#this is the only thing I've managed to finish in nearly a year

[unclefungusthegoat]

Now complete! Thank you for all your support, it’s been wonderful! You can read the finished fic at the link above, or the final chapter under the link below!

Please see AO3 for tags/trigger warnings.

ILLUMINE

The Chevalier de Lorraine lies in his sickbed, keeping the first of two promises made. His lover is away at war. Fever wracks his body. Delirium brings dreams of the desperate and drowned. And the allure of laudanum promises to lead him sweetly to his grave.

Yet even after the darkest night, comes the dawn.

And with it rises an unlikely angel.

My take on the Chevalier’s opium withdrawal, and the birth of his friendship with Liselotte. Post S2/Pre S3.

Part One:  L’obscurité

Part Two: Le Rêve

Part Three: L’aurore (below)

Part Three: L’aurore

When he finally awoke, a gentle mist diluted the morning sun. It was an empathetic light, stirring him gradually with a wispy caress. The sheets beneath him felt clean and laundered, and the sweet scent of petals perfumed the air, carried to him on a soft breeze that peeked past the curtains. No doubt hiding the residual stench of death that he knew came from him.

But still, air filled his lungs. He could hear the birdsong.

And the pain had gone.

The Chevalier pulled himself up onto his elbows, feeling the muscles tremble weakly. The room was empty. No sign of the wiry haired surgeon, or ghosts foul and fair, or even a maid, arms laden with linen. Had it all been a nightmare? A terrible, agonising dream that had at last reached its end? Would Philippe come thundering through the door, like Zeus with epicene splendour, to linger at his Ganymede’s side? Would they once again be young and brazen, as they had been before the wars? Before the laudanum, the spy, the arrests? Before they had seen each other at their very worst?

He feared not.

He feared they would never quite be the same again.

But someone had placed a vase of fresh flowers within the room. The source of that perfume, that ambrosia of the air. Next to the window, upon a vanity, all green stems and thin leaves, with dainty clusters of pale yellow petals. At their heart, a flush of orange, vibrant and defiant. And the very sight of such beauty brought his spirit soaring, for those delicate, fragile flowers were imbued with a meaning, with a love far deeper than any he had ever known.

"Good morning."

The sound of her voice interrupted his thoughts.

Liselotte had appeared at the door, once again dressed in the silks and jewels of her standing. Like the Chevalier, she often chose blue, though she had more of a taste for periwinkle than the Prussian blues he usually opted for. Her hair was curled into her signature tight ringlets, and her cheeks were rouged a little… but the Chevalier could see the dark circles of sleeplessness beneath her eyes… and the looser fit of the bodice over her belly.

“Good morning.” He summoned in reply.

Over she marched, to lay a hand upon his brow, and he noted she seemed pleased with the result. Taking her seat beside the bed again, she watched him bring himself up to an almost seated position against the pillows. The effort of it made him gasp for breath.

“How are you feeling?”

“... less than rambunctious.” He groaned.

She nodded.

"Well, that’s an improvement on ‘one foot in the grave’, at least.”

He was intrigued by the way her knee was bouncing anxiously beneath her skirts. He didn’t believe her to be the shy type, but then he supposed they’d never actually spoken when he was sober (and his reputation preceded him, after all). Not once could he recall sweeping into her bedroom, or watching her dance the courante upon an evening, without a dash of… it… to help him endure. A strain within his temples flared if he thought upon it too greatly, for some of the memories were lost altogether.

Be thankful that is all that is lost.

In that warm, maternal tone, she was continuing, and he reminded himself to listen: “Your fever broke last night, so I've sent for some breakfast. You ought to try and eat something. You've lost more than a little weight."

His eyes made their way back to the mignonette laden vase.

Wondering .

“It’s good to see you properly awake. I’m sure you’re desperate to get out of this room, but Monsieur Fortin insists you stay in bed for one more day. Instead, I thought a walk tomorrow would do you good, and today, you could teach me to cheat at Meslé, and then we could both learn to play Cribbage . It’s English, so it’s bound to be dreadful. If you’d care to join me?”

“The flowers…”

A wry smile.

“Yes. I thought they'd cheer you up.”

He didn’t know what to say. What could you say to such a gesture? Mercifully, it was not long before footman descended to break the silence, with a silver serving dish of broth, fresh brioche (somehow still warm, despite the arduous route from the kitchens to Philippe’s rooms), orange slices, grapes, pastries decorated with strawberries and creme, and a decanter of drinking chocolate.

He watched as she carefully curated a small plate for him. His stomach complained loudly and he cringed at the sound of it, as if that were the greatest humiliation he'd endured over the long days he'd spent here. The dish was laid upon his lap, before she approached the feast herself. And it was then the Chevalier noticed his nightshirt was clean. Someone had changed him into a fresh one since he was last almost-conscious.

I owe her my life, he realised.

She was already tucking heartily into a pastry, licking creme from her fingers and humming in satisfaction. Quite unlike them all, he thought, and it made him smile. How tiring Versailles could be. How lonely, and how perilous. And here she was, with her woollen gowns and quaint matching hats, and the eating habits of a provincial innkeeper… and he could finally see why Philippe was so taken with her.

She was a maverick.

Just like us.

"You… you look nice today." The Chevalier murmured into his food. “That colour… it suits you.”

“I should hope so. You chose it.” She reminded him.

“Did I?�� He feigned ignorance, “Well, I suppose someone had to rescue you from looking as if you herd goats.”

She laughed.

“Between you and Philippe, it could be argued that’s all I do.” She popped a grape in her mouth, and chewed through her words. Eating for two already, the Chevalier surmised , as her plate boasted a sumptuous spread thus far, and became more spectacular by the word.  “You should know I wrote to him this morning, to tell him you’re through the worst of it. Hopefully it should reach him before he crosses the Dutch border. Ease his mind before battle.”

Battle. So Philippe truly was gone… and here he was, left at the mercy of the scandal-hungry predators that stalked the halls of Versailles, without his prince to shield him.

He’d often been told that pride was a sin, and it could not be denied he’d made a drunken fool of himself frequently since returning from Rome… but sometimes, such questions were a matter of self - preservation.

He cleared his throat.

“Does everyone know? Of my… immoderation?”

“Why? Are you hoping for a scandalous account in the gazette?” She grimaced at the look of bleary horror that crossed his face, as the sarcasm passed him by. “Sorry, that was in poor humour. No, I thought it best to keep it quiet. The King knows, of course. He and the Queen made rather a point of how they disapproved of my attending you.”

The Chevalier scoffed.

“I am sure Louis would prefer it if I didn’t recover. He considers me a nuisance, no matter how noble my intentions.”

“Perhaps. But I think he was pleasantly surprised you were keeping your promise to him.”

That Louis harboured anything resembling respect towards him was beyond belief. Laughable, really, and not even a generous stipend, or rooms in the east wing, would change that.

“Well…” He sighed, “Sobriety and truth are some of my more recent acquisitions. That and a new hatred for poetry.”

At last satisfied with her quarry, Liselotte returned to her bedside perch, laden plate in hand. He noticed her footsteps were soft and silent upon the parquet, where she wasn’t wearing shoes, and couldn’t help but feel foolish. Here he sat, so abashed, like a servant waiting to be scolded. Feeling like a stranger in the rooms he had long called home, while she… she, who he had once considered an interloper, had made herself so at home.

Here they sat, like soldiers at a fireside on the eve of war, ignoring the truth of why they both came to be there.

“Eat,” She urged when she saw he’d made no move on his breakfast, “Even just a little bit.”

Tentatively, he selected an orange segment, and nibbled at the corner. The sweet juice burst upon his tongue, sensationally tangy, offering to bring life back into his ailing body. And yet… What good did it do? That glorious, vibrant citrus, dragging him back to his life of gluttony and wantonness. What good would it do, without… without the final wrong being righted? Without a fresh start? Without this chapter, blotted with tears and bitter disdain, being torn from the manuscript and replaced with something new?

He swallowed the segment, and watched her a moment longer. Chewing on choux pastry. Pale, from many nights playing sentry at his sickbed. Slowly swelling with Philippe’s child.

Best to pull the splinter out before it festers any further.

“May I speak freely, Your Highness?”

Liselotte snorted.

“Since when did you feel the need to ask permission -?”

“Please…” His eyes grasped at her, begging her to listen, “... allow me the courtesy.”

She frowned. Casting a look over her shoulder, searching for intruders or interrupters, (perhaps a persistent Monsieur Fortin, or an ever inconvenient Bontemps), she set aside her plate in trepidation. Then nodded, unsure.

“Alright.”

A deep, shuddering breath.

Say it, Philippe.

Be brave. For once.

“I feel I must… explain myself. Apologise. Although,” He grimaced a shy smile, “now that I have begun, I’m not sure I know how to…”

She sat patiently, allowing him to gather his thoughts. The fog of sickness was still lingering, but as Philippe’s battalion would wade through the grime and detritus of war, so too would he find the words to justify his misdeeds. He hoped he would not mumble, would lend precision to his words, though so far his voice remained weak from days of disuse, and his hands, twisting at the bedsheets, threatened to expose his rising sense of discomfort.

The silence dragged, excruciatingly inarticulate, until…

“Him.” Liselotte offered, “Tell me about him.”

Yes.

Yes, he could talk about Philippe for hours.

Forever, if he could.

“Yes, I… I suppose he was the start… Is. Is the start. Philippe is… he is the light by which I walk." The Chevalier said, and the words, like the sunrise over the horizon’s brow, soon kept emerging, "He is my… dearest friend, my love, my keeper… my king. And we are entwined. Not only by choice, but by the world. They can’t ever pass judgement on Philippe for his deviancy,” He laughed ruefully, “... but I am quite the suitable whipping boy. A man of my unique position, must be on my guard in everything I do… because if I am guilty, he is suspected, and if he is suspected, I must be guilty. If I am disgraced, he is undermined. If I am ashamed that the world thinks me a heretic and a whore, I am ashamed of him too. Since I was fifteen, I have played my part openly, without restraint and without shame. We have both lived in spite of those who would destroy us.”

The shadow of the moment, of the past week, of the months, the years, of intrigue and treason and poison and death, drifted over him again, and his nerves wavered.

“But I am hardly perfect. Far from it. And in my imperfection… I have come to devoutly understand the fatal difference between us.”

“... Which is?”

“Is it not obvious?”

She gave no sign of predetermining his thoughts, simply waited for the answer. And as he did, he could not hold back the resentment . The festering bitterness.

“I am not a fils de France, Your Highness. My brother is not the king. We may pretend we are equals but we are not. I am…" He swallowed heavily, "I am beneath Philippe, and reminded of it constantly. If we overstep the mark, as we are wont to do, it is I alone who is punished. If Louis and Philippe are at odds, I am the conduit for retaliation. If I fall, from favour or from grace, I fall alone. And he…"

His voice betrayed far more emotion than he had intended, a dangerous crack threatening to surface.

"And he… will replace me. As easily as replacing an old handkerchief.”

He had never said it aloud before, not even to Philippe. And oh, how it hurt more than any laudanum ever could. That most crushing fear, that lingered like a tumour at the very heart of them. He tried to carry on, breath heaving in his bosom, “This past year, I have fallen further than I dared imagine. I made a mistake that should have cost me my head. I betrayed him, I admit it. But I was forgiven. Allowed home, for a second chance. And instead of our happily ever after, there was…”

The words failed him.

“Me.” Liselotte answered.

“Yes. You.”

He couldn’t read her, her face carefully arranged to give nothing away, like every noble lady who learned to keep secrets and opinions buried deep. Had he upset her? Given away too much? Was his every word poisoning her against him, as he had so feared?

“You must understand,” Desperation crept onto his lips, “Your predecessor and I were not friends… to put it mildly. We were like magpies, fighting over the same shiny coin. Neither inclined to share. I wanted Philippe. Henriette wanted them both. She’d been unable to marry Louis, and becoming the duchesse d’Orleans was the consolation prize. But still she took to Louis’s bed, and to Armand de Gramont's, who had Philippe’s affection before I… and then wondered why her husband couldn’t stand to touch her. All the while knowing who he is. Knowing his heart. She couldn’t bear to see him happy, when she wasn’t. We tormented one another over it, she and I. We forced each other to live in fear. And in the end, she was dead…”

A fleeting thought of the bloodstain, still ingrained into the wooden floor, inches from them. No amount of scuffed servants’ knees or soap could remove that lasting trace of the dying princess, who in her hour of need, had fled from her husband’s side and sought comfort in the chambers of the king.

“... and I should have been so lucky.”

“Philippe told me you’d been imprisoned.” Liselotte replied, reverent as a church mouse, and the fading dreams of the Chateau came flickering back.

“Yes. It seems sweet little Minette had begged the king more than once to lock me away, and he felt compelled to honour her final wish.” His face flushed, and he hoped the shine of the strawberries upon his lap would prove a convincing excuse. “I spent a month as her guest in a fortress off the coast of Marseille. Far worse than the sound of being quartered, it seems, is that of typhoid taking hold of men packed twenty to a cell. Far worse still… of giving up hope. Of finding comfort in… in….”

He gestured lamely at himself, at the result of it all.

Liselotte stared at him.

“Philippe… I would never do that to you.”

He wanted to laugh at her, in spite and petty disdain. He wanted to tear at her naivety with his nails, as if he were a ravenous wolf upon a hen. The old Philippe de Lorraine, the evil spirit of the Palais-Royal, surely would have.

But in those simple words, in honesty and promise, came a baptism. An absolution. A freedom unlike any he had known. And his whispered admission, shaking as those petals on those gifted flowers, was as true of heart as the princess who sat before him.

“I know.”

Outside the window, and in the passages beyond, Versailles was stirring. They were both long accustomed to the soft patter of servants’ slippers within the walls. But now a growing sense of haste impressed upon the air in the room, as if at any moment, the splendour that concealed them would fold open like origami and their confidence would be exposed before the entire court. He turned his body to face her.

“It has taken me to the very brink of death to admit it... but I confess I allowed envy to get the better of me. I allowed my fear to blind me.”

“You were protecting yourself-”

“I was making everything worse. I assumed you would be her. That we would be at each other’s throats for the rest of time. But I see now, I have been unfair to you. I owe you my life. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

There.

Fumbled. Inelegant.

But true.

She sat forward in her seat, the silk of her dress rustling in the silence. And, as she had done through so many restless nights, she took his still trembling hand. Warming it with patience and understanding. And it was not… offensive. Rather… grounding. As if she were a rope, tethering him to the mast in the midst of a careening shipwreck.

"Apology accepted."

Relief cast off from every inch of him, shucked off like a brocade cloak sodden with rain. He raised his eyes to the heavens and sighed. Returning a gentle squeeze to her hand in a silent declaration of gratitude.

"You must think me pathetic. Wretched, and troublesome, and a fool.”

"I thought no such thing.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you had. You’ve been far too kind to me, Your Highness, when I have not deserved it.”

“Liselotte.” She corrected firmly, “My friends call me Liselotte.”

He wiped at his sodden cheeks, and a laugh awash with scepticism escaped him.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

"I told you. I'm not here to be your enemy. I’m not here to drive you apart."

The kindly embrace of the mignonette flowers, the flowers she had gifted, came over on the breeze once more, and he imagined his face, buried in that ebony hair. Kissing those porcelain lips, tasting the wax that tinted them rouge. He prayed for a miracle, that he would know such a paradise again. It seemed Liselotte felt it too. Saw his thoughts. For a whisper of a smile appeared as she watched him bear his heart.

“I saw straight through you, you know.” His eyes were closed, but he felt her wedding ring, cold against his skin, as she ruminated. “The ambitious maitre-en-titre�� attached by every part but the heart. I saw they’d all fallen for an elaborate charade. That beneath it all, you love him. More than anything.”

“That does not excuse my behaviour.”

“Maybe not, but it certainly explains it. Besides,” She chuckled, “Your heart wasn’t really in it, was it? I heard far worse back in Heidelberg.”

“Clearly I am losing my touch.”

“No, I don’t think so. I was very much warned of the Chevalier de Lorraine upon my betrothal. Even Louis thought to give some friendly advice on the subject, once I arrived.”

He couldn't help the triumphant grin that crept onto his lips.

“Did he use scoundrel, hellion, or reprobate?”

“All three. And you’ve certainly lived up to it…” Her eyes widened in recollection, “If one has a… a, what was it? Oh yes, a predilection for making assumptions.”

A faint memory, hazy words in a feverish dream.

“Assumptions”?

“Yes. On how welcoming your husband’s sweetheart should be to his new wife, so soon after being finally rid of the last.”

The sorrow and the fear had all but passed now, and they revelled in mirth like old friends.

“Ah, the years may pass, but we are yet to outgrow our youth.” The Chevalier sang, and finally felt that all was well. It was odd to have spoken so openly to her. Yet somehow he felt a trust he couldn't recall feeling since… well, since Philippe. She was now resettling his breakfast into his grip, and he was quite sure he wouldn’t be permitted to speak anymore without making an effort at it. Brioche seemed the safest option. It smelled heavenly - buttery, with a hint of brandy - and felt like clouds under his fingertips.

They ate in comfortable companionship, as conversation turned to lighter matters.

“I loved him the moment I saw him, you know.” He mused, breaking the brioche in two, “France’s neglected little princess, with flowers in his hair. I had to be patient, of course, but I knew I would do anything to have him. To keep him. After all, I have very little of my own. I’m the third of six children, a second born son, just like Philippe. Every year that passes, my homeland is amalgamated further into France. My brother inherited most of what my father left behind, and what little I was bequeathed, I squandered on gambling and clothes and wine.”

“Isn’t that what all middle children do?” She teased in return.

“Alas, no. I was destined for the army… or the cloth, if you can imagine that.” He felt stronger now, and took another healthy bite of brioche as he spoke, “My mother didn’t know what to do with me. Reluctant to take my place in the world, with a loose tongue, no fear of God, and a taste for fucking other boys. It is easy to forget here, Your High… Liselotte, but were Philippe and I not born as we were, the church would have put us to death by now.”

She winced at the thought, but he shrugged it away.

"There’s no point in dwelling on it. The only thing you have to worry about, my dear, is how they will judge you. For this.” He gestured to the air between them.

“‘The church?”

“ Always. But no, the vultures in the salon."

“Ah. Well, perhaps it’s my ‘funny German ways ’ talking, but I couldn’t care less about what the salon thinks of me.” She licked chocolate from her lips, “And neither should you. Although I’m sure it would interest you to know that most assumed your absence at court is respite after your heroics.”

His body ached at the memory of the act - the recoil of the pistol, shuddering through his muscles. The adrenaline, pounding through his veins, at the sight of Philippe’s glassy eyes and bloodied face. Young Sophie, weeping over the dead man, as if he were more than a fetid, plague ridden rodent, to be stamped out at the earliest opportunity. And what a fine shot it had been. A moving target, from thirty feet, fueled by enough laudanum to render most men unconscious. People should write songs and sonnets of it.

“Suppose it makes a pleasant change.” He cast his hair back, cavalier in his pride, “To be the hero of the hour…” He paused, “What did they say?”

“Hmmm, courageous, dashing, who’d have thought it-”

“No, no, not them. Those ploucs at Heidelberg. About you.”

“Oh, endless comments about my plainness. How marriageable I was, that I was a wild child and should have been a boy. I heard pretty much everything imaginable, sometimes even to my face. But to them, I would now say ‘Ende gut, alles gut’.”

He hummed in agreement, and with a knowing smile, she continued, “Ah. Du sprichst Deutsch?"

A commonality he had hoped to conceal. “Ja,” He admitted, with a reluctant sigh, “Ein bisschen.”

“Yes, I thought you might. From adjacent kingdoms to adjacent bedrooms. Philippe tells me you speak Italian too.”

"Less than impressively. Still, needs must, when you are cast adrift so far from home.” Never had he been so achingly lonely. Not being permitted home on pain of death, felt quite different to separation by women or war. But yet now, sitting here in the company, and care, of her, it was Philippe he pitied. He wondered not who was sharing his bed… but who was holding him through the nightmares. Through the terrors of war. Who rubbed his feet, and washed the dirt and sweat from his brow? Who, if not his Chevalier, or this woman, full of grace and kindness beyond measure?

The sunlight illuminated the room, their bedroom, and the two unlikely friends, daubed and dappled in golden hues, as if it were the Sistine Chapel.

“We promised we’d take care of each other, didn’t we?” He asked.

Her hand instinctively moved to her belly.

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“If you hadn’t been here, I fear I would have been quite alone.”

He saw her freeze. For an agonising moment, he thought he had misjudged. That she might finally abandon her cruel game, and make for the door. Let in the world, with their hawkish habits, to peer at and laugh at how foolish he was, that he believed Madame would show decency to him. And the vicious cycle would again be in motion, and would not rest until they both lay in the cold earth, devoured by the worms and creatures of the dark.

Instead, she moved, and laid a soft kiss upon his forehead.

A surge of exhaustion overwhelmed him, as he felt her lips upon his skin, his eyes closing as he drank in the sensation of her tender touch. It was more than a kiss. It was a seal, stronger than any wax or steel lock. An acknowledgement of a singular shared purpose - a devotion, to one man, whom they could love and serve and protect in equal measure… in kindness and trust absolute.

"Right," She said after a moment , pulling away, "Come on… Meslé."

She produced a set of playing cards seemingly from nowhere, intricately hand-painted with wild flora and foliage, all vermilion and emerald and verdigris. The Chevalier yawned, as he watched her shuffle.

"Very well, mein Engel, but I warn you, I am quite the dab hand.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it. I know you have some tricks up your sleeve. Teach me your ways.”

She dealt him two cards upon the bedsheet, and opened the purse of counters to sit beside it. He examined his odds. Considered his strategy. Perhaps I should play the gentleman and let the lady win?

“You take the first turn, Philippe.”

Ah. A necessary correction to be made… before I show her how a master plays.

“Please call me Lorraine, my dear, else you will find yourself in knots…” He cooed, “And not the silk kind our mutual friend can be persuaded into on occasion.”

She smirked at him, then at her own hand, and he had the happiest feeling she wasn’t such a novice after all.

"Lorraine it is, then."

[diaryofanidiot]

The Experiments

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Chapter list: Prologue, <1>, 2, 3, 4, 5

Cw: Swearing; torture; blood; medical experiments; panic attacks; malnourishment

Summary: For over a year, Y/N was held in a soviet experimentation facility. Forced to fight and claw her way to live, she managed to stay alive. When the 141 rescues her, they get way more intel than bargained for.

Chapter One

"What the bloody fuck is this..." A gruff voice spoke. I slowly looked up with wide eyes and nearly shat myself at the sight.

A giant behemoth of a man in a skull mask stood still, his body language relaxed but on guard as he stared in my direction.

His boots clunked heavily on the floor as he approached me, his gun still held at the ready but not pointed in my direction. I couldn't see his face, but his frown was apparent in his voice.

"Mactavish, I've found something... or someone, rather." He said, tuning in on his radio. I never once took my eyes off of him, unsure of if he was even real or not. Perhaps I had already died and this was the grim reaper to take me away...

"I don't understand, L.T." A staticky voice came through his radio.

"A woman. In a cage."

"Last I checked this wasn't a sex dungeon." The voice on the radio had a Scottish accent, dripping with amusement.

"Not joking." The British skull faced man said gruffly. "Finish clearing out the building. Then get to the rendezvous. I'll meet you there."

"Copy."

As he finished giving his orders, he knelt down next to the cage. "Who are you?" He demanded.

I scrambled back in the cage until the bars pressed against my bare back. I tried to speak, but my voice only came out in cracks after long-term misuse.

"Ah. Gotcha." He seemed to understand, or maybe he simply thought I was a mute. I saw his eyes flicker up toward the label on the cage.

"Subject 237: "Banshee"." He read aloud. "Stay where you are. I'm opening this blasted thing." He warned. "Try anything and you're dead."

I nodded slowly, desperate to let him know that I understood English. My eyes never left him as he shot the lock on the cage, despite my flinching at the sound.

"Out you go." He demanded, his gun still at the ready. My knees protested in pain as I crawled toward the entrance of my cramped confinement. I had almost forgotten about the chain and collar around my neck.

I could see his eyes widen slightly as I crawled into whatever light the room had offered; they darted around my scarred naked form as he observed me.

"Fuck did they do to you..." He mumbled below his breath.

The chains length only went so far for me to get an inch of room past the cage door. He knelt down in front of me. My traumatized brain flashing danger signs with every movement.

"I won't hurt you." He said in a low tone, one hand coming up to reassure me. "Not unless you try to hurt me. Just need to take this off..."

His hand darted toward the chain around my neck, causing me to flinch at the rapid movement. I could hear him curse underneath his mask as he realized a key was needed.

"Wait. Here." He ordered, standing back to full height before he went to raid the dead corpses in search of the key. He found it on the assistant's body with impressive speed before walking back over and swiftly removing the steel collar that kept me in place.

I hissed in pain once more as the cold damp air hit the sores on my neck, my hand going up to rub them instinctively. His hand was on my wrist now, stopping me from rubbing.

"We should get a doctor on that. Or on you in general..." His gun was lowered now, seeing as I had made no room to attack him. "Do you have a name?"

Once his hand was off my wrist, I pointed a shakey finger toward the label on the cage. He shook his head at this. "No, that's what they called you. I mean a real name." He insisted.

I frowned and looked to the ground. I had one. Over the course of a year, somehow, it had fled my memory. Nobody called me it anymore anyway. I turned my gaze back toward him with an apologetic look.

He sighed. "No matter. It'll come back to you. Let's get you out of here."

He swiftly walked over toward the scientist and removed the lab coat from the corpse.

"Put this on." He demanded, handing it to me. I complied. The fabric swallowed my malnourished body as I looked down, as if just now realized how gaunt my once healthy body had become.

He seemed to be looking at me expectantly. My legs tried to hold me up, screaming in agony as I stood slowly with atrophied muscles. I stumbled, my knees slamming against the linoleum tile. I cringed in pain as they did.

"Fuck." I heard him say before I was lifted and thrown over his shoulder. "Let's get you out of here." I watched as he seemed to notice a file on the table... my file. He snatched it up quickly and stored it away before the same voice I had heard earlier came in on the radio.

"L.T., you copy?"

He spoke into his radio with a sense of urgency. "Aye."

"I'm at the Rendezvous point now. The building's cleared, so you should have a clear path as long as there's no stragglers."

"You have my appreciation." If it were possible to hear a smirk, you could swear he wore one under the mask.

"Get here safely, and you'll have mine, Sir."

The radio went silent once more as I was carried out to the hall like a rag doll. Hell, I probably weighed less than one at this point. My eyes were wide as I saw all the death that littered the building.

Unable to push down the sick sense of satisfaction that came from seeing my tormentors dead on the ground, I managed the smallest hint of a smile. The first one I've worn in what seemed like forever.

The man on the radio was right. A path was completely cleared, seeing as my rescuer never once had to stop for any threats.

Until we exited the building, at least...

Gunshots were pouring out as my eyes adjusted to the rising sun, unaccustomed to the light. I felt my body thrown behind something as my rescuer took cover beside me, firing multiple shots.

Once my eyes adjusted, I blinked them open to see we were behind a set of barrels. I managed a small peak at our assailants before I was forced back behind the cover with an angry "stay."

I frowned as he continued making his shots before requesting backup. I guessed the soviets really didn't want him escaping this one with how many men were sent.

Opening my mouth to try to speak, my voice cracked and strained severely. "Ears..." I mustered. I saw his eyes flicker to me for half a second before refocusing on his targets.

"Ears." I tried again, miming for him to cover them.

"Noise reduction headphones, kid." He said gruffly. It was then I noticed that his ears were already covered.

I glanced back once more, placing a hand on his arm to prepare him slightly as I gathered all the strength I could.

I screamed. The supernatural-esque sound reached nearly two hundred decibles, equivalent to a large bomb. I heard glass shattering and the sounds of people crying out in pain. My throat was raw by the time I let my screaming fade to an end.

The enemy gunfire ceased, and even the man beside me looked temporally disoriented. He grunted as he got his bearings back and shot those writhing on the ground in pain. They weren't wearing ear protection, I noted, finally looking up from my spot behind the steel barrels. They must've been deployed in a hurry.

Once the waves of gunfire ceased, I heard a shuffling motion and a click beside me. My rescuers gun was now to my head.

I looked at him with wide, fearful eyes as he stared me down.

"What the fuck are you?" He demanded. I flinched, but the scream had left my throat too damaged to speak. I could only croak out a few sounds, none of them enough for form even a single word.

"Don't. Move." He demanded, pulling out the file he had snatched earlier from its space between his vest and his chest.

I watched him with unblinking eyes as he opened it. "Are you even human anymore?" He asked seemingly to himself as he scanned the front page of the file.

Something he read caught his eye before his gaze landed on my frightened expression once more. "Show me your teeth."

Hesitantly, I opened my mouth. The barrel of his gun moving to pull my lip back further. I could've sworn I stopped breathing as he revealed the pair of sharp fangs that had been surgically fastened to my canines. His eyes then lowered to my throat. Underneath the sores was a jagged surgical scar where they had altered my vocal chords.

I couldn't read his expression due to his mask, and his eyes said nothing.

"You scream like that again and I'll kill you." He stated matter-of-factly. He didn't seem to care that I just gave him a major advantage against his enemies. I watched him cancel the request for backup before I was thrown over his shoulder once more.

The Rendezvous wasn't far; he experienced no more hiccups in getting me there. I blinked as I observed the abandoned factory, the floor creaking with each of his heavy steps.

I felt my weak body stumble as I was set down on the floor. I winced in pain before a new set of footsteps approached.

"Good to see ya, Sir." The voice that once cracked through radio waves was now just in front of me. I looked up to put a face to a voice. This man wasn't masked, I managed to get a good look at his face.

"Sergeant." The tense tone in my rescuer's voice was gone now as he greeted the other. I listened in as he updated his teammate on the situation.

"Experiments?" His Scottish accent was thick with confusion. His attention turned to me as he knelt down to my place on the ground. He seemed to be observing me, a slight crease between his eyebrows as he did.

Not a trace of fear entered his eyes even once as he looked at me. "Call me Soap, lass."

I blinked at his friendliness, a stark contrast to the other man's battle hardened tone.

"That over there, That's Ghost. He's the one who got you out of there." Soap's hand went to his hip as he unlatched something from his vest and held it out to me. "You'll probably be wanting this."

It took a minute for me to realize what was in his hands but once it clicked, I snatched the canteen quickly and fumbled it open. I heard him chuckle as I drank greedily, the room temperature water doing wonders for my dry throat.

"Slow your roll and don't drown yourself." He lightly lectured as I pulled away in a coughing fit once my greed bit me in the ass by sending water down the wrong pipe.

I watched him turn to Ghost, a quizzical look in his eyes. "She doesn't appear dangerous."

"Appearances can decieve." Was Ghost's response. "Show him your teeth."

I cringed at having to go through this again before I bared my fangs hesitantly. "She was heavily altered. I'm assuming they were creating human weapons."

"That all?" Soap scoffed, seemingly not intimidated. Ghost shook his head.

"They called her Banshee. Her vocal cords are altered as well. I watched her practically burst the eardrums of five enemy soldiers. Hell, nearly had my own eardrums bleeding."

Soap nodded and took the canteen back as I handed it to him. "She's so scrawny. How long have you been there?" He asked me.

Ghost placed a hand on his shoulder. "Her voice is fried. Gonna have to get back to the compound and have a more thorough look at her file. Where are the others?"

Soap stood to his full height. "Gaz and Price are clearing out another facility nearby. They should be here soon."

A new voice called out, turning the heads of all three of us.

"Soon? Try now."

The two strangers, we'll at least strangers to me, walked up. The older man looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite identify before speaking.

"Ghost.... fill us in."

-----------------------------------

Typos? In my fanfic? Liar. (Pls point them out to me as we don't do roughdrafts in this household. We die like Roach here 🫡)

A/N: thank you all for the love this got from just the Prologue alone <3 sorry if anything feels off. I'm a secondhand fan and never touched the games lol.

Taglist: @warenai @linoskitten11 @jamesrifftapes

[wxshing-aep]

The Prom Committee (pt 1)

Ethan Morales x fem!reader

based on this request:

"how about one where y/n runs an after school club so Ethan keeps getting detention on purpose to see her because he thinks “clubs are for dorks” to quote Paxton and so his reputation as the bad boy isn’t ruined"

Warnings: swearing, banter, the word boobs

AN: decided to make it a 2 parter cause it was getting long while I was writing it and wanted to give Ethan more depth of character than the actually show so part 2 coming tmrw probs!

When his assignment was handed back by Señora Diaz upside down, Ethan wasn't surprised by the big F glaring back at him in red ink when he turned the page over.

“Stupid bitch” he muttered under his breath.

“In Español, Ethan” Señora Diaz paused on her way back to the blackboard, unsure of what he said but certain that it wasn't in Spanish.

“Sorry" he retorted and she continued her route back to the front of the classroom.

"perra estúpida”

“ethan!”

That’s how Ethan ended up in detention for the umpteenth time in his academic career, tapping his pen on the desk in the nearly empty classroom with Mr. Shapiro's happy go-lucky self staring back at him.

"Well, happy to have you here Ethan!" Mr. Shapiro greets picking up a clipboard from his desk. "Not happy to be here" Ethan deadpanned. "Sorry to hear that. Not sure how you managed to get detention during the first week of school, but hey I think that might be a new Sherman Oaks record! Congrats buddy!" Mr. Shapiro cheers before realizing the younger boy is not the slightest bit amused. "Alright, tough crowd."

"Moving right along then," Mr. Shapiro clicks a pen in his hand "time to take roll!" which causes Ethan to look around the empty classroom.

"...I'm literally the only one here"

"I know, I just love checking things off lists," Mr. Shapiro clears his throats " so do I have a Morales comma Ethan?"

"seriously dude?"

"Second call for Ethan Morales"

"you're gonna keep going til I say here, aren't you?"

"You betcha!"

"Here."

"Awesome!" Mr. Shapiro marks a giant check by the one name on his attendance sheet. "god I love doing that- Alright so unfortunately I've gotta skidaddle to help out with the faculty potluck but lucky for you sir we're implementing more of a reformative detention style this year!"

"What the hell does that mean" Ethan asked.

"It means, that instead of sitting here for the next few hours, you my friend, get to offer your help to one of the after school clubs or committees that are a bit low on helping hands" Shapiro responds with finger guns. "so guess who's today's newest member of the prom committee!"

"yea, no. I'm not joining some stupid after school club. clubs are for dorks, losers, and ugly people" Ethan responds grabbing his backpack out of the chair next to him to get up and leave.

"well actually it's a committee"

"even worse"

"Alrighty well I can see what the other options-" is all Mr Shapiro gets out before he is interrupted by your voice from the doorway.

"Oh- hey! Mr. Shapiro, did you find anyone to help with the prom posters? Eric said he'd help me out but then canceled cause he said he had to train with the assistant swim coach to quote make Michael Phelps my bitch end quote. Whatever that means, so I'm kinda flying solo here" You say, drawing Ethan's attention towards you as well.

hot damn. okay maybe after school activities are not only for ugly people. He thinks you might be the prettiest girl he's ever seen and definitely takes a mental note of your outfit that's hugging you in all the right places. He quickly realizes that he doesn't know your name and has no idea how he's never been informed of your existence prior to this moment. He's snapped back to reality by Mr. Shapiro responding to your question. "Ah- I'm sorry but Ethan is-"

"super excited to help decorate for prom" Ethan finds himself blurting out before Mr. Shapiro could finish his sentence.

"Oh- well that's great! Uh Ethan just report back by 6 so I can log your hours! I'm gonna get going, you kids have fun decorating. Go crickets!" Mr. Shapiro says, making his exit as you watch him almost skip down the hall.

"Sup, I'm Ethan" Your attention is brought back to the brown eyed curly haired boy who's suddenly standing in front of you (how the hell did he cross the room that fast, you wonder) with an outstretched hand. He never really shakes hands, he just wanted an excuse to touch you. He's cute, you note mentally. You accept the offer and shake his hand. "and you are?" he continues.

"I'm-" you pause noticing those not so innocent brown eyes are directed elsewhere, "acutely aware of the fact that you're staring at my boobs".

Ethan thinks his brain might've just short circuited cause he was definitely just caught red handed. He'd recently grown a lot more confident with girls since his summer growth spurt and subsequent glow up had dramatically increased the number of girls interested in him, but there was something about you and how you so deliberately called him out that had definitely thrown him off his game.

"Sorry- I uh- I was actually looking at your shirt. They're- It's nice" he wants to die he thinks.

You chuckle at his sudden change in demeanor. "Hmm. Yea, I know they are" you respond, turning on a heel and heading toward the auditorium.

"You comin or what?"

-

For one person, you had made pretty okay progress in a week. The current task at hand was making posters to get people excited for the theme reveal. The ground was littered with several half finished or barely started posters.

"Can you draw?" You asked Ethan.

"I'm not much of an artist"

"Really? the graffiti on the side of the school says otherwise. Your handwriting definitely sucks though so I'll do that, but the art's good and if you can do it with a spray can, you can definitely do it with some paint and markers" your unsolicited review of his graffiti made him crack a smile. His latest act of defiance had been a giant snake comically eating a cricket accompanied with the words "get fucked" on the side of the school building.

"You can't prove that was me" he challenges.

"Maybe not, but Mr. Shapiro had mentioned that I might have a detention helper today thanks to Señora Diaz and I happened to notice the words 'stupid bitch' spray painted on her car containing the same weird ass t's as the graffiti on the side of the school and here you are, Ethan."

"Damn, you're good" he pauses realizing he can't throw your name back at you because he still doesn't know it.

"Y/n" you say quietly.

"Huh?"

"My name's y/n"

Pretty name for a pretty girl, he thought.

"Alright y/n. I'll draw as long as I don't have to to touch any glitter. that shit's impossible to get off"

"deal"

"and I don't write my t's weird"

"you write your t's like a crazy person"

-

Time was pretty much flying by. Together you'd gotten nearly twenty posters done and were slowly finding out more information about each other. You were informed about some of Ethan's tattoos and how he'd actually drawn the designs for all of them himself. Not an artist, my ass, you thought. Ethan learned that he hadn't met you before because you'd previously been homeschooled and had all but begged your parents to be able to go to school with other kids for your senior year until they finally cracked and agreed to enroll you at Sherman Oaks.

"Ah I see, you're a total secret weirdo. That explains your freaky detective skills" he teases.

"I am not a secret weirdo. I just like criminal minds and puzzles"

"You were homeschooled. All homeschooled kids are a little weird"

"That's an unfair stereotype"

"Whatever you say, y/n"

"If anything you're the secret weirdo. or at least an undercover art nerd"

"I'm not an undercover art nerd"

"Yea you are. Something tells me this whole" you gestured largely to him sitting a couple feet away from you, "tortured angsty hot skater boy thing you've got going on is a pretty recent development" you comment absent-mindedly. You looked back up from your poster when he didn't respond to see him sitting there, arms crossed with a smug grin on his face.

"What?" you prodded.

"You totally just called me hot"

You're now very aware that he's a bit closer to you than he was before.

"mm don't think so"

"oh you definitely did"

"did not"

"did too"

"did not" that one came out much less confidently considering his hand had made its way to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. damn, he's good.

"whatever you say, y/n" he almost whispers. have his eyes been that sparkly this whole time? He's leaning in and you're definitely not backing away. You're maybe a centimeter away from his lips until the alarm blaring from your phone, which seemed like much better idea hours ago, sent you flying back from him and scared the shit out of both you.

"shit- I- god that scared me, I uh set an alarm for 6 so you'd remember to check in with Mr. Shapiro cause, ya know, I thought we'd both probably be busy. Um- busy making posters, i mean. Obviously I mean making posters cause we definitely wouldn't be busy doing anything else so-" you ramble.

The smug little smirk has made its way back onto Ethan's face as he is quite enjoying this role reversal from your first interaction of the day.

"shut up" you say to him.

"I didn't even say anything" he responded, hands in the air in surrender.

"I've gotta head home, but thanks for helping out even though you basically had to be here. If you ever find yourself in detention again this semester, feel free to help out. Hopefully the committee is more than just me by then" you say, starting to gather your belongings. Ethan secretly hopes it isn't, he likes the idea of hanging out with just you.

"I probably will find myself in detention again. It's kinda part of this whole tortured angsty hot skater boy thing I've got going on" he says throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"not what I said" you still attempt to deny.

"sure it wasn't"

"bye ethan"

"bye y/n"

Yea, he'll definitely be finding himself in detention again.

-

Read Part 2 here

[cowboydisaster]

* ˚ ✦ Compass * ˚ ✦

chapter one: La Belle Fleur Sauvage

pairing: arthur morgan x f! reader

word count: 7.9k

summary: modern au; Living out your dreams on a ranch in Colorado; Arthur finally proposes.

a/n: This is a little gift for @margowritesthings. I originally wrote this for you a year ago, but I've rewritten it for you for this christmas. xx

Arthur is nervous, his palms clammy as he pulls a Carharrt t-shirt over his head. The dark hardwood floor is cold against his bare feet as he slowly pulls his clothes on, layering up to defend against the harsh weather. You sleep comfortably in his bed, unaware of Arthur's absence from your side. He slowly approaches, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. You smile in your sleep. 

"Gonna be a good day, darlin'.” He murmurs, pulling the white, fluffy blanket up over your shoulders before stepping out of the room, trying to keep his footsteps quiet.

The coffee machine beeps twice, notifying Arthur that the morning pick me up is finished. Two mugs sit by the machine, as always. But today Arthur doesn't grab his usual, opting instead for a travel mug. It's an old one. One that he'd gotten from some random bank event a while ago, "Strauss Financing" it read. 

He'd used that bank to get a loan for the house and the barn. God– nearly ten years ago now, Arthur realizes. 

The coffee is black and hot, steaming as it's poured into the mug. Arthur leaves the pot on for you before opening the door, and whistling in the direction of the bedroom. He can hear Copper jumping down off the bed, and then he rounds the corner, trotting towards Arthur and out the door. 

"Hey there boy!" Arthur laughs and gives Copper a few pats. He's had the old vizsla about as long as he's had the ranch. Copper follows Arthur outside, happily trotting after the man. Everything outside is coated in a dusting of white. It's the kind of snow that looks like diamonds, where ice clings to the trees and rooftops, but the sun shines down, making everything sparkle. 

When Arthur gets about a hundred feet from the house, with Copper circling around him, he stops and turns around. The log cabin stands proud before him, even after all these years. Arthur had built the place with his bare hands, just him and Copper. 

The Colorado mountains stand proud behind the house, hues of purple and blue painting  their cliffs, the morning rays of sunlight reflecting off of the snow on their peaks.  When he looks at the slowly aging wood of the house, and the warm glow of the porch lights he can't help but smile. It's not the house itself that he is so fond of, it is what you have made the house– a home. 

When the walls were bare, and the house was empty, save for the few pieces of furniture that Arthur could afford, it was incredibly lonely. He tended to the animals and worked on the ranch all day to avoid sitting alone in the house. He spent his evenings at the only bar in town, Pearson's Pub, drinking to forget and to ignore the empty house. 

Things got better once you moved to town, working as a bartender. You warmed the man's cold heart. You were like a breath of fresh air in this old town. You still are. You managed to take his frozen, barely beating heart and melt it in the grip of your soft hands. 

Arthur began to chat with you while you worked. After only a few interactions, he started coming in on the days he knew you would be there. 

Then, one day, he offered to cook you dinner, and you accepted. Now, you lie in his bed, cozy and happy while he plans for the future. Funny, how things work out like that. All those years when Arthur was young, he'd hoped for someone to love. As an adult, he was content with his solitude, until you came along, of course. Divine intervention, you are. 

Copper barks, stomping his paws in the snow, pulling Arthurs attention back to the present. The poor dog is probably cold. The nip in the air makes Arthur's cheeks and nose red, and his breath lingers in the air like a morning fog. 

The truck isn’t far, sitting halfway between the house and the barn. Arthur shoves his hands in his pockets, shaking some snow off of his hat as he makes his way towards the old rust bucket. Snow and ice fall from the door frame as Arthur swings it open, leaning in. 

He reaches across the steering wheel, jamming the key into the dash and turning it. He mutters a small prayer when the engine starts to stutter and hiss, but after a few seconds, it turns over. Once the engine is running, Arthur turns the heat the entire way up, setting the knob towards the windshield. 

“Should be right as rain, now, huh, boy?” Arthur smirks, stepping down from the truck, shutting the door. Copper barks, running into the wooden barn where Arthur is heading, stalking the chickens, as Arthur slides through the wooden door. 

