#was making a wreath and they keep coming up and sniffing and bitting it

[abasketofnothing]

Putting up christmas decorations with cats makes me think about how insufferable it must be for the ministry to put up anything with the ghouls running around

[authurials]

𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . you bring your parents home a christmas present in the form of your boyfriend, daemon targaryen

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations ( MINORS DNI ! ), sexual situations/intercourse, oral sex (male receiving), slight praise kink if you squint, strong language

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . here is day two of my 12 days of house of the dragon celebration! a little modern!au with professor!daemon x student!reader; honestly he’s a bit....ooc in my opinion but i was on a bit of a time crunch to get this one out--running a tad behind with work and life in general, but i’m determined to keep to my posting schedule (unless something really prevents me from writing); let me know your thoughts--your response was awesome to day one! make sure you keep tuning in because next up is part one of my stepdad!harwin modern!au miniseries

“𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄,” your boyfriend, a silver-haired man of forty-eight, rolled his eyes as you once again checked your updo in the small compact mirror in your hand. “Now, stop fidgeting.”

“Fine, fine,” you sigh, tucking it once more in your bag as you adjust its position on your shoulder; you step up to the door and lift your hand to knock–hesitating. “....what if we just went to get chinese with Rhae and Harwin? I’m sure it’s not too–”

Reaching past you, Daemon wrapped his hand against the door before you could stop him, causing you to freeze in horror at what he had just done; from inside the house you could already hear the family dog, Urrax, sounding the alarm from within followed by the scolding tone of your mother. You already could hear both approaching the door to greet the guests–you and Daemon–and it took all your willpower and him taking your hand to stop you from bolting. Feeling him give you a comforting squeeze, you looked up into his face and raised a pale brow at you.

“What have you done?” You groan, leaning against his arm for extra support just as the door swings open in front of you.

The bells from the Christmas wreath that hung over the window beat against each other, shrilly ringing as they are drowned out by your mother’s excited greeting.

“My baby!” She exclaimed, immediately pulling you into the warmth of her embrace and holding you there for several moments; it allowed you if but for a moment to forget your earlier anxiety, tucking it in a corner for now as you let yourself wrap your arms around her frame in reply. All the while Urrax was at your feet, switching between excitedly waiting for your acknowledgement and sniffing cautiously at the unfamiliar man before him; only with your beloved canine’s approval would Daemon be permitted to enter the home–or at least that’s what your mom liked to let him believe. “Come in, come in–you two must be freezing! How was the drive from the city?”

Your mom was pulling you in before you could even get out an answer, and since your other hand was still death gripped in Daemon’s he was tugged along for the journey. At least she allowed you enough time to stop at the coat rack and peel off the layers of winter wear you had been subjected to only to still somehow remain freezing cold. As you unwrapped your scarf, face rosy from the wind, you hummed:

“It was alright; Daemon drove my car because dad got me those snow tires.”

“See? And you didn’t want to take him up on those….”

“Mom–” You sighed. “I just didn’t want you guys spending any more money on me.”

“Nonsense, you’re our only baby–aside from you, Urrax,” she threw in for the dog’s benefit, as if he could somehow understand them; he simply panted happily at the mention of his name, probably expecting some sort of treat. “Who else are we going to spend it on? Now, you–”

She looked pointedly at Daemon who was peeling off his black coat, stopping with one arm still in as he looked between you and your mother. You offered him no out; this had been his plan after all–wanting to meet your parents finally after nearly six months of dating. It wasn't that you didn’t want your parents to get to know the guy you were seeing, but you weren’t blind to the possibility of their opposition due to the age gap–among other things.

“Let me get a good look at you,” your mother continued, stepping close so she could get a better look at Daemon’s face; still paused in that same stance, arm tucked in one sleeve of the coat while the other held it up, your boyfriend offered your mother a devilishly handsome smile.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he hummed cordially–or as cordial as Daemon could be.

“Hmmm,” was your mother’s only response, eyes looking up and down in that overly critical way she used on all the other moms on the PTA board, “Damion was it?”

“Mom--” you hissed, ears flushing from embarrassment rather than the cold this time.

“What? Is his name Damion or not?” She exclaimed, feigning innocence.

“It’s quite alright–it’s a bit of a unique spelling,” Daemon smiled, though you could see the fire he hid well in his eyes. “It’s actually, Daemon ma’am–Daemon Targaryen.”

“Oh, Targaryen!” Your mother’s eyes widened, recognizing the name. “Like the Targaryens from that fancy steel factory?”

“Correct,” Daemon’s smile had turned into a smirk, and you hid your laughter behind a smile as you finally turned away from them to kneel and greet Urrax; the beast thanked you for your attentions with gross smelling slobber-ladened kisses on your face and hands.

“Where’s dad?” You asked breathlessly as you gently pushed his face away from yours with a laugh.

“In the den, watching that damn It’s a Wonderful for the umpteenth time,” you could hear the roll of her eyes in the tone of her voice. “Couldn’t even pull him away from the recliner to help with dinner; we’re having your favorite by the way–I hope it’s not cold. We were expecting you an hour ago….”

“Well it is snowing, mom,” brushing off the jab, you rise to your full height and turn back to them; your eyes flick to Daemon, who is watching you carefully.

“I know, I know,” she waved dismissively, brushing past you and towards the den area. “Now come on–he’s been dying to meet your fella; hope you’re ready for a hundred and twenty questions, Daemon.”

“Certainly,” he chuckled, arm coming to wrap around your waist and tucking you into his side as he guided the pair of you to follow the woman.

Sighing, you let him be your strength as your head falls to his chest, “it’s not too late to run….”

You say it low enough so your mother won’t hear, already yelling at your father to turn off the TV before she even enters the room. Daemon simply laughs again, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head as his hand gives your hip a firm squeeze. Biting your lip, you tilt your head up to press a kiss of your own against the strong square of his jaw, letting your nose graze the skin there before your gaze falls back down through the doorway. Already you can hear your father heaving himself out of his chair as he and your mother argue over the TV, George Bailey’s iconic speech humming in the background.

“Now where did you put the remote?” Your mother groaned, passing in view before disappearing to the other side of the den. Daemon and you stopped in the doorway as you both peered in, assessing the situation before you interrupted what could end up being one of your parents’ infamous holiday fights.

Without fail on high stress seasonal celebrations like Thanksgiving and Christmas, where tensions ran high, your chronically on the cusp of divorce parents ended up in some ridiculous and avoidable argument that burned brightly and fizzled out just as quickly; by the time dessert was served they were usually back to their amicable albeit annoying selves, and your appetite for food and celebration was ruined for the rest of the night.

“It’s in the chair cushions, mom,” you interjected, wanting to avoid such an instant this year as it was yours and Daemon’s first official holiday with each other; you had skipped out on having Thanksgiving together last month after an argument about the very thing you were doing at your parents’--introducing him as your boyfriend. You had met pretty much every member of his immediate family, which was saying something considering there were a lot of them; he had even introduced you to the daughters he’d had with his late wife, Laena, already. And although it had gone about as good as could be expected, at least he had taken that initiative and wasn’t trying to hide your relationship; honestly, it was hot how much he loved showing you off, it was one of your favorite things about him–his confidence in his decisions, the way he never second guessed himself.

If only you could say the same.

“Like it always is,” you tacked on as you moved away from Daemon’s side and brushed past your father, hand coming up to pat him on the back as you leaned forward and dug through either side of the broken in recliner he had had since the father’s day of the year you turned five; you remembered how excited you had been when you had given your mom the five dollars from one of your teeth–believing it all the money in the world, or at least enough to get that chair your dad was eying out of a La-Z-Boy catalog that came in the mail.

Gripping the remote in hand, you pulled it from between where it was stuck and held it out to your mom, waving it as you gave her a knowing expression. Rolling her eyes, she huffed as she reached out and grabbed it, pointing it at the TV a moment before it finally cut George Bailey off and went dark.

“See? She always blames these things on me,” your dad snorted, a vision in his trademark plaid button up and the brown leather belt that adorned every pair of jeans he’d ever worn..

“Well it technically was your fault it ended up under your ass, dad,” you defended.

“Language,” your mother huffed, and as always you and your dad shared an eye roll.

“Enough with the nagging,” your father hummed, growing serious–or as serious as he ever got–as he turned to Daemon who still stood in the doorway taking in the scene before him. You realized how odd it must be, to be an outsider looking in, at least that’s how you had often felt when initially meeting his family; they had been great about making you feel included at least, except for Baela and Rhaena, and even then they still made it a point to be civil for their dad’s sake after he made it clear you made him happy. “You’re the boyfriend, I presume?”

“Yes,” he pushed off the side of the doorway and stepped forward, raising his hand for your father to shake–it was more than any of your other boyfriends had done in the past. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet both you and your wife.”

“Hm,” was your father’s response, a moment or two passing before he finally grabbed Daemon’s hand and shook it; something seemed to transpire as his critical gaze softened and he smiled. “Well, I’m glad my daughter finally brought you for a visit. She’s told us a bit about you, but I’m eager to hear more.”

“Of course,” Daemon let his hand drop back to his side.

“Now let’s get settled at the table before you begin your interrogation,” your mother playfully scolded her husband. “I already got the table all set and everything; I hope you like roast, Daemon….”

“Sounds delicious,” he hummed, once more falling into step beside you, hand on the small of your back as you followed your parents into the adjoining open concept dining room/kitchen combo.

“It was one of her favorites growing up,” your mother continued, tossing a thumb your way over her shoulder. “We couldn’t have a ham or a turkey, no–it had to be a nice roast with some of that honey barbeque glaze that was her grandmother’s recipe.”

You all settled at the table–you and Daemon on one side, your parents on the other–as your mother prattled on about hams and glazes and the one time you puked halfway digested roast up on the new carpet after getting the flu really bad when you were thirteen. Biting your tongue, you felt Daemon find your hand under the table, squeezing it tightly as your mom pulled the cover off the platter with the roast on it; your dad was already reaching for his piece when your mother stopped him:

“Prayer first.”

Daemon caught your eye and you could see the distaste clearly painted on his face, knowing that he wasn’t particularly fond of religious practices that fell under the Faith of the Seven; his own family were split in their belief systems, his older brother’s second wife converting him over to the Seven while Daemon and his niece Rhaenyra stayed within the traditions of Old Valyria the Targaryens were known for. Personally, you weren’t religious at all, and neither were your parents who had raised you with an open mind to religion but had no expectations for you to follow a particular faith; your mom only threw out that prayer stuff on the holidays and only when you had guests.

Both you and Daemon bowed your heads, exchanging slightly bemused looks as your mother began the prayer. It was as awkward and hilarious as to be expected, your mother thanking the Seven for bringing the both of you there safely that night and for blessing the food you were about to eat. Then of course she blessed your dad and Urrax who had found himself back inside after disappearing through the backroom doggy door; he was now begging at your father’s feet–the weakest link among your defense when it came to resisting puppy dog eyes.

“And Seven, if you could just make it to where I could be at the top of the phone tree at the next neighborhood watch meeting, that would be appreciated,” your mother tacked on. “In your name we pray, thank you.”

“Thank you,” you held back a snort as Daemon rubbed a hand over his mouth, stifling laughter.

“Dig in!” Your mother exclaimed, grabbing two rolls.

Your father wasted no time in claiming the biggest slice of roast for himself as you covered almost half of your plate in the potatoes that had simmered alongside it. Tossing Urrax a sympathy carrot–you hated steamed carrots–you glanced over at Daemon’s plate which had a little bit of everything on it. Smiling, you nudged him before grabbing your fork and spearing one of the potatoes, popping it in your mouth; initially it was a mistake, the morsel unbearably warm as you rolled it around for a few moments while it cooled down.

“So Daemon,” your father began, swallowing his first bite of roast and green bean casserole combo, “what are your intentions with our daughter?”

It was brutally cliche and your father knew it by the look of the humorous smile playing on his lips, one Daemon shared as he chuckled and set down his fork.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “we’re just seeing where things go for now–no definitive plans, no expectations.”

You nodded in agreement, the both of you having made what you wanted and needed from the relationship clear from the start. Daemon was a man nearing his fifties, he had long since sowed his wild oats and was a father of two grown adults, he had no need to play games with any of the women he pursued. And for that you were thankful, because otherwise you didn’t think things would’ve ever worked out for as long as they had; he was the first guy you had ever dated that was in the same age bracket as your father–all your other boyfriends born within the same decade as you–and at first you had feared it would be an obstacle you wouldn’t be able to get over but Daemon had been patient although determined for you to at least give him a chance before you completely wrote him off.

“Good, good,” your father nodded in agreement, “because you know we fully expect her to finish college first before any of that settling down nonsense right?”

“Dad, come on,” you sighed, pushing your food around your plate as heat rose in your cheeks.

“We just worry that those four years of college and the time you’ve already put into graduate school will go to waste,” your mother interjected. “It was an awful lot of money, sweetheart.”

“Well I don’t plan on getting pregnant or eloping in Vegas, so you can rest easy, alright?” You dropped a piece of gristly meat on the floor for Urrax to scarf down.

“We’re just asking,” she held up her hands in defense.

You felt Daemon’s hand on your thigh, the pad of his thumb stroking in the same pattern as he periodically gave it a squeeze. Glancing at him, you saw that he was facing forward, seemingly giving your parents his full attention as you all tabled the discussion of him potentially ruining your future.

“How old are you again, Daemon?” your mother led with the next line of questioning, putting you further on edge.

“I’ll be forty-nine this coming spring,” he answered with ease, no shame evident in his tone.

“Goodness, you certainly don’t look your age then,” she complimented, neither her nor your father showing any concern at the gap.

Of course, you hadn’t expected them to react too badly to that aspect of your relationship; you had been clear from the start that there was quite a bit of a gap between Daemon and you. They had taken it with some relative uneasiness at first until you assured them that proper boundaries to protect yourself had been put in place right from the start. 

“And we were told that you teach,” your father joined in, scooping up the scraps of his food and holding it on his fork as he continued, “are you a grade school teacher? Or high school?”

“I’m actually a professor,” Daemon explained. “I chair the history department at King’s Landing University.”

Your university.

“Oh,” was all your mother said, before wiping her mouth off with her napkin and composing herself. “What kinds of classes do you offer?”

You knew she was digging, deeper and deeper, so that she may connect the dots of the secret you had held so close all those months. And if you could hold it close just a bit longer you would, but this had been Daemon’s wish when he had requested you both spend Christmas together at your parents’ house. He didn’t want to hide the truth any longer if there was any hope of this continuing past the six month probationary period the both of you had agreed on in the beginning, and neither did you truly; but facing your parents and their scrutiny was also not something you particularly desired either.

“Mostly ones on Ancient Civilizations,” he replied. “The traditions and cultures of places like Essos and Pentos; I spent much of my earlier studies traveling and writing about them and then of course Old Valryia. My family is rumored to date all the way back to its fall, and growing up I found the prospect quite fascinating–so I decided to make a career out of it.”

“Didn’t you take one of those ancient civilization courses last semester?” Your father asked, not seeming to be connecting the dots just yet as he went for a second slice of roast. By the look on your mother’s face, however, you knew that she had come to the conclusion straight away, fork hanging limply from her hand with a stray green bean that Urrax sniffed at from her side.

“I did….” You gulped, licking your lips as you reached down to lay your hand over Daemon’s; he turned his palm upwards, entwining your fingers together. “Ancient Civilizations of the Old World: The Valyria Chapter….Daemon’s class.”

Your eyes flicked between your parents, mom pale faced as she processed what she’d already known and your father still chewing, though the movement of his jaw slowed visibly and a frown curved his lips as he too began to process what you had just said. For a moment, you fooled yourself into believing that everything would be okay and this was just the initial shock, they wouldn’t really care that much, right? That was until your dad’s fork slammed down on the table and he swallowed his bite, jaw tense as he looked between you and Daemon.

“You two met….in his class?” Your mother asked breathlessly, setting her fork down with more decorum than your father had. “He-He’s your professor?”

“He was,” you clarified, “but he’s not anymore. I made sure I didn’t take any of his classes this semester after we made things official–”

“As if that somehow makes it better,” your father cut you off.

“Dad–” you sighed, expecting the pushback; an age gap you could rationalize to your parents, dating your professor? That wouldn’t be as easy. They were very by the book, your parents, particularly when it came to company politics and procedures, and the golden rule they lived by was that you didn’t date your co-workers–especially if they outranked you. It not only complicated things in their opinion, but it was also unethical for a superior to date someone who was under them because it created an unsettling power balance. And you understood that in some instances of students dating their professors that power imbalance did occur, you were just lucky that that hadn’t been your experience with Daemon.

“It just isn’t right,” your mother shook her head, “for a professor to date one of their students. You must understand that, Mr. Targaryen.”

Oh, now they were on a last name basis–this wasn’t good.

“I understand your concerns,” Daemon hummed, “and trust that they were addressed early on between your daughter and I, but I would never jeopardize my career or her academic future in such a way.”

“But you have by even continuing to see her,” your dad argued. “Even if she isn’t in one of your classes, she’s still a student at the college you work for.”

“Yes, however we both keep our personal lives very separate from the university,” he continued, standing firm in his words. “Your daughter only has two more semesters left, so we see no need to worry; once she has graduated we can make our relationship more public so as to not put either of us in an uncomfortable position.”

“You must see how unethical and even immoral this is,” your mother continued to push before looking at you. “Honey–”

“Daemon has never allowed his private feelings to impact his treatment of me in class,” you defended him. “And now that I’m not on his roster it’s easy for us to keep those parts of our life separate. I understand that this isn’t conventional and it might even be inappropriate but….fuck! I don’t care, okay? I just really don’t and if you can’t accept that then that’s fine–well, not really, but I’m not going to let it affect my relationship. Daemon and I will continue to see each other no matter what you have to say.”

You didn’t dare look at Daemon, too fearful that it would cause you to falter in your words, but you could feel his stare burning into the side of your face; a part of you didn’t even have to look to know that it was an expression of pride he wore as you relaxed back in your seat. Your parents sat across from you, stunned into silence, father staring at you as you mother fiddled uncomfortably with her silverware; all the while Urrax panted obliviously, begging for scraps at the side of the table.

“Now,” you sighed, taking a deep breath as you pushed back from the table and stood up, hand reaching for Daemon, “if you’ll excuse us–I’d like to show Daemon my room. Okay?”

For a moment you feared that they’d ask you to leave the house entirely, unable to process what had just transpired let alone accept the simple fact that Daemon and you had been brought together by his status as your professor.

“Okay,” your father sighed, the one word lifting the burden from your heart as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “But we’re talking more about this–”

He gestured between you and Daemon with his fork.

“In the morning.”

“Dad–” You frowned, ready to nip any objections to your relationship in the bud.

“I ain’t gonna say nothing more about my thoughts on the whole ‘professor’ thing,” he said the word with a hint of distaste. “I just want to get a better picture of….it.”

You saw your mother nodding in agreement, seeming to come back to herself as she took a deep calming breath in and let it slowly out.

“....Alright,” you agreed after a moment before turning to leave. “Dinner was delicious, mom….good night.”

“Night, sweetie,” you heard her sigh as you left them to the rest of their meal and led Daemon  upstairs.

Your childhood bedroom was the same as you had left it when you moved out for college, a shrine to the young girl you had once been when your mom still drove you to practices and away games, back when you spent a majority of your time in your father’s shadow. If only you had stayed that age. But alas, you grew up as kids tended to do and as Daemon pressed you back into the floral print bed sheets all thoughts of your adolescence left your mind.

Moaning, you kissed him back with a fervor, one hand combing through his silky shoulder length hair while the other one pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans. Pulling away temporarily, he quickly undid the buttons of the shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders, tossing it to the floor of your bedroom before leaning back down to kiss you. His kisses made you breathless, trying to catch your breath between each one as he rubbed against you.

“I didn’t expect all that down there….” he chuckled, lips trailing the length of your jaw and down to your neck, he sucked on the skin there as you let out a gasp your hands falling down to grip at his lower back; his hips pressed into yours, rubbing the outline of his hardening cock against your core.

“Me either,” you pant, laughter on your tongue as you reach your hands between the two of you to fumble with the buckle of his belt. “Fuck….help me get this off.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” He teased, pulling back all the same to give you better access, his own hands reaching down to help undo the zipper of his pants.

“As if you aren’t,” you shot back, licking your lips as you saw the hint of his cock peeking out from between his open fly.

His hand found the back of your head, fingers rubbing your scalp as he patiently waited for you to shimmy his pants down past his buttocks and pull his semi-hard cock out. Spitting in one hand, you grab it in a firm grasp and slowly stroke from base to tip, eyes flicking up to gauge his reaction. You watched the tilt of his head as he looked up the ceiling, eyes closing as he let out a soft moan, hand still tugging through your hair before pressing back against your skull. Once he stiffened a bit more, you rubbed your thumb over the leaking tip, leaning forward to take it into your mouth. Another groan escaped Daemon’s lips, louder this time, deep in his throat as he slowly pressed forward–feeding you his cock.

“Good girl….” He sighed reverently. “So good for me….that’s right–take me all the way to the back of your throat.”

Glowing under his praise, you reminded yourself to relax the back of your throat muscles as he had instructed you in the past, feeling the head of his penis slip into the narrow opening. It was difficult to remember all of it–relax, breathe through your nose, don’t neglect the base….at that thought you reached up your hand, caressing over the heavy weight of his balls before gripping where the shaft met the bottom. Her jerked slightly in your hand, bumping the back of your throat and causing you to gag but you simply stalled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out before continuing.

“There we go,” he grunted, hooded eyes flicking down to stare at you–jaw unhinged, mouth open as you took his dick so well.

Never one to want to waste cum down your throat, however, Daemon tapped you on the shoulder when he was good to go and you pulled back. Licking your lips, feeling how swollen they had become with the tip of your tongue, you rested back on your elbows, clothes still on but disheveled as you awaited your boyfriend’s next move. He wasted no time of ridding you of your shoes and pants, leaving you in your button up blouse–sans buttons when he tore it open much to your ire–as well as your bra and panties; though the latter quickly followed as Daemon discarded your underwear as well, free hand stroking his cock as he placed himself between your legs.

Using one hand to open you up, he used the other to guide himself inside of you, tip of his cock teasing your clit with a few brushes across before finding its target. Biting your lip, you fell fully on your back as you kept your legs wide open for him, only closing momentarily to squeeze his hips as you resisted the urge to lift and impale yourself on his cock the rest of the way. Daemon liked to tease you in the beginning, pushing in inch by agonizing inch, until he was balls deep into your pussy–only then did he give you both what you wanted.

He fucked into you with an enthusiasm none of your other lovers could’ve ever hoped to match, hands gripping either of your thighs in a vice grip as he held you open for himself, watching at how well he pounded your pussy. A satisfied smirk curved his lips, eyes flicking up to meet yours, which were glazed over and unfocused as all you could do was lie there and take his punishing pace. Gasping, you reached down with both hands to grip his wrists, holding on for dear life as you already felt yourself so close to the edge; usually when he noted your approaching orgasm, he would slow down and drag it on, taking you to edge and keeping you there for hours but tonight it seemed he had different plans. Instead of slowing down when you felt that knot forming in your stomach, he went faster, fucking into your with even more vigor as you held in the more alarming of your moans–last thing you needed was your parents hearing your professor screw you into the matress under their own roof.

“Daemon….” you whimpered. “I–I….I need to–”

“You know how to ask nicely, pet,” he teased, rhythm never letting up as his hands slipped from your thighs to your hips, slamming you down onto him as his hips met your ass in a stinging slap again and again.

“Can I–oh!” Your body jerked as one of his hands slipped to your clit, rubbing the bud with the warm pad of his thumb as he kept up his onslaught of attacking thrusts. “Oh shit–fuck! Daemon, can I–can I please cum?! I need to cum all over your cock, I need–ah!”

