#they have. ample opportunity given how much time they spent sharing a bed

[spookyboywhump]

I think that I could write a whumpee waking up from a nightmare about their suffering only to be comforted by a friend, a family member, or a partner, 10,000 times and I would still constantly want to write it again. Even if I’m not writing it I am probably thinking about it.

[harrywritingsbyme]

Bored

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: He’s back bitchessss🤪…and he’s filthy as fuck! And I’m sorry this one is extra extra late with a crappy ending lol...Enjoy🙃

You were finally finally getting your weekend alone with Harry. After almost two weeks of him being away for business, you were finally getting to spend some quality time with him. And it was going to be without any interruption. Since your best friend was was spending a long weekend with her boyfriend, you were going to be able to spend a long weekend with yours. You were so excited to see Harry that you had everything planned out. For starters, you had your bag packed the night before he was due home. It had all of the essentials: a couple outfits for when you two weren’t in bed having sex, two of your skimpiest sets of lingerie that you weren’t going to miss given the fact that Harry had a habit of ripping your lingerie off of you, and some toys. He had few at his house but had the funner ones that you both could play with. Now along with getting your bag packed, you also made a visit to the waxing salon you went to from time to time. Even though Harry could literally care less about whether or not you had any hair down there, you still liked to give him a little treat from time to time. So as a little welcome home present, you endured thirty minuets of someone ripping those coarse hairs away so that you could be nice and smooth upon his arrival. And to make sure that you were ready to spread your legs for him as soon as he landed, you got this done a little over two days before so that you could let your pussy rest a bit because once you were with Harry, you were going to be begging for a break. You also made sure to be right at the airport to pick him up so that you two could get your weekend together started.

Now since his flight landed in the evening and you were positive that he’d be exhausted, you weren’t expecting to do much that night. Once you two arrived home, Harry wasted no time getting himself and his bag upstairs before ridding himself of his clothes and taking a nice hot shower. Again, you knew for a fact that he was exhausted from his flight and the trip itself so you decided to let him unwind and take his shower while you unpacked his bag and got everything nice and ready for him to have a good nights sleep. After spending a good half an hour in the steamy cabin, Harry finally exited the shower and came into the bedroom where you were waiting for him.

“I take it you had a good shower.” You point out, taking in his more relaxed disposition.

“It was so good.” He hums, striding over to where you were sitting on the bed. Once in front of you, his hands go straight to your shoulders and up your neck to the sides of your face where he tilts your head back a bit so that you’re looking up at him. He then lowers his head before bringing his lips to yours. Besides the pecks you gave him in the car when you picked him up from the airport, this was the first real kiss the two of you shared in almost two weeks. You missed the feeling of his warm pillow soft lips moving against yours. Even though you missed the sex, you missed being close to Harry. You knew that you could call him whenever you needed him and he’d always answer, but you weren’t close to him the way you were in this moment.

“I love you baby.” He mumbles lowly against your lips after slightly pulling away from you.

“I love you too.” You mumble back to him before lifting your head up a bit to reconnect your lips with his for one final kiss. “Now get in bed with me!” You whine, pulling him down towards the bed. 

“Have t’get dressed.” He laughs at your eagerness. 

“Who said you needed to wear clothes to bed?” You quickly reply, leaving him no other choice but to dry himself off and hop into bed with you. “Now it’s time for your goodnight kiss.” And with that, you moved your body so that you were between his legs and you used your mouth in the best way possible to send him right to sleep. Just because you weren’t expecting to do much didn’t mean you were expecting to do nothing at all. How could you not take up the opportunity to not only pleasure him but to also help him unwind?! Not to mention the fact that you hadn’t touched him in almost two weeks.

Now even though this was supposed to be a relaxing weekend for you and Harry to spend some quality time together, Harry still managed to get holed up in his office. And even though you were fully aware and understanding of the fact that his job could be demanding at times, you still couldn’t understand why they couldn’t let him have a little bit of an extended weekend since they did have him for a straight week and a half. The one thing you did know in this entire situation is that you had to get him away from the work and into you instead. And you knew just how to do it. You checked in on him the first time right after you woke up and realized that he wasn’t in bed with you. When you did, you gave him a ton of kisses and an incentives for stepping away from the desk but he wouldn’t budge. All you got out of that was a kiss to your lips, a promise to give it to you real good later on, and the task of getting him another cup of coffee. At this point, you realized that you were going to have to make him step away from the work.

 So after you deliver his cup of coffee, you make your way upstairs to put yourself together. After you get out of the shower, you throw on the perfect outfit (or lack there of to be completely honest) to get Harry to focus on you. Pulling from the bag you packed, you went for a cute little pastel thong that barely covered anything and was just there for the appeal, along with a tight fitting crop top that had “Daddy’s Girl” written across the chest. It was prefect. If this didn’t get Harry’s attention, you don’t know what what could. After doing a little once over and twirl in the mirror, you head back downstairs to try your hand once more at getting Harry to put the work to the side. Hopefully he got something done in the hour and a half you spent upstairs because you weren’t going anywhere without getting something from him. When you walk down the hallway leading to his office, you could hear him talking to someone on the phone but that doesn’t stop you from walking right into the doorway of his office. When you first walked in he could see you out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned around to fully face you, Harry was completely dumbfounded at your appearance. There was so much to take in! 

“Daddy I’m bored.” You huff loudly, causing Harry to scramble around behind his desk, hoping that his colleague didn’t hear you through the phone. 

“M‘ gonna have to call you back.” He says abruptly before hanging up the phone, keeping his eyes right on you the entire time. He then slides his phone onto the desk and pushes his chair out a little from the desk before wagging his finger in your direction, beckoning you to come over to him. 

In an instant, you’re following his nonverbal instruction and your making your way over to him. As you’re walking over, Harry takes you in. Aside from the lack of clothing, Harry couldn’t get enough of your body. He couldn’t get enough of your figure. Your hips were perfectly rounded and full and your chest was absolutely abundant with your breasts.  When you round the desk and step in front of him, you don’t even bother to stop and wait for a direction. You just go right in and you straddle Harry before sitting yourself right in his lap. Instead of saying anything right away, you decide to wait until you’re spoken to. That’s the least you could do since you already broke two of his rules. 

“You’re so lucky I could use a good fuck right now.” He sighs, finally breaking the silence while  continuing to look your body over your body. Now that you were sitting down, he could see the string like waistband of your panties digging into you fleshy hips, and he could see your pert nipples pushing right up against the thin material of your t-shirt. 

“What would happen if you weren’t daddy?” You “innocently” inquire, lifting yourself up a bit just to move yourself but higher up on his lap before plopping yourself back down onto him. 

“Well luckily for you, I’m always in need of a good fuck from this beautiful body of yours.” He begins, removing one of his hands from your fleshy hips up to your chest to latch onto one of your ample breast’s through the thin shirt you had on. “But when I do punish you, because all brats deserve punishments, I’m gonna make sure you learn your lesson.” He says simply, continuing to fondle your breast.

“What are you gonna do to me daddy?” You press on, beginning to move yourself back and forth right against his cock. 

“Now what’s the fun in me telling you my plans? All I’m gonna say is that unless our safe word falls from that pretty mouth of yours, m’gonna use you any way I want, and m’gonna do anything I want to you.” He explains. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds amazing.” You moan, continuing to push yourself back and forth against his now completely hard cock.

“I figured you’d like the idea of being my personal fuck toy.” He chuckles smartly as you bring your face down to kiss at his neck. “But I do have to say, even though you’re such a little brat, you definitely make up for it in being the perfect little slut f’me.” 

“Mhm, just for daddy.” You hum, keeping your mouth against his skin. As you continue kissing at his neck, you continue moving your hips against him as well. You also pull his hand that was squeezing at your hip down between your legs. 

“Does my little girl want daddy’s cock?” He asks “surprisedly” when he feels you pull his hand down to touch the puffy mound between your legs.

“Yes daddy.” You moan against him when you feel his fingers poking at you through your panties. 

“I guess I can let you have your way since I’ll be spending the better part of the day teaching you a lesson.” He rations, removing his hand from your breast and using it to grip onto your throat and pull your face from his neck before lifting you up and onto the desk in front of him. He then pushes his seat back some more so that he can stand up and tower above you. He quickly clears the space on the desk behind you before swiftly removing the tight shirt from your body and returning his hand to your throat, pushing you to lay back. Instead of wasting anymore time, Harry brings a hand down to your panties that were extremely close to just snapping and just rips them off your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him. His eyes travel all the way down, from your breasts to the area between your legs, each time taking a moment to touch and feel your soft body in his hands. When he makes it to the area between your legs though, Harry immediately crouches down to be at eye level with your cunt. “Oh sweetheart” He begins, taking in your bare cunt. “Look at you.” He admires, bringing his hand back there to feel how smooth and bare you were. The area was a sticky mess since there were not curly hairs for your arousal to cling onto. Even though he loved when you had your hair down there, he couldn’t get enough of how messy it got and how good it was to really feel the plump lips of your pussy in his mouth. He also liked to lick your arousal from your thighs. After staring and petting the smooth area, Harry finally brings his mouth to your cunt and goes straight into licking up and down your folds.

“Daddy! Feels so good!” You moan incoherently, feeling him eat into you like his life depended on it. Not only would he lick into you, he’d also suck on your swollen and oh so sensitive bud, and slightly sink his teeth into your thick pussy lips.

“Oh my- you are so delicious.” Harry moans from between your legs, savoring how amazing you taste. No matter how many times he licked into you, Harry would never get over how good you tasted on his tongue. “I could eat this pussy of yours for the rest of my life!” He exclaims, continuing to eat and marvel at your cunt. “You even look perfect too.” He says, pulling his head back to stare at your mound. “It just swallows up everything it touches. Your panties, my fingers, my tongue, my cock…” He continues on, taking in how pretty and puffy your pussy was for him. He always knew how meaty and utterly delicious your cunt was, but seeing it bare and as a result being able to get a better view of you made it even better. 

After a bit more oogling at your mound a bit longer, Harry finally goes back to eating you out. He uses his fingers and mouth to drive you wild, fucking you with two fingers while he either bites into your fleshy lips, sucks on your swollen little button, or licks into you. As he continues, you are gripping onto your supple breasts and letting out the biggest moans as Harry pushes you to a release. The way he was raving about your pussy and ravenously eating you was absolutely insane and it pushed you right into your release. Your moans echoed through the room as you let go all over Harry’s tongue to which he made sure to lick up every last drop before standing back up.

“Oh my goodness doll!” He coos, looking down at your now limp body below him. “You look like you’re even more of proper little slut for daddy now.” He admires, properly taking in how loopy you were now and your heaving naked body that was spread across his desk. “Wish there was a dildo in here for you to choke on but your panties will do I guess. I’ll just fuck your mouth myself later on.” He sighs, reaching  for the ripped panties he sat on the desk moments prior before pushing them past your parted lips and stuffing them into your mouth. He then pushes his pants down his legs to reveal his rock hard cock. Without wasting anymore time simply staring at you, Harry gives his shaft a couple tugs before guiding himself into you. “Fuck princess!” He loudly groans, finally feeling your walls engulfing his cock again. “Y’cunt always swallows m’cock perfectly.” He grunts as he watches himself disappear into you. 

While Harry was losing his mind from how good your cunt was, you were a whimpering and quivering mess. He’d made you cum less than five minuets ago and he was already pushing his cock inside to fuck you. Even though you loved feeling his big cock stretch your tight walls to fit, your pussy was incredibly sensitive from his mouth. So you could already knew that you’d not only be sensitive, you’d also be sore. Which was exactly what Harry wanted. Once he was balls deep inside of you, Harry immediately began pounding into you. His eyes were trained on your breasts that were bouncing freely on your chest with every thrust of his cock down into your quivering cunt. He could feel your walls squeezing him with every thrust and he could feel himself hitting the deepest part of you over and over again, slamming himself into the pit of your stomach with every thrust.

“That’s it babydoll.” He growls, releasing one of your hips from his hand to wrap it around your throat. “Take daddy’s cock all the way up into that little tummy of yours.” He continues, keeping his eyes locked on your glassy ones. “M’gonna cum in there too. Want you t’be completely filled up by daddy.” He pants, feeling his already bubbling release begin to intensify. “Feel you squeezin’ m’cock, wanna cum again for daddy?” He questions through a pant. Since he was practically pinning your head to the desk by means of his grip on your throat, you could only give him a faint nod yes and a whimper. “C’mon then baby, cum with daddy.” He grunts, continuing to send more sharp yet staggered thrusts into you as he starts to feel wave of his release begging to overtake him. From the way he was gripping onto your body and shoving his cock deep inside of you, you weren’t able to stop yourself from squirting all over his cock and going numb from the waist down. Your seismic release from earlier doubled in size and just crashed down onto you. The same with Harry, his release crashed down onto him, resulting in rope after rope of his cum pouring into you just like he promised. 

Even though it took a little while for you guys’ weekend to get started, neither of you would have it any other way. Just based off of this round alone, you and Harry immediately knew it was going to be a very long and pleasure filled weekend.

Masterlist

[hualianff]

Found

Thinking about pack alpha HC whose territory is so far north, hardly any other packs visit or travel to it because the weather is unnaturally unbearable. Then, during one of the coldest nights of winter, a wolf and a pup wind up at the border, passed out from exhaustion. Neither of them bears a pack scent.

They are rogues.

It’s incredibly uncommon for rogues to venture into Crimson Moon territory, partially because it’s not easy to find within a massive forest and partially because HC’s reputation isn’t very forthcoming. The wolves who are granted permission to stay in the pack usually have important skills to contribute to help make it through the winter. Yet, despite his strict and distant demeanor, HC is fully dedicated to leading and taking care of his pack. 

Upon seeing the way the pup is nestled protectively under the adult wolf’s body, HX–the leader of the patrol squad–decides to shelter them for the night. He also provides warm soup and washing supplies for the weak rogues. The adult beta bows nonstop in gratitude before tending to his pup with unbridled affection. HX’s heart is somewhat more at peace, though he dreads having to ask HC what to do with them the next day.

***

XL has only heard of the Crimson Moon pack among hushed whispers in random caverns. Traveling for the past few years has not been easy, especially with a young wolf like Banyue. But when he had found her on the brink of starvation in a ditch on the side of the road, XL had promised to keep her safe above all things.

Now, XL carries the burden of his past along with the responsibility of raising BY. But he wouldn’t want it any other way. Thus, when XL finds him and his pup welcomed into the Crimson Moon pack by the courteous head alpha, XL gratefully prays to the heavens for letting him see another day.

Months pass. XL and BY live a much more comfortable life with guaranteed food, a heated home, and plenty of healthy social interaction. Additionally, they are never deprived of HC’s attention, the head alpha always making time to see them. 

XL doesn’t dare let himself hope for permanence. He’s faced so much rejection, disappointment, and betrayal in the past. With the “we will stay until winter passes” mentality, XL is prepared to leave, not wanting to overstep boundaries with HC.

The bond between a child and a single parent is extremely special. It can be complicated to make room for a third relationship with another parental figure. With HC, however, it’s almost too simple.

HC naturally treats both XL and BY as respected and autonomous individuals. He knows they don’t require his presence to function, but that doesn’t stop the alpha from offering his assistance whenever needed. Or wanted. With no further expectations besides...companionship. 

Before, XL never could have predicted how attached BY would be to HC, and vice versa. But given what he knows now, he shouldn’t be surprised. HC is undoubtedly a wonderful alpha. Oh, how XL wants, and wants, and wants...

***

HC doesn’t know what it is about this particular beta and his pup. For the first time since adhering to his father’s harsh mental and physical conditioning, HC can’t seem to control his wolf’s instincts.

Every time he sees XL and BY rolling around in the snow or sharing a meal happily, the head alpha’s heart positively melts. During his pack leader duties, HC will find himself thinking about how XL and BY are–if they’re safe, if they’re enjoying themselves, if they have everything they need.

It’s as if they add a completely new purpose to HC’s life. He must protecc.

It happens when they’re all in their wolf forms playing a light-hearted game of tag. It’s getting late, just about BY’s bedtime. XL delicately picks her up by her nape and carries her over to HC. XL plops his tiny pup in front of HC expectantly, eyes gleaming with an ample amount of trust. 

HC, realizing how significant this action is, doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle BY’s head, softly scenting her. Then, he picks her up himself and heads towards the cabin where XL and BY stay. 

XL had given HC the first of many opportunities to take care of BY as his own, starting by coddling her and putting her to bed. HC feels like the luckiest person in the world. 

Once spring arrives, HC finds himself visiting XL and BY’s cabin for dinner for what seems like the hundredth time. All three of them sit in front of the fireplace. XL and BY are both snuggled up against both sides of HC. BY eventually crawls into HC’s lap, falling into a peaceful sleep.

XL himself is drifting off against HC’s shoulder. Sluggishly, XL mumbles something along the lines about how he’ll never be able to repay HC for everything he’s done for them. HC strokes XL’s hair while murmuring delicately: “You can stay with me. That is enough.”

XL gently squeezes HC’s hand. 

***

Because XL spent so many years in survival mode, his omega went into hibernation. Nearly a year into his and BY’s stay in Crimson Moon pack, XL gains his scent back. His senses also sharpen once his wolf realizes he is safe from the dangerous encounters with other wolves and mother nature’s unforgiving conditions.

XL suddenly craves physical affection from HC. Though he’s a bit unsure of how to ask for it since it’s been so long since he’s been truly hugged (before HC), much less being scented. But HC completely understands, sometimes without XL even having to tell him. The alpha makes sure XL sees the best healer in the pack to track his progress and stays by XL’s side in support of his recovery process.

XL also gains his heat back–an overwhelming development. Thankfully, HC resolutely supports him from the side, committed to prioritizing XL’s needs and comfort. HC is more than happy to provide the best cuddles and kisses for his mate.

It gives baby BY a scare when her baba, along with HC, is absent for a few days. While she is too young to fully understand heat cycles and such, XL makes sure to emphasize that he was having adult troubles and HC helped him through everything. 

Later, BY rewards HC with ferocious leg hugs and smol wolf tackles. HC makes sure to fall down onto his back to let BY climb on top and wiggle in triumph. 

***

One time, when XL fell asleep against HC, he was having a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. HC didn’t know what to do! XL was violently shaking in his arms, whimpering and crying with no way of calming himself down. Thus, HC, on a whim, decided to gather XL up and press him into an embrace, humming a low tune while a deep rumbling instinctively sounds in his chest. 

HC has never purred before. This was his first time.

(XL, feeling anxious all day. When HC returns home, he’ll latch onto HC while nosing his neck.

XL: “Do the thing.”

HC: *purrs happily*

XL: 😇)

***

BY, an ever-so-observant pup, practices what she’s learned from the bestest, smartest, and funniest father. She yips for HC to come over when they are in their wolf forms. She curiously noses at the snow, then glances up at the alpha with puppy eyes. HC indulges her, of course, leaning down to inspect the empty spot-?

Splat!

BY wickedly flicks snow up with her paw onto HC’s snout before bounding away. HC shakes his head in surprise, freezing snow currently lodged up his nose.

HC whirls around to capture his tiny culprit. He’s met with the sight of BY crouching behind XL, gnawing harmlessly at his tail. HC huffs, approaching defeatedly while BY, the little brat, merely sticks out her tongue. HC lays down beside XL, bumping cheeks with the omega and wrapping his tail protectively around their pup.

[honouraryweasley12]

Remembrance

At Shell Cottage, Ron and Hermione grieve a fallen hero. In doing so, they must face some truths long-hidden and make a decision about their future.

Also on FF.net

The sunlight streaming through the window provided ample light, but the sprawl of words in front of her were hazy, Hermione's own thoughts preventing her from focusing. It was rare for her to have such difficulty, especially when she was reading for sheer enjoyment. Her recovery had taken a lot out of her, and she'd been pouring her remaining energy into the planning of their next task.

A lull in the strategizing was a welcome change, yet she felt unsettled. Like she should be doing something more meaningful with the precious respite they had been granted. Time seemed to slow at the cottage, her first real breather since August.

The book lay still in her lap as she stared at the window, her eyes misty as she recalled the blur of empty oppressive days and narrow escapes, living in fear and paranoia.

So much had happened, the most recent as terrible as anything she could recall physically, and certainly the worst thing she'd ever personally experienced—the wiping of her parents' memories an extremely close second.

The torture she had suffered was not something easily forgotten, being so close to her own demise shook her to her very core. She found tears would come unbidden, as they were presently, at the most random times. Her hands had started trembling, and any loud noise startled her. Through it all though, she had found her source of comfort and healing.

Ron.

She smiled and wiped the wet trails running down her cheeks. The pretense between them had been shattered. That night had been a wake-up call that anything could happen, and it spurred them both, especially Ron, into action. They were no longer afraid to be openly affectionate and supportive toward one another. She didn't care about being vulnerable in front of him, if it meant an embrace and the soothing warmth of his hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

It was their silver lining.

She sighed, putting aside the book. She wanted to embrace his attentiveness as much she could, until their time ran out. It wouldn't be long now until they had to abandon the safe haven of Shell Cottage and attempt another incredibly dangerous mission.

Their so-called plan was foolish at best, fatal at worst. It was high risk but also high reward, their first real lead on a Horcrux in ages. The chances were grim, but at least there was a sliver of hope. She didn't want to think about that now, especially the myriad of potential outcomes.

The urge to see him seized her. Gingerly, Hermione got out of the bed and shivered, her skin erupting in gooseflesh as a gust of cool sea air blew into the small bedroom. She eyed the jumper he'd thrown over the back of the chair, where he'd been spending time with her at every possible opportunity. Debating for a second, she slipped it on and took a deep breath, his scent a balm for her frazzled nerves.

Slowly making her way down the stairs, she could hear muffled voices from the small living room. Turning to the kitchen, she found Harry, staring hard at the white wood of the quaint table as he turned that lucky shard of glass over and over in his hands, a reminder of what they had suffered through.

She almost couldn't bear to look at her friend in such a state of despair, opting instead to glance around Bill and Fleur's kitchen. Something was missing though—or rather someone. Ron was usually around to keep Harry's spirits up, so it struck her as odd that he was alone.

A sudden panic gripped her, her heart pounding in her chest. Where was he? Had he left? Her hand flew to her chest and she tried to take a calming breath, despite her obvious stress.

No, he wouldn't do that again. He'd promised her, and she believed him. The demons that had been plaguing him months ago had been pushed away with the destruction of that insidious locket, at least for now.

She hated that this was her first reaction, still scarred from his last departure. The bruises on her heart were a sickly yellow, healing but not completely gone.

Stop it, she chastised herself silently. He had more than made up for it since his return. Even now, after she'd been through such a painful ordeal, he was showing such consideration and concern for her. A deft touch that she never would have suspected he possessed. This is how she thanked him? By doubting him, yet again? By dwelling on a mistake she knew would haunt him forever?

She felt disgusted and angry at herself. He'd come through for her  innumerable times, the doubt the last vestiges of lingering hurt. She didn't trust anyone more than she trusted Ron, that much she knew.

Harry, who suddenly looked up from his stupor, raised his brow at the large letter 'R' emblazoned across her torso. He must have noticed her misery and nodded his head towards the door. "He's outside."

"Thank you," she whispered, watching her friend's face as it fell into deep thought once again, the weight on his shoulders crushing him.

Pushing open the door of the cottage, she stepped out, squinting from the bright light. Too many days of darkness had taken its toll, the freedom of simply being outside, in the open, felt foreign. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh rays and began walking toward her source of comfort.

Ron was crouched down, all limbs and fiery red hair, messed from the breeze. He had matured, they all had, far too quickly. His transformation upon his return had shocked her, but her self-erected barricade hadn't allowed her to express it.

She hugged herself as she walked up, the too-long arms of his jumper enveloping her thin frame. It was a poor substitute, having felt his warm embrace more in the past few days than she had over the previous seven years.

He stirred slightly as she approached, stilled by her hand on his shoulder. His weathered plaid shirt was soft under her fingers. She almost laughed at how easily they'd transitioned to something more than they'd ever been. How natural it felt to just give in and touch him without fear of rejection. The years they spent skirting their feelings seemed rather silly now.

She waited, giving him time. She was learning not to rush him. That he would often take a minute to organize his thoughts the way he wanted to, rather than feeling the pressure of replying before he was ready to. It was just the two of them on the bluff, with the churning sea below. Nothing else existed except the memorial in front of them.

The crudely carved stone held a heartbreaking epitaph. Such simple words for someone who had made the ultimate sacrifice.

Ron sniffed, his voice rough. "He was so fucking innocent."

She squeezed his shoulder in agreement, watching from above as he twisted a pair of worn socks in his large hands. After a moment, he gently laid them down at the feet of the plot and placed a stone on them to keep them in place.

He cleared his throat before continuing, his voice wavering. "I wish I could do more, besides giving him Bill's old socks."

Her eyelashes prickled with tears at seeing how deeply Dobby's death was affecting him. Beneath her hand, his body shook for a moment and calmed. After taking a deep breath, his voice broke the silence, quiet but firm.

"I've thought—for a while now—that if the time came, I'd sacrifice myself to help Harry. So many have. Maybe that's all I would be good for. The expendable Weasley. Seemed like I was made just for that purpose. Now..."

She held her tongue, wanting to admonish him for even considering something like that, to extol his virtues, and tell him how truly broken she felt during his time away. How much he meant to her, Harry, and everyone that knew him. Something stopped her; she was curious to hear where he was going with this.

He glanced up at her, his piercing blue eyes filled with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"Now, I... I don't feel as if I could, knowing what I might be leaving behind... what could happen if I dared to think I could make it through this."

That one look told her everything. Everything. His remorse, his fear, his love for her. She was the reason he wouldn't do something foolishly heroic. Even though he already had in rescuing her.

She could see his continuing struggle, his anguish. The waves of tension were palpable, his muscles straining under her fingertips.

"It feels so wrong to want something, to want happiness. Look at Harry—he's given up everything for this war. I bet if he could sacrifice his life to end it, he would in a heartbeat."

Seeing his pain so openly caused her chest to tighten. She wanted to wrap him in a hug and spirit him away. Just the two of them, hidden from the rest of the world.

Her voice was soft in her ears. "It's not selfish to want to live, Ron. To want something more after this war. There's a life beyond this that I dream about, too."

As he watched her, she tried to convey everything he meant to her through her eyes. That the life she imagined included him, could only be with him.

He gave her a slight nod, as if telling her he understood. Slowly, his hand reached up and met hers, their fingers loosely intertwining.

"I'm scared, Hermione. Scared for Harry and my family. Mostly terrified for you, of losing you. Almost did."

He looked away, but Hermione knew what he meant. She shared the same fears, unvoiced but ever present.

Ron sniffled again and let out a quiet cough. "Those were the worst moments of my life, in Malfoy Manor. I felt so bloody helpless. There was nothing I could do."