He shakes the snow off of his hat, boots clicking on the floor as he grabs a few scoops of feed and dumps them into each horse's trough. Arthur greets each one, scratching behind their ears, patting their necks. He feeds, avoiding stepping on loose hens, until he reaches Boadicea's stall. A warm smile graces Arthur's face at the sight of the old chestnut mare. She brightens up at the man's arrival, and not just because of the feed he carries. Her head tosses as she whinnies for him..

“There's my girl." Arthur hums, dumping the feed, soothed by the sound of her chewing. Arthur scratches the underside of Boadicea's jaw, earning a slight whinny from the older mare. 

"S’a big day today, y'know." Arthur releases a shaky breath as he strokes the mare's neck. Boadicea lips at Arthur's jacket, searching for treats that he doesn't have. 

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

He huffs through his nostrils then, smiling as he pats the mare one last time. 

"You're gonna be a part of it. I'm countin' on you, girl." 

He then looks to the black quarter horse in the stall beside Boadicea. The horse has a star on his forehead, and a thick dark forelock that covers his eyes. When Arthur had gifted you the gelding, you'd named him Whiskey. It was both an homage to the bar where you met Arthur, and your preferred poison. 

"Hey there boy. You better be good for the lady today, ya hear?" 

He pats the horse who is hungrily lapping up his grain and then brings his wrist up to check his watch. The watch ticks quietly, showing the time as being 6:17am. 

Arthur decides that the truck has had plenty long enough to heat up as he makes his way out of the barn, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. Copper has gone off, probably chasing birds in the woods, or attempting to play with the cattle. Once he's done playing he will come into the barn for shelter, at least until you wake up and let him back in. 

Arthur's hands are tinted pink with cold as he opens the truck door, sliding in and shutting the cold out. The heat from inside the cab is nothing short of cathartic as it begins to thaw his frozen features, slowly melting away the ice and causing his nose to turn pale again. 

Arthur turns the radio up a bit, driving down the long road towards the city. He tries to avoid Denver as much as possible. The tall, leering buildings are suffocating, reminding him of a very dark time in his life. 

When Arthur's ma and pa died, he was placed into foster care. When he was twelve, he fought with the other kids, even beat a few nasty boys that were older than him. Arthur learned quickly that anger and aggression were the best ways to protect himself. 

He ran from every foster home he was placed into, never having anywhere to go, just running. Arthur slept outside many nights, surrounded by vermin– both rats and people. He was spat on, cursed at, and kicked down by many of the people he encountered. It wasn't until he was fifteen that he found shelter- a home. 

— — —

Arthur's feet pound against the pavement as he runs. The door remains open, swinging, as Arthur barrels down the driveway without shoes. The blacktop is rough on Arthur's feet, scraping and cutting into his heels as he scrambles, but he pushes through, determined to get away from the outskirts of Denver. 

He follows the driveway until it meets gravel, avoiding it by running through the grass, into the forest. Tears stream down his cheeks, rough gasps for breath mixed with raspy sobs erupting from his chest. 

Arthur bolts from yet another foster home– another abuser. He can barely see as the street lights get farther away, but he pushes on faster at the sounds of sirens. Sticks and rocks dig into the soles of his feet, but he continues, terrified. 

In his hand, Arthur clutches a small bag, carrying the few things that remain of Arthur's childhood: his momma's ring, and a photo of her when she was young. His knuckles are white in their grip.

Horror trickles up his spine, sickness twisting his guts and making him sick. Tears prick at his eyes, threatening to send him to the ground 

Did he just kill a man? 

Disgust bubbles up in Arthur's throat as he searches around in the dark forest, looking for somewhere to hide for the night. Not far in the distance is a building with a light on outside, it appears to be a barn. Arthur tries not to think about anything as he stumbles towards the barn, feeling like he may collapse at any second. His arms are wrapped around himself, and he shivers as he parts the barn doors, stepping inside, sheltered from the cold winds.

A few animals grumble at the intrusion, but Arthur can barely hear them. His vision is blurry, breaths coming in quick pants as he trips. He makes it a few steps to a pile of hay, mind fuzzy and body cold. Arthur is exhausted and unable to breathe.

Suddenly his feet are falling away from him and he collapses. The impact is made softer by the pile of hay, but it still knocks the wind out of him. Arthur stares at his blood stained hands as they clutch his mother's things. 

— 

There is a shuffle. A door? Footsteps? They stop. 

"My, my… What on earth do we have here?" A man says, his timbre deep enough to rattle the barn walls. Arthur's eyes flutter but he is not able to open them. 

"Christ, Dutch– the poor boy's covered in blood, he can't be more than sixteen." A second voice chimes in. 

Then Arthur is being hoisted into the air. He tries to fight, but slowly begins to lose consciousness again. 

"Well take him inside, have Bessie and Annabelle fix him up… Once he's awake, we'll find out who he is, and.. what he needs."

— — —

Arthur thinks back on that time with distaste as his truck rumbles loudly through the crowded streets of Denver. Things got better after he found Dutch and Hosea. He stayed with them, working on their ranch for many, many years, and once he turned twenty-five the two gentlemen gifted him one hundred acres, enough to start a small ranch of his own. 

Arthur sits at a red light, not far from his targeted destination. His fingertips tap the steering wheel impatiently as he thinks of that bag, his mothers contents inside. His stomach twists with anxiety. He hasn't been down this street in fifteen years. Muscle memory tightens his lungs as he pulls his truck along the street parking, brakes squealing before he pushes it into park. 

Arthur sighs, eyes glancing up to the ornate, tall buildings before him. It makes his stomach turn. All this money poured into concrete structures when kids are starving in the streets. 

He gets out the truck, straightening his shirt and jacket out of habit, before approaching the golden gate outside of the apartment building. 

It's not long before he's in the elevator.

Arthur goes to knock on the ornate door, knuckles hesitating for a moment before rapping on the wood twice. It's the only barrier between him and the penthouse. 

Arthur plans to make the trip as quick as possible. He’d vowed not to come here ever since the verbal assault had been thrown at him during an expensive dinner. He’d left in shambles, still young and naive. Arthur places his hands behind his back and pushes his shoulders back out of habit when the door swings open.

"Mary." Arthur acknowledges. 

Her voice is soft, her southern accent spilling from her lips, "Arthur?” She seems worried, shocked. Her eyes scan him quickly, identifying that he's not hurt, “Is everything okay? Dutch? Hosea?"

"Yes Mary, everyone's fine." 

Arthur takes note that Mary's father mustn't be home, and he instantly relaxes. His shoulders come down and his hands rest at his sides. 

“Come in.” Mary says, opening the door, gesturing to the white couch in the middle of the living room.

Arthur hesitates at the door, but complies when she starts leading the way. Nothing has changed in all the years that he's avoided this place. The carpet feels the same as he walks across it.  The couch dips under Arthur as it used to when he sits. 

Mary sits on a chair across from him. The couch he's sitting on is far more comfortable than the one at home, but he prefers the quiet oak house compared to this busy modern apartment. 

She looks to Arthur, her eyes curious. He hesitates, eyes unsure where to land– dancing between Mary's eyes and the floor. 

"I-” He starts speaking and then stops a few times, before taking a breath, getting the words out, “I've met a woman…” 

A pang hits Mary right in the chest, but she hides it well. 

“Happened a few years ago." Arthur speaks low and quiet, his timbre is deep as he explains. Mary remains quiet and allows him to continue, eyes drifting towards the windows, mind caught up in memories that threatens to pull her under.

"She's a fine woman Mary, and… Well, I'm gonna ask her to marry me." 

Arthur looks up to Mary then, her dark eyes contrasting his own. She has a puzzled look on her face as she replies, 

"Arthur, I'm happy for you, but I’m afraid I don't understand…? Did you come all this way just to tell me–”

“Mary…” Arthur whispers, cutting off her snowballing thoughts, redirecting her to the point that he is trying to get across without being harsh. Without demanding. 

She stops in her tracks then, realization dawning upon her, “Oh. I see.” She smiles, bittersweet. Arthur can see the regret in her eyes. He is quick to ease the tension, leaning forward, trying to soothe the old wounds that Mary has yet to heal. 

"I'm sorry, Mary, I am– that things didn't work out between you and I, but– it means a lot to me, and there's no other-”

Arthur is stopped in his tracks as Mary raises her hand to stop him, “It belongs to you, Arthur. She should have it, really.” Mary smiles sincerely. 

She loves Arthur, though she'll never admit it. She loves him enough to let him go, to let him be loved by someone he deserves. Mary doesn't know you, but she knows that since he came here, for this– you must be deserving of his love.

Mary places her pale hand up, signaling Arthur to wait as she stands and disappears into the doorway towards her room.

Arthur fiddles with his hands, emotion bubbling up as he waits. This is the final obstacle. Once he has his this item back he will be able to give you what you deserve, and if you accept, Arthur will be the happiest man alive. 

Mary rounds the corner, her lips pulling into a bittersweet smile, a few tears dripping down her cheeks. There is a small black box in her hand, extended out to Arthur.

His green eyes transfix on the box. The one he hasn’t seen in almost fifteen years. Arthur places his hands on his knees to push himself off of the couch, staring in disbelief at the old thing. 

It is carefully placed in his hands, and he slowly creaks the lid open, staring. It's a gold band, with a ruby placed in the center, and intricately placed diamonds on either side of the gemstone. It’s the one thing he has that ties the man he is now, to the happy young boy he used to be- when he was good. It was his momma's. One of the only things he has left of her. Arthur closes the box, tucking it away into his pocket. 

“Best of luck to you, Arthur.” Mary whispers, a sad smile on her lips. 

“Thank you, Mary.”

The ride home is quiet, for the first half anyway. As soon as Arthur is out of the city, back on dirt roads, he switches the old truck stereo on. A familiar song is playing, one that's been bringing him quite a bit of comfort in the past weeks. 

“Now I know the only compass that I need”

He smiles. One of his hands rests on the steering wheel, the other rests on his jean pocket. He palms at the box as he drives, making sure it doesn’t slip away. 

“Oh, is the one that leads back to you”

His voice is deep, rumbling in his chest as he taps his left foot against the floorboards of his truck. He thinks of you, riding your horse, smiling, of your hair in a messy bun and you in his too-big t-shirts. He thinks of how you love him, with a passion and a fervor. 

“Now I know the only compass that I need Oh, is the one that leads back to you”

He thinks of when you met for the first time, your fates tying together in ways you never could have imagined.

— — —

Arthur enters the old bar, same as he does most every night. It's the same bar he's been going to for fifteen years now. Contrary to some of the other fools here, he doesn’t always drink when he comes here. Sometimes, he just sits at one of the tables, drawing the scenery.

Arthur comes here to drown out the silence of the house, to get away from the loneliness that he refuses to admit is swallowing him whole.

Tonight, he walks around the tables that adorn the small place, straight up to the bar, sitting down in his usual seat. The place is busy tonight. Arthur assumes there's a game being played, or a rodeo on the tv, but he doesn’t ask. Plenty of patrons sit around the bar, most with women or men in their clutches. Laughter and the sound of glasses being slammed on the bar fill the air, and a neon light flickers on the wall.

Arthur is all too aware of the familiar atmosphere around him, and yet somehow, he misses the new bartender serving tonight. Typically Pearson himself is behind the bar, but tonight someone else is handing out drinks. 

Arthur knocks on the bar once, eyes watching the TV in front of him, a bulldogging competition. Suddenly, a form slides in front of him, blocking his view of the television. He adverts his attention to the person blocking his view, and his eyes go wide. 

You stand in front of him, smiling and whipping a bar towel over your shoulder. 

“What can I get for you, mister?” You ask, wiping your hands against each other. 

Your eyes twinkle like they're among stars, and Arthur is sure that he’s never seen a smile so bright. He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, basking in your beauty. Your hair is not tied up, and it falls down, cascading over your shoulders.

Your black long sleeved shirt is tight, clinging to your figure, but Arthur is caught up in your eyes. He shakes his head lightly before responding. 

“Yeah, uh… Sorry– just get me the strongest drink ya got. Make it neat.”

Arthur's typical order is a bourbon on ice, or a beer, but tonight he's going to need something stronger. Everyone knows everyone in this small town, but you're a new face, and Arthur can already feel the singe of the hot brand, burning you into his memory.

“Coming right up.” You raise a curious eyebrow, wondering about this man’s choice of drink. With your interest piqued, you grab a rocks glass and a bottle of patrón, pouring a few fingers of golden liquid into the glass, sliding it across the bar. 

“Have one for ya’self too.” Arthur tosses a bundle of cash onto the bar. 

“Thank you, mister.” You smile, pouring yourself the same drink. 

You eye the mysterious cowboy curiously, noticing the softness hidden behind his rough features. He is attractive, very attractive, with dirty blonde hair, and a five o’clock shadow that exaggerates the scars on his lip and chin. His eyes are hidden from you by a dark cowboy hat, until he peers up and you are met with the most strikingly beautiful, bright, blue-green eyes you've ever seen. 

You have to look down to hide the blush that creeps up on your cheeks from being caught in the act of staring. If he notices your gaze, he doesn’t say anything. Both of your crystal glasses are set on the bar as you lean onto it with your elbows. 

“You ain't from around here, are ya?” Arthur asks. You smirk. The ruckus from the bar seems to die down in your ears. Even your busy mind quietens as you focus on the peculiar man before you. 

“Is it that obvious?” You laugh, “No, I'm not from here, just moved.”

Arthur hums, content. There's an amused sparkle in his eyes. 

“How'd you know?” You ask, wondering what gave it away. What's making you an outsider? You moved here to get away, to blend in. Anxiety curls in your stomach at the thought of being found. 

“Well, miss, you’re far kinder, n’ far prettier than anyone in this old town… Don't help that everyone knows everyone here. We don't come by new faces much.”

Your anxiety quells, cheeks blushing a deep crimson, and after a moment, you raise your glass slightly, angling it towards his. 

“Well thank you kindly, mister.” You hum. 

“Arthur.” He corrects, clinking his glass against yours, swallowing down a swig of the burning liquid. You cock your head, not tracking at first. 

“My name's Arthur. Arthur Morgan.” He reiterates, and you smile. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Arthur Morgan.”

— — —

Your eyes flutter open slowly. The first thing that meets your eyes is the vase of purple flowers on your bedside table. The morning light hits them beautifully, reflecting off of their vase, refracting on the deep purple petals. 

A wave of realization dawns over you.

Sunlight? What time is it?? 

You sit straight up in bed, eyes immediately seeking the alarm clock on Arthur’s nightstand. It reads 9:25am and your heart leaps into your throat.

“Shit!”  You curse, swinging your legs out of bed, body barely covered by your cotton shorts and cami.

You feed the horses at 6am every day. Today your alarm mustn't have gone off.  You feel terribly, knowing that the horses must be starving. You frown, hair messily falling around your shoulders as you hurry to your dresser. 

A piece of paper sits on the mahogany, and you hesitate in your rush, placing your pointer finger on the paper and reading its contents. 

Fed the horses so you could sleep in. I had to run into town real quick. Should be back before lunch. Call if ya need anything, Sweetheart. Coffee is hot in the pot for you and Copper is outside. - A

The panic leaves your chest, replaced with warmth as you pocket the note, pulling your slippers on as you move towards the kitchen. 

Arthur is always doing this for you, taking on little tasks to remove some weight from your shoulders. Doing anything he can to ease your troubles. He knows that you've been crazy busy with work lately, as horse training always picks up in the winter, and he's been doing everything he can to help. 

You hum a tune as you round the corner, hand trailing along the smooth oak wall. Your slippers are soft and quiet against the floor as you enter the kitchen, eyes trained to where the black coffee pot rests on the counter top. 

You grab your clay mug, the one you'd made back when you were taking pottery classes, and you fill it with black coffee and a splash of cream.

Wrapping one arm around your torso, you move to the glass french doors in the kitchen, overlooking the barn and the pastures. You sip at your coffee, eyes slipping closed as the coffee wakes you up, the warm liquid heating down your cold bones. Your eyes trail over your farm, the brown and black cattle, starkly contrasting the snow. Snowflakes flutter past the glass as you watch the sun peeking behind a few pine trees in the yard. 

Copper runs through one of the pastures, throwing a stick up into the air and then grabbing it in his maw. You can’t help the smile that graces your lips. 

You head back towards your room, pulling out a pair of jeans. They hug your hips and waist, but leave room for your boots to lay under your pants at the hem. You pull on a long sleeved black shirt and your beige ranch coat before leaving your room and pulling your boots over your socks. 

With one last swig, you finish the last sip of your coffee and set it in the otherwise empty sink before opening the glass door and stepping out into the elements. 

You expect the cold to wind-whip your face, but it doesn’t. Instead, the sun shines down, adding some resistance to the cold weather. It causes the snow and ice to sparkle like diamonds as your boots crunch through the snow. 

You push the barn door aside, heart humming at the warm sound of nickering horses. 

“Alright. Who's up first?” You hum, looking to the chalkboard on the wall. It's outlined with feeding schedules, medication times and dosages, and your training schedule.

You find the designated box for today, seeing that today you'll be getting your work cut out for you. You're working with Doob, a seal brown thoroughbred, off the track, with more energy than he knows what to do with. His owners had brought him in for a bucking problem, one that you're already beginning to curb. 

You make your way down the aisle until you find his stall, promptly grabbing his dark green halter and slipping it over his head. 

“C'mon, boy.” You whisper, petting behind his ears, “You're just a big sweetheart, aren't you?” You chuckle as he nuzzles your palm. Of all the client horses, he's definitely carved a home in your heart. He’s a funny little horse, a character. You'll be a bit sad to send him back when you’re finished, but you know his owners will treat him right. 

A short walk through the snow leads you both to the round pen. You leave him loose in the small pen, and he immediately starts running. 

“Yeah, here we go.” You hum, cold biting your nose. You grab a green lasso from the fence post, moving him up with it, pushing him forward as he runs around the pen.

“Good boy.” You call, “Easy does it.” 

Doob gets his energy out, running to his heart's content, wind flying through his long black mane. You just let him run, only correcting when he tosses a buck or kicks. After a long while of working, he eventually becomes tired out.

“That's a good boy, whoa now.” You cue, and he stops on a dime, turning towards you, walking into the center of the circle. Your head turns at the sound of a rumbling truck, and your eyes brighten at the familiar sight of Arthur coming down the lane. 

“Good job, Doob. That's all for today. You go on and play now.” You smile, handing a treat out to the thoroughbred. He takes it happily before you remove his halter, letting him out into the pasture with the other client horses. He'll surely run off more steam out there. 

A few snowflakes are stuck in your hair, and your nose is already turning red as Arthur steps down from his truck. You make your way to him, ignoring the chill in your bones, and leaning towards the warmth before you. 

“Hey, baby.” You smile as he turns to you, shutting the door to his truck. Arthur smiles back, his hands extending as he grabs your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips are cold compared to his, and he runs his hand up and down your arms to warm you up. 

“Shit darlin’, you’re froze. I was gonna ask if ya wanted to go for a ride but-” 

His eyes go wide as you jump a little, gripping at his coat with your cold hands, interrupting him.

“No, I wanna go for a ride! I'm not too cold, I've got more clothes in the barn.” 

He chuckles, his warm breath creating a fog in the air as he hugs you tightly. You've never turned down a trail ride, not in all the time you've known him. 

“Alright, why don’t you start tackin’ up the horses. I gotta run in the house quick. I'll grab some food too. We can have a picnic.” His deep voice rumbles against your ear as he holds you in his embrace. 

“Okay, I'll grab the horses. Oh- grab the chocolate, okay? The good kind. There's some in the cupboard above the sink.”  

Arthur chuckles, “Sure thing, darlin’.” 

You go to pull away from Arthur, but before you're fully released from his grasp, he gently pulls you back by the chin, catching you in another kiss. He hums against your lips, and you relax into him, allowing him into your mouth. He chases after the taste of you.

After a few seconds, another light peck– or two– you pull away from each other. When your eyes slowly flutter upwards, you see intense emotion in Arthur's eyes. Love. 

Arthur loves you, and he always makes sure to display it, but he's being extra affectionate today, which has your eyebrow raising in curiosity. 

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” you chuckle, hands resting on the thick blue fabric of his wool coat. You look up at him with those sparkling eyes, and he falls in love with you all over again. The snow has made your nose pink and cold, and Arthur leans down to kiss it.

“Cause I love you,” Arthur pulls away, “Now, go tack up those horses. I'll grab us a snack.” you peel away from him then, shaking your head. 

One whistle for Copper, and the orange flash is running down from the pasture. Then, he's at your feet, whining happily. The snow crunches and creaks against your boots as you lean to pet the dog, and you both look at Arthur’s back as he opens the door to the house. 

“Your daddy’s actin’ weird today.” You whisper, curiously eyeing the blue coat that moves through the door. Copper barks, as if he is trying to explain, but Arthur had sworn the dog to secrecy. 

You pet Copper before standing up and brushing the snow off of your knees. When you step into the barn,you’re immediately surrounded by the soothing smell of oats and hay. The warm scents envelop you, and wrap you up like the warmth of the barn. 

By the time you have both Boadicea and Whiskey fully tacked up, Arthur is walking through the front barn doors. He pushes the door open wide enough for your horses to step through. 

“So where are we ridin’ to today? Maybe we could trail down to the creek? It's beautiful this time of year.” You ask, pulling yourself up into the saddle. The cold leather sends a chill down your spine as you rub at your thigh in an attempt to make warmth.

Arthur shakes his head lightly as he climbs up into the saddle, “Actually I was thinkin’ we’d go on up to the overlook today…”  

The overlook? You hum. Typically you and Arthur only go to the overlook for special occasions. The last time you'd gone up there was about a year ago. It's a special place. 

You both had said your first admissions of love there, let the words pour down into the plains below. Your first kiss with Arthur was at the overlook. 

But the overlook doesn’t just house good memories. You and Arthur had split up, briefly, a few years ago. The separation took place there. It’s a place of much love and heartache, it's you and Arthur’s spot. 

“Okay, sure… It’s been quite a while since we’ve been up there.” You respond quietly, curiously. Anxiety swirls in your stomach, but you push it down. 

You and Arthur trot beside one another, carried by your mounts. The air is chilly, but your heart is toasty warm as you and Arthur chat, laughing and smiling as you go. The ride to Horseshoe Overlook is a long one, and you make the most of the time as you and Arthur ride through the bright snow. 

“I'll race ya cross’ this hill up here.” Arthur drawls, his lips ticking up in a smile as he looks at you from under the brim of his hat. 

You eye the hill in front of you. It's open, probably over one hundred yards. The snow isn’t deep over the grass and it doesn’t appear to be slippery. Adrenaline seeps through your veins as you eye it, swirling and pumping through your heart, flicking the hairs on your neck up like static electricity.

“Alright then…” You adjust yourself on Whiskey, preparing to run.

“Get ready…get set–” You are cut off as the wind whips your hair and Boadicea starts charging forward. Your jaw drops and you watch Arthur barrel ahead of you. Quickly, you spur Whiskey and kiss and cluck to move him forward. 

“You cheated!!” You scream loudly, trumping the sound of pounding hooves. 

Determination sets in your bones then, and you lean forward, spurring the horse forward with every ounce of might in your body. Whiskey shoots forward until he is running side by side with Arthur’s mare.

“I don't play dirty, mister!” You yell in Arthur’s direction. Hooves are pounding loudly against the snow. The two horses are breathing heavily, each determined to win their own races. You see Arthur laugh, but he stops when you spur Whiskey, charging forward. 

Arthur curses as you shoot ahead of him and Bo. Whiskey's hooves kick up snow as he passes, sending it flying into Arthur's face. It slows him down, giving you the advantage. 

You and Whiskey run hard until you reach the top of the hill, and Whiskey slides into a deep stop right before reaching the tree line. After ten seconds, Arthur and Boadicea are at the top as well, stopping hard and breathing heavily. 

“Dammit woman, you can ride, I'll give ya that.” Arthur pants, face wind-whipped as you ride up beside him and lean over your saddle to kiss him. 

His lips are cold, as are yours, but the kiss is still alight with warmth. You grip onto the collar of his shirt, not releasing when your lips pull away from one another. If anything, your grip tightens on his collar as you eye him.

“I know.” You smirk, winking at Arthur as you pull away and canter your horse away from him, and towards the entrance to the overhang.

He watches you canter on, shaking his head. 

“You are somethin’.” He jests, trotting after you.

When the trees break, you nearly gasp. Though you have been here a handful of times, it always steals your breath away. You can see the house and barn in the distance, separated from you by miles and miles of white snow. Evergreens stand tall, dusted white, with a few herds of elk at their trunks. You can see for miles, past the house and to the tall blue mountains far in the distance. 

“So beautiful.” You murmur, eyes bright with wonder. 

“Sure is…” Arthur whispers, eyes not on the landscape, but on you. 

You hop down from Whiskey, patting him for his good work, and offering him the same treats that you'd offered Doob earlier. You always keep a few extra in your pocket. 

You walk towards the cliff, keeping a safe distance from the drop. Your eyes flutter over the rolling hills and plains before you. Everything seems so quiet up here. Troubles seem so far away. Unique snowflakes slowly drop from the sky, dusting your hair and coat with white diamonds. 

Boots crunch in the snow behind you, stopping just a foot from your back. You smile, but don't turn around when Arthur's chest presses against your back. One of his hands wraps around your middle while the other, unbeknownst to you, rests on the small black box in his coat pocket. 

The serenity of the overlook envelopes your senses as you breathe in deeply. The cold air carries notes of pine and sap, familiar scents that comfort you.

“Love you, y'know.” Arthur hums, leaning down, pulling your hair away from your neck, kissing the soft skin under your ear. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you turn in his embrace, chest to chest. 

“You’re actin’ strange, Arthur. Are you feelin’ okay?” You chuckle. 

Arthur exhales sharply, otherwise ignoring your question. Instead, he pulls you up onto your tiptoes, your boots on top of his as he kisses you. 

You melt under his touch, kissing Arthur feels like your muscles relaxing after a long day’s work, like rain after a drought. Kissing Arthur feels like coming home. He's been kissing you all day, unable to pull himself away from you. 

You pull away only for a quick breath before your lips meet again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, straining on your toes to remain in contact with his lips. Arthur pulls away with a bite to your lip, smiling when he sees how yours are plump and swollen. 

The wind brushes Arthur’s hair into his face as he backs up, pulling you by your hand. He has placed a thick wool blanket on the snow for you two to sit on. You plop down on the blanket beside Arthur, your head resting on his shoulder. Your head rests on his shoulder. Heat radiates from the man, and you are glad for the extra protection from the cold.

“So what snacks did you bring, baby?” you ask, curiously peaking into the bag that Arthur has laid on the blanket. 

“Alcohol.” He says plainly. You laugh, smacking Arthur in the arm as he chuckles. 

“And your chocolates.”

“Arthur!” You chide as he hands you a bottle of golden liquid. You peer at the label. 

It's patrón. You quirk a brow at the drink of choice. Arthur rarely buys the expensive tequila. Curiously, you pull the round cork out from the neck of the bottle and take a small swig. The alcohol burns its way down your throat, warming you from the inside. 

You don't mind the burn, watching as a pair of pronghorn bucks fight in the hills below you. Their hooves slip in the snow as they each attempt to win their battle. Your hands numbly grip the neck of the bottle as you pass it back to Arthur. 

You huff before you speak, “I can’t believe we’re here Arthur. After everything we’ve been through we can just… live now…” You pull your knees up, curling more into his chest. Your past hangs over you, haunting you like a dark cloud. Bit by bit, Arthur has been helping you to push it away, to heal and move on. Today is a good reminder of that progress. 

His hands place the tequila in yours, and you down a swig.

“S’ like your readin’ my mind, sweetheart.”

You smile up at Arthur then, placing your hand on his stubble.

“Y’know this is the first place you told me you loved me…” Arthur says, low and quiet. You smile, the good memories filling your heart as Arthur continues,

“Also the first place I kissed ya…  a lot ‘a memories up here.” 

Your stomach flutters at his words, your brain is flooded with warm memories of Arthur and you in the overlook. 

“C'mere.” Arthur whispers, smiling, taking a shaky breath. Your eyebrows furrow together. but as he stands and extends his hand, you take it. Arthur pulls you up, hands in his own. 

The overlook is beautiful in front of you, serene and perfect. A moment he'd capture with a camera if he had one with. Whiskey and Boadicea watch on from the treeline, ears perked up. They know what's about to happen. Arthur's been telling them about it every day for months. 

“I love you.” Arthur whispers, deep and serious. His eyes soften, and your heart begins to pump loudly in your ears. A delicious red flushes into your cheeks.

“I love you too, Arthur… but why are you.. what's going on?” Your voice is higher than usual, eyes sparkling bright with wonder, reflecting the sun and the white snow.

It isn’t unusual for Arthur to admit his feelings to you, but there are too many factors for this to be a coincidence. Arthur was ‘shopping in town’ all morning, but had come home empty handed. He brought you out to your special spot, bought you your favorite expensive tequila– and is treating you with such delicacy, and love, that butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

Arthur huffs, letting out a humorous chuckle and looking up to the sky, projecting a short prayer, before he holds your hands a little tighter and begins.

“I love you more than I ever thought possible.” He looks away from you for a split second, staring at the ground, before anchoring himself in your eyes again, and continuing, “I didn’t think my life was goin’ nowhere before I met you… I gave up in my twenties, said I wasn’t gettin’ attached to anyone.” Arthur admits, and you frown. You know about his past. You've talked about it, and now you're trying to show him how much he deserves to be loved. 

“I stood by that for a long time…” Arthur's lips crack into a beautiful smile, a chuckle falling over them, ���And then you stumbled along.” A single tear drips down his cheek, and landing in the snow below. Your eyes are threatening to overflow with tears of your own.  

“Arthur…?” You whisper, voice cracking. He squeezes your hands reassuringly. 

“You showed me what it felt like to be loved. And love ain't somethin’ I've felt in many a years.” Arthur pauses, gathering his words. A few tears trail down your cheeks, and Arthur’s thumb wipes them away.

“You make me want so much more outta life. You make me wanna wake up every day and work on this ranch, take care of these animals. You make me want a family. I wanna wake up n’ watch our kids playin’ from the window.” 

“But what I want most in life? More than anything…?” A pause ensues, his loving, green eyes locked onto yours, “I want to be with you, every day, for the rest of my life.” 

Arthur thinks back to the song he had been listening to earlier on the way home from the city.

“As long as my compass keeps pointin’ to you, I’ll be where I belong… I’ll be home.”

Tears flow freely from your eyes, and you gasp as Arthur reaches into his pocket, kneeling down on one knee in the snow. 

He looks up at you, one hand still intertwined with yours, the other extending out the black box. Arthur snaps the ring box open, presenting a stunning gold ring to you. The band is adorned with a ruby, and several small diamonds decorate the sides of the gem. Your hands come up to your mouth, as Arthur looks up to you, smiling. 

“This was my Momma's…” Arthur explains, and your eyes flicker down to his, “You’ve already made me the happiest man alive… and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you… So, would you do me the honor–”  Arthur chokes up, “Would you marry me?” 

He looks into your teary eyes, holding the ring box a little higher as he asks the question. You wipe the tears away from your eyes, sight locking onto the scene, wishing you could etch it into your memory forever.

Your head frantically nods, tears flowing down your cheeks as you cry tears of joy, “Yes, Oh, Arthur–of course. Yes, yes!” 

Arthur smiles the brightest that you’ve ever seen, standing before you and slipping his mother’s ring onto your ring finger. The band fits you perfectly, and you marvel at it for a second before Arthur’s arms wrap around your waist. He lifts you up into the air, and you wrap your legs around his waist, laughing and crying, overcome with a happiness unlike any other. Your heart leaps with love and passion for the man in front of you.

His lips crash against your, wet tears dripping down your face as you kiss him. Your hands entangle into the hair at the back of Arthur’s neck as you both kiss, pulling apart only to breathe or to laugh. The kiss is deep, bodies singing with love, energy overflowing from the both of you. He keeps kissing you, over and over again, never wanting to leave the taste of your lips. 

You pull apart, foreheads pressing against eachother's, his hands on your thighs, keeping you off the ground. 

“I love you so much darlin’.”

“I love you too.” You whisper against him, the happiest you have ever been. 

The ring rests on your finger as you kiss Arthur again, senselessly. The band of rubies and diamonds holds promises of a future, of a marriage  and a life with him.

As the wind rustles through your hair, carrying your joy so far down the mountains that it can be felt radiating even miles away, you can’t think of anything you could ever want more than that promise.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

[sirfrogsworth]

Froggie's (Almost) Very Productive Day 2: Electric Boogaloo

So, the plan was to have my one productive day and then rest for however long the consequences of post exertional malaise decide they want to take.

But I needed to bring the working key fob back to the tire place so they could calibrate the tire pressure sensors. So, the day after my day, I napped until about 4pm and summoned the last bit of energy I had to finish this task.

After they fixed the sensors, I looked out over a beautiful sunset in the Discount Tire parking lot.

It's weird the places you find beauty sometimes.

I was about a mile away from my family's favorite pizza place. We've been going there since I was a tadpole. So I decided to grab a pizza as my Thanksgiving meal.

I didn't realize that the day before Thanksgiving would be just about the busiest night of the year. And they have the world's worst parking lot, half of which is a steep hill, and they didn't have enough spaces.

Google Maps has flattened the appearance of the hill. That thing is nearly a 40 degree angle. If anyone with a sports car wants a pizza, they are going to scrape their paint trying to get it.

So, I tried to park around back. Unfortunately someone was exiting the back parking lot and there is only one lane.

So... I backed up... into a pole.

I was going extremely slow and I barely tapped it. But I still felt pretty stupid. Thankfully no scratches or dents.

I finally find parking and head inside.

The Italian kitsch is always a "welcome" sight.

Every time I look it takes me like 10 seconds to figure out the configuration of his face. I find it is best to look at the mustache first, and then orient yourself from there.

I head to the counter and she asks for my name, assuming I am picking up a phone order. I explained I was just "dropping in" and then she gave me an "oof" face. The wait was nearly two hours. I told her I could get a few things from the grocery store and return for my pizza. She charges my card and I hop back in my car. Just as I was about to exit the parking lot of doom, a customer from Angelo's starts yelling at me.

"You forgot your card!"

Clearly my brain fog is starting to get to me. I left my damn bank card on the counter. So I have to exit the parking lot, drive into another parking lot, turn around, and then park again. I retrieved my card and headed to Nice Schnucks.

The GPS took me on a wild journey to the NS. I've lived in this area for 40 years and I had no idea some of these roads existed. I'm sure it was 3 minutes faster or whatever, but I think I would have preferred a route with streetlights. Unlit streets give me a bit of anxiety. Especially if I don't know them.

I get to NS and realize I was about to have the same problem I did at the pizza place. It was the night before Thanksgiving and the entire neighborhood was scrambling to get food for the next day.

I filled up on soups, frozen pizzas, and I got a few more bottles of my beloved soda. There is a Shirley Temple flavor I have yet to try. (Update: A rare Fitz's fail. Tasted like cough medicine.) And then I headed to the madness of the self-checkout.

I managed to kill about an hour, but my legs were getting wobbly. I really shouldn't have gone back out this soon. And I probably should have just headed home after the car was fixed. But I feared if I didn't do *something* special for Thanksgiving I would probably have a difficult time being all alone.

I head back to Angelo's. This time I was able to park in front and avoid hitting any poles.

The pizza was cooking and needed another 15 minutes. So I sat at a table and worked on finishing writing my to-do list for my trip to Florida. I was trying to tell Amazon that, yes, I do want a tiny bottle of shampoo to comply with the TSA security theater. But, no, I do not want 8 tiny shampoos.

Oh, did you know they charge you a "9/11 tax" when you buy a plane ticket?

Spirit Airlines has a pretty funny alternative name for it...

"After 9/11, the U.S. implemented the “9/11 Security Tax”, which was a fee of $2.50 each way of a trip on top of the price of a plane ticket. In 2014, the 9/11 Security Tax was increased to $5.60 each way. So, for a round trip this fee would cost $11.20"

We are literally still paying for 9/11. And there is no evidence the enhanced security does much of anything.

So we pay this tax so they can force us to buy tiny shampoo and go through scanners that have to detect and blur our genitals so the TSA agent can't see.

Anyway... I finally get my pizza and head home. When I pulled into my driveway I noticed a bright moon in the sky. It looked so massive compared to other nights, so I tried to capture a moon selfie.

As a photographer, I should have realized that a wide angle lens is not going to capture how big the moon looked in the sky that night. Wide lenses exaggerate distance. So things close to the lens look huge and things far away look tiny. That's why we look like aliens if we hold our smartphones too close to our face. To the lens on your camera, the distance from the tip of your nose to your ears is quite vast. Which meens a celestial body that is 240,000 miles away looks like a tiny dot in the picture.

I still kept trying.

That could be a moon I guess.

Umm, Froggie... you got some moon in your hair.

Later I did try to capture the moon with my DSLR and an 80mm lens, but I guess the moon is just really far away or something.

ENHANCE!

A.I. upscaling reveals it is, in fact, the moon.

I ate my pizza and did a quick tire test and photoshoot.

And then I spent way too long Photoshopping this X-wing flying into my deep-as-heck tire tread.

And that was my day after the day.

Today, which is currently Thanksgiving, I slept.

I slept all night.

I slept most of the day.

I still want to sleep.

Weirdly, I am too tired to feel lonely. Though now that I wrote that, I am thinking about my parents being gone, so I just screwed that up.

But hey... at least my pizza was tasty.

[jigujellee]

EMERGENCY CONTACT -> you’re only supposed to call when you want each other, but what happens when she calls you because she needs you? (part 1: lead the way)

jennie x reader smut, fluff, angst - a triple threat >:) word count: 2.7k warnings: swearing, slight stalking moment

a/n: helloooo! happy new year again to everyone :D i know some of you have been waiting for this to drop, so i hope you enjoy it! as usual, it's not proofread so i'm sorry for any mistakes you may come across while reading. i'm also sorry if this is rusty, i've had writer's block for so long and it's only starting to get a little bit better,, but anw i love you all and remember to take care of yourselves!

the sound of wet kisses and quiet whimpers are the only things heard within the walls of jennie’s bedroom.

“fuck y/n, just like that” jennie moans as her hands get tangled in your hair, trying to push you even closer to her dripping wet core. you lap your tongue along the length of her slit causing the raven haired girl to arch her back.

“oh god! i’m so close baby, please don’t stop”

-

after reaching her orgasm and allowing her to return the favour, the two of you lay together in her bed trying to catch your breaths before jennie starts to giggle.

“what’s so funny miss kim?”

“nothing, it’s just that i’ll always be amazed by the way you fuck me y/n”

you turn over to face her and pull her closer to you, smiling as you two fall asleep together.

you don’t recall explicitly stating the terms and conditions of your “relationship”, for lack of a better word. after the first night you and jennie hooked up, she began calling you up in the late hours of the night saying she needed to “destress from work”, obviously meaning she needed the stress fucked out of her. you eventually started to do the same once midterm season was slowly approaching, and that’s how this whole thing started really. to an outsider, this was a simple friends with benefits situation but you didn’t really call like calling it that. to be quite honest, you didn’t know what to call this; you’re just satisfied with it.

but you felt a change and you didn’t like where it was going.

the last few times you’ve slept with jennie went as they usually do - you two meet up, have dinner, take a stroll somewhere and then eagerly rush to one of your places to have sex. then in the morning, whoever wakes up first makes breakfast (you’ve been to each other’s places enough times to know where everything is) and then one of you leaves until the cycle continues again. it was almost a routine at this point, so you start to question when you notice jennie trying to break it.

your suspicions started when you woke up to her staring at you. not so much in a creepy manner, but more so like she was adoring you as you slept. when your eyes open and they meet hers, a smile slowly grows as her somewhat hoarse voice (from all the screaming yk) manages to let out a soft “good morning.” you look into her eyes momentarily, noticing a glint of something that wasn’t there before but you ignore it. “morning,” you say as you get up and make way for the bathroom, not looking back to notice a sulking jennie.

then you noticed how she snuggles into your neck and places a soft kiss just below your jawline, whispering a “thank you” before drifting off to sleep. jennie has only recently been thanking you for having sex with her, and with you being the slight overthinker that you are, you believe that her “thank you” may have a slightly different meaning; something that she knows she doesn't want to admit yet.

today, you noticed how she begged to stay even after breakfast.

“what’s the rush? i don’t have work today and you don’t have classes”

“come on, we always do this jen, you know time’s up after breakfast”

“well, i wanna change it up today. why don’t we go do something fun?”

“like?”

“take me on a date,” she casually says, causing you to nearly choke on your almost finished coffee.

“a date? why?”

“it’s just a way for us to bond”

“is bonding in bed not enough?”

“oh come on y/n, it’s just a fun little date”

you sigh in defeat, watching as your opponent hops off the couch in glee to get dressed, but not before planting a kiss on your cheek.

“thank you,” she says, almost lovingly. you say nothing in return and just proceed to your room to get ready for this “date.”

-

“how much longer?” you yell from outside the dressing room. unfortunately for you, the term “date” to jennie just meant going shopping with her.

“someone’s eager to see me,” the girl smirks as she pulls the curtain back to reveal her in a simple yet elegant black dress.

“help me zip up please?” jennie’s back is towards you and you can’t help but stare hungrily at the bare skin. as you grab the zipper, you slowly pull it up to close the dress but your intrusive thoughts came over you and you begin leaving soft kisses on her back before you could zip it up completely. jennie sighs at the feeling of your lips on her skin. as you move up closer to her neck, you feel her arm wrap around the back of your neck. nibbling softly on the lobe of her ear, you whisper, “why don’t i just unzip this dress and take you right here, right now?” but as much as she wanted it, jennie stops your movements and turns to face you.

“i want a day without sex, y/n”

“huh? why, did you get your period or something?”

“no, i just want to enjoy this day without having to end it with sex like we always do”

your suspicions began to rise again. though you meet up with her every so often for your little fuck buddy system, you two rarely saw each other outside of that simply because of school and work. so for her to be asking for a day to just be with you without the sex makes you wonder why? and for what reason?

still, you decide to go along with it and see where it takes you. you leave the store without the black dress and start walking around the mall by jennie’s side. your left hand was in your pant pocket while you let your right hand swing in the air. when you feel jennie brush her hand against yours, you don’t move your hand for a moment to see if she tries to hold it. and you were right; she slowly tries to interlock your hands together, but you move your hand away and offer to carry her bags instead. this continued for the rest of your time at the mall together, her movements varying from trying to hold your hand or link arms with you, or even trying to snuggle up against you when you bumped into a classmate of yours. anything she tried to initiate, you would shut it down immediately.

on the way to your car, it was silent. you felt something brewing in the air and it didn’t feel good. so as you drive her home, you attempt to lighten the mood.

“damn miss kim, you have so many bags in the back, i can barely see in my rear view mirror”

dead silence.

“i honestly thought you were gonna buy the whole mall back there,” you quickly glance at her to find her staring out the window.

“alright, what’s wrong jennie? why the silent treatment?”

“is sex the only thing you want from me?” she asked, annoyed but her gaze never leaves the window.

“what are you talking about?”

“i know you know. i’m not stupid and neither are you. but is this really all you want out of this? out of us?”

“what ‘us’ are you talking about jen? this is just those things where we casually fuck”

“oh, so it really is just that. i’m just someone you call when you’re horny, that’s it”

“don’t act like you didn't start it!” you raise your voice slightly.

“that’s what it was before i fell in love with you! did you really think that we could pull this off without one of us catching feelings?”

“you seemed like the type, so yes i did”

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you pull into the driveway of jennie’s house and shut the engine off. you unbuckle your seatbelt and try to leave the car to go help with her bags, but jennie grabs you by the arm to keep you in your seat.

“i’m gonna ask you again y/n, is sex the only thing you want from me?”

you look at her in the eyes and you watch the tears form in them. this setup was dangerous from the start, but you really tried to keep things casual with her.

“yes. this was supposed to be just sex, and you fucked it up for us”

before you could even say anything else, she unbuckles her own seatbelt and gets out of your car without forgetting to slam the door. she grabs her bags from the trunk and also closes it with a slam. you didn’t even bother to help because you knew she’d reject it, and there was nothing you could do but watch as she angrily marches toward the entrance of her house that you used to be welcome in, until now.

