Killian’s hand, obviously embarrassed he’d invited her to his hotel room. His features contort in pain as if Killian is gripping his hand a little too tightly.

Killian loosens his grip, apology flickering over his face. “Sorry, mate, sometimes I forget my own strength. I once tapped a bloke in the nose and broke several of his nasal bones.”

Unmistakable fear shows in Hans’ eyes and he quickly rips his hand from Killian’s tight clutch and spins around on his stool, returning to his drink and chugs it down.

Emma is still recovering from the initial shock of Killian coming over to… what, rescue her? Or stake his claim even though she’s not his to claim? She’s not entirely sure, but she plays along, flashing a sarcastic smile. “These heels are killing my feet. I had to sit down.”

Killian moves behind her and places both hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently as he sweetly kisses her temple. Her entire skin warms from his touch. “Well, how about I give you a good foot rub when we get home, hmm?” he murmurs in her ear loud enough for Hans to hear as Killian kneads his fingers into her shoulders.

Emma has to swallow the moan rising in her throat as his decadent, silky voice penetrates her ear and his firm hands give her a momentary dose of heaven.

Holy fuck.

He’s not even doing anything to her, and she’s completely turned on. She’s not imagining his hands on her achy feet, giving her a good, thorough rubdown. Certainly not. “Mmmm, that sounds amazing, babe.”

He grins against her earlobe, causing a shiver to skate down her spine. When he removes his hands from her shoulders and extends one to her, she feels the loss of his warmth. “Until then, are your feet rested enough to dance?”

Emma slips her hand in his, interlaces their fingers and stands up, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought you'd never ask. Lead the way.”

She looks over at Hans to catch his reaction as they walk past him, holding hands. Even from behind, she can tell he’s sulking.

When she realizes Killian is actually leading her to the dance floor, panic rises in her chest, and she tugs on his hand to stop him. “Wait, are we actually dancing?”

Killian turns his head around to look past her and nods. “Aye, love. Hans still has his eyes on us.” His jaw twitches as he shoots daggers at him. “Or rather, his eyes are still on you. So it’s best we keep up the ruse.” He moves again, pulling her through the crowd.

“But I don’t know how to dance,” she confesses, slightly ashamed. Her cousins took dance classes when they were younger and loved dancing but Emma mostly stuck to her books and simply listened to music rather than danced to it.

When they reach an appropriate spot on the dance floor, Killian stops and pulls her to him, placing her free hand on his shoulder and his open palm on her back. “There’s only one rule, love.” His eyes lift from their joined hands, and a breath escapes her when his face is only inches away, those baby blues boring into hers. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma’s heart flutters as their bodies are pressed closely together. A hint of a smile curves her lips as she follows his lead, and soon they’re moving with the rhythm of the music like they’re at a fancy royal ball. But somehow she manages to replace her smile with a small scowl. “I didn’t need a dashing rescue, you know. I can take care of myself.”

He smirks knowingly. “I don’t doubt that, love, but I was saving you from getting scolded by the bride for causing a scene at her wedding.”

Emma wrinkles her brows in confusion. “Causing a scene? What scene?”

“Oh, come on, Emma, you were about two seconds away from giving that bloke a bloody nose.”

“I was not,” she argues defensively.

He lifts both brows. “Oh really? Because it sounded like he was inviting you back to his hotel room. If I were you, I would’ve kicked him in the bollocks.”

“With the way you were staring at him and had that death grip on his hand, I’m surprised you didn’t. Talk about causing a scene,” she scoffs. “By the way, a nose only has two bones, not several.”

“I know that, but judging by the scared shitless look on his face, he either didn’t know or didn't care,” Killian chuckles.

She tilts her head slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. “You weren’t jealous of him, were you?”

He almost laughs. “Jealous of that wanker? In order to be jealous, I’d have to be threatened by him. But he’s not capable of snagging someone of your caliber.”

Emma’s eyes widen in bemusement. “Someone of my caliber? And what caliber might that be?”

“I told you, love, you’re the prettiest surgeon I’ve ever met.” He leans closer to whisper in her ear. “And you cut quite the figure in that dress.”

Her face flushes as she cocks a brow. “So you’re saying you are capable?”

Blush paints his cheeks, his lips giving into a smirk. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

She doesn’t comment, and instead just stares into his eyes, which she’s beginning to think is a monumental mistake because she soon gets lost in those forget-me-not blues. Everything else around them disappears as they move across the dance floor, and all she can see is this gorgeous man who seems to be just as intrigued by her as she is by him. “Thank you,” she manages in a breathy whisper, her eyes still locked with his.

His pointy ears actually perk up. “What was that? I don’t believe I heard you right because it sounded like you were actually thanking me instead of yelling at me.”

She laughs. “That's because I was. You were right, I was two seconds from either punching Hans in the nose or giving him a swift kick in the balls. So thank you for stepping in... and for saving me from that asshole.”

He chuckles and lifts his hand to stroke her cheek. “You’re very welcome, love.”

The song ends, and the DJ plays something slow, but Emma has to admit she’s not ready to let him go yet. And she can tell he feels the same. It’s written all over his face. Which is confirmed when he releases her hand and wraps both arms around her waist. She curls her hands around the back of his neck and is so close to him, she can feel his heart beating against hers. She has to admit, he is very charming. Any woman would be a fool not to notice. Guilt stabs her when she recalls the mean things she’d said to him earlier, which definitely weren’t true. “I’m sorry for what I said before about a woman having to be either naive or desperate to fall for your charm.”

To that, he pulls back slightly, astounded by her apology. Then his brows furrow. “Did the bartender spike your drink?”

She giggles in his arms. “No, it was just… it was harsh… what I said.”

He smiles warmly. “No need to apologize. I came onto you a little too strongly.”

She scoffs playfully. “A little?”

He blushes, his smile widening. “Okay, a lot too strongly.”

“Not as strongly as Hans,” she points out.

“That’s true. Now there’s a guy you’d have to be either naïve and desperate to date.”

Emma nods in wholehearted agreement.

Killian breaks their trance to look over her shoulder. He smirks and whispers in her ear. “Don’t look now but we have an audience.”

Emma glances behind her, seeing Anna, Elsa and Ingrid staring at them and smiling, obviously enjoying the show; they might as well be watching a rom-com while munching on popcorn from one of those giant movie theater tubs.

“I told you not to look,” he chuckles.

She turns her head to face him again and laughs. “I’m glad we could entertain them.”

“Aye. It’s not even our wedding and yet we seem to be the stars of the show for the moment.”

She nods and stares at him for a moment, trying to figure out how they hadn’t met before. She’s heard about him, and he used to live in the same town as her, but somehow they had never crossed paths.

“What, love?” he inquires, noticing her staring at him thoughtfully.

She shakes her head. “Nothing, you’re just… you’re a mystery to me. I can’t figure you out.”

He cocks a brow, intrigued by her statement. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you act all cocky and smug, yet the way you were dancing with Camila was…”

“Was what?” he asks when she doesn’t finish her sentence.

“It was freaking adorable,” she admits with a smile. “You weren’t trying to impress anyone, you were just being you.”

He shrugs. “I’m good with kids. What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“You seem so confident in your own skin, yet I look into your eyes and see someone who’s emotionally armored. Like you’re trying to protect yourself from something. Perhaps someone?”

“Oh really? You can see that about me?” she asks with an amused grin.

“You’re somewhat of an open book,” he says with a confident smirk.

“Or maybe you’ve just heard my back story.”

He chuckles. “You caught me.” Killian takes her hands and steps back, spinning her around and dipping her. She loses a breath as she looks up into his eyes. “I’ve heard we’re opposites, but we’re actually not so different, you and I.” He brings her back up and draws her into his arms again.

“Oh? And how’s that?”

“I grew up without parents as well.”

Emma’s heart tightens when his eyes darken with sorrow. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “But how does that make us similar?”

“Because we both know far too much what it’s like to be alone.”

She knows he’s not only referring to losing his parents but also his brother. She wants to argue and tell him she’s not alone, but who is she kidding? She lost one of her few friends, and the only guy who’s confessed his affection for her is a psychotic killer. Well, she can’t say he’s the only guy because while Killian hasn’t announced he has a crush on her through an anonymous card, she can see how attracted he is to her. She can see it in his eyes. In fact, she wonders if she laid one on him, would he kiss her back?

Emma’s eyes fall to his lips as she ponders the thought. Her gaze flickers back to his, and she loses a breath when she catches him staring at her lips. She wonders what his mouth tastes like, wonders what it would hurt if she kissed him just once. Her eyes return to his mouth and she leans in, aching to feel those pretty lips pressed against hers.

A drum roll draws their attention to the center of the room, and they separate, looking to see what’s going on. They were so lost in their own little world and forgot they were at a wedding.

Anna prepares to toss her bouquet to a group of eager bachelorettes who shout and jostle for the best position to catch it. Emma wants no part in the bouquet toss, but Elsa seems to disagree when she grabs Emma’s hand and pulls her toward the group.

“Come on, Em, you’re single too!”

When Elsa releases her hand, Emma slinks to the back of the group and can’t wait for this to be over with. She looks over at Killian who’s gazing back at her longingly, and she can’t believe she almost kissed him. Well, she can—he’s fucking gorgeous—but at her cousin’s wedding? In front of all the guests? What was she thinking?

Anna tosses the bouquet behind her, and all the bachelorettes—except for Emma—spring for it. But Anna's throw is much stronger than expected and the bouquet goes far above their heads, aiming directly at Emma, and ends up in her hands after she instinctively catches it.

Damn it.

Emma holds it up, forcing a smile as the other ladies scream in excitement. She glances at Killian, who is laughing with Kristoff and drinking a glass of what she assumes is rum based on the color and what he'd ordered prior. Her eyes move to Anna who squeezes her into a hug.

Next, a chair is placed in the center of the room and the single men are called to gather around as Anna sits down, grinning from ear to ear. Emma stands off to the side, her eyes dancing between Killian and the newlyweds. Suddenly she’s nervous again, her heart pounding erratically against her breastbone, and she forces herself to look away from him to give her attention to the bride and groom.

Kristoff gets on all fours and pushes back Anna's skirt, his hand moving up her leg before his head disappears under her dress. Anna is squealing and blushing profusely, the crowd erupting with giggles and chants of encouragement. In a quick motion, Kristoff is out from under her skirts, his teeth pulling the frilly white garter down her leg and over her heel. When he stands up, he slingshots the garter over his shoulder toward the bachelors, and while the men aren’t as enthusiastic as the ladies were, Hans springs for it.

But when he misses it and falls to the floor, the man behind him—who of course happens to be Killian—lifts the garter into the air, grinning like an idiot as everyone cheers. His eyes find Emma’s through the crowd and he tosses her a wink as he twirls the garter belt around his finger. She responds with an eye roll and smiles at him, her cheeks warming with blush.

The next thing she knows, Emma is being prompted to sit on the chair as she holds onto the bouquet, and Killian still has that stupid grin on his face as he makes his way to her, holding up the garter belt. Emma bites her bottom lip, anticipation coiled in her gut.

The DJ plays Pour Some Sugar On Me as Killian circles around her like an animal circling its prey, eagerly awaiting its meal. When he’s behind her, he bends over to whisper in her ear. “I have to warn you, love, I’m a biter, too.”

Emma gulps, quite certain she knows his meaning.

Killian appears in front of her, and as he kneels on the floor, she extends her right foot to him, her heart suddenly pounding in her ear. She’s relieved when he uses his hands to pull it over her stiletto, and her skin tingles when she feels his fingertips on her ankle. Then he steals the air from her lungs when he gets on all fours, takes the lace of the garter between his teeth and starts dragging it up her leg with his mouth. Emma’s cheeks are on fire so she briefly buries her face in her hands, laughing in embarrassment as everyone whistles and screams and snaps photos. But the sounds and flashing lights are quickly drowned out because the man who’s moving up her leg with his lips and warm breath brushing her skin demands all of her attention.

Fuck.

She clenches her thighs together, trying not to envision his face in her lap for other reasons. He gets the garter belt past her knee, but then it gets snagged by her dress. So, with both hands, he pushes up the offending material and moves his face to the side of her outer thigh for a better angle, his hand brushing her other leg as he brings it back to the floor to use only his mouth again. She can’t imagine what this might look like to the guests. Well, she can, and she hopes the young ones aren’t watching. She can’t seem to take her eyes off Killian’s to check though.

The garter gets caught again, so he lifts her dress once more using his hands. His face inches closer to where she is definitely imagining him to be right now and with one final drag, he gets the garter where he wants it—mid-thigh—and backs away, taking all of his warmth and intoxicating scent with him. All the men are cheering for him, and he grins and blushes, his eyes locked with hers.

~*~

Killian hadn't meant to take it that far. When he caught the garter belt, he hadn’t planned on using his teeth—he was certainly envisioning it—but he knew it was definitely too much. If he weren’t working on the case and if she weren’t a suspect, and they were just two guests at the wedding, he would still be intrigued by her. He would still be attracted to her. And yes, then he wouldn’t have thought twice about using his teeth. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. But when she sat in the chair, biting her bottom lip, her eyes glinting with anticipation as she gazed over at him, he almost lost himself and consequently threw all rational thinking out the window.

When he’d whispered in her ear, he’d seen her flush and heard her gasp. When he’d knelt down in front of her, he’d witnessed those luminous green eyes sparkle, those pupils dilate as she offered her foot to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of her. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist using his mouth to drag that dainty piece of lace up her leg. Every inch of her was so extremely sexy, even her unpainted toenails were sexy, he had to use all the willpower in him to not touch her. And when he accidentally grazed his hand over her leg after he’d pushed the skirt of her dress out of the way, his heart rate sped up. But somehow he’d managed to place the garter belt around her thigh without completely molesting her.

The first part of his plan had been to crack open her shell, make her feel more comfortable with him, and now he’s afraid he’s screwed that up. And David of course was quick to point that out. While Emma was surrounded by her cousins and other females, probably commenting on Killian’s performance, David was pulling him outside and giving him an earful about how he should’ve let someone else catch the garter belt and how he definitely shouldn’t have used his mouth. David was so furious, Killian was sure he would send him back to Port Lavaca, but Killian assured him his behavior wouldn’t affect the second part of his plan. In fact, it would probably make it even more possible. David muttered a “You better hope so,” before storming back inside, pouting.

Killian downs his fourth glass of apple juice as he gazes across the room, his eyes connecting with hers. She blushes and looks away as she’s chatting with Elsa. He’s pretty sure they’re talking about him if the way they keep glancing over his way is any indication. He would definitely put his money on it.

~*~

“Okay, spill it, Emma. And don’t leave anything out,” Anna encourages with a big, toothy grin, her eyes glinting with intrigue.

Emma's eyebrows furrow. “Spill what?”

“Don't play dumb with me, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She looks across the room, and Emma follows her gaze, seeing Killian on the other end of it as he's drinking another glass of rum.

“You mean, Killian? What about him?”

Anna sighs dramatically and looks like she's about to burst.

“Is it true, you two are a couple?”

That question was from Elsa, who's just as eager as her sister to expunge the juicy details. Well, maybe not quite as eager, but still very interested.

“No, of course not,” Emma answers, her eyes wide with shock. “We just met.”

Anna’s eyebrows are knitted in confusion. “But my husband said Killian was your boyfriend.” Anna blushes and giggles. “Oh my God, it feels good to finally be able to call him that! My husband, I mean,” she clarifies, as though they didn’t already know who she meant. “But back to Killian, why did Hans yell at my husband for not telling him you were already taken?”

Emma frowns at the mention of that creep. “Oh that. Killian told him he was my boyfriend because he saw Hans making me uncomfortable. He was trying to save me from punching Hans in the face and ruining your wedding.”

“Awwwww, that’s so sweet,” both cousins gush.

“By the way, who invited Hans?” Emma demands sharply. “He invited me to his hotel room, and before that, I made it very clear I didn't even want to engage in conversation with him.”

Anna’s eyes go wild. “He did what?!” she gasps. “Oh no, that is not okay. I told Kristoff we never should have invited him.” Fueled with anger, she spins around, lifts her skirts from the floor and marches over to Kristoff, who’s chatting with the groomsmen.

