#this duvet cover is so well-used there is almost no difference in colour between in- and outside 😂

[n3ongold3n]

Finished sewing the formulalakanat kimono jacket all by hand since i don't have a sewing machine

I wish the fabric was more like the original but it's really hard to come by (who would have thought? 😅) Now i just wish there was a gig i could wear it to :')

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Binary Sunset (AU post RotS, Beru Lars gets an unexpected visit and has to make a tough choice regarding her nephew)

“Who are you?”

Beru reared back, attempting to put as much distance as possible between herself whomever this thing was, staring her down with cold dead eyes.

“I have come for my son,” the figure said, its voice deep and monotone and distinctly male.

Glancing behind herself into the sleeping quarters of the homestead, she saw that the infant child was still asleep in his cradle. She made sure not to give away his location, but when she turned her attention back to the intruder, her heart was already sinking. He had not moved. In fact, he might have been taken for a statue, had it not been for the loud wheezing breaths of a respiratory device of some kind. The man bore a cape, as black as the uniform full body suit and armour covering him. It danced in the twilight wind, as the two suns glowed behind him like red orbs. Their intense heat seemed insignificant, compared to the burning hatred Beru could feel from the man’s covered eyes.

“I don’t know your son.”

“Is that so.”

His mask gave nothing away, stoic, resembling a human skull. His words seemed a statement, rather than a question, as if he was making a mental note of her defensiveness. Tall, broad shouldered, menacing. Beru hoped she came off as genuine, but when he took a step towards her, she felt the primal urge to run inside, grab the child and flee.

“There is a child in your sleeping quarters,” said the man, after a long, chilling silence despite the sunlight still spilling in orange hues over the sand dunes. “He is not yours.”

“He is!” Beru heard herself growl, shocked by how possessive she had become of the little one in such a short span of time. “He is mine!”

“He is not. You may have taken him in as next of kin, but he is not yours to claim.”

Beru clenched her jaw, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at the cradle. He was still blissfully unaware, swept in a soft duvet as he cooed in his sleep. Even over the persisting hissing of the intruder’s breathing, she focused on the child. 

Luke. Precious little Luke, destined for so much more than life as a poor moisture farmer. Face set hard, Beru made sure to place herself in the middle of the doorway, just outside the threshold. She would not back down, whatever that decision would entail. The ex-Jedi who had delivered him might have grander plans, plans this stranger might be involved with, but she wanted the boy safe. On Tatooine, if he was taught to fend for himself, to steer clear of Jawas, Tusken raiders and womp rats, he might become an ordinary young man some day. Without the mystical sorcery his father had fallen prey to luring him in.

“He is mine. We have adopted him, we are his only living relatives. He has no one else.”

Beru hoped she sounded genuine to the menace, hoped she was appealing to some sort of sympathy or compassion behind the threatening visage. When he spoke, his tone was even deeper than before, a rumble rivalling that of any fully grown krayt dragon.

“Do not lie to me,” he warned, and moved so suddenly Beru couldn’t help but gasp in mixed horror and startlement.

But all he did was raise one arm, letting the open palm hover midair, facing the woman’s face. She blinked, confusion seeping in - and then her head exploded from within. She flinched, as a sharp pain ground its way into her temples. The ache travelled down her spine, a loud ringing in her ears overpowering any senses as her vision went bright white - shutting out both the mysterious visitor and the binary sunset. She whimpered, her own hands flying up to cover her ears. She wanted to scream, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she thought what felt like an ice pick being drilled right through her brain. 

And then, it was gone. As if it had never been there to begin with. Unable to control her sobs, her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the ground. She panted, terrified of the man before her, of the agonizing headache returning. She could not explain it, but there was no doubt in her mind that the two were connected. The stranger had hurt her without laying a finger on her, if he was able to do that, what else was he capable of? If she had been wary before, now she was terrified.

“I - I am… not lying,” she managed to whisper, voice hoarse and unsteady.

“No. You are not.”

Surprisingly, the man agreed as he let his hand fall to his side. A wave of relief washed over Beru, but she was not prepared to build her hopes up that he may show her mercy and leave her and Luke alone. Luke needed to stay here, for his own safety. The Jedi had promised her he would keep them safe, and she had promised to love Luke as her own son. That meant defending him as if he were.

“You are not lying. You know only what Kenobi has taught you.”

Beru wiped her face with her sleeve as best she could, hoisting herself into an upright position with one hand pressed to the clay wall by her side. She clung to it for support, but through her watery eyes she saw that the stranger seemed more resolute, his stance more determined. She trembled, but stood her ground.

“I won’t speak of it. Not to you. Not to anyone. He warned us of strangers.”

“Kenobi is a liar and a traitor to the Empire, as are all Jedi. Would it be beneath an attempted murderer to lie?”

The stranger’s voice bore the same, mechanical character but it was sharper now, like a bark. Beru felt the hatred from before had returned, but didn’t seem to be directed at her. The way the man said ‘Kenobi’ revealed everything about whom the loathing was aimed at.

“I don’t understand,” the woman shook her head, cold sweat still soaking her forehead and she wiped her brow with her sleeve. 

“He told you the child has no living relatives, did he not?”

Beru’s eyes widened, before suspicion crept back in. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, willing herself to restrain herself from shedding any more tears. Even though she was still breathless, still shivering, still afraid.

“I never said it was him,” she settled for, as her retort.

“I am warning you to play along, or I may need to apply different methods to assure your complacency,” was the reply, and the man raised his hand again.

The threat was enough, and Beru shook her head vehemently, arms coming up to shield herself from another head splitting, intrusive mental assault. What she had assumed before was true, he had been controlling whatever power had tormented her senses. How? Why? Nothing made sense, but she believed him and that was enough.

“You are wiser than most. Fetch the child.”

“What?” the woman croaked, all the blood draining from her face as the intent behind the demand hit her.

“Fetch. The. Child,” he repeated, this time using his raised arm to point his finger at the doorway.

Only a sliver of pink and orange sunlight remained on the horizon. Owen wouldn’t be back in several hours. Beru hesitated, unwilling to comply, but found she could not resist. She could either obey, or protest and get herself killed. The stranger would take Luke away either way, she already knew that.

Stubborn tears welled back up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she slipped back into the primary living area of their homestead. Passing through another low doorway, she approached the cradle cautiously. She didn’t want to wake the child, didn't want to frighten him. Hushing him, or perhaps herself and her own soft sniffles, she picked the little bundle up. Beru made sure Luke was neatly wrapped in his duvet as she cradled him to her chest, rocking her arms gently when it seemed he might wake up. She breathed a sigh of relief when he settled back down, cooing and letting out a soft snore. Swallowing hard, Beru kept her head low and kept her gaze steady on the blonde tuft of hair on Luke’s head where it stuck out from underneath his pajamas. 

Not until she had crossed the threshold, relying solely on her periphery and memory, did she tear her eyes away from the infant. The intruder hadn’t moved an inch, the now chilly, crisp air biting at Beru’s tears streaked cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was soft but defiant.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“It would be foolish of you to presume I wouldn’t,” he simply stated, his tone matter of fact.

“He’s my boy.”

Once again, Beru hoped he had a heart somewhere behind the exterior facade of menace. Beyond those strange, terrifying powers he had displayed. 

“He is not. The child belongs with his father,” said the man.

“The child’s father is dead. So is his mother. I and Owen are the only family he has left, he has no one else. He means nothing to you, whoever you are. He means the world to me.”

“Then, we have something in common,” stated the stranger, and it took Beru a tad too long to understand what he meant.

“I… don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Not Kenobi, not you,” she felt the weight of realization as something began to dawn on her, but refused to voice it and see it confirmed.

The man shifted then, stalking closer with a couple of long strides. As he moved closer, Beru tipped her head back, staring up at his frightening stature but unwilling to turn away, for fear of what he might do if she lost an ounce of focus. He seemed much more focused on the bundle in her arms, however, and she instinctively held the child closer to her body for protection. The man was huge, towering over her, looming like a hungering predator ready to strike. The lenses of the mask he wore were a deep, crimson red, she noticed now. The colour filled her with dread, entrancing as she watched him peer in what could have come across as stunned silence at the peacefully slumbering infant. One the man’s large, gloved hands came up to reach for the boy, and Beru almost yelped in fear.

But instead of harming Luke with just a look, Beru was shocked to see the man touch the infant’s chubby little cheek with an unearned, unexpected tenderness. It was just a simple, gentle graze of fingertips, and a smile pulled at the corners of the child’s lips. He was still asleep, but he cooed something intelligible, one tiny hand reaching for the stranger’s index finger. The stranger seemed cautious, and Beru almost believed he was concerned, maybe even scared of accidentally hurting the boy.

“Kenobi would rather have you believe the child’s parents had perished,” said the stranger, but his attention was still single handedly on the infant.

“Where else would they be? Kenobi told us the Jedi order had been executed, framed for high treason. He told us Anakin Skywalker died with the rest of his kind.”

“They were not framed, they were the instigators. But I am not here to discuss politics that may result in your immediate execution, and neither should you.”

The threatening note to the man’s voice was back, and Beru pinched her lips tightly together. She knew by now that Luke’s life had never been on the line, not given how carefully the stranger was interacting with the sleeping form. Her life, however, was still in mortal peril - and perhaps Owen’s was, too.

“The fact still stands,” Beru dared to say, bracing herself. “That Anakin is dead, and Luke has no one but us.”

“Luke…”

The name was said so gently, so softly that Beru almost thought she had imagined it. Despite the harsh diction, the flat delivery seemed so genuine and heart felt. Gaze darting between the intruder’s mask, and Luke’s pleased expression as the man let him close his little fist around his finger, the suspicion only grew stronger in its persistence.

“Yes. Luke. His mother named him before she died, Kenobi said. Unless that was another lie,” the woman trailed off.

“She did believe you were a boy,” mused the man, almost wistful as he seemed to be speaking directly to the small child.

Still, the words left an impression. A cold, gnawing sensation settled at the pit of Beru’s belly; clawing its way up into her chest cavity where it remained, desperately grinding from the inside as if attempting to force itself out. There was something eerie and uncanny about the stranger, something distinctly familiar. Familiar, yet foreign. Known, yet unknown. She peered down at the infant in her arms, the love she had developed for the little boy overpowering, overwhelming her. Then, she ignored the alarm bells at the back of her mind, the voices screaming at her to resist the urge. Instead, she slowly held the baby out in front of her, face set hard and throat tight as a lump settled at the base. The ball of tears rose, until her eyes were once more brimming with tears.

The stranger eyed her with what could only be perplexed confusion, as if he was in disbelief that she would entrust him with the child. She remained motionless, as he seemed to be weighing his options. Then, with stilted, jerky motions, he lifted both arms. He reached for the bundle, and with caution as if the boy was made of glass, as if he were so fragile he might break at the simplest touch, the stranger accepted him. The scene was ridiculous; a man looking like the reaper himself had come straight from a galactic battlefield while shielding the very icon of innocence in his grasp.

 “You said his Anakin isn’t dead. If he’s alive, then where is he?” Beru said, and the calm, collected manner in which she delivered those words surprised even her.

The stranger said nothing, but he did look at her. 

A long, pregnant silence fell as the darkness of night finally settled over the farm, and the Lars’ homestead. Beru wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes. She had wanted him to say it, to verbally verify and confirm what she suspected. It was impossible to deny, as she studied the wonder and amazement with which the stranger regarded Luke. What surprised her most, though, was when he hid the child close against his chest, and held her gaze. She felt his stare burning into her soul, his presence no less imposing than it had been when he first appeared. 

Beru found she couldn’t speak. She had nothing to say, and even if she did, it would have made no difference. She understood, and took a step back as she nodded at him, encouraging him with a mournful smile. He was dangerous, that much she could tell. The stranger was vicious, ruthless, and cruel. But he held a tremendous fondness for this child, and in that, Beru could see herself. In that, Beru found the strength to acknowledge that the stranger was, in fact, no stranger at all. Even as he turned his back, cape billowing behind him while he began to trudge through the sand in a direction only he knew where it might lead, Beru was certain that the man would keep Luke safe.

As the man grew smaller in the distance, Beru allowed herself to weep again, watching her nephew disappear into the ice cold desert night. Still, something nagged at her compelled her to make a bargain in turn. Not that she had anything to offer, but she was convinced the man who was not a stranger would be inclined to agree.

“Promise me Luke will be safe with you!”

The intruder halted. Sand whirled around his boots, starlight bouncing off the man’s domed helmet as a gleaming beacon of hope in the darkness. She sensed an odd, reluctant sort of foreboding but stood her ground. He did not speak, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer and she knew he would not have come this far if he didn’t have the intention to keep the boy out of harm’s way. She didn’t know the man well, never had, but she knew Luke. Shutting her eyes, Beru accepted the silence as the confirmation she had been looking for. She had been left alive, living to tell the tale. She knew he had come to kill her, she didn’t understand how, but somehow it was clear. Somehow, Luke would be okay. The man needed the infant, more than the infant needed him. It was the next right thing to do.

“Thank you, Anakin.”

Beru couldn’t be certain, but something told her Luke had a better chance at the kind of life he was meant for in the hands of his father.

-----------

You all knew where this was going, haha. I did intend to post this as another installment of Mask of Death but I’m not sure I should throw a non-canon compliant chapter in there as all others have been as compliant as fanfics can be. Let me know whether I should make an exception for this one or not!

I’m a sucker for dad!Vader and baby!Luke.

[softinkshadows]

drunken wrong room encounters w adultrio (x female reader)

Disclaimer: contains some lime-y content! HISOKA

The elevator at Heaven’s Arena dinged softly as its doors opened to the 200th floor. Flushed with a giddy smile on your face, your heart was full from the night’s festivities. Today you scored your 4th win on the 200th floor, and took to a nearby bar afterwards to celebrate. Being one of the only female fighters on the floor, you were swarmed with many fans; you smiled to yourself remembering  the cheers and ruckus from everyone at the bar, hands offering you yet another shot, loud hooting when you downed them all as you found yourself happily egged on to take one too many drinks. Thankfully the corridor was well-lit, if not you’d have trouble finding your way back to your room. You turned the door handle, going inside.  Did I forget to turn off the bathroom light? you wondered absentmindedly, kicking off your shoes. The room smelled a little different - sweeter? There was a scent of damask rose, but you brushed it off. You hummed a small tune as you started to undress yourself for the night, stripping yourself of your pants and outershirts (a little dirtied from the fight earlier) and laying them over the armchair at the room desk, finally only clad in a fitted neoprene tank top and underwear. You sighed a little, steadying yourself with the desk in order to stand up straight when you felt a rush of heat behind you. Strong arms pinned your hands to the desk as you felt the immobilizing weight of another body leaning against you from behind, the scent of roses now wafting heavily close. In your disorientation you felt the texture of a soft bath towel against your butt. “Eh?? Who the hell -” your protests were cut short as the strong limbs flipped you around, maintaining their grip on your wrists. “My, my, it seems like someone went into the wrong room.” A voice purred. You were spun around to face none other than the strongest fighter at Heavens Arena. His striking red hair fell in a damp tangle around his face, still dripping wet from the shower. Your eyes followed the thin trickles of water, as it fell onto his bare, sculpted torso. “Hi-hisoka!” you gasped aloud both in shock at in the embarrassment of the man who was barely clothed and leaning over you on the desk. You felt your face flush with warmth, your head still spinning from the effect of alcohol. He moved closer, golden eyes glinting with mischief, until his face was barely inches away from yours. “I saw your fight earlier, you were.. good,” he emphasized the last word, his lips curling into a smirk. The slight suggestiveness, his piercing eyes, the proximity of his body were enough to make you more flustered, as a strange heat began to pool in your abdomen. “Wait- wh-what is thi- I’m gonna kill y-you,” you stammered incoherently. Hisoka leaned towards your ear. 

“Would you like me to... stop?” he whispered, biting on your ear lobe. “A-ah!” you gasped, feeling a tinge of arousal creeping between your legs. He moved downwards to breathe lightly against your neck. “Yes...” he began, using his tongue to delicately trail your skin, travelling the length from your collarbone to your ear, “or no?” His tongue flicked your ear again. His fingers laced with yours, body pressing into you, the sensation of his tongue making you tremble as you felt the heat between your legs grow. “N-...Ye-..yes,” you struggled to form your words, your mind clouded with a feeling of confusion, irritation and pleasure, along with that heady scent of damask rose.  “Very well.” You heard a chuckle before you felt the world spin a little. Everything was a blur; you being carried bridal style - the lights and airconditioning of the corridor - another door opening and closing - the softness and familiarity of your own bed. You felt exhaustion begin to wash over you, barely making out Hisoka’s chuckled words before he closed the door. “As for a fight... I’ll do you anytime. Come to me when you’re ready, or when you want your clothes back.” ILLUMI “Y/N, are you sure you don’t want me to walk you back to your room?” Leorio asked, being the gentleman that he was. It was the 287th Hunter Exam, and you managed to clear the 4th round. Now all the participants who passed were on the airship headed from Zevil Island back to the Hunter’s Association building, and you and Leorio had taken to celebrating with rounds of indulgent drinking. “NAH IM OKAY!” you exclaimed exuberantly, even though you were clearly wasted. “Thanks for, y-your hard work todayyyyyyy, Leoleo!” “It’s Leorio!!” he yelled back, irritated but stifling a laugh, before walking towards the other residential wing of the blimp.  “Room 16...17...ah 18...?” you clambered around unsteadily, before finding the door knob. The room was dark save for a rectangular window on one wall, letting in some shafts of moonlight. The bed looked incredibly inviting after a long and tiring day, especially with the physical strain of the last exam round. White soft sheets and a thick fluffy duvet heaped on the large bed. At least there were some perks for getting this far, you thought. Standing by the side of the bed, you stretched your body in exhaustion and satisfaction. “Tsukaretaaaaa~ (trans: I’m so tired~~)” you breathed, removing all your clothes in one fell swoop, letting them fall noisily to the floor. You weren’t going to bother with a shower now, you could deal with that tomorrow. Now, you just needed some quality rest before you’d be raring to go for the last exam round the day after. You pulled the soft duvet up to your chin, ready to drift into deep sleep. Next to you, on the other side of the bed, something stirred. A soft, displeased voice grumbled, “Hisoka, what is it this time...” Someone got up and was now above you, legs on either side of your waist, forearms bent at right angles and pressed to the bed to hold themselves up. “I thought we agreed...” Illumi trailed off, looking down at the person he thought was in his bed, before realizing he had made a mistake. For a moment, he was stunned. “Huh?” “Haah?” You responded, in a drunken drawl. Through your flushed cheeks, and slightly blurred vision, you saw a beautiful man with deep raven-coloured eyes. Long black hair fell silkily down to the pillow, cascading like a veil over your head. You were vaguely aware of his arms on both sides of you, and the proximity of his body to yours, but it didn’t feel intrusive. There was almost a feline lightness to his features and limbs. You were certain that you’d never seen this man before, at least throughout the hunter exam, and you were so sure that you were dreaming. Illumi turned his head to look at the discarded clothes on the floor, before turning back to you. “Ah..” He then realized the state of you resting in his bed, and his eyes wavered a little, his heart leaping just a bit faster than usual. What should he do? How did years of assassin training not prepare him for this? At this point you had made a move to sit up slightly, the duvet falling a little further around you below your chest. “Um...”  his nimble fingers picking up the duvet to cover your chest, a faint blush dusting his pale cheeks. Enjoying every moment of what you were certain was a dream, you reached up to gently twine your slender fingers in his black hair. “So soft....” you remarked as you felt the strands, your eyes dazzling with awe and inebriation. Your hands made your way to his face, and your fingers moved along his brows, nose, before resting on his cheeks. “So soft~~” you squished his cheeks gently, giggling a little. W-wh-what was that? In a flash, the man above you moved away, and your hands grasped only at air. You sulked out loud a little before falling finally into slumber, letting out a small snore. At the other end of the bed, Illumi was awake, staring at the wall with a strange tingle in his chest, his ears unmistakably red. CHROLLO You’d just about had it. Seething with anger, you pressed your floor button in the hotel lift, leaning back to the wall with your arms crossed. You knew you would have to meet unsavoury people in your job as a reporter, but nothing had readied you for tonight’s event. This gala was attended by the supremely, grossly overpaid upper class, another fundraising event to line the pockets of yet another private trust. The pitiful looks they gave you, their derogatory comments...! Thankfully as part of the job you had a suite in the hotel that hosted the event, and you exploited the complimentary flow of alcohol too... You noticed your suite door ajar, and caught a glimpse of a service cart. Hmph, at least there’s additional room service too, you thought, pushing the door open to enter. The hotel maid caught a glimpse of you, cheeks red from all the wine and champagne, stumbling a little into the suite. Her eyes glanced over towards the master bedroom and back at you, turning embarrassed as if having understood something, before leaving the room hurriedly. 