She didn't mean to say it in the moment, but it slipped out. "We're even now."

His neck twisted up and he stared at her with wide eyes, his expression one of incredulity. "You can't mean..."

She nodded, her eyes wet. "When you left, I was so afraid I'd never see you again. I was utterly heartbroken and there was nothing I could do. Whatever the locket was doing to you was a form of torture, too. It must've been for you to leave. That wasn't the Ron I know."

He protested, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "You can't compare the two! You didn't choose to be tortured, and you still didn't give in. You weren't the stupid git who left!"

In that moment, she knew in her heart she forgave him, that he had come back and ultimately saved her. She was hit by a sudden realization.

"Don't you see? It doesn't matter anymore! Whatever happens, we'll find each other again. My voice brought you back, and you were there to rescue me!"

She felt his posture slump.

"I didn't though, not really. I couldn't even take your place." Ron's voice dropped to a whisper, almost lost in the breeze. "I couldn't stop them from hurting you."

"It was an impossible situation, but you saved me, Ron. Everything you did that night saved me. Your screams for me, the way you fought them, getting me here safely. Harry told me—"

He shook his head. "I got lucky, so fucking lucky. Dobby was the real hero," Ron said, staring back at the carved stone. "Hermione... he died... so... so you could live. He didn't have to help us save you. If it was Harry he was worried about, he would have just brought us here first and then maybe tried to rescue you. But he didn't. Without him... I would have lost you."

His words rung in her ears, a horrific truth. "He died... so you could live."

She hadn't thought of it that way. In her head, she’d equated the loss of Dobby with another loved one protecting Harry. The impact of it hit her, and she stumbled back a step. Ron was on his feet in an instant, pulling her to him as they cried, together. Mourning the loss of such a selfless, compassionate soul. Releasing the pent-up emotions of almost losing one another. Ron held her tightly and she was reminded of Dumbledore's funeral. This time, however, Ron dropped loving kisses into her hair.

She pressed her face to the flannel of his shirt, her tears soaking into the cloth. She held onto him, anchored to the cliff by his strength.

"Dobby was so incredibly courageous. Gods Hermione, I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't saved us all. If he hadn't sacrificed himself."

"He saved me, Ron. But so did you."

He looked down at her, brushing away her tears with large unsure thumbs. Their eyes met, the gaze between them deep.

"Sod it!" He suddenly declared. "You-You are the most important thing in my life, and if you hadn't survived..."

She pressed a finger to his lips, causing them both to shudder. "I did, and I intend to finish this and have the life I want. With you. But..."

"Not until this is over."

She nodded. "Alright, Ron?"

"Yeah," he agreed, but he couldn't resist pulling her against him once again.

They stood there for a moment longer, silently paying their respects to the one who gave them a chance.

"I swear Hermione, I'll never forget what he did. I'll never be able to thank him or repay him."

"All we can do is honour his memory and keep fighting."

Ron nodded his head in agreement. It was all they could do for the future they both so desperately wanted.

As they turned to head back to the cottage, she thought she heard him whisper a final thanks to Dobby.

They were quiet as the walked down the cliffside, their hands clasped. A new determination had overcome them. They were going to fight. They needed to be as brave as the departed elf.

As they reached the cottage, Ron playfully nudged Hermione, the amusement obvious in his voice. "You know, maybe SPEW wasn't such a bad idea."

"It's S.P.E.W!"

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Where do we go from here?

Chapter 11 on ao3

Chapter 11: A peaceful Christmas

George was eventually let out of hospital on Christmas Eve, he wanted to go back to his small flat above the shop but had been overruled decisively by the rest of his family. He grumbled a bit about this but knowing how stupid and stubborn he had been he reluctantly agreed. He was more annoyed about the healers ordering him not to work, and having to leave running the shop to Ron and Percy at the busiest time of the year.

 Individually he knew both were more than capable, but they could be a little inflammatory towards each other when forced to work together. He desperately hoped the spirit of Christmas would keep them civil, and find a way to work together without him being there to manage the pair of them. Bill, Charlie, Ginny, and Harry had also offered to help out, it warmed his heart at how much his family was there for him, and made the empty space inside him feel a little smaller. He just wished he could have convinced his mother to let him at least be at the shop, but she had insisted on following the healer’s instructions.

Today had the potential to be the busiest day of the year for the business, and he wasn’t going to be there. They had done well with sales last Christmas but the atmosphere has been tense if nothing else, with customers in a rush to get a few things and get home as quickly as possible. But he would not be there to witness how different it would be this year. He  had to stay at the Burrow with his mother watching him like a hawk, and without his girlfriend.

“How am I ever going to see you now?” He complained to her as she helped him settle back into his old room. “I'll be surprised if mum even lets me go to the paddock without an escort.” He knew he sounded a little whiny but couldn’t help himself.

“You are telling me the legendary George Weasley can’t find a way to see his girlfriend whenever he wants?” She was arranging his toiletries on top of his chest of drawers and not looking, she glanced over her shoulder at him when he didn’t immediately respond.

“Not if the unstoppable force of his mother has anything to do with it.” He grumbled, setting the picture of him and Fred the day they opened the shop on the little table beside his bed sliding a finger across the glass. 

“And when has that ever stopped you before?” She told him making it sound like a challenge, he managed a weak chuckle. 

“And your father says I’m the bad influence.” She walked over to where he was standing with his hands in his pockets, and snaked her arms around his waist kissing him gently. 

“That’s when he thought the only reason I ended up in detention was because of you and Fred.” He loved the way she did not avoid his twin’s name around him, as so many others did. It was impossible for him to talk about his life without mentioning Fred. “Dad has liked you for a while now. Especially when I told him how many times you kept me from trouble.” 

“Well that’s good to know.” He smiled and kissed her softly. “I am sure we can figure it out. Now that we both know how we feel I don’t want to be apart from you any more than I have to.” He glanced at the bed then back at her. “When do you have to be at Holyhead?”

“I should be there already, but my boss told me to come a bit later so it’s ok.” 

“No it’s not.” He said firmly. “I won’t have you jeopardise your opportunity just because of my foolish behaviour.” He could not quite believe how much she was willing to compromise for him, but he was not going to create any more obstacles for her. “I promise I am not going to keel over as soon as you leave my side.” He took her hand and marched them back down the stairs. She turned to him when they stopped in front of the fireplace and placed her palm against his cheek. 

“You were, and still are grieving. We can all do foolish things when we are. I will come spend some time with you tomorrow evening I promise. Have a great Christmas, enjoy the time with your family.” They kissed again a longer deeper kiss, George loved the feel of her fingers tangling in his hair. He grabbed a handful of her ample behind and she squealed as he squeezed it pulling her in closer. 

“You could bring your dad here, you know mum wouldn’t mind, there will be plenty to go around?” He offered but she shook her head. 

“I know, and thanks, but we like it to be just us at Christmas. It’s something special we do for each other.” He nodded his understanding and she kissed him goodbye.

Molly found him still standing there and handed him a cup of tea. He tried to smile for her, she was hurting for him as much as for herself and he did feel terribly guilty about that, when he wasn’t annoyed at her hovering. She rubbed his arm.

“She is a lovely girl, I hope you are doing right by her.” 

“Of course mum. I love her.” Molly’s eyes sparkled with the unshed tears, but this time they seemed to be from happiness.

“It is truly wonderful for me to see my children have partners to share their lives with.” He considered his mother’s words and took a chance.

“So you are not going to scream at me if I stay over at her place when she’s home?” She crossed her arms and looked a little uncomfortable when she replied.

“George, as much as I would like certain ways to stay the same I know the world is changing. You are a grown man with your own business, your own life away from here. I cannot say I approve, but I can perhaps learn to accept, just promise me you tell me when you plan on not coming home so I don’t have to worry.”

“I promise mum,” he said bending over to give her a hug and feeling a little better about being back under his mother’s wing.

  *

 Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was absolutely crammed with people looking for last minute presents. It had been the same pretty much all week, but this was now the last day they would be open, Christmas eve and the feeling of panic had intensified. While George was under strict instructions to rest up and stay away, it was all hands on deck for the rest of them. As Ginny looked around the shop she realised there was probably more help than was actually needed, but everyone had felt like they had let George down and were determined to do this for him. 

Fleur had initially been on the till, but when a stream of adolescent boys had crowded around it, buying random products just so they could talk to her, making wild claims to impress her. Percy had decided it was not morally fair, and she had been given the task of cooking up some skiving snack boxes instead. Bill had then taken over the till, until his scarred face had frightened a small child, the parent of whom had apologised so much Bill had wanted to leave in embarrassment. They had both decided to go not long after that, Fleur promising to make more of the snack boxes at home and bring them over later. 

Now Ginny was on the till and she was enjoying being part of the team. Ron and Percy were rushing around restocking shelves and helping customers. Charlie was doing his best to help out where he was directed. When lunchtime came and went she realised she was starving and her feet were starting to ache. Hermione watched her bend over to rub her ankle and took pity on her, the girls shared a smile at the sight of Charlie surrounded by a group of giggling thirteen year olds, flirting with him outrageously, and asking about the love potions. Charlie seemed to take it all in his stride and dealt with all the attention with polite responses.

“Go and take your time with lunch, we’ve got more than enough people,” Hermione told her quietly during a break in the que. “Harry is still hiding in the stock room so you will probably have to remind him what time it is.”

“He won’t want to go anywhere busy.” She said with a slight sigh. Whenever the two of them went out together in the wizarding world they would always get quite a bit of attention. Harry always got the attention whether or not she was with him, but at least it had reduced to people staring more than everyone appearing to shake his hand and tell him well done. Those were the kind of days that had made Harry want to wear his cloak or not go anywhere at all.

There had been quite a crowd when they’d first opened that morning, and word had quickly spread that the golden trio were all working in the shop, but many of the visitors had not been interested in buying anything so they had been gently told to leave if they were just going to stand and stare. Harry had retreated to the stock room after that, and Hermione had spent most of the day in the office with the accounts, the only person both Percy and Ron agreed could do as good a job as Percy himself. 

She wondered where they could go for lunch without attracting attention. Harry had always been more comfortable out and about in the muggle world, and Ginny was slowly becoming more used to it herself. It tended to be where they went when out together.

“Then take him somewhere quiet.” Hermione told her in exasperation. “And don’t worry about hurrying back you two are the last to eat.” She quickly wrote down an address on a piece of paper. “Tell him to take you here. It's a little place that I think he’ll love.” Ginny looked at the address.

“A music shop?”

“It has a little café next door that's never overly busy. Go and have fun, I think Harry could do with some normal.” Ginny squeezed her hand gratefully.

“Ok but if you need us…”

“I know, but I honestly think we can handle it. Just be back before closing so we can all go to the Burrow together.” Ginny nodded her agreement as she left her friend to find Harry and take him out for lunch. 

 The music shop was colourful and loud as they approached, walking hand in hand. It had not been too far to walk from the leaky caldron, and it had been pleasant to spend time walking with each other despite the cold. Harry had kept his beanie hat pulled low over his forehead and his scarf wound around his mouth so all Ginny, or anyone else, could see were his glasses and nose. Ginny was wrapped up against the cold too, the sky was going from a pale to ever increasing darker grey, with a cold nip in the wind.

Stepping into the music shop was a welcome relief from the cold. It was true that it didn’t seem to be busy. Most of the muggle Christmas shoppers were concentrating on the main shopping centres so they could stay out of the elements, these tiny little back street vendors were a welcome haven from the chaos. She knew Harry would love to spend some time looking through the records, but the café beside was warm and inviting. It had a swept wooden floor and comfortable looking booths upholstered in grey wipeable fabric. There was a small bookshelf at one side of the room full of well thumbed novels. A little hand written card above said take on leave one. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and warm bread.  

“I can see why Hermione likes this place so much.” Harry said pulling off his hat and ruffling his hair before unwinding the scarf from his neck and approaching the counter. There was a hum of voices as several of the booths were occupied, and the music from next door was drifting into here too. Removing her own hat and scarf she hung back slightly, reaching for Harry’s hand, still a little unsure in such places. The options for drinks alone were baffling, she never usually drank anything other than tea, and she didn’t want to ask what a Panini was in case they realised she had no clue. Harry sensed her nervousness and squeezed her hand before putting a reassuring arm around her waist. 

“Do you want a hot sandwich or cold?” He asked her as the girl behind the counter smiled politely waiting for their order. “A pot of breakfast tea and a cappuccino.” He told her while they decided on food. 

“I don’t know, hot?” She murmured to him. 

“It’s okay, it’s not a test.” He chuckled at her, “go find a place to sit and I’ll order for us if you are okay with that?” She nodded, happy for once to let him take charge. She found an unoccupied booth by the window and slid into it. 

He smiled as he joined her at the table carrying a tray. “They even use loose leaf tea.” He exclaimed, taking the pot and sliding it to her along with a large teacup and tiny jug of milk, before taking the round cup of chocolate dusted foam for himself. Once she had poured herself a generous cup full she wrapped her hands around the bowl of it warming her chilled fingers. 

“When I considered ways I could get you alone again, this was not quite what I had planned,” she told him, she hoped he would mistake the flush in her cheeks to the cold outside.

“It’s not quite been the time together I had hoped for either.” He replied sympathetically. “I offered to look after Teddy tonight but Andromeda wants him with her, which is understandable. I really think it’s going to be hard for her tomorrow, much more than she would ever let me see.”

“Mum invited them to ours for Christmas dinner, they are coming aren’t they?”

“Yes they are. I couldn’t let them be alone at Christmas, and your mum feels the same.” He smiled that happy little smile he got when he thought about his godson. “He has grown so much already. I hope Andromeda doesn’t get mad at me for buying him so many presents, but I just couldn’t resist.” He looked genuinely worried about upsetting her.

“I am sure she’ll understand, it is his first Christmas after all.” She understood completely why he wanted to spoil his godson, he was determined to give the little boy everything he never had as a child. “What did you get for Kreacher?” 

“Some new pillowcases and bedding. Now that the ministry is repurposing Grimmauld Place as Auror trainee lodgings, Kreacher doesn't seem to be so attached to the old place anymore, he wants to look after me at the flat, he is very protective over me now.”

“Well of course he would be, you avenged the death of Regulus, and you have been very kind to him. I think it would make me happy to know you’re being fed properly. I remember how he kept bringing you sandwiches and watching you eat them, before we left Hogwarts.”

“Hey! I can cook for myself now.” He said in mild indignation. “Your mum’s been teaching me.”

“Then how come every time I stay at yours we have a takeaway or eat downstairs?” She replied, quirking an eyebrow at him. He put his hands up and shrugged.

“Okay so I can’t cook well enough to let others consume it, apart from Ron.” He conceded. “And you haven’t stayed that often. Not as often as I would like.” His eyes darkened as he looked at her and she felt that familiar swoop in her stomach. She squashed her rising want for now, something she had been forcing herself to do more often lately. There had been one embarrassing incident at St Mungo's where they’d almost been caught by a porter. Luckily they had still had all their clothes on when they had walked in on them, Ginny had blushed as red as Harry’s jumper that day.  They had both been behaving so inappropriately that she had not allowed herself to even kiss him at the hospital since. 

“Mum’s been so ill with worrying about George, the last thing I want to do right now is stir up more trouble. You are staying at the Burrow tonight?” He nodded slowly as she already knew this. 

“Then all you and Hermione have to do is swap rooms and we can all be happy.” She grinned into her teacup.

“Gin, that sounds perfect but there is some kind of spell on your stairs I’ve never made it to your room any time I’ve tried.” He looked truly puzzled as he remembered past experiences.

“I asked George about that.” She went on to explain further as he looked up a little horrified. “In a roundabout way so he didn’t know what I was actually asking about. And he said it works in a similar way to apparating, it is all about the intention.” He still looked a little unsure, “When you leave Ron’s room, it is with the sole intention to visit Hermione, think of a question to ask her or something. Nothing remotely sexual or inappropriate towards me,” He nodded his understanding, a leering grin creeping onto his face. 

“All my thoughts about you are inappropriate right now, especially since you banned me from touching you at the hospital.” She felt her skin catch fire again under his intense gaze and wanted to dive across the table and snog him silly, but the waitress turned up with their food and killed the moment slightly.

She looked down at her plate that held what looked like a squashed toasted baguette. “Mozzarella, tomato and basil Panini.” He explained. “Or mine is cheese and ham if you prefer?” She took a tentative bite of the hot, crispy, and gooey sandwich and could not stop a satisfied moan of pleasure. “That good eh?” He chuckled, his eyes still hungry for her. She pulled a stringy piece of cheese from the edge and popped it in her mouth. 

“We have to teach Kreacher how to make these so we can have them at school. This is the sort of thing that should be taught in muggle studies.”

“Sandwich making?” He snorted.

“No, prat! Shopping, muggle money, food shops and cafes. Instead of how muggles manage without magic, it should be teaching us how we can interact with their world.”

“You make a good point.” He said his eyes were bright with the idea. “You should write it down and submit it.”

“Me?” She squealed in disbelief.

“Why not? It is your idea. I could tell Kingsley about it but education is left to the head of Hogwarts, as it should be.”

“You want me to submit a change of curriculum to McGonagall? While I’m still at school?” she could not quite believe what he was suggesting.

“There is no better time, you’ll be too busy with your own career when you leave. There are so many other projects and ideas I wanted to have an input in before I started my Auror training, I’ve had to let others take them over.” She knew he was talking about all the misplaced and still missing muggle born witches and wizards, he had wanted to help but Kingsley had assembled a task force and they were making good progress. Harry had played a big part in helping them by providing them with his family’s home to set up as a shelter.

They finished their meal without much more conversation, she glanced out the window and noticed the weather turning for the worse, as icy rain was falling heavily. She doubted there would be many more people venturing out in this weather so felt no need to rush back. This was the first time she and Harry had been together away from her family since George had gone into hospital. She had needed Harry’s support, his strength, he had been there for her. She had been so angry at George, so angry at everyone else for not looking out for him better. She had wanted to give Ron both barrels until Harry had stopped her, seeing what she couldn’t, that he was already broken by what he had discovered. She had forced herself to calm down, Harry had shown her she had to. It was not fair to blame them, she had been just as blind. 

Ron had pulled himself together quicker than she thought she could have, but then again, it was not the first time her brother had to recover from a traumatic experience. The family were making quite a habit of it. Knowing that George was going to be okay, that he wasn’t going to continue trying to carry on without the support he needed, had surely helped them all.

“I don’t think they’re going to miss us at the shop, they’ll probably end up closing early if this weather keeps up.” She told him, looking out the slightly steamed up window.

“It’s Christmas Eve Gin, no shops close early. There will still be some fools leaving it to the last hour of the last day to buy their gifts. Regardless of the weather.” He sounded mildly irritated by the idea of leaving something to the last possible chance. She considered for a moment what he had bought her, it would be something thoughtful, and more than likely useful.

“It doesn’t matter anyway as Hermione said we don’t have to go back until they are heading to the burrow, so we have a few more hours before then, and I certainly don’t want to spend them in a café.” She told him, he grinned wickedly back at her.

“Well what are we still doing here then?”

  *

                    As soon as they found an empty side street Harry took her hand and apparated them straight to his bedroom. She laughed deep and throaty as he started to unwind her scarf and kiss the revealed skin of her neck. She pulled his beanie hat off his head so she could grab onto his hair, the ends that had peaked out of his hat still damp from the rain.

                  “Oh Ginny,” He mumbled into her ear as he bit it gently. “I will worship you until the day I die, and beyond.” She could only hum her pleasure in response as his hands had managed to find their way into her coat and under her jumper, making her skin shiver where his cold hands touched. Her hands worked furiously to relieve him of his own clothes until he was standing in just his faded jeans and boots. It was his turn to shiver as she slid her hands across his chest and gently scratched her nails down his back, the moan that escaped him as she did this was truly delicious, and she felt her body respond in kind. He swore in frustration as he struggled to remove her jumper. He had lifted it above her head but somehow the wool tangled in her hair clip trapping her arms and obscuring her face. She could not stop the giggles that erupted from her at the ridiculousness of it, she laughed even more as his frustrated swearing intensified. He growled at her and pulled the neck of the jumper just enough to reveal her grinning mouth and bit her bottom lip gently. 

                  “You think it’s so funny perhaps I will leave you like this.”

                  “Just rip the damn thing if it’s stuck.”

                  “Really?” his voice sounded very deep, and rough, she could not see him but she knew his lips would be curling up in just a slight hint of a smile. There was definitely no longer any hint of frustration in his voice. “I quite like the idea of keeping you all tied up.”

“Please, just rip it off.” She told him trying not to let the panic that was building up in her show. She tried to wriggle herself out of the fabric but the damp weather had made the fabric stiff and inflexible. “I don’t think I like this Harry.” She said with a nervous laugh, without another word said she was free from the claustrophobic feelings, and her jumper now lay in shreds at her feet.

                  “I’m sorry Gin,” he said, “I was trying to think of a spell without hurting you.” His eyes were full of concern for her as he guided her to the bed where they could both sit down, she rubbed the feeling back into her arms and tried to bring her breathing back down to normal.

                  “That’s alright, I thought I could handle it, then it felt a little too much like being restrained.” She did not want to tell him exactly what it reminded her of, not right now anyway, the passion that had brought them straight to his bedroom had been diluted somewhat but she did not want to kill it completely.  She leaned towards him, deliberately brushing her chest against his arm as she kissed him, his arms wrapped around her as he responded pushing them down onto the bed. “Now where were we?” His hand slid under her bra and she pulled away despite herself at the chill in his fingers. 

                  “Why don’t we warm up in the bath together?” He suggested noticing the goosebumps and her shivering. She smiled and nodded remembering how large the bath was.

  *

                    Ron gave the two of them quite a glare when they got back to the joke shop considerably later that afternoon. The rest of them were just finishing up putting preserving charms on all the perishable products and counting up the takings to take over to Gringotts. Percy walked out from the office a clipboard and quill in hand.

                  “Well I think we are in pretty good shape. Good job everyone excellent work today. I think all that’s left to do now is go home and enjoy Christmas.” Ron gave him a meaningful glance and nodded his head towards herself and Harry.

                  “What about these two? They’ve managed to skive off the whole afternoon.” Ron said, sounding extremely disgruntled.

                  “Relax Ron.” Ginny said, giving him an overly sweet smile. “Hermione said we were not needed so we went and had a lovely relaxed lunch.”

                  “Why is your hair wet?” Percy asked suspiciously, his eyes squinting at them.

                  “It’s raining.” Was her quick reply.

                  “Why are you wearing one of Harry’s old Christmas jumpers?” Charlie asked, with a glint in his eye. 

                  “Because my jumper got snagged and ripped so Harry kindly let me have this one.” She crossed her arms angrily noticing their sidelong looks at each other. “Stop it, stop interrogating me please. Do I ask you a million questions every time you spend time with your girlfriends?”

                  “What did your jumper get snagged on?” Charlie smirked. Harry, who had remained quiet as she had answered her brother's questions, looked a little uncomfortably at Charlie’s rather large and scarred arms, but he didn’t back down at the glares, instead he wrapped a protective arm around her waist. 

                  “I don’t think this treatment is very fair.” He told them. “I’ve hardly seen Ginny since she’s been back at Hogwarts. I don’t think it is right that you all force her to defend her actions, but if it was one of your brothers not your sister would you be asking?” His voice was very steady as he spoke to them. “We are a couple now, we are going to stay together, and the sooner you all get used to that the better. I have done enough of hiding how I feel for this witch, I love her, there is nothing more to be said. So why don’t we just lock up and go home.” Charlie raised his hands in surrender to his heated words but it was Ron who spoke.

                  “It’s not like that at all mate. I’m happy for you two, you know I am, and I‘m really trying not to be so protective, but it’s not exactly something any of us can switch off. I was just annoyed at Ginny for getting out of the work, nothing to do with the two of you. Not that I speak for anyone else” Harry looked to Charlie who nodded and gave a little shrug.

                  “I think only someone exceptionally brave could take on someone like our sister, and since I have never met anyone as brave as you nobody else would stand a chance.”

                  “Well I am glad you can see that.” She said dryly. “What about you Percy?” somehow she thought Percy was going to be the one to mention her age, how young they both were to be making such big decisions.

                  “Harry is part of the family.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, she beamed at her brother, his simple acceptance meaning more to her than she ever thought it would. Just like that three of her brothers had acknowledged and accepted her relationship with Harry. “Now come on everyone or mum is going to worry.”

  *

                   Ginny’s memories of the first Christmas after the war would be forever filled with the warmth of being with family and friends. The true and unshakeable peace of finally feeling that her family was safe from danger, she loved them all dearly, and Christmas had always been her favourite time of year. Fred, Remus, and Tonks were not with them in body but remembering them made her feel they were with them in spirit. She didn’t go with Harry to visit his parents' graves, although she had offered. He had left very early Christmas morning, while the house was still quiet, and nobody noticed him leaving her room telling her to go back to sleep. 

The joy of watching baby Teddy eating his Christmas dinner and getting as much of it in his hair as in his mouth was undeniable. But the most enduring memory of that Christmas came a few days later when Angelina took her to Holyhead.

 Ginny desperately wanted to keep her cool as they walked into the iconic Harpies stadium but knew she was going to fail miserably. She giggled despite herself as she walked past the entrance to the spectators stands, and further down the tunnel onto the actual greener than green grass of the pitch. She knelt down to run her fingers through the short blades, and smell the fresh special air of a professional Quidditch pitch. She knew she was grinning like a fool as she took in her surroundings. She heard Angelina’s soft chuckle as she walked behind her.

“It’s pretty special isn’t it?” She took a massive lungful of air and breathed out slowly. “I still can’t quite believe I get to stand here.” She offered her hand to help her back up. “Come on, the team are looking forward to meeting you.” She led them around the pitch, through the home team’s door, and along a white and dark green tiled corridor that sloped gently downward, the stone floor of which shone dully from the many feet that had polished it over the years. The air smelled of broom wax, leather, mud, and the unmistakable smell that was always around changing rooms. Murals of the current players decorated the walls and as they whizzed by her, the drawings were so realistic she could almost feel the whoosh of their movement as they scored goals, battered bludgers, and made spectacular saves. It felt special, it felt like coming home to her. They didn’t walk far before Angelina stopped outside of a green wooden door that had a large golden talon painted on it.

“We are going in there?” She squeaked excitedly. “That’s the players changing room!” she stared wide eyed at her former captain, all pretence of keeping cool gone. Angelina leaned against the corridor her legs crossed at the ankle, a very knowing smile on her face.

“Oh, didn’t I mention you are going to do some drills with the team today?” She had a gleam in her eye very akin to George, and Ginny tried very hard to control the butterflies now dancing around in her stomach. She desperately tried to order the thoughts that were running through her head. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Just so I am clear, I am going to change into Harpies gear?” Angelina nodded slowly thoroughly enjoying this, “I am going to fly out there, in the stadium?” she nodded again. Ginny was struggling to believe this was happening. “Wow. Why me?”

