#taken after christmas hence the garland

[darlingseraa]

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

I remember a time when the end of a year was a magical time. It began with me being anxious for Halloween to finally come, so I could wear that beautiful princess dress my mother had sewn by hand for me. When the day came at the tail end of October, I would cry if my parents made me wear my winter coat over my dress– I wanted everyone to see how beautiful it was and how amazing my mom was for making it by hand. And yes, where I live, we got snow well before Halloween even came around– some years, we’d have snowfall in late September or early October, and other years, the snow came late. One thing was sure, however, and that was that we would have snow by Halloween.

Hence why my parents would make me wear my winter coat to go trick-or-treating, most Halloweens.

To me, Halloween meant pillowcases full of candy to eat throughout the coming year, until the next Halloween came around and I’d go trick-or-treating with my family once again, and haul two to three more pillowcases full of candy back home. It meant that the best neighbourhood to go trick-or-treating in was the one where the family on the corner street turned their yard into a giant haunted house, complete with people dressed as Hellraiser and Freddie Krueger to scare the kids and parents daring to venture in. It meant meeting up with friends who were just as dressed up for the occasion as I was. It meant teachers and students alike would come to school in costume on the day before the holiday –or during the day of Halloween itself if it was in the middle of a school week–, and it made that school day that much more fun.

And then, when Halloween came to an end, the spooky decorations would be taken down and stored away for another year. Things would be quiet for a week or two.

And then, Christmas would begin.

Yes, Christmas began two weeks after Halloween for me and my family.

I remember that, back then around mid-November, my house’s yard would be covered in snow 1 to 2 feet thick. Yes, you read that right. My dad would wake up early in the morning, take the snowblower out the shed, and he would clear out as much snow as he could from the driveway, so that he and my mom could go to work, and so my brother and I wouldn’t have to trudge through the snow to get to the school bus on time. I remember my dad building my brother and I a wooden ramp on which snow would land during snowstorms, and that we’d pack down and drench in water to create an icy slide we could play on during the winter months. I remember going skiing in powdery snow, the type of snow that acted as a cushion and made falls practically painless. I remember skating on the Rideau Canal in Ottawa, I remember going to the Village Valcartier snowpark at least once every two or three years.

I remember the beginning of winter being a sign of good days to come, because I loved winter.

And to me, the entire season felt like Christmas.

Because, by mid-November, my house was alight with decorations for the coming holidays.

I remember being overjoyed whenever I saw my parents taking out these big plastic bins from the closet downstairs, in which all of our Christmas decorations were stored throughout the year. I remember the bright red duffel bag in which our artificial Christmas tree was stored, and how there were always fake pine needles everywhere as soon as we’d open it. I remember having to unfurl every single little branch on this monster of a tree, and then wrapping it in garlands of lights, adorning it with ribbons and all sorts of ornaments and knick-knacks.

There’s this one place in the entire province of Québec that we loved to visit– it was a Christmas shop located in Saint-Sauveur, in a region called the Laurentides. Every year, we’d go there and look around excitedly. I remember my parents bought my brother and I an ornament each, almost every time we’d go– once, I chose a little dressage rider on her chestnut horse, because I was convinced that I would one day have a horse of my own and I would become a top tier rider. Another year, they got me a huge trebble clef covered in gold holo glitter, because of my love for music. And another year, they bought me a fragile little ornament representing a ballerina frozen mid-arabesque, for my love of ballet.

And then, during the car ride home, I'd look out my window at the perfect winter scenery as we drove past.

At home, we’d decorate the tree, and then hang these little doorknob snowmen that my mother had handcrafted years ago. Then, we’d wrap a pine garland around the ramps on the stairs. And when that was done, we’d head outside and cover the house in Christmas lights.

And then it would be Christmas until late January the next year.

Everywhere we’d go, stores and houses alike were all adorned in their finest Christmas gear, and were a sight to behold. Some had inflatable santas and reindeer, others had Nativity scenes, others had a Northern Star light perched on their roof. And in the car, or in stores, the radio would blast Christmas music into your ears.

I remember listening to all these Christmas songs and thinking they were all so magical. That I could never get tired of them, because the singers all sang about how wonderful the holidays are, how their hearts were full of cheer, how cozy it was to sit next to chestnuts roasting on an open fire. They would sing about how we should just let it snow, about how Santa knew when you were sleeping or awake, about how they had a dream of a beautiful, white Christmas. My mother had a collection of Christmas CDs that she’d keep with her in her car, and whenever we’d go somewhere, we’d listen to them.

“White Christmas” was my favourite, because it made me think about how excited I was throughout the rest of the year for winter to come around, and for Christmas to bring joy and cheer to us once again. My mom would often tell me how it was my late grandpa's favourite Christmas song, too. I never learned its true meaning until recently– to me, it simply was about how the singer dreamt of having a Christmas just like he used to know, like when he was a kid.

A bit like the feeling I got this year, during the holidays.

Ten years ago, when I was sixteen, I started to see changes in the seasons, especially during winter. I noticed that it wouldn’t come as early as it used to. By Halloween, the best we could hope for was a day or night without rain. There was no snow in sight. Mid-November at the earliest would be when snowfall would begin.

And then, with the beginning of winter regressing well into the tail-end of November, so did the beginning of Christmas, in mine and my family’s eyes.

We wouldn’t decorate as much, or as early as we used to. We’d just leave the Christmas lights on the house for the next year, but not light them before the next time the holidays came around. One year, we tried getting a real Christmas tree, and though it was amazing to have the house smell like fresh pine until we had to take the tree out after the holidays, it just didn’t feel as magical.

It almost felt like the excitement I got from Christmas was directly related to how much snow we had that year.

So you can imagine how exciting Christmas was for me, these past few years where December was nearly as green as a golf course green in the middle of summer.

As I write this, there are literally barely two inches of snow covering the ground in my backyard.

Two. Inches.

That’s literally nothing.

I saw a post that one of my mutuals reblogged that mentioned this, about how Christmas songs nowadays are mostly reprises of the classics. And these classics reference a time that people these days can only remember. Children and future generations will never know the kind of winter we had back in the day. The ones where we’d play King of the Mountain with the other kids in the school yard because the administration had the snow cleared out, but the workers packed it in one spot in the entire yard instead of shoving it somewhere else. They’ll never know what it’s like to watch the news in the morning and see that their school is closed because of recent snowstorms causing trouble on the roads. They’ll never know the excitement of waking up one day in early November, and seeing a thick sheet of snow covering the ground outside.

They'll never know what a true snow day is like.

Nowadays, if I wanted to experience a winter like this again, I’d have to travel far up north.

I’d. Have. To. Travel.

When in previous years, I wouldn’t have had to, because these winters happened here, where I live.

And I wish I didn’t have to travel in order to have such an experience again.

Nowadays, winter is just another word for rainfall. Because that’s all we get– rainstorm after rainstorm. We barely get to see the snowflakes falling from the cloudy skies anymore. There’s no feeling of joy at witnessing the first of many snowfalls of the year, because I know that it’s only temporary. That there won’t be more snow piling up on top of it. I will likely never again wake up and feel joy at the sight of a fresh, untouched blanket of snow waiting for me outside, because there are no thick blankets of freshly fallen snow where I live anymore. The season’s become too warm for those to last.

I hate what winter has become.

I hate that it’s cold, but not cold enough to keep the snow around like it did before.

I hate that it’s wet, but not wet because the snow melted into my supposedly waterproof snowsuit– it's wet because of the rain.

I hate that the sky is almost always gray with rainclouds and not snowclouds.

I. Hate. It.

But what can one person do to change it?

Not much, I’m afraid.

The shift in seasons and climate change has killed what used to be the most amazing time of year for me.

It killed my love for winter. It killed my love for Christmas.

And it has tainted what little memories I retain from past Christmasses with a nostalgia and a sadness that I can only describe as painful, because I know I may never experience it again in my lifetime. And I'll only be 26 years old this year.

So these days, I don’t decorate anymore. I don’t listen to Christmas songs unless they’re blasted at work, on repeat, until I’m so fed up with them that I get angry when I come back the next day and hear them playing still. I don’t feel joy at seeing the slightest amount of snow on the ground, because I know that soon enough, rain will wash it away.

All I do is dream of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know.

–––

Hey everyone!

I'm sorry this post is so long. I just saw something on my timeline and had a lot of Big Feelings(tm) about it that I thought of sharing. The holidays this year have been a big disappointment on my end, for many reasons which I won't mention here. But the main reason is explained throughout this post.

If you've read through this entire thing, I am very grateful that you took the time to do so!

[church-history]

Our Lady’s Message At La Salette - Sep 19th 1846

Near this little fountain the two children layed down on the grass and fell asleep. How long their slumber lasted is not certain – half an hour perhaps, or three quarters of an hour or possibly more. In any case Melanie suddenly awoke and called Maximin: “Memin, Memin, let us go and find our cows, I cannot see them anywhere.” Of course, being at the bottom of the little ravine, they could not see the meadow where they had left them. Quickly they climbed the slope opposite Mount Gargas (hence they were standing on what is now the esplanade in front of the basilica). Turning around they could view the entire alpine pasture land and were greatly relieved to see that their cows had remained where they had been left, peaceably chewing the cud. Reassured, Melanie began to redescend towards the dried-up fountain to recover her little sack of provisions before once again watering the cows. Half-way down the grassy slope she paused immobilized, frozen with fear. “Memin”, she called out, “look at that great light over there”. “Where is it?”, the boy replied, as he ran and stood at her side. (At the place of the Apparition two statues represent the children on the slope of the ravine, in the first stage of the Event.) At the very spot where they had slept was a globe of fire, as if, in the children's words, “the sun had fallen there”. 

The light swirled, then grew in size and, opening, disclosed within it a woman, seated, her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees, in the attitude of one oppressed with grief. Melanie, in her fright, raised her hands and dropped her shepherd's staff. Maximin thought only of defending himself. “Keep your stick”, he said to her, “I will keep mine and will give it a good whack if it does anything to us” ...Even after she conversed with them, the children could not identify their heavenly Visitor. They would simply call her “the Beautiful Lady”. 