“ANNOYING RICH PEOPLE!” you yelled to yourself, flinging your shoes near the doorway before collapsing on a large leather sofa. You looked out of the down to floor windows at the glimmering lights of the city, floating hazily before you. You felt one of your dress straps fall past your shoulders, and your black evening gown was already hitched up past your knees, but you didn’t really care. A sound of soft footsteps approached before you saw someone looking down at your lying figure. His black hair fell close to his shoulders, there was a funny cross tattoo on his forehead, his grey eyes piercing and inscrutable. Ah, you remembered him from the gala too, although he was alone most of the time, interacting only with a few select people. Now he had half unbuttoned the vest of his 3-piece suit, and was in the process of loosening his tie. His voice was gentle, but contained a trace of amusement. “Miss, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong room.” “NO YOU’RE IN THE WRONG ROOM!” you yelled in drunken stupor, not even making sense anymore. You sat up disheveled. “PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE ALL THE SAME, LOOKING DOWN ON OTHERS, USING PEOPLE LIKE THEY ARE TOYS AND THEN THROWING THEM AWAY. DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANY HUMANITY?” you ranted, not realizing that he had taken a seat on the sofa near you. He propped his head up with one hand resting on the armrest, his eyes twinkling and he gazed at you. Even with his loosened tie, and a dress shirt tucked out, there was something alluring about him, drawing you deeper into an abyss. You couldn’t tell if it was dangerous or just seductive. You didn’t even hear the words you were saying. “AND DAMN YOU AND YOUR GOODLOOKING FACE.” He chuckled to himself, before looking back into your eyes with his steely grey ones.  “And how shall people like me be punished?” he asked softly. You found yourself climbing into his lap, your tousled hair now falling a little out of your bun, you knees between his, as you leaned close to his face. You felt the heat of his body below yours. “LIKE THIS.” Without warning, you raised your hand, and gave his forehead a quick and powerful flick. He didn’t even blink, although his eyes registered some kind of shock. Then Chrollo burst out into a small laugh, running his fingers through his hair. So amusing, he thought to himself. Perhaps I can enjoy myself tonight.

Feeling a little mocked, you continued, spurred by embarrassment, “Y-YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS WITH PEOPLE LIKE YOU? NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY, YOU’RE JUST... EMPTY!” 

Before you knew it, suddenly you were on you back, and Chrollo’s hands gripped both of yours, pinning you down hard. Your words had struck a nerve. Surprised from the movement and his reaction, you were speechless, your cheeks now a little warmer when you realized the position you were in, your dress now hiked up almost to your waist. “Perhaps I can prove you wrong,” he whispered, leaning so close both your lips were almost touching. Chrollo knew, from all the women that threw themselves at him throughout the gala, that any of them would immediately take this chance now. He was craving a little release after all, and by this point, no one would refuse.  Then, you stared at him, face red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, and stuck out your tongue defiantly like a child. With your hands pinned above you, you looked away, pouting. S-so cute! One of Chrollo’s hands flew to shield his face momentarily to stifle a laugh, and a discernible blush covered his cheeks. He stood up from the sofa and straightened out his shirt, walking into the bedroom before returning with an extra duvet. By then, you had dozed off asleep, and he glanced at your weary form. Such an amusing, vulnerable creature. He chuckled, laying the duvet gently over you. “Sleep well tonight, my dear. I’ll be with you in the morning when you wake.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Notes: I wanted to write the last Chrollo-only one for the previous situation, but somehow this floated into my mind. I found myself internally screaming when writing the Illumi portion becos Hiso-Illu just dropped so casually I’m like... sometimes I’m glad I have this brain 

[constilationn]

Changing The Sheets || Part 2 🥀

A/N: Hey guys, I wrote a part two of this because I really like the direction it was going in. Anyway, I’m really really proud of this one and I loved writing it. Please do give any and all feedback, I love it. Much love guys. 

Rating: T?

Warning: naughty words, that's about it. 

Summary: You think you’re doing okay, Ashton shows up and you realise you might not be. But time can mend and you know that. 

Part 1

At the end of three weeks, crisis mode ends for everyone but you. Calum stops coming by every day, understandable because he has his own life to live but it hurts all the same. Luke and Michael still come around occasionally but everything goes back to normal. You’ve accepted Ashton isn’t coming back anytime soon, you’ve accepted that he’s probably with her now and it’s time to move on but it still hurts. It hurts so much that your heart seemingly twists with every breath you take and a pain lingers in your gut that you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try. Still, you think it might be time to fix the bedroom, throw out all of Ashton’s old stuff and start fresh. You think you can do that, think after weeks of shutting the world out, you can drag yourself down to the department store and buy replacements for all the stuff you broke. You can drag yourself out of bed, put your goddamn clothes on and start putting yourself back together like you promised you would.

And so you do.

Two days after changing the sheets for the first time, you kick the comforter back off and let it land on the floor. You drag yourself up, throw the pillows from the bed and strip the sheet from the mattress. It’s different now, this isn’t anger anymore or at least you don’t think it is, you think its acceptance, think it’s the determination to pick up the pieces of yourself and slot them back into place no matter what you have to do. Because you can’t stay in this apartment with all the things you shared and the shards of the promises he made to you. You can’t stay in this house with fragments of his cologne and toothbrush and his record collection that stares mockingly at you every time you sit on the couch and try to forget everything he destroyed when he left you. You think ... you think you need to make this place your own, fill it with your own love and your own light and everything you know you can be with him. Because you’ll be okay, you know you’ll be okay but it’ll take time, and you know that too.

The first thing you do when you finally force yourself away from the bedroom and away from the pile of sheets you’ve pulled from the cupboard, is grab a trash bag from the cupboard under the sink and head back into the bathroom. You don’t spare the broken glass another look as you sweep it into the bag, try not to touch the bristles of the toothbrush as you throw the fragments of the life you had before into the bag. In fact, you clear out every single thing in that room that belongs to him and make a note in your mind to buy your favourite bath salts and bath bombs and replace everything he said he loved with what you like because this is your home now, and you intend to make it a place filled with love instead of betrayal and regret.

The trash bag is full by the time you reach the closet in your bedroom, all traces of Ashton gone from the bathroom and the kitchen. You left the living room, can’t bring yourself to touch his record collection that he spent weeks organizing or the stack of books with his scribbled post it notes on top. You loved reading almost as much as he did. You’ve always been a sucker for getting lost in a story, mostly Jane Austen, and her talent for writing a romance you could only dream about. You’ve fantasied about meeting your Prince Charming on more than one occasion. You thought you’d found that when you’d met Ashton. Turns out you were wrong.

It takes you a minute. It takes you a minute because everything hits you, suddenly and all at once, and you have to stop yourself from falling back into the chaos you’re so determined to leave behind. You take a breath, shaking, then another and turn back into the bedroom without giving that stupid coffee table another glance. You might have to buy another one, fuck, you might have to refurnish your entire apartment until you can learn to love and breath in here again.

Crescent moons appear on your palms as you dig you nails into your skin in an attempt to stop your hands shaking. It feels stupid, like you should be able to shake and cry and scream all you want in your own apartment but you feel Ashton lingering in everything you do. You have to be strong, you have to be able to throw these things out without a second glance because you’ll destroy yourself if you keep them here for much longer. You’re torn, torn between keeping his things because you know you still love him, or getting rid of them because you know you have to move on. But there’s something in the pit of your stomach, something that feels suspiciously like hope, that he’ll realize his mistake and come back.

You tear his clothes off the hangars and stuff them into the trash bag without another thought.

You leave the stripped bed, bare pillows and duvet on the floor and drag the trash bag back through the apartment. You spare a glance to the clock that hangs in your kitchen and you’re surprised to see it’s almost eleven at night. It means you’ve spent the better part of three hours throwing every trace of Ashton out of your apartment without shedding a tear. It’s an accomplishment, of sorts, something to be proud of and you know in that moment, you’ll be able to make this apartment a beautiful home for yourself.

You grab the bag, pull the door just as someone pushes from the other side and you stumble, fall back and drop the bag as Calum stands on the other side of the door with his hand still on the door handle and a stunned expression on his face.

“Calum?” You scramble to shove Ashton’s stuff back into the trash bag as Calum watches with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” It’s the first time he’s been back in a few days and you weren’t expecting one of Ashton's best friends to open the door just as you were throwing out everything he owned. Calum’s voice is thick with amusement as he speaks. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m cleansing.” You fumble for the ties at the top of the trash bag and pull them tightly. “Getting my shit together.”

“Getting rid of shit, you mean.”

“No,” you sigh, run a hand through your hair and realizing you haven’t brushed it in the same breath you realise you probably smell awful. “I’m creating something.”

“You don’t have to get rid of his stuff right away, you know. Just like you don’t have to stop loving him right away.” Calum takes the bag from you, fingers gently brushing yours, and you know by your lack of resistance that he’s right. “Let me take this.” He pauses, glances at your face for any sign of discomfort. When he finds none and instead is met with a soft smile, he continues. “You’ll regret it if you dump this right now. Trust me.”

“I do,” you reply, relinquishing the bag. “I do trust you.” You pause, watching Calum as he smiles. A deep breath leaves your lips without you meaning it to and Calum raises an eyebrow like he knows there’s something you want to ask him. He waits, he’s patient because he knows how hard this is for you. “How is he?” You finally ask, voice no more than a breath.

“Luke says he’s heartbroken.”

“Luke? You haven’t seen him?”

Calum shakes his head. “I’m here for you, not him. He’s my best friend but I can’t support what he did.”

It takes a lot of strength for you not to cry then, and you blink back tears, sniffle and disguise it with a laugh as Calum wraps you in his arms. You almost deflate against him, like you can finally breath, like you’ve got the validation that Ashton is in the wrong, not you. “Thank you.” You whisper, fighting to keep your voice even. “Thank you.”

Calum pulls away after a minute, “Give me this shit,” he laughs, waiting as you grab your purse and jacket and lock the door. “You want me to drive you?”

“You don’t even know where I’m going.” You chuckle, following him down the stairs and outside to his car as you struggle to keep your gaze away from the trash bag he holds in his hand. You whole life is in there, well, your old life. You dig for your keys, push the thought away and head to your car. “I love you Cal, but we’re going different ways and you’re not the best driver.”

“I’m a great driver!” He insists as you duck into your car and give him a wave. He flips you off with a grin and you shake your head as you pull out of the lot ahead of Calum and take the turn to the department store.

You’re ready, you know you’re ready and you’ve already got a list in your head of what you can buy now that Ashton’s gone. You’ll fill the bathroom shelves with wicker baskets full of bath salts. You’ll buy new sheets, ones alive with colour and you’ll replace the cushion covers with the ones you wanted to get all along. You’ll buy plants and put them in every nook and cranny of your apartment and you’ll stock the fridge with your favourite food and forget how it used to be crammed with beer. It’s the next step for you, the next chapter.

But the thing is, you didn’t want to turn the page at all.

You pull into a space outside the store, grab a basket and head inside in high spirits because this is the first time you’ve felt confident with a decision since Ashton left. You dressed in something other than pajamas, you threw on some makeup and you hauled your ass out of the apartment because you’re so determined to make a life for yourself.

And you’re so confident in this decision, so unbelievably proud of yourself as you turn down the aisle to pick out your plants, that you think you might be having some sort of mental break when you see Ashton standing at the other end of aisle with a plant in hand.

And you freeze, your blood turns cold and you fucking freeze on the floor of that department store because every emotion that you’ve felt in the last few weeks hit you like a slap to the face and you fail to pick your jaw up off the floor, fail to turn around and leave despite the amount of fear and hate and adrenaline that’s racing through your veins. So, when he turns and meets your eyes and the plant he’s holding falls to the floor and the pot shatters, your heart fucking explodes.

And yet, you still can’t fucking move.

Your name on his lips for the first time in weeks makes your stomach turn and bile rise in your throat. Your heart races, thunders in your chest and you can hear blood pounding in your head as you try to figure out what to do before he reaches you. But you can’t leave now because he’s seen you and as much as you want to show him that he means nothing to you, you can’t bring yourself to destroy the last little piece of your relationship that has survive. So you take a breath, steady yourself because you refuse to be afraid of this anymore and turn to Ashton as he stops in front of you.

“Hi.” You wait for him to speak first and when he does, you’re surprised to find there’s anger in the pit of your stomach instead of the grief you expected to feel.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Hi.”

Ashton hesitates, “How are you?”

“How do you think?”

“I— “

“You what?” You’re aware you don’t give him the chance to finish but the rage that seems to have consumed you in the time that he’s walked from one end of the aisle to the other is the thing that guides you.

“I’m so sorry.”

You scoff, “I bet you are,” you glance down to the basket in his hands. “So what, you’re already shopping for your new place? For your new girl?”

You’re not sure Ashton’s eyes can widen anymore. He’s always known you were feisty, knew exactly what he was getting into but he’s never seen you like this, driven by blinding anger. “No. No, I... I’m staying with Luke. Thought I could get him something to say thank you.”

“Not staying at your new girls house then?” You haven’t unfolded your arms, eyes glaring at Ashton as he focuses on anything other than your face.

Ashton’s eyes fall to your shoes. “I haven’t seen her since that night.”

You laugh, short and bitter. “Don’t be shy, Ash. Since the night you fucked her.”

Ashton shakes his head, “Please, please let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” And despite yourself, you take a step closer to him. “You don’t love me anymore, remember.”

Ashton seems close to tears, frustration and exasperation driving him towards the edge. “Just give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’re silent for a moment watching Ashton as he watches you before you let go of your cart, raise an eyebrow and turn to leave the store. You’re not sure if Ashton picked up that you want him to follow but then you head into the parking lot and hear his footsteps behind you as he follows you to your car.

“Get in.” Is the only thing you say as you open the door to your car and watch Ashton slide into the passenger seat. He doesn’t have to say yes. All he does is wait.

🥀

A silver Honda passes you as you and Ashton sit side by side on the hood of the car. You’ve been here for seven minutes and twelve seconds, you know because you’ve been watching the seconds pass you by on the clock on the dashboard.

“We haven’t talked in a while.” You finally say, remembering every single might where you pushed the call button on Ashton’s contact on your phone.

“No,” Ashton replies, quiet as ever, “No we haven’t talked at all.”

The freeway’s almost empty but some traffic zooms by the two of you as you stare past Ashton and into the inky blue of the sky. It’s fourteen minutes past one, all you know is that you drove the freeway for two hours and then pulled over to the an emergency bay on the side of the road. But you don’t know much else because your head is spinning and Ashton is sitting the closet to you that he has in weeks.

You can’t avoid this forever, you suppose, which is a shame because you've done a good job trying.

So you sigh, slide off the hood of the car as you wipe your hands on your jeans. Ashton looks like he wants to follow but the glare you cast his way tells him to stay put. “This is how this is going to work. You’re going to answer every fucking question I ask you and I might not shove you in front of an oncoming vehicle.”

Ashton nods, barely breaths as he says “yes.” Probably because he doesn’t want to be thrown in front of a car, you suppose. But still, it’s a start.

“Who bought you your shit?” It’s no mystery to you that some of Ashton’s stuff disappeared from your apartment before you started to break everything. You couldn’t bring yourself to care back then. You do now, though.

“Luke and Michael.”

“You saw them a lot?”

“A bit, yeah.”  

You nod, run your tongue over your teeth. “Calum?” Because despite what he said to you, your trust has been shattered and you want to see if Ashton will lie to you even now.

“He hasn’t returned my calls,” Ashton says quietly. “I don’t know.”

Okay, you think, two questions in and you don’t want to snap yourself in half. You take a few steps away from the car, then walk back and stare Ashton straight in the face as another car growls past.

“How’ve you been? Really? Don’t sugar coat it.”

Ashton gives a sad sort of smile as he fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. “Fucking...terrible. Maybe worse. Haven’t been getting out of bed a lot.”

“Good.” You snap, can’t stop yourself because he should hurt just as much as you did. He shouldn’t be able to get out of fucking bed either. You breathe in the crisp night air and try to calm yourself.

“How’ve you been?” You stop pacing across the gravel of the freeway and look up at him.

“You already asked me that. I already answered.” God, your voice is vicious, prowls across the cool night air and bites at him. But you feel satisfied, knowing you can give Ashton little cuts like this.

Ashton bites his lip and looks down. He looks out of breath, like he’s run miles and you can’t help but think god, because he deserves every bit of pain you felt. “I know. But it’s all I think about.”

Cry me a fucking river. You want to scream. You couldn’t handle one fucking day of this.

Fuck, you love him so much.

And even though he hasn’t talked over you once you can’t help but snap, “Interrupt me one more time and you can fucking walk home.” And then before you can stop yourself, before you can falter, “Now, why’d you do it?”

Ashton stops moving then, stops fiddling, stops breathing, so quickly that you’re almost worried. But then Ashton opens his mouth and you realise you’re not ready for this answer so you cover your fear with malice. “Don’t hesitate” you say, “Don’t fucking um and ah. And don’t bullshit me, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Okay.”

“So why’d you fucking do it, you selfish prick.” You say and when your voice finally cracks, Ashton looks away.

Good, you think, fucking let him hurt. Let him feel half of what I have.

“Baby— “

“Why did you fucking do it?” You yell, veering straight past the nickname because you can’t handle that right now, not on top of everything else. You voice makes Ashton’s head snap up. “Don’t fucking look away from me. Just tell me!” And then softer, because your voice has cracked and you can’t do this anymore, “Just say it. Please.”

Ashton nods, wipes the back of his hand over his eyes.

“Okay...okay, but you can’t...it’s not logic. It’s not.”

“Just say it.” Four cars go past before Ashton speaks again and you fight to keep yourself steady on your feet.

“I got scared,” he says finally and you’ve never heard Ashton’s voice so small. “I got scared and you didn’t. I got scared and I panicked and I drank too much and you were a million miles away and I fucked up.”

“Not enough,” you shake your head. “That’s not enough. You don’t get to fuck someone and tell me you don’t love me and get away with it in a single sentence. That’s not fucking good enough.”

Ashton slides from the hood of the car then and you’re so scared he’s going to end this conversation and get back in the car and leave you again. So, you say the first thing you can think of. “You wanted it too, though, didn’t you? You wanted me?” And, fuck, you can barely stomach how stupid your question sounds but you need to know. You need to know.

“Of course I wanted you.” Ashton says, polar opposite to the venom that coats your voice. “Of course I did.”

“Then what the fuck?” You ask angrily because you don’t understand, you don’t. “What the fuck was all of it for. I don’t understand.”

“We weren’t supposed to make it.” Ashton whispers and the distance you’ve put between the two of you, you quickly close because you can’t miss this. “We were twenty-one and twenty fucking three something and we weren’t supposed to make it. It wasn’t...it wasn’t supposed to go anywhere because I was leaving for tour and you wanted that degree and wanted to leave this stupid goddamn city. And we didn’t have a chance in hell of making it.”