“Merlin’s sake Ginny I thought you were smarter than your brothers. I told Gwenog and the coaches about you, about your ambition, and she told me to get you down here so she could watch you.”

“But I want to get here on my own talent, I don’t want to be offered a space because of who I am friends with.” She exclaimed angrily, she was determined to do things without any favours.

“It’s only a trial Ginny, if you fuck it up there is nothing I or anyone else can do to change that. You are here on your own merit already. I’m a scout, it’s my job to tell them about you. I wasn’t doing you a favour, I was giving you the same chance I would anyone I found as talented as you. Now hurry up and get your arse on that Quidditch field and don’t let me down.” She opened the door and ushered her in leaving her to get ready.

                  The team was waiting for her inside the changing room. Already in their kit and full of welcoming smiles. These women were her idols, it felt surreal to be stood amongst them like it was nothing. Gwenog stood a little in front of the rest and offered a firm handshake, before introducing her to the team, who did not really need any introductions.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Ginny.” Becca Fletcher the star chaser greeted her warmly. “We’ve all been looking forward to seeing you fly. I was at Hogwarts when your brother Bill played, how’s he doing?” She showed her to a space on the wall where a set of green Quidditch gear was already set out for her. 

“He’s doing good thanks. Still working at Gringotts.”

“I heard he got married.”

“Yeah, she’s okay, not a flyer but nobody’s perfect.” It was very odd to see the woman who’s poster image regularly scored goals on her bedroom talking to her as if she was just another player

 “We’ll see you out there.” she said clapping her on the back as she left leaving Ginny to settle her nerves and find her focus.

Stepping out onto the pitch again, this time in Harpie’s kit, with the reassuring weight of a broom resting on her shoulder she felt a little more comfortable. She quickly joined the team who were in various positions as they stretched their limbs on the pitch. They took her through a few training drills and manoeuvres that she was familiar with as warm ups, then she was matched up against Sandy Larson the Rookie Beater who was a solidly built American who grinned at her in a very cocky manner shouldering her bat.

Gwenog came over to them and handed her the Quaffle. “The play is to avoid Sandy, no bludgers involved just flying skills and don’t drop the Quaffle.”  She made it sound like it was easy. Ginny took the Quaffle and felt the familiar pre match focus as her fingers found a familiar grip on the ball and her mind calmed to the task at hand, this was going to be no trouble, it was just another match she had to win. Gwenog gave her a knowing look as she nodded her acceptance of the instructions.

It didn’t take long for her to wipe the cocky grin from Sandy’s face as the beater struggled to stop her going where she wanted. The broom she was using was a little twitchier than what she was used to and it kept trying to oversteer, she quickly realised how responsive it was and tried to reduce the strength of her movements. It was almost like the broom knew what she wanted to do, it soon became as natural as breathing allowing her to concentrate on getting the better of Sandy.

When Gwenog blew the whistle for them both to land she was full of the flush that flying gave her, she had always felt at home on a broom, and being here had made it extra special. Sandy gave her a massive hug when they landed full of the thrill of the flight too.

“You were awesome.” She exclaimed. “I had a pretty hard time keeping you in range.” Ginny beamed at the praise. “It’s going to be interesting to see you play in a real game.” If that was not a ringing endorsement then she didn’t know what was.

Gwenog and the team coaches had been standing off to one side as they flew, watching them closely but nothing gave away what they were thinking. She re-doubled her efforts for the remaining drills hoping that she was good enough. When the team finally called it quits for the day she was worn out. She just stood in the showers letting the heat of the water relax her tight muscles, dreaming about the giant bath in Harry’s flat. When Angelina found her she was on the bench back in her own clothes, her head leaning back against the tiled wall a look of wonder on her face.

“Did today just happen?” She breathed.

“You bet your Bertie Botts it did.” Angelina replied. “And not only that, the head coach is very excited about you. You might be offered a spot on the team before you even finish school.” Angelina’s voice was full of fierce pride for her, Ginny tried to be excited about it but she needed to keep herself from dreaming too big too soon.

“I have to finish school. I don’t think my mum could cope with another of us not finishing our education.”

“Don’t worry they would never ask you to do that anyway. It would only be to stop another team signing you up before they could.”

                  “The Harpies are my dream. I would never play for anyone else.”

Harry gazed upon the sleeping perfection of Ginny lying in his bed, despite her small frame she still managed to take up nearly all of it, her arms spread wide and one leg hooked over a pillow in imitation of how she usually lay against him, she managed to make his baggy faded t shirt look sexy. Towelling his hair dry he wanted nothing more than to slip back into bed with her, but instead he dressed quietly, and kissed her head. Her eyes snapped open at his touch and grabbed his wrist.

                  “You’re not going anywhere without giving me a proper kiss.” She told him rolling over so she could pull his head to hers. 

                  “I thought you were sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.” She attempted to pull him back into bed. “I can’t Gin, I’m sorry.” He took a controlling breath as she kissed his neck, her body felt so hot against his. “I swear Ginny Weasley you are going to kill me if you don’t stop. I have to be in court today” Her chuckle was deep and throaty but she pulled away letting him stand up.

“Just remember when you’re stuck in that stuffy courtroom, I’m in your bed. Waiting.”

“I don’t think those kinds of thoughts will help my day pass by any easier. Do you have any idea how much you are torturing me right now?” He closed his eyes and tried his best to recall the last training manual he had been reading instead of his red headed siren. “Today is important, I have to be focused.” Her wicked smile faded at his serious look.

                  “I understand, I’m sorry, but you make it too easy.” She sat up on her knees and reached out to take his hand kissing the palm. “I’ll see you when you get home, love you.” He leaned down and gave her one final kiss. 

                  “Love you.” He murmured before disapparating with a loud crack.”

                   There was the usual busy rush of employees arriving at the ministry that morning, Harry did his best to blend in with the rest but he still thought a few people noticed him, but thankfully nobody approached him today. He spotted Ron’s mop of red hair above the rest of the crowd waiting for him at the newly created memorial. They greeted each other warmly before continuing to Auror headquarters together.

“You ready for this today mate?” Ron inquired gently, he knew better than anyone how much today mattered to Harry, it had to go well, and they had to see the importance of correcting past mistakes. 

“They may not even call me to testify, Kingsley said my written testimony might be enough. It feels like it has taken forever to get this far. I just want it over with now, and it’s only the beginning.”

“They updated the list. Five trials are scheduled for today now, not just Sirius’ hearing.” Ron informed him realising that Harry hadn’t been told, even though this would increase his chances to be called. Harry grumbled and muttered under his breath as he took this in, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“Who are the five?” Harry asked, Ron gripped his shoulder in a consoling way as they entered the lifts and had to end their conversation. They did not pick it back up until they were stood at Harry’s cubicle.

“I didn’t recognise four of the names, it appears to be those accused of collaborating with the death eaters but Narcissa Malfoy’s name is on the list.” Harry rummaged through the pile of internal memos that littered his desk. He had not had much opportunity to clear the backlog from his time in the field and his enforced time off over Christmas.

“I want to be there for all of it. I owe it to those who can’t speak for themselves.” Ron did not look happy about his answer.

“It’s not your responsibility mate. You have enough to do without adding to it. I need to go and report to Hestia, you should go find Robin. They’ll call for you if you are needed.” Harry nodded to his best friend letting him think he was agreeing, but as soon as he found the papers he was looking for he made his way down to the courtrooms where he knew Robin would already be.

  Courtroom Ten was already quite full as he arrived, even though the hearings were not due to start for another half an hour, there was a buzz of excitement in the air for the start of the trials. A lot of witches and wizards wanted to see justice being done, and plenty of others wanted to be seen wanting justice done. Harry joined his mentor by the door to the holding cells, the murmurs of the people sitting waiting intensified slightly at his arrival but he tried to ignore it. Robin’s face was an unreadable mask in front of so many people, but Harry heard him mutter under his breath some choice words. Harry took up a position to his other side assuming the same expressionless mask of just another Auror doing his job.

The whole assembled crowd stood as minister Shacklebolt entered and took his seat at the head of the wizengamot, his assistant right behind him with a large stack of papers.

“Good morning everyone. Let us get straight to the task as hand shall we?” He looked to the man to his immediate right, who had remained standing as everyone else had sat down. 

“First order of business is the acquittal of the late Sirius Black.” He announced, “In light of the evidence, that Peter Pettigrew was not murdered by Black, did not die at all but instead faked his death. I have confirmed testimonies from several members of the Order of the phoenix that Sirius Black was working for them in the fight against Voldemort upon his escape from Azkaban. He never had any dealing with death eaters or Voldemort at all.” The room was filled with the sound of rustling papers as the members of the court read through the notes and testimonies they had been provided with, once the noise died down Kingsley spoke up again.

“All in favour of acquitting Sirius Black of all charges.” The majority of the council raised their hands. “Those against?” Harry scanned the faces of those who still could not bring themselves to admit their mistake.

“Keep calm lad.” Robin’s voice was low and pitched just enough for Harry to hear. “You’ll get your chance. Don’t start giving eye daggers to members of the Wizengamot.” Harry tried to school his features back to a more neutral. Internally he was elated to see his godfather’s name finally wiped clean. He hoped it would help him rest a little more peacefully.

“Motion carried,” Kingsley’s voice boomed, he caught Harry’s eye for just a moment and nodded, before everyone moved on. “Next order of business?”

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Halloween Countdown - Dark Night

Summary: For some people, storms are a sign of bad luck coming. For Maven, lonely in her secluded castle, they meant she’d get to see her favourite human. Things change, however, when Johanna shows a longing for change, and Maven has no idea whether this will be good or ruin them. Vampire!librarian AU

Notes: Only two days for Halloween, where are the vampire librarian stans at? This fic was inspired by this post over here! Also I once more threw any historical accuracy out of the window. At first I was going to do a tribal celtic kind of thing, but then I realized it absolutely did not match the whole vampire thing and gave up. It’s probably set by the end of the Renaissance or something

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: Ghosting by Mother Mother

The night was dark and cold outside, with a biting wind that couldn’t be stopped even by the warmest of coats. The last thing someone would think about in a night like that was leaving their home to wander in the woods, and that’s what made Maven sure that she’d come. 

The first time Johanna had knocked at the doors of her castle, she’d been lost. Rain had been pouring down violently, making her soaking wet, water dripping from tendrils of hair which stuck to her face.

She hated to intrude, she’d explained, but she’d been picking mushrooms in the woods and the rain caught her unprepared.

Maven had let her in, of course. Not only because she wasn’t cruel enough to lock a seemingly harmless human out in the storm, but also because she had been intrigued. The woman couldn’t have walked too far just to pick mushrooms, meaning she had to live in one of the villages at the base of the hill in which her castle was. That being the case, she’d certainly heard the tales about the monster that inhabited the looming fortress, and if she was there at that very moment, she either didn’t believe them or was brave enough to face what everybody else would tell her not to.

Despite Johanna’s assurances that all she needed was a place to stay for the night, Maven had given her food (no matter what the villagers said, vampires <em>did</em> eat things other than blood) and a warm seat by the fire. Come morning, the woman had been gone, and Maven had assumed this would have been it. But it hadn’t been. 

A week later, Johanna had been at her door again. It hadn’t been raining that time, but the sun had already begun to set, in a way that she wouldn’t have been able to get back to her village before night fell and those parts became dangerous. She’d been invited in once more, seeming more at ease. She accepted the meal Maven had offered her without much deliberation, and gone as far as being curious about the castle. Maven had thought she would have been eager to fall asleep by the fireplace again, to be on her way as soon as morning came. Instead, she’d shown a lot of interest in some of the objects she saw, asking Maven for their stories, which she told gladly. When the birds began to sing, she once again left, and once again Maven thought she’d never come to see the intriguing woman again, and once more she’d been proven wrong.

On the third time she came, she hadn’t been so subtle. Her cover story was the same, that she’d been in the forest and lost track of the time, but that time she’d conveniently brought a pie which she’d baked into the woods, which she said she’d be delighted to share with the lady. Maven hadn’t wanted to flatter herself and think Johanna enjoyed her presence, after all she gave her food and warmth, two things that many villagers often went without, but she was no fool to continue thinking the visits were unintentional.

On that third night, Johanna had politely asked her to show her more of the castle. Though they’d spent most of the night in the last room Maven showed her, the library, the stronger memory they both had of that night was of the ballroom. The ample space was seldom used for its original purpose, of course, due to Maven’s secluded lifestyle, and seeing Johanna walk into it had made her feel like she’d breathed new air into the room, as if she’d brought some of her light inside her castle and made it shine at its core.

Taking Maven by surprise, something which she seemed to have gotten good at, Johanna had extended her hand and asked for a dance. Maven had been helpless to comply, and a group of instruments, which lied forgotten in a corner of the ballroom, sprang to life as if by magic, playing them an elegant tune Maven recognized though she couldn’t point out when it was she’d heard it. Maven interlaced her fingers with Johanna, one of her hands on her waistline, and they waltzed to the tune. That was the closest a human had willingly gotten to her in longer than she cared to remember.

When she left after that night, Maven had hoped she would have come back. Those visits had brought a warmth into her heart that she’d gone many years without even remembering how it felt, to care about someone else. And that time she’d been right, for week after week, Johanna thought it was an amazing idea to leave her house when the weather threatened to change and lost track of time in the woods, being forced to seek shelter at the vampire’s castle.

And she did know Maven was a vampire. Whether that was the case when they first met or not, Johanna had surely noticed at that point. Maven still remembered how her breath had caught in her throat when she had looked at one of the mirrors in the ballroom and only seen herself. Johanna had been shocked, she recalled, but she must have already had suspicions, because her surprise didn’t last long.

“Oh, we look so-” Johanna had been saying, one hand on Maven’s shoulder and the other with Maven’s own, when she looked at the mirror by the wall and saw only herself, dancing with emptiness. Her eyes had widened and she had inhaled sharply, but when she looked at Maven again she only smiled. “Beautiful!”

Maven had been too distracted wondering if she’d stop coming after noticing the tales were true to wonder about her comment. But she didn’t, and even if that hadn’t happened, even if Maven had taken care not to take her anywhere with mirrors, then Johanna would have noticed her sharp fangs in one of the many times she’d made her laugh, or the way her nose scrunched when she mentioned her village’s parish. It wasn’t ignorance that made her keep coming back, but they never talked about that. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them for Johanna to pretend she didn’t know, and for Maven to pretend she hadn’t seen it when she noticed. It was simpler that way.

The visits had become a spot of colour in Maven’s black and white world. Johanna had offered to bring life back into her home, into her soul, and she’d allowed her to. What bad did it cause to talk over a glass of wine and  steal glances at each other while they read? And if when Maven offered Johanna a room for the night, she climbed in bed with so the two women could cuddled together despite the warmth from the fireplace, then the world was none the wiser. 

Something had changed, though. The last time Johanna had been in her castle, saying she’d gotten lost in the woods and couldn’t come back home straightway because of the violent wind outside, she’d said something that had startled Maven before going away.

“Would you like me to bring Hilda the next time I come here?” She’d asked when Maven was about to see her out in the morning. “I think she’d love to meet you.”

Any coherent thoughts had been snatched out of Maven’s mind upon hearing those words. That wasn’t supposed to happen. With that simple question, Johanna had broken their silent accordance, the barrier that kept them at arm’s reach of each other at the same time that it kept them safe. Bring Hilda the next time. It was a spoken confession that she didn’t just happen to get lost in the woods often, even if they knew that already. It was  a sign of  clear desire for Maven to  be a bigger part of her life.

It was the end of their relationship as it had been, and they would never be able to go back to where they’d been.

“No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. Not… not next time, at least.” She’d answered, even though she would have liked nothing best than to meet young Hilda. The way her mother talked about her made her sound like a fascinating girl, but besides that, meeting her would be one more step inside Johanna’s life, one she realized she desperately wanted to take, but couldn’t.

Johanna had been disappointed, but she hadn't had it show on her face for more than an instant. Didn’t she tire, Maven wondered, to hide her feelings for the sake of keeping the appearances between them?

She probably did tire, because otherwise she wouldn’t be offering the perfect opportunity to reshape their relationship, to start again. And yet, Maven couldn’t accept, though her heart screamed at her to call Johanna back while she’d watched her walk away that morning.

That was what made her decide that she had to tell her to stop. If Johanna wanted a future, wanted commitment and love, she was wasting her time, and possibly even ruining her life by being invested in a monster. It was one thing to flirt and steal touches once a week, when the night was dark and the gloom hid them. It was entirely another to try and make them something <em>more</em>. Already, the people in Johanna’s village must be whispering theories about why she was seen climbing down the vampire’s hill so often.

If Maven didn’t stop herself, she’d ruin her.

Three knocks on her door. Maven had been right, Johanna had come that night.

She opened the door to allow her in and closed it just as quickly, so as to not let the cold in. It wouldn’t affect her if it did, but humans were sensitive to that sort of thing.

“Gosh, I didn’t see this gale coming! There’s no way I can come back home with the weather like this. Could I spend the night here, if it’s not too much of a bother?” She asked, even though she was already unclasping her cloak. Johanna was back to trying to keep appearances, and she didn’t sound too happy about it, avoiding Maven’s eyes for a few moments.

That night, it was apple cider she had taken with herself to the forest, she informed. They had it over dinner, while Johanna talked about her village’s preparations for the third harvest and Maven tried to ignore her growing feelings of despair. If she was to allow herself one last night with Johanna, she couldn’t spend it brooding.

“What do you wish to do now?”  Johanna asked when the meal was over, as her host got up from her chair and walked over to her, to offer her her hand.

“I was wondering if you’d give me a dance?”

Smiling, she accepted, and they walked through the castle’s corridors hand in hand, until they reached the ballroom. It had become another of their little traditions, to waltz at least once a night. They enjoyed the closeness it brought them, and besides, where else would a woman of Johanna’s station have the chance to dance? It wasn’t like she was invited to noble’s parties all the time, but still it was something that she liked to do and Maven was all too happy to provide her with the opportunity.

The tune played by the enchanted instruments was more melancholic than usual, as if the spirits playing them knew what Maven needed to say. The ceiling high windows showed the gloomy night outside as they danced, and the lit chandelier hanging from the red and silver ceiling made their shadows have their own waltz on the floor. Johanna looked normal, completely at ease as usual and seemingly oblivious to Maven nervousness.

It wouldn’t be fair, Maven figured, to wait until sunrise to talk to her. She had thought it might be best to, so as to spare them one awkward night, but as she pressed the human close to herself and guided her around the ballroom, the notion that she might be acting cruelly arose on her mind. Maybe if Johanna knew, she wouldn’t want to dance with her, or be near her, or do anything else they might have done that night. Besides, Maven didn’t think she’d be able to keep a calm act up for much longer.

“You can’t keep doing this.” She said briskly, as if getting the matter out of her way quickly would make it hurt less. Her voice was kept low enough so as not to echo in the room.

Johanna feigned ignorance, quirking up an eyebrow and looking at her with her sweet brown eyes as if she had no idea what Maven was talking about. The spark in them told her otherwise.

“You can’t keep coming up here.” To break their silent underhand vow felt dangerous, like stepping into a rickety bridge, but it was something that had to be done. She was only continuing what Johanna herself had done on her last visit, tearing a hole through whatever artfulness there still was to this scheme of theirs. “Coming all the way to the castle to see me.”

The only answer Maven had for a good few seconds was the sound of the phantoms playing and the wind howling outside. They didn’t stop dancing, but the vampire had to fight the urge to look away from Johanna’s face, to run from what she’d see there. It might have been just an impression, but for a moment it seemed like Johanna had sent her gaze up, as if praying for patience. Either that or she’d just rolled her eyes.

“Alright, then. In that case, I’d be honoured to have you visit me instead.”

Maven missed a step, catching herself before it could break their rhythm.

“That is not what I meant.”

“I know exactly what you meant.” Johanna snapped, not with rudeness, but rather with something urgent and exasperated about the way she spoke. Clearly, Maven had taken the hint that she hoped for a change in their rapport, and clearly she’d taken it the wrong way, overthinking it like she seemed to do with a frequency. But Johanna would not allow her to push her away. “You meant for whatever reason, you don’t want us meeting again. Very well, I won’t impose myself, but seeing as you seemed perfectly happy with our arrangement, it does get me thinking that maybe I’m not the problem.”

The vampire’s brows came closer together, and a sneer lifted her lips in a way that one of her fangs was visible. She didn’t like to be thwarted, especially not since she knew Johanna’s line of thought was close to the truth, and she might have intervened had the woman not been faster.

“There’s something between us, isn’t there? And we enjoy being with each other, or at least I enjoy being with you. So I’m leaving the decision up to you, Maven. Tomorrow night, my village will celebrate Samhain, and I’d love to have you as my guest; in case you don’t show up, I’ll know you don’t want to keep up this thing that we’ve got. if you do come… I suppose we will cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“This isn’t a matter of what I want.” Maven groaned, asking herself if Johanna couldn’t see she was trying to spare her the disappointment that was sure to come when she realized what exactly Maven was. Not that she’d ever hidden anything from her, but the woman couldn't possibly be hoping for a future with her if she saw who she really was and what she would bring with herself. “Johanna, people will begin to talk-”

Johanna huffed, looking partly amused even at the face of Maven’s distress. They had never spoken to each other like this, so truthfully and openly, and it felt freeing to finally do so.

“People have already begun to talk. That’s what people do, after all.”

Stopping her movements, Maven accidently made Johanna bump into her. For a second, their faces were so close that they would kiss if either of them leaned forward.

“Your village knows?”

Johanna shrugged. “They don’t know. But there are those who began to wonder, naturally.”

It had come to Johanna as no surprise when villagers began to whisper behind her back. It would have been shocking if nobody did, since every morning after a storm she could be seen walking down the infamous vampire’s hill, but that hadn’t been affecting her in the least.  Thanks to her daughter’s adventurous spirit, those who were particularly scared of monsters and magic already weren’t close to their little family, so none of her friends had distanced themselves because of Johanna’s unusual behaviour. As for others, Johanna was having no small amounts of fun hearing their absurd theories about what she did when she was away, and it wasn’t like they could affect her livelihood in any way. She was one of the best seamstresses in town, what were they going to do, walk around naked?

Taking a step backwards to restart the slow dance, the vampire sighed as she struggled to come to terms with Johanna’s calm. “Doesn’t that bother you? If you’re not careful, you’ll become the village’s pariah.”

“Not really. I’m not scared of them, it’s not like they’d burn me alive or anything like that.”

Maven had already run away from enough villagers with stakes to doubt the veracity of that statement.

“And aren’t you scared of me?” She asked somberly, hoping this time Jlhanna would think her answer through. She’d never said out loud that she was a monster, so the question, the act of admitting that she <em>was</em> something to be scared off ought to have had some effect on her. Maven hadn’t expected that effect to be laughter, though.

“Of you?” Johanna replied while still chuckling, with the humor of someone who had been vulnerable near the creature in front of her too many times to be able to believe any of the tales she’d heard. Right from the first night, when she’d genuinely had to seek refuge until morning, she’d seen that Maven wasn’t what it was said she was, and as she had walked out of the castle at sunrise she’d become living proof of it. There was something bewitching about her, though, and it made Johanna keep coming back with ridiculous excuses to see her. The time they spent together only served to prove that Maven wasn’t what she herself thought she was either. “I wouldn't really be here if I were, would I? It’s not like you put your fangs to my throat and threatened me should I not come or anything.”

Maven winced almost imperceptibly at the comment, not liking the reminder of the harm she could bring to Johanna if she so wishes and downright disoriented by the fact that she knew it too, and still insisted on not being afraid.

“You talk so much about Hilda’s taste for befriending monsters, yet you seem keen on doing much worse.”

“This time I really don't know what you mean.” Johanna smiled. “I see no monsters here.”

_#_#_#_

The rest of the night was spent as usual. They soon finished their dancing and went to the library, where Johanna picked a poetry book to read while Maven continued on her tome about scientific discoveries that had been made recently in the capital. Though she knew she was probably reading too much into it, Maven thought that Johanna had chosen to begin a new book instead of finishing the one she’d been reading on her last visit in order to send a message. You’re not getting rid of me that easily was what was written in her face when she asked for permission to sit down with her new book on the armchair next to her.

The woman had wanted to go to sleep eventually. Sometimes she would stay awake with Maven all night, but she’d already need to stay up late for the harvest feast. In the room she often took, small enough to keep in the heat of the fire yet bigger than Johanna’s entire living room, she tucked herself under the white covers while Maven stood awkwardly by the side of the bed.

A smirk on her lips, she patted the spot beside her in invitation. Generally, Maven would go away and come back when Johanna was pretending to be asleep, so she could hold her close and Johanna could pretend she wasn’t holding her back. It was a weird game that they played, but it still felt strange to drop it altogether and climb into bed while Johanna looked at her. Maven didn’t need to sleep, of course, but when the sun rose she still was by the human’s side.

“We’ll be near the main bonfire.” Johanna said as she put her cape over her shoulders in the morning, readying herself to leave. “If you can’t spot me, you’ll be able to find Hilda and she can tell you where i am. She’ll probably be running after some spirit, you see.”

Before Maven could answer, Johanna leaned towards her and kissed her cheek, just before lowering her hood over her face and walking out of the castle’s door.

_#_#_#_

The matter of whether or not she’d accept Johanna’s invitations had been gnawing at her soul the whole day, and nothing she did could shake it off. She’d been so resolute about leaving Johanna be, and yet now she couldn’t seem to keep strong in that decision.

It was only when night fell that she set her foot down, quieting the two conflicting parts of her mind. If Johanna was certain of her choice, why should Maven be the one to back away? Maybe she'd turn out to be a better person than she thought she was. Maybe, if given a chance, she could be what Johanna deserved. It hadn’t happened in centuries, but perhaps, if she gave it a try, she’d be surprised.

All that time, Johanna had gone through the trouble of visiting her. It sounded only fair that she was the one to go to her for once.

It was a quick trip on her bat form. She knew Johanna lived on the village by the west base of the hill, and indeed Maven noticed the bonfire at its center. Landing on the outskirts of the town to come back to her usual form, she kept her gaze down as she walked to the crowd. Usually she wouldn’t be afraid of being recognized by anyone who might have known what she looked like, but not bringing Johanna any trouble mattered more than keeping her own pride in that moment.

Looking for Hilda hadn’t been necessary. Even when she got to the main square, where the air was heavy with the scent of cinnamon spice and pumpkin and the torches and bonfires gave everything a yellowish glow, Maven had been able to spot Johanna. She was near an older woman, with short grey hair, talking to her with a cup of something warm on her hand. 

