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house-of-galathynius · 3 years

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Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

Prologue: The Night Before

The moon was high in the sky as Aelin made her way through the palace courtyard and towards the river that ran beyond. It was well past the time anyone would be out here. She was confident in her abilities at keeping hidden as she strolled down the path and stopped as she reached the waters edge.

In the winter she wouldn’t even hesitate at crossing the river. Terrasen winters were harsh and bitterly cold. Parts of the river where it flowed slowly would freeze over from mid-December until February. But it was September, and that meant the water was running freely; so Aelin had no choice but to jump in and swim quickly across. If it wasn’t for her fire magic that was able to dry her off within seconds, she would hate that crossing more.

She checked behind her, ensuring no one was following and quickly made off into the night.

The walk from the palace into the city itself was not long if you were taking the normal route. For Aelin, she would have to go the long way round; traipsing through thick brush and woodland to reach the edge of the city.

After too many scrapes and close encounters with the ground she saw the distant lights of the city. As she entered the city walls themselves she marvelled at the white stone buildings and the way they glowed in the moonlight, the streetlights flickering in the shadows. It was louder here, the taverns only just opening for the night. A group of Fae stumbled down the street, arm in arm, laughing at each other.

Aelin knew she was privileged, to live in a palace, to have maids and cooks and cleaners. She was happy there, with her family. But sometimes, when she would sneak off to see Sam, she wished she could have a life like this; a life of freedom, to do what she wanted whenever she wanted. The stolen moments with Sam were ones she cherished.

She approached the large store front, a dark wooden sign hanging above the door reading Little Library of Orynth. The real library of Orynth sat above the city, it’s walls protected with magic to ward off any unwanted attention. And whilst Aelin loved that library, she came to find the old librarians there to be too strict, too stuffy, to fully enjoy the books they held.

She had found Sam’s library years ago; when it was not Sam’s library. Her father had taken her there to browse the collection of romance books which were not available elsewhere. Since then, she had come back more times than she could remember.

Sam had always been there, in the shadows of the towering shelves and the dusty books. It hadn’t been until she was eighteen and Sam twenty that they had crossed paths properly. They had bonded over their mutual love for a series of books and had continued from there. It had been two years and every moment she had with Sam was precious.

She gave a few gentle taps on the oak door and waited. It was only a few seconds later when Sam was there, a smile on his face, dust covering his clothes and his hair messy. His classic look.

“You really need a haircut.” She grinned at him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“And you really need to learn time management.” He kissed her right back and pulled her into the darkened library.

“I was trying to get away sooner, but Aedion was complaining about his new training—“ she trailed off. “You don’t need to hear about Aedion’s boring life.”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. She took in his scent, old books, leather and a faint hint of lavender, before bringing her lips to his own.

She lost herself in the softness of his lips, the way he caressed her head as she leaned into him. Her hands found his hair and slid through the messy locks.

Sam broke away first, his hand finding her own, and slipping his fingers through hers. “I have a treat for you.”

“I hope it’s chocolate. Kasper has me on a diet.” Kasper was her trainer, and he had put her on a new diet, to try and curb her appetite for sweets.

Sam laughed. “Kasper can try, but we both know you will not be stopped when it comes to chocolate.” He continued walking, up the stairs and into the apartment above the library. It was rare to find somewhere like this in the city. Most buildings would house two or three shops over several stories; people’s homes were found just outside of the city walls, tucked away amongst the foothills of the Staghorns. Sam had been lucky. The old man who had owned this place before him had converted the floors above into a large, airy apartment. The ceilings were high, dark oak beams jutted across the ceilings, the walls a light beige, and the floor an old herringbone design, worn with years of footsteps. There were little touches of Sam dotted around; a painting he had purchased on a trip to the Southern Continent, a large rug which Aelin had bought him for his birthday. Scattered amongst his things were her own. Books, shirts, a hairbrush which perched on the mantle. She could imagine living here with him, and sometimes it hit her that none of this was permanent, that her love with Sam would one day have to end.

“It’s not much, but I found it when I was digging through some old trunks of books I found.”

Aelin snapped away from her thoughts and looked towards Sam who was holding a badly wrapped book. She took it from his hands, turning it over, shaking it to check that it wasn’t, in fact, chocolate.

“What’s the occasion?” She sat on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her.

“Does there have to be an occasion for me to get the woman I love a gift?” She blushed at the words. It was still felt foreign to her, the concept of love, and the idea that she was in love with Sam and he with her. And every time he said he loved her, it would fill her with a warmth that she couldn’t describe.

She hastily unwrapped the book and her breath caught in her throat. “Sam… this is—“ she opened the cover. “This is too much.”

“I saw it and immediately thought of you. It’s from Eyllwe. I remembered you used to have a friend from there and you had always said—“

“I love it, Sam. Thank you.” She swept her fingers over the patterns and ridges of the leather, admiring the detail in the small book. The fact he had remembered Nehemia, that he had remembered what she had meant to Aelin… her heart swelled.

She didn’t know what to say, so she showed him instead. Slowly peppering kisses along his jaw, lower.

And lower.

He moaned at the feel of her. A sound that sparked something within. The lazy touches became faster as they both raced to take the others clothes off first; which were hastily thrown to the floor, neither caring where they landed. They were wrapped in each other’s embrace, their mouths moving together, Sam’s soft hands caressing her curves leaving warmth wherever he touched. Her breath was heavy as she let Sam pull her across the room, never straying too far from the other.

They were moving towards the bed; groans mixed into the frantic kisses, their touches fevered and rough as they made up for the two weeks apart. But Sam was gentle as he laid her on the mattress, his eyes devouring her. She heated at his touch, as he showed her all the ways he had missed her.

And when they lay there later, Sam’s head on her shoulder, his fingers trailing patterns along her skin, she didn’t think she could want anything more than she did right then.

The two of them dozed on and off, until Aelin’s stomach growled. Sam huffed a laugh at the sound. But neither of them made to move, they stayed wrapped in each others arms for a while longer. Sam was the first to break the silence.

“Run away with me.” Aelin balked at the invitation. Turning her head to look at Sam. He was looking back at her. “I know it’s insane; but just listen…”

He stood from the bed, rummaging to find some pants. Aelin watched his movements as he made around the room gathering up papers and books, before he laid them on the bed in front of her. “I’ve done my research. We could head to the Southern Continent and with the money I have saved and the inheritance from Terrance I can buy us a house with enough land for horses, enough room to raise children. It would be perfect, and the Southern Continent is beautiful, I know you would love it, Aelin.” Of course she would love it. And she was sure she would love the life that Sam was proposing, but in her soul she knew that it was a dream, one that would likely never be able to come true. She hated to ruin the bliss they had been in, hated the look on Sam’s face as he saw her hesitation. She shook her head once, clearing her mind, trying to think of the easiest way to say that his dream would always be a dream. But the words didn’t come.

Sam spoke again, “I know it’s insane. And you would be giving up a lot, I know. But there are other people who can take the throne Aelin.” He took her hands in his, eyes wide with excitement. “People have given it up for less.”

“What of my family, Sam?” Aelin stood then, grabbing the clothes that were strewn across the floor. “I love you Sam; you know that. But it’s one thing for me to be sneaking around with you here in Orynth, but to runaway from here completely?” She shook her head. “I could not do that to my family… to my kingdom.” Sam’s face fell, she saw the defeat in his features. “Is it not enough that we have each other right now?”

“Of course it is. But then what happens when you have to marry, when you have to produce heirs for the throne?” This had been a conversation she had wanted to avoid at all costs. She would be expected to marry, and her family would certainly not let her marry Sam. There was also the other small problem of her immortality. “We pretend that everything is perfect, we have our stolen nights, and we ignore the dark cloud that has been over us since we began this thing.”

“Can we not do this now? Please.” Aelin put on her shoes. “I have to go. Guests are arriving tomorrow and I need some sleep.”

“So we’re not going to talk about this?” He looked so hurt, so devastated at her leaving.

“Not tonight.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she was gone.

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spine-buster · 4 years

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 23

A/N: *sings* Taaaake me to church...

February 25th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was officially 22 years old.

Despite all the events of yesterday, she was happy. She had a few texts from friends and some Instagram notifications already waiting for her when she woke up, and they put her in a good mood. Her parents called her as she was putting on her makeup, and talked to her until she left to get breakfast downstairs. She already knew she would FaceTime Siena after practice when they got back to the hotel.

When she got downstairs to the continental breakfast, some of the guys were already there, and she knew everyone else was on their way. Jake was already there, wishing her a happy birthday at the scrambled eggs. Mitch was there too, who poured her some orange juice as he wished her a happy birthday as well. Jason said she should be sitting down at the table while everyone else got her the food she wanted. She giggled.

Willy and Kappy arrived together. Kappy wished her a quick happy birthday before he started to get his food. Willy lingered by her. “You talk to your parents yet?”

“They called me this morning, yeah.”

“Siena?”

“We’re FaceTiming after practice.”

William nodded his head understandingly. “Happy birthday,” he smiled softly.

She smiled equally as softly. “Thanks.”

“You gonna be blasting that Taylor Swift song or what?” Travis Dermott asked he appeared beside them, plate piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-twoooOooOOOooo!” he sang aloud in a horrible high-pitched voice, definitely trying to mimic Taylor Swift but of course failing miserably.

William set down his plate and put his hands over his hears dramatically. Travis began dancing while trying not to have the bacon spill over his plate. Aberdeen couldn’t help but laugh. “Were you doing that when you turned 22?” she asked.

“You bet! That song was on a 24 hour loop,” he smiled.

“Poor Kat.”

“She lived. So what’s your birthday wish?”

“For you guys to win tonight,” she winked.

“We can make that happen,” he winked back. “Can’t we, Willy?”

“My ear drums burst after your awful singing. What did you say?”

“I said WE CAN WIN TONIGHT, CAN’T WE?” he yelled so loud other patrons in the eating area looked towards them.

Aberdeen shielded her face and William turned completely around so they couldn’t see his face. “You’re the worst, pal,” William said to Travis. “And by the way,” he shifted focus to Aberdeen, “we’re definitely winning the game tonight. For you and only you. Bust also so that we don’t have to hear any more of that.”

***

“Did the boys promise you they’d win for your birthday?” Brendan asked Aberdeen as they walked together through the halls to their box for the game.

“They did,” she nodded. “This morning at breakfast.”

“Think they’ll be able to do it?” he asked. They both flashed their credentials to the security guard who let them through easily. Aberdeen could even see Kyle down at the other end of the hallway waiting.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I hope so. It would be kind of nice.”

“No hoping,” Brendan shook his head. “Do you have faith they can win the game tonight for your birthday?” he asked again, his voice sterner.

“Yes,” she answered automatically, nodding her head. She did have faith in them. She had faith that William would probably show off tonight like he showed off when Siena was in the building in Ottawa, but she wasn’t exactly going to vocalize that out loud. “Do you?”

He took a moment to think about it as he looked at her. It wasn’t an automatic reaction like hers was. “Yes,” he finally said. “Because I know how much they adore you.”

***

“Look at him fuckin’ go,” Kyle said with a giant smirk on his face as he watched the replay of William’s goal. It was beautiful. The Leafs were on a powerplay and he was sitting pretty right in front of the net. After a feed from Mitch not going exactly where he wanted it go, William ended up sneaking it in between his legs and putting it in the net, top shelf. Bardown. Beautiful.

“He just surpassed his dad in goals not even two weeks ago and now this. Now he’s just showing off,” Brendan giggled, looking at the replay himself.

Aberdeen watched replay after replay. “This is absolutely unbelievable by Nylander” she heard the announcer say as he broke down the play and the goal. She was so enamoured by the coverage and the breakdown and the smile on his face at the end of it that she almost didn’t notice what Brendan whispered to Kyle.

“Think he’s showing off for someone?”

***

Brendan made sure he and Aberdeen took their time walking down to the locker room after the 4-3 win. He made sure to have his cell phone constantly in his hand, waiting for the right text to come through. He made sure that when he did, he hurried down there with her tagging along.

Aberdeen followed Brendan into the locker room. Brendan nodded at Sheldon. Sheldon nodded at him.

“Alright boys! Everyone get in here!” Sheldon yelled out to the team. Everyone settled down and came back in the locker room, either standing or sitting in their stalls, their gear half on or half off and their hair still sweaty from the game. Brendan and Aberdeen were in the back, standing just in front of one of the entrances, making sure not to block Jack Campbell’s view. “We came back hard tonight. We showed them what we were made of. We held them off in the third period. We stuck with our game. Willy with that game winning goal that I’m sure is gonna be on every highlight reel this season,” Sheldon smiled, and some of the boys clapped and whooped for him. “It was a good fight. It was a good…hey…hey wait. Where’s Spezza?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “Where’s Spezz?”

Everybody began looking around the room. Even Aberdeen started looking. “Spezz?” Tyson asked really loudly.

Silence.

And then…

“Haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Aberdeen saw Jason walk into the locker room carrying a giant slab cake, with 22 candles lit up throughout. It started with just his voice, but as the words dragged on, more voices joined. She saw giant smiles on the entire locker room’s faces as they sang along, and she immediately covered her face in embarrassment, getting way too emotional. Even the cameraman that they sometimes brought on road trips to film content for Blueprints was filming her.

“Haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu…Haaapppy Biiirthdaaayyy dear Aaaaaaaberdeeeeeeeeeen, haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu!”

The entire locker room began cheering and clapping loudly. Aberdeen couldn’t believe it. She shook her head at everything that was happening – the cake, the singing, the filming, the shit-eating grins on everyone’s faces, particularly Jason’s and Brendan’s – and blew out her candles in one big blow, causing everyone to cheer even louder than before. She knew she had an embarrassed look on her face – because she truly wasn’t expecting anything like this – but she was so grateful for the gesture. Her eyes were even tearing up, though she didn’t know why.

“Aberdeen, I think I speak for everyone when I say we wish you a very, very happy birthday in your twenty-second year of life,” Brendan began. “You came into our lives in September, and since then, we’ve grown more and more in love with you, your outfits, the books you bring on the plane…” he motioned with his hands for the guys to pitch in.

“Your no-nonsense attitude!” Jason contributed.

“Your rockstar Halloween costumes!” Travis yelled.

“Your Willy fashion roasting!” Kappy yelled.

Everybody laughed. Brendan laughed too before focusing back on her. “From the streets of good ol’ Etobicoke to 50 Bay Street…you’ll always be part of the Maple Leafs family, Aberdeen. Always.”

Aberdeen’s breath hitched in her throat. She nodded her head. Those were some very kind words from a very powerful man, and she knew just how much they meant. And the fact that he was saying it in front of the team meant so much more. She thought it would be over and done with, but Kappy and Travis had other plans. “Speeeeeeeech! Speeeeeeeech!” they chanted. “Speeeeeeeeeech!” everyone else followed, expecting it like she’d just won an Oscar.

(Maybe she deserved one, since she’d been sneaking around with William and nobody seemed to be the wiser.)

“There’s not a lot I’m gonna be able to say without crying,” she said, still shaking her head. She was still very well aware that the cameraman was still recording. “But seriously, thank you guys so much. This means a lot to me, considering how much of a family we are here. You guys, I…I can’t say enough about you guys. Honestly. But for how much you might love me, I hope you guys know how much I love you all too…”

The guys began clapping when they realized she really couldn’t say anything else because she would have gotten emotional. But it was Brendan who spoke and eliminated the feeling by screaming “ONE MORE TIME! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ABERDEEN!”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!” they all rushed towards her screaming, engulfing her in a giant mob as she screamed at the fact that twenty-plus men were about the crowd her like she was a fellow hockey player. The only one who didn’t was Jason so he could save the cake. Thank God.

“The gift!”

“Where’s the gift?!”

“Somebody get the gift!!!”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows. Mitch ran from where Jason had come from, hockey pants and socks still on, and brought out a giant box from the back. He placed in right in front of Aberdeen. “What did you guys do?”

“We started thinking about it at the beginning of the month—” Kasperi began, but Jason quickly cut him off.

“—Jen and Bee said we should get you something. But I mean we all thought of the idea of what to get you,” he said, throwing a look towards Kappy. “John went out and bought it, but like we all pitched in.”

Aberdeen kept unwrapped until she tore a part of the wrapping paper and saw the Louis Vuitton logo on the box. She gasped out loud. She didn’t care that everybody in the room was watching her at this point. “Whaaaaaaat did you guys do?!” she shrieked, ripping off the paper even quicker now. When the wrapping paper was off and she opened the box, she gasped dramatically. Everybody had pitched in to buy her a Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière carry-on bag in the damier azur canvas colour. “Are you for real?!” she asked, delicately moving the tissue paper to the side and taking the luggage bag out of the box.

“You like it?” Jason was smiling at her reaction.

“Now we all match with our Louis Vuitton!” Auston winked.

“Yeah, and now you can’t make fun of my fashion anymore!” William yelled.

“Oh yes I can,” Aberdeen replied automatically, not even looking at him – still admiring her new bag too much. “Seriously—I—what made you all decide you were going to get me Louis freaking Vuitton?”

“You roasting Willy’s fashion choices, actually,” Jason laughed out. Brendan laughed too. “Just thought you deserved something nice too, for putting up with us all the time.”

“I’m still making fun of Willy’s fashion choices,” she deadpanned.

“We figured.”

Aberdeen didn’t know who cut the cake. All she knew was that she was handed a piece once she was done groveling over her new bag. She didn’t know when the music started playing. All she knew was someone took her phone and started blasting her Spotify, and a weird variety of songs came on: “Vossi Bop” by Stormzy, which most of the guys vibed to; “Dancing Queen” by ABBA, because of course; and “(Dancin’) On A Saturday Night” by Barry Blue, which caused Tyson to grab her and start dancing with her comically. The guys were eating cake and taking off their gear. The media was still peeking in though their time and interviews had long gone. She wondered if they got pieces of cake.