Your inches away from him now.

“And then by some fucking miracle, we did make it.” Ashton says, “and then you’re talking about a future with a house and a family and fucking colour schemes and shit and it scared me. I was fucking scared and so out of my depth and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You croak out, “Why didn’t...you could’ve told me.”

Ashton snorts and makes the two of you seem impossibly closer. “Do you know what kind of person you are to let down?” He asks, “I couldn’t do that to you and so I got scared and I tried to avoid it and I fucked up.”

“So you went and stuck your dick in someone else?” You spit, “like that wasn’t going to raise anymore fucking issues, like that wasn’t going to cause a bit of a problem, like— “

“You asked me why.” Ashton says and his voice raises for the first time. “You asked me why. I’m not saying it makes sense but...that’s it.”

You thought knowing would make you feel better. You really did, but now you know just how mistaken you’ve been. “I should’ve known,” you say, face white, “I should’ve known, I was right there and I just...I did nothing.”

You could deal with not knowing, you realise, you could deal with that but now there’s a pressure on your chest saying it’s on you, saying it’s your fault. You think you might throw up and brace yourself against the hood of the car.

“It’s not your fault,” Ashton says from behind you and you’ve forgotten how much you miss his comfort, his safety. “It’ll never be your fault. You have to know that.”

“But it is.” You say, snapping back around to face Ashton. “Because you couldn’t tell me. You couldn’t tell me and you couldn’t touch me a and so you had to find someone else.” And it’s so overwhelming, so fucking overwhelming and it hits you all at once and you don’t realise Ashton holding you until your legs are about to give out.

You want to push him away, want to throw yourself off, want to barrel into traffic for all you care but you’re not strong enough. Because you’re so fucking tired and sad and so, so in love with the boy in front of you that it feels like if you let go of him you’ll forget how to breath.

“I hate you.” You sob but pull Ashton closer and you shudder as he kisses the top of your hair. “I love you. I can’t fucking do this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ashton whispers. “I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry I did it and I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m so so sorry I fucked it all up.”

“No. Don’t do that. You don’t get to say sorry and have yourself feel better and leave me here like this. You don’t get to do that.”

“I’m— “

“I fucking love you,” You yell and somewhere, someone sounds their horn as they pass you and you kick up a cloud of dust. “God, I love you so much but I can’t fucking trust you and I hate you a lot but I still love you too. And I don’t understand how you can say you feel the same when you did all this.”

Ashton stops in his tracks then, freezes just like you did in the department store. “No one picked up the phone for me, you know that? No one picked up for the longest time and when Luke finally did, he gave me a fucking earful.” Ashton pauses, lowers his voice. “And I didn’t care.”

Everything in your head snaps quiet.

“What?”

“I didn’t care,” Ashton says, “because all I could think about was getting you back. I knocked on Luke’s door that first fucking night and said I want to go home.”

“But that can’t be true,” you whispered, “because you fucked someone else.”

You see the way that rips through Ashton, see the way it absolutely breaks him but you don’t feel satisfied. You just feel so, so tired.

“Yeah,” Ashton says and it’s the first time you’ve heard him own up to that. “Yeah and it only took me a fucking second to realise I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.”

You don’t say anything, watch the moon and the sky and a red car that growls past before you finally look back to Ashton.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ashton says. “But tell me what it is and I’ll fucking do it. I’ll do whatever you need, whatever you want. You’re so...” he trails off, bites his lip. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. You’re my favourite person in the world and I want to make you believe that again, if you’d let me.”

It’s too much, it’s all too much and suddenly all you need to do is go home and go to bed.

“Yeah. Well. I think you’ve done enough for today. Let’s go.” And the car is silent for the two hours back to the city.

You let Ashton walk you to the door for no other reason than you’re too tired to stop him. He casts a hopeful look at the door but you remember everything you’ve thrown out, what the apartment looks like now and the anger and emptiness still between those walls and you know you can’t let him in.

“You should go, Ash.” You say finally.

“Please,” is all he says. “Please, baby.” His voice is miserable and cracked and hoarse.

“I’ll call you.” You murmur. “I promise. I just...I just need a couple days.”

Ashton nods, presses a kiss to your cheek and leaves without another word.

You open the door and fall straight onto your bare bed. You’ve driven for hours, had the life drained out of you and all you need now is to sleep.

🥀

You get yourself a coffee the next morning, enjoy the sun for just a little while before you head back inside and sit and stare at your phone for a good couple of minutes. You know who to call, know what you want to say but you’re not sure if you’re ready for the conversation.

But you suppose that if you don’t do it now, you’ll have to do it later.

So, you pick up the phone, dial and it only takes a couple of seconds before Calum picks up on the other end.

“Hey,” you can already hear the concern in his voice, already know he’s straight back into panic mode. You can’t let it phase you though and so you take a breath and begin. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think,” you start, closing your eyes. “Do you think it’s stupid or, I don’t know, weak if I take him back?”

Calum doesn’t say anything for a long time, although you can hear him drumming his fingernails on the table top.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that as long as you’re in this for you and not him...then I think forgiving him is the strongest thing you can do.”

“I haven’t forgiven him yet.” You mumble.

“I know.” He says, waits for you to speak again.

“Thank you,” you say because you need him to know how much he’s meant to you throughout this. “I do love you Cal, really.” And of course, it’s not in the same way you love Ashton, you doubt you’ll ever love someone the way you love Ashton, but you need him to know nonetheless.

“You know,” he pauses and when he speaks again you can hear his smile down the phone. “You changed the sheets, not me.”

You laugh and cry at the same time.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Calum murmurs gently. “Go get him.”

And so you do.

🥀

The first couple months are difficult to say the least.

You walk on eggshells for the first while, walk around each other and every touch, every brush of your skin against Ashton is uncertain. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night to Ashton breathing softly next to you and it’ll get too much and you’ll pad to the living room and sleep on the couch and wake to Ashton staring at you from the kitchen with guilt in the pit of your stomach.

When you come home and Ashton isn’t there, there’s an initial wave of nausea that hits you so hard you can’t do anything but sit and stare at the TV without turning it on. You know that he’ll be getting groceries or having a beer with the boys but all you’ll be able to think is that he’s back out with her and he won’t be coming back to you.

There are days when you think you can’t do it and nights when you can’t be in the same bed with him. The uncertainty lingers for a while but in the midst of that, there’s so much more. You start dating each other again and Ashton looks at you like you’re his whole world. You eat takeout and watch cheesy movies and take stupid photos and there are nights when you stay up until three in the morning and talking about everything that’s happened. There are nights when neither of you say anything either too, you don’t need to, because you know you’re going to be okay.

Everything mends, slowly. There comes a day when you don’t find broken bits of glass in the drawer in the bathroom. There comes a day when you’re on the couch with Ashton and you think that, somehow, it’s exactly how it used to be.

“Baby,” Ash murmurs one night, knowing that you’re okay with the nickname now. “You awake?”

You leave it for a second and then reply. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking.” Ashton says and you roll your eyes in the dark.

“Dangerous.” You grin into his chest. “What about?”

Ashton’s quiet for just a little too long before you realise this isn’t just going to be a goodnight.

“I just,” he says, “I lie here and I think about you. And I just...I just want you to know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather fall asleep than right here. That’s what I think every night before I go to sleep.” Ashton pulls you closer as you stay silent. “I just need you to know that I love you.” And he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you murmur and you kiss his jaw and then his lips with heavy eyes. “I know. I love you too, if you hadn’t realized.”

Ashton seems happy with that but you stay awake a little longer. You brush your hand over his skin until you’re calm enough to fall asleep next to him, next to the love of your life. And when you wake the next morning, it’s to the smell of Ashton cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

Everything mends, slowly.

The two of you mend last, but you think that’s okay. Because back before this, back when it all began, you were the one to change the sheets. And, you suppose, if changing the sheets wasn’t so bad, the rest won’t be either.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded: Chapter Six; Spring Watch.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie:

A hard man is good to find. [Mae West]

--

Jamie woke with a start, the alarm blaring in the background.

The dream had been intense and had left him panting, a sheen of sweat on his skin as he pushed the duvet aside and stood. As always it was light outside, the sunrise half blinding him as the blasts of orange and red permeated the old curtains. Washing the night from his skin, he plunged himself beneath the pounding rivulets of water coming from his power shower, his body temperature receding slightly as the morning wore on.

Fortunately Claire wouldn’t be awake yet and he could slip from the house almost unnoticed. He needed to get a good day of work done, and to forget the memory of his dream before he faced her again. The mere thought brought colour to his cheeks, the heat in his belly reminding him of how incredibly realistic it had been.

Delicate pink skin appeared without his permission and once more he could feel the remnants of it haunting him as he slid his wellies on and closed the door softly behind him. Working in a daze, he prepared his cows for milking, the heat of the morning fading slightly as the clouds rolled in. The animals barely paid him any mind, going about their own business as he fed, watered and tended to them.

She hadn’t snuck into his bed, as she had in his dreams, but she had infiltrated his thoughts and no matter how hard he tried, sporadic jolts of her came unbidden throughout the day as he worked.

She’s married, he told himself, although the argument felt pretty weak in his own mind. In the abstract she was, he could tell that she still thought herself that way despite starting her new life. Without knowing it, she often rubbed her wedding ring finger - though the ring had long since been removed. It was obvious she was struggling with the transition and who could blame her, it had only been a couple of weeks. She was still hesitating on her name whenever he spoke it out loud to her, the subtle twitch betraying her.

But she was beginning to thaw, the shocked reaction he received when he spoke to her growing less and less as time went on (which, secretly, made him smile).

The baby lambs were out in force as he pulled the sandwich from his rucksack - one Claire had made him the night before. He smiled to himself as he perched on the fence, watching his first time mums as they paraded their babies around the perimeter of the field. Food somehow tasted better when someone else had made it for him, the slight differences in style allowing him a great enough change in routine to be noticeable.

She, it seemed, had a penchant for adding multiple salad products on her ham sandwich. Whereas Jamie was always in a rush at 4am, trying to collect his thermos as well as various food items to keep him going for the day, usually he would just throw slices of meat on top of bread without much thought. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and *butter*, however, made all the difference. He even had potato salad on the side and a bag of what looked like homemade crisps.

Before Claire had arrived, John had given Jamie a very brief update as to her situation. Knowing a limited amount, he gauged that the difficulties she’d encountered recently hadn’t really set in yet and, instead, she was going through some sort of nesting, using her time at Lallybroch to cook and clean, ensuring that her mind is actively kept away from thinking about much at all.

His mind needed something similar as the image of her pottering about in his kitchen whilst he was away brought to the fore those visions that had him startled awake this morning before his alarm had even a chance to ring and he shook the picture of her bare skin from his thoughts, turning back to his task list.

The orphaned lambs were thriving now. Most had been ‘adopted’ by other nursing mothers but he still had two rogue ewes who were waiting for collection - Rupert, his nearest (mostly by proximity but also by friendship) neighbour had offered to take them for him but had yet been unable to drive over to collect them. In lieu of this, Jamie had been spending time hand feeding them every day though he worried each time he left them that he might return to something unmentionable.

Luckily, they’d survived another night in the small outhouse and he crawled in between them, the straw poking and prodding him as he settled with the warm milk bottle. The first, the largest of the two, squirmed in excitement, rushing to plonk herself by his side and suckle noisily at the teet.

“Easy now, lass, there’s enough for the both of you.” He soothed, watching as she butted the bottle, falling to her knees as she fed. Sheep were notoriously terrible pets, losing their fear of humans when in contact for too long and he had worried this close contact wouldn’t be good for the ewes, but watching the smaller of the pair sit helplessly in the corner made him think of Claire.

An idea came to him all of a sudden as he moved towards the lone female. He could, if he wanted, take the lamb home that evening and leave her in Claire’s care. Not only would it give the poor wee thing a greater chance, it might give her something else to turn her attention to in the day. There was a large chance he’d lose this one if he didn’t do something drastic.

-- --- --

An odd feeling settled in her stomach from the moment she woke up. Though she couldn’t put her finger on what the issue was, she felt a strange atmosphere hovering around her. Her skin prickled as she got out of the shower and she immediately felt as though there was something she should be remembering but couldn’t quite hold onto the memory.

She’d heard Jamie leave this morning, which was odd in itself. Usually she was fast asleep at dawn, not waking until much later when the house was quiet and she was alone. But she’d been woken this morning by some forgotten thought or dream that she couldn’t picture from the second she’d opened her eyes.

After barely speaking for two weeks, the weekend had been a welcome change.

Conversation had not been forced or odd, Jamie had allowed her time for quiet reflection and had seemed really quite pleased with her suggestions for the upcycling of his old furniture.

She felt useful, finally. A feeling she hadn’t had in some time.

Putting herself to work, she opted for cleaning downstairs for the best part of the morning. There was still a lot of dust residue from the sanding epic they’d had on Saturday, even spending most of Sunday dusting and hoovering hadn’t removed it all, so she pulled the dyson from under the stairs and tried to be as thorough as she could be.

Like cooking, she had never considered herself to be fluent in the art of housewifery. Before...when she had been able, her time had been dedicated to studying. There had been a cleaner for such tasks and, even afterwards, she hadn’t *needed* to be useful in that way. Here, though, there was nobody else to clean, do the dishes or cook and she found that losing herself to each task kept her mind (and body) active.

Sitting with the remnants of her crisps, she decided that was the dish she’d been most proud of since her introduction to the kitchen. She found herself thinking of Jamie and hoped that he was enjoying them too.

Their food deliveries now consisted of a greater variety of produce and she’d been able to add some colour to his lunch - which she had been making every evening and putting into the fridge for him to take when he left in the mornings.

She felt pleased as well as shocked at how easily she had moulded to fit her new life here.

Happy with her efforts, she turned her attention to the bookshelves in the back living room. There were titles dating back hundreds of years. Thick leather covers with yellowed pages sat proudly amongst the newer softback novels. She could tell which books had been read just by glancing at the spines, though there had been fingerprints in the thin layer of dust that had been there only hours before.

They were categorised, it seemed, by the surname of the author, carefully and methodically organised so that each time a new title had been purchased, it had been added in the right spot though there wasn’t room for many more.

His taste was eclectic, from non-fiction books on farming, agriculture, holistic medicines and horticulture to the classics (neatly bound with multiple editions ordered together, oldest first) including Jane Austin, Victor Hugo, Descartes, Melville and Hemingway. Jumbled in were some biographies but she’d assumed those belonged to either his parents or sister as none had been touched for some time.

Her fingers ran over the spines, stopping to hover over the drawing and painting books she’d first read when learning to doodle on the post-it notes in the first few weeks. She didn’t stop until she reached a relatively new title that she hadn’t noticed before. There was ruffling on the edge, a clear sign of frequent use, and some damage to the corners. Pulling it from the shelves, she settled into the comfy armchair, her cup of tea now cool enough to drink, and began to read.

It was modern, eloquently written with intricate plot weaving from the moment she turned the first page. The front cover clearly denoted that of a romance but there was intrigue and art as well as carefully homegrown characters. Before she’d had time to digest the prose, the front door opened and closed and she blinked. The clock on the desk ticked loudly and she noticed that hours had passed without her knowing.

Placing the book back on the shelf, she decided to leave it where it was for the time being and come back for it before bed. Though the visuals she’d imagined for herself stayed with her as she stretched and went in search of Jamie.

A loud noise caught her attention and she burst out laughing as she walked into the kitchen to find him wrestling with a small lamb.

“A new friend?” She said, her shock fading quickly.

“Ah; lass, I need ye!” His words were breathless, his cheeks a vibrant pink from the exertion of keeping the lamb from darting off and wrecking the joint. “I have a challenge for you, if you’re up for it!?”

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.5}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 1.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

A glimpse into the fourth week of travels (the third week of July):

The lightning cut through Robin's vision, making the bright day even more unbearable to the eye than the white sky was anyway. The thunder that followed broken seconds later was a sound to match, piercing and swallowing every possibility of thought. It was then when the skies opened up, and the rain came pouring down onto the fields of the heat washed Normandy. This was their first expedition to a country beyond the UK… and of course it had to go anything but smoothly. Not only had it been terribly windy all morning, but now it was storming and wet as well, making things even more dreadful for Robin and Snape as they hurried along the most desolate countryside road in all of France. Had they known they would end up here in the middle of nowhere, they probably would have gone for a different theory after all. But now it was too late, they had already come too far to turn around. They were going to see this through now.

After ten minutes in the brutally whipping rain, they finally came across a saving grace in the form of a small bus shelter (or whatever it was supposed to be), and it didn't even take a second of thought to know that they would wait here for the storm to pass. Getting drenched wasn't the worst of it, really, but being wet and out in the wind was a doom to be freezing all too soon. And they still had some miles left to go, on to a place they couldn't apparate to if they knew neither its address nor appearance.

"I hate France." Robin grumbled as she let the water fade from her clothes and hair without wasting any time in the newly gained dry space. But shedding the water unfortunately left her feeling no warmer than before.

"Have you actually seen any of the country before today or is your judgement merely based on getting caught in the rain right now?"

"It's based on me freezing right now! And even more on the stupid French books I had to translate in order to get anywhere with the stupid research on the stupid mushroom growing at the end of this stupid road!"

"You skipped breakfast again, didn't you?"

"What does it matter… It's too bloody cold to eat anyway." Robin crossed her arms over her chest with a quiet huff, trying to keep herself from shivering, but it was of no use. She did see his point though, perhaps she really was being cranky… but being cold was way worse than not eating breakfast! There had been more important matters to attend to that morning. Getting to bloody France, for example.

"I would still like you to eat." He said calmly but in determination, making Robin sigh in defeat in return. There really was nothing she wouldn't do if he asked it of her, which was equally scary as it was astonishing. Perhaps she felt this way because she knew that he would never ask anything of her that would be to her disadvantage. Perhaps she simply trusted him that much. Bloody hell, she most definitely did, there was no 'perhaps' needed. And if he wanted her to eat, as ridiculous a request as it might seem, she would relent to his wish.

"Have breakfast with me, then." Robin stated rather than asked, with a certain glance up at him now rather than down at the ground. If he could command her to his wish, perhaps she could do the same with him. "I'd bet you haven't eaten either."

"Very well." He was surprisingly quick to agree, and Robin couldn't help giving him a small smirk before first digging out the large blanket from her backpack first, then her entire storage of all kinds of food. Since living in a tent, she had gotten used to buying and thus carrying around quite enough provisions for multiple days, or in this case, for a neat breakfast for two. She would gladly share with him the little she had, without even a doubt. And as long as he didn't know just how little that really was, she believed he would gladly accept it in return.

Less than a minute later they were sitting side by side, a little warmer already from the (of course entirely accidental yet undeniably comfortable) closeness between them, and somehow Robin found herself not hating France quite so much anymore. Still, now, there were two things that were making her shiver.

"Still cold?" Snape asked in return, and Robin could have laughed at how very aware he was of her and yet how unaware of everything beyond. It was her luck that he was quite as bad at interpreting the little accidental tells of her emotions as she was at hiding them. He knew so much, and yet he knew so little at the same time… Always the ambivalence, that man.

"Quite, yes." She finally made herself reply in a breathless smile, while keeping her eyes on the tartan pattern of the blanket beneath her. She'd had that old thing for ages already, but never quite gotten around to changing its colour to something less posh. By now and in a way, she almost liked that it looked quite so terrible.

"Well, in that case I would suggest that you find yourself that black jumper you likely are keeping in your bag currently. High collar, tight sleeves, loose waist… you know which one."

"I didn't know you were so knowledgeable about my wardrobe." Robin chuckled in sincere amusement. "I could indeed wear that one, but that would be terribly unfair."