“Anna, wait, I don’t want to make a big deal about it,” Emma calls after her, but her auburn-haired cousin ignores her and continues her trek. Emma sighs and turns to look at Elsa who’s always been the calm, rational one of the two sisters. At any rate, she can’t say she’d be sad to see Hans kicked out.

“I’m so sorry about Hans. He’s such a creep,” Elsa comments before sipping her punch.

Emma dismisses Elsa’s words with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can.” A slow smirk pulls at her lips. “So tell me, what exactly is going on with you and Killian? And don’t you dare say 'nothing'. He just used his mouth to get the garter belt on you when he could’ve easily used his hands. And you were…”

“I was what?” Emma asks, trying to contain the smile threatening her lips.

“You were pretty into it,” she teases, swatting Emma's shoulder.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Okay, maybe he's a little cute, but as I said, we just met. I know nothing about him, except that he’s cocky and a compulsive flirt.”

Elsa nods in agreement. “You’re not wrong about that, he can be cocky but in a charming, boyish sort of way. And yes, he can be a bit of a flirt, but he’s mostly bark and no bite.” She laughs at her own remark. “Okay, well as we all saw, he is a little bit of a biter.”

Emma flushes at the comment and wonders if he’s a biter in the sack because she definitely wouldn’t mind it if he were. Not that she plans on getting him in the sack. Because she definitely doesn't. She snaps her eyes shut briefly, chastising herself for having those thoughts.

“But don’t worry, I won’t badger you about him.”

“Thank you,” Emma murmurs before imbibing her water. She thinks about it for a moment though. Elsa knows Killian pretty well, so this might be an opportunity to find out whether she's wasting her time on him or not. She wants to say she’s not even considering the possibility of dating him, or anyone for that matter, but Elsa can easily squash any or all of Emma’s musings about the man. “So, tell me…” Emma gnaws on her bottom lip, deciding on the right question.

Based on Elsa's knowing smile, she seems to be onto her. “Yes?”

“Is Killian a good guy? I mean honestly? You know I don’t date because I have my trust issues. So am I just wasting my time by lowering my guard around him or—”

“He’s a great guy, Emma. I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I’ve spent some time with him, and we were pretty close before Liam died. He can be a little rough around the edges and hot-headed at times, but he’s honest, has a good heart and can be very sweet. We had a rough patch for a while but now I hope we can be close again. And I know it’s difficult for you to open up, Emma, but you can’t keep people out forever. Besides when is the last time you’ve gone on a date and just had some good old-fashioned fun? You work so damn much, I bet you can’t even remember.”

Guilt rises in Emma’s cheeks, and she nods, considering Elsa’s words. “You’re right. It’s been far too long since I've been with a guy. But he hasn’t even asked me out. How do I know he’s even interested?” She already knows how ridiculous the question sounds when she asks it.

Elsa lifts a brow that says, really, Emma? “With the way he was dancing with you, giving you those doe eyes and the way he put that garter belt on you, do you really need any more proof that he’s completely into you?”

Emma sighs. “But how do I know he doesn't act like that around every woman he meets?”

“He doesn't, only with women he's interested in. And that's rare for him. He caught the garter at mine and Liam’s wedding, but he didn’t use his teeth, and the bachelorette was much more flirty than he is with you. It was more of an obligation for him then,” Elsa ends the statement with a smirk. “But with you, I could tell—hell everyone in the room could tell he was into you.”

Emma laughs, her cheeks flooding with blush. “Okay, okay, I get your point. So... I should just ask him out then?”

Elsa’s face lights up in excitement. “Yes, you should!”

Emma inhales a deep breath, her heart pounding at the possibility of approaching him. She doesn’t really have a plan yet, but maybe it’s better to just wing it. No, on second thought, she has to have a plan. “Women can ask men out, right?”

“Are you kidding? Yes, they can! Go for it, Em,” she chants encouragingly.

Okay, here goes nothing.

Emma turns around and straightens her shoulders, determined to march over to Killian. Instead, she freezes, her eyes widening in surprise when he’s standing in front of her with a drink in his hand. His hair is carelessly disheveled, his eyes are a dull shade of blue and he’s still wearing his jacket, but his tie is hanging loosely around his neck and his dress shirt is halfway unbuttoned, allowing a patch of dark chest hair to poke out. He's obviously been drinking a little too much. But he still looks delicious.

“Hi there, love,” he greets with a smirk, his words slurred. He stumbles forward and Emma grabs onto him and catches a whiff of him. Okay, he’s been drinking way too much.

Her eyes sting from the smell of rum as she helps over to the nearest chair. “Easy tiger, I think you’ve had too much to drink.” As she helps him sit in the chair, she glances at Elsa, her cousin’s features donning a mixture of concern and apology.

“He doesn’t normally drink this much.”

Emma looks around, seeing the kids on the other side of the room playing and running around.

“We should probably get him home. I don’t want Camila or his nephews to see him like this,” Elsa says in a worried tone.

“I’m fine, really.” Killian lazily waves off her words and tries to stand, but almost falls over again before Elsa and Emma catch him.

“I guess I should take him home. Will you watch Camila while I’m gone?” Elsa asks her.

“Why don’t I just take him?” Emma suggests. “You should stay and spend time with your sister before she goes off on her honeymoon.”

“But you don’t have your car with you,” Elsa points out.

“Did he drive here himself?”

“Yeah, he came in his truck.”

“Okay, so I can just drive him home in his vehicle and catch an Uber home. Where’s he staying?”

Elsa shakes her head. “I’m not sure. A motel I think.”

Emma kneels in front of him like she’s speaking to a child. “Where are you staying, Killian?”

“Wherever you want me to stay,” he drawls with a cheeky grin.

Emma rolls her eyes and reaches into the inside of his suit jacket, searching for his wallet.

He smirks. “If you wanted to feel me up, all you had to do was ask.”

Emma can’t help but blush, his face inches from hers as she grabs his wallet. God, he’s wasted. Rifling through his wallet, she finds a key card from Pinn Road Inn, which is on the other side of town.

She informs Ingrid what’s going on, and after she hugs the newlyweds and wishes them a fantastic honeymoon, she and Elsa help Killian to his truck and buckle him up in the passenger seat. Elsa apologizes profusely as though she’s responsible for her brother-in-law, but Emma waves off her words and hugs her goodbye. She promises to have lunch with her and Anna after the honeymoon and climbs into the truck.

The drive to the motel is mostly silent until Killian suddenly starts cursing like a sailor. She looks over to see him pulling at a thread that's hanging from the cuff of his jacket.

“Don’t pull at it, you’ll ruin the jacket,” Emma warns, returning her eyes to the road. “Just take it back to the haberdashery you got it from.”

“Royal tuxedos, my arse. More like royal crap,” he bleats, reclining in his seat to reach into his pants pocket.

Too late.

Glancing over at him, she sees him using a Stanely knife to cut off the string. Her eyes widen in horror. “Don't do that, you'll—”

Killian’s groaning in pain, his left hand is covered in blood and the blood is dripping all over his suit.

“...cut yourself,” she finishes with a sigh.

A/N: So you probably have a lot of questions about what exactly is up Killian's sleeve, but I promise that will be covered in the next chapter. And yes, I couldn't make either Emma or Killian a doctor without injuring the other one at least once and having some doctor/patient scenes. I promise Killian will be in good hands though :-)

@itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic

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knittingdreams · 3 years

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Fireheart - Chapter 10

No amount of coffee will wake up my brain, so, hey, here’s chapter 10 from my ToG fanfic, hope you enjoy it, love you all!

MASTERLIST in case you need to catch up on older chapters :D

CHAPTER 10

Finding clues

Parking the motorbike around the back, Celaena jumped down and straightened her jacket. She had such mixed feelings about what had happened the day before. One part of her had almost enjoyed watching Sam get beaten up, as she was still angry with him for showing up in the hotel as he did on Saturday. But soon after the second punch, it had been so hard not to jump in and beat the shit out of that Rourke guy. She knew Sam could have beaten him up into a pulp, but that would have drawn unwanted attention. She could have done the same, but it wasn’t a smart option.

She had been angry at Sam, but no amount of anger was an excuse for the way that guy had beaten him up. She almost felt sorry for him now, and couldn’t stop thinking about why Sam hadn't even attempted to defend himself. He could have deflected a punch or two, and it would have seemed more natural than him not doing anything at all.

As she exited the lift onto the third floor of the hospital, she released her breath loudly. He was going to hear a piece of her mind, Sam had been so stupid, and now the competition was probably endangered too. Arobynn had been furious when Celaena had gone to the mansion the night before and explained why Sam wouldn’t be there that night. He had tried to play it cool, but Celaena knew Arobynn was having second thoughts about the whole school situation.

She needed answers, and she needed them fast. She had looked through Dorian’s computer files not finding anything relevant; so she had decided she needed to get inside Aedion’s house as well as the penthouse of the hotel. Maybe her uncle’s computer or office would hold better answers. She wouldn’t dare go to the company, not just yet; not unless she really had to.

As she got to the door of room 303, Celaena stopped in her tracks as she heard voices inside. Had Arobynn changed his mind and gone to see Sam? She didn’t think he would, he had said Sam could find his way back to the house on his own once he was dismissed.

“You’re so funny, Sam,” she heard a feminine voice say sarcastically. She stood right by the side of the door, eavesdropping casually while trying not to get the attention of the few people walking past. She took her phone out for extra measure and pretended to text someone.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you worry so much about it, I’m sure it will be fine,” Sam was saying.

“I don’t know, I’m just not sure about any of it anymore.” Celaena knew she had heard that voice before. She squeezed her brain for an answer, trying to think about anybody that would visit Sam. It wasn’t like either of them was acquainted with many people. There were only those in the guild, which were mostly all males, and the few girls that had come and gone from the house, training with Arobynn sporadically. But they didn’t have a close relationship with any of them.

“Lys, trust me, everything will work itself out.”

“Lysandra?” Celaena muttered under her breath. She couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer, so she peeked through the door, pushing it open only an inch.

Sam was lying on the hospital bed, a bandage on his eyebrow, his lip swollen, and one of his arms resting on top of his abdomen on a sling. And there she was, sitting next to him and resting her hand on Sam’s forearm: Lysandra Caraverre.

Before she could do anything stupid, Celaena turned around and walked towards the emergency exit, taking the steps two at a time as she raced down the stairs and back to her motorbike.

She jumped up, put her helmet on, and sprinted out of the parking lot, heading straight to school. She had been to the hospital early to have some time to discuss strategies with Sam and give him a piece of her mind; and now she was going to be early to school because Lysandra, of all people, had been there with him instead.

Before she could think about where she was going, she took a right turn and headed towards the mansion instead.

“Arobynn!” She called minutes later as she stumbled into his office, banging the door open. She stopped in her tracks as she noticed the empty room. She turned on her heels and yelled his name again into the silence of the house. Nothing. “Is there anybody home?” She yelled a little louder, almost glad to notice she was all alone.

Celaena took a step into the office and closed the door behind her. She knew that if Arobynn ever found her lurking in his office, she’d be dead meat, but sometimes she couldn’t help her curiosity. Arobynn had been a bit on edge about a few things, and since the incident between them, he hadn’t trusted her as much. She had been wondering for a while if he was hiding something new, something she didn't know about. With the tournament coming up in a couple of weeks, she almost expected to find bets against Sam. Arobynn was known to hold dodgy cards under his sleeve, and there had been something weird about his reaction when she told him Sam had been beaten up at school. Had he played one of his dirty tricks and set up Sam to lose? She knew Cortland was good, but she knew he wasn't fond of fighting, even if he tried to hide it.

Celaena looked through the papers on top of the desk, one eye always on the door. When she didn’t find anything, she opened the first drawer and looked around the folders until she found some papers concerning the tournament inside an envelope.

She took out some slips from bets Arobynn had made, and she was only half surprised to find out he had put money onto Sam winning the competition. Celaena couldn’t deny that Sam had the potential to win, he was an amazing fighter- when he defended himself. Annoyed at him again, she huffed. She was about to put the papers away when she noticed who the slip was addressed to. The name was right there, on the corner of the page: Maeve Galathynius.

Before she could get over the shock she heard the front door banging, and put everything away as fast as she could. She slipped out of the office and exited the house through the back door before anybody could find her inside. She was glad she had parked her bike around back and out of sight. She rolled it out onto the street and fired the engine almost at the same time as she sped away.

She checked the time as she drove, and was surprised to see how much time had gone by; school was about to start. The choice was an easy one as Celaena made it to the intersection, and turned towards the hospital. She could be in and out in time to get to school by the second period.

As she got to the room, she only half expected to find Lysandra there. Listening in and finding the room quiet, she walked in.

“Surprised to see you here,” Sam said as soon as she was past the threshold.

“We’ve got business, you and I,” she said in a low and somber tone as she stood right next to him.

“Did you find anything?” Sam was serious, clearly catching on the importance of the matter straight away.

“I might have,” she whispered as she crouched, getting her face at the same level as Sam’s. Before Sam could read her expression, she snapped a hand up and closed it around his throat. “Now, whose side are you on?” She hissed.

Sam didn’t even flinch, he kept eye contact for a moment and then blinked once, slowly. “I’m with you,” he said softly.

“Are you really? You and Arobynn had had some fishy business, and I don’t trust that he trusts you.”

Sam glanced to the door before replying. “I know you think I betrayed you, but I didn’t. I thought you were in trouble, and I was trying to help. If you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can prove it to you.”

Celaena pondered how much to say, she knew what her end game was, what she wanted to obtain by going to the hospital. And she realized then, that maybe there was a way Cortland could start proving his worth, by proving he’d be willing to help without knowing why.

“I need you to back down from the tournament,” she said, loosening her hold on Sam’s throat.

Sam’s golden eyes bore into Celaena’s as if trying to read the motives behind what she was asking for.

“Done,” he replied after a minute, surprising Celaena so much that she let go of his neck altogether, and took a step back.

“And I need you to help me convince Arobynn that I’m the one to take your place.” Sam kept his expression cool as he nodded slowly.

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” He asked her, a little line forming on his forehead.

“You, better than anybody, know that I do,” Celaena’s tone had turned a little playful as the relief of getting what she needed started to wash over her. She just needed to convince Arobynn that she was his best option if he still wanted to win those bets. She could win that tournament, and find what her aunt’s involvement was while at it.

“I do,” Sam said with a half-smile. “Now, are you going to tell me why you need to be a part of the competition? I know you love fighting, but this is not the same as junior league, those guys can be brutal.”

“And I can be worse,” she replied without a second’s delay, making Sam chuckle again.

“I know that, you definitely have fire burning in that heart of yours,” he replied. “If you’re not telling me why, tell me how. What’s your plan? You can’t fight under the name of Celaena, if anybody traces your name back to Adarlan Elite, your whole plan could get ruined. And you certainly can’t fight under your real name.”

“I know that. I will find another alias, just a random name, maybe…” Celaena thought for a moment, trying to think of a name that sounded cool, but menacing at the same time, one that said ‘don’t mess with me’. “What about, Lillian?”

“Kind of sounds like Lilith, the vampire. I can see the resemblance,” Sam replied with a wink.

“You wanker,” Celaena laughed as she punched Sam in the shoulder, making him wince. When was the last time they had laughed together? Certainly before he had betrayed her. Or, if he was telling the truth, when she thought he did. She was still unsure about trusting Sam, but a part of her wished she could. Sam had been the closest thing to a friend she had ever had, and seeing him in the hospital like this had softened her heart if only a little.

“What about, Diana? Sounds kind of hot,” Sam offered.

“Sounds like an old lady.” Celaena scrunched her face and shook her head. Maybe she didn’t need a name, but a nickname. She could try to come up with something that represented her, something that meant something. Something that would make it worth fighting for, a name worth defending. Remembering Sam’s words from a moment ago, she started playing with words in her mind. Fire in your heart, he had said. Celaena could get on board with that, the anger and thirst for revenge almost burned like a fire in her chest most days. Heart of fire. Fire in the heart.

“Fireheart,” she said almost to herself. Sam looked at her, his honey eyes shining under the sun filtering through the window.

“Fireheart,” he repeated slowly as if savoring the word. “I like it, it suits you.”