When everything was said and done, everybody loaded onto the bus to get back to the hotel. She still had a stupid smile on her face as everyone filed in, carrying the box in her hands like a party-size pizza. She put it onto the seat beside her before taking out her phone to respond to some of the last messages she got from her friends, and saw some notifications that piqued her interest.

@kristenshilton: Leafs are celebrating a birthday in the locker room after their Tampa game. Cake and everything. I’m told that it’s chocolate.

@kristenshilton: ‘Vossi Bop’ by UK rapper Stormzy is playing. Nylander tells me, “It came up on Aberdeen’s phone. It’s her birthday. We promised we’d win the game for her.”

Aberdeen Bloom, in question: Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.

Aberdeen wondered if this was the first time her name had been put out there by the media. She honestly had never searched her name on Twitter before so she had no clue. Now that it was out in the open, what would happen? What would Brendan say? Would he want it out there? She didn’t have the answers. The only thing she knew was that it didn’t matter right now, because it was her 22nd birthday. She could deal with it later – if she even needed to deal with it.

She went through her unanswered texts and Instagram messages thanking everybody for their birthday wishes. Just as she was about the locker her phone again, she opened her email inbox, noticing a few spam emails from sites she’d signed up for.

But one in particular caught her eye. She opened it immediately.

Dear Ms. Bloom,

Thank you for your submission to the “Memoirs” section of Toronto Life. We have read your essay “Maple Leaf For…Now” but regret to inform you that our team of editors has decided not to publish the essay. We thank you for your time and submission.

Best regards,

Sandy Miller, Senior Editor at Toronto Life Magazine

She immediately closed the email. She didn’t need to read it twice. She didn’t need to dwell on the feeling of being rejected. Again.

It was a quick drive back to the hotel. She followed everybody up to their respective floors and rooms, getting some final happy birthdays before she opened her own door and escaped into her own room. She put the giant box next to her luggage – she’d wonder how she was going to handle the packing tomorrow. She took her phone out of her pocket, seeing a text from William already.

i’ll let u know when i’m coming maybe 20-30 mins? the guys are pretty hyped and i want to make sure they’re in bed

Ok. No problem.

brendan was right tonight u know we all fell in love with u from the beginning i hope u know that

😇

She waited patiently yet impatiently. During the time she was waiting for him, she’d washed off all her makeup, took a quick shower, and even changed into her pajamas. She debated whether or not she should greet him with a sheetmask on, but then she figured that it was her birthday and he’d probably want to kiss her all night, so she decided against it, even as a joke. There was no way she’d waste a sheet mask.

She was sitting on her bed scrolling through her phone when she got the text from Willy. She prepared herself, and when she heard the slight knock on her door, she practically jumped out of bed and ran to the door. She opened it quickly. “Hey,” she smiled, closing the door behind him, even locking it for good measure.

“Hey.”

“What a goal tonight, Will!” she giggled as he got closer, wrapping his arms around her.

“For you,” was all he said. He apparently didn’t want to talk hockey – regardless of how pretty his goal was – or waste any more time. He just began kissing her. Big, open-mouthed, passionate kisses as he walked them towards her bed, falling on top of it when it reached the back of Aberdeen’s knees. Like many times before, they were making out like teenagers; they couldn’t help it. William found her insatiable, and Aberdeen found him just as much, if not more insatiable. She snaked her hands underneath his hoodie and took it off, leaving him shirtless. He did the same to her, leaving her topless in her bed.

“Aberdeen?” he mumbled against the skin between her breasts after what felt like hours of kissing, touching, and grinding against each other’s bodies.

“Yeah?” she managed to get out, though she could feel how hot her body was.

“Can I taste you?”

“Huh?” she blurted out in the most vulgar way that was humanly possible, completely embarrassing herself. She was sure William was going walk out the door right now and never turn back.

William snorted. “Can I taste you?” he asked again, slower, with a dumb smile on his face as he looked up at her.

“I…I…” her chest began to heave slightly. “I mean…okay. But um…I’ve never…” she kept trying to find the right words, but when she thought about what she actually needed to say, it just made her more embarrassed and more prone to stutter out her response. “I mean, I’ve never had…you know, anyone go down on me before.”

William stopped, furrowing his brows. “Wait…you’ve…you’ve never—”

“No.”

“You haven’t been eaten out before?”

“No.”

William seemed shocked. “But you…you’ve had boyfriends…?”

“Yes, Will. God.”

“So…” he was trying to piece everything together. “That guy I met, Zane or whatever his name was…he never ate you out in the entire year you dated?” he asked. Aberdeen shook her head. “What kind assholes did you date?” he shrieked.

“Arrrrrggghhhhh,” Aberdeen grumbled, covering her face with her hands in complete embarrassment. “This is so embarrassing!”

“Noooo no no no, come on, it’s okay,” William kept repeating and cooing as he pushed himself back up, one hand placing itself on her stomach to caress the skin there and on her sides while he leaned on his other arm. “Aberdeen, come on. It’s okay.”

“Is it though? Is it really?” she was peeking through her fingers like a kid.

“Of course it is,” he assured her. “It means I get to be the first one.” Aberdeen removed her hand from in front of her eyes so she could give him a look. “Was there a reason why it never happened?”

Aberdeen shrugged. “I mean…I’ve always been a bit self-conscious about it. Like about how I’d react or how I’d, like…taste,” she used his own words. “But Zane said he didn’t like to go down on girls, so I sort of never, like, asked for it. He was like that from the beginning. And I felt embarrassed to ask if I was just gonna get shot down. I mean…I wanted to try it. He just never would.”

“Did you give him blowjobs?”

Aberdeen knew she shouldn’t be getting uncomfortable, because she was with William and she was comfortable with him and trusted him completely, but it was a direct line of questioning she wasn’t used to. Though she talked about her hookups or past boyfriends with Siena or people like Kasha, she didn’t go into extreme depth like that. “Yeah…a whole bunch of them, actually…” she admitted.

She watched as William shook his head, getting angry. “That guy was a fucking asshole, and I’ll look through every stupid fucking cubicle in the city if I have to so I can punch him in the face for you.”

Aberdeen let out a sigh, running her fingers through his hair to push it back. “Does that make me lame? Be honest.”

“No, minskatt. It does not make you lame,” William asserted. He brought his hand up to caress her face, and trailed his fingers up to her new scar just above her eyebrow. He touched it delicately and she didn’t wince. “Listen…I want to taste you. I want to make you feel good,” he continued softly. “I know you’re nervous. It’s okay. I promise that I’ll go slow, okay? And I’ll stop whenever you tell me to stop.”

Aberdeen was nervous – perhaps more nervous than she’d ever been – but she nodded her head. “Okay,” she said.

“You’re sure?” William confirmed with her one more time.

“Yeah,” she nodded again. “I’m sure. Just…go slow.”

He’d heard her request those words before. “I will, minskatt. I love you.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

He began kissing her again, trying to get her as comfortable and relaxed as possible – how she was before he proposed the idea. They kissed again for a long time, William making sure he could sense her comfortability before he began to move down, running his lips and tongue down to her chest. His lips left her skin only to take off her pajama pants and underwear, slipping them off slowly at the same time before discarding them to the side. He could feel her shiver. “You alright?” he asked. She nodded her head. “I’m going to make you feel great, I promise.”

“You better.”

They both giggled slightly. “Just tell me when to stop if you want me to stop.”

“Okay.”

He continued to kiss his way down her body, eventually spreading her legs open and settling in between them. He could feel her take a deep breath, so he kissed some more – along her belly button, her hips, on the insides of her thighs. When he did that, there was another shiver. “Minskatt?”

“What?” she asked, like she was having trouble even getting the word out.

“Hold my hand.”

Aberdeen looked down. Seeing his face in between her thighs was quite the sight to behold. She grabbed onto one of his hands and intertwined their fingers. She could feel his thumb rubbing her hand assuredly. She didn’t think the first flick of the tongue to taste her was coming so soon. But as she felt his tongue along her folds, she flinched slightly out of surprise more than anything, squeezing his hand. “Oh fuck,” she sighed out, her hips bucking.

With his free arm, he pushed gently back on to the bed. “Was that okay?” he asked, his mouth still dangerously close to her lips so that when she spoke, she still felt them move against her. She nodded quickly. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she said firmly, her response automatic. “K—Keep going. It felt good.”

Aberdeen looked down, only to make eye contact with him before he dived in again. Her eyes rolled to the back as William continued lapping at her, making her feel better and better with each stroke of his tongue. Soon, there were no nerves anymore – no worries about how she tasted or how she’d never done this before – and her body was doing the talking, squirming and writhing and sighing, her little oh fuck and oh my god comments the fuel William wanted, needed, to keep doing what he was doing. He did everything – quick flicks of the tongue, long laps from bottom-to-top, top-to-bottom, and sucking and licking like he was drinking a thick milkshake, making sure Aberdeen got the full experience.

Her moans were his music. At one point she had let go of his hand so she could bunch the bedsheets in her fists. He could hear her huffs and sighs. “S’at feel good?” he asked quickly.

“God, yes,” Aberdeen whispered, her voice so soft and so full of innocence at the new feeling of it all that William almost came himself right then and there.

“You taste so sweet for me, Aberdeen. You’re so sweet and it’s all for me,” he said, his voice low and full of lust and Aberdeen almost came right then and there.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck, Willy,” she couldn’t say much more. When he lapped at her with his flat tongue immediately after, she instinctively went to grab and tug on his hair. He’d made it a personal goal that he would make her come with just his tongue, and his groan in response and the vibration from it made her whimper. “Willy—I—Willy—”

He did it again, and she cried out. With his face so firmly planted on her pussy and with her tugging at his hair and making sure he stayed down there, the feeling was almost too much, but she knew she wanted him to keep going. She knew she wanted the build-up. She knew she wanted it to last as long as it could – as long as was physically possible for Willy – because this was, perhaps, the best feeling she’d ever felt.

The fact she was getting louder made Willy know she was enjoying it. She’d moved on from squirms to moans, and now from moans to audible cries, words frantic and scarcely used but enough so that he knew he was doing a good job and she wanted him to keep going. He kept up his movements so he could keep hearing her, the tugging of his hair bringing him the same kind of pleasure as he was currently giving her.

Then Aberdeen went a bit quiet. William didn’t like that. He looked up at her as he was still licking and noticed she was staring up at the ceiling. He squeezed her hand to get her attention. “You okay?”

She looked down and saw how wet his lips were – how her juices were all over his mouth, really, and she could have fucking cried. It was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. “I feel really close,” she whispered, her voice strained. She’d been moaning and crying out for so long that he was surprised she even had one left. “I—fuck Willy—I feel so close.”

William wanted to make sure any part of her that was still holding back – if there was any left – didn’t hold back at all. He made sure he was making eye contact with her. “Come all over my face Aberdeen. Come for me. Now.”

Aberdeen had never been so turned on. He lapped and sucked once more and within seconds she was a screaming, writhing mess. She couldn’t be quiet. It was impossible. As her orgasm overcame her, flooding her entire body with pleasure, she tried to stop her legs from clamping together and squeezing William’s head in between her thighs. He didn’t care. William moved with each squirm, each scream, each buck of the hips, never once taking his mouth off her pussy as she came long and hard and completely, not once. She screamed and huffed and moaned until she couldn’t anymore, until her throat was dry. When she felt herself finally coming down from her orgasm – earth-shattering orgasm, really, if we’re being specific – she looked down at saw William already looking at her, smiling, her juices all over his lips and face, and she knew it was a sight that would be permanently etched in her mind.

When Aberdeen regained basic consciousness, she could feel William kissing the insides of her thighs again as he was chuckling slightly. He kissed his way back up to her, and when his lips landed on hers, she let out her last moan she had in her as she tasted herself on his lips. “You taste incredible,” he said once they finished kissing, looking right into her eyes as he licked his lips.

“I can’t believe that was what I was missing this entire time,” she said. “Zane’s a fucking asshole.”

William chuckled louder this time, nuzzling himself into her neck as he placed light butterfly kisses there. “I told you,” he said. “It felt good for you?”

She nodded. “It felt incredible. I’m serious. You’re going to turn me into one of those nymphomaniacs.”

“What did you like the most?”

“All of it,” she said immediately, because it was true. There was absolutely nothing that she didn’t like. As she felt his body rest beside hers, his lips still lingering on the skin of her neck, she could feel his erection. She turned a bit so she could look him in the eye, kissing him quickly. “D’you want me to take care of that?”

“No no,” he shook his head. She didn’t understand, especially since he was rock hard. She couldn’t believe him going down on her made him so aroused. “This is all about you. I’ll take care of it.”

“Willy—”

“It’s okay, minskatt. I’ll take care of it,” he said, giving her a kiss before rolling over and getting off the bed. She watched as he disappeared into the washroom and closed the door behind him. She couldn’t think of anything else to do, laying in the bed completely naked thinking about what had just happened, until she thought to grab her underwear and put them back on. She kept herself topless though, as maybe a little treat to William, as she went back to thinking about the feeling of his tongue on her folds, shivering as she remembered.

William was in there for a while before he came back out, seemingly having taken care of it, and climbed back into bed with her. He placed kisses on her breasts and nipples before moving to her neck and finally her lips, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closed against his body. He was topless, too, but kept his boxers on. “I love you, minskatt,” he whispered.

“I love you too Willy,” she said, his body heat and warmth she felt lulling her to sleep so quickly. “Thank you for being my first for that.”

He smiled. “The pleasure was all mine. Go to sleep, minskatt. Go to sleep.”

***

The next morning, William was still in bed with Aberdeen. They’d hardly moved, limbs still intertwined and still holding on to each other like the other would float away. Aberdeen woke up first, her eyes gently opening, noticing and appreciating how close she was to Will. Instinctively – really, she couldn’t help herself – she brought a hand up to his face, barely touching it with her fingertips. The stubble along his jawline and cheeks. The curve of his perfect nose. His soft, sweet lips. He was truly so beautiful. She couldn’t believe he was hers. She couldn’t believe she was his. It was a magical thing to wake up in William Nylander’s arms, knowing that he loved her, and knowing that she loved him.

He shifted slightly, letting her know he was awake – or at least waking up. “Minskatt?” he mumbled, barely audible, before he even opened his eyes.

“I’m right here,” she said in an equally soft voice.

He opened his eyes. He smiled sleepily once he saw how close they were and sighed contently. “I dreamt we were in Sweden,” he whispered.

Aberdeen felt a shiver run up her spine. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “My family was there. My sisters loved you. Alex too. You were sitting by the lake at our house in the country,” he said. “Your hair was down and you were looking over your shoulder back at me. It was perfect.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. His voice was so soft and his emotion so innocent. “Tell me more.”

“You had on a pretty dress. The sky was blue. So was the water. We could do what we wanted and nobody cared. We could be open with our love and it was so beautiful.”

She felt a small pang of guilt at that. At this point, she knew how bad they both wanted to be out in the open, but life dictated that they couldn’t. She couldn’t just up and quit her job and lose her income. They needed to ride out the wave. It would happen eventually; it just couldn’t happen now. “I’m sorry that we can’t,” she whispered, caressing his face again.

“Don’t apologize, minskatt. We will one day. You’re still the best thing in my life and always will be. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

It was that statement that got Aberdeen emotional. Here he was dreaming about her in Sweden with him and his family, freely showing their love, but the reality was that couldn’t happen. Yet he said he would wait forever. She wasn’t sure about that. No guy had waited for her before. “But you’ve been waiting already for so long,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears. “Why are you waiting for so long? Any other guy would have given up and moved on already. Why haven’t you?”

“Shhh, Aberdeen, stop,” he said, squeezing her tighter. “Don’t you get—Aberdeen, you’re it for me. I don’t care that I’m waiting to be out in the open with you. I will wait however long you want me to, alright? You’ll always have me. No matter what happens. You’ll always have me.”

Aberdeen nodded. There was nothing she could say to that. Her heart felt so full at his words. He’d wait. He’d wait as long as he needed to. He loved her. He adored her. She was it for him. “I love you, Willy.”

“I love you too Aberdeen. So much,” he kissed the tip of her nose.

Aberdeen kissed him on his lips, needing to feel them against hers. Like always, they couldn’t stop. “Make love to me Willy…before you have to go.”

He did. It was slow and it was sensual and it was tender and it was everything she could have wanted, needed that morning in bed with him. And afterwards, when he had to put his clothes on and sneak out back to his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her. “Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker,” he whispered against her lips.

Aberdeen smiled. She didn’t know Swedish but she knew those words. They were theirs. Theirs and only theirs. Which is why she repeated them back to him. “I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”

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shleepys · 3 years

Text

AYYYY I hope you all were safe over the holidays and continue to stay safe over these next few months! Right now my state is dealing with record high covid numbers and a bunch of snow, might be different for you guys but hey, even though we're kicking off the start of a new year we still have to be aware of what's been going on and continue to push through it. But yeah!

We can finally reveal for the @harringroveholidayexchange, so I hope you enjoy what I made for the amazing @catharrington! I don't know how everyone else is formatting theirs if they did fic and art but I'm going to put both here! 💕

- - - - -

Overlooked

prompt! - I’ve always loved the differences in the two boys while growing up, I imagine Steve having huge Christmas parties with champagne flutes and the works and Billy being invited and happy to spend time with Steve, he really is!, it’s just a lot he isn’t used to. All up to author interpretations: make as fluffy or angsty as you want ;)

summary! - Steve forgets they were supposed to hang out elsewhere while his parents threw their annual Christmas party and agrees to stay.

Luckily, Billy doesn’t mind!

The only problem is, they don’t get to hang out... and Billy starts to feel overlooked.

- - - - -

Billy couldn’t be more out of place.

Parties were his thing, don’t get that wrong. He could get drunk, smoke, fuck, do whatever and if Steve was with him, only then it was infinitely better.

But this wasn’t a party. Not the party he knew. It felt more like a corporate gathering or a birthday for someone he didn’t know and he only ended up on the list because his boyfriend’s involved. Which wouldn’t be a problem if everyone around him wasn’t two to three times his age and he actually got to hang out with said boyfriend.