"Why, pray tell, would it be unfair to wear a jumper when you are cold?"

"Because you don't have a jacket either! I'd feel terrible to be all warm and cozy and leave you freezing by yourself."

"That's ridiculous."

"It's not!"

"It is."

"Well, then tell me in all honesty that you aren't cold." Robin quirked an eyebrow up at him defiantly. "If you're feeling perfectly fine and warm as it is, I'll shut up immediately and put on my jumper without any further discussion."

"I won't lie to you to soothe your bad conscience, Robin. I will not lie to you at all."

"So you are cold."

"Yes." He replied simply, truthfully. "But that does not by any means justify that you should be freezing as well, so do put on your jumper now or I will be gone in a second."

Geez, he totally knew that his threat of leaving was the only functioning leverage he really had on her these days… Insufferable idiot. With a small sigh and an even smaller smile Robin rolled her eyes rather visibly, then grabbed her backpack indeed and started roaming through its depth in practiced search, though not for the jumper in question. What she easily dug up instead was better by far; a warm quilt that had been serving as her duvet at night ever since she started living in her tent. But he didn't need to know that. Without asking for approval, Robin simply draped the huge quilt around his shoulders first, with little effort while sitting up on her knees, then crossed her legs beneath herself and wrapped the remaining fabric around her own body as well. 

Now that was better already… and he didn't make any obvious attempt to protest either. A good chunk of nervousness she hadn't known she'd held onto fell off her mind and heart in an instant, and she found herself smiling before she knew. The blanket was large enough by far, they didn't have to sit too closely together to be covered in warmth, but still before long their arms were miraculously touching, then their entire sides, both resting against each other without a word.

"Breakfast in Normandy… I didn't think I'd live to experience that." Robin sighed after a while of comfortable silence, quirking an eyebrow up at Snape with a smirk, and her heart skipped a beat when he barely visibly smiled down at her in return. "Without being cold, it's actually quite nice here."

"Then let us hope that the storm lasts long enough to have a coffee as well."

"Or three."

"You truly are terrible."

"You probably meant to say insufferable."

"My point exactly."

______________________________

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[amythedvdhoarder]

Safety

Pairing: Bucky x reader

For the Flex Your Muscles Writing Challenge set up by @captain-rogers-beard​

23rd of June prompt: Oppressive  

Word count: 1.8K

Summary: Bucky steps in when an argument with your boyfriend takes a turn

Warnings: Swearing, injury detail, domestic violence, angst and eventual fluff.

Authors notes: This is very different to normal. It covers a topic that is close to my heart. Domestic violence is not ok. Help is out there. In the UK: https://www.nationaldahelpline.org.uk and in the US: https://www.thehotline.org These are a couple of charities that offer support, there are many sources of support out there. 

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“Y/N, you’re not going” Your fists clenched as red-hot rage flooded your body. “That isn’t your decision to make.” It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to taking orders, you were a member of the avengers after all but you weren’t used to being ordered around by your boyfriend. In the last few weeks he seemed to be making more and more demands; don’t do this, wear this, you can’t go out and this time he was saying you weren’t to go on the mission Tony had just called about. You didn’t have to put up with this shit, but you did. You accepted the oppressive dictatorship this relationship had become because at least it meant you weren’t alone. There was no way you were going to tell the team what Adrian had become, you were a trained spy for Christ sake, you could handle it. Right?

Adrian moved to the block the door. You glared at him, your mission backpack slung over your shoulder. “Adrian move, it’s a mission. You have no right to stop me, it’s my job.” His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Your place is here with me. I told you Y/N, you’re not going.” Taking a step forward you mentally prepared for what was to come, he hadn’t even been violent with you, but he had a temper. He reached for the vase on the side table next to him and cocked his head, daring you to come closer. One step forwards and the vase exploded next to your head, a searing pain on your cheek as the shards of porcelain rained down on you. Touching your fingers to your face you discovered you were bleeding. Your eyes narrowed at Adrian, he looked shocked at what he had done and started moving towards you.

“Don’t you fucking get any closer to me” you screamed at him. “To think I actually loved you. We’re over, you know that don’t you?” Adrian’s face instantly changed, a Jekyll and Hyde moment. His apologetic exterior replaced in a flash with a demonic, possessive look; one that showed he was teetering on the edge of control. “I don’t think so, we’re over when I say so.” He closed the distance between you and gripped your arm. His grip on your arm was vice-like, you knew there would be bruises there in a few hours’ time. “Adrian, your hurting me. I don’t want to have to force you to let go, but I will if I have to” The threat was said calmly, you didn’t want to aggravate him further. You had trained with the Black Widow, you knew how to kill a man with one hand but this was a different situation. He loosened his grip slightly but didn’t let go, his face was almost challenging you to take this further. “Adrian, I’m not going to ask you again. Let go.” After what felt like ages he finally released you. As you went to rub your arm he seemed to think better of it and shoved you hard in the chest.

The move caught you of guard and sent you crashing to the floor, you hand shot out to cushion your fall but landed on it awkwardly. You cried out at the sharp pain. “You deserve that you fucking bitch. I’ve seen the way you are with that precious team of yours. I know you have been fucking half of the Avengers team, you whore.” He was shouting now as he stood over you. You desperately shuffled backwards in an attempt to put some distance between you. “Adrian please, I haven’t I promise” you begged. He stalked after you, his eyes a frenzy. “Liar” he roared at you as he raised his hand to strike you.

The front door the apartment smashed open. “You lay another finger on her and it will be the last thing you ever do” Bucky reached for the back of Adrian’s jumper and pulled him away from you. “Get out of here. Now” Bucky growled. “It’s my fucking apartment”. Bucky raised himself to his full height, pulled the glove of his metal hand. “I wasn’t asking.” Adrian retreated to the door quickly, the distance brought back some of his courage as he directed his next words at you. “I want you and your fucking guard dog out of here tonight.” You ignored him and watched as he thudded off down the corridor. You felt numb, in absolute disbelief at what had happened. Never in your life had you known a person change just like that. It had caught you off guard, all your years of training out the window. You hadn’t even defended yourself, you felt ashamed that you let this happen to you, you should have been stronger. The tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Bucky knelt in front of you, his hands shaking slightly as the anger left him. His concern filled blue eyes quickly scanned over your body for any injuries.  He noticed the cut on your cheek and the way you were clutching your wrist to your chest. “Doll, I need to look at your wrist.” You nodded and he slowly moved his hands towards you. He noticed the way you flinched slightly at his touch. How he wished he had just killed the man when he had walked in. He had come to pick you up for the mission. When you didn’t come down to meet him, he came to check on you and upon hearing raised voices, had immediately kicked down the door. He lightly ran his fingers over your wrist, he watched your face carefully to judge just how much pain you were in. “Just a sprain, will be fixed in no time.” He said soothingly turning his attention to the cut; it wasn’t too deep and had stopped bleeding. He cupped your cheeks delicately and wiped away the tears on your face.

“Doll, I’m going to help you up now. Then while I phone Steve, you’re going to pack a bag with everything you need.” Bucky pulled you up. “I’ll be just in here Y/N, shout if you need anything. Ok?” You nodded. “Doll, talk to me please.” You took a deep breath. “Ok Bucky.” Turning on your heels you walked to the bedroom and pulled out a bag and began throwing clothes in. Bucky walked in a few minutes later. “Tony is sorting you out a room tomorrow when they get back from the mission. You can stay in my room tonight.” The mission. In the chaos of everything you had completely forgotten about it. “Was Steve alright with you staying with me?” Bucky ran his hands through his hair. “Um yeah. I didn’t tell him exactly what happened, just that it was important.” You gave a small smile in response and zipped up your bag. “I can come back with you and pick up the rest of your stuff later this week?” Bucky walked over and picked up the bag, along with your rucksack. “Thanks Bucky, it means a lot.” He placed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive back to the compound was quiet. You spent most of the journey deep in thought staring out at the night. Bucky glanced over at you occasionally, your timid demeanour was understandable given the recent events, but he couldn’t bear to see you like this. He had never liked Adrian on the rare occasions they had met. He came across as arrogant and even Bucky could see the jealously simmering below surface every time someone danced with you at one of Tony’s parties or handed you a drink. Bucky knew you were too good for that man, well actually for anyone. You were like concentrated sunshine, you were the focal point of any room or any situation without even realising. Bucky had liked you ever since you had been introduced, but you had always been with that good for nothing man. He was convinced that if he ever saw that creep again, he would throttle him to death for what he had done to you.

Once you were at the compound Bucky showed you to his room. “Y/N can I get you anything, tea or something stronger?”  You shook your head “No Buck, I’m alright. Just want a shower and some sleep. It’s been a day.” Bucky handed you some clean towels. “I’m going to go and sleep in Steve’s room. I’ll be next door if you need anything ok?” He watched as you shifted nervously on your feet, eyes focussed on the floor. “Bucky, I can’t thank you enough for today. I don’t know what I have done to deserve your kindness.” He took a step towards you and gently tilted your chin so that your eyes met. “Doll, you deserve better than that arsehole Ok? I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again.” You believed him, you knew that you were safe with him. “Bucky. Will you stay with me please? I don’t want to be alone.” His thumb traced over the cut on your cheek. “Of course, doll.”

Bucky was on top of the covers, reading a book when you came out of the bathroom. You felt revived after the shower, as if it had washed away some of the trauma of the night. You pulled your damp hair into a messy bun and climbed under the duvet. Bucky put his book down on the table and looked at you. Some of the colour had returned to your face; the skin was pink from the hot water. Bucky noticed how tugged at your sleeve you in an attempt to hide the blue and purple bruises that were forming on your arm, he could feel the anger swelling inside him. But it soon dissipated as you shuffled over the bed towards him. “Do you always sleep above the covers and fully dressed?” He chuckled at the confusion on your face. “No doll, just wanted to check that you still wanted me to stay.” You yawned as tiredness began to get the better of you. “Stay” you murmured. Bucky watched as your eyes closed. He stood up and pulled off his jeans and t-shirt before sliding under the duvet in just his boxers. He was surprised when you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his chest, all without opening your eyes. “Night Bucky” you whispered, your breath tickling the skin on the chest. He placed a kiss on the top of your head “Night Y/N.”

masterlist

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 ,  @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht​, @buckys-henley​, @lonelyheartsm​

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

life and love are the same

i wrote a thing! can also be found here! have some yennskier fluff inspired by a prompt i saw: ‘you’re an idiot’ ‘i’m your idiot’  so enjoy xx

She honestly doesn’t know what she expected. Closing the door behind her, she leaves her work bag by the sofa as she surveys the utter chaos that seems to have taken over the living room. The entire room has been transformed into some sort of fort and it looks like they have managed to get every pillow and cushion in the house inside. The TV is paused on what looks she thinks is Tangled (she’ll never admit it to Ciri but she still does not know the difference between these films and all the princesses - at least she can recognise Elsa, otherwise Ciri would never forgive her) Peering in she can also see that they have somehow managed to hang fairy lights from the sheets and despite the chaos it looks good. She is quite impressed with the whole thing if she’s being honest.

Maybe leaving Jaskier in charge wasn’t the worst idea.

But as she walks into the kitchen she takes back any thoughts she ever had about him ever being a competent human. The kitchen is a mess. No that would be an insult to the word mess - it looks like something has exploded. There is flour everywhere, on every counter, they’ve managed to get whatever it was they were making stuck to the ceiling. The table is covered in bowls filled with sweet and chocolate and something that could be cake mixture but is very green somehow looks wrong. The culprits themselves are blissfully unaware of her entrance.

Ciri is currently on Jaskiers shoulders, her hands wrapped in his hair pulling this way and that as though he is a puppet. Her hair is up in an elaborate braid which would look good if it weren’t for the fact that a lot of the green not-quite-cake-mix seems to be in each plait and that she is covered in flour, turning her already light hair now completely white. But none of that seems to matter when Yen looks and sees the wide smile stretching across her face.

Jaskier somehow looks worse. His hair is sticking up in all directions due to Ciri’s hands, his face is covered in chocolate as well as all the other ingredients. It looks as though he tripped and fell face first into the mixing bowl (and knowing Jaskier it’s probably not far from the truth). He is currently trying to ice biscuits, the frantic swinging of his arms meaning that more of the icing is ending up on her cupboards and Ciri giggles as each movement becomes more and more exaggerated.

Yen decides to interrupt before her kitchen is completely and clears her throat.

She wishes she had her phone out to capture the look on their faces as they turn around to see her leaning against the door. She’s not sure whose eyes are the widest. Ciri jumps and almost falls from his shoulders, Jaskier quicky reaching up to steady her and there’s a tangle of limbs before he sets Ciri down on the floor.

“Hi Yen,” he says brightly “Good day at work?”

“It was fine. I’m currently more concerned by what the hell you two have managed to do to this kitchen.”

“Ah, yes” Jaskier says sheepishly as he looks around and takes in the sight “We have made a bit of a mess haven’t we? No worries, I’ll have it all spick and span again in no time. You see, we were watching Ratatouille and thought wouldn’t it be fun having someone there telling you how to cook and-“

He’s off rambling about how they thought that but couldn’t think of what to cook and were then inspired by Tangled and decided to bake-

“-and it was going to be colourful but then we realised so the only colour we had was green, so we decided to make it extra-green but then that made it taste weird so we decided on biscuits instead,” Ciri adds helpfully.

“Whatever you made, I’m pretty sure more of it ended up on you rather than in the bowl,” Yen says reaching and wiping something from Ciri’s cheek. “Go and get cleaned up and I’ll order dinner.”

“Yes! Takeaway!” Ciri shouts excitedly “Can we have pizza?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s going to be impossible to try and cook anything in this kitchen at the moment anyway.”

With a cheer, Ciri is running up the stairs towards the shower. Lord knows how long its going to take to get that stuff out of her hair.

Turning to Jaskier, she simply raises an eyebrow

“I swear I’ll clean this all up. You won’t recognise it. I didn’t meant for it to get so out of hand I swear, it was just going to be the fort,” he explains before quietening “I just wanted to make her laugh. You know how she can get this time of year.”

Yennefer hums. The winter is a tough time for her, it holds so many memories.

“She looked happy when I came in, so I suppose it worked. Just wished it hadn’t cost me my kitchen,” she says dryly.

“In my defence, I was trying-“

“In your defence, you’re an idiot”

“I’m your idiot” Jaskier says stepping up to her, wrapping his arms around her and leaning down with that insufferable smirk on his face before-

“Ow! Yennefer that bloody hurt” he yelps clutching his forehead that had had a unfortunate meeting with her hand “I thought we were having a moment.”

“There is no way we are having a moment when you’ve got this much shit on your face. You’re even worse than her. No way I’m letting your face anywhere near mine until you’ve had a shower”

He pulls away with a pout and tries to give her puppy eyes, which just looks ridiculous. She pushes gently at his chest, saying “Come on. I believe we have a film to finish and pizza to eat.”

He brightens at that and before she can stop him, he is planting a kiss on her head before running up the stairs.

“You’re disgusting!” she calls after him, despite the smile that is pulling at her lips and she knows he will be able to hear the smile in her voice.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­After they are showered and some damage control has been done in the kitchen they settle under the blankets in the fort with their pizza. The soft glow of the fairy lights illuminate Jaskiers exaggerated (but still annoyingly good) performances of each song, Ciri bundled into her side laughing as he makes up additional verses of each song, singing each one in a ridiculous voice. As the film draws to an end, she looks down to see Ciri snoring gently against her side. Moving as gently as she can so as not to disturb the sleeping girl, she manages to get her arms underneath her and carries her up to bed.

Ciris eyes open briefly just as Yen is rearranging the duvet around her.

“Today was fun,” she mumbles tiredly “Missed you though.”

“I missed you too,” she murmurs, placing a kiss against Ciris forehead “Sleep well, sweetheart. I love you”

Ciris reply is cut off by a yawn before the girl is burrowing into the pillow. Yen presses one more kiss to her hair before turning off the light and making her way back downstairs.

As she climbs back into the fort, she spots two wine have appeared and Jaskier is holding the bottle in his hands.

“Do I get my kiss now? I brought wine to help my cause,” he says, waving the bottle.

She sits down on the floor next to him, one had reaching to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss whilst the other reaches and plucks the bottle from his hands.

She pulls away and turns to look at the label, resting her temple against his cheek as she says, “It’s acceptable. Pour me glass, wine wench.”

“As my lady commands” he answers and once the glasses are full, she is pushing at him to get into a more comfortable position.

“What are you doing? Is this a massage? Because I’m telling you know they are normally a lot more sexy than this and-“

“Shut up,” as she moves them so that she is leaning back against him “You stole all my pillows so I’m using you as one.”

She feels his answering laugh against her hair as his arms come to wrap around her.

“Fair enough,” he says grabbing the remote, “Now, serial killer documentary?”

“Obviously. And none of your annoying questions this time, good pillows don’t talk.”

“But its so confusing, how am I supposed to remember who everyone is and what they did. And everyone is always as suspicious as fuck-“

She lets her arms come to rest on top of his as she lets his words wash over her.

She’s glad to be home.

[fangirlofbooksandpasta]

One Morning (Part 1/2)

Part 2

Pairing: (Post Azkaban) Sirius Black x reader (I tried to write it without a gender or skin colour or size in mind, but sorry if I have moments where it slipped)

Warnings: a small amount of angst? 2261 words? None really I think. 

Summary: On a calm morning you wake up to a shoking newspaper, and when memories flood your mind, you decide to take action. 

Note: This is for @im-a-writer-right​‘s 2k followers writing challenge! Congratulations! None of the prompts I chose are in this but they’re going to be in part 2 when i write that one. If anyone has any feedback, please write a comment or send me a message, I appriciate it all! Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, English isn’t my first language and the time is currently 2345

PS. I have used a part from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 3. I do not own the rights to this, I merely use it for the purpose of this fanfiction. All the credit for this passage goes to J.K. Rowling. Please dont sue me. 

The dust was sparkeling like little stars in the morning light as you lied in the soft bed. You slowly awakened with your cat, Freya, coming closer to you before she cuddled against your duvet cover. With eyes closed you petted her soft fur with a tired hand as she purred in content. The moment passed and you got up from the covers, much to Freya’s displeasure. With slow steps you made your way to the small kicthen to pour yourself a glass of water, which you drank while you looked at the little street from your flat. The café opposite your building was opening up, already with a few customers at the tables outside. The weather was wonderful, not to hot with a light breeze. The people at the café were wearing overcoats and scarfs but nevertheless looked incredibly comfortable and cozy in the august weather. Freya jumped up on the counter and sat almost next to you, looking at the street too as if she understood it all. Maybe she did.

You became starteled when your small transformer owl, Hermod, jumped inside from the window you were just looking out of. Freya jumped down from the counter and found a sunny and warm spot in the living room where she lied down for a morning nap. She had been playing and exploring the flat the night before, so she was probably tired. You smiled to yourself before you turned your attention to Hermod, who carried a copy of The Daily Prophet and a letter.

‘Thank you, Hermod,’ you said as you took the post from him and gave him a little snack as pay for his work. He was a very small owl, as transformer owls are, but he did a great job for his size. He was hard to catch, small, and fast – and insanely cute. Hermod hopped away while you looked at the front page of The Daily Prophet. It was the first time you had read it in a couple of weeks because your work for The Order had taken up your time. You absolutely knew how essential it was that you followed the news and how the ministry dealt with everything. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the headline you were faced with:

BLACK STILL AT LARGE Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner to ever be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. ‘We are doing all we can to recapture Black,’ said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, ‘and we beg the magical community to remain calm.’ Fudge has been critisied by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. ‘Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,’ said an irritated Fudge. ‘Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s face it – who’d believe him if he did?’ While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Your breath came to a stop when you had processed every last word. You stared into the air, not really seeing what was happening in front of you. Freya had noticed the silence and made her way back to the counter. She was purring loudly as she stroked your arm with her body. But you hardly noticed. A blizzard of thoughts ran through your mind. Memories, feelings. Everything that you had long ago hidden in the corners of your mind rushed up as if a tornado raged in your head.