All senses left you as Daemon reared up, the force of his thrust lifting your lower body as he held you there, back arching and pressing further into the mattress as the dam in your stomach broke–your orgasm washing over you. His thumb stopped moving on your clit, instead holding you there in the chasm where pleasure met pain, lips and thighs wet with the slick of your arousal. You felt the pulse of his own release wash over inside of you as he gave small rolls of his hips against your suspended ass, grunting as the tension finally broke and he let you fall once more to the bed, partially into his lap. Your legs rested uselessly on either side of his hips, racked with residual tremors of your post-coital bliss; sweat coated your skin, prickly and orgasmically uncomfortable as your entire epidermis hummed with sensitivity, body jerking involuntarily from the slightest caress of Daemon’s body brushing against yours.

After a few moments of settling, he finally pulled himself from inside you, a broken whimper leaving your mouth at the loss. Chuckling, he settled his body against your side, shifting both your bodies slightly so that he could tuck himself against your backside, flaccid wet cock rubbing against your ass as you leaned back into him. Your head tucked under his chin as you quietly laid there, feeling how his seed slipped out from inside and dripped onto the bed sheets, both of you allowing the quiet to envelop your bodies before sleep eventually claimed you.

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 18 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Masterlist with all previous chapters

*****

Cassian was still giving Azriel weird looks when they finished training that evening, having missed the usual morning session, and Azriel finally rolled his eyes and glared at him,

"What? You've been weird all day."

"Did something happen?" Cassian narrowed his eyes, leveling a concerned gaze at him,

"No, I'm fine, what are you on about?"

"I know you're fine, you just seem a bit different today, did you sleep last night? I know you don't sleep much at the moment, but you just seem, I don't know, it just seems like something's changed."

"Yes, I slept last night, I've been sleeping properly for about a week now," Azriel muttered, something had changed, but it was nothing that Cassian and his big nose needed to know about just yet.

"And Gwyn was practically glowing when I saw her earlier, not like that," he rolled his eyes, "I'd know if that had happened, she seemed happier than usual, more at peace, the same way that you do."

"Really?" Gwyn seemed happier, because of him? Azriel couldn't help the grin that sprang to his face at the thought of her happy, especially if he had made her that way,

"I knew it. What the hell did I interrupt this morning?"

"Nothing, we were talking, taking a moment of calm before an idiot interrupted, and she decided that she was getting up after all." Cassian snorted, halfheartedly apologized, and seemed to let it go, but turned back to Azriel before he left,

"I'm glad you found her." Azriel almost blinked in surprise, he knew that Cassian would be happy, but it was still difficult to remember that people cared, that anyone would bother to be happy for him. "But," oh gods, there was always a 'but' wasn't there, "I will be returning the favor, 'chaperone', don't you worry." Azriel rolled his eyes, but a spark lit in his chest at Cassian's words, he wasn't just happy because Azriel was, he saw a future between him and Gwyn, he thought that this was a good decision. Something made him chuckle,

"I don't think that'll be an issue for a while, we're not you and Nesta, no matter how much I love her, we're not idiots."

"Oi, that's my mate you're talking about," Cassian joked, forcing a glare at Azriel, but broke down into a laugh moments later, and clapped him on the shoulder, "You are idiots, I'm guessing you told her last night, despite everyone, apparently everyone but her, knowing for ages now." Cassian grinned again when he walked off, leaving Azriel desperately trying to figure out how everyone else could have known for ages when he didn't know himself.

Without Cassian's endless chatter, it seemed that the whole house was sleeping, the hallways were all silent, and dark. Azriel paused as he passed his study, the unfinished plans screaming at him to work until they were ready, but he turned away. Gwyn had been right, he would work better in the morning, when he was rested, but the first step away was still difficult, still felt wrong. Besides, Gwyn would be waiting for him again, and she'd come and fetch him if he didn't show up soon. Azriel slowly shook his head as he walked, chuckling to himself at the thought of the fiery redhead literally dragging him away from his work so that he would sleep,

"What are you laughing about?" Gwyn's voice shook him out of his thoughts and he snapped his gaze up to where she was leaning against the doorframe, hair unbound, already in her nightgown, smiling softly to herself,

"The idea of you dragging me back here if I tried to do any more work."

"Damn right I would, you watch yourself shadowsinger, any funny business, and I'll tell the shadows not to let you out of this room." Azriel chuckled, knowing full well that if she did that, they would obey her, even if he outright ordered them to let him out.

"You're a devious little creature, you know that."

"You wouldn't have it any other way," she chuckled, and dodged him when he moved to kiss the top of her head, "Bath first," he tried again, and she yelped, darting to the side, "No, you get away from me until you've bathed, you smell."

"You wound me! I do not smell." He sniffed the air, "Maybe I do smell, but you still wound me." Gwyn snorted, and pointed to the bathroom, 

"I already ran a bath, it should still be warm, I wasn't expecting you to have a gossip session with Cass. That is what you were doing?"

"He might've wanted to discuss a couple things." Azriel muttered, wondering how on earth he'd become this transparent, or maybe it was Gwyn, he'd never really been able to hide from her,

"About us? He gave me a funny look earlier,"

"Yes, he says everyone's known for ages, but I don't know how, I didn't."

"Maybe we didn't have to." Gwyn settled down on the bed, leaning against a pillow set up against the headboard, a book already in her hands as she glanced back at the bathroom, "Bath. Now." Azriel chuckled something about her becoming a tyrant, but obeyed nonetheless. 

The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes for a few moments, the rustling of Gwyn turning the pages of her book almost sending him to sleep. This was what he wanted, the safety to relax for a moment, no worries about someone or something trying to kill him all the time, the female he loved safe and content. He'd hadn't noticed how long it had been, but he opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps,

"Are you drowning? Or sleeping?"

"Neither," he chuckled, "Daydreaming," Gwyn perched on the edge of the bath, next to his head, keeping herself turned towards his face, and poured a bucket of water over his head, giving him just enough warning to take a breath and squeeze his eyes shut before the water rushed over his face. Gwyn laughed, and moments later, soft fingers brushed the wet hair out of his face, 

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing. And everything. What the world could be, if we can just get some peace."

"It'll be beautiful," she whispered, "I see the way you sometimes get, all of you, I can't wait to see the world that you will build,"

"The world that we will build, Gwyn. You will be there, every step of the way, right with me, with out family," she smiled, 

"That world will be the home of the dreamers, the ones who left the world a better place than they found it." She brushed her fingers through his hair again, her gaze slowly switching from contemplative to playful, and she snatched the bottle of shampoo off the edge of the bath, "You use lavender shampoo?"

"It's my mother's favorite flower." She turned the bottle over in her hand, and flipped open the cap,

"Can I wash your hair? Maybe then it'll be less all over the place," she joked, but made to hand the bottle back to Azriel, perhaps worried that he didn't want her touching his hair,

"Yes, of course you can, but,"

"Hush," she muttered, and shifted to sit behind him, careful to step over his wings without touching them, and perched on the little footstool that he'd gotten for her, even if she didn't realize it was for her, he'd never needed one to reach the top shelves, but Gwyn certainly did. She tipped his head back, sliding her fingers into his hair, and Azriel let out a sigh, closing his eyes, his whole being narrowing down to her fingers in his hair, the way she was carefully holding his head just above the hard edge of the bathtub. His breaths slowed, and he could almost see Gwyn's smile, even with his eyes closed, that little knowing smile that she gave him each time she realized that he was calm, happy, mostly when she was around if he was being honest. 

Softly, Gwyn started to hum, her fingers in Azriel's hair following the same rhythm, her humming slowly getting louder, until it changed from simple humming to song. He didn't recognize the words, but he would always know a song designed for calming, it had almost the same melody as his mother's lullaby, the notes practically floating around him, stilling his mind and his body as Gwyn rinsed his hair off, 

"You sang me your lullaby, now I've sung you mine. This is the one that one of the other priestesses used to sing when I had nightmares. I don't know where it's from, but I still sometimes hum it to myself when I need to calm, or to ground myself when I'm nervous."

"It's beautiful." Azriel murmured, and opened his eyes to find Gwyn wreathed in shadow, to find them encircling her head. A crown, that's what it was, he sang to the shadows, but Gwyn, she was their Queen, and he was blessed to stand beside her. She raised an eyebrow at his contemplative look, but giggled when he reached up to cup the back of her neck, and pulled her down for a kiss, "You're so beautiful." He whispered, blinking in surprise when Gwyn flushed slightly, he hadn't meant to say it out loud, but she was, she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. 

*****

Gwyn left Azriel alone to dry himself off and put on a pair of pants, but she immediately put her book aside when he emerged, his hair tidier than usual, as if he'd taken pains to make sure it was. The moment he sat down, she ran her hands through it again, and fluffed it up, chuckling at his exasperated sigh,

"I like it like that." She said as he flopped backwards onto the mattress, smirking at him as she swung a leg over his hips, her hands on his shoulders. She wasn't totally sure he was breathing until she leaned down to kiss him and a hand dove into her hair holding her against him. She leaned down and gripped his shoulders, rolling sideways, so that Azriel was leaning on his forearms above her. She took a deep breath, still holding on to him. Azriel, this was Azriel, she loved him, she trusted, she wanted him. He stilled, allowing her to decide what she wanted from him, and she closed her eyes, but opened them the moment a familiar song filled her ears, deep and rich, he clearly didn't know the words, but Azriel was humming her song, her calming song, and she smiled, and nodded, "I'm okay." 

"Tell me what you want."

"Kiss me again." He did, slowly, sliding a hand across to the back of her head, grounding her against any remaining fears. It was his touch, his eyes, his voice, everything about him that shoved her fear aside, this was her choice, he was her choice. She had chosen him, and she was never letting go, not now, not ever. She blinked her eyes open when Azriel pulled back, brushing his thumb across her cheek, "I love you," she whispered, and wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned back down, opening at the first brush of his tongue, savoring the feeling of his body pressed against hers, pushing her down into the mattress, a little of his weight on her, but far from scaring her, it ignited a fire within her. She nipped at his lip, and moaned into his mouth, letting her head fall back, baring her neck to him,

"Tell me to stop and I will. Always." No matter how much he wanted this, wanted her, Gwyn could see in his eyes, even if she hadn't already known that fact, no matter how far down this path they were, the moment she changed her mind, he would stop, and wait for what she wanted. 

"Yes." She whispered, her eyes fluttering closed when he kissed along her jaw, working his way from one side to the other before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. Gwyn slipped a hand up to the back of his neck, not quite holding him still, but just letting him know that she wanted more, that she was okay. When his tongue flicked against her skin she thought that she was going to explode, somehow he had done this, had made her want more, more more. She let out some sort of sound, and tipped her head back further, demanding more, if he could make her feel this good from just kissing, she could hardly imagine what it'd be like when he got between her legs. She opened her eyes when Azriel's weight lifted off her, and found him staring down at her, his head wreathed in a crown of shadow, great dark wings lifted up behind him. He smiled, and brushed a hand through her hair, still splayed across her pillow from when she'd rolled over. He gently brushed a hand up her waist, only her nightgown between them. She wanted him to take it off, but she couldn't quite manage the words to ask him, not yet. Another night then, but she could still touch him, and let him touch her, even a little bit. 

Azriel's own eyes flickered shut, and he moaned out her name when she lifted her head to kiss his jaw, gripping onto his shoulders tighter than before, then dropped back down, and ran her hands down his chest, and back up. She never quite worked up the courage to dip her touch below his navel, but that too could come another night. She grinned, and laughed when Azriel gathered her up into his arms, rolling sideways so that she was lying on his chest, his wings wrapped around her. She let her head rest on his chest, his heart thundering next to her ear. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face, 

"Thank you for trusting me." Gwyn just snuggled into him, and mumbled that she trusted him with anything and everything he could possibly imagine. No other words were needed as they lay there in silence, Gwyn holding Azriel's shoulders with his arms wrapped tight around her waist, and his wings shielding her from the world, but leaving her room to wriggle. Even the shadows were settling close around them, calm and quiet, but not in the way. Gwyn sighed in contentment, this, this was what they were fighting for, this, and everyone else who had someone they loved, who they wanted to live for. Because she did want to live for him, really live, beyond the library, beyond even her training with the Valkyries, he made her want to see everything the world had to offer, to accept the life she had started to build, to live, not just survive, not any more. True, Nesta and Emerie had opened the door, but it was Azriel who stood on the other side, his hand held out to her, ready to help her find her place, if she only took his hand.

In that moment of quiet, of peace with just the two of them, Gwyn closed her eyes, and smiled, the thought of that door to the future popping up again, with Azriel waiting for her just beyond the open door. Everything she could possibly imagine lay beyond that door, a world where she could be what she wanted, a world where she didn't have to be afraid, a world where she was free to fall in love without thinking that she wasn't enough. She was enough, and she wanted that world, she wanted that world where she could marry the male she loved, where she could have the life that she had always dreamed of as a child. Azriel's chest rose and fell underneath her head, and he was still absentmindedly stroking her hair when she realized that was what she wanted. Forever, she had known that she wanted forever, that she was hopelessly in love with him, and had been for longer than she'd realized, but she'd never considered what that actually meant. She wanted that future, she wanted everything with him, she wanted it all. So she smiled again, and pulled up that image of the door, of Azriel waiting just beyond, but this time she took a step towards him, this time she didn't stop walking. This time she took his hand.

[thebestworstidea]

The Green Knight’s Lady (4)

Sequel fic to “The Witch and the Green Knight” (on Ao3)

Warnings: undeserved redemption arc, graphic imagery and as of this chapter violence against minors.

Chapter 1: In which Rowan has Unexpected House Guests

Chapter 2: In Which They Try to Figure Out What the Hell is Going On

Chapter 3: In Which Remus and Rowan’s Stupidity Escalates to Treason (sort of)

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

Chapter 4: In Which Life is Difficult

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

     The winter waned in a sloppy miserable way, kicking out with a few snowstorms like the flailing of a dying animal. Despite not really being bothered by the cold, D.N. practically hibernated, most often found in a window seat in the library, going through Rowan’s Mother’s books and being snarky about bad information about fairies. Rowan was fairly sure it was just a way to safely lash out. She dug out an old laptop and gave him access to the Netflix account. If nothing else it kept him distracted. Something Rowan had learned was that the fair folk did, as legend said, love stories. 

And apparently, soap operas and romcoms.

Like herself, Remus seemed out of sorts in the late winter, though more in the way of someone who had woken up long before they wanted to. He’d gone into the woods and returned dressed in his more normal attire, also having brought back a few changes of clothing that was closer to D.N.’s size, and of a finer make than anything in the Baker house, despite Rowan’s sister’s cautious attempt to find a fabric the fae child would like. For the most part, the rest of Rowan’s family treated D.N. with cautious courtesy, and a certain level of ‘not be alone in a room with him’. Remus, by contrast, was treated more as a benign nuisance, though not without kindness.  Frankly, that was more understandable than Rowan’s blase attitude. That didn’t stop a certain level of speculation as to why ‘Leif’ and his friend were staying with them.

     “I’ve figured it out!” 

Rowan balled a pair of socks and tossed it in her sister’s basket across the table. They were sorting the laundry by owner, and Rowan had made it her mission to find as many pairs of socks as she could. 

“Figured what out?” 

“What’s going on with Leif and the kid!” 

“Have you now?” Rowan said dryly and a little nervously. Her sister nodded. 

“It’s pretty obvious if you think about it. The kid is the spawn of the last fairy king.”

“What.” 

“Look, it’s obvious that Leif served him, right? And we know he’s dead. So then Leif disappears for months and reappears with a kid? With scales? We know that Leif’s traveled outside Wickhills before- so clearly he knew where the kid was, maybe he was even the one who took him away, probably more of a Cronos eating his kids thing than a Arthur sent into hiding thing, and now he brought him back.” She pursed her lips. “You know, I bet Leif can change genders like a frog.”

Rowan started laughing. 

“Leif might even be the mother-” she went on. 

“Definitely not.” Rowan choked. 

“But he is related. I’ve connected the dots.” she said smugly.

“You haven’t connected shit.” Rowan retorted throwing a pair of pants at her.

“I’ve connected them.”

     As spring burgeoned forth, Remus agitated with the need to leave the house. It was clear he wasn’t used to staying in one place, even for a few weeks like this. Rowan could always tell when Remus had gone wandering in the night, because D.N. didn’t come down from the attic until he’d come back. It wasn’t as if D.N. was avoiding his so-called hosts, so much as he was totally avoiding the humans in the house as much as possible as if by pretending they weren’t there he could pretend none of this was happening. 

When spring officially arrived Rowan made them clothing, a shirt of heavy green broadcloth for Remus, and a more delicate shirt of the finest white linen she had for D.N. The shirt he generally wore was made of undyed silk, and Rowan feared that the substance had come from the shroud- or rather bag- she’d sewn for the bones of the Serpent King. It was tricky to give them, as D.N. certainly wanted no gifts from her, and Remus wanted to gift her in return. But it was simply tradition, that for the first day of spring everyone had a new garment. So her green brother and erstwhile guest needed something new too, for luck. Honestly, Rowan thought he could probably use all the luck he could get.

     It was a fine warm day in mid April, when leaves were finally starting to show, and only the most stubborn bits of snow were sticking around in the darkest shadows, when Rowan was working in her garden.

“Little tree! You’re wearing pants!” 

The whippy rose vine Rowan had been arguing with slipped out of her hand as the twist tie sprang from her other, and she took the momentary break to glare at Remus, who had appeared in her personal bubble with no warning whatsoever.

“I wear pants all the time.” she retorted, giving him a half hearted shove. 

“Yeah, but usually you have dresses over ‘em.” theatrically, he collapsed to the scrubby grass outside the garden and sprawled in the sun. 

“Well, I learned that arguing with rose bushes in a dress doesn’t end well for the dress.” She grabbed hold again with her gloved hand, and pulled a fresh tie out of her apron pocket, lashing the thorny vine to the wrought iron trellis that kept most fae out of her garden. They could, in theory, pass under the iron arbor that faced the wood, wreathed as it was in plants, but until Remus it hadn’t been much of a problem. “How are you doing?” she asked quietly. He was looking better. He’d been kind of wan, a sickly sort of green rather than his normal healthy hue like a ripening acorn. 

“Starting to feel my oats.” He responded, tipping his face into the sun. “It’s a good spring. I’d say that spring was happy about something.” in the distance, a door opened and closed.

“Seasons do seem to have emotions.” She agreed, and had to step delicately over him to get to the next bush, pulling clippers from her pocket and studying the bush thoughtfully, before pruning a few branches, and returning to tucking them in safely so they wouldn’t grab passers by too badly.  That done she carried the trimmed branches away. D.N. emerged from the widdershins side of the house, having exited the front door and walked so he didn’t have to pass the rowan tree, even if he could do so under the protection of the porch. He glared down at Remus with frustration. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Having a kip?” Remus suggested, as Rowan stepped over him again to get back to the rose bushes. 

“You should tell me as soon as you come back from the forest.” he said grouchily, not making eye contact. 

“Well, not much is going on, so there’s nothing to tell you.” Remus shrugged. 

“That’s good right?” Rowan asked. 

“A secret unsaid is a secret kept.” D.N. muttered, not addressing Rowan at all. “What are you doing out there anyway?” 

“Favors.” Remus sighed. “So many favors. I’m not exactly a favorite right now. People don’t want me to do favors for them, but I need the currency. Also fixing up my house.” he rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s kind of out of the way, so it might be safe enough. It’s nice enough to visit with my little tree, but…”

“We can’t stay here forever.” D.N. agreed. “It buzzes.” 

“Yeah.” Remus nodded. “So I’ve got some improvements to make, and gotta reassert my territory. No one got near the tree, but I don’t have much around it.” he clicked his tongue “Fun and all, but I’m in a hurry.”  he made a kissy face at them both. “But I’ll always hurry back to you.” 

Rowan snorted, and D.N. rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and cocked his hip, glaring down at the green-clad fae. 

“I’m sure whatever you stay in is better than this.”

“Hey, owch. It’s a good house. We finally got the roof fixed last year.” Rowan glared, waving her clippers at him. D.N. leaned away. 

“Well it’s hardly the hovel I’ve seen other witches live in,” he sneered at the Victorian style house. “But it isn’t anywhere I would choose to stay.” 

“Sorry for not being a magical house.”

“Oh it’s full of magic alright. Human magic, thick and inelegant, like mud on the bottom of a pond.”

“I like mud.” Remus commented, popping up and bracing himself upright on his hands. Rowan noticed that his knuckles were reddened and split. Putting her clippers away again, she dug into her other pocket, coming up with a small, shallow clay pot, closed with a wide cork. She crouched down and grabbed one hand, dabbing the ointment onto the wounds. Remus obligingly offered his other hand when she was done. 

“Why was this in your pocket?”

“It’s better to get the ointment on big jabs right away, and I’m doing lawn work.” she shrugged, and went back to her work. 

After a while, Rowan finished her discussion with the rosebushes, and headed back inside without saying anything. Shortly after that, a car drove up hidden by the bulk of the house. Another short while later, it drove away again. Rowan returned to her garden, hooking her apron over her head again.

“Bloody busy-body is what she is.” Rowan grumbled to herself. “No need to come by every time, her tea hasn’t changed in over a year, if I wanted everyone coming by and bothering me all the time I’d start up a tea room in town and read palms and cards. It’s what I get for being helpful and offering to do a unique blend.” 

“Can you tell the future?” Remus asked, popping up on the other side of the hedge wall of rose bushes, making Rowan yelp and clutch her rake. 

“Like the weather.” She retorted. “Which is to say, not really worth anything.” 

“You’re a useless kind of witch, aren’t you?” sniffed D.N. who had taken up a seat in an Adirondack style chair they had acquired somewhere, and everyone in the Baker family hated, which is why it wasn’t on the porch.

“Yeah, kind of.” she didn’t rise to the bait, and watched him stare at the woods. “You could go, you know.”

“What?”

“Nothing’s keeping you here if you wanted to leave.”

“Little tree-” Remus said, sounding hurt. 

“Not you, you’re welcome any time. And for that matter, if he wants to go for a bit and come back, that’s fine.”

“I can’t actually. I have to ‘stay here’ until further notice.” 

“Oh right. Fairy parole officer.” Rowan sighed. “Well you could probably get as far as the property line, or where our ‘official’ lot meets up with the woods.”

“It isn’t as if I’m desperate to wander in the woodlands, Witch, I just don’t want to be here. At all.”

“Boy, do I hear that.”  she sighed deeply, pausing to look into the woods herself. The small leaves were misting the tips of the trees with color, and there was a smell of wet and rot in the air. It looked like a storm was building in the west.  It would probably hit the before nightfall, gathering the dark in the clouds and making the night come that much faster in the growing spring day. Better to get her gardening done before it hit, so she’d only have to repair the damage it did, not do that and the maintenance. The plants were being especially springy this year, and she was tempted to put this down to Remus’s presence. 

D.N. continued to watch her, as though she was some sort of reality TV show, while Remus sprawled in the scrubby grass next to his chair. 

When the first cold wet gust hit, all three of them headed inside.

     The storm was really having fun, so they were in Rowan’s room instead of the loft. Remus liked to hang out with both of them, so Rowan coming to work on whatever she was doing -some sort of project involving embroidery floss at the moment- and sit with Remus while Remus would root through her work basket, or bring out a pouch and do something himself- embroidery, or sharpening knives, occasionally woodcarving. Sometimes he’d sit behind Rowan and brush or play with her hair, braiding it into elaborate arrangements that she’d have to ask for help to undo.

Sometimes Danger Noodle would use Remus as a cushion or a backrest as if he was staking his claim. That night however, he’d pulled the beat up floral armchair Rowan kept next to one of her windows to a different window (further away from the dancing limbs of the rowan tree) and settled down with a book.

Rowan noticed that he would raise his hand and rub the back of his neck occasionally as if it were hurting. She nudged Remus’s leg and inclined her head at D.N. He shrugged.

“Are you in pain somehow?” Rowan asked, startling him into dropping his book.

“Kindly mind your own business.” Danger Noodle sneered. 

“Are you cold?” Remus asked. “You do-” he rubbed the back of his neck “lots.” 

D.N. growled under his breath, picking the book up. 

“It isn’t important.” He told them. 

“But it is a thing.”

“You never used to.”

He sighed, explosively. “Are you two going to leave me alone about this?”