The Beautiful Lady:

The beautiful Lady now stood up while the children remained transfixed where they were. She said to them in French: “Come near, my children, be not afraid. I am here to tell you great news”.  Fully reassured by these words the children hurried to meet her. Her voice, they said, was like music. They approached so near her that, as they later expressed it, another person could not have passed between them and her. The Lady also took a few steps towards them. They looked at her and noticed that she did not cease weeping all the time she spoke to them. As Maximin put it, “She was like a mama whom her own children had beaten and who had escaped to the mountain to weep.” The beautiful Lady was tall and seemed to be made of light. She was dressed like women of the region with a long dress, an apron nearly as long as the dress, a shawl that crossed over her breast and was knotted in the back, and a cap or bonnet similar to the ones worn by peasant women. Roses crowned her head while another wreath of roses adorned the edges of her white shawl and a third garland surrounded her shoes. Over her brow shone a light in the form of a diadem. On her shoulders shone a heavy chain and from a smaller golden chain hung a resplendent crucifix with a hammer and pincers placed on each side of the Cross, a little beyond the nailed hands. 

The Message: 

The unknown Lady now spoke to the children. “We were drinking her words”, they would say later, adding, “she wept all the time she spoke to us”. “Come near, my children, be not afraid; I am here to tell you great news. “If my people will not submit, I shall be forced to let fall the arm of my Son. It is so strong, so heavy, that I can no longer withhold it. “For how long a time do I suffer for you! If I would not have my Son abandon you, I am compelled to pray to him without ceasing; and as to you, you take not heed of it. “However much you pray, however much you do, you will never recompense the pains I have taken for you. “Six days I have given you to labor, the seventh I have kept for myself; and they will not give it to me. It is this which makes the arm of my Son so heavy. “Those who drive the carts cannot swear without introducing the name of my Son. These are the two things which make the arm of my Son so heavy. “If the harvest is spoilt, it is all on your account. I gave you warning last year with the potatoes (‘pommes de terre’) but you did not heed it. On the contrary, when you found the potatoes spoilt, you swore, you took the name of my Son in vain. They will continue to decay, so that by Christmas there will be none left.” The French expression “pommes de terre” intrigued Melanie. In the local dialect the word for potatoes was “las truffas”, whereas “pommes” for Melanie meant the fruit of the apple tree. Hence she instinctively turned towards Maximin to ask for an explanation, but the Beautiful Lady forestalled her. “Ah, my children, you do not understand? Well, wait, I shall say it otherwise”.

 And she continued her discourse in the local dialect of their region. “If you have wheat, it is no good to sow it; all you sow the insects will eat, and what comes up will fall into dust when you thresh it.” “There will come a great famine. Before the famine comes, the children under seven years of age will be seized with trembling and will die in the hands of those who hold them; the others will do penance by the famine. The walnuts will become bad, and the grapes will rot.” Here the Beautiful Lady addressed the children separately, confiding to each a secret. She spoke first to Maximin, and though the little shepherd did not perceive that her tone of voice had changed, Melanie at his side could not hear a word, though she still saw the Beautiful Lady's lips moving. Then came Melanie's turn to receive her secret under like conditions. Both secrets were given in French. Again addressing the two children in the idiom familiar to them, the Lady continued: “If they are converted, the stones and rocks will change into mounds of wheat, and the potatoes will be self-sown in the land. “Do you say your prayers well, my children?”, she asked the shepherds. Both answered with complete frankness: “Not very well, Madam”. “Ah, my children”, she exhorted them, “you must be sure to say them well morning and evening. When you cannot do better, say at least an Our Father and a Hail Mary; but when you have time, say more.” “There are none who go to Mass except a few aged women. The rest work on Sunday all summer; then in the winter, when they know not what to do, they go to Mass only to mock at religion. During Lent, they go to the meat-market like dogs.” “Have you never seen wheat that is spoilt, my children?”, the Beautiful Lady then asked them. “No, Madam”, they replied. “But you, my child”, she insisted, addressing the little boy in particular, “you must surely have seen some once when you were at the farm of Coin with your father. (Coin was a hamlet near the town of Corps). The owner of the field told your father to go and see his ruined wheat. You went together. You took two or three ears of wheat into your hands and rubbed them, and they fell into dust. Then you continued home. When you were still half an hour's distance from Corps, your father gave you a piece of bread and said to you: ‘Here, my child, eat some bread this year at least; I don't know who will eat any next year, if the wheat goes on like that’”. Confronted with such precise details, Maximin eagerly replied: “Oh yes, Madam, I remember now; just at this moment I did not remember”.

Then the Lady, again speaking French as at the beginning of her discourse and when giving the secrets, said to them: “Well, my children, you will make this known to all my people.” Now she turned slightly to her left, passed in front of the children, crossed the brook Sezia, stepping on stones emerging from it, and when she was about ten feet from the opposite bank repeated her final request, without turning around or stopping: “Well, my children, you will make this well known to all my people.” These were her last words. Meanwhile the two witnesses were still standing motionless at the spot where the conversation had taken place, when suddenly they realized that the heavenly Visitor was already some steps away from them. In their eagerness to join her again, they ran across the brook and were with her in a moment. Thus, in the company of Maximin and Melanie, the Lady moved along, gliding over the tips of the grass without touching it, until she reached the top of the hillock where the children, after their sleep, had gone to look after their cows. Melanie preceded her by a few steps, and Maximin was at her right. On reaching the summit the Lady paused for a few seconds, then slowly rose up to a height of a meter and a half. She remained suspended in the air for a moment, raised her eyes to Heaven, then glanced in the direction of the southeast. At that moment, Melanie, who had been standing at the left of the Lady, came in front in order to see her better. Only then did she notice that the celestial Visitor had ceased weeping, although her features remained very sad. The radiant vision now began to disappear. “We saw her head no more, then the rest of the body no more; she seemed to melt away. There remained a great light”, related Maximin, “as well as the roses at her feet which I tried to catch with my hands; but there was nothing more”. “We looked for a long time”, added Melanie, “to see if we could not have another glimpse of her”, but the Beautiful Lady had disappeared forever. The little shepherdess then remarked to her companion: “Perhaps it was a great Saint”. “If we had known it was a great Saint”, said Maximin, “we would have asked her to take us with her”. 

The Great News Spreads:

At dusk, a little earlier than usual, the children brought back their herds to the hamlet of Ablandins nestling on the mountainside below. Pierre Selme had been impatiently awaiting Maximin's return to the farm house. “Well, Memin”, he asked him, “why did you not come back to me in my field, as I told you?” “Oh”, Maximin replied, “You do not know what happened? We found by the spring a beautiful lady who entertained us a long time and talked with Melanie and myself. At first I was afraid and did not dare to go and fetch my bread which was near her, but she said to us: ‘Come near, my children, do not be afraid, I am here to tell you great news’”. The boy then related the story of the Apparition, hardly pausing for breath. He was very surprised that the people of the valley had not noticed the bright light in the ravine. He then scampered lightheartedly over to the home of Melanie's master, Baptiste Pra. The girl, busy in the stable, had as yet said nothing.  Maximin, more communicative, spoke at once to the assembled Pra family about the Beautiful Lady. He was immediately surrounded and questioned. On hearing the story, the old mother of Baptiste Pra began to cry, and with the intuition her simple faith gave her exclaimed: “This beautiful Lady can be none other than the Blessed Virgin”. The others were not so sure and waited for Melanie. As she did not hurry, her mistress, old Mother Pra, ran to the cow barn to fetch her. “Come quickly and tell us what you saw with Maximin”.  “I saw as he did,” the girl replied, “and since he has told you, you must know it by now.” But all insisted, so back in the kitchen of the humble cottage she stood before them and related, for the first time, the wonderful event. All were amazed to hear both children, while reciting the Lady's discourse, speaking French fluently, for that same morning neither of them knew anything or very little of that language. The pious old grandmother, more and more moved, repeated her conviction: “She is certainly the Blessed Virgin, for there is no other person in Heaven whose Son governs”. Then she turned reproachfully to her young son James: “You have heard what the Blessed Virgin said - go now and work again on Sunday!” “Bah”, came the retort, “you will make me believe that this little one has seen the Blessed Virgin, she who does not even say her prayers!” “But that night”, declared Melanie later, “I remained a long time on my knees although I hardly knew any prayers by heart”. It was eventually decided that this affair was something to be submitted to the Church. Hence, first thing in the morning, the two children descended to the village of La Salette to tell their story to the pastor, Father Jacques Perrin. A knock at the rectory door brought the priest’s housekeeper, a kind but inquisitive spinster. They said they must see the priest. Must they, indeed? And why? They had something of great importance to tell him. They could tell it to her, Francoise insisted; it was the same thing. Seeing that she was immovable, the children began their recital. Father Perrin, in the next room, heard them and as they continued, he lay down his pen (he was writing his sermon). For a while he sat motionless, then moved noiselessly toward the kitchen. When the account was complete, he stepped into the kitchen and with tears in his eyes said to the children: “How fortunate you are, my children, for it must have been the Blessed Virgin whom you saw!” It was time for Mass and when Father Perrin mounted the pulpit he began telling the people of the children’s strange experience on the mountain. But his voice was choked with emotion and his words were unintelligible save by someone who already knew the story. The people looked at each other, mystified. But there was one who understood him - Monsieur Peytard, the mayor of La Salette. In the afternoon Peytard was on his way to the hamlet of Ablandins. He did not advertise his real purpose but would casually drop in at the Pra’s house for a friendly visit. He spoke to Melanie and asked to hear again the story she had been telling (by this time Maximin was already back in Corps). When she was through, he said: “Be careful, my child, to add or suppress nothing.” “I have said everything the beautiful lady told me to say”, was her reply. Then he began to cross-examine her mercilessly, passing back and forth from threats to bribes. It was fruitless. He could not shake Melanie or get her to vary her account by a word or persuade her to say no more about it. The lengthy interview, however, did induce Pra to abandon his attitude of disbelief. There must be something to this affair. He must put the story down on paper, with the help of his friends Selme and Moussier. So, that evening Melanie was made to tell the story one more time, but now very slowly, so that Pra could get every word down on paper. How right was his instinct in giving documentary form, as quickly as possible, to what the unforgettable voice had said on the mountain just the day before! Monday morning M. Peytard descended to Corps to question Maximin. He returned to La Salette, won over by the amazing self-assurance, candor and tenacity of the boy. His account accorded perfectly, down to the last detail, with that of Melanie. Now the news spread rapidly. Pilgrims, unbelievers, skeptics, took turn in questioning the two young witnesses, trying in every way to cause them to contradict each other. Among them were journalists, delegates from the civil authorities, but most importantly ecclesiastics commissioned by Monseigneur de Bruillard, the bishop of Grenoble. For, according to Canon Law, the ultimate decision rested with the bishop in whose diocese a reported miracle or apparition had taken place. 