#fireheart #tog fandom #tog fanfic #chapter 10 #sam cortland #celaena sardothien

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manage-mischief · 4 years

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Conjunctions

Summary: I wrote this drabble for @blisfvll on tumblr's writing challenge. Thanks for giving me a prompt for inspiration! I've been having a bit of writer's block lately so it was good to get creative. (also the next chapters of Regulus Black and the Darkest Shadows will be up next week, sorry for not posting this week my beta and I have both been insanely busy!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Read on AO3 or FF.net

“Lils.”

“Hold on,” Lily said, holding up a finger. She was deeply engrossed in her Transfiguration textbook, doing some last-minute review before her morning exam.

“Lils.”

“Mhm.”

“Lily!”

The sudden shout shocked her. She dropped her book, exasperated. “What?!” she spat—a bit harsher than intended—at her boyfriend who was sitting across the breakfast table. James’s eye widened.

“You’ve got your elbow in your porridge…”

Lily realized her left elbow did feel a bit wet. She looked down and, sure enough, she had been using her oatmeal as an arm rest. She cursed under her breath before swiftly cleaning herself up with a flick of her wand. Sirius, James’s best mate, snickered.

“Merlin, Evans,” Sirius teased, “Stressed out much?”

Lily rolled her eyes, but stuffed her book in her bag anyways. Sirius did have a point. She’d studied enough. Still, she could feel her leg bouncing wildly with nervous anticipation. This wasn’t just an exam: it was a NEWT. It was one of a series of tests that would determine the rest of her life. Her job, her happiness, her ability to support herself and a family…Lily shook herself out of her spiral of worrying. It wouldn’t do her any good.

“You should eat something, Lil,” said James, kindly. “Erm…maybe not that porridge though…”

Lily smiled in spite of herself and plucked James’s bagel out of his hands. “Thanks,” she muttered with a mouth full of warm bread. James feigned indignation.

“Oi, Prongs, that’s the price of dating Lily. She steals your food,” said Sirius, as he proceeded to swipe a sausage from James’s plate.

“A bargain price to pay for Lily’s affection,” said James. “But not for you, you wanker!” James locked Sirius in a playful wrestling match, attempting to retrieve his stolen food from Sirius’s fork. The two boys caused quite the ruckus, drawing the attention of many of the surrounding students, who had suddenly noticed their cutlery dancing across the table as the two boys fought.

“Stop hurting me, or I’ll write your mum!” Sirius wailed, stretching his arm just out of James’s reach. “You know she loves me best!”

“Hey!” said James, “I know it’s true, but hey!”

Remus, who had been quietly observing the scene, struck out with lightning fast reflexes and grabbed the fork from Sirius’s hand, promptly popping the coveted sausage into his mouth with a satisfied grin. James and Sirius looked properly affronted.

Lily chuckled. “Boys,” she muttered. She smiled gratefully at James. He and his friends never failed to cheer her up.

“I had to fight back!” James earnestly explained. “It was a matter of honor!”

“You don’t have to explain yourselves to me,” said Lily. “I know Remus just can’t resist grabbing Sirius’s sausage.”

Remus choked on his pumpkin juice, red as a tomato. James and Sirius laughed heartily.

“Evans! I knew there was a reason we kept you around.” Sirius nodded at her, approvingly.

“Merlin, Lil! See, this is why I love you!” James froze as soon as the words left his mouth. His eyes widened in shock, as did Lily’s. Her face flushed as red as Remus’s had. She was speechless.

Remus cleared his throat. “C’mon, Sirius, we’ve got to get to that…thing.”

Sirius stayed put. “No, I wanna know…Ow!” The table rattled as Remus obviously kicked the other boy in the shin, flashing a warning look.

“Oh,” Sirius stammered, “oh yeah. Right. The thing. Let’s go, Moons.’”

The two boys departed, leaving James and Lily alone at the breakfast table. Neither would meet the other’s eye. Lily tried to force herself to say something, anything, however, her vocal chords stayed obstinately stiff. She was too shocked. After a few seconds silence, James stood. He looked mortified. “You know what,” he said, hastily, “I’d better go help them with the…thing…Good luck on the exam, you’ll ace it I’m sure…I’ll see ya later, yeah?”

“James—” Lily tried to call after him as he rushed from the hall. She felt awful. She hadn’t said it back. She should have. She’d wanted to. But, she had been so surprised and, in the moment, had panicked. And now, James thought she didn’t love him. Before she could ponder her mistake any further, the bell rang. Dammit. It was exam time. This debacle would have to wait.

---

The exam had been a breeze. Lily was relieved. Now, she had a week before her next NEWT. And, this meant she had time to brainstorm how to make it up to James.

She was laying on her bed, making random objects float around her head. She had no idea what to do. James was always the hopeless, dramatic, romantic type. And, frankly, he was usually the one apologizing to her. If their roles had been reversed, he’d have concocted some elaborate scheme to win back Lily’s affections—likely involving plots, dramatics, and the help of his gang of friends…His friends…that was it! Lily shot up from her laying position, invigorated. She was concocting a plan. Yes, yes, Lily now had a grand plan to declare her love for James Potter. She dashed down the stairs, clear on what she had to do next. In order to perform her grand, elaborate gesture, Lily would need the help of James’s best friends.

Luckily enough for Lily, the boys were all lounging in the Common Room—sans James. Lily knew he would be at Quidditch practice for the next hour and a half. Hopefully, this would give her enough time to organize her gesture.

“Remus!” Lily called out from across the room. “Sirius! Peter! I need your help!”

“Well, if it isn’t ‘heartless Lily Evans’ herself?” Sirius teased. He leaned back in his chair dangerously, resting his feet on the small wooden table. Peter chuckled until Lily flashed him a death glare. The runty little boy fell silent.

“I’m serious—I swear if you make a joke I’ll hex your balls off, Black!” Lily warned, just as Sirius had opened his mouth to make a pun about his name. He paled and shut it immediately.

“What do you need, Lily?” Remus asked kindly.

“I…well…you clearly know what happened this morning with James…” Lily looked down, embarrassed. The boys nodded. “I messed up. Royally. I need your help to make it right.”

“Our help?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you need our help?”

The three boys leaned forward, curious to hear what she had to say.

Lily grinned cunningly. “Well, I had this idea…”

---

Lily and the boys scrambled around for the next hour, making sure every little detail of their plan was set. Finally, the Gryffindor Common Room was ready for James’s arrival. Lily felt a little guilty abusing her Head Girl authority to throw the rest of the students out, but this was for the greater good.

“Hush, and get into positions!” Lily hissed impatiently at her three companions. They quickly scrambled away, ducking behind the chairs and suits of armor in the Common Room, out of sight.

“Wands at the ready!” She ordered, checking her watch for the thousandth time. James would be arriving soon. He must be close. Her heart began to pound anxiously.

A moment later, Lily heard the Fat Lady’s muffled voice as she conversed with someone else outside the door. It had to be James. But, what if it wasn’t? Lily stupidly hadn’t planned on encountering any of his other Quidditch mates. What if one of them had arrived before James did?

Luckily for Lily, the top of a messy head of hair emerged from the portrait entryway. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was James. This was it.

“Lily?” James asked, raising an eyebrow. She stood alone in the middle of the atrium. Her legs felt like jelly. Perhaps she should have dressed up more. “What are you—”

“James Fleamont Potter,” Lily proclaimed, raising her wand above her head. The signal.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the infinitesimal movements of Remus, Sirius, and Peter, as they began casting their spells. The light in the Common Room turned pale pink. Fireworks began erupting over her head, spreading out around the room as they danced in the air. A flock of songbirds burst from the tip of Remus’s hidden wand flew promptly into a heart formation, chirping merrily. Two cherubs holding harps fluttered near them. Heart shaped bubbled filled the air. The scene was, in Lily’s opinion, utterly sickening with cliché. She hoped James would love it.

“I love you, too.” Lily said, just as the fireworks regrouped in above head, spelling out the same message in flashing lights. Gooey harp sounds echoed through the air. The birds clumped together in a tight formation and flew to James, turning into a bouquet of roses before his eyes.

Lily held her breathe as she watched her boyfriend take in the scene before him. James looked up from the bouquet, grinning madly.

“Well?” Lily asked. “Say something?”

“WOOHOO!” James shouted, rushing to Lily and taking her in his arms. He lifted her off of the ground as he spun her around. Lily laughed as he set her back down.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier,” she apologized.

“Lily,” said James seriously, “Don’t ever apologize. This way was much better. I feel like the belle of the ball.” He winked.

“Only the best for you, your majesty,” Lily teased back. She was staring into James’s eyes as he held her hands when a chorus of cheers erupted from behind them.

“What the hell?” James jumped back, startled to find his three best friends who had materialized beside them.

“Nice one, Evans,” Sirius clapped her on the back. “I knew Prongs’d fall for this sappy romantic crap, the big softie.”

“Who’re you calling a softie?” James pouted.

“You, idiot. Look, you haven’t even snogged your girlfriend yet. You’ve just gazed lovingly into her eyes. It’s gross!”

Remus and Lily shared a look. “Come on, Sirius, Peter, let’s give these two some privacy.”

As the three boys walked off towards their dormitories, James grabbed Lily by the waist and pulled her close. “Just for that, I’m gonna snog her extra hard now!” He shouted into the distance. Sirius’s laughing reply echoed down the stairs.

Lily shook her head affectionately. “You’re an idiot.”

James smiled back, running a hand through her hair. “But you love me.”

#jily #james potter #lily evans #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders era #wolfstar #minor wolfstar #jily fluff #fluff #Harry Potter #hp marauders #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #my writing #peter pettigrew #james potter x lily evans #blisfvllswritingchallenge

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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 years

Text

Us Against the World - Chapter Nine.

Taglist - @katie007123 @clarinette07 @lilacmeadows @mostly-marvel-musings @skyfullofsong123 @captain-asguard @innerpaperexpertcloud (To be added, please feel free to message)

Previous chapters - Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight

“Hello, hello! You both look gorgeous!” Taylor greeted them with at the door, joined by a very happy Stanley when they arrived. Hugs for both the hostess and her adorable dog were exchanged, Mike popping up too, telling Mia how lovely she looked and making a joke at how tall she was in her heels, since thus far he’d only ever seen her diminutive in flats.

Walking through into the kitchen, Mia was introduced to the friendship group assembled so far, Layne who she’d of course met the first time she met Chris and a few times since, his girlfriend Chloe, Jack, who she’d heard all about, Chris forewarning her that he was as sensitive as a swinging brick and often didn’t think before he spoke, his wife Nat and Russ and his girlfriend Camille.

Everyone was polite enough, but she knew her reputation preceded her purely from how she noticed the way the women in the room looked her up and down, sizing her up, deciding for themselves how to judge her based on the fact that she did porn for a living. She was so used to it by now that if anything, she was surprised if it didn’t happen.

“Oh my god, is that the new Chanel purse?” Camille exclaimed, stepping forward and pointing to Mia’s red velvet cross body bag. It seemed the only eyeing she was doing was of Mia’s must have fashion item, which made her feel instantly more comfortable

“Yeah, I ordered it last week and it arrived this morning. I’m somewhat of a collector, my vice is nice bags, oh and a good, cold Sauvignon. Thanks, honey,” she replied, in part to Taylor who had just passed her a glass of that very chilled wine.

“I saw it too but god, I just couldn’t swing five grand!” she exclaimed, Mia nodding while Chris excused himself to go and talk to Mike.

“Yeah, even though I had the cash, it still took me a few beats at the pay now button before I bought it! It’s such an extravagance,” she replied humbly, sipping her wine.

Between her extremely lucrative OnlyFans account and what she made doing movies elsewhere, Mia’s monthly income was plentiful, but she never let that go to her head. She might have been wealthy, but she was down to earth with it.

“How many pornos did you have to make to get that five grand, though, is what we all want to know!” Jack then commented, grinning at her in that smug way she’d seen too many times before not to see right through. She intimidated him, so therefore he was trying to embarrass her.

“Jack, no one wants to know that!” Camille hissed at him, waving her hand dismissively and laughing uncomfortably, while he and his wife looked on smugly at Mia, expecting an answer. She was just about to deliver her reply when Taylor breezed back to usher her in the direction of where she’d laid out food.

“Ignore him, he’s a wanker when he feels threatened by someone. He’s already made a few remarks to Chris prior to tonight as well. If he makes any more, I can see him getting reprimanded by a fist, too. You can only push my bestie so far,” she whispered, Mia liking the way she picked up on Chris’s slang, like wanker, which was of course much more native to Australia than it was America.

“Oh, I know his type entirely. His hand has probably had sex with me a few times and he doesn’t like that the rest of him never will. I know what jerkoff envy looks like, sweetie,” she replied, Taylor snorting and Camille agreeing that it was likely the case, before asking Mia more about her work.

Because of hearing a few more snide comments from Jack over the course of the evening, she segregated herself with her and Russ for most of the night despite the arrival of more people, gravitating back to Chris too and enjoying herself greatly. It seemed though, as the drinks continued to flow and inhibitions became lessened, so did certain people’s tongues.

“So, show me something impressive you can do, yoga wise since you’re an instructor,” Layne asked, who was always fascinated by other people’s fitness strengths.

“Well, it’s half party trick, half yoga. Pour me a shot into one of those solo cups,” she requested, Camille grabbing a cup and Layne pouring out a measure of tequila.

“Alright, give me some room.” She then requested, everyone spreading out to witness her tilt her head back, rest the cup on her forehead and then sink down to the ground, push her knees back to grip the cup and place it on the floor, crawl out from underneath herself, pick up the cup with just her teeth and sink the shot.

She then bent back once more, pushed up into a handstand, took the tequila bottle with her feet and lowered them to pour a second shot, placed the bottle back, picked up the cup and then walked on her hands over to Chris, who took the cup and downed its contents to an impressed cheer from the room.

“Can you teach me to do that too?” Layne requested, patting her back as he laughed, impressed at her level of control, Mia assuring him that she would.

It was after she’d popped outside when an eager Stanley had ambled over, looking hopeful with his tennis ball, that she heard the kind of conversation off the back of her party trick that despite what Taylor had told her, was impossible to ignore.

“Well of course she can bend like that. I saw a video of her tied up in a back bend, getting pounded by one of those fucking machines, while she sucked off two guys at once. That isn’t from yoga, that’s from being a porn whore!” Jack laughed, just loud enough for her to hear.

She could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head as she threw the ball for Stanley, waiting for the reaction he was attempting to goad from her, the other two guys he was with just chuckling but not making any remarks themselves.

Staying outside a while longer, she was joined by Chris, indulging in some kisses before Camille stole her away, she and a couple of other girl's present going off in a little group to talk about all things girly. One of those topics happened to be underwear, a friend of Camille’s named Stacy lamenting that she couldn’t find the matching undies for her bra, Mia quick to show her she was wearing the very pair.

“TJ Maxx, five bucks! Go soon, they have them in your size!” she enthused enthusiastically, pulling her underwear out a little over her leggings to show her.

“Oh, that’s amazing! Thank you, Mia. I always love to wear a set, I hate not being matchy matchy!” she replied, Mia about to confirm she felt exactly the same, before a passing Jack just couldn’t help himself.

“What’s amazing is that she’s wearing underwear at all, am I right?” he announced, the girls all looking uncomfortable and not knowing what to say. Mia had some words for him, though. She’d grown tired of being his target.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him with a sigh. She wouldn’t show him an ounce of anger, though. She sensed getting a rise out of her would delight him.

“What? What am I doing to you? I’m not doing anything, you’re imagining it,” he stated, trying to make it look like it was all in her head. Of course, he would. It was typical of a douchebag to gaslight.

The girls present moved away, sensing something building that was nothing to do with them and not particularly wanting to witness it, more so that Jack had no one to try and embarrass the nice girl they’d met that evening in front of than anything else. They sensed she was capable of holding her own, too. When sisterhood existed, it was solid.

“Oh, you misunderstand. I don’t give a single care what you have to say about me. I’ve heard it all before. What I want to know is what you’re doing to Chris, the man who is meant to be your friend, by acting like a perpetual jerk towards his girlfriend. What’s he done to deserve that, Jack?” she asked him calmly, folding her arms.