-

the internet says it takes roughly 21 days to break a habit. for some people, it could be more and for some, it could be less. but for you and jennie, the routine you two shared managed to be broken in just one second with one sentence.

it’s 3:14am, you can’t sleep and you know you’ll wake up with dark circles under your eyes. still, you lay in bed and stare blankly at the ceiling as you wonder what the fuck was wrong with you.

thinking back to when you two first hooked up, there were no rules or terms and conditions to your situation with jennie. nothing was put in place, no one said that you couldn’t fall in love with each other, so why did you penalize her for it? you had no clue. maybe you were just a natural asshole. or were you just scared?

you can’t deny the fact that there were times you entertained the idea of being in a relationship with jennie. but yes, it did scare you - jennie is a well-known model and has an image to uphold, so what would the public think if they found out you, a broke college student, would be dating her? you’ve imagined the kind of comments you’d get from netizens and you wondered what kind of questions paparazzi would throw towards jennie: “jennie! is it true? are you dating an average college student?” “is it because you feel bad?” “do you pity the girl?” “does she want you for the money?”

it haunts you. you couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason jennie’s image gets ruined.

to try and soothe your brain, you pick up your phone to play some lofi music in hopes to fall asleep. your thumb hovers over a song before seeing a name flash on the top of the screen.

miss kim &lt;3 is calling

you let it ring a couple of times before answering,

“jennie?”

“y/n, hi i’m so sorry but um,” her voice is shaky, as if she was about to cry or if she was scared. you didn’t like either of those options.

“y/n i think i’m being followed. can you please come get me?”

“send your location, i’ll be there as soon as i can”

seeing that she was only a 10 minute walk away, you sprint to where she is and you find her standing in front of a light post in the park. as you approach her, you notice a figure standing near a bench, and a light suddenly illuminates from what looks like his phone; it seems as if he was checking it as if he wasn’t following jennie just now. he definitely noticed your presence but he waits to see if you’d leave her alone.

you whisper to jennie, “are you alright? did he hurt you?”

“i’m okay, he didn’t touch me. but if you didn’t come, i don’t know what he could’ve done. is he still there?”

your eyes glance up and you see the man still standing in the same spot, still looking at his phone.

“yeah, but i have an idea. i just hope it’ll work”

you wait for a moment and you watch his eyes come up from his phone, glances at you and jennie, and then turns to look in the opposite direction. you take this chance to quickly hide into a bush behind you, and you slowly crawl towards the man near the bench. when you’re close enough, you rustle the bushes to get his attention and you watch him get startled by the sudden movement. to add on, you start barking and growling like a dog which made you feel stupid, but it was convincing enough to make him run the opposite way from jennie.

she walks towards you, or the bush rather, and calls for you - “he’s gone now, you can come out now little guy”

“little guy my ass," you say as you dust yourself off of any dirt. "but i honestly didn’t think that would work. do you really think it was convincing?”

“yup, you were a real bitch back there y/n”

“touché”

jennie giggles, “but really, thank you. i’m sorry you were the one i called, i just didn’t know who else would come at this time and you’re the first person in my emergency contacts.”

you say nothing. you simply stare at her, admiring her features that make her who she is. you’re glad you’re her emergency contact. not her manager, not her friends, not even her family; it’s you.

you reach out your hand, "why don't you stay the night? and you can stay as long as you need to”

-

jennie sits at the dinner table, watching as you prepare breakfast for the two of you. you insisted she just sit back and relax after what happened last night.

“i’m fine y/n, i could’ve helped you cook”

“it’s alright, you must be tired and hungry”

you place down her plate that was filled with two pancakes, two sunny side up eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit on the side. you set yours down and take a seat, excited to dig in after hearing your stomach growl.

it’s silent for the most part. you don’t want to bring up last night’s events, and you figured jennie must’ve wanted some peace and quiet.

“so y/n..”

well, so much for peace and quiet. you looked up at her in response.

“can we talk? about us?”

“actually yes, we should”

jennie clenches her knife and fork, bracing herself for the worst that could happen.

“jen, i gotta be honest with you. i was just scared of falling in love with you. you know, you have this image you need to maintain and i just didn’t want to be the reason it gets tarnished. i refused to fall in love because i didn’t want any of us to get hurt in the long run”

she says nothing and just pokes at a blueberry, rolling it around the plate.

“however,” you pause slightly for dramatic effect.

“i realized that it was stupid of me to stop myself from falling. and it was also stupid of me to pretend that you weren’t falling. and i realized that i really love the idea of being your emergency contact”

jennie still says quiet, but now she manages to look at you with hope in her eyes.

“basically what i’m saying is that i want to give us a try. not just for the sex, not just this whole thing we got going on, i want the real deal with you. i know for a fact i won’t be perfect, we definitely won't be perfect. but for you i’m willing to try. because it’s you jen; i choose you.”

a gummy smile makes its way on jennie’s face, the events of the night long forgotten. at last, she feels seen and loved by you, the only person she’s ever wanted to feel loved by and the only person she’s willing to risk her image for.

“alright ash ketchum, let me help you with the dishes”

“damn, way to ruin a moment miss kim” you joke, as you follow your soon-to-be girlfriend to the sink.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hello Henry :D I've followed you for quite sometimes and I really love your works!! So I'd like to request if you don't mind: Lisa, Shenhe and Yae with a very emotional reader. Like the reader can easily burst into tears, either when they feel too happy or too sad (kinda self-indulgent since that's me irl). I hope you can write this and if you don't that's fine!!! Thank you sm and have a good dayy!!!

Them with a very emotional reader

characters: Lisa / Shenhe / Yae Miko x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: *September 2022* OH GOD THIS REQUEST IS A YEAR OLD WHAT AM I DOING?!?! I am so sorry it took me this long, also, if you’re still following me and remember that you requested this anon, thanks for the nice words!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Lisa

When the sun started to set and most people had already left the library a long time ago, one person outside of the librarian would almost certainly still be seated where they’d been for hours already, reading the same book they had been reading for hours already while still breaking out in laughter, tears of joy or sad weeping depending on whatever they were reading.

A long time ago, Lisa would have felt her peaceful naps disturbed, almost going as far as to reprimand them for not following every library's most sacred law. And yet, as she heard you giggling to yourself now, she couldn’t help but feel the corners of her lips shape into a smile as she left the comfortability of her chair to rise before slowly making her way over to where you sat.

“And cutie? Like what you’re reading?”, the librarian asked once she was behind your chair, putting her hands on it and leaning against it until her face wasn’t too far from the side of your head, something that proved to be lucky as you quickly whipped your head around, causing you to nearly headbutt her, the happiness on your face almost as radiant as that of a dog excitedly wagging its tail at the sight of its owner.

“Lisa!”, you exclaimed with excitement, throwing the notion of trying to keep quiet in a library completely out the window.

“Very much so, it’s surprisingly funny. Everytime I think I know what’s going to happen next, it takes a completely different turn. I can’t stop laughing…”, you slowly trailed off, staring into the far for a split second before once again turning your attention towards her, your cheeks growing red from shame. 

“I was loud again, wasn’t I? Of course I was, that was a stupid question. I’m sorry Lisa, I know that I’m supposed to be quiet in here but- I tend to lose track of the real world whenever I’m here”, you frantically apologized, talking so quickly Lisa could feel herself growing lightheaded trying to keep up with you, only to eventually calm you down with an assuring smile.

“I know. I’m sure most people that come here kind of expect to hear you already at this point, so don’t worry your cute head over nothing.”

“Anyway, want to tell me about the book?”, she asked before taking a seat next to you and listening to you excitedly recollect about the book.

It only took her a couple of sentences to realize she had already read it, managing to finish each of your sentences during your plot summary in her head before you. But as she looked at your happy face as you went on, interrupting you was the last thing on her mind.

Shenhe

There were times your behavior didn’t quite seem to make sense to Shenhe. Tears coming out of your eyes only for you to smile and reassure her that they were tears of joy when she awkwardly tried to console you. Crying not out of sadness but from feeling happy? Shenhe must have been even more out of touch with human emotions than she had realized, that or the last time she felt such happiness must have been too far in the past for her to remember.

At the end of the day it didn’t matter. If you were happy that was great, and if you showed your joy by bursting into tears then it was also fine. Even if it caused her to worry a bit. 

Today was your birthday and while the two of you had agreed to spend the day together, Shenhe didn’t come empty handed. She had seen people buy each other presents for special occasions and how happy they made others, and so, before she had realized it, she went and asked her master for help with choosing something to give you.

In hindsight it would have been quicker and a lot less embarrassing if she had just kept to herself, Cloudretainers choices being… rather unorthodox, but once she was involved, there was no way Shenhe was able to back out. Or bring the present back with her for that matter.

So here she was, handing you the present as her chest tightened up, uncharacteristic levels of anxiety building up in her in worry you wouldn’t like it, and yet, as she finally looked back at you, seeing you stare inside the opened bag with tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, that same anxiety quickly found itself replaced with panic.

“I’m sorry, it was stupid of me to try and get you something when I’m this out of touch with human society. Please for-”, Shenhe was just in the process of apologizing, when you basically jumped at her and gave her a hug, happily swaying from side to side.

“Thanks Shenhe! Where did you even get a Cor Lapis Amulet this beautiful?”, you asked before pulling back for a moment and pulling the string attached to the stone around your neck.

Here you were again, crying while being happy and leaving Shenhe completely dumbfounded. And while she silently stood there for a few moments, letting everything that was happening pass by, a smile slowly made its way onto her face, your joy far too radiant for the red strings around her body to stop all of it from rubbing off on her.

Yae Miko

Somehow, was it because Yae took pity on someone this easily moved to tears or because your display of unfiltered joy and happiness was too contagious for her to ruin it with a comment or two, you found yourself almost unharmed by the notorious Guuji. Sure, there were still more than enough times even you had to endure her teasing, but even then it was anything but humiliating.

The same could not be said about whoever was unlucky enough to hurt your feelings, be it by deliberately being mean to you or saying something hurtful in the heat of the moment…

When you had entered Yae’s office while loudly and enthusiastically greeting her, only for her to respond with nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement, the room quickly returned to being completely silent, causing her to eventually look up at you, wondering why your enthusiasm had died down so suddenly, only to be greeted with the sight of you spacing out, your expression growing increasingly worried and down.

“Is something wrong? Why so silent all of a sudden?”, she asked, finally putting her work to the side, causing you to snap out of it and look at her again, even if you avoided eye contact.

“Miko. Am I annoying?”

“Who called you annoying?”, Yae almost immediately shot back with another question, her voice betraying her determination to find out a name, and while she saw your eyes widen in surprise as you quickly tried to assure her that there was no one, she knew you better than to be fooled.

“I’m just saying that if I annoy you, you can tell me-”, you barely managed to get the sentence out of your mouth as small tears started forming on the corners of your eyes, before Yae cut you off again.

“My little bird, go around the streets and ask about me for a minute and you’ll find out quite easily that I’m not exactly someone that holds back when it comes to saying what I want. So don’t even think I’d be too afraid to tell you if I really found you annoying.”

By the time she finished talking, Yae stood only a meter or two in front of you, only to continue talking after a small pause.

“So. What’s their name?”

Was it out of intimidation or because some deep, part of you wanted them to get their comeuppance, but before you knew it, you had spilt the name, immediately feeling guilt over what was about to happen wash over you, only for Yae to give you a reassuring smile before lightly patting your shoulder.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

[808airsoftbros]

Obsessive Step Mother (Bae Suzy)

Author: A yandere oneshot I've written in Wattpad. Hope you all enjoy it and if you want to see more of my works do check out the Masterlist.

To whoever reads this,

I've completely lost count of how long it's been since my stepmother imprisoned me inside our home without any means to contact the outside world.

However, the only way I could eat it was with my stepmother Bae Suzy or her butler delivering me food, it was delicious and nice which helped make my prison more bearable but regardless, I'm always finding ways to escape.

But leaving this hellhole isn't going to be easy or simple as there are security cameras all over the manor and outside. All the windows and the doors are always locked and even if I managed to lockpick the door the alarms will go off as soon as I step foot out of the mansion.

I've learned all of this from my previous attempts of escaping and I was met with harsh punishment by Suzy. Consequences went from being locked into solitary or the basement, nearly starving me to death, and rape.

Yeah, my stepmother doesn't play games or joke around too much, Suzy and I go way back into my childhood days. It all started when my Appa and Eomma had officially divorced due but I don't know the reasons as I was too naive, Appa had decided to remarry and hooked up with Suzy.

What my Appa found bizarre was how addicted and attached Suzy was to me, she wouldn't leave me alone nor let me out of her sight for a millisecond.

At first, Appa didn't think too much about it for a while until I entered high school, and things started to get concerning.

My Stepmother had forbidden me from dating any girls or barely any freedom at all, of course, I kept on protesting and arguing but it all ended with severe repercussions.

My Appa finally had enough of it and attempted to file for divorce for such erratic parenting but Suzy had clever tricks up her sleeve and it turned out that Suzy had sinister plans in mind.

She hired a hitman to assassinate my Appa and inherit all of his income and the whole manor, thus leaving me in her care.

That's basically how I'm here trapped in confinement for a while, I'm currently about 18 years old and I thought being an adult would grant me freedom from this prison but I was more than wrong...

When I tried to start a new life from scratch, I worked at a local grocery store far from home but somehow her bodyguards managed to catch me and bring me back here.

That's all I have to say for today...

Y/N's POV

Concluding writing in my journal for today, I heard a soft knocking on the door meaning it was time for dinner.

The door slowly opens revealing my devil of a stepmother, holding a tray of food and drinks for the two of us.

"Dinner is ready, darling, I hope you're hungry~." She said to me before putting it down on the table.

Looking at the plates of food on the tray, it appears to be curry with rice, ramen, and Korean beef.

Each dish looked delicious and mouth-watering as my stepmother knows how to cook well, she places a towel napkin on my lap and tucked one in the collar of my shirt to avoid getting any crumbs or small spills on my clothes.

"Now, open wide~!" She instructed me as she scooped up some Korean beef and I did what she asked before she feeds it to me.

The beef tasted delightful as always just like the rest of her food, she continues to feed me like a delicate and fragile child.

With each bite I took out of her hand, she watched me like a predator eyeing her prey making eating unpleasant.

It was obvious she has serious mental health problems but I doubt she couldn't give a shit about it as long as I remain here.

After we were finished with dinner, it was time for my stepmother's special dessert, she called in the butler to pick up the dirty dishes on the tray, and once he had taken away the plates for us, he left us alone in my room.

My stepmother goes up to the door and locks it to make sure that I don't try to flee, she was wearing a black bathrobe and she gave me an evil smirk before slowly walking towards me.

"I hope you're not too full, honey because it's time for dessert~." She said to me before removing the bathrobe revealing her lingerie.

Her smooth and silky skin was literally to die for as she takes good care of herself just for her precious stepson.

"On the bed, sweetie and mommy will take good care of you~." She instructed me and I quickly got onto the bed by instinct.

Crawling on the bed towards me, she takes off all of my clothes leaving only underwear before cuffing me to the bed frame.

"You love how mommy takes control of you, huh~? Good, because I love it too~." She whispered to me before attacking my neck leaving hickeys all over it.

One of her kinks is to leave marks on her territory because of how lovesick she is but there's nothing I can do nor do I have a say in anything.

"Oh, one more thing, mommy has something to put on you~." She informed me before revealing a pink collar and my eyes widened in terror.

Putting on the collar around my neck, she latched on a leash as well putting her in a position that allows complete dominance over me.

Seeing no point in the handcuffs, she takes them off before tossing them aside in my room and she places my hands on both of her breasts.

"Now, shall we enjoy ourselves~?" She proposed to me and I nodded.

"I want an answer, baby boy~." She demanded me in a sweet but psychotic tone and I gulped.

"Y-Yes, mommy," I answered her and she smiled.

TIMESKIP

Last night left me all exhausted because of how sexually demanding she was and my legs are bloody sore.

My snowballs have been utterly drained out and I have bruises in places that I thought were impossible.

But I knew all the hell and torture is far from over, as my stepmother has more ideas planned in her agenda.

I have no idea if she was actually safe or not but I believe she would one day want to have my kids. Whether or not it's true.

Today, she was out for another business meeting in a foreign country leaving only her butler,  maids, and bodyguards to watch over me.

Once again, I tried to escape but of course, everything is sealed off and there are eyes in every corner leaving no options for a stealthy escape.

However, there were many tools and resources I can utilize thanks to my training in boy scouts as they taught me to be resourceful and I can make do with anything like ropes, tape, lamps, you name it.

Searching around the room, I found the handcuffs from last night, there was a lamp and drawers full of my clothes.

The door was locked but I had an idea as I looked in my closet to find a broken vintage fan, I yanked off one of the metal blades and used it to pry open the door.

Getting outside of my room, and rushed to the security office to avoid detection by the cameras as they rotate periodically.

Knocking on the door, the guard opens up and I ambushed him before going inside to shut off the cameras and security alarms.

Finally, I got to the front entrance when the coast was cleared and got the door opened with no problems but I was caught by one of the bodyguards.

"Mister Bae, please return to your room this instant!" The guard ordered me and I grabbed a vase.

Throwing the vase with all my might, it landed a direct hit on his head causing him to fall on the floor unconscious.

Walking out of this hellhole, I made sure that the tracker was taken off before I left the manor for good.

Finally, I was free from my stepmother and I begin a new life without her always breathing down my neck.

I grabbed some money from her office so I can buy some food and clothing to last me until I find a job.

Taking a taxi to town that is the furthest from the mansion, I stopped in the middle of a city that is unknown to me but I was excited.

When I thought everything is going well for me, I happened to spot a black luxury SUV parked on the curb beside me.

The window rolls down and I was surprised that I had coincidentally been caught by my stepmother and boy she wasn't too pleased to see me here.

"Y/N, get in the car... Right. Now." She coldly ordered me but I sprinted the fuck out of there and ran deep into the crowd where it will be harder to find me.

I can hear the guards chasing after me but I hear the chatter as they were having a difficult time trying to locate me but I was smarter than them.

Going into a clothing store, I bought some clothes and changed into another outfit to blend in with the crowd.

The idea had worked when the bodyguards had walked past me like I was a nobody to them leaving me free from my stepmother's grip.

From that point on, I started a new life without her by working at a big office building as an office clerk.

A few months passed by and so far everything was going great until I had gotten a meeting with a client.

"Hello, you must be Miss Bae, right...?" I asked until I had looked right at the woman making me freeze.

Getting a closer look at her, I realized that Miss Bae, the client I was supposed to meet turned out to be my stepmother.

"Hehe, thought you could get away this time, did you~?" She asked me as she stood up from the chair.

"Well, shit..." I muttered to myself.

[harrygoeswest]

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

~~~

A/N: Hiiiiii! I think I announced this like 3 months ago and never finished it, but we're finally here! I actually really fucking love this story. I've never done this 'one bed' trope before, nor an enemies-to-lovers OU, because EVERYONE loves H man, right? Well, not this YN. And he's not too fond of her either. I'm really excited to share it with you. Again, what started as a one shot grew into a two-parter because I simply cannot contain myself when the ball starts rolling. Anyhoo, to my forever friend @all-things-fic, thank you as always for reading this through and making me snort at your comments and being the ultimate validator <3

Word Count: 13,261 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), vomiting, bed-sharing with a sexy man

~~~

Rain. Persistent, unabated, never-ending, relentless rain. It was all you’d heard and seen all day and you were sick of it. You’d never really minded it until today, but thanks to one shit-show after another, you were ready to relinquish it. You wanted it gone. Your summer holiday was already off to a bad start.

“Bad day?”

Where to begin?

A cabin in the Scottish Highlands had sounded like the perfect escape for a four-week break away from the city. You had work to do, deadlines to meet, but at least you could do it without being interrupted. Without the sounds of pedestrians and car horns and wayward seagulls and bike bells. Yep, the Highlands still sounded perfect, but the endless string of catastrophes made you wonder if it really was perfect or rather just a ridiculous indulgence.

No. You deserved this break. Bad day or not, the holiday was needed.

When your brother had told you a year ago that he’d bought a holiday home in the Highlands you hadn’t exactly been surprised. He and his wife had been talking about it for years, and he’d finally earned enough money through his music career to be able to do it. Sadly, with your own deadlines and packed schedule, this was the first time in said year you’d been able to find time to go.

Apparently the all-knowing entity in your life had other plans.

You were supposed to come by plane first thing this morning, but your car had broken down on the way to the airport and you spent 3 hours waiting for the AA to rescue you. You had then managed to rearrange your flight to a later one, but because of the weather, all other flights out of Bristol had been cancelled for the day. You then spent a ridiculous amount of money on a 10 hour train from Bristol to Inverness with a change at Edinburgh in between, and were now forking out on a taxi to take you the rest of the way.

At that particular point in time, a cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a dreadful fucking idea.

“Could say that.” You managed weakly.

The driver chuckled to himself and you tried not to squeal. “Nearly there now. Fifteen minutes or so.”

There is a God!

Forty-five minutes later he finally stopped in the middle of a single track road. Your eyelid had been twitching for half that time, and a headache was forming in your left temple.

He turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin. He was missing an incisor and three of his other teeth were gold. “This is as far as I can get you. Cabin is at the top of that hill.”

You gave him a look, then peered out the window. All you could see was rain and mud and a black night. “What hill?”

“You’ll find it. Fare is sixty.”

“Sixty quid?”

He nodded. “Scottish if you’ve got ‘em. I’m a collector.”

“We agreed on forty. And no, I don’t have any bloody Scottish notes.” A Scottish man collecting Scottish money! On what planet?!

“No, sixty.”

You muttered expletives under your breath and shoved the money at him over his shoulder.

“Y’alright gettin’ your own case, love? Don’t really want t’ get wet.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

In the shittiest, snappiest manner you could muster, you got out of the car and retrieved your luggage from the boot, slamming every door you touched. The driver immediately pulled off once the boot was closed, pipping his horn.

“Wanker!” You yelled after him.

Finding your bearings, you located the ‘hill’ he’d been talking about, forcing down your frustration at the size of the damn thing as you started up the pathway. You dragged your suitcase behind you through the mud, grateful it had a hard and waterproof plastic exterior. At least after all this you’d be able to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to reach the cabin, thanks to not only the rain but also the brutal wind. When you finally reached the porch you fell onto it, greeted by the most intense relief you’d ever felt. You took a minute to recover from your exercise, and then fumbled around on the dark porch for the stone your brother had left the key under.

“Aha.” Delighted when you found it, you pulled the key out of the rock and shoved it in the door, unlocking it.

Heat floated over your body, as did warm, homey light. Weird. Why were the lights on?

Then did your eyes land on the thing that was most definitely out of place. 

A loud, shrill scream ripped from your body.

A man was in the cabin. A naked man. Mostly. The only thing saving him and you was the towel wrapped around his waist. Shiny back, muscly arms, damp neck, wet hair. At the sound of your wail he turned around, equally as alarmed.

“What the-?”

In his panic, the grip he had on his towel slipped, and you were given more of an eyeful than you ever bargained for. 

You screamed again and reached for the closest thing to you, then lurched it across the room at him. Then your brain caught up with you, and you pulled the door closed again, separating you from him. You were back outside in the cold.

That man wasn’t just anyone. He’d never been just anyone. He was your sister-in-law’s friend. He was your brother’s boss, to a degree. He was your worst fucking nightmare rolled into physical human form.

He was Harry fucking Styles.

This was officially the worst day of your life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeated, over and over again as you paced the porch, head in your hands. You knocked into your suitcase multiple times and it ended up falling down the porch steps into a muddy puddle. You tripped over a loose piece of decking at least twice. You caught your hip on the porch bannister, too. But none of it registered with you while your brain cycled between images of Harry’s naked back and his large appendage.

How could this be happening? What had you done to deserve such a catastrophic start to your holiday? You couldn’t stay here. Not with that man. That man that you hated, and who hated you in return. This was a disaster.

You dug your phone out of your sopping handbag. No signal. 

“Oh, come on.” You hissed.

Stubborn as always, you tried to call your brother anyway. Repeatedly. Twenty times, at least, each one failing to connect. You couldn’t even leave a voicemail. You raised the phone to the sky like it was baby Simba. Still nothing.

“Fuck!”

The door swung open, and Harry said your name in a low grunt.

You swivelled, glare like a dagger. “You. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He scoffed. He was clothed now, in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. “Why are you here?”

“This is my brother’s cabin! I have a key! He said I could stay here!”

“Well, guess what?” He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Holly said I could stay here, too.”

You wanted to throw your phone at his stupid face. “Fucking great.”

“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding.” He straightened.

“You don’t say…” 

His gaze narrowed. “You’re impossible.”

“At least I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to state the obvious.”

You turned away again and tried your brother one more time. The beep beep beep that told you the call had failed yet again had your stomach in knots.

“There’s no phone signal here.”

“Yes, thank you. Just go back inside.”

“No.”

“For the love of Christ, why not?”

“I’d rather see what you’re going to do with yourself.”

You turned another glare on him. “Oh, I’m so glad that the shitty situation I’ve found myself in is entertaining you, Harry. Please, mock me some more. The resulting anger might actually take the chill out of my fucking toes.”

He looked like he was about to open his mouth, but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this really has been the day from hell. It’s been a categorical disaster from start to finish, and finally getting myself here only to find you, of all people, really is the cherry on top of my whopping slice of shit pie. So please, do me this one favour, and sod off back inside.”

His jaw ticked, and he emitted a low growl before he slammed the door of the cabin and left you in the cold, wet night.

A sob wracked through you, and you flopped down on the top step just to let your body deflate for five minutes. It was so cold you were shivering. Your clothes clung to your body like sheets of ice, your lips were cracked, and a bite ate away at your toes.

You knew you couldn’t do much tonight. You’d have to wait until tomorrow, for when the storm hopefully passed, and you could call your brother to give him a gobful and then walk into the village to find a B&B or cheap hotel. You hadn’t forgotten that your train ticket was a set day return for four weeks’ time. You’d just have to wait until Harry was gone before you took your time to enjoy the cabin like you’d planned.

When you finally calmed down you dragged your suitcase out of the mud and dropped it on the driest part of the deck. You dug around for the jumper you’d brought with you and pulled it over your frozen torso. You also took your shoes and socks off and put two clean pairs on. Once you were wrapped back up in your coat, you settled on the armchair that was the least wet and tried to go to sleep.

After five minutes or so, the cabin door creaked open again.

“Come inside, please.” Harry’s voice was void of any emotion.

“No.”

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“Rather that than share a bed with you.”

“And you think I want to share a bed with you, either?”

“Then we’re both on the same page. I’m fine out here.”

“You are not fuckin’ fine out here. It’s shitting it down, for fuck’s sake, you could get a flu. Or worse.”

You hadn’t opened your eyes so you had no idea what his facial expression read. “I’m surprised you give a shit enough to care.”

“I don’t particularly, but I like your brother and I don’t want him thinking I didn’t at least try to get you to be sensible when it’s fucking biblical outside.”

“I’ll pass.”

Harry took a deep breath, and he muttered, “Bloody insufferable woman,” before he slammed the door again.

You snuggled further into the chair, shoving your hands under your face. You thought that would be the end of it, but no more than thirty seconds later the door swung back open. You pretended to ignore him, expecting a verbal taunt. Instead, all you got was scuffing noises.

Pushing down the urge to growl like he did at you, you squeezed your eyes shut and faked indifference at his huffy grunting. Until he dragged you out of the chair and hauled you into the cabin in three easy movements.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, scowling at him as he locked the door behind you.

“You can be as stubborn and petty as you like about this, but you are not staying outside in the rain. End of story.”

“I was fine!”

“You were not fine.” He folded his arms again. “Look at you, for fuck’s sake. You’re about five seconds away from catching hypothermia. You think I want that on my hands? You, of all people, needing my attention every day for the next five weeks? I don’t, by the way. I came here for a holiday, too.”

“I didn’t bring myself here to be a God damn burden to you, Harry. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why don’t you go and get in the shower, and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down.”

You inched closer to him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Me, following your orders like some sycophant.”

He took a step closer to me. “I would, actually. It might make you somewhat tolerable.”

“Get fucked, Harry.”

“Sounds like you need that more than I do.”

You produced a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, and shoved at his chest once before you stalked away. “Prick.”

He hummed, entertained. “Try not to think about mine while you’re in there. I’m sure the sight of it has left you with enough to be desired.”

Too tired to argue with him anymore, you threw your middle finger at him over your shoulder.

Whether you’d been forced inside against your will or not, you really did want a shower before a permanent chill settled over you. You turned the water on and let it run hot. The second it swilled over your body you let out a helpless moan. 

You stood stoic underneath it for an indeterminate amount of time, just willing your body to warm up. The day washed away from you, worries temporarily forgotten while you soaked up as much heat as you could. Oh, it was glorious. A shower had never been so rewarding.

After a while you realised you didn’t have any of your shower stuff with you, still locked in your suitcase, and you let out a huff. You surveyed what Harry had brought with him and spent too long debating whether it was socially acceptable to wash using your mortal enemy’s shower gel. You decided against it and would properly wash in the morning.

Taking another ten minutes, you decided you were ready to face Harry again and whatever bollocks he might throw your way. You found a towel and gave your hair a dry, then wrapped it around your body. You hadn’t thought this through in your desperation to get away from him.

You stepped out of the room with purpose and marched over to where Harry had abandoned your suitcase after dragging it inside earlier, and carefully picked your way through it to find your pyjamas and toothbrush. Without giving the man even the slightest glance, you locked yourself back up in the bathroom to change and clean your teeth.

“Forget your clothes?” Harry asked at your second reappearance.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” You gave a roll of your eyes.

He sat straighter in the armchair he was settled into, “Why answer a question with another question?”

You ignored him. Instead you gave yourself the opportunity to actually take in your brother’s second home. You realised it was tiny. Like Tiny Home tiny. When he said he’d bought a cabin you thought he meant something like a chalet. But no, this was small. A kitchenette had been built into the right-hand wall by the front door with a fridge, a two-plate hob and a stainless steel sink. Two armchairs sat either side of a small birch table, and a double bed at the back of the room with a cherrywood wardrobe. A woven rug gave the space a homey feel, balancing the bare oak that gave foundation for the rest of the place.

A sinking feeling buried in you when you realised there wasn’t a sofa.

You rubbed a hand into your cheek, feeling slightly cheated by your brother and his wife. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Harry said into the quiet, all malice and jest lost.

“I feel like it.” You admitted, turning your stare on the bed. “I’m just tired.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “I sleep on the left.”

You refrained from giving him another eye roll and instead focussed on settling down. You left your phone on the dining table, plugged in to charge overnight, poured a glass of water which you drank in one long swig, and then returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry had settled on the left side of the bed but with his head at the foot and his feet at the top. If he slept on the left, did that not completely defeat the purpose of his claim?

“Top and tail.”

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not.” You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I am not giving you the opportunity to stick your foot in my face at any given point in the night.”

He kissed his teeth and sat up with a scowl. “Woman, you have got some major fuckin’ trust issues.”

“With you I do, absolutely.”

You waited until he was in bed the right way up before you slipped in yourself and turned the light off. The room was cast in darkness and your eyes struggled to adjust. You faced away from Harry on your side, wriggling to find a comfortable position, and you could hear him doing the same.

His foot was definitely on your side of the bed so you kicked it away. He then tried to take the covers off you, but you were quick to snatch them back. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have some of the quilt, please?”

“You’ve got some.”

“I have none.”

“Bullshit.”

He ripped the covers away again, and you fought the urge to squeal.

“Give some back.”

“You have some.” He said in the same tone you had.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’ve just spent an hour using up all the hot water so I refuse to believe that.”

“What is your problem?”

“You are.”

You grit your teeth. Folding your arms, you scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Arguing with him was fruitless, it just left you angry and wired.

Tomorrow, you resolved to find somewhere, anywhere else to stay. For now, you’d try to sleep uncomfortable and coverless.

~

Had you slept?

No.

For hours you’d imprisoned yourself on the edge of the bed, cold and coverless, hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm, and squeezing your eyes closed just praying that sleep would come. But it never did. You’d think after the day you had yesterday it would be easy to just drop off. Why would it be that simple for you?

You knew it was light outside now thanks to the inside of your eyelids. You decided then to give up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

As you opened your eyes you realised how close to the edge of the bed you were. At the same time, Harry wriggled again, further onto your side of the mattress, and his knee nudged your backside.

Oh no.

Struggling to find anything to hold onto, your body tumbled over the edge. A panicked yelp tore out of you, followed by a grunt and a thud when you hit the floor.

“Ow.” You whimpered. You’d fallen on your front, knee and toe first followed by your head. You rolled onto your back and held onto your forehead as if it might stop the pounding you felt.

Laughter started, and your eyes flew open to find Harry hovering over the side of the bed, green eyes shining. You were, actually, somewhat offended by how entertained he was. If it was acceptable to hit people, you’d be hitting him.

“You alright down there?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, Harry.”

Your own anger made the throbbing in your head worse so you stayed on your back.

“Alright, was only a question.”

“This is your bloody fault - you’re a bed hogger!”

“Yeah? Well you snore!”

“Considering I didn’t get a single second of sleep last night I don’t know how you’ve landed on that conclusion, and I can only assume you’ve made it up to piss me off.”

“You were snoring.” He said in a flat voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

The throbbing got worse again, so you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

“You’ve hit your head.”

If the thought of rolling your eyes didn’t make you nauseous you’d absolutely do it. “If there was an award for Best Observationist, you’d win it.”

“Do you need ice or something?”

His voice had changed and it somewhat startled you. You peeled an eye open again to find he hadn’t moved - he was still hanging over the bed. His expression, however, was neutral.

“Yes. Please.”

He gave a curt nod and then disappeared. You closed your eyes again, willing the throbbing away.

“There isn’t any ice.”

You refrained from screaming, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. “Okay.”

“Here,” his voice was much closer, and he gave a little pat to your knee, “this might help.”

Peeling an eye open, he flashed a couple of boxes of painkillers. “Panadol.” Of course the man had branded paracetamol. The 95p boxes of Sainsbury’s own shoved in your kitchen cupboard looked shameful right about now.

“Extra strength. And that rapid relief ibuprofen.”

“You brought painkillers with you on holiday?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for a long time. Hangovers need encouragement to get fucked.”

You raised a sceptic brow. “And here I thought some magical mystery Nutri-Bullet recipe would be your saviour.”

“Funny.” He muttered.

Huh. How unlike him not to shove a witty rebuttal at you.

“Do you need help getting up or are you just gonna sit on the floor all day?”

Your scowl returned. “I’m fine.”

On shaky legs and with a fuzzy head, you grabbed the side of the bed and hauled yourself up. You weren’t sure if the sudden ringing in your ears was something you should be worried about, but you persisted.

Once sat, Harry handed you the tablet boxes and fetched a glass of water for you while you thumbed out two of each.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Please and thank you in the space of ten minutes?” He goaded. “Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“My parents didn’t raise me in a barn.”

He stood with his broad arms folded across his chest while he watched you swallow down four tablets, face a mishmash of irritation and something else. You refused to believe it was concern so you attributed it to frustration. You were just ruining his holiday the same way he was ruining yours.

You decided to finish the water, and then Harry took the boxes and the glass from you. You laid back down, shielding the room and your eyes with your arms.

“Sure you don’t need a hospital?” His voice was far away.

“Yes. I just need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t answer, and you were thankful. Any more talking and your head might have exploded.

~

You’d fallen asleep. While you hadn’t intended to, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the respite. There was no way you would’ve been able to do anything on zero hours sleep, so a few was better than nothing.

You sat up, noticing that you’d corrected yourself direction-wise on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You must’ve done it subconsciously.

The cabin was quiet. Almost eerily so. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. The only sign that he’d been there at all was his own suitcase tucked away in the corner. No sound came from the bathroom, and all you could hear outside was birds.

Birds. Not rain.

You scrambled out of bed towards the front door and hauled it open, but it was locked. Harry had locked you in. You found the key your brother had left for you on the table and put it to use.

It was glorious outside. Not a cloud in the sky, blue everywhere, green even more so. And it was warm. Summer dress warm. Your feet itched to go outside, but you knew you needed to take it easy. The headache hadn’t completely subsided, but it was tolerable. Barely there. A shower and some food would fix it.

You closed the door and locked it again, determined to start your day. Steadily.

You were about to head straight for the shower when you noticed it. A brown paper bag trapped under a pretty mug, and a jar of instant coffee wedged inside it. The mug lived here - you recognised it from Holly’s old flat. But the greasy brown bag did not. You noticed the letters GF scrawled on the front.

He remembered.

Warning bells started screaming inside your head as you plucked the bag out and opened it up. The smell of cooled buttery pastry wafted from inside, and you pulled out the biggest croissant you’d ever seen.

The message was clear as day. Eat and get some caffeine in you.

This was bad. Angry Harry you could deal with any day of the week at any time of day. You could even cope with jester Harry, because you gave just as good as you got. But this? Base-level concern? It threw you for a loop.

Regardless, you were starving. So you boiled the kettle and made your coffee just how you like it as you tore off pieces of pastry and gobbled it down. While you waited for your coffee to cool once your croissant was demolished, you took a quick shower.

Half an hour later you were out the door and feeling a hell of a lot better than you had done for weeks. You wandered down into the village, the sun a glowing comfort on your bare skin.

You had a mission today: alternative accommodation.

You kept an eye on your phone for patches of signal, and called your brother whenever you found some. He never answered. Part of you wondered if he was ignoring you, and if that was the case you were going to have a very big problem. He only ignored you if he was avoiding you.

And that wasn’t even your biggest problem.

“I’m sorry, we’re full.” The receptionist at the final B&B said with barely an ounce of emotion.

“The sign outside said you had vacancies.”

“I just sold the last one over the phone. Haven’t had time to change it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

You fought a petulant sigh. “Do you know where else I can stay? I’ve tried every B&B here and no one has any vacancies.”

“Why don’t you try an AirBnB.” She suggested with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “You young people seem to love those.”

Ah, so this was a territorial issue. You gave her a flat glare and left without another word.

Yet again, you found yourself in a rut. Your good mood had been successfully wiped away. Maybe you would check AirBnB, but the thought of spending another obscene amount on accommodation filled you with a sickly feeling.

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

Holly went quiet for a minute, and you realised you’d earned the attention of a few passers by. You sat down on a nearby bench, wary of the throb in your head getting worse.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked.

That set you off. You launched into your shitty day from yesterday, from the car breakdown to the taxi driver to hitting your head this morning. Words without breath had never left you so fast and the feeling you were rewarded with after was less than satisfactory. Deflation. Sadness.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going.” You were certain she was lying about that last sentence but you didn’t interrupt her. “I’ll get in touch with Harry and tell him to rein it in.”

“I don’t need you to curb the man on my behalf, Hol. I can handle him myself. I just… I really wish he wasn’t here.”

“Do you want me to make him leave?”

A rare sight of guilt crept its way into the centre of your stomach. You battled the urge to say yes, because you knew if Holly asked him to, he would absolutely go. “No… hardly fair. He was here first.”

“Yeah but I bet you would’ve been if all those things didn’t go wrong yesterday.”

You grunted. You were supposed to arrive just before 9am yesterday morning, not close to 11pm. “Don’t make him leave. I’m a bitch but I’m not a complete cunt.”

“You’re not either of those things by any stretch. My friend just happens to know how to really rattle your cage.”

Ain’t that the truth. “I’m trying to find a B&B or something but they’re all full.”

“Oh, please don’t spend more money.”

“I can’t stay in your cabin, Hol. I didn’t sleep last night and that man does not know how to share a queen bed.”

“It’s actually a three-quarter bed.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned.

“Look, we wanted it to be as spacious as possible there. We didn’t anticipate two people who claim to hate each other having to share it. It’s for cuddling.”

That urge to smack someone reared its ugly head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She laughed from the back of her throat, and as irritated as you were it did make you smile. “Take a long walk, babe. If you’re in the village there’s a great ice cream place near the church that’ll make you forget all about He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can say Harry, for fuck’s sake.”

She screamed as if she’d been burned, teasing you.

“Shut up.” You actually managed to laugh. “Fine. I’ll go find some ice cream. But if they’ve got WiFi I will absolutely be looking for an AirBnB.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Do me a favour and tell my brother to stop being a wuss.”

“Oh, come on, you know he can’t handle your wrath. You can tell him yourself, anyway.”

You started looking around to see if they’d actually come up and were just loitering nearby to piss you off.

“What?”

“We were going to surprise you but I think you might murder us if we did. We’re on our way to you. My Nanna will be coming, too - we’ve got a table booked at the pub in the village.”

Unbelievable. “You little minx.” 

One of the reasons Holly and your brother bought a holiday home in Scotland was to be able to spend more time with Holly’s family. While she grew up in London and has never left it, her mum’s side of the family are all in Scotland.

Holly giggled, obviously delighted with herself. “Sorry. We’re set to arrive in about two hours.”

“But where are you staying?”

“My Nan’s house.”

“Not got a spare room, has she?” You mumbled.

“I know you don’t mean that, but she doesn’t. We’re staying on her pullout.”

“Damn.”

“We’re gonna go straight there and then come to you afterwards, alright?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from your bench. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

“Byeee!”

You were already making a beeline for the ice cream shop by the time she put the phone down.

It was a cute little parlour, like something straight out of a movie. Retro tiles covered the walls and floor in pinks and yellows, two long display freezers to the left full to the brim with every single flavour one could ever imagine. Tables spread across the right and spilled onto the street, and booths in the corner each had a miniature jukebox on top.

“How can I help you?” A man behind the counter asked, dressed in a full uniform complete with the little hat.

“Hi, um,” you gave him the best smile you could, even if you were overwhelmed, “do you have any gluten free cones?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the stand on the top with a variety of cones, from small to ridiculously large in size, “just this one.”

The cone in question was the most pathetic-looking of them all. You did your absolute best to hide your disappointment. “Great, then I’ll have one of those. Chocolate, please.”

“Which type?” He lifted a brow.

You realised then that there were about ten different chocolate flavours. “Er… which is the best one in your opinion?”

That perked him up. He spent the next five minutes listing off reasons why the chocolate and hazelnut flavour was his most popular of all his options.

“I guess that’s the one I want, then.” You forced another smile.

“Coming right up.”

Something made you shiver, but it wasn’t a gust of wind or the freezers you stood by.

“At least try and act like you’re excited about it.” A deep voice murmured, far too close to your ear for your liking.

You practically hissed and took a very purposeful step away. “Jesus, Harry.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t spiteful like it usually would be. “Only you could make ice cream seem rubbish.”

“I don’t think ice cream is rubbish,” Was your only retort. You just wished gluten free cones didn’t look so fucking sad.

The owner handed you your cone and you paid him in cash. “Do you have WiFi in here?”

“Sure. Password’s on the wall up there.” He pointed at a laminated sign, and then turned his attention to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that guy?”

Your cue to leave.

While Harry had an awkward conversation with the parlour owner about which guy he was, you connected to the internet and took a seat on the patio outside with your back to the sun. A satisfied hum left you at the warmth on your skin. You concentrated on demolishing your ice cream before you made a mess of yourself.

Unfortunately, Harry decided today wasn’t the day he was going to leave you alone. He sat down opposite you with a three-flavour cone, the colours unsettlingly unnatural. He looked uncomfortable, and this time it wasn’t because of you.

“What on Earth is that?”

“This is a masterpiece.” At least he could still behave like an idiot even when he’d been ‘spotted’.

“It looks disgusting.”

You watched him with a deep-seated discomfort as he shamelessly licked around his cone. Unfiltered moans came out of his mouth, but you were certain he was acting up for your benefit.

“What flavours are they?” You just had to ask.

“Mint chocolate, bubblegum and ginger.”

“Ginger?” You almost choked on a hazelnut. “Sir, you have a serious problem.”

He laughed again, that same obnoxiously easy sound as before. “Did you just call me sir?”

“I did and I immediately regret it.”

He made a noise, an amused squeak of sorts. “Why did you look so horrified by yours, anyway?”

You shifted in your chair, having just popped the end of the cone in your mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the owner wasn’t listening, pleased to find him distracted by a large family. “The gluten free options for cones was utter shite.”

“How so?”

“Well, he only had one type, and it was poxy as shit.”

He snorted. “I thought it looked small. I don’t imagine it being a lot of fun.”

You were immediately reminded of the croissant he’d picked up for you. You knew that you needed to say thank you, even if it did feel like taking a punch in the gut. “Thank you for the pastry.”