The Judgment:

After five long years of diligent inquiries, Bishop Philibert de Bruillard of Grenoble, published his longawaited decision, on September 19, 1851: “We judge that the Apparition of the Blessed Virgin to the two cowherds on the 19th of September, 1846, on a mountain of the chain of Alps, situated in the parish of La Salette, in the archpresbytery of Corps, bears within itself all the characteristics of truth, and that the faithful have grounds for believing it indubitable and certain.” The mission assigned by Our Lady to Maximin and Melanie was now ended. On September 19, 1855, Monseigneur Ginoulhiac, the new bishop of Grenoble, thus assessed the situation: “The mission of the children is now ended, that of the Church begins.” Innumerable today are the men and women of all races and countries who have found in the message of La Salette the road to conversion, a deepening of their faith, the needed dynamism for their everyday lives, and the motives for their commitment with and in Christ to the service of all peoples.

Read more at: https://www.lasalette.org/about-la-salette/apparition/the-story/705-the-message-of-la-salette.html

[lizzie-boo]

Stay With Me- Ficmas Day 3

Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Words: 1,504

Warnings: A wee bit of language. 

A/N: Yes I know I’m posting this a whole 20 min before the end of the day but at least I got it done. I’m actually so proud of myself for making it this far. I know that it’s only day three but I barely made it past day one. This is like a super huge accomplishment for me. I hope you like it, I know it’s not super Christmasy but it’s set over the break. That’s gotta count for something. 

~~~

The great hall was bustling with excitement. The impending holiday break and lack of classes had all students happier than usual. Hogwarts had been decorated from floor to ceiling with over the top décor. First-year students were amazed by the dazzling lights and gigantic strands of garland. It truly was a sight to behold.

Yet, one boy stood in the Slytherin common room contemplating the importance of the upcoming holiday. He knew his parents wanted him to return home but he was unsure if he should. He was beginning to see the scope of his parents' beliefs and no longer felt that he agreed with them. The fear of them finding his change of thought had settled deep within him. He no longer wanted to make the venture home and face them. He didn’t think he’d be able to pretend to agree with their ideals for so long.

What plagued his mind the most was how he would tell them he would be staying at school this Christmas. He knew his father would be angry and call his behavior unacceptable. As his father would say, this is the type of thing that reflects badly on their family.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” you ask when you see him standing in the middle of the common room watching the fire.

“How am I supposed to tell my parents I’m staying here for Christmas?” he mumbles.

“Wait you want to stay?” Your voice raises an octave and you arch your eyebrow.

“I need time away from them, I need time to make my own opinions and see how they align with my parents.” He scratches the back of his neck and finally turns to look you in the eye.

“Is everything okay at home?” you ask, not knowing about the events that had taken place ever since the dark lord had made his reappearance.

“It’s fine,” he lies.

“Well if it makes you feel any better I’m staying here for Christmas too. I have too much work to catch up on and staying here in the peace and quiet will help me focus.” He turns to look at you as you finish rambling.

Cracking a smile, he takes a seat on the couch. “That’s the perfect reason to stay. That’s what I’ll tell them.”

“You’re welcome I guess?” With that, you turn and head up to your dorm to work on the potions essay that had been assigned that morning. The thought of having an essay due the day back from break was mind-boggling but Professor Snape never seemed to make sense.

When the break had finally rolled around the hallways had cleared out early. The carriages had carried a majority of the school towards the Hogwarts express, leaving the few remaining stragglers roaming the halls. It was strange to sit in the Great Hall and have all the students at one table. And if the mixing of houses wasn’t strange enough it was even weirder to only see one table a third of the way full instead of the room brimming with students.

This was your first time spending a holiday at school and so far you thought it would take some adjusting. One plus side was that at least you had a friend staying with you because loneliness had already set in. Hence why you were following him back to the common room.

Entering behind him you took your spot in the chair across from his. He shoots you a confused look and turns to grab his book off the side table.

“So how’d your parents take the news?” you ask.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” he snaps, slamming the book shut. The glare he sends your way causes you to slink back into the soft fabric of the chair.

“You know you can talk to me right? That’s what friends are for.”

“Friends?” he laughs, quirking his brow. The way the word rolls from his lips causes anger to bubble up. His dismissive, uninterested tone set you on edge. After everything he had the audacity to think you weren’t even friends.

“Seriously, you’re telling me that we aren’t friends. After countless study sessions in the library, me being there for you when your friends are acting like assholes, fuck I’m more of a friend to you than anyone that you say is your friend. We both know that none of them would stick around to help and here I am trying to be there for you. And what do I get? I get an unnecessary attitude when I’m just trying to be nice.” Your hands slam into the arms of the chair and you push yourself up with the force.

Taking wide strides you make your way towards the stairs leading to the girl’s dorms. You take the stairs two at a time. Only making it halfway before a hand on a wrist stops you. Damn his long arms and being able to catch up to you.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just didn’t think you saw me as a friend. I’m not exactly the friend type, I figured you didn’t want to waste your time with me outside of school work.” He tugs at the sleeve of his shirt, avoiding eye contact.

He lets his fingers loosen around your wrist and slowly drops it. He heads back towards the couch and you feel the urge to follow him. The glimmer in his eyes was gone, they looked dull. All you wanted to was to fix what was wrong. No matter how mad you were you know that letting this fester would only make it worse. Sitting down next to him you place a hand overtop his.

He looks and his blonde hair falls into his gray eyes. All you want is to reach out and brush his hair out of the way but you refrain yourself. His hands clasp yours as if pleading with you to stay.

“I’m so sorry, I never saw myself as being worthy of your friendship, I tried to keep my distance because I didn’t want you being put in harm's way because of my family.”

“Then why didn’t you push your other friends away.” The words come out sharper than intended and he winces slightly.

“Their families are like mine, part of the same situation. They’re already at risk, we’re all in the same boat. I didn’t want that for you or any other Slytherin that didn’t have to be part of it if they had the choice.” He plays with your fingers never looking up to meet your gaze. “What’s going on? Why would I be in danger?” you ask softly, scared that he’ll reject you again.

“If I tell you will you promise to stay with me?” This time he looks up. His eyes misting over with emotions. There is an unmistakable flash of fear and you nod in an attempt to ease his pain.

“My family was part of Voldemort’s reign before. Everyone knows that and it wasn’t as much as a problem before except he’s back and since I’m old enough they expect me to join. It’s what I’m supposed to do because I hold the Malfoy name. They want to brand me, make me part of their army.” He leans back, resting his head against the back of the couch. He lets his hands leave yours and come up to cover his eyes.

“You’re going to become a death eater?”

“Yes, all the pureblood followers of Voldemort are expected to become one if they aren’t already but I don’t know. I just don’t think I agree with it. I can’t blindly follow my parents' commands forever, I can’t pledge my allegiance when I don’t think it’s right. I was so blinded by my father’s power as a kid that I did everything he said but I see the error in my ways now. I want to be a better person.”

“Draco, you can tell it’s wrong, that you were wrong before and that makes you a better person. You want to make your own decisions, to be free, that means that you’ve changed.” You reach for his hands pulling them away from his face. His eyes are still rimmed with tears as you pull his hands close to your chest.

Holding his hands in yours you continue, “You need to do what you think is best and if you need I’ll be here with you the whole way.”

A soft smile works its way onto his face and he feels like for once in his life he has control over what he will do next. He knows that he will still need to work to gain your forgiveness over his childish behavior and that he will need to stand up to his parents when the time comes but for once it will be because he wants to. He will finally do what’s right and he knows deep down that you’ll be with him every step of the way.

[let-it-raines]

Prompt: You know those viral campaigns to get a celeb to come to a party as your date? What if as part of a lost bet, Emma has to make a YouTube video asking Killian Jones to be her date to her work Christmas party? Or any party really.

*breaks out Santa hat and elf shoes* It’s December first! I love Christmas, you guys. Like, seriously. I love Christmas, and I happen to have a folder with some holiday-themed ramblings. This one isn’t necessarily a holiday themed one, but it does happen on December first with some Christmas sprinklings. :D

“I’m not doing it.”

“You have to. You lost the bet.”

“There was no contract. I don’t technically have to do it.”

“No, but you would be a sucky friend if you didn’t. Come on, what have you got to lose?”

“The rest of my dignity that isn’t being stomped on and kicked around.”

“See?” Ruby teases, finishing the curl on Emma’s hair, the blonde strands bouncing against her chest. “You’ve got nothing left to lose then.”

She doesn’t want to do this. She really doesn’t. But she did talk a big game all last week at the bar, and when she lost the bet…well, she lost all of her dignity, too…okay, so maybe she hasn’t lost her dignity quite yet. So who cares if she’s about to embarrass herself in front of the entire world? She does. She cares. But a part of her is nagging at her that she has to keep her word, and if all else fails, this will bring light to her job. Maybe they’re get some donations, and all of the children will be able to have a bit of a merrier Christmas. It’s something she never had when she was a child, and she’s worked her entire life to help save others from her fate, even if it’s something as small as gifting them a doll for Christmas.

It may seem small to most, but it’s not to them. It’s everything.

And if a heart for humanity can’t convince her, well, there’s about a .0000487% chance that she’ll get to meet Killian Jones, A-list Hollywood actor fresh off his Oscar winning role as a mass murderer. The movie was, well, it was disturbed, but not everything he’s in is so dark. He’s most well-known for playing Superman, and if anything, that’s more appropriate when she’s going to ask him to be her date to her company’s Christmas party that doubles as a fundraiser for Together We Rise and building Christmas boxes for foster children.

She’s mostly only nervous because of the whole losing her dignity thing, but a big factor is definitely that she’s hardcore attracted to the man…and all of her friends (mostly Ruby) know it. Hence why it’s him of all people she’s asking to be her date.

She’s going to die of embarrassment. Yep.

“If this is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, I don’t want to look like an actual ghost. So just try to make me look nice. But not club nice, you know?”

“Yep,” Ruby agrees, releasing another curl from the iron, the steam lingering a little too long for Emma’s liking, “got it. But you’ve still got to wear the tacky Christmas sweater. That’s non-negotiable.”

If Ruby wasn’t in possession of an extremely hot curling iron, Emma would try to hit her. It’s a truly horrendous sweater.

But it could be worse.