“Come on, Mia! I’m just having a laugh with you, what’s wrong with that, huh?” He tried to wiggle his way out with, not answering her question either. She was having none of it.

“If what you’ve said to me was such a joke, how come you haven’t made any of the remarks in front of Chris, hmm? Too chicken shit, that’s why. I mean, you really must be small, mustn’t you, to attempt to bring a woman who you find intimidating down like that, but not in front of the person she’s dating, who just so happens to be your friend too,” she put to him, Jack putting on a fake laugh. Yep, she’d caught him out and he didn’t like it.

“Intimidated? By you?” he began, his face curling into a grimace. “No dirty little cum slut intimidates me.” Any other words she might have added were not needed, since it was at that very moment Chirs suddenly appeared from behind her, grabbing Jack by the collar and dragging him through the open glass doors leading to the garden and out of view.

Putting her drink down, she hurried out after them, looking around before seeing Chris emerge from behind a large hedge, flexing his hand, Jack following a few seconds later, holding a hand to his mouth, his lip split and mouth bleeding. Taylor was right, then. Chris could be pushed only so far before the pusher received a punch for it.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told him, reaching for his forearms and stroking them, Chris holding her head in his hands and kissing her hair. “I’ve heard it all before from a hundred different guys. I’m used to it.”

“Yes, I did. I don’t care how fucking used to it you are, or how many men have spoken to you like that, no one calls you what he just did on my watch. No fucking way,” he told her, holding her tight and eyeballing Jack as he walked past, daring him to say another word.

“Dude, I’m sorry, I,” is as far as he got before Taylor, who had watched it unfold from a distance, herded him away.

“Not tonight. You’ve done enough, Jack. Let him calm down and then if you’re really sorry for treating his girlfriend like garbage, you can apologise to them both at a later date. Right now, I think it’s best that you and Nat leave,” she spoke, walking him back inside.

“Fucking asshole,” Chris whispered, shaking his head, still angry. It was the only time Mia had seen her laid back, mild tempered boyfriend lose his cool. She didn’t like that she was the reason either, she hated that the situation had come to that and told him as much.

“Babe, it isn’t your fault. I heard probably more of your conversation than you realise, since Stacy came and told me he was being rude and she was concerned. You tried to engage with him and then made him confront what’s likely the truth, from his reaction.

“He’s intimidated by you, probably had one too many wanks over you to be comfortable with the idea of me dating you, or you being in the same space as him, because he’s embarrassed that his fantasy is standing right there in front of him. Either way, I don’t care. He can come to me sincere and apologise, to you as well, or fuck off,” he replied, Mia taking his hand and leading him back inside, pouring him a tequila shot which he down in one.

“Keep ‘em coming,” he replied, his girl duly topping up the cup, Taylor appearing with two beers, one of which she passed to Chris.

“Well, I just got chewed out by Nat at the door for apparently allowing that to happen,” she sighed, widening her eyes as she twisted opened her own beer bottle.

“Oh, she can get the fuck out with that. It was her husband who couldn’t keep his giant yap shut. Absolute idiot!” Mia exclaimed, pouring herself out a shot. “Fuck it, I’m getting white girl drunk.”

“Me too.” Chris said, making everyone explode laughing and instantly dissipating any bad energies left behind by Jack and his wife. In the end, they had a fantastic night, just as they’d originally intended, both happily drunk and very, very horny by the time they arrived back at Chris’s at 2am.

Their night was about to get even better.

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

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two years too late, chapter e l e v e n

Maybe it was harsh. Maybe it was a spiteful thing to say or unprofessional, even. The fourth glass of wine convinced you that you didn’t care. The fifth made you want to write another angry tweet.

Alyssa sat on the floor on the bathroom across from you, empty wine glass beside her. You thought you were going to throw up. First it felt like it was the wine. Then the crying. Now it was the pounding in your head that had you hugging porcelain.

“Maybe you should just go to sleep,” she said quietly, her words careful. You pulled your eyes up to look at her, slow and resentful.

“I can’t,” you said, tears welling in your eyes before you wiped them away. “He’s been in there.”

“Oh, Y/N, he’s been all over the apartment.” She reminded, her voice less patient that it was before.

“Then I guess we have to move,” you said, voice squeaking when a sob escaped your lips.

“Sleep in my bed, then.”

“With you?”

“I’ll sleep in yours.”

“No I want you to sleep with me.”

She laughed a little, a sigh escaping her lips when she reached out a hand. She stood, pulling you up with her. “Fine--a sleepover. On a work night.”

“M’not going to work.”

“You have to go to work.”

“I quit.”

“You don’t quit.” She said, leading you towards her bedroom in the dark.

“I do too! How am I supposed to write about him? What am I supposed to say? He’s a liar and a cheat but he sure can write a good love song?”

“I thought you said you wrote most of it on the plane today?”

“I did, but--I can’t write a good story about him when he’s a wanker! Now I have to tell the world how terrible he is.” You sat on her bed, letting out a huff when you realized that her sheets didn’t smell like Harry. You’d gotten used to it, it was soothing.

“I don’t think you’ll feel that way in the morning.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she left you in her bedroom when she disappeared into yours. You wondered what he was doing. On the phone with his sister? Writing a song about how stupid you were?

When your roommate reappeared, she handed you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “They were on your dresser, are they clean?”

“Who cares,” you said, standing from the edge of her bed to pull your shirt over your head. She tossed the pants at you before heading back to the bathroom, talking over her shoulder as she walked away.

“He’s a dickhead--what did he even have to say?”

“Nothing! He had nothing to say!”

“He had nothing to say?” You heard her turn the water on in the sink, a steady stream flowed from the faucet when you stood in the doorway.

“I mean--I didn’t--I couldn’t listen. I just yelled, pretty much.”

“So you didn’t give him a chance to say anything?”

“No I just, I dunno, I didn’t want to hear it,” you said casually, shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/N,” she turned the water off and dunked a face cloth beneath it. “You can’t really know what happened if you don’t let him talk.”

“I don’t want him to talk.”

She shot you a look out of the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t!” You said again, turning back into the bedroom. “He’s a twat and I knew something would ruin all of this because, frankly,” you turned back to find her in the doorway now, her hair up in a bun and traces of mascara left beneath her eyes, “it was too good to be true anyway.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumped when she sat on the bed and looked up at you. “Just sleep on it. Give it time. You’re still in,” she shrugged, searching for the words. “Reaction mode.”

You didn’t have anything else to say. You’d called him enough names, drank enough wine to try to numb the hole in your chest that was growing every time you pulled the picture back up, dissecting it, starting at it, wishing it wasn’t true.

So you crawled into bed, wiping your eyes in the dark when tears threatened to reach Alyssa’s pillowcase. She rubbed at your hair for a while but eventually fell asleep, leaving you to stare at the wall until the sun rose.

There were moments of sleep, interrupted by reality setting back in. Pounding in your head when the alarm on her phone went off, a new day brought a desire to stay quiet. Too many emotions to articulate.

You’d never been much of an actress. Whether it was a school play or just a white lie, faking it wasn’t something you could put on your resume. So when Whitney popped over to your desk first thing that morning, you immediately regretted your decision to even show up to work in the first place.

Her hair was up in a sleek bun, her eyes bright and blue like the sky outside. “How was it? I loved all your instagram stories and I had to stop myself from texting you just to ask all about it!”

You forced a smile, clearing your throat before offering an answer. “It was good, you know, work trip in a sense still. Good food, no good bagels though.”

She smiled, her eyes narrowing a bit with suspicion. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just tired. Jet lag, I guess.” It was a stretch, but she seemed to believe it.

“Have you started yet?”

“The story?”

She nodded, another eager smile on her face. You leaned back in your chair, hands on your desk. “Yeah--started on the trip home.”

“Well, good. I was hoping to have you give a bit of a pitch at the department meeting on Wednesday? Maybe give them some details on the trip, just fill people in. I know there’s some excitement about it.”

“Oh--like, tell them I went?”

“I mean, a lot of them know. But yeah, give us all the details of your weekend with Harry Styles,” she offered a big grin once more, reaching out a hand to pat your arm before assuring you she’d touch base later. You promised to send along your working draft--which would likely be a string of bullet points you’d crafted over the last few weeks, words crossed out and random things you heard him say or saw him do. You didn’t dare send her the words you’d pulled together on the plane home. Too soon.

Because here was the truth: you still didn’t know what to say about him. How did you tell Whitney that you miraculously got the chance to interview Harry right after you reconnected? How did you explain lying to her and keeping so many secrets?

The frantic thoughts that swirled in your brain overnight told you it’d be better to quit. Sell all of your belongings and move to a remote town in a state like Wyoming or Montana.

It felt safer than facing the mess you’d made--naming things and addressing issues hadn’t ever really been a strong suit, but you were left more uncertain and nervous when Carly found you hiding in the bathroom on the graphic design floor.

“Why are you down here?”

“Why are you down here?” You threw the question back at her, watching as the soap on your hands fell towards the drain, an eerily appropriate metaphor--you were sure of it--for your career.

“Had a meeting with Kevin about a story I’m doing--he made a shit graphic last week and I wanted to make sure he knows what he’s doing. Funny how we have to do other people’s jobs, isn’t it?”

You forced a laugh, reaching for paper to dry your hands.

“Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just, uh, jet-lagged.”

Her eyes narrowed for a minute, her confusion soon swapped for excitement. “Did you jet set off with the love of my life?”

You cleared your throat, albeit a bit relieved that she didn’t seem angry about more dishonesty.

“Oh my god, you did!” She rushed towards you, hands on your arms when she spoke again. “Where did you go? Home again?”

“No, no--we uh, I went to LA with him for the interview. Nothing big.”

“Oh,” she dropped her hands to her side, head tilted when she realized you still weren’t excited. “You seem depressed.”

“I just don’t know what to write for the story and--I’m mad at him. He was an asshole this weekend.”

“What’d he do?”

You shook your head, there was no way to tell her anything remotely close to the truth. “Just--he lied to me. He didn’t tell me something, rather.”

Her face scrunched. “What’d he not tell you?”

“That he uh, he had wine at his flat and I didn’t think he had any so I brought wine and then I found out that he had wine.”

It took her a second, her face pulled back in perplexity. “You fought with him about wine?”

“Yeah--he was a wanker. Just say you have wine if you have wine, y’know?” You cleared your throat, realizing how heated you were getting just thinking about Nina Winters and her stupid coat and the way Harry’s hand seemed to so naturally graze her back.

“Maybe he forgot?”

“No,” you laughed. “It was good wine. He certainly remembered.”

She was about to say something but you were saved the door swinging open. You left Carly on the graphic design floor, heading back to your desk and wondering what on earth you’d gotten yourself into.

Alyssa was out with Owen. You met him at the door and pretended like you didn’t notice Alyssa was trying to sneak out quickly without introducing you. Maybe it was the fact that you sat on the couch all day and refused to change out of sweatpants. You had plenty of sick time and your head hadn’t stopped pounding since the start of it all.

It was just after 6pm, a dreary New York day had faded to night, clouds hung low over the city. A pot of boxed macaroni and cheese (it was better at home, but Kraft would suffice) cooked on the stove top, your phone buzzed on the counter beside you.

“Hi,” you greeted Bryn when her face came into view, hair back into a bun. It was late back home--you didn’t know why she was up.

She moved the screen a bit, Jessie’s face came into view and you let out an audible groan. “What do you want? I’m still mad at you.”

Bryn laughed, Jessie’s face faltered.

“We know--she’s sorry and I’m sorry. It was terrible of us to leave you in the loo with him but we hoped you’d just make out and fall in love or whatever.”

“Right,” you rolled your eyes.

“What do you mean ‘right?’” Jessie’s watched you, a look of impatience on her face.

“You’ve never wanted me to be with him, Jessie! For as long as I can remember you’ve been telling me it’s a bad idea. I get that, okay? Nothing will ever happen between him and I.”

“I just didn’t want ya to get hurt!” She let out a sigh, eyes searching your face for forgiveness. “You’ve been in love with him since we were, like, fifteen, and when he left you were gutted! It sucked to know how much you were hurting and not be able to do anything about it.”

“This has always been messy, okay?” Bryn’s voice was calm--she clearly was trying to mediate.

You stirred the pasta over heat, watched with skeptical eyes as Bryn continued. “We weren’t trying to meddle or anything, we just--we were drunk and we thought that leaving you both in there for a while would be good for you. Make you talk things out. We were all sick of being in the middle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You narrowed your eyes at her. A churning in your stomach garbled up her words. Had they always been annoyed with your stupid and pathetic crush? Memories of them both urging you to move on flooded back in--nights in high school with thick eyeliner and instant messaging.

Now Bryn let out a groan. “You two have always had feelings for each other. It’s always been bloody obvious and the timeline just never clicked and the four of us were left to just sit by and watch you both be a trainwreck.”

You were quiet at that, a thousand questions on the tip of your tongue, but Jessie let out a sigh.

“Jake told us in, I don’t know, 2013,” she looked at Bryn to confirm the year, “that Harry said he liked you. But that was right when you had finally moved on and started dating Charlie.”

You would have argued the accuracy of moving on, but you wanted to hear what she had to say.

“So we didn’t tell you that we knew that because we didn’t want to freak you out or ruin things and you seemed really happy with Charlie.”

“I was,” you shrugged, the anger and sharpness taken right out of your voice. “He was nice for a while.”

“I know,” Bryn said. “And then when you broke up we kind of thought it was your time and Harry had come home that Christmas and showed up to the party--which, we kind of knew was going to happen.” She paused to see if you’d be angry, you rolled your eyes and lifted your brows, urging her to continue. Their getting involved in everything wasn’t surprising anymore.

“But then obviously that night didn’t go well and you told us to never even bring it up again. So--” Jessie trailed off, a shrug of her shoulders, an apologetic look on her face when you took the pot off the stove.

“Whatever,” you said. “It’s all been a mess for a long time and it’s not anymore,” you lied. “I don’t have feelings for him and he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

They were quiet, watching as you dumped the water into the sink. “I think he’s dating Nina Winters--that model or whatever she is.”

“We just talked to him actually,” Bryn said, her voice quiet. Your hands jerked when she said it, you set the pot down before turning back to the phone and picking it up.

“Oh?” You played it cool. “What did he say?”

“Well--he said he wanted us to tell you but, he uh,” a smile threatened to break Bryn’s composure.

“We’re coming to visit you for your birthday!” Jessie let out a squeal, your chest deflated in relief when it became clear: they didn’t know.

“You are? How’d you manage that?”

Jessie leaned in, her face close enough to the camera that you could see the small gap between her front teeth. “We’re all coming, the boys too! A proper lads trip!”

“You all are coming?”

“Was Harry’s idea--” Jessie informed.

Bryn nodded. “Right after Valentine’s day!”

“Did he buy your tickets?”

Jessie shrugged. “Said it wasn’t a big deal. He really wanted us to come.”

“When did this all happen?”

“Booked the flight about a week ago, yeah?”

Bryn nodded. “Was supposed to be a surprise and we were just talking to him about some logistics and he said we could tell you--I guess he hasn’t seen you in a few days.”

Oh, he’d seen you. Just sobbing in his living room with fire in your veins. You realized it was probably time to let go of the confusion and be happy about it--otherwise they’d know for sure that something was up.

“Well, that’s exciting! Are you all--you’re not...staying at mine are you?”

“No, god no--we’re staying at Harry’s,” Jessie said his name with a squeal and an added layer of theatricality. “We finally get a chance to live the lavish life with him like you’ve been doing.”

“I haven’t been doing that,” you denied, ripping open the packing of powdered cheese, sprinkling it over the pasta like winter’s first snowfall.

“Sure--and the Queen isn’t old.”

“She’s just excited to see New York,” Bryn let out a laugh. “And you, of course.”

“You said it was his idea?” You pulled a fork from the drawer, balanced the phone in your elbow as you walked over to the table to sit.

“Yeah--why haven’t you seen him? Aren’t you two attached at the hip now?”

“No,” you shoved pasta into your mouth, thankful for the excuse to keep quiet.

Jessie’s eyes were glued to her own phone, her thumbs moved over the screen when she spoke. “We have to go to Times Square. I’ve always wanted to go.”