“Well now I’m curious.” Rowan admitted tipping her head with a smile on her face that reminded D.N. far too much of Remus’s mischievous expression. If it weren’t for her obvious humanity, he would think they were siblings. “If you’re cold, I could get you a blanket, is all.” 

“I’m not cold.” he rolled his eyes. “I’m a winter.”

She looked unimpressed. “So what’s with the lounging in sunbeams?” 

Danger Noodle sneered at her, scales glinting in the lamplight. 

“It's just a feeling.  It’s like a cold hand on the back of my neck, it’s not squeezing but it’s there.” D.N. spread his fingers over the back of his neck.  “Like something’s watching me, constantly.” 

“Huh.” Remus and Rowan said in unison, heads tipping to the side. Danger Noodle glared, there was no way they weren’t doing that on purpose. 

“Might be something?” Remus asked thoughtfully, looking at the corners of the room. 

“I’d want to keep an eye on him, if it were me.” Rowan admitted. 

D.N. sighed again, exasperated, then Remus perked up digging in one of the many pockets inside his vest.  After a search he came up with a bag, tied firmly shut with cord. He climbed off the bed and went to kneel next to the armchair instead. 

“I made this for you.” Remus opened the intricately tied knot, and from inside the bag, produced a scarf. It looked like heavy silk of some sort, dyed a beautiful saffron yellow, covered in single-thread embroidery. Vines twisted and twined along it, with a snake hidden among them.  D.N. stared at it for a long moment, then recoiled. 

“Are you out of your mind? Wait, never mind I retract the question.” 

“I made it for you a while ago but…” Remus admitted. “You wouldn’t have taken it.”

“I’m not taking it now.” He stood up, tossing the book on the chair. “What makes you think I would even want it?” 

“You’re not as strong now-” 

Danger Noodle hissed, flashing sharp teeth, pupils narrow. 

“-so I’m going to protect you until you’re stronger.” Remus finished as if  he hadn’t just been threatened. 

“I am still stronger than you.” the young fae said disdainfully, drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive height.

“Are you though?” Rowan asked, setting her project down and watching them. 

“I am certainly more powerful than you.” 

“Oh, that’s not even a question.” 

“So what this looks like is Remus is offering you his favor to wear, showing that you’re his...  I’m going to say ‘ward’, because you’re a kid.”

“I am not a kid!” D.N. retorted, stamping his foot like a child. 

“And therefore under his protection. Displaying a connection.” 

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah.” Remus agreed. 

“Which is why I’m not interested.” 

“I don’t have to give you an oath to give you my favor.” Remus pointed out, he just stared up at Danger Noodle entreatingly.  The room was silent except for the storm outside, and the faint sound of someone watching a movie elsewhere in the house. D.N. rubbed the back of his neck again, and Rowan shivered, like a gust of cold air had made it through the window. Her eyes shut and she saw dead branches against a milky sky. Blinking the vision away, she got to see D.N. throw his hands in the air. 

“Uugh enough with the eyes. Fine. I’ll take it, but it doesn’t mean anything.” He accepted the scarf and looped it around his neck, spreading the folds upward to the base of his hair. 

“It means you’re wearing something I made you.” Remus pointed out and rose up, gathering Danger Noodle into a hug, to which he submitted, to Rowan’s surprise. “Which makes me happy.” 

“Mmgnh. Fuck off.” D.N. mumbled, face pressed to Remus’s bicep. 

Rowan decided not to comment on how cute it was.

[arthurtristankingsmen]

The bed was cold.

It took several minutes to drift from her exhausted slumber, but it was the first thing she noticed, even before her eyes opened. There was always a hand curled over her side that held her close, always the warmth of a body behind her, and always soft, equally warm breaths that tickled her neck while she slept. The absence of that presence, of that face buried in her hair nuzzled close, was jarring. It was enough to wake her, even after a night of overwork to ensure a dreamless, deep sleep.

Her eyes creaked open slow. They were gummed shut, and it took a few brushes with the heel of her palm to clear away the fuzz they left on her vision. She squinted at the digital clock on the nightstand beside her; the face read three twenty in the morning.

Joints protesting her movement, she grunted and turned over. The bed was empty, sheets and blankets disheveled where a body should have been, a space vacant where legs should have tangled with hers. She kicked the covers off and away, only half aware of them falling from the mattress to pool on the floor.

Wiping at her face again to further dispel the fatigue, Mrs. Pepper sat up.

The bedroom was still nestled in muted colors this early in the morning, most of the pinks and purples drained to a motley of greys. The alarm clock’s fluorescent numbers (it now read three twenty-five) helped dispel some of the darkness near the bed. The rest of the room was illuminated by thin, slatted beams of moonlight filtering through the blinds over the windows. They reflected off the glass panes of photo frames hanging on the opposite wall, the glare hiding their contents. Most of the little decorations and knickknacks in the room, gifts from her children over the years, were rendered to silhouettes.

She was alone.

There were signs she hadn’t been, now that she looked. Some of the bric-a-brac had been adjusted; the shadows cast by the objects made it hard to tell, but for a few changes were obvious. She could see the lid of the music box had been opened. Could tell the angle of her favorite figurine --one of her family— was different than it was when she saw it each morning. Any cobwebs strung from it had been dusted away, too.

A few of the photo frames had been adjusted too, straightened so perfect they looked strange, no longer at their usual tilt they’d get to fixing when they had time. On the door to the wardrobe across the room, her uniform hung where it had been left after work. The fabric was crisp now, every wrinkle ironed away, and her work-shoes were angled against the wood just under it.

She continued to scan the room, but a frown graced her face, growing deeper every second; the shadows felt darker, deeper, and the silence crept at her skin like the cold did.

Frown more a grimace now, she slipped from the bed and trudged from the room.

Her eyes flicked to the furthest door along the corridor. But the door was the sun, and she looked away quick to keep from going blind. She bit her lip and shook her head, before focusing on the nearest one.

Her husband wasn’t in the bathroom. She would have heard the water running or the hum of the fluorescent bulb over the sink. Or she would have seen the stripe of light beneath the door. He wasn’t in the guest room either; she could see the untouched bed, pristine as ever. If anything, he had made it again.

She checked the girls’ room next, one by one. They’d had enough nightmares since their brother had vanished, waking up in tears screaming for—

…

Well.

He wasn’t here to answer them right now (it had to be right now. It had to be temporary), but she and her husband did their best to offer them comfort. They curled their children close, stroking their hair and kissing their foreheads and their tears away, promising their brother would come home and rocking them until they drifted off again.

But tonight seemed to be a welcome respite from the nightmares. Each of the girls were the only occupants in their rooms, breathing slow and even as they slept. They each wore their own peaceful expression smoothed by sleep, wreathed in their blankets with halos of curled hair consuming their pillows. It brought a smile to her face to see them resting; to see them breathing. To see them okay, even if right now okay was fleeting.

With that small affection in her chest, she tucked a hanging leg from Belle under her horse-print comforter, smoothed the hair away from Cayenne’s forehead, and recovered the alpaca plush Paprika clung to while sleeping from where it had fallen to the floor. When she was sure she’d done what she could for each of her daughters, she graced their temples with the softest kiss, and crept from their room.

But she still had yet to find her husband. He was probably…

Please. Let him be anywhere else.

The carpet audibly swished under her feet as she shuffled along. Where the hall gave way to the stairwell, the carpet turned to floorboards that creaked faintly under the occasional careless step. She kept one hand tucked against her chest and the other on the railing as she leaned over and listened.

Downstairs, the TV was off, which meant he wasn’t in the living room. The light to the study didn’t filter into view either, which meant he wasn’t in there, busying himself with reading books or with his paints and the canvases. And the resounding silence from the kitchen meant he hadn’t decided to occupy himself with busywork, either.

Which left one more room. Of course. She’d known. She just wanted to be wrong.

Her hands shook, but she clasped them together until they didn’t. She swallowed, took enough breaths to slow her heart, and approached the last door in the hallway.

She hardly felt the cold of the knob against her skin. The door swung open silently into the dark room, revealing the mat at the door. A square rug depicting eleven planetary symbols, each in a different color on a black background. Stars hung from the ceiling where they’d been strung up, no longer aglow. The thick curtains over the windows hadn’t been opened to recharge them in months.

There was a form on the bed.

She knew who it was. She knew. But her heart still leapt into her throat until she swallowed it.

Mrs. Pepper drifted over to him, keeping her eyes away from the bookshelves of memories and the dresser armored in stickers. He was laying still, on top of the covers, curled up small as she’d ever seen him. In his hands was a photo-book. She recognized the cover as one of—.

“Mi vida?”

The form shifted at her whisper. Mr. Pepper looked to his wife with glass eyes reflecting the hallway’s light and sparkles sideways on his cheek. “Jagi… Did I wake you?”

“No…” His face said he knew she was lying, but he didn’t protest. “What are you doing awake, amor?”

His fingers crested the cover of the book, finding the ridge of the photo glued on. “I dreamed about him again…”

She seated herself beside him, her hand coasting his on the book, to keep his itching fingers from peeling off the snapshot. To keep herself from seeing his face. Her fingers over the lamination felt like needles. “I’m sorry.”

“I miss him.” He whispered, turning further into her. He abandoned the book to the bed, arms curling around her waist instead. “….Did we fail him? Could we have done better to keep him safe?”

“He is an adult.” She soothed, fingers running through his hair. “We loved him everything we have. We still do. But we...” She swallowed. “...we couldn’t protect him from everything. Not forever.”

“We should be out looking for him.”

“We were told to stay here, in case he comes home. Arthur and Vivi are looking for him.”

Mr. Pepper shook his head in a violent roll against her lap. “Vivi doesn’t even know who he is—Arthur is barely recovered and he’s killing himself. Our children are hurting—our son is missing— and we just sit here and wait.” His voice carried a force his volume didn’t; the girls were sleeping only doors away.

“What should we do?” She asked it with a stern voice, but not one with any heat. “Arthur and Vivi at least know what they are doing. Vivi is far more useful in a fight than you or I will ever hope to be. Arthur is good at maneuvering. The two of them protect each other. And they have Mystery. If something goes wrong for us, we don’t have any of those things. Our daughters would have to mourn alone. Without us.” Maybe hoping they’d come home too.

Her husband made a pained sound. A muted cry into her sleeping pants. She felt the pain echo inside her and bounce off every corner.

She took a deep breath, then nudged him. He complied easily, and after a brief moment of sliding the scrapbook to the nightstand, Mrs. Pepper joined her husband in the bed, laying beside him and facing him. Her legs tangled with his and she cupped his cheeks, framing his face with slender fingers. “Mi vida. I’m... I’m sorry. I wish I had better words. Something to fix this. I know you’re hurting…”

Mr. Pepper sniffed, a warbly, wet noise. He reciprocated her touch, fingers gliding over her cheeks and leaving warm trails in their wake. “…I know you are too….I… I’m sorry. I know you miss him. You can’t even say his name…”

Mrs. Pepper swallowed the thickness burning in her throat. “It…it’s easier.”

“Why…?”

“If…If I think about him. I… can’t be strong enough. I’m not strong enough to say his name.” Mrs. Pepper felt the warmth building in her chest. Her eyes were stinging and her throat tightened with each swallow. “You need me. The girls need me. I can’t.”

Mr. Pepper stole himself closer with a shift, looking into her eyes, still teary but a firmness to his expression she didn’t expect. “You don’t have to be strong…. You don’t have to carry us. Jagi, tell me your thoughts. Please.”

The please cracked something she’d hidden beneath a shell, breaking it away like a spoon to tempered chocolate. Her eyes welled further as she looked at her husband, and the breath she took was ragged. “We… we wanted him to be safe, but choose his own way…. He’s an adult. He needed to make his own choices and if he got hurt we could be there if he stumbled and fell, to help him back up. But we would let him make his mistakes his own way and try to help as much as we could. But this one….. I--- I ……”

She buried her face in his shoulder, hands going to his back beneath his arms. “I—why did I let him go?!” She cried into him louder than she thought she had in her, the sound muffled by fabric. The heat in her chest was pouring out her mouth, and she screwed her eyes shut as they watered and burned. “I can’t—I—I’m so angry— why didn’t I tell him it was too dangerous?! What if he doesn’t come home?! What will we do? I don’t care about the restaurant. I don’t care about keeping things going. Every day is working until I can’t think just so I don’t think about him—about where he is and if he’s alone or safe or if he’s even alive—.”

She felt his arms around her, felt herself curled against his chest and the hand in her hair, pressing through the coils to cup her scalp. But it was all so far away, the sensations shapeless, behind glass. “How am I supposed to pretend every time someone asks? Knowing I’m without my son? How are we supposed to live day to day and say everything is fine? How do I say thank you to all those condolences that don’t bring him back!? How do I listen to them?! How do I smile?! How do we tell the girls? How are we supposed to survive if he doesn’t come home?”

It didn’t feel possible. Her heart would break too small to beat. “I just want him home. I want to hold my baby and know he’s here and safe. I want to never let him go again. I want to hear him sing. I want to hear him laugh with his friends at the table in the other room. I want to hear him call me Mamá. I want to hear him talk about Vivi and Arthur and see his eyes so full of love! I want him. I want him back! I would do anything in the world please mijo—please Lewis just come home--.” Her voice continued, but it was a thrumming vibration. The snatches she caught were blended into nothing. She wasn’t even sure what she was trying to say. 

But what was there she could say? She knew he understood more than anyone. And there were no words for this kind of unknowing agony, waiting for better or for worse.

But she could feel Mr. Pepper’s arms squeeze around her, holding her closer and closer. She heard soft murmurings by her ear and felt warm hands along her back, tracing over her spine.

It didn’t make her feel better, didn’t take away the pain, but it helped her breathe. She was half aware when she’d stopped speaking, and the hand in her hair was now at her face, wiping at her eyes. She kept sobbing until there wasn’t air to cry with, until she was dry and used up, everything wrung from her.

“I... I think you needed that.” Mr. Pepper whispered, when she’d stopped shaking and laid limp against him. He kissed at another tear that’d come loose and rolled down to the bridge of her nose. “How do you feel…..?”

“Awful.” Mrs. Pepper swiped at her face. “But… I don’t know. Better. As better as I can feel with everything.”

“You’ve been helping us for months.” Mr. Pepper frowned and took her hand away, keeping her from continuing the rough movements. “The girls. Me… I… I’ve been selfish. Hurting, but selfish. For not seeing if you needed help too. I should’ve knowing it was a brave front for us. You needed support too. An outlet. But I focused on me.”

Mrs. Pepper shook her head. “We’ve all been trying to survive this, however we could. I don’t blame you. We’ve all been...” She didn’t want to say grieving. But it hung in the air unsaid.

He nodded. “I’ll still do better. I’ll still hold you like you hold me.”

She smiled at that. A tired one, but a smile. “I… what are we going to do, amor…?”

Mr. Pepper shook his head. “I… don’t know. Hope for the best, until we can’t. What you’ve told me. We’ll put up more posters. We’ll call further out places for information….we’ll keep our phones charged. So if Arthur or someone else calls, we can be there, the second they find him.”

Mrs. Pepper sniffed and nodded, wiping at her face again. “We’ll keep a candle in the window. Every night.”

“That too.” Mr. Pepper kissed her forehead. “Just like when he found us the first time. The light will lead him home.”

Mrs. Pepper made a noise of agreement, and felt the smallest of smiles when her husband wiped her eyes, thumb stroking over her cheeks. “Thank you.. Thank you. For-- listening. I love you, mi vida.”

“I love you too.” He whispered back. He kissed her gently, their lips drawing together in a brief moment of comfort, a respite for a beat from the rest of the world. It didn’t’ fix anything, but it was something to hold onto for now. Being alone together wasn’t as lonely.

“Do you want to rest now…?” He asked her when the kiss parted. She shook her head.

“I don’t want to dream. I don’t want to sleep.” She grabbed his hand. “But I—I want to stay together a little while.”

“We can do that.” Mr. Pepper nodded. “Here…?”

She shook her head. “No. I… not here.” She was too emotional already. She would break again if she stayed in his room, surrounded by his things but knowing he was gone.

Mr. Pepper didn’t answer, but he gave her another soft kiss. “Our room, then.” He moved to get up, and she followed, grunting and brushing back frazzled hair.

Her eyes drifted to the album, where it rested on the nightstand. She plucked it from its resting place, cradling it to her chest. “Look at these with me…? Not tonight. But….”

Mr. Pepper took her hand. “We can. When you’re ready. I—I’d like to see him again.”

“I would too….” She breathed, squeezing back. “Maybe… maybe with the girls.”

“We could make a collage for the restaurant.” Mr. Pepper offered. “He might like to see that, when he comes back. Seeing we didn’t forget him. And it might help them to feel we’re all going through this together.”

Mrs. Pepper felt like her voice might betray her, the way her throat sealed with a swallow. She nodded her agreement once more and kissed his hand. She followed her husband into the hall, linked together and holding tight. “For when he comes back...”

She had to hold on to the thought. That Vivi or Arthur or someone would find him. He would be okay.

He had to be, or she didn’t know what she’d do.

[plotting-against-you]

Will It Ever Be the Same (Part 1)

Fandom: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)

Characters: Ryan Hudson, Nancy Drew, Ace, Bess Marvin, George Fan, Ned 'Nick' Nickerson

Prompt(s): This is based on two prompts. One of those prompts is from Alicia, who asked: "Could you do one where Nancy is 13 instead, has blonde hair like Lucy, and blue eyes like Ryan? She goes to his place like in 1x17 to get help for the ritual and on the way out she gets dizzy because she's been working herself to exhaustion. In that moment Ryan notices how similar she looks to Lucy and himself but decides not to say anything but also knows Nancy is his. She eventually tells him before doing the ritual. They go back to his place and he just says 'I know it's you'. She gets overwhelmed, almost passes out, and he just sits with her and tells her to rest."

This is also for @nancydrewcentral's week 2 hiatus prompt: Time Period AU.

Warnings: Panic/Anxiety attacks, mentions of anxiety and coping mechanisms, mentions of character deaths (past and present), mentions of suicide

Nancy wrapped her arms around herself as she bent over, heaving shallow breaths into the air. The sky grew lighter now, as she’d been running for most of the night, and she found herself unsure what to do or where to go next.

“You’re DNA wasn’t a match for the female hair.”

“It’s a mother-daughter match for Lucy Sable.”

“She’s me. The baby is me.”

She couldn’t believe the information she had just found out, and she wished she were older. She thought that if she were older, she might have had more experience in life to handle this sort of life-shattering revelation, but being only fourteen years old, all she felt was betrayal.

And heartbreak.

And panic.

So maybe she felt a lot of things, Nancy admitted to herself, but she felt she had the right to do so. Her whole life had been turned upside-down in a matter of a few hours, and she wasn’t sure what to do now.

She’d been told stories of how hard freshman year in high school could be, but she was positive her friends hadn’t meant this.

She saw headlights approaching and ducked behind a tree, holding her breath as they passed. Though she knew it could be dangerous for someone as young as her to be out alone all night, she was in no mood to face her father. Besides, it wasn’t like she was inexperienced.

She was Nancy Drew, after all.

Or was she?

She let herself plop onto her butt in the grass as she contemplated what to do next. She couldn’t face Carson—for calling him ‘Dad’ now was too hard—but she couldn’t stay out there for too much longer. She’d left her jacket as she climbed out her bedroom window and had started to shiver as soon as she had stopped running.

Her heart ached for the only woman she’d ever known as mother, Kate Drew, and her feelings were mixed there. She didn’t want to be bad at her…whatever she was to her now. Kate had died only a year earlier, and coming to terms with the fact that she’d lied to her hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Then she shivered again and realized she had to find somewhere to take shelter.

She could go to The Claw, she knew. She and her friends had picked up summer jobs working there for cash—under the table of course and no pun intended—and Dawn had always said they could go there whenever they needed. But her friends wouldn’t be there for a few hours yet, and Nancy wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to explain her new parentage to them yet.

As the rush of memories from the night prior filled her head, she picked out one statement that kept replaying itself.

“Ryan Hudson is my biological father.”

She’d seen Ryan Hudson in many different ways over the last few months. For fourteen years, she’d known him as the rich, arrogant hill topper who only graced their town when it was convenient for him or his business dealings.

Then his wife had died during her shift at The Claw, and they’d all been thrown into what she thought would be the weirdest time in her life. Being a murder suspect at fourteen wasn’t what any of her friends had expected for their lives, but it had happened. It was while she was trying to solve that case that she started to see a different side to the man.

Then she’d found out everything regarding his painful loss of Lucy Sable, and her heart broke for him.

Though she’d wanted to help him and Lucy’s ghost in some way, she was forced to put her feelings on pause as even crazier things came to pass—it would be just their luck to call to a sea spirit that wanted them dead—and she’d had to change her list of priorities.

Now all she could think about was how she knew the difficulty in trying to reconcile something in your brain that you had no control over and no knowledge of, no matter how hard you tried.

Standing from her spot in the damp grass, she took a deep breath and started walking again.

This time she knew exactly where she was going.

…

Her phone rang just as she was approaching Ryan’s house.

Groaning as she assumed it was her…Carson, again, she lifted it to hang up but stopped when she saw that it was Ace instead.

He’d been at The Claw with her the night before when she’d read the DNA match on John Sanders’ laptop. So far, he was the only one to know her secret outside of herself and Carson, and she’d only let him stay because he refused to leave her side.

Though he was usually more ‘chill’ than that, he could be a very protective boyfriend when he wanted to be.

She knew that he would be worried about her, especially considering he knew her better than anyone else in her life. So, deciding it would be a good idea to at least tell him she was alive and not eaten by a bear or killed by the Aglaeca, she answered and lifted it to her ear.

“Ace.” She breathed his name out like he was the life raft she needed to save her from drowning.

“Nancy.” She could hear the concern in his voice. “Where are you? Are you okay? Your dad called my parents and said that you ran away.”

She bit her lip. “Carson told me the truth after I confronted him.”

“Oh, Nance…” He used her nickname, and it squeezed at her heart.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” Her voice was thick with tears as she felt them rush to her eyes. “I can’t be around him right now.”

Ace’s voice was soft as if he were calming a scared animal. “You could have come to me.”

She shook her head, though she knew rationally that he couldn’t see her. She had the brief thought that maybe he had hacked a satellite and could possibly see her. When they’d started dating, he promised he would do anything he could to keep her happy and safe.

“I’m sorry. If I had come there, your parents would have told Carson, and I just….”

“I get it.” His voice was equal parts comforting and protective. “Just tell me if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She sniffed.

“Good. Because I know you’re dealing with a lot, but uh, George’s mom says the Aglaeca’s coming after us.” He said it quickly as if ripping off a band-aid.

This stopped her in her tracks, and she paid no mind to the fact that she stood on the side of a dangerously curved road in the middle of nowhere.

In her silence, he continued. “Nick, Bess, George…we’ve all gotten these really weird visions. Portents. Have you?”

She sighed and closed her eyes in defeat. “I vomited up a seaweed wreath yesterday morning.”

“I would say that qualifies.” He said lightly.

“When I went to look for it later, it had turned to sand. Are you saying the Aglaeca did that?” She hadn’t believed in the supernatural before Tiffany Hudson’s murder, but she wholeheartedly believed in it now.

“Yeah.” Ace hesitated. “Apparently, it’s like a bloodhound. And because the Aglaeca responded to your call for Lucy’s bones, you’re acting as its gateway.”

“What, Ace? What aren’t you telling me?” Nancy knew her boyfriend well, and he was holding something back from her.

“Uh…well, that also means you’re the one that’s capable of stopping it.”

“You don’t sound hopeful about that.” Her heart lurched in sudden anxiety. “Do you not trust me to do it?”

“No!” He said quickly before correcting himself. “I mean, yes. Obviously, I trust you. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Well, George’s mom says that you can throw it off your trail by mixing your blood with somebody else’s. Disguising yourself so that, you know, the curse can’t find you, because if it can’t find you, it can’t find any of us.

“Uh, but…the ritual has to be done with a relative. Your blood relative.”

There was the catch and the reason for his earlier hesitation. “Well, that’s a problem, because…you saw the test results last night. My closest relative is not my blood relative.”