But it’s fine. It’s been fine so far.

Crystal champagne flutes and ugly holiday sweaters just aren’t necessarily Billy’s forte. He can’t fathom how much Steve’s parents spent on this party alone and can only bet that it cost more than the monthly payment for the house on Cherry Road. Not that he has much resentment towards what Steve’s parents do with their money but it just seems… unnecessary.

He takes a sip from his flute, rustling the jacket resting on his lap before leaning further into the sofa to try and wait this out despite already being here for what seems like hours. Billy gradually looks up again and stares into the other room where he can see Steve and his parents.

He can’t see their faces, but he can see Steve’s. Their backs are turned to him - Steve’s off to the side - they’re merely silhouettes so he can’t tell if his parents are just being gregarious or snobby. Then again, neither of them really talk about their parents so Billy has no clue.

Billy watches as a couple leaves, the discomfort continues to overrule Steve’s face as suddenly another appears and the cycle starts over again for what seems about the hundredth time. He huffs, kicking the shagged carpet beneath him before lowly cursing himself out. Should he have reminded him what they were going to do tonight? Or would Steve have rather stayed here?

He can’t tell whether or not Steve’s just over some of the pretentious attitudes and comments he’s overheard in the past hour or that he’s trying to break the chain and get over to him so they can do something together. He could always get drunk and wait for Steve to get done, he knows where the brunette keeps a bottle of scotch that he stole from his dad’s liquor cabinet in the office.

He blinks, lips sucked in to form a seal as he thinks. “Should I go home?” Billy whispers, soft and hurt. There’s not really a point in staying and maybe he can see if Jonathan has anything new to smoke. Deep, contemplative breath.

Billy stands up and discards his glass on the side table next to him before throwing on his coat and grabbing his scarf. Everything from then to going outside flashed by like a blur, nothing of importance really stricken in his mind other than colored sweaters and the sheen of champagne glasses hitting his eye. His breath is almost heavy as he opens the door and a wave of ice rushes over him. It bites at his nose, almost makes him want to itch it but he ventures out regardless. Billy slowly closes it behind him.

Billy sighed softly, eyes falling to the ground. It’s been snowing all day. Coming and going with the wind and dusting every road, house, and tree with freckles of white. Granted, everything was coated before it got too dark and hopefully, the roads weren’t iced over for any of the poor drunks inside. Steam rolled from his mouth as he exhaled before taking a deep breath. Billy threw the end of his scarf over his shoulder and looked out where his car should be, a somber smile passing his lips but twisting into a frown. Steve told him he could park where his family parks.

His feet felt like they were superglued to the deck, that, or like boulders had been tied to the ends of them. Billy bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with his coat pockets, sort of kicked the snow from under him.

He swallowed hastily, a lump bouncing in his throat as he looked out again. Couldn’t pinpoint the emotion to anything else but a pang of burning guilt. Maybe he should have just gone up to him, shouldn’t have made a big deal out of feeling left out, taken him away from his parents so they could go upstairs or leave.

Someone jerked open the sliding doors. Light poured from the inside, Billy twisted around to identify the backlit figure expecting a drunk only to find a breathless, seemingly worried Steve. Billy wanted to furrow his brows and walk off into the snow where he knew damn well Steve wouldn’t go into with house shoes on, but for some reason, he stayed put. Watches as Steve shuts the door behind him and rubs at his arm.

“What are you doing out here?”

Billy doesn’t respond.

Steve seems to catch on, and their eyes lock.

There have been times when Billy goes outside during a party to catch his breath, maybe sneak around back to talk to Steve about one thing or another, maybe drunkenly make out and hope no one was watching or Tommy had their back. But they hadn’t been to a party for a long while, not since September. And, Billy doesn’t just bring his car keys with him to ‘catch his breath’.

Billy broke contact with a sharp ‘huh’. “Did you forget about me?"

“What? No! Why would you think that?” Steve shuddered, pulling his hands into his sleeves.

Billy looked back up with dagger-like eyes, “Because it seems an awfully lot like you did.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

He could bite back, the very opportunity hanging in front of his nose. But he didn’t. Instead, a familiar quiver caught his lip. Lingering feelings creeping up and forcing his hand to itch at his pocket. Billy shook his head, eyes falling to the ground.

Steve frowned, aware of the events to follow. He’s known the other long enough to recognize the outline of Marlboros in any pocket. Deep down wishes there was some other habit Billy bid in, but that’s a matter of discussion that needs to be saved for later.

Eventually, the pack came out. Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched Billy, his lighter flaring until the end emitted a pale red before shakily tucking it away. He shook his head again slow and somber like.

“I’m sorry.” Billy started, hands moving along with his words. “And it’s not that I don’t want to be here. You’re just,” he sighed, “busy.”

Steve’s lips sealed tightly at the comment. He saw the discomfort present in the other’s sentences, could feel guilt churn in the pit of his stomach. Thing is Steve wasn’t the slightest bit spiteful, he was pissed at himself for not taking action to check up on the other. Not considering bringing another friend with them in case something like this happened. He’s upset because they were supposed to do something together tonight besides this but he forgot and agreed to be here. Steve watched him take a drag, self-spite running through his veins.

The corners of Steve’s eyes pinched, his throat tightening as he spoke, “No, I’m sorry! This sucks, this whole thing has sucked. I stressed myself out over decorating for the party and was so excited to hang out! I didn’t mean to agree but I forgot! And mom and dad keep introducing me to people. I- I wanted to spend time with you! I didn’t want to be here!” Steve took a step forward before shaky inhale. “This is my fault, this shouldn’t have happened.”

The next few seconds were the two boys staring at one another, each waiting on the other to say something. Billy was at a loss. Steve had a million thoughts streaming through his mind, hoping that the blonde wouldn’t just turn away and leave.

Eventually, Billy glanced at the door, peering through to check if the blinds were shut as a faint smile appeared. Billy’s lips pressed against Steve’s before he could protest, his hand meeting to cup the brunette’s jaw and brush over the apple of his cheek with his calloused thumb and cigarette in the other. Steve’s tears wetted his cheeks, he didn’t mind it all that much. The shock melted into comfort as Steve cherished the kiss, pouted when Billy slowly pulled away from him. The slight tinge of champagne lingering on the other’s lips, the heat of their bodies giving them a little warmth.

Billy craned his head - albeit Steve was taller - until their foreheads met.

“Don’t apologize. I get it.” Billy whispered. Steve gave a small, dismissive ‘huff’.

“My boyfriend should come before a stupid party. I should have told them otherwise.”

Billy shook his head. “The party’s nice. You beat yourself up too much over this kind of stuff, I forget things too. Remember the creek?”

Steve giggled, lips twisting into a smile. “In July when you were supposed to meet me there and didn’t show up? And I stayed there all night?”

Billy frowned as he thought into it, the bitter call at one in the morning that turned into a week of not talking to one another. It ended nicely though - if ‘nice’ was drunk car sex in the middle of the woods. There wasn’t much of an apology there but hey, they’re still trying to work on things and figure out how exactly relationships work because they aren’t exactly a sixty-year-old couple with forty years of experience behind the boy’s backs.

“I still owe you for that. Sorry.” His eyes fell to the deck as he pulled his head away, bumping his cigarette against his finger and watching the ash fall.

After Steve noticed the shift he got quiet, frowned, and eyes followed Billy’s to the wooden boards below. “Don’t apologize,” Steve echoed with a light smile. Gently Steve grabbed Billy’s scarf and drew him in for a slower, deeper kiss.

People forget things, that’s human nature. And sometimes they can be a bit dumb about it too. But this was going to be the boy’s first Christmas, granted it wasn’t exactly Christmas yet, but it was important to them both. Spending time with a significant other on a holiday was amazing even if they can’t shout it out to everyone they know.

These moments always have a sort of energy to them. When the boys share a wordless amalgamation of self-deprecating thoughts after ‘messing something up’ and those little habits come out to bite to express those thoughts oh so clearly. It’s a ball of weird energy that shines in self-hate that the two have been working to eliminate and hey, they’ve gotten pretty far! But, it’s still there. Smiling in the corner of the boy’s minds. Ready to strike at any moment. It’s just a lot smaller now.

Because again, don’t have the forty years and that’s perfectly valid even if the two don’t seem to realize it.

Billy leaned into the sweet kiss before Steve drew back. Billy chuckled and wrapped his arms around the other as he tucked his face into Steve’s neck. Steve shook again, this time cuddling up to the other and ravishing in the heat and short breaths coming out of them both.

“I wanna go inside,” Steve mumbled, rubbing at the other’s back.

Billy laughed and slowly pulled away to look at Steve. “Too cold?”

“I’m in a sweater and sweatpants,” Steve pulled on his scarf again and toyed with the frayed ends. The grin Billy responded with brimmed with bliss, his hand roaming up and held the other’s with a firm hold,

“I’ll meet you inside.”

Steve had ventured back into the party while Billy snuffed his cigarette into the deck, eventually, the two found one another next to the food Steve’s parents had catered instead of cooking this year. Only thing that wasn’t in foil baking trays was the Christmas cookies that Billy had been dying to try ever since Steve brought them up at the beginning of December. Drinks clattered in group cheers from the surrounding areas, the smooth music now bearable. He never expected that a party this foreign to him would turn out for the better. Never thought he would feel… like a part of it? The crystal flutes, richies, and overall appeal still don’t rock with him, but with Steve, he has someone there for him. And that’s all Billy could ever ask for.

Thankfully, he didn’t feel like he was going to projectile vomit champagne anymore… the nausea sort of faded after Steve kissed him outside. Billy turned to Steve, noting the rosy shade still dancing on the apples of his cheeks from outside.

“Your sweater isn’t that ugly,” Billy emphasized, chewing on an ornament-shaped cookie.

Steve shook his head with an amused sigh, sweeping the crumbs from his shirt. “This isn’t that kind of party, if it was I would’ve had you help me make one.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t think Karen from Fiance got the memo.” Billy pointed into the crowd at the woman in question. Her sweater took the cake for one of the ugliest, tensile hangs from her torso, lights strung all over, buttons on the brink of falling off. “You think she beats her kids over the head with a bible?” Steve rolled his eyes. Billy smirked at the little glare he’d received. “You should have pulled out your grandmother’s cat vests.”

Steve gagged, eyes wide and ridden with disgust. “Keep talking and you’re going to make me throw up. I never want to see those again.” Billy snorts and Steve shoves him with a laugh, “It’s not funny!”

“But you’re laughing!” Billy remarks and lightly bumps him back returning the bubbling laughter.

A woman seems to overhear their laughs and spins around with the biggest and brightest grin Billy’s ever seen. It kind of startled him. Doesn’t know who she is, doesn’t care to know until he recognizes the cat vest and how familiar those brown, round doe eyes are. She runs up to them, curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approaches with a drink in hand. Mrs. Harrington gasped, grabbing onto Steve’s sweater with eyes darting between both boys, “Is this Billy?”

Steve smirks and rolls his eyes again. “Hi, Mom. I’m back Mom.” She lightly wacks him in the arm. “Yes! This is Billy.”

Her eyes lit up, dazzled with happiness as she stuck her attention on the blonde as he snuck another cookie in his mouth. “Steve talks about you all the time!”

“What? No, I don’t!” Steve’s eyebrows knit together as he tried to defend himself but deep down knew there was no hope, especially after Billy gave him that smug but appreciative little look as his mom went on her story-telling rampage.

Billy laughs, almost in disbelief, “Really?”

“He talks about all of his friends, really. But, oh! When it comes to you he goes on and on and on, he really thinks you’re something.” Billy watched as the tips of Steve’s ears tinted themselves red and smirked. An interesting conversation for later. “I’m so upset that I haven’t been able to meet you until now! You two are always out or asleep by the time I get home.”

Billy’s brows quirked in an expression of sarcasm. “Well, thank you for not waking me up at two in the morning to introduce yourself.”

Mrs. Harrington chuckled, shaking her head before putting her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m going to go get another drink. Oh, and Billy!” She paused and made eye contact, “If you want to come over for Christmas, you’re more than welcome too! Just tell Steve so I know.”

Billy’s brows flew upwards, blush rising and Steve picking it up instantly. She waved goodbye before walking around them and going off on her journey into another room. The boys stared again, each waiting on the other to say something until the brunette spoke up.

"She likes you," Steve muttered, ears still red as ever.

"You talk about me to her? I think that's cute."

He huffed. Had to stop himself from leaning against the other to hide his face. "Mom likes knowing what friends are up to."

Billy loosely smiled, slowly bumping into Steve with his hip before getting a light bump back. “You look a lot like her.” Steve shook his head.

“Not as much as my dad,” Steve turned to see if he was there and frowned when he didn’t see the other but slowly faded into a smile. “I don’t know where he is, he would have loved to meet you.”

The boys got quiet again.

Billy cleared his throat, his head tilted down as if to duck away to hide his blush and the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Steve. “About coming over for Christmas-”

“I want you to.” He softly tugged on his jacket to get his attention. Eventually, Billy made eye contact, grinned with a chuckle following behind. Christmas with Steve? His caring boyfriend, twenty million cookies, a few possible presents, and… some loving parents?

Billy couldn’t be happier.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #st #strangerthings #harringroveart #fic #art #harringroveholidayexchange #happy holidays #happy new year!

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onlystylesangels · 4 years

Text

Final Call

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Harry & Y/N catch up

Warnings: A bit sad. Breakup.

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: Hi my loves!!! I have a short little fic for you. I started this a couple of months back and I just now decided to post this. I hope you beauties are well and safe. I’m sending all my love to you. 💓💕💛

September 2016

"Bub, do you know where my trench coat is at?"

Y/N was in the other room making sandwiches for her and Harry.

"I think it's in the closet?" She asked herself. Harry walked into the kitchen and grabbed the slice of cheese that was in her hand.

"I'll check love." He said while chewing.

Harry walked towards the closet and looked through the coats, well more of his coats exactly. His hands smoothed over the familiar fabric of his trench coat and smiled once he removed it from the hanger.

"Where are you going again?" Y/N asked as she peeked her head from the kitchen.

"A short music film. I haven't told you have I?"

"I believe not." She said her gaze looking down at her sandwich.

"I'm sorry love. I thought I told you," There was regret in his voice the way his voice changed from its usual cheeriness to a slow no monotone voice. He didn't mean to not tell you. He thought he told you a couple weeks back when he started to talk to directors about the project he wanted to do, but either way he wanted to tell you. He told you everything, or so that's what Y/N thought.

"I'll be back love. Jus' don't miss me too much, yeah?"

"I don't know Harry, I miss you whenever you're not here." Y/N muttered out as she buttoned Harry's coat. "I miss you all the time Harry."

Harry stood there staring down at his muse, his light, his everything. He adored his Y/N; he adored everything about her since the day he met her. That day when they bumped into each other as their very own romantic comedy began. Falling in love the third time that they saw each other as Harry invited her to have ice cream and have a walk at the park.

But they both had no clue that sometimes romantic comedies have their own crucial endings. They both didn't know they were going to separate.

May 2021

Memories of their past came back swirling through Harry's head. His head in his hands as he clutched his phone waiting and asking himself if he wanted to do what he was going to do right now. Would she have moved on with someone else? Maybe she was still sleeping since the last time he checked she was in the states while he was currently in England. Would it make him feel uncomfortable was his last question.

Of course he was going to feel uncomfortable; they've been separated for almost two years now. Harry released his second album two years ago and Y/N continued living her life. She finally opened up her own bakery which was a little shop in size but she loved it anyway. She enjoyed her life right now. She loved the place that she was currently in and there were times that she would think of Harry while working at the shop hoping to see him come in and ask for a pastry and a cup of black coffee. But she knew it wouldn't happen.

Harry was hesitant. His phone in his hand as his foot tapped the floor lightly. His soft curls curved through his fingers as he finally decided to dial the numbers that he used to have saved as a contact. The phone rang as Harry held his phone closer to his ear as he waited until the other line was picked up. After those long seconds, Harry felt like minutes and hours had passed. He put the phone down so he could hang up but before he pushed that red button her voice finally answered. She didn’t answer ‘hello’ but she said ‘Harry’, as if she knew it was Harry on the other line.

“Harry?” Her soft voice answered.

Harry didn’t answer back as he was shocked that she still kept him in her contacts. He thought that she would have deleted him from her phone but that wasn’t the case. She kept a part of him with her even though they broke it off. But sometimes when people break up, there is always a part of them that goes back to that person. A part that she loved, the person she was once in love with.

“Y/N.” He answered as his voice sounded shaky from hearing Y/N’s voice for the first time in a long time. “You kept my number.”

A sigh was heard from Y/N’s line as she tried not to show her emotions.

“I never got rid of it, Harry.”

Harry was so close to losing it. He wished he could be in her arms one last time but he knew that deep inside that Y/N had moved on from him. And part of him has moved on from her as well.

She never deleted his contact from her phone. She was afraid of letting him go while Harry deleted her name from his phone but he made sure that he would remember her number by memory.

“I just wanted to call because I remembered today was your birthday.” He said with a smile. His eyes started to get glossy from hearing her breathing from the other line and waited patiently before she replied back. He missed that part of her. He missed it when Y/N would take her time to answer. He missed looking at her concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed and always pinching her bottom lip. Those were the memories that he wished he cherished more when they were together, but now he knows he’ll never make those memories again.

“Yeah it’s today.” She answered as she shut her eyes from her response.

“Happy birthday bu- Y/N.” Harry finally said as Y/N smiled to herself and finally let herself loose from keeping in those tears that were threatening to leave her eyes. She kept her whimpers quiet but tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

"Thank you, Harry." She squeaked. She clutched her chest as her sobs started to get a bit louder, she bit her lip from letting out more whimpers. Harry was quiet on the other line and he kept his whimpers quiet as well. He wanted to cry so bad from hearing Y/N cry he knew this was a bad idea but he wasn't going to regret it now that he finally heard Y/N's voice.