For one last moment, Maven considered turning back and letting the woman forget about her, probably for her best, but then Johanna looked at her and any thoughts of that sort faded away. She smiled and gestured for Maven to get closer, the woman by her side noticing her and looking at her with curiosity as well, which made Maven wonder if Johanna had told her about her.

“I’m so happy you came!” She said, looking at her like Maven had just saved her life. They both knew this was a matter much greater than of just showing up to an event, and the reality of what had been done, along with the new possibilities for the future that had been spread out in front of them dawned on the two women. 

On the border of her vision, Maven saw the other woman smile at them and walk away after wishing Johanna a good night. Johanna grabbed her guest’s hand, pulling her closer. When she realized she should probably answer, Maven cleared her throat.

“I’m very glad to be here too.”

Johanna’s smile widened.

“What would you like to do first? Hilda said she’ll meet us when supper gets served, but there’s still time until that. We can join the group that is getting offerings ready for the faeries, or we could go see the cunning woman! She’s been telling some amazing stories since morning.”

“Johanna, wait.” Squeezing her hand to get her to stay in place, Maven took a deep breath. Though neither options really pleased her, as she knew a cunning woman would know what she was immediately upon setting eyes on her, and she wasn’t about to leave anything to petulant beings such as faeries, the reason why she had halted Johanna was that there was something she needed to get out of the way.

Her head tilted to the side, Johanna blinked at her as she waited for Maven to continue. The golden light from the fire made her thick lashes cast moon shaped shadows on her skin.

“I know you waited very long for me to… do something. I’m sorry about it, and I want to do this right.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You’re here now.”

“Still.” Maven shrugged, trying to hide her anxiety. “May I kiss you?”

There was no answer before Johanna pressed her lips to hers, making Maven inhale sharply. She’d been thinking about something more private, not wanting to expose the woman, but no complaints would be heard from her part. She took control of the kiss, trying to deepen it in a way that her fangs didn’t hurt her, and hard as it was to maneuver it she couldn’t possibly have felt any better.

“I didn’t cut you, did I?” She asked when they drew apart, even though the grin on Johanna’s face should have been enough of an answer.

“Of course you didn’t.” Johanna was sure there was a blush on her face as she answered giddily, feeling like she was in one of her daydreams. “I told you already, there are no monsters here.”

Maven failed to wipe the dreamy smile off of her face as Johanna guided her through the crowd. It wouldn’t matter that Maven was as a creature as dark as the night around them. If Johanna had enough light to insist on her, they’d make it work.

[gaymy-raudenfeld]

Home is Where the Heart Is

I’m posting a little late, even by American standards, but I made it in time! A merry pitchmas to @snowbritt and all of you wonderful people. I haven’t posted any fanfic in a while so this may be a bit rusty.

Summary: When the Bellas find out they’ll be getting a house and sharing bedrooms, Beca tries to use the opportunity to get close to Chloe. When she doesn’t act fast enough, she spends the following months pining after Chloe and trying to find a chance to get close to her. Beca gets her wish in an unexpected way.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.1k

“Dear Barden Bellas,

Due to your recent streak of wins at the ICCA finals, we have decided it is only fair to award you the way we have awarded our other prestigious acapella groups in the past. We have secured the funding and approval to build a lodging house for all current and future Bellas to reside in throughout their time at Barden University. The proposed blueprints are attached…”

Beca was cut off by the screaming. The girls couldn’t believe it. They had won back-to-back ICCA championships and now they were being given their very own building. They could finally practice outside Barden’s tiny black box theatre, free from the drama kids who kicked them out so they could rehearse and the motion lights that sometimes left them singing in the dark, like some kind of cult-

“Wait a minute,” Fat Amy interrupted everybody celebrating, “this floor plan only includes six bedrooms.”

“Well then I guess we’re gonna have to double up.” Cynthia Rose said, eyeing Stacie.

“I wanna be with Jessica.” “I wanna be with Ashley.” Ashley and Jessica said at the same time.

“And we have to save one room for the new Bellas.” Beca added. The girls began to talk amongst themselves again when Fat Amy quietly approached Beca.

“How about it, shortstack?” She said, leaning in. “I promise to give you ample warning about any gentleman callers I may have.”

“Yes… I mean no… I mean what?”

“This is like the third time I’ve caught you daydreaming today; you have GOT to tell me what is on your mind before you wander into traffic or something.”

“How is telling you gonna stop me from wandering into traffic?”

“It’s not, but I won’t be able to hear your gossip if you’re in a coma.”

Beca sighed and lowered her voice even further. “Listen, if I promise to give you more details later, will you be chill about letting me room with Chloe?”

“Chloe?” Fat Amy questioned. “She takes forever to get ready before every practice and recital, which YOU were complaining about just last week. Are you sure you’ll be able to deal with Chloe’s daily makeup routine when you’re sharing a bathroom?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, I could get used to it.” Beca shrugged.

“What’s going on?”

They were interrupted by Stacie calling everyone to attention. “Okay! So the room assignments are gonna be one free room for new recruits, Ashley & Jessica, Denise & Cynthia Rose, Fat Amy & Beca, me & Chloe, and… Lilly sleeps in a room by herself. We all good with that?” The Bellas voiced their agreement.

“Fuck.” Beca muttered to herself.

The girls began to scatter, some still chattering excitedly about the Bella House, which would be ready by the Fall semester. When almost everyone had cleared, Fat Amy turned back to Beca. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

“I may have… developed a crush on a certain Bella.” Beca said, turning beet red.

“No way!” Fat Amy whisper-yelled. “Let me guess. Is it Stacie? Her legs are about as long as you are, so you get a good view.”

“It is NOT Stacie. Although you do have a good point about the view.”

“Well who is it then?”

Beca took in a deep breath, preparing to unload her secret. She breathed again, and as she exhaled, she said “Chloe.”

“Chloe?? Of course! The first time you met you were naked and it did something to you, psychologically.”

“It was the second time, and she just, wouldn’t leave my shower until I sang with her and I did and then I joined the Bellas and everything was totally fine.”

“And you JUST developed this crush?”

“It’s possible I was too traumatized by the event to understand my feelings until recently.”

“Yeah, or you’re just a clueless girl who fell in love with an even more clueless boy for like, eight months before you broke up because you realized you have feelings for a girl in your acapella group. Which, by the way, was bound to happen, with the amount of time the nine of us spend together.”

“Damn Amy, have you actually been paying attention in your psychology class?”

“Enough to know that you’ve got the hots for your redheaded best friend, and your life is only gonna get worse if you don’t tell her about it.”

“What do I even say?”

“That one’s on you, loverboy. Now, I gotta get out of here and meet a gentleman caller.”

Beca quirked an eyebrow. She was going to need to find a way to tell Chloe her feelings before the living arrangements were settled.

-

Beca did not find a way to tell Chloe her feelings before the living arrangements were settled.

Fall came in the blink of an eye and she found herself face-to-face with a slew of problems, including arranging new Bellas routines, her music theory professor who seemed to have it out for her, and the fact that she had a growing crush on her best friend and acapella group co-leader. Things were off to a great start.

The summer spent apart had only deepened Beca’s feelings, which was irritating. It didn’t help that she and Chloe spent a ton of time together choreographing dances for the competitions later in the year. Whenever the girls had to pair up, Chloe walked straight to Beca, grabbing her wrists with intention. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she belonged there.

“Bec?” Chloe had clearly been trying to get Beca’s attention.

“Huh? What?” Beca’s train of thought was broken.

“Are you ready to show them the moves we came up with?”

Beca nodded eagerly, attempting to make up for spacing out earlier. “Yep. Totally. Let’s do this.”

Chloe started leading Beca around the makeshift rehearsal area they had created in the Bella House’s living room. They had to move the couches around and it wasn’t as big as Barden’s black box but at least it didn’t smell like feet. It was easier to focus on what was in front of her, which, at the moment, was a certain redhead.

Chloe smelled like clean laundry and cherry blossoms, a product of the showers that were much easier to take now that she didn’t have to use a communal bathroom built for thirty people. Chloe may take a while to get ready, but Stacie takes even longer, and sometimes Chloe walks down the hall to Beca and Amy’s room and borrows their shower. Their bathroom smells like vanilla and cherry blossoms for hours afterward, and it drives Beca nuts in the best way possible. She watched Chloe perform the new routine with confidence, poise, and accuracy, and she felt her breath hitch in her chest.

What she didn’t feel was the edge of the coffee table as she tripped and fell backward onto its hard surface, banging her head. After everyone’s initial shock had passed, they went to check on Beca to make sure she was okay.

“I’m fine.” Beca stated assuredly. “Really, the worst thing I hurt is my ego.”

“Your head sounded like a bowling ball hitting the floor” Lilly said, almost imperceptibly.

“BECA!” Fat Amy shouted. “CAN YOU SAY YOUR A-B-C’S BACKWARDS?” She was speaking more slowly than normal.

“You know I can hear you right?”

“And isn’t that supposed to be for sobriety tests?” Cynthia Rose asked.

While they had been chatting, Chloe had sat down next to Beca and helped her sit up. She had her hand on Beca’s back, propping her up just in case she felt dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked concernedly.

“I’m fine,” Beca repeated, much softer this time, “really.”

Chloe was looking into Beca’s eyes, just checking her pupils. Such a clinical action, but Chloe made it seem so tender. She ran her hand up Beca’s neck to the back of her head, feeling for any irregularities. Beca felt chills run up her spine as Chloe rubbed her fingers across her scalp. She hoped she wasn’t being too obvious.

Chloe pulled back. “The bad news is you might have a small concussion. The good news is that lump on your head just may make you taller.”

“Ha-ha.” Beca fake laughed.

Stacie chimed in, “I had a concussion once and my doctor told me not to sleep. Wait. It was either my doctor or my mom. I don’t remember.”

“I think the best thing for Beca to do is to go lie down.” Cynthia Rose added.

“Does that have anything to do with you not wanting to practice the new routine?” Beca quipped from the table.

“If I carry you to your room can I not answer that question?” Cynthia Rose replied.

“Fair enough.”

Cynthia Rose crossed the living room to scoop Beca into her arms, and was about to lift her off the table when Fat Amy piped up. “Uh, um, Beca can’t stay in our room.”

“Why not?” Beca squinted at her roommate.

“Because… I’m going to have... a gentleman caller….. or two….. this evening.” She began to trail off near the end.

“Right on.” Stacie nodded in Fat Amy’s direction.

“Okay so where am I taking Beca to?” Cynthia Rose asked, still positioned to lift Beca.

“How about my room?” Chloe, who had been sitting quietly next to Beca for some time now finally rejoined the conversation.

Beca tried to be cool, looking at Stacie. “Is that alright?”

Stacie nodded. “Yeah, sure, I was planning on going out after this anyway.”

“Great, then it’s settled.” Cynthia Rose said. “I’m carrying Beca to Chloe’s room.”

-

They quickly discovered that Cynthia Rose couldn’t carry Beca up the stairs wedding-style. So it turned into Chloe and Cynthia Rose flanking Beca on each side in case she became dizzy after hitting her head.

“I feel like a fucking hospice patient.” Beca half-joked as they reached Chloe’s room and they helped her lie down on the bed.

“I got it from here, C. Rose thank you.” Chloe said, ushering her out and gently closing the door behind her. She turned off most of the lights in the room except for some string lights and a single lamp that emitted a soft pink glow.

“Wow, you went hardcore doctor out there.” Beca said a bit jokingly.

“This is like, my seventh year of school. If I can’t recognize a concussion when I see one I should just quit now and go back to clown camp with Aubrey.”

“Yeah I… I’m sorry BACK to clown camp?!?”

“It was a dark summer in middle school.”

“You owe me a story Beale.”

“I don’t owe you anything Mitchell.”

The two locked eyes from across the room and Beca felt her heart jump into her throat again. Good thing she was already lying down this time; nowhere to fall.

Beca relented. “How about an ice pack?”

Chloe nodded, a contented look crossing her face. “That I can do.”

She returned moments later with an ice pack, an extra blanket, and a box of chocolate chip cookies.

“Oh my God.” Beca stated when she saw the care package Chloe had assembled for her.

“I thought you might want the rest of these before they were devoured.” Chloe said, handing Beca the cookies.

Beca quickly opened the package and grabbed a cookie to chow down on. As she was popping the dessert into her mouth, she unthinkingly said “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Chloe said, perched on the side of her bed. She seemed more sincere than Beca was expecting. She awkwardly swallowed the large bite of cookie she had in her mouth in an attempt to change the topic as quickly as possible.

“So I’m concussed?” Beca asked, reaching for the blanket to put over her legs.

“Yep.” Chloe stated. “Couldn’t keep up with my choreo, huh?” She winked, handing Beca the ice pack. Beca didn’t want to talk about the real reason she injured herself: that she was too busy watching Chloe dance to pay attention to her own feet.

“You know I’m a notoriously bad dancer.”

“Is that why you always need my help during practice?”

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for you I would have done this like ten times already. I’m taking advantage of your veterinary health training.”

“Always good to be able to practice on someone who can give me feedback.”

“As long as you don’t shove a thermometer up my ass.”

“Well, Stacie IS gone for the rest of the night…”

“Watch it, Beale.”

The pair laughed for a second before settling into a comfortable silence. Chloe sat on the edge of the bed, tracing swirling patterns in her sheets. Beca looked around at the room she missed out on at the end of the last semester. It wasn’t all that different from her own; the only important difference was the girl she was in the room with.

When it became clear that Chloe wasn’t going to leave, Beca began to ask questions. “No plans tonight, huh? You’re not having a tinder-venture like Stacie or whatever the hell Amy is doing in our bedroom?”

Chloe chuckled. “No, nothing like that. I haven’t really gone out on a date in a while. Besides, I want to make sure you’re okay!” Chloe moved closer and fussed with Beca’s blanket.

“I appreciate the gesture, Chlo, but you’ve definitely got better things to be doing on a Friday night.” “Nothing more important than you.” Chloe looked up, meeting Beca’s eyes and offering a smile. Beca sheepishly looked away. Was that as serious as it sounded? Probably not, right?

“Do you mind if I…?” Chloe trailed off, motioning to her covers.

“Do I mind if you sleep in your own bed? No, not at all, just help me get over into Stacie’s bed.” Beca began to push herself up with her arms.

“You don’t have to move, actually.” Chloe said. Another surprise.

“Are you sure? It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Please, Beca. It’ll be easier. I’ll even let you be the little spoon.”

Beca scoffed. “What makes you think I want to be the little spoon?”

“Don’t you?”

Beca hesitated. “…….Fine.” She scooted over and allowed Chloe to slide in next to her. She could feel the warmth from Chloe’s body contrasting the ice pack she had been holding to her head.

“Is this good for concussions too?”

“Yep. Vet’s orders.” Chloe said as she settled in.

After a few minutes had passed, Beca spoke again.

“You know, I wanted this room really bad before we all moved in together.”

“Really? Aw Bec, you should have said something sooner. I’m sure Stacie and I would have been fine in your room-”

“It’s not really about the room. More like, the roommate.” Beca felt her stomach drop as she began to hint at her feelings for Chloe.

“Oh.” Chloe just said back.

Oh God. Oh fuck I’ve ruined everything I can’t believe I just came onto her like that-

”That’s really sweet of you Bec.”

Beca couldn’t believe it. The world was still intact, somehow. She inched backward into Chloe, and felt the redhead silently move closer to her at the same time. They fell asleep with their legs tangled, both tired from the long day.

-

The next morning Beca woke up early to a throbbing in the back of her head.

Ah, fuck. Beca thought to herself as she reached back to rub the tender part of her scalp, still half asleep. She was surprised to grab onto a face just behind her own.

“Good morning to you too.” Chloe said, muffled by Beca’s hand.

Beca turned over. “Shit. Sorry about that. What time is it?”

“Like… 8:30 on a Saturday. Are you late for morning yoga?”

“Fuck you.” Beca laughed and poked Chloe’s shoulder. “Ah man. I really stayed in here the whole night.”

“And you only snored a little bit.” Chloe joked, still lying down on the pillow.

“She’s feisty in the morning!” Beca retorted, eliciting a smile from Chloe. They were face to face now. Inches from each other. Beca watched the soft morning light filter in over Chloe’s face. Her hair was shining. She could see each fleck of gold in Chloe’s big blue eyes. Beca couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked.

The moments passed by silently as the girls enjoyed the most intimate moment either of them had experienced in a long time.

“Beca?”

“Yeah Chloe?”

“Would you be okay if I kissed you right now?”

Beca didn’t even give herself time to think before blurting out “Yes.” And in an instant, Chloe’s mouth was on hers. The kisses were delicate and sleepy, but full of the spark that had been building between them since the first time they sang together. When they needed to pull away for air, Beca took a moment to marvel at what was happening. “Woah.” She said, a look of incredulity on her face. “Did Chloe Beale just kiss me?”

Chloe nodded and the biggest smile spread across her face. “Sure did, Beca Mitchell.”

Chloe dove back in for more kisses and Beca eagerly responded, only interrupted by Beca’s brief cries of pain when Chloe’s hand accidentally wandered to the bump on the back of her head.

-

That afternoon Beca made her way back down the hall to her bedroom so she could get ready for the day. She ran into Fat Amy eating a popsicle on her bed.

“Amy, you’ll never believe what happened this morning.” Beca began.

“Let me guess, you finally sealed the deal with ginger?”

“How did-“

“It was my plan all along Beca! Do you think it’s a coincidence that I kicked you out of the room last night?”

“I thought you were seeing someone. ones. whatever.”

“I lied so you could get into Chloe’s room and make some music with your mouths.”

“Amy!”

“I TOLD you I would always give you ample warning when I had any gentleman callers! Because I’m a decent roommate, Beca, and I’m even better because I got you hooked up with your ladycrush.”

“Was it your plan for me to get a concussion too?”

“Sometimes you just have to seize the moment.” Fat Amy said, swinging her popsicle around emphatically.

“Wait a minute. Aren’t those the ones I bought?” Beca said, nodding at the popsicle.

“Ah yeah. See. I may have taken the last one as a reward for being a fantastic matchmaker-slash-roommate. I figured helping you get with Chloe would outweigh my poor decisions.”

Beca rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky Chloe is so great, otherwise you would owe me a new box of popsicles.”

The End.

[eskalations]

Could a retired sniper even become a loving mother after all she had seen and done?

FFN Link

(Day 3 "Old Wounds" - Royai Week 2020)

A/N: Here's my entry for Day 3 of Royai Week for the prompt "Old Wounds". I didn't really know where this was all going until it suddenly became a comprehensive retelling of everything that happened post-canon. I know the fandom likes to headcanon that Roy and Riza have a little boy named Maes, but I really wanted to give them a child who had her own name and identity. Plus, Roy Mustang with a little girl is an absolute weakness of mine.

I also have him calling her Lizzie because I’m a sucker for Pride and Prejudice and can just imagine how sweetly he would say it (much like Darcy says ‘dearest, loveliest Elizabeth) *swoon* 

I hope you enjoy! 

~

"Mommy?"

Riza was awoken from her slumber by a small voice and a tugging hand. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to regain her bearings in the near darkness of the room. Glancing at the window over the form of her sleeping husband, she noticed that the moon was still high in the sky.

'It couldn't be more than midnight,' she thought to herself, rubbing a weary hand over her eyes in an attempt to clear her vision.

"Mommy?" It was then that she remembered the reason for her sudden wakefulness. The tiny voice that she knew and loved so well was trembling with an escalating fear, the tugging hand at the back of her nightgown pulling a bit more roughly than before. Sensing the desperation in her plea, Riza turned around to face the small child.

"Elizabeth?" She asked, her voice coarse with sleep. A pair of dark, swollen eyes peered up at her from over the edge of the bed. "What are you doing up?"

"Nightmare."

Riza could tell that her daughter's sleep had been less peaceful than normal, just by the way her wild, dark hair was pulling out of her braid – evidence of the tossing and turning she had done before running to her parent's room. In the dim light of the moon, she could also see the fresh tear marks that marred her daughter's cheeks. The sight broke Riza's heart.

"Come here," Her mother quietly beckoned, reaching her arms out towards the three-year-old. Elizabeth stood on her tip toes as warm hands were placed under her arms. Once the young girl was settled between both her parents, Riza wrapped her up in a warm embrace and nuzzled her face into her shoulder.

Elizabeth was not the type of child to seek out her parents' comfort in the middle of the night, so this type of behavior was incredibly unusual for her. Whatever she had dreamt about must have really frightened her to have her traversing the dark halls of their home in the middle of the night.

"Lizzie?"

Riza cringed at the sound of her husband's sleepy voice, knowing that he needed to be up early in the morning for a meeting with his generals. But a tiny pair of cold feet had made their way to the exposed expanse of his back, waking him from his deep slumber and alerting him to his sweet daughter's presence.

The woman watched as her husband turned over – eyes heavy with sleep but concern evident in their dark depths. At the sound of her father's voice, Elizabeth buried her face even deeper into her mother's neck, fighting back the tears that forced themselves forward at his gentle tone. Riza glanced over their daughter's head, meeting his questioning gaze with a concerned one of her own.

If you had told them ten years ago that they would be sequestered together in a lovely home, married, and snuggled up with their daughter – they would have laughed at the sheer idea of it. Two killers, as horrible as them, could never repent enough to ever deserve the happiness that most human beings sought. It just wouldn't be fair after how many lives they had taken that they would get the chance to be together.

But life was full of surprises.

The first surprise was the pardoning of them for their crimes in relation to Ishval. Though they argued with Grumman over his decision to sign the papers to forever have them excused for their actions on the frontline, they couldn't find it in themselves to argue with the Ishvalan Elders. The Elders had asked that they, and whoever else had taken part in the efforts to rebuild Ishval, be pardoned on the grounds that, they would continue to commit their time and energy to ensuring something like the Ishvalan Extermination campaign never happened again.

While both Riza and Roy did not believe they deserved to walk free after all they had done, they swore that for as long as they were in a place of power, the Ishvalans would not be persecuted again. Roy took it one step further and even began lobbying for laws against hate crimes that would bring an ample amount of punishment to anyone who participated in them. They still had not forgiven themselves for their actions – however, they were adamant in their resolve to provide Ishval with whatever help they needed. If they wanted them alive and working, then that's what they were going to do.

The second surprise was Grumman's dissolvent of the Anti-Fraternization Laws. After having sat in the Fuhrer's chair for nearly three years, the old coot had decided that he had had quite enough of the laws that dictated a soldier's personal life, and chose to abolish those along with a few others. The moment those laws had been dissolved, the entire military seemed to turn their eyes towards Mustang and Hawkeye – but the two of them had far too much to do than worry about dating and marriage. Besides, they quite liked the secret nature of their relationship.

The third surprise was Roy Mustang's decision to not run for Prime Minister after power had been shifted to Parliament. The general public was shocked that the young upstart, who at the time was still a fresh-faced thirty-five, had decided not to move along with the power. Even Riza could hardly believe his decision to pass up the opportunity – that was, until he explained it to her.

'I'd rather become Fuhrer and be able to control the military than become a politician,' Roy had shared with her one night over supper. 'I know I would be decent at it, but I would rather focus on ensuring that the military never fall back into corruption than sit in on meetings where all they talk about are laws. I need to be doing something. I need to be in the Fuhrer's chair to make sure that the military will never be used to cause so much destruction ever again.'

The fourth surprise was Grumman's campaign for Prime Minister and his ultimate winning of the title. It was the first democratic election that Amestris had held in over two hundred years, the voters all agreeing that if they had liked the old General as a Fuhrer, they would most likely like him as a Prime Minister. Roy couldn't have been happier with the turn of events, now knowing that someone he trusted would be in control of Parliament.

That only left one thing to be decided. Who was to be Fuhrer?

Having jumped the ranks easily after his participation in 'The Promised Day', it came as no surprise to anyone that the newly minted General Mustang would not hold on to that title for long. Upon his 'promotion' to Prime Minister, Grumman had announced Mustang as his desired predecessor. There were few naysayers who remarked that the title truly belonged to Olivier Armstrong – however, the majority of the military found no reason to argue with the decision to give Mustang the chair. Besides, Armstrong preferred her title of "Queen of the North" to Fuhrer and wouldn't have it any other way. Briggs was her's; Mustang could have Central.

It was only after Roy Mustang had officially become Fuhrer that the idea of marriage finally became a possibility. With Roy's climb to the top done, he saw no reason for Riza to continue to stand behind him, and voiced his desire to have her stand beside him instead. The First Lady of Amestris would have many responsibilities of her own and he couldn't imagine any other woman filling that role but her. It took a while for Riza to agree to their union – still having lingering doubts after all she had done in Ishval – however, eventually Roy was able to wear her down.

Their wedding had been a spectacle, much to both their displeasure. They would have been happy with just a small ceremony and a few friends – but given Mustang's position as Fuhrer, they had no other choice. The whole of the military was there along with Fullmetal and his rambunctious brood of children. Though Roy was too proud to say anything, Riza knew that he greatly appreciated Ed setting aside his business in Resembool and making the time to attend the ceremony. Even Al, in his Xingese inspired get up, was able to make it as well.

After the wedding was done – the real work begun.

Roy settled in nicely to his new position, taking to his fuhrership like a duck took to water. Riza also had an easy time falling into her new role upon her retirement from the military. She enjoyed the opportunity to participate in projects that would assist the lower income families across Amestris and found that she had a real passion for projects that involved children.

Speaking of children…

At the age of thirty-five, Riza had begun to assume that her and Roy would never be blessed with a child. Naturally, she was disappointed – but she couldn't really say she didn't understand the reasoning behind fate's cruel decision.

That was when – a month after her thirty-sixth birthday – the sickness began.

To say she was terrified was an understatement. She had spent so long assuming that her and Roy would never have a child, that she hadn't even begun to think about what to do if they did have one. Could a retired sniper even become a loving mother after all she had seen and done?

There was one thing she knew for sure though – and that was that Roy Mustang would make an excellent father.

From the moment he knew of their child, he immediately accepted the "dad" role. There was not a single doctor's appointment that Riza went to alone. Not one morning did she spend her time on the cold tile floor of their bathroom alone, Roy always there holding her hair and whispering loving words of comfort. He was so gentle, so concerned, and so excited – fully accepting the good fortune they had been given and thanking whoever may have resided above for the blessing.

As time went on, and Riza grew bigger, her anxiety developed into her own sort of excitement. She was still scared – oh was she scared – but after having felt the baby kick for the first time, she could no longer question whether she would be able love this child enough. With that one little movement, she had realized that she already loved this baby more than anything – and no past of her's was ever going to negatively affect the future of her child.

Mustang's men, still loyal to the man as ever, had placed bets on what the gender of the baby would be, despite Riza's annoyance in regards to the whole affair. Being the total men they were, they all bet that the child would be a boy.