“But Ryan Hudson is.” He sighed again. “Listen, I know that poses certain challenges, and don’t worry. You know your secret is safe with me. But…”

“I, uh…” She started walking again and let the gears in her head turn. “I think I have a plan.”

“Nancy, babe, what are you going to do?” His voice held concern again, but also admiration.

He constantly made sure she knew how in awe he was at her detective skills and her ability to make the best of even the worst situations.

“I’ll meet you guys at Bess’ aunt’s party, okay?”

“Can you at least tell me the plan?” Ace was quick with his words, knowing full well that she could hang up at any moment.

“I have to talk to my father.”

…

Ryan crouched on the ground, frozen in place as he looked at the papers scattered in front of him. He’d been up nearly all night searching for any clue as to why Lucy hadn’t talked to him before taking her own life.

Then he’d picked up on the clues she’d written in her journal, and his mind had stopped.

Stroking his finger over Lucy’s baby picture he’d found in her yearbook, he allowed his mind to wander to every what-if scenario that came at him

What if Lucy had been pregnant? Were either of them ready to be parents at eighteen?

What if she’d told him about the baby? Would it have made a difference?

What if she’d lived? Could they have raised their baby together?

What if his parents found out? Is that why they threatened her?

Ryan was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed his front door opening and whipped his head up to make sure it wasn’t either of the elder Hudsons coming in. He couldn’t have them knowing what he knew—they could react any number of ways. If he did have a child out there, he didn’t want them anywhere near his parents.

Then he caught sight of Nancy and sighed. “What, did you break-in? Figured you and your dad would be celebrating by now.”

Nancy remembered how Ryan had thanked them after the hearing had adjourned. He’d been upset by everything that happened but also grateful that they’d found out the truth of what happened with Lucy.

She felt horrible for having to go back on those things and hurt him again.

She wondered how she was supposed to once again break the heart of this man who had been through so much. He was only thirty-two and had lost the love of his life and his wife. Now, after twenty-four hours of thinking he knew exactly what had happened, Nancy was supposed to add more to his plate? It was causing her heart rate to spike, and she knew a panic attack was coming.

She saw the hopeful look in his eye and couldn’t do it. She wasn’t going to be the one to deal another blow to his fragile mental health.

“I need your help.”

“Uh, sorry, I can’t today. I have to get over to the free clinic in Trenton.” He was still crouched on the ground as he spoke.

Her face scrunched in confusion, and something shifted in his brain that he couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t you have rich people health insurance?” She questioned him as she moved over to the counter.

He rolled his eyes at her teenage sarcasm. “It’s not for me, okay? I’m trying to get answers on Lucy. The court clerk gave me a copy of her journal.”

Her already accelerated heart rate sped up as she turned to him. “Why?”

“Why?” He sounded appalled by the question and stood. “Because my dad threatened her! I wanted to make sure he wasn’t being physically violent. I didn’t see anything in her journal about that, but I did find some other helpful things.”

Every time he spoke, he made her anxiety worse, not that he was aware of it. “Like what?”

“I mean, you’re still young, so I don’t want to read some of it to you, but in early spring of 2000, she was writing stuff that makes me think….” He trailed off, unsure if he should tell her what he found.

She was only fourteen, after all. He didn’t know what she knew or if she was even comfortable with the subject.

“Go on.” She looked at the back of the papers in his hand, not being able to meet his eye. “I’m not a child.”

Ryan sighed. “I think she might have been pregnant.”

Nancy fought to keep the gray from edging into her eyesight as she swallowed down the rising panic within her. She knew if she didn’t give into the feelings soon, or at least do some techniques that she’d been taught, she’d pass out or worse. But she didn’t want to give away her secret to him just yet—if ever—so she shook her head.

“And you think the baby was yours?”

He scoffed. “Of course, it would have been mine! Lucy and I were…dating…around New Year’s, and so yeah. Mine.”

“You mean you were sleeping together around then.” She corrected for him and rolled her eyes at the shocked and slightly horrified look on his face. “Oh, stop that. I’m in high school now. I know these things.”

Then she caught the new look on his face and froze. He no longer looked shocked or horrified by her words but stared at her as if he was looking right through her. She felt her throat tighten and took a step back.

Ryan stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Whatever had shifted in his head minutes earlier when she’d scrunched her face had returned the moment she rolled her eyes at him, and all the puzzle pieces had come together.

Both of those faces were exact replicas of his and Lucy’s expressions respectfully, and suddenly he was seeing what he hadn’t through their entire “working” relationship.

Besides the fact that Lucy had been haunting both of them, the young detective had told him she was allergic to wasps’ stings, and so was he. In addition to that, he remembered seeing her bite her lip when she was nervous, a trait that Lucy had right up until the day she died.

Then there were her looks. Her blonde hair may have been turning redder every day, but it was undoubtedly Lucy’s, as were her blue eyes his. She was the perfect combination of them, and he knew the truth in his heart.

Lucy had been pregnant. And Nancy was their daughter.

Then his surroundings came back to him, and he saw how she looked at that moment.

Her usually snarky yet confident expression had turned to fear, eyes wide and pale skin merging together to make her look gaunt. Ryan saw her throat moving quickly and knew she was trying to either swallow down tears or suck in air. Her hand, which now gripped the papers he’d handed her, shook enough to be visible, and she looked utterly exhausted.

He knew a panic attack when he saw one and knew that she also knew the truth.

Not wanting to push her, he told himself he wouldn’t bring it up to her. But, still, he had to make sure she was okay. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hospitalized because she was panicking over this added thing in her life.

“Nancy?” He kept his voice even, though he could hear the worry in it. “Are you okay?”

As he said the words in the same way Ace had said earlier, she told her brain that it was her boyfriend’s voice she was hearing and forced herself to relax. “I…”

“Can I get you some water?” Ryan moved away from her, walking to the sink. “You look pale.”

“Yeah, I, uh…didn’t get any sleep last night.” She forced herself to take some deep breaths while his back was turned and felt a bit more stable when he brought her the glass. “Counteroffer…I’ll help you find out if Lucy was pregnant if you do me a favor after.”

He’d do anything she asked of him, he realized, even if it meant doing her favors or playing along with something she clearly didn’t know he knew. “Deal. Do you need to call your dad?”

He saw the way she cringed at the word ‘dad’ and confirmed his theory that she wasn’t doing as well with the news as he was.

“Uh, nope. I’m good. He’s probably at work anyway.”

He didn’t call her out on the lie, instead holding the front door open to follow her to his car. He’d find out more about that situation later.

…

She’d lied to him. She’d looked him right in the face and lied to him.

They’d taken the trip to Trenton, and acting like a spoiled, entitled rich guy had made Ryan realize just how shitty of a person he probably was in everyone’s eyes. After Nancy had insisted on speaking to the doctor herself, he stood in the waiting room and thought about it.

He knew that he was different from everyone else in Horseshoe Bay, but until he was pretending to threaten to shut down the clinic, he had never realized how those people might see him. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that you had been an asshole for thirty-two years of your life, but Ryan had decided at that moment there wouldn’t be another.

He was going to change for Nancy, even if she never knew it was for her. He never wanted to see the look on her face as he had when she’d shut him up or told him a flat-out lie after leaving the clinic.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, he thought about the story she’d spun for him, telling him that Lucy had been pregnant but had died with her child still inside her womb. He had done the math and had figured out that Nancy had been born weeks earlier than her due date, and she must have too.

Her knowledge of life and her ability to spin a tale baffled him.

“So, are you going to like…tell me why we’re going to Diana Marvin’s house?” He questioned, not wanting to sit in silence any more than they had.

Nancy huffed. “It’s Bess and her cousin Owen’s house, too.”

Owen Marvin was quite unlike the rest of his family. Being their age and having so few family members that were, he sometimes joined Bess at The Claw during her shift to hang out with their group. Of course, they all knew that he primarily came to flirt with Nancy but had been sweet enough to stop once her relationship with Ace had come out.

“I know, but still. You know that I’m like persona non grata, so you want to tell me what this favor is or what?”

“Yeah, in a minute. Can I ask you something?” Nancy had shifted her head lazily on the headrest so that she could look at him.

She still looked slightly pale, something the doctor had also noticed when they walked in, but her breathing seemed to be better, and she looked less like crying.

“Yeah, sure.”

She opened and closed her mouth only once before speaking. “What would it have meant, if-if you’d had the…the baby? Do you think you were ready to be a dad at eighteen?”

He should have known this question was coming. Even so, he answered honestly as he figured she’d be able to tell if he was lying. Besides, she looked too vulnerable as she stared at him.

“At eighteen? No…” He chuckled slightly. “No, hell no. A kid like me, I was dumb and spoiled, and I had horrible parental role models, as you know, so no. That would have been a disaster.”

He thought of his parents again and internally cringed, promising himself he’d do everything in his power to keep them away from Nancy.

“Do you think…do you think that you would have tried to…?” He saw her tuck a strand of hair out of the corner of his eye before she froze and started pulling at her hair. “Oh my God.”

“Hey, you okay?” He glanced at her now, then nearly hit the breaks as she started choking. “Hey. Hey, h-hold on.”

He swerved dangerously to the side of the road and brought the car to a park. Nancy was throwing herself out of the car the second they were stopped, and he followed her actions, panic welling up inside of him.

He wasn’t sure if she was having a panic attack again, but it looked different than it had before back at his house. When he finally got around to her side of the car, she was breathing again. He reached her side the second she slammed the door shut and watched in confusion as she stared at her reflection in the tinted windows.

“Hey, what…what, are you having a panic attack?” He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask, but it scared him.

Then he saw her look at her hand and the pile of sand that sat in it that had definitely not been there a moment prior. “No, no, uh…it was a portent.”

“A portent?” How did she even know what that word meant? He sure didn’t at fourteen. “What, you mean from Lucy?”

“No. From something completely different.” She looked scared now, but differently from before.

This had nothing to do with their familial relationship, and that seemed to worry him even more. He wondered if her whole life would worry him, as she seemed always to be ingrained in some dangerous happenstance.

“This is the favor that I had to ask you, actually.” She sounded upset, tears threatening to fall. “A few days ago, I did something unusual to get the evidence to exonerate my…to exonerate Carson. Uh, my friends and I did this ritual to call to this sea spirit.”

He was completely confused but tried to keep up. “Sea spirit. Like…like dolphins?”

She shook her head as she sat on the ledge overlooking the sea. “Stay with me. It’s a local legend. Uh, and it worked. The Aglaeca answered my call. But the problem is…is I couldn’t hold up my end of the bargain.

“The…the Aglaeca wanted Owen Marvin’s blood. All of it. So we couldn’t go through with it, and now we triggered this, uh, curse, and I have to fix it. And in order to do that, I need to do another ritual to make sure that the spirit doesn’t lock onto its target, and…and that’s where you come in.”

She hated having to get someone else involved, but she was desperate for anything that might save the lives of her and her friends.

Though he wanted to wrap his arms around her and whisk her away to be somewhere safe from all this nonsense, he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. He’d seen enough of Lucy’s ghost to know that supernatural creatures existed, and if his daughter was tangled up with one, he couldn’t let her down.

“Why me?” He was genuinely curious and hoped it didn’t come off as a refusal. “I mean, unless this Aglaeca takes cash, then I’m….”

“It’s not about your money this time, Ryan.” She snapped at him now, and he could see the panic setting back in. “It’s about you specifically, because….”

He froze, watching her face carefully, and wondered if this was the moment she would reveal that she knew she was his daughter.

Then he watched as she hesitated and shook her head. “It’s a long story, uh, and one of which you don’t need to know all the details. But if you just come with me….”

He nodded immediately. “Yeah, no, of course. I mean, it sounds urgent.”

They stared at each other for a second, and he watched as Nancy tried to blink away the tears that had pooled in her eyes. He felt his resolve breaking before taking a deep breath and deciding to take a leap of faith.

“Do you need me because I’m your father?”

Part 2

[bo-bo-bean]

Jingle Bell Rock and Roll

Mayday woke up with a grunt, her body feeling lazy and stiff. It usually did in the cold weather since she’s curled up in her blankets. However, Zuke was always an early bird in the winter, making them both cups of hot coffee to get started on the day. She stretched on her bed, not wanting to make it. She didn’t usually, but what was the point? It would get messy again and she loved messy beds. It’s like little caves and entrances.

She leaned over the edge and looked at the bottom bunk upside down. Zuke was already up, as she theorized, and had his bed made neatly. However… this morning seemed different.

She jumped to the bottom, landing on her hands and feet, then scuttled to the kitchen, sniffing the air. She smelled… ham? And some sort of vegetable dish, possibly regular steamed vegetables. She also smelled peppermint brownies, mashed potatoes… what was going on?

She got to the living room, Zuke dressed up in a Christmas sweater that had two drumsticks on it as a design, the sweater itself being green with red sleeves. He looked up, nose and ears red from being in the hot kitchen. Some sweat glistened on his forehead, to which he wiped a cloth on his face and stretched.

“Coffee’s on the table,” he announced to her.

She looked at him and made her way to the table, stumbling over Ellie once and then grabbed her cup. She drank it, the coffee filled with cream and doused with sugar and a hint of vanilla; just the way she liked it. But it also had a peppermint, mocha taste to it. Before she could question, Zuke noted her confused look and gestured to the calendar. She stared at it, almost dropping her drink.

“It’s Christmas Eve!?!?”

With that shock awakening her, she noticed the sewers were decorated. Gingerbread men and cups of cocoa paper cut outs were strung up with red and green lights around the walls, near the ceiling. There was a wreath where the table was, the table itself lined with a red table cloth, a holly centerpiece with nutmeg candles, making the sewers smelling just a bit better. The tree had all sorts of decorations with golden tinsel, white lights, red and green ornaments, and a lovely golden star on top. On TV, which Zuke had recently purchased from tips for his drumming, were some Christmas Classics of all sorts. She blinked and downed her coffee in one swoop. She had been waiting for this day! “Yes!!” she cheered out, running back into the bedroom. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yeeesss!!”

Zuke chuckled and checked on his ham. This year, they both decided to have the artists come over for Christmas. Some were reluctant, but with Tatiana’s encouragement, they all decided, ‘Why not?’ and went with the plan. Mayday was excited since it would be the first year everyone would be together! She felt like she was about to burst…!

She got in the closet and donned on a Santa dress, putting reindeer horns on her head and even adding red make up to her nose, then knee high boots that glistened black like coal. With a hop of joy and a spring in her step, she ran out to Zuke, thinking she could help, but didn’t know the first idea of cooking.

“Wanna set the gifts out?” he suggested. She nodded eagerly, acting like Santa’s little helper and putting the perfectly wrapped gifts under the tree, organizing them neatly. She looked at the stuffed stockings on the wall above a heater that looked like a fireplace. All were filled to the brim with toys, sweets, and all sorts of goodies. Her stocking was the most excitable to see. Zuke was Santa this year, as he always was since Mayday would be too eager to keep secrets and already she saw a little guitar candy dispenser. As if she didn’t need enough sugar. Zuke’s stocking was also full, but he let Mayday fill his and give him presents since he couldn’t do that for himself. She went all out this year for his buddy!

“When will they be here?” she wondered, jumping a bit in place.

“We agreed at two,” he laughed. Mayday whipped her head to see the clock. 9:43!?

“That’s…!” she stopped and counted her fingers. “Seven hours from now!”

“More than enough time to get this dinner ready and do any last minute Christmas shopping.”

She huffed and plopped herself on the couch. Zuke may be patient, but she wasn’t! All those presents needed to be dug into! The candy needed to be devoured! Feasts needed to be in her belly! Although… this did give her an idea. She was saving money and if she could earn a little extra more… she could get this gift for Zuke she’s been wanting to give him. So, sneakily and quietly, she devised a plan.

“Zuke, can I have fifty dollars?”

“Sorry, broke at the moment,” he told her.

Okay, plan A didn’t work. Still, she wouldn’t give up! She quickly grabbed her guitar and whipped it on her back.

“I’m going out!” she announced. Zuke gave a nod and up she went. Not only would she get the perfect gift, but it would be a time waster! She’ll be back and everything would be ready!!

Going through the plaza, it was truly magical. She stopped to take in the moment of the snowflakes drifting down from the skies, the snow piled up high around her knees, just below, and lights strung all about. Even though it was early, it was also dark enough to see them. People were out already, getting gifts and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas as they passed. This was perfect!

She set up in front of the fountain, readying her guitar. She sat down and played, some people coming over and watching. She played some Christmas classics; Frosty the Snowman, Jingle Bells, Silver Bells. As more people gathered, she looked up. “Tips are welcome…!” she beamed. With that, coins and dollar bills were put into a hat a man offered. She happily took requests anyone asked for bigger tips.

As she played, Yinu saw her with her mama, smiling and going over.

“Hi, Mayday!”

The orange girl still played lightly as she looked down at the blonde, then up at the red figure approaching. Yinu was dressed in a lovely silver coat and little boots, her waist in the snow. Her mother wore a golden long coat, smiling at the guitarist.

“Merry Christmas,” she spoke softly.

“Thanks!” she beamed right back.

“Why are you out here playing?” Yinu wondered.

“Just for tips! I have this awesome gift for my buddy and I only need just a bit more!”

The mother gave a smile. Sure, Mayday was a hassle, but so was Yinu. If anything, she saw Mayday as a second child almost. Almost. She dug in her wallet and pulled out a five.

“Hope you get what you need,” she told her. Mayday offered a large smile as the two left, Yinu jumping up and down in the snow in order to get anywhere.

As soon as blisters opened up in her fingers, she stopped playing and bowed. They were cracking under the cold. With a wince she hid well, she bowed before everyone, who offered more tips and left. Mayday emptied the hat, returned it to the man, and sat on the side of the fountain to count the change and bills.

“13.43.. 13.48… 14.50… okay, lots of dollars short but I can’t keep playing…” she huffed. She stuffed the money in her pocket, as well as her hands after swinging her guitar over her back. After double checking to see if she left any change, she found nothing and tried to formulate another plan. “I can’t give up. This is the perfect gift!”

Fifty dollars, that’s all she needed! She glanced at the clock near the center of the plaza, seeing it was at 10:21. She still had time! And she had another plan!

Christmas in Akusuka was always pretty. Pastel sweets, gentle lighting, enchanting vibes all around. And the people here were so nice! Sure, she couldn’t play, but no one said anything about singing!

… okay so she wasn’t a singer. Never was, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try. Going to the center, she shook off her nervousness. People were already crowding around to see what was going on. They could tell already there was a performance.

‘Well if I don’t sing well, I might get pity or comedy money,’ she thought to herself, trying to make herself more comfortable.

With a chilled breath in… she sang. Meanwhile, Zuke got on the couch, watching the movie as he let some food either chill, set, or cook. He had a mental timer in his head. As he watched, Ellie scampered up on the couch and onto his lap. He had put her in a sweater and had a tail stocking so she wouldn’t get cold. He tried mittens, but she kept walking backwards in fear, so he took them off.

He stroked Ellie’s back and began to drum his fingers on it to the tune of Christmas tunes. Ellie appreciated the drumming, it felt like. Although Zuke seemed cool headed at the moment, inside… he was freaking out.

“... you think the food will be okay?” he asked Ellie, not expecting an answer. “I mean… I know the food shouldn’t be a big concern, but I’ve never cooked for so many people. I know they’re bringing food as well, but what if the ham is dry or what if the mashed potatoes aren’t good? What about the gravy? What if-”

“Mraaa!” Ellie squeaked out. Zuke looked down at her and chuckled.

“You’re right, you’re right… I need to chill,” he nodded. He took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, it being bitter, just the way he liked it. But no one said he couldn’t add some peppermint spice to it.

With coffee in hand and a reptile on his lap, it was impossible to not calm down. He continued to drum his fingertips along her scales, then looked at the clock.

“May’s been out for a while…” he noted. “Think she’s okay?”

Ellie gave a happy look to him, thumping her tail on the couch. He chuckled and booped her snout lightly. “I just want to make this perfect, you know? I’ve never had Christmas with anyone but Mayday… having this would be like the good old times… before college… where… everyone was happy.”

While Mayday looked to the future, Zuke longed for the past. When he had a smile everyday, still admired his brother, not having the huge fight, not fighting a revolution to bring equality to the system… but no one said he regretted it. As long as Mayday was here, how bad could it be for his future?

Mayday finished singing, knowing for sure she squeaked more than a chihuahua with a toy bone on a sugar high. Some people laughed, thinking it was an act and tossed some money. Others left with disgusted faces, some gave pity money. When they left, she counted it up and checked to see if there was any leftover in the snow. Drat… 25.23…

“Oh come on…!” she whined out. “... no it’s okay! I’m halfway there!”

“Oh my! Mayday!” she heard an unforgettable voice pipe up behind her. Sayu, looking as cheerful as ever with the costume of a gingerbread man, as sweet as her.

“Heeeey, Sayu…!” she waved. “What’s happening?”

“Well, I heard a cat crying for help, like it was injured and I wanted to see if it was okay! Have you seen it anywhere?”

Mayday turned a shade of red and looked away.

“U-Um well… you’re staring at her…”

“Huh? Oh. Oooh! Ooh…” Sayu put a finger through her chin as she went through four different emotions at once. “Well you’ll get better, I’m sure of it!”

“It doesn’t matter,” she grunted. “I’m trying to earn money for a great gift for Zuke, but I don’t-”

“For Zuke!?” she gasped. “Did you two finally-!?”

“Noooo! No no, not like that, as buddies!”

“Ehek! Okay, okay! Well, just in case…!”

Sayu offered some money of her own, it being sound seven dollars and… a mistletoe?

“... Sayuuuu…”

“Oh my! How did that get in there?” she giggled. “Well you can keep it! I better go! Bye bye!”

Mayday looked at the money, thankful anyway. … maybe she could sell the mistletoe. Well, time for plan D.

Turns out, you can’t sell mistletoe, so she just tied it to her antlers. Her legs were getting weak and her fingers cold and sore. Not to mention she was red after that embarrassment. So, what do people love on Christmas? Hot drinks! Sure, she’d have to spend SOME money she earned, but she could make a quick buck offering a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate!

She already had her station set up at Metro Division, people swarming for the Christmas merchandise. She found a suitable spot near a popular 1010 shop and got a box, setting up her stands with hot cocoa powder, a powered kettle, cups, and whipped cream. This set her back to 10.23, but it would be worth it! … she thinks.

“Hot cocoa!” she announced. “Enjoy the snowy day of Christmas Eve with a warm, inviting, delectable cup of hot chocolate!”

People were already interested. She charged a dollar a cup, two if they wanted whipped cream. It was all going well until she needed more water, a line forming. “Uuuh just a second folks! I need some water!”

She ran into the store, looking for the bathroom when she saw 1010 gathered at the front. They all looked amazing, dressed as Nut Crackers. So handsome… gentlemanly… No no, get it out of your head!

She rushed to the bathroom, filled the kettle, and then rushed back out, bumping into Rin.

“Ah! White! Rin! Hot! Um, water is hot! Uh, going to be hot! Um, hi!” she stuttered over her words like gravel. Rin chuckled lightly.

“What elegance such as yourself doing alone on a cold day like today?” he raised an eyebrow. Mayday could feel herself melt, forgetting the cold.

“A-aaah um just… you… no I mean, me. Uh, no, I am just… selling hot 1010, CHOCOLATE!! Hot chocolate! Uh, need to! Um, money and…”

Rin couldn’t help but giggle at her flusteredness. It was honestly adorable. His giggle drove Mayday’s pink face to a full on red.

“I’d love to try some, seeing it would be made by your amazing hands, but alas, I cannot have liquids…”

She nodded respectfully, or tried to without going into a puddle of swoon. “But perhaps I can help…”

He went to his brothers and then came back with what seemed to be a twenty dollar bill. May’s heart sky-rocketed. All of the money she lost, it was now paid back. She gleefully took the bill and hugged Rin, her up a foot off the ground.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank yooouuuuuu!!!”

Rin laughed and let her hug him for a bit more before hoisting her by the waist and putting her on the ground.

“Can’t wait to see you at the party…~” he lifted her chin before walking off. She sighed out in a shakily manner, but slapped herself silly and got right back to work!