Your trance was awaked by the sound of the parchment letter hitting the hard kitchen floor. Freya looked innocently at the letter and back at you as if she tried to convince you that she wasn’t to blame, although you knew differently. Still unsetteled, you stroked her fur as you unfolded the letter with shaky hands. You recognised the handwriting as your good friend Remus’s.

Hello Y/N, I’m sure that you’ve read the news – can we meet soon to talk about it? I’m sure we could both use it. All the best, Remus Lupin.

You put the letter down in front of you, on top of the newspaper. Freya looked concerned at you and you could hear Hermod from the other room, also sounding concerned abour the sudden silence that fell over the flat.

‘Don’t worry, Honey,’ you whispered as you petted Freya. She closed her eyes and the concerned look on her furry face changed into one of love and enjoyment as she purred in delight. Hermod stopped his complaining and went on to enjoy the snack you had rewarded him. While you were standing in the kitchen with a million different thoughts racing through your mind, one certain memory took the front seat.

The sun was setting in the distance, way behind the mountains and forests. Sirius’s arm was resting around your shoulder as you rested your head against his own shoulder. Tired from the exams and the circus that was school the two of you had gone outside to relax in the calming presence of each other. It was the last year and everyone knew that Voldemort was rising and that it, sooner or later, would lead to some kind of a war. Everyone knew that there would be losses, great ones. Painful ones. But for that moment there was bliss. A breeze russteled Sirius’s hair and you nuzzeled closer to him. He sighed a tired sigh and closed his eyes in an effort to enjoy nothing but your body against his own. Something he enjoyed greatly, but knew there wouldn’t be much time for when you finished your time at Hogwarts and were forced to face the brutality of the real world.

‘Are you ok?’ he asked in a quiet whisper, as if it pained him to speak the words. You turned to face him and were met by a concerned but yet caring face. You smiled sadly at the question and turned to look back upon the landscape. The quiet water. The still mountains. Absolutely unbothered by the ongoing conflicts in the world and only slightly disturbed by the breezes.

‘I honestly don’t know. I’m anxious and I feel like I’m waiting for something. But I don’t know what it is that I’m waiting for,’ you said quietly. Sirius leaned closer to you and kissed the top of your head, gaining a small smile from you.

‘Whatever happens Y/N,’ he started and paused. Once again you turned to face him. He looked at you with worry in his eyes before he finished his sentence; ‘I will always love you.’

You finally decided on what to do; first things first you went to the bedroom and found a piece of parchment and a quill.

Hello Remus, I’m going to his house. You know where. Y/N.

Hermod was had long ago finished the piece of meat when you entered the living room of the flat with the small letter in your hand. He knew what he had to do and without protesting let you. You instructed him to fly to the Burrow when he had done his duty, and when the letter was fastened securely, Hermod flew out of the open window. Quietly you followed him with your eyes before he was nothing but a black spot far away.

You yourself got dressed in a loose, white dress shirt and some black trousers. The august weather was still colder than what was preferable, so you put on a scarf that Molly had knitted for you years ago, along with a dark brown coat. You packed a bag of necessities before you went sat down in the couch next to where Freya was resting peacefully. She raised her head when the couch was weighed down by you. The cat carrier bag was placed next to you and Freya knew what she had to do.

‘I’m sorry, I know you don’t like it, but I don’t want to leave you alone,’ you quietly said as Freya made herself comfortable in the carrier. She sounded a little meow as an answer to your remark. You stood up, bags in hand and over your shoulder. A small checklist was crossed in your head as you made sure that you had everything you needed. A loud noise sounded and soon you appeared on Grimmauld Place. The slight breezes were still present. You looked around and before you was 11 and 13. In the cracks of the pavement small flower weeds grew in yellow and purple colours. You picked a couple, gathering a small bouquet. With a quick movement of your wand, number 12 appeared between 11 and 13 – an apparent mistake the muggles merely laughed at.

The house stoof before you. Suddenly you were filled with dread although you knew that Walburga and her husband were long gone. You had only visited Grimmauld Place 12 once or twice, but the house’s energy was comepletely off. Everyone could feel it radiating evil, and not having been there in ages you felt as if it was stronger than ever. Whether it was the impacts of the words from The Daily Prophet, or your own imagination and feelings tricking you, you didn’t quite know.

‘Here we go,’ you whispered to yourself as you took the steps towards the door you opened slowly.

The scent that immidiately hit your face as you closed the door was both recogniseble and not. The few memories you had of the place filled the screen in your head. As you looked around, you noticed how the dust was flying in the room in which you had entered. Paintings had been covered up. Bookshelves looked as if they were going to break the moment somebody touched them. You sat down the bag and Freya when you noticed a piece of parchment on a credenza. It was yellowed – old.

Calla,

A big smile formed on your face and a warmth spread in your heart when you read the first word. The nickname he had given you when you were still at Hogwarts.

You walked into the Gryfindor common room with a glass of water and flowers in it. Careful not to spill it, you made your way around the furniture. The room was empty for people, everyone being at Hogsmeade and the first and second years yet at brunch. You had snuck outside for a moment of peace before the castle would vibrate with curious 11 and 12 year olds, who still had loads to explore.

‘Calla,’ you heard a familiar voice say when you reached the entrance to the girl dormitory. You turned your head around and saw Sirius Black standing at a window.

‘What?’ you asked confused. You knew him – not well, but enough to know the very basics. His group of friends, James, Peter, Remus, and he himself, was well known. Especially in the Gryfindor house. Your best friend Lily always talked about how irritating James and his friends were. But even though you were only thirteen, you could hear that even though Lily found James incredibly annoying, she also at times enjoyed his company.

‘The name of the flowers,’ Sirius answered. You looked at the flowers. They were like small glasses or cups, mixes of pink and white with strong, dark green stems. Beautiful and robust, you thought to yourself.

‘I find them quite beautiful, thought I’d put them on my desk and enjoy them until they wither,’ you said and again turned to look at Sirius. He walked closer to you. You weren’t shy around him, although you did find him very handsome.

‘Do you know what the Greek meaning of “calla” is?’ he asked. You shook your head.

‘No, I don’t,’ you answered. Sirius smiled and walked close enough to smell the flowers.

‘Then I’ll let you figure it out on your own,’ he said and walked out of the common room.

Confused and wondering you made your way up the stairs to your dorm. The flowers looked refreshing on the wooden desk and although they didn’t survive too long, you enjoyed them while they lasted. A week later you asked Professor McGonagall if she knew the Greek meaning of “Calla”.

‘Most beautiful, if I remember correctly.’ She answered.

And you didn’t sleep for a week.

I figured you’d be the first one to come here. Nobody knows about this place – only the Order, as you probably remember. Is the order still active? I hope it is – at least, it should be. I’m in Hogsmead. I won’t be more precise than that in case anyone else reads this. You will recognise me when you see me. Love, Sirius Orion Black.

You turned to look at Freya, who was lying in the carrier with her eyes open as if she analysed your every movement. You walked back to her and petted her calmly.

‘Sorry girl, I have to do it again. I know you don’t like it, but I promise it’ll be the last time for a while.’ You said as you picked her carrier and your packed bag up again. The small bouquet of flowers was in your hand and before you could count to three, you were in Hogsmeade.

@beksib​

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hello there, I love your Sirius and James, they feel so in Character. I just read the books again and crave everything I can get my hands on and your fics are just what I need :D. Could I pretty please get a getting together one? A little slow burn tossed into if that's possible? I don't really care how they get together but maybe it happens in the summer Sirius runs away? Anyway, thanks for all your fics, the one with James patronus being padfood was read by me like 20 times over. :D Thanks!

James wasn't used to chickening out, but that's exactly what he did. He'd wanted to ask Sirius on a date-- a real date, just the two of them where they could hold hands and maybe Sirius would let James kiss his cheek-- but he'd panicked at the last second and said that they should do some research for a prank. 

Instead of the two of them, it was going to be them and also Peter and Remus in the library all night. It didn't sound half-bad, but James had really been hoping that they'd start dating. It would be so much fun! Plus, it would make a good story. Meeting the love of your life when you were eleven and immediately getting together? That was the way great love stories went. 

But it would be fine. James could wait a little bit longer. Besides, he had time. So far, Sirius hadn't mentioned wanting to date anyone. 

*

James tried to ask Sirius on a date again. He failed. Again. It would be easier if Sirius said no, instead of James never getting the question out. 

*

In the four years of their friendship-- coming into five years-- James had started ask out Sirius thirty-eight times. He'd thought about asking him on a date far more often, but he'd never managed to get anything out for most of those. Too many to count, honestly. Mostly he ended up staring at Sirius and frowning because he was annoyed with himself, and he would get shaken out of it when someone noticed. 

But this time was going to be different. Thirty-nine tries, but this one was going to be the one that he actually managed to get out. He didn't know why he was worrying about it so much anyways. Sirius was his best mate! They were close-- closer than two people had any right to be, if you listened to Moony-- and he was pretty sure that Sirius would say yes. Sirius never looked interested in dating anyone, and he spent all his time with James. This was going to go well; all he had to do was finish asking this time, and it would be great. 

It was weird, but not entirely surprising, that this was around the time Wormtail said, "Hey, did you hear that Padfoot has a date tonight?" 

"He has a what," James said. 

"Yeah. Dorcas Meadows." 

James wrinkled his nose. "Didn't she just dye her hair blue?" 

"Yes," Moony said, not moving his head from where he was peering so closely at a book, his nose was almost brushing the paper. "I guess Padfoot's into that sort of thing. Either that or he- I dunno, actually likes her and doesn't give a shite what colour her hair is?" 

"Did he say that he likes her?" James asked, frowning. He hadn't heard anything. He was Sirius's best friend; information about who he fancied and who he wanted to ask on a date should come to him first instead of from a secondary source. 

"He didn't say anything to me about it," Moony said, "but c'mon, it's Padfoot. Since when does he talk to any of us about birds? Or blokes. Or you, for that matter." He finally put some space between his face and the book, but then he was scratching something on his parchment and completely missed the incredulous look James shot him. "You don't talk about dating people either." 

"Well that's different, he's already married to Quidditch," Wormtail said with a snort. 

How were these people his friends. James was going to replace them as soon as he figured out who he could replace them with. 

"We can't expect for him to talk about Quidditch all the time and still have space to fit in who he fancies. If he even has eyes for anything other than a quaffle," Wormtail added, rolling his eyes. 

New friends. Immediately. He got up and left, hoping that they would think about being a little bit nicer to their friends who were only planning for the future, but the reality was that they barely noticed him going. He needed to find Sirius and ask him about this, anyways. He was in the first place James checked-- the dormitory. "Padfoot, the hell?" 

"What? I took off my shoes first." 

He thought James was upset about him being on his bed. As if. Although he really had taken off his shoes, which James appreciated. "Not that. Dorcas." 

"What about Dorcas?" 

"Wormtail said you have a date with her. Tonight." 

"Yeah, so?" 

"You didn't tell me." 

Sirius blinked up at him. "Why would I?" 

"I'm your best mate! We're supposed to talk about dates. And who you fancy. And all that other rot." 

"Oh," Sirius said, looking back down at his nails-- which apparently, he was busy painting red. "It's not like I fancy her; it's just a date." 

"Why would you go on date with someone you don't fancy?" 

There was an awkward pause, followed by a very unconvincing, "I dunno." 

James gaped at him. "Excuse me?" Sirius was lying to him? That was not on. 

"It's not a big deal," he said, looking back up at James. "She asked, and I figured that I didn't have anything else to do tonight, so I said yes. Besides, Dorcas is cool." 

She was, but it was so not the point. "Yeah. Fine, whatever." 

"Why are you being weird?" 

"I'm not weird, this is just how I am." 

"Right," Sirius said slowly, successfully conveying how little he believed that excuse. 

*

"Er, are you punishing yourself or summat?" James asked. He didn't want to think that that's what was happening, but what other reason would Sirius have for not moving out of the drizzle? Nutter didn't even have a jacket on. 

He got to his feet and shuffled inside, breezing past James in the doorway. "Don't be stupid," Sirius muttered. 

James frowned a little but didn't push it. Sirius had been different ever since he ran away. There were details he wasn't sharing; some of them were fine, but others were effecting him. James didn't think that he'd be able to fix it, but it would do Sirius good to talk about it and have someone listen. In theory. In practice, he didn't know what Sirius was keeping back, so he couldn't judge it for sure. 

He didn't know how to help him. He had no idea how to deal with what Sirius had been through, so he alternated between acting like nothing had happened and smothering him with hugs any time he felt sad-- James, that is, not Sirius; he could never tell when Sirius was sad these days. Acting normal right now would mean going and pestering Sirius into helping him on some of the set-up for the Marauders' Map, but he didn't really feel like doing that right now. He kind of wanted to wrap his arms around Sirius and not let go for a couple minutes, but Sirius was probably changing right now. 

James's feet took him to the kitchen, and he realised that hot cocoa would be the absolute best thing right now. Maybe not for Sirius, but he didn't know how to help Sirius right now anyways, so he might as well do something that was going to make him feel better. He did grab the marshmallows from the cupboard even though he didn't like them, because he knew that Sirius did. Most people liked mini-marshmallows in their hot cocoa, but Sirius liked two full size ones dropped right in. James didn't know why, but what Sirius liked, Sirius was damn well going to get. 

He was just about to put the marshmallows in Sirius's mug when he heard his name being called. "Kitchen!" he yelled back. He picked up the mugs and brought them over to the table. 

"You made cocoa?" Sirius said, a touch disbelieving. 

"Yes. Drink up." 

"Erm. Okay," Sirius muttered. He sat heavily in one of the chairs around the table and wrapped his hands around the mug, pulling it towards himself with a small hunch to his shoulders like he was afraid it would be taken from him. "You put marshmallows in it." 

"Yeah." 

"I thought you said it was weird." 

"It is, but that's no reason for you not to have it," James said, taking a sip and burning his tongue. He felt like he should be better at temperature control by now, but he always ended up with his tea and hot cocoa being too damn hot. Sirius was smarter, so he blew on it before tilting it towards his mouth. 

James couldn't decide if the longing in him was for seeing Sirius comfortable, or if it was because he wanted to kiss him. Either way, he couldn't act on it. Not now. Before, he'd been too scared to ask Sirius out, but now... now he didn't need to add to Sirius's stress. Whether he said yes or no, it would make his life more difficult. That was fine when all they were doing was worrying about school, but Sirius had an entire family that now wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't the right time for James to start talking about dating and being in love and shite. 

*

It wasn't the middle of the night, but it was earlier than James had planned on waking up. He had no bloody idea what Sirius was doing awake at five in the morning, but he woke up when Sirius crawled into bed with him. He didn't get under the covers, so it's not that it was a nightmare. He just laid on top of the duvet and curled up with a pillow. 

"Whatcha doin' up?" James muttered. 

"Go back to sleep," Sirius whispered. 

"'m already up." He was still tired, but he could tell that he wasn't going to get back to sleep. "What's goin' on?" 

"Nothing. I... didn't want to be alone. Couldn't stop thinking." 

James rubbed his hands over his face to wake himself up a little more. "How would me being asleep help you stop thinking?" 

"I don't know," Sirius said quietly. "You always help." 

*

"James, why don't you date?" Sirius asked out of the blue one afternoon over lunch. 

"Huh?" 

"You never date anyone." 

"You only started dating last year," James said defensively. 

"Right, but you never talk about it." 

"Neither do you. You never fancied anyone, and sometimes you'd disappear for a date without saying anything." 

"That's because it never went anywhere. It's not like I was in love with any of them; it was just some fun." 

"So why are you allowed to not be interested in anyone but I'm not? I don't want to date people I'm not interested in. That's all there is to it." 

"I never said I wasn't interested in someone," Sirius muttered, casting his eyes down at the table. 

"Then ask them on a date and stop pestering me," James grumbled. Hearing that Sirius did-- in fact-- fancy someone, wasn't exactly improving his mood. 

"...James?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Would you go on a date with me?" 

James tried to look at him so quickly that his elbow slipped off the table, and he nearly fell into his plate face first. "Yes. What? Yes. No take-back's," James said shoving a finger in his face. 

Sirius went a little cross-eyed trying to keep sight of his hand, then leaned back a little. "I'm not going to date you if you poke my eye out." 

"I would never!" James said, puffing up indignantly as he drew his hand back. 

"Well not on purpose, no." 

"Not ever." James narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "You'd better not be joking." 

"Why would I be joking?" 

"I dunno, but I've been trying to ask you out for like five years so I'm not taking any chances." 

"Five years? Really?" Sirius asked. 

"I will shove the rest of this sandwich in your face if you mock me." 

Sirius held up his hands in surrender, but there was no tamping down on the smile spreading across his face. 

[asphodelsandpomegranates]

In Your World (Randall Boggs x Reader)

Tagging @creeperchild​ because I know how much they love Randall. <3. Same AU series as ‘Where Did You Come From?’ and ‘Fear Factor’. 

You landed with a thud onto a hard floor and let out a yell of pain.

“Shit!” you hissed. Your shoulder was throbbing a little from the fall. Sitting up, you rubbed your arm and looked up. In front of you, was the most bizarre image you'd ever seen. You were sitting in a large room like a factory floor of some sort but you were looking into your neighbour's daughter's room. Like some sort of weird portrait.

How was this possible?

Something weird and fluffy fell on your shoulder, making you flinch and recoil. Looking up, you saw a...creature?...and standing over you. He was covered from head to toe in pink fur with two horns growing from his head. He had a long tail that ended with spikes at the end.

He smiled at you. “Hi. Welcome to Monsters Inc.” he said.

You stared at him and then looked round. There were dozens of creatures around you, all shapes and sizes and colours. Some of them were watching you apprehensively whilst others were curious.

Wait...Monsters Inc.? Didn't Randall say he worked there? Um, here?

You wanted to curl in on yourself. Or maybe it was a dream. That's it, it was a dream. You were still in bed with Randall right beside you, both huddled under your thick duvet. Or maybe the floor would swallow you up and—

—that's when you heard it the whispers.

“Is that a human?”

“An adult by the look of it.”

“Do you think we should near it—?”

“Are you crazy? We'll be dead in minutes! Or thoroughly contaminated!”

“Well, Horace touched her and he looks fine.”

“Yeah for now!”

“Maybe adults are different. Kids maybe, but adults—.”

“Don't be an idiot. Sullivan and Wazowski told us humans aren't contagious.”

“Are you all right, miss?”

You looked up at the fluffy monster, you assumed to be Horace. He was still smiling at you.

“Where am I?” you asked.

“Monstropolis. I think you've accidentally entered our world.” His face suddenly changed into one of concern. “You're looking a little peaky. Maybe the shock of ending up somewhere new.” He turned around and looked towards a weird looking creature that that had many eyes.

“Hey, Waxford! Go tell the big bosses. They'll have to know about this.”

Waxford nodded, making all of his eyes bob and scuttled off out of the room. Horace helped you up and guided you over to one of the desks. You sat down, keeping a wary eye between the monsters around you and the door that led back to your world.

Randall, where are you?

“Here ya go, sweets.” said a new voice.

You looked up to find a thin, pink creature with one of eye and snakes for hair. She hovered near you, holding out a mug of what looked to be tea

“Thank you.” you replied, taking the mug of hot tea into your hands.

“Gotta say.” said Horace, standing beside the female monster. “You're the first adult human I've never seen.”

You didn't know how to respond. You weren't too sure how you would. You just sipped on your tea, wincing a little over how sweet it was.