“We can do that,” you promised. “But only once. It’s rather disgusting when you actually live here. And obnoxious. Why are you two together right now, anyway?”

“Came to good old Brum to see me sweet baby,” she wrapped her arms around Bryn, inadvertently toppling them over with a laugh. “And to meet the head of my PhD programme!”

“Can’t believe she got you out of Leeds--thought your Northern accent would’ve been worse by now Jess,” you offered a smile to let her know you only teased.

She stuck up her middle finger in front of the camera before turning the conversation more serious. “Harry said you’re mad at him.”

You took another bite, eyes on the napkin next to your bowl. If you avoided eye contact, you could buy time.

“Are you?”

“No,” you lied. “He’s just--he’s being stupid. M’not mad.”

“You sure?” Bryn pressed again, a hand reached overhead to smooth her her ponytail that Jessie had sufficiently ruined.

A nod, “yeah,” you said. “Totally.”

“So us coming to New York is going to be the greatest thing ever?” Jessie couldn’t contain her excitement, another squeal and another close up of her face when she made more requests: the Empire State Building, Central Park--you promised that the top of the Rockefeller building had better views and that Washington Square would be better for people watching.

But you caved--she was too excited and Bryn was too busy already planning the entire schedule. A text to Adam and Jake in the group confirmed what you’d already expected.

The six of you. Together for more than a few hours. For the first time in years.

It was sure to be interesting.

The cafeteria at work was busy--and while you typically opted to grab food from a restaurant nearby, the distraction of Carly complaining about her newest deadline was a welcomed distraction.

She pushed at the eggplant parm on her plate, fork prongs rubbing against the blue ceramic surface before she finally brought a bite to her mouth. “You know? It just feels rushed and I don’t want it to be.”

“I know,” you sighed--though you hadn’t really been listening. Your brain was too focused in on the fact that Harry’s name had lit up the screen of your phone a whole three times.

“You can read those,” she laughed, reaching for her napkin to wipe her mouth.

“No--sorry, he’s just--m’still mad at him.”

“Well what’s he saying?”

You let out a sigh and then reached your thumb over to open it up--the messaged spilled across the screen.

Harry S (12:19pm): Please come over tonight and talk to me.

Harry S (12:21pm): There’s a lot I can explain Smalls

Harry S (12:22pm): I’m a dick and a wanker and a knob and I am sorry for not telling you

Harry S (12:22pm): I just didn’t want to fuck anything up

Harry S (12:23pm): 😢

“All of that because of wine?” Carly looked down at your phone, a suggestive smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Yeah, the wine.” You rolled your eyes, watched as she took a bite of the food on her plate.

“He clearly is sorry--sent an emoji to prove it.”

You looked down at the screen, three dots appeared below the five messages he’d already sent. You clicked it shut.

“S’fine--I just need some space. Been spending a lot of time with him.”

“How’s the story?”

You made a noise in your throat set your fork down and reached for the coffee you’d already poured yourself. It was at least a two cup day.

“It’s shit, honestly. Whitney finally replied to that email, though, of bullet points. Said she wishes I had more done but she can imagine the immense pressure I’m under due to the biggest story of my career,” you recited the words you’d read over and over, the ones that seemed to lodge themselves in your brain and steal sleep from you each night.

You’d been trying to write. Have a cup of coffee and detach all emotion from the boy who’d long had your heart. You’d stare at your laptop late at night and wonder what on earth had gone on between them.

Had they slept together? Was it once? How’d they meet? Why’d he not tell you from the start? How’d you not seen photos any sooner?

Once you’d played through almost every possible scenario you could imagine, you’d be left with a blank page, no appetite, and a borderline sleepless night.

“M’sure it’ll be fine--just be patient. You still a week until it’s due, right?”

“Yeah but my friends--our friends--are coming in two days. Loaded me up with tourist stuff and dinner reservations. Which means I have to see him and get writing and hope for the best.”

Your phone buzzed again on the table--you both looked down to see his words across the screen.

Harry S (12:25pm): I miss you like crazy and it’s only been a week. Please come over.

You looked up at her, a knot in your stomach.

Something in her eyes told you she knew. She took a sip of the seltzer on her right and then folded up her napkin. “Just go over.”

“No,” you said quickly, flipping the phone over before he could say anything else. “He’s in the wrong.”

“He’s in love with you,” she laughed, standing from the table before crumpling her napkin on top of her plate.

“No he’s not,” you shook your head dramatically, a huff of air through your lips to communicate that she’d lost her mind. “Not in the slightest.”

“Y/N,” she set her plate down and leaned towards you, her voice lower so as to not draw attention. “I’m not stupid.”

“I’m not saying you are,” you said slowly, trying to keep your tone level--unsure of the emotion in her voice.

She smiled, relief down your spine when she continued. “I don’t know what happened and I don’t know your entire history--but I can tell there’s one there. Take your space but,” a shrug of her shoulders. “Talk to him eventually. And write your truth.”

At first you deleted the app--dragged it off of your phone like it was digital poison. You made it two days before you grabbed Alyssa’s phone out of her hands to check--desperately searching his name along hers to see if there were any updates.

Had they seen each other? Was he lying? How were you supposed to reply to those text messages that sat, unanswered, on your phone?

Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you were supposed to just wait it out, ice him out, refuse to spend time with him when your friends were here and hope that they’d choose you over him. After all, you hadn’t been the one to abandon them.

“Will you relax? I’m sure there’s nothing there--” she clipped an earring in place, as she stood in the doorway. Owen sat on the couch, hands clasped together on his lap, eyes fixated on the muted basketball game on the telly.

“I just have to check,” you said, words melted together as if your brain couldn’t handle full sentences. Your eyes scanned the letters, huddles of them together, people sharing their take on your friendship, more pictures of the two of you in LA.

Nothing seemed to hint that he’d seen her or talked to her or anything in between. You let out a sigh when you looked up at her. She watched you with expectant eyes, an outstretched palm.

You handed it back to her, reluctant to give her the last thing she needed before she’d head out the door and down the stairs, laughing and nuzzling into the boy who was slowly stealing her away.

“Ready?” She turned to face him, a smile on her lips when he stood.

“What’s his name again?” Owen shoved his hands in his pockets, reached for his coat from the hook by the door. “I said something about the band he was in to my sister the other night and she freaked out when I forgot his name.”

“Harry,” you and Alyssa both said it at the same time, only you rolled your eyes and headed for the kitchen.

“Don’t be too late--I’m lonely!”

“I’ll be home when I decide to come home,” she let her voice trail upwards in pitch, a sing song end to her sentence.

You made a face over your shoulder, reaching for a box of cereal from the cabinet when she bid you farewell. The clock on the wall mocked you, breaking the silence in the room with every passing second. After a few handfuls of dry cereal, you pulled out your phone and reread the messages.

Then you reread them again.

After the third time, you called Jake. He answered on the second ring, a toothbrush in his mouth--he waved in greeting.

“Hi,” you said slowly, voice low and drained of any emotion.

He made a noise, scrunched his eyebrows together as if to ask what’s wrong?

“Harry’s a fucking twat,” you said, resting your elbows on the counter before shoving more food into your mouth.

He spit into the sink, splashed water towards his mouth. “Yeah? What’d he do this time?”

“He was sleeping with Nina Winters.”

“The model?”

You nodded.

“He was having sex with her?” The look on his face was one of pure shock.

“I mean--I dunno if there was actual penetration but there are plenty of photos of them kissing, so,” you shrugged again, waving a hand to communicate the assumption you were making.

“So he maybe is sleeping with Nina Winters.”

“He’s at least snogging her behind my back. And this was all while things between us were--y’know--heating up.”

“Huh,” he flipped off the light switch in the loo he was in--moved back towards his bedroom.

“Huh what?”

He pulled his lips apart, took a breath like he was about to say something. You shoved the box back into the cabinet and made your way for the couch. “Nothing,” he said. “Just, s’weird, is all.”

“What do you know?”

“What?”

“What do you know, Jacob?”

“I don’t know anything!” He said, his voice higher in defense. “But he’s certainly a twat if he’s still seeing her. Especially if he’s seeing her instead of you.”

“I don’t know if he is--I told him to fuck off as soon as I found out.”

“Did you let him explain anything?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shifted on his bed--you realized it was almost midnight there. “Nothing, Smalls, just--I dunno, he’s an idiot but he’s not that stupid. M’sure he had a reason for seeing her or whatever.”

You made a face at him--one to let him know that he was supposed to be on your side.

“M’just saying,” held up a hand to soothe you.

“Well--he ruined whatever was going on. Whatever type of relationship that was--it’s nothing now.”

“Oh come on,” he tried to reason. “I thought things were finally getting back to a good place where you didn’t have to avoid him and hate every bit of his being?”

“That was before I knew he was making out with some air-headed covergirl.”

He bit his lip, watched you through the phone. You let it go, a scrunch of your nose at him when he changed the subject. “Is it a bad time to say I’m excited to come to New York?”

You’d yet to really talk with Jake about it--save for a few texts here and there in the group.

“I just wish he didn’t have to be around.”

“Well it was his idea,” Jake laughed. “So I think we have to hang out with him at least a little.”

“Why did he want to fly you all out? Aside from being the savior and being such a nice bloke?”

“S’for your birthday. Said he had something else planned for you but wanted us to come out, too.”

“Something else planned?”

“Yeah--dunno what it is--or, was, if you’re not together anymore.”

“We were never together,” you lied--hopeful that Harry hadn’t kept Jake totally in the loop. Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t address it.

“Has he tried to talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I’m not answering.”

“Smalls!”

“What am I supposed to say? It’s okay that you were making out with a famous model and your childhood friend within the same week?”

“When did you even find out?”

“Like a week ago--I saw bloody pictures and everything on Twitter!”

“So he was still seeing her that recently?”

“No--well, I dunno--they were pictures from right before Christmas.”

“Oh--so, he might not be still seeing her.”

“I guess.”

“Smalls! You’ve got to talk to him and hear what he has to say!”

“M’hanging up now,” you laughed, spreading your legs out on the sofa when he leaned back in bed.

“I’m the one who needs to go to sleep.”

“Then do that,” you prompted. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Hang in there,” he said. “He’ll come around.”

“Whatever,” you said, blowing a kiss to him before he ended the call. When you closed out the app, you noticed a new red notification on the message app--one you hadn’t seen come through while you’d been on FaceTime.

It was a text from Whitney, a smiley face and a screenshot of one of your stories. Another text came through just then.

Whitney Hall (7:34pm): This story just exploded!

Whitney Hall (7:34pm): 😊

Whitney Hall (7:35pm):

She sent another picture, this time a screen shot of an email from Dan--a guy in analytics. He brought his dog to work on Fridays and he was some type of numbers whiz.

300 thousand reads--up from a mere 80-something thousand just a few weeks ago. Another screenshot, a backend webpage that showed the top writers of the week. While you hadn’t produced the most stories--you had gotten the most reads.

One and a half million unique page views on your stories over the last seven days. You exited out of the text messages and clicked open the app store--wondering if you’d regret re-downloading the little blue bird that seemed to connect you to the universe.

It loaded--back in it’s place (bottom right, first page) like it had never even left. A click of your own name, wide eyes when your profile loaded.

187,000 followers.

More than doubled over the three days that you’d been gone.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t expected it at all--the thought had certainly crossed your mind. You knew how it worked--be seen around someone famous like that and somehow some of it starts to rub off on you.

You knew that writing the story about him would inevitably drum up some attention and excitement around who you were and what you did. Maybe even somehow prove to Whitney that you could continue to handle big and important stories--that is, if you didn’t lie to her anymore.

A surge of anger grew in your core when you tapped over to your mentions. Half of them tagged Harry as well--questions about the story and the trip to LA, pictures of the two of you in sunglasses with smoothies, as if you’d sold out to the type of life he’d left you for--one that was much more exciting than anything in Holmes Chapel would have ever been.

So were you a sellout? The question danced in your head while you scrolled through question after question, picture after picture, and theory after theory. Work only. Romance. Friends. Mutual friends. Introduced at a party in New York. Bonded over work visas.

Did you agree to greedily to write this story in hopes of proving your skill and talent to a boss who already had faith in you? Trading your sanity for an ethical dilemma along the way?

You composed a group text without Harry. A simple request before sending a heart emoji to show your appreciation to your ever faithful and obnoxious friends.

Do me a HUGE favor and delete pictures you have of me off your instagrams please and thankssssss! Work related, I’ll explain when I see you all SOON.

come talk to me about tytl

read other parts here

AN: sorry this is shorttttttttt, felt bad that it’s been a minute but I hope you all like it!

tag list: @clorenafila @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon @jdcharliewhiskey @sad-little-asshole @shawnsblue @gendryia @g0bl1nqueen @laula843 @flooome @a-woman-without-a-plan@awomanindeniall @shaw-nm @staceystoleyourheart @ohprettylittlemind-deactivated2 @anssu-amry @my-fandomful-life2 @stylesfantasy @bookingbee @mleestiles @haute-romance-quotidienne @craic-head-horan @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @at-least-im-1 @paigemck00 @rawmeharry @pinkpolaroidgirl @blackxxmagicc @sksspotkitty @nearbyou @kalesouffle @sunnflowerchild @lmk12310 @sing-me-a-song-harry @afterstylesmadeit @myhat @caritocp @liquor-and-intellect

#harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles story #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #two years too late #tytl #reader x harry #harry x female reader #harry styles reader insert #harry x reader #harry x y/n #friends to lovers #harry styles friends to lovers

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hh-rose · 3 years

Text

James Potter and the Retelling of the True Story Chapter Three: The Rise of Wolfstar

ao3

masterpost

Before you ask, yes I was proud of the name of this chapter. Now, very technically, the summer before fifth year was not the true rise of Wolfstar, but it was when they started to realize it. I however started to realize it when we were freaking eleven.

We were all immediately close obviously, but Remus and Sirius were always different. I picked up on it fairly quickly (that blush on the very first trip to Hogwarts). There were so many other things. Sirius would defend Remus to anyone who even dared to look at him wrong. Remus would curse Sirius's mother every time she was brought up in conversation. Sure, these were things that friends would do, but there was something else there.

When Remus told us that he was a werewolf, Sirius told me and Peter that if we ever told anyone or said something mean about it, he would shove our wands so far up our asses they would puncture our lungs. Needless to say, we never did anything (not that we needed to be threatened).

They would always sleep in each other's beds. Ever since first year. They didn't think I knew, but I did. Poor Peter didn't. They both had bad nightmares and sleeping in the same bed was the only thing that ever helped for some reason (they were in love, duh).

They would hold hands too. Only when they needed comfort, but that was still often enough. They would call each other pet names (Sirius called everyone pet names publicly, but Remus would call Sirius, and Sirius only, pet names when he thought nobody was listening, but I was always listening).

After every full moon, Sirius was always the first one to the infirmary. He was always so worried the whole night. We would all worry about Remus, but Sirius was the worst. He never slept, and sometimes (especially in the beginning) he would throw up. But, he would run down to the infirmary the morning after. As soon as he saw Remus was okay, he would get the biggest smile on his face. He would go full mom-mode and take care of Remus who was always annoyed but grateful. It was the cutest and most domestic thing on the planet.

Speaking of full moons, they were very different after the prank. It was summer break, and Remus was at home, but Sirius, who was living with me, and I would floo to his house the next day to make sure he was alright. I saw how much it tore Sirius apart. After the prank, Sirius wanted to do absolutely everything in his power to stop it. I wanted to tell him that that wasn't possible, but he didn't really want to talk about it. Until, one day, he did.

"I have a plan," Sirius said one day while we were playing flying in the backyard.

"For what exactly?" I asked, tossing the quaffle to him.

"On how to make the moons better," he replied, tossing the quaffle back. I missed it, and we both watched it fall to the ground. "Really? You've been on the quidditch team since second year."

"What are you on about? I didn't know we were supposed to be coming up with a plan to fix the moons."

"Not fix them. We could never fully fix them, but we can help," Sirius explained. "I came up with a plan for Remus to stop hurting himself. He told me once that he only hurts himself because he's alone and locked in there. He wouldn't hurt himself if he had other people around."