He paused mid-lick as if you’d just spoken a foreign language. He looked ridiculous and almost child-like, green eyes wide and pupils so narrow thanks to the sun they were barely visible. He rescued a drip before he made a mess. “Welcome. How is your…” he tapped his temple.

“Yeah, better.”

“Good.”

You returned to silence, and you got busy looking for a new place to stay. The options were… lacking. You knew the decision to go away during the school holidays would be a silly one anyway, but you wanted the heat. You wanted a summer holiday. Not a cold and wet one. But at such late notice in an area with limited options to begin with, all that was really left were large houses for groups of ten or places miles and miles away that would cost yet more money to travel to. The only other thing you could think of was buying a tent and pitching up on a nearby campsite, but you fucking hated tents and camping.

As time wore on and Harry’s ice cream disappeared, you noticed him growing more restless. You glanced up a couple of times to find him with his head down, but you eventually figured out the source of his discomfort. He was shooting looks at something over your shoulder while constantly readjusting his ball cap.

You straightened in your seat and twisted yourself slightly to get a better look.

“Don’t turn around.” He muttered without looking at you.

You frowned. “Why?”

He never gave you an answer so you did it anyway. A couple of tables over someone was doing a very bad job at hiding their phone.

For God’s sake. 

“Do you want to swap seats?” You offered.

He gave you a startled look, and admittedly you were surprised at your own suggestion. “No.”

“You sure? The back of your head is way less appealing than the front of it.”

You could see the confusion spread across his face and you wished immediately that you could take your words back. He was too wound up to mention it now, but you knew he definitely would in the future.

“They’ve already got about fifteen minutes worth of pictures, there’s no point moving now.” He huffed and readjusted the hat on his head once more, eyes downcast.

You pursed your lips in thought. After a moment you readjusted your seat so that you were hopefully positioned right in the way. Harry gave you a blank look, eyes still darting to the people behind you.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly.”

You knew what he meant. He shouldn’t have to leave just because other people didn’t know how to behave like normal human beings.

A minute later the table behind you stood and left, so something had at least worked.

“Thank you.” He said it so quietly you nearly missed it. “Your lack of subtlety was almost entertaining.”

You weren’t offended by that. You hadn’t meant to be subtle. “I know we don’t get on but I respect your privacy. You should’ve asked them to delete it.”

“Then it just makes me look like a prick.”

“But you are a prick.”

He broke into another laugh. That laugh that held no malice or spite. The one he’d only debuted today. Then he slid back to stoicism. “I’ll be all over the Daily Mail again tomorrow anyway.”

Something weird happened. Anger materialised in your chest, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in the slightest. What was unusual was that it came on Harry’s behalf. Usually you felt this way because of Harry, not for him.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, Harry.”

“Not when you’re me, it isn’t.”

“It is when people don’t know how to set boundaries.”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.” He readjusted his cap again and sunk further into his seat. “Not the first time I’ve been spotted on holiday.”

“With a mystery woman, no less.”

He snorted. “Sorry in advance.”

“For what?”

“You’re about to become the most interesting person on the planet. I’d privatise your Instagram.”

“It already is. Nor is it very interesting.”

“Just… I don’t know. I know what they’re like.”

“You think I give a shit what a bunch of people on the internet think about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Have I ever given a shit what anyone else has thought about me?”

He tipped his head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s their boundaries I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be. If those pictures do make it anywhere, I’ll have no problem telling the next person to fuck off if it comes to it.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Then I really hope for their sake that there isn’t a next time.”

~

You hadn’t left the parlour until you’d come up with a solution to your living arrangement. It took longer than you’d like, but eventually you settled for the only option; in two weeks you’d let Harry have the cabin and move into an AirBnB a few towns over. A bungalow this time with a very big bed. You’d had to fork out a deposit since it was a booking of more than 7 nights, which put another lovely dent in your bank balance. You were really trying not to think about it. 

Harry hadn’t passed comment when you told him. He just gave a blank stare and a curt nod, which was very unlike him. When it came to you, he’d never had any problem parting with his opinions.

You’d been ambushed on your way back to the cabin by your brother and Holly. After changing and freshening up you all walked down to the pub together to meet Holly’s Nanna. You had met her at the wedding but only briefly. Your brother and Holly’s special day had been somewhat dampened by the fact that Harry materialised again whenever you forgot about him and ended up drinking yourself into an early bedtime. The next morning you were rewarded with the worst hangover of your entire life.

Nanna was amazing. One of those larger than life women who weren’t afraid to drop the c word a couple of times without so much as batting an eyelid, and using Malibu as an excuse for a good time. You’d been seated on a round table which relieved you to no end. You were sandwiched between Nanna and your brother which meant there was a decent amount of distance between you and Harry.

“I need you to tell me something.” Nanna patted your arm, giving you her full attention.

It was like being addressed by royalty. “Anything.”

“I hear there’s a story about your brother involving nappies and toothpaste. A serial offence. He won’t tell me and Holly conveniently doesn’t know about it.”

You gave your brother a look.

“Please don’t.” He begged.

“But Nanna asked so nicely.”

“You’re about to embarrass me in front of the man I work for?”

You don’t look at Harry. “It’s not like you haven’t managed that all by yourself on previous occasions.”

“Yeah, don’t stop on my account.” Harry coughed, battling laughter.

“Great, we’re all on the same page.” You grinned. You turned back to Nanna, “Once upon a time, my little brother had to sleep in a crib and wear nappies just like all the other babies. He was cute, it should be said. I have a picture on my phone somewhere of him running around the garden with no clothes on.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat with a scowl. Holly gave him a patronising pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway, beside the point. Like most toddlers he was an absolute tyrant, compared to me - I was an angel.”

“Hard to believe.” Harry muttered.

“Aye,” Nanna shot him a look. She’d been smitten with him all night until that point.

“Don’t worry about it - we’re in an ongoing feud.” You brushed the matter away and continued with your story. “During his reign of tyranny, he adopted a very obscure but passionate obsession with toothpaste. Colgate Cool Stripe only - no other product lived up to his expectations. It all started when, one day, our mother accidentally used adult toothpaste instead of the toddler stuff. An uphill battle began.

“Any time he had to clean his teeth, he’d try and use Colgate instead of the kiddy stuff, and mum or dad would fight with him until he surrendered in a screaming fit and had a toothbrush forced into his face hole.”

Someone sniggered, and your chest inflated. Making people laugh had always pleased you.

“His addiction got so bad, one night he managed to escape from his cot and into Mum and Dad’s bathroom. They found him on the floor with an empty tube and Colgate smushed all over his cute little face. Hours later he had a terrible accident. I won’t go into graphic detail since we’ve just had our dinner.”

Nanna started laughing, a throaty and hoarse sound. Given the amount of times she’d excused herself for a cigarette, you attributed that habit to the unique noise. “And this happened more than once?”

You nodded. “They tried locking it in the cabinet a few times, but he’d always find it. Eventually they changed tactics and just bought Aquafresh instead.”

Nanna hummed and gave him a pointed look. “I’ve always thought you were a picky bastard.”

“Nanna,” Holly gasped, shaking with laughter. She leaned her forehead against her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t be that picky if I ended up with your granddaughter.”

Holly threw her hands up. “Does anyone else want to bully me today? Between that and being called very stupid I think I might have room for one more insult.”

“Your shoes don’t go with your dress.” Nanna said.

After a beat of silence, the table erupted into laughter.

The waiter returned to offer dessert, which you would usually forego since pubs rarely tended to offer gluten free choices without putting up a fight. You’d learned to live a sad, dessert-less existence. But everyone else was having one so you succumbed to peer pressure.

“What ice cream flavours do you have?”

“For the sundae?” The young girl asked with a confused frown.

“No, I’m coeliac so I can’t have it.”

“Oh,” her cheeks turned pink, which was not your intention, “sorry. Um, just the usual flavours, then.”

Neopolitan.

“Great, can I have two scoops of chocolate.”

“Sure.”

She was very quick to hurry off. Something bothered you about that whole exchange but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Aren’t you bored of chocolate ice cream?” Harry asked, but he was fiddling with his napkin rather than looking at you.

“Never.”

Holly kicked his leg under the table but you pretended not to notice.

After the bill was settled, which Harry tried to sneak off and pay for without telling anyone, you bid goodbye to each other and sent your brother, Holly and Nanna off together in a taxi. The waitress hadn’t stopped giving you wary glances ever since you asked for ice cream, and you still couldn’t place what went wrong. You might have been a little short with her but it wasn’t meant with any malice.

It didn’t really dawn on you what was wrong until you were walking up the hill to the cabin with Harry.

A curdling feeling in your stomach had you feeling very queasy very quickly.

“Oh no.” You mumbled, keeping your gaze on the grass below you. Your vision swung and you struggled to keep your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning back to you. He’d been a couple of metres ahead of you for the entire walk so you didn’t have to force a conversation.

You sat down on the grass to keep yourself gravitated, but it was no good. You weren’t nauseous because you were dizzy, you were dizzy because you were sick.

You spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the bushes.

Harry had kept a relative distance from you while you were sick, only handing you a bottle of water when you seemed to give up the last of your stomach contents and take a big breath.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a cautious voice.

Unattractively, you swilled your mouth out and then necked the remaining contents of the bottle. “Yeah, fine.”

“What happened?”

“I think something went wrong at dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

You gave him a levelled look, trying to communicate with your eyes. It seemed like a ridiculous idea considering you could barely communicate together with words, let alone silent glances.

“Ah… did it say gluten free on the menu?”

You nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

You shook your head. Sometimes you liked to put faith in humanity and believe you’d be fine putting yourself in the hands of others. When you were dining with practical strangers, making a fuss about your condition made you feel like a twat, so you kept quiet about it. Now you wish you’d said something.

“Are you gonna make a complaint?”

You shook your head furiously and readjusted yourself to sit back on your arse rather than your knees. “Happens all the time, sadly.”

“That girl knew they’d fucked up, didn’t she?”

“You saw that?”

“I saw you looking at her a lot after the ice cream thing.”

You made a strange noise. “It is what it is. I don’t blame her for not saying anything. For all she knows I could be going home unscathed.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not into making a scene.”

“You could’ve been seriously ill.”

“I know that.”

“If you don’t tell them they fucked up, how are they going to know to stop it from happening to someone else in the future?”

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. You and Harry had made progress today, on some weird level, but this was not part of that progress. “Fine. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.”

“Leave it alone, Harry!” You finally snapped. “How I handle my health issues is none of your fucking business, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s like to have them. Just drop it.”

His jaw ticked. “Fine.”

He disappeared up the hill and into the cabin without so much as another word.

You collapsed onto your back and let a tight sob wrack through you.

You contemplated what the fuck you were doing. This holiday had been nothing but a shit show from start to day 2 and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You should’ve gone home this morning. You’d refused to quit so early on given how long it had been since you had any real time off, but the universe was clearly working against you and you wished you hadn’t bothered.

As it always did, a second round of vomiting ensued, and you were back on your hands and knees hacking up bile while your stomach protested. You cried more as you threw up.

As the convulsions subsided you collapsed onto your back again, but the smell of it was starting to affect you. Slowly, you stood on shaky legs and attempted to make your way up to the cabin.

You hadn’t realised, but Harry was standing at the top of the hill wearing a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. When you caught sight of him you were ashamed. You knew what he’d said came from a good place, but it just really ground your gears when people who had no idea what it was like tried to tell you how to handle it.

He made his way back to you and silently placed his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t work out if the trembling from you was because of that or because you were just sick.

“How much more did you see?” You asked, helpless.

He gave you a startled look, like he was shocked to hear you so vulnerable. “Enough.”

You sighed and kept your gaze on the floor, trying not to fall over.

“Do you have any medication or anything?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”

Once you got to the cabin you headed straight for the bathroom and changed into your pyjamas. You then poured yourself a glass of water and took it to bed with you. You were asleep within seconds.

~

You slept through the night that night. When you woke you felt a shit-ton better than you had the night before, and it left you with a smile on your face. You wriggled your legs and toes underneath the sheets and stretched your arms.

You realised the bed was empty, but when you peeled an eye open it was obvious Harry had slept on his side at some point. You sat up to an empty room. There was no sign of Harry, again.

You didn’t know much about Harry’s daily routine but you would put money on him being an early morning runner. You shivered at the thought.

He appeared whilst you were in the middle of your second round of toast. It was the only thing you could think to try and stomach after yesterday’s disaster. Harry was in regular clothes, not running attire. You owed yourself a fiver.

“Ah,” he paused at the sight of you eating toast, and limply lifted his hand. The same greasy brown paper bag rustled in his grip.

“Don’t be shy.” You patted the table after swallowing your mouthful. “I’ll still eat it.”

“You’re that hungry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to empty your entire stomach contents.”

His nose wrinkled. “Right.”

You took a sip of coffee while he made himself comfortable in the seat opposite you. 

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I slept the night through and didn’t hit my head this morning which is a major improvement on yesterday.”

“That’s something. Do you feel right enough to go out?”

“If I weren’t on holiday I’d be right back to work, Harry. No rest for the wicked and all.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Okay. I was gonna go down to the lake… it’s really warm out.”

“Are you telling me, or is that an invitation?”

He picked his pastry apart. “Both? I don’t know, it might do you some good.”

Concern? From your nemesis? This was bad. “Oh, don’t go coy on me, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth lifted at the corner for the shortest fraction of a second.

“Is it pebbly or sandy?”

An olive branch.

“Both?”

The worst kind of lake beach, then. “The type that calls for a special type of shoe.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“It’s fine. We make do.” You pronounced, and stood from the table with your dirty things. “Give me 20 minutes and we’ll go.”

~

“That alright?”

You peered up at the man blocking the sun with a pinched look. He stood before you in a faded white t-shirt and board shorts, holding an ice cream cone with a single chocolate scoop on top.

“As long as it’s the right cone, it’s perfect.”

“I double checked.” He promised as he handed it to you, and then sat with his own.

This was day four on the beach by the lake. While you and Harry spent the time there together, you did your own thing. He spent most of his time in the water like a fucking fish, and you spent yours on a towel with a book and enough food to feed the 5,000.

You’d found a tolerable medium with Harry. In the day you gave each other your needed space, and at night time you tried not to touch each other in bed. Or smother each other. So far it had worked well.

You hadn’t seen Holly or your brother since that night at dinner. They’d actually been visiting for a relative’s birthday party and had already gone home, leaving you and Harry to suffer together.

“I think you’re running low on your special bread.”

You snorted and covered your mouth. ‘Special bread’ made you sound like some kind of escaped lunatic.

“I don’t know why I said it like that.” Harry shook his head. “But the fact remains.”

“We’re running low on a lot.”

“Maybe we should go shopping.”

You groaned. This is what your life had come to: grocery shopping with a celebrity.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

“Where even is the nearest supermarket?”

“I don’t know - I went shopping on the way here.”

“So did I.”

Has there ever been a more ridiculous conversation?

Harry found his phone and checked for signal, soon letting out a soft sigh. “Five weeks without WiFi was a stupid idea.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You decided to check a map on the notice board outside the public toilets on the lake site and decided there must be a supermarket in the nearest town. Harry drove you out into the Scottish countryside following his sat-nav’s directions to the closest town.

It was a little odd being in the same car as him. While your brother’s work relationship and subsequent marriage had brought him into your life for many a family gathering, you’d never found yourself in quite such a confined space as this. Apart from the bed situation. You were certain he was being quiet on your behalf, because silence was better than small talk. The decision to go shopping had proven that much.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered the second you entered the supermarket.

You followed his nervous gaze to a man with a camera doing a shitty job at hiding. “Go back to the car if you want to.”

“Hardly fair.”

“Being uncomfortable isn’t fair.” You insisted. “Go take a drive and be back here in half an hour. I don’t mind.”

He sighed and handed you the list you’d prepared before leaving. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, please don’t use this opportunity to abandon me here.”

He smirked. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his card. “Use that.”

You frowned at it, and then him in turn. “I don’t mind paying for it.”

“Pay with my card and then send me half when you find signal or internet or whatever.” He turned away, but threw, “Half an hour,” over his shoulder.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself. Now you weren’t grocery shopping with a celebrity, you were using one’s credit card.

Before you started your shopping, you had one more thing you had to do. Stalking the man who was stalking your reluctant companion was easy because he didn’t try very hard to be subtle. You tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around with a bewildered look on his face. “Yes?”

“Delete them.”

~

True to his word, Harry returned half an hour later with a confusing smile. “Guess what I found.”

You let him take the bags out of your hands to shove them in the boot of his car. “What?”

“A fucking Costa.”

“No way…”

“Yes way.” He grinned.

“Where?”

“Literally around the corner.” He thumbed in that general direction. “I got two ‘cause I didn’t know which one you liked.”

“As long as it’s got coffee in it, I’ll consume it.”

Sure enough, two starkly different iced coffees sat in the cup holders in his central console. 

“Which one do you want?” You asked. He did buy them after all.

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

“Please pick one.”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Fine.” He plucked one at random and started drinking as he pulled off. “Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” And you meant it, too.

Silence settled between you again as you slurped away at your coffee. It was comfortable this time. You put the window down and stuck your arm out to feel the breeze through your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder how we got so…”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, but he never finished his sentence. “What?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, Harry.” You poked his arm. “You’ve never been one to mince your words in front of me before. Don’t start now.”

His lips twitched with a smile, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A kind of sad contemplation. “I don’t want to ruin a rare nice day.”

Now you were the one struggling to find words. Animosity was just the default practice for you and Harry when you were around each other. After so many years of battling over often ridiculous things, he was right. This was a rare nice day. You hadn’t argued once. Come to think of it, you hadn’t argued at all since the day you were sick. That little spat on the hill was the last one.

But curiosity ate away at you. What was he going to say that had the potential to ruin your good time? Knowing Harry, it could be any number of things.

“I promise I won’t lose my shit if you tell me.”

His face lit up with amusement, but he never laughed. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Right there, in that single moment, you were reminded just why the world had an obsession with the man sitting beside you. Even in the blandest setting, Harry Styles looked like the man who would promise you everything you’ve ever wanted and be able to deliver it to you. The man who held enough charisma both on and off stage for a hundred other men. The man with pretty eyes and pretty pink lips. The man who looked damn good whether he was clean-shaven or harbouring two weeks of scruff like he was now. The man who would spoil you to no end, who would give you a life of comfort and stability, who would drop everything at a second’s notice to be yours. Fuck, he looked like the man who might even die for you.

You’d seen Harry in love and the man gave his whole fucking heart and soul to the person he was with. His inherent attractiveness was just a bonus.

“Tell me, please.” You tried again.

He considered it for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Eventually he sighed, “Do you ever wonder how things managed to get so bad? Between us?”

Ah.

A loaded question, indeed.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

He glanced your way, jaw suddenly tense. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to wonder about it because I haven’t forgotten at all how we did.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the most honest woman I know.”

You were biding your time, mulling over your response. Perhaps this would ruin your nice day, but this was the most open conversation the two of you were ever going to have. Not talking about it would be both a missed opportunity and a disservice to yourself.

“Okay. You’re not going to like it, though.”

“I didn’t expect to.”

You took a deep breath. “The first time I met you didn’t go at all how I expected it to. In hindsight I guess, to you, I would’ve just been a footnote. Your friends have other friends you probably meet all the time and I was just one of the next hundred. Holly and my brother had only just started dating, but Holly and I got on so well we started doing things together as friends without him. She invited me to lunch with… you know, the usual suspects.”

He nodded once, slowly. The usual suspects he wasn’t speaking to anymore for various different reasons. You didn’t keep tabs on Harry’s life by choice, but Holly and the internet provided more about it than you cared for.

“Maybe you were just young. Or maybe there was something different that I just missed or didn’t understand, but you weren’t at all like I expected you to be. Everyone - my brother, Holly, my parents -, everyone said you were amazing. ‘The nicest boy you’ll ever meet’. And sure, you were nice. Charming, even. And you had everyone’s undivided attention, including Holly’s. And mine. But Holly’s more so.

“That girl loves you. And I watched her love you up close and personal and it was amazing and beautiful and I really wanted her to give just even a portion of that love to my brother. And she did, but it didn’t come without a fight.

“I didn’t care that you spent most of that lunch ignoring everyone else at the table. Or maybe I did. I just knew that you only cared about Holly’s undivided attention and she had no quarrels giving it to you. There was a time I thought you might be secretly in love with each other,” you laughed at the reminder because it seemed stupid now, “but when I brought it up with her she laughed so hard she cried and then pretended to vomit.”

“Damn,” Harry produced an offended laugh. “Didn’t know I was that repulsive.”

“Anyway, it didn’t stop her from loving you. Never has. Soon after, I spent a week with her and my brother in Spain on some all-inclusive thing. Before you ask, I was forced to go. Being a third-wheel is absolutely not my style.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think it sounded like you.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Anyway, I watched Holly send constant photos, messages, gifs, any and all digital media to you while we were on that holiday, cataloguing the entire thing. I don’t think you realise how many times I heard oh Harry’s gonna love this. But what got me is you never replying to her. Not once. Her phone screen was just a sea of blue messages against a backdrop of silence. At one point I considered she’d got the wrong number, but then you texted her the day we left with something really dull and generic and I really wanted to hit you.”

“I don’t remember this at all.” He admitted, face paled.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a busy man. I reminded myself of that a lot to start off with, but the whole thing became a recurring pattern. Maybe you think I’m stupid and it’s a bit of an overreaction for it, but I’m quite observant when I want to be. You’re Holly’s best friend, even if she’s not yours. Every time she says it, it’s like she’s been given the greatest gift in the entire world. And she’s such a bright, incredible person. She’s my best friend. Not just because she’s married to my brother, but because she’s the best person I’ve ever met and nothing will ever change that.

“Over the years I’ve watched countless messages and phone calls from her to you go unanswered, seen her face turn down with sadness when you don’t call her back or text out a reply. She deserves more than that. 

“I’ve noticed you do it to my brother, too. I know he works for you so maybe it’s not the same, but it’s safe to say that in their house, Harry Styles isn’t a name that lights up their phone screens very often. Ever.”

Harry fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. “All this time I thought I’d done something to you.”

“No. Worse. You continually managed to upset my best friend, even if you didn’t know it, and in turn you upset me.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to, Harry. She’ll never admit that she’s hurt by your silence because she doesn’t want to lose you. This is why we’re so very different. I don’t hang around for people who don’t appreciate the good they have in their life. I’m a good person, and Holly is an even better one. She deserves more than your attention when she’s only sat in front of you.”

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

His lips twitched again. “The next time I’m in the village with signal I’ll call her. Promise.”

“Don’t promise me. Promise yourself, and her. One day she might snap and decide she doesn’t want to wait for months at a time to hear from you. Because hearing about you through my brother doesn’t count.”

“I know. I get it, I really do…”

“Good. Now, my turn.” You let out a long breath and turned in your seat. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you-,”

“You called me both insufferable and intolerable in the space of five minutes when I got here.”

“Let me finish.” He said, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, I’m scared of you.”

“Calling someone intolerable because you’re scared of them doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. While perhaps you were right, at first I thought you were just another friend of a friend who’d made an appearance for uncertain reasons, it became apparent very quickly that you weren’t going anywhere. It also became very apparent that you were not my biggest fan. That first lunch was one of a kind because you barely said a word. Every other time after that, which I now realise happened to be family-oriented, you hardly shut up.

“I’ve always noticed it. You command the attention of everyone in the room. You’re a storyteller. You could turn an anecdote about a trip to the petrol station into a fairytale. You give everyone in the room your undivided attention, and when I realised you never gave it to me, well… safe to say I was wounded. Holly talked you up to high heaven. Your brother loves you. My own mother loves you even though we don’t get on.

“There’s something about you. And the fact that the only attention you ever gave me was a dirty look or a snippy remark made me petty. So I started giving it back, and I think the more I did it, the more I lost sight of the kind of person you actually are, because I only focused on the side you showed to me.”

He turned into the driveway of the cabin, and you thought he was done. But when the engine shut off, he said one last thing.

“In one of your many little outbursts you said I’ve got a severe case of oosoom syndrome. I never bothered to look it up because I didn’t want to know what kind of idiot you thought I was, but it’s just clicked.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nodded and turned to you with a calm gaze. “I get it now.” He wasn’t just talking about the idiom.

“Good.”

~

The rain was back and heavier than ever. The ground surrounding the cabin was a swamp, the hill that led down to the village was indiscernible thanks to the downpour, and the day was dark and moody. Inside the cabin it was muggy and humid and you felt ridiculous sitting at the dining table in a vest and denim shorts, but you were.

Harry sitting opposite you looked more rugged than usual. His hair was pulled back with a clip, his stubble was shifting into a beard and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hmm…” He gave an obnoxious tap on his chin.

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the seat. “Just put me out of my misery and show me your cards.”

He laughed, peering at you with a lightness in his eyes that was so unfamiliar it almost had you shell shocked. “Fine.” He placed his hand on the table showcasing his win.

It was day three of this charade. It hadn’t stopped raining and all you’d done was cycle between card games and Monopoly. He always won. You were so fed up of him winning that this was the last straw.

You stood and swiped his hand off the table so that they landed in a flurry on the wooden cabin floor. 

“Hey…” he pouted.

“That was childish of me, I’m sorry.” You groaned, and crouched down to pick them up. “I’m so bored, Harry. I think I’m going mad. We don’t even have a TV. We’re in the middle of nowhere with a pack of cards missing the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts and an old beat up Monopoly box with half the properties missing.”

He blinked at me. “I know this. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“Sorry.” You muttered. “When I’m frustrated I just state the obvious.”

“But I thought that was my job.”

You rolled your head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I need to do something. Anything. I don’t want to sit in here anymore. I need air.”

“It’s pissing it down.”

“I’m aware. You have a car… just humour me for a bit. An hour tops.”

“You want me to drive you around for an hour? In a smaller space than we’re already in?”

“Okay, fine,” you sat back down in your chair and attempted to plead with the normal side of him, the non-celebrity side, “what if… when me and my brother were little and we went away with Mum and Dad, if the weather was crap like this we’d get in the car and drive to the nearest supermarket. And we’d have lunch in the cafe and then do a bit of shopping and then come back. And we’d all get one thing to bide the time before the weather got better again. Why don’t we do that?”

A smile was forming on his lips. “You want to try shopping with me again?”

“That prick and his fancy camera won’t be going back there, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” You patted his hand. “Please, Harry. Rescue me from insanity.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” You stood and clapped your hands together. “I’m gonna change.”

Half an hour later you were back at the supermarket in the town over and ready to find as much new entertainment as possible.

“Do you think we should buy them a TV?” Harry contemplated aloud as he stood in front of a large flatscreen.

You gave him a scrutinous look. “And put it where?”

“Good point.” He sighed. “We’re missing Love Island.”

You barked a laugh and carried it down the aisle with you. “That is not what I expected you to mourn over.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

You found your way to the games and books. “Can we get a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Why are you asking me? Get whatever you want, mate.”

You perused the options with as much interest as a car fanatic in a vintage car garage. “Farmyard or harbour? Or circus? Or mountains?”

“Whichever will keep you occupied for the longest.” He said absently, moving down the aisle to the board games.

The circus one had the most pieces and highest level of difficulty, so you plucked the box off the shelf and followed after him. “Have they got the Game of Life?”

He started laughing but never answered you.

“Oh,” you pouted, tapping the spin-off version that was much shorter and way less entertaining.

“Bop-It?” 

“When I was little I completed that.”

He raised a brow at you. “Can you even complete Bop-It?”

“Yes,” you snatched the box off the shelf, “and I will prove it to you when we get back.”

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered, smirking. “We need an actual board game.”

You gazed over the options with the same level of interest as the jigsaws. “You choose. I’ve picked the last two.”

“Absolutely not, I’ll only pick wrong.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Cluedo.”

“Then get Cluedo.” You pointed at it and walked away.

Two hours later and three books heavier you were back at the cabin and starting your jigsaw puzzle. You and Harry sat on your claimed sides of the table, box lid propped against the window and a selection of snacks between you.

“Where the fuck is the fourth corner?” You grumbled, digging through the box like a cat in a litter tray.

Harry glanced at the box lid, then at the jumbled selection of tiles, and plucked it out without hesitation. “There y’go.”

You blinked at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” You pinched it from him and placed it in the relevant corner. “Thank you.”

“A compliment and gratitude? It is a good day.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I’m not very good at the splits.”

That made you laugh, right from the back of your throat. “Have you tried?”

“Many times.”

“For what purpose?”

“I had a thing for my yoga instructor once and she was convinced I could do it so I kept trying just to impress her.”

“My God, you are a sap.”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to know you failed at something for such a pitiful reason.”

He gave you such a megawatt smile you had to look away. “I’m just like any other boy.”

“I can’t believe you had to try hard to impress anyone. It almost doesn’t seem natural.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“I don’t think you’re a robot. I just think sometimes things seem to come a little too easily to you. Skills. Work. Friends. Women. Probably men, too. Some of us have to try really hard to get those things.”

“You have friends. A good job. And I refuse to believe people aren’t interested in you… romantically.”

You lifted a brow at him. “Refuse?”

“Are they not?”

“Have you ever known me to be ‘romantically’ involved with anyone?”

“Yeah, that lad you took to your brother’s wedding.”

Colin.

“He’s gay.”

“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “I wondered why he kept eyeing up one of the groomsmen. Your cousin?”

“Also gay.”

“Have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Not since school, no.”

“Have you… are you… you know?”

You gave him another raised brow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Just because I haven’t had relationships, doesn’t mean I’m a virgin, Harry.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I think we’ve gone a bit off track here.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He slotted a piece into place next to one of the corners. You slotted another one in after that. The pattern repeated itself, in silence, for the next twenty minutes.

“When do you go to your AirBnB?”

You met his gaze with a calm expression. “Six days. Five nights.”

“Okay.” He said as he stood. “Are you hungry enough for dinner yet?”