Suddenly, there was a short piercing alarm and the whole factory floor went dark. You watched as inside of your neighbour's child's bedroom disappeared showing the back wall of the room.

You sprang to your feet and hurried to the door. You took hold of the handle, closed the door and opened it.

Nothing. No inside of a bedroom or a closet full of clothes. No way of getting back. Of getting back to Randall.

“Shit!” you snapped, kicking the door grip and immediately regretting it.

“What's going on?” called Horace.

“Power's gone out.” called a voice.

“Damn it.”

“Um, Horace?”

Everyone looked round saw Waxford hurrying back over.

“Sullivan and Wazowski want to see the human in the office.”

“I'll take her.” said the female. “C'mon, sweetie. You'll get to meet the big boys. Gent, leave that door here. And let us know when that light comes back on.”

Looking up at the weird door mechanism where the red light had once been on, you felt your heart break. Randall was bound to notice that you were gone for longer than you'd imagined and would get upset.

Reluctantly, you followed two monsters out of the factory floor as monsters hurried to and fro, trying to fix whatever the situation was.

I'm Celia, by the way.” the female monsters said as you both followed Horace through the halls. “And what's yours?”

“Um, (Y/N).”

“Well, nice to meet you.” smiled Celia. “And don't worry. You're not the only human who had entered our world.”

“Really?” you asked, innocently. You remembered how much Randall had told you about his world and what had happened for him to end up in your world. You didn't want to give yourself away yet. You could not find yourself digging yourself deeper into this rabbit hole.

“Oh, yes. Mind you it was a little different back then. But we've come a long way since then.” 

“In what way?”

“Well, instead of using children's screams for energy, we just use their laughter. My fiancée found that out with his friend when a child came into our world.”

As you walked along the corridors and up the stairs, you saw some of the monsters looking at you and backing away slightly. You guessed some of them were still not used to the fact that humans weren't 'contagious'. You remembered proving Randall wrong when you had dragged him from your balcony to your couch when you first met him.

God, was he okay? Would there be another way of him to get back to you? Or you to him?

You hoped to whoever that the power would come back on and you would get home and back to Randall before it was too late.

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

Soon enough, you arrived at the office where Celia was immediately swept up into the arms of a small Cyclops creature with green skin. Behind a desk sat a large furry beast, larger than Horace but this one had blue fur with purple spots.

“Googly bear, um! Mike, Sully, this is (Y/N). From the human world.”

“Hi!” greeted the big blue monster who you guessed to be Sully.

“Hi!”

“Sorry about the power. Fingers thinks it may have been a wire trip of some kind. They'll fix it soon.”

“You.” said the giant eyeball you guessed was Mike. “Look very relaxed for someone who had just seen a bunch of monsters.”

“I've seen bigger and badder believe you me. You'd be surprised.”

“Wow.” Sully breathed.

“Listen, I don't mean to sound rude but how long is this going to take. I need to get back home.”

“I understand, (Y/N). You have someone at home, you care for, don't you?”

You nodded. “I need to get home or he'll worry about me. All I was doing was checking up on my neighbour's apartment, making sure everything was okay for her and her daughter and...I came here. It's all been a misunderstanding and a complete accident.”

“It's all right.” Sully comforted. “It'll be all okay. I know what's it like. We've all been there.”

You gave Sully a sort a reassuring smile.

“Who was your monster?” Mike piped up.

You stared at him, wide eyed. “What?”

“Who was your monster growing up?”

“I...I don't remember. ”you said. Your heart began to slow down from racing so much. You almost thought Mike had figured out somehow about Randall.

Suddenly, there was a flickering of lights and...

“Power's back on.” Horace smiled. “That's good. Quicker than I though.”

“Thank goodness.” you muttered “Well, this was fun. But I need to get home.”

“Right, let's get you down to the Scare Floor.” Sully said, rubbing his paws together. 

“Great.” you said.

Leaving the office, you headed out with Horace beside you and Sully, Mike and Celia behind you.

“Is there any need for the bodyguard sch-tick?”

“We just need to make sure that nothing else goes wrong.” Sully reassured.

You sighed, getting really irritated.

Your thoughts were interrupted as a small monster with large sharp teeth, hurrying over to you.

“Mr. Sullivan! Mr. Sullivan!”

“What is it?”

“We need to call the authorities.” the monsters panted.

“What the heck is going on?”

“It's Randall Boggs. Somehow, he's come back.”

You felt like your stomach had dropped out of you. Like the air had just escaped from your lungs. Your mind just lost itself of all thought and common sense because you blurted out! “Where is he?”

You could feel all eyes on you at this, but you really didn't care.

“Where is he?” you pressed, making the monster quiver.

“By the Scare Floor—.” he started and just as those four words left his mouth, you bolted down the corridors and down the stairs. The others called after you but you couldn't care less about them. You needed to get back to Randall and let him know you were okay.

Jumping the last two steps and dodging the monsters huddling in the hallway, you sprinted down to the Scare Floor.

There!

At the opening, two or three monsters had Randall in some kind of lock and Randall was struggling against them.

“RANDALL!” you screamed as you ran towards him.

The chameleon like monster froze and looked over at you, running.

“(Y/N)!” he sprang out from the hold and slithered over to you. Meeting you in the middle, he scooped you into his arms whilst his others paws softly slipped into your hair.

“Randall, thank fuck.” you gasped. “How did you know I was here?”

“I had a hunch.” he whispered. “Shit, (Y/N), you had me worried.”

“Sorry, baby.” you rumbled. “I didn't think I'd end  up here.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, drawing back a little to look you in the eyes.

“A little shaken. But I'm better for seeing you. Now, we can go home.”

His eyes flickered away from you to what was behind you. “I doubt that for a little while.”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked round to see a whole throng of monsters surrounding you and Randall. Sully and Mike moved to the front, both of them did not look pleased to see their ex-colleague.

You stepped in front of Randall, looking defiantly at them.

“(Y/N), step away from him.” Sully warned. “He's a criminal.”

“No. Not in my world, he isn't.” you spat. “So, we can go. You promised me that.” 

“And you didn't tell us that you were harbouring a criminal.”

“Let us go home, now.”

“Call the authorities, Celia—.”

“No.” barked Sully.” Don't.”

“Sully, what are you—?”

“We did promised to bring you back home to the one you care for. And since Randall is the one you 'care' for. So, go home and live your life happily with him.”  

“I will.” you said, taking hold of Randall's scaly paw. You pulled your lizard boyfriend over to the factory floor where the right door was still waiting, the red light blaring.

Without a glance back to your monsters audience, you re-entered the human world.

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

A week later...

You were lying in bed snuggling under the thin blankets when you heard a knock on your door.

“Mmm.” you grunted, stirring a little from your sleep. The knock came again. Becoming more awake, you sat up in bed and noticed Randall standing at your closet door, he was holding something and looking bewildered.

“Randall? What's wrong?”

He turned to look at you. In one of his palms, he held a letter.

“What's going on, hun?”

Randall still didn't reply. He looked terrified. His gaze fell on the letter in his hand. 

“Randall, you're scaring me. What's going on?”

Still Randall didn't reply. Instead, he opened the envelope and took out the letter inside. His large green eyes scanned the letter, the look of terror and changing into one of surprise and then relief.

“Randall?”

The lizard like creature moved over to the bed and settled down in front of you. He handed you the letter.

Taking it, you cast your gaze on the words before you.

                                      Monstropolis Supreme Court

                                 Subject of Letter: A Case of Pardon.

You looked up at Randall who was still in a case of shock.

After reading the letter, you looked back at him, a smile creeping up on your face. 

And you jumped on him! Squealing in happiness!

“Oh, Randall.” you cooed. “I'm so happy for you.”

“Yeah. I can't believe it.” he said, snuggling into you.

“Hey...ya hear that?”

He smiled up at you. “Sure do.”

…

...

“The winds of change.” 

[arknights-imagines]

Heyo, found your new blog!!! For a quick prompt: "Amiya/Projekt Red stealing Doctor's jacket".

Hiya! 🌸 Tysm for the request, I love Amiya smm so I'm happy that I got a request for her! 💕 I've never written for Red or Amiya very much so I hope I did them justice!! 🥺 I hope you like it~

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Projekt Red and Amiya stealing the Doctor's Jacket

Headcanon format; written in second person but its mostly from the Operators perspective

Contains: Amiya, Projekt Red, reader as the Doctor, and Doctor being a little cheesy haha

Word count: 2k in total

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Amiya

･Amiya wondered if your jacket was any different to hers more often than one might think.

･ Well, it was obviously different in appearance once she looked closer - yours was much longer and had more pockets and symbols on the outside, not to mention the roomy hood that hid most of your face.

･ Thoughts like these came to Amiya randomly; they were just things that came to her mind while she was working or resting.

･ Though, on one particular mission, her own trusty jacket got horribly dirty thanks to the muddy terrain she had to deal with the Reunion on. This wasn't a big deal, she had spare clothes and mud washed off after some washing. She brought it to the cleaners - it would be all clean in a day, so that just meant she had to go without it for a little while.

･ What she hadn't realized was how chilly the Rhodes Island infrastructure was without her oversized jacket hugging her form. Was it really always this chilly? She figured she'd have to ask Closure if something was wrong with the insulation.

･ By the time she realized that she was practically shivering thanks to the bothersome cold, Amiya was already too far from her room to pick up a sweater.

･ She wasn't too worried about being too uncomfortable to do any work, but she was a little embarrassed while walking down the hall hugging herself in hopes to warm up.

･ Just when Amiya was ready to deal with how cold she felt without her trusty jacket, another familiar jacket caught her eye.

･ There, on one of the couches in the dormitory she was passing by was your jacket, laid over the backrest.

･ 'Did the Doctor forget their jacket?'

･ You were nowhere to be seen, but it was definitely your jacket; she had no doubts about that.

･ Still hugging herself, she hurried into the dormitory and scooped the jacket up in her arms, smoothing it out before holding it out before her.

･ Still feeling chilly, Amiya only really thought about one thing; your jacket never looked so inviting before.

･ She did have things to attend to, but there was no harm in taking some time to return your jacket to you. She was aware you'd probably be fine without it, but she wasn't one to turn down an opportunity to pay you a visit, especially when she hadn't had the chance to see you all day.

･ Amiya looked this way and that, but there wasn't anyone around. When she looked back to your jacket, the urge to wrap herself in it returned.

･ 'I'm sure no one will mind.'

･ And with that, she put your jacket on, sighing in relief when it's warmth engulfed her like a fluffy duvet cover.

･ It was oversized and the fabric was thick; even more so compared to that of her own jacket, but that just meant it was twice as warm.

･ Hugging your coat to her form, Amiya began the search for you, glad she was no longer shivering.

･ She was so distracted by how comfortable your jacket was that she forgot that she was supposed to be looking for you. Thankfully, you managed to come across her while I'm the hallways.

･ "Amiya?" The Chimera blinked before turning around, looking a little surprised when she noticed you were approaching her. "Doctor! Good afternoon, I hope you're working hard."

･ You smiled, speaking in a bit of a teasing tone, "Amiya, did you get smaller? Or did your jacket get bigger?" You seemed more preoccupied with the fact that she had your jacket wrapped around her to reply.

･ Amiya rolled her eyes a bit, hiding a small grin. Fiddling with the hem of the jacket's sleeve she explained,

･ "This is your jacket, I found it in one of the dormitories. You should be careful when leaving your belongings somewhere." A timid grin came to her face, "I wanted to come see you, so I decided to take it and return it to you."

･ Now that she was standing in front of you, she realized how much she didn't want to part with it. Though she had work to do and so did you, so, as much as she wanted to spend time with you for as long as possible, she had to get on with her day.

･ Reluctantly, Amiya began taking it off, only for you to stop her by gently taking her hands that were covered by the sleeves of your coat.

･ The Chimera blinked, surprised. "Huh? Doctor?"

･ She didn't expect to find you grinning, almost amused. "That's alright Amiya, you can keep it for today." You patted her head softly, combing some hair back from her eyes, "It looks a lot cuter on you anyways."

･ That it did; it was long, so much so that it looked like a dress at first glance. The sleeves hid her hands and her torso was wrapped loosely in the jacket's cloth.

･ Colour flushed to her face, but Amiya grinned, hiding it with a shake of her head, "Alright. I'll watch over it for today, but you should take it back tomorrow." She had turned to leave, but to her surprise you wrist caught her hand, and soon she was pressed close to you, your arms wrapped around her securely.

･ "Doctor?" The Chimera spoke again, surprised. "Sorry Amiya. Can you just stay here for a second?" Your voice was a little quiet, but you seemed to focus on her to realize that you were hugging her like a plush toy in the middle of the hallway.

･ With everything going on in the world, she found it a little unbelievable that you and her were able to share moments like these. Moments where you were able to smile and laugh without worrying about anything.

･ Grinning, a light giggle left her. Freeing her arms from their spot squished between her form and yours, Amiya wrapped her arms around you, a warm, fuzzy feeling coming over her whole body.

･ "Ehehe…okay, Doctor. Just for a little while."

･ She hoped she'd be able to borrow your jacket more often from then on.

Projekt Red

･Projekt Red usually kept to herself, but you were an exception. She very much liked being around you; your presence put her at ease almost all the time.

･ When she wasn't doing missions she was typically roaming around the Rhodes Island infrastructure or getting medical tests. Today was one of those days where she wasn't needed anywhere in particular. Without much to do, she decided to go see if she could find you anywhere.

･ The Lupo visited your office first. The door wasn't locked; she would have to advise you to be more cautious in the future next time she had the chance. She didn't want anyone hurting you, after all.

･ Peeking into the room quietly, it was clear you weren't in the office. That made sense; you probably had business to attend to. Considering she didn't have anywhere to be, she figured she'd wait for you to return.

･ Projekt Red headed further into the room, her eyes looking around carefully. She didn't understand much of the charts or odd looking models or equipment in your office, but it felt safe even if you weren't there. Most often, she preferred being outside, but the Lupo didn't mind spending the day inside if it was in your office.

･ She was about to sit herself on the floor and begin fiddling with her blades when she noticed a familiar jacket hanging on a coat rack nearby.

･ 'That's where their scent was coming from.'

･ Projekt Red liked your jacket; it didn't seem to provide much utility outside of being clothing, - unlike hers, but it looked nice on you. It was easy to spot you when you wore it.

･She found it a little odd that it was just left there, but as she stared at it more, the urge to go put it on grew quickly.

･ The Lupo had her own jacket, and it was similar to yours, but she wondered if yours felt the same. Leaving her blades on the floor, she stood, walking over and taking the jacket in her hands.

･ The material was a little rough, but the inside was nice and warm. Curious, she pressed it to her cheek, closing her eyes for a moment. It smelt like you, and if she imagined it hard enough, hugging the jacket almost felt like you were hugging her.

･ A lot of things at Rhodes Island smelt like danger, and it all made her feel on guard more often than not. But when it came to you, she didn't have any worries.

･ 'It doesn't belong to me, but…' It wasn't hers, so she knew she should've just left it alone and waited patiently for you to come back, but the more she held your jacket, the more she wanted to go see you.

･ Projekt Red knew that controlling herself was best, but right then, she couldn't really help herself.

･ Taking off her own coat, she replaced it with yours, focusing on how it felt in contrast to her own.

･ 'It smells a lot like them.' Nuzzling into the collar of the jacket, she closed her eyes again, 'And it feels fluffy and warm like…Texas' and Provence's tails.' Projekt Red thought that the material would've been worn and rough inside - the jacket smelt old, you must've been using it for a long time, but it was just as warm and inviting as a fluffy blanket.

･ It didn't have as many pockets as hers, however, so there weren't many places to put weapons. Though, if she was going to go looking for you, she had to go armed just in case.

･ Storing her blades in the jacket pockets as best she could, the Lupo left the room, beginning the hunt for you.

･ Projekt Red was a little distracted by how oddly warm and safe your jacket made her feel, but she was able to track you down anyway.

･ When she did, you were in a laboratory rubbing your eyes, papers with battle formations and stacks of documents before you.

･ Moving quietly, she snuck up to your side, "Doctor, are you tired?"

･ You jolted a little in alarm but calmed down once you realized who it was. "Red, what are you doing here?"

･ When you turned to her, you seemed a little surprised at the jacket she was wearing. It wasn't the red one she usually donned - it was yours.

･ "I had a….weird feeling. I wanted to come see you." She confessed, pulling on the jacket sleeves a little.

･ You smiled, "Did you find my jacket while looking for me?" The Lupo blinked, she hoped you weren't mad - it definitely didn't seem that way, but she couldn't really understand why you seemed happy.

･ "Um, I wanted to stay in your office but I saw your jacket." She explained, "The scent made me want to see you."

･ You were still smiling, and with a small laugh, you stood, pulling her into a gentle hug. The Lupo stiffened for a moment, but the warm energy you were emanating calmed her almost immediately. "Doctor…" She tucked her nose into the collar of your jacket again, "...this feeling is nice."

･ You chimed with a small laugh, patting her head, "We can stay like this for a little while, Red." She nodded quietly, but just as she was about to relax again, the Lupo shifted in your arms, speaking up, "Be careful, um," The Lupo moved your arms to a different position, your hands away from the pockets on your coat, "I put my blades in your jacket pockets, you might cut yourself…."

･ Projekt Red blinked when you laughed lightly again, pausing to look up at your face. Your smile made her feel warm and fuzzy, even more than the jacket or your hugs did.

･ 'Yes, I like this feeling.' Slowly smiling to herself, she hoped you would always feel this way.

[woopboopboop]

Of promises

Note: Trigger warning!!! There is mention of suicide in this story. If you are uncomfortable, I suggest that it would be better to not proceed or you can proceed at you own discretion. 

Look who’s back at it again! This is one is kinda fluffy and angsty at the same time? I don’t quite know. I’ll let you be the judge. Happy reading, babes.

I am not going to lie. I think about you almost all the time. I think about you when I am at work too. It’s amusing how the thought of you keep on appearing in my mind no matter how focus I am on something else. As I listen intently to the added vocals blending in with the strumming of guitar and mellow bass sound of the latest track, I can’t help but think of the time when you peeked over the book you were reading and concentrating on the random strumming patterns that I was experimenting one evening. You seemed fixated to the melody even commented how good it sounds and that was when I knew it needs to be in one of my songs. I unconsciously shake my head, smiling at the thought.

“What are you smiling at?” Kid asks, approaching the mixing console where I am standing next to.

“Just – thinking of something,” I say, scratching an invisible itch behind my ear, smiling sheepishly.

“Your wife?” Kid raises his eyebrows at me before returning to tweak some knobs on the board.

I try to hide my growing smile but it doesn’t really work. “Yeah. My wife.”

I am used to the band, Jeff and everyone else teasing me but when it comes to you, boy oh boy, do they have newfound love for it. “Lovebirds”, “Head over heels”, “Totally smitten” are just some of the words they use to describe us. You know this, of course, because I share about the things that we talk about during studio breaks or even random things that we did inside or outside of studio. Sometimes, you join in on their teasing game. But I don’t mind at all. They make the butterflies in me come alive and I live for the feeling after all. They make me think of you and I love having you on my mind.

The clock is way past midnight when I reach home. After fumbling with the house key for a while, I finally gain entrance, kicking my boots to the side and setting both the house and car keys on the wall key hooks. With the guidance from the living room dim lighting, I walk towards the kitchen to get a glass of cold water. Opening up the fridge door, the light bathes a portion of the kitchen wall and floor in a soft, yellow hue. It is then that I remember you asked me to grab milk from the nearby shop. “If you don’t mind,” you added.

I curse under my breath not because I despise the domestic act but because I actually forgot about doing the exact thing and I only have the ability to remember it now. I have to admit that you are the one who is better in remembering things be it dates or appointments. As for the milk, I will get it tomorrow.