'Powerful men like the Fuhrer have boys,' Breda had told her once, positive in his assumption. 'Your little kicker is going to be a boy – I'm sure of it."

The only person who dared bet against the 'boy theory' was Prime Minister Grumman himself. He said that he had no inclination one way or the other, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to bet against the majority.

'I like to take my chances.' He had commented when asked about the rationale behind his bet.

Little did the man know that he would be walking away from Central Regional Hospital about thirty-thousand cens richer the day that Riza went into labor.

It was a girl.

Though her and Roy had never spoken about what they believed their baby would be, they had been convinced by their men that this child just had to be a boy. But man, were they wrong.

Elizabeth Mustang entered the world as pink as the blanket they used to swaddle her. With a small nose and heart-shaped lips, she was definitely her mother's daughter – however, she took more after her father. Even at birth, she possessed a head full of thick black hair and eyes as dark as the night sky. She was beautiful. She was perfect.

The men had been disappointed at first, but once they saw the newborn's face, their hearts were no longer theirs's. Elizabeth was going to be one spoiled little girl.

It wasn't until everyone had cleared out, and Riza and Roy were left alone with their daughter, that a thought occurred to the very tired, new mother. As she watched her husband cradle Elizabeth in his arms, his body naturally swaying in an attempt to comfort her – she realized why men like Mustang and Hughes were blessed with daughters rather than sons.

It was because they needed them.

Already, Riza could sense a change in Roy. His eyes held a sparkle in them that she had only seen a few times in her life, and she knew exactly what it meant. He had a new purpose. He was going to be the best man he could be for this little girl and protect her from all the evils that lurked in the world. Roy was a man that needed purpose in his life – he was too driven to live without it – and in Elizabeth he found a lifelong purpose that he was only happy to fulfill.

The goofy grin that appeared on his face as Elizabeth gurgled and twitched, had tears forming in Riza's eyes. In that moment, he looked more like Hughes than he ever had before.

The look he gave his daughter on the day of her birth was the same one he was giving her now. It was a promise, a promise to protect her from any harm she could possibly imagine. Riza was brought back from her reverie by her husband's sweet voice, beckoning their daughter again.

"Lizzie, what's wrong?" He asked the girl gently, placing a hand on her small shoulder in a show of support. Riza could feel the child's tears against her neck, the small puffs of air escaping the girl's mouth in her panic causing her mother's heart to ache. She had never seen Elizabeth this worked up.

"Elizabeth?" Riza asked, pulling the girl back from her neck so that she could see her face. The small girl tried her hardest to latch on to her mother, not wanting to be moved from her spot, but she was fighting a losing battle. "Elizabeth, what has gotten into you?"

"Scary," The little girl mumbled, her bottom lip trembling. She gazed up at her mother with puffy, dark eyes. "Too scary. I couldn't – I couldn't – find you. Fire."

The child's words were near incoherent with her breathing as rapid as it was, but both Roy and Riza were able to decipher the last word she had mumbled. Fire?

"Lizzie," Roy stroked the messy black braid that lay haphazardly down his daughter's back. Both his touch and tone were gentle. "It was just a dream. There's no fire."

"Daddy hurt."

Roy's brow furrowed in confusion. His hand went back to its previous place on her shoulder and he turned her over to face him. Reluctantly, the girl disengaged from around her mother's neck and laid flat on her back.

"I'm not hurt." The man insisted, gently pushing a few unruly strands of hair back from her face. He even gave her a soft kiss on the forehead for good measure. Usually these soft ministrations would be enough to calm his daughter down – but tonight, it just set off another round of tears.

"Burn."

"Burn?" Roy asked, taken aback by the fresh set of tears rolling down her cheeks. "What burn?"

At this point, Riza turned on her stomach to reach for the bedside lamp. With neither her husband or her sleeping, there was no point in leaving the room shrouded in darkness.

With the light now on, Roy had to squint to see the face of his small daughter. Although he had regained his sight many years ago, his eyes were still sensitive to light. Once he was able to blink away the pain from the unwanted intrusion, he focused back on the girl. Though the light seemed to calm her slightly, she was still pale as a ghost and crying.

"Burn." The young girl finally answered, lip wobbling as she attempted to speak clearly. "You're burn, Daddy. It hurts."

Ah, that explained it.

When Roy had put her to bed that night, he had foregone his shirt in favor of a light robe. It was summer and their home stayed warm in the evenings due to its position in relation to the sun. Though Elizabeth had seen him multiple times without a shirt, it was the first time she had taken notice of the large burn on his side.

Roy had thought nothing of it – just telling Elizabeth that it was a burn he had received in his earlier years with the military. Being the Flame Alchemist's daughter, Elizabeth knew about fire and what happens if you touch it. Knowing this, Roy had simply brushed off the situation, kissing her on the head and tucking her in for the night.

He never even thought to reassure Elizabeth that it no longer hurt (well, it still ached – but not bad).

"Lizzie," He murmured, moving closer to the toddler. "Daddy's burn doesn't hurt anymore. Everything's fine."

At these words, his daughter stopped mid-hiccup. With small fisted fingers, she rubbed at her eyes, before looking up at him in confirmation.

"No hurt?"

"Nope!" Roy told her, smiling widely before turning over on to his back, the sheet sliding down to his waist and exposing the old wound. "See? I can even touch it!"

Elizabeth watched as the man took two fingers and prodded the puckered skin of his side. She watched his face for any sign of pain, but there was none. From her side of the bed, Riza breathed a sigh of relief, believing this was confirmation enough to soothe the child after whatever nightmare her mind had managed to conjure up.

"Mommy's?"

Roy's brows furrowed in confusion at the question, his fingers pausing over his skin. "Mommy's what?"

"Burn. Mommy has burn."

So much for not allowing her past to affect her daughter's future.

Riza was normally so careful with her back, only ever exposing it on hot, summer nights when she opted to wear a nightdress instead of one of Roy's old shirts to bed. Elizabeth had never had reason to see it, her mother's blonde hair reaching just past her shoulders once again and covering up the small sliver of tattoo that resided at the base of her neck.

However, when the young girl had crept into their room that night, she must have seen the burn that lay on her mother's shoulder blade, and recognized it as the same wound she saw earlier on her father. Whatever nightmare she had – doused in fire, surely – must have only been made worse once she chose to seek comfort from her mother, only to be met with a back full of scars.

"My burns don't hurt, Elizabeth." Riza assured her – one hand coming up to gently play with the sweaty locks that lay on her forehead. Oh, how she loved this child. "Daddy and I are all better now."

"Really?" The toddler asked in a sweet voice, her tone hushed. The hopeful look in her eyes was enough to almost make Riza cry. Such a big heart, for such a small girl. How did two killers create this?

"Yes, really." Riza leaned in to kiss her cheek, taking her thumb and wiping away the last remnants of tears that lay on her pale skin. "Mommy and Daddy will never let the same thing happen to you. You're safe with us."

Roy regarded his daughter with a tired smile, nodding at his wife's words. "You have nothing to worry about, Lizzie. Old wounds are old wounds."

Though her toddler brain couldn't comprehend what he was saying in the last part – the young girl nodded, accepting her parents' reassurances. This had Riza breathing a sigh of relief, hopeful that they might be able to go back to sleep.

At that exact moment, Elizabeth's mouth opened in a yawn – the excitement of the night finally catching up to her. The sleepy expression on her face was too adorable for her parents to ignore, both looking at her fondly as she snuggled down into the pillow between them.

Riza had already turned over on to her stomach, arm reaching out to flick the switch of the lamp off – when she felt a tiny pair of warm, chapped lips graze over her back. Tilting her head back, she watched as Elizabeth repeated the gesture by placing a small kiss right over the burn mark on her father's belly.

As if she didn't realize how much of an affect her actions had on her parents, the small girl snuggled down in the blankets once more and was out like a light before her mother could even turn the lamp off.

Roy looked over at her, shock written across his features. She imagined she looked much the same.

Once they had gotten over their initial surprise, both settled back into bed, praying that sleep would come easy with the busy day they had ahead. After she turned the light off, Riza lay facing away from her husband and daughter. She didn't want either of them to see the silent tears that now streamed down her face.

If she had turned around, she would have noticed a slight telltale shake in Roy's shoulders, as well. It wasn't the first time she had thought about it that night, but she found herself asking the same question again.

How did two killers create this?

[bbk-writes]

Notes: approximately 3k words of Alec turning 30, and Magnus giving him an absolutely bonkers gift because hey, the love of his life conquering an entire decade deserves nothing less. 

When Alec turned twenty-six, Magnus had taken him to Amsterdam for a weekend of debauchery that took Alec all of the subsequent week to recover from. Every time Magnus had thought that maybe he should pull the plug on it, another round of tequila shots appeared out of nowhere and Alec would take immense pleasure in pressing a wet, decadent kiss to Magnus’ wrist before dashing it with salt. The way Magnus’ blood lit on fire each time had been animalistic. Being married to Alec hadn’t lessened how much Magnus wanted to do terrible things to him, but being pressed together by a crush of tourists and locals under the pulsing lights – it was something else. Alec had been something else when they’d finally stumbled back to their hotel room. Magnus almost can’t believe those two days even happened, the whole thing seemingly from a particularly lush, depraved fantasy someone pulled from Magnus’ mind and made into reality.

But that was when Alec was twenty-six. When they were newly settling into Alicante, settling into their new jobs, and consciously settling into this shared life with each other.

At thirty, things are very, very different.

Taking care of two young children is the kind of responsibility that doesn’t allow for impromptu getaways. The two of them still have numerous much-needed date nights, but Alec’s birthday isn’t one of them: all birthdays are family events. The look on Alec’s face when he has waffles brought to bed by a solemn Rafael and a cheerful Max toddling beside him is a gift to Magnus in ways he can’t quite articulate. Seeing Alec draw them close, press kisses tenderly to their temples. Catching Magnus’ gaze over the top of the boys’ heads, mouthing, thank you, for something that Magnus never needs gratitude from Alec for, not when it’s his due.

Presents were next, followed by a portal to New York for lunch with the Lightwoods (though they’d call it breakfast), and then back in Alicante with ample time before dinner so the boys could take naps. In that stillness that can only happen with both the kids passed out, Alec pulls Magnus close under the warm afternoon sun and kisses him with slow, deliberate intent.

It’s not just the two of them again until past ten in the evening.

Raf wants a very specific story tonight in his mother tongue, and Magnus curls up beside him and reads until Raf’s sound asleep. By the time Magnus gently extricates himself from Raf’s bony limbs and makes his way to their bedroom, Alec has already showered and changed into his sleep clothes. He’s settled comfortably on the bed – scrolling through his phone with his back against the headboard, bare feet crossed at the ankles – and looks up when he hears Magnus open the door.

The sight of him in their bed, bathed in warm golden light, is such a comfort that Magnus feels the rigid hold he’s held around his exhaustion abruptly vanish. It’s how it’s supposed to be in a sanctuary, when to the depths of his bones Magnus knows it’s safe to be this way.

“Hey,” Alec greets, putting aside his phone. The way Alec’s body relaxes, moves just so as though to create a welcoming space for Magnus – well. Magnus doesn’t hesitate to take what’s being offered, crawling over their duvet and collapsing against his side.

“You got the easy one today,” Magnus complains into Alec’s shoulder.

“Magnus, Max is never the easy one.”

“That’s what I was banking on, but clearly tonight’s the exception that proves the rule.”

Alec takes Magnus’ hands between his own and starts to slowly twist the rings off.

“Raf was grumpy tonight?” he asks, and Magnus looks away from the strangely mesmerizing sight of Alec’s fingers at work to focus on his question.

“Not exactly..."

It would be easy to play it off as that and grumble out some more playful complaints, but there’s something terribly sweet about Raf that makes it impossible for Magnus to tease him the way he can tease Max without blinking an eye. That Magnus sees Raf, at five, as a little person is part of it, a person who has had a hard life in the blink of time he’s been on this Earth. That he’s also quiet and gentle and wide-eyed with this fragile trust he has with them is another.

Magnus sighs as Alec takes off the last of the rings, depositing them on the bedside table. He then moves on to unclasp Magnus’ watch.

“No,” he says at last. “No, he wasn’t grumpy. He’s just – he just had a hard time falling asleep and didn’t want to be alone.”

“D’you think one of us should stay with him? Camp out on the floor for the night?”

“No, no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I think he was a little overwhelmed after all the rushing around today. New York and keeping up with the constant barrage of attention from his aunts and uncles and grandma left him a bit wired, maybe.  Reading together helped – he seemed fine by the time he fell asleep.”

“Well, of course,” says Alec, matter-of-fact. “How better to feel safe and settled than with his papa, the most powerful man in Alicante?”

“Oh, stop.”

This must be the millionth time Alec’s said something like this, but that doesn’t stop Magnus from being hit with a swell of fondness each time. A tiny reminder of the kind of man Magnus joined his life with: sweet, a little playful, never pulling short with his affection and Magnus doesn’t know if he’s the most powerful person in Alicante, but he’s definitely the most blessed.

Magnus shakes himself out of it. He really is becoming a sentimental old man if a throwaway joke from Alec is all he needs to get like this. But it’s Alec’s birthday, and Magnus has spent all day and every day that preceded unable to think of anything else but this: I love you he thinks, and says it by pressing a kiss to the corner of Alec’s mouth.

“I still haven’t given you your birthday present,” Magnus murmurs, fingers curling into Alec’s hair.

“You can give it to me right now,” says Alec, and it takes just one look at his grinning face for Magnus to understand what he’s talking about.

“I mean your other birthday present. One that isn’t just my body. Which you have access to everyday, might I remind you–”

“Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m so – what’s the term–”

“Goal-oriented?” suggests Magnus, and laughs when Alec gives him a flat look.

“I was going to say, low maintenance.”;

“Maybe sometimes I want to maintain you more,” says Magnus without really thinking about it, even though there’s nothing about that sentence that makes sense and yet Alec seems to understand exactly what Magnus had meant to say. That little bit of mischief in Alec’s eyes soften into something else entirely. It’s a look that still has Magnus want to look away sometimes, the weight of that tenderness almost too much to bear.

They say that you never get used to sunsets no matter how many thousands you see. It must be the same when it comes to Alexander: not his handsomeness, exactly, but how the secrets of his uncommonly loving heart are so clearly etched in the lines of his lovely, beloved face.

“You’re sweet,” says Alec. “And whatever this gift is, you know I’m gonna love it.”

“And just so there aren’t any misunderstandings,” clarifies Magnus, “I’m also planning on performing extremely depraved acts on your body tonight.”

“Oh, good.”

Glancing at his watch Magnus mutters, “If only your parabatai would just get himself over here–”

Thathas Alec immediately pulling back.

“Uh,” he says, giving Magnus a suspicious glance. “Why exactly would Jace be coming here at eleven at night?”

“Because your present is outside the apartment,” says Magnus. “And we can’t just leave the kids here unsupervised.”

“Is that the real reason why he portaled to Alicante with us?”

“Yes,” says Magnus, and just then the wards let him know that Jace entered the building. “Oh, perfect, he’s here. You don’t have to change, but put on some shoes and a sweater, will you?”

Magnus presses one more kiss to Alec’s mouth and swings off the bed, suddenly full of anticipatory energy. In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter when exactly he shows this to Alec, and yet it’s of the utmost importance for Magnus to have it be today.

Alec bewilderedly follows his instructions, looking back and forth between Magnus and, somewhat longingly, the rumpled, golden sheets of their bed. For a man who’s ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, Alexander has never managed to shake off the indulgence of staying in bed whenever he has the opportunity to.

“I’m ready,” says Alec. His hair’s rumpled and he’s got his bomber jacket on, which means he looks devastatingly sexy even with his soft cotton pajama pants and terrible summer sandals. “What exactly should I be expecting?”

“Ah, it’ll be easier to show you.”

-

To Alec’s credit, he doesn’t seem apprehensive to have to step through a portal and into a forest in the middle of the night. Mostly he looks intrigued, his overall bemusement fading as his eyes become more alert, looking around curiously at the tightly packed trees. The moon is bright above them, and streams of light fall through the dense canopy of leaves.

“Where are we?” Alec asks. He starts to walk when Magnus takes his hand and gently tugs him forward, navigating through the thick branches.

“In Brocelind Forest, near the Swiss border. Maybe a mile or so from the Alps.”

“A mile,” repeats Alec. He keeps his voice soft as to not disturb the stillness around them. Magnus doesn’t have to see his face to know that he’s smiling. “When d’you think you’re going to start using kilometers like the rest of the country?”

“Am I really hearing this from a born and bred New Yorker?” Magnus whispers back.

“Excuse me, you know that I was born in–”

“Being a New Yorker isn’t about citizenship, Alexander. It’s about a certain mindset. An attitude, if you will. How you see the world and engage with it. And trust me when I say that you? Are a New Yorker.”

As he says this, Magnus pushes the last of the branches aside to step out of the dense forestry and Alec’s retort catches at the tip of his tongue as he sees what’s waiting on the other side.

There’s not a single gift Magnus has ever given Alec that hadn’t been received with gratitude and enthusiasm, no matter how extravagant or how subtle. And yet Magnus’ heart is fluttering like a hummingbird. This isn’t a typical gift. There’s a reason he wanted to show this to Alec privately, even though they can come back in the morning with the kids.  

The grassy earth has given way to the rocky shores of a lake. The lake, under the shadow of the mountains, vast and dark and majestic. The still, endlessly deep water reflects the perfect full circle moon. The night sky is visible in all its glory now that they’ve cleared the forest, and each and every pinprick of a million, ten million stars is visible above, spilled carelessly and in abundance across the endless black.

Magnus has seen this exact view numerous times during the last year and still the sight never fails to weigh down on him, make his knees want to buckle. It’s immense, it’s beautiful.

It’s only right that it’s Alec’s.

“Wow,” is Alec’s short, succinct response. Magnus releases his breath, relieved. Alec looks dazed as he lets go of Magnus’ hand to step further toward the lake, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “Magnus… this is incredible.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Alec walks closer to the shoreline and carefully reaches down to pick up one of the smooth stones. He is still Alec, the most beloved person in Magnus’ universe, still in his gray pajama pants and a battered jacket – but kneeling at the edge of the water and glowing pale under the night’s light, Alec could be a spectre, the spirit guardian of the lake.

There are still traces of astonishment, of marvel, on Alec’s face when he starts back toward Magnus.

“Thank you for showing this to me.” Alec’s eyes are wide, bright with wonder and gratitude. The hazel of his irises only a thin ring around his blown pupil. Dilated as they try to soak in the faint traces of light. “I didn’t know there was a place like this in Brocelind Forest. It’s not in any of the maps.”

“Yes,” says Magnus. “It wouldn’t be.”

“How’d you find it?”

Magnus uncharacteristically finds himself playing with his wedding band as Alec often does, the only ring Alec hadn’t carefully eased off his fingers earlier.

“I didn’t,” he says. “I made it.”

Alec’s expression gently slides into one of puzzlement. “What d’you mean?”

“It’s not every day the love of my life clears a decade.”

Alec’s close enough now for Magnus to smooth away the wrinkle between Alec’s brows with his thumb. His other hand comes to rest above Alexander’s chest.

“You know that feeling you had when you stepped out here, like you couldn’t believe something so stunning could exist?” Alec doesn’t look away from Magnus as he slowly nods in response to Magnus’ question. “And there was a pressure on your chest, right here,” says Magnus, tapping his hand above Alec’s heart. “Because seeing the universe unfold above you is too big. Makes you feel too small, like you’ll be crushed under the weight of it. Makes you think, what am I when faced with the reality of this?”

“Yes,” Alec’s response is so quiet Magnus barely catches a wisp of it, despite them standing only inches apart. There’s something changing in the lines of Alec’s face – the slow dawn of understanding, right at the cusp of midnight. “Magnus–”

“That’s how I feel every time I look at you,” murmurs Magnus. “And that’s how every person who stands at the shore of Alexander Lake will feel when they look out over the water, or look up toward the sky.”

Alec looks disbelieving. He still doesn’t look away from Magnus.

“I cleared the grounds with my magic. I dug the basin into the earth, I carved the path which flows the water in from the Rhine.” Magnus takes Alec’s face in his hands. “I know every inch of this land, Alexander. I had to, to make it perfect for you.”

And Alec kisses him.

Alec kisses him with the kind of force and desire that almost knocks Magnus off his feet. A kiss that burns through him, serves as just one more of countless instances that Alec’s left him breathless with the profound, undeniable reality of his unparalleled heart and how he thrusts it into Magnus’ hands repeatedly, without hesitation. A kiss that makes it easy to understand why Magnus would go ahead and do something that would have them change all the textbooks, the maps, the composition of the country, that had the natural history museum send to Magnus a draft write-up for review: Alexander Lake is not part of the natural formation of Idris. It was created over the course of three years by Magnus Lightwood-Bane, the first and current High Warlock of Alicante, as a gift for his husband, Alexander Lightwood-Bane. The lake was finished in the year 2022 and meticulous efforts were taken by Lightwood-Bane, the City of Alicante, and the inhabitants of Brocelind Forest to ensure the preservation of the surrounding ecosystems...

Magnus pulls Alec toward the treeline, the ground turning into grass and soil instead of unyielding rock. Alec’s hands grip Magnus’ shoulders the whole time. Every sound out of Alec is swallowed up eagerly, greedily by Magnus’ mouth. Magnus hits the trunk of a tree but he barely notices how the rough bark digs into his back – all he can perceive is Alexander, the press of his lips, the lines of his body against Magnus’ own.

“I love you,” says Alec against Magnus’ mouth, his chin, his neck. Down Magnus’ chest. “By God, Magnus – I love you.”

There is something raw, untethered in the manner in which the two of them become one, their bodies burning hot even amidst the cool autumn night air. Gripping the cold grass in his hands, the prickle of fallen leaves against his feet, the hardened earth beneath them. These words Alec presses into every inch of Magnus’ skin – the truth of them is woven into the fabric of Magnus’ universe. It’s what makes Alec the sun, leaving behind every other star light years in the dust: his devotion to Magnus burns so bright that there’s no room for any doubts.

He is a permanent part of Magnus, seared into Magnus’ very soul. And now Alexander will be a permanent part of the world as well. It will outlast Alec’s fragile, radiant mortal life. It will outlast even Magnus, which is only fitting. For as long as the Rhine flows and the earth spins, love for Alexander will exist.

-

-

End notes: This was originally going to be the kick-off for a larger split-POV story re: the immortality/mortality debacle. 

The working title for this fic was: Crossroads. 

The working summary was: Alec turns thirty, Magnus turns maudlin, and the two of them have a long awaited conversation about their future. 

[eliminatedtheimpossible]

The Spectre of Cornwall

I’ve spent the last week solving a case posed by a reader of this blog. Originally, I had assumed John would write a retelling of such events but as he took a week off to follow me out to the countryside to pursue the case he is now making up much of his time at a local clinic and has little spare time. 

The case has been added to the growing list of times John and I have taken on instances that involve theories of the ‘supernatural,’ all of which have taken place outside of London. I’m sure you are all familiar with the case John dubbed ‘The Hounds of Baskerville’. Another such incident involves a weekend trip to Sussex investigating claims of vampirism. As it is always my pleasure to debunk baseless claims and idiocy it should come as no surprise to the readers that despite facing ample numbers of cases laden with claims of the supernatural, I have yet to face a case where these theories hold any legitimate ground. Such was the fate of the spectre in this case.  

I was contacted by a young woman who wished for John and me to visit her mother’s home in Cornwall as she claimed to be experiencing a ‘haunting’ by her late husband. The husband in question was said to have died two years prior while on a fishing trip with a handful of work colleagues. He and four others had gathered their money together to buy a fishing boat. This seemed odd as the man worked a well enough paid job to afford the costs on his own. However, discussion with the wife revealed the man to be frugal to the point of avarice. 

A storm had dashed the small fishing boat up against rocks on the coastline. Of the three men and two women who had left for the trip the bodies of two had been found. One a forty-seven-year-old man and the other a thirty-six-year-old woman. The other three men (including the client’s father) and woman were never located. It was suspected they were lost at sea. 

The ‘spectre’ of the missing, assumed dead, husband had begun wandering around the family home one month before the client contacted me. How my client rationalised why it was the dead husband had suddenly chosen to rise from his watery grave and peek through windows in the middle of the night, I will never know. 

John was surprised I took the case. Despite his otherwise rational ideologies, John has the habit of leaning on borderline Spiritualist beliefs when it comes to cases such as this. He believed there was nothing we could do. Of course, he was wrong. After investigating the home and talking with several of the husband’s old workmates John and I opted to stay the night a the seaside home while our client and her mother stayed with family. 

It was said the husband was most frequently seen gazing in the window to his wife’s bedroom and so John and I spent several hours huddled together on the bed waiting for a sign of him. It was a boring and tedious affair, only lessened by having John there for company. Though John appeared to take the case less seriously than usual and chatted away mindlessly. As he still believed the two of us were either waiting for a ghost or for a hallucinogenic drug he supposed I slipped him to kick in. Neither of which occurred. 

It was just after 1 PM when the face of a man, fitting the description of the dead husband appeared at the window. To his credit, John blanched only slightly before running after me to confront the man. I flung open the window and shocked the husband into fleeing. John and I chased him across the craggy coastline for almost a kilometre before we finally caught the very fleshy, very alive ‘spectre’ of the Cornwall Coast. It was then, the husband confirmed my suspicions. 

The man had been having an affair with one of his female coworkers. He had been planning to divorce his wife for some time and had been hoarding away money beneath their mattress, hoping for the wife to remain unaware of the money. That way, if a divorce lawyer were to insist the wife keep half of the money within their shared bank account the husband would still leave the divorce with more than half of their earnings. 

While on the fishing trip, the husband had been thrown overboard in the storm, and upon finding the ship dashed against the coastline he discovered the bodies of two coworkers. However, three of the ship’s inhabitants had remained relatively unscathed: The husband, his lover, and another man who in his years of gambling had garnered a substantial debt. All three saw the wreck as an opportunity to start a new life, assuming they would be reported either as dead or missing. 

Furthermore, after over a year of living from pay-check to pay-check and town to town, the husband and his new companion found themselves wishing for the stability they once had. It was then the husband remembered his supply of money, tucked beneath his wife’s mattress and returned to spy on the house, waiting for the right moment to collect it. This of course was when the wife spotted her supposedly dead husband and had assumed him to be a ghost. 

All in all, it was a simple, yet refreshing case. It’s nice to have a change of scenery, plus the case kept John and myself busy enough not to dwell on the more sentimental matters between the two of us. 

On the train ride back to London John and I sat across from one another in the compartment. I unpacked how I had come to the conclusion that the husband had been cheating, most of which came from testimonies given by his other coworkers. They had described the man and his secretary as having ‘a close but professional relationship.’ The former seemed to be an observation of the couple together while the latter was most likely a comment made by the husband when asked about his relationship with his younger secretary. 