“If you are, we can eat.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

~~~

Part 2

Talk to me?

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

Reading & Leeds AU Imagine

Summary: You meet four teenage lads at Leeds Fest in 2007 who change your life forever.

Warnings: Swearing. Vulgar language. Small shite section of smut. One use of y/n near the end. I nearly used my own name but then you can just imagine your own x

Author's Note: Here is the Leeds Fest AU that I've been going on about since the idea popped into my head the morning after I went to Leeds nearly two months ago. I don't think it's very good, definitely not my best work but it's finished I don't have to think about it anymore! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Now got to find motivation to finish my other WIPS that I've abandoned!

Word Count: 6.4K Words

You thought you knew what proud was; there were many moments in your life that you could recall where you felt immense proudness for the four men that made up your best friends. The day they rang you to tell you they had signed their record deal, the day their first EP was released, the day their debut album went to number one, when they sold out Madison Square Garden, the day they first played Reading and Leeds, the first time they headlined Reading and Leeds. The list was endless.

But there was something about the way you felt today that surpassed all of that. Here you were at the side of the main stage at Leeds Festival about to watch your boys headline the festival that started it all. The 1975 was ringing out across the field, the kids were screaming and your heart was hammering in your chest in time with George’s drums as he kicked off The City to the delight of the crowd.

A celebration of the album that they dreamed of making when you met them. A celebration of the album that soundtracked not only the lives of their fans but yours and theirs too. A celebration of the band and every beautiful thing they had achieved in the past ten years surrounded by those they loved and those who loved them the most.

You had told Matty that you were unsure you’d make it today due to a work situation that had popped up which had sent him into a tizzy this morning because you had never missed a performance of theirs at Leeds, despite being at Reading with them just the night before but you couldn’t cancel this important meeting in London called by your manager late last night when you returned from Reading and you weren’t sure if you’d make it in time to see them back up North.

“But you have to be there darling. This is our thing!”He had huffed, as you reached for him and pulling him into your arms as you went to say goodbye.“Leeds is ours! Not Reading. Leeds! You have to be there.” He huffed.

He made your heart hurt as his lip quivered as he watched you hug the other boys and the thought of him being upset made you even more determined to make sure you were side of that stage in time for the opening bars of The City.

You watched as he ran about the stage, singing his little heart out. The kids screaming the words to The City back at the band. George had already sent you a smirk from his seat behind the box knowing fine well Matty would lose his shit when he clocked eyes on you. You looked out towards the audience; the excitement on their faces as they sung every word before turning to look back at your boys. Your hand immediately reaching to touch  your box tattoo that sat on your thumb (matching with your friend behind the drum kit) as your heart soared with happiness for them. 

When you looked up you found Ross with his eyes on you. A soft smile on his handsome face, your eyes locked on to one another for a brief moment that was abruptly interrupted by the roar of applause from the fans when the first song came to an end. 

Bringing your hands to your mouth you cheered as loudly as you could; your laugh a sound Matty would recognise anywhere had him snapping his head in your direction. The moment he clapped eyes on you; he was beaming! His eyes bright and his smile even brighter knowing his best friend had made it. Pointing at you with a cheeky grin, he pulled the mic to his mouth quickly so you could hear him.

“Fucking knew you’d make it darling! This one is for you!” He announced as the intro to M.O.N.E.Y (one of your favourites) started up to more roars of noise.  

2007

Leeds Festival was directly sewn into the DNA of your friendship with the group of teenage boys who went on to be the band The 1975. Having being the place you had met all those many moons ago when headlining the festival was only a dream for them. Now they were about to headline the festival for the third time in four years and proud didn’t even cut it for how you felt for those boys.

You weren’t sure how your life would have turned out if you hadn’t met them the summer of 2007 or if you had simply set up your tent next to somebody else but you were forever grateful for your cousin and “friends" (at the time) for dragging you along because your life was enriched in every aspect because of them.

Trekking through the fields to find your camp sight was proving difficult when your cousin and his mates were pissing about and collectively had about two braincells between them. So you took it upon yourself to march ahead and find the nearest available space and dumping your tent and rucksack on the ground to reserve the spot.

“Oi dickheads! Over here!” You shouted towards the direction of your idiot cousin.

Waiting for him; his two mates and the girlfriends of said friends, who I guess you could call your friends too to make their way over. You took a look around at your neighbours for the next four days. Next to you was a group of teenage boys who were setting up their tents, the one setting up their little camping stove looked up at you at your outburst. God he was pretty you thought as you took in his casual appearance.

“You mind if we grab this spot?”

“Not at all love. Matty.” He held out his hand as he introduced himself.

Shaking his hand; you introduced yourself with a polite smile before shimmying your tent out of it’s bag as your cousin and his pals all appeared, dumped their stuff on the floor before announcing they were going to explore. Therefore leaving you to look after their shit and to attempt to put up your tent by yourself. After ten minutes, several failed attempts and numerous curses towards your absent cousin when the rest of your neighbours appeared.

The tall, dark and handsome one introduced himself first.

“Hi, I’m Ross. You need a hand with that?” 

When you turned to look at him; he was wearing jeans and a hoodie and a soft smile on his face. Nodding at his offer, you explained about your useless cousin and that you didn’t have great hopes for the weekend given that he had already fucked off.

“Don’t worry you can chill with us. They’re pretty useless too but we get by!” He chuckled; nodding in the direction of his mates. “That’s Adam, but we call him Hann and that’s George.” He grinned as you waved at his equally cute mates.

It was as simple as that. You barely spoke to your cousin that weekend. Just let your friendly neighbours cart you around the festival, getting drunk with them and letting them hoist you up on their shoulders as you watched multiple acts that weekend. During your down time, you sat around the campfire and got to know one another. You found out they were from not far from you in Manchester, they were all around the same age, they were all single apart from Hann. And they found out that you really did hate your cousin’s mates and you were newly single after your boyfriend of two years cheated on you and that you were hoping to go to uni to study music.

Giddily telling you that they were all in a band together as you revealed this information; you listened to Matty ramble on about what he wanted to do with his best friends and where he wanted the band to go in terms of their career and you couldn’t help but watch him earnestly as he spoke so passionately about it. Leaning on your knees; you rested your face in the palm of your hands as you listened intently, wrapped up in the jumper Ross had leant you as the evening grew cold with a smile on your face.

It was refreshing to listen to a teenage boy talk with so much passion about something instead whatever shit your cousin and his mates were chatting shite about, you couldn’t even stand to converse with the girlfriends it was that bad. You think you’d have let him pull you around this muddy park and talk your ear off all night that’s how much you enjoyed his company.

The last night of the festival; off the back of the giddiness of watching the Red Hot Chilli Peppers with the boys and screaming your favourite lyrics back at the band from your spot upon George’s shoulders. You giddily jumped into Matty’s arms when you dismounted the drummer and let him slip his hand in yours as you all made your way back towards your campsite.

You lost the rest of the boys at some point within the masses of people; so you took your time making your way back, swinging your arms between one another and spinning each other round. You were so happy! You arrived three days ago in a bit of a mood if you were being honest that your brother hadn’t been able to come with you and you were stuck with those imbeciles but the boys in your neighbouring tents truly had made your entire experience worth it.

So when Matty pulled you to a stop as you neared your respective tents; George’s laugh could be heard from where you had stopped and swept a piece of fallen hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek in his hand with a soft mutter of, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Before leaning down and closing the gap between the two of you. You melted into him.

When his lips connected with yours; you immediately reciprocated his actions, allowing him to pull you in close and kiss you like you were the air he needed to breath. You weren’t entirely sure how long you were kissing in the middle of the campsite though but you pulled away giggling, beaming brightly when you saw Matty grinning back at you. Feeling brave you pushed yourself up to peck his lips again before pulling him towards your destination, past all his friends who were hooted and hollered when they caught onto to where you guys were off to but you didn’t care because you wanted reckless, you wanted to feel something, you wanted fun.

And ohhhh was Matty fun!

He was gentle in the way he brushed your hair from your face as you kissed down his stomach before pulling his already hard cock out. His grip tight in holding your hair in a ponytail so it was away from your face as you kissed the tip before licking a stripe underneath all the way from his balls until you enveloped the tip in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks you took him in as he groaned underneath you, his moans encouraging you to continue as you let him continuously hit the back of your throat.

It wasn’t long before his grip tightened in your hair and he was cumming in your mouth; swallowing everything he gave you, you pulled off his cock with a pop before he was attacking your mouth with his own as he dived on top of you.

“God going to be thinking about your mouth for years sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin before returning the favour.

2013

It had been a good several years since your last visit to Leeds Festival but thankfully it hadn’t been that long since you last saw the boys you met in the neighbouring tent during your first time there. After you packed up your tents the next morning you vowed to stay in touch with them, exchanging numbers with all the boys and promises of drinks when you were both home etc not really expecting much of it because they were teenage boys.

A hour after you returned home, your phone buzzed as messages flooded your inbox from Matty and George, Ross & Adam respectively although they weren’t as persistent as Matthew. You met up with Matty the next weekend, he drove up to see you in Manchester and you made out in the back of his car like the horny teenagers you were. You never slept with Matty during your brief time together but you both got very acquainted with one another on the couple of occasions you did meet up alone.

It wasn’t long after that you decided you were better off as friends and you didn’t mix business with pleasure again! Much to Matty’s disappoint after all he was a man and they only think with their cocks anyway. You continued being friends, you went to their gigs (even when you were the only one there), they visited you at uni, they celebrated your first big writing gig, you celebrated the release of their EPs. You celebrated everything together no matter how big or small.

You truly were the best of friends so when they rang you one afternoon whilst you were in the studio writing, you couldn’t even get out a “Guys you’re on a speaker, I’m just in the studio” before they were all screaming down the phone about their news that they had been asked to play at Leeds.

“That’s fucking insane! I’m so proud of you. Congratulations!”  

“You have to be there babe! We can’t do this without you!” Matty screamed down the phone.

“Yeah we can’t play Leeds without our number one girl can we?” Ross’ voice could be heard next, at a normal decibel, obviously.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Is what you told them and you stuck to your word as you watched Matty pace nervously before they were about to step onstage to a large crowd of people eager to see them perform.

“Matty.” You called out for him as he chewed his thumb nail, ignoring you. “Matthew!” You  raised your voice loud enough to get his attention finally on you, “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been buzzing all week to finally perform at Leeds. What’s changed?”

“Nervous.”

Your heart stopped as you took your friend’s nervous appearance in as you stopped in front of him and grabbing both his hands in your own. “I’ve never known you to be nervous ever. These people are here to see you, they’ve chosen you over any other tent or stage. They want to see my four best friends because you’re fucking brilliant, okay?” You told him firmly, squeezing his hands supportively, hoping to get through to him.

“Okay.” He smiled softly at you.

“Now what can I do to help with these nerves of yours?”

You asked innocently (of course) but Matty’s eyes lit up; a smirk dancing across his pretty features before lowing his gaze to his crotch. Pulling your hands from his in disgust you looked at him disapprovingly. “Eww gross. I’m not blowing you!”

“Baby please.” He whined; nipping at your waist as he attempted to pull your body into his own and holding you against him.

Looking over your shoulder; you cast glance at the other boys who were watching the interaction. Hann rolled his eyes at you, Ross was shaking his head as he sunk back his beer. George merely smirked; shrugging his shoulders as if to say it wasn’t a bad idea.

“If it takes care of the nerves.” George spoke.

“Ohh I’ll blow all of you then shall I?” You sassed back.

“If you’re offering?” George grinned.

“G don’t be fucking gross. I’m not touching any of you!” You laughed shortly. “Just do some tequila and get out there before I leave before you get the chance to even pick up a pair of drumsticks!”  You threatened.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stood side of stage and watched as the boys were belting out the tunes to an enthusiastically drunk crowd who were loving life. Ross turned to look at you during chocolate; a look of pure disbelief that the hundreds strong crowd knew every single word. You shook your head with a chuckle, teary eyes and a bright smile because you absolutely could believe they would know every single word because your boys were fucking brilliant and they deserved every single second of it.

As the set came to a close to a rapturous applause; Matty turned to catch your eye with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen before running towards you and jumping into your arms and gripping you so tight, you thought you’d be catapulted backwards if it wasn’t for Ross holding on to both of you. A high squeal leaving your lips as Matty assaulted your face with kisses like an excited puppy dog before pressing his lips to your own. 

You were so proud of him you didn’t have it in you to scold him for it.

2019

The noise that came out of your mouth when the boys told you they had been asked to headline Leeds Fest 2019 can only be described as unhinged! Probably wishing they had told you over face time, Adam the unlucky sod who happened to be stood next to you the moment you found out and nearly had his arm ripped out the socket as you jumped up and down with pure excitement before pulling him into the biggest hug you could muster before jumping a top of George and pressing a lingering kiss to Ross’ cheek before you launched yourself at Matty and squeezing him so tight like it would be the last thing you ever did.

You partied hard that night, celebrating everything they had achieved in order to get to headlining that one place that you all held so dear to your hearts. They say people hold sentimental places that remind you of loved ones close to them, it just so happened that; that muddy field just outside of Leeds was what meant the most to the five of you because it’s where you found one another. It’s where you finally felt whole once they stumbled into your life.

So when Matty drunkly proclaimed “We’ve got to have you with us sweetheart! It’s tradition. You’re our good luck charm!” Loudly down your ear, whilst draping himself over your shoulder in an attempt to stay standing.

Not that you would say no but who were you to ever deny your best friend’s wishes. Especially when they were finally getting to do the one thing they told you they wanted to do together when you first met them all those years ago and the fact they wanted you by their side meant more than anything. 

And here you were backstage at Leeds fest waiting for your best friends in the entire world to go and blow the socks off the festival. You were stood next to Matty who was fidgeting so much it was starting to concern you how nervous he actually was about the headlining slot. Slipping your spare hand into his; your other was wrapped around Ross’ as he conversed with Hann, you pulled away from the bassist so you could talk with the singer more privately.

Pulling Matty away from their crew; you took his hand softly, rubbing your thumb back and forth across the back of it in hopes of soothing his nerves. Matty didn’t say a word but he couldn’t stand still. You pulled on his hand tighter and towards you so you were in each other’s personal space.

“Darling what’s wrong?”

“Just fucking nervous. A lot of people out there.” His nervous chuckle reaching your ears before he started chewing on his thumb nail. 

Slapping his hand away from his mouth, you pulled on both of his hands tightly and made sure that he was looking right at you as spoke.

“When has that ever stopped you going out their and being brilliant before, ehh? You have wanted this for so so long. For as long as I’ve known you. You deserve this so much babe, more than anyone else I know. Do you want to know a little secret?” You watched his curls bounce as he nodded at your words. “When I met you, you told me all about your plans for the band. Told me you were going to headline Leeds Fest one day and in that moment I knew that I liked the shit of you! Thought it was so hot that you were so driven and so passionate about something. And look at you now. Three number one albums. Biggest band in the world and about to do the one thing you told me you were going do when we met twelve years ago. All those people out there choose to come and see you because they love you. I love you.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“That’s what you took from that?” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s what I do best!” He shrugged; pulling you into his arms. “So you going to blow me after this too?” He whispered saying in your ear; as he hugged you tightly.

“You’re so fucking annoying!” You pulled out of his embrace, “You’d be fucking lucky Healy! I’m more likely to blow Hann than you again babe!” You threw him a smirk; so he knew you were joking about his best mate.

“Wait, who’s blowing Hann?” George asked; appearing with Ross and Hann with what could only be impeccable timing.

“Me! Told Healy I’m more likely to blow Hann after your performance than go near his cock again!” You told them casually with a shrug and throwing Adam a wink as the guitarist shook his head with an embarrassed chuckle. “Just a little pep talk and Matthew was being Matthew about the situation!”

“Well if you’re offering up blowies! I’m always down!” George threw his hand up like he was volunteering with a massive grin on his face as he nudged Adam in the ribs who also had a stupidly large grin on his face as they teased you.

“You’re all so fucking annoying which is why the only person I’d be considering to blow is Ross because currently he’s the only one with manners! Now fuck off and blow the socks off the fans!”  You grinned; shoving them in the direction of the stage. Throwing your own arm around Ross’ waist, Matthew’s around your own as you all ascended on the stage, your heart pounding as you watched them walk out to rapturous applause. The feral screams growing louder between each song and you knew that you had never been prouder of anyone in your life than your best friend’s living their dreams.

2023

You had never loved George Daniel more than the day he turned round and introduced you to his new girlfriend because you gained a best for life in the absolutely wonderful and insanely beautiful Charli XCX. You loved her plain and simple! Never was a more selfless girl; you needed anything and she was by your side and offering you her hand, you needed a hype man she was the girl for the job or you just needed a little retail therapy and a bottle of wine, Charli would be at your door ready to go so when it was announced that she was going to be playing Leeds Festival just as the boys were about to embark on their new era. You knew you would be by her side cheering her on and going an absolute feral for that babe of woman! And when the boys were announced as the replacement headliners you could have burst!

Charli was set to perform her set just before the lads were so you knew your evening was going to be chaotic but you couldn’t wait but when she asked you to be by her side and during your favourite song. As flabbergasted as you were by the offer, you couldn’t really say no. When would you ever get the chance to perform at Leeds Festival again? Never!

But it was the way your best friends eyed you from side of stage; clad in an identical leather outfit to Charli’s that left nothing to the imagination. You felt a large calloused hand weave it’s way into your own and squeeze tightly, whispering a soft; “You’ve got this darling.” Before pressing a kiss to your temple just as Charli announced your entrance just as Rina’s verse of Beg For You was about to start.

“I want to introduce you to my best friend to the stage for the next song. She’s a bit shy so please be nice but she’s fucking incredible. Welcome to the stage y/n!”

What happened after you stepped on stage was all some sort of blur, you couldn’t really remember all that much apart from the video that Matty (and the rest of the band) recorded of you from the side of stage, the boys all screaming as you ran off stage and jumping into the nearest pair of arms, which just so happened to be Ross’. The adrenaline that coursed through you then seeped into watching the boys’ set and into the after party. Where you and Charli were necking back the tequila like it was water and had you dancing on the tables and grinding on anyone you could get your hands on. 

Nobody was safe from you and Charli’s feral behaviour that evening as you celebrated your friend’s wins and that included your best friend who you had taken to making out with, pulling him into a several kisses that seemed to get more erotic as the night went on much to the shock and then immediate thrill of your friends as they squealed and cheered on your behaviour every single time like you weren’t potentially jeopardising fifteen years of friendship with Ross just because you were on a high and feeling a little giddy. 

You were also a woman with eyes!

Something nobody was doing the morning after as you all travelled back to London with your tail between your legs and pounding headaches. Attempting to sleep it off on the drive home, you rested your head against Hann’s shoulder and tried to block out Matty’s talking, something that you were usually quite good at but to no avail when you felt like you were in about to slip into a tequila induced coma. 

By the time you got back to London and to your respective locations; you felt yourself being nudged awake before being gently pulled away from Hann who sweetly pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as Ross got out of the van before pulling you sleepily into your apartment building. No words were exchanged between the two of you as he unlocked your shared apartment or whilst he made you both a cuppa. You couldn’t decide if it was because he was just as horrifically hungover as you or because of what transpired between the two of you the night before and didn’t know how to act around you now because you had well and truly fucked everything up.

You never spoke about it. Just carried on as normal just as you and Matty did fifteen years prior and you thought you had done a pretty good job at acting normal too. You carried on sharing your flat and cohabiting as if it didn’t happen and then he went off to America for the start of At Their Very Best. Then once you were reunited on his return home from tour you thought that everything would be fine but it seemed that your emotions or seemingly your hormones were supercharged and all the lingering touches and sweet exchanges that usually came with your relationship had all come to a head about two weeks before they were due to headline Leeds fest again.

Whilst the boys had been on tour and doing the festival circuit during the summer you had taken to dating again. You use the term dating very loosely you had been on a handful of dates with one guy, a producer friend of Charli’s. It had been a few weeks since you had seen him due to the busy nature of your careers but you were supposed to be heading on another date with him tomorrow and you were ready to take it to the next level. 

Stood in front of your full length mirror you admired the intricate white lace of the lingerie that donned your tanned skin wondering if Patrick would like it or not when your bedroom door burst open. Not hearing his heavy footsteps approach as you stood in next to nothing; you jumped in fright, as an also topless Ross was now looking at you with a startled expression on his handsome face.

“Babe have you seen my favourite ju … jumper” He stuttered as he stopped and drunk in your appearance. “Ehhh why are you? Why ehhh? I mean why?” He was gesturing towards your lingerie clad body.

“I have a date tomorrow.” Your voice quiet but Ross heard it; your eyes just as wide as his when you took in his own appearance. Grey joggers, bare chest, hair tied up in a bun and the bastard cursive tattoo of your initial, that still makes your stomach flip every time you see it, etched into the skin near his left collarbone.

Ross simply nodded in response, not knowing what else to say. Noting that as his eyes travelled up your legs, over the tiny bit of delicate fabric that was covering your modesty, up to how your tits sat gloriously in the white lace, he noticed it. He noticed as you stood in the best set of lingerie he’d ever seen on anyone ever, that right there balancing in between your tits on a dainty gold chain was the necklace with a small ‘R’ on it. 

Without another word said between the pair of you; he turned with a curt nod of his head without getting his answer knowing fine well that it would be somewhere in your room. But he had plenty of other jumpers he could wear. He just needed to just get out of there before he made a tit of himself. Heading straight back to his room across the hall, he paced his bedroom floor in hopes of getting the image of you stood in your underwear out of his head before he got a problem, not knowing that across the hall you were staring at his retreating figure unsure of what to do.

Picking up your phone you sent an apologetic text to Patrick to let him know the date was cancelled before chucking your phone amongst your pillows and marching across the hallway. Just as you reached up your arm to knock; Ross’ bedroom door was ripped off its hinges and stalling you, both of your chests heaving as you came face to face. Neither of you choosing to cover yourselves up in the moments you were apart.

Looking up at him; you caught sight of the gold chain he’d been wearing recently sitting against the chest hair that littered his toned chest before your eyes drifted to the left. Your heart tripling in speed knowing you were etched on his skin forever. Ross’s eyes immediately went back to your tits, not in a weird way even if they did look glorious in the white lace but the golden ‘R’ that sat between them.

Returning your gaze to his face; you weren’t entirely sure how long you were staring at each other before you surged towards one another in a flurry of pent up tension as you pawed at one another. Your hands immediately gripping at his hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to groan into your mouth. His hands gripping your ass as he pulls you flushed against him. Your mouths pressed together as you snogged like it was the last thing you guys would ever do before Ross was slamming his bedroom door and throwing you on the bed and staring at you like you were the best thing he had ever seen. And you were.

Your night of passion with Ross happened two weeks ago and whilst he had gone back to work leaving you at home and to do your own job. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it. It was affecting your studio time and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself. You brushed past one another briefly whilst he nipped home to quickly put a wash on in between packing again before heading to Reading and Leeds. But you didn’t speak to one another in the van on the way down. Opting to talk with George about a new track idea he had been thinking about and he wanted your opinion on how to set it up lyrically.

When you got to Reading. The boys were rushed off for a quick sound check whilst you milled about backstage, getting drinks and greeting over artists you knew from work so you didn’t really get the chance to to talk to him. Then they were on stage. Then it was the after party. Then you were hungover and telling a sad looking Matty that you weren’t sure you could make it due to a work thing and sending them all on their way as you tried not to cry at the sadness in your best friend’s eyes as he looked at you like a sad puppy from the car window with pout on his face.

As you were sat in your meeting about an important contract working with an incredible artist on her next album. You caught yourself completely zoned out and thinking about him again. Over the course of all the the times you found yourself thinking about your night with Ross over the past week; you tried to figure out if it was because it was just because the tension had finally snapped with living under close quarters again after your multiple kisses or because it quite literally the best sex you’ve ever had or because under all of that, it was your Ross.

Your Ross. Your sweet best friend who helped you out any and every situation that you found yourself in, the person who hyped you up and celebrated your wins with you, the person who surprised you with your initial tattooed onto his skin because he just loved you so much he wanted you with him forever. Who then turned round and told you he never wanted you to feel pressured to do the same so gifted you the most beautiful gold necklace with his own on, you’ve never taken it off.

The person who when he come home from tour; buys you flowers as a welcome home surprise and displays them on your dining room table. The person who buys you little nicknacks when he’s abroad because it reminds him of you and thinks you’d love it. As you let your brain mull over this information whilst your manager went over the boring bits of the deal, you realised he was your person and you needed to get Leeds and you needed to get up North to him now. Pulling the ‘emergency’ card, you left your manger to to take any important notes and you darted out of the building, texting your driver to meet you out the front asap before you were speeding out of London and heading to the place that started it all.

You raced up North to get to the festival and just about managing to get there in one piece. Flinging your weekend bag in their green room; you went to run back out when something caught your eye, Ross’ hoodie from the last night. Pulling it over your head; a complete dress on you and covering your own outfit, you quickly untucked you necklace so it proudly displayed on top, you ran towards the main stage as you heard end of your song as George’s launched into to The City. You had just about made it; as you weaved in and out of the crowds of people to get to the side of stage at lightening speed.

Squeezing through the bodies of the crew who were littered backstage you fell into step with Jamie who was filming the boys. Their manager quickly wrapped you up in a side hug with a large grin and a happy “Glad you could make it!” Before turning his attention back to the band.

George was the first person to notice you, sending you a quick wink as you blew him a kiss with a beaming smile. Ross was the next person to spot you; his eyes softening as he took in your appearance before Matty was excitedly shouting you out.

“Fucking knew you’d make it darling! This one is for you!” He announced as the intro to M.O.N.E.Y started up to more roars of noise.

It might have been pure accidental that you ended up next to a rowdy group of teenage boys on that August weekend in 2007. But my god are you happy you did! Not because they were the biggest band in the world but because the five of you had seen every single one of your wins and your losses, they championed you on every new endeavour and had your back through thick and thin. You didn’t care about Matty writing songs about your blowjob skills because you were happily screaming the words back to him now. You cared that he was happy, that they all were and they knew they were fucking loved.

Which you finally realised you did. You fucking loved your best friend and as Ross turned to look at you whilst doing his little two step whilst Matty serenaded the crowd with I’m in Love with You, he really took in your appearance. Thigh high boots and his black hoodie he wore to Reading last night that covered you like a dress and the bastard golden R that was sitting over the top of the neck of the jumper, your hand pressed over the top as you made eye contact with him and beaming brightly at him, he felt his heart skip and triple in speed. He needed to tell you and he needed to tell you now.

So the second About You finished and he had said goodbye to the crowd. He was throwing his bass at Joel and was marching straight towards you, grabbing you by the jaw and smashing his mouth against your own. Melting into his touch you kissed the bassist back as the rest of friends joined you.

“I love you.”  Ross breathed out in between kisses.

“Ohhh thank fuck because I really fucking love you too!”  You told him; pulling him back to your lips as you gripped on to hair at the bottom of his bun tightly as your boys hollered around you.

[perseusannabeth]

Chapter 1

A/N: Hi everyone, and happy holidays! This is my contribution to the @acotargiftexchange for the lovely @talkfantasytome! I want to thank the organisers for this absolutely brilliant event. It's looking like this fic will be 3 chapters, so fingers crossed that the rest of the parts will come soon!

This has chef Cassian and writer Nesta, aka my favourite combo. I also have to warn you, as per usual, Cassian's Illyrian cooking is in fact how I cook as a south Asian person.

AO3 is currently down, so I won't be able to post this on there until later, but it will be added. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this!

Summary: Cassian is deeply concerned about the fact that his neighbour cannot cook at all. He decides to start cooking for her to save her from an early death, and it becomes so much more.

Cassian had lived in his current apartment for a long enough time to know most of the people in the building. It wasn't a massive building, so it wasn't hard to run into people. The only person he hadn't run into was his neighbour, who had moved in 3 months ago. 

Thankfully, there were signs of life, like the post being checked, and he could hear the door opening and closing. The most concerning thing he noticed was that his new neighbour seemed friendly with the fast food delivery drivers. Cassian didn't like judging food choices because he knew that people around him already felt self-conscious when they talked about food. Being a chef meant people assumed he knew best, but he could easily teach people he was willing to learn. Still, his neighbour was concerning him a lot. They must be on their way to a heart attack with the amount of fast food they consumed, and from Cassian's observation, they sometimes got food at least once a day or more. But Cassian had never assumed his neighbour's eating habits would affect him.

"So, have you seen her around? It's been a few days, that's all, and I'm a little worried about her," said his delivery driver, Toby. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so tired right now that my brain barely functions. Please, can you repeat yourself?" 

"Nesta, your neighbour. She orders from us daily, but I've not had any deliveries for her for 3 days. I'm just a little worried about her, that's all," Toby said, blushing now. The poor guy couldn't be more than 20 years old. At 20 years old, Cassian can't imagine he would've had the guts to do what Toby was doing, so he had to hand it to the guy. 

"I'm sorry, I haven't heard from her," Cassian replied, unwilling to admit he'd never seen her before and had just learned her name from Toby. "I'll check on her though, don't worry," Cassian said, to both reassure the man and to get him to leave because, god damn it, his food was getting cold!

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate it. She seems nice, and she tips really well." Toby smiled. Cassian just nodded awkwardly and then waited for Toby to finally (finally) move from his door. 

Cassian practically inhaled his food because, yes, he had promised his delivery driver that he would check on his neighbour, but if he was going to check on a potentially dead person, he would not be doing it while he was hungry. Fuck that; he had been in the restaurant since 6am, and he had planned on eating and then collapsing in bed. Now he had to check on his potentially dead neighbour because the delivery boy liked her tips!

By the time he had finished his food, he had managed to work up some energy, mostly just the rage he had to check on his neighbour and delay his sleep. Still, before leaving his flat, he checked his attitude at the door because he didn't want to be rude. He was being neighbourly, even if he was tired. 

When he knocked on the door and didn't hear any movement on the other side of the door, he was suddenly wide awake. He had horrific visions of breaking the door down and finding a corpse as he knocked again, trying to delay the rescue mission playing out in his head. When the door flew open, Cassian nearly jumped out of his skin.

The lady in front of him looked pretty annoyed at him, especially as he gawped at her like an idiot. Her hair was pulled up in something that might have once been a bun but was now just a tangled mess. She was in a long t-shirt that had seen better days; it was stained and faded, and underneath, she wore leggings that were in a similar state. But somehow, despite all this and the deep bags under her eyes, she still was the most beautiful woman Cassian had ever seen. 

"Can I help you?" The woman said, giving him a quick once over. 

That snapped Cassian out of his trance. "Sorry, erm, I'm looking for someone called Nesta?" Cassian asked awkwardly.

The woman had gone from droll to actively suppressing a laugh. "Oh my god, did Emerie actually do it? Are you a male stripper?"

Cassian's eyes widened as he quickly stepped back to distance himself from the beautiful, crazy woman. "Woah, I have no idea who Emerie is. I'm flattered you think I could pass for a stripper, but I'm no magic Mike. I'm Cassian, and I'm your neighbour." Cassian said, pointing at the open door to his apartment.

'Oh," the woman said, now also looking awkward. 

"Look, I just need to know if you're Nesta and if you're alright. I ordered some food, and the delivery driver said he was worried because he hadn't heard from you in a few days," Cassian explained, not wanting to linger in awkward silence. 

The woman's face went bright red at that, so Cassian assumed that this was, in fact, the mysterious Nesta who tipped really well and ordered food every single day. "Listen, I'm assuming you're Cassian, the chef Mrs Culpepper mentioned. I can only imagine what you think of me since Toby felt chatty today. I'm gonna be honest with you, I can't cook. My friend said not to burn down the building, so I've not tried. Really, my takeaway habit is saving everyone, and as my neighbour, you should be grateful, so don't judge me,"

Cassian held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not judging. Just because I enjoy cooking doesn't mean I assume everyone will. I am, however, slightly concerned. Is that all you eat? That can't be good for your health," Cassian said, frowning as he calculated how expensive that must be and the calories. He wasn't the best with numbers, so he couldn't be sure, but he was pretty sure that was a bad time. 

"My friend said the same thing, so she batch-cooked me a few meals. I've got a deadline for work, so I've been even worse than usual, but that's why I haven't ordered any food. When it runs out, which will probably be tomorrow, I'll be back to ordering from Toby," she said with a shrug. 

"Okay, I said I'm not judging, but that sounds horrific. I can't let you carry on like that. I don't think my conscience can take it," Cassian said, looking at her wide-eyed. The way this woman was going, she'd be dead of a heart attack in no time.

"I'll be fine; you don't need to take pity on me," Nesta said defensively. 

"Listen, it's Nesta, right?" she nodded, eyeing him suspiciously now, which made him want to laugh. She hadn't been suspicious before, but now he was questioning her food intake; she was wary of him. "I get to take leftovers from my work. It's one of the perks, but there's sometimes a lot. I tend to bring them home and make myself something with whatever random stuff there is. It's way healthier than ordering out and helps me not waste food. It's a win-win situation for both of us, really." 

"So, you're basically offering to be my personal chef?" Nesta said, trying to figure out what the catch was. 

"Well, within reason. If there's anything you hate or won't eat, I'll consider it, and obviously, any allergies. And if you want something specific, I don't mind making that, too, as long as I have enough time to get the ingredients. And I don't really mind cooking; if I didn't love it, I wouldn't do it as my job." 

A silence lingered, and Cassian wondered if he had gone in too hard on the sales pitch. He wouldn't be shocked if she said no; it was a weird request from your neighbour, whom you'd only met. But there was something about this woman that made Cassian want to offer to cook for her outside of work. His friends knew he never shared his food, not when he was outside of work. He made traditional Illyrian dishes when he was at home. It was a way for him to stay connected with his culture and mother despite his distance. These recipes had been handed down through generations of his mother's family, but there was something private and intimate about them. But he would share them with his neighbour. 

"Are you even real?" Nesta said, staring at him in a bit of a daze. Then, she reached out and poked him in the cheek. "You feel real," she said as she continued poking his cheek.

"I- I think I'm real?" Cassian stuttered, really not sure how he should react. Cassian wasn't shy, but this woman was just something else. 

Clearly, his talking pulled her out of whatever daze she was in. "I'm so sorry; I've been working non-stop for my next deadline, so I'm losing my grip on reality right now," Nesta said, shaking her head to get rid of whatever weird thoughts were in her head. 

Cassian pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Add your number, and I'll text you so you have mine. Then, you can text me any allergies or anything you wouldn't eat. I'll probably just tell you some dishes I can make with the leftovers, and you can let me know what sounds good. Is that okay with you?" Cassian said.

Nesta nodded, handing his phone back with her number added. Cassian shot her a quick text and then put his phone away. "Thank you," Nesta said awkwardly. "You really don't need to do that, but I'm certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth," she said with a shrug and a quick smile. 

Cassian smiled back, said his goodbyes and went back to his apartment. As he shut his door, he took his neighbour in, who was watching him walk away with a contemplative look on her face. He shook his head, shutting his door. Cassian was doing a good deed for his hot neighbour, but he hoped and prayed that his friends wouldn't find out about it. 

With that, he quickly got ready for bed, practically collapsing into his bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he noticed that he was smiling and had been since he had said goodbye to his neighbour. 

***

Cassian had forgotten entirely about the events of the night before when he woke up in the morning. It was so surreal; it felt like a dream. It wasn't until he was getting ready for his morning run that he realised it was true. 

He had a strict no phones policy in the mornings, mainly because his doom-scrolling habit was an awful way to start the day. So until he was ready to leave the house, he wouldn't look at his phone. It had helped with his mental health a lot and made waking up for his job so much easier, too. 

Since he had the day off, he slept till 9, which was late for someone who left the house at 4am every day for work. When he finally looked at his phone, he froze for a second, because there was a message from his neighbour. 

Once he had processed that yesterday had, in fact, not been a dream, he quickly made a note of the things she didn't like (kale being called the devil's lettuce made him laugh way more than it should've); he had a quick glance in the fridge to see what he could make. He figured he would make a quick tuna and avocado sandwich for lunch, and then for dinner, he would make pasta. Both seemed reasonably safe first options for her meals. Then, he could also give her leftover pasta for lunch the next day. 

As he finally left and started his run, he realised this could be the perfect opportunity to work on some new recipes for the restaurant. He wanted to update the menu and add more traditional recipes, but he had been nervous to test them out on anyone. By the time he got to the point he turned back, he had a massive grin on his face. He whipped his phone out and sent Nesta a text. 

Cassian: I've just had an idea. How would you feel being my new taster for some experimental recipes?

Her reply was instant, which surprised him. 

Nesta: you're doing me a favour so if i can help then i'm good with that. Although idk if i'm the best taste tester since my own culinary skills start and end at cereal 

Cassian: All I need is your honest opinion, everyone else in my life is too biased.

Nesta: i'm not afraid of cutting a man down, so dw

Cassian laughed at her message, sending her a quick laughing emoji before he put his phone back to go back home. He was in a good mood and excited about cooking for someone new. Of course, he got to cook for new people at his job every day, but cooking for someone one-on-one was so different. He could get her reactions, and she would give him feedback. This wasn't just a faceless customer; it was his neighbour. 

When he had assembled the sandwich, he put it into a Tupperware box and then cleaned up the kitchen. Once he was done, he finally gave Nesta her sandwich, trying to ignore the excitement and nerves bubbling in his stomach as he knocked on her door. 

Nesta flung the door open with a massive smile on her face. "Well, hello there, neighbour," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "What do you have for me?" Nesta said, looking at the box with excitement. 

"I've got a tuna and avocado sandwich with red onion and some homemade sriracha mayo," Cassian said, presenting her the food with a flourish.

Nesta didn't hesitate to open the box to have a look. "Oh wow, this looks so good, like one of those fancy coffee shop sandwiches which is really over-priced. Did you make the bread, too?" she asked, tapping the sourdough. 

"Oh nah, absolutely not; I'm not much of a bread maker; it's so faffy, but I love the smell of fresh bread. There's another chef in the restaurant who makes bread, but there's never any left, so this is just some supermarket bread."

"Oh, well, I thought you used leftovers," Nesta said with a frown. 

"I do, but I like to jazz them up, so I use things I have at home, too. Don't worry about it, though."

"Nah, absolutely not. I need to pay you for this if you're using your money to feed me. That's not fair on you!" she exclaimed. "I'm not a charity case."

"I don't think you are!" Cassian said, alarmed. "You're going to help me, remember. Maybe I'll develop a new menu for the restaurant."

"I still want to contribute to this because you're saving me a lot of money. Let me pay half towards your groceries at least," Nesta said sternly. 

"I- okay if you insist, but I feel bad taking your money," Cassian said awkwardly. 

"Well, that's too bad. Text me your bank details, and I'll transfer you the money, and if you don't, I'll just have to hunt you down and hurt you," she threatened. 

"You seem like a busy woman, so I'll try to avoid that happening," Cassian winced. Changing the subject, he asked, "So I never asked, but what do you do?" 

"Oh, I'm a writer!" Nesta said excitedly.

"Oh wow, that's amazing! What kind of stuff do you write? I've not had time to read in a while, but maybe I should start that up again."

Nesta's eyes widened at that. "Do not read my books. You're not the target audience, and frankly, I would probably have to avoid you if I knew you'd read them."

Cassian frowned at her, and then it dawned on him. "Oh my god, you write porn books!" he exclaimed. 

"They're romance books! Sometimes they might have some smut, but they're not porn!" she hissed. 

"Right, of course! Well, I'm gonna get going since you've probably got some sex scene left to right or something," Cassian said with a shit-eating grin. 

Nesta froze but then smirked. "Actually, I finished writing that last night after you left. You know, since you weren't the male stripper I was hoping for," she said before turning around and slamming the door in his face. He stood there gaping for a while before eventually shaking himself out of it. My god, that woman was something else. 

***

"Cassian bheta! It's been too long since you called me," his mother said as she answered the phone. He had decided to ring her while he cooked because it was the best way to cook. He couldn't help but smile at his mother calling him son in their native language. He loved his Illyrian culture; the fact his mother had taught him so much of it gave him such pride. 

"Mama, I called you 2 days ago, and I've been texting you too!" he protested with a smile as he diced onion. 

"But you're my baby, my bacha, you don't understand. One day, when you have your own children, then you'll understand," she loved saying that line. It was one of his favourites. Now, he was nearing 30 and not even close to being married. 

 He ignored her comment, knowing no good could come from delving into that subject. "Mama, I'm making Illyrian-style pasta for my neighbour right now."

"Ohh, is your neighbour Illyrian too? Rhys's mum told me that the lady who used to live across the road from her has a daughter in the city! Her name is-"

"Mama! Velaris is a big city; you know I won't run into every Illyrian here, so stop trying to match-make! My neighbour isn't Illyrian, but she said she's happy to try different things. I'm cooking for her because she can't cook for herself."

"She can't cook?" his mother said, sounding scandalised. 

"No, and let me tell you, how I met her was crazy."

He relayed the events of yesterday evening while he sauteed the onion in some ghee, diced up some bell peppers and drained the sweetcorn. After the onions started to go soft, he added the basaar, a mix of spices that Illyrians added to almost every dish.

"Well, it's a good thing you're here to look after this girl; the poor thing has been living off those takeaways; she's in desperate need of some good, home-cooked food!" his mother said the word takeaway like it was dirty. She had always been very strict about eating out when they were younger, telling him they could make it better at home. Only as he got older did he realise they probably couldn't afford to eat out for more than the occasional treat. 

"That's why I offered mama."

"That's because you're my good bacha," she said fondly. "What's this neighbour's name anyway? And what does she do?" she asked. 

Cassian smiled. Illyrian mothers could never resist fishing for gossip, even if it was people they didn't know. "Oh, her name is Nesta, and she said she's a romance writer."

His mother gasped, making him almost drop the pasta as he drained it. "Are you cooking for the famous writer, Nesta Archeron?" his mother asked, her excitement tangible. 

"I don't actually know her surname. Why?" he asked, suspicious. 

"Oh my god, Cassian!" her mother screamed, so excited that she didn't seem to mind busting her son's eardrums. "Cassian, that woman is my favourite author!"

His eyes widened at that. "Mama! I don't want to know if you read those books!" he said, taking deep breaths and trying to clear his mind of that information.

"Pfft, why? Those books are brilliant, and you're a grown man now, stop being a baby. There are no men in my life, but those fictional men are something else," his mother sounded breathless, which was just too disturbing to think about. 

"Mama! Stop, I'll be sick if you carry on, and then how can I feed your favourite author?"

His mother was outraged at that. "Listen here, you! She's writing her next book, so you better feed her well because I've been waiting for this book for a year."

"Geez, mama, I promise I will; now I have to go. I'll give it to her now while it's warm." He said, sprinkling cheese on the pasta he had put in the two Tupperware boxes for Nesta. His mother said her goodbyes because he needed to feed Nesta, not because he said he needed to go. She made it clear her loyalties lie with Nesta, which was concerning. 

He knocked on Nesta's door, and she came quickly this time. She eagerly handed him an empty box from lunch, which had been washed, and took the pasta. 

"I'm not sure if you know this, but I can smell when you're cooking things, so I've been able to smell this for a while, and I'm starving right now. This smells absolutely amazing, so if this is what Illyrian food is like, keep it coming," Nesta said, not taking her eyes off the pasta. 

"Well, this isn't Illyrian food; this is just pasta with an Illyrian twist on it, in all fairness, but I'll keep that in mind." Nesta nodded eagerly. "By the way, my mother wanted me to check. Are you the author, Nesta Archeron?"

Nesta looked up at that. "Yes, I am," she said slowly.

"Right, well, my mother is a big fan and said I need to feed you well so you can write your book because she's very excited. She's basically gonna disown me if I don't cook well for you," he laughed. 

Nesta smiled at that. "She sounds sweet. Let her know that you're doing an excellent job."

Cassian smiled back and returned to his apartment, giving her instructions about how she needed to eat the 2nd box for lunch tomorrow because he would be at work. Nesta thanked him profusely, licking her lips as she eyed the pasta. 

Cassian got out of there quickly after that because seeing Nesta lick her lips did something weird that he didn't want to think about. He had only met the woman yesterday, so whatever he felt, he would ignore it. 

He got a text as he dug into his own pasta while watching a modern family rerun on TV. 

Nesta: this might be the best pasta i've ever had omg you're a god!!!

Nesta: i would eat this for the rest of my life if i could

Cassian: It's not too spicy for you?

Nesta: nah, this is fine, the tomatoes calm it down. Idk if i'm strong enough to handle more than this tho, my tastebuds are probs dead with everything i eat 

Cassian: Lolll, noted

Cassian cleared his dishes and got into bed since he'd have an early night the next day. Before putting his phone away, he quickly googled his neighbour, and lo and behold, a list of her books came up. She was popular, and he had to admit, he was impressed. Her fans were practically rabid for her next book. It looked like a series, so he ordered the first book before he could think about it too deeply. 

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[stromuprisahat]

I don't know if you've read Harry Potter, but if so, what do you think? Personally, I have a problem with grossophobia in books, as well as the way Lily Evans, Harry's mother, was written. The books completely shattered the visions I had of her in the movies. This female character is awful to me, in her treatment compared to Severus and James. How can you keep from laughing at your best friend, being harassed, head down and underwear out?

I've made myself read HP some sixteen? years ago... mostly so I'll be acquainted with it enough to criticize it, since I hate all those fashionable crazes, and I found them annoying and stupid already as a teen. I didn't particularly like it, with the exception of the third and the fifth book, and I've managed to finish the whole then-published series soon enough to witness the insanity that was publication of the last book (and guess enough of the story to genuinely hate the ending).

I've never re-read them, and I don't really intend to, although I have the series in Slytherin edition, because IT'S FUCKING SYLTHERIN BITCHES! and I have it whole in Czech once they published it with pretty covers, in case mum and my great-uncle decide to read it.

I know the books have plenty of issues, including stuff I wasn't thinking about while reading them, but honestly- the only good thing I took from them is that the Hogwarts Houses are fucking cool, and once I made my family do the official sorting tests, plenty of our relationships suddenly made sense. Oh, and wands! If you need to constantly carry around a phalic item, it better be a magical piece of wood!