“Jones,” Robin calls, and Killian simply buries his head further into his pillow. He’s jetlagged, and it can’t be past eight in the morning. Why the bloody hell is Robin even here? In his home. So damn early.

“Go away,” he hisses, and he really shouldn’t be this much of a bastard, but he’s tired.

“I need to show you something.”

“Can it wait until my head isn’t pounding? I just got back in from London four hours ago, and I couldn’t sleep on the plane.”

“I mean, it could, but I think you might find this amusing. A young woman is asking you out on a date.”

What the hell? What is he talking about? Why would Robin know about a woman asking him on a date before he even knows? He hasn’t dated in awhile, but he’s pretty sure that’s not how dating works unless you’re in middle school and you use your friends to see if the girl you like likes you back. He cringes, thinking of the times he actually did that, and embarrassment from things he did as a child tends to linger.

“Through you?”

“Through the internet.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

Robin thrusts his phone into Killian’s hands, and his eyes have to adjust to the brightness of the screen before he can watch this, a headache already blooming from his lack of sleep. When they do adjust, he’s taken aback by the young woman who is apparently asking him out on a date. She’s beautiful. Stunning, really. Her blonde hair falls far past her shoulders in soft curls and her long dark eyelashes accentuate her wide green eyes. He’s never seen anyone like her. Sure, he’s seen lots of beautiful women, especially in his line of work, but no one has ever enraptured him like this woman who is apparently asking him out on a date. He hasn’t even pressed play on the video yet.

Maybe it’s the jet lag.

Yeah, the jet lag.

“Hi,” the woman begins, her voice clearly strained. In his years of acting, he’s had to learn when people feel uncomfortable by the tone of their voice or their facial features, and this woman is obviously uncomfortable, the smile on her face very clearly not reaching her eyes. “My name is Emma Swan, and I work for Boston’s Children’s Shelter. And I’d like to ask Killian Jones to be my date to our Christmas gala on December first to raise money for Together We Rise. Come on, Superman. Don’t you want to be a hero in real life, too?”

The video ends with the woman, Emma Swan, still sitting with a forced smile on her face as the camera pans down to the sweater she’s wearing. It’s, well, it’s horrible, the green base of it covered in shining green garland and ornaments, clearly emulating a Christmas tree. It’s the sweater and her forced words that make him realize she’s likely not doing this because she wants to. She’s somehow being forced into it. A lost bet maybe? Or an order from her boss? Maybe she drew the short stick in a company contest at work? Nevertheless, she looks entirely uncomfortable even with everything about her outer appearance seeming cheery.

He knows better than to look at comments of anything online, the comment sections on his Instagram and twitter have taught him enough lessons to know that in some cases ignorance is bliss, but he can’t help from scrolling down on the video which has apparently amassed nearly half a million views in the week it’s been online.

KJ7839: This is cute! You should go, Superman!

LilJlove: I mean, does anyone else think this is ridiculous? This woman is supposed to be a professional, and she’s basically begging a man who has better things to do with his time to go on a date with her and claiming “it’s for the kids.” Pathetic.

JohnSmitherson: Dude, this chick is smoking! I’ll be your date even with that sweater, lady.

SuperJones: Can you say thirsty? Because this girl sure is!

Anonymous: Killian is a good guy! He probably won’t go, but he’ll likely donate to the charity!

The last message gets his head spinning, thinking of how he could just donate to the charity Miss Swan’s mentioned. He does every year anyways, but he could likely make a difference by showing up, spearheading a campaign to get his fans to donate. He’s never really wanted to do anything like that before, always worried that people are going to think that he’s only doing it to promote himself, and while he’s sure that’ll be the case if he does this, he doesn’t care.  No one knows that he spent time in the foster system. He’s not ashamed of it. He simply grew tired of the pitying looks he got when people find out, but he’s been discreetly trying to help out as much as he can with what he can from the success he’s somehow garnered.

Maybe it’s time to stop hiding in the shadows.

“So you can likely just make a small video,” Robin begins, taking his phone out of Killian’s hands, “thanking her for her offer but saying you’re busy and then donating money to the charity and asking others to do the same.”

“Am I busy?”

“What?”

“Am I actually busy on that day?”

“Well, no. You’re free, but you can’t go on dates with every woman who asks you out on a date through a video. If you do it this once, it’ll start something.”

“I’m going.”

“Emma, holy shit,” Ruby screeches, running into her office and wow is she glad she didn’t have any kids with her today.

Before she can even ask what Ruby’s yelling about, Ruby’s phone is in her face, and she sees Killian Jones himself on the screen in a Christmas sweater exactly like the one she wore in her video. Holy shit is right. Did he really go through the effort of searching for a matching sweater? Not that it was that difficult. It’s on the first website that pops up when you google ugly Christmas sweaters, but still.

“Is it…is he about to make fun of me in this?”

Ruby laughs, her entire body shaking with the movement, and she has no idea what that is supposed to mean. “No, Ems. Just watch.”

She’s apprehensive, but she presses play, preparing herself for what has already been a week of embarrassment (three people recognized her in Target in fifteen minutes, and one person asked for a selfie) only increasing. She’s tried to block out the fact that her face is all over the internet and that her office gets so many prank calls, but everything just seems to make her unable to forget. She should have known he’d respond in some way, should have prepared herself for it.

But she didn’t.

“Hello, Emma Swan,” he greets, a broad smile on his face that seems much more genuine than the one she had plastered on her face in her video. He reaches up to scratch behind his ear after giving her (or the camera really) a small wave, and her heart flutters a bit. A man who she has a weird, celebrity crush on (She’s an adult. Should she have celebrity crushes?) just said her name, and she’s not sure if she’s excited or mortified. Probably a little bit of both as her cheeks heat and tint in red.

“My name is Killian Jones, though I guess you know that from your video, and I’d just like to say that it turns out I am available on December first. So, Emma Swan, you want to go on a date? I can pick you up at eight, and I promise I won’t be a minute late.” She snorts at his rhyming, and he seems to grimace, his lips curling downward and pursing like he’s eaten something sour. “I most definitely didn’t mean to rhyme there, so I apologize about that, love. I guess I got caught up in myself, but I’m not going to record this video again because I’ll overthink it. Guess my other secret identity is Dr. Suess.” He laughs at himself, and she does the same, her mind completely ignoring Ruby smirking at her from her desk. “So yeah, this is probably my worst attempt at asking a lass on a date, even if you did ask first. See you soon, Swan, and to everyone watching, if you’re able, find a charity you support and donate your time or money to them this holiday season!”

At the end of the message is a little recorded roll of how she can get in contact with him through his agent, and if her office has gotten a lot of calls this week, she cannot imagine how many he’ll get. People will probably claim they’re her, and she’s most definitely already seriously ruing the day she made a bet with Ruby Lucas.

“You’re going to pass out when you see him, aren’t you?”

“No. That’s just weird, you know. Like, he said my name, and it obviously wasn’t a prewritten thing.”

“You realize you’re going to meet him, right? Like, I know we didn’t expect him to say yes, but holy shit he said yes.”

For some reason it’s not until Ruby says the words that she realizes that he said yes. That this stupid bet has somehow resulted in something other than her embarrassment. Though she does think this will only lead to more embarrassment. Yeah, she’s just going to go ahead and dig her own grave.

“He said yes,” she mumbles under her breath, trying to calm herself because this is absolutely ridiculous. Every single part of it.

He’s spoken on the phone with Emma Swan three times, but nothing compares to speaking to her in person. She was obviously nervous when he picked her up at her apartment (he did say that he would, after all), and while he’d like to say that he was going about this as if it was a business deal, he can’t. The moment she opened the door and his eyes spanned down to the black jumpsuit she had on, sleek and modest except for the way that it dipped in between her breasts into a low v, as well as the way her lips were painted red and her hair pulled up into a ponytail, well, he knew that the camera did not do her justice. He also knew that he stared at her far too long than what was appropriate, and he’d probably made himself look like some kind of creep, effectively making her uncomfortable for the rest of their evening.

But she doesn’t seem to be cross with him, nervously talking to him about her job and what exactly they’ll be doing tonight in the car ride over to the museum where the gala is being held. It’s apparently for several charities and not just Boston’s Children Shelter, and that’s why it’s a black tie event with all of the gift wrapping. If it were up to her, they’d actually do something with the kids, but she apparently has to make small talk with all of the wealthy donors in town instead.

Emma also thanks him at least twice every five minutes for coming, and after about the seventeenth time, he took her hand in his and squeezed, feeling the soft skin of her palm underneath the callouses of his, and assured her that he was more than happy to do this.

They make their way through the photographers outside the museum, ones he knows are specifically there for him, and so he waves to them, posing with his hand on Emma’s back until they make it inside. There are Christmas decorations interspersed between the exhibits, silver Christmas trees with blue and green lights, contemporary decorations that are a total mismatch the decorations he has at home. But the place is beautiful, the dim overhead lights making the Christmas lights brighter, tinsel and glitter everywhere he looks with a muted Christmas playlist, all slow, classical songs playing in the background.

He’s suddenly struck with the idea that this is like that episode of The Office where Michael makes everyone get rid of all of their regular decorations and replace them with things like the museum’s decorations because Holly is coming to town. What did he call it? Cool Christmas? No. Was it a classy Christmas? Yeah, that’s what it was. This feels like a classy Christmas where Santa wears red leather and has a six pack instead of being jolly with a belly that jiggles. Something about that just doesn’t seem right to him.

He and Emma wander around the museum a bit, looking at the exhibits and decorations before getting some drinks and settling down at their table, the awkward conversations trending more toward normal the more time he spends with her.

“So I’m just going to apologize,” she begins, taking a sip of her water, and he’s just going to stop her there. She doesn’t need to apologize. He’s glad to be here.

“You need not apologize, love. I want to be here.”

Emma puts her glass down and waves her hands, shaking her head side to side, her hair moving with her. “No, no. Not that, though I do have to tha – okay, yeah, I’m not going to thank you anymore. Got it. I want to apologize for my coworker and friend, Ruby.”

“What is there to apologize for?”

“She’s, uh, well, she doesn’t have a filter.”

“What do you mean she ��� ”

“Well if it isn’t the smoking hot Killian Jones himself,” a tall brunette in a red dress compliments, and if he were a betting man, he’d bet this was Ruby.

He reaches his hand over to her, taking it in hand as he shakes it and represses his laughter. “Killian Jones. Pleased to meet you…?”

“Ruby Lucas, Emma’s best friend. Has she told you how much of a fan she is? Because she is. Huge, really. She even watched you play that psycho, and she never watches things like that. It’s because she thinks you’re hot.”