Once the particulars of the case were explained we lapsed into a comfortable silence. John had yawned and shifted to sit beside me. At first, I was unsure of what he was doing, but of course, we had spent half of the night before awake and running around after ghosts. Neither of us had slept. 

“May I?” John had asked. I’d been unsure what he meant but as it was John I assumed whatever it was would be fine and nodded. 

He shut his eyes and rested his head on my shoulder. This was another action to add to the list of ‘things John is now okay with doing’. It seems to be growing by the day. I rested my head against the top of his, something else he is now okay with and found myself falling asleep. It was the first time I can ever recall being able to sleep on a train. It was pleasant. 

S.H. 

[spudandemdotravels-blog]

New Zealand - Auckland and the Bay of Islands

Kia Ora from New Zealand!

We can’t quite believe it, but this is our LAST stop! That being said, we still have over five weeks to go and we are in a country that we are both very excited about so its not all bad.

After expecting Virgin Australia to be a decent airline with reclining chairs and media screens, we were thoroughly disappointed when we found out that it is in fact Australasia’s answer to RyanAir. As the saying goes, there is always a silver lining, and after preparing ourselves for 10+ hours of flights we found out that the flight to Brisbane was about four hours, and onto Auckland was only three! This made putting up with the incredibly uncomfortable chairs and distinct lack of entertainment considerably easier to endure, and to be honest the food wasn’t all that terrible either.

We touched down in Auckland feeling relatively fresh and sorted our car within very good time. Our chariot for the next month and a bit is the almighty Hyundai Getz. We won’t brag by posting a picture of it right now, but feel free to paint a picture in your head of a golden baked bean can on trolley wheels with a lawnmower engine. This is the weapon that we will be travelling thousands of kilometres around both the North and South Islands, and will be sharing with another couple for three of the five weeks we are here for. Wish us luck!

Once the car was sorted we made our way to Auckland city centre where we would be staying with Tom and Leonie for two nights. We know Tom and Leonie through Ed and Kate, and can’t thank them enough for their hospitality. Not only did they help us by letting us use their flat as a base to set ourselves up with camping gear, they also very kindly agreed to buy and collect our tent for us on TradeMe before we even arrived. A huge thank you to them, and we hope we can repay the favour in the future! Our first night was a good one for three reasons. We were in the company of familiar faces, we had a decent bed and bathroom, and because Spud drank ale for the first time in four months. We had homemade pizzas for dinner, then headed to a local pub for drinks. It was a great night and it certainly felt like we were back in Western civilisation. We managed to catch up with Ed and Kate that night and hit the sack at gone 1am. Our bodies were still telling us that it was 8pm so we were in for a rough day the next day.

We woke up at around 9am definitely feeling like it was 4am. We were groggy and a little jaded from the booze the night before, but we turfed ourselves out to The Warehouse to buy some camping kit and to have the AC tested on the car. We were quietly hoping that it wasn’t working so that we got another car but the hire company spent the time proving to us that it was working so we left with our tails tucked between our legs. That afternoon we visited the Coopers Creek winery. Tom and Leonie had seen that a jazz band were playing, so we bought some picnic stuff and enjoyed a couple of bottles of their delicious white wine listening to some cracking live music. There’s nothing like sun, live tunes and hair of the dog drinking to sort you out. We felt much better by the end of the gig, and once we got back to the flat we walked into the centre of Auckland for an ice cream and wander around the docklands.

As the jet lag was still affecting us slightly we got a relatively early night so that we were fresh for the next day. After saying our goodbyes we made our way to another The Warehouse and a couple of charity shops to collect the rest of the camping kit we needed. We were a bit anxious about all of the stuff that we had bought, given that we still needed to fit two extra people and their baggage in the car, so for our drive north we decided to dry run putting some of the kit on the roof of the car. It all worked out pretty well and head room wasn’t compromised by the straps, so we put some miles behind us up to the Bay of Islands. The drive was pretty scenic and some of the views of the headlands and islands off the east coast were spectacular. What we didn’t expect was how quickly we would get cut off from civilisation once we left the highway. We knew that we needed to pick up a gas bottle for the cooking stove, but we inadvertently missed our last opportunity to buy one before we got to the camp site. So, we had a salad for dinner and overnight oats for breakfast, and Emily sweet talked our neighbours into boiling some water for tea for us the next morning.

The campsite we stayed in was called Puriri Bay. We recommend it to anyone exploring the North Island. It is a well sheltered, tranquil campsite right on the coast where you can swim over oyster beds if you want to. It has an amazing view over the bay and mountains on the opposite side, with ample and clean facilities for at least a few nights. We stayed for two nights, and on our full day headed to Russell, Paihia, and Waitangi before heading back to the campsite including a full 20 kilometres on gravel tracks through a forest (not the shortcut that Emily had planned)! On the day that we headed back south we started the day off with a short circular walk around the headland near to the campsite to get the blood flowing, before driving to Waipu to check out the glow worm caves. What a spectacle they were! It can only be explained as being able to see a galaxy of stars on the ceiling of a cave. We walked a fair way into the cave itself and gawped at the worms in two caverns, the second being linked to the first by a small tunnel that you have to duck walk through water to get to. We couldn’t believe what we were seeing; the feeling was on par with the bioluminescent plankton in Thailand.

Time was ticking on and we had a few hours of driving ahead of us to our next destination; Browns Bay just north of Auckland. We had organised to stay with friends of Nick and Karen for the next two nights and we were warmly welcomed by Jenny and Graham at around 6pm that night. It was so nice to eat some home cooked food and we were thoroughly made to feel at home even though we had only just met them. We both slept like logs that night.

We woke up to rain the next day. Boooo! So, we used our time wisely and cracked on with organising other parts of the trip, and to contact some estate agents for our move to Bristol. It all felt a bit strange that the time for us to start putting things together for our return to the UK had come around. The clouds broke by the afternoon so we ventured out to Devonport. We walked around the sea front and up the cannon mount that was put in in the early 1900’s. Apparently the cannon was only fired once, at a target on nearby Rangitoto (a dormant volcano) just to check that it worked. The cannon broke a lot of windows of nearby properties, so after a lot of complaints it was never fired again... After a coffee and muffin we made our way back to Browns Bay via yet another The Warehouse to pick up a pool noodle which we cut in half to make roof bars out of. We re-tested putting stuff on the roof and before we knew it Jenny was cooking us in for steaks and wine which we obviously thoroughly enjoyed!

The following day Em had arranged to catch up with a Simon a old uni friend who now manages the NZ cricket team. We met at Eden Park stadium where he works, and before we knew it we were in the All Black’s changing rooms, the coaches box, and walking around the edge of the grounds! Afterwards we grabbed a coffee and as we had free time, Si drove us to Piha beach which is about 50 minutes east of Auckland. The drive was pretty windy and after the booze the night before and coffee, we were both feeling pretty rough by the time we arrived, but the drive was definitely worth it. Piha is a popular surfing beach and there is a programme dedicated to televising surf rescues in the area. The surf wasn’t huge, but we could tell from the behaviour of the water and the surrounding cliffs and rocks in the water that this break was for experienced surfers only! We walked up a giant mound that split the beach in two, took in the view and then had to head back to Auckland. We felt equally as ill by the time we got back, so after saying goodby we had to almost immediately stop for a rest and something to eat before we started our drive south to Rotorua.

Love,

Spud & Em

[adacarisi]

i need more rough sex with rafael. help a sista out

Dedicated to @inflagrantinnuendo, one of the most talented and intelligent women I have ever known. 

Sorry for the irregularity of my posts, you all know how university goes. I love all of you and I want to know how you guys are doing, anon me with requests or your own little smutty thoughts. I love writing for you all, never hesitate to drop by in my inbox or message me. 

Rafael had come home a few minutes ago, giving you a swift kiss before making a beeline for the scotch he kept in his home office. He took a seat at his desk with a heavy sigh and began pulling papers from his black leather briefcase. From where you watched in the doorway you sighed as well, this picture becoming all too familiar and frequent.

Rafael had lost three cases this week, this last case was his fourth loss. To say he was becoming frustrated was a gross understatement. He was dejected and distressed at this streak which was lengthening day by day. He had spent the last three nights at his desk only coming into the bedroom to change in the morning for court. Rafael hadn’t been sleeping, the only rest he found was the blank space between paragraphs on a deposition.

You were determined to change this. Despite the lewd nature in which you decided to entice him you were truly doing this for his own good. He was growing grayer day by day in pallor and attitude. It only took you a few minutes to don the expensive lingerie set he had purchased you from Bordelle a few months back. Unfortunately it had never had the opportunity to be used seeing as how his case load had decidedly begun making attempts to keep the both of you celibate.

No more, you decided. You cleared your throat slightly from the doorway of his home office before tracing a line from your breast to your hip, now both clad in leather and a bit of metal.

You could practically hear Rafael gulp, his adams apple bobbed hungrily from where he sat all too far away. He quickly tipped back his glass of scotch, his eyes never leaving yours as you shot him a sultry look.

Within moments he was on you, pushing you up against the frame of the door as he bit into your neck and ear, his moans turning into growls as he pressed himself into the lingerie he had fantasized seeing you in. You bite his lip when he makes a move to bite yours, trumping him at his own game.

“You remember who’s in charge don’t you pequeña?”

“It’s been so long I think you’ll have to remind me.” You coo back as your hands slip over the smooth surface of his dress shirt.

Rafael grips you by the throat and pushes his lips into the shell of your ear with a growl.

“What’s our word?”

“Pro Se.” You manage to remember despite never having to use it.

Rafael growls and lifts you against the frame of the door, giving you ample time to wrap your legs securely around his waist before he moved to carry you towards the bedroom. You rake your hands through his hair letting your nails scratch against his scalp as he moans incessantly.

He tosses you with little effort onto the bed before pulling you by your thighs towards where he stands at the end of it. He grinds himself against your lace covered core, the Italian wool of his pants wetting at the contact. Rafael groans and gives you a almost scolding look before gripping the fabric concealing you from him and ripping it from your person.  

There was a flash of pain and your skin took on a indent from where he had yanked but all was forgotten at the sound of his belt. He pulled himself from his trousers and spat at his cock, the sound of which sent sparks up your spine.

“Wider mami.” He instructed as he moved to kneel on the bed in between your legs.

You obeyed as he smacked his cock against your core a few times before slamming into you harshly.

“Fuck…you’re so tight pequeña.” He whined as the base of his cock brushed your clit.

Rafael placed one vein covered hand on the soft of your stomach to steady himself, his eyes squeezed shut as his body began to remember the pleasure he had so long denied himself.

“I wouldn’t be if you would fuck me more often.” You growled in an attempt to rile him up.

His eyes flashed open and hit yours as a darkness spread through them.

“You wanna be fucked? Hmmm? Is that what you want?” Rafael’s voice was gravely, coated in lust and intent.

You nodded, tilting your chin down in order to make your eyes appear more doe like, a look you knew drove him insane.

You cried out as he suddenly slammed harder into you before withdrawing his hips only to repeat the act over and over. You couldn’t force any sounds from your throat as his hips stole the air from your lungs. His hands dug into your hips and thighs as they searched for the perfect hold and grip. When he found it his digits formed a vise that only served to deepen the angle at which he was striking you.

You didn’t know how much of this you could take, it had been so long and you were already sore. The pleasure was overwhelming and you felt your eyes roll backwards towards your cerebrum as if looking for answers to how it was possible to be so enraptured.

“Is this what you want? Hmmm? You wanna be fucked like a slut?” Somehow Rafael, despite the panting and grunts his voice was delivering to the heated air around you, was able mutter and tease you.

He pressed a firm thumb to your clit and forced it upwards in a sharp motion. You gasped and screamed as he repeated the action over and over. Your back arched and you attempted to twist away from the overstimulation he was forcing on you but you couldn’t escape the grip he had on your hip.

You had no idea how he always managed to escalate your pleasure without instruction. It was if his body simply reacted to yours, and yours his. There was a connection beyond the physical that branded the two of you in a fire of pleasure and pain both.

“Can you feel me? Do you feel how deep I am inside you pequeña?” He manages as he smooths a hand over your lower stomach, illustrating just how deep he really was.

You try to moan in response but your mind has slipped in gasps and whimpers from your lips, and now all you can do is receive the ecstasy he’s driving into you.

Rafael groans almost proudly as he pounds harder into you, both of his hands returning to grip your hips as his cock hits your cervix at a bruising fever. You feel yourself suddenly on the edge of your climax and your hands begin to grasp at the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to convey to him the desperate nature of your situation.

“Are you gonna come? ¿Se va a correr mi bebé? ” Rafael moaned as you wailed from the restraint you were gripping to in order not to come before or without him.

Rafael pounded into you even harder and faster before you felt his hips shake against yours and his thighs tense.

“That’s right…now be a good girl and come on my cock.” He grunted as he pulled you hard up onto him one last time.

And you did, the sensation was overpowering and all consuming. You contracted around him as he spilled inside of you, sobbing at the euphoria the two of you shared. Tears streamed down your face as he collapsed on top of you, his dress shirt dampened with the sweat of his efforts.

A few moments later he pulled himself from you only to be followed by the rush of his spend as your body continued to pulse at the severity of the pleasure that had wracked through your bones.

Rafael dipped his fingers into you and you jumped and whined at his touch. He hummed and moaned as he slid his fingers along where his cock had been moments before, simply relishing in the feel of you covered in what he had given you.

He fell asleep with his hand between your legs, totally sated and exhausted. You did the same soon after, only to wake in the morning sore and covered in little bruises Rafael’s fingers had left in patterns across your body. Your man was still asleep and you didn’t bother waking him. He needed the sleep desperately and as you had discovered the night before you were incapable of denying him anything.

Inspired by / for your viewing pleasure: 

https://shop.bordelle.co.uk/collections/suspenders/products/square-lace-suspender-1 

Also a massive thank you to @controllingkittens for her help and patience with my poor Spanish. 

[palmettoes]

i’m going to make this place your home

this is a gift for @bluetheking as part of the winter @aftgexchange. you mentioned mary coming back and i was all too happy to comply (albeit with a significantly longer and angstier fic than i intended). i hope you enjoy it, and happy holidays!

canon-typical warnings apply, namely violence, abuse (specifically parental), alcohol, and mentions of past torture

read it on ao3!

Neil Josten, starting striker for the Palmetto State Foxes and reluctant protégé of one of the country’s most notorious mob bosses, had given larger men than himself reason to quiver in their boots. (Not that larger men than himself were all that unusual to come by, but Neil wasn’t ashamed to appraise himself for the several six-foot-something would-be-giants who knew from experience not to turn their backs on him.) It wasn’t so much that his history of violence preceded him—probably a good thing too, as Neil rarely came out on top of his spats once they turned to fist and flesh—but it was hardly considered confidential that what he lacked in muscular finesse, he made up for in guts and a somewhat slow brain-to-mouth filter. The point being, Neil had a handful of subjugated bullies (to use a term that wouldn’t leave his grandmother rolling in her grave) under his belt, a team of short-tempered and overprotective ruffians at his back, and almost nothing to worry about. Or so he would have attempted to reassure himself had he known who was eagerly awaiting his return to Fox Tower.

Vacation was difficult to manage when you were a Fox. Especially when your makeshift family consisted of two progenies of a nationwide crime empire, one legally recognised psychopath, a murderer (or two), and their legal guardian. Especially when Kevin Day and Andrew Minyard were involved. Because Kevin Day refused to let an exy court out of his sight for more than twenty-four hours and Andrew Minyard refused to let Kevin out of his sight for more than maybe one hour tops. So they were a little restricted on holiday destinations and the house in Columbia was more of a second home than anything, but none of them were complaining when it meant easy access to Eden’s Twilight at a moment’s notice and radio silence from Coach Wymack who was usually not hesitant to hound them into extra practice over break. (Plus, Neil wasn’t exactly averse to having Andrew, a double bed, and a door with a lock all to himself for a whole weekend.)

But the break came to an end, as it always seems to, and they were several hours overdue their agreed return to campus by the time they managed to drag themselves and their bags—now severely lighter than they had been five days prior, what with the copious consumption of alcohol they had partaken in—out to the Maserati. Erik, having spent most of Thanksgiving holed up in Nicky’s room with a metaphorical sock on the doorknob, had seen them off at the kerb before heading his own direction to the airport, so Nicky’s demeanour was somewhat subdued during their ride back. They spent the journey in formulaic silence, but Neil was still riding a vacation high and had successfully relegated Kevin to the backseat, giving Neil ample opportunity to admire the set of Andrew’s jaw and the clench of his knuckles over the wheel from the corner of his eye. A good end to a weekend of good beginnings, Neil thought. So, naturally, the universe threw a little English on the ball as they pulled into the Fox Tower parking lot.

The first sign of trouble came in the form of Dan Wilds standing outside the entrance; arms crossed, teeth clenched, and foot tapping an unsteady rhythm into the paving stones.

“You’re late,” she said, with unnatural terseness. Nicky shrugged as he scrambled out, bouncing back from his Erik-induced mourning with practised ease.

“It’s Thanksgiving. Forgive us for getting a little carried away,” he offered by way of explanation, but Dan barely spared him a second glance. Her gaze fell instead to Neil, cracking his back as he made his way slowly round the hood of the car.

“Neil. Inside. Now. The rest of you stay.”

In his peripheral, Neil caught Nicky grabbing at Kevin’s wrist before he could move to follow but no one raised a finger to stop Andrew as he shouldered his way through the doors behind them. Neil considered telling him to wait, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Whatever he was about to walk into (and no doubt it was bad, if it had Dan as tense as she was), he didn’t much fancy going in alone.

“There’s someone here to see you,” Dan said, as the elevator rattled to a halt on the third floor. “And then I want an explanation.”

Neil could have paused to assess the situation, but Dan sidestepped the opening elevator doors in a clear invitation for Neil to lead the way, so he bit the bullet and moved forwards. Matt was leaning stiffly against the wall outside the room he shared with Aaron and Nicky, the same tenseness lacing his frame as Dan’s. Neil thought there was a greeting somewhere on his tongue ready to spill, but it died the second his gaze flitted to the woman standing alongside. Though years had etched wrinkles into her skin and a new stoop to her shoulders, the long, curly hair and dark, weathered skin was unmistakeable. Neil traced the outline of her figure, familiar yet unrecognisable in places where time had broken her back, until his eyes caught hers and Mary Hatford—she of the false identities and paranoid promises, of hotel rooms and guns under unfamiliar pillows, of firm love and firmer bruises—blinked back at him.

Seconds passed. Minutes stole the breath from Neil’s lungs. Days melted their surroundings into shadows until Neil knew nothing, nothing, nothing but the slit-eyed stare cradling him in arms like vices. He was walking, maybe, though he couldn’t see far enough to check his feet were actually stepping one in front of the other. The whole world became a tightrope; his past at one end, his present and future at the other, and him—a weightless body in between, two gusts away from blowing off into the horizon.

Everything tilted back into sharp colour with the slide of a hand into Neil’s hair. Pain jolted through his scalp, familiar and welcoming, with a tug to drag him forwards.

“Abram.”

He hadn’t thought he’d hear that voice again, like knives and blood and running running running, but Mary pressed her cheek to his, her lips a weight at the lobe of his ear, and whispered his name twice more like he might disappear if she didn’t give him solidity enough to stay. He had an inch on her now—the product of sunshine and full meals, while she tucked herself into dampened corners—but he shrank under her fist, shedding years of his life until eight-year-old Abram stared at her wide-eyed, knowing nothing but hurt and losing.

This was coming home after a lifetime of leaving, and Neil felt sick to his stomach.

“Neil,” Andrew said, a million miles away but hurtling towards them at breakneck speed. Neil twisted, searching for a different kind of home, a different kind of family that didn’t leave the taste of bile heavy in his mouth, but Mary held him in place with a sharp tug that sent lightning down his spine. She gave enough leeway for him to pull back just slightly, to watch the way her gaze pierced through Andrew and saw everything Neil didn’t have words for yet.

“Your father is dead. We have a lot to discuss,” she said at length, relinquishing her hold with a jerk and making uniform steps towards the stairs. It took no thought for Neil to follow—his feet knew their place even if his brain didn’t.

“Neil, who—” Dan started, a hand out as if to stop him. He gave her a rueful smile, gaze flitting between her and Matt, and ignoring Andrew with calculated difficulty.

“My mother,” he said honestly, because there was nothing left to lie about. “Team meeting when I get back?”

And he left them, stranded aimlessly on the third floor with their thoughts in utter turmoil.

Mary waited for him in the stairwell and set off again the second he made an appearance, light and quick on her feet as ever despite the age lining deep frown lines on her brow. The rest of Andrew’s lot were leant up against the Maserati, waiting obediently for a signal to enter. Nicky made to call out, but a curt shake of Neil’s head and the unfamiliar presence stepping out into the open seemed to cut him off short.

“Take me somewhere,” Mary said, without sparing a glance at the three blatantly obvious onlookers. “Somewhere we can talk.”

Neil took the lead, trailing Perimeter Road down to the campus green. It was empty enough in the early evening, the frosty edge of winter riding in on the skirts of autumn, that they could talk without fear of eavesdroppers, but open and close to home still so Neil could squash the urge to seek out every possible escape route. It was old habit buried under months of safety and security, but it came rushing back with the furtive twitch of Mary’s eye that brought his past knocking no matter how desperately he tried to bar up the door.

They stared each other down with clenched fists and tight jaws, an insurmountable rift and three feet of grass between them. Time was nothing when Mary held him in her eyes—minutes passed unchallenged and he let them wash over him. How long they stood there, he did not know, but one minute Mary watched him like a dark cloud hovering just out of reach and the next, something cleared in her vision. Thunderclouds still claimed the corners of Neil’s eyes; else, he might have ducked before his cheek began to sting. (It would have been futile. Submit, his body screamed, it’s the only thing you know how to do.) He could feel every inch of Mary’s open palm imprint itself onto mottled skin, leaving bruises further than skin deep on parts of him that he didn’t know how to bandage up. It felt like home and fear, and tasted just bittersweet enough for Neil to know this was where he belonged.

“You idiot,” Mary hissed, grafting a hand to his scalp again and pressing the thumb of her other into the base of his throat, pushing down down down until breathing was nothing but a distant memory. “You never learn, do you?”

Neil closed his eyes, took a shallow breath through his nose, and let himself relax in her grip. This was familiarity, was comfort. Above all else, he knew how to be Mary Hatford’s son.

The pressure at his throat disappeared but the hand remained in his hair, nails digging just deep enough to make him wince if he moved. He could feel his cheek spasm where the phantom weight of her slap still rested and his nerves ran dead ends across scarred flesh. Every movement, every brush of her skin against his, was magnified, electrifying him from head to toe.

“Did you keep any of your promises?” she said, her voice a whisper one hundred decibels too loud for the quiet atmosphere.

“I did.”

The first words Neil had spoken to her since her supposed death three years ago. They tasted like gasoline and sand in his mouth.

“Liar.” Mary’s hand tightened in his hair and Neil could feel the tug of each separate strand like a thousand tiny needles biting into his skin. He gasped softly, just short of a keening whine, and let his eyes roll closed again. The pain had a grasp on his brain but through the fuzziness, he could feel her warmth where she was almost brushing against his chest. She was right here despite everything, despite Neil’s incompetence and his brashness and his breaking, always breaking. She had come back for him. He always knew she would.

“It’s not a lie,” he said, teeth gritted against a plea that he would never let her hear. “You. I never told them about you.”

Her hand disappeared, slipping away so quickly he stumbled under the weight of having to hold himself up. There was a foot of air between them before he managed to catch himself, and it felt like losing all over again, like reaching desperately for something—someone—already gone. Neil watched his mother step away from him as eagerly as she’d moved closer. Little Abram watched a car go up in flames.

“They thought you were dead,” Neil said. There was no squeeze at his throat, no yank in his hair, but the words came out a gasp anyway. He had lost his breath three years ago on a beach in California and had failed to catch it ever since. “I told them you were.”

Mary held her glare a few seconds longer, expression unreadable as it always had been. Neil had long since given up searching for telling in her eyes. She had always been the better liar of the two.

“I wasn’t good enough for this life? You gave them everything, but you left me behind?”

And this—this was familiar. There was no winning against Mary Hatford. Neil could play all his cards right, but it wouldn’t change the fact he’d been dealt a duff hand. Losing was easy; boys like Neil Josten were not built to be winners.

“They let me be a part of their family. I didn’t want to screw it up,” he said anyway, because, despite a year of healing and learning, there was a death wish under his tongue and violence ingrained in his bones. He didn’t know how to survive when he wasn’t putting himself in danger.

Mary’s fist cracking against Neil’s jaw was a new sensation. Her open palm he knew as well as his own—every splay of her fingers, every crease of her skin. There was the weight of a golf club imprinted to his torso, far more permanent than any bruise or scar. The bite of her nails into his flesh until they drew blood was a fresh reminder on every inch of his body. She had been tough love, hurting and healing on repeat until he learnt his place, tearing him apart herself so that no one else got the chance to. But the clench of her fist was unfamiliar—a weight he did not carry in the back of his mind. He felt it now as she collided with his chin, tectonic plates meeting in a rupture of the skies. Neil was mountains, and earthquakes, and crumbling under weights unknown. After all this time, Mary knew best how to pick him undone.

“I am your family.”

Her voice was dangerously quiet and leaking venom from places where her resolve cracked through, but the words were honey to Neil’s tongue and nothing had ever tasted sweeter.

“Abram, we’re all we have. You won’t leave me again, okay?”

Neil could have screamed; could have reminded her it was she who left him stranded on California’s coastline with hands that smelled like burning metal. He could have turned his back and slipped easily into the life he had made in her absence. He could have. He didn’t.

“We’re all we have,” he echoed, and when she reached to cup his face between her rough palms, he tilted into the touch. She was his family. She would not leave again.

“Come home with me. The season is almost over. We’ll do Christmas,” Mary said.

“Home?” he asked. The word sounded like Foxes, like court walls and keyrings and Columbia and Andrew’s thigh pressed to his on the couch. Andrew. The word sounded like Andrew.

“England. Your uncle has given us a place to stay. We’ll be safe at last.”

Safety would always be a novelty to Neil, a luxury he could not afford to indulge. He thought of Wymack picking him up from the airport, of Allison smoothing foundation over his skin, of Andrew holding him together in hotel rooms and bathroom showers and at the end of the world. And he thought of his mother drying his tears and holding his hand, of unfamiliar faces blinking out of cracked mirrors, of bandages and alcohol and smoke. And maybe he already knew what it was to feel safe. Maybe he always had.