As for Lily, I don't remember nearly enough about her, aside from her and Severus' relationship being both-sidedly toxic af, and Marauders being a bunch of assholes to specific students. That said, I also deeply despise Snape, because childhood bullying is no excuse to terrorize children (*cough* Baghra 2.0 *cough*).

Also, me being over thirty put some things into a perspective. Fighting the Dark Lord in teens, early twenties- why not, getting a job after school is no less terrifying-, but why the hell was everyone pregnant immediatelly?!

[cher-rei]

afterglow- pt.7 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter is privileged with working alongside the liverpool fc marketing and public relations team, while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

genre(s): friends to lovers, workplace romance, fluff

[wc: 4.6k] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 8]

notes: it's the way that I've hinted at another fic in this chapter and then another one in chapter 8... I love interconnecting my series' ughhh

spamjam._. added to their story!

"here's one for you," jude spoke from his position on the hotel suite couch to gain your attention as you unpacked your things. "bro went from liking her posts to flying her over just for some moral support."

you rolled your eyes as he read out the tweets which he had been enjoying for the past ten minutes now. the way that twitter was rioting over the situation was utterly amusing— from your post on Instagram to jude stating that you were sharing a hotel room. they were having a blast by coming up with theories as to how this even came about.

yes, jude only happened to follow you on instragram at the beginning of the year but that was not the reason you knew each other at all. if it were then this situation would be very awkward. as he would say, "luckily for you, you had the privilege of knowing me before I became the equivalent to ryan gosling."

you wouldn't exactly call it a privilege but whatever made him sleep at night. funny enough, you two met at a football match when you were still in high school. it was strange to see a 17-year-old actively engage in conversation with some random 14-year-old just because he said she was screaming too much.

that wasn't the last of your accidental meetings, however, the next was a few weeks later when your parents invited some friends over from birmingham— and lo and behold who just happened to be the son of those friends.

so here you were at 20 and 23, closer than ever but keeping it as low-key as possible.

you proceeded to listen to jude comment on each tweet, each one funnier than the last. "I swear some of these people have got to be fbi trained." he shook his head and you hummed in response, nearly jumping up when jude yelled out in shock.

"listen to this one," he turned from his position on the couch to look at you in front of the bed. "in early 2023, jude followed jamie back on Instagram and 6 months later she got her job as liverpool's p.r manager. hours later after the announcement the entire squad followed her back, the first of them being trent. jamie and trent have been seen together a lot from then on and she's even tagged him in multiple of her Instagram stories. now what do we know about trent? he plays for england. who else plays for england? jude. where is jamie right now? in barcelona with jude."

you were left dumbfounded, jude staring at you with his eyes wide and obviously impressed. "well that's one way to connect the dots I guess." you shrugged your shoulders, "they're not wrong but they're not quite right either."

a scoff left jude's mouth and he got up from the couch to look out the ceiling-to-floor window looking out at the city. "trent's not the middleman here though. like dude you and I aren't dating so there's no need."

he was right, there was no need for a middleman. it was just pure coincidence but obviously people wouldn't think of it like that. "and I thank the lord for that every single day."

he pulled a face, "stop being dramatic. I'm not that bad and you know it."

you hummed out in debate, getting your things so you could go and shower. "I mean judging by your lack of female interaction--"

before you could finish a pillow was hurled straight at you causing you to yelp out, getting ready to days for the bathroom before he could throw another.

"I talk to woman!" he yelled out after you and you laughed a little louder than intended which prompted him to get another pillow.

"female reporters don't count jude!"

you slammed the bathroom door shut just as he threw the pillow again, a loud thud echoing through the room before it dropped to the floor along with jude's hands. he huffed out in frustration, complaining for a good few minutes before he came to a conclusion that made you double over in laughter.

"just for that, I'll be keeping my eye out for interns from now on! if I marry a reporter one day I'll make sure not to invite you just out spite!"

your first morning in barcelona consisted of nothing but peace. the view you woke up to was breathtaking, definitely the most beautiful sunrise you had ever seen. you took your time getting ready before breakfast and made sure to put together the best outfit you could manage seeing as it was rare that you got to wear summer attire.

jude shot you the most confused look to date when he saw your top. he hit you with the "woman stopped wearing corsets decades ago so I'm a bit confused as to why you're torturing yourself right now."

it took a bit to explain to him that you weren't suffering at all, but he still didn't understand and left it at that so the two of you could head to a restaurant for breakfast. every step you took your eye was caught by something more beautiful than the last, your heart strings tugging in the summer heat.

"I've made up my mind. I'm coming to visit you every three months."

jude didn't oppose the idea and instead encouraged it, saying that he needed a bit more company. everything was recorded, you had your phone out and your camera for double the footage, talking to the camera as you carried on with your day.

"do you really have to film everything?" jude asked from across your table at the outdoor seating area of the restaurant as you waited for your breakfast.

you made a sound at the back of your throat and continued to go through the footage you had so far. "unlike you, I have a social media presence and people enjoy the content that I put out okay?"

"uh huh." his eyes wandered over you silently until he was told to check your instagram story, and of course he reposted it being the absolutely amazing friend he was and not because he was in any way forced to do it...

spamjam._. added to their story!

"I don't think anyone understands how crazy it is to hear jude speak in spanish so casually." you turned your camera to look at jude opposite you, adorning an expression of offence.

you suppressed a smile. "this is the same boy who asked me if 'lethargic' was an actual word or if I made it up by the way."

that hit a nerve for him and he put down his fork, and pointed a finger at you while explaining the pointlessness of the word and just how stupid it was. "who uses the word lethargic jamie?" he raised his hands waiting for an answer.

your laugh could be heard behind the camera, obvious judgement in your tone as you teased him. "people who have a vocabulary level that exceeds year 6."

jude shot you an 'oh really look' clearly not buying your reasoning. "just say that you're tired," he grew a bit more defensive and you tried to speak over him but he continued on. "it's never that deep."

you laughed again, telling him that he literally just proved your point. you could feel the stares that you were getting from people passing by— just trying to enjoy their peaceful thursday morning without two idiots arguing about words.

the banter went on for a bit, the camera now set on the edge of the table so that both you and jude were in the frame, tension heightened as you debated. he shrugged his shoulders eventually, "lethargic is not that big of a word either. it's just unnecessary--"

your eyebrows raised, "--oh really?"

he nodded in confirmation, as to say that it was obvious and that he wasn't an idiot. so you did the only correct thing at the moment which brought a wave of nostalgia to wash over jude who couldn't help but laugh.

"spell lethargic then."

he hesitated for a moment, wondering if you were being serious. "go on then, prove me wrong." you urged him, and obviously, he took up the challenge because jude bellingham was not a quitter.

"L I--"

you cut him off with a proud smile, "wrong!"

"L A--"

"wrong!"

by now jude was dumbfounded, immediately reaching out for his cellphone to google the absurd word only to find out that it was spelt with an E. you hummed happily as he complained once again, saying that spelling it with an E didn't make any sense.

"jude victor william bellingham," you began with a smile and he shook his head. "one of real madrid and england's star players at the age of 20 yet he can't spell 'lethargic'."

the rest of the day played out smoothly— sightseeing, shopping till jude's entire backseat was covered in bags, a trip to the beach and using jude as your personal photographer and videographer. now that was what you called a vacation.

the last stop the two of you were going to make would be a small picnic to wrap up the evening seeing as jude would be at practice all-day tomorrow before the match later that evening. either way you wouldn't be alone because jobe would be flying down the morning, so you were more than excited to pick him up at the airport.

your picnic blanket was set down on the grass at a park, and once again the scenery had you gawking. the sunset was to die for, the atmosphere was chirpy yet peaceful and in all honesty if this was your last moment alive you wouldn't have any regrets.

you let out a content sigh, "if this is what being a wag is like then I might have to hit up victoria beckham for some pointers."

jude let out a laugh from beside you, watching silently as you pointed your vlog camera to the sky— moving it from side to side as you took in the scenery.

"I mean you have some good candidates, and you're already in the industry so it's just up to you." he nudged you on the shoulder. "make the move jamie."

a sigh escaped your lips at the fact that he was right. everything was played out in your favour and you needed to use it to your advantage. "I'll dm colwill when we get back to the hotel."

jude doubled over in laughter at your comment but you kept your attention on your camera, settling it down in front of the both of you. "he's younger than you."

you shrugged your shoulders to dismiss his note. "age is just a number or something."

that made you both smile but for two completely different reasons. jude found it funny whereas you were washed with an unfamiliar feeling, your mind flashing back to yours and trent's midnight mcdonald's run when he said the exact same thing.

that remembrance made you keep a mental note to call him later, just to see how things were holding up on that side.

the conversation picked up again when you shut off your camera. and of course, it took the emotional route at the hour of vulnerability. it hopped from family to work to comfortability in your respective situations in a matter of seconds.

it was nice for jude to have this time to talk about stuff like this, you knew he appreciated moments like this where he could express himself more freely without a language barrier or slight anxiety.

when he first left for madrid you remembered the five-hour conversation you had over the phone because he couldn't fall asleep, too unsure and unfamiliar with his surroundings to be able to settle in. with that, you made sure to check up on him daily before bed.

time zones didn't stop you and never would, especially with someone you considered family. jude and jobe were easily younger brothers to you— jude being the irritating younger brother who acted as if he were older than you and jobe being the sweet younger brother that needed constant affection.

you cared for them both dearly, making time to see each other whenever you could when you schedules were free.

"so you found the apartment?" jude asked and popped a grape into his mouth while he listened to you talk about your move out of your sister's house.

maya and noah were moving to london at the beginning of next year, which just so happened to be two months from now. which honestly was a great idea and you were super excited for them, but it was the househunting the was an issue for you because you were so picky.

you weren't too worried about the rent, the main issue was the interior so you took it upon yourself to do some drastic redecorating when you found one. and in four months it was ready, the only thing it was missing was you.

you nodded happily, "I can move in whenever I'm ready."

your answer made jude smile. be knew just how excited you were to finally move into a place of your own because all you'd been doing was saving up. "which is..."

"which is before christmas. and I have a little surprise on the way as well," you retorted in excitement but jude's thoughts immediately went to pregnancy and you could see it on his face, judging by how quickly his eyes dropped to your stomache.

the sun had fully set now, the air beginning to chill but not in a way that had you shivering, but in a way that made you feel relieved. basking in the atmosphere took your mind elsewhere, a glimmer of something in the back of your mind flashing.

your stomach dropped at the memory. one of the many that you've recently.

"we have to go to spain." the glee in your voice bounced off the walls of the bedroom, back to the bed where you and your boyfriend were lying.

he chuckled at your antics and the way that your grip tightened on his torso, his fingers lightly tracing your shoulder. "we'll go anywhere you like baby." he kissed the top of your head.

you looked up at him with doe eyes. "really?"

michael flashed an adoring smile, the same one that showed just how smitten he was for you. you felt a chill run down your spine at the touch of his fingers on your cheeks. "I'd do anything for you."

your throat stung at the memory, something that weighed so heavily on your chest. moments where you two promised to build a family together resurfaced, where you promised to always be there for each other, but this time accompanied by a bitter taste.

you'd accomplished so much these past few months and he wasn't there to witness it like he said he would. there weren't any flowers or handwritten cards with a hug that made you melt. you could still hear his voice sometimes and the way he would speak to you so gently.

at your graduation you could barely enjoy the moment because while being onstage you saw his face in the crowd, an unreadable expression and the words "I'm so proud of you, love" floating aimlessly through the air.

everything he ever said to you was now floating aimlessly through the air.

judebellingham

jobebellingham and 4 245 223 others liked this post

judebellingham had to go back to the hotel like thrice for her to get changed [tagged: spamjam._.]

see all comments below

jobebellingham please never take selfies again

→ spamjam._. agreed

→ judebellingham you're both walking to the stadium I don't care

vinijr ❤️🔥 [liked by judebellingham]

spamjam._.

liked by liverpoolfc and 2 345 234 others

spamjam._. 🌼

see all comments below

jobebellingham it's like you couldn't have waited for me before doing all this 😃

→ spamjam._. we're going to be together all week bro chill 🙄

liverpoolfc jamie come back, the kids miss you 🥲

→ spamjam._. they're lying

trentarnold66 you owe me a mcdonalds run when you get back [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. yes sir 🫡

Ibrahimakonate 🙊❤️ [liked by spamjam._.]

curtisjr my gf says you're beautiful 🙄

→ spamjam._. gf?? curtis call me right now istg!!

levicolwill okay supermodel🙄❤️ [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. check your dm's

"there's my favourite boy!"

you had your arms spread for a hug as you watched jobe walk up to you with a sheepish smile. you could tell that he was a slight bit embarrassed, but gave in anyway and dropped his bags to embrace you.

he had grown a freakishly large amount since the last time you saw him— towering over you would be an understatement and it took every bit of you not to feel overwhelmed, but how could you when he was so freaken cute??

a shy chuckle came from jobe as you continued to hug him, your arms tightly wrapped around in torso. "you can carry on when we get back to the hotel, people have places to be."

that wasn't good enough of an excuse for you. "they can let me have my moment."

when you got back to the hotel, jude wasn't there as suspected but all your bags were already packed for tomorrow morning's early flight back to madrid. the rest of the day was spent just relaxing in the hotel room and catching up as usual because you didn't want to waste your energy and fall asleep half way into the first half of the match.

"I can't believe I'm about to watch barça and madrid play," jobe commented as he scrolled through his twitter feed.

you two were settled comfortably on the couch set with snacks and the t.v playing as background noise. when you didn't reply he looked up from his phone, only to see you glued to your own with a lopsided smile.

it was unlike you to ignore him, even if it were by accident so it raised some suspicion. he kicked your thigh in an attempt to gain your attention but it didn't work, your fingers typing away at the keyboard for whatever reason. he didn't want to be one of those brothers and take your phone right out of hand and see what had you so interested— that was jude's job.

so instead he resorted to kicking you over and over until you eventually got irritated and yelped out in pain. "jobe my leg," you groaned and began to rub your thigh that he'd been taking hits at.

when you looked at him again his expression had changed, his lips slightly parted in shock. you asked him what the issue was and all he could manage was a scoff of disbelief. there'd only been one other instance where he'd seen you act like this before, and he tried to forget it at most.

"who are you talking to?"

jobe wasn't one to pry and you knew that, and when he did it was out of genuine concern. you cleared your throat awkwardly. "just a friend."

his eyes narrowed at your answer, knowing he caught you. "you don't have friends." in no way did he mean to offend you by saying that, because it was true and as clear as day. he knew you too well, maybe you could hide things from jude for a bit but with jobe it was different because everything came out unintentionally.

a sigh of defeat escaped your mouth and you set your phone down on your lap. "this is a situation my friend is in right now. you're not going to ask any questions okay?"

jobe nodded his head eagerly and sat upright so he could pay more attention. and just like that, you found yourself lost in the explanation and you were sure you nearly namedropped at least thrice but jobe remained attentive and gave his word when needed.

"I mean if they aren't dating then there should be nothing wrong with you--"

you gave jobe a look and he immediately retracted his last word.

"your friend. your friend, not you," he corrected sheepishly and you nodded.

he thought the idea was dumb. you could've just said that you were talking about yourself and he wouldn't have bugged you... that much. "your friend isn't overstepping any boundaries by the sound of it. so she should just go with the flow--"

you couldn't believe that you were taking relationship advice from an 18-year-old right now. this was your lowest. "--whatever happens, happens."

whatever happens, happens.

his advice genuinely seemed to shift some gears in your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a bear hug. so that's exactly what you did. "have I ever told you how much I love you?"

the question made him stifle a laugh, the boy tightening his grip around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. "I want to say yes but no."

you slapped his arm jokingly. "you're my favourite brother too. but don't tell jude."

"how can I not??"

[lorei-writes]

HC: MC insecure about her body - Kanetsugu

A little bit over a year ago, I wrote headcanons with MC insecure about having small breasts. Later I asked about what other summer-themed headcanons may be worth exploring, and @bestbryn mentioned MC dealing with the concept of "summer body". I said that it goes on the list, and then I couldn't figure out anything with suggested suitors...

But I remembered! And then came Kanetsugu.

This work contains suggestive content. Content Warnings: none

Kanetsugu

Kanetsugu did not expect for the impending summer to bring forth much past the usual pleasurable warmth and excruciating heat. Each season posed different challenges to manage, obviously, but those had long become a routine... To think that he could be quite this mistaken.

It started small, with his lover being just a little agitated. However, this never seemed to last long, and whenever he pressed her on the matter, she claimed it was caused by something during her day.

That would be the end of this, had her mood not got progressively worse. Since asking her yielded no results, Kanetsugu had to adopt a different approach.

It took several days of working overtime, but he did manage to clear up an afternoon in his schedule. He asked his lover to go to town with him.

The idea was simple: if he could not ask her, he'd observe her reactions, and search for the answers in them... With the added benefit of spending more time with her.

The first clue appeared when she barely touched her favourite dumplings. From then on, her discomfort grew progressively more obvious: her shoulders would slump as if she wished to hide, she'd hurry while shopping, and refuse any opportunity to cool down if it would as much as reveal an inch of her skin.

It hurt to see, but what could he do? He did not wish to subject her to any -- real of perceived -- public humiliation, so they returned early.

Kanetsugu confronted her on the matter as soon as they settled in his room and her frame relaxed. However, it became rigid the moment she heard his inquiry.

She grew flustered -- wasn't she hiding it better? Kanetsugu sitting opposite of her, she slowly opened up, her head hung low as she did so...

The longer he listened, the less he could comprehend and the more painfully his gut contorted. Nevertheless, Kanetsugu did not wince nor growl, he did not bristle up -- the best he could offer in the situation was to take the information in as she wished to give it out. Slowly, one word at a time, and it was only his gaze that burned, although his lover could not realise that much. She was too ashamed to watch anything but her hands.

"When I look at you... I feel out of place," she confessed, the chains he wound around his heart struggling to contain its lurching. "You're beautiful, and I... Well, as I've said --"

Kanetsugu did not let her finish.

He pulled her into his lap, emotion howling in wisteria eyes as he gazed up at her.

"Kanetsugu?"

"Not a word more lest you wish for me to lose my mind," he nearly growled.

He kissed her -- on her lips, nose, cheeks, chin, on every blemish and imperfection she mentioned that was within his reach. His hands hovered above her obi, her fingers finding purchase in his hair and drawing him closer to her chest.

He took it as a sign to go on.

Kanetsugu knew his lover well, from the tiniest mole to any scars she wore. He nibbled at her thighs, kissed her stomach, went down the paths marked by the white ink of her stretch marks. It was all her, so in what world could it invoke anything other than rapture?

He found her beautiful through and through. He had to show her. He just had to.

However, even once all was said and done, there was one thing he didn't understand: why?

This time, however, she was willing to talk more. So she told him about everything hers that could be considered "wrong" and about the standards that so imposed.

Kanetsugu did not let her out of his arms, drinking in each word she uttered -- and as much as he wished to say it was intoxicating, that would be misleading. The only thing he was drunk on was how little sense they made.

It wasn't that her account of future beauty standards was incoherent, no. Kanetsugu simply couldn't wrap his head around said standards.

So one year women's thighs were not supposed to touch each other, and just a couple years later, a woman would not be considered beautiful if she didn't have a sizeable bottom? And she was supposed to have large breasts (that had to be eternally perky), but also a perfectly flat stomach? And she was not supposed to have any marks, or scars, or moles (unless freckles were particularly fashionable for a change), or even the natural texture to her skin?

It made no sense. No sense whatsoever.

What made even less sense, however, was the garment that she described, apparently commonly worn to beaches.

His embrace tightened without Kanetsugu even taking note of the fact. His fingers combed through her hair gently, jealousy pooling low in his stomach as her skin pressed against his. A frown creasing his forehead, he pushed himself up on his elbow, eyes taking in her exposed form. He could easily imagine what little skin could the aforementioned garment hide...

"Don't ever say that you're not beautiful enough to stand by me," he rasped.

One evening would not be enough, Kanetsugu knew that much. However, he did not mind offering his assistance whenever necessary if it meant that his star could find her way back onto the sky. Where she belonged.

Tag List: @cilokgoang @violettduchess @the12thnightproject @oda-princess @tele86

+ @ikesenwritings because... You know why, hahaha.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Melaka Mystica (Part 3/3)

January 18, 2024

Notes - I wanted so badly for this to be finished for Mles' birthday on the 14th, but alas, it was only finished today, and although I'm so incredibly grateful that this story is now officially finished, I still sort of wish it had been done on time. Anyway, I believe this may actually be the longest individual chapter I've ever written - coming in at the halfway mark on the 59th page. I'm immensely proud of all that went into this project and, although this may wrap everything up, I can't wait to start something new! I know I should take a break - and I promise I will - but I'm excited to work on some shorter projects for the time being. I just have far too many ideas to not take the time to work on some of them 😂 Now, without further ado, here is the insanely long final chapter that I've been working on for what feels like forever!

We are out of time.

As soon as the door closed behind Royce, the talking began. However, as soon as the sixteen-year-old uttered, “She’s definitely possessed,” Mick found herself sitting on the center cushion of the window seat, contemplating everything that had transpired. Two weeks ago, she had been possessed by ancient dark magic, and if Serena’s possession was anything like her own, they would need something big to take care of it. The only thing was, she had no idea how they would fix things for her.

When it happened to Mick, they had the help of her ancestors due to lighting the black flame candle, but now they didn’t have that wisdom. They didn’t have help, they didn’t have old, magical wisdom, and they certainly didn’t have an emerald candle. All they had was a book full of ancient recipes with no definite ingredients to make a candle and a spell book that would be rendered useless without said candle. After her possession on Halloween, Mick had gone through nearly all of the books in the basement library, hoping to find a recipe for the candle that cured her in order to rid herself of her headaches and the leftover side effects of the dark magic that had holed itself within her skin. However, to her dismay, there was nothing apart from an old book with a half-torn recipe. While Mick had been quite upset at the time, she had eventually gotten over it and forced herself to power through, but the lack of a finished recipe also meant they had no way to drain the dark magic from Serena.

With all the salt in the house used up for protection, they had no way of trapping her. And, if the ease with which she shattered the crystal was anything to go by, she was a force to be reckoned with. Had Mick been that bad when she was possessed? To be honest, most days, she couldn’t remember most of all that happened. There were bits and pieces of clarity - fragments of memories that haunted her most at night - but they were fleeting at best. More often than not, all she could recall was pacing in the woods, flying above the town commons, and the faintest moment of lucidity fueled by pride when Bentley threw salt at her possessed form. She couldn’t have been prouder of his quick thinking than she was in that fleeting memory.

There were other times when she could recall the entire night. Though she knew everyone involved knew all too well what had gone down and had filled her in on most of it, she only truly dealt with the full force of her memories at night. She wasn’t entirely sure whether it was due to her repressing the memories of that night or the fact that most of the events happened at night. All she knew was that it was damn near impossible to sleep when everything came flooding in all at once. Worst, by far, were the memories of being trapped inside her own skin. Like the opposite of an out-of-body experience, she was forced to watch herself move with no control, watching herself actively try to hurt those she loved most. Looking around at those before her, she wondered how on earth she had managed not to hurt any of them. At least not physically, that is.

Mouths moved, but no sound came from them as Mick looked around the living room of the Murphy residence. She was almost sure they were talking, but she couldn’t hear anything over the static-filled buzzing in her ears. Since her possession only weeks before, she had dealt with tinnitus and felt as though her head would explode if she moved too quickly. However, this was not her typical tinnitus. This sound was far from the high-pitched ringing that filled one ear and prevented her from thinking straight until its eventual dissipation. She felt like she was sitting in front of an old television set without an antenna while her ears were stuffed with cotton. While she could still register those around her talking, she couldn’t determine what was being said.

Were they discussing how to handle Serena? If they were, Mick was sure the conversation was going nowhere. She had already come to the conclusion that they had little, if anything, to work with. They had a plethora of books in the shop basement that would be of little help, crystals that only worked for a small amount of time if the shards of onyx in the Murphy’s trash bin were anything to go by, and the power of friendship which, unless they were from the same universe as My Little Pony, would do them no good. They were up against a seemingly undefeatable, ancient magic, and the only three that had magic at all were a group of teenagers who only received their abilities two weeks prior. Their chances of winning were slim to none, but she highly doubted the others had come to that conclusion yet. 

Mick watched Miles pinch the bridge of his nose as Vivien offered something, and the oldest of the Murphy brothers muttered something Mick couldn’t make out as Bentley rolled his eyes with an inaudible huff. Looking around in confusion, Mick allowed her eyes to slide shut before slowly taking a breath and willing her hearing to return. Once she could make out the frustrated tones of their voices, Mick opened her eyes and forced herself to stand from the window seat. She listened for a while to the jumbled voices that tangled into an unintelligible mess before Vivien’s voice cut through, “Why don’t we just use the emerald candle again? It worked on Mick.”

“We can’t,” Mick spoke as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

As though the energy in the room had died, Mick felt the eyes of the others on her as Bentley asked, “Why not?”

Taking a slow breath, Mick admitted, “The candle we used on me was the last one.”

“Maybe, if we find the book, we can make more,” Carrie suggested.

With a definite shake of her head, Mick said, “It’s pointless. I looked for the recipe after everything went down, but the page is ripped. There’s no way to make a new candle. We’ll have to find a different way to drain the magic from Serena.”

“Is there even another way to do it?” Vivien wondered.

While the others murmured their agreement, Royce’s eyes began to gleam as a fresh idea blossomed in his mind. “There might be.”

Noting the look in his brother’s eyes, Miles asked, “What do you have, RJ?”

Taking a few steps back toward the stairs, Royce smiled and said, “Just hang on a sec.”

As Royce bounded up the staircase, Bentley turned to the other living room occupants and asked, “Is anybody else confused or is it just me?”

“It’s definitely not just you,” Carrie sighed, glancing at the top of the staircase with a raised brow before smiling back at Bentley.

“It’s probably something in one of those books he’s gotten recently,” Miles mused with a shrug.

“Books?” Mick asked.

Miles nodded, “He’s been using some of the money he’s saved to buy books on magic and supernatural abilities. When he’s not getting caught reading at two in the morning by Mom, he’s spouting off things he’s discovered.”

“So that’s why he’s been looking so tired lately,” Vivien breathed thoughtfully. It made sense why he was suddenly on the verge of collapsing in class or falling asleep despite the noise of the cafeteria. Despite his insistence that all was well, she felt as though it was very unlike him - normal for Bentley or Miles, sure, but never for Royce. It made sense that the reasoning behind his uncharacteristic fatigue was his late-night reading sessions. 

Miles nodded in confirmation, but before he could say anything, Royce’s hurried footsteps could be heard, and everyone turned their attention to the stairs as Royce descended them two at a time, a thick book grasped tightly in one hand while the other held the railing. Jumping the last few steps, Royce quickly flipped open the book and made his way to his friends, flicking a few pages until he found what he was looking for. Beaming proudly, Royce’s gaze flickered between those present as he explained, “I borrowed this from the library last week for a bit of light reading.”

“Light?” Bentley scoffed. “That thing could have been used as a cannonball.”

Rolling his eyes, Royce brushed off Bentley’s claim and turned the book toward them as he continued, “It’s all about how people believe covens worked throughout history. While it talks about the hivemind kind of communication stuff like what Carrie found earlier, it also talks about coven draining. It says that coven members could drain a witch of their powers if they tried to learn dark magic or got possessed by it.”

“Do you really think something like that could work if Serena isn’t a part of our coven?” Vivien asked. 

“There’s no telling,” Royce said as he shifted the book back toward himself. “It only says that covens could do it, but it’s worth a shot, right?”

Cutting in, Miles shook his head, “And if it doesn’t work, that would put all three of you in danger. We’re not risking your lives for a theory.”

“But if it works, then we could save Serena and go back to normal,” Vivien argued.

“And if it doesn’t, you could die,” Mick interrupted.

Despite Vivien’s evident eye roll, Carrie was the one to speak next, “We can find another way.”

Before things could escalate, Bentley stepped up and asked, “Why don’t we just ask Mom if she knows anything about it?” With everyone’s attention on him, he said, “Think about it; she’s a witch and has been since before any of us were even born. If anyone knows anything about coven stuff, wouldn’t it be her?”

Silence permeated for a moment until Miles spoke, “He’s not wrong.”

“I’m smart when I want to be,” Bentley claimed before turning on his heel and heading for the kitchen. 

Not wanting to be left behind while Bentley discussed matters with Dorothea, the others quickly trailed behind, Royce holding the book’s pages in place to ensure he had the right information for the woman. Looking up from her embroidery hoop with a smile as the children entered the kitchen, Dorothea paused the music playing from her cell phone and asked, “How did things go with your friend?”

“That’s actually what we were hoping to talk with you about,” Mick stated.

Leaning against the wall, Vivien stated, “She’s possessed by dark magic and we need advice on how to fix things.”

Folding her hands together on the table, Dorothea said, “Well, the easiest way to stop a possession would be with an exorcism, but where this has magical ties and we don’t have any legitimate shamans in the area, I would say your best bet would be to try an emerald flame candle, if you can find one.”

“You don’t have the recipe?” Miles asked.

With a heavy sigh, Dorothea shook her head, “No, that was one thing I never learned.”

Stepping up to the table with his borrowed book, Royce set the hardcover down on the table and pointed to the pages as he asked, “What about coven draining? Would that work even though Serena’s not in our coven?”

Without so much as looking at the pages before her, Dorothea answered, “There are many ways that it would work, but I have some concerns.”

“Like what?” Carrie asked.

Glancing around at the children before her, the woman replied, “You see, many years ago, I was asked by one of my old coven mates to perform the ritual and it was extremely difficult.” 

“Would salt help?” Bentley asked, digging into the pocket of his jeans for a packet he had taken home from school. 

With a chuckle and a fond smile, Dorothea shook her head, “It would dampen the powers of the one being drained, but in this case, no. My friend had sworn off magic and, despite still being one of my closest friends, the process was excruciating on everyone involved. He was in pain for months afterward and I couldn’t be near him without crying. While Serena isn’t in your coven, she is still someone you personally share a bond with in some way. In my opinion, it would be exceedingly difficult for you three to even handle being in school with her after the fact.”

Disappointment was evident on everyone’s faces as Royce gathered the book again and sighed, “I guess we’ll just have to figure out another way, then.”

While the children moved to leave the kitchen, Dorothea stood and spoke, “There are other ways to drain or exchange powers.”

Turning back toward the woman, Vivien asked, “Like what?”

Holding up a finger, Dorothea silently asked them to wait as she stepped over to the pantry. Pulling a book from inside her hidden cabinet, Dorothea made her way back to the kitchen and opened the book, finding the right page as she explained, “There is a way for witches to send their powers into empty vessels.”

“Empty vessels?” Miles repeated. “Like what; a jar?”

“Not quite,” Dorothea said with a shake of her head. “In this case, an empty vessel would be a person without magic as it will give the person performing it some powers of their own as they drain the magic from the witches. The incantation would have to be read by the person without magic and, to anyone watching who isn’t involved, it would look the same as a coven draining.”

“That could work,” Mick muttered, earning nods from Carrie and Bentley.

“We could use that,” Miles agreed. “If we transferred the magic to ourselves, we could drain Serena and then give the magic back after it’s over.”

Turning to his mother, Royce asked, “Can we write down the incantation?”

With a stiff nod, Dorothea laid the book on the table and watched as Royce pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled out the information on a napkin. As Royce wrote, Vivien’s gaze landed on Dorothea. It seemed too good to be true. If this whole idea of giving their magic to someone else to protect themselves was an option, why hadn’t it been offered to them when Mick was possessed? Though she wanted nothing more than to trust Mrs Murphy with everything she had, Vivien couldn’t help but feel skeptical. For once, she wished she had Bentley’s unyielding optimism. The smile on his face was enough to tell Vivien that he hadn’t even given his mother’s offer a second thought.

Royce finished writing far quicker than Vivien would have liked, but as she held an arm out to stop him from going any further, she crossed her arms and met Mrs Murphy’s eyes as she asked, “What’s the catch?” 

“Catch?” the woman wondered.

Despite Mick’s hand on her shoulder silently asking her to stop before she could begin running her mouth, Vivien spoke, “There has to be something you aren’t telling us about this.”

Taking a deep breath as she sat back down at the table, Dorothea explained, “There are only certain times when magical beings can give up their powers. Special moments. Tonight isn’t just any night, after all.”

A pause of silence filled the room before Royce recalled, “Tonight’s the lunar eclipse.” 

“Exactly,” Dorothea nodded. “The full moon is one thing - a sign of new beginnings - but an eclipse is something else entirely. It is something very special. During an eclipse, the transfer is most powerful.”

“Powerful how?” Carrie pressed.

Dorothea closed the book she had brought out and tucked it under her arms as she folded her hands atop its surface, “Though it would be the safest option and would allow you to go about life normally, the power of the eclipse could make the transfer permanent.”

“Permanent?” Miles breathed, shock lining his voice as his eyes widened.

Bentley’s golden hair flowed like a halo of fluffy waves as he quickly shook his head, “No way! We haven’t gone through everything we have just to throw it all away.”

Dorothea held up a hand to placate the children before her as she spoke, “I understand, but without your magic, you’re of no use to whatever is possessing Serena, are you?”

Silence hung in the air like a weighted blanket - heavy and immovable. While the woman’s words were undeniably true, none of them knew quite how to respond. Bentley’s steel-toned eyes glanced between Royce and Vivien, wondering how they were so quiet. Did they have no concerns to voice, or were they overthinking as they always did? Taking Vivien’s hand in his, Bentley watched as her emerald eyes found his, and a silent question fell between them - were they truly willing to give up their magic so easily? When Vivien’s eyebrows knitted together, and she forced herself to turn away, Bentley knew he had his answer. Vivien turned to Royce and took his hand, following the same process with him. By the time Royce had found Bentley’s gaze, he knew they had all come to the same conclusion.

In a voice too quiet to be her own, Vivien muttered, “She’s right.”

Despite her surprise at how easily the normally fiery Vivien stepped down, Carrie looked ready to fight as she asked, “What?”

Royce shrugged as he finally looked up, the golden glow in his caramel eyes now dull as he defeatedly admitted, “We don’t really have a choice.”

Before any of the older children could argue, Dorothea spoke from her seat at the table, “I wouldn’t have suggested it on any other night, and although I feel it should only be used as a last resort, it might be your only chance.”

“We’ll have to try the coven thing first,” Bentley spoke, determination fuelling his tone as he turned back toward the others. “If that doesn’t work and she gets to be too much for us, we’ll back down and give up our powers.”

Taking a sharp breath, Mick drew the attention of those present as she admitted, “After everything that’s happened, I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“You could,” Vivien spoke confidently, offering the older girl a small smile. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

With a hum of confirmation, Royce said, “Even if it comes down to us having to give up our magic, you won’t be alone in it.”

Bentley nodded, “You’ll have all of us to support you.”

“We’re in this together,” Vivien added, patting the older girl on the arm. “Now, come on. We’ve got a demon to chase.”

Dead leaves crunched underfoot, and Carrie’s teeth chattered as another icy November wind sent a chill down her spine. Why couldn’t they have just left her in the car? She understood that Mick wanted to check the woods on foot, but the car’s headlights were a hell of a lot brighter than the flimsy flashlights on their cell phones. She could have at least followed them along the treeline with the car, shining the lights into the woods as best as she could. It made no sense for them to wander aimlessly through the woods with what little lighting they had, but then again, she understood where they were coming from. 

Seeing as Mick had been possessed recently, she would know better than any of them where to look. Her first instinct led them straight toward the woods where the kids had always done their Halloween ritual, and although Carrie could sense the thick layer of unease in the air, she knew as well as they all did that Mick was only doing what she felt was right. Mick had told her time and time again about how often the fleeting memories of the woods would come to mind. Maybe it was something to do with the magic being nearly as old as Salem itself and not knowing how to handle the noisy city it now inhabited. Carrie couldn’t be sure, but if Mick felt relatively confident, the blonde wasn’t about to argue with her.

Glancing toward where the kids were huddled together, their flashlights forming a unified beacon as they talked quietly amongst themselves, Carrie wondered what was going on in their heads. Were they worried or upset with the idea that Serena’s possessed body could be lurking in the canopy of the woods they felt at home in? Were they worried about the idea of sacrificing their magic to save a girl they could just barely consider a friend? Had they even considered the idea of being normal humans again? Or were they more focused on getting things taken care of so they could return to their normal lives? Carrie had given it much thought, and from the look on his face, so had Miles. Though she couldn’t tell what was going through Mick’s head as she walked ahead of them in a sort of daze, Carrie had a feeling that the younger brunette was just as worried about the concept of the kids losing their magic as she and Miles were. 

It was only natural for them to worry, Carrie supposed. Mick had been the only older sister type of figure in Vivien’s life since the girl was tiny, and Miles’ younger brothers were practically attached to his hips when they weren’t busy with school. They were older siblings in their own rights, and despite Carrie only having been close to the kids since she had begun working at Coven’s Cottage, she was just as worried for them. However, it didn’t seem as though the children were nearly as worried as they were.

They were relatively quiet - and had been for quite some time - but Carrie could see the faintest hint of a smile on Royce’s face as Vivien elbowed him in the arm, and Bentley let out a snort of laughter. Carrie grinned; they were cute together, whether they knew it or not. The only thing missing was their trusty sidekick, Kona. The little Hawaiian had grown increasingly close to them since her family moved to Salem when Kona and Bentley were entering fourth grade. It was only natural, seeing as how Bentley was her tour guide at school, and they were practically inseparable during the first few months of school. Nowadays, it was unusual to see the trio without the blonde, but after all that had happened in the last two weeks, the sight was becoming more common than anyone would have cared to admit.

Carrie took in a breath and focused her attention back on the treeline, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Grateful she had invested in a pair of fuzzy earmuffs and a packet of reheating hand warmers, Carrie pried her now warmed hand from her pocket and switched her phone into it before tucking her empty hand into her pocket. Oh, how she hated the cold! Though she was grateful to have stuck around Salem after graduating high school as, otherwise, she wouldn’t have grown close to Miles and his close-knit group of friends and family, a part of her wished they had met somewhere a bit warmer. Though she highly doubted she would be able to convince him to move somewhere warmer as he was a family man through and through, she hoped at least a few of their future winter vacations could be spent in one of the warmer states. Somewhere far from the snow and ice and whipping winds - Florida or California, perhaps? She’d heard stories of the luxurious beaches and seemingly endless summers, and, boy, did that sound good right about now!

As another wind stirred leaves into the air and blew a chill throughout the group, Carrie shivered and turned to Miles as she asked, “Do you see anything?”

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Miles asked, “No, do you?”

“I wish,” Carrie huffed. “Do you think Serena’s even here?”

“I don’t know,” Miles muttered, “but Mick seems pretty sure this is where it brought her, and if she’s right, Serena could be where the kids do their ritual.”

Carrie slowly nodded to herself before asking, “Do you know how to get there?”

Again, Miles shook his head, “I haven’t had to walk them out there in years. I think it’s marked off by fallen tree limbs, but I could be wrong.”

Carrie hummed thoughtfully, glancing back toward the trees they had already bypassed before shrugging. The important thing was that the kids knew how to get there. So long as they were reliable tour guides, she had nothing to worry about. Not much further down the edge of the woods, the kids stopped, turning back toward their older companions with matching expressions. However, of the three, it was Bentley who chose to speak first, “The path starts just up here and it doesn’t take long to get to the spot.”

“You guys should probably stay a good distance behind us just to be safe,” Royce recommended. 

Before anyone could argue, Vivien dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of assorted crystals as she spoke, “I took these from the store earlier and I think we should probably divide them up now in case she’s in there.”

“What did you bring?” Mick questioned, tucking her hands into her coat pockets as Vivien stepped forward. 

“For you guys, I brought malachite to repel toxic energy,” the young brunette explained as she began handing out portions of the swirled green crystal. “For all of us, I have small pieces of smithsonite that will help to ground us all and will hopefully make it easier for us to make tough decisions. Then, for just the three of us, I have some shards of white moonstone to help us harness the power of the moon and stars.”

“Do you think they’ll help?” Carrie asked as she examined the two stones in her palm.

“You never know,” Royce said with a small shrug.

“It’s better to have it and not end up needing it than to need it and not have it,” Vivien explained simply. 

“You’re nothing if not over-prepared,” Bentley teased, grinning cheekily at Vivien, who merely rolled her eyes in return.

“Call me paranoid all you want,” she resigned, “but if we’re going up against a demon without the help of some ancient witches, I want to make sure I’ve covered every possible base.”

“It’s smart,” Mick mused, gaining a grateful smile from the young brunette.

“Thanks,” Vivien said. 

With a fond smile, Royce tore his gaze away from Vivien and cleared his throat before saying, “We know the pathway like the back of our hands, so all you guys will have to do is follow us.”

“If she’s there, there’s a fallen tree you guys can hide behind,” Bentley stated. 

“Are you three sure this is what you want to do?” Miles pressed. 

“What other choice do we have?” Vivien replied rhetorically. “The sooner we find her and end this, the better off we’ll all be.”

With a hum of agreement from Royce and a quick nod from Bentley, the trio allowed the children to lead the way, their flashlights turning off as the moon guided them along the path. Despite the darkness of the forest, they maneuvered through the leaf-covered ground with practiced ease. Royce led the way over a fallen tree, waiting for Vivien and Bentley to join him on the other side before continuing onward. Turning toward his friends, Royce lowered his voice before asking, “Do you think we have a chance of ending this?”

“One way or another,” Bentley sighed softly.

“If it comes down to it, are you ready to give up our powers?” Royce asked.

“What other choice do we have?” Vivien asked in reply. “Without a candle and the help of other witches, we’re sorta out of options.”

Royce sucked in a breath and sighed, “Just as I was getting used to it.”

“Try to stay positive,” Bentley offered as he stepped over a small log. “We might not need to give them up.”

“And if we do?” Vivien wondered aloud.

Stepping between his brother and their longtime best friend, Bentley slid his hands into theirs and smiled, saying, “Then we’ll do it together like we always do.”

Vivien took in Bentley’s smile and offered a strained one in return while Royce peered over Bentley’s head at her, sending her a worried look that she dismissed with an encouraging smile. How she could be so calm about the matter, he would never know, but once Bentley’s glimmering, hope-filled eyes fell on him, Royce couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips, determined to make sure Bentley couldn’t see just how much the thought of losing their magic was affecting him. For the most part, the rest of their trip into the woods was silent, but Bentley’s soft humming made the mood feel at least minutely calmer.

All thought of conversation left them as they approached their ritual spot, tucking themselves behind the thick trunk of a fallen tree. In the clearing where their black flame candle had once burned, bringing them magic on Vivien’s sixteenth birthday, was Serena. Despite there being a few feet of space between the redhead and the mossy ground, she was sitting cross-legged, her hair floating in midair as her mouth moved wordlessly. Was she talking to herself? As the others silently joined them, Vivien took Bentley and Royce’s hands and muttered a quick silencing charm that the boys soon repeated. 

Once the charm had fallen around them, effectively preventing Serena from hearing them, Vivien said, “We should be fine now.”

Peering over the top of the fallen tree, Mick mused, “This feels familiar.”

“How so?” Carrie asked.

“I wandered in the woods a lot when I was possessed,” Mick explained as she moved to sit on the leaf-covered grass. “I don’t remember levitating at all, but there’s a lot from that night that I don’t remember, so…”

“How are you holding up?” Miles asked. “I know it can’t be easy.”

The older brunette shrugged with a heavy sigh, “It feels as though my head’s about to explode, but I’m managing.”

“Will you be okay?” Bentley asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Mick brushed off with a small smile. “Now, what’s the plan?”

Vivien and Bentley turned their attention to Royce, the only one in their group who actually liked to devise plans without blindly running into things. Swallowing thickly, Royce spared a glance over the tree before speaking, “I think, if we attack from different angles, we’ll have the element of surprise.”

Nodding in understanding, Vivien said, “You and I could go on either side of her while Bentley stays close to the tree. That way, these guys can keep him safe if anything happens and we can distract her if we have to.”

“That would probably be the best,” Royce agreed.

Despite wanting to prove that he could handle himself in any given scenario, Bentley resigned with a nod, understanding that neither Royce and Vivien nor the group of young adults that had joined them would be willing to let him put himself in harm’s way. He couldn’t blame them. If the roles had been reversed and he was the older sibling of the group, he’d want them safe as well. “Do you have the spell?” he asked instead.

Royce dug into his pocket briefly and pulled out the piece of paper he had written everything down on. Folding the paper in half, he held it out for the others to read before saying, “It’s relatively short, so it should be pretty easy, but it said to keep reciting it until the magic is gone.”

Nodding, Vivien looked up and met Royce’s gaze with a grin, “If you lead, we’ll follow.”

“Alright,” Royce breathed. “Now, divide and conquer.”

Stepping out of the bubble created by the silencing charm, Bentley watched as Royce and Vivien split off, quietly moving through the darkness of the forest as he rounded the edge of the fallen tree. Remaining as hidden as possible, Bentley only stepped into the light of the clearing once he was sure Royce and Vivien were ready to begin the chant. Quietly, Vivien moved her hands in a figure eight and softly muttered, “Post tergum ligabis.”

In an instant, Serena’s eyes, which had previously been closed, snapped open, revealing nothing but black, soulless voids where her usual hazel irises would be as her arms jerked behind her back, and she dropped to her knees on the ground. Looking around wildly, she whipped her head from one side to the other, hissing something incoherently as she glared inky daggers at the trio surrounding her. “So clever,” she hissed as her gaze flitted between Royce and Bentley, “yet so, so stupid!” With a cackling laugh, she found Vivien and taunted, “Do you truly think me so pathetic as to not be able to break free from my bonds?”

“You have no protective runes in place or we wouldn’t be able to perform any kind of magic,” Vivien explained calmly. “If you wanted to break free, you would.”

Serena’s silent glare told them all they needed to know. As much as they wanted to believe that Serena was fighting the possession, the dark, murderous gleam in her eyes told them otherwise. Maybe the part of herself that was tucked away, locked deep inside the possessed form before them, was keeping the demonic spirit at bay just enough to keep them from harm. “Perhaps I am merely curious as to what powers you believe to have over me.”

As Serena let out another dark chuckle, Bentley nodded to his brother and friend, signaling that he was ready if they were. Taking a moment to recall the words he had read from their mother’s book, Royce spoke, “Serena Sullivan, you have betrayed your coven.”

“Serena is no longer with us, I’m afraid,” the redhead hissed.

“Maybe not,” Bentley began, “but you’re still in her body, and she was a part of our coven for years before you came around.”

Continuing his speech, Royce stated, “You have stolen knowledge above your age and station, and have practiced the darkest of magic.”

“Therefore,” Vivien started with a smile, “it is only fair that, as your coven, we punish you as we see fit.”

Stunned into silence, Serena’s eyes flickered between the trio, watching as Bentley joined them in raising his arm, his palm aimed directly toward Serena as Vivien’s and Royce’s were. 

Royce waited until Bentley and Vivien were focused on him before he took in a deep breath, settling his glare on Serena as he slowly began the chant that Bentley and Vivien quickly joined, “Darkness now be gone from thee, banished and bound, we set you free, under the light of this pure moon, hearken to our witches rune, magicae nostrae tenebras purgat.”