The line was long and some people were leaving, so she had no time to lose. As she poured cups, everyone was making a hassle.

“Hey, I asked for whipped cream…!”

“Uh, that isn’t nearly enough powder…”

“Excuse me, is this gluten free?”

“Hey, too much powder!”

“I didn’t ask for whipped cream!”

In the struggle, she poured a cup too quickly, hot water making contact with her hand. She yelped and held it, feeling it already blistering up. With some breaths and a few tears in her eyes, she quickly finished up and ran to an alleyway, putting snow on her burn and then looking at it. It looked bad… really bad… Maybe Zuke would know what to do, but she had to focus!

Back at the money, she counted. 34.23! She was getting close!! So it was off to Dream Fever!!

Zuke finished checking the ham, his heart racing a little. 11:43… Where was Mayday? Why was she out for so long…? He would check on her, but that would be a risk of burning the place down. He grabbed his phone and shot a message.

‘hey, mayday this is zuke. get back to me when you can.’

He sent it, staring at the phone for five minutes until it buzzed. He snatched it up and looked.

“I’m good, buddy! Almost done and then I’ll be home! Hey, can you make those gingerbread men that look like instruments?”

He chuckled and texted back an agreed answer, thankful she was okay, at least… Still, he couldn’t help but worry about her. They’ve been buddies for a long time. Without her, it was like there was no fire to help his waters warm up. And her without him, who would douse her out? Still, if she was doing well, giving her some time was the least he could do. He turned his attention to the pie dough he was rolling and got right back to it. “... just please be home soon…” he sighed.

The Dream Fever district. A land of confusion and puzzlement to Mayday. She had to think of another plan… She can’t strum, her fingers were aching, freezing the wounds. She couldn’t sing, she couldn’t make cocoa… what else could she do…? She looked down with a thought and then perked up. Dancing!! She loved to dance, no matter how goofy! Her and Zuke danced and waltz around all of the time in the sewers before collapsing on the ground, laughing. He brought her so many laughs… so much joy. She needed this gift...

Walking her way through, she couldn’t tell the difference of the decorations since everything was so… artsy. Since she couldn’t make cocoa anymore, a bright idea of selling the kettle popped in her head. After going into an antique shop and warming up, she sold it and took the time to look at her hands. A blister the size of a ping pong ball rested on her left hand, her fingertips covered in dried blood. She shoved her hands in her pockets, feeling the money. She forgot the pain for a few seconds and got five dollars back for the kettle.

Now it was time to bust a move!! … although she had no idea what music was playing. It was so… off. Sure, it had some jingle bells and little sparks, but that’s all she could hear. Nonetheless, she did her best to dance! She stepped left… then right. ‘Good start, good start.’ She stepped back and took a jump forward, matching her moves to the beats as much as she could. She swayed her hips a bit to make it look like she was dancing and make people crowd around with confusion.

With a grin, she beamed at them all and did little dances, rolling her arms with each other, moonwalking, all she could think of in a moment’s panic. Some offered some coins, rarely bills, then left. Whatever, she just needed enough! As she attempted to skid across the ‘stage’, she yelped as her leg gave out. Something hurt. Her ankle, it must’ve popped. Watchers winced and offered hands, but she was in a lot of pain. She didn’t show it through sadness, but frustration.

“Stupid snow!!” she shouted at it, punching it. “Stupid ice!!” She punched a nearby ice puddle, it crackling. “Stupid, stupid, stupi-”

“Mayday!”

Eve and Tatiana both rushed over. They helped her to a bench and sat with her.

“What is going on?” Tatiana demanded to know.

“I’m… trying to get money,” she sheepishly admitted to Kul Fy-er Tatiana.

“Money? From that monkey circus act you did?”

“Hey, no need to rub it in!” she snapped at Eve. “I’ve been doing all sorts of things to try and get Zuke a perfect gift! I’m earning money, too! So that’s something.”

“You’ve earned 5.25 from that dance.”

“It’s something!”

“Mayday, you need to relax,” Tatiana offered. Mayday looked at the clock, seeing the time was now 12:37.

“No! No, time!” she stumbled to her feet. Her ankle was shooting with pain, but she trudged along. Eve looked at Tatiana, who sighed.

“I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Mayday sat down after a while, breathing heavily. She counted the money…

“Okay, 34.23 plus… 10.25… five and three make eight… two plus two is four… eighty four cents and… 44…! 44. 84! Yes, so close!!”

She took a break and tried to think of another plan… she just had to think of something. Her mind was running on fumes. It hurt… Her head hurts so much… “... for Zuke…” she told herself, struggling to stand again. “For Zuke… For Zuke… For Zuke… what would he do…?”

… she knew what he would do. Go back home to her and relax… but she can’t do that! She has to get more money! She was so close!! Something, something… anything…

She found herself in front of the planetarium an hour later, panting and wheezing. She was cold… in pain… but this was the last resort. She opened the doors, DJ Subatomic Supernova taking a glance.

“Mayday?” he tipped his head.

“Please…!” she got on her knees. “I-I need some money…! Just some…! Enough…!”

“... I didn’t think begging would be something you would do,” he admitted with a chuckle. But when he saw her wounds, he quickly got up from his seat and went to her side. “What on Earth…?”

“Just some…! Any…!”

“Mayday, this begging seems preposterous. You are injured, you need to go back home. The party is-”

“Don’t remind me!!” she snapped. “I know about the party! I cracked my fingers open, I have a boil on my hand, I twisted my ankle, humiliated  myself in front of an entire district! Two of them!! I know about the party, I’m trying to get a present for Zuke! I’m so close! I need… I need…”

She couldn’t think of the amount, she felt so tired. DJSS quickly grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around her.

“Take this,” he told her. “You simpletons are always so fragile.” He tried to crack a joke, but saw it wasn’t the time. “Apologies.”

“Wh-whatever… just… I need… I need… money…”

He could only look at her and then got up. He got a bill and offered it. Mayday took it, seeing it was ten dollars. This… this was it. It was enough! She beamed and hugged it, tearing up.

“Perhaps you want to rest before you-”

“Thank you!!!”

She sprang to her feet, clutching the jacket and wincing before running out with a limp. He held out a hand… but then put it down.

“... my jacket…”

Getting close. Getting close. That’s what she repeated to herself as she ran to the store. There was the poster. Electronic drumsticks! That would make the perfect beats, never break, had grips! She saw Zuke eyeing them, talking about them, and they were only $250.00, which she had! Her leg felt like it was about to give out. Faster, faster, faster!!

Before she could take another step, she slipped down onto the ice. Her head hit the ground, ice cracking under. Her vision blurred as the clock chimed 2:00. Coins rolled out to some sewer grates that weren’t fully frozen over yet and her bills fluttered out and into the wind. With a squeak, she passed out on the ground.

“Mayday?” Zuke looked in the bedroom. Almost everyone was here except for her… he had texted, but no response. When the other artists told him they’ve seen her, it brought him some relief.

DJ Sub quickly clattered down the ladder. She opened the door, panting.

“DJ?” Zuke looked up at him.

“Fashionably late, as al-”

“May’s in trouble!” he sputtered out, interrupting Eve’s comment. They all went silent, Zuke going pale.

“... trouble…?”

2:50. Mayday had curled up in an alleyway, head throbbing and sniffling. She messed up… she messed it all up… how could she? How could she not get this very special gift for her buddy?

People stopped and asked if she was okay, but she ignored them. The streets were already plucked clean of the dollar bills by lucky passerbyers. She didn’t care. She messed up Christmas. She let her friend down… and she was cold…

She curled up in the jacket, wanting to search the pockets, but she wouldn’t stoop that low.

“... I just want to hear Zuke…” she wobbled out a sob. “... just… please…”

He must hate her, she thought. What kind of friend was she? She just let down her bestest buddy…

“Mayday!!”

“And that’s how it would start…” she shrugged. “Shouting my name in anger…”

“Mayday! Hey!”

“I would get the lecture… the hate…”

“Mayday!! Over here!!!”

“And he wouldn’t want to see me…”

“Mayday!!!!!”

The louder shout made her look weakly, seeing Zuke, looking worried as hell.

“Zuke…” she blinked, more tears falling out. The artists were behind him, looking worried as well. She looked up at him… then sobbed. “I’m sorreeheeheee!!!” she wailed, hugging his legs. They were so warm. “I didn’t mean toohoohoo! I didn’t!! I wanted to-wanted to make this-this the best Christmas for you!” She stopped only by her hiccups and coughs, hugging his legs tighter. The artists could only watch in sadness and awkwardness. “You wanted those drumsticks! I know you did! B-but I did everything I could! I sang, I sold cocoa, played songs, danced, begged! I had it all! And then I fell from my ankle and it’s gone! It’s all gohohone!!”

“... May…” he bent down to her, wiping away her cheeks. Mayday sniffled in, covered in tears and snot. “I don’t need those drumsticks…”

“B-but you wanted them!” she wailed. He stopped her by putting his hands on her cheeks, warming them up.

“Wanted. But Christmas… this Christmas, what I NEEDED was you… my best buddy…”

“... Zuke…” she wiped her eyes. He offered a gentle smile and scooped her up. She put her head against his chest, whimpering. She was so cold. She just wanted to go home now…

An hour later, Mayday opened her eyes, seeing Ellie on her belly and Eve next to her. She looked up at her, Eve smiling. She looked down, her ankle wrapped, fingers bandaged and her head having a warm damp cloth on it.

“... did I pass out…?” she weakly asked. Eve gave a nod and offered some hot chocolate. She took it and drank it down. Zuke rushed over, breathing a sigh of relief as he offered her a plate of dinner.

“... Mayday… you doing okay?”

“... I still feel horrible… emotionally and physically…”

“... May…” he sighed a bit. “You had me worried sick…” With shame, she averted his gaze until he propped something on her lap. She looked down, it being a present. “Open it.”

She was about to argue that presents were after dinner, but seeing his face, she couldn’t refuse. A little painfully, she took off the wrapping until Zuke helped, there being a box. She opened it, looking inside. Guitar picks… no… not just guitar picks.

Specially made picks with pictures on her, Zuke, Ellie, Tatiana, everyone on them all specially made. There were so many, even memories she almost forgot. Their first Christmas party, when they first met, Zuke doing Mayday’s hair, Mayday messing up Zuke’s hair, when they got Ellie… she couldn’t help but tear up for the second time that day.

“... these are… these…”

“Merry Christmas…” he smiled. She looked up at him, lip quivering. Tatiana secretly had a camera ready, set up to take a shot. Mayday put the box aside, quickly jumping on Zuke, hugging him, sobbing.

“I love you, Zuke!” she wailed in his shoulder. “Th-thank you! Th-thank yoohoohoouu!!”

He smiled and hugged her back, then lifted her up a bit. He saw the mistletoe in her antlers, giving a chuckle.

“Was that on purpose?” he wondered. Mayday was confused at what he meant, but when she felt her antlers, she blushed.

“I-... not really,” she chuckled. Zuke giggled and sat up, planting a platonic kiss on her forehead, the camera clicking right then.

“T-Tatiana!” Zuke scoffed.

“I got you kiddos and this picture is being saved,” she laughed. Mayday couldn’t help but giggle and hug Zuke again.

“... wish I couldn’t gotten you those drumsticks though… they were the perfect gift..”

“Mayday… you are the perfect gift for me…”

With that, they officially got the party started, but Zuke stayed with Mayday most of the party. Not only tending to her wounds, but making sure she was happy. And with Zuke and these artists who claimed her as family… how could she not be?

@nsr-simp

[amydancepants-peralta]

from the bottom of my heart

(Hi @dumpsteramy! I am your Secret Santa, and I have finally arrived with your Christmas gift! 🎅🏼 I hope you enjoy xx)

from the bottom of my heart 

For a detective that had - a mere five hours ago - participated in the takedown of one of Brooklyn’s most notorious killers, Jake Peralta knows that he is feeling way too nervous about the tiny parcel that is currently sitting inconspicuously on his kitchen counter.  

He reminds himself of this fact, hands obsessively wiping down each surface one last time in preparation for Amy’s arrival - running through his memory bank of various moments of bad-assery - but try as he might; every single time he glances at the box, wrapped in brown paper and too small to be anything but innocent, his heart leaps back up into his throat all over again.  

It’s possible, he reasons; as he grabs the last pair of dirty socks off the floor and throws them in the direction of the hamper, that it’s because this year is one of the few times that he’s actually had a girlfriend over the holiday season.  

(The reason behind that detail, he’s not entirely sure hasn’t been deliberate, however that’s just a little too much to unpack right now.)

But it’s also possible (and honestly, curse his impeccable detective instincts, because sometimes ignorance truly is bliss) that it’s because of who his girlfriend is this year; and how much he’s already hoping for a hundred or more Christmases together, that his nerves just plain refuse to take a chill pill for a minute or two.  (Or was it whom?  Seriously.  He cannot tell.)

And then, there’s also the minor fact that he’s kinda sorta already completely fallen in love with her - a tiny nicety that he cannot bring himself to say out loud just yet, because that really is a bell that one cannot unring.  But there were implications within that little brown box, connotations of many more years together that hasn’t yet been suggested but that he wants to imagine could actually be possible, and right now he could really do with Terry’s magic 8 ball to give him some kind of sign that everything is going to turn out just fine.  

Just be cool, Peralta.  No biggie if Amy doesn’t like it.  Jake winces, head shaking at his own thought; checking on the takeout keeping warm in the oven.  He really is a terrible liar.  

It’s only the sound of a key sliding into the lock - AMY’S key, because they are dating and have each other’s keys and it really shouldn’t make him this giddy two weeks later but it really does - that pulls Jake’s mind away from his slightly obsessive thoughts, and his face morphs into a happy grin as Amy lets herself in to his apartment.  

Her face is flushed from the cold, half hidden behind a layer of scarves and jacket collars, but then their eyes meet and she smiles and oh, he really is the luckiest guy in all of New York.  

“Hey!  Sorry I’m a little late.  Just got completely swept up in that last bit of paperwork, you know?”  Letting his front door swing shut behind her, she uses her free hand to unwrap the layers of wool, craning her neck to meet Jake’s welcome home kiss.  “But!  I made us some cookies for dessert.  Santa ones, with lots of icing.  You’re gonna love them.”

He gives Amy what he hopes is a convincing smile, helping her slide the last sleeve of her jacket off and casting it on a nearby barstool as her hands wrap around his waist.  “Sounds amazing, babe.”

“Mmm.  More kisses, please.”

It’s a polite request - honestly, he’d have responded the same even if it been a demand - and as a contented smile lifts Jake’s lips he leans in for another kiss, letting this one linger for a moment or two, purely because he can.  

She sighs against his mouth, shuffling closer and planting her palms against his hoodie; reaching up for the zipper as their lips press together once more.

His eyebrows raise as the zipper descends, pulling away slightly as her hands wrap around his now free middle with a secret smile.  She dips her head into his neck, that perfect mixture of flowers and ink that he’s come to know as Amy washing over him, and even though Jake’s technically been here for hours, finally it feels like he’s home.  

The hug continues for a beat, and despite the fact that he’d probably stand here for hours if Amy only asked, Jake breaks the comfortable silence to voice a nagging suspicion.  “Can’t tell if this is a sweet hug from my girlfriend, or a brazen attempt to steal all of my body heat.”

“You know I’m an excellent multi-talker, Peralta.  Clearly, it’s both.”  Her soft lips press against the base of his neck as though offering payment for his services, and Jake’s grip on his girlfriend tightens.  “You’re just so warm, and Brooklyn is so cold tonight.”

“Oh, so this is like a two-for-one deal kinda sitch.”

Amy nods, the soft edge of her chin rubbing along Jake’s collarbone and truly, he could have a thousand more nights just like this.  

Her head lifts slightly, sniffing the air before turning her attention back to Jake.  “Can I smell Thai Guy’s Tom Kha Kai?”

“You can.”

She grins, giving his waist a quick squeeze before releasing him from her warmth-stealing hug.  “Wow.  You definitely win Best Boyfriend for today.”

“Best Boyfriend?  Noice.  If I’d known it was that easy, I would’ve ordered double on standby for future awards.”

Amy grins, chuckling softly before noticing the parcel (because she honestly is the best detective - even if he’ll never say it out loud), letting her hands run along the edges of his hoodie as she pulls away to make a closer inspection.  “What’s this?”

His heart has most definitely returned to it’s seemingly new home at the base of his throat, but somehow Jake manages to persevere.  “Oh, it’s some-nothing really … just something I picked up and it’s nothing really it doesn’t matter.”

Her right eyebrow twitches up, throwing him that look she gets whenever she senses a lead, and Jake sighs. 

“So … I know you know how my mom used to work a lot, since my dad was a leaving jerk who left like a jerk and whatever.”  Amy nods, remaining silent.  “Well, the holidays always paid really well so I spent a lot of them with Nana or Gina or sometimes just me and the tv.”

“And Die Hard.”

“Naturally.  It’s the only Christmas movie worth watching.  And we’d make our own holiday day, somewhere in the week, so the whole actual date thing really wasn’t that big of a deal.  But … we did have this one tradition, that actually started the first Christmas after my dad left.”   

He watches nervously as Amy rounds the counter, using the tip of her perfectly manicured fingers to shuffle the parcel closer to her position, and takes a heavy swallow.  “My mom would buy - and sometimes make - ornaments, and put pictures of us from throughout the year in them.”  Running one hand through his hair, Jake moves until he’s leaning against the opposite side of the bench.  “She said that way, we were celebrating the year that was and making wishes for more of the same.  As you can imagine, as time went on the tree had a bunch of photos of her and I.  It was actually kinda cool.”

“It sounds really lovely, Jake.”

Nodding, Jake points at the package Amy’s nimble fingers have begun toying with, silently encouraging her to lift the lid as he continues.  “Yeah, so … I sort of had this thought that maybe … this year there could be one with us on the tree.”

Giving Jake one last curious glance, Amy lifts the lid of the small brown box, chewing her lower lip as the contents come into view.  

With his stomach feeling like it’s dropped to his feet, Jake leans into the counter, waiting with bated breath for Amy’s response; and she lifts the tiny wreath ornament from it’s resting place, letting the trinket spin as a selfie Jake took of the two of them two months ago flickers in front of their eyes.  

It’s the silence that’s killing him, the need to explain and deflect and pretend everything is fine too strong, and even though Jake knows he’s rambling, the words just start tumbling out of his mouth.  “It’s no biggie, really.  Just something that I thought might be cool.  It’s okay if you hate it, we don’t need to bother next year, thats if there even is a next - ” The gentle press of two of Amy’s fingers against his lips throws Jake into silence, and she holds them in place as she rounds the corner of the kitchen counter again, only pulling away once she’s by his side again.  

“Jake.  I think it’s wonderful.  I could never hate this.”

With the sense of relief flooding through his veins, Jake manages a smile, tucking the strand of hair that’s fallen from Amy’s work appropriate up-do behind her ear.  “Yeah?"

“Yeah.  It’s amazing, actually.”  Her hands come to rest on either side of his neck, the sheer familiarity and comfort of the move subsiding any linger nerves as she looks up at him with the softest gaze.  “A really special tradition, that I cannot wait to continue.  And honestly, I just feel so lucky that you’d want to share it with me.  Thank you, babe.”

Her lips press against his as she pulls him in for a grateful kiss; and even as his hands slide along the smooth edges of Amy’s back, Jake can’t help but think that if there’s anyone in this kitchen that’s lucky, it is most definitely him.  After all, not only does Amy love the tradition, she cannot wait to continue it - and what could be greater than that?

He wraps his arms around Amy completely, pulling her in for a tighter hug as the kiss breaks, and with her chin resting against his shoulder she takes in the rest of her surroundings.

“Hey.  You cleaned!”

Feeling a tiny glimmer of pride at her observation, Jake nods to play it cool.  “Well, you know.  Tis the season, and all that.”

“The cleaning season?”  Gasping, Amy tilts her face back up to Jake with a giant smile.  “Oh my gosh, can you imagine!?  There could be a different cleaning method each day!” 

Her eyes are bright, taking on that special sparkly quality that just takes her beauty levels from one hundred to one thousand as she describes all the different products that could be used, and he is most definitely, absolutely, totally and utterly, head over heels in love with Amy Santiago.  

“Look, all of that sounds amazing, Ames, and I’m sure one day if you wish really hard it might even come true.  But … for now, how about we eat this Best Boyfriend Award winning dinner I ordered and watch some top quality movies on the couch?"

Amy nods, raising one finger in a friendly reprimand.  “But no Die Hard, we watched it just last week.”

“It’s a vintage classic, babe!  The kind of movie that never grows old.”

Her responding eye roll is good-natured in it’s delivery, a gentle slap landing along the line of shoulder.  “Vintage or not, I get to choose the movie tonight.”

Letting out an exaggeratedly defeated sigh, Jake decides that a pre-dinner commiseration cookie is in order, and he lifts the lid to the container as Amy removes their food from the oven.

“Uh, babe … are these the cookies you made?”

“Yeah?”

“They look … neat.”  Jake smiles, one that he knows isn’t very convincing, but he’s also not entirely certain that the lumps he’s discovered in the container are actually cookies - even out of technicality.

Amy’s eyes narrow, abandoning her serving of rice to gaze over Jake’s shoulder, jabbing a finger into his spine.  “Out with it, Peralta.”

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just … have you ever seen that show, Nailed It?”

Her jaw drops, brows raising in obvious indignation as she reaches for one of the lumps.  “Hey!  Eat your damn cookie, detective.  Or don’t go expecting anything to happen with your candy cane tonight.”

“My candy ca- oh!  My ‘candy cane’.  Ha.  Nice euphemism, Ames.”  Winking, he snatches the cookie out of Amy’s protective grip, snarfing it down in one bite.  “Mmm, yummy.  Don’t mind me, just standing here enjoying this deliciously amazing cookie that my incredible girlfriend made for me with her bare hands and doesn’t taste like a salt lick at all.”

Casting a side-eyed glance at Jake as she returns to serving their dinner, Amy mutters something about how she really thought the extra icing would hide the salt taste; and even though it’s probably completely insane, he feels strangely excited at the thought of many more years pretending to enjoy his girlfriend’s cooking.  

The idea of it all - of a mixture of Christmases, Hanukkahs and Noche Bueanas alike filling up their years - makes Jake’s face break out into a stupidly wide grin; and without thinking he reaches for another cookie, this time making no complaint as the salty sweet combination begins to grow on him.  

And truly, there could not be any greater sign that he is completely in love with Amy if he tried.

*

(A few or so years from now, there will be a Christmas tree standing tall in the living room of the  Santiago-Peralta home, covered in ornaments and memories alike.  Their son Mac will place the very last decoration on the tree - a tiny little sonogram of his soon-to-be-born little sister - and Jake will ruffle his hair and remember a time when all of this had only been an unspoken dream.)

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

Have some Xmas vibes in June!

I was looking through my Google Docs and found this. I'm pretty sure it was the first thing I wrote for A Bastard's Carol in late 2019, though I didn't end up using it in the end. If you've read the fic, this would have been in Stave 1 - it's an alternate Kevin intro.

I ended up not using it because I thought sending Rick and Vyv out to a Christmas market would make the chapter (which was already probably about 6K words by the time I'd reached Kevin's intro) too long. 😂 So I just had Kevin come to their house instead. Needless to say, this was before I wrote 15K words for Stave 3...

North London looked a little less dreary at this time of year.

True, there was still litter on the streets and tobacco in the air but somehow the wreaths adoring front doors evened out the balance. Suddenly, the community spirit that Thatcher seemed determined to rid Britain of was back, if only as a seasonal facade in the form of a Christmas market. That was better than nothing, right? Vyvyan seemed to think so.

Cold as the December wind was - and it didn't really seem to bother the punk at all, truth be told - it wasn't quite so bitter when the twinkling lights on trees were constantly in view wherever the couple went. The traditional old English pubs that were usually full of alcoholics and generally bad tempered tossers hadn't changed at all, barring measly attempts at festivity in the form of paper chains, yet the smell of beer didn't seem to permeate from them quite so strongly. The drunken blokes that emerged from them no longer looked pissed out of their heads and vaguely threatening, they looked jolly.