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

***

The journey back to Fox Tower passed in relative silence, but Neil’s thoughts were buzzing into overdrive. He didn’t need to imagine the look on his teammates’ faces when he told them what he had agreed to—he had seen it too many times already. But he had only promised to go home, not to stay. He would spend Christmas in England with Mary and Stuart, and would be back before the season started up again. They would hardly notice his absence.

Mary left him in the parking lot, promising her hotel was nearby and she would come back for him soon. Neil’s apprehension heightened as he took the stairs up to their floor, prolonging the inevitable as indefinitely as he could.

He wasn’t remotely surprised when he let himself into his dorm to find more than just Kevin and Andrew awaiting his return. The Foxes (minus the freshmen) were spread across the couches and floor, silence and concern tense in the air. The click of the door shutting behind Neil was enough to rouse them from their vigil, and he paused just inside the doorway as eight heads turned to meet him.

There were several sharp intakes of breath and Renee’s quiet “Oh Neil”, but Neil’s focus was on Andrew, who had risen almost instantly and was pacing steadily towards the door. Neil didn’t miss the way he fingered the edge of his armbands carefully, as if double checking the presence of his knives.

“Andrew,” he said warningly, taking a shuffled step back towards the door in a feeble attempt to block it from Andrew’s sight. It did nothing to deter him.

“I’m going to kill her.”

Andrew sounded about as cheerful as Neil had ever heard him off-medication, but it hardly masked the ferocity behind his words. Neil may not have wanted to admit it, but he knew Andrew meant every syllable. He backed up fully against the door, pressing himself flush against the wooden frame.

“No,” Neil said, loudly enough for someone to flinch across the room, but his eyes stayed fixated on the way Andrew’s arm stilled a hair’s breadth from jostling Neil out of the way. “We don’t have a deal anymore and I’m not in danger anyway. I’m asking you to stay out of it.”

His voice left a heavy silence in the air, tight with levelled stares and held breaths. The room was still clustered with bodies, but they might have melted into nonexistence for all Neil noticed their presence, because Andrew wasn’t retreating, wasn’t blinking, was there but wasn’t there there and Neil needed so desperately to bring him back before things turned nasty.

“Someone needs to tell her what happens when she touches my things.”

The words were careful, like bow to string; dangerous, like match to flame; deadly, like blade to heart. Neil heard the venom laced through them and knew it meant Andrew was only backing down, not off.

“Let me.”

Andrew’s hand dropped like a weight at that, falling heavily to his side. He turned away before Neil caught his expression, but couldn’t mask the way his hand curled a fist into the hem of his shirt. He settled wordlessly back into the couch, the space between him and Kevin an open invitation. Andrew would wait. The other Foxes deserved an explanation first.

Neil took the proffered seat, wincing at the five sets of eyes that tracked his bruised jaw. They had gathered to hear him spill secrets around worse injuries, but he was rough edges and raw interior, and every cut and bruise would always leave them on edge.

Neil cast his eyes to the cornice where the wall met the ceiling and spread his hands open, palm-up in his lap, searching for a place to start. The freshmen were spared this impromptu team gathering, and he was stupidly grateful. They knew of the history that undermined Neil Josten as Nathaniel Wesninski, because they were Foxes and reserved the right to know who they were playing for, but there were parts of him they’d never understand. They hadn’t seen him disappear into the shadows at the edge of his home state; hadn’t seen him spill himself all over the floor in a mad rush to let out everything he should never have kept hidden; hadn’t seen him return time and again a bloodied, broken mess just to let his family patch him back up from loose threads and gentle touches between them. And, for everything they knew and everything they couldn’t understand, this was something they didn’t need to be privy to.

“Mary Hatford didn’t die from internal bleeding on a beach in California. And when I burned the car, she wasn’t inside it.”

Neil could almost hear the sound of eight brains whirring to keep up with this new information. No one prompted him further. He thought it would be easier to speak once he got the first sentence out, but something stuck in the back of his throat, making it difficult to swallow or breathe or find words enough to explain himself.

When he hadn’t heard from her after a year in Millport, he figured that was it. He had never intended to tell the Foxes about her—it was the one promise he couldn’t bring himself to break. But nor had he thought she would come back for him. Hoped, yes, but it seemed nothing more than childish dreams. Suffice to say, he was not prepared for this conversation.

“It was safer if we weren’t together. My father’s people—they were looking for a woman and a boy. They never expected us to separate.”

“She abandoned you?” Allison said furiously, unable to stop herself from breaking the silence of Neil’s audience.

“She waited until I was eighteen,” Neil said before he could bite the words back. It was old habit to jump to her defence. There was no way to make them understand that everything Mary had done had been in his best interest. “I was an adult.”

“Barely,” Matt said, a look in his eye like he was remembering the Neil who had showed up to Palmetto State University with a duffel bag and a bubble of lies.

“She gave me money, and contacts if I ran into trouble. It was only temporary. We were supposed to find each other when it was safe, but…” Neil let his voice trail off but he was sure they knew where his words were headed. But it’s never safe. But Nathan has eyes everywhere. But I am a burden and a threat to her survival.

“When I left Millport to come here, I didn’t think she would ever come looking for me. I never told you because I never thought it would come up.”

It sounded like a cheap excuse. He had promised them he wasn’t going to lie anymore, but it was too easy to fall back on the same old stories. As long as she was dead, Neil didn’t have to think about her. Some days he convinced even himself that she had met a quick death at the barrel of a gun; that she had been on her way back to him when a bullet lodged itself in her brain. It was easier than accepting that she just hadn’t cared enough to find him.

“Les Moriyamas savent-ils qu’elle est encore en vie ?” Kevin said, finally. His knuckles were taut where they clenched over his knee and his gaze a weight on Neil’s profile. Neil flicked a glance up to meet Kevin’s, before refocusing on the entire room.

“I don’t know how much the Moriyamas know,” he said, ignoring Kevin’s disapproving huff at the switch to English, “but if they knew she was alive, I doubt she would be for much longer.”

No one had a response to that. It was nothing but the bitter truth, distasteful and heavy on the tongue as honesty so often is. Mary was as much a loose end as Neil, and she didn’t have the benefit of a deal cut with Ichirou. If her survival was discovered, it would not last. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, sitting uncomfortably in the air between them, but nor was it a sad one. It was just the truth.

“Your face,” Nicky said, gesturing to the corresponding spot on his own jawline that bloomed purple on Neil’s. There was question in there somewhere, though it didn’t quite sound like one. Neil answered anyway.

“My fault. I provoked her.”

Dan stood abruptly, Matt’s hand falling limply from her lap in the process. The tense set of her shoulders was mirrored in each of the Foxes as they pierced glares into the bruise at Neil’s chin. Neil twisted his head to Andrew, expecting to find comfort in casual indifference, but Andrew had stilled beside him. He wasn’t looking at Neil, but there was violence in his eyes—the reflection of blades, and car crashes, and the cold metal of a gun. His fist still creased the fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to hide the shake of his fingers, or to deter the anger claiming his muscles, Neil wasn’t sure which. Neil had seen his Foxes through thick and thin; had seen them throw fury between one another like exy balls; had seen them come together as he fell apart. He had seen them in pain and sorrow, and in honey-sweet triumph, but he had not seen them like this. With electricity crackling through the air between them. With clenched fists and grit teeth and anger so palpable Neil could feel it burning his skin.

“You know this isn’t okay, don’t you?” Renee asked softly, uncertainly. Her voice stole the tension from the room, leaching it from tight shoulders and bitten lips. Dan collapsed back onto the couch, as if the anger had been the only thing keeping her together, but she ignored the inviting hand Matt laid in the gap between them. Neil tried not to think too much of it.

“She’s just doing what’s best—”

“Don’t be so obtuse.”

Renee pressed her fingertips to Allison’s knee before she could say more, but Neil knew it did nothing to subside her fury. He couldn’t explain it—not in a way they would understand. They didn’t know how much of a nuisance Neil had been growing up, how often he had complained when they went without meals or when his feet were too blistered to walk further, how distracted he got by the little things like the local sports team or the soaps on hotel TVs. They didn’t know Mary had taught him the only way he would listen: with bruises and burns.

“You don’t understand,” he said, buying himself time as he searched for words to explain himself.

“I do,” Aaron said, before Neil could find what he was looking for. He didn’t offer anything further, but he caught Neil’s eye contact for the briefest of moments. It wasn’t warmth or comfort or even the vaguest essence of friendliness, but nor was it the cold, angry stare he usually reserved for Neil. It was just understanding. Support came in the strangest of forms.

“She won’t see you anymore. She isn’t welcome here,” Dan said, when it became apparent no one was chasing the thread Aaron left dangling in the air. She looked small and scared, anger brittle in the tremor of her fingers, but her voice didn’t shake once. Neil felt at once grateful and saddened, because he knew he had to let her down just once more.

“I’m staying with her for Christmas.”

“You’re what?” Nicky squawked. Several voices clamoured over one another, and Neil only caught fragments of each of them. You’re not— She’ll kill— We won’t let— You can’t be serious. It didn’t matter what they said. He had made up his mind. Because Neil knew what the others didn’t—couldn’t—understand. He knew that Mary and he were a unit, two parts of a whole that would always find their way back to each other. Mary was no worse a person than Neil himself and, against all odds, she had risked everything to find him again. He wouldn’t let that be in vain.

***

(Two silhouettes and an empty rooftop. Forgotten cigarettes burning to the filter. A hand on the back of his neck instead of around his chin. It’s your choice.

Two hearts chasing circles around one another. Air dirty with mislaid secrets. Fingers in his hair to keep him steady, or keep him close, or keep him whole. I’ll come back to you.

Their lips were gentle when they touched, fire and fury as always, but only softness over bruised jaws. It hurt, it hurt—it healed.)

***

Neil left one family frowning after him in Upstate Regional Airport, and boarded a plane to his other. Mary had returned to England without him, but she swore black and blue she wouldn’t hesitate to show up on his doorstep again if Christmas came and went without delivering him to her. Despite his teammates’ concern, Neil wasn’t worried. He had lived with Mary for eighteen years. He had to believe she had already done her worst to him.

“It’s only two weeks,” Neil had said, when Matt squeezed his arm so hard he might have snapped it clean in two. There were worse ways to spend Christmas break. Neil would know—he had experienced them.

Mary was nothing short of sunshine and smiles when she picked Neil up from the airport. The radio played in the car on the drive to Stuart’s house, but she talked over it. She told him about her plans for Christmas—about dinner and movies and her special hot chocolate.

Neil could almost forget the last ten years of his life had happened. When he looked at Mary, he was nine years old and they were planning secret Christmas celebrations behind his father’s back. They could never do anything big with roast turkeys and stockings, but Mary made two mugs of hot chocolate every year and turned a blind eye when Neil snuck extra marshmallows from the bag. Their first year on the run, she had wasted their weekly expenses buying cocoa and marshmallows and made cheap hot chocolate in paper cups on Christmas Day. Neil remembered wrapping his small fingers around the cup long after its contents were gone and it was cold against his palm. Mary had had to pry it from him when they moved on the next morning.

Stuart’s house was a four-bedroomed affair on the outskirts of Brighton with six northward windows and a rooftop fire escape. Neil took all of this in as they stalled in the driveway, his relived memories leaving him raw and vulnerable, falling into abandoned routines. He had brought only his duffel with him, to avoid baggage claim at the airport, so he had no excuse to linger by the car after Mary stepped out. Walking up to the front door felt like a march to the gallows, and stepping over the threshold was putting the noose around his own neck. Neil spared a thought for his Foxes, hoped they would enjoy their respective Christmases, and sealed his fate.

Mary kept the household busy over the week leading up to the big day. They were doing Christmas properly this year, she insisted, since they were finally a family at last. There was only three of them in the house, but the meal they prepared in advance would have fed a professional exy team twice over. Neil found the methodical chopping, boiling, and calling to one another across the messy kitchen became a comfort after the first few days, but he could never quite relax. He locked the door to his room overnight and slept with one of Andrew’s knives under his pillow. It was less reassuring than a gun, but comforting nonetheless.

Whenever he wasn’t needed for preparations, Neil snuck out the fire escape and burned cigarettes on the roof. He had taken to buying Andrew’s brand out of habit, and the smoke smelled less like burning metal and more like the Foxhole Court. He thought more and more every day that he would survive this. Mary was playing at the mother he had always wanted her to be, and Stuart was as distant as Nathan but not nearly as dangerous. And Neil had a ticket to South Carolina tucked in the pocket of his duffel. He would make it home.

Christmas Eve brought the first inkling of the old Mary Hatford blinking back into existence. Neil’s defences were weakened, his thoughts muddled by the easy routine they had fallen into. He was standing in Stuart’s cosy sitting room, watching Mary stoke the fire and waiting for Nicky to text back with an update, when she made her move.

“You’ve grown soft, Abram. Too fond. Too trusting,” she said without looking up. Neil snapped his phone shut abruptly, focusing his attention on the muscles shifting in her shoulders as she jabbed the poker at the coals. He had known it was coming, long before he even arrived, but he’d let himself be lulled into a sense of security. Stupid. Reckless.

“The blond one. You need to let him go,” Mary continued. Neil’s fist tightened around his phone. He wouldn’t fight her here—not in her own home, not on Christmas Eve.

“I can’t,” was all he said. It was the truth, plain and open like Mary had taught him never to tell it. He would not fight her. But he would let her know he wouldn’t break so easily these days.

“He isn’t good for you. He makes you weak.”

“He doesn’t,” Neil said, the defiance like copper on his tongue but still honest in ways he was learning to be. “He is my family.”

Neil Josten was the fastest striker in collegiate exy. He spent half his time dodging stray balls and hefty rackets. But even he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the poker that flew from his mother’s hands at those words. It glanced off his cheek before he could think to duck and, by instinct, he drew his arm up to force it away from his body, sending a searing pain all through his wrist. He crumpled, cradling his face with one hand and curling his body around the other in a measly form of protection. In the blink of an eye, he was tied to the passenger seat of a car, a dashboard lighter licking scars into his cheek. He was handcuffed to Kevin’s Evermore bed, a burning wire slowly peeling the skin from the palm of his hand. He was on the floor in his father’s Baltimore house, a heated iron discarded beside him and the sensation of every nerve in his shoulder being ripped one by one from his body.

“Oh, Abram. Silly Abram. Haven’t I always told you not to play with fire?”

Mary knelt at his side, pushing his hand away to tilt his face into her line of sight. Her cool fingers were a salve to his flaming cheek, and she held him together gently with a palm cupping his chin. Neil would fall apart without her—it was a wonder he hadn’t already. She knew how to treat burns, how to clean wounds, how to stitch him back together piece by careful piece.

“I know what’s best, remember? He is not good for you,” she said, her eyes full of concern as though she couldn’t have predicted the burning poker slipping from her own fingertips. She brushed his hair back with one hand and used the other to draw him close enough to kiss his forehead, all sense of anger stolen from her limbs. She had never been wrong before. Neil needed no further incentive to trust her.

“Okay, Mama,” he said, leaning into her touch like he was chasing the last breath of oxygen left on the planet. “Okay.”

***

Mary Hatford was a mother, not a gaoler. She didn’t lock doors or bar windows, because she didn’t need to. Because she was keeping only those who wished to be kept. This would be her downfall.

In lieu of a goodnight, Neil had received a rolling pin to the stomach for mentioning holiday meals with the Foxes, and a handful of painkillers by way of apology. The rolling pin had been wooden and flimsy, but Mary knew force if nothing else. As the evening wore on, breathing became a chore and movement nigh on impossible. Neil could feel the cracked rib worse than ever as he contorted his body to shimmy out the bathroom window, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and tugged himself out onto the window ledge. He dropped softly to the grassy outcrop framing the side of the house, spared a glance for the dark window of his second-storey bedroom, and was grateful the bathroom had been built a floor below. As soon as he was clear of the garden, Neil picked up speed, his instincts leading him towards the sound of buzzing traffic where he would hopefully be opportune enough to hitch a ride. His chest throbbed dully under the fissure in his ribs and his lungs ached for a break far earlier than he would usually need one, but not once did he glance back at the house he had left behind. There was no family for him there any longer.

Last minute tickets to the States weren’t cheap, but Neil had the luxury of having spent almost three years under one identity and the money saved was a godsend. The flight passed in mild discomfort, and Neil took to reciting exy stats to distract himself from the pain in his lower chest. Somehow, it kept him sane.

By the time he stepped out of Upstate Regional Airport into the chilly air of South Carolina’s winter, it was mid-morning on Christmas Day. Activity was sparse in the airport, but not entirely dead. Neil switched on his phone, his thumb automatically hovering over the speed dial. Andrew’s name was first, Wymack’s blinking just underneath, followed by the other Foxes one by one. He flicked the phone shut before he could tap any of them and moved off to hail a taxi. It was Christmas, after all. They were probably busy.

Fox Tower was empty when Neil let himself into the dorms to drop off his duffel, but he knew the way to Abby’s house by memory. It was a longer trek by foot than he had imagined—he started out at a jog but his ribcage screamed bloody murder until he relaxed into a casual stroll—and his injuries were a little worse for wear by the time he arrived. He paused in the driveway, an attempt to collect his composure from where it dragged at his heels masked under his need to catch a breath. The sitting room curtains were pulled wide and, through the bay windows, Neil could make out Andrew’s lot splayed across the room. He watched them for several precious minutes, a softness growing in his stomach, forcing its way through his chest, and cascading up his throat in a bubbling urge to tear up. They five of them (Neil included) had been planning to spend the holidays in Germany with Erik’s family, but had pulled out last minute to stay in South Carolina with Abby and Wymack. They never spoke about it, but they didn’t have to for Neil to know it was because of him. Because this is where he would come if things fell apart. Because he had returned alone from a broken Christmas once before and they would not let history repeat itself.

It took more effort than it was worth for Neil to force his gaze away from them and make the final few steps to the front door. He rang the doorbell, though he knew it would be unlocked, in a sudden bout of self-consciousness. He would always be welcome, he knew that, but it was too much to expect them to open their arms when he let himself be torn open time and time again. He would not walk in unannounced, and if they wanted him gone he would go.

It was Wymack who answered the door, half turned over his shoulder as the tail end of an insult left his lips. His smile was good-natured, fond even, and Neil felt all the worse for forcing his inconvenience upon it. The expression slipped as Wymack turned his full attention to the doorway, replaced by rigid fury and barely-visible concern concealed under a glare.

“Christ, Neil. Not again.”

Neil knew the others were listening in, because the house went still the second his name was thrown into open air. Wymack dragged Neil inside with a firm grip on his shoulder the same instant as Andrew barged into the hallway, Nicky, Kevin, and Abby hard on his heels with Aaron trailing behind. Wymack was smart enough to drop his hold on Neil when Andrew approached and moved to hang back with the others. Neil barely noticed them out the corner of his vision—he was caught in the webs Andrew was spinning with furious eyes. They stared each other down, neither moving nor speaking. Andrew lifted a hand to hover over the burn on Neil’s cheek, but didn’t touch the tender flesh. His eyes flicked over Neil’s body, searching for further impairments.

“Where else?”

Neil raised his right arm, displaying the matching scar still fresh on his wrist.

“My ribs too. Something might be broken.”

“Shit,” Nicky breathed, somewhere to the right. Nobody else spoke. Andrew’s gaze continued to set itself on fire.

“Abby,” Andrew finally said into the thickened air. Abby squealed at the abrupt mention of her name but disappeared almost instantly in search of a First-Aid kit. Andrew lifted his arm again, brought it this time to hover over the back of Neil’s neck.

“Can I—?” he asked. Neil nodded—a little too quickly, a little too eagerly—and Andrew dropped the weight of it onto the juncture between Neil’s shoulders. For the first time since Mary’s unexpected appearance, Neil discovered that he still remembered how to breathe. All his jagged edges flowed out of him as Andrew steered him into the sitting room, leaving him raw and empty but finally with enough space to fill his lungs.

Andrew climbed onto the back of the couch and forced Neil down in front of him, his knees pressed just beneath Neil’s shoulder blades and his hand a constant presence pressing on Neil’s neck. Abby shooed the crowded Foxes out of her way as she hustled back through with the First-Aid kit in hand. She started with his burns, methodically dressing and wrapping them with gentle fingers. She was too familiar, had patched him up like this too many times. Neil watched the grey clouds passing over her face as she worked, and thought she did not deserve to look so grim. He hated himself all the worse for causing that expression too often to count.

When she moved on to press a gentle hand over his ribcage, the others mysteriously drifted out of the room, murmuring something about checking on the roast. Neil let Andrew tug his shirt up over his head, gasping a little at the pain it took to lift his arms so high, and Abby carefully prodded at the points where it hurt to breathe. Neil didn’t think about his mother’s smile when she saw him in Heathrow Airport, her hips swaying as she chopped potatoes in the kitchen, her eyes darkening as she slammed a rolling pin between his ribs and hissed at his mentions of family other than her. He focused instead on Andrew’s palm, flat and hot against his skin, and on the repetitive nature of his breaths. In. He was here, in this moment, in this house, not there in another. Out. He would not have to see Mary’s twisted scowl ever again. In. He was safe as long as he had this roof over his head, as long as he had this hand on his neck. Out. He was a Fox and he had a family who would always welcome him home.

Once Neil was fully clothed once again, the others crowded the room with platters of food and cheer just a little too buoyant to be believable. Wymack cast a cursory glance over Neil’s bandages, searching out answers in a silence that he knew better than to break.

“We will talk about your necessity to put yourself in unpleasant situations,” he said at length, “but right now, it’s Christmas. Let’s eat.”

They tucked into Abby’s usual spread, chatting around mouthfuls of food and swigs of wine. The elephant in the room that was Neil’s past was left untouched, but Andrew didn’t move from his position at Neil’s back and, bit by bit, Neil found his breath returning to him.

***

Boxing Day saw the two of them bundled in their matching coats, legs dangling off the side of the rooftop and breaths clouded around puffs of smoke. They had spent the morning at Abby’s, lazily cleaning the previous day’s messes and forcing Neil into another check-up, before they were released back to the Tower.

Now, they sat in silence and watched the sun disappear behind the hazy sea of buildings laid out in front of them. There was a question somewhere between them, unvoiced and ignored but it disrupted the air with its awkward presence. Neil watched Andrew smoke his cigarette to a stub, crushed his own into ash, and stared out at the rapidly vanishing horizon.

“I just wanted to go home.”

Andrew gave him a funny look at that, pressing the cherry of his cigarette into the roof beneath them absentmindedly. The whole world felt a million miles away when he shifted to face Neil properly. And Neil would climb through a thousand bathroom windows with a thousand broken ribs from a thousand jealous mothers for this moment. When it was just him, and Andrew, and the ground four storeys below.

“You are home,” Andrew said, then grabbed his chin in both hands and kissed him into the dying sunlight.

[fawndlymade]

Turn Your Back

The harsh blue light from the scroll stung Blake’s eyes as she stared blankly at the words in front of her, unable to digest what she was reading. She swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

White Fang member escapes Atlas prison.

Adam’s mugshot stared back at her, bright green eyes glaring hatefully at the camera. She knew from experience just how much he hated having to remove the half mask that he always wore. How much that mask meant to him; it symbolized everything that he –they- had worked towards all those years.

Humanity’s respect.

Fear.

And she knew what his first move would be. How could she not, after all the years they had spent together, fighting for peace –for war- and to be treated as equals. He would head out to their hideout in Forever Fall. A tiny rundown shack that no one would ever look twice at, but which contained everything he would need to continue the good fight.

He would come after her next, and her teammates if they were unlucky enough to be by her side when he arrived. It was their fault that he had wound up being thrown into prison in the first place.

Blake came to a decision. Standing up from her chosen seat in the library she stretched her arms up, back giving off a satisfying crack in response. The scroll snapped shut with a soft beep before she shoved it into her side pocket for later.

She was going to stop Adam before he hurt anyone else.

Red and yellow flashed through her mind, making Blake smile almost reflexively at the thought of her… Her girlfriends. The relationship was different, but somehow it worked. They managed to balance each other out in ways that she couldn’t even begin to describe. Yang was her passion; an untamed fire that roared and flickered, almost too hot to handle sometimes but always managing to keep from burning Blake. Yang drove her, pushing her just enough to make her come out of her shell.

Ruby was her calm, which was a tad ironic given her semblance. But the younger girl was a gust of fresh air in Blake’s rather static world, giving her a new look on life instead of Blake’s jaded view. The redhead was innocent, too pure for this world in Blake’s opinion. Ruby was always good at cheering her up and making her laugh, but also knowing when Blake needed her quiet time and knowing when to leave her alone. She would stop Yang when the blonde would try to push too much, instead offering Blake a gentle smile and a cookie from her stash while she waited for Blake to come to her.

Pointed ears drooped a bit the more Blake thought. She didn’t know what she offered the two sisters. She was cold, pessimistic, and had commitment issues.

I really don’t know what they see in me…

Her scroll let out a loud ding, startling Blake from her thoughts. Fishing the scroll out of her pocket, Blake opened it and swiped at the new message, prompting Yang’s picture to appear. Unbidden, a smile played on her lips as she read what her partner had sent her.

‘Are you done your study sesh yet? Me and Rubes are bored stiff, and the ice princess hasn’t freed us from her dungeon… Save us.’

Yang and Ruby had been hauled off by Weiss after classes had ended for the day, the heiress stating that their scores on Professor Port’s latest test had been abysmal and that they needed to study for the retake. Blake had gotten an approving nod and a small smile from Weiss after they had seen each other’s marks, the monochrome pair entirely unsympathetic to their partners’ plight. The three girls were currently reviewing notes in one of the empty classrooms, which meant Blake had ample opportunity to grab her stuff from the dorm before heading out on her self appointed mission.

Sharp nails dug into her palms, leaving crescent marks on her skin.

She would stop Adam tonight or die trying.

Her fingers tapped out a quick reply: ‘You should have studied with Weiss and I then. I hope you learn your lesson.’ Blake sent the message, hesitating for a brief moment before adding on ‘I love you. Ruby too. Let her know for me.’

Satisfied now, the faunus made her way back to the dorms. It was getting dark out, the only sources of light outside coming from the fragmented moon above and the few streetlamps that lined Beacon’s walkways.

In short, perfect for what she was planning to do.

The scroll chimed softly as it unlocked the door, Blake opening and shutting it behind her with nary a sound. She grabbed her grey pack and began to fill it methodically, mind wandering as she added in everything that she thought would come in handy. Extra bullets, a change of clothes, dust rounds for her clones, a small first aid kit, and-

Blake’s fingers halted their movements as they grazed against cold metal. It was a small trinket, a little cat made out of scrap metal that had been given to her by Yang and Ruby for their anniversary. The grins that they had worn when Ruby had placed it into her palm was something that she would never forget.

The cat was placed into her pack as well, reverently even though she knew that it would not break. A quick glance around revealed that she had grabbed everything she needed, so Blake zipped up her bag and hefted it onto her shoulders, Gambol Shroud attached to her hip thanks to a few magnets that Pyrrha had kindly given her.