Carrying my heavy footsteps upstairs, I notice the beam of light from beneath the door signifying that you left the light on. I tiptoe to flick off the light switch after switching on the table lamp on your side. The room is in total darkness except for the light from your half illuminating the room dimly. We agreed that only the light from your side will be on when we are sleeping after I vividly recall you telling me that you are not a fan of sleeping in the dark. You tell me about things that scare you and things that make you happy afterwards a lot and I also share mine.

I sit down carefully on the bed and watch you sleep facing my side of the mattress. Haruki Murakami’s Men Without Women is lying face down on the bed just a few inches from your chest. Closing it, I put the book along with other collections of Murakami in the bedside drawer behind me. I can’t help but notice an unfamiliar book residing in the drawer, I guess you bought it recently to add on our reading list. Yes, our reading list. In fact, there a lot of our things in this house and for each passing day, there will always be some new addition. Just like when there is a new record added to the existing little tower of vinyl records in the study room, new set of rings on the vanity or even new mugs with minimalist design in the kitchen.

Every object in each room of this house is an embodiment of us, together or individually. Though, I have to say that your presence was stronger because when I step into a space, I feel you. I feel your presence now too but at times it feels like it is fading away before it comes again in a crashing wave. I remember the time we talked about this over a cup of coffee. On that day, we shared our most complex struggles through simple words and comforting gestures.

Like my eyes always do, they return to you. The soft light in the room highlights certain features on your face and it begins to darkened towards the part where you have your face buried in the pillow. A sudden rush of warmth creeps behind my neck, making its way to my ear. The electrifying and alluring feeling is still the same as the one that I felt when we shared our first kiss. In fact, every touch and small gestures exchanged between us, especially now, brings more intensified feelings. You look so peaceful, frozen in time, except for your eyes darting back and forth behind your shut eyelids and the rising and falling of your breathing.

Your hair is everywhere with some strands falling on your upper arm, hiding two scars located at the same place which can hardly be seen. You always try to hide the scar, not liking the reasons behind it but I always tell you that things happened for a reason and that I will always love you and promise that I will be by your side if you need me. There is a scoff of disbelief on your face at first before your eyes soften and thank me for willing to be by your side. I love kissing the scar just as a reminder that I love you. I love kissing it without any reasons too. It has a slightly different colour from the rest of the skin on your body where I love to leave kisses as well. Hell, I just love to kiss you. No question asked. But I love to see you like this too, so I refrain myself from waking you up.

You shift for a bit in your sleep and a strand of hair falls down across your face. As if it is a reflex action, I move the strand away and tuck it behind your ear. My finger caresses the shell of your ear and you jaw with the slightest pressure. I notice your eyes fluttering, as if they want to open or maybe you are just dreaming.

“Hey,” you mumble when you gaze is focusing on me.

“Hey.”

We bask in silence for quite a while and I thought that you go right back to sleep but then I hear you asking me, “What?”

“Nothing. Just watching you.”

You squint your eyes and pull the duvet to cover half of your face, “Creep.”

“But you love it.” I stick my tongue out and you pull the duvet until it’s not covering you face anymore, sticking your tongue back at me. My lips find their way to your forehead, leaving a soft kiss before I disappear to the bathroom to change.

Coming back, I see you starting to fall asleep again. I smile and breathe in your presence for a moment before joining you on the mattress. Your eyes are fluttering open again as I caress your chin with my thumb and forefinger. My thumb stops at your cheekbone and I whispered a quite sorry. You shake you head and lean closer to me. We exchange long and gentle kisses, fingers wandering to every place that they can reach. And we don’t stop until both of us run out of breath. I don’t want to stop. Ever. Not when your fingers are tugging my hair slightly and mine resting on the nape of your neck to deepen our kiss.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, worried lines shadowing on your face.

I prop myself up on one elbow and carefully lay out the words. “It’s about the trip.”

You look more aware than anything at this moment, bottom lip pouting a bit, “I’m not going to like this, huh?”

“I’m so sorry, love. I’ve checked the date, I swear, but unfortunately it clashes with some promotions stuff that’s going to happen. The team and I confirmed the date and we can’t move it to another time.” I look into your eyes, hoping that I am not letting you down too much. You have been very excited for the trip, talking endlessly about it.

“Babe?” I call out and see your eyes regain their focus and concentrate on mine. Head falling deeper into your pillow, you hum, asking me to repeat whatever was said.  

“The date for the trip clashes with my work. I’m so sorry. Really.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” you whisper, drawing circles on the back of my hand. “When can we go then?” It sounds more like curiosity than anything else.

Leaning down, I kiss your nose and you scrunch up your face, giggling softly. “In three weeks time. I promise.”

“H, you are promising a lot of things. Don’t think I’ll forget all of them.” I know you are serious beneath the joking tone of your voice. I lay back on the mattress, reaching over to snuggle into the dip of your neck. The faint scent of chamomile lingers in the air where I am hiding. After sponging few kisses on your neck and holding you close, I loosen my grip and move away from the crook of your neck. My eyes move from looking at you lips, to your nose and finally setting on your eyes.

“I intend to fulfil each and every one of them. You are stuck with me for a long time. Don’t think you’ll forget about that too?” You nod your head and both of us giggle. When the giggling stop, we are left with gazing into each other's eyes, as if we are looking for something. I found something behind yours, despite the dim light trying to hide away whatever it is in the shadow.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah.” I feel the little space between us closing in and our lips brush each other. You are no longer sleepy and I am no longer tired.

 A single sun ray wakes me up in the morning. I jump up, panic at first but then it dawns on me that I have today off. Your side of mattress is empty. I roll over and bury my face on your pillow, smelling in the chamomile scent.

I lift my head when I hear the sound of water running from the bathroom. Bare naked, I cross the room in a number of strides and is reminded about last night when I encounter our clothes mingling together in a messy heap on the floor. I blush thinking about it as if it is our first. I knock on the bathroom door, calling out your name. Silence. I turn the knob slowly and push the door open expecting that you will be standing under the shower, asking me to join you there.

I am about to greet you good morning but see that there’s no one in the shower but the marble tiles staring back. As I lower down my vision, I find you slumping against the glass door. An angry stream making its way from your wrist down the drain, a huge contrast from your skin colour. Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. I am panicking. I rush over your limb body, wrapping the wound with whatever that I could find at the time. I pick you up and get you in a purple robe before I grab the clothes from last night and put it on. You feel so light and so heavy at the same time in my arms as I carry you to my car.

I fumble with the key in my hand. I don’t even know if I have locked the front door or not. I keep on calling your name as if it is a chant that can get you to magically wake up. All of this while trying to stay sane when in actual reality the world feels like it is slipping from my grasp. I wish that you reply my calling with any incoherent sentence or even garbled sounds. But you don’t answer. You don’t wake up.

When reaching hospital, I can only vision what a sight we are to those waiting there. “Please, help me!” I call out to no specific person. Everything just goes by so quickly and in a blur as the nurses push your bed towards the emergency room. Why aren’t you finishing my words when I try my best to explain what happened to the doctor? Why aren’t you opening your eyes when the doctor barks command to the nurses? Why aren’t you struggling when they put on the bed? Why aren’t you here to comment how ridiculous I must have look with my damp, wrinkled, half unbuttoned shirt? I don’t even notice the bloody patches on my shirt if I don’t button it up.

I stay out of everyone’s way and lean against the pillar near the entrance. A woman approaches me and pass me a document that I need to fill. I make a beeline for the counter so that I have a flat surface to write the paper on. As I fill in the paper, the nurse presses me for any information and I answer as best as I could but then I keep on thinking of you. I think about the milk that I forgot to buy. I think about the trip that I postponed last night. I think about the upcoming tour and that I promised you will stay longer with me this time. I think about all of the promises made, waiting to be fulfilled over our happily ever after.

“Have you call her family?” asks the same nurse. I must have look so distraught trying to fill the blank spaces and answer her questions. I stare at her for a moment to process her question. I want to say to her that I am your family. She is about to repeat the question when I shake my head.

“Call them. Let them know what’s happening.” She waits a couple of minutes until I finish filling up the paperwork. The waiting room is filled with a lot of noises given the works that are going on here but I feel so alone. The worst of thoughts come creeping in and start becoming louder each passing minute. I snap back and remember that I need to inform mum and your mother about the situation. Mum is very much heartbroken over the phone when I tell her about what is going on. It’s a bit funny that I am the one who consoles her instead of the other way around. I can’t blame her though. She loves you so much that she regards you as her second daughter.

 I don’t know whether I prefer to be with family and friends at the moment or to be alone. The clock ticks slowly while things around me are moving at a normal speed. I feel a hand on my shoulder. Turning around, Mitch stands behind me and Sarah besides him. She hugs me without saying any words and Mitch offers me a weak smile.

“She’s going to be all right,” they assure me. I don’t know what else to say so I thank them.

Almost all of our close friends are here, waiting for any news from the doctor or nurses. I don’t dare to pay attention to their presence and kindness because I may break down and cry. That is the last thing that I need in this situation. “What is taking them so long,” I mutter, pacing back and forth, occasionally running my fingers through my hair. Sometimes they interlace with the curls for a while as I try to remain calm, taking deep breaths here and there. I need to be strong for both of us.

More people arrive and then I hear a familiar voice. Mum’s. Standing up, I greet her, Gemma as well as your mother with a hug. Your family is here too. I recount what happened to them and I can’t help but choke on few words as I feel the tears threatening to spill. They look so worried, afraid even, especially your mother since she knows you well enough to know that there are times when it can be so hard for you. And I am worried and afraid too.

In the midst of things happening, Mum finds her way to mother me, “Have you eaten?” Her question reminds me that you would do the same too. Regardless what the situation is. Trust me.

I get up from my seat and walk as fast as I can to the toilet. Finding the nearest toilet bowl, I vomit. I would think that there is nothing left inside of me after seeing you slumped in the shower this morning but I keep on vomiting until the only thing left is the bitter taste in my mouth. My knees buckle against the cold tiles. I feel a hand running up and down my back and see mum kneeling besides me. She holds me so tight, afraid that if she let go, I will break into tiny pieces.

“Everything’s fine. She’s going to be fine.” Her voice soft and soothing.

“No. She’s not.” I let out a sob, both hands fling to my face, covering my eyes, pressing hard against them. I don’t know if admitting it to myself or saying it out loud is harder.

I try not to cave into the heavy feelings but it is a total failure when the thought of being able to stop you is more overpowering. “She’s barely breathing when I found her. I call out for her but she didn’t respond at all. God knows, how long she had been there before I found her.  I should’ve been there. I should’ve noticed it earlier when she looked a bit different last night. I should have known. This is my – ”

“Harry, do you love her?” She holds my face between her hands.

I nod, wiping stray tears falling down my cheeks. I am crying again.

“Sometimes, no matter what you do, you can’t protect the people who you love all the time. Things that happened to them is out of your hands. At times like this, the only thing that you can do is pray for them. Pray for her. Continue to love her. That’s all that you can ask of yourself. Things happen for a reason.”

She let go of her hands that cradles my face and hold my hands instead. The words sound weird when you are on the receiving end. Things happen for a reason. I always say that to you and it makes me think if you ever feel the same way as I did when I heard the words. Sadly, it doesn’t really bring comfort. It only leaves you in wonder of what is the reason behind all of this and what did I do to deserve such thing.

Friends and family sit patiently in the waiting room. It feels like an eternity waiting to be allowed in the same room as yours. The doctor approaches me to further inform the state that you are in and to be honest, after he says that you are in a stable condition, I am in and out of the conversation. I just need to see you on my own to believe that you are totally okay.

I sit beside you quietly and hold your hand gently. I don’t want to risk waking you up since the doctor told me that you need the rest. Your hand is cold as I hold it with my own. The fingers of my other hand touch your securely bandaged wrist. If you were to be awake, I guess you will make fun of my matching red nose, cheeks and eyes. I smile thinking about it. Carefully, I bring your bandaged hand to my cheek, then littering feathery kisses on your knuckles. I then nestle your hand onto the sheet but not letting go of our intertwined hands. I love holding your hands too. I love how we pass secret message by squeezing each other hands when we are in public. I love it more now that I can see both of our wedding bands adorning our fingers when we hold hands.

Watching you in this state, the only thing that I want more than anything is for you to wake up. I want to see the colour in your eyes again. I want to hold your hands firmly and not letting go. I want to feel your presence in this space. I am willing to do anything and everything just to get you to say my name. My mind drifts to the conversations that we had last night and I remember you teasing me about the promises that I made. I know I have a bad track record of keeping my promises but just know that I meant it when I say I want to fulfil them. The only thing that I need right now is for you to wake up and you will see that I am here as promised.

[bluesfortheredj]

The Sweet Escape Chapter 7.

Fri 23rd June

There was a lot less bewilderment when you woke up this time, knowing that you’d be in a room that wasn’t yours next to the man who had hijacked your holiday for one, and a smile creeps across your lips as you come around to find yourself wrapped up in his arms with your head resting against his muscular chest and your legs intertwined with his as if you were both two parts of the same puzzle. You’d forgotten what a truly blissful feeling it was to wake up next to someone, to feel their warmth covering you so much that you didn’t need the duvet, to smile as you feel your head rising and falling with every breath they take, and to just feel wanted again. Everything felt different this time though, not just because it was another person but because it genuinely felt as if they liked you just as much as you liked them, and there was no confusion over where you stood.

“No,” Gwilym frowns sleepily with his eyes closed as you try and escape his grasp, “no moving yet.”

“But I need the toilet,” you whisper.

“Nope,” he mumbles, his arms tightening around your body.

“Yes!”

You laugh as you peel yourself away from his body then slip out from underneath the duvet and quickly make your way to the bathroom across the carpeted floor, then you smile as you return to see Gwil’s arm already outstretched for you to resume your original position at his side, his eyes still closed as he refuses to wake before the alarm goes off.

“Don’t just stand there,” he grins without opening an eyelid, “come back to where you belong.”

“Where I belong?” you laugh as you lift the covers to get back in.

“Mhmm,” he hums, “with me.”

You raise your eyebrows as his answer and your mouth opens and closes as you try to find something to say back, but you’re not entirely sure what you could say to such a statement, and as he lazily drapes his arms around you to pull you back into his side all you can do is smile at his words. The two of you soon fall asleep again, and you only wake when you feel Gwilym’s fingers running through your hair to gently rouse you from your slumber.

“What’s the time?” you ask as you stretch your arms above your head, “how come you’re dressed?”

“Half seven, got half an hour before breakfast,” he replies softly.

“Shit! Why didn’t you wake me?!” you panic as you throw the covers off of you and collect your belongings to head next door.

“Do you know how cute you look when you’re asleep?! I couldn’t wake you before I absolutely had to I’m afraid.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “see you at breakfast.”

“Erm, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

“Forgetting something are we?” he smirks as he holds up your bra which is hanging from his little finger.

You look down at the top you were wearing then back up to him and narrow your eyes before crawling across the bed to retrieve the item of clothing, but he moves it away as soon as you reach out for it.

“Gwilym, I really don’t have time for this!”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” he smiles, his gaze darting from your eyes to your lips.

Just like that you are putty in his hands and he soon has you on your back on top of the bed covers, his face hovering dangerously close to yours with a smug smile across it, then his lips meet yours in a needy kiss and your hands are quick to pull his weight down on top of you. Your hips grind together, the bulge in his trousers rubbing against your knickers as your arousal seeps into fabric of them, and as his lips travel down over your jaw to your exposed neck an involuntary moan escapes your mouth. Just as his fingers tease their way past the hem of your t-shirt the bell rings from outside the room to signify it was eight already.

“Fuck!” you gasp, as Gwil groans, “you’re going to have to say I’m ill or something!”

“Why can’t you come as you are?” he pouts as he lifts himself off of the bed begrudgingly.

“Oh yeah, I’ll just wander into the dining room with bed hair wearing my knickers and your t-shirt with no bra underneath!”

“Well I’m pretty sure the old guy on the table opposite us would enjoy the view almost as much as me.”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, getting off the bed and pulling on your jeans, “pass me my bra would you?”

He throws it over to you and you turn around to whip off the top so you can put your bra on and cover yourself again, then you run your fingers through your hair to try and sort out the tangled mess to be at least a bit more presentable, and finally you nod towards the door.

“Morning you two,” Danielle smiles when you take your seats.

“Morning,” you chime together.

“Do I need to go and clean your room today, or can I save my poor old legs?” she asks with a knowing raise of her eyebrows.

“You can save your legs Danielle,” you confirm.

“Good… Very good! Well I hope you two are having fun together...”

“We are,” Gwil grins, “...not like that though, I haven’t… We haven’t…”

“You don’t need to explain to me!” Danielle laughs as she backs away after placing your breakfasts down.

“Great, now she definitely thinks we’ve had sex,” you whisper, “she’s like family and now she thinks I’ve slept with you under their roof.”

“Well if she thinks we’ve done it already, then it doesn’t matter if we do...” Gwilym winks.

“I haven’t forgiven you that much quite yet.”

“You almost did this morning!”

“I would have stopped you eventually...” you lie.

“Yeah, right after you’d screamed my name while you came,” he smirks.

“Gwilym!” you gasp, “you know me so well already.”

Once breakfast is over for another day you both head back to the annex and gather your things from his room to take back into yours, but he stops you when you go to open his door by taking a hold of your arm gently, and you turn to see a concerned look upon his face.

“What’s wrong?” you question.

“What’s wrong?” he scoffs as if you should know what’s going through his mind, “it’s our last night together tonight and tomorrow is our last morning… What’s going to happen then?”

“Can’t we just enjoy today without thinking so far ahead?” you sigh.

“No,” he states defiantly with a shake of his head, “I need to know I’m going to see you again, I need to know that this isn’t the last time I get to sleep next to you, because I really don’t know what I’ll do if it is.”

“Can’t we just enjoy today for what it is? We only live about an hour away from each other anyway, so of course we can see one another when we’re back home.”

“No, no, that’s not the same, you’re being vague. What about us?”

You want to run away, you never liked talking about your feelings and Gwilym was someone who was very open with them, and although you’d felt so happy this morning you were still unsure of what to make of all this. It would be easier if it were just kept as a holiday fling, surely? What if you got back to the mainland and things fell apart because you two had been so wrapped up in this perfect little world you had while away? How could you both adjust whatever this was to real life? He was heading home to a completely different world now, and would have so much to sort out with explaining what happened to friends and family; it wouldn’t help at all if a new person was mentioned.

“Listen, Gwil, this has been-”

“(Y/N), please.”

“Just listen!” you sigh, “this has been a really wonderful time, and despite what happened I do really like you, but I just feel it would be better if we left it at this.”

“Why?!”

“Because you’ve got a shitstorm to go back to, a shitstorm that would be made so much worse by the mention of another woman’s name. And what if this was all it was meant to be? What if we find that in real life we’re not compatible at all? We’ve been living in a bubble here, no responsibilities, no jobs, no friends or family sticking their noses in… It’ll be completely different when we get back home, and you know it. I just want to enjoy our last full day on the island together, can we do that and then talk about this later?”

“Okay,” he relents with a sigh, “later.”

“Let’s just enjoy today, yeah?” you suggest softly as your hand cups his cheek and your thumb runs from the corner of his mouth into his stubble.

He nods in response then briefly leans into your touch before you disappear to your room to freshen up and get changed and you tap lightly on his door when you return, him answering it with car keys in hand already.

“Where are we going today then?” you ask.

“You choose,” he smiles, “here.”

He hands you his car keys and you look at him in astonishment.

“You’re trusting me with your car?” you half laugh.

“Yep,” he nods, “I know you’ve been dying to have a go.”

It was true, his car was brand new and a model you could only wish of owning with all the latest technology on the dashboard, and it was such a smooth ride you’d been itching to have a go yourself.