"I hope you spend it with wonderful people and I'm sending you all the love to you."

A silence was shared between them. Their whimpers slowly calmed and their tears were no longer streaming down their cheeks.

"What happened to us, Harry?" She asked, her hand squeezing the mattress as if that would keep her feelings inside of her instead of letting them out.

"We made a promise that we were going to love each other. We didn't think that our jobs would eventually separate us from each other."

"I don't think we were meant to be. But I enjoyed the time we had with each other and I thank you for that, Harry. You will always have a part of my heart and that will never change. I love you so much Harry."

"I love you more love. I know asking this would be risky but could we be friends at least?"

"I don't think we should, Harry. If we do then we'll never move on from what we used to have."

Harry sighed, his head nodded at her response. She was right. If they would stay as friends then they will never be able to move on from one another. It felt wrong but they had to disconnect from each other.

"Yeah, you're right Y/N." Harry agreed with a sigh. He had his head low, his hand gripping his thigh as his eyes were closed as he tried to imagine Y/N one last time.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I'm glad you called, I've missed hearing your voice," she added, "It's been so long and I hope you're doing well. How is everything going?"

"It's going good, love. I'm on tour for my third album and I'm just having a good time with the shows and seeing the fans." He elaborated. There was a hint of joy in his voice when he mentioned his fans. They were literally the world to him. Seeing them during his shows made him happy and emotional. Knowing that there are people out there supporting him through his successes and his failures; people that he could rely on no matter what.

There was another comfortable silence between them. They have been separated for two years and they still feel comfortable with each other after those two years of heartache. Something in them both wished that they could time travel to the past and make it their present, but that was obviously impossible to accomplish. But they wished it were possible in some way.

"I'm glad you are having a good time Harry. I can already know how much this album, and seeing your fans means to you." Y/N said, a smile slowly appearing on her face as she remembered the time when she went to one of his shows and saw the love in her section. The tears falling down their cheeks and the passion when they would sing along with Harry.

“I wish you could go to one of the shows. But I know you are busy with work."

Y/N understood him and she even wished that she could buy a ticket to go to one of his shows. She wished that part of her would go back to him and live the life that she used to live. It almost seemed as if ten years had passed when they decided to break up. But dreaming about it was just dreaming which made it impossible for it to come true.

As for Harry; he was ready for her to hang up on him. He went back to that phone call that they had a couple days after they broke up. Today; he had the same feeling. He felt that deep feeling of his love drain away from his heart and all those memories he had with her were flashing through his brain and they came after each other as if he was put under a machine.

And so they both felt content. They both went back to laughing with each other as if it were old times. Content smiles on their faces and thinking back, they probably were not meant to be in a long-time relationship. But they both enjoyed each other's company when they were together. They will always have a space for each other's love and they both will not allow anyone to take that away from them.

They both knew that they were not meant to be, but they were thankful for that time that they cherished with each other and all the love that they gave each other while they were together. Both Harry and Y/N knew that after this final call they would be at peace and that this would be the final goodbye, well, if they would both have the courage to do so.

A goodbye that was bittersweet nonetheless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💓

#harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles short fic #Onlystylesangels writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #my writing

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cxplqnce · 4 years

Text

Barry Allen - Back to December

Based on Back to December by Taylor Swift

This was requested by @im-still-tryin-to-find-it , hope you like it!

Word Count: 2,439

I'm so glad you made time to see me

How's life, tell me how's your family?

I haven't seen them in a while

You and Barry broke up a while ago. Eight months, two weeks and four days ago. The 20th of December - the day your heart was shattered.

You’d been kidnapped, again, and you had both had enough. He’d had enough of seeing you hurt every time a villain kidnapped you or used you to get to him and you’d had enough of being weak and powerless against these people. So you exploded at each other.

“I can’t do this anymore, Barry!” You yelled, cutting off his previous statement and stopping him from hugging you.

He looked taken aback by your outburst as tears welled up in your eyes, “Do what?” He croaked out, thinking about how this conversation would play out.

“I can’t keep getting hurt and kidnapped and used!” You explained, your voice loud and tense. You grabbed his hands, softening your tone, “I know, it’s not your fault that they keep coming after you… and it’s not your fault that you’re the Flash a-and it’s not your fault that all these horrible things keep happening to you... B-But it’s my fault that they keep happening to me, because… because I keep sticking around. And I can’t keep doing it… sticking around.” You explained.

“And I can’t keep letting you get hurt.” Barry agreed, “It’s my fault that I didn’t let you go sooner.”

“So… This, we’re… over.” You whispered, tears cascading down your cheeks.

Barry lifted his hand and wiped away your tears with his thumb before pulling you into a hug, “I guess we are.”

You've been good, busier than ever

We small talk, work and the weather

Your guard is up and I know why

You saw him a few times during the next few months, since you still lived in Central City, not being able to move away. The last time you saw him was a few weeks ago, outside of the CCPD. You’d gone there to deliver coffee to a friend of yours who was an officer and you’d accidently bumped into him. You talked about trivial things like the weather and then you both made excuses to leave.

“I am so sorry!” You said, as you leant down to pick up the files the person you had bumped into dropped. You looked up and saw, “Barry, hi.”

“Hi.” He said back. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled hoping he wouldn’t see through it, “Good,” You lied, handing him the file. “Weather’s been great, right? Nice and sunny.”

“Yeah, exactly…” He started, before there was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, “Anyway, I’ve got to get these to Captain Singh.”

As he walked away that day, you couldn’t help but think about everything that happened. You’d heard about the latest big bad, Zoom, and how much of an effect he’d had on Barry through Cisco. You had texted him about it but he hadn’t responded and you couldn’t blame him.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

Barry hadn’t been doing well. He heard from Cisco – a few weeks after your break-up – that you had gotten sick. It was just a stomach bug but he couldn’t help himself. He sent you roses with a card that said, ‘Get Well Soon, I Miss You – B.’

You read the card but in sheer frustration you burned it in your fireplace and stamped on the roses. You regretted that decision after a few hours of thinking about it.

After you got better, Barry saw you on the street with a few of your friends after you’d gone out partying – a friend of yours had pulled you out to celebrate her promotion and he was on his way back to STAR Labs after defeating a meta. He felt like crap after that so he threw himself into something he could control – Zoom.

These days I haven't been sleeping

Staying up playing back myself leaving

When your birthday passed and I didn't call

After you destroyed the roses, you regretted it. You regretted all of it. All you could do for weeks was replay the moment you left and you hated yourself for it even though you knew it was for good reason. It was a selfless decision, to make life easier for both of you. He didn’t have to worry about you getting hurt and you didn’t have to feel weak and powerless anymore or worry about his safety. But you wanted to be selfish so you recorded a voicemail.

“Hey, Bare… I know I shouldn’t be calling and I shouldn’t be saying any of this… but, but I miss you. I do, I miss you! And I can’t stop myself from thinking… Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe we made the selfless decision for a reason but maybe we didn’t. Maybe we deserve to be selfish – after everything we’ve been through.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. I miss you and I love you.”

After you recorded it you were going to send it but you chickened out. However, you still saved it.

And I think about summer, all the beautiful times

I watched you laughing from the passenger side

And realized I'd loved you in the fall

You thought about when you first got together, before you figured out who the Reverse-Flash really was. He’d been freaking out about what to do and you tried to calm him down. And you thought about the summer after the Reverse-Flash, after Eddie and Ronnie died and he got justice for his parents. You had been there for him through all of it and he was so grateful. You made him happy even though he felt like his world was crashing down – you held it up.

“Barry! Hey, it’s okay.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around him as he tried to calm his breathing. “I’m here, I’ll always be here. I promise.”

“Thank you.” He whispered back, into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His breathing got slower and you just held each other for a few minutes or perfect silence before he pulled away from your grasp slightly. “Thank you, for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled, “Well, you’ll never have to find out.” You said, brushing his hair out of his face with your fingers.

Suddenly, he brought his hands to your cheeks and pulled your lips to his. Sparks flew between you, it felt like a rom-com ending where the two leads finally realise they are in love and have the climactic ‘big kiss’.

It was October when you first said those three little words. You had just saved Stein and paired him with Jax to stabilize the FIRESTORM matrix. Hewitt had been dealt with and you had finally gotten a moment alone with your boyfriend.

“Hey, superhero.” You smiled, walking into the cortex where Barry stood looking at the monitors and his suit.

He smiled when he saw you and heard the little nickname you gave him, “Hey,” He replied, beckoning you over and pulling you into his side. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the safest you’d ever felt. It was this moment you knew.

“I love you.” You whispered, out of the blue. Barry pulled away from you and looked down at your smiling face, “I know that everything with Earth-2 and Wells and Jay is crazy. And I know you’re a superhero and the universe is nothing like what we thought it was. And I know that we are the furthest thing from a normal couple and I know that I don’t know what is going to happen next. And I know that I love you… So, so much.”

A smile had crept onto Barry’s face at your words, and he rested his hand on your shoulders, “I love you too. That’s all I know, and it’s everything that I need.”

And then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

Being kidnapped was scary but you’d kind of gotten used to it by this point. Mark Mardon, James Jesse and Snart had kidnapped you and brought you to their hideout. Thankfully, Barry had saved you and Central City but the fear of being kidnapped again started to get to you.

Yes, you had been kidnapped before but it was something about the three of them that freaked you out. That’s when you’d blown up even though you didn’t mean to and didn’t want to. Fear had gotten to you. So you said goodbye.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night

The first time you ever saw me cry

You missed him. Plain and simple. You regretted your decision and you missed him. You missed his smile, his personality, his optimism, his faith in people and his belief that they were good. He did right by you, he was good to you and he wasn’t perfect but he was definitely perfect for you.

Barry wasn’t the only one with problems. There were times when you’d break down and he’d be the one to hold you up. You didn’t always show your emotions – you were good at keeping them locked up but you felt comfortable around him to let him know.

You stood outside of his door at five in the morning, wrapped up in his coat that he’d left at your house. Thankfully, Barry was the one who opened the door only a few seconds after you rang the doorbell.

“Hey,” He said, concern on his tired face when he saw the tears on yours. You’d had a fight with your sister and even though it was early and he had work in the morning, he still invited you in. “Do you want a drink or something to eat?”

“No, I just want you.” You said. Barry smiled, sitting down on the couch and pulling you into his arms.

Maybe this is wishful thinking

Probably mindless dreaming

But if we loved again I swear I'd love you right

I'd go back in time and change it but I can't

You missed him so you made the selfish decision to talk to him and try to get him back. It had been a difficult thing to do. You waited at Jitters for a few hours to try and catch him but as soon as he showed up you chickened out. You tried to catch him at work but chickened out a second time so you decided to go to his house.

Little did you know, but Barry was thinking the same thing. His dad had died three months prior and he realised how short life was and how much he need you in his. He missed everything about you; your positivity, your stubbornness and your smile. You weren’t perfect but you were perfect for him.

So this is me swallowing my pride

Standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night

And I go back to December all the time

It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you

Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine

I'd go back to December turn around and change my own mind

I go back to December all the time

You walked up the steps to his house and knocked on the door. You waited for a few seconds before Barry opened it. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” You asked. He nodded and let you in the house. You sat yourself on the couch and started. “I’m sorry. For everything, I just want to be selfish – I mean, I-I don’t know how to say it.” You said, trying to get the words out. You couldn’t figure out how to phrase what you wanted to say but you remembered the voicemail. “Wait a sec.” you got out your phone and found it, holding your it out to him. “Just listen to this.”

Barry took the phone from your hand and put it up against his ear.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. I miss you and I love you.”

Barry’s face contorted in confusion and realisation as he listened intently to your words, pulling the phone away from his ear when he heard the end beep. “You mean that, all of it.”

“Yeah,” You answered, a tear falling out of your eye. You stood up, feeling a surge of confidence, “And I want to be selfish with you. Life is short and precious and I want to make the most of it but I can’t do that without you… I have never regretted anything more than I regret what I did… So, I-I am swallowing my pride and standing here telling you that I am so sorry for that night. I didn’t know what I had until you weren’t mine anymore and if I could I would go back and change everything… and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realise that I love you.”

Barry leapt up from the couch and held your hands in his, “I am so glad you just said all that… I feel exactly the same way. I wish I could go back and change our minds, because I love you, Y/N. I love you so much and I can’t live without you either… I was scared that I would lose you but I won’t be scared anymore because family makes us stronger and you are my family… I promise you, that I will do everything I can to protect you… And I will spend every day showing you how much you mean to me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled, “Now kiss me, you dork.” Barry smiled back at you, obliging to your demands. Your lips moved together in perfect sync as you held each other, promising never to let go again.

A/N: Also, follow my instagram @ cxplqnce and I take requests! :)

#barry allen imagine #barry allen #barry allen one shot #barry allen x reader #the flash #the flash imagine #dc

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alexiessan · 4 years

Text

Never alone - Chapter Two - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

Hello! Faster than ever before, I present you the second chapter of Never Alone!

I chose to not describe Marinette with her clothes or hairstyle so that you can imagine her as you want! In my mind, since she's a fashion designer, I imagine her always changing her clothes and very fashionable. I don't see her with her pigtails either. But it's up to you as to how you see her!

Also, I'm French, so if there are any grammatical mistakes, do not hesitate to tell me so I can come back and correct them!

Two months in the new school year, and Marinette was already exhausted. While she had a very calm summer filled with outings with her friends, she was now drowning in work. Jagged wanted her to design his newest album cover, and Clara Nightingale has asked for a new outfit for a music video.

At school, Alya and Marinette were doing their best to find a good trip for the end of the year. The school had a decent amount of money that was set aside specifically for their class trip, but they would need to organize an event or two if they wanted to go somewhere outside of Europe. They were lucky enough that their class’ trip was set for their first year of high school: Mrs. Mendelieiv’s class’ trip was set for the next year, right before the first set of exams for the baccalaureat.

Along with all that, there was also her duty as Ladybug. Hawkmoth has been relatively calm during the summer, but as soon as school started again in September, he released his akumas again.

Except, now, they were more brutal than ever before.

Ladybug cursed as the Akuma managed to deeply cut her on her left side. She watched as Chat jumped in as she collapsed on the roof they were battling. True to his promise, Chat took his job more seriously and only joked during patrols now. He also stopped to jump mindlessly in front of her to save her from a hit and actually tried to get both of them out of the way.

The Akuma they were fighting was a dangerous one. His arm has been transformed into two big shears, and they hurt like hell.

Ladybug watched with fascination as her hand was tainted with her own blood. She couldn’t remember if an Akuma had hurt her that much before… She knew for sure that she was bleeding too heavily and she was getting a bit dizzy. They would need to end the fight very soon.

Standing up, she took advantage of the distraction Chat provided to trip the Akuma with her yoyo, succeeding in tripping him. Quickly, Chat snatched the man’s bow and used cataclysm on it.

As she cleansed the Akuma and watched the light heal Paris and herself as she cast the cure, the red-clothed superhero couldn’t help but think it was time to contact the Justice League again.

Back when they got their miraculous, she and Chat had contacted the Justice League of Europe to ask for help. They were just teenagers without any training entrusted to protect a whole city as big as Paris, and it was clear to them they couldn’t possibly do that alone.

The person they had talked to at the moment had listened to them, took note and told them they would come back to them after informing the heroes of the issue in Paris. It was a month later that one of the heroes contacted them, informing them they would not intervene in Paris, as they have been doing a good job up until now and the miraculous cure healed everyone and repaired everything. They then give them words of encouragement before they cut the connection.

Ladybug had then wanted to contact the Justice League of America before remembering they wouldn’t be able to do anything as France was certainly not under their jurisdiction.

And thus, there they were, still two untrained teenagers, acting on instinct against people with magic powers.

Great.

She let Chat take care of the victim, still feeling the pain on her left side, even though it was healed and there was not a trace of blood left on her person.

“Are you ok?”

Ladybug watched as the victim was taken care of by some policemen and turned her attention to her partner.

“I’m fine Chat. Sorry I had to let you handle everything.”

“Hey, you were hurt and losing a lot of blood. It’s a wonder you could even stand up afterward.”

The girl smiled. “Should we try to contact the JLE again?”

Chat Noir sighed. “Even though they won’t intervene, they are watching closely what’s happening here. If they haven’t decided to step in yet, contacting them won’t change anything LB.”

Ladybug sighed. “You’re right. Of course. I should go Chat, I’m about to transform back.”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you later, then.”

Back in her room, Marinette winced as she sat down on her bed.

“Are you really ok Marinette?”

Tikki was looking at her with her big, wide blue eyes. She was obviously worried.

“I’m fine, just a bit sore. I’m lucky that the cure healed me, but I think I’ll still feel the pain for a few days.”

While the cure healed her, the pain stayed for some time after, varying on the severity of the injury. Since her latest injure was pretty severe, it would hurt for a little while.

“Alright, I still have some homework to do for tomorrow. You should eat something and go to sleep Tikki, you must be tired after today. There should be a cookie or two on my desk.”

The kwami looked at her for a moment before flying over her desk, knowing it was useless to insist and there wasn’t anything she could do anyway. Even if she wished she could take Marinette’s pain away.

“Alright girl, you said you found something for the trip?”

It was early December now, and Marinette had asked Alya to join her in the school library to discuss the trip. The fashion designer took the laptop out of her bag and opened it to show her what she found.

“So, you know how the trip also has to be educational? This is the Wayne Career Program. It’s designed for high school students. Each one of us would shadow someone in the firm as a sort of internship to learn about different professions.”

“Putain, girl! That’s amazing. Wayne Enterprises have a lot of different sectors. I could totally work with the PR team if we can manage to secure a trip there. Plus it’s in Gotham, in America!”

Alya literally squealed at the idea of traveling overseas.

“Yeah, I’m a bit worried about that actually. You know it’s not really the safest place on Earth.”