The door beeped and opened with a soft whoosh, making Blake jump and nearly giving her whiplash as she turned to look.

“Yang?”

The blonde entered the room without preamble, her sister following suit behind her. Not before locking the door however, much to Blake’s irritation. Yang came to a stop in front of her, arms crossed and eyes blazing. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yang ground out, gesturing to Blake’s bag. “You didn’t answer my messages, you scared the shit out of us!”

“Messages?” Blake grabbed out her scroll; she must have hit the mute button, because she hadn’t heard it going off to indicate that she had gotten a message. And yet there they were, several from both Yang and Ruby asking her where she was and what was wrong.

“You seemed off all day,” Ruby mumbled, silver eyes downcast. “We saw the news too, were you planning on leaving without us?”

“Without telling us?” Yang chimed in, voice hard. “What the actual fuck, Blake? You can’t do shit like that!”

Blake scowled at her partners, the guilt beginning to gnaw at her insides like a hungry dog. “He’s my responsibility!”

“Was! You’re not with the Fang anymore, Blake! Or have you forgotten that!” Yang shouted back. The heat in the room was getting unbearable, Yang’s anger washing over her like a tidal wave. Taking a step forward, Blake matched the brawler head on, amber clashing with red.

“He was my partner!” she retorted. Rage bubbled up inside of her, trying to claw its way out of her chest. “I let him get like this, I need to stop him!” She stepped around Yang, refusing to meet Ruby’s eyes as she strode towards the door.

She needed to get going before it was too late.

“I’m your partner now!” The plaintive cry made her hand freeze as she was reaching for the door. Unable to help herself, she glanced backwards; Ruby was trying her best to comfort her sister, who was standing there rigidly, fists clenched and tears falling silently down her face.

Ruby looked up, and Blake bit her lip as she saw those silver orbs she adored swimming with tears. She had managed to make both of them cry now, some girlfriend she was.

“We’re your team, Blake.” Ruby’s voice was soft, cracking a bit with sorrow. She rubbed Yang’s back as Yang clasped her hands over her mouth to muffle her sobs, broad shoulders shaking with the force of them. “You, me, Weiss, Yang. We’re a team. You promised you’d come to us if something was wrong… And you and me and Yang, we’re… you’re ours!”

Blake swallowed hard. “R-Ruby..”

“No!” The faunus flinched back as Ruby glared at her. She had never seen her leader as mad as she was now; the frost in her eyes put Weiss’ most frigid stare to shame. “You’re ours. Mine and Yang’s. And we’re yours. We don’t run away from each other, ever!”

“You don’t understand!” she exclaimed.

“Then help us understand!” Ruby said loudly. “Tell us what’s wrong! You’ve been going crazy ever since you found out the White Fang was involved! And you didn’t quit even after Adam was sent to jail! It’s been weeks now, Blake! We’ve tried to give you the space you needed, but enough is enough!” Her voice softened. “Just talk to us already, please..”

“I’m sick of being useless!” The snarl that ripped out of Blake’s throat startled her as much as the two other girls, forcing her back. “The Fang is on the move, my brothers and sisters are fighting against humans and alongside Torchwick of all people, and I’m sitting here doing nothing! I have to do something! I have to-”

Two pairs of arms wrapped around her waist, sandwiching her between two bodies.

“Don’t cry, Blake,” Yang whispered into her hair. Confused, Blake reached up to touch her cheek. Her fingers came back wet.

A small hand reached up, petting her ears with a gentleness that Blake knew could only be from Ruby. She leaned into the touch, more tears soaking into Yang’s chest as she finally broke down, choked apologies and words of love spilling from her lips, only to be muffled by a yellow shirt.

Crimson faded to purple, and Yang and Ruby glanced at each other above Blake’s head, coming to a silent agreement. They would deal with Blake’s attempt to leave later, but first they had to pick up the pieces and comfort her as Blake finally dealt with what had happened the past few weeks.

Ruby sent a quick message to Weiss asking if she would mind coming back a bit later, to which the heiress agreed to, and the three of them moved onto Blake’s bed. It was a tight fit, but they managed somehow, as they always did. With Blake in between them, Yang leaned over and gave Ruby a soft peck on the forehead.

They shared a smile. Everything was going to be okay.

Now all they had to do was convince Blake of that.

[cryptovalid]

Star Wars Episode VIII: the Last Jedi...

...is not going to go the way you think. Ended better than it started. I honestly can’t tell anyone if they’re going to love or hate the movie. I understand why it’s so divisive, and I’m not even sure how much I do like it, all told. But I appreciate its ability to surprise me, at least. My only concern in this analysis is the story, and making up my mind about it is harder than I want to admit. SPOILERS under the cut.

Ok, here’s a quick synopsis of the plot:

After the events of the last film, the first order have discovered and attacked the last rebel alliance stronghold, prompting Leia, Poe, Finn and all the other survivors to flee in a small number of ships. Their problem is that the first order has technology that can track their fleet even when they jump to hyperspeed. During the chase, the Rebel leadership dies, with the exception of Leia, who uses the Force to FLY UNAIDED IN THE VACUUM OF SPACE, barely surviving.

This causes a rivalry between the new leader (Laura Dern as Admiral Holdo), and Poe Dameron. Holdo insists that the fleet keep moving forward, while Poe begs her to do something more, as their fuel is running out. Ultimately, this leads Poe to conscript Finn and Rose to recruit a codebreaker so they can disable the First Order’s tracking tech. He even stages a mutiny against Holdo to make sure this plan succeeds (it doesn’t. This entire subplot ends in disaster for the Rebellion).

Meanwhile, Rey meets up with Luke Skywalker, who doesn’t want to join the rebellion, stating he can’t save them. Luke refuses to train Rey at first, fearing she will turn out like Kylo Ren. He implies that there is an inevitable hubris in the Jedi, and it must end. We later discover that Luke, suspecting Ben Solo had already turned to the dark side, had to suppress the urge to kill Ben. Seeing his mentor standing over his bed, lightsaber drawn, is apparently what drove Kylo Ren to join the Sith. 

Rey discovers that she has an involuntary psychic link with Kylo Ren, through which she feels that he is conflicted about his evil deeds. Failing to convince Luke to join her, Rey seeks out Kylo Ren and allows herself to be captured by him. Supreme Leader Snoke then orders him to execute Rey after interrogating her, but Kylo tricks Snoke and kills him instead. 

Rey then attempts to persuade Kylo to return to the light, but he chooses to take Snoke’s place, Rey and Kylo fight to a draw. Rey escapes and Kylo chases the Rebel Fleet to their destination. It is then that we see Admiral Holdo’s plan: to take small, undetectable craft down to a remote rebel base, while their remaining cruiser lures the first order away. And it would have worked if the codebreaker Finn and Rose recruited had not betrayed them. In order to save the Rebel ships, Holdo stays on the cruiser and rams it into the First Order flagship at lightspeed, sacrificing herself.

This only buys them a little time, as the few survivors of the rebellion are now trapped on a planet, assaulted by ground forces. Rey arrives, but is unable to stop their bunkerbusting canon. Finn is ready to sacrifice himself to save the rebellion, but is stopped by Rose. Luke shows up and confronts Kylo, buying Rey enough time to sneak the rebels out of the back of the bunker. In the end, Luke dies. The Rebellion is still on the run, and Kylo Ren is leading the First Order.

First, let’s start with some things I liked, since they are less complicated than the things I disliked.

I like the idea that Luke is disillusioned with the Jedi Order and doesn’t want it to continue. Honestly the movie could have done more to dive in to his criticisms, as I feel they could have made the movie a great deconstruction of the Jedi’s commitment to authority and violence, or their messages about healthy relationships and emotions. It even has the potential to comment on political attitudes toward violence in the real world. As it stands, it seems like the only reason Luke is initially hesitant to join Rey is his fear of her power, fear that she will betray him like Kylo Ren did. Which is not a criticism of the Jedi, but a criticism of his own mistrust of Kylo. It’s not a bad arc, but I would have liked to see a more strident critique of Jedi teachings. 

i like that the movie has an egalitarian message at its core: The Jedi aren’t really special, and Rey’s parents are not tied into the history of Star wars at all. I think the idea that the Force is a power passed down through a couple of bloodlines really undercuts the message that it connects all living things. It’s good to change it up and imply that anyone could tap into the Force, that it belongs to everyone. 

Leia, Finn, Rose and Poe all survive the movie, even though their deaths seemed almost certain at times. The stakes are up for the entire movie, and anything seemed possible. Deaths are numerous but meaningful.

The climactic battle with Snoke is a nice subversion of the expected ‘Lightsaber duel’, and I really like how it did not redeem Kylo Ren, underscoring his emotional immaturity, alienation and deep need for control instead.I also enjoy how this movie shits all over the First Order’s dignity, without trying to make them look cool.   

I really enjoyed the actual plot twists in this movie. Sadly, I spent most of my first viewing frustrated by my own expectations. At times I was convinced that Finn and Leia would die, and that Reylo would become canon. This mercifully did not come to pass. 

The plot elements I did not like are a bit more complicated. I was particularly frustrated with the power struggle between admiral Holdo and Poe. It was very convenient from a plot standpoint. From the beginning, it was obvious that Holdo had a plan she was not sharing with Poe. He doesn’t trust her, so he even goes so far as to stage a mutiny against her. Because of the framing, I spent most of the movie frustrated with both characters. Either one could have communicated a little bit better to prevent most of the movie’s drama. The subplot about finding the codebreaker felt useless anyway.

The movie also isolates Finn and Rey from each other completely. Considering how fun their dynamic was in TFA, this is not an improvement. The whole subplot with Finn and Rose meandered around, and didn’t really reflect the urgency and tone of a high stakes death march through space. Ultimately, nothing Finn and Rose did actually had a positive impact on the Rebellion. This isn’t necessarily an objective flaw in the story, I just dislike that Finn has become a secondary character. Also the Kiss from Rose at the end was completely unexpected. Unlike Rey, Rose doesn’t really get a chance to form a bond with Finn, since their subplot doesn’t involve any real choices to define their characters in contrast with each other. Given how much I like the actors and characters, this is a waste. I was sure, given the context, that Finn and/or Rose would die. Small mercies, I guess. 

Comparatively, the movie spends a lot of time trying to make Kylo more sympathetic, which really rubs me the wrong way, especially because of the way his character parallels real life bigots and spree killers. He fits into a growing real life trend of white men who become desillusioned with basic decency when they don’t get what they want, and lash out violently in retribution. Episode VII made it crystal clear that Kyle Ron has spent his entire adult life murdering and torturing unarmed people, participating in a explicitly fascist regime that enslaves children and commits genocide. All the while, several people give him ample opportunity  to opt out, and he threatens to murder them every time. The only time his supposed ‘conflicted’ nature actually stops him from murdering is when he’s emotionally invested in his victim already. Redeeming a nazi-analog is not impossible, but it is also not cheap. Making minor exceptions to your violent outbursts is not a sign that you’re a good person at heart. It’s typical abuser behavior. How much slack are we supposed cut this asshole? Did he really turn to the dark side simply because Luke thought he already turned, contemplating killing him? Sure, this is traumatic as fuck. Is Rian Johnson aware of what this means for the nazi analogy? Will this be dealt with in more detail in the next movie?

It is no secret that there are many Kylo Ren apologists out there. People downplaying his own agency and the severity of his crimes. Shipping him with Rey, a woman he has kidnapped, threatened, assaulted and violated. It’s hard not to see this movie as vindicating or at least baiting them. It matters, in the end, how Kylo’s arc wraps up. And honestly, I can’t think of a way to redeem Kylo Ren that wouldn’t be gross. How could Kyle realize that murdering people was wrong all along, given the chances he’s been given? What message does that send to victims of abuse? That no matter how many times he’s shown you that he feels entitled to hurting you, you have to keep being compassionate because he will eventually, when things look really bad for you, make a sacrifice to save you, redeeming himself? Is it even possible for a murderer as wilfull and committed as Kylo to make a heel turn, given that he’s already tried to kill everyone he cares about?

I’m also a bit confused about this movie’s message about the Jedi. Luke hems and haws about continuing their traditions, but there’s no actual attempt to get into a discussion about it. Yoda tells Luke to teach Rey, but destroys the texts when Luke hesitates to. And then Luke dies without speaking to Rey. Maybe I shouldn’t expect a thesis statement here, but I think strong opposing arguments would make it clearer what the movie is trying to say.

So it should be clear why The Last Jedi is so polarizing. It doesn’t go the way anyone expected it to, and it deliberately steps away from anything that came before it. Whatever you think Jedi used to be is now obsolete. Anyone can tap into the Force, and it doesn’t come down to special blood. That’s bound to alienate long term fans who are really invested in canon. I actually like this, and the way it sets up future stories to have their own meaning.  

On the other side, the movie really focuses on building expectations for Kyle Ron’s redemption and makes Finn, Poe and Rose partially responsible for the death of the rebellion, sidelining them in the process. Again, this isn’t an objective mistake, but I do not like it at all. I really like Finn and in particular, his relationship with Rey, which is absent in the movie.

Kyle Ron is a good villain, but trying to build empathy for him actually backfires. Yeah, discovering your mentor uncle thinks you’re evil and wants to kill you is fucked up. Feeling seperated from your parents sucks. But it doesn’t excuse Kyle’s many crimes. Trying to redeem pseudo-nazis is a bad idea both in-universe and as a story to tell in 2017. It should have something more substantive to say if it wants to go that route.

All in all, this movie was a mixed bag for me. I think it will be for a lot of people, depending on what they’re looking for. If you aren’t really invested in Finnrey, Poe, the Jedi Order and the Skywalker Dynasty, or Kylo Ren being recognized as entitled and awful, you’ll probably enjoy this movie more. 

[suitedwestend]

Camp Leader Embarrassment

I received a request from a very creative guy who suggested a scenario I've not considered before - he wanted a guy who's gained a bit of a weight who's a summer camp leader - and here it is! Keep your submissions coming! Ben Jacobs had been best friends with Jason Lyle since they were eleven. They’d both been confident that they’d stay friends when they left high school and went to separate colleges and to ensure that happened, they both signed up to be camp leaders at the Lyle Summer Camp that Jason’s dad ran. ‘We’ll stay in touch right?’ Ben asked Jason, the weekend before they left for college. ‘Sure we will,’ Jason said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘We have camp together all next summer and it’ll be a blast.’ Ben knew he was right. He and Jason had always been tied at the hip since they’d first met. They were both average in every way; from looks to intelligence. If anything, Ben was slightly more attractive, whilst Jason was more intelligent. Ben’s first year at college when by in a haze of classes, food and parties. He’d made a few close friends and was doing well in his studies. By the time the last semester of the year had finished, Ben wasn’t sure that he really wanted do the summer camp, but his parents were adamant that the fresh air, exercise and responsibility would do him some good. If nothing else, Ben was really excited to see his best bud again and Jason was equally excited to see him. The leaders at Lyle Summer Camp were told to arrive at 11am on the first day of camp. They would be settled in and have their orientation for two days before the fifty teenagers arrived. When Ben’s dad dropped him off outside the main building, Jason ran outside to greet him. ‘Ben,’ he yelled as he pulled his best friend into a bear hug. ‘Hey Jace,’ Ben said with a grin. ‘Looks like someone enjoyed the college cafeteria,’ Jason said with a chuckle as he patted Ben’s stomach. Ben frowned slightly, but waved the comment away. ‘It looks like college agrees with you, bud. You’re stacked.’ Jason had clearly been working out during their year apart and had gone from Mr. Average to Mr Hunk. He was now toned and muscular with a new haircut that made him look like some sort of movie star. Ben had to admit that he looked great! The two of them chatted non-stop as Jason led Ben to the cabin they’d be sharing for the summer. ‘Okay, dude, your uniforms are on your bed. Get unpacked and then meet me back at the main building.’ The cabin was small, but comfortable. There were two single beds, a couple of bedside cabinets, a small wardrobe each and a tiny bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet. As Ben started unpacking, he noticed the full length mirror at the end of the beds and Jason’s comment suddenly came back to him. Ben didn’t look much different facially. He had the same untidy brown hair, the same blue eyes and strong jaw, but his body had maybe changed some. His broad shoulders now covered a frame that was a bit on the chubby side. At 5’10, the freshman 15 had definitely changed his average body to one that was a bit chunky. He didn’t have moobs, but he certainly had a bit of a gut and his once muscular thighs had chunked out a bit and his nicely rounded ass had turned into a seriously ample bubble butt. ‘I never noticed,’ Ben said as he rubbed his gut and checked out his ass in the mirror. ‘I haven’t changed that much.’ Once he was unpacked, Ben headed over to the main building and joined the other camp leaders. Ben really enjoyed getting to see the camp and learning how to lead the activities and it was great to spend time with Jason again. However, the other 3 camp leaders didn’t seem as friendly as his best friend. The other three guys were built like Jason and after stuffing his face in the cafeteria buffet, Ben was feeling more and more insecure about his body; something that the other leaders had no problem in pointing out. But, Ben refused to let it get him down. He didn’t want the body of a Greek god. He was happy being him. Who cared if he’d gotten a little chunky – it didn’t impact him so what was the big deal? However, the following morning, Ben couldn’t have been more wrong. The big deal was that both he and Jason had given the sizes for their uniforms when they’d signed up. Jason had had the foresight to get a bigger size with his muscle gain, but Ben . . . Ben was stuck with a medium shirt and 34 inch waist shorts. Ben hadn’t considered the sizes on his uniform until he woke up and finished his shower. Jason had already headed off for breakfast so Ben dropped his towel and pulled on a pair of slightly tatty Calvin Klein briefs. He grabbed the khaki coloured polo shirt and pulled it on, before glancing at the mirror with a confused expression. The shirt was snug to say the least. It hugged him like a second skin and only just covered his gut, but as soon as he stretched a little, he’d flash some skin. ‘Better keep this pulled down,’ he said with a frown. Ben grabbed the shorts and stepped into them, before pulling them up to his thighs. He struggled with the thin khaki material as he yanked them over his chunkier thighs, but his biggest problem was his ass. As he turned around and looked in the mirror, his briefs barely covered his crack and he couldn’t believe how huge his bubble butt had become. He’d always had a well-shaped ass, but now it was massive. With a lot of sweating and moaning, Ben finally got the shorts over his ass and done up, but they dug into his hips and clung tightly to his ample ass. ‘I’ll just ask Jason’s dad if they have some bigger uniforms and I’ll try and keep my shirt down. I’ll be fine.’ Ben’s optimism was quickly shattered when he met up with the other camp leaders. The comments about his uniform and the size of his butt made him feel even more self-conscious, which wasn’t helped when he yawned and put his arms above his head, flashing his belly to the others. Thankfully, Ben got to escape the other leaders as soon as the kids arrived. The camp was for boys aged 15-18, so Ben and Jason weren’t a lot older than some of the guys they were responsible for. Each leader was allocated ten of the teenagers and the first day was a simple matter of showing them to their sleeping quarters and the cafeteria, leaving them to socialise, explore and settle in. ‘When do we get to go to the lake, Ben?’ one of the guys asked as he lead them to their sleeping quarters. ‘I’ll be taking you guys down there tomorrow,’ Ben said with a smile. ‘So, I hope you’ve all remembered your swim kit.’ ‘Will you be swimming with us?’ a different guy asked. ‘Ummm sure.’ ‘Sweet, we get to see whales,’ the first guy said. The boys all laughed and Ben blushed. ‘Very funny. Now, let me show you into your sleeping cabin.’ Ben was so flustered by the whale comment that he dropped the key. He bent down to grab it and struggled to pick it up from the ground. Meanwhile, the ten guys behind him were treated to the sight of his shorts and briefs riding down half way over his huge ass, his slightly furry butt crack on full display. ‘Nice crack, Camp Leader Ben!’ ‘Yeah, put it away, fat ass!’ Ben quickly stood up, his face beet red. He tugged his shirt down and tried to pull his shorts back into place, but without success. ‘Okay, everyone pick a bed,’ Ben said as he pushed the double doors open and stepped back. The boys ran past him, which gave Ben the opportunity to tug his shorts back into place. The shorts were so snug that Ben couldn’t get his hand under the waistband to yank his briefs up, so he had to settle for pulling up the shorts over his fuzzy cheeks, leaving his briefs bunched up halfway down his butt. Once the boys were arguing over who had which bed, they had completely dropped Ben’s embarrassing plumber’s crack moment. They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the grounds whilst Ben prepped their activities for the rest of the week. The following day, Ben woke slightly late. He grabbed his swim bag and pulled on his snug uniform before heading to breakfast. The other camp leaders were mercifully nice to him during the meal, which was a relief after his embarrassment the day before. Ben managed to see Jason’s dad and briefly asked him if they had any other uniforms. ‘Sorry, Ben, but I only order them in when I need them. Looks like you could do with a bigger size. I can order one in, but it’ll take a couple of weeks.’ Ben felt determined that a couple of weeks of activities with his group would burn the pounds off, so he waved the offer away and went to meet his group. ‘Okay, guys, we’re heading down to the lake for a swim and some games this morning. Then, we’ll be back here for lunch and you’ll have the afternoon to yourselves. Has everyone got their swim kit?’ All the boys nodded and Ben led them along the forest trail to the lake. As the boys talked and joked, Ben decided that he’d get them to go in and change and then whilst they got out the equipment, he could change in peace. After the butt crack incident, he really didn’t want to deal with anymore teasing. ‘Here we are,’ Ben said as they arrived at the edge of the huge lake was that surrounded by forest. ‘The changing block is over there, so head in and change and meet me back out here.’ The guys all ran inside and were quickly back in their board shorts. ‘Okay, the equipment shed is further down the lake. I want you guys to head down there and retrieve the boards. You’ve got five minutes.’ As soon as they started running off, Ben rushed into the changing rooms and pulled off his t-shirt. He’d put on his board shorts and flip flops and be back outside before they returned. He was never usually that conscious of his body, but after the comments about his ass and his crack the day before, he just couldn’t face them seeing him tugging down his shorts as his briefs would likely come down a bit with them. Ben opened his kit bag and pulled out his navy board shorts. He breathed in to unbutton his khaki shorts and tugged them down to his ankles before kicking them away. He looked down at his snug black briefs before pulling them off as well. He didn’t want his briefs to be bunched up under his board shorts as it would just be too uncomfortable. He grabbed his board shorts and had the same problem getting them on that he did with his shorts. He hadn’t worn them since the previous summer and he mentally kicked himself for not checking they fit before he wore them. With a lot of struggling, Ben managed to keep the Velcro fastener closed if he sucked in and quickly tied the drawstring. The shorts were like a second skin and he blushed when he saw his reflection in the mirror. His bulge was prominent, his thighs looked huge and his ass stuck out like a shelf. After a quick thought, Ben pulled his uniform t-shirt back on. There was no way that he could go out there shirtless. He just couldn’t face the comments about his squidgy, slightly furry upper body. Ben threw his shorts, briefs, socks and boots into his kit bag, pushed his feet into his flip flops and headed outside, just as the boys returned with the body boards. ‘Nice shorts, Camp Leader Ben,’ one of the guys said with a smirk. ‘Thank you,’ Ben said, ignoring the sarcasm. ‘Now, you guys are going to get in the water, have a swim and play around with the body boards. Then we’ll play a few games where you guys will need to pair up.’ As the boys played, Ben went to sit down on the edge of the lake, but after hearing a slight popping sound coming from one of the seams on his board shorts, he quickly stood up and stayed standing. After an hour, Ben set them a game after one of the guys had nipped to the toilet inside the changing block. They had to get into pairs and whilst one guy was on the body board, the other would have to swim them to the island in the middle of the lake. Then they’d switch and swim back. After Ben had laid out the rules, he asked for the spare boards to be handed to him. Ben was being careful to ensure the boards were close so that he didn’t risk falling in, but when the last board was being handed to him, the guy pulled it back ever so slightly. Ben reached forward and had to bend slightly to grab it. ‘Can you pass it here please, Matt?’ Ben asked as he straightened up. Matt tossed the board over Ben’s head so it landed on the ground with a thud. ‘That wasn’t what I asked, Matt,’ Ben scolded as he turned around to pick up the board. With all the boys watching, Ben tugged his shorts up slightly to ensure his crack would be covered before bending over to grab the board when the rear seam on his board shorts split open with a loud RRRRIIIIIPPPPPPPP!!!! His huge butt cheeks were on full view and Ben’s face heated with embarrassment as he jumped up and spun around, the laughter echoing around the lake. ‘Okay okay, very funny!’ Ben said, as he tried to quieten them down. ‘Hey, Camp Leader Ben, where’s your undies? I thought we had to wear them under our board shorts.’ ‘That’s not an enforced policy. Now, I’ll go and change whilst you guys swim for a bit. We’ll pick up the game when I’m back.’ ‘Okay, Camp Leader Ben,’ Matt said with a grin. Ben did his best to walk backwards, his hands clutching the loose material of his board shorts as he tried to cover up his huge butt, but as he walked backwards, he hit the changing room block and the surprise made him jump. His hands automatically tugged and he pulled open the front of his board shorts with another loud RRRIIIPPPPP, his cock and balls flopping into view, which made the boys roar with laughter. ‘Looks like Camp Leader Ben has a semi!’ Ben turned tail and ran into the changing block, his butt bouncing to the heightened amusement of the boys. Ben slammed the door behind him and took a deep breath. How the hell had that even happened? He looked down and realised that his tug on the material had just torn the seam through the crotch and up the front. He was mortified. How could he face them when they’d seen his dick? ‘I just need to get changed and head back out there. I’m the grown up!’ Ben removed his flip flops and tattered board shorts and walked along the bench, but his kit bag had gone. He looked everywhere, but it was nowhere to be seen. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he wrapped it around his waist and held it tightly in his hand. His thigh could be seen through the split where the towel didn’t quite meet, but he was at least sufficiently covered. ‘Okay, guys. Very funny. Who hid my kit bag?’ Ben said as he stepped outside the changing room block. ‘Oh, sorry Camp Leader Ben, I thought it was mine.’ ‘It was mine, Luke. Can I have it please?’ ‘Sure, come and get it,’ Luke said as he climbed out of the lake and held up the bag. Ignoring the other boys, Ben walked over to Luke and held out his hand. ‘Bag please.’ Before Ben could take the bag, someone came up behind him and without a moment of hesitation, they yanked his towel off and slapped one of his butt cheeks. The boy all roared with laughter as Ben grabbed his bag and dashed back inside the changing rooms, the laughter almost deafening. ‘I pray the other camp leaders don’t find out about this,’ Ben said, his face still bright red as he changed back into his tight uniform and wished for the day to be over. But, unfortunately for Ben, summer camp and his embarrassment was far from over . . .