"He's not going to let us go in there. Are you mad?" I asked, giving up on the conversation and going to get the quaffle.

"No, he wouldn't let us in there, but he would let animals in. Werewolves, they don't hurt other animals," Sirius explained, and I stopped flying down and turned around to face him. He had this huge smirk. "We're going to become animagi."

...

A few hours later, after Sirius had explained the entire plan to me, we were in our room surrounded by books about all sorts of animagi related things. The plan did make a lot of sense. The magic was advanced, but it was nothing we couldn't do. It was a genius plan, and I was kind of pissed off that I didn't think of it. Then again, I didn't have the motivation because I wasn't in love with Remus. I watched Sirius study a book intently, and I smirked at him.

"What are you looking at, you wanker?" he asked when he noticed me staring. I looked back down at my book, shaking my head fondly.

"Oh, nothing," I said, grinning.

"What?" he laughed. I looked up at him again.

"You're really in love with him, aren't you?" I asked, causing him to look at me with the widest eyes I had ever seen.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, only slightly angry. Looking back at it, I know that he was more embarrassed than angry.

"Oh, come off it. I've known the whole time. You've been head over arse for him since first year," I stated, causing him to blush.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, staring at his book. I stared at him and then threw a pencil at his book. He looked at me, and I could tell that he was nervous.

"I love you no matter what. You know that, right?" I said sincerely. He smiled slightly.

"Course, mate. Right back at you," he echoed with a grin.

"You're still not going to admit that I'm right about Remus are you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nope," he replied, popping the p.

...

I'm not going to bore you with the details of us trying to figure out how to become animagi for almost a year, or Sirius and Remus still being too dumb to realize they were in love. I will also not tell you about how we figured out our animals and didn't quite understand what they said about our character until a few years later. I will however tell you that we finally mastered the art of becoming animals a week before Remus's birthday.

How we told Remus was not my plan. In fact, I thought that it was a very dumb idea, but Sirius was dead set on it, and there wasn't any use arguing with him when it came to anything, especially when it was stuff about Remus. So, I, along with Peter, did as I was told and walked to the shrieking shack under the invisibility cloak with Peter and Sirius. Remus obviously wasn't oblivious and knew we were there immediately.

"Are we trying to kill Severous again? Somebody should have warned me," Remus said sarcastically once we all got into the shack. Sirius ripped off the cloak and looked at Remus like he burned him. "Oh, would you calm down? I'm over it. Just tell me what's going on before I accidentally kill all of you."

"James, Pete, why don't you go ahead and change. I think that I should explain Remus's birthday present to him alone," Sirius said, and once again, we did as we were told.

"Change? What the bloody hell do you mean 'change'?" Remus asked. Then, he just stared at us in complete shock as we both turned into animals. "What the actual fuck?"

"Surprise! We're animagi!" Sirius exclaimed. I might have been in deer form at that point but I could tell that Remus was not as pleased as Sirius was expecting.

"Again, Black? Seriously? You want to put me in this position again? I'm going to change soon. I don't have the time for this," Remus spat.

"Rem, no. We did the research. Werewolves won't hurt animals unless provoked, and we're not going to provoke you," Sirius explained. "I just thought that maybe you wouldn't hurt yourself if you had some other creatures to be around."

"Are you sure you did enough research on this? Because I'm going to change in like a minute, and I really don't want to hurt one of you," Remus said desperately. I saw Sirius squeeze his hand.

"I promise that everything is going to be just fine," he stated. "You're not going to hurt anyone."

"I always am," Sirius said with a wink. "You can thank me after, babe."

With that, Remus rolled his eyes and watched Sirius turn himself into a dog. I also got to watch something. I watched as Remus looked so, so, so lovingly at Sirius. Needless to say, it was the best full moon in years.

After Remus turned back and right before Pomphrey came to get him, we all turned back. Peter and I exchanged grins, and Sirius rushed over to Remus's side. They tried their best to whisper, but I still heard them.

"Are you okay, love?" Sirius asked. Remus nodded gripping Sirius's arm for support. "I've never seen you this soon after a moon. Is this good or bad?"

"Good. So good," Remus croaked, looking Sirius in the eyes. I really didn't want to interrupt, but I had to.

"Sirius, we need to go soon," I said. He tore his eyes away from Remus for a second to look at me. He nodded.

"I will be in the infirmary as soon as you get there. I promise," he said sincerely. He kissed Remus's forehead, and I couldn't tell if it was the first time he did that, but I could tell that Remus appreciated it.

"Hey," Remus said, grabbing Sirius's hand and stopping him from walking away. "Thank you."

...

The next two moons were the last moons of the school year, and they were the best moons Remus had ever had. He just seemed so happy in general, and it was making everyone else happy. Also, he and Sirius were spending more time than ever together. I had never seen either of them as happy as they were in those two months. Actually, I figured that they had hooked up, and that's why they were so happy, but that wasn't the case at all.

With all this happiness and relaxation without any fights, we had more time to work on our creation: The Marauders' Map. It was pretty close to finished at that point, but there were still a few things that needed to be cleaned up. By the end of the year, it was done, save the final touch.

"We have to sign it," Sirius said, as we were looking it over for its final inspection.

"We can probably get in a lot of trouble if we put our names on that thing," Peter replied. He was never really a fan of the map, but he helped out the most he could.

"Oi, Pettigrew, shut it," Sirius stated, glaring at him, and that definitely caused Peter to stop talking. I shot a stern look at Sirius, but he just shrugged.

"We should use nicknames," Remus suggested. "Like code names or something."

"Like 'Loony Lupin'?" Sirius asked, a smirk on his face. Remus glared at him, but the smirk stayed there. "No, Moony. That's what we should call you. Because the moon, duh."

"Duh," Remus responded. Then, he smiled. "James can be Prongs because of the antlers."

"Oh, awesome," I said, excited about this new plan. "And Peter can be wormail."

"Hey, what about me?" Sirius asked. We all thought about it for a minute.

"Padfoot," Peter suggested. Sirius smiled.

"Brilliant, Pete, my boy. Sorry about yelling before," Sirius said, giving a blushing Peter a side hug. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Bloody perfect."

...

It became glaringly aware to us that that happiness was going to end soon. We were about to leave Remus for three months (three moons). He was going to have to go back to tearing himself apart in his parents' basement. I could tell that it was tearing Sirius apart. I however did not know that he had snuck into Remus's bed to talk to him about it the night before we left for summer holiday.

"Moony," he said, climbing into Remus's bed, which was not at all an unusual thing for the two of them. "We need to talk about this summer."

"What about it?" Remus asked sleepily. He wrapped an arm around Sirius who snuggled into his chest.

"I can't let you have three moons alone. Not after the last few months," Sirius explained. Remus sighed.

"I can't go to James's house. I told you. My parents don't want to subject the Potters to that," Remus explained, but Sirius already knew all that even if he highly disagreed with it.

"No, I have another plan."

"Alright, let's hear it then," Remus said, a sleepy smile taking over his face.

"I'm going to take the night bus to your house before the moons. I'll bring James's invisibility cloak, and then you'll sneak me into the house, and I'll sneak back out in the morning," Sirius stated, nervous for rejection.

"Take the cloak? James wouldn't come?" Remus asked. At least, he was thinking about including me, Merlin. Sirius was only using me for my family heirlooms.

"No," Sirius replied. "I figured that you would be hesitant to agree to this, so I figured if it involved as few people as possible, it would be easier. He can come if you want, or it can just be him and not me."

"No, no, I want it to be you," Remus said quickly, causing both boys to blush. "What are you going to tell the Potters?"

"Well, I'll be leaving pretty late at night and arriving before I would normally wake up, so they wouldn't even notice really," Sirius explained. Obviously, I would cover for him if anything came up.

"You've really thought this out, haven't you?"

"Well, yeah, I was worried about you being alone," Sirius stated. He looked into Remus's eyes through the dark. "So, what do you say?"

"I think it's a smashing plan, you loon," Remus said, quickly kissing Sirius's forehead. "Thank you."

"Well, of course."

...

In the future, there would be countless moons where it was just Remus and Sirius. First, there were some at Hogwarts when they wanted to be alone, and Peter and I wanted to not have to watch them have sexual escapades. Then, once we all graduated and moved away from each other, moons with all four of us became scarcer and scarcer. But, the summer before sixth year was the first time that there was ever a moon with just the two of them, and I was nervous for several reasons.

I wasn't scared that Remus would hurt Sirius. I was nervous that we would all get caught, and it would ruin everything. If we were caught, sure we would get in trouble, but they would also make us stop, and then Remus would be right back where he was. Needless to say, my worried mom mode was in full gear.

Obviously, I wasn't at Remus's house for the moons, but I heard about them. Well, I didn't hear everything I'm sure, but I did hear a lot about them. I particularly heard a lot about the August moon, the last moon before school started up again.

Sirius took the night bus like usual and arrived right before the transformation. Remus snuck him down to the basement, cast a muffalto on the room, and locked them both down there for the night. I was told that it was a pretty tame transformation. Remus had only gotten slightly hurt, and he turned back earlier than he usually did. Sirius sat Remus down on the bed and quickly started tending to the few wounds that Remus had acquired.

"Gonna miss you tending to me hand and foot when we go back," Remus murmured. Sirius stopped what he was going and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Are you saying that I don't take care of you at school?" Sirius asked. Remus smirked.

"Not like this," he stated, rubbing Sirius's thigh and causing him to squirm. "You take care of me just fine at school. I'm just going to miss it being just us."

"I'm sure we can get James and Pete to stay in if we wanted," Sirius said, moving back to clean the cut on Remus's face. He was right. They easily could have, especially when Sirius threatened us like the mad man he was.

"Oh would you shut it," Remus joked. "I'm saying that I'm going to miss all this. I'm going to miss my world being just you."

"Well, my world is always just you," Sirius flirted. Remus rolled his eyes. "I'm not kidding, Moons."

"I know you're not, love," Remus replied. "Are you almost done? I want to get a cuddle in before you have to go."

"Yeah, I'm all finished here," Sirius stated. Remus smiled and pulled them both down onto the bed.

"Pads," Remus whispered, sobering quickly. "I, uh, thank you for everything. Seriously. Wait, not don't make a joke."

"I wasn't going to. I know that you're trying to be sincere, which rarely ever happens, and I don't want to ruin it," Sirius said, looking into Remus's eyes. "But, you don't need to thank me. I meant what I said before. You're everything to me, and all I want is for you to be safe and happy."

"I want that for you too, obviously," Remus whispered.

"Obviously," Sirius whispered back. He smirked at Remus. "You know you could always thank me with a kiss."

"Oh, can I?" Remus asked mischievously. "You might need to do all the heavy lifting though as I have a shit ton of broken bones."

"Is it...this is something that you want, right?" Sirius asked, and Remus chuckled.

"Do you really need to ask me that?" he asked. Sirius shook his head lightly. "Go ahead then, pads. This may be your only opportunity to be on top."

"Oi, shut it, or I'm not gonna kiss you," Sirius stated. Remus grinned.

"We both know that isn't true, love," Remus replied. "Now, I've been waiting a long time for this. Can you get this show on the--"

Remus was cut off by Sirius kissing him. From what I've heard it was all fireworks and butterflies and all the great things kisses are. I am the biggest Wolfstar shipper in the universe, but I really didn't need to be there for that. I love them together, and I didn't mind seeing them snog whilst on Earth, and Merlin knows that I see enough of it now, but I didn't really need to be there for that one. That whole thing sounded way too sappy for even me. Anyway, I was told that the first kiss didn't last all that long. Eventually, Sirius pulled back with an evil smirk on his face.

"Wait, exactly how long have you been waiting?" Sirius asked. Remus rolled his eyes, but then he blushed. Sirius could tell that he wasn't going to reply. "Because I've been waiting since the moment I saw you on the train."

"Me too," Remus whispered. Sirius smiled. And, um, yeah, that's how Wolfstar became Wolfstar.

...

It wasn't meant to be a secret really. They just hadn't told me and Peter. Well, I guess they were having their fun sneaking around, but they weren't keeping it from us because they thought we were bigots or some shit. Regardless of all of that, I could tell that there was something up from the second they got on the train. I didn't say anything because I wanted them to be able to tell me when they wanted to. I had known since we were eleven, so it wasn't like I was in any rush to be told about it.

Obviously, Remus and Sirius were never hard to read, but when they got on the train they were just being plain disgusting. Sirius kept smiling and blushing at Remus, and Remus kept making very, very conspicuous attempts to touch Sirius in any way possible. I swear to Merlin I even saw Remus mouth "later, babe," to Sirius after I said fuck you to him. It was fucking gross, but I was also very happy for them.

After almost six years, I wasn't the only one who noticed that something was going on. Peter was quick to see something, and so was Lily. None of us said anything to the new couple, but that didn't stop us from saying things to each other.

"So, are they finally together now?" Lily asked one day while we were all in the common room. Sirius made some excuse about needing to go to bed early, and Remus said that he wanted to study in the dorm where it was quieter. It was clearly obvious that that was not what was actually happening.

"My guess is yes," I stated. Peter's eyes went wide. "Oi, Pete, don't even think about saying something homophobic."

"I wasn't going to," Peter said sheepishly. He shot him a small smile.

"I know, wanker," I replied. "Anyway, Lils, yes, I think that they're finally together."

Oh, I guess I should give some updates on Lily now that I'm talking about her. Remus told her about his furry little problem sometime during fifth year, and we told Lily about the Animagi after our second moon together when she got all worried about where I was. I know it's adorable.

Speaking of, she was being super nice to me at that point. The truth is, she started to like me back during fifth year, but I obviously did not know that. Anyway, we were both prefects together, and we were spending a whole lot of time together, especially now that Remus and Sirius were always hanging out together. Nothing had happened quite yet, but just wait we'll get there.

"So when do you think they're going to tell us?" Peter asked. I shrugged.

"I bet they won't tell us. They'll just wait until we say something," Lily answered, and I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Is that a serious bet? Are you willing to put money on it?" I asked. She gave me a stern look.

"Yes, actually," she replied, and I almost choked on the air I breathed in. That caused Lily to giggle, which I loved the sound of.

"Alright, well I'm going to put 20 galleons on the fact that they'll accidentally let it slip," I said. "Pete."

"Um, I bet they'll tell us after we graduate," Peter said, which was a horrible bet, but I let it slide. I knew that I was right.

"Alright, lads, 20 galleons. Let's shake on it."

...

Months had passed, and it was Sirius's seventeenth birthday. He was the first of us to come of age, and he could not stop gloating about it. They still hadn't told us about their budding romance, but it became all the more obvious when Remus came up with an elaborate plan for Sirius's birthday. Sirius always made a huge deal of Remus's birthday, and after Remus's last present (us becoming animagi), he knew he had to pull out all the stops.

"You want to what?" I asked when Remus snuck us out of the dorm and into the common room at the crack of dawn on Sirius's birthday.

"I want us to wake Sirius up by singing Dancing Queen by Abba," Remus stated simply. Peter and I just stared at him.

"I don't know the words," Peter admitted. Remus glared at him.

"Come on, Sirius always does the nicest things for our birthdays, and you only turn seventeen once," Remus said. Peter and I shared a look. "Abba is his favorite band, and you know how much he loves this song. He's going to love it even more now that he's actually seventeen."

"Alright, we'll do it," I said, trying not to give away that I knew how in love Remus was. "Give us like an hour I can teach Peter the words, and maybe I can convince some other people to do it with us. You go upstairs and bring him down when he wakes up. Then the show can begin."

"Thank you, Prongs," Remus said, looking me in my eyes and giving me a knowing look. He knew full well that I knew. I nodded at him with a small smile. It wasn't until a few months later that I found out what happened when Remus went upstairs.

He quietly crawled back into bed with Sirius who was still very much asleep. Sirius cuddled into Remus's chest. Remus smiled, and they both slept for about an hour until Sirius woke up with a sleepy sigh.

"Well, good morning, my love," Remus whispered.

"Where are Prongs and Wormy?" Sirius asked sleepily.

"They're getting your birthday surprise ready, of course," Remus supplied. Sirius smiled at him. "I'm sorry, but I didn't get you the gift of permanently transfiguring my DNA to be half animal."