“Right then, let’s go!” you grin excitedly.

You spend the day showing him all the old haunts you used to go to with your parents when you were younger, although some of them had been closed for a long time, and lunch is spent on a beach front overlooking the sea and inhaling the salty air while you eat, laugh, and reminisce about your childhoods. Studying his face as he looks out towards the water, you notice how calm and at ease he seems right now, and you rest your chin on your hand as you watch him intently.

“What?” he asks with a smile as he turns back to face you.

“You look different.”

“So do you.”

“Must be the sea air,” you sigh happily.

You drag him over to the arcades after lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon on the penny machines and trying to grab a stuffed animal with the claw ones, and just as you’re about to admit defeat with the stuffed bears, Gwilym comes up behind you and lowers a chocolate coloured teddy down in front of your face with a love heart clutched between its paws.

“Ta daaa!” he laughs as you take the animal from him, “especially for you.”

“It’s amazing,” you chuckle as you hold it against your chest and turn around to face him, “how did you get him?”

“Persistence,” he winks, “and a shit load of 20 pence pieces!”

“Thank you,” you grin giddily before giving him a kiss.

Gwilym drives you both back to the guest house in time for dinner but after dessert you tell him to stay put for another five minutes and grab his key from the table before running next door to change into your pyjamas then lock up your room before getting into his bed with a bottle of bucks fizz that Danielle had given you for your birthday, and you wait patiently for him to arrive.

“Are you decent?” he asks through the door eventually.

“Not at all, but come in,” you reply with a giggle.

“What’s this?!” he asks when he opens the door to find you sat up in his bed in your shorts and vest with the bottle balanced on the duvet next to you.

“A little party for two… or three actually,” you say as you lift the covers to reveal the bear sitting on Gwil’s pillow.

He chuckles as he shuts and locks the door then he moves to his side of the bed and throws the bear across the room before taking its place under the duvet with you.

“Hey!” you frown, “my bear!”

“Three’s a crowd,” he grins, grabbing the bottle and opening it up.

@painthatiusedto @winnielinleigh @queenslandlover-93 @excellentbecca @peachllobotomy @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @readinghorn @godohammers @timeandpixiedust @lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @the-baby-bookworm @chlobo6 @drivenbybri @mazzellosjoe @muralskins

[breaniebree]

This one is for @lmwhite1086-blog 

Flashback Sequence -- Chapter 148

Tonks and Remus’ cottage

Master bedroom is a mix between the two, the dark teal walls of the bottom one, with the bed and carpets of the top one.  Harry’s bedroom is the navy for when he stays with Remus (not as much as he used to).  Huge shower with lots of jets in the bathroom and the bright living room.  Forest is the back garden.

[Excerpt] 

Harry used the Floo to get there, stepping out into the living room, surprised to see the changes.  The former gold room had been painted an off-white and the dark oak of the wooden ceiling accenting Remus’ warm brown leather sofa.  The old sofa had been made to look new with bright throw pillows in white, pink, and blue.  The honeyed hardwood floor had a large white berber area carpet that covered most of the living room floor and under the coffee table was a bright pink fluffy rug that punched the colour into the room.  The one wall was covered in dark brown picture frames showcasing photos of Remus and his parents, the Marauders, Remus and Harry, Tonks, Ted, and Andy, and of Remus and Tonks.  Sheer white lace curtains covered the large front window.

The circular coffee table in the centre of the rug had a white marble top, framed in dark brown and glass with a few of Remus’ favourite books scattered across the bottom.  The big wooden shelf was against another wall, full of books, with a new big white suede armchair with bright pink and bright blue pillows.  The old television and VCR sat on a dark brown table across from the couch.

He found Charle in the kitchen, which had been newly painted in a soft white.  The olive green backsplash with the stainless steel appliances looked great with the olive green cabinets and the honeyed brown hardwood that was in every room of the house except the bathroom.  The kitchen had been completely remodelled and Harry almost didn’t recognize it.  Charlie was putting away green dishes in the cupboard when Harry walked in.

“Hi, Charlie, the place looks great.”

Charlie turned to smile at him.  “Hi, Harry.  I have to agree.  The colours they chose really work.  Tonks is in the bedroom.”

Harry nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “How is she?”

Charlie made a so-so gesture with his hand.  “Unpacking and settling in is helping.  I let her take me shopping yesterday which was absolute torture.  Do you have any idea how many different kinds of china there are?  Five hours, Harry, five!  In the end, she chose this simple, but tasteful green stoneware dinner set.”

Harry grinned.  “Sounds fun.”

Charlie rolled his eyes.  “Not.  But it kept her occupied and it kept her busy which has been my goal.”  He nodded towards the kitchen table.  “She also picked out that green and white striped table liner.  That bowl belonged to Remus’ mother, I guess.”

“Yeah, it did,” Harry said, eyeing the white and oddly shaped bowl with green vines painted around the edges.  “I think she made it.  This table was here too.”

“It matches the kitchen well.  Everything was painted and done, but the bathroom renovation was finally finished on Friday.  Tonks is just finishing up the final touches on their bedroom.  She finally finished getting the bedding and then she just has to finish settling in.  But the place is done.”

“I’m glad.  Uncle Rem was really looking forward to living with her.”

Charlie nodded towards the bedroom.  “She’s in there.”

Harry left Charlie in the kitchen and turned to head to the master bedroom at the back of the house.  He walked into the room, smiling at the two white walls and the two bright teal walls, the large king-sized four poster sleigh bed that now sat in the middle of the room resting against one teal wall, the big window on the right side.  A teal and silver duvet covered the bed with white, teal, silver, and black throw pillows.  A black faux fur blanket draped diagonally over the end of the bed.  The silver bed curtains were tied back with a teal and black knotted rope.  Two tall dressers, one on either side of the room.  The honeyed hardwood was covered in one large white area rug with silver stripes.

A large ornate mirror with a black frame covered part of one white wall with small framed art photos in black and white of a forest taken in each season.  Harry recognized the trees as belonging to the Welsh forest behind Remus’ cottage.  There was a picture of Remus and Tonks from Christmas of last year framed on the nightstand.

“Tonks, it looks amazing in here!  You did a great job.”

She smiled at him from where she was folding her clothes and carefully inserting them into the dresser and hanging them in the closet.  “It does, doesn’t it?  I wanted bright colours.”

“They look great.  Uncle Rem is barely going to recognize the place.  This room alone looks way better than it did.  I like the bed.”

She smiled.  “Yes, he will.  It’s just some new paint and a new bed.  The dressers are new too, but Rem and I took those photos on the wall; the leather couch out there isn’t new, nor is the bookshelf.  I bought the frames for all of his photos as he never hangs them.  The kitchen was completely remodelled, but that was what he insisted on.  You know I don’t cook so I could care less, but he wanted all state of the art stainless steel appliances.  We chose the green to match that bowl his mum made in her pottery class.  Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“I like the pink rug in the living room,” Harry told her.  “It’s totally you and you’re not rambling.”

She chuckled.  “I had it in my flat and I was going to throw it away, but the pink pillows looked so good on the sofa, I thought that I would just lay it out on the white carpet beneath the coffee table and see and it just popped; made the room so much brighter.  Have you seen the bathroom yet?  Other than the kitchen, it’s the most changed.”

Harry shook his head as he followed her into the bathroom.

“We made it bigger as you can see, just took out that wall of wasted space at the end of the hall and made it into the bathroom.  The shower has six shower heads, two on each wall and it’s absolutely heavenly when you shower.  One of the blokes at work was talking about it and I thought how great it would be for Remus to have that, especially after a full moon, how good the water would feel on his aching body.  He doesn’t know about this, it’s… well, I just had it done on Friday.”

Harry smiled at her.  “He’s going to love it.”

She smiled back and scratched her nose.  “We kept the big clawfoot tub just moved it over here and as you can see, the black marble tile gives a nice touch to the navy backsplash.  The white adds a little brightness.”

“It looks really good, Tonks.”

She took his arm and tugged him into the smaller bedroom where a double bed was, a dresser, a nightstand and the walls covered in Quidditch posters.  “I repainted in here last week.  I kept the same grey tones, I just wanted to spruce it up a bit.  Just because I’m moving in here doesn’t mean anything, Harry.  This will always be your room and you can come over and stay whenever you want.”

“What about when you make me a godfather?”

She blushed, “That is not going to be happening any time soon so you just shush — this is your room.”

He kissed her cheek.  “Can I stay in my room tonight?”

Tonks only raised her eyebrow.  “Why?  I don’t need a babysitter, Harry.”

He shrugged, grinning at her.  “I was thinking more along the lines of a movie night?”

Tonks smiled at him.  “Are you checking up on me, Harry Potter?”

Harry grinned.  “Me?  I would never.  What do you say?”

Tonks smiled brightly at him.  “That sounds perfect — on one condition.”

Harry merely raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?”

“I want to watch movies with lots of explosions and action.  I want nothing that will make me cry and nothing that’s too happy, got it?”

“Like I’d choose anything else,” he said making her laugh.

Tonks beamed at him.  “And you’ll cook?”

Harry only rolled his eyes.  “Do you think that I’m going to let you try to cook in that brand new kitchen?”

“Okay listen here, smart-arse, this is my house now too!”

“Exactly and I’m sure that Uncle Rem would like it to still be standing when he comes home.”

Tonks simply shot up two fingers and he laughed.  

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 121

Chapter Summary - Tom informs a tired Danielle about an upcoming change to his appearance, with steamy results.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1

Tom closed over the bathroom door and looked at Danielle as she continued to sleep in the bed. He smiled at her for a moment before deciding to let the dogs out to the bathroom before going back in himself.

With the dogs dealt with and curled up in their bed together again, Tom went back upstairs and into the bedroom, relieved to see Danielle was still sleeping and had not woken up. She had been away for the most of the week on a set and arrived back past midnight, admitting to having taken a nap on the way home, fearful she would fall asleep at the wheel. When he slipped into the bed, she turned over. For a moment he was worried he had woken her, but as she curled in against him, he realised she was still asleep. He put his arm around her and went back to sleep.

He was woken again as Danielle curled more and more in against him as she tried to get comfortable when he heard the change in her breathing, he knew she had woken. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’ She stretched slightly as she saluted him. ‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’

‘No,’ He fibbed. ‘I woke a while ago.’

‘Shit, the dogs….’ She went to get up.

‘I let them out an hour and a half ago, they did their business then.’ He smiled.

‘Thank you, you wonderful man.’ She smiled, curling against him again. ‘Do you have anything you need to do today?’

‘No, just walk the dogs, keep the house clean and spend some time with you, how about you?’

‘I have paperwork, but it can wait until later.’

‘How are you not bleary-eyed from it? All you seem to do is paperwork.’

‘It feels like it, probably why I needed the glasses in the end.’ She concurred. ‘How was your meeting, by the way?’

Tom nodded. ‘Good, yes, I am going to do a few days work with Idris.’

‘Elba?’ Tom made a noise of confirmation. ‘Wonderful.’

‘But there is a catch.’ Danielle looked up at him. ‘I need to look a bit different.’

‘What sort of different?’ She asked worriedly. ‘You don’t have to do some stupid level weight change, do you? I mean a kilo either way is one thing, but if they are asking you to come in looking like Michael Fassbender in Hunger, then I am not okay with that.’

‘No, nothing like that.’ She exhaled in relief. ‘It’s my hair.’

‘Different colour?’

‘No.’

‘Shave it off?’

‘The opposite actually.’

‘Longer?’ He nodded again. ‘How much longer?’

‘Do you remember what I looked like at the War Horse premiere?’

‘I didn’t know you then, I don’t think.’

‘Well, about this long hair.’ Tom spread his thumb and index finger to get the length he was requested to get his hair too. ‘And I need to allow my facial hair grow a little.’

‘How much is a little?’ She asked curiously.

‘Not too much, just a bit, about an inch of hair.’ He looked at her, fearful she would not like the idea too much, but to his surprise, her pupils appeared to be dilated. ‘Are you….do you like the sound of that?’

‘I do.’ She confessed.

‘Really?’ His brows rose.

‘I like the idea of you with longer hair, and longer facial scruff, I can imagine it is going to be very sexy.’ She leant over and kissed him. ‘I cannot wait to see it.’

Tom leant in and kissed her back. ‘Darling, you are too wonderful.’

It took only a few moments before the pair’s actions because more lustful, Danielle slipping her hand from his chest to his hip before rubbing against his boxers where he was beginning to harden.

Tom moaned slightly into her mouth as his hand went to her chest, which he only then realised was only covered by a string vest and no bra, meaning he was easily able to access her breasts, pulling down her top slightly and began to toy with her breast, earning a breathy gasp from Danielle as she pressed her forehead against his. ‘Tom.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ He asked.

‘Stay as still as you can.’ She grinned before slipping under the covers.

Tom looked at her for a moment in confusion before he felt her gently pull at the hem of his boxers and tug them down carefully, ensuring they did not pull on him before taking him on her hand, then into her mouth. ‘Fuck, Elle.’ He groaned as he closed his eyes and allowed himself simply enjoy what she was doing, bucking slightly as she toyed with his sac and perineum, knowing how he loved it. ‘I want….Elle.’

‘No.’ The authoritative tone she took startled him slightly and caused Tom to open his eyes and looked to the duvet, knowing what she was doing underneath. ‘Behave.’

‘Jesus.’ He moaned as she continued with her actions, taking care to be slow and languid, ensuring she used her mouth and tongue to do everything he liked as she slowly moved up and down his shaft. ‘Fuck, Elle.’ Tom almost whimpered as she did everything to taunt and tease him, never speeding up enough to get him any closer to release, but ensuring everything sent pleasurable sensation through him. He whined as she toyed with the tip and used her tongue. ‘Elle, please, please.’ He begged as soon as she ceased and moved up from under the covers again. When she straddled him, he bit his bottom lip as he eyed her, her body above his, teasing him with her breasts out. He bucked up slightly to create friction, noting how sensitive she was as he did so, her arousal coating him as he did so. ‘Elle.’ He pleaded again, bringing his hands to her hips.

‘No.’ She ordered, taking his hands and putting them above his head, keeping them there in one hand.

Tom looked up at them for a moment before looking at Danielle, who was smirking down at him. ‘Oh, fuck.’ He bucked up again as he felt another surge of arousal go down his spine.

Danielle grinned as she watched him, fully aware that if he wanted, Tom could easily move them, but it was very clear, he wanted to keep them as they were. ‘You are not allowed touch, do you hear me?’ She growled, leaning down and nipping his ear. Tom whimpered as she tugged slightly on his ear, a weak point that always riled him, and nodded. ‘Good.’ She brought the hand not holding his above his head and used it to direct his cock towards her wet entrance before gently sinking down on it, gasping as it stretched her. When she had sunk to as far as could it in her, she wiggled her eyebrows for a moment before moving, as slowly as she had when she was beneath the sheets.

‘Jesus, Elle. I think you’re trying to kill me.’ Tom moaned as she continued the slow pace.

‘I think it would be a good way to go, don’t you?’

‘You are an evil temptress, you should be called Amora or some other such name.’ He gasped the last word out as she clenched around him. ‘God, do that again.’

‘Naughty boy, trying to make demands.’ She smiled, continuing her pace and threatening to do it, but not fully gripping him.

‘You have a terribly kinky side in there, do you know that?’

‘Do you like it?’ She grinned gleefully.

‘Fuck, yes.’ He swore as she clenched again. ‘Please, please, Elle.’

‘What, what are you begging for?’ She all but cooed at him, causing him to gasp in sheer arousal. ‘Tell me, Tom, what is it, I only want to help.’

‘Fuck, please fuck me, Elle. Please!’ he thrust his hips up to permit more contact, but she had anticipated such and lifted herself up so only the very head of his cock was still inside her.

‘But I thought we were fucking, aren’t we?’

‘Please, please fuck me more.’

‘Hmm, I’ll have to think about that.’ She smiled as she hastened her movements slightly, much to Tom’s relief. Then she gripped one of her breasts and squeezed it in front of him, Tom’s focus switching between her breast and where she was currently connected to him, his arousal coated manhood coming into view every so often. ‘God I want to cum.’

‘Please, yes, please cum. I want to help.’

‘No, no. You’re quite alright, I can get there.’ She smiled, slipping her hand from her breast, down her torso to her clit, quickly rubbing and taunting herself.

Tom moaned as he felt her body react, moving himself slightly so that he would rub her g-spot from within to add to her arousal. All too quickly, Danielle gasped and began to moan, before it became more lustful and louder. ‘Yes, fuck me, use me.’ Her movements became faster and her moans louder. ‘Please, I want to touch you, let me help you.’

‘No.’ She warned as she toyed with herself and bit her lips together, trying to stop herself from vocalising her pleasure too much.

‘Don’t, don’t hold it in, Darling. Please, I want to hear you.’

She shook her head frantically as she continued to bite her lips together, but Tom focused his thrusts to ensure she received maximum pleasure. As soon as he did that, her attempts to remain quiet ceased immediately. ‘Fuck.’ She barely lasted another moment before moaning loudly and seizing up as her body shook with an intense orgasm.

Though Tom felt as though Danielle’s body was attempting to crush him, he continued his movements until she fell forward, using her elbows to stop herself falling fully onto him. ‘You okay?’

Danielle shook her head. ‘I can’t move.’

‘I have you.’ Gently, he turned them around so he was above her, still hard inside her. As soon as he tried to pull out, she shook her head. ‘What, Love?’

‘You….’

‘Do you want to continue?’ Danielle nodded. ‘Tell me if I am hurting you.’ She nodded again and Tom began to move. ‘You feel so good, Elle, I don’t think you have ever made so much noise. Did you enjoy it, you’ve drenched me.’

‘The best.’ She gasped, sensitive from her own orgasm but insistent that Tom reach his release too.

‘Glad to hear it.’ He kissed her, taking it slow, knowing that she was hypersensitive. ‘You feel incredible, and who would have thought how good you sound when being so authoritative, but now….’ He kissed her again. ‘So compliant.’ When he felt her leg move to press on top of his, he knew that was her consent to move more and did so, loving the feel of her body around his, when she gripped him, her hands going to his ass, his movements became stronger as he chased his own release, unable to stop himself from the noises he was making, earning a smile from Danielle. He continued for another few seconds before he gave a gasp, his body shaking slightly as he reached his own peak, kissing Danielle as he did and moaned into their kiss.

When, finally, their breathing settled again, Tom looked at Danielle and smiled. ‘I love you.’ She declared.

‘I happen to love you too, Ms Hughes. So my hair and beard will be approved then?’

‘I think it will be incredibly sexy and I cannot wait to see it.’ She smiled.

‘So there are a few things you wouldn’t like?’ Tom gently pulled out of her and rolled to his side of the bed.

‘I don’t want you changing your weight too much for them. It’s not healthy. Gaining some muscle for a role is one thing, that is the gym and a bit of different food, but hardcore steroids, the ones that damage your fertility or hormones permanently or severe weight gain and weight loss are big “no’s” to me.’ She explained.

‘Wait, “hardcore steroids”?’

‘I am not stupid Tom, I know what some roles entail. Arnie was not that big without some help, Stallone got caught bringing some into Australia, I think it was. It’s rampant in sports now, it’s rampant in gyms across the world, guys who don’t even do any sports are taking them, girls, too. Just….I have read about some of them, I had to, I had a guy take a collapse in a gym because he mixed them with coke or a guy that died in his sleep because he took stuff that made his blood thicken so much his heart could not pump it around.’

‘Jesus.’ Tom shuddered.

‘I just want you to be healthy.’ She stated. ‘So we can do more of this.’ She smiled, leaning over and kissing him. ‘I missed you when I was gone.’

‘We missed you too.’ Tom cupped her cheek and kissed her again. ‘And for the record, if you ever want to be all authoritative again, please do.’