That said, none of this changed Rick's outlook. The People's Poet was determined to be miserable. In fact, he was about to suggest to Vyvyan that they go home where it was marginally warmer when something stopped his thought processes dead.

"Excuse me?"

Oh no. That voice.

"My name's Kevin Turvey and I'm investigating what Christmas means to people. What does Christmas mean to you?"

There was a young man just across the icy street from Rick and Vyvyan wearing a large blue anorak and holding a microphone. He had a sort of dazed expression, as if he was stuck in a world of his own, though paradoxically he also looked extremely interested in whatever the poor woman he had just accosted had to say.

For the love of Cliff! What was Kevin Turvey doing here!?

"Hey, Rick, he looks a bit like you," Vyvyan pointed out, glancing between the stranger and his boyfriend, "Do you think he's some sort of evil clone?"

Honestly, the punk sounded a lot more excited by this prospect than he had any right in being. Rick sighed dramatically.

"Blummin' flip, we don't look that similar!" he protested, "That's my stupid cousin, Kevin. He lives in some horrible, little town in the Midlands with his mother..." He frowned, trying to remember the name. Reddish? Redwitch? "Why he's decided to venture down to London is beyond me."

Vyvyan shrugged as if this wasn't a completely awful situation and took another bite out of his gingerbread man.

"Maybe he thought he'd wish you a happy Christmas," he suggested. He looked far too intrigued by the fool for Rick's liking. "Aren't you going to say hello?" he asked. somewhat teasingly.

"No, I am not!" Rick snapped, wrapping his arms around himself to keep out the cold, "He never appears for something as silly as to wish family members a happy Christmas, it's usually just so he can waffle on about insignificant drivel. He's completely potty!"

Vyvyan shifted a tad awkwardly for a moment. His face scrunched up before he relaxed to speak.

"Maybe he's here because it's... you know..."

"It's what?" Rick prompted impatiently.

"It's your first Christmas without your parents," Vyvyan finally answered.

The dull ache Rick had been hoping had gone away for good now twinged painfully in his chest. He wrapped his arms around himself more tightly and sniffed.

"That won't be it," he muttered bitterly, "Now can we please go? I'm ruddy freezing here and-"

"Hello, Rick," Kevin interrupted from right next to his cousin's ear. Rick jumped. Kevin went on regardless, "I thought you lived here! Not right here, of course, but in one of the houses nearby. I mean, people can't live on the pavements in this weather, can they? That would be ridiculous."

Kevin must have spotted him and crossed the street - unfortunately, all the cars had missed him. Rick smiled one of his tremendously fake smiles and acknowledged his presence.

"Hello, Kevin!" he cheered in a tone so full of sarcasm it made even Vyvyan cringe, "What are you doing here?"

The question was posed with the implication that Rick would rather he buggered off pretty bloody quickly but Kevin didn't appear to have listened to the subtext... or understood it at all. He wasn't a master of the literary field like Rick was, after all.

"Just investigating," he informed Rick in a chipper tone. Blimey, was everyone infected with the Christmas spirit!? Kevin pocketed his microphone. "Well, I suppose I'm not just investigating: I'm also walking along streets... breathing in air... you know, things you always do-"

Rick felt a migraine coming on.

"-unless you're dead, I suppose!" Kevin snorted, before his eyes went wide in realisation.

[threeletterslife]

04 | Redefining Destiny

→ previous | next

→ summary: You were convinced you were in love with him. A former member of the mafia in the states, that is. It was true love. Destiny. Until one day you wake up with a memory lapse; then that love is replaced with hatred. The thought of marriage is substituted with revenge. If your love with Jeon Jungkook really was destiny, you’d fall head over heels in love again. But if only he weren’t such a hot, goading asshole.

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 70% fluff, 25% crack, 5% angst | e2l!au & soulmate!au

→ warnings: profanity

→ wordcount: 2.8k

Maybe you should really get your stomach checked out because you've been waking up in the middle of the night or early dawn for three consecutive days now. Mornings aren't looking so pretty (though they never really have been for you). But still.

You obviously weren't in pain. You hadn't changed any part of your lifestyle. You were healthy—the last time you checked. So why on Earth have you been waking up arbitrarily when you were supposed to get your rest?? Your little night-owl phase is literally making you late everywhere.

This is actually the fourth time you've been late to your ethics class—the other three times had been because 1) you'd lost your way in the campus 2) you were charging your dead laptop 3) you were late from a last-minute coffee run.

You quickly slip into the lecture room an embarrassing eighteen minutes late, praying to the Heavens that your professor wouldn't mind too much. But once your eyes scan across the room, you realize you have other problems than your professor scolding you for being tardy; the class seems absolutely filled.

You'd be lucky to sit on the floor at this point!

Sighing, you awkwardly fidget in the back of the room, squinting your eyes to find any empty seats. Usually, you'd take a seat in the front somewhere, but the front row is completely filled, which leaves you to reside in other options. Your heart leaps with joy when you finally catch sight of an empty seat near the back corner of the room. Without a second thought, you make a beeline towards it, pushing the chair out and nearly collapsing into it. Yes! you think, I've claimed it!

But your victory is short-lived. The moment you turn around, you see what you don't want to see only seven minutes after waking up: Jeon Jungkook. Why him?? Why on Earth is it always him??? Your face scrunches habitually and you let out a small, "Ugh."

"Ugh, to you too," Jungkook whispers. "Another rough night?"

"Whatever Mr. Dark Circles," you retort. You're not even going to bother mentioning to Jungkook about your crazy sleep cycle at this point—he wouldn't care either. "Um, did I miss anything?" you ask awkwardly, slipping your laptop out of your backpack and opening the screen. 78%. Thank goodness. Other than the fact you were late to lecture this morning and you were sitting next to your nemesis, this morning seems to be kind to you.

"Of course you missed a lot," Jungkook whispers. "Shut up. I'm trying to listen." He stares straight ahead, ignoring your presence as he pretends to pay attention to your professor who's been oblivious to your and Jungkook's everyday morning banter as usual.

"Fine," you mutter. Don't know what I expected from him. "Rude."

You can get the notes from another person in your study group, you suppose. So you try to shift comfortably in your seat, opening up your document of accumulated lecture notes as you begin to type away on your laptop.

But the next thing you know, someone's tapping on your shoulder and you jump awake. "Huh?" you cry, rubbing your eyes and looking around the lecture room. Oh, shoot. Students are beginning to file out of the heavy double doors, which makes you gasp. You'd fallen asleep during the lecture. That's literally unheard of. The few minutes of missed sleep must be getting to you.

You turn appreciatively to the person who'd woken you up and spared you the embarrassment of your professor, for goodness sake, shaking you awake from the back of his classroom. But you frown when you realize that person is Jungkook.

"You shouldn't even have come to class if you were just gonna snore," he tells you rudely, swinging his own, sleek black backpack over his shoulder.

"I do not snore!" you retort though you do actually have a serious habit of snoring when you're just the slightest bit fatigued. "You know what Jeon? You can go screw yourself if you're just gonna be so mean."

"Huh," Jungkook says, cocking his head so that a bit of his soft, wavy hair falls over his eyes. "I was going to give you the notes, but now I guess I'll have to go fuck myself."

Your eyes turn wide as you stand up from your chair. "Wait—"

"Bye, Y/N!" Jungkook grins as he leaves you stranded and ultimately note-less.

"Fine!" you yell after him. "I don't need your notes anyway!"

It was insane how much he managed to get on your nerves. No matter how many sleepless nights you prayed to God to show you just a sliver of forgiveness for Jeon Jungkook, that boy would just waltz into your life again and mess up everything. It was no use. You'll always dislike Jeon Jungkook for being a complete and utter jerk.

"Maybe it's God's way of guiding me to forgive him?" you say, running a hand through your messy, unbrushed hair. "I mean, there's no other reason we're always, somehow always meeting!"

"Or fate really fucking hates you," Yoojung laughs.

"Or it's just rotten luck, Y/N," Chayoung says.

"Just when I thought he was a changed man, you know, offering me the notes that I missed, he literally said sike and left me stranded," you groan.

"He's an asshole," Chayoung says. "Don't associate yourself with him because it's giving you stress. Honey, you have dark circles under your eyes!"

"I haven't been getting a goodnight's rest," you sigh. "It's not even insomnia, though! I just wake up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, but if I wait it out, I fall asleep again."

"Maybe you're nervous about something," Chayoung says. "Maybe your body's telling you that you're too tense."

"Or you're dying and you need to get this condition checked out," Yoojung says.

You laugh. "That's most definitely not it, Yoojung. Ugh, whatever," you sigh, shaking your head as your roommates look sympathetically at you. "We're still down for the flower festival, right?"

"We wouldn't miss it for the world!" Chayoung yells. "Did you know they're gonna bring Kevin Kang?? He's gonna sing! And dance!!!"

"God, I'm exploding just thinking about him!" Yoojung squeals.

"We're going for the flowers, not the celebrity," you giggle.

"WAIT," Yoojung gasps. "Maybe you're subconsciously excited about the flower festival!"

"And that's why you're waking up during the night!" Chayoung exclaims.

You hum, thinking to yourself. There was really no other reason to blame your hideous sleep schedule on. So you shrug. "There's only one way to find out," you say with a grin.

The flower festival has always been one of your favorite parts of studying at your university. Annually, the flower vendors all around the country come to show off their beautiful creations, showcasing them in bouquets, wreaths and flower crowns.

But you like flowers the best when they're in their natural state. Either when they're sprouting from the ground with their roots strongly planted in the soil or when you receive just one flower—just a single stem will do. You love the flower festival because it happens in the best sunflower blossoming season, and the sunflowers were exactly why you were nearly obsessed with attending the festival.

You put on a bit more makeup on your face to hide your ugly dark circles and picked out your favorite summery dress, pairing it with Sunny, your most esteemed purse. Getting into the flowery feeling of the festival almost felt obligatory at this point.

Usually, you go to the festival with your roommates—or anyone's who's willing to stare at flowers for a whole day—but ever since they added celebrities into the mix, the place has been crowded. Consequently, the flower booths are nearly empty as everyone flocks around the stage. But you don't mind. More room for you, who's actually here to admire the flowers.

You've lost your friends hours ago, but you know they're somewhere in the sea of fangirls, screaming over Kevin Kang—someone you acknowledge is talented, but just doesn't pique your interest. Now you're helplessly alone at the bright flower festival, all dressed up in a pretty dress but with no one to keep you company. You suppose you don't mind that much. But it is a bit strange. You're usually always surrounded by people. But a little solitude doesn't hurt, I guess.

Once again, you've subconsciously gravitated towards the sunflower booth. You let out a little squeal of glee inside your head when you realize you're totally matching with the vibrant yellow petals of your favorite flower.

Sunflowers don't have a special smell that permeates the air like other, more popular, flowers do, but they do have a distinct, earthy aroma that surrounds them. You're a total sucker for that. So you bend down, sniffing the pretty flowers and sighing out as the familiar, terrene fragrance fills your head. Beautiful.

Maybe you've never been a total nature freak, but you're a freak for sunflowers, that's for sure. You smile, taking a small step back to turn and check out some other sunflower booths. But you bump into someone, nearly stepping on their toes, which makes you stumble back and land butt-first on the dirty ground.

"Oh gosh!" you exclaim, trying to get up from your quite embarrassing fall but having no apparent success. "I'm so sorry!"

"I'm sorry," the man laughs good-naturedly in a light, silvery voice. "I made you fall!" He reaches out a hand to help you up, and you almost take it. Until you recognize his voice. When your head jerks up, you gasp.

"You!" you yell viciously, scrambling up from the dirt and dusting the back of your dress off. You glare daggers into your enemy's eyes.

"Aw, shit," Jungkook sighs. "I didn't know that was you. But now I'm kinda glad you fell," he laughs. "Quite the drama queen. And it looks like the ever-so-popular girl is here alone. Hilarious."

You frown, straightening your dress as you cross your arms over your chest. "Shut up. I was just going to call my friends," you lie. "I just lost them. And besides, you're here alone, so should you really be saying all that?" you huff. "Why are you even here?"

"What? I can't enjoy looking at the sunflowers?" Jungkook retorts.

"That's your favorite flower too?" you ask incredulously. "Say sike right now."

"What's the opposite of sike?" Jungkook snorts. "That is my favorite flower. Got any problem with it?"

"Yes," you say. "Why sunflowers? Why? And Why here?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "I woke up one day and I liked sunflowers. I heard there was a flower festival here, and the next thing I know, I'm here. Are you done interrogating me?"

"You can't just wake up one day and like sunflowers," you say. "You're lying."

"Fine. Don't believe me then," Jungkook says. "You never believe me, anyways."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you say.

Jungkook stays silent. After a moment's more of hesitation he sighs. "Whatever. I'm going to the sunflower patch."

"Wait!" you say before he begins to walk away. "I'm going there too." He gives you a weird look. "No, I'm not suggesting we go together, but they have really good honey sunflower ice cream there," you quickly add.

"Honey sunflower ice cream, huh?" Jungkook says. "Never tried it."

You gasp, stepping back and placing a hand on your heart. "You... what?"

"Never tried it," Jungkook repeats.

"No way. You've never lived until you've tried the honey sunflower ice cream, Jeon!" you exclaim. "Now I'm obligated to take you there. Ice cream's on me. I hate you, but there's no one I hate enough not to introduce the best flavor in the world to them."

Jungkook cocks his head, staring at your excited self with curiosity. "You sure?"

You scoff. "Yes. Hurry up before I change my mind."

"Okay then. I'm trying the ice cream and then I'm leaving," he tells you.

"Whatever," you say right back.

And that is exactly how two enemies decided to share a day in civilized harmony together. Even after Jungkook got his precious honey sunflower ice cream, the two of you decided not to separate—for reasons of convenience—nothing else. But hanging out with Jungkook wasn't as bad as you thought.

Though 80% of the time was the two of you bickering about the littlest things, it was also quite refreshing to talk to the man you deemed as your nemesis. He didn't seem so evil upfront. Jungkook seemed more than a human with a sharp tongue and bad intentions. He's actually pretty funny—much more than he lets on—and is an excellent listener to your never-ending anecdotes.

At this point, Jungkook's on his third honey sunflower ice cream, and you're on your fourth sunflower lollipop as you walk through the sunflower field. You're so close to him that your arms touch every time you step forward. You don't really mind and neither does he. If anyone didn't know any better, they'd think you two are friends.

"Hey," Jungkook suddenly says.

"Yeah?" you answer.

"I got you something," he says.

"Wait—"

Jungkook suddenly stops walking and so do you as you watch him pull something out of his pocket. It's a packet of—

"Sunflower seeds?" you say. "When did you get that?" You give him a funny face.

Jungkook huffs. "If you didn't want it you could've just said..." He looks a bit saddened as he shrugs. "I thought since you loved sunflowers so much, you could plant some." He quickly shakes his head. "Not that I'm trying to be nice. This is just because you got me ice cream."

"I-I..." you stutter, massaging your head as you step back. Your mind reels and you blink rapidly. "Wow," you breath. "No, um, thank you, Jungkook... I love it. I just... wow. I'm getting major déjà vu."

It's Jungkook's turn to give you a funny look. "Déjà vu of the flower festival?"

"No..." you say, frowning as you take the packet of seeds that he hands out to you. "Weirdly, it's déjà vu of you giving me these sunflower seeds."

Jungkook snorts. "Did you fall down a bit too hard?"

"Hmph," you huff. "I've been running on coffee these days. I guess you can't really trust my thinking at this point."

"No wonder you have dark circles under your eyes," Jungkook says. "Getting ready for that internship abroad is tiring, huh?"

"How do you know about?" you ask.

"Everyone knows about it," Jungkook says. "You're a law prodigy. We all know."

You laugh. "That's flattering. But I dunno. I'm waking up at weird hours of the night."

"Me too," Jungkook says before he can stop himself.

"Wow, we actually have something in common," you giggle. "That's the first."

Jungkook laughs. "Is it really, though? Don't we have a mutual hatred for each other?"

"That doesn't count, Jeon."

"I think it does."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does."

"Oh my gosh, no, it doesn't."

"YES IT GODDAMN DOES."

"NO, IT FREAKING DOESN'T."

"YOU KNOW WHAT, Y/N—"

The rather immature banter is interrupted by the ringtone of your phone playing some Christian music that Jungkook swears he's heard somewhere, but he can't remember where. It's strange because he doesn't exactly listen to Christian music, yet he's able to recognize this song straight away.

You roll your eyes at him, quickly picking up your phone from your purse and accepting the call.

"Hello?" you say. "Yeah. I'm at the sunflower patch. Yeah. No... Of course, I'm alone. Who do you think I'd be with? I'll come to you guys. Yeah. Okay, bye." You slip your phone back in your purse, sighing as you turn to Jungkook. "I have to go."

Jungkook huffs. "Whatever. Go, then."

You frown. "Fine." You give him a look before you begin to stomp off.

"AND JUST SO YOU KNOW," Jungkook yells at your back. "I'M NOT SOME NOBODY."

"AND JUST SO YOU KNOW," you say without turning your head to look at the man. "THIS NEVER HAPPENED!"

Jungkook sees you clutch the packet of sunflowers seeds he'd gifted you as you quickly walk away. He frowns at your figure, growing smaller the further you are.

He'll admit that the time he spent with you today wasn't too bad. But somehow, the two of you always left on a bad note. Oh well. Jungkook sighs as he finishes the rest of his honey sunflower ice cream. At least I got free dessert.

—previous | next

—masterpost

[irwinkitten]

mistletoe and wine | m.c

notes: guess what, i’m writing winter themed fics and here is the first of four. i’ll be posting one each week. enjoy! warnings: none word count: 1.5k!

-

You were sure that Michael was debating on either asking if you’d been kidnapped or straight up running away from the almost manic like grin that was stretched across your lips. 

But you knew that he understood your excitement and even shared in it; if only to a lesser degree.

“Why are you grinning like that? Who did you kill at work? Was it you coworker that tried to get you into trouble?” At the query, he laughed at the offended look you gave him in return. Feeling his arm slipping around you, giving a gentle squeeze, you couldn’t keep the look on your face.

“I didn’t kill anyone. They were lucky that they left before I could actually commit a murder though.” Your dark mutter made him smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“There’s my homicidal maniac.” The words had caught you off guard and unable to help yourself, you snorted out a laugh, making him grin. You knew you could count on him to make light of the situation, but your excitement was not one to be deterred.

“It’s going to be our first Christmas together in our home Mikey.” Instead of understanding like you’d hoped, you were met with a look of confusion and you held back your sigh.

And then it clicked, his eyes widening as a grin bloomed across his lips.

“Our first Christmas home! We’re decorating, right?” And you couldn’t help yourself, laughing as you pressed a kiss to his lips and pulled him to the direction of the living room where various boxes were sat waiting to be rummaged through.

“We are. Since We both brought our own decorations when we moved in, I figured we could go through them together.” And Michael chuckled as he opened up one of the boxes, holding up the cheesy tree ornament that your parents had given back to you, one that you’d made when you were a child.

“Shut up.” You grinned at him as you found the box filled to the brim with various garlands. Tugging one out of the box, you draped it across his shoulders and he scoffed, pulling it off only to throw it over you, gently tugging you closer to him with each end.

“Trapped.” He teased, a playful grin on his lips as you kissed his cheek before ducking from under the garland, ignoring his noise of protest.

“Decorations first, distractions later.” The dramatic sigh you received in return made you press your lips together in amusement before you put on the Christmas playlist, a mixture of old classics with various artists that you both liked that had done Christmas songs.

You’d not felt excited for Christmas until you’d realised this little bit of information. You’d been dreading the holidays before it had occurred to you that-despite it being far from your first christmas together-it was your first christmas together in your new home.

Both families had understood that you wanted to spend the holidays together in your new home and had decided to travel to the two of you instead of the two of you visiting various countries. Michael had most been excited about this. 

When Moose came to investigate the noises of the boxes being opened and the bags being rustled, Southy far too used to the sounds to follow after the other dog.

You’d almost danced in glee when you’d found the small reindeer outfit that you’d originally purchased for Southy years ago. The look that Michael gave you, made you stick your tongue out at him.

“Moose baby, come here.” You coaxed her and she was hesitant, occasionally sniffing at the various decorations that had fallen onto the floor. You noticed that Michael had his phone out as Moose reached you and you fussed her in turn.

She gave you kisses in return and you’d successfully gotten the outfit tacked around her. Surprisingly, she didn’t protest the outfit, instead turning to Michael who had laughed and made her way over to him, her tail going a mile a minute.

“You poor thing. You’ve got weeks of this Moose.” He murmured as he ruffled her fur. You grinned as he got the outfit off her.

“Leave the dogs out of it for now.” He teased finally as he took out the lump of christmas lights and you laughed.

“Get those untangled and I might.” You knew that he would, he had more patience than you did when it came to Christmas lights. 

Now and then, the two of you would sing along, occasionally throwing pieces of garland at Michael whenever he swapped lyrics out for a ruder version. Every time he did, you tried to keep up the offended looks, but even you couldn’t help but laugh at him, chiming in with your own versions which earned more decorations being thrown in return.

With the boxes organised, you both finally began decorating, taking the garland and wrapping it around the banister of the stairs. 

“Can you believe that we got this far?” You asked him as you ventured back into the living room, decorations in hand as you worked together to get them hung over the picture frames.

“Honestly, every bad Christmas we had to suffer, this makes up for all of them.” He murmured once you back to the boxes. 

You started to put up the tree when Michael disappeared. You weren’t entirely sure what he was up to, knowing that he did have the wreath for the door, but the mischievous smirk he’d given you as he disappeared out of the room told you there was definitely more that he was up to. 

Once the tree was up, the branches spread easily for the decorations to hang from, Michael  reappeared with a steaming mug and you hesitated before taking a sip, the mulled wine bringing you warmth you hadn’t realised you were missing.

“I figured that we could have a mug or two before we decorate the tree.” His voice had fallen quiet and you found yourself melting slightly, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting the mulled wine on his own lips.

“Sounds like a plan, handsome. Plus we can sort out the tree decorations.” You hummed and his face lit up as he placed his mug down, racing up the stairs to your confusion and amusement.

It didn’t take long for him to return, a small box in his hands as he settled back next to you. Almost immediately, you’d tucked yourself into his side, grinning at his chuckle as he handed you the box, taking the mug from your hands.

“I was waiting for this because, well just open it and see.” He encouraged, his face alight with excitement. 

So of course you took your sweet time, earning a groan from him, however he didn’t rip the package open like you’d half expected him to. He sat patiently, watching your face.

So once the wrapping paper was discarded and you pried the lid off, you looked away from him to the item in question and felt your breath leave you.

Inside was an ornament, a small square with a key painted at the top, with yours and Michael’s names underneath, followed by the year, marking it your first Christmas together in this home. 

You couldn’t find the words to convey the joy at this one small thing, along with the love that you felt for him. It felt like you chest was fit to burst with the love you felt surge up for him and you jumped as you felt his finger brush your cheek.

That was when you realised that he was brushing away a tear.

“Mikey.” Your voice cracked and he shifted the both of you, his arms pulling you into him. And you held onto him tightly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I wanted something to mark this Christmas. It’s special to us, together as our little family.”

You were lost for words at the small but thoughtful gift.

“How about we start decorating then?” I’ve got a few ways to show my appreciation of your gift but I’d rather have everything already done.” The tease was enough, but he smiled and kissed you softly, his fingers cupping your face.

“I love you.” He whispered gently and you could’ve sworn you melted into his touch.

“I love you too. C’mon.” You coaxed, and he followed your lead. Decorating the tree was not nearly as stressful as you’d anticipated, both of you aiming for a tree that was both tasteful but you couldn’t help but laugh at the small gaming figurines that were scattered throughout the tree.

Once the star was on top, the newest decoration in clear view of the room, you leaned back into Michael as he stood behind you, surveying the room.

Turning in his arms, you beamed up at him and he grinned. His hand moved from around you, prompting you to look up to see he was holding mistletoe above the two of you. 