And what an understatement that was. Gotham was probably the city with the most crimes in the world. It would be a miracle if the school allowed them to go. But then again, the school board would do anything to up their reputation and a class winning an internship at WE… The principal would boast about it years after they had all graduated.

“There is an essay we have to write to apply. I suggest we write it before we present the idea to Ms. Bustier. We also need to prepare arguments for her and the school board.”

“No problem girl, I already have tons of arguments there.” The reporter showed her her notebook where there were two pages filled with arguments. The class president nodded, those were really good. She could really rely on her friend.

“Well, that was quick. Those should be enough to convince them. On to the essay, then. ‘How do you think you can change the world?’”

They spent hours after that, taking notes and making several drafts of the essay. It took them a week to have the actual final product and when they handed it to Ms. Bustier, she was delighted. It was decided they wouldn’t announce the destination of the trip to the class until they were sure it could be a possibility.

Alya and Marinette had dropped hints about the destination though, to see if the class would actually like to go to Gotham.

After a week or so, they knew they had chosen well.

On Marinette’s birthday, on the 16th of December, after lunch where the whole class sang Happy birthday to her, the class president and the class deputy had a meeting with the principal and the board of the school.

It was tough to convince them, and the meeting actually lasted the whole afternoon, but at the end of the day, they had all signed the papers that confirmed that the trip would happen in Gotham, should the two girls won the contest. They even agreed to unfreeze some more funds for it. This program would really look good on the school’s record.

It was with a bright smile that they returned to class ten minutes before the end of the day bell and announced to everyone that the trip to Gotham has been confirmed. Using the classroom’s computer, the whole class witness as the two girls applied to the Wayne Career Program.

Now, all they had to do was wait for an answer.

Life after that was a bit calmer for Marinette, if you didn’t count the Akumas. She worried that they were more and more violent, and more often than not, she had lingering pain from injuries she got at Ladybug.

But life was good. Lila had even stopped lying and was herself. Even if it means that she wasn’t very kind to anyone, even mocking all of them at times, the class would just scoff and roll their eyes at her antics. The designer still wouldn’t talk to her, but the atmosphere in the class was lighter than the previous year, and for that Marinette was grateful.

They were all at an outdoor ice rink at the end of January when Marinette’s phone beeped with a notification.

“Oh fucking shit, guys!”

It caught everyone’s attention as the tiny Dupain-Cheng was not one to curse like that.

“I just got an email for Mr. Wayne’s secretary! Our class is among the nine others to have won the contest! We are going to Gotham in May!”

Everyone cheered at that, hugging each other and even going as far as carrying Marinette and Alya around, as it was their doing.

“America, here we come!” shouted Kim.

“You do realize that you will have to work extra hard on your English, right?” teased Max.

“Oh, shit.”

Everyone laughed at that, but it was agreed among themselves and their English teacher that they would all stay for an hour and a half after school to learn the language, up until their trip.

“I can’t wait to see Gotham’s heroes in action!” squealed Alya.

“Aren’t they vigilantes?” asked Mylène.

“Same thing!”

“Not quite, babe.” grinned Nino.

Even Lila was smiling with them, and it was huge progress in their book.

Marinette smiled, “We’ll be there for two weeks. The first week, we’ll be visiting around, and the second week will be dedicated to our internships. I will have to send a list of all our careers of interest to Mr. Wayne’s secretary, so they can organize who we will be shadowing. So, I’ll need you to send me those pieces of information this weekend, so I can send it on Monday, okay?”

“Roger that, boss.”

As Alya took her hand to skate with her around the rink, the baker’s daughter couldn’t help the huge smile on her lips. A year ago, there was a lot of tension in the class, and here they were, all laughing together and talking excitedly about the upcoming trip that their class president and deputy won them.

She could hear Rose talking excitedly about the things she wanted to see in Gotham. She watched as Kim challenged Alix on God knows what and laughed as Max stated that he had a two-percent chance of winning that bet. She smiled as Adrien, with them at an outing for once, fell on his butt and Nino laughed as he helped him up. She even grinned as she watched Lila having a conversation with Nathaniel without being mean or mocking him once.

She had thought a year before that Lila would never change, but she was wrong. And she was happy that she had been, because even though Lila wasn’t very nice, well, all her classmates were kind enough to make up for it.

Yeah, Marinette thought with a smile, life was good. And she had a feeling that it would be even better.

Tag list:

@bigpicklebananatree @animegirlweeb @crazylittlemunchkin @northernbluetongue @cutechip @justafanwarrior @iloontjeboontje @resignedcatservant

#ml x dc #miraculous x dc #maribat #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette

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gunnerpalace · 4 years

Note

hey there! so i used to be a huge fan of bleach, and loved ichiruki, and i was reminded of them today but i haven't been involved with the fandom since the series ended. however, i've heard of different variations of why the series ended/ships happened the way they did, and was wondering if you knew or could direct to me a post that explains that? i apologize if i'm bringing up bitter feelings, but i've always been curious if bleach's ending was a big FU from kubo or if he always intended rr/ih

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a post that really goes over it structurally in that kind of way (from a shipping perspective). I’ll get back to what you actually asked me after some asides, because it’s not so simple to just analyze the ships in a vacuum.

I’ve had my own post about why the ending was a fuck you moment, thematically, because it failed to resolve any of the themes and momentum of the series in a way that would be appropriate (either internally or in the context of the supposed genre of shounen.)

I would also say that the ending was a fuck you moment in terms of lore, backstory, and mystery, because all of the historical and political dimensions (i.e., things involving the Soul King and Great Houses) were unceremoniously shuffled off to Can’t Fear Your Own World. Not that any of those things were ever brought up properly in the manga to begin with; the proper and natural time for that would’ve been at the conclusion of the Soul Society arc, when Ichigo and co. spent a week there, which we saw none of. So I would say that everything in CFYOW is basically retconned bullshit hung off prior convenient plot hooks, and that the same was true of TYBW and LSS/TLA/Xcution as well. There may have been some notes and forethought, but it’s about as “valid” as Kevin J. Anderson and Brian Herbert’s Dune works are compared to the original Frank Herbert ones; it’s second-hand, at best.

(This is setting aside that Bleach was clearly made up as it went along. For example: Noriaki literally admitted that he didn’t know who had killed Aizen in Soul Society until he realized that Aizen not being dead was the most shocking answer; the clear baiting and abandonment of Kisuke as the villain hinted at through various means such as his unclear and later retconned reasons for being exiled, and so on. Bleach was very much a J. J. Abrams-style mystery box work that was made as it went with, at best, rough notes, which is why its themes and focus change, for the worse. I also have a post about why it stopped being special, which is part of a running series I intend to write on how to rewrite it to fix and preserve that)

The best recent thing to compare it to is, really, HBO’s adaptation of Game of Thrones, wherein D. B. Weiss and David Benioff openly admitted to removing or deemphasizing story elements, and ignoring themes in adapting the work. The difference is that Bleach was not being adapted from anything; it degraded due to its own creator not understanding what he had created.

(To put it very simply, because this would be the point of Hyperchlorate Part II and would take a whole post to explain: the ending of the Soul Society arc did not properly establish and flesh out Soul Society as a place with a history, space, and purpose. Instead, the Arrancar and Hueco Mundo arcs decided to be a thematic inversion and deconstruction of the Karakura and Soul Society arcs. This again had an ending that did not establish or flesh anything out after Aizen’s defeat, with an even greater diffusion of focus onto ancillary characters. The Xcution arc tripled down on this by addressing something entirely new and retconned in, only to abandon it midway through in favor of going back to invoking Soul Society. And Thousand-Year Blood War took all of these problems to 11. tl;dr: Noriaki tried themes, people hated it, and so he just shoved in more and more dumb sword fights between people nobody cared about, half of whom hadn’t previously existed.)

So, let’s get back to your question. Let’s talk about ships. I’ve clicked a lot of keys and spilled a lot of ink on this subject over the years, but I no longer particularly feel like searching my own archives (really ought to go back through and organize them better) beyond this post and my own follow-up to it about the chronology of IR interactions, so I’m just going to repeat myself.

First, let’s say that Bleach was not ever a manga about ships.

I’m not disavowing that what Rukia and Ichigo had was special. That was called out multiple times through the focus of the art, the dialogue, and by the characters themselves. (Directly by, for example, Orihime’s outright statement to the effect in Soul Society, and her later jealousy regarding it. Indirectly by, say, Uryuu’s acknowledgement that him saving Rukia first would piss Ichigo off. In fact, the biggest indirect indicator doesn’t even involve Ichigo and Rukia; Shunsui asks Chad why he’s there and Chad says he wants to save Rukia, Shunsui calls bullshit that two months isn’t enough time to risk your life for that, and Chad agrees and says he’s there because Ichigo wants to do it. Shunsui moves on, but his argument is left hanging: why was two months enough for Ichigo? Because, as Orihime will later say out loud, Rukia is special.)

What I’m saying is that that was never the focus. It was explicitly constructed that way.

How do I know? The Grand Fisher fight. The Grand Fisher fight is emotionally charged, bringing up both Ichigo and Rukia’s greatest traumas, and is their one real moment of not understanding each other for a time. It was a triumphant moment that made them truly glad to know one another, and you can see it in their reactions afterward (Rukia thanking Ichigo for not dying, Ichigo asking Rukia if he can keep being a Shinigami). There was a lot to unpack there, and you can see it in the way they look at each other.

What happened immediately after the Grand Fisher fight? Noriaki skipped a whole month. We go from June 18th of 2001 to July 17th of 2001. He deliberately skipped all of the emotional impact of that event, and Rukia being around for Ichigo’s 16th birthday. Just never happened. We never hear about it. Wasn’t his focus as a writer.

Now, I’m convinced that was because he was scared of what he had on his hands. He wasn’t willing to commit to either a couple’s battle shoujo or a shounen with male and female seemingly-heterosexual co-equal deuteragonists who clearly had a strong emotional bond. More specifically, he wasn’t willing to make Rukia a centerpiece of the manga despite having designed her first, having made her the moral and philosophical core of his manga, and having based Ichigo entirely around completing and complementing her. But hey, that’s just my opinion, right? Except it kept happening.

From the Grand Fisher fight onward, the name of the game in the manga, structurally, became keeping Ichigo and Rukia apart.

The moment she was taken back to Soul Society, her prominence dropped. We got emotionally charged scenes of them regardless. Right at the conclusion, after yet another emotionally heavy set of Ichigo and Rukia interactions, we again skip almost a month, from the end of the first week in August of 2001 to September 1, 2001. (Due to some completely unnecessary timey-wimey bullshit with the Precipice World.)

In the Arrancar and Hueco Mundo arcs, they have roughly a day together over the course of three months. What happens after every meeting? They’re shuffled apart and split up, and we cut away. This time, for over a year!

Ichigo and Rukia again have a very emotionally charged meeting in the Xcution arc. And what happens at the end of that arc? We skip ahead another month to TYBW. (Xcution ended sometime in May of 2003, TYBW starts June 11, 2003.)

And in TYBW, Rukia and Ichigo barely meet up at all. Indeed, the focus is scarcely upon them.

In CFYOW, neither of them even appear, let alone have any relevance to the plot.

The implication, in my opinion, is pretty obvious: Noriaki was deathly afraid of dealing with the outcomes of their interactions, and that ultimately became him being deathly afraid of allowing them to interact at all to begin with. Why? Well, as I said in one of the last linked posts:

As an author, sometimes you will find your characters will do things you didn’t anticipate or plan for, and you’ve got two choices: you can go with the flow and do what’s natural and deal, or you can fight it and try and impose your vision anyway.

He refused to let his art take the direction it needed to go in.

Now, some people might say he got bored of them, or of having them together. I say that’s bullshit. And the reason I say is down to three things:

He didn’t ignore them, he did his best to keep them apart. I outlined this above.

He did not emphasize anything or anyone else instead. His focus was all over the place. While, admittedly, Ichigo’s prominence also declined, so did everyone else’s.

It would have served him well to focus on their interactions to expand his universe and explore its lore. The things that were detailed in the databooks and CFYOW could’ve been presented naturally and easily if they were together. But that came with a cost of shifting the focus. A cost he refused to pay.

Let’s talk more about (2) and (3) now.

Regarding (2), Chad and Orihime are inextricably linked in Bleach, because they essentially have the same relationship to Ichigo. “But Orihime loves Ichigo, and Chad is his no-homo bro!” someone proclaims. So what? They’re presented as equal and parallel at every step.

They both gain their powers at approximately the same time.

We are told they gained their powers due to the Hogyouku (in Rukia at the time) interpreting their wishes (and no one else’s, such as Tatsuki, Keigo, or Mizuiro), meaning they probably had the same strength of desire.

They both go to Soul Society “for Ichigo.”

They both utterly fail against Yammy and Ulquiorra.

They both spend most of the Hueco Mundo arc doing nothing.

They are both featured prominently in the Xcution arc, and both fail to see through Tsukishima’s powers despite their love for Ichigo. (Meanwhile, Byakuya coolly tries to murder someone who he thinks is his mentor, in Ichigo’s name.)

They both get sidelined in Hueco Mundo with Kisuke in TYBW, doing little to nothing.

They both are utterly ineffectual in the final fight in TYBW.

They are often portrayed together, they are often as effective as one another, and they are equally as developed in their relationship to Ichigo going forward, which is to say: not at all. The loss of focus on IR did not come with an attendant rise of focus on IH, any more than it did with the sudden rise of IchiChad. Nothing was built in IR’s place. There was no emotional or human content which filled its gap.

This is where the IH ending coming “out of nowhere” stems from: it indeed came out of nowhere, because Ichigo was never shown to have any interest in Orihime in all this time, nor an especially close relationship with her. He never hangs out with Chad or shows a bond with him either. He never hangs out with anyone, in fact. (Indeed, “friends” in Bleach do not do any of the things that friends actually do in real life. Nor do parents. You might say that interpersonal relationships and communication largely don’t exist in Bleach. But that’s its whole own topic.)

I would honestly say that more time and emphasis was given on Ichigo’s pseudo-surrogate mother relationship with Ikumi than was spent on him interacting with Orihime. (I would say Noriaki has serious hangups about relationships of any kind, be they romantic, familial, or friendly, and also has some severe hangups regarding mothers and fathers, but that is also its whole own topic.)

Regarding (3), Noriaki apparently wanted this big, Game of Thrones-style world with a long history and political machinations and so on. This is the whole point of TYBW and CFYOW. Trouble is, early Bleach was successful because of its small-scale intimacy. So how do you go from one to the other? You have to lay the foundations at every step. And Noriaki steadfastly refused to do so at every step. Having Ichigo and Rukia interact, and focusing on Rukia while Ichigo was sidelined without powers, would’ve permitted that organically. Indeed, if RR was the endgame, it would have given time to establish that, were it his desire. (Because Rukia never showed any interest in Renji, and frankly Renji always seemed way more preoccupied with Byakuya.) It didn’t serve his goals, but he did it anyway.

It’s much simpler to say he lost focus, and that he started to hate the manga as a whole. Why else would you have Mayuri fighting a giant hand when that achieved nothing, and Kenpachi fighting Thor when that achieved nothing? It became empty. Hollow, you might say.

But that takes us back to the question you posed: where did the ships come from? Nowhere. IH, RR, and fucking TatsuKeigo weren’t established anywhere. They just appeared. Why?

Well, why did every single character wind up doing the exact opposite of their intended and stated goals in the end?

Why did Soul Society revert to its previous attitude and rebuild the Sokyouku?

Why did nothing get resolved?

Why did nothing change?

Why was it all revealed to have been completely and utterly pointless?

In my view, it’s because that ending was a giant fuck you to the readership and Shueisha. There is no other way to interpret an author pulling a 180° and completely nullifying their characters’ arcs, and their work’s themes. Aizen’s little speech at the end is the cherry on top. I read it as Noriaki saying that he’s showing “courage” in telling us all to fuck off.

As to why? That’s an open question. His relationship with Shueisha was contentious, so maybe he was mad at them. (They gave him a deadline once he was dragging his feet, and reclassified Bleach as a joke manga.) His readership was on the decline after the Soul Society arc ended, so maybe he was mad at the audience. I don’t know. I also don’t really care. What I am convinced of is he decided to blow up his franchise and to not leave a single stone unturned when he did so.

That’s where that “ending” comes from, which is why despite it featuring IH and RR, both are thoroughly unsatisfying and without setup: it was the only way to piss absolutely everyone off, including people who wanted that outcome.

In a way, it was his greatest success since the early days of the manga.

Anyway, this was messy, but it’s not a simple topic to address. The tl;dr is that Bleach was a trainwreck from the very beginning that only succeeded on the merits of its characters, and that Noriaki deliberately avoided the promise it had to be something unique and grand. The ships are just a part of that, and cannot be understood in isolation from it.

#Asks #Bleach

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aidanchaser · 3 years

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Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @magic713m, @ccboomer, @aubsenroute, @somebodyswatson

Chapter Six The Ghoul in Pyjamas

When Harry woke, it was still dark. His head throbbed, as it had almost constantly for the past month, but he did not, in this particular moment, feel the terror and dread that normally wrapped around his gut like a vice. Instead, he felt safe as a gentle evening breeze drifted in through the open balcony door, and he breathed in the scent of grass, damp earth, and jasmine.

He turned and, in the dim light from the moon, saw Ginny curled up in the blankets next to him.

Last night, Ginny and Hermione had appeared at Ron’s door and thrown down armfuls of blankets and pillows. When Ron had told Ginny that no, she was under no circumstances allowed to sleep in his room, Ginny had told him to complain about it to Bill.

Apparently, Ginny and Bill had an arrangement. Ginny would sleep on the sofa and let Bill stay in her room with Fleur. Bill would wake her early in the morning and get her back in her room with Mrs Weasley none the wiser. In exchange, Bill had been teaching Ginny a new repertoire of curses and jinxes.