“Wait,” Serena breathed, glancing around with widened eyes. As they began reciting the chant a second time, Serena’s eyes began to shift to a shade of dark crimson as she gasped, “No! No, I cannot control it!”

With the second chant coming to a close, the young trio watched as their hands began to glow. Over the violet light emitting from her palms, Vivien could see traces of gold to her right and orange across from her. However, as they began a third chant, she spotted a glimmer of pale pink to her left, dragging her attention from the task at hand as the glow of the moon from above illuminated a head of blonde hair that appeared at the edge of the tree line. Despite her shock at Kona’s sudden appearance, Vivien forced herself to focus as she took note of the blonde reciting the chant along with them. Turning her gaze back on Serena, Vivien watched as a series of glowing, iridescent shapes began to appear above Serena’s body. The first took on the form of a tilted X, followed by a backward and elongated Z, and finally, a capital Y with the center line dragged upwards through the meeting point.

Though she had no understanding of what the shapes meant or why they had appeared, Vivien allowed herself to continue the chant as she watched Serena’s form writhe in some sort of invisible pain. She forced herself to watch as silent tears began to roll down the redhead’s cheeks, and the dark hues in her eyes dissolved to reveal the natural hazel underneath it all. None of them were entirely sure whether or not it was a true representation of the girl’s clarity, but as a gasp left her, they were fairly sure it was.

Allowing the chant to begin again, the now quartet watched in surprise as colorful beams of light shot out from their hands, attaching them to Serena like an invisible cord. As though she had been shot, Serena let out an ear-piercing scream, a pained cry leaving her as she caught her breath before releasing another scream. This time, as Serena screeched, a dark, reddened glow began to burn under her skin, flooding upwards from her chest to her throat. Then, as the ominous glow reached her temples, her eyes began to void themselves of any color, and a dark, crimson glow began to spread outward from her through the magical tethers connecting her to the four mages.

With wide eyes and panic thick in his voice, Royce yelled, “Let go!”

However, he wasn’t quick enough, and just as the words left Royce’s mouth, a pulse of dark magic slammed through the connection, flinging them away from her and leaving them minutely grateful they hadn’t hit any trees. At once, the magical ties connecting them to the redhead dissolved, and the runes preventing Serena’s magic from spreading flickered away into the night sky as she broke free of her magical bonds. Without so much as a noise, Serena rose shakily from her spot on the ground and, with a flourish of the cape wrapped tightly around her shoulders, she disappeared, leaving nothing more than a faintly charred circle of dead leaves and four magic-wielding teenagers struggling to push themselves from the forest floor.

With the only imminent threat now gone, Miles pushed himself to climb out from his hiding place, finding Bentley first as he loudly asked, “Are you all alright?”

As Vivien pushed herself to sit on her knees, she pushed her hair from her face and snarkily asked, “Does it look like we’re alright?”

Making her way to Vivien as Miles left Bentley in Carrie’s care to check on Royce, Mick asked, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m not dead,” Vivien claimed. “I think I’ll count that as a victory.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Mick said as she helped Vivien to stand. Following the girl to where Kona had appeared from between a set of birch trees, she gestured to the girl and added, “And when did you get here?”

Brushing traces of dead leaves and dirt from her clothes, Kona grinned as she admitted, “I was here before you guys were.”

Allowing the blonde to lead the way to where the others had gathered in the clearing, Vivien asked, “When did you find out you had magic?”

“When I was talking to Ben and Royce’s mom,” Kona explained. “She sort of helped me understand that Bentley was telling me the truth about you guys having magic, but when I started getting frustrated, the table shook and she told me I probably had it too.”

“How did you know to find us here?” Bentley asked as Miles and Royce pulled him to his feet.

“I didn’t,” Kona said. “I had just left your house to go home and contemplate my existence when I saw Serena acting weird at the end of the driveway.”

Raising a curious brow, Royce questioned, “How did you follow her on foot?”

“Technically, I was on wheels at first,” Kona chuckled. “I had my skates, so I followed her as best as I could. She left her car by the commons and walked here, so I followed her.”

“And you managed to go undetected by a demon?” Mick asked.

Kona hummed, “It wasn’t as hard as you think.” Holding up a hand, Kona took in a deep breath and concentrated for a moment, leaving the others watching in stunned silence as her fingers began disappearing from sight. Thoroughly proud of herself, Kona beamed, “When you’re a ghost, nobody pays any attention to you.”

Taking what remained of Kona’s hand in hers, Carrie laughed as she felt the girl’s invisible fingers wiggling in her grasp, “I didn’t know you guys could do that.”

“I don’t think any of us did,” Royce muttered, glancing pointedly toward Vivien and Bentley who quickly shook their heads.

“I discovered it on accident, but hey, the more you know,” Kona smiled, taking her hand back and willing her fingers to appear again. After a moment, her expression turned serious as she claimed, “I heard Serena talking to herself about you guys having, like, cosmic powers or something. She wants the magic for herself.”

Bentley glanced around at the others as he asked, “That’s what it wanted last time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Mick answered with a nod.

“Last time?” Kona wondered as she glanced from Mick to Bentley. “She really was possessed?” 

“I wasn’t lying to you,” Bentley stated with a hint of a grin.

Finding Kona’s gaze again, Mick asked, “Did you hear anything else?”

“Just her talking about wanting to take over,” Kona shrugged. “For the most part, she was talking to herself. It was like she was arguing with someone who wasn’t there.”

“Makes sense,” Miles mused. Taking a slow breath, he glanced around at the children before him and asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

Royce sighed, “We need to lure her to us and try to take her down again.”

“Are you insane?” Kona questioned. “She could have killed us!”

With a nod, Bentley agreed, “Yeah, I don’t think we’re strong enough to handle her on our own.”

“Maybe not,” Vivien began, “but she might be a bit weaker now that we’ve tried draining her once.”

“Exactly,” Royce said. “If we can get her to come to us with the idea of getting our magic, we can try it again.”

“Well,” Carrie began thoughtfully, “I highly doubt we’ll be able to convince her to come back here.”

Vivien sighed, “I think that’ll be the hardest part - finding a place.”

Taking in a deep breath as the others began offering suggestions, Mick cleared her throat and looked around as she spoke, “How about the commons?”

“You hate going to the commons nowadays,” Miles said.

“I don’t hate it,” Mick insisted with a sigh, “but regardless of my feelings toward the commons, it’s a nice, open space where they could work together to take Serena down. Besides, it’s a lot easier to donate funds to the town in order to replace torched bushes than it would be to pay off a handful of charred, antique church pews.”

Miles took a good look at the rest of the group, taking in their varied expressions as he sucked in a slow breath. Then, with a decisive sigh, he nodded, “Alright, I guess we’ll head to the commons then. But,” he began, looking pointedly at the group of four before him, “you four need to stay with us. No wandering off - we need you alive.”

After giving their forms of agreement, the teenagers turned on their flashlights and began the walk back to the edge of the woods. Once they were back on the path and sure the others were following them, Royce lowered his voice and asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Vivien swallowed thickly and asked in response, “What; that we might have to give up our powers?”

Sparing a glance over his shoulder as Miles accused Mick of intentionally smacking him in the face with a twig, Bentley sighed, “As much as I don’t want to give the magic up, I think it might be our only option.”

“What do you mean?” Kona pressed. “I just got mine, I don’t want to give them up.”

“And, thankfully, Serena doesn’t know that,” Royce claimed. “Besides, we only have three vessels.”

“Vessels?”

“People without magic that can take ours,” Vivien explained. “Mick, Miles, and Carrie can take ours, but we don’t have anyone to take yours.”

As Kona made a noise of agreement, Bentley spoke up, “Maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

“How so?” Royce asked as he pushed a stray branch out of his path.

Slowly piecing together his plan, Bentley spoke, “Kona can turn invisible. If she attacks Serena to keep her busy while we transfer our magic, she’ll be even weaker than she is and will be easier for them to take down.”

“Okay, that sounds great and all, but you guys aren’t seriously giving up your magic, are you?” Kona asked. “Like, this is just a temporary thing, right?”

“Our mom said that the power of the eclipse could make it permanent,” Royce admitted.

“Could,” Vivien emphasized. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to get them back.”

Hesitantly glancing between the three as they neared the edge of the woods, Kona asked in a hushed voice, “What if you can’t get them back? What happens then?”

Royce heaved a sigh as he admitted, “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Stepping past the treeline, Vivien said, “I think we’ll just have to sit back and help everyone else strengthen their magic.”

“It’s only fair,” Bentley acknowledged. “They’ve helped us a lot in the last two weeks and I think helping them figure things out is the least we can do to repay them.”

“How do they feel about you guys giving them your magic?” Kona asked as she followed them toward where Miles and Mick had left their vehicles.

Silence filled the crisp autumn air as the magically-bound trio slowed their steps, their thoughts now riddled with scenarios and potential outcomes of the conversation to come. The idea of having to tell the people they loved most that they were giving up the magic - the magic that they had all worked so hard to improve and strengthen together - was terrifying. Especially when they realized that would entail telling the already mentally drained Mick that she would have to push aside her reservations to help them. Turning back toward the now-stopped group, Kona set them a worried look before pointedly glancing past them to where Miles and Mick had roped Carrie into singing an old TV show theme song with them as they walked.

Quickly righting themselves, the trio headed for the cars, Vivien tugging Kona along with her to Mick’s bus as she explained under her breath, “What they don’t know, they’ll help us figure out.”

As Kona climbed over the bench seat into the back of the beat-up hippie bus, she asked, “What happens when they find out?”

Heaving a sigh, Vivien slid into the passenger’s seat and watched Mick as she parted ways with her fellow oblivious friends. Vivien forced a smile onto her face as Mick made her way toward them, but as she glanced in the rear-view mirror at Kona, she admitted, “I have no idea.”

The door yanked open, and Mick laughed as she climbed into her seat. She slammed the door behind herself and tugged her keys from her coat pocket. “Are you guys ready?” she asked as she shoved her car key into the ignition.

“We are,” Vivien said before Kona could claim otherwise. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Not much,” Mick shrugged, putting the vehicle in gear before following closely behind Miles’ Jeep. “Miles said something about how Serena’s ponytail reminded him of the little girl on The Flintstones.”

“Pebbles?” Kona snickered curiously.

“Yeah,” Mick nodded as she met the girl’s gaze in the mirror. She slowed to a stop where the dirt roads met the gravel streets and watched as a few cars passed by. “So, we started singing the theme song and he convinced Carrie to sing with us even though we all know he would much rather just listen to her all day.”

Vivien chuckled, “Who wouldn’t? She’s a great singer.”

“Yeah, but he’s also a lovesick idiot,” Kona chimed in. With a roll of her eyes, she claimed, “I’m pretty sure she could start a wildfire or something and he would be singing her praises.”

“She could kill him and he would haunt her just to say ‘thank you,’” Vivien snickered.

Mick laughed, “You’re not wrong.”

Once they were back on the road, the rumble of the old vehicle’s engine overpowered any chance of a conversation, and Kona took the opportunity at a stop sign to stretch over the bench-style back of her seat and turn the radio volume up. While the radio flitted between static nonsense, advertisements for local businesses, and the fleeting notes of a Christmas song that had been cycling the radio waves since the day after Halloween, Vivien found herself trying to prevent her leg from bouncing anxiously as they grew closer to the commons. 

Though she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the concept of giving up her newfound abilities, that wasn’t the thing that was bothering her most. Her mind was more focused on how badly she was sure Mick would react. Whether she would admit it aloud or not, Vivien was terrified of having to deal with a hysterical Mick. Despite how far Mick had come since everything went down on Halloween, she was sure Mick would refuse to allow them to give up their powers, especially if she knew to whom Vivien intended to give her powers.

Glancing at the older girl beside her, Vivien forced herself to smile as Mick peered over with a grin and offered Vivien a hand over the cushion between them. Mouthing along to Mariah Carey’s infamous Christmas song, Vivien slipped her hand into Mick’s and sucked in a deep breath as she began praying to whatever deity would listen that things would go better than she expected them to. A part of her wished that this was all a dream and that she would wake up in bed or on the Murphy’s couch, but she knew that was practically impossible at this point. Things had gone far too off the rails for her to be dreaming.

As they drove past the hospital toward the center of town, Vivien found herself scanning the surrounding area for any sign of Serena. Although she hadn’t found anything, she couldn’t brush off the feeling that someone, somewhere, was watching them as Mick rolled to a stop behind Miles’ Jeep, their parking spots within walking distance of the street the Murphy family lived on. With no opportunity to call everything off and the looming threat of Serena’s possession still tugging at the far edges of her brain, Vivien cleared her throat and sighed as she looked around, grateful that very few people appeared to be away from home at that hour. Nobody else needed to see what was about to go down.

Taking a deep breath as she turned off the engine, Mick twisted in her seat so that she could see both Vivien and Kona as she asked, “Are you two ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Vivien sighed.

With a resigned nod, Kona agreed as she climbed over the back of the seat to sit between the two brunettes, “I’m just ready to use my new magic.”

“You’ll do great, Kona,” Mick reassured, brushing a stray hair from the girl’s face with a smile. “If you’re anything like Vivien and the boys, you’ll pick up on things in no time at all.”

Kona smiled and nodded before turning to Vivien with a wary look as Mick shoved open her door. Swallowing thickly, Vivien pushed her door open and allowed Kona to climb out behind her, letting the blonde tug her aside after the door was closed once more. In a hushed voice, Kona asked, “Are you sure about this? Ben and I were talking on Discord and he says he’s worried. I tried to reassure him, but I’m nervous too and I’m not the one giving up my magic.”

Vivien placed a hand on Kona’s shoulder and started walking around the car with her as she replied, “As I said, it might not be permanent.”

Digging her heels into the edge of the sidewalk, Kona urged Vivien to stop as she pressed, “What if it is?”

“So be it,” Vivien shrugged in response. “If we can get our powers back - great! If not, life can go back to normal, and we can help the others learn how to use them.”

“Are Royce and Bentley okay with that?” Kona asked.

“Why else would they go through with it?” Vivien asked in return.

“Because you’re okay with it,” Kona stated. When the brunette before her sent her a confused look, Kona huffed, “Royce will do anything you want him to - sort of like Miles and Carrie. You say jump, he asks how high.”

“I don’t think-”

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Viv. It’s the truth,” Kona interrupted. “As for Bentley, the only reason I’m sure he’s going through with it - apart from the fact that Royce is, and he’s always up his brothers’ asses - is because you are the closest thing to a sister that he’s ever had and he feels the need to impress you.”

“He doesn’t need to do that,” Vivien claimed. “He knows I adore him.”

“I’m sure he does,” Kona agreed as she began walking again. “But that changes nothing. What I’m trying to say is that they’re doing this for you. Did you even bother asking if they wanted to give up their powers?”

“I know they don’t,” Vivien sighed. “None of us do. It’s just the only thing left that could keep us safe from Serena.”

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Does it look like we have a choice?”

Kona glanced at her tall friend and sighed, “I guess not, no.” Taking hold of Vivien’s hand as they entered the commons, Kona muttered, “At least promise me that you guys will stay safe while I confuse the shit out of Serena.”

“I promise we’ll try,” Vivien offered with a hesitant smile.

“Good enough,” Kona shrugged as they made up the distance between themselves and where the others had gathered. Vivien sucked in a deep breath as she looked around at the group. Miles and Carrie were talking with Mick about something the boys had talked about in the car while they set out some of the crystals they had brought. While Royce worked on laying out a blanket for them to kneel on during the transfer, Bentley had chosen to lay on a nearby bench, staring blankly at the sky overhead. Though nobody else seemed to think this was anything odd for the young blond, Vivien felt a pang in her chest at the idea that he was observing what would remain of the magic they now possessed.

Giving Kona’s hand a small squeeze, Vivien suggested, “Why don’t you help Bentley with his existential crisis?”

“Is that what he’s doing?” Kona wondered with a raised brow.

“That would be my guess,” Vivien sighed. “I can’t say I blame him.”

“Me neither,” Kona agreed. As she headed toward the bench, she turned back to Vivien and said, “Good luck.”

With a grateful nod, Vivien made her way to where Royce had begun brushing dirt and grass from the blanket he’d laid out. Kneeling on the old, flannel picnic blanket, she softly asked, “How are you holding up?”

Barely glancing in Vivien’s direction, Royce replied, “Better than Bentley.”

Nodding more to herself than anyone else, Vivien sighed, “Yeah.”

Shifting to sit cross-legged, Royce met Vivien’s gaze and asked, “What about you? How are you doing with all of this?”

“Not great, but not horrible,” Vivien resigned. “I’m not thrilled with the idea that this could be permanent, but at the same time, I’m trying to remain positive.”

Royce hummed, picking at the blades of grass that just barely clung to life on the border of the blanket as he spoke “Ultimately, what choice do we have?”

“It’s not the end of the world if we give them our magic,” Vivien stated, tugging her jacket close as the wind picked up. “We’ve lived without it before.”

“Yeah,” Royce sighed, “I just wish we had more time with it.”

“So that’s it?” a voice hissed, the person’s wounded tone jolting Royce and Vivien from their conversation. As they turned to find Mick’s pained, chestnut eyes looking between them, hoping to see something else in their eyes, Vivien pushed herself to her feet. However, before she could explain the conversation, Mick asked, “You guys are seriously giving up? Just like that?”

“Mick,” Miles began as he neared them, “what are you talking about?”

Tilting her head but not tearing her gaze from the children before her, Mick claimed, “They’re giving up their magic.”

“What?” Miles breathed.

Stepping up to the group, Carrie asked, “Are you sure you didn’t just hear wrong, Mickie?”

Before Mick could clarify what she had heard, Bentley spoke as he stood from the bench he had perched himself on, “She didn’t hear wrong; it’s the truth.”

“You’re really thinking about going through with it?” Carrie pressed, her gaze flicking worriedly between Bentley, Royce, and Vivien.

“We’re not thinking about it,” Royce claimed as he stood. “We’re doing it.”

“Why are you guys so ready to give that up?” Miles asked. “You love your magic.”

Vivien sighed, “We do, but if her goal is to take our magic, we need to get rid of it before she can grow stronger.”

“And we don’t get any say in the matter,” Mick said with a shake of her head as her eyes drifted toward the ground. With a huff, she fixed her gaze on Vivien and breathed, “You can’t do this to us, to me.”

“We don’t have a choice, Mickie,” Bentley said as he and Kona joined the group. 

Taking in a shuddering breath, Mick muttered, “There’s always a choice.”

“Normally, yeah,” Vivien nodded, “but this time, there really isn’t another option.”

“If we don’t give up our magic, Serena will take it from us,” Royce stated. “Like Mom said earlier, this is our last resort.”

“What happened to trying the coven drain again?” Miles offered as Mick took a few steps away from them. “I thought that was the plan.”

Royce took in a slow breath and shook his head, “It would have been if we thought we could handle it. After what she did to us last time, we don’t think it would be smart for us to try fighting her off again, regardless of her being weaker too.”

Nodding understandingly, Carrie asked, “Was she trying to take your magic in the woods?”

“Whether or not she realized it, I think she was.” Glancing around at her fellow mages, Vivien said, “I don’t know about you guys, but when she was trying to fight us off and her magic was colliding with ours, it felt like she was draining the life out of me.”

“Yeah,” Kona nodded. “I felt weak.”

“We all did,” Bentley claimed. 

Royce nodded, glancing between Miles and Carrie as he spoke, “That’s why I think it would be better if we gave up our powers now. Kona can use her magic to lure Serena here, and once you guys have our magic, you can help her drain Serena.”

After a silent pause fell among them, Vivien added, “And, after it’s done, we can try to reverse it, if you really want that.”

Miles turned to Carrie, his worried steel-colored eyes finding hers as a silent question passed between them. Were they ready for this? After only two weeks of helping the kids strengthen their abilities and watching them grow more sure of themselves, were they ready to trade places? If this was permanent, were they really ready for their normal lives to be a thing of the past? As Carrie nodded and Miles took in a breath, they realized that it didn’t matter so long as the kids they cared so much for were safe. 

Turning toward Mick, Miles softly asked, “What do you say, Mickie?”

Though nobody could see her face, it was obvious the brunette was crying, her shoulders shuddering as she sucked in a shaky breath, “I’m not strong enough for this.”

“Yes, you are,” Vivien argued gently.

“I’m not,” Mick said with a firm shake of her head. “I know you think I am, but I’m not. I had magic for one night and almost killed all of you; what makes you think I could handle it now?”

“That was different and you know it,” Vivien said as she approached her oldest friend.

Sounding nearly as broken as she looked, Mick swiped a hand under her eyes and turned as she scoffed out a simple question, “How?” 

“You were given dark magic before.” Gesturing behind herself, Vivien chuckled, “You’ve seen us use our magic for the dumbest shit, you know the magic we have isn’t dark.”

“And before you try to say that it could become dark because of you,” Royce began, “think again. You’re one of the nicest people I know.”

Bentley nodded, his pearlescent smile practically glowing as he spoke, “Who else - apart from Miles and our parents - would put up with our nonsense on a daily basis and still want to do it again the next day?”

Despite the choked laugh she let out, Mick shook her head, but Vivien was quick to stop her from saying anything as she took the older girl’s arms and tugged her back toward the group, “I know you don’t think you’re strong enough, but we know you are.”

“Besides, you aren’t alone this time,” Royce claimed. “You’ll have Carrie and Miles with you, and the three of us will be there to help you if you need us.”

“Four of us,” Kona chimed in with a smile.

Mick glanced her way with a hint of a smile, but Vivien’s grip on her arms pulled her attention back to the girl before her. “Look, I know this is going to be hard for you, but if she gets our powers, all of Salem - if not the whole world - will be in danger.”

With a shaky breath, Mick met Vivien’s eyes once more and asked, “What happens if I can’t do it?” 

“You can,” Vivien claimed confidently. “I know you can. You have to.” -she slowly kneels on the ground, holding Mick’s hand out above her- 

“Guys, I hate to interrupt this,” Kona said, drawing everyone’s attention to her as she stared up at the sky, “but if we’re going to do this during the eclipse, we’re running out of time.” 

Sure enough, as their gazes lifted toward the starry sky above, they realized the moon had begun to glow a dark, bloody red. With time now effectively ticking away, Vivien’s hands slid down Mick’s arms to the older girl’s as she knelt on the blanket Royce had laid out for them not long before. Tearing his gaze from the sky, Miles watched Vivien kneel on the old blanket they typically used for cold nights at the drive-in and softly asked, “What are you doing, kiddo?”

Despite everything in her body telling her not to turn her gaze from the sky, Mick’s tawny eyes fell from the glowing light above as Vivien began to speak, “I know it’s not fair, Mick, but nothing ever is.” Holding the older girl’s right hand in both of hers, Vivien moved it so that Mick’s fingers were mere inches from her forehead as she met the older girl’s eyes and said, “It shouldn’t have to be you three, but it is and I’m sorry that it has to be this way.” 

Tapping Bentley on the arm, Royce nodded toward where Vivien had knelt, a silent gesture telling his younger brother to find a place to stay as he nudged Bentley closer to Miles. Despite his curiosity, Bentley wordlessly complied, kneeling to Viven’s left as Royce took up the spot on the brunette’s right. Peering up at his oldest brother, Bentley held out a pleading hand that Miles quickly latched onto as he crouched in front of his youngest sibling. Running a hand over Bentley’s hair in what he hoped would keep both of them calm, Miles pressed a quick kiss to his brother’s forehead before asking, “Are you sure about this?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Bentley nodded, “You guys could never hurt us.”

Looking at her two coworkers and friends, Carrie found herself, for the first time in a long time, at a loss for words as her gaze fell on Royce. Meeting the boy’s eerily calm, caramel gaze with her own, apologetically burning sapphire, Carrie sniffled back the growing lump in her throat and breathed, “I’m sorry.” As Royce’s eyebrow lifted - a trait Carrie typically only associated with Miles - she felt the need to explain further, “I know you’d probably rather be with Miles or Mick, but you got saddled with me instead.”

“I would have felt more comfortable, yeah,” Royce agreed with a breathy chuckle, “but for once, I actually picked you.”

“You did?” Carrie wondered. At Royce’s nod, she asked, “Why?”

“Believe it or not,” Royce began, offering the older girl a hint of a grin, “I trust you, Carrie.”

Unable to fight the burning sting of salty tears in her eyes, Carrie let out a wet, choked laugh at the timing of the sixteen-year-old’s statement. After trying for so long to have some semblance of a connection with the middle Murphy brother, this was what brought them together? Though she certainly wasn’t going to protest the slivered hint of a relationship, she wished it had formed under better circumstances. Royce’s chilled fingers tugged Carrie’s gloves from her hand, startling the blonde from her thoughts as she allowed him to tuck the gloves into her coat pocket and lift her palm toward his forehead.

With a nod to the blonde, Royce retracted his hands and said, “You’ve got this.”

“If you say so,” Carrie muttered in a breath.

Digging into the pocket of his jeans, Royce pulled out the napkin with the incantation on it and held it out for Carrie to take with her free hand. “Read this three times, part by part, and allow them to follow your lead while Kona starts sending out burst of magic for Serena to follow. Don’t read the next part until they say what you have.”

Looking over the makeshift note in her friend’s hand, Mick asked, “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive,” Vivien quickly agreed, refusing to allow anyone the chance to back out.

As he stood to his full height and held his hand in front of Bentley’s head, Miles asked, “Any advice before we start?”

“Imagine the magic flowing through you like a river,” Bentley said. “It makes everything easier.”

“Make sure you’re standing properly so that you don’t get thrown back.” Vivien offered. “I almost slammed through my bedroom wall when I first tried a new spell.”

As the others shuffled to find proper grounding, Royce said, “My only advice is to not give up. No matter what happens and how bizarre it feels, you can’t let it get to you. You’re a coven now. Your strength is in the magic that ties you together.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Mick glanced between Miles and Carrie before nodding at the blonde to her left. “I’m ready when you are.”

Once Miles had nodded in agreement, Kona took off in a run, making her way to the pavilion and launching a burst of magic into the air as Carrie held up the paper and began slowly reading, “Come moon of cold hours, between dusk and dawn, drain a witch of all powers, to render magic gone, potentias exhauri, malefica impotens.”

As the first of three incantations came to a close, Carrie gasped as she looked at the young brunet before her. Glowing veins had appeared just underneath Royce’s skin, drawing luminous, cerulean lines closer to the surface. His eyes had scrunched shut - due to pain or fear, she wasn’t quite sure - but slowly peeled open at the silence that filled the air. Once chestnut eyes now glowed a glorious navy, almost as though the moon had nestled itself in the boy’s soul. Glancing over at Vivien and Bentley, Carrie found her friends staring at the children before them in a similar state of wonder - and with good reason. Though the violet glow under Vivien’s skin was harder to spot due to the girl’s tan skin, Bentley’s golden hue was impossible to miss.

Carrie jumped as Royce’s icy fingers wrapped around her wrist, but as she found his gaze, she realized why he had done so. “You need to keep going,” Royce’s echoing voice reminded her without the teenager so much as opening his mouth. Glancing pointedly at the paper in the hand he held captive, he spoke once more, “Serena will be here soon; you need to finish this before she gets here.”

Still mildly in shock at how Royce had managed to communicate with her without verbally saying anything, Carrie nodded and swallowed thickly, wetting her lips before looking back down at the paper and beginning the incantation again. This time, as they began reciting the spell once more and Kona sent another magical flare into the air above the commons, the three young adults had to fight the instinct to help the teenagers before them as they let out a simultaneous noise of pain. Looking down, it was clear to see that the transfer had begun. Strands of colorful magic surged out from the young trio, arching into the palms of those who stood before them.

Golden rays of light that emitted from Bentley wove around Miles’ fingers like he had stuck his hand into a ray of sunlight that peered in through a window, the golden hue dissolving into a shade of almost too-bright white before jolting up his arm in jagged arches of neon blues and purples. Beside him, Mick watched as Vivien’s violet constellations flurried like snowflakes into her palm, the faint stars disappearing on contact as the colorful swirls of magic rolled around her hand and up her arm. Violet turned to teal and white as something akin to a wave swirled up the sleeve of her jacket and disappeared into her skin, but Mick forced herself to pay it little attention as she focused on the task at hand. Meanwhile, as Carrie read off the last line on the page, she watched shades of Royce’s lunar glow beam through her fingers, the light shifting from sapphire to slate before flickering into a blazing inferno that flared up her arm in an array of reds and oranges.

Just as Miles and Mick had finished repeating the final part of the spell, the standing trio jumped as an invisible Kona yelled out, “She’s here! I’ll keep her busy!”

Opening her eyes just enough to see a streak of pink and blue launch into the sky toward a hovering Serena, Vivien let out a breath and reached out a hand to Bentley, grasping his hand wordlessly before doing the same for Royce. Despite how ready she was just minutes prior, the knowledge that the magic she adored so much would now be gone had finally sunken in. With a shaky breath, Vivien watched as Kona’s bursts of colorful magic slammed Serena toward a nearby tree. She would miss having magic; it tethered her to her best friends in a way she had never thought possible before. However, so long as she got to help the others strengthen their own abilities and still had her friends by her side, she would find a way to grow used to it.

As the third and final reciting began, Kona let out a noise of surprise and ducked under a crimson wave of magic Serena sent in the direction Kona had dashed from. Fighting the urge to cuss out the dark witch mid-fight, the young blonde spared a glance at her friends before sending out a burst of light she hoped would at least temporarily stun the redhead and sending a few beacons of light toward the corners of the commons in the hopes of forming a protective barrier around the open area. Making a break for the other side of the commons as Serena screeched in pain, Kona tried to remember all that Bentley and Royce’s mom had taught her in their brief discussion. There wasn’t much to go on as their chat had been relatively brief, but as she sent another burst of light toward the old playground on the far side of the commons, she hoped what she had been taught would stick. Forcing herself to become visible to those around her once more, Kona attempted to catch her breath as Serena rubbed furiously at her eyes.

Once the redhead’s vision cleared and she began looking around the commons for the invisible assailant, Kona shouted, “Hey, Strawberry Shortcake!” Hoping she didn’t look nearly as weirded out by Serena’s glowing, blood-red eyes as she felt once the girl whirled around toward her, Kona grinned and yelled, “Come get me!” However, much to Kona’s dismay, the hovering witch’s head tipped to the side with a smirk before her gaze snapped toward the group of six now locked in the final recitement of the incantation. “No,” Kona breathed, using her magic to propel her faster as she rushed to catch up with the dark witch. “No, no, no!”

Faster than Kona could recall ever moving, she reached out, a tether of light extending from her hand and wrapping around Serena’s ankle, dragging the redhead to the ground as Kona ran to catch up. Kona’s grip on the tether tightened as Serena’s darkened, nearly-black fingers wrapped around the other end, turning the once cotton-candy-colored light a dark, violent red in her grasp. Serena’s cackling laugh pierced the air as she yanked on the magic tying herself to the small blonde, “Did you really think you - of all witches - would be powerful enough to stop me?”

Digging her heels into the ground, Kona looked past the redhead before meeting her eyes with a cocky smirk, “Maybe not, but I make one hell of a distraction, don’t I?”

Confusion flooded Serena’s ruby irises for a fleeting moment before realization kicked in. Whirling around, Serena snarled at the vivid array of colors on the other side of the field. With a roll of her eyes, the redhead let out a screech of frustration and sent a surge of scarlet magic toward Kona, flinging the blonde aside as the connection tying them together snapped, disappearing into a flurry of colorful sparks. Scrambling to her feet, Serena used another burst of energy to propel her into the air, cackling furiously as she aimed for the group surrounded by colorful energy.

Tired caramel eyes peeled open as the last surge of magic left Royce’s body and, glancing into the night sky, Royce met Carrie’s unnaturally orange eyes and shouted, “Behind you!” 

As though the magic they now shared had made it possible for them to move in unison, Carrie, Mick, and Miles turned toward Serena with extended hands, their newfound powers bursting outward in a full display. Lightning jolted outward from Miles’ fist, meeting Carrie’s crackling line of fire and Mick’s rushing wave as their magic slammed into Serena, knocking her out of the sky with a shout of surprise. Glancing at each other with wide, astonished eyes, Mick and Carrie nodded to each other before rocketing into the sky, leaving Miles on the ground as he turned his attention to the children now watching the battle from the grass.

Kneeling before them, Miles wordlessly checked on his brothers and pseudo-sister before glancing back at the girls now locked in a fight with Serena. After checking to make sure they were alright physically, he turned his focus back on the teenagers before him as he spoke, “You guys should stay somewhere safe until this is over.”

The only one to pay him any attention was Vivien, whose teary emerald eyes silently found Miles’. Swallowing thickly, she asked, “Where would we go?”

Feeling his chest clench at the heartbroken tone in the girl’s voice, Miles reached out and swiped his thumbs under the rim of Vivien’s glasses, brushing away her silent tears as he said, “Go back to our house and tell Mom what’s happening. Maybe she’ll know of a spell to end this.”

Nodding more for herself than anything, Vivien allowed Miles to help her to her feet before moving so that he could help Royce while she handled Bentley. Once he was standing, Bentley asked, “What about Kona?”

Miles glanced over his shoulder to where Kona was using herself as a distraction whilst Mick and Carrie struggled through the learning curve that was their newfound abilities. With a ghost of a smile, he turned back to his brothers and Vivien and said, “We’ll keep an eye on her. For now, focus on yourselves. We’ll cover you.”

Vivien stepped back as Bentley slammed into Miles, keeping herself at a distance as Royce joined the embrace. Not wanting to interrupt their moment, she watched Mick attempt to put out an accidental fire Carrie had created in her fiery tirade against Serena. They would be able to hold things off until Mrs. Murphy found a solution; she never doubted that they could. Royce and Bentley stepped away from their brother, and Vivien sucked in a breath, attempting to appear calm and hoping her small smile would be seen as comforting as they turned toward her.

“Ready?” she asked.

Though they didn’t answer verbally, both of her friends nodded and began to walk in her direction as Vivien caught Miles’ gaze between them. The two eldest siblings shared a nod, some kind of silent solidarity passing between them as Vivien heard Miles’ voice in her head, telling her to take care of not just the boys before he turned and took off, joining the fight without another word. Taking a final look at the fight, Vivien took her former coven mates by the hands and began pulling them in the direction of their home. Though she wanted nothing more than to help in the fight against Serena - it was their battle, after all -  Vivien knew they would be of no use to their friends if they had stuck around. If anything, they would be nothing more than distractions - pawns for Serena to use against the people they loved.

Despite Royce’s inability to run long distances without needing a break, he managed to make it to the end of their driveway without falling far behind, something he took a faint pride in as Vivien tugged him closer to the front door. Bentley was pushed inside first, followed closely by Royce as Vivien tried to look down the street at the commons in the distance. Sighing at how little she could see through the thickly settled neighborhood, Vivien stepped into the house and quickly locked the door behind herself before looking around. Royce had slumped against the back of the armchair their mom preferred to crochet in, his arms wrapped around himself in a kind of hug as his shoulders shuddered with each breath he took, whereas Bentley had disappeared, most likely searching the house for their mother.

Stepping up to her friend, Vivien brought her arms around Royce, rubbing a hand up and down his back as his arms closed in around her waist, grabbing fistfuls of her jacket to keep her as close as possible. Royce’s forehead dropped onto Vivien’s shoulder, and, for a moment, she worried if he was ill. His skin burned against hers, but as he muttered a soft, “It’s too warm now,” she realized that the lunar magic he once possessed was no longer there to keep him cool.

“I know,” she breathed over his shoulder, fighting to keep herself in check as Royce’s resolve crumbled around her. Before she could utter an apology, a flash of light in the kitchen caught her attention. The once warm-toned room glowed a bright white like a camera had gone off before dissolving into the room’s natural golden hue. “What was that?” she wondered aloud.

“What?” Royce asked as he leaned back, reaching up and drying his eyes as he tried to follow Vivien’s gaze.

Without allowing Vivien to explain what she had seen, Bentley entered the room with a small smile and said, “Mom just left. She said to try to eat something and rest on the couch until they get back.”

“They?” Royce wondered.

“Is she planning on joining the fight?” Vivien asked. 

With a frustrated sigh, Royce said, “She shouldn’t go in alone like that; it’s dangerous.”

Closing the gap between them, Bentley’s grin broadened, and Royce and Vivien shared a confused look as Bentley said, “Who said she was alone?”

A shrill squeal tore from Kona’s throat as she ducked behind a tree, narrowly escaping one of Miles’ rogue lightning bolts. For the greater part of however long they had been battling Serena, she had been forced to dodge Mick’s uncontrollable tidal waves and Carrie’s great balls of fire, and she was beginning to grow tired of being unable to so much as breathe without fearing for her life. Peering around the tree, she wondered how on earth they would begin to repair the charred remnants of the city’s commons, but as a burning branch cracked and fell in a shower of sparks at her feet, she didn’t bother to think further on just how screwed they would be come morning.

Pulling the neck of her fleece-lined hoodie over her nose, she scurried through the ashen remnants of a tree, hoping to send a burst of energy toward the soaked redhead just a few mere yards away once she was in the open. However, her plans were quickly dashed as she found herself unknowingly caught in one of Mick’s, quite literally, surfable waves. Kona sucked in a deep breath as the water dragged her under, sloshing her toward the invisible barrier she had formed earlier in the night. Waiting until the water ebbed away enough for her to breathe again,  Kona peeled herself off the muddy ground with a huff of exhaustion.

Feeling more like a drowned rat than a human, Kona groaned as her feet squelched in her shoes. With a huff, she pulled herself to her feet, the blonde firing off a lazy burst of cyan energy before slipping in her waterlogged shoes and colliding with the ground once more. Mentally pleading for some sort of reprieve from the chaos that was the battle she was suffering through, Kona heaved an exasperated breath and squished and squashed her way to the closest bench she could find, tugging off the boots she would, no doubt, be throwing in the nearest trash can once everything was over, and dumping out the absurd amount of water in them as Carrie fired off another round of blazing flames.

Hoping that the help Miles had told them would be there, would be arriving soon, Kona tugged her squelching boots back on with a grimace. Oh, how she hated the feeling of wet, squishy socks in fur-lined boots! With a sharp gasp, Kona forced herself to focus as she heard the telltale sound of a group of people laughing nearby. Hoping her protective shield around the commons still prevented regular citizens from seeing the chaos within, she looked around for any sign of where the group had gone, but her attention was quickly drawn to a radiant white light that shone over her shoulder. 

Turning back toward the fight, Kona’s eyes widened as a blindingly bright figure wrapped in pearlescent ivory sent a beacon of magic directly into the red witch Miles had just sent colliding with the ground. Serena’s limp form bounced across the soaked commons, rolling to a stop against a tree as the figure in white lowered themself to the ground. Touching the grass far more gracefully than Kona had in her few hours of possessing magic, the young blonde watched as the light surrounding the person dimmed, revealing none other than the woman who had helped her figure out she had powers in the first place - Mrs. Dorothea Witt-Murphy.

The woman’s cascading chocolate curls were the only thing about her that looked the same as how Kona remembered her appearing hours prior. The blindingly white clothing she wore was surprising as the woman was almost always covered in splotches of paint, but that was nothing compared to the opals that had formed in her once-brown irises. With wide eyes and her mouth agape, Kona stepped forward, watching the older woman’s amused smirk grow as the youngest of those in the commons neared her.

“Mrs Bentley’s Mom,” Kona breathed in astonishment, “is that you?!”

“It is,” Dorothea replied, a chuckle falling from her lips as her gaze flickered between the young blonde and her son, who steadily inched closer. Smiling knowingly at the newly magical young adults who crossed the grass between them, the woman said, “I heard you kids could use some help, but I didn’t know just how much.”

“Thanks for coming, Mama,” Miles said, the relief in his voice evident as he brought his arms around his mother’s shoulders and pulled her close.

Rubbing circles on her son’s back out of habit, Dorothea smiled into Miles’ shoulder as she said, “Of course, mon cœur. Anything for my babies.”

“Please help,” Mick begged as she and Carrie watched Miles embrace his mother. “We’re practically useless.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Kona piped up with a roll of her eyes. “I was epic, you three were useless.”

“We’re not useless,” Carrie said. Looking around at the charred, waterlogged commons, she added, “I think we’ve effectively learned how to barbecue and surf at the same time.”

Mick scoffed out a laugh, “We’re just helping the Parks Department get a head start on the winter renovations.”

“Exactly,” Carrie snickered, earning a sincere laugh from the brunette.

Smiling fondly at the girls as her son stepped back, Dorothea said, “Well, now that the remodeling is over, I think it’s time to address the task at hand.”

Turning back toward where Serena was slumped against the base of a half-charred, smoldering tree, Kona sighed, “What do we do with her?”

Checking the watch on her wrist, Dorothea answered, “Let’s bring her into the open air for now. Once the others get here, we’ll work on draining her.”

“Did you ask the kids to come back?” Miles asked. “I told them to stay home where it’s safe.”

“And they are,” Dorothea claimed. “At least, they should be.”

“Then, if it’s not them,” Mick began slowly, “who else is coming?” 

Dorothea smiled, a secretive, knowing smile that told those present she wouldn’t be sharing the information until the time was right. Before she could say a word, however, the silence of the commons was interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming, followed soon after by another. Looking around the otherwise empty commons, the group of four searched for any source of the sound, but found it nearly impossible to locate as the remaining bushes lining the commons gate hid most of the parking spots bordering the area. However, as Carrie turned toward the old playground that was in desperate need of repair, she spotted some familiar faces rounding the gate.

Tapping a hand on Mick’s arm, she asked, “Aren’t those your parents?”

Quickly turning, Mick’s eyes widened as she muttered, “What are they doing here?”

With his typical, mischievous grin, Brady headed not for his daughter, but for Dorothea, bringing an arm around the woman’s shoulders as he spoke, “Thanks for getting us out of there. I don’t know how much more awkward small talk I could handle.”

“Not to mention how horribly small the meals were,” Mack agreed, filling the space her husband left as he turned toward the children before him.

Finally finding herself able to voice her question properly, Mick wondered, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Thea called me at the restaurant and said you kids needed some help,” Brady said proudly. Turning back toward Dorothea, he added, “Sorry we weren’t here sooner. Someone had a hard time getting out of Walgreens.”

Ready to defend herself, Mack crossed her arms, a couple of plastic bags with the aforementioned store’s name plastered on the front tucked tightly in her elbow as she claimed, “This is my first time doing anything magic-related; excuse me for not knowing which type of salt would be strongest.”

Dorothea chuckled, placing a hand on Mack’s folded ones as she said, “Believe me, almost anything would work.”

Returning the woman’s smile, Mack unfolded her arms and dug into the bag she held, pulling out four containers of varying salts. Holding them out for inspection, she said, “Well, I got every kind they had, apart from bath salts. I hope that’s enough.”

“More than,” Dorothea agreed as she took the salts. “Did you find a box to put the spirit in?”

Mack nodded as she held out the other bag for Dorothea to look inside, “All they had were a couple of those plastic, Caboodles cases like the girls used to use for dance class, and a few metal train cases for makeup, but I found this and figured it would be the best as it has a lock and could be burned later on.”

Peering into the bag, Dorothea nodded and smiled graciously at her friend, “Perfect.” Turning toward the children, she said, “Now, why don’t you work on bringing her over closer to the pavilion and we’ll make a ring of salt around her to keep her from using her magic.”

Miles was the first to react, nodding to his mother and turning toward the others as he said, “Come on, guys.”

Wordlessly, Kona tugged the older girls by their coats until they fell into step beside her and the oldest of the group, making sure they followed as Miles led the way to the tree. As they watched the children gather around their unconscious friend, Brady turned to Dorothea and asked, “Does this feel as bizarre to you as it does to me?” Dorothea’s head tipped to the side as her eyebrow lifted, urging Brady to continue. “Well, a while ago, that was us.”

Dorothea hummed thoughtfully, her lips tugging into a smile as she reached into the pocket of her pants. Holding a glimmering, Mexican fire opal out between herself and her longtime friend, she offered, “It could still be us, you know.”

Placing his hand over the woman’s open palm, Brady smiled as he lowered them together, “I know.”

Smiling at the pair, Mack said, “I think he would take you up on it if he wasn’t worried about hurting our baby girl.”

“There’s nothing to worry about in that department, actually,” Dorothea said, drawing Brady’s attention back to her. “Just as I thought, she takes after her mother.”

“Does that mean she’s not…” Brady cut himself off, his gaze flicking back to his daughter as she and her friends helped haul Serena across the muddy grass. “She isn’t like me?”

“She won’t be burning half the town down because she got grounded, no,” Dorothea chuckled. “If anything, the only thing we would have to worry about would be her trying to catch a wave in the river.”

Smiling victoriously, Mack teased her husband, “I told you from the beginning, she’s a water baby.”

Brady shook his head as he chuckled, “I should have known better than to argue with a mother’s intuition.”

Before the women could do more than snicker at the man, Kona’s voice cut through the interaction, “What do we do now?”

Crossing the gap between them, Dorothea handed out the salt and instructed the children to make rings around Serena with each type as she told them, “You can never be too safe with these things.”

As the salt rings began to form, Mack pulled out the wooden lock box she bought at the store, handing it to Brady, who quickly opened it and pocketed the lock and key before setting it on the grass near the salt rings. Once the containers of salt were empty and tossed back into the bag they came in, Carrie asked, “Now what?”

“Now,” Dorothea began, “You four are going to sit in the four cardinal points - north, south, east, and west. One of you will sit by her head, another by her feet, and the other two on either side of her, but all of you will be on the outside of the salt rings.”

Brady nodded as he watched the kids figure out where they wanted to sit, “This sort of seals her inside and prevents her from using magic as you form protective runes around yourselves.”

Kona’s eyes glittered with pride from her spot near Serena’s head as she exclaimed, “I made some of those earlier!”

“And you did a great job, Kona,” Dorothea said with a smile. “Yours, however, were illusionary in order to keep unwanted visitors out of the bubble you made around the commons. These runes are protective and you need to make sure your intention shows that.”

“In a given space,” Brady began, “only the witch who casts the runes, can use their magic. This means that, once you four create runes around her, you’ll completely prevent her from her own magic in case she wakes up mid-spell.”

Dorothea said, “From what I know of Mick’s previous possession, two of you have done this sort of thing before. It will be fairly similar, but the only differences will be that we plan on using a different method and, once this is over, we will lock and burn the box containing the spirit.”

Piping up with a raised hand, Mack asked, “How are you going to burn it without the spirit escaping?”

Before Brady could answer, Dorothea smiled and said, “My pottery kiln, I believe. It’s far stronger than any simple campfire or barbecue.”

“And it has a lock,” Miles mused from his seat on the ground.

“Precisely,” his mother agreed.

“Now,” Brady began with a clap of his hands, “are you ready?”

Kona and Carrie were quick to nod, but as Miles turned a wary gaze onto Mick, they awaited her response. Taking in a slow, deep breath, Mick nodded, “As I’ll ever be.”

Placing a hand on her daughter’s back, Mack smiled and offered, “You’ve got this, baby girl.”

With a grateful nod to her mother, Mick turned her gaze to her father and his friend, waiting eagerly for them to tell her what to do. Ready to move forward, Dorothea said, “First thing’s first, you need to make sure your thoughts are focused solely on the protection aspect of this. It doesn’t matter how you get there, just focus on the end result.”

Brady nodded his agreement before speaking, “If you have to, imagine the people in your life you need to protect from this evil. It could be your family, your friends, a pet - anyone. Just so long as your mind and soul are focused on protection, that’s all that matters.”

“Then, you’re going to slow your breathing and hold out a hand toward the person opposite you,” Dorothea claimed, watching with a small grin as the group collectively took in a deep breath and worked on keeping their breathing even. “This will form a border between you. After a moment, your magic will flow and create a rune of your own. It may not be visible to everyone as your magic is still new, but that’s fine.”

Hands raised over Serena’s unconscious form, the magical group watched as a vibrant, multicolored line began to form in the air between them. Sprouting from the top and bottom of the line were thin, short, parallel lines that glowed glittering shades of red and pink and stopped just inches after their starting points. Astonished by the display, they silently watched as a triangle sprouted out from the center of the line, blues and purples melting together fluidly as the rune rose higher above their spot on the ground. As it rose, a light emitted from the ground, a solid circle of glimmering sparks rising out of the salt circles until it collided with the bottom tip of the rune.

The rune stilled as the magical shield touched it, encouraging Brady to say, “Good job, guys. That’s perfect!”

“Now, recite the spell after me,” Dorothea instructed, tugging the page of a spell book out of her pocket. Unfolding it, she began to read aloud the same spell she’d had the kids read earlier in the afternoon, “Darkness now be gone from thee, banished and bound, we set you free, under the light of this pure moon, hearken to our witches rune, magicae nostrae tenebras purgat.”

As they finished the first recitement of the spell they were told, the group gathered on the grass and watched as Serena’s crimson eyes snapped open, searching the area for whoever dared to cast a spell on her. Cackling, she hissed, “We’re back here now, are we? Could you not think of anything better?”

“Try again,” Brady said, dragging the girl’s attention to him as Dorothea started the spell again.

Sitting up despite the obvious pain her body should be in after being tossed around by everyone else’s magic, Serena barked, “This will not stop anything. I cannot be killed.”

“Maybe not outright,” Mack spoke, a smirk tugging at her lips, “but you can be burned, can’t you?”

“You would not kill this child,” Serena spoke as she looked around at those sitting around her, a twinge of panic nipping at the edges of her tone as she took note of the crimson ripples of magic leaving her body. “She is your friend.”

“Debatable,” Kona shrugged as the second chant came to a close. “Out of all people to possess, you picked the asshole cheerleader.”

With a smirk, Mick began, “Guess you royally screwed yourself this time, didn’t you?”