"You're already half animal," Sirius said. Remus glared at him. "I knew what you meant though."

"Really though, it's not as big as your present for me was, and I'm sorry," Remus whispered. Sirius smiled at him before kissing him.

"If my only present was that kiss, then I would be happy," Sirius said, sitting up and pulling Remus with him. "Now, I think that we should get ready and go downstairs for whatever other surprise you have for me."

A few minutes later, Remus led Sirius down the stairs holding his hand. He squeezed it and dropped it right before they were seen by anyone. Sirius saw the entire Gryffindor house standing in the common room, and his eyes went wide. Remus nodded to be and I turned the record player on.

"Oh!" Remus explained once the music started. "You can dance, you can jive."

"Having the time of your life," the rest of us sang.

"Merlin's bloody balls," Sirius said, smiling and putting his hand over his mouth.

The entire room was screaming the lyrics and taking turns dancing with Sirius, but the only person he was looking at was Remus. Remus looked just as happy as Sirius did. Near the end of the song, I spun Sirius into Remus's arms because I figured that if I danced with Sirius nobody would care if Remus did. Remus caught him, spun him around a few times, held him to his chest, dipped him, and then hugged him.

"Thank you," Sirius whispered into Remus's ear as the rest of the room began singing happy birthday to him. Remus let go of the hug with a smile. It was Sirius's best birthday ever.

It wasn't over quite yet though. There were several hijinks and shenanigans. It was a day full of fun. Sirius was extremely happy, and so was Remus. So was I honestly. It was awesome to see them both so happy.

"Well, goodnight, lads. Thank you for everything," Sirius said as we all settled into our beds that night.

"That's what friends are for, Pads," Remus said, shooting him a wink that Peter and I both saw, but I don't think that Remus cared all that much. We all went to bed, but I heard Remus sneak into Sirius's bed a few minutes later. In fact, they actually forgot to cast a muffliato, so I heard everything, but Peter was completely passed out.

"You were taking the piss this morning. That was the best present I've ever received," Sirius whispered. I heard them both kiss, and I smiled to myself.

"Really?" Remus asked. I take it Sirius nodded.

"Why don't you sing more often? You have the most beautiful voice," Sirius cooed. I'm willing to bet Remus rolled his eyes.

"Only special occasions, my love," Remus said.

"Well, look at the time. It's still my birthday," Sirius said, and I could hear his smirk.

"Fine, just this once," Remus said. Now, obviously, I didn't see it, but I imagined Sirius laying his head on Remus's chest, and Remus playing with his hair as he sang in a whisper, "Anybody could be that guy. The night is young and the music's high."

...

There were no real updates on the Wolfstar front for a while. That was probably because I took it upon myself to stay at Hogwarts with them for Christmas that year. They obviously couldn't get much dirty business in while I was around 24/7, which I thought was hilarious.

After everyone came back from break, we started a new lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts: patronuses. I was obviously a very gifted young wizard, and I very quickly got my patronus down. I knew very well what my animal would be; we all did.

In late January, we had to show our corporal patronuses to the professor. Remus went first, and we all hoped beyond hope that nobody would think anything of his wolf. Then Sirius went and cast his dog and let out a quiet growl in Remus's ear who then pushed him off with a chuckle. Peter cast his rat, and everyone laughed (who's laughing now?). Then, it was Lily's turn.

I always loved watching her cast spells. She got this adorable look on her face when she concentrated. Sometimes she even went as far as to stick her tongue out a little. This was one of those occurrences. I was so focused on her cute little face that I didn't even notice her patronus until Sirius nudged me. I looked and saw a beautiful silver doe. My heart almost stopped. It seemed like Lily's did too. She had this horrified look on her face.

"Mr. Potter, it's your turn," the professor said. I didn't know what to do.

"I haven't quite gotten it down yet," I lied. The professor didn't believe me. "Can I do it in your office hours later? I'll take half marks."

"Sure, Mr. Potter," the professor answered hesitantly. Lily shot me a look. Once class was over, I grabbed my books and tried to get away from there as fast as possible. Clearly, Lily wasn't okay with whatever her patronus meant, and I figured she wouldn't want to be near me. I also didn't really want to be near her if she was just going to reject me again. However, my attempts to get away were stopped when I felt a hand pull me into an empty classroom.

"Oi, what the hell?" I asked, turning around to see who it was. There she was, flushed Lily Evans standing right in front of me. "Lils, look, I--"

"No, let me talk," she said. Then she hit me with a book.

"Merlin," I said, rubbing my arm where she hit me. "What was that for?"

"Half marks? Really?" she asked.

"I did it for you. You could've said thank you instead of assaulting me," I explained. She raised her book again. I took it from her. "Can you not, please? Look, I know that it's never going to happen. I get it, okay? But, we both know what my patronus is. I didn't want to embarrass you yet again. I also didn't really feel like getting rejected yet again."

"You've matured so much," she whispered. I looked at her quizzically. "A few years ago, you would've jumped at the chance to prove once and for all that I have feelings for you."

"Wait--"

"I'm not really sure where you got the 'never going to happen' thing from," she said, with a little smirk.

"It might've been all the times that you said those exact words to me," I retorted. Luckily, she didn't have a book to hit me with. Then, it hit me. "Lily."

"This is a lot more embarrassing than it should be," she said softly. "I mean, it's not like you don't feel the same way."

"Mmm," I hummed, backing her towards the teacher's desk. "And how exactly do I feel."

"Well, I, um, I," Lily stuttered, shifting her glance from my eyes to my lips. I smiled at her.

"I'll tell you," I said, kissing her cheek. "I'm bloody in love with you."

"Romantic," she whispered, but she was smiling. "I'm in love with you too."

"Woah," I breathed. She laughed. I picked her up and sat her on the desk. "Can I kiss you?"

"Of course, you can, you wanker," she said. I laughed at her. She carefully took my glasses off, and I kissed her.

About an hour later, it was time for dinner in the Great Hall. Lily and I walked in holding hands. I saw Sirius's eyes go wide and then he hit Remus to make him look up from the book he was reading.

"No fucking way," Remus said when we both sat down at the table.

"Did you give Lily an early birthday present?" Sirius asked, waggling his eyebrows. "It's the polite thing for a boyfriend to do."

"That's right. It's your birthday tomorrow," I said, kissing Lily on the cheek. "Do you want me to wake you up by singing an Abba song?"

"No, that's alright," Lily said with a chuckle. Remus kicked me under the table. I shot him a grin. We were all happy, and we would be for years.

...

It was March now, and Remus made us all promise not to get him anything for his birthday because the year before we essentially gave him our lives. We all tried to protest, but he got to Sirius, and there was no way that we were going to argue with Sirius. Also, it was right in between two huge exams, and we were all too busy studying anyway.

The night before Remus's birthday, Sirius snuck into his bed. He kissed Remus's cheek and snuggled into his chest.

"Happy almost birthday, moons," Sirius whispered. Remus hummed. "Are you sure that you don't want any presents?"

"Actually, I do want something," Remus whispered back.

"Anything."

"I want to tell them."

"Oh."

"James already knows. I know that he does. You know that he does," Remus stated. "I just want to be able to touch you when we're with our friends. It was fun to be a secret at first, but now I'm just tired."

"Hey, I meant it when I said anything," Sirius assured him. "I want to tell them too, and we will. If that's what you want, then we'll do it."

"Only if it's what you want too," Remus said. Sirius smiled.

"I want the entire world to know how in love with you I am," Sirius whispered. Remus's breath hitched.

"Oh, Sirius, I want the world to know I'm in love with you too."

...

As promised, Remus had a very quiet birthday. We sang happy birthday over breakfast, and that was pretty much it. The kid knew how loved he was. Don't feel bad for him. Anyway, we were all up studying far later than we should have been. Lily and I were sitting on the couch and quizzing each other. Peter was sitting in a chair grumbling about something he didn't understand. Remus and Sirius were sitting on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table, both looking over their notes.

"Are you fucking serious?" I asked after I got yet another question wrong.

"Yes, daily," Remus said, not looking up from his notes. Everyone, including Sirius, stopped what they were doing and stared at him. "What?"

"You told them," Sirius said, looking at him with wide eyes. Remus's eyes mirrored his boyfriend's.

"Did I say that out loud?" he asked. Everyone nodded. "Oh, well, we were meant to tell them, so now was as good a time as any."

"So would you say that that accidentally slipped out?" I asked, a smirk forming.

"Well, yes, there were a lot more eloquent ways I could have told you," Remus replied.

"I'll say," Sirius chuckled, but he had nothing but love in his eyes. Then he looked over at Peter and Lily handing James money. "Did you lot bet on us being together?"

"No, of course, not," Lily assured him. I smirked.

"We knew you were together. That would be a stupid bet," Peter explained. "We bet on how you would tell us."

"Ridiculous," Remus said, going back to his work.

"No, what's ridiculous is that Prongs won. I don't want him benefiting from this," Sirius said. I stuck my tongue out at him. Sirius smiled fondly at Remus. "Hey, moons. I love you."

"I love you too, baby," Remus said, not looking up from his notes at first. Then, he realized that they just said I love you in front of us, and he grinned at him.

"We're gonna have to deal with that all the time now," Peter said.

"It's cute," Lily said.

"It's Wolfstar," I said.

"It's what?"

#James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Lily Evans #Harry Potter #peter pettigrew #Marauders #wolfstar #jily

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 3 years

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‘The Christmas Caper’ Chapter 4: One Step Closer

Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

When Mycroft headed into his room where Anthea waited, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Well?”

“They’re speaking to each other, and there’s minimal to average physical affection,” he replied. “They’re not talking about the elephant in the room, but I have no doubt all will work out.”

Anthea smiled approvingly. “Let’s hope the first time you give a gift, it doesn’t crash and burn.”

Mycroft grimaced. “So glad to see you have every confidence in me.” He walked over to the bed, and sat upon it, his back facing her.

“You know what I mean, dear,” she told him. “I just meant that your plans tend to backfire, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.” Anthea did her best to not laugh aloud in remembrance of the first time Mycroft tried to show her how he felt.

“Don’t remind me,” he sighed.

Three Months Ago

“Anthea, it has come to my attention that you’re a fully functioning female with above average intelligence,” he informed her.

She knit her brows in confusion. “Sir?”

He tried again. “What I mean to say is I would appreciate if you kept away of being in the company of other men—especially Wilson—who knew your standards were quite that low?”

She dropped her mouth open in shock, and walked right up to his desk, the clicking of her heels echoing in his office, and gave him a good smack. As she turned to walk out, Wilson came in with some files. Anthea approached him, tugged the lapel of his jacket and snogged him right in front of Mycroft, who was, for once, dumbfounded. And she left without a word.

Wilson stood there in a daze having felt the rage in her kiss. “Wow,” he said in amazement, “you must have really pissed her off.”

Mycroft was not amused. He pointed to the door. “Get out.”

Shaking the memory from his mind, Mycroft turned to face Anthea. “On second thought, maybe you should get more involved with the plan.”

“Oh no,” she laughed. “This one is all you—and your brother, of course. If anything goes wrong, the name Holmes will be written all over it which would make it understandable.” Anthea slipped under the duvet, and shut off her bedside lamp. “Now get changed and into bed, I’m exhausted.”

Sherlock hadn’t slept at all last night. With what little sleep he did get, his dreams were haunted by the words of John Watson: “Talk to Molly. This may be the very last chance you’ll ever have to fix things.” He knew that John was right. So many scenarios played out in his mind where he never spoke with her. And every single time, it ended with him and Molly drifting apart. His mind even went as far as to show him she would eventually move on into the arms of another man—one who probably deserved her more than a man who couldn’t be brave enough for her.

After getting dressed, he made his way downstairs where his mother was reminiscing about her career as a mathematician with Molly who was looking through one of the books she had written. Both women looked up at him as he entered the room.

“You’re up early,” Mrs. Holmes commented.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied with a shrug, heading towards the kitchen.

Molly noticed how tired he looked, wondering if he ever got a decent night’s sleep after the Sherrinford Incident. “Try drinking some tea before bed,” she suggested to him, like she was one to talk. She could hardly sleep last night either even with the tea.

“I’ll take that into consideration, thank you, Molly,” Sherlock smiled warmly. He met his mother’s knowing look. “Where’s father?” he asked.

Mrs. Holmes felt an idea brewing. “Went to pick up some eggs—we completely ran out what with all the baking. You know, why don’t you and Molly go into town for breakfast?” She turned to who she hoped would be her future daughter-in-law. “You would love it! It’s a little cottage diner on high street. Nettie makes the best fry up!”

Molly smiled. “That sounds delightful! What do you think, Sherlock?”

“Well, I—“

“Oh, Sherlock loves the food there,” she told Molly as she got up to leave the room. “Go on, you kids have fun!”

Molly looked up into Sherlock’s eyes, an amused smile forming on her lips. “I have to admit, your mum is a force to be reckoned with.”

He chuckled. “You have no idea.”

Once they began the drive into town, Sherlock had to admit he was thankful for his mother’s interference. He took a quick glance to his left at Molly in the passenger seat, her hair done up in a French braid. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to just throw all caution to the wind, and damn it all, he wanted to be selfish. But would it be considered selfish if she wanted the same thing? It was much too tempting.

“How’ve you been holding up?” Molly asked, breaking the silence. “Since…well, you know.”

She still cared for him—that was good. But, of course she did. One thing about Molly Hooper is when she gave you her love, it was unconditional.

Sherlock, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mary’s berated him. If I have to hear you go on about how you don’t deserve her and she deserves better, I think I might die…again. Too soon? He ignored her in favor of the ache in his heart. “I’m getting by,” he replied to Molly. “But what about you? It’s not as if you escaped unscathed.”

“I’m okay,” she shrugged, but Sherlock knew better.

“You’re not okay,” he said matter-of-factly.

Molly sighed, turning to look out her window. “I’m just bloody frustrated,” she muttered to herself. Part of her hoped he had heard her.

He had heard her—loud and clear. Sherlock was tired of fighting with himself, and so, for their time at the diner, he let go. The two of them had a right good time, laughing it up and sharing stories, including memories that they couldn’t very well agree on.

Molly swallowed her last bite of food, having cleared the plate. “Alright, but I remember on John’s stag night, the two of you were pissed after only two hours, and I had to come pick you up in the morning!” She laughed. “I met Mary outside of the station and we were just laughin’!”

Sherlock took a sip of his tea. “I didn’t think it was particularly funny, Molly.”

“Oh, you know, you’re right,” she continued, laughing as she spoke. “It’s not nearly as funny as the seven voicemails you left me! You were so smashed!” Molly gave a light playful slap to his forearm.

His brows rose up. This was the first he had heard of this. “I…left you seven voicemails?” Was he too inebriated to remember? But he remembered so many other events of the night. “Molly, what did I say?”

She eyed him curiously. “You mean, you don’t remember?”

He shook his head. “Afraid not—what did I say?”

“I dunno,” she teased. “Maybe I want to keep it to myself.”

Sherlock tilted his head, clearly frustrated.

“Alright,” Molly conceded with a laugh. “Not one of them ever completed a single thought. It was like bits and pieces. In one you called me your pathologist quite possessively, then in another I think you said something about marriage changes people. Oh!” She was giggling now. “I think you called Tom a wanker in another one.”

He felt—what?—relieved? Embarrassed? Possibly both. “Right, well, no one said I could hold my liquor.” Sherlock returned the amused smile that was also on Molly’s face.

Molly couldn’t help but notice how at ease she was around him. Those first couple of years she knew him gave her butterflies and frayed nerves, but ever since she helped him with his lazarus plan, there was a shift in their friendship. It became deeply intimate from that moment forward. It was when her crush turned into a raw, honest love. Not once did it waver. His apology last night sparked something in her, and she felt the need to say the words rattling around in her head before she lost her nerve. “Sherlock?” His eyes pierced hers inquisitively. “I just want you to know, I’m sorry too.”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t understand—for what?”

She bit her lip anxiously. “This friendship”—she motioned between them—“whatever this is; it’s a two-way street. Last night, you apologised for not having gone to see me. Sherlock, I’m sorry for having not gone to see you. I knew what had happened and why, but I wasn’t brave enough to face it all. Neither of us were. I don’t want to live a life that doesn’t have you in it. I’ve tried, and it’s bloody awful. I forgave you. Can you forgive me?”