“I’m getting rather good at silent casting,” she had said with a grin as she plopped down next to Ron’s bookshelf.

With George on the sofa, and of course Fred, Sirius, and Regulus staying downstairs as well, Ginny had decided that the best place for her and Hermione to disappear to was Ron’s room.

Ron hadn’t been initially pleased about it, but he had stopped complaining when Harry had gallantly offered Hermione the camp bed next to Ron. He would be happy to take the floor next to Ginny.

As the four of them had gotten settled in for bed, Hermione had pulled the diadem out from a bundle of linens. They had all stared at it for a moment, until Ron had broken the silence.

“What are we supposed to do with it?”

Harry had shrugged, and told them about his duel with Voldemort, how the diadem had nearly killed him, and might have, if Cedric had not saved him. Hermione had dropped it to the floor as if it had suddenly turned hot in her hands. No one had moved to pick it up.

Finally, Harry had said, “You know you don’t have to come with —”

But Hermione and Ron had fiercely restated their plans to join him on the quest. Ginny had put her hand over his and said, “Ron, you should show him what you did.”

Ron had made a face and said, “In the morning. I think we’ve all got enough nightmare oil to burn for one night.”

Now, the darkness was receding slowly, giving way to a grey dawn. Harry closed his eyes, but there seemed to be a stone wall erected between him and sleep. He was comfortable, he was tired, and yet…

Harry did not think he would be able to sleep well again until this was done, Voldemort in his head or no.

Something chirped beside him and he opened his eyes to see Ginny stirring. She rubbed her eyes and he found the source of the strange noise. Her bracelet was blinking with an orange glow and twittered like a bird song. Ginny didn’t normally wear jewelry, let alone sleep in it.

She pulled it off and sat up with a groan.

“What is it?” Harry whispered.

“Sorry — didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

Ginny rummaged in the blankets for her wand and, once she had found it, pointed it at the bracelet. “Finite.” The chirping and blinking stopped. Ginny yawned. “Bill and I had a close call last week. He overslept, and Mum was in the kitchen when I woke up. She didn’t see me — or maybe just assumed I was Bill under the blankets. I had to sneak back to my room while she was cooking. Gave him and Fleur an earful. Anyway, he made this, one for each of us. It’s charmed to light up when Mum opens up her wardrobe. It’s not perfect, but it helps.”

“So you have to go?”

Ginny glanced at Hermione, still sound asleep, then out at the greying light. “Mum probably won’t check on us for a while. She knows we all had a long night. Surprised she’s up this early herself.”

Harry wondered if he and Mrs Weasley were having similar trouble sleeping. He had seen Mrs Weasley’s boggart two summers ago, and his own parents’ as well: their children, dead. There was nothing that had happened in the past two years to have mitigated that fear.

Ginny squeezed his hand and nodded towards Ron’s balcony. They moved to where they could talk more freely, without worry of waking their friends.

The Burrow was quiet this early in the morning. There were not even birds calling to each other just yet. The air was heavy and damp, but not yet hot. He and Ginny leaned against the railing and each other. Had there not been a war and a prophecy hanging over them, this morning would be perfect.

“I know you have to go,” Ginny said softly, “but will you stay until my birthday at least?”

Harry, who had already told Cedric and Sirius that he might stay until the first of September, thought this a perfectly reasonable request.

“Since I don’t exactly have an idea where I’m going, I don’t think staying a couple more weeks would hurt,” Harry said.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Not much of a plan, then?”

“Cedric said he’s going back through some books. I’m sure Hermione would love to get her hands on what he’s reading.”

“She did some of her own research. I’m sure she’ll tell you about it — that is, if Mum gives you three a moment alone.”

“Is she going to keep us from getting moments alone, too?”

“Until Bill and Fleur’s wedding, I expect we’ll have plenty of mornings like this.”

“And after?”

“What’s to stop you from slipping down to my room?”

“Hermione and Ron, probably.”

She laughed, and they kissed.

There were lots of things Harry loved about Ginny — her confidence, her indignation, her bravery, her eyes, her smile — but above all, he loved making her laugh. He had grown up in a house full of pranks and witty comments, a house full of laughter. Making Ginny laugh felt like coming home. He didn’t know if that was how to define love, but he knew that he quite liked the feeling, and he wanted to stay with it as long as possible.

Staying until the first of September sounded better and better by the hour.

But the sight of four owls on the horizon reminded Harry that he couldn’t extend his stay at the Burrow any longer than necessary.

Three were simply their owls returning from their nightly hunt. Pigwidgeon and Errol swooped upward toward the roof of the house, and Hedwig came to rest on Ron’s balcony. She hooted a greeting at Harry and Ginny. The fourth owl soared down towards the kitchen, a rolled up newspaper tied to its talons.

Whatever terrible news was enclosed in that paper could only be stopped by Harry defeating Voldemort.

Harry stroked Hedwig and she stretched her neck up into his hand.

“When I do go,” Harry said, “could you take Hedwig? I don’t think it’ll be safe to travel with her.”

Ginny did not answer right away, even though Harry had not thought the request especially taxing. He had thought Ginny might even like having a reminder of him around while she was away at Hogwarts.

“I guess writing to you is out of the question,” she finally said.

“Maybe I could take the second half of the mirror off of my parents before I go. We could talk without anyone knowing.”

“I would sleep a lot better knowing you’re safe.”

Harry thought that he would, too.

They allowed themselves a few more quiet minutes together, even as the smell of breakfast cooking drifted up from the kitchen, before waking Hermione. It was decided that the walk down the creaky stairs was too risky, so Ginny borrowed Ron’s broom to carry her and Hermione around the outside of the house, avoiding windows, until she reached the window of her own bedroom.

Once they had gone, Ron crawled back into bed and fell asleep without much thought. Harry lied down on the camp bed. It smelled like Hermione still, which Harry found neither comforting nor disconcerting, just unusual. He felt a lump under the pillow and when he dug his hand underneath, he retrieved the diadem. At least it had not tried to kill Hermione in her sleep.

Harry set it aside and wondered if Cedric would be able to help him destroy it without the use of the sword, or if perhaps Hermione had found something in her research. Together, they could all go through Grimmauld Place’s library. Harry hoped that Cedric’s theory was right, that Snape had not shared the location with Voldemort after all.

Though Harry did not remember falling asleep, the sun was streaming brightly through Ron’s window when Mrs Weasley’s knock at the door called them downstairs for breakfast.

The breakfast table was nearly full when they arrived. Fred and Tonks sat next to Lily and James, and Fleur, Ginny, and Hermione were already seated as well. Picksie, Molly, and Remus set out the food.

“If your bedhead is any indication,” James said as Ron and Harry took their seats, “then I’d say you both slept rather well.”

“My hair always looks like this,” Harry said, and made a show of trying to flatten it out. “Just like yours.” But he supposed there was some truth to James’ statement. Sleeping on the floor beside Ginny had been some of the best sleep he had gotten all summer.

“George alright?” Ron asked, glancing between his mother and Fred.

“He’s resting today,” Molly said. “I wish we could all take the day off, but there’s a good deal of work to be done.”

“Where’s Sirius and Regulus?” Harry asked. “And Hagrid and Bill?”

“Sirius ‘as gone weeth Bill to check ze barriers around ze Burrow, since Hagreed left early for Hogsmeade,” Fleur said. “I ‘ave not seen Regulus zis morning.”

“I’m sure he heard Mum say there was work to be done and decided to nap under the sofa,” Fred laughed.

“He certainly disappeared a good deal while we were at Grimmauld Place,” Remus said as he took his seat beside Tonks.

Ginny yawned and filled her plate. “I think I’ll take a nap under the sofa, too.”

“Not when there’s cutlery to be polished and favours to put together and a garden to get in perfect order you won’t,” Mrs Weasley said.

“Picksie will help,” Picksie squeaked, and climbed into a chair that someone had resized so she could sit at the table. “Picksie loves gardening.”

“We’ll all help, Molly,” Lily said as she adjusted the bandages on her arm. “It’s the least we could do.”

The back door opened, and Bill and Sirius were thoroughly scolded for dragging in mud before Molly pulled up chairs for them.

“Morning everyone,” Bill said cheerily, and kissed Fleur before taking his seat. “Any news about our grand duel last night in the papers?”

Hermione folded up the Daily Prophet she had been reading half-heartedly and handed it to Bill. “It seems,” she sighed, “that they don’t want people knowing just how powerful Voldemort’s gotten.”

Sirius snorted. “You’d think they might want to let the world know Harry Potter dueled and won against Voldemort once again. Might bolster morale — Tonks, aren’t you eating?”

Harry frowned and looked at Tonks, realising suddenly that it wasn’t like her to be so quiet, even early in the morning, and her plate was strangely empty. She even looked pale.

“I’m not very hungry,” she said, but she reached for a piece of toast and nibbled on it without buttering it.

Remus frowned worriedly and Sirius drummed his fingers on the table.

“Too much whiskey last night?” Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, must be,” she said, but that only confused Harry because he didn’t remember Tonks drinking at all.

“Perhaps we should head home,” Remus said.

With a pang, Harry realised that “home” was no longer Styncon Gardens for Remus. It wasn’t going to be home for any of them for a while.

As Remus stood, he pulled the ring off his finger and handed it to James.

“This is yours, isn’t it?”

“Er — yeah.” James took it. “Last minute stand in. We’ll get you a proper one soon.”

“There’s no need,” Remus said.

Sirius was about to argue, but Tonks cut him off as she also got to her feet. “Sorry to leave so abruptly, Molly. Maybe I’ll have a better appetite next time.”

“You may want to hold off your next time,” Bill said. “If you do come around again, we’ll probably put you to work getting ready for the wedding.”

Tonks’ smile was thin but earnest. “That actually sounds nice.”

Bill and Molly were not exaggerating about putting people to work. There were linens to change, rooms to clean, gnomes to de-gnome, ribbons to match, flowers to plant, chickens to muck — the list never ended. And Harry noticed how Molly never gave him tasks with Ron, Hermione, or Ginny, just as Ginny had predicted.

On Monday, Harry worked with Lily to change all the linens for the Delacours’ arrival. She didn’t comment when Harry and Ron brought down an enormous bundle of linens from upstairs, far more than was necessary for two beds, but she did raise her eyebrows.

They took a short break after hanging the wash for Sirius to take a look at Lily’s arm. Sirius taught and made Harry re-explain the theory behind Burn Healing, but he did not let Harry attempt the spell on Lily’s arm. He did, though, take the time to teach Harry the Hydration Web that Tonks had used the night before. Sirius explained that it was essential to proper Healing, as burns depleted the body’s store of water.

“When did you learn all of this?” Harry asked. He understood how Sirius had learned the Healing necessary to repair breaks and bites, but these sorts of spells and Anti-Hexes were not the types of wounds one usually got from a werewolf.

“It isn’t our first war, Harry,” Lily said softly.

“I know you’ve said that Dumbledore didn’t want you to share his plan,” there was a dark edge in Sirius’ voice as he wrapped Lily’s arm in fresh gauze, “but we’re here to help you, Harry. Prophecy be damned, we’re going to help.”

Both gratitude and protest lodged themselves in Harry’s throat. He said nothing, however, and only muttered the incantation to clean the used bandages.

On Tuesday, Harry polished silver with Fleur and listened politely while she chatted about how excited she was for the wedding and how she and Bill would be traveling in France for the honeymoon. It was not exactly more preferable than Sirius’ pressing, but at least Fleur was content with vague grunts of approval.

On Wednesday, James, Harry, and Picksie put the final touches on the garden. They added Flitterby bushes to the porch, de-gnomed the garden, and spruced up the chicken coop. With James’ excellent Transfiguration techniques, it looked as good as new by the time they were done.

James did not bring up Harry’s impending departure throughout the day’s work. The closest he came was mentioning that Molly wanted to put together a small dinner for Harry’s birthday tomorrow evening.

“She said she’d invite Remus and Tonks, of course, and the Longbottoms. Did you want anyone else? Cedric, maybe?”

Harry shook his head. “She doesn’t have to — I mean, it’s okay if we don’t do anything.” He had not had high hopes for his seventeenth birthday, not since lifting the Trace meant the beginning of bearing the full weight of the prophecy.

“Your mum and I said the same. She insisted.” James paused and eyed the chicken coop. He used his wand to add a detail of posies in the paint around the door. “We are going to talk tomorrow,” he finally said, “about all of this.”

Harry appreciated the warning. He did not want to lie, but having the time to figure out exactly what to tell them and how to tell it would help. Maybe he should just tell them everything. Maybe they could help him destroy the diadem, or maybe they would have ideas about where the other Horcruxes were hidden. Like Sirius had said — it wasn’t their first war.

“James,” someone called from the porch. They turned to see Regulus calling to them, hands shading his eyes. “Lily and Molly want your help colour-matching some ribbons. Lily says you have the best eye for it.”

James grinned, all tension from his conversation with Harry invisible at a moment’s notice. “She’s right.”

He disappeared into the house, leaving Harry and Picksie to finish up weeding the flowerbeds, but Picksie insisted that she could perform the work fastest with her own magic, and Harry should go inside to find something else to help with.

Harry slipped past his parents and Mrs Weasley working in the living room, and went upstairs, thinking he would prefer helping Ron clean his room to matching colours on ribbons.

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it!” Ron said suddenly, as Harry pushed the door open.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron, standing in the center of the room with a sock in each hand. He realised it was Harry who had walked in and sighed in relief.

“Oh,” and Ron fell back into his bed.

The bedroom was not any cleaner that it had been that morning. Harry and Ron’s trunks were both open, clothes draped on the edges and in piles on the floor. The bedding that Harry and Ginny had been sleeping on was thrown onto the camp bed in a lump, and Hermione was seated there, a book in her lap.

“Weren’t you supposed to be doing something?” Harry asked.

“Linens,” she said, “but you already did that. Ginny and I didn’t think it worth mentioning.” She closed the book in her lap and tossed it into a pile of more books on the floor.

“We were just talking about Yaxley,” Ron said. “D’you reckon he survived?”

Harry shrugged. “Mum and the Diggorys and George all got out, so I don’t see why he couldn’t.”

Ron frowned. “Yeah, Hermione said the same. Still, it’d be nice to think he didn’t.”

Hermione turned over Spellman’s Syllabary in her hands and eyed the spine.

“I’m more surprised he was able to get close to Mr Diggory,” she said distractedly. “The Ministry doesn’t seem to care much at all that he was there when… when Dumbledore was killed.”

Ron sat up and scrounged through his bedside table for a handkerchief, as if he could sense the oncoming tears.

“What do you think, Harry?” she said suddenly.

“What? About the Ministry once again failing to listen to me about any —”

“I meant about runes. Do you think we’ll need to translate any runes in our hunt for Horcruxes? I suppose it’s possible. Perhaps we should take it anyway.” And she tossed her book into a new pile, then reached for Hogwarts, A History.

Harry watched her run her finger through the table of contents before sighing and adding it to her pile of books to carry with them.

Ron stood uncomfortably with a handkerchief in his hand, and his eyes darted furtively between Harry and Hermione. Harry did not think he needed a handkerchief, even as he swallowed down a swell of emotion.

“Are you sure you’ve really thought this through —”

Hermione slammed one of the books on top of the discard pile. Harry didn’t see the title, but he did see Gilderoy Lockhart’s flowing blonde hair on the cover.

“Of course we have, Harry,” she said, rather sharply. “I’ve spent all week packing — if you’re missing some of your wash, it’s probably in my bag. Ron told you what he did, didn’t he?”

“Er —” Ron frowned. “We haven’t talked about it in detail or anything —”

“Show him.”

Ron sighed and got out of bed. He motioned for Harry to follow him onto the landing, where he pointed his wand at the ceiling and brought down a set of stairs. The stairs were not the only thing that came down from the attic.

Harry buried his nose in the crook of his elbow as a terrible smell, much like a sewer drain, wafted down, along with strange, low moans that reminded Harry of the Bloody Baron haunting the Astronomy Tower.

“Is that your ghoul?” Harry asked. “The one who usually rattles the pipes?”

Ron nodded and motioned for Harry to follow him up. Harry’s stomach protested, but he followed Ron just the same.

In the small attic crawlspace, Harry saw the ghoul, moaning, with bright red hair and dressed in pajamas — two features Harry did not think were very common in ghouls and poltergeists. It was as slimy as he expected a ghoul to be, though he did not think the oozing green pustules were a traditional feature of ghouls, at least not to that extreme.

“Are those… your pajamas?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said, then made a face. “I’ll explain — but not here. The smell is getting to me.”

He and Harry went back downstairs, and Ron firmly closed the attic door behind them. The smell lingered, but it was more bearable once they were back in Ron’s room with the open balcony.

“The ghoul will be me while I’m gone,” Ron explained. “He’ll get to live in my room, which I think he’s excited about — at least, he nods a lot between his moans and drools when you mention it. Pretty good, isn’t it?”

Harry blinked at Ron as he took a seat on the floor. “I don’t get it.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione said sharply. “When the three of us don’t return to Hogwarts, you know the Death Eaters — and the Ministry — will come looking for us, and our families.”

“We can’t have all of our families in hiding like yours,” Ron said, a bit more patiently than Hermione, “especially with how big mine is. And they all have jobs and things. So instead, we’re going to put out the story that I’ve got spattergroit, so I can’t go back to school. If anyone investigates, Mum and Dad can show them the ghoul in my bed, covered in pustules. Spattergroit’s really contagious, so they’re not going to want to go near him. It won’t matter that he can’t say anything either, because apparently you can’t once the fungus spreads to your uvula.”

“So your parents are in on the plan?” Harry asked.

Ron made a face. “You know my Mum. But Dad’s in on it. He helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum probably won’t accept that we’ve really gone until we actually Apparate away.”

Harry thought about what he would have to tell his parents tomorrow. Maybe Ron’s approach was right. They could help him, even if they couldn’t know all the details.

“What about you, Hermione?” Harry asked. “What did your parents say when you told them?”