“That’s not true, Rubes! I love crime things!”

“So you don’t think I’m hot, lass?” he teases, waggling his eyebrows and watching the blush rise in Emma’s cheeks. He knows that he barely knows the woman, that they’re just acquaintances, but he can’t help but mess with her, Ruby’s laughter encouraging him.

“That’s not what I – I…Ruby, why are you trying to torture me? Wasn’t the online video embarrassing enough?”

“Nope,” Ruby grins, and he can practically feel the awkwardness rolling off of Emma. “I was trying to set you up, and you’ve just ruined it.”

“Rubes,” Emma admonishes, “you’re being ridiculous!” He feels a hand on his arm, warm fingers digging into his. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this whole night is going to be quite the story to tell when you go back to L.A.”

He places his hand over Emma’s on his arm and squeezes, a genuine smile on his face. “I sure hope so, love.”

Throughout the night Emma (and Ruby if he’s honest) gives him little glimpses into her life. She doesn’t share much, and why would she? He’s a stranger to her, and who the hell shares their life story to strangers? But he does learn that she loves Christmas as an adult more than she loved Christmas as a child, a feeling he recognizes almost instantly. He has so much now, more than he could have ever imagined, and while children usually experience the most joy around Christmas, he gets joy out of being able to give to others. Emma works for a children’s shelter, something one does only if they’re passionate about the work, so he knows that she feels the same way.

Christmas can be more than gifts and shiny things if you let it, and he thinks that Emma does.

She prefers Christmas comedies, but she will occasionally sit down and watch the dramas, stuffing her face with chocolate covered popcorn while drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. He’s learned those last two things are essential, and he stores that away for some reason, like he’ll have use for it in the future.

She and Ruby together are hilarious, the two obviously close, and he’s having a better time than he thought that he would when he agreed to do this, his stomach aching with how much he’s laughing. He was asked out through a video online, and it’s one of the best dates he’s had in awhile…even if it’s not really a date.

But maybe it is, even if there will be no pillaging and plundering.

Killian freaking Jones is dancing with her. Like, her arms are wrapped around his neck while his hands hold onto her waist as they sway back and forth to match the other people dancing. Okay, so it’s swaying not dancing, but she doesn’t think her feet could do anything else. She’d also likely lose the last remaining shred of her dignity (it’s already scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point) because cameras have been on her – Killian – all night long. There’s likely not a single point of her night that’s undocumented by someone.

“So Swan,” he speaks over the music, “can I ask you something?”

“It depends.”

“On what, love?”

“Well, if it’s something like when my birthday is, that’s fine. But if it’s the color of my underwear, I’d say that’s not.”

“Damn. I’ll have to think of something else then.”

She chuckles before moving a bit closer, her hands tightening around his neck. He’s nice and incredibly cheeky, something she always thought was a bit of a show for the cameras, and while he could be putting this all on for this quasi date tonight, she thinks that it’s genuine. She’s always been good at reading people, at being able to tell when they’re lying, and he’s telling the truth with everything he says. He’s a good guy, and that’s what she’s going to tell people when this night is over and she never seems him again.

“What were you really going to ask?” she ponders, and her fingers brush across the hair at the nape of his neck, quickly feeling the soft strands before moving her hand to a more appropriate spot. She definitely doesn’t need to be messing with his hair, and she’s so distracted by it that she misses his question.

“Why me?”

“I’m sorry, what?” she mumbles, her attention finally focused back on him, her eyes looking into his and her mind totally focused.

Okay, so mostly focused.

“Why me?” he chuckles, and the man probably knows that their proximity is distracting her.

“Why you what?”

Why is she such an idiot? He’s going to think she’s incompetent, and she’s not. She’s definitely not. She’s a fully competent adult with a respectable job and friends and…oh God, she’s likely spacing off right now, which totally isn’t helping her case. When she looks forward again, Killian is softly smiling at her, kindness in his eyes, and she’s got to get a grip. After their initial meeting and the car ride, she’s been far less nervous, far less uncomfortable with him being here, and she doesn’t want to revert back to that.

“Why am I here on a date with you tonight? How did that happen?”

She cringes, and he laughs, his eyes crinkling while he flashes his teeth at her. Oh yeah, going on a date with your celebrity crush is a fantastic idea. It doesn’t make her feel like her stomach is turning upside down inside of her at all.

“I lost a bet.”

Killian raises an eyebrow and flashes her that smile again. Her stomach most definitely flips again, and she’s going to lose it by the end of the night if that doesn’t stop. “Can I, uh, ask what the bet was?”

“It was stupid, so, so stupid, but Ruby and I were out at a bar throwing darts. And that may not seem like a big deal, but she and I get super competitive. It’s kind of like a tradition for us, and to be honest, I was one drink away from being drunk, so I started to talk a good game, saying that I could hit a bullseye before Ruby could.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t hit the bullseye.”

“I barely hit the board, while Ruby hit at on her second try. And our deal was that we get to pick the date, no restrictions except for exes, to the person who loses. Little did I know that it’d be, well, you.”

“I ask again. Why me?”

“I may or may not have a huge celebrity crush on you, and my friends are evil.”

“Well, I am devastatingly handsome.”

“And humble too.”

It’s when they finish dancing that Killian whispers in her ear, “I’m glad you didn’t hit that bullseye.”

There’s that stomach flip again, but this time it feels different.

The rest of the evening pretty much involves schmoozing the wealthy and convincing them to donate their money to the shelter. A part of her feels guilty that she knows most of these people will probably donate a bit more to her because of Killian, but she’s not about to refuse their money for all that it can do to help the children she works with. Killian is every bit as charming and convincing as he’s been all night, and every few seconds she’s sure that she’s going to wake up from some kind of really good dream where her celebrity crush has his hand on the small of her back and is buying her drinks from the bar.

This entire night, and the weeks leading up to it really, is surreal, and there’s no other word for it.

By the time that she and Killian load up into the car he drove her here in, it’s far past midnight, her feet aching from her heels and her mind weary from all of the schmoozing and sweet talking she’s been doing all night…not to mention not looking like an idiot to her date. Okay, so she’s long past that. There’s no way he doesn’t think she’s an idiot, though. He’s a celebrity (though sometimes she does forget and thinks he’s simply a normal guy) who is likely has better things to do than go on dates with women who ask him out online, but all night she’s felt like there was something there, some kind of connection. She’s simply not sure what that connection is.

It’s probably her imagination, some kind of weird fantasy that she’s dreamed up about tonight, and she’s just going to stuff that thought down. She likes him, and that’s another thought that she needs to stuff down. She can’t like him. She’s never going to see him again, and there’s no need for her to get caught up in one night.

But she has gotten caught up.

She’s insane, right?

“Can I ask you a question, Killian?” They’re nearing her apartment, and she has to ask. She’s wondered all night, and she knows that she’ll regret never asking. Of course, if she doesn’t like his answer, she’ll likely regret asking.

“Black.”“What?”

“My underwear is black.”

She snorts, a loud throaty thing that she wishes she could take back, but she can’t. instead she covers her mouth with her hand and leans back, her head hitting the soft leather seat as she looks over to see him smiling while his eyes never leave the road.

“So not what I was going to ask.”“What then, love?”

“Why did you come tonight?”“Ah, well, because a pretty lass asked me on a date.”

Heat rises in her face, and it only increases when his eyes stray from the road to look over at her, the smile still on his face when he gives her an exaggerated wink.

“I’m sure a lot of pretty lasses ask you on dates.”

“Aye,” he confirms before reaching his hand over to place it on hers, his skin every bit as warm as it has been all night, “but only one of them asked me on a date to raise money for a charity I love, and only one knows that I love that charity because I spent a few years in the foster system.”

He…what?

“Y-you did?”

“I did. It’s not something I share as it’s deeply personal, but I figured you’d understand.”

“How do you know?”

“Orphans all have the same look in their eyes, and while I’ve always had my brother, I understand.”

“I…thank you for sharing that with me, Killian. I feel honored that you’d share something like that with me, someone you’d just met. Even if you did somehow figure out a secret of mine.”

“You’re a bit of an open book, darling.”

She smiles before resting her neck against the headrest as they continue to drive, the city light up with a mixture of Christmas lights and headlights, every one of them the tiniest bit too bright, but she doesn’t care. He walks her to her door when they get to her apartment, his suit jacket draped over her shoulders, leading her up their staircases and lingering outside on the balcony, the sounds of cars zooming by and intoxicated pedestrians echoing from four floors below. If she listened carefully, she could hear her heart beating within her chest.

“Would you like to come inside?”

When she wakes up the next morning, still clothed in her jumpsuit with Killian in his tux on the couch beside her, her neck is screaming at her while her pores are yelling at her for not removing her makeup. She can’t believe that she slept with him…okay, that she fell asleep on her couch with him. So she slept with him in the very literal sense of the word, and this is by far the craziest thing that’s ever happened to her.

All because she can’t throw darts while drunk.

Her phone chime continues to go off, and she has to move Killian’s head off of her shoulder, letting it fall to the back of the couch, in order to get up and scramble through her clutch from last night to find her phone, the screen filled with texts from Ruby.

She types in her passcode, clicking on the messages, and it only takes her a moment to see what all of the fuss is about.

It’s pictures of she and Killian throughout the night, arriving at the gala, sitting at dinner, dancing, getting drinks from the bar, betting at the silent auction, and then, finally, Killian’s lips slanted over hers outside her apartment before the two of them stepped inside.

Ruby: YOU KISSED HIM

Ruby: AND THEN HE WENT INSIDE YOUR APARTMENTRuby: DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM

Ruby: EMMA SWAN I NEED DETAILS WHAT’S HAPPENING

Ruby: IF YOU GUYS GET MARRIED AND HAVE BABIES YOU OWE ME BIG TIME

Ruby: I’M THINKING A YACHT.

Ruby: WE’LL CALL IT THE LOVE BOAT

She snorts at all of Ruby’s messages, blush rising in her cheeks at all of her questions as well as thinking about the fact that she did very much kiss Killian last night, something that was totally inappropriate for their arrangement, but something that also felt just right. She’s had a lot of first kisses in her life, some chaste, others awkward, a few far too passionate, but this one made her toes curl in her heels and her body tingle with pleasure. And then when he kissed her again once inside her apartment, the smallest of chaste kisses before they fell asleep watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas, well, that kiss had confirmed that after a few hours, Killian Jones might just be on his way to stealing her heart.

Dignity is overrated when your world has possibly been turned upside down by a stupid bet.