You laughed and kissed him soundly, his hand discarding the mistletoe as he pulled you closer to him.

You were almost certain that this had become your favourite Christmas by far. 

-

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[ginnyzero]

Completely Harmless Ch. 45

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Forty-Five She sells sea shells by the ... river shore?

Lily tried to regain control of the meeting. “Pauline, where do we stand on the decorations?”

“Okay, here is the ideas I’ve had with everyone talking. Okay, we take flower wreathes and put them on the lamps and then wrap them with more flowers like the ones in the wreathes and our artificial palm leaves, and the sea shell garlands and sea shell lights. Then, if you have an arm to hang things off of, put a paper lantern with more flowers if you want. Um, don’t choose any flowers that are protected ladies. Then we can use the bubble garlands and the jelly fish lights like we did with the clouds and rainbow hearts from the trees. You can mix them up with the regular paper lanterns too if you want. Put the flower lights, sea shell garlands, and paper lanterns in all the stables. You can make the paper lanterns look like bubbles if you do it right.”

“Like with the clouds.”

“Exactly!”

“Then we can use the beach scene lanterns the exact same way we used the heart lanterns. But you can add the decorated anchors or ship wheels in with them. Or use the shell buckets instead. We put up the boats with the selfie walls, boats have nets decorated with shells, the round white circles have flowers and greenery like they’re a big wreathe. Put up some of the round lanterns, throw in an anchor and a wheel for props if they want. Um,” Pauline scrolled through the pictures. “We can create cabanas for the bar and the dance floor using frames, sheets, the flower lights, the artificial palm leaves, and inside have the jelly fish lanterns and more bubble garlands. The bar can have a net on it and be strewn with the decorated shea shells and the shea shell lights.” Pauline stopped at the giggles.

“Sea shells,” Lily said dryly.

“Sea shells,” Pauline repeated. “We can have more bucket, anchor, wheel decorations on that. And the pineapples, because Lily wants the pineapples. We can put more of the artificial palm leaves there too. Above the bar can go the jelly fish lights and the bubble garlands.” She paused. “And these lace sailboats are cute. We can have them as a prop too at the selfie wall. I mean, I think we’re actually set for decorations. I mean, I know it sounds more than what we had for Rainbow Week, but we’re mixing them in more interesting ways?”

“There are more bigger pieces.”

“And no balloons.”

“Right, I mean, we could use the lantern lights instead of balloons to fill up space or use the jelly fish lights and white lanterns to make little scenes.” Pauline shrugged. “We’ll have to experiment.”

“Food,” Lily moved on.

“Jorvik Crawfish Boil,” Pauline checked her notes. “Crabwiches, fruit salad in a carved watermelon bucket, Vegetable and mushroom skewers, popsicles, watermelon on a stick?”

“One sounds too many.”

Pauline crossed out the watermelons on a stick. It seemed redundant.

“I saw mermaid tail favors. We could put candy in them?”

“We should have cookies, like citrus ones.”

“That means they’d be orange.”

“Orange cookies.”

“I also saw plastic seashell favors, we could put something in those too.”

“I think we better put out some things like pretzels and Cheetos for people like Alex,” Lily said.

“Okay, now we need some drinks because I think we’ve covered food pretty well. And I mean, we can all buy snacks to put in the buckets. That’s not difficult.”

“Pretzels, popcorn, Cheetos, and crisps.”

“Wait, can we really have a bonfire without s’mores, sausages, and potatoes?”

“Yeah, and bread for the sausages or to eat with the crawfish.”

“Cheese, we might need cheese.”

Lily rubbed her forehead. “Fine. But we’ll have to figure out how to split it out. Drinks.”

“I make some really chillax awesome drinks.” Tim spoke up. The first time he’d spoken up in a while. Maybe he was overwhelmed with the eager teenage girls. Or maybe he didn’t care that much about the food or the decorations.

Lily turned her head. “Yeah, I think we might want to test your drinks first.”

“Shibby!”

“Why don’t you tell us the ingredients?” One of the girls asked sweetly.

Tim rattled off his ingredients. They included kidney beans. Kelp. Corn water. Fermented potato juice.

Lily held up a hand. “Fermented potato juice is vodka and corn water is basically moonshine. Are you trying kill us and get us drunk?”

“You don’t think people will like them.”

“I think maybe we should stick to things like banana and strawberry smoothies. Orange juice. And grape and seltzer punch.”

“Apple juice. Watermelon and blueberry spritzers.”

Tim slumped in his seat.

“Those will bring the tourists back for more.” Lily patted his arm.

He sighed. “They sound boring to me.”

“We can try to make them exciting. Package them in fun ways! Mermaid, err, okay without lemons this is not as easy as you’d think.”

“Grape comes in clear.”

“Ohhh, that works. Look we did this at home, just color up some different ice cubes, put edible rainbow glitter around the edge of the glass. Put it in some grape juice with soda if you want, and let the ice cubes melt. Mermaid Cocktail. Or as it was described early grape and seltzer punch.”

“Mock up a white grape sangria too, strawberries, blueberries, apple or orange slices in white grape juice, apple juice, and soda.”

“They can be fun, we promise,” Lily patted his arm again.

Tim sighed. “All right, I’ll have to trust you.”

“Put the orange and soda in hurricane glasses, drizzle strawberry juice into it, garnish in a fun way, sunset hurricane drink.”

“See,” Lily smiled at him.

Tim didn’t look convinced.

“Watermelon and grape go with a lot of things. And we can get you the cucumbers too.”

“Okay, I think we’re good to go.”

“We’ll come up with a recipe list.”

“All right, then we’re doing the different wreathes at the different parties,” Lily said. “Let them have the sand souvenirs. We can do necklace garlands and bracelets to I guess for the luau theme.”

“And hide decorated Conch Shells, because they’re big, and colorful,” Pauline said. “Like, I think these are plastic or vinyl. I hope they are. Real conch shells might be too expensive.”

“Okay,” Lily nodded. “Hedgehogs, you’re the source of the crawfish for the crawfish boil. I’m leaving that to you.”

Riley groaned.

“I know you’d rather have the mermaid favors. Kelsey that sounds like something Madison would enjoy doing.”

“She would. So, we’ll take it.”

“You’re going to have to make a lot of them so, yeah.” Lily wrinkled her nose. She didn’t feel bad about giving that to them and only that. “Bulldogz, I know how you feel about Jamie cooking.”

“Someone is trying to hire her for the Midsummer Feast and thank goodness she’s easily distracted.”

“So, you can have the shell party favors.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Josefina spoke up. “We’re the source of the strawberries and the blueberries. Do you want us on drinks or on the fruit salad?”

“We’re going to have to buy watermelons in bulk from the food stalls.”

“Okay, question,” Lily put her chin on her hand. “Who among is a competent melon or pumpkin carver? Because they should be the ones doing the fruit salad. I mean, I don’t think the carved bucket idea was a plain bucket?”

The girls got on their phones and started texting people in their clubs.

Loretta shook her head. “None of mine.”

“Loretta, since you have the Midsummer Festival grounds in your area, are you going to do a beach party too?” Lily asked, genuinely curious.

Tan leapt in. “Of course we are, and we’ll decorate those Dark Core containers and chase off the goons if we have to.”

Loretta made a face. “They’ve been stealing. Can you believe it?”

“You don’t say.” Lily’s voice was bland. “Do you have any records of it?” Lily asked. She wasn’t at all surprised that a company with a name like Dark Core hired a thief.

Tan tossed her head. “I recorded everything.”

“Could you send it to Linda?” Lily asked slowly and raised her brow.

“Linda? Why would she want to know? I mean, she’s one of those weird druid riders,” Tan flicked her wrist.

“Because the Baroness will want to know,” Lily said. Frustrated she had to spell it out. “And Linda is her personal assistant and monitors her emails.”

“Oh, in that case, sure,” Tan said and dug out her phone. “As long as the Bobcats get the credit for catching them.”

“I’m sure Linda will tell her.”

Loretta sniffed. “I had them all file reports with Thomas.”

Lily nodded and texted that information to Linda as well.

Linda texted back she was going to ride over to Moorland to get it. She needed to see Alex anyways and she was probably at Maya’s.

“Or with Justin,” Lily murmured. Had Justin gotten up the nerve to say anything to Alex yet? Lily shook her head.

“I’ve got a carver,” Amelia said. “She sent pictures of her work. She can carve buckets and flowers.”

“Then you’re on for the fruit salad,” Lily said. “Do you mind another club coming and picking fruit for the cocktails and the popsicles?”

“Not at all.”

“Chipmunks,” Lily turned to them. “I know you’ve got the farmers, but you also have Harold.”

“Orange slice cookies. On it, Lady Captain Lily.” Kate saluted and then fluttered her hand and bowed.

Lily restrained a sigh. Of course Kate would choose both.

Pauline spoke up. “I think we should take the popsicles, Lady Captain President, we’ve got the big freezers in the Wine Cellar to keep them in.”

“Right, good plan.”

Pia spoke up. “I’ll take one of cocktail slots. That way I can work closely with Tim to make sure they’re fun and fizzy.”

Sonja spoke up. “We also have the other fruits in our forest. So, we’ll take a cocktail slot too. And help everyone harvest fruit.”

Ingrid was next to volunteer. “Ma Anna knows pastry, and croissants like those crabwiches are pastry. We’ll take the crabwiches and make different meat salads for them.”

“Fish salad, chicken salad, egg salad, ham salad,” Violet muttered.

Pauline checked her list, “That leaves the Pandas, the Bulls, and the Cats.”

“What do we have left?”

“Veggie skewers.” Pauline checked. “Snacks, bread and cheese, etc., and more cocktails.”

Loretta spoke quickly. “We can do the Snacks, bread, and cheese and so on. That’s all shopping. We are power shoppers. And none of the stinky stuff from Will’s Mill either.”

Ami wrinkled her nose. “We have a spa. We know cocktails. We’ll help out there and see what we can do with our grapes.”

“That leaves us the Veggie Skewers, and we can get most the produce from the Farmer’s Market and do assembly in Valedale.” Melissa nodded.

Lily spoke up. “This is going to sound crazy, but maybe we should have Courtney Summers do the Midsummer Feast. She’s a local and maybe she knows the local dishes.”

“Barney, Marley, and Carney can cook too,” Kate said. “Or, so says Barney. They have all the traditional recipes.”

“Kate, can you do the invitation thing? I’m sure the Baroness will refuse to invite her personally. But notice, she showed up last time.”

“I’ll invite all of them to do it. Make it a family affair. It’s a week and if we have too much food, well better than none at all.” Kate nodded.

“All right, well, here is hoping that the budget can take this,” Lily said.

“I bet we can get the farmers to donate lots of the supplies,” Kate waved her hands. “It’s for the Midsummer Festival after all.”

“That would be good.”

“We can approach them individually and get back to the group,” Amelie said with a nod.

Luciana spoke up. “I’d like to put a cabana up on the beach near the Dews Farm to be the gathering spot for everyone finishing up their charity events.”

“Splendid plan, Luciana,” Lily nodded. “We can set up one there, and a dance floor and it can be a celebration. At the end of the week, we’ll have all the money. Where are we keeping the money?”

“Silverglade Manor’s safe.”

“Right, we’ll have all the money and can present Maya with a big fake check. And I hope that will be enough to get them out of their debts and back on their farm.”

“They’re in foreclosure,” Loretta sighed. “Not bankruptcy. I had to go over it with her three times.”

“If they’re in foreclosure, that’s easier than bankruptcy to an extent. Though what did they do? Take a loan out on their farm?”

“From G.E.D. instead of a bank.” Loretta pushed her hair back behind her neck.

“Well, Ms. Drake is going to take the cash or else I’ll shove it where the sun don’t shine,” Lily muttered.

“Make it super public,” one of the girls said. “She can’t be a monster in front of a lot of people.”

“Ms. Drake?” Amelia asked.

Josefina snorted.

“It’s worth a try.”

“We’re going to have to do the same thing for the stables once it happens.” Ginny said.

“Have they tried anything but threats?”

“No. But the stable is in debt. To the bank, not to them, praise Aideen. But if the bank forecloses on the property, we’ll all be kicked out. Though your plans with the Friesians have been working. And Mr. Kemball has started on the Riding Arena. We’ve been having to keep him honest.”

“That must be a job and a half.”

“Like keeping James honest,” Pia said.

There was some nervous laughter.

“All right, Mares, Frogs, Squirrels, Terriers, and Kittens,” Lily said. “Get your areas in order. Your job is to focus on your section of South New Jorvik County and come enjoy the Midsummer Beach Party when it’s on. If you have problems with G.E.D. or Dark Core, report to me or to Linda.”

Pauline interrupted. “Music, Lily. Music!”

“Well, Fort Pinta will have DJ Kai. And I know New Hillcrest will have Syntax.”

“We’ve got a pretty big beach with a lot of islands all picked out.”

��I think asking Mr. Wetton for thirteen acts again is a bit too soon. Plus, it would make Rainbow Week less special.”

“Radio the different music the DJs are doing.” One of the girls suggested. “Set up a transmitter. Jack it through that tower in the Grey Mountains that G.E.D. has set up and it should get the entire county. Or stream it online.”

“That’s devious, and I like it.” Lily grinned.

“They shouldn’t have an obnoxious radio tower that big up there anyways. Radio towers can be much more discreet. I mean, put one on the observatory and it won’t be a blight to the landscape.” There was a sniff.

Lily turned to Pauline. “Happy?”

“Syntax can hack the tower,” Ginny said.

“Yes, keep them hacking for the greater good.” Lily smirked.

Kate shouted. “Okay, pizza time!”

They were all hungry. And there were new people to meet. So, they had pizza and wings and loaded potatoes and talked to each other and Tim. Though they all agreed Tim was quite strange and was it college or something else?

They split up.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

[bee-kathony]

The Oath | Ch. 16 “Moving Forward” 

a/n: it’s back!!!! thank you to everyone who read the first arc and have patiently waited to find out what these Fraser’s will do. a massive thank you to @lcbeauchampoftarth for being my beta for this, as well as putting up with all of my legal questions! thank you to my boo @julesbeauchamp for helping me bounce ideas off of and thank you to everyone who has indulged me when I asked how far I should take this arc, so... let the journey to paternity begin! 

Arc I 

December 6th, 2019

Everyone had come round to their house to help decorate for Christmas. Claire had never cared much for decorations; her parents usually just put up the tree and that was it. But she quickly found out that the Frasers went all out for Christmas and Hogmanay.

Murtagh was in the living room with Geillis trying to hang garland in a way that matched Geillis’ exact specifications. Jenny and Ian were in the kitchen cooking, with their children running around the house shouting “Jingle Bells” at the top of their lungs. Claire wanted to cry at the festive scene before her.

She was in the hallway, trying to decide what wreath to put on the front door, when Jamie came up from behind her, holding mistletoe above her head.

“A Christmas kiss?”

Claire smiled, and turned into his arms, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss him.

“Don’t you look cozy,” she remarked, placing her hands on Jamie’s chest. He was wearing the new cream-colored sweater she had bought him and it fit snug in all the right places.

“And ye look rather cozy as well.” Jamie kissed her again, moving his hands around to her waist and settling his hands on her arse. “Those jeans dinna leave much to the imagination, Sassenach.”

“I’m just glad I fit back into them!” Claire laughed. “Can you believe it’s already Christmas?”

“Nah, Sassenach. It feels like just the other day when I bumped into ye at the cafe,” Jamie laughed against her lips, his arms coming to wrap around her. She sighed then, a sound that was music to his ears, for it meant she was happy and he had a small part to play in that.

They pulled apart and Claire leaned her head against his chest before remembering something. “Oh, did you get the mail?” she asked. “The lab said that we should be getting the results sometime this week.”

“Aye, I just brought it in a little bit ago, tis on the front table,” Jamie said. “Want me to take a look?”

Sounds of squealing came from behind her and they both turned to see young Jamie running circles around Madeline’s basinette. “I’ll just go check on that,” Jamie smirked.

The pile of mail was exactly where Jamie had placed it and she flipped through the stack, finding bills and junk mail. Then, the top left corner of an envelope caught her eye. Hawkins Laboratory.

The results.

She opened it, her heart pounding, and read.

Claire only shook her head slightly as she read again and again the words on the document in her hands. It was a whole bunch of numbers she didn’t quite understand, with Madeline’s name, Jamie’s name, and Frank’s name at the top. But there at the bottom where it said “Probability of Paternity�� next to Frank’s name, it read 98%…

“Claire? What’s that say? Ye dinna look so good.” Jamie came to stand beside her and finally looked down at the paper.

“It’s Frank,” was all she could manage to say.

“Christ…” Jamie took the document from Claire, his eyes racing over every word. His heart sank as his biggest fear came to life. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

Her hands clenched into fists and she wanted nothing more than to punch Frank Randall in the face — anywhere on him, really,just as long as he suffered.

“He won’t take her, Sassenach. I willna let him, I made ye a promise and I plan to keep it.”

“It’ll be alright, Jamie,” Claire turned to him, cupping his cheek. “Madeline is your daughter. I know it. She has your red hair, your slanted eyes… she is half of you and me. Frank can’t possibly be her father.”

Jamie brought her close, kissing the top of her head, “We can go somewhere else, to confirm.”

“But what if the results say the same thing,” Claire turned her head to look at him. “What if—“

“Shhh, mo nighean, dinna fash about it now.” Jamie pulled her in close, hiding her face from his, only so that she wouldn’t see the tears that spilled down his cheeks.

It had all been perfect — nearly too perfect. What now?

++++++

Claire’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She felt both anger and sadness, all-consuming, and she couldn’t think of anything else but the results. In her bones, she knew it was a lie — that Jamie was Madeline’s father, not Frank. There was truly only one way to find out.

Jamie put the letter down on the table and took Claire’s hands in his, kissing them. His eyes searched her face, looking for warning signs.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?”

Nodding, Claire finally met his eye. “We have to find out the truth, Jamie. That test is a lie and I know it.”

“I ken,” Jamie agreed and sighed, looking back down the hall where the rest of their family was. “Should we tell them? Ian, Jenny, and Murtagh?”

“And Geillis,” Claire added. “Maybe they can help us figure this fucking mess out.”

Jamie saw Claire’s bottom lip tremble and he pulled her once again into his arms, holding her close to his chest. She smelled of vanilla and sugar — the cookies she had just put in the oven. He wasn’t sure who was more scared between the two of them, but he knew that they would figure it out. Of course, he always knew the day might come when they found out that Jamie wasn’t the father. But Madeline had red hair and the same Fraser cat eyes, though they were  amber like Claire’s.

“It’ll be okay,” he said out loud for the both of them and then released her, sliding his hand into hers as they walked to join the rest of their family. As soon as Jamie met Jenny’s eye, her face changed from a smile to one of worry.

Dropping the tinsel to the couch, she came over to them. “What’s wrong? Ye two look as though ye’ve seen death.”

“We need to talk,” Jamie said softly as the kids ran around them, still screaming the lyrics to a Christmas song on the stereo. “It’s about the paternity results.”

“Aye,” Jenny nodded, and that was that. She managed to gather all the kids in front of the tv and turned on Elf. Claire picked up Madeline from her bassinet and cradled her to her chest, wanting to feel her small body against hers.

Their family gathered in the kitchen, sitting around the dining table, and Jamie placed the lab results on the table.

“The results from Hawkins Lab came in. Tis says that Frank Randall is the father.” Jamie winced at his own words. Claire moved her hand slowly up and down Madeline’s back, her warmth a comfort.

“That babe is a Fraser if I ever saw one.” Murtagh glanced at Madeline in Claire’s arms. “She’s the spittin’ image of the both of ye.”

“How are you, Claire?” Geillis placed her hand on Claire’s arm, squeezing gently.

“It’s all just a bit shocking,” Claire sniffed. “I was so positive that the results would come back and confirm that Jamie is Madeline’s father. And I still believe that…”

“But…” Ian said, “the paper says otherwise.”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded, his brows furrowed. “Jenny, do ye have Ned Gowan’s number?”

“The family lawyer?” she asked. “Aye, I’ll send ye his details.”

“Thank ye,” Jamie smiled at her and then looked around the table. “I just want to say how grateful I am for all of ye. For accepting Claire into the family as well as our bairn. This isna a fight I ever wanted, but I’m just glad I have all of ye with us.”

Murtagh made a Scottish noise, followed by a soft pounding of his fist on the table.

“Claire and the bairn are part of this family. No bastard named Randall will be sayin’ otherwise.”

++++++

Everyone left an hour later, leaving Jamie, Claire, and Madeline all on their own. Claire let out a deep sigh as she laid Madeline in her crib and took a seat in the rocking chair. Her heart ached for the future and what was to come. The past few months had been exhausting, of course, but they had also contained some of the best moments of Claire’s life.

“What are you doing?” Claire rolled over onto her side, wiping the sleep from her eyes. The alarm clock read 3 a.m.

“Shhh, a nighean,” Jamie said softly. He had placed Madeline in between them on the bed and she was asleep, her arms above her head. It’d only been three weeks since they’d brought her home, and Jamie couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“It makes me so nervous to sleep with her in the bed,” Claire said, but smiled nonetheless. “She’s just so small.”

“Dinna worry, Sassenach, I would have scooped her up if ye’d rolled over,” he laughed. “She just looked so lonely in her wee crib.”

“I could watch her for hours.” Claire stroked her soft cheek, then laid her hand gently over Madeline’s stomach. For a newborn, she was sleeping decently through the night, only waking when she was hungry.

They were silent for awhile, both laying on their sides as they watched their daughter sleep. It was still so new — sleeping together in the same bed. Just as waking up next to each other and kissing each other good morning was new. But it was a newness that neither of them minded.

“Did ye ever think ye could love somethin’ so much that was so small?”

“No,” Claire admitted. “I never imagined this kind of love would feel so… intense,” she smiled up at him and then reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “When I found out that I was pregnant, I was scared at first because I didn’t know if I could do this — be a mother. But then as she started to grow and I could feel her kicking around, I knew that I would love and protect her no matter what.”

“Yer a wonderful mother, Claire,” Jamie said as he leaned over Madeline to kiss her. “I can imagine yer face when ye found out,” he chuckled at that. “Yer eyes growin’ wide and yer mouth droppin’.”

Claire laughed, squeezing his hand and laying it on her hip. “It was certainly not what I expected!”

“Did ye ever—“ Jamie started but then shook his head.

“What?” Claire pressed him.

“I just… wondered if ye ever wish ye had found me sooner, or called me after ye found out.”

She moved her hand to cup his cheek, turning his face to look at her. “Jamie, of course I did. I thought of nothing else for the first few weeks — what to do. And I do wish that I had called you sooner, but I was scared and unprepared for what was to come.”

“We just lost so much time together,” Jamie said sadly.

“There’s still plenty of time for you to be there the next time I find out,” Claire said quickly, looking at Jamie to gage his reaction.

His eyebrows lifted to his hairline and he looked at her, a potential tear forming in his eye, and smiled. “Ye mean ye want to have another bairn?”

“Yes, of course I do! Not now though, probably not for at least a couple of years.” Claire slid closer to him, careful not to disturb Madeline, who was still sleeping in between them. “But I want to have another baby with you.”

“Just one?” he asked, a smirk on his lips. “What about eleven more?”

“Eleven?!” Claire said rather loudly and immediately covered her mouth. “Eleven?” she whispered, “I cannot give birth eleven more times. Once was bloody painful enough.”

“Then what about two more?” Jamie pushed the curls back from her face. “Three seems like a good number, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not agreeing to any sort of number, Jamie Fraser,” she laughed and rolled onto her back, looking up at him. “I’ve agreed to another baby sometime in the near future. Sound good to you?”

“Aye,” he smiled and raised himself over Madeline to lean down and kiss Claire. “Sounds like a mighty fine plan there, Sassenach.”

Claire’s eyes were beginning to close as she watched Madeline in her crib, not yet asleep. Her mind however was still buzzing, trying to figure out how Frank could have — if he did at all — fake the paternity test. Just as her head lolled to the side, Jamie came into the room.

“Och, sorry, I didna mean to wake ye,” he said softly as he got down on his knees beside the rocking chair. “I cleaned all the dishes downstairs, everything is tidied away.”