Hermione froze, Numerology and Grammatica about to be tossed aside, but suddenly clutched tightly in her hands. She finally discarded it and said, “I didn’t tell them. They’re Muggles, so they wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh… You don’t think the Death Eaters will leave them alone, do you?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. “That’s why I modified their memories. They think they’re called Monica and Wendell Wilkins, and their life’s ambition is to move to Australia. I expect they’re already there by now, and perfectly happy, and perfectly out of Voldemort’s reach, were he to try to track them down.”

“And they don’t know about you leaving school?”

Hermione hesitated again. “They don’t even know they have a daughter, just a very big cat called Crookshanks.” A tear fell down her cheek as she said this, and Ron hastily searched his bed for the handkerchief to hand to her. She thanked him and blew her nose. “Assuming we survive,” she sniffed, “I’ll find them when this is all over,” she said, “and undo the Charm. But, until then…”

Harry sat down on the floor and considered just how much Ron and Hermione were giving up for him. Hermione had a point, that it was very likely their families would be tracked down for information on him. Remus, Tonks, and Sirius were in as much danger as James and Lily. If Harry involved them in this quest, then Voldemort had more opportunities to learn what Harry was doing and stop him.

Harry wondered what would happen to Cedric’s parents if Cedric suddenly stopped showing up at the Ministry. Had Cedric also made preparations for his family? For his boyfriend? Harry didn’t know much about Christian, but he knew that he worked for the Ministry. It would not be hard for the Death Eaters to get to him and the Diggorys, too.

“What we really need to decide,” Hermione said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts, “is where we’re going to go after we leave here. Do we track down the sword? Or another Horcrux?”

Harry had been turning this question over in his mind all summer, and he had not found any answers. “I suppose you haven’t found another way to destroy the diadem,” he said.

“I have been researching that,” Hermione said. She dug through her pile of books that were approved for the journey and fished out a black book with gold binding.

“I thought you said that you couldn’t find any books on Horcruxes in the Hogwarts library,” Harry frowned. “I know Cedric said he found some in Grimmauld Place, but —”

“There weren’t any in the library,” Hermione said, “but… well, when we were packing to leave Hogwarts, I just… I cast Accio and they came zooming out of Dumbledore’s office. He had removed them from the library, but he didn’t destroy them.”

Ron gaped at her.

“It’s not as if we’re going to use them to make a Horcrux,” Hermione said defensively. “And anyway, I would have thought Dumbledore would make the much harder to get to — and they were library books, after all, so it isn’t stealing —”

“Do you hear us complaining?” Ron said. “I think it’s brilliant. Tell us what you found.”

Hermione sighed and touched the cover of the black tome in her hands gingerly. “This is the one with all the instructions for creating a Horcrux — Secrets of the Darkest Art. It’s a horrible book, full of awful, evil magic. If Dumbledore didn’t have it removed until he became Headmaster, Tom Riddle must have got all the instruction he needed from here.”

“Then why’d he ask Slughorn about it?” Ron asked.

“He only approached Slughorn to ask about the danger of making multiple Horcruxes,” Harry said. “I think he’d already killed his dad by then, and turned that ring into a Horcrux, and probably killed Moaning Myrtle to make his diary a Horcrux, too. But he would have needed to know if it was safe to make more.”

“Wouldn’t it have been nice if it wasn’t?” Ron asked. “If he’d just evaporated after making a third or fourth?”

“I’m surprised he’s made it as far as he did,” Hermione said, “especially if Harry’s dream is right, and Voldemort made a new one. This book even warns how dangerous tearing your soul once is. Voldemort’s done it six times now — seven, if Harry’s dream is accurate.”

“Is there any way to put yourself back together?” Ron asked.

“Oh, yes,” Hermione said, “but it’s supposedly more painful than tearing it in the first place.”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“Remorse. There’s a footnote saying you’ve got to really feel sorry for what you’ve done, for the people you’ve killed. Apparently the pain of that alone can kill you. I don’t see Voldemort doing that somehow, do you?”

Ron grunted in annoyance. “Alright, so undoing it’s out. How do we find and destroy them?”

“I don’t know about finding,” Hermione said, “but destroying them isn’t easy. The book warns Dark wizards how strong they have to make the enchantments on them. From what I’ve read, what Harry did to Riddle’s diary was one of the really foolproof ways of destroying a Horcrux.”

“Stabbing it with a basilisk fang?” Harry said with raised eyebrows.

“Good thing we have such a large supply of basilisk fangs,” Ron snorted. “I was wondering what we would do with them.”

“It doesn’t have to be a basilisk fang, exactly. Just something as dangerous. Something that prevents the Horcrux from repairing itself. Basilisk venom only has one antidote — phoenix tears. So a Horcrux can’t fix itself. Gryffindor’s sword would work, because it has those same properties now, but we couldn’t just find any goblin-made sword. A cut can be Healed. There are very few substances as deadly as basilisk venom, and they’re all dangerous to travel with. Perhaps if we take the diadem to one of them…”

“Sure, let’s march into Hogwarts and pick up some basilisk fangs,” Ron said. “It’s only more protected than the Ministry.”

“What if we do that?” Harry asked. “I know we’ve said we aren’t going back to school, but what if we just went back?”

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione scoffed, “do you think you’d be able to carry the diadem back into Hogwarts? And traveling on the Hogwarts Express would be foolish. Put yourself in one place that you can’t get away from, at a time and location the Death Eaters can easily predict?”

“Okay,” Harry said, “new plan — we get Ginny to get us basilisk fangs.”

“And how are we supposed to get them from her?”

“The tunnel under the Shrieking Shack. Only Dumbledore and my family know about it —”

“And Snape,” Ron said. “If You-Know-Who thinks we’d go back to Hogwarts for anything — if he knows we’ve got a Horcrux —”

Harry grimaced. “Alright, Hogwarts is out. I’m still going to get Ginny the mirror, though, just in case. If we don’t have any other options, it might be worth the risk.”

“Speaking of Ginny…” Ron frowned.

Harry braced himself for another warning about hurting Ginny, or even a request that he break up with her before the quest, but it didn’t come.

“I was thinking about how the diadem tried to kill Harry,” Ron said. “Isn’t it like when the diary tried to kill Ginny? How safe is it to travel with this thing?”

Hermione’s hand rested on the pillow on the camp bed, where they had been hiding the diadem. “As long as the magical container is still intact, the bit of soul inside of it can flit in and out of someone if they get too close to the object. I don’t mean holding it for too long; it’s nothing to do with touching it. I mean close emotionally. Ginny poured her heart out into that diary, she made herself incredibly vulnerable. You’re in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t think I’m very dependent on the diadem.”

“I should think,” Hermione said, “that dueling Voldemort directly had an impact. It must have sensed danger.”

“So we destroy all the Horcruxes before we face Voldemort,” Ron said, “not just to make him easier to kill, but so that we don’t accidentally kill ourselves in the process.”

“Which leaves us with perhaps a more pressing question,” Hermione said, “which is where do we look?”

Ron and Hermione both looked to Harry for an answer, but he didn’t have one. He certainly wished that he did, but he couldn’t think of anything from his lessons with Dumbledore that gave him a clue where the other Horcruxes might be.

“Cedric said he would look for more information in the Black family library. He thinks Grimmauld Place might still be safe. We could start there. I know Regulus Black thought that there might be a Horcrux there.”

“But he didn’t find one,” Hermione pointed out. “We ought to look at places that were important to Voldemort. Places important to his childhood, to his rise to power. The orphanage, maybe?” she suggested, but Harry considered the objects Voldemort had chosen — symbols of Hogwarts and of his wizarding legacy.

“He’ll want something that symbolises his power,” Harry said. “Something like Hogwarts, or his family home. I’ve no idea where Regulus found the locket. Perhaps we should —”

There was a loud bang as Ron’s bedroom door flew open. Harry dove for his wand and Hermione, in an attempt to stand quickly, got tangled in the linens and fell off the camp bed. Ron leapt to his feet, scrambling for a jumper draped over his trunk.

Mrs Weasley stood in the doorway, her brown eyes flashing furiously as she looked over the three of them. “I’m so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering, but the Delacours will be here shortly, and there are still presents that need sorting out, and Ronald Weasley, I thought that thisroomwouldbecleanbynow.” She said all of this without taking a breath.

Mrs Weasley took Hermione to sort out the presents alongside a very irritated Ginny, and Harry was escorted to the kitchen where Sirius was washing dishes by hand.

“Ah, Molly,” Sirius said with a tired smile. “Can you ask Lily and James to end their competition for most detailed ribbon decoration? I’d like my wand back to finish up these dishes.”

Mrs Weasley frowned. “I thought I had Regulus helping you.”

Sirius shrugged. “He disappeared as soon as I got the water running.”

Mrs Weasley huffed and left to find Regulus. Putting Regulus Black to work, however, was much like trying to squeeze pus from a Bubotuber Pod, and Harry thought that perhaps Mrs Weasley ought to have learned that by now. He set to work helping Sirius finish off the dishes without complaint. Even though he would not be seventeen until tomorrow, Sirius did not scold him for using his wand to finish up the cleaning. It was much more efficient, and they were able to not only have the dishes washed but the table set with plenty of time for them to clean themselves up before the Delacours arrived.

Arthur Weasley went to meet the Delacours at the point their Portkey would arrive, and the Weasleys and Potters gathered on the porch to greet the Delacours as they arrived. Lily attempted to flatten Harry’s hair, and Harry asked why she never bothered trying to flatten James’.

“He’s taller than I am,” she said.

“So am I.”

“Yes, but you weren’t always.”

“In Harry’s defense,” James said, “you were taller than me when we were twelve, but I don’t think you had much interest in my hair then.”

“And yet,” Sirius interrupted, “you still somehow managed to spend an hour in front of the mirror every morning trying to style it in a way to get her attention.”

Mr and Mrs Delacour arrived with their youngest daughter, Gabrielle, who Harry had met briefly at the Triwizard Tournament. Gabrielle, two years grown since then, looked even more like Fleur and her mother. They all had the same silvery hair, sharp cheeks, and graceful walk. Mr Delacour, however, walked beside his wife less like a leaping gazelle and more like a trundling hippopotamus. He was shorter and rounder than his wife and daughters, with a dark and pointy beard and a candid smile. He greeted Molly first with a kiss on each cheek, then did the same to Lily, catching her off guard. He stopped and looked at Ginny.

“Fleur told us that Bill ‘ad only one seester and here I see two!”

“Non, Papa,” Fleur laughed. “Voici Lily Potter et voici James et Harry. Oh! Et Sirius Black.”

“Enchanté!” Mr Delacour heartily shook each of their hands. “Ve have hear’ much of your duels against Celui-Dont-On-Ne-Doit-Pas-Prononcer-Le-Nom, and Fleur has spoken very vell of you all.”

Sirius grinned and said something in rapid fire French that Harry thought must be nonsense, but Mr Delacour threw his head back and laughed.

“C’est vrai!” he said, and wiped a tear from his eye. “C’est vrai.”

Harry could not keep up with them, and simply stared as Sirius and Delacour conversed animatedly.

James groaned. “We’ll never get Sirius back.”

“You would think he’d be out of practise,” Lily said.

“He’s only doing it to show off because Regulus can’t show him up —”

Lily elbowed him as Mrs Delacour approached and gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

The black cat watched from a window inside, and Harry hoped that Regulus was not too uncomfortable. The Delacours were not in the Order, and though they were certainly trustworthy, Regulus Black was still a wanted criminal. He would need to remain a cat in the Weasley’s household until the last of the wedding guests had gone, including the Delacours.

Mrs Delacour praised the house and all the hard work Fleur said they had gone to. Mrs Weasley insisted that it was nothing at all, and Ron and Ginny exchanged glances that bordered on murderous.

The Delacours were pleasant guests, and added more laughter to an already lively household. The only real downside, Harry and Ron discovered that first night, was that since Gabrielle was staying with Fleur in Ginny and Hermione’s room, Ginny and Hermione could no longer sneak upstairs. Somehow, Harry found the camp bed far less comfortable than the floor had been.

And, for some reason, he began dreaming of a small town somewhere in the German countryside.

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

On the morning of the thirty-first of July, Harry woke with the dawn, as he had each morning before, only this time, he had no desire to fall back asleep. He excitedly rummaged for his wand and whispered, “

Accio Glasses

.”

His glasses slammed into his face, poking him in the eye, but he grinned regardless. He could do magic, and there was no Trace to tell the Ministry what he was up to.

Harry spent his morning quietly practicing sets of mundane Charms while Ron slept. He removed books from Ron’s shelves and put them away. He changed the colour of his pyjamas. He unpacked his trunk and re-folded all of his clothes. This particular spell was rather time consuming, but he hoped with practice he would become as efficient at it as his parents were.

When Ron did finally wake up properly, he rummaged under his bed for a moment before retrieving a small box wrapped in red paper and gold ribbon.

“Happy seventeenth birthday,” Ron said.

There were two smaller packages inside the one box, and Harry, who had expected something Quidditch-related and was prepared for the sting of his lost Firebolt, was instead surprised to unwrap two Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products.

The first was a round tin labeled “Bruise-Removal” and the other a small satchel labeled “Sugar Hexes.”

“Wow, thanks, Ron.”

“I know it’s not much — but I figured you might want stuff you can carry when we go wherever it is we end up. And I remembered how helpful having those trick sweets was when we were stuck in Umbridge’s office, but if —”

“I think it’s brilliant, Ron. Thanks.”

There were gifts throughout the day. Hermione met him on the stairs and gave him a pocket Sneakoscope. At breakfast, the Weasley twins had a set of prank merchandise for him, Bill and Fleur gifted him a razor that they claimed did most of the work on its own, and Mr and Mrs Weasley gave him a jumper with a Snitch knit into the front that he put on immediately, despite the warm summer day.

Picksie’s gift was the breakfast itself, particularly the eggs that burst into feathers when Harry’s fork touched them. Sirius fell out of his chair from laughing so hard, and Harry thought that the laughter at breakfast was actually the best gift he could have gotten that day.

The small dinner that Mrs Weasley had promised turned out much larger than Harry would have liked. Dinner was moved into the garden to accommodate all the guests in the house, in addition to Charlie who had just arrived that afternoon from Romania, and Mr and Mrs Longbottom who came with Neville.

Mrs Weasley set the cake down in the center of the table in the garden. It was a Snitch about as big as Harry’s head, decorated in gold frosting that glittered in the twinkling fairy lights and lanterns that illuminated their outdoor dinner. He thanked her profusely, not entirely sure how else to express his gratitude, not just for the birthday but for everything the Weasleys had done for him and his family this week.

She smiled and promised him it was no trouble at all, but her worried eyes flicked to the gate. Mr Weasley was not yet home from the Ministry, despite the late hour. Though the evening carried on without him, the weight of his absence was felt in the lulls in conversation and gazes that drifted towards the edge of the garden.

“Forgive us if we’re a bit partied-out,” Mrs Longbottom said, and handed Harry a box about the size of his History of Magic textbook and about as heavy.

“We just had the whole family over last night for Neville’s seventeenth,” Mr Longbottom explained. “But we didn’t want to miss your seventeenth.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything —”

“Nonsense,” Mrs Longbottom interrupted. “You’re practically family, Harry. I remember when your parents stayed with us for a few months just before you were born, around the time the Ministry sent me home on leave for my own pregnancy. Your mother and I gave James quite the run around with our fickle appetites and several false labor alarms.”

“Neville tells us you’re interested in being an Auror after you finish at Hogwarts,” Mr Longbottom said. “We thought you might like something to help with that.”

Harry pulled back the wrapping to reveal a book bound in purple leather and gold leaf. The lettering on the spine read, “A Compendium of Codes of Conduct for the Career Auror.”

“When it comes time to start your Auror training,” said Mrs Longbottom, “let us know. I’m sure one of us will be happy to take on mentoring for you.”

“And the other will take Neville,” Mr Longbottom said with a smile.

Neville choked on the sip of water he had been in the middle of swallowing. “Dad — I’m not going to be an Auror. I only got four O.W.L.s.”

Mrs Longbottom kissed his cheek. “If you want to be an Auror, we can teach you anything you need to know, no matter what your exams say. But you know we’ll be proud of you no matter what you decide on. You can be anything you’d like, anything at all.”

Neville’s face turned bright red.

Harry thanked them for the gift, but he wondered if it would be as useful as they had hoped. He would not be finishing his education at Hogwarts, and he had not considered what that would mean for his future, nor Ron and Hermione’s. Were they also giving up dreams by abandoning their education?

It was tempting to simply disappear, to leave his friends and set out on this quest alone. Ron and Hermione could return to Hogwarts, could pursue the futures they wanted without interruption. But when he thought of all that they had already done for him, he knew it would be wrong to ignore their sacrifice. For better or worse, his friends were committed to seeing this through to the end.

The gate creaked as it opened, and Mrs Weasley turned towards it immediately, but it was not Mr Weasley who had arrived. Instead, Remus and Tonks came up the path and waved to the party.

Though Harry already thought that there were too many people here, he felt a warmth in his chest at the sight of them. He had not realised just how much of his mind had been devoted to worrying about them until that strain lifted. His entire family was present, and a part of him could relax.

Even as relief filled him, guilt twisted in his gut as he thought of the two-way mirror.

Just yesterday, while everyone had been preparing for the wedding, he had snuck into his parents room and stolen his parents’ half out of James’ trunk. He’d given it to Ginny, and made sure to give his half to Hermione, so she could pack it with everything else she had been preparing for their trip. Once he was gone, his parents would discover the mirror’s absence, and there would be nothing they could do about it. They would have no way to know that Harry was safe.

And Harry would have no way to know that they were safe.

Tonks gave Harry a tight hug when she saw him. “Wotcher, Harry! Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “Are you feeling better?”

“What? Oh — yes, mostly. It comes and goes.”