As Dorothea started the final recitement of the spell and those on the ground echoed it a final time, Serena let out a shrill scream, piercing the air in the hopes of tuning out the spell as it echoed around her. Magic flooded out from Serena’s skin like fresh wounds, flooding outward from her skin and into the air pocket the rune had created. As the spell neared completion, her screams turned into nothing more than hushed gasps as her voice squeaked out of existence. The redhead’s hands slid into her hair as she cried, nails digging into her scalp as ruby waves of magic pulsed furiously inside the shielded bubble.

All at once, the group finished the spell, and Serena slumped forward onto the muddy ground, her strength now nothing more than a thing of the past as the last threads of possession were cut free from her skin. Watching with bated breath, the group waited for a sign that something was awry as Mack brought the wooden box close to the circle. Dorothea and Brady stepped closer, urging Carrie or Miles to take the box with their free hand and slide it into the protective bubble while they still had it.

“Alright,” Dorothea began as Carrie slid the box into the circle, “now, I want you all to focus on shrinking the rune. Make it small enough to fit into the box.”

“It’ll take some time,” Brady warned them, “but you just need to keep the box inside the bubble no matter what.”

Standing from her spot beside her daughter as they began working on the project they had been given, Mack said, “I’ll try to pull Serena out as it gets smaller. That way, there’s no chance of it possessing her again.”

“It can’t, but that’s a good idea,” Dorothea said with a nod. “The spell prevents it from entering the same person twice.”

“Good,” Mick breathed as she inched closer to the box alongside Kona.

Maneuvering onto her knees for a better angle, Kona felt the protective bubble pushing back against her hand as though the magic itself was begging for freedom. As the others neared the box, Miles held the lid of the box open, making sure there was no way for the crimson mist to go anywhere else. Once the blood-red magic had honed in on the box, it was like a drain had unclogged as the magic flowed freely into the box without hesitation. Slamming the lid shut, Miles held it down with one hand and pulled it out of the salt circle so that Brady could lock it. With the box no longer under its protection, the rune glowed brightly before disappearing into the air, the shield it created melting back into the ground at once.

As the children relaxed, their energy fields returning to them as the shield dissolved into the soggy remnants of the salt rings, Dorothea took the now-shaking wooden box from Brady. As she placed her hands on the bottom and lid, white light emitted from her hands and her mouth moved wordlessly. Whether it was a spell or not, the four on the ground couldn’t tell at first, but as Brady stepped up and placed his hands on the sides of the box, a fiery light flowing into the box from his hands as his lips started moving in tandem with Dorothea’s, they figured it had to be. The box stopped moving as the pair stopped speaking, but neither opened their eyes until their mouths stilled.

With a bewildered expression, Mick found herself being the first to speak, “I thought you said you gave up your magic, Dad?”

Turning to his daughter with a chuckle, Brady nodded, “I did, sweetheart, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use it when I need to.”

Pushing himself from the ground, Miles helped Carrie up before asking, “Does that mean the kids can have their magic back if they want it?”

Dorothea sighed, “I’m afraid it might not be that simple.”

“Why not?” Carrie pressed. “If Mr Birch can have his when he wants it, can’t they?”

Tugging a glowing opal from his pocket, Brady spoke, “When I gave up my powers, it was a new moon.”

“And, because of that, we used a different spell.” Dorothea gestured to the fire opal in Brady’s hand as she added, “I tied his magic to this opal, not to a person.”

“That meant that, once I gave them up, so long as I had the object that held my magic, I could use them freely,” Brady explained. “If I didn’t, I was just an average person.”

“But because the kids gave their powers to us instead of some inanimate object,” Mick began slowly, “they can’t get them back.”

“Technically,” Mack began, “you have different abilities than the kids. That must mean something, right?”

“It does,” Dorothea acknowledged, “but for now, I suggest we put this conversation aside for the time being.”

“Why?” Kona asked, frustration evident in her voice. “What if we want to talk about it now?”

“Kona,” Miles reprimanded gently.

“What?” she replied. “I want to know how to give them their magic back. You can’t honestly say that you don’t want the same.”

Before Miles could reply, his mother spoke, “I understand the frustration, but apart from the fact that we need to get this box to my house and burn it, I think it would be wise if we get everyone dried off so that nobody gets sick.”

Carrie spoke up, hoping to dispel Kona’s urge to rage as she gestured toward Serena, “What about Sleeping Beauty over here?”

Brady was quick to respond, “We’ll take her back to the house so we can talk it over with her when she wakes up.”

“There is a high probability that she won’t remember anything as she doesn’t have any magical ties,” Dorothea claimed, “but in the off-chance that she does, we want to be there to help.”

“We can put her in my bus,” Mick offered. “With the bench in the back, it would probably be easier.”

With a nod, Miles said, “I’ll carry her over if one of you can get the door.”

Mick nodded, digging into her coat pocket for her keys as Miles lowered himself to the ground to pick up Serena. As Mick jogged toward the exit, leaving Miles and Carrie trailing behind, Kona looked around the commons with a sigh before turning to the adults and asking, “What are we going to do about all of the damage we did?”

“Damage?” Brady repeated curiously.

“What damage?” Mack asked with a grin.

Kona turned toward the open park, gesturing with her hand to the empty grass before her head jolted back in surprise. In place of the charred trees and demolished benches she knew had been there when she last looked, Kona found herself staring at the empty commons in confusion. Everything appeared as it had before their arrival, the wet ground the only evidence of them being there in the first place. “What?” she breathed. “How?”

Mack chuckled as Brady answered, “You kids have a lot to learn about magic.”

Dorothea hummed, “And, thankfully, many years to perfect it.”

Whirling back toward the adults who had already begun heading toward the exit, Kona’s mouth opened and closed like a confused goldfish. Quickly shaking herself free of her confusion, Kona scurried after the adults, rapid-fire questions falling off her lips like water as she hurried to catch up to them. Laughing at the child’s questions, the adults urged Kona to take a ride with one of her friends before piling into the Birch’s car and leading the way to the Murphy residence. Exasperated by the lack of answers she had been given, Kona chose to ride with Miles, keeping him company by pestering him with her unanswered questions. Despite knowing Carrie had gone with Mick to keep an eye on Serena, Miles began to wish he had begged her to ride with him as the only two-minute drive to his home began to feel like it was taking an hour.

Once they pulled into the driveway and Miles parked his Jeep just outside the garage, he was glad to find that Kona’s questions had stopped in favor of her jumping out and rushing to the front door, eager to tell her friends all that had happened. He made his way to Mick’s bus and helped his girlfriend shift Serena toward the sliding door before hauling her into his arms and following Carrie toward the door. Miles assumed he would hear excited chatter as Carrie held the door open for him; however, as he stepped inside, Miles found Kona perched cautiously on the edge of the coffee table with a finger pressed to her lips, silently telling all those who entered that the trio on the couch were fast asleep.

Placing Serena on the recliner and bringing the leg rest up to bring the girl some form of comfort, Miles turned toward the couch and sighed as he took in the trio resting peacefully there. Bentley was curled up between the back of the couch and Royce’s side while Vivien was slumped in Royce’s grasp, her head perched on his shoulder while his breath shifted her hair ever so slightly. As Kona took the three empty bowls from the coffee table to the kitchen, Miles took the blanket his mother had made years prior off of the back of the couch and draped it over the slumbering trio before joining the others in the kitchen. 

At Dorothea’s insistence, Kona took a bowl of food to the living room and found a video on her phone to watch so that the others could talk in some semblance of privacy in the other room. Once she was sure Kona had made herself comfortable on the floor, wedged between the couch and coffee table with her earbuds tucked in her ears, Dorothea turned her focus onto the group surrounding her dining table. Bracing herself on the backrest of her usual chair, she began, “I’m sure you must all have questions.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Miles sighed as he leaned back in his seat.

Carrie let out a scoffed laugh, a ghost of a grin tugging at her lips as she mused, “I think this whole day has just consisted of us having a million questions and not receiving a single answer.”

Mick hummed in agreement as her eyes traced the old grooves in the wooden dinner table, “It’s been a long day.”

“It has,” Mack agreed, “and I promise you’ll get some answers tonight.”

“Not all of them,” Brady quickly added, “but at least some.”

“Something is better than nothing,” Miles shrugged.

“But first,” Dorothea began as she took a step back from the table, “you kids need to eat something. Do you girls want anything to drink?”

“I have my water bottle,” Mick said softly with a shake of her head as Carrie nodded graciously.

As his mom headed for the counter where the Crockpot’s light glowed on the highest setting, Miles spoke, “I don’t think we’re all that hungry, Mom.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mick snorted.

Turning back toward her son as she grabbed bowls from the cupboard, Dorothea said, “Now, I know this has been a long, stressful day for all of you, but I also know for a fact that none of you eat properly at work. If you aren’t hungry now, you will be once this is in front of you.”

Resigning to his fate, Miles relaxed back into his chair once more with a nod as Carrie said, “I think all I had were those Twizzlers you got me earlier. I definitely won’t argue if your mom wants to give me some of her incredible food.”

Before Miles could say a word, Dorothea smiled and placed three bowls on the end of the table, instructing him to pass them down before sitting down and saying, “Thank you, Carrie. Now, Miles, why don’t you get yourself and your girlfriend a drink and we’ll start answering any questions you may have.”

Startled by the woman’s wording, Mick coughed on her water as she turned to her two friends with wide eyes, watching as the knowledge that their “secret relationship” hadn’t been, well… much of a secret, sank in. Carrie was the first to recover, her training as an aspiring actress kicking in as she turned to Dorothea with a hesitant smile, “Girlfriend?” 

“Mhm,” Dorothea hummed. “Why? Is that not what he calls you?”

Floundering for the right words, Miles’ mouth opened and closed noiselessly before he snapped it shut, his eyes wrenching shut as he sucked in a deep breath. Slowly letting the breath back out, Miles leveled his gaze on his mother as she smirked into the cup of tea she lifted to her lips, asking her, “How long have you known we’re a couple?”

“I’m a mom and a witch,” Dorothea stated plainly, sending her son a knowing look as she set her cup back on the table. “Not only does that mean that I have eyes in the back of my head, but it means I also have magical wards surrounding the house that tell me when someone sneaks out the back door before my feet have even hit the floor.”

With a hand over her mouth, Mick struggled to keep herself from laughing as her friends struggled to find the right words to say, their faces glowing a brighter shade of red than the lights on a firetruck. Discretely, Carrie slapped Mick’s stomach with the back of her hand, furthering the brunette’s struggle to remain as collected as possible. A tap to her shin brought Mick’s attention to her mother, the woman’s expression forcing her into silence as Miles sheepishly apologized to his mother for keeping the relationship from her.

Instead of appearing upset, Dorothea brushed Miles off with a wave of her hand, “Oh, please. Though I am curious as to why you felt the need to keep this from me for so long, it’s nothing to apologize for. So long as you both are happy, that’s all I care about.”

Miles took a moment to take in his mother’s words before softly asking, “Really?”

“Of course.” Reaching out to her son, Dorothea brushed a hand over his hair, pushing a few strands away from his eyes before cupping his cheek as she said, “You’re my baby boy - all I want is your happiness.” Allowing her gaze to drift onto Carrie as her hand returned to the table, she said, “As for you, my dear, you’ve been a part of this family since long before the first time you two went on a date. Goodness, that was - what - a year-and-a-half ago now?”

“We were just friends at that point,” Carrie said with a smile and a shake of her head.

“Are you sure about that?” Dorothea questioned, a knowing glimmer shining in her caramel eyes. “I could have sworn there was something between you back then.”

Before either Miles or Carrie could respond, Brady sent his childhood friend a smirk and sighed, “Dora.”

“What?” Dorothea replied, feigning innocent curiosity. “I’m just saying.”

Mack snickered, “It’s nice to see the meddling older sister is still in business.”

“Hey,” Dorothea began, “I told everyone from the start that you two would be together and, as everyone can see, I was right.”

“You said the same thing about Tommy and Celine,” Brady said with a grin.

“That’s another story entirely,” Dorothea said with a wave of her hand. 

“Now,” Mack began, scanning the faces of the young adults surrounding the table, “how about we answer a few questions while you eat so that you can get to bed?”

As her friends nodded in agreement, Mick spoke, “I think the first question I want answered is how on earth Dad has magic when he said he didn’t?”

Clearing his throat, Brady said, “Well, after I nearly burned Salem to the ground, we performed the coven ritual. At the time, our coven was only me, Dora, and Tommy.”

“Uncle Tommy has magic too?” Miles wondered aloud as he found his mother’s eyes. “Since when?”

“Since always,” his mother replied. “The point is, when Brady felt he couldn’t handle it, we drained his magic into a crystal that was capable of holding it.”

Pulling the crystal from his pocket, Brady explained, “If I wanted to, I could absorb my magic in full, but seeing as I don’t feel confident in harnessing my full powers at all times, they stay here. When I need to use them, all I need is to keep this with me.”

“For the most part, it stays with me,” Dorothea stated, “but Brady keeps it safe in the winter to keep those around him warm.”

Thinking back to the various camping trips they had taken over the years when nobody felt the need to start a fire despite the temperature saying they should, Mick muttered, “That makes a lot of sense.”

“What is your magic called?” Carrie asked as she set her spoon down. “The kids have the sun, moon, stars, and - what is Kona? A comet?”

“I think so,” Miles nodded.

With a nod, Carrie continued, “And we have nature magic. What are you guys?”

“We represent mythical creatures,” Brady claimed.

Dorothea smiled, “Brady is a phoenix - a mythical bird born of the ashes of its predecessors, I am a pegasus - a winged horse that represents light, freedom, and imagination, and Tommy is what the Greek call a cetus - a sea dragon.”

“What about you, Mom?” Mick asked.

Mack took in a breath and , “Sadly, I was born without magic. That, combined with your father giving up his magic, made it that much harder for you to have any abilities by the time your sixteenth birthday rolled around.”

“Is that why we didn’t get magic on our sixteenth birthdays?” Miles asked. 

Once the adults nodded, Mick asked, “How come the kids got theirs, then?”

“And how can we give them some magic back?” Carrie added. “Vivi was searching for weeks to find a way to give Mick some and hadn’t found anything.”

“I’m afraid those are questions we’ll have to find out the answer for in the morning,” Dorothea claimed. “We’ll have to do research tomorrow.”

“For now,” Mack began, “you kids need to eat.”

“What about you guys?” Mick asked. “I thought you said you’d still be hungry after that dinner.”

“We ate our way through a basket of that fancy bread,” Brady chuckled. 

Mack nodded as she pushed herself from her chair, “They had the same oil dip as the Greek restaurant by Market Basket, so we filled up on that.”

With a nod, Mick returned to the bowl of pizza casserole before her as her parents and Miles’ mother stood, pushing in their chairs and grabbing the box from the counter before heading out through the garage. Closing the door to the house behind her friends, Dorothea let out a long, slow breath and made her way to the side of the garage she had cordoned off as a safe space for arts and crafts. At one point in her marriage, the area had been a gift from her now ex-husband, Allen - a way for her to express her creativity and encourage their children to do the same. Nowadays, however, the space was mostly used by Bentley for his seemingly endless art projects and Miles for the paintings he would never allow to be seen by the public despite his mother’s insistence that they were better than he thought.

Looking around at the seemingly endless supplies in the area, Mack wondered, “How on earth did you get all of this stuff?”

“Most of it was a gift from Allen,” Dorothea explained as she unlocked and opened the pottery kiln. “Once I found out he was cheating, he tried to buy my love. Of course, it didn’t work, but he let me keep everything in the divorce because the boys begged him to.”

“I thought he said he never had money,” Brady commented from his perch on a stool.

“He didn’t,” Dorothea said, setting the box inside the kiln before turning to Brady and Mack, “it was his girlfriend’s father’s money.”

With a scoff, Mack said, “I still can’t believe he was dating someone only a few years older than Miles.”

“To be completely honest, I doubt he knew how old she was at the time,” Dorothea shrugged as she closed the kiln and turned it on. “Her father was his company’s owner and the money was what he wanted more than anything. Although I wish them the best, chances are that, once he has the money he wants, he’ll weasel his way out and find a new target.”

“Ridiculous,” Brady breathed as he watched the kiln whir to life.

“It doesn’t really bother me all that much anymore,” Dorothea explained. “It hurt to know how much it affected the boys at first, but they don’t seem bothered by it, so why should I?”

“That’s true,” Mack mused.

“So,” Brady began, “how long does it take to heat up?”

Dorothea dragged a rolling stool over and sat as she sighed, “Maybe eight to ten minutes. By then, the kids should be done eating.”

“Would you like us to bring the girls home?” Mack asked.

Brady chuckled as he and Dorothea shared a look, “I doubt they’ll let us.”

With a raised brow, his wife asked, “Why not?”

“When a coven is first formed, the desire to stay close to the other members is strong,” Dorothea explained. “Normally, a coven starts within a family, so it isn’t unusual for them to be close or want to spend time together. However, when it either starts or grows to include a group of friends, it results in sleepovers or the desire to get a job at the same location.”

“Is that why they all got a job at the Cottage?” Mack questioned, realization gleaming in her dark, umber eyes. “Or why the kids spend so much time together?

“Most likely,” Brady nodded with a grin. “To them, wanting to spend time together probably feels normal by now.”

Dorothea hummed, “It won’t be easy for them to willingly pull away. At least, not for a few days.”

“So, what do we do?” Mack asked as she looked between her husband and friend.

“Knowing Miles, he’ll either offer the girls his room or bring the air mattress up from the basement,” Dorothea claimed. “He won’t let them sleep on the floor.”

“What happened to the spare room?” Brady asked.

“Well, I was going to offer it to you two,” Dorothea stated. “I figured you would want to see how things go down in the morning.”

Brady turned his gaze to Mack, a silent question in his hopeful expression. With a smile and fond roll of her eyes, Mack nodded before turning her gaze onto the curly-haired brunette across from her, “We would appreciate that, thank you.”

“Of course,” Dorothea replied.

Taking in a breath, Mack sighed, “Well, in that case, I’m going to swing by the house and pick up some essentials for the night.”

“I can go,” Brady offered, rising from his seat.

Mack smiled, lightly shaking her head as she said, “You two said that, when a coven grows, you all become clingy. Stay here and watch over the kids; I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Dorothea asked.

“Positive,” Mack replied, pulling her car keys from her pocket. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Brady and Dorothea shared a look as Mack opened the garage door and headed out onto the driveway, but shrugged as the woman climbed into the family car and took off down the road. Smiling at her longtime friend, Dorothea said, “You should probably check on the kids.”

“Probably,” Brady replied with a nod. Digging into his pocket, he produced the fire opal he had slipped from Dorothea’s hand earlier in the day. Holding it out to her, he said, “You know, as much as I love feeling like just a normal guy, I sort of missed the feeling of fire in my veins.”

“You always do,” Dorothea chuckled as she pocketed the crystal. “You know, with Carrie also having fire-based magic, I might require you to step in and teach them.”

“And, when the time comes, I’ll gladly step up to the plate,” Brady said with a smile. 

Nodding to her friend, Dorothea watched him head for the door before turning her attention back to the kiln, watching as the temperature gauge slowly rose closer to the highest setting. As opposed to the silence that normally came from the pottery kiln when she or Bentley had it in use, Dorothea fought the urge to jump as the wooden box within began crackling under the intense heat. Humming to herself as the wooden box crackled and popped in the tabletop kiln, Dorothea wheeled her stool over to the rack of paintings that had been left to dry by various members of her household. Looking through the different artworks left mostly by her sons, she chuckled as she tugged one of Miles’ many portraits of his girlfriend from the rack. 

Though he had used a smaller canvas, Miles had tucked the painting between two larger frames in the hopes of keeping it from any prying eyes. However, his efforts were in vain. Distantly, Dorothea wondered how her eldest son believed she hadn’t known about his relationship with the blonde when he left such masterpieces around the house in plain view. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he had ever given his artwork to Carrie, but then brushed off the question as she knew how secretive Miles tended to be when it came to portraits he created. Maybe, someday, he would feel confident enough to give his girlfriend one of the many gifts he had made, but for now, his artwork would remain within the confines of their home, locked away until he felt ready.

As Dorothea tucked Miles’ artwork back onto the rack where he had left it, she heard the telltale beep from the kiln, its temperature gauge letting her know that it reached its highest temperature. With a sigh, she rose from her seat and rolled it back under the counter before making her way to the kiln and setting a timer that would end early the next morning. Once the machine beeped to show the timer had been set, the woman smiled to herself and turned toward the door that led inside, pulling her hair into a half-hearted ponytail before she reached for the knob. 

Stepping into the kitchen, Dorothea looked around the nearly empty room curiously before her gaze settled on Brady as he worked on washing the dishes in the sink. Announcing her presence, Dorothea smiled, saying, “We have a dishwasher, you know.”

With a chuckle, Brady placed a bowl in the strainer to dry and replied, “I’m aware, thank you.”

Leaning against the counter, Dorothea asked, “Where are the kids?”

“The living room,” he replied. “Mack is helping them set up the air mattress.”

“I didn’t even hear the car pull up,” she mused. A thoughtful silence fell over the room after Brady hummed in understanding, but as she took in a breath, Dorothea asked, “How do you think they’re dealing with all of this?”

“Better than we did,” Brady snickered. Dorothea snorted; that wasn’t exactly hard. “Remember when you nearly blinded our history teacher the morning after we got our magic?”

“All too well,” Dorothea sighed. “I think that’s why she tried to fail me that year.”

Chuckling as he turned off the water and set the last dish into the strainer, Brady dried his hands off on the tea towel before nudging his friend, “I think it was more due to the fact that you kept telling her off for getting her facts wrong.”

Rolling her eyes as she headed toward the living room, Dorothea grinned as she said, “If she didn’t want me to correct her, she should have done her research.”

Following behind his childhood best friend, Brady let out a breath of a laugh, “She should have.”

As the pair stepped into the living room, they found Mack gesturing for them to keep their voices down as she approached them. “They just laid down,” the short woman said in a hushed tone.

Nodding, the pair silenced themselves before allowing the shorter brunette to guide them toward the stairs. Once they were upstairs and far enough from the kids that they didn’t feel the need to keep their voices hushed, they wished each other a good night and retired to their respective rooms for the night. Before retiring to her room for the night, Dorothea crept down the stairs just far enough to see the slumbering group gathered on the living room floor, making sure they were resting as peacefully as possible before returning to her bedroom with a smile.

Gradually, the night crawled closer to day, and as golden rays peered through the Venetian blinds that had been installed over the bay windows, Royce groaned at the brightness burning through his fluttering eyelashes. His arms had gone numb in his sleep, and as he looked down, he realized he didn’t quite mind it. Bentley had passed out facing the back of the couch while holding Royce’s arm captive, and his other arm was wrapped snugly around Vivien’s shoulders, locking the girl in place with her head on his shoulder.

He didn’t have the heart to move out from under her - not that he wanted to in the first place - but as he moved his hand from her back, he worried she might fall if he didn’t at least nudge her further onto the cushions. However, as he tried to figure out a way to move her without waking her, Vivien let out a noise of discontent and tucked herself impossibly closer to Royce, her face squished into his shoulder as she grabbed a fistful of the hoodie he still wore from the night before. Despite the urge to snicker at the brunette’s smushed face, Royce used his free hand to brush Vivien’s hair away from her mouth before resting it on the back of her head.

Just as Royce took in a deep breath and allowed his head to hit the pillow he had shoved against the armrest, a soft voice reached his ear, “Are you awake, Rolls?”

Lifting his head just enough to find Vivien’s hazy, sleep-riddled eyes peering up at him, Royce smiled, “Nah, I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

Shrugging as she minutely nodded to herself, Vivien’s head tucked back into place as she muttered, “I like this figment; it’s comfy.”

Royce let out a breathy chuckle as he replied, “Usually, we do this the other way around.”

“I like those,” Vivien whispered, her breath sending goosebumps fluttering across Royce’s skin, “but I just like being with you.”

Taking in a breath in the hopes of stalling the horde of insects fluttering around in his stomach, Royce admitted, “Not nearly as much as I like being with you, I’m sure.”

“Debatable,” Vivien retorted softly.

Royce tried to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t completely destroy the bond he had carefully formed with Vivien over the years, but his train of thought was sent off the rails as Bentley’s fingernails dug crescents into his forearm and his younger brother exhaustedly huffed, “Can you two go confess your love for each other somewhere else? Some of us are trying to sleep here.”

Squeezing his brother as both an apology and a way to get him to shut his mouth, Royce said, “We aren’t confessing our love, Ben.”

“Who says I wasn’t?” Vivien asked groggily as she pushed herself onto the one elbow that wouldn’t dig into Royce’s ribcage. Bewildered umber eyes searched Vivien’s face as the girl fought her way through a yawn, but as her emerald eyes found his, Royce found nothing but bleary honesty in them. When Royce still hadn’t found the words to express his rapidly changing thoughts, Vivien spoke once again, “Look, these last twenty-four hours have been nothing but chaos, but I did a lot of thinking last night when I couldn't get to sleep, and I decided that I’m not going to deny that I’ve liked you for a long time now.”

Finding the ability to string together a partially coherent sentence, Royce’s mouth fluttered for a moment before he asked, “You- I- I’m sorry, you what?”

Before Vivien could reply, Bentley rolled over with a glare, the disgruntled look plastered on his face making him look more than mildly upset despite his messy blonde locks and the marks from Royce’s hoodie on his face making him appear as nothing more than a child unwillingly roused from deep slumber. With a huff, he said, “She likes you and everyone knows you like her back. Now, either ask her on a date or shut up so I can go back to sleep.”

Royce’s gaze drifted back to Vivien, but before he could think of anything to say on the topic at hand, a voice chimed in with a chuckle, “I think it’s a little late for sleep, sunshine. If you don’t get up soon, you’ll miss school.”

Vivien was the first to move as she found Dorothea’s smirking face peering down at her from over the back of the couch, pushing herself off the couch as though she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Now wide awake and well aware of what she had said, Vivien’s face burned as she forced a grin onto her face and said, “Good morning.”

Rounding the couch as Royce sat up, leaving Bentley to flop against the cushions, Dorothea took the brunette’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss to Vivien’s forehead before speaking, “Good morning, my sweet girl. How do you feel this morning?”

“Tired,” Vivien muttered. “Yesterday was… it was a lot.”

“It was,” Dorothea agreed. With a somewhat remorseful smile, the woman squeezed Vivien’s shoulders before releasing her, “I’m going to start breakfast. If you kids don’t mind, could you help wake the others?”

“Sure, Mama,” Royce said around a yawn. 

“Thank you, baby,” Dorothea said, leaning over so that she could press a kiss on the top of her son’s head. Moving to Bentley, she brushed his hair from his face and kissed his forehead before saying, “Time to get up, sunshine.”

“Don’t wanna,” Bentley grumbled as he forced himself to sit up.

“Too bad.” Dorothea turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen as she said, “You kids have that meeting today with that club Riven helped start. If you don’t feel like missing it, you need to get up and get changed.”

“Must we?” Vivien asked as she stretched.

Leaning against the archway that separated the living room from the kitchen, Dorothea smiled as she nodded, “Unless you feel like explaining to everyone why you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes, I’m afraid you must.”

With a sigh of defeat, Vivien relented, allowing Dorothea to return to the task at hand while the kids started their morning. However, before the brunette could move to where Kona had curled up by the fireplace, a hand closed around her wrist, keeping her in place. Turning back toward the couch, Vivien traced the hand on her arm up to Royce’s face, finding his nervous, caramel gaze already on her. 

Taking a tentative breath as he released Vivien’s arm, Royce asked, “Can we talk about that?”

“About what?” Vivien offered in return as she took her glasses from the coffee table, hoping the topic could be dropped now that she had the wherewithal to recall what she had said.

Royce fought the urge to sigh at her resistance as he asked, “Were you just messing around or do you really like me?”

“Of course I like you,” Vivien replied simply, stepping aside so that Bentley could make his way past her to where Kona was sleeping.

“Like, a genuine relationship thing, not just as a friend?” Royce pressed.

Vivien sucked in a breath and sighed, dropping any pretenses she might have had as she admitted, “I already told you I did.”

“So,” Royce began slowly, “you were serious?”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that, even when I'm half asleep,” Vivien stated. “But if you don’t feel the same, I get it. You just have to say so and I’ll-”

“No!” Royce exclaimed, shaking his head. “No, no, no!”

“Damn, man, I get it,” Vivien scoffed as she turned away from him, smirking to herself as she heard Royce let out a startled noise. As she rounded the coffee table and headed for the air mattress to wake the others, she continued, “You could’ve just left it at one, but four? Gosh, am I that undateable?”

“That’s not what I meant, Viv, I swear,” Royce tried as he followed Vivien to the other side of the room. “You’re dateable - I’d date you. I-I want to go out with you and I have for a long time, but I didn’t want to say anything ’cause, well, I didn’t think you’d see me that way.”

Vivien pivoted, a smile tugging at her lips as she found Royce’s hesitant yet hopeful eyes and asked, “How’s Saturday sound?”

“Saturday?” Royce echoed in bewilderment.

With a nod, Vivien said, “We can go to that comic book store you’ve been wanting to check out, spend some time playing with the animals at the shelter across the street, then have something to eat at IHOP, and spend our afternoon harassing Riven at work.”

“So, a typical Saturday, then?” Royce offered with a breathy chuckle.

Vivien snorted, “Well, yeah, but this time it will be just us.”

“And whatever unfortunate soul has to put up with you two the whole day,” Miles grumbled as he forced himself to sit up. 

Smirking with the knowledge that her conversation with Royce had roused those still sleeping on the floor, Vivien cooed, “Aw, thanks for volunteering, Miley!”

Miles’ exhausted, halfhearted glare at the nickname she had thrown his way only made the girl’s smile brighter as he snipped, “Are you always this obnoxious in the morning?”

Vivien snorted as she lightly kicked Miles' shin, “Says the whiny, vampire bitch boy who hisses at the sun.”

“I’m not one of those stupid, sparkly things, you little shit,” Miles said with a roll of his eyes as Mick and Carrie got up from the air mattress with matching, exasperated expressions.

Vivien began counting on her fingers as she listed, “You hiss at the sun, you hardly socialize with anyone outside of your little friend group, and you act like a ninety-year-old man sometimes. Hate to break it to you, dickhead, but I’m pretty sure that makes you a vampire.”

Before the early-morning argument could go any further, Mick spoke up from her perch on the couch, “Enough, you two. It’s too early for any of us to put up with your shit.”

“Shithead,” Miles quipped as he pushed himself off of the floor.

“Asshat,” Vivien smirked fondly.

Relenting, Miles brought an arm around Vivien’s shoulders before pulling Royce into his free side and deciding, “I wouldn’t mind driving you two around this weekend. Just tell me when.”

“Thanks, Miles,” Royce said graciously as he brought an arm behind Miles’ back.

“Yeah, yeah,” Miles replied, running a hand through his hair as he stepped away. “You kids know I’d do anything for you.”

“We do,” Vivien nodded, “and we take advantage of that often.”

“I know,” Miles said with a grin as he joined his girlfriend and best friend on the couch.

Vivien smiled at the taller man before meeting Royce’s gaze and shaking her head with a smile. Royce joined her with a chuckle before taking a step back and turning his attention to the recliner where Serena slept. Gesturing to the slumbering redhead, he asked, “What do we do with her?”

Before anyone else could respond, a woman’s voice from the stairs answered, “With any luck, she won’t remember a thing.”

Turning toward the stairs as her parents descended them, Mick said, “I remember when it happened to me.”

“I know,” Brady nodded, “and we’re prepared for that outcome as well, but for now, we just need to assume she won’t recall a thing since she has no magical upbringing.”

“And, if she does remember what happened,” Mack continued, “she knows she can go to you all if she needs help.”

“How would she know that if she’s been unconscious the whole time?” Kona asked as she and Bentley worked on starting a fire in the hearth.

Vivien sighed, “There were moments where Serena broke through and talked to us. She asked us for help more than once.”

“Then why didn’t we just bring her home and let her talk with us when she’s ready?” Kona asked.

“Because she’ll need support,” Mick replied. “When I woke up from it, all I wanted was comfort from the people around me, but I was too scared I would hurt someone to ask for it.”

Mack hummed her agreement, “And, if Serena realizes from the start that it’s alright to ask for help, she might find it easier to do so.”

As the adults left the room, heading to the kitchen to help with breakfast, Carrie spoke up, “So, who feels up to waking her?”

Without much hesitation, Vivien stepped up, “I’ll do it.”

“Just don’t waterboard her like you did me,” Mick said with a pointed look at the young brunette.

Vivien smirked, “No promises.”

“Yes, promises,” Carrie insisted.

“Fine,” Vivien sighed dejectedly. “Maybe promises.”

“Good girl,” Carrie said with a tired grin.

Taking in a deep breath, Vivien stepped up to the recliner and slowly pulled the lever to drop to leg rest, allowing it to settle back under the seat of the chair before reaching up and gently shaking the redhead until she stirred. “Serena,” she started, “it’s time to get up.”

The exhausted redhead blinked tiredly up at the brunette before her, a yawn tugging from her lips as she slowly sat up. Looking around at the other occupants of the room, she asked, “What happened?”

Kona scoffed as she and Bentley rose from the floor, “You seriously don’t remember?”

“Not really,” Serena muttered, pressing a hand to the side of her head with a wince. “My head’s still pounding from that bizarre dream I had.”

“Dream?” Royce echoed. “What dream?”

“Just some stupid dream,” Serena scoffed. “Why do you even care?”

“You’re our friend,” Royce stated. At the redhead’s raised brow, he tacked on, “Well, sort of.”

Glancing between the group she used to consider her closest friends, Serena rolled her eyes and sighed, “It was just one of those out-of-body nightmare things, that’s all. Now, why am I here, of all places?”

Without allowing anyone else to control the narrative, Vivien let out a breath of a laugh, leaned against the armrest of the couch, and said, “We aren’t really sure what happened, but my guess would be that you got blackout drunk at your ‘bestie’s party.”

Despite her hazel glare not holding nearly as much aggression as it used to when aimed at someone who had offended her close friends, Serena’s piercing gaze still felt like a threatening knife held to their throats as she hissed, “Why the hell would that be your first guess?”

Attempting to appear unfazed by the girl’s stare, Royce said, “We found you passed out on a bench in the commons, all alone; that’s pretty telling, if you ask me.”

“Violet wouldn’t let me get that wasted,” Serena claimed despite the tentative look in her eyes telling everyone otherwise. “We look out for each other.”

“Yeah, well, regardless,” Vivien sighed, “we brought you back here to get you out of the cold and you fell asleep there before we could get you to move onto the air mattress.”

Stepping up toward where the group had gathered, Bentley said, “We couldn’t find your car, but your keys are on the table by the door.”

“Great,” Serena sighed to herself as she shakily rose from the recliner. Making her way toward the door, the redhead turned back to the group and swallowed thickly before saying, “I’m sorry for the trouble I may or may not have caused, but…  genuinely, thank you.”

“It’s nothing you wouldn’t do for us,” Vivien brushed off with a shrug.

Serena contemplated the statement momentarily, her gaze flitting around the room as she took a deep breath and allowed Vivien’s words to sink in. Whilst she was sure that, in some deep part of herself that she rarely ever investigated, she would agree with Vivien’s simple statement, Serena couldn’t bring herself to voice her thoughts. It did, however, give her something else to contemplate. Could she say the same about her so-called “bestie”? And, in turn, could Violet say the same about her?

Clearing her throat as she met Vivien’s emerald eyes, Serena muttered, “Still. Thanks.”

Vivien nodded as Royce and Bentley accepted the redhead’s statement. Not wanting to stay any longer than she already had, Serena jerked her head in a final, singular nod before turning on her heel, just barely snagging her keys by the initial keychain her mother had given her before scurrying out the door to find wherever she had left her car. Once the door was closed and Vivien was sure the redhead was far enough from the door that she wouldn’t hear her, she asked, “Did you guys really not see her car anywhere?”

“Nope,” Carrie claimed.

Miles chuckled, “I didn’t even look.”

“Chances are it’s at her house,” Mick claimed with a tired snicker.

Kona let out a snort as she began searching for the backpack she had chosen to use as a pillow during the night, “Wouldn’t be the first time she did something like that.”

Vivien hummed as she dragged herself over to the window seat she always claimed in the morning, searching for the shoes she knew she had ditched there at some point during their stay. She could remember a couple of different times when Serena’s car had “gone missing.” Despite only having the vehicle since her birthday back in May, Serena had forgotten where she had parked it more than once, resulting in her stepfather calling in some of his police friends to help search for it. More often than not, it was found within minutes, left in a parking spot she claimed she would never have used or in their garage as the redhead had forgotten she had gotten a ride with a friend, but there were a few times when the car had actually been towed away, and her family had to pay for its release from car jail.

With an amused smirk tugging at her lips, Vivien looked up as Kona called her name, “Yeah?”

“I slept on your dice last night,” Kona said from her spot on the floor, her backpack sitting open in her lap as she held a small, crushed velvet bag out for Vivien to see.

The pouch that Riven gave Vivien for her birthday a few years back had been passed around through their friend group as everyone took turns using the fancy dice within for different Dungeons and Dragons projects. Kona almost always used the dice for creating maps or, when she felt like it, a way to randomize her character creations for different games. Vivien's collection of dice was like a library to Kona - something for her to explore and borrow to her heart's content. However, the fact that the young blonde had slept on a myriad of pointy, oddly-shaped dice was something Vivien had to wonder if she had done before.

With a chuckle, Vivien shook her head and picked her shoes up from the floor as she stood, “Why am I not surprised?”

Watching the brunette place her shoes by the door and head back toward the window, Kona said, “Here, catch!”

Whirling around as the bag soared through the air, Vivien watched as the strings loosened, sending a couple of the crystalline dice tumbling out from their holster. With a gasp, she dropped her shoes and reached for the glittering dice, only to watch them come to a stop just above the hardwood floors. Peering up at her friend from her spot on the floor, Kona’s widened eyes found Vivien’s as they realized that the dice were now levitating a few inches above the floor, a hazy, amethyst glow shimmering around each individual die. Vivien glanced around at her friends, who had since turned from their conversations to see what had happened. Seeing as none of them had been watching, she realized that none of them could have been the one preventing her dice from hitting the floor.

Looking from the still-floating dice to Kona, Vivien softly asked, “Is that you?”

Slowly, Kona shook her head, “No, is it you?”

“How could it be me?” Vivien asked in return. “I don’t have magic anymore.”

“Well, if it’s not me,” Kona began, slowly shifting her gaze onto the other occupants of the room as she gestured to them, “and it wasn’t any of them, it has to be you.”

Vivien’s gaze shifted as she scanned over her friends, watching as their eyes slowly turned from Kona to the dice and, finally, onto her. Amazed confusion lined their faces, and while a part of her understood why, she wanted nothing more than for one of them to step up and help or, at the very least, admit that they were the one to use their magic to keep her dice from the hardwood. As she found his eyes, Vivien noticed that Bentley looked ready to step up and take the dice to keep her from worrying, but as Mick stood from the couch, he held himself back, leaving Vivien standing stock-still in an attempt to keep herself together. 

Hesitantly, Mick said, “Try putting them back in the bag without touching anything.”

Vivien’s head shook as her eyes widened, her fingers twitching anxiously at the thought of completing the challenge, “I don’t think I want to.”

Mick chuckled, “Yes, you do.”

Swallowing the growing pressure in her throat, Vivien shook her head once more, “If I drop these, not only will they break, but I’m pretty sure I will too, so no, I really don’t want to move them.”

Despite the smile on her face, Mick let out a sigh and shook her head before shifting her gaze onto the two boys who lingered just behind the couch. Gesturing for them to come over with a nod of her head, Mick took a step back as Royce and Bentley breezed by her to stand on either side of Vivien. Kona scrambled off the floor to join them, assuring Vivien she would only be there to step in if they needed her to before taking up the space Mick vacated.

Bentley placed a hand on Vivien’s arm with a smile, “You’ve got this Viv.”

“Just remember to breathe,” Royce added.

Vivien nodded slowly, taking in a breath before asking, “Together?”

“Always,” Kona agreed.

As ridiculous as it felt to be so concerned about dropping a handful of glow-in-the-dark resin dice, Vivien couldn’t help but feel as though she would pass out if the violet haze around the dice disappeared. Slowly, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand, watching as shades of gold, flickers of pink, and shimmers of blue melded together to form a galactic array of colors around each of the dice. Allowing her attention to split off from the dice, Kona jerked her wrist toward the floating bag and brought it closer to the group, a pink and blue nebula keeping the pouch open as rings of honey yellow, navy blue, and plum purple dropped the dice into their original confines. 

Once the dice had been returned to the small bag, Bentley snagged the bag out of the air and smiled as his eyes scanned over those present. “We did it,” he declared softly as the others rose from the couch to commend them.

“We did,” Royce echoed with a breathy laugh.

“But-” Vivien cut herself off with a disbelieving chuckle. “But how? I thought we gave up our magic.” 

As though a lightbulb had flickered on inside her head, Kona’s eyes lit up and she pushed her way through the gathering group, beelining for the kitchen. Bentley was quick to follow, weaseling his way past Miles and ducking under Carrie’s incoming hug with a quick apology as Kona stepped into the kitchen. Sharing a look and a simple shrug, Royce and Vivien were quick to follow, the older group following close behind and just entering the kitchen as Kona stated, “You guys lied about them giving up their magic, didn't you?”

Though the way the small blonde had worded her statement gave the adults very little room to argue, Dorothea found an easy way to avoid the topic as she smiled and said, “Well, good morning to you too, Kona.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Kona huffed with a roll of her eyes. “You told them to give their magic to Carrie, Mick, and Miles, but they have magic this morning. Why did you say they were giving up all their magic?”

“Technically,” Dorothea began, “I didn’t.”

“You said the eclipse could make it permanent,” Vivien argued. "That was a big factor as to why you said to try other means first."

“But she never said it would be permanent,” Brady countered. “She only said it was a possibility.”

Mack smiled as she set her cup of tea down on the table, “It wasn't a full exchange of magic, therefore, you were never in any true danger of giving up your powers.”

Glancing down at his hands as though they were suddenly no longer his own, Miles peered at the girls on either side of him and softly asked, “Does that mean we don’t have magic anymore?”

“Oh, no,” Brady said with a shake of his head, taking a sip of his morning coffee. “You three should have your full powers just the same as the kids will after a few more hours.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Carrie claimed. “If the spell was for the kids to give their powers to us, shouldn’t only some of us have magic?”

“Only for twelve hours,” Dorothea claimed, setting the coffee pot back on the crochet pot holder she had made a few months back.

“Give or take,” Mack added.

“I'm lost,” Bentley muttered as he rubbed remnants of sleep from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” Mick began, confusion looping its way around her words. “We thought it was potentially permanent.”

“But it wasn’t,” Brady said. “Like when I gave away my magic, the spell wasn’t a one-and-done, permanent thing. I’m able to take it or leave it as I wish, and last night, you kids did something similar. The only difference is that your new magic should be permanent.”

“But what about us?” Royce pressed as he gestured to Vivien and Bentley. "I'm pretty sure we all can vividly remember the feeling of our magic leaving us, but now it's back. How does that make any sense?"

Dorothea pushed out her chair and stood as she explained, “During a lunar eclipse, magic can be drawn into a vessel for twelve hours. Normally, the vessel is an inanimate object and the magic will force its way back to the holder in full by the time the twelve hours have passed.”

“However,” Brady began, “since she gave you the spell to transfer your magic to another human being, the transfer left traces of magic inside of them, granting them just as much magic as you have, even after your magic returns to you.”

“Well,” Mack started, “as soon as the spell wears off, that is.”

Dorothea found herself smiling calmly as the eyes of her children and their friends landed on her. However, she couldn’t help the pang of hurt in her heart as Vivien softly asked, “Why didn’t you tell us that?”

Stepping forward with a gentle smile, Dorothea tried to placate the group as she stated, “I knew from experience that, if you truly believed that you would never have magic again, it would make those who inherited it from you feel as though they had to fight twice as hard to win the battle.”

Carrie scoffed a laugh as she recalled just how incinerated the commons looked after their fight with Serena had started, “It certainly worked.” 

“And, another thing,” Brady tacked on as he poured some creamer into his coffee, “if you believed your powers were gone forever, so would Serena.”

Dorothea nodded, shifting her gaze from Brady to the children before her as she spoke, “That meant she wouldn’t go after any of you and would only target her attack on the ones she believed had magic.”

“It saved you three from any potential danger,” Mack claimed.

As incredulous looks were shared and relieved sighs fell through exhausted lips, comments of disbelief flooded the kitchen as everyone attempted to force themselves into some form of normalcy. As Miles began pulling cups and plates from the cupboards for the others to take and Vivien muttered something about having a love-hate relationship with evil witches under her breath, Kona said, “I can’t believe we didn’t piece all of this together earlier.”

With a snicker he shared with his wife and childhood friend, Brady sipped his coffee and said, “As we said last night, you kids have a lot to learn.”

Dorothea nodded, a proud smile filling her features as she observed the group and said, "And we will be there to teach you."

[bettsfic]

Currently working on my first novel and I feel like this dreaded sense of fear of being terrible. I’m critiquing everything and I’m only on chapter one. I feel like I’m not getting my characters tone write when it comes to writing the exteriority aspects of the book. I also feel like that I won’t ever be able to keep up with my goals: Like wanting to write 3-4 books a year. I just feel this crippling sense of pressure and like my process it wrong.

Do you have any tips? Desperately need some.

i've been a writing coach for a long time now and i've helped a lot of people write their first novels. in fact i would say most of my clients come to me wanting to write a novel. so my advice to you is the same as my advice to them: reframe your goals.

the problem is in the question: "i just feel this crippling sense of pressure." sitting down to write a novel is like stepping outside your front door one day and trying to run a marathon. sure, there are a few people in the world who can run 26 miles and it's just another tuesday, just like there are a few people in the world who can sit down and write a novel. but most people who have a goal of running a marathon have to train for it a long time by running a 5k, then a 10k, and so on.

writing 1 novel is hard. expecting yourself to write 3-4 a year is setting yourself up for failure. the only writers who write 3-4 novels a year are ones who stick to rigid genre formulas they enjoy writing repeatedly. because they write so quickly, their prose is generally fairly stock. i don't want to put down writers who write like this. everybody's gotta make money. but you'll never write your best work writing 4 novels a year. your best work will come from writing 1 novel 4 times.

i know hundreds of writers, i've taught hundreds of writers, and not one of them attempts 3-4 novels a year. exceptionally few can write 1 novel a year. the most famous, well-regarded authors i've ever worked with have only one or two books published. writing is a long con. the longest con.

a lot of times, that perfectionistic voice that critiques everything and keeps you from writing exists because you still need to practice the iterative process. by that i mean, writing a piece of fiction and revising it to the best version of itself over months or maybe years. learning that process takes a long time, and an even longer time for recovering perfectionists.

i think you should work on a short story instead of a novel. it's a lot easier to revise 5k words than 50k. the most important skill in developing your process is learning how it feels when something is done, when you've made it the best thing it can be. once you feel that enough times, you'll have the patience to write longer and longer work, and rewrite and revise that work as many times as you need to.

because we as readers only ever see published novels, i think it's easy to get sucked into success bias. you go into a bookstore and it's like, wow look at all these books that people have managed to write! but beyond those books are billions of words unpublished and maybe unread. thankfully i have no such success bias to offer.

in 2015, i sat down to write my first original novel thinking i would finish it and publish it within a year or two. i got about 10k into it and gave up. in 2016, i switched directions and wrote my first short story. in 2017, i got it published. i wrote a few more stories and got a few more publications, and in the process racked up hundreds of rejections. in 2018, i finished my first novel. in 2019, i queried it to agents and discovered it was unpublishable. i finished a short story collection that year and queried that instead. in 2020, i signed an agent with it. she gave me feedback and i revised it. in 2021, she sent it out for submission and it didn't get picked up. in 2022, i finished another novel, but it totally missed the mark and i think i have to just toss it and move on. now in 2023, i've (nearly) finished what i hope will be my actual debut novel. if it gets picked up (huge if), it'll be published around 2025, ten years after i set out to write my first novel. but it may also not get picked up at all, and i'll have to start over again, and it'll be another ten or twenty or thirty years before any of my work sees the light of day.

i'm not telling you this to deter you. in fact my path is not particularly conventional, but i'm also writing stuff that's difficult (nearly impossible) to market. what i'm saying is, what if instead of 3-4 novels a year, your goal was one novel in 10 years? but not just any novel--your best novel. the novel you can look back on and say, that's everything i've ever wanted to write and share with the world. in 50 years, would you rather look back and find 5 pieces of your absolute best work, things you've crafted with so much thought and love and care that they're part of you? or 200 novels, a quantity so large that most of it you can't even remember writing.

in all creative endeavors, you have to seek joy. you have to write selfishly, write the things that give you the most life. the stories you absolutely need to tell. and to do that, you have to lower the stakes, constrain your goals. you have to play like a little kid in a sandbox of words. your goal on monday: one sentence you're proud of. maybe that takes 100 sentences to find. your goal this month: a paragraph you love so much you want to read it over and over again. your goal this year: a chapter, or maybe an outline, or a completed study in an aspect of craft you're interested in improving. keep it small. seek what you find beautiful. appease only yourself.

i wrote a newsletter about reconceiving the perception of project that you might find helpful. i'm hoping to write soon about reconceiving the idea of Being A Writer, which will hopefully also be relevant.

best of luck to you on your writing journey.