“My hero,” Claire smiled softly, cupping his cheek.

Jamie didn’t want to bring it up and ruin the peaceful moment, but it was eating away at him. “Do ye have any idea how Frank could fake a paternity test?”

“I was just thinking of that,” Claire sighed. “If he did, he would need to have connections at the lab to pull that off. Which means that the lab is engaged in some type of fraudulent activity.” 

“Aye,” Jamie agreed. “Well, dinna fash yerself about it too much, mo ghraidh, these troubles will still be here tomorrow.”

He held out his hand to help her out of the chair. As she stood up, her legs trembled slightly, but Jamie easily scooped her up into his arms.

“You really are my hero,” she laughed, and he walked out of Madeline’s room, bringing the door to a crack with his foot.

“I can think of something to take yer mind off of today,” Jamie said as he kissed her neck, barely making it into their room without dropping her. He sat down on the edge of the bed, cradling her against him.

“And what might that be?” she smiled. “It’ll take an awful lot to make me forget this horrible day.” She ran her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’ll have ye forget yer own name when I’m done wi ye, Sassenach,” Jamie said softly and placed a kiss just under her jaw. Claire was clay in his hands and she let him mold her into whatever shape he fancied. She was wearing a soft grey sweater dress that allowed easy access for Jamie’s hand to slide up.

She shivered when his fingers touched her inner thigh and she moved one leg over so that she was now straddling him. Both his hands came to her hips, pushing up the dress so it lifted over her arse.

“Not too sexy, I’m afraid,” she remarked on her plain nude cotton panties.

“Anything ye wear is sexy, Sassenach,” Jamie smirked as he hooked his fingers into them, pulling them down her thighs. “Especially when ye take them off.” Claire placed her feet on the ground to take them off and then climbed back onto his lap.

“This kind of talk will only get you one place, Fraser,” she laughed and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. As his fingers made their way to her thigh, squeezing it gently, she moaned. Her belly tightened and she began to grind her hips against him, feeling the bulge in his pants.

“No,” he muttered, stilling her hips. “Wait a minute,” he chuckled and then continued to move his hand up her thigh until his finger landed on her slit — wet and aching for his touch. Claire sat up a bit to allow his fingers more room to move and he pressed his thumb against her clit, watching her eyes flutter shut.

“What’s yer name, a nighean?”

“What?” she laughed, looking down at him and then he slid one finger inside of her, opening her up. “Oh, Christ.”

Jamie laughed and placed his other hand on her hip to keep her steady on top of him. Slowly, he pushed another finger inside of her, feeling her clench around him. She was slick and the smell of her was driving him wild. Claire pressed down, arching her back as he pumped his fingers in and out.

“I asked ye… what’s yer name?”

“Cl— ah!” He pressed his thumb in circles on her clit while his two middle fingers sped up. He was watching her, seeing how much pleasure he was giving her. He reveled in it, knowing he could do this anytime.

Again, she began to grind her hips against him, riding his hand as he continued to pump it in and out of her. Her breath became labored and heavy, and she gripped his shoulder tightly.

Jamie bit his lip, trying to concentrate on her and not his hard cock, straining to get out of his trousers. She was beautiful, her riotous curls bouncing behind her, her mouth slightly open, and the sounds she made — God.

“What’s yer name?” He asked her again, moving his fingers at a maddening pace.

Claire looked down at him as she rolled her hips once, then twice. “I don’t— fuck,” she moaned and pressed her lips against him, biting his bottom lip as she came, riding his fingers.

He held her close to him, and flipped her down onto the bed. “I told ye I would make ye forget yer name, Sassenach,” Jamie smirked and then descended, kissing her neck, jaw, and lips over and over again. Nothing mattered in that moment except loving each other. Whatever problems they were about to face, they would do it together.

“Jamie,” Claire moaned, breathless as he fitted himself between her legs.

“That’s my name, a nighean,” Jamie laughed and then he was home, right where he belonged.

Chapter 17: History

[doof-doofblog]

"Liars Have To Pay!"

Good Evening folks! How have you all been during the past week? I know it's been hard having to stay indoors and try and keep yourself occupied. I've been finding it hard since my workplace closed, and with EastEnders only being on twice a week, it's hard to find things to watch in the evenings. I know how you're all feeling, let's hope that all this that's going on in the world can be slowed down and in time they'll be able to gain control of this awful virus.

Firstly, before we get into tonight's episode, let's talk about the trailer that was dropped on Friday evening. Give us a lot to look forward to during these next few episodes i'm sure! Dotty is still blackmailing Ian after she found out about him trapping Dennis in the boat crash. We know there's going to be some kind of love triangle between her and the two Beale brothers, but will she get what she's really after? The Arches? Will she persuade Ian to get Ben to sign them over to her? Or will she play both Peter and Bobby to get to Ian? I can it being an interesting story-line. 

We also see Linda reaching for the bottle again, but it doesn't necessarily show us her drinking, only sniffing the bottle. Is she about to have a setback?? What i'm interested in is, what actually happens for her to reach and sniff the bottle anyway? Does something happen or is it just left there on a table and she's trying to beat the temptation?! Mick is selling The Vic, could this be what actually makes it the final straw for Linda and will he act fast into selling the pub?! It also appears to be the funeral of Dennis's funeral tonight ... how is Sharon going to cope?! Phil is back and is desperate to speak to Sharon, what could it be about?! I have a feeling it's going to kick off at Dennis's funeral tonight, either Sharon will find out how Dennis died and Ian's involvement, or she'll blame Phil and attack him in some way (Physically or Verbally) ... there is always some sort of reveal or confrontation at an EastEnders funeral, right?!

Ooooooohhhhhh Ben finally says those three words all Ballum fans have been longing to hear!! What makes him finally say these words to Callum? Whatever it may be, i'm looking forward to seeing that episode!! I believe there's been some news, although it could just be a rumour going round, of Grey and Whitney having an affair?! Has this story been confirmed? Is it word of mouth?! Although in the last episode, we did see Whitney give Grey a hug, maybe looking to be comforted as she realises she still feels unsafe in her own home after being released from prison. It's true it did look a bit to cosy, but who knows? It's an interesting rumour and I'm not sure how i'm going to feel if it turns out to be true. For one, Whitney is Chantelle's good friend, why would she do that to her?! Grey, even though he treats his wife appallingly, every time he goes to apologise, he always tells her he loves her. So, who knows what could happen between Whitney and Grey? What do you guys think of this rumour?

Anyway, lets get right stuck into tonight's episode ... Looks like a lot happened tonight, obviously the main focus being young Dennis's funeral. Again, I need to applaud the performance of Letitia Dean, she's been absolutely fantastic acting as the grieving mother over the past few episodes. It was a good one tonight, I was going to say emotional, but there was also a bit of drama there also. 

Dotty is still buzzing around Ian like a queen bee, trying to make sure he's doing what she told him to do. Will she end up having The Arches? Will Ian somehow trick Ben into signing them over to her?! Even when Ian was doing that speech on behalf of Sharon, it was obvious how uncomfortable Ian looked, while Dotty was watching him from across the Square. It looked like she was struggling to get through the day also, when she saw Dennis's coffin and then to see Sharon and the state she was in, she can't be telling Sharon the truth as it will destroy the poor woman even more. However, that does not mean that she wont tell someone else or maybe worse, go to the press about it. The conversation she had with Vinny about liars should pay, she has definitely got a plan up her sleeve. I liked the little friendship going on between Dotty and Vinny, it seemed liked both characters clicked. 

The Panesar boys are still coming to terms with their mother's lies, I think hense why Vinny listened to Dotty and kinda understood what she was saying in some way. Vinny is taking to graffiti and possibly befriending Dotty to cope with Suki lying about cancer. Whereas Jags is cosy-ing up to Habiba. Suki still doesn't care about that impact her actions have taken on her boys, she doesn't care she lied about having cancer, I'm still baffled as to how someone can even do that, it is the lowest of the low! A part of me felt a bit angry that she was even talking about Ben about the loss of Dennis. How dare she give him her condolences.   Really felt for Ben in tonight's episode, firstly being banned from the funeral of a young lad he once saw as his younger brother, that moment when Ben and Callum and sat on the bench watching the hearse leave, it was pretty sad for Ben in that moment, did anyone else notice Callum slightly brush the side of Ben's leg?! Really touching I felt, Callum still trying to be there for his boyfriend, even fixing his tie for him at the beginning of the episode. I'm glad Ben still decided to go the pub to remember Dennis, he was right, Sharon couldn't stop him going to a pub! Ben is coping with a lot at the moment, losing his hearing and also grieving for Dennis. I can understand Jack's concern for Callum, but Callum can make up his own mind about who he sees and who he falls in love, I don't really think it's anyone's business who Callum dates. He can still be in a relationship with Ben (regardless of his history) and still be part of the police force, I mean, why not?! 

I really felt for Linda when Sharon was shouting at her over the pizza, it's clear Sharon wanted everything perfect for her son's last day, it's a shame Linda had to be on the end of her outburst. I think it was the last thing the pair of them needed, Sharon desperate for her son's funeral to go perfectly without a hitch, and Linda to be yelled at and insulted by her best friend after everything she's been through trying to get her life back on track. It's so sweet that Mick is standing by his wife, complementing her and telling her how proud he is of her, it's the Mick and Linda everyone enjoys seeing. Although, when Linda did say she could be one of those people who just has the one drink, my mind did think "Uh-Oh!" ... and when that moment came when she was in the kitchen, oh my mind was racing .... first she walks into the room and sees the vodka bottle ... "Come on, you can do it!" ... she ignores it and heads right for the tea and flings a teabag in the cup ... "Yes, Linda! Good girl!" ... to then her grabbing the bottle and sniffing it ... "Don't do it!" ... Putting the teabag away and pouring the vodka ... "Noooo!!!! Don't do it!" .... Lifting the cup to her lips and drinking it in one gulp ... "Noooooooooo!!! She'll be pouring herself another cup now!" .... then she surprisingly put the lid back on and put the bottle in the cupboard, "Ahhh, is she trying to prove she can just take the one drink and be okay?" ... to then noticing a pen mark on the bottle marking the amount of alcohol inside ... "Oh no! What she going to do now?" .... Then again, she could just throw the bottle down the sick and tell Mick she didn't have any and it was to save her the temptation? Or would that just be a little too easy? It'll be interesting to see what happens next, will she come clean and tell Mick she just had the one, or will he find the bottle before she gets a chance to explain herself? 

Poor poor Sharon, no one should ever have to face burying their child. Letitia Dean has been fantastic the past few episodes. She really despises the Mitchell's at the minute doesn't she? Not even accepting a wreath off Ben, Lola and Lexi ... she didn't even want any of the Mitchell's at the funeral, she's even going by her maiden name now, "Sharon Watts" and even though Phil adopted Dennis, she's now given him his old name "Dennis Rickman Jr". It's as if she's wiped the Mitchell name from her life for good, mainly because she blames Phil for Dennis's death. I found the moment when everyone went the the cars a bit emotional, with the music playing. It seems really touching as a send off for a young character, everyone getting in their cars and then people on the Square watching them drive away, I just found it very touching. Since Ian gave Karen that warning about leaving Walford with Kayden, I've said I wonder how Sharon will react, I'm a bit surprised she seemed okay with it, probably because she's seen it as him doing her a favour, but surely there must be something else? I do think somehow, someway, Sharon will find out what Ian did ... whether it's from Dotty or someone else or another twist of fate. Ooooohh Phil is back, where has he been and what has he got to say to Sharon? She didn't look best pleased to see him when he walked into the Vic! It's all about to kick off tomorrow, I don't know about you guys but i'm really looking forward to seeing how the episode will unfold tomorrow! 

What did you guys think of tonight's episode? Are you glad to see Phil back? What do you think is going to happen next for Linda, will Mick find out?! I'll back again tomorrow another blog! I hope you'll all enjoy your Tuesday! Look after yourself and keep safe! Goodnight everyone! xXx

[afangirlwashere]

We’ll always be back then (p.p. x reader)

Summary: A good thing ends to enable another good one to happen.

Warnings: a few swear words here and there, some angst 

A/N: I got really sad thinking about losing Tony and now Spider-Man in the same year and this happened.

Song inspo: this absolute gem that inspired the title, Where did all my friends go - Jamie Campbell Bower, Alone is no together - The Darling Buds

Masterlist

Peter’s stomach twisted and turned as his eyes fixed on the Iron Man helmet set on a small table in the living room.  His hands damped and he swallowed so much saliva that throwing up seemed like a very real option. 

He looked away trying to calm his senses but when he saw Pepper’s small polite smile while Morgan sat in her lap playing with her mother’s hands, staring at Pepper’s wedding ring, he felt his breathing quicken.  Morgan’s eyes wandered around the room as her little fingers kept twisting the wedding ring and her eyes eventually met with Peter’s. 

He got introduced to Morgan today before the funeral ceremony but they barely spoke to each other. It was only now that he could see her face for a little longer that he realized - she has Tony’s eyes.  They’re big and the same shade of dark brown. Though Peter couldn’t think of Tony’s eyes without remembering the last time he saw them he knew that whenever his mentor looked at him they were warm with admiration and love. They were in his last moments too. 

Morgan’s, on the other hand, weren’t like that at all. Even though Pepper had introduced him as ‘The Peter Parker’ to her he was still a complete stranger. And Morgan was smart for her age, or at least that’s what Happy told him this morning when he drove them to the lake. One of the first things you teach your child is stranger danger and the house was full of people who were exactly that. So she stayed as close to her mother as possible. 

Peter felt his body move without knowing where it was headed. He pushed the glass doors open to get out of the house and maybe puke somewhere more private.

“Peter? Are you okay?” he heard his aunt’s faint voice. She was the one talking to Pepper right now. 

“Just need some fresh air...” he mumbled so quietly that he was sure none of them heard him. 

His tie felt like it was choking him but it was impossible to loosen with shaky hands. His feet fumbled from the stairs and that’s when he noticed a figure standing on the bridge to the lake. 

At first, he thought it must have been one of the guests because all the women had some kind of a black dress and a coat. But the closer he got the more unsure he was. 

As he was opening his mouth to speak a small figure ran past him brushing his leg lightly. Morgan rammed in the girl's leg with full force almost knocking her into the lake. 

“You scared me dumpling.” she turned around and stroked Morgan’s hair delicately “What are you doing outside alone?” Shortly after the unknown girl’s head jerked up noticing they weren’t completely alone. 

Peter’s own stranger danger flags were going red at this point. He didn’t see this girl at the ceremony or inside for that matter. Even though Morgan seemed to be close with her - a lot closer than with him which stung - his first instinct was to take Morgan back inside and protect her from a possibly dangerous person.

“The nice lady wanted to go after Pete but mommy said that I should go see if he’s alright. I think she wants us to be friends like him and daddy.” Morgan watched the girl kneel to her.

“That’s nice.” she fixed the white collar on the little Stark’s dress.

Peter’s breath hitched in his lungs for a second.  He appreciated Pepper trying to formulate a better relationship between them and Morgan being a smarty pants picked up on it immediately.

“I also wanted to ask,” Morgan hugged herself trying to warm up, “uncle Happy said he’ll take me for some cheeseburgers and I thought you could come with us if you want?” 

The girl gave her a quick smile. “Of course. Are you going to invite anyone else?” she shot an obvious look towards Peter trying to help her out. 

Morgan rocked back and forth tugging at her dress. “Do you want to come with us, Pete?” 

“I’d love to,” he muttered cracking a tiny smile “if you want me there.” 

Morgan nodded still rocking her little body shyly. 

“Why don’t you go inside and tell your mom where we’re headed munchkin? I’ll come to the house in a minute and find you a jacket so you won’t catch a cold, okay?” 

They both watched Pepper opening the glass door when her daughter tapped on it. Peter saw Pepper’s polite smile again and then he noticed that the unknown girl had her hand in the air waving tenderly. 

“I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Peter Parker.” he sticks out his own hand to shake.

“I know who you are...” the girl blurts out. 

Peter’s eyes widen slightly and he can’t help but think in panic ‘Does she know I’m Spider-Man?’.

When she notices his shock her mouth opens for a few seconds before she finds the courage to speak again. “Sorry that sounded kinda creepy. I meant he... um... They... There’s this photograph in the kitchen that I remember seeing whenever I was washing the dishes. It’s you and Mr. Stark holding a certificate upside down and doing bunny ears to each other. I always thought it was funny but I never saw you around or heard anyone mention you and one day I asked Mr. Stark about it...” she paused and looked away for a second taking a breath of fresh air. “He told me that you were an intern at the Stark Industries before you blipped. I didn’t ask more about you it seemed like a sensitive topic for him. But I think he kept it there to remember you.” 

Peter felt tears prickle his already red eyes so he lowered his head nodding and sniffing. 

“I’m sorry if I agitated you I really didn’t mean to.” she stepped closer to him putting her hand out finally “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Morgan’s babysitter.” they shook hands shortly and firmly. “If you’re worried about her acting weird you don’t have to. She’ll warm up to you.” 

Peter’s lips pressed together in a line as he nodded once more. “So... How did you become a babysitter? You seem kind of young.” 

“Yeah well... Same applies to you.” 

“That’s fair.” he cracked a smile. 

(Y/N) dug her hands in her pockets and squinted. “It’s a longer story than you’d expect. It includes a broken bike, a breakin, the Iron Man armor, some broken vases and an almost trip to the AE.”

The only thing Peter managed to say after that was a quiet wow. 

(Y/N) shrugged. “What can I say? When an expensive sports car ends up in your poor neighborhood and Tony Stark - after fixing your bike - drags that old piece of shit to the seventh floor it’s not something you just tide over. Pretty sure my mom almost had a heart attack when she saw him in our living room.” 

“I can relate to your mom.” he chuckled thinking of his first time meeting Mr. Stark. “How much are you over to watch Morgan?” 

“Once a month or two. They never liked leaving Morgan alone too much. There have been a few emergencies when an expensive car would just pull up in front of our building and a grumpy Mr. Hogan would drive me here. I like to think that I grew on him after two years.” 

She made the boy smile again. It wasn’t hard to notice that it wasn’t a completely honest smile. His eyes didn’t crinkle and his teeth didn’t show.  So she made a promise to herself that day. (Y/N) swore to not stop until he starts smiling like that again. She owed it to the man that gave his life to bring him and so many others back. 

“I’m sorry if I come off as nosy,” Peter looked back to the house as if he wanted to make sure nobody was listening in. “But why weren’t you here at the ceremony?” 

He almost immediately regretted his question because (Y/N) bit on her lip and averted her eyes to the lake. Just as he was about to apologize and try to make a shitty joke she spoke. “I-I didn’t feel like I belong here. With everyone that was so close to him... Mrs. Potts invited me but I just... I thought it would be better if I  showed up later for Morgan? Because I was the one who was with her when it happened.” she closed her eyes and then immediately looked up. Peter knew that she was trying to suppress tears. He did that move too. “I just remember some strange guy with a red cape and pretty intense facial hair if you ask me,” her eyes were teary when she let out a chuckle still trying to keep this horrible story lighthearted. “Opening a portal in my room and Mrs. Potts had the blue armor I saw in the garage once. She said that it’s urgent and I jumped right in to take care of Morgan. I saw the news that people were coming back so I figured there must be a fight going on. But I didn’t really know what was going on until she came back with Mr. Rhodes.” 

Peter felt like an asshole for making her talk about something that obviously traumatized her to the core. He himself couldn’t even talk about the whole fight nor his last moments spent with Mr. Stark. But he couldn’t share his story. He was just Peter Parker to her. A guy that had an internship at the Stark Industries. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” he croaked out. “I can’t even imagine how awful that must have been.” oh but he could.

(Y/N) wiped her nose. “We should probably stop making each other cry and get inside or they’re going to go for those cheeseburgers without us.” she stopped next to Peter waiting for a response. 

He looked back at the lake one more time, the reactor nestled in the flowery wreath was out of sight a long time ago but he still wanted to try and seek it for assurance. 

“Okay. Maybe you could tell me the story of how exactly Mr. Stark ended up dragging your bike to the seventh floor on our way?” they walked to the house alongside each other. 

“Sure!” (Y/N) grinned at the boy. “So, it started on a calm thursday afternoon when I got the genius idea to go bike without a map...” 

[skulltramarine]

💐

*[Lifting his favorite mug to his teeth, Phthalo fully intends to gulp down the final remains of his coffee when he's interrupted by a knocking at the front door. While it isn't nearly as early as the caffeinated beverage might suggest, he's almost certain there's no company expected today; for all of Bleu's friends coming and going, all the people who traffic the house daily, few of them knock and even fewer show up entirely unannounced. Shrugging to himself though nobody is in the kitchen to see it, he turns and hops off of the stool he was sitting atop at the island in the center of the room. Brushing a stray crumb from his shirt, straightening his jacket as he makes his way to the door, he does try to look a little more presentable. Personally he's more prone to a "what you see is what you get" attitude, but well. With Bleu already having so much on his plate, already tending to be criticized from many angles, the last thing the little skeleton wants to do now is invite people to take verbal swipes at his love over his own shortcomings. An unlikely event, surely... probably, but it's not like it's hard to answer looking more than half-dressed.]

*[All that aside, he finally does open the door-- peeking around it as he goes, so as to see who it is and what their intentions are before it fully exposes him to them. A protective barrier of sorts between the rest of the house and the visitor, Phthalo always mindful of the fact that Mado is inside the house too. (That's the big mom energy, for you.) The sun is stubborn today, casting brilliant light and warmth over even the wintry cold of the season... and maybe that's why, then, that the colorful flowers bloom so brightly before his eye.]

*[Realizing he provided the person with no greeting through his dumb blinking, when they speak up themselves.]

" ...Is there a, um, Phthalo here? Am I saying that right? "

*[Looking between them, and the flowers again. Nope, that's definitely not how pronounce it-- but he doesn't mind, really. Can't blame them for trying when all they've got to go on is tricky spelling and a prayer. The roses swirl in assorted shades of red and pink, the bouquet wreathed with baby's breath and a pretty, transulscent paper. He can smell their scent even from the short distance, always fond of the aroma roses carry. And he can already tell he'll be keeping some of that smooth looking paper, once they've inevitably wilted.]

* " uh. yep, that's me... these're fer me, ya mean? "

*[They nod in response, handing the delivery over, and he can't fight the color that dusts his cheekbones when they give him a knowing sort of look. Not judging harshly, if their grin is anything to go by. Phthalo thanks them as they depart and the door closes to leave him standing there holding a bouquet... much bigger than he had anticipated, now that it's in his hold. Leaning a little to get a better smell of the vibrant flora, he plucks the card from their midst and reads it over. Smiling wide now, looking like a smitten fool in his-- their-- own damn house.]

*[Spudnik circles his feet once, before sitting before him to look up with that big ol' eye of his. Even this innocent look from his dog has him feeling teased, like both Spud and the flower delivery person had been in on this joke. Imagining the little pooch saying something akin to, "You've got it bad, huh?". Chuckling, he gently plucks a bit of the baby's breath from the display and carefully kneels down to position it behind one of his canine companion's proportionally massive ears. A cold nose pointed up as he tries to see what's been done to him, likely hoping there's a treat or something similarly tasty on his head, and it falls to the floor to be given a thorough and wet sniffing.]

* " aaand one fer you too, buddy. don' want ya feelin' left out, do we? "

*[A little extra pep in his step as he stands to full height and returns to his abandoned coffee in the kitchen, setting the bouquet in a vase at the center of the kitchen island to be admired by anybody who enters the room. Finding himself taking long, pining glances as he then polishes off his bean brew and pulls his phone from his jacket pocket. Firing off a text to a certain, romantic someone. Bleu always was one for these types of little gestures, wasn't he? Even after all this time, it's like he's still perpetually trying to win the "heart" he's already been given. It'd be a lie if Phthalo were to say it isn't working on him just as perpetually.]

*[The first text Bleu receives simply reads, "and ya say i'm the sneaky one?" Followed of course, by a very heartfelt and genuine "they're beautiful. i love ya, ya cheesy dork. ya better hurry up and come home soon." ]