For Christmas next year, Emma gets a ring and Ruby gets a ship ornament inscribed with the words “love boat” along with a Christmas card of Emma and Killian in their matching ugly Christmas sweaters.

She finally hit that bullseye.

[whereisthefood123]

Keep the cold outside

Merry belated Christmas to @capaleran2! I’m your secret santa from @fairies-and-christmas exchange gifts! (sorry for being late!! XD) I hope you enjoy this fic that I wrote for you :) Honestly this was kinda tough for me to finish since I discovered I’m not very good at writing Christmas themed fics lol but I still had lots of fun and I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it for you!

Pairing: Gajevy

Rating: T – cuteness ahead

Word count: 2.7k

Ffnet

The cold bit at his skin mercilessly as he trudged through Magnolia’s streets as fast as his feet could take him. Gajeel lifted his collar up to keep the bad weather at bay the best he could. If he hadn’t taken so freaking long during that mission, he could have avoided the snow storm that fell over Magnolia on this December night. But even the blizzard couldn’t keep the streets empty, since what looked like half of Magnolia seemed to busy themselves buying last minute Christmas presents.

Even when most people parted as they saw his brooding figure trekking down the street, Gajeel growled once or twice whenever a distracted citizen would come too close to the dragon slayer, earning him a surprise yelp and a hurried apology before the person would disappear amongst the crowd.

“Fucking holidays,” he mumbled behind his thick scarf as he adjusted his duffle bag over his shoulder to continue his walk. It’s not like he hated Christmas or anything like that, it was quite the opposite, but did it have to snow this heavily on this time of the year?! All he wanted now was to get home and sit by the fire to forget about this unforgiving cold. More than anything, he just wanted to hold his girlfriend tightly and cuddle with her under their thick blankets, forgetting all about the three-week-long mission he had just finished.

If he was honest with himself, Gajeel had missed Levy more than he cared to admit during his mission. Her bell-like laugh, her warm smile and her gentle touch were everything he craved at the moment. Even when he couldn’t put his feelings into words when he was with her, he was sure Levy knew how deeply he cared about her. They had been dating for six months now and every day she proved to be an expert in deciphering his way of showing his adoration for her.

A soft smile formed on his lips just thinking about Levy and about seeing her soon. Though, he mused, she wouldn't be home until tomorrow morning since the guild seemed to be on full on party mode for the upcoming holidays and she always enjoyed spending her time there instead at their home when Gajeel was out on a job. Besides, he had called her beforehand to tell her he wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow morning so there was no reason for her to be home tonight.

He paused for a moment in his walk to reconsider going to the guild first instead to their home. Just the thought of seeing her and kissing her sent his heart racing. Dammit! If he had to wait another second to be with her he would definitely punch someone in the face.

Just when he was about to turn around to head to the guild, a foul smell reminded him that he hadn't showered at all during the mission. Sweat, dirt and dry blood stuck to him like a second skin. He was in dire need of a shower before he saw Levy to be at least somehow presentable to his girlfriend.

With a defeated sigh, he resumed his walking towards their home, picking up his speed to make the trek go faster. He planned to take a quick shower and head to the guild as fast as he could to see his woman and kiss her endlessly to show her how much he had missed her.

His thoughts drifted to the day he left for his mission. Levy had been eager to start decorating their home for Christmas, telling him all about the type of decorations they should buy and how they could hang some white lights from the ledge of the roof and place garlands around the supporting pillars at the entrance of their home. Gajeel chuckled at her enthusiasm and promised her that they would decorate as much as she wanted to as soon as he got back from the mission.

A sharp pang of guilt made his heart constrict. Something about picturing Levy sitting in a dull home without any decorations made him want to beat himself up all over again for taking so damn long to come back to her.

For a second time that night, Gajeel paused in his step to dwell a bit on this and frowned deeper the more he thought about it. Light from the store to his right caught his attention and he saw that he had luckily stopped next to a Christmas decorations shop. A brilliant idea formed in his mind pulling his lips into a smirk.

Let’s buy some decorations now that I’m here. I’ll set them up and surprise Lev in the morning.

With a determined look and a new goal in his mind, Gajeel entered the store to look for the perfect decorations that could woo his girlfriend and make up for the lost time.

With an annoyed grunt, Gajeel placed his duffel bag on the floor and fished his keys from his pocket to open the door to their home. A small plastic bag, which should be bigger if you asked him, was held tightly in his other gloved hand. Misfortune seemed to accompany the dragon slayer tonight as he had been just able to purchase one item from the decoration shop. According to the owner, everyone in town had been frantic buying last minute gifts and decorations and she had been left with just a few trinkets and not-so-pretty decorations to sell in her modest shop. Hence, Gajeel only managed to find one decent Christmas item after an hour search within the shop. He had no better luck at the next shop, or the one that followed that one. So, reluctantly, he headed back home with his small plastic bag securing the only decoration he managed to buy.

“I’m such an idiot. Should have bought stuff before the mission,” he muttered angrily at himself. More than anything, Gajeel felt frustrated that he wouldn’t be able to surprise Levy with a full Christmas themed house. He knew she deserved better than one lonely ornament and he would get to work later tonight to make some other decorations out of his own iron. Besides, he was still extremely skilled whenever it came to crafting anything out of iron.

As Gajeel pushed the door open still deeply immersed in his own thoughts, he missed the red and white ‘Welcome’ matt below his booted feet that wasn’t there before he left for the mission, and the Christmas garland tightly secured around the pillars of the threshold that definitely hadn’t been there three weeks ago. He even missed the chirping sound of two jingle bells that rattled harmoniously as he closed the door behind him.

No, Gajeel hadn’t seen the decorations outside his door, nor the white lights that hung from the ledge of the roof. But as soon as he entered his not-so-dull and not-so-empty house, his eyes widened in surprise, his mouth opening with a silent question stuck in his throat.

W-WHAT?!

His living room shone warmly in the dim light of the fireplace. Crystal snowflakes hung from thin strings glued to the ceiling, sparkling occasionally when they’d catch the light from the fire that blaze with life chasing away the cold from outside. The freshly cut logs cracked under the flames as they fueled the heart and basked the house with a home-welcoming atmosphere. Over the fireplace, three red and white stockings were nailed to the bricks. He noticed Levy’s handwriting when he read the names on each one, his name being in the biggest stocking of the group.

As his eyes roamed through the room, he noticed the different decorations that gave their home the holiday spirit he had been looking for earlier in the shops. A Christmas tree with candy cane, Christmas lights and fake snow stood tall beside their couch; snowglobes with the guild mark took their places over their coffee table; a ´Merry Christmas´ banner hung behind the TV lacrima with shiny tinsel on either side of the banner.

Though not as heavily decorated as Santa’s workshop (like Gajeel had in mind to surprise Levy), he couldn’t stop the soft smile that grazed his lips. Warmth filled him at picturing Levy, and most likely Lily, setting everything up and decorating the house for Christmas in his absence. Oh, how he wished he could have been there to help them out, and, of course, tease Levy whenever she wouldn’t be able to reach all the high places.

Noise from the kitchen let him know that he wasn’t alone in the house. He chuckled softly as he turned on the lights of the living room and announced his arrival with his gruff voice.

“I‘m home!”

Almost instantly, both Levy and Lily poked their heads from the threshold that connected the kitchen to the living room. Their bright smiles melted away the last trace of the cold from his body as Lily flew to greet him while Levy practically bounced happily behind the Exceed. Gajeel met them halfway with his long strides to stand right in the middle of the living room as he embraced his two favorite people in the whole world.

“Welcome home, Gajeel!” Levy looked up at him and smiled brightly in that way she had only reserved for him. Her cheerful smile distracted him for a moment from her flour-and-chocolate stained face that he couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“What happened to both of ya?” He glanced at Lily who had as well flour stains on his paws and on top of his head, not to mention the chocolate smears on his wings.

“Well, Levy’s surprise kinda exploded.” Lily smirked as he hovered next to his partner, watching how the solid script mage turned beat red with embarrassment.

“Lily!” Levy squeaked and jumped back from the embrace. She held her hands in mock surrender waving them frantically. “Nothing happened! Haha,” her forced laughter went quieter when she noticed Gajeel wasn’t buying it.

“Shrimp, you have flour all over your face,” he deadpanned, “and, is that butter on your chin?”

“I-I don’t know w-what you’re talking about, haha.” She quickly moved to wipe away her face with her sleeves, only to smudge her face even more. She nervously glanced over her shoulder to the kitchen and Gajeel knew where to go next.

As he passed by her, Levy squeaked again and grabbed his arm trying to stop him from coming any closer to the kitchen. Even as she dug her heels into the hardwood floor, she did nothing to deter nor slow Gajeel from his goal.

“Gajeel, no! Don’t go in there!” Levy’s plead fell on deaf ears as Gajeel finally entered the kitchen, his face paling at the sight.

To say the kitchen was a mess would be an understatement. Flour, butter and chocolate smears were all over the counter next to the stove and on the floor; the trash bin was full of what looked like several batches of burnt cookies; dirty dishes piled up high in the sink with several pans ruined beyond repair by the mere look of them. When something dripped from the ceiling, Gajeel looked up to see a huge stain of cookie batter and two cracked eggs.

“Holy shit! What the hell happened?!” Gajeel turned to the other two, stunned beyond belief by the war zone that used to be their kitchen.

Lily just shook his head and sighed while Levy hid her burning face behind her hands.

“Levy wanted to make you some ‘welcome home’ cookies. We’ve been at it since this morning, but… well, you already saw how it went.” Lily clapped his hands slowly, creating small puffs of flour to get rid of the stains before they clung to his fur permanently.

Gajeel’s eyes looked down to Levy as she groaned and her eyes poked behind her hands to meet his crimson gaze. Slowly, she lowered her hands, her expression a mix of an embarrassed pout and a frustrated frown as she looked sideways not wanting to meet Gajeel’s eyes anymore. She looked even cuter than usual in Gajeel’s opinion.

“I never thought baking cookies could be this hard.” Her lower lip poked out adding to her adorableness. Her hazel eyes turned to him when he remained quiet, noting the faint blush on his cheeks. “You said you’d arrive tomorrow morning so I was going to clean everything tonight… and buy some new pans and good cookies…” she muttered lowly the last part as she looked to the floor, suddenly finding her shoes to be very interesting.

Her eyes went back to him as his booming laughter filled the room. His unique laugh full of mirth vanquished any trace of embarrassment from her mind and she soon joined in the laughter. Wiping away tears of joy, Gajeel gazed at Levy one more time, saving a mental picture of her flour-and-chocolate stained face. With the pad of his fingers, he gently wiped away some chocolate from her cheek earning another fit of giggles from his girlfriend.