The muscles in his face relaxed, giving way to a softness that Molly had only ever seen a handful of times. “Of course I forgive you. I’ll let you in on a secret…”

They both leaned their heads forward.

“…I don’t want to live a life that doesn’t have you in it either. A life without you, Molly Hooper, would be too dull to imagine.”

Whilst Molly went to have a look at the shops, Sherlock had an errand to run with an old friend. The bell on the door rang out when he made his entrance. The place was full of handmade jewelry, as far as the eye could see.

“As I live and breathe, Sherlock Holmes has come back for a visit!” The man behind the counter clapped his hands together. “It’s been an age! What can I do for ya?”

“Hello, Rupert, I need you to do something very important for me…”

Mycroft had been smoking in the backyard when Sherlock and Molly returned. He put out his cigarette just as his brother appeared. “And how was your morning with Doctor Hooper, brother mine? Inquiring minds want to know.”

“It was enlightening,” Sherlock answered.

Mycroft eyed him curiously. “And have you two discussed the events of that night?”

“Not yet,” he replied, looking down toward the ground. “It’s a delicate matter—a bit difficult to just bring it up, especially when we’re trying so hard to move past it.”

With a sigh, Mycroft shook his head. “Has it ever occurred to you, little brother, that it will be easier to move past it if you two have this conversation?”

Sherlock glared at him. “Of course it has! Honestly, Mycroft, why do you care so much? What’s in it for you?”

“Can’t I be a good brother for once?” he asked. “Is it so hard to believe I want you to be happy?”

Taking a moment to think things over, Sherlock turned around and turned back, unsure of how to process this information. “Yes, actually, it would be very hard to believe had we not just shared a traumatic experience three months ago.” He roughly ran his fingers through his curls. “Sherrinford changed you, Mycroft.”

“As it did you,” his big brother countered. “I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing, do you?”

“No,” Sherlock agreed. “For what I need to do, it isn’t. She loves me—God knows why. But I’m not blind to the fact that sometimes loving someone isn’t enough. I love her, but can I provide for her everything she needs? I doubt it.”

Mycroft walked up onto the stoop. “I’ll leave you with this: it’s not about asking whether you can provide these things for her, but asking whether or not you are willing to try.” A knowing smirk appeared on his brother’s face, and then he was gone.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Sherlock needed to talk to her. It was all he could think about. It was early evening when she entered the sitting room after dinner. His eyes couldn’t help but linger, especially since she was holding their goddaughter in her arms whilst she sang Christmas songs to her. He found that he enjoyed hearing Molly sing. He also noticed how she had stuck a red Christmas bow in her hair much to Rosie’s amusement, the lights on the tree reflecting off of it.

This adornment reminded him of another Christmas at Baker Street. It was a bittersweet memory. On one hand, it was the first time he had ever kissed Molly, though only on the cheek. But on the other hand, he still regretted his behaviour to this day. Knowing what he knows now, he knew he had been jealous, thinking she had been doing all of that for someone else. It was cruel to insult her the way he did. Allowing himself a quick glance, he admired the set of her lips and the swell of her breasts peeking out from her blouse. Though he wanted to, he didn’t allow his eyes to linger there too long, and settled on watching her eyes light up.

Molly caught him staring eventually, and she just beamed at him as if there was no place she’d rather be. “Look Rosie, your Uncle Sherlock is actually smiling for once.”

“I smile,” he argued playfully. His heart was pounding when she approached him, only mere inches away. “May I?” Sherlock held out his hands from where he sat on the sofa.

Carefully, Molly helped to settle Rosie in his arms and seated herself beside them. It warmed her heart to see him take an active role in the little girl’s life. Surprisingly, Sherlock was actually good with children in his own way. Rosie reached a hand up, her dimpled fingers grabbing her godfather’s nose. He gently pulled her hand away and pressed a quick kiss to her fingertips.

“I hope you’re being good for your Aunt Molly,” he told her softly. “She works very hard, and deserves everything she’s ever wanted.” Sherlock didn’t know what it was about talking to his goddaughter, but he found he didn’t feel so afraid saying these things though he was very aware that Molly was sitting beside him. When he glanced over at her, he noticed tears forming just at the waterline of her eyes, but she held them back.

Molly brushed back the wispy pale blonde curls on Rosie’s head. “Your Uncle Sherlock is just a big softie deep down,” she laughed quietly. “And you know what? He deserves just as much—especially to be loved.” She looked up and their eyes locked, neither unable to look away. Her heart beat furiously in her chest, and before she could talk herself out of it, Molly kissed him tenderly, lingering long enough to get lost in the feel of his lips on hers. She hadn’t given him enough time to kiss her back, the shock evident on his face when she pulled away.

Without a word, she stood and left the room suddenly in need of fresh air.

#sherlolly #the christmas caper #my fanfiction

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ineffably-good · 4 years

Text

Prompt: Glorious

This is part two of my last prompt, which you can read here.

Part of the Good Omens 30th Anniversary celebration prompts. You can read all of the ones I’ve completed over on AO3!

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Part two: Project Heavenly Slumber

Crowley was in Baghdad in the court of Mamun the Great, giving his best effort toward whatever it was demons did – foster discord, disrupt the rule of law, interfere with justice, Aziraphale wasn’t sure. He miracled himself into the outskirts of town, where he’d sensed Crowley’s presence. He found him haggling with a merchant over a pile of dates. The demon had always had a sweet tooth, although he’d deny it vociferously if cornered about it.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, touching him on the sleeve. “How lovely to run into you!”

“You didn’t run into me,” Crowley said, not missing a beat as he handed over his pile of coins and took the bag from the vendor. “I felt you appear just a second ago. You’re here on purpose. Come to oversee the translations, I suppose?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Translations?”

“Oh!” Crowley grinned. “All kinds of fantastic things are going on here – they’re building this thing called The House of Wisdom. Big building full of scrolls! Translating all the texts from Greece, Persia, Sumeria. Been wondering when you’d show up – right up your alley!”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale fretted. “And here I am stuck in the courts of Charlemagne overseeing stupid wars and conquests! I’d much rather be here! If only we could switch assignments!”

The demon smiled rapaciously. “We could undoubtedly work something out, angel.”

“Oh now,” the angel replied, retreating into his prim default. “That won’t be possible and you know it. But I did come here to seek you out.”

“Oh? Missed my sparkling personality?”

“Hardly,” the angel said. “But I need your advice. I’ve gotten myself in rather a pickle. Is there somewhere we could go to talk?”

Crowley laughed so loudly and for so long that Aziraphale began to feel quite annoyed. He helped himself to another generous serving of Crowley’s precious date wine, drank it all in one gulp, and then sat back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

Still the demon laughed.

“Oh – oh my –” Crowley moaned, wiping his eyes and beginning to calm down. “So sorry angel, but that one is a knee-slapper! Gabriel and his glorious presence overpowering the infant Yeshua into unconsciousness!”

Aziraphale giggled a little too at that one. It never got old.

“And – and now –” Crowley tried to regain breath control, but he was still half-laughing. “And now you’ve got to go teach a bunch of idiot angels how to sleep? Oh, for Satan’s sake. I wish I had your job sometimes. No one in Hell ever says anything funny.”

“Yes, well, that’s the problem you see,” Aziraphale said insistently. “I can barely sleep myself! Hardly ever do it. I was hoping you might have some pointers for me?”

Crowley noticed the low level of the wine jug and waved a hand to refill it to the top, then poured himself a mug of it. He took a sip while thinking carefully.

“I suppose I could teach you a few things,” he said. “Things I learned in China. Breathing techniques. Ways to calm the body and achieve other states. A little bit of hypnotic suggestion, perhaps?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Oh dear, I would be so grateful. Anything you have, anything at all.”

Crowley nodded. “When do you have to report in?”

“Tomorrow!”

“Well then,” the demon said, “we’d better get started.”

Aziraphale left Baghdad armed with a sealed jug of date wine, several interesting new relaxation techniques designed to help ease anyone into a peaceful sleep, a scroll or two with some interesting guided incantations in them, and a small packet of a powder that Crowley promised would be safe but which he doubted he would ever feel brave enough to use. He still had his doubts about the demon’s intentions from time to time, and he certainly didn’t want to go down in infamy as the angel who got everyone in Heaven hooked on narcotic powders.

He made his way back home, left instructions with his secretary for things to be done in his absence, and then made a show of riding off on his best horse as if he were off on his travels. Once he was firmly out of sight of any and all of the humans, he set the horse free with a gentle command to find its way back to the stables and blend in, and miracle himself up to Heaven to begin his great and glorious work.

Gabriel was in that irritatingly heightened state he got into when he had come up with another new idea for team building or motivating his underlings. If regular Gabriel was hard to deal with, excited Gabriel was almost unbearable. He all but vibrated with self-importance and celebration, bestowing smiles and hearty claps on the shoulder to anyone he met.

“Principality!” he boomed jovially. “Glad you made it on time. Let me show you to where you’ll be working.”

He led the way through a winding series of corridors, each nearly indistinguishable from the next, past the library and on into an area Aziraphale had only rarely visited before – some kind of large, empty conference room, all white and chrome like the rest of Heaven, barely furnished except for a large stack of pillows and blankets someone had thrown in the middle of the room. Sitting in a half circle on the floor around the pile of bedding were eight nervous looking angels, low ranking guardians and office workers, obviously pulled from other duties and deposited here.

“Interns,” Gabriel announced. “This is Principality Aziraphale, former Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and our premiere expert on humanity. He’s here to introduce you to a human concept called sleep. Please give him your full attention and cooperate with everything he asks of you on this glorious new work. Questions?”

The angels jittered nervously and one fearfully shook her head. Aziraphale thought wryly that this was nearly the nicest thing Gabriel had ever said about him.

“Good then!” Gabriel said, whapping Aziraphale on the shoulder rather painfully. “I’ll check in on you later.”

He strode out of the room and the door sealed behind him.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale said nervously. “Shall we go around and introduce ourselves?”

As the day went by, the gathered angels got less and less fearful. Most of them hadn’t met a Principality before, Aziraphale realized, and they were naturally deferential and timid. Over the course of a few hours, though, they began to loosen up and to realize that this angel, in particular, welcomed questions and comments.

After a few stretching and breathing exercises, one of them raised her hand and waited patiently to be noticed.

“Yes, Anielle is it?” Aziraphale said.

“I’m terribly sorry, Principality Aziraphale,” she said quietly, “but I don’t understand. What is sleep FOR? And why are we supposed to learn how to do it?”

Terribly good question, Aziraphale thought. He tried to remain professional, despite his doubts about the entire project. “No one really knows what purpose sleep serves, but without it humans sicken and die. Also, many of them seem to enjoy it immensely,” he said. “I believe the archangels think we might be able to influence the dreams of sleeping humans, to – well, to guide them towards goodness and help counter demonic influences.”

Another angel raised his hand.

“You don’t really need to raise your hands,” Aziraphale objected. All eight pairs of eyes stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Or for Heaven’s sake. Yes? Plavian?”

“Could we perhaps use it to frighten them back into the path of righteousness, as well?” the angel asked. “In extreme cases of course. Using the nightmares you mentioned earlier?”

About half of the other angels tittered approvingly. Anielle, to her credit, looked upset.

This Plavian, Aziraphale thought, had a bit of Gabriel in him. He was undoubtedly going to be moving up in the chain of command. He could smell the wanker gene on him from here.

“Humans can react very poorly to nightmares,” Aziraphale said crisply, “and providing and worsening them is really more of a demonic tactic than an angelic approach. We’ll focus on methods that don’t actively damage anyone’s psyche. Our Heavenly Mother wouldn’t want us to harm them.”

He stood up. “Now,” he said, “everyone take a blanket and a pillow and find a space to lie down. We’re going to try some relaxation exercises and see if we can get any of you to fall asleep.”

Nothing worked. Nothing. They tried breathing exercises. They tried guided relaxation. They tried tensing and releasing each muscle in their bodies, starting with their feet and working their way up to their eyebrows. They tried calisthenics. They tried music. Finally, in desperation, Aziraphale magically dimmed the lights and read them all a story. He tried to pick a soothing one. A Tale of Two Cities should do, he thought.

The room was quiet and there was deep, even breathing all around when Aziraphale finished chapter two. He softly closed the book and stood up as quietly as possible, peeking around in the dim light. All eight of the angels were still, their hands folded on their chests, their eyes closed.

Were they – were they doing it?

As he leaned closer to the angel nearest him, he noted that she opened one eye just a crack and grinned up at him.

“I think I’m doing it!” she stage-whispered to him. “It feels really good!”

“It does!” someone else echoed from a far corner of the room. “I think I’m sleeping!”

“Me too!” said a third.

Aziraphale tried not to tear his hair out.

“Class dismissed for today,” he said. “Go home and try some of those relaxation exercises in the peace and quiet of your own abodes. We’ll try something new tomorrow.”

“You want to do what?” Gabriel said.

“I want to bring in a meal for them,” Aziraphale said patiently. “Food makes humans tired, so maybe it will help get them into the proper state.”

Gabriel frowned. “This is highly irregular,” he said, “corrupting them with gross matter.”

“You did want me to be thorough,” Aziraphale said primly.

Gabriel waved his permission, and Aziraphale got to work.

“Welcome back!” he said the next afternoon. “Today we’re going to expand our horizons a bit and try a meal.”

The angels filed in, looking curiously at the table Aziraphale had set up and its contents.

“What’s a meal?” one of the angels asked.

“It’s food! Humans consume it for sustenance.”

“So, it’s like the word of God?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Not exactly. Anyway, please take a seat around the table and let’s get started.”

He walked them through consuming a variety of dishes, taking a nibble here and there himself – fruits and vegetables, savory pies, cheeses and breads in various forms, sweets. The angels gamely tried everything, most of them looking somewhat unimpressed and trying to hide their distaste for the experience. One or two of them, though, took to the meal with slightly more gusto, taking seconds of some dishes and seeming to enjoy themselves. Aziraphale took note of these ones; they were potential future allies in his endeavors, he thought, and unlikely to be appreciated here in Heaven.

After they’d finished, they did some stretching and then he lowered the lights, had them all lay down, and he led them through the relaxation program from the prior day. He hoped that being warm, comfortable, and full would ease a few of them into sleep.

Aziraphale found himself fighting off a yawn. He really had been working frightfully hard the last few days.

The principality woke up some indeterminate amount of time later with the most terrible sensation of being watched. He opened his eyes in a panic and found himself ringed by his students, with eight pairs of eyes staring down at him in complete fascination.

Aziraphale pushed himself up to seated.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” he said. “Did anyone besides me sleep?”

“No,” said one of the students. “But you did it very well, sir!”

“You were making the most curious noise,” another one added. “Kind of like this.” The student opened their mouth and started to make a rumbling noise that sounded a bit like an earthquake.

“No, I think it was more like this,” the original student one said, emitting a noise like a kitten purring, but loud.

“And you seem to have created a liquid,” added a third student. “It dripped out of your mouth onto your pillow. Is this part of the process?”

“We tried to touch your dreams,” Plavian said, “but it didn’t work.”

“NO ONE TOUCHES MY DREAMS,” Aziraphale said, leaping to his feet. The students backed away nervously; they had heard what a principality was capable of, in the general sense, and even more, they had all heard strange stories about Principality Aziraphale and his flaming sword. No one really wanted to see him angry.

“Oh, very well,” he said, pulling a leather pouch out of his robes. “Let’s try a little chemistry, shall we?”

“So in total,” Michael said sternly, “you’ve taken eight of our most promising young angels, sullied their corporations with cheese and bread, led several of them to believe that food is equivalent to the word of God, taught them heretical chanting techniques from the Eastern empires of Earth, and gotten several of them severely addicted to opium powder. Is that correct?”

Aziraphale looked at his feet and tried to appear repentant while inside he focused on one thought and one thought alone. He was going to murder the demon the next time he saw him. This was all his fault.

#goc2020 #good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale x crowley #heavenly projects #angel interns #hijinks ensue

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