“Gihi. Tell ya what? Leave the cleaning to me.” Levy looked up at him, surprise etched on her face at his offer.

“B-but you just came back from your mission! Aren’t you tired-?” Gajeel silenced her with a soft kiss to the crown of her blue curls.

“It’s the least I can do since ya two decorated the house while I was gone.” His voice was full of warmth and adoration for the woman in front of him. Any further argument she might had have died in her throat as she looked into his soft smile and fond gaze. Levy smiled too and nodded in agreement, being completely done with dealing with anything related with cookies.

She giggled again before rising up to her tiptoes to place a quick kiss to his nose. “I’m glad you’re home,” she breathed as another type of blush tainted her cheeks.

“Gihi, me too.” He gazed into her eyes and for a minute he forgot how to breathe for he could get lost in the intensity of her gaze and the emotions that swirled behind those hazel orbs that drowned the world around them. He brought her closer again in a tight embrace as he buried his nose in her wild hair, breathing in her unique scent mixed with cookie batter.

“Oh, what do you have in the bag, Gajeel?” Lily questioned as he just noticed the small plastic bag in Gajeel’s hand. Gajeel finally remembered what he was supposed to do with his most recent purchase as Levy looked at the bag with eyes full of curiosity.

“Gihi, close yer eyes Shrimp.” He grinned as he kept the bag high enough so her curious hands couldn’t reach it.

With a cute pout and mock annoyance, Levy gave in as she closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.”

“And no peeking.”

“I’m not- Hey!” Levy raised her voice as a pair of flour stained paws were placed over her closed lids. “Lily! Your paws are dirty!”

“That’s your fault, not mine Levy,” Lily snickered as Gajeel retrieved from within the plastic bag the small ornament he had bought.

“Lily!” Levy whined trying half-heartedly to bat Lily’s paws off her eyes.

“Gihi, okay Shrimp, you can look now.” Gajeel had to cover his mouth to stop the burst of laughter that bubbled up his throat when Lily removed his paws from her eyes. Levy’s glare just added to his amusement as her beautiful eyes had a round flour-stain over her lids, all thanks to Lily.

Gajeel smirked and pointed upwards as Lily smiled approvingly. As Levy’s gaze traveled up, her eyes widened in wonder at the mistletoe that hung on the threshold of the kitchen. The simple yet beautiful ornament seemed to be the missing piece to complete the Christmas decorations of their home.

“It’s beautiful Gajeel!” Her smile threatened to blind him for life as he closed the small gap between them placing one hand on the dip of her waist and the other one on her cheek, stroking softly her pearly skin. His face came closer to hers until his lips ghosted over her plumped pink lips. He gazed into her half-lidded eyes and finally sealed his lips over hers in a tender and warm kiss, but not without first letting his soft voice dance around them.

“Merry Christmas, Levy.”

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading this! Wasn’t it cute? Lol the cookie accident came from my most recent experience at trying to bake some Christmas cookies lol. Reblog and comment if you liked it :D It makes me happy to know what you think about my writing and the happier I am the more I write lol

Personal message to cap: Dude, it was an honor to write something for you :) I admire your work so much and it was a personal challenge to write something of high quality for you. Thanks so much for being super awesome and cool and forgive me for my awkwardness when we first talked lol. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and that 2018 will be full of happiness and success for you and your loved ones! You deserve the best in this world!

[noshitshakespeare]

How much time passes from the beginning of Hamlet to the end, do you suppose?

I would say at least 5 months, at most about 9 months. 

There are three sections to the play. The first, from the beginning of the play to Act 2, scene 1, appears to take place across two days. It’s just under two months after Hamlet’s father has died: “but two months dead – nay not so much, not two” (1.2.138), Claudius is upbraiding Hamlet for mourning too long because he’s mourning after the official ‘Trental’ period, which was the month fixed for the mourning of close relatives; and it appears that Claudius and Gertrude have married before this official mourning period is up: ‘within a month… married my uncle’ (1.2.145-51). 

Since Marcellus says 

Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comesWherein our saviour’s birth is celebratedThe bird of dawning singeth all night long;And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad,The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,So hallowed and so gracious is the time. (1.1.156-63)  

The action can’t be taking place during Advent. But it is very cold at night, and spirits are appearing, which suggests that the ghost is walking around All Hallow’s Eve and All Soul’s Day. The first night, Bernardo, Marcellus and Horatio see the Ghost, later that day Hamlet is in court with Claudius and his mother, and that night around midnight, Hamlet encounters the ghost and decides to put on an antic disposition. The next day Laertes leaves for England and Polonius tells Ophelia to refuse Hamlet’s attentions.

There is a gap here, and the second sequence, from Act 2, scene 2, to Act 4, scene 4, appears to take three days. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern have been sent for, and Hamlet has appeared all dishevelled in Ophelia’s closet just before the action resumes. In the mousetrap scene Ophelia says that Hamlet’s father has been dead ‘twice two months’ (3.2.121), so it’s been four months since the death of the old King, and since it was one to two months since the death of the king in Act 1, this second section happens at least two months from the beginning of the play, at most just under three months. It’s probably January, and it’s possible the players are coming in time to perform for Twelfth Night or Epiphany.

The first day, Ophelia runs to her father, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern arrive, the players arrive, and Hamlet says ‘We’ll hear a play tomorrow ... We’ll ha’t tomorrow night’ (2.2.472-476). The nunnery scene happens most likely the day after, and the play is put on that night, after which Gertrude summons Hamlet to her closet. It’s just past midnight: ‘Now is the very witching time of night’ (3.2.378). Since the ghost appears again, presumably the Christmas celebration period ended at midnight, suggesting the night the Murder of Gonzago was performed was Epiphany. Hamlet kills Polonius and Claudius says ‘the sun no sooner shall the mountains touch / But we will ship him hence’ (4.1.29-30) and does just that in Act 4, scene 3. Hamlet encounters Fortinbras’ army on his way to the ship and that very night, on the ship, exchanges Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's commission, because the next say the pirates attack (Hamlet says it was ‘ere we were two days old at sea’ [4.6.15]). 

It’s not clear how much time passes between this and the last section, which begins at Act 4, scene 5, when Ophelia comes in mad. In this sequence, Laertes bursts in, there’s the scene with Ophelia’s flowers, and Claudius receives a letter from Hamlet: ‘Tomorrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes’ (4.7.44-45). Ophelia dies, and the next day she’s buried (the gravedigger scene), after which there’s the final duel. This seems to all take place in two days or so. It appears that it’s been a little while since the last section, since the King asks ‘How long hath she been thus?’ (4.5.66) when he sees Ophelia mad. Since Claudius claims that ‘Two months since’ (4.7.80) Lamord has praised Laertes’ swordsmanship ‘in Hamlet’s hearing’ (4.7.70), Hamlet can’t have been gone more than two months. At shortest he could have been back in less than a week, since he was taken by pirates no more than two days journey away. But Fortinbras has had enough time to march to Poland and back, and there’s no dating quite how long Hamlet spends with the pirates. The only reference to a particular date for this sequence is Ophelia’s ‘Tomorrow is Saint Valentines day’ song (4.5.48), which could be thematic rather than accurate dating, since she’s mad. Still, it does hold with the general season of the play, since the mousetrap sequence was probably in January. The only thing that might throw this off is the other piece of unreliable evidence, which is that Ophelia’s flowers are all summer flowers: fennel, columbine, and rue; and when the Queen describes Ophelia's drowning, she says Ophelia made garlands of ‘crowflowers, nettles, daisies and long purples’ (4.7.167), again, all summer flowers. Either these are all Ophelia's imaginary flowers, or Shakespeare isn’t too concerned about the time-frame of this final section. At the very latest it places the final action in the summer, so about 9 months after the start of the play. 

So there are two months separating the first section from the second section, and an unstated amount of time passing between the second section and third section. Given circumstantial evidence it’s most likely that the action takes place across 5 to 6 months, 9 months if the evidence of the flowers are enough to convince you.

[1989dreamer]

What If Christmas, Perhaps, Means a Little Bit More (Teen Wolf (TV) fic)

On AO3

Sequel to this.

Title is taken from How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuess

Summary: Derek offers to help his cousin with planning her wedding, but he's also busy juggling finding Cora an apartment and finding the right time to propose to Stiles. Then, Laura shows up.

Warnings: Mentioned Miscarriage, Implied Abusive Relationship

“No,” Stiles said, waving a hand at the pile of garlands Derek was currently untangling. “No. If we have to plan a wedding and host Christmas, I give up on this year.”

Derek shrugged. “You offered to help Malia and Heather with the wedding. I offered to let Cora crash here while she’s on break from school so that none of us have to deal with the toxins.”

Stiles batted his eyelashes and swooned, knocking against Derek’s arm. In a falsetto voice, he claimed, “You do make me ever so hot and bothered when you denounce your family.”

Derek snorted. “Do I make you tingle too?”

Cora chose that moment to open the front door. Immediately she scrunched her face and stuck out her tongue. “Ew,” she added, unnecessarily. “If you’re going to be gross, go be gross in your room.”

“You can’t cockblock me in my own apartment,” Stiles said, flipping her off. “I pay rent, you do not. You don’t get to complain if I suck my boyfriend’s dick.”

“Or if I suck his dick,” Derek said mildly. Cora turned red.

“Oh my God,” she cried, rubbing at her eyes, “I just imagined Derek naked. Thanks a lot, assholes!”

Stiles blew her a kiss as she hurried to the guest room.

Then, he turned to Derek. “No,” he said.

“No what?”

“We are not hosting Christmas.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I am not dealing with Christmas bullshit on top of wedding bullshit.”

“Fine, we’re not hosting Christmas,” Derek agreed. Stiles smiled, picking up one end of the untangled garland. Derek waited until Stiles had started winding it loosely around his hand before adding, “Cora is.”

Stiles spluttered angrily, tearing the garland free and throwing it at Derek. “No!”

Derek dissolved into laughter, pointing at Stiles’ face while he wiped away his tears. “No, we’re not. Cora is though. She’s got her own apartment now.”

“Really?” Stiles raised an eyebrow. Derek nodded. He knew why Stiles was skeptical: Cora had claimed she had a place to stay before only for it to fall through at the last minute, hence why she was staying with them for now. Four weeks was a long time to be looking for an apartment, and Cora was definitely discouraged.

Derek had stepped in and fronted her deposit, which allowed her to increase her budget and land an apartment almost immediately. Derek’s one condition was that she would host the Christmas get together he and Stiles were coordinating with Malia and Heather and a few close friends.

“Seriously seriously?” Stiles said. “She’s got her own place?”

“Yeah. Downside is it’s a little close to the university so parking is a bit tight, but it’s in a good location, and it’s within Cora’s budget.”

“And she’s hosting Christmas?”

“Yep.”

Stiles pulled the garland back to himself and worked out a knot. “So, if she’s got her own place,” he said, “why is she still here?”

“Because she’s in the process of moving,” Derek explained. “It takes time, you know that.”

Stiles nodded. “So, is there anything we can do to help her?”

Derek laughed, poking at Stiles’ side. “You just want to have our apartment back to ourselves again, don’t you?”

“Well, I wasn’t really joking about sucking your dick. Can’t really get it on with an audience.” He leaned into Derek, pressing a kiss to his lips. “And you know how I make you scream.”

Derek shook his head, fighting the blush that always came when Stiles reminded him how uninhibited he was in the bedroom. It wasn’t that Derek was embarrassed about the fact that all it took was a little bit of foreplay before he was begging Stiles for more. It was that they had three noise complaints from the last month alone.

“Oh come on, you like it when I do that thing with my tongue.”

“I do,” Derek confirmed. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. With Cora here, it was hard to find time to be alone. “Hey, do you think if we help Cora tonight, we can get her moved so that we can…” Derek trailed off as Stiles grinned at him.

“Best idea I’ve heard today. Let’s go.” Stiles threw down the garland and tugged Derek up with him. He banged on Cora’s door until she opened it. “Cora, darling, honey, you know we love you—”

“Oh shut up, you just want to fuck my brother in peace.” Cora’s smile belied her angry tone. She pointed at the large suitcase on her bed. “I’ve just got to finish packing my clothes and then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Is that really everything?” Derek asked. “Shouldn’t there still be more stuff?”

Cora shrugged. “I moved most of it yesterday when you were busy.” She grabbed Derek, hugging him tightly. “Thank you for everything,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Then, she turned and embraced Stiles too. “I wish Mom and Dad weren’t so close-minded. They’re going to miss a lot of our lives.”

“Hey, it’s their choice to be so hateful,” Stiles said. “They are the ones who gave up on us. Don’t feel bad about missing them but don’t expect them to change.”

“I guess,” Cora said. “But I still feel like it’s a betrayal if I love them.”

“I love them too, they’re our parents,” Derek said. “But I can’t stand by their actions and words. They don’t hurt just Stiles or Malia or Heather. They hurt you too. I can’t forgive them the agony they put my little sister through. Understand, though, that you don’t have to give up your love for them.”

He hugged Cora again. “Hurry and pack. If you’re hosting Christmas, you’ll need supplies.”

“And dishes,” Stiles said. “I know the perfect set for you.” He wandered off, digging out his phone and shooting off a series of quick texts.

“Let him go,” Derek said when Cora started after him. “He’s right that you’ll need dishes. Last I remember, you just had the college essentials.”

“You’re not going to make me do this by myself?” Cora asked.

Derek paused in the doorway, looking back at her. She had her arms wrapped around her torso, eyes downcast. She seemed small, frightened. Less like the twenty-one year old going for her degree in electrical engineering and more like the eleven year old who accidentally outed him.

Derek reached out and brushed his hand down her arm. “Why would I do that?” he asked. “I haven’t had to do anything by myself without support. Why would I expect you to be alone?”

The smile she offered him was tremulous at best. “The measure of a Hale,” she reminded him.

He waved it away. “The measure of a Hale isn’t to do something all alone with no help. It’s knowing when to ask for help and when to go without. Just because Mom claims she made something of herself without help from anyone, it doesn’t mean that we should be held to the same standards. Besides, Mom always had our uncle and father behind her.”

“You’re not behind me,” Cora protested.

“No,” he agreed. “I’m beside you. Instead of watching you fail, I’ll be here to lean on. The only thing I ask in return is if you can be there in a similar capacity.”

Cora’s eyes lit up and she ducked into her closet. She returned shortly, handing him a small black box.

“Like that?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Derek closed his fist around the box and nodded. “Just like that.” He cleared his throat and shoved the box in his pocket. “Now finish packing. I’m pretty sure Stiles is organizing a shopping trip for you.”

He left Cora folding clothes and went looking for his boyfriend.

He found Stiles at their front door staring down a frazzled, unkempt Laura. Her head was down, and bizarrely, all Derek could think was that her part wasn’t straight like it usually was.

Stiles’ shoulders were rigid. He was blocking the doorway deliberately. Derek stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

Laura sniffled, looking up. Her eyes were red, watery, and her nose appeared as if she’d tried rubbing off the top layer of skin.

“What do you want?” Derek asked, tone sharp.

Laura breathed in nosily. “I wanted to apologize,” she said, her voice wavering. “I-I’ve said things that I shouldn’t have, judged you when I had no right.”

“What happened?” Derek said, not unkindly.

Laura shook her head.

“Her eyes have been opened,” Stiles said cryptically. He turned to face Derek. “I won’t tell you what to do, but your choice will have consequences.” He walked away, leaving Derek and Laura at the door.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked into the awkward silence. Laura shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she said. She cradled one arm to her chest, and Derek thought he saw the beginnings of a bruise on her wrist. “My husband, he wants a divorce.”

Derek didn’t say anything.

“He—I—I’m bisexual. I just realized it. Mom and Dad won’t help me.”

“Did he hurt you?” Derek nodded at her wrist. Laura blinked back tears, rubbing gently at the abused skin.

“I hurt it when I fell because he was chasing me. God, I’m so sorry for how I’ve treated you.”

“Did you go to the police?”

“Yes. They’re looking into it, but I need a place to stay. Just for a week or so.”

Derek immediately looked back to find Stiles sitting on the couch, one of his books in his face. He knew what Stiles’ consequences would be, and Stiles was right; they couldn’t let her in. Not after all the hurt she had caused them.

“You can get a hotel room?” he offered, and Laura’s face crumpled.

“I don’t have any money,” she wailed. “All I have is my credit card, and Mark checks it frequently. He’d find me.”

Derek sighed. “I can’t offer you anything else,” he said. “You could always try the shelter on 44th.”

Laura shook her head. “Mark used to drive ‘round and harass them. I’m sure they’d recognize me.”

“You’ve harassed us many times. What about Thanksgiving?” Derek glanced at Stiles. “What you said to Stiles is still very fresh. We’re not inclined to help someone who has hurt us in the not-even-distant past.”

“Attaboy,” Stiles muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“She can stay with me.”

Derek turned around to stare at Cora.

She shuffled her feet and ducked her head. “I know this isn’t ideal, but she can stay with me for a little while. What was it, a week?” Laura nodded. “She stays with me for a week and then she’s gone. On her own. Just in time for New Year’s. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay for Christmas Day,” Cora told Laura. “It won’t just be Derek and Stiles at my place.”

“I could hang out at a coffee shop or a diner?” L:aura offered.

“Sure, that works,” Stiles said, lowering his book. “Cora, you’ll forgive me if I don’t go with you today?”

“Absolutely.”

“Derek, it’s your choice again.”

“Are there similar consequences this time?”

Stiles thought about it for a very short moment before shaking his head. “No. Not this time.”

Derek eyed Laura, evaluating. “I’ll help, just because it’s Cora,” he finally said. “But, I’ve got my eye on you, Laura. If you even try anything, you’re out.”

“Cora can take care of herself,” Laura said angrily, wiping at the tears on her face.

Derek shrugged. “Yes she can, which is why she’ll be the one kicking you out. It’s her apartment, after all, her goodwill, that you are using.”

“I know that,” Laura said quietly. “I honestly never expected to even get this far with you. Thank you.”

Cora disappeared into her room and returned with her suitcase.

“Let’s go,” she said, brushing past Laura. Derek shrugged and followed.

“Wait,” Stiles called, and Derek turned around to find his boyfriend right behind him.

“Hi,” Derek said.

Stiles smiled, whispering, “Hi,” back. Stiles grabbed Derek’s cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the corners of Derek’s mouth before he kissed him. “Come back to me, yeah?” he said.

“Of course.” Derek pressed the promise into Stiles’ mouth. “Always.”

When he closed the door, he found Laura watching him with an unreadable expression. Derek grunted at her and she shook herself.

“Sorry, no,” she said, rushed. “I just, I wasn’t judging you badly or anything. I was just wondering.”

When she fell quiet, Derek sighed. “Wondering what?” he prompted.

“What’s it like to be in love?”

“Weren’t you in love with Mark?” he asked, leading the way to the stairs.

“God, no. I pretended, and I definitely let him influence me for too long.” She was quiet for the two flights down. “Actually, I was pregnant. He proposed and we got married, but I don’t think we were ever in love.”

“I didn’t know that,” Derek said. “About the pregnancy.”

“Yeah, we didn’t tell anyone. I miscarried just before the end of the first trimester. I thought it was my fault for the longest time, and so I channeled all my hatred of myself into hating you.”

“Why me?”

Laura shrugged. “You had your life together and you were happy. If I couldn’t have the perfect relationship, you couldn’t either. It helped that Mom and Dad are so rigidly against anything heterosexual. All I had to do was keep attacking your sexual identity, and they wouldn’t look too closely at me.”

The reason his parents had been overly critical, had refused to accept Stiles as his boyfriend, had essentially cut Derek out of their lives unless they needed to provide a united family front was because Laura had been trying to hide herself?

Derek paused, assessing Laura with a cold gaze. “I don’t want to accept your apologies,” Derek told her. “They wouldn’t be sincere enough.”

Cora was waiting for hem by her car, and Derek pulled her aside. “I can’t come with you either,” he said. “Maybe Laura will tell you what she just told me.” Ten years of barbed comments and forced ignorance, straddling a line that was always being redrawn. Ten years of his life twisted into the little boxes his parents and uncle wanted him to fit into without consideration for him, exacerbated by his sister.

Forgiveness was a long way from where he was standing.

“I love you,” he said, kissing Cora’s temple. “Be safe. Call me as soon as you get there. And call me if you need me to come get you.”

“Absolutely,” Cora promised. She hugged Derek and then climbed behind into the driver’s seat. They both waved as the car pulled out, and Derek waited until he couldn’t see them anymore before he trudged back up the stairs.

Stiles looked surprised to see him but didn’t say anything, not even when Derek stumbled to him, dropping to his knees.

“I was going to wait until tomorrow for this,” Derek said, digging in his pocket for the box, “but I decided I can’t wait anymore.”

Stiles sank down too, tearing into his backpack until he pulled out a matching box. “You’re not doing it first, damn it,” he growled with no heat.

Derek laughed, throwing his arms around his fiancé. “I have seen my future,” he said, “and it is you.”

“We’re ready. Oh my God, we’re so ready.” Stiles peppered Derek’s face with light kisses while he fumbled the boxes open and slid the rings onto their fingers. “I don’t even care that we’re doing this early. We’re that ready. Thank you.”

“You haven’t said yes,” Derek reminded him.

“Neither have you,” Stiles shot back, grinning. “Yes, a thousand yeses. A million yeses. All the yeses.”

“All the yeses to you too,” Derek said. He leaned against Stiles, the only constant in his life for the past five years. “I should have said we were ready at Thanksgiving,” Derek admitted.

Stiles shook his head. “You weren’t then,” he said, laying his hand atop Derek’s. “You are now and that’s what matters.”

Derek admired the rings, the promises they held. “I am ready,” he said. “I am so ready.”

Stiles pointed at him. “We are not hosting New Year’s and planning a wedding at the same time,” he said.

Derek laughed.

~ Fin ~