“You put away nearly five helpings of potatoes and gravy at dinner last night,” Remus said, “but this morning you could hardly finish your toast. It comes and goes in some strange extremes.”

Tonks’ cheeks flushed. “Yes, well, I feel just fine tonight. Let’s say hello to everyone, shall we?”

Tonks hurried to greet the Longbottoms, but Remus stopped and hugged Harry. “Happy birthday, Harry.” He pulled a slender box from the pocket of his robe. “Have your parents given you their gift yet?”

“Er — no. I think they want to talk about… you know. Everything.”

Remus tucked the box back into his cloak. “Then ours will wait, too. They go better together.”

“You shouldn’t have —”

“It isn’t much,” Remus promised, “but it’s from Sirius and the cat, too. We wanted to do something for you. Seventeen’s an important year, after all.”

Harry didn’t care for the way “Seventeen’s an important year” settled into his gut. This year was important, for a lot of reasons, and Harry found himself wishing that it wasn’t.

“I suppose we should start without Arthur,” Mrs Weasley said as she pulled up seats for Remus and Tonks. “I’m sure he was only held up — oh!”

A silver spark crossed the gate and darted toward the table until it took the shape of a scampering weasel. It sat up on its hind legs and announced, “All is well. Minister for Magic coming with me.”

James and Lily looked at each other.

“Should we go?” Harry asked.

“He did say all was well,” Sirius murmured. “Maybe he thinks this is worth Scrimgeour knowing where we are.”

Remus swallowed hard. “Tonks and I should probably —”

“No,” Lily snapped. “If we’re staying, you’re staying.”

“It’s not like Scrimgeour doesn’t know about us,” Tonks said, and twisted the wedding band on her finger.

In the end, the only person who left the table was the black cat who wove between feet and chairs and scampered into the house just as Mr Weasley and Rufus Scrimgeour appeared at the gate.

Scrimgeour leaned heavily on his cane as he and Arthur approached. His hair still stuck out from his head, giving him the appearance of a lion, but it seemed thinner and greyer. His limp, too, seemed more pronounced. But his cold, critical gaze was unchanged as it passed over the gathering, until it slowly widened in surprise as he took in the Longbottoms and the Potters.

Frank and Alice stood, but James and Lily remained firmly in their seats as Scrimgeour reached the table.

“Sorry to intrude,” Scrimgeour said, “especially as I can see that I am gate-crashing a party.” His eyes flickered between Harry and Neville, as if he was unsure which of them the party was in honour of. He settled on, “Many happy returns to the two of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Neville said politely, as Harry offered a stiff, “Thanks.”

“I came to speak with Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger,” Scrimgeour said, “but as coincidence would have it, I also have business with Mr Neville Longbottom and Mr Harry Potter. Quite convenient to find you all together.”

“What sort of business?” James asked, voice as cold and stiff as Harry’s had been.

“I’m here to read the will of Albus Dumbledore.”

#harry potter and the deathly hallows #harry potter #everyone lives au #hp everyone lives #dh

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san-station · 4 years

Text

Come home • Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

WARNING: kinda angst?

↝Word count: 2k

A/N: Imagine it's around 1940 - 1950

You were slowly dancing in the living room, all alone, while the jazz music from the record player flowed through the house into your ears, making you breath in a small bubble of nostalgic and happiness. Your beloved friend, Seungmin, was taking care of your children, well informed of the special evening so you decided to embrace yourself with your traditional ritual.

You arrived home pretty late, tired of working all day, although, the warm feeling of your home inviting you to relax on that special day was very promising, so nothing could stop you from opening that bottle of red wine, taking off your hurtful shoes and setting the music up. It brought you a bit of tranquility in a whole industrialized country where working was the first priority for safety.

You glanced at every little detail around you, the shelves where pictures and some toys rested, paintings that your children did gathered over the floor, promises made on those walls that will never be true… and so, you finally saw it. It was a small velvet box covered with a few dust particles. You slowly stepped near it and grabbed it with your free hand.

You sighed and opened.

It’s a special evening, you remembered.

“March 20th.

Today is a special day, right? How are you doing? Are you eating well? This nostalgic is sickening the walls from our place, darling. Can you imagine the green walls getting darker and darker each time we say your name? We know you probably won’t read this on time but… happy birthday! It’s the first one away from us… How does it feel? Do you miss us? Sure you do, mister 'I love mi family so much I'll die for them'. That letter was cute, to be honest.

Anyway, remember we’re happy for you! Oh, and Rodie wrote a poem for you, it says ‘One day I’ll be tall, one day I’ll be strong, one day I’ll be like you, that day might be soon’. Isn’t it cute?! He misses you so much, I really hope you’re okay. Stay safe and you’ll come home very soon.

Yours forever,

Y/N ”

“April 19th.

Today, Rodie wanted to go stargazing, he said he saw a shooting star and wished you were here. Then, he cried because he was pretty sure that saying the wish out loud won’t make it happen, but I made sure to let him know that we will see you soon, Jinnie! You know... while I looked at the stars, all I could think was you, you and your beauty, you and your kindness, you and only you...

Your eyes are watching the same sky as we are, did you know? So basically we’re all stargazing together! We still have this, tho haha.

You’re the brightest star of all the galaxy, darling. Also, thanks for your letter and the little poem, Rodie was bragging about it at school all the week, even the teacher said he should stop but he’s a proud boy showing how much you care about him.

Anyway, stay safe.

Yours forever,

Y/N.”

“April 27th

I got fever for the whole week, Jinnie, my sister took care of me the whole time, don’t worry! Yet, as I was sleeping with the delusional heat, I suddenly felt your warm arms around my waist, back hugging me while we sleep. I could listen to your heartbeat, and I was trying to match mine with yours. And I heard you whispered that you'll be here soon! Was it all a dream? I wish you were here.

Sometimes I dream you’d touch my belly and ask if I'm doing okay, if we are doing okay. And I’d say that you don’t need to worry about the growing life that’s getting stronger everyday inside of me, we've been through this before, this is just another round!

I didn’t want to wake up, however, Rodie asked to write you something again since we didn’t received a response from the previous one. He says ‘Dad! Did you know that elephants can’t jump?! And that pandas can be 12 hours eating?! I once ate for three hours because mom’s food is awful but I couldn’t throw it away, I love her too much... When are you coming home? Uncle Chan just arrived and he said he was with you for a couple of days but you had to go to another place… Where are you know? Take care, goodnight, Dad!’

He learned a lot today… I hope you’re doing fine and come home soon, love. We’ll wait for your letter.

Yours forever,

Y/N and Rodie.”

“May 14th

Your best friend Chan came home today, he says I’m getting fatter and I almost punched him in the face. Well, he’s not wrong, I hope you’d be here when the time comes.

Some days I miss you more than others, but some days I miss myself more than you… I can’t recognize myself in the mirror if you’re not here, my love. Rodie wakes up every morning asking for his daddy but he knows you’re doing your best. Be safe, Jinnie… We love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N. "

“May 25th

Once again I’m standing here with my tainted fingers, today is colder than yesterday but warmer than the day before… I keep searching for answers to an unsaid question, and all I can think about is you, your soft lips against my cheeks, your bright smile making my heart skip beats, your loud laugh catching everyone’s attention, your sweet voice asking me to dance with you even if there was no music playing… Gosh, even if you're not here I fall in love more and more with you. I miss you...

We’re waiting for you, my love. It’s been a while since we got one of your letters but I’m certain you’re getting ours… We love you! Come home!

Yours forever,

Y/N.”

“June 30th

Today… Today was a nightmare, Hyunjin. I couldn't bring myself to write this but ... I found a letter at the mail station a month ago, it was from someone called Seungmin, he said you worked together for a while… I waited a month to write this but here it is.

I’ll never forget you for doing this, Hyunjin. My heart is broken, I don’t think my tears will ever stop from falling, I feel like dying whenever I look at your pictures and… I can’t do this anymore. Even when I know you’ll never read this, I need to write to you because, someday, this feelings would get to you in a way, meanwhile, I’ll let myself suffer because of what you did...

Yours,

Y/N.”

“July 6th

I yelled at Rodie today… He was demanding to see you but I can’t, not now. Chan visited us, he told me to stay strong but how? Does he even know how much a broken heart can swell and tear you apart from the pain? Does he know how difficult it is to breath when your chest is constantly on fire? It’s killing me inside every second, Hyunjin. I don’t want this, I don’t like to feel this way when I know you can’t feel anything… I don’t want to tell Chan how I feel… I… I’m broken because of you.

Y/N.”

“July 13th

My sister looked at my belly and she cried… You made my sister cry, Hwang Hyunjin… You make me cry every single time of the day… I know you probably would be so sad knowing this, knowing you’re the reason I walk numbly from a place to another, the reason why Rodie can’t sleep, the reason why Chan and my sister have to take care of us. I said I don’t need their help but they insisted, they always do.

Now we’re having a beautiful dinner with your favorite food, my speciality… I miss you, and I know someday I’ll feel better, but right know I want to die slowly and painfully, it would hurt less than this mess.

Y/N.”

“July 19th

I finally stopped crying, Jinnie… but everything feels wrong. It feels… empty… my heart…

Rodie won’t talk to me anymore after we fought, he speaks more to Chan than me. I don’t know what to do and I know you won’t answer, but… what should I do?

Oh, we met Seungmin today, he visited us supresily. He’s kind. He told us about your stories together. After he left, I cried one more time… Listening how considerate you were with him… I love you.

You know? This is not what I asked for. If you would ask, I would give all for rewriting an ending or two for the family that I knew, for the girl I used to be… For being yours one more time.

Yours forever?

Y/N.”

“September 16th

Hi… Her name is Sam. Did you remember when we were joking about that name? I must say, she deserves that name. She looks like me, but she has your little mole below her eye and I kissed it, they same way I used to kiss yours. Congratulations, Jinnie, you have a daughter! (...)”

The music stopped playing a while ago, and the only sound filling the house was your little sobbs reminiscing the whole escenario.

“Ugh…

I can’t do this anymore... “

“December 24th

Rodie wrote a letter to Santa. He asked for his dad, he asked to turn back time and stopped this, but he realized destiny is very machiavellian and sometimes, wishes won’t come true.

By the way… Your friend Seungmin, he volunteered to take care of us, he said he owned you this for saving his life one time, he’s really generous. He saw how lonely I was and he’s trying to put a smile on my face, but only Sam and Rodie can do that. Sam, Rodie and you.

The idea of you still next to us as a family... that hunts me everyday. How beautiful would that be? Sam would climb to your back till she can see everything from your height. Rodie would make me chase him and ask for ice cream, and I’ll eventually buy ice cream for everyone… Hyunjin, I miss you so freaking much… this is just so unfair...

Yours forever,

Y/N, Rodie and Sam.”

“December 31st

Hyunjin, happy new year… The war is over! I miss you more than I miss the old me, now, when I look at the mirror, sometimes I don’t even know who’s the one in front of me, all I know is that my heart belongs to you and will always be yours. Sam is getting bigger every month! She started to make weird baby noises trying to repeat my voice. Also, she loves music! She moves her little body when we play music.

We all wish you were here. This is the first December without you. I can't keep asking you this because is impossible... Come home, baby.

Missing you,

Your family. "

“February 14th

Rodie got lots of candies from a lot of girls and boys in his class! They said he looked like his handsome father and they’re not lying, my love. Happy Valentine's Day.

This is going to be one of the last letters I’ll write for you, not because I don’t love you anymore, ok? It’s because I think it’s time to keep the good memories we made in my head, my safeplace. And writing this is a reminder of you being gone. I don't like that, you're here with me.

I took Sam and Rodie to the first place we met, the college cafeteria! Rodie hated it for a second, then he got a lot of attention and felt like the prince he is. Sam slept all the time placed in my chest, I love her… she’s so calm… I wish she knew how much her father loved her without even being born… We love you, Hyunjin.

Yours forever,

Hwang Family.”

“March 20th

Happy birthday, my love!

I know you can’t love me anymore, but you did it once and, for me, it meant the whole world. So, now. my love for you stays still as if it was the first time we said ‘I love you’... I was shaking so much that day… Thank you for loving me the way you did, thank you for giving me the opportunity to raise a family next to you. You’re gone, but you’ll always be in our hearts and minds, I’ll be sure to talk to Sam about you non-stop.

You broke my heart by losing your life that day. I know it was for your country… that doesn’t mean you lost your family or friends, we will always remember your laugh, your face, your warmth, your cute smile, your bright eyes, the ways words came easily from your mouth, the way you showed your love so intense, the way you existed was... wholesome.

I love you, Hwang Hyunjin… And, like the old times…

Please,

Come home.

Your one and only.”

(....)

Masterlist

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belphegor1982 · 4 years

Text

…it’s done. Finished. My monster Mummy fic, the one I started in 2003, started publishing in 2004, and left dormant since 2008 – I finally completed it o.O Weirdly (or not), this is the chapter which gave me the most trouble, if you don’t count chapters 16 and 17 (which took me 2 and 16 years to write, respectively). It was hard to say goodbye to this story and these characters, even though I knew I literally just had to get an idea for another story :-/

FAIRY TALES AND HOKUM

Summary: 1937: Two years after the events of Ahm Shere, the O’Connells are “required” by the British Government to bring the Diamond taken there from Egypt to England. In Cairo, while Evelyn deals with the negotiations and Rick waits for doom to strike again, Jonathan bumps into an old friend of his from university, Tom Ferguson. Things start to go awry when the Diamond is stolen from the Museum and old loyalties are tested… (story on AO3; on FFnet)

(Chapters on Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23)

Chapter 24: Departure (on AO3 here; on FFnet here)

London, September 1937

A little off Paddington Station, almost in Marylebone, was a small pub called the Stars and Crown, its red brick façade almost exactly similar to the others along the street. It was an unassuming little affair Jonathan liked to patronise every now and then, and not just because it happened to be situated not too far from his flat.

It was a balmy mid-September late afternoon and one of the double doors was wide open on the quiet street. Jonathan and Tom were seated by one of the stained-glass windows, drinking – G&T and a ginger beer, respectively – and talking. Jonathan, remembering the promise he’d made after blowing up Hamilton’s lorry, had bought the rounds.

But for small details like the mostly healed-over scratches on Tom’s hands, the old scar in Jonathan’s left palm, and all the subtler little ways the past two decades had changed them, they might as well have been twenty year old students again.

Well, apart from the subject of their conversation.

“I got off easy, if you ask me.”

“Nonsense. You were the only one who tried to fix this bloody disaster. It’s only fair that you didn’t… You know.”

“…Pay for my mistakes?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.”

Tom gulped a mouthful of ginger beer, still looking glum.

“I suppose – I know – I should be grateful I didn’t end up like Hamilton, at least.”

Jonathan winced.

Charles Hamilton had made it back to England in a slightly better state than he had made it out of the pyramid, but that wasn’t saying much. From what they had heard, he was lucid for about an hour a day, and that was it – and not very coherent at that. Which made the fact that he allegedly hung himself in his cell a week before his highly sensitive trial very suspicious indeed. The man didn’t appear capable of putting on his trousers on his own, let alone do anything as complex as a slipknot.

The Lord Chancellor’s Department had issued a statement half-heartedly lamenting Hamilton’s demise, the newspapers had stayed surprisingly quiet about it, and Evy had fumed for an entire fortnight. And that had been it. Hamilton had taken the gentleman’s way out. Case closed.

At least Gabriel Baine had been tried, convicted, and sent behind bars for a lengthy period of time. Jonathan didn’t particularly care where he was, as long as he could be elsewhere.

Baine had stated a few times that there hadn’t been anything personal about shooting and ordering his men to shoot Jonathan, Rick, and Tom. Jonathan had silently begged to differ. Baine’s shouts of “Kill them” followed by the sudden excruciating pain in his back, not to mention the confusion and terror as he fought not to die and lost, had felt pretty damn personal.

Tom stared into his glass for a while, then looked up with a brighter expression.

“But enough about this fiasco. How’s your family? I seem to remember your sister’s birthday was coming up, you were lookin’ for a present when we bumped into each other at that bazaar. Did you find one, in the end?”

Jonathan perked up. “I did, actually. Got her a signet ring. She seemed to like it.”

Now that memory he would treasure as long as he lived.

An inventory of his pockets had revealed a hodgepodge of small trinkets which he was still trying to trace. The little medallion with the amethyst cameo must be early Regency, stolen by the pygmy mummies from some unfortunate Napoleon soldier’s corpse; the lapis earring was probably from the Ramesside period (a few Rameses had sent their armies to find or reclaim Ahm Shere, Jonathan had found); the couple of gold and silver rings bearing the Roman SPQR were a little incongruous but easy to chalk up to Julius Caesar’s expedition. There were also some 4th Century Persian coins, proving Alexander the Great’s men had also reached Ahm Shere – the Oasis, anyway – and a number of little amulets from various Egyptian expeditions, mostly heart scarabs made of red and green jasper, copper, quartz, bronze, or gold. He hadn’t determined the nature of the green gemstone yet, saving it for last.

Jonathan had been so excited by his find that he hadn’t gambled a single object. Tracing their origins took time, but he had not even told Evy about it yet. Instead he had not only called on every scrap of expertise he had concerning treasure, but also on every book he could lay his hands on. Evy would have been very surprised – not to mention highly suspicious – if she learned how much time he had been spending at the British Library lately.

He had always enjoyed a good riddle. For some reason this one looked promising enough to justify doing some actual work for. Besides, having the artefacts authenticated meant he would be able to get a much better price selling them.

The only thing he had parted with was the (probable) Napoleon coin, the soft gold nibbled almost beyond recognition by the pygmy mummies’ teeth. Another look at it the morning after his resurrection had given him an idea.

Before they left the Medjai camp, Jonathan had obtained from Ardeth a sketch of Nefertiri’s personal cartouche and the address of a talented goldsmith in Cairo; once back in the city, he had wandered down to Kerdasa, the coin and the folded paper safe in the inside pocket of his (whole and clean) jacket.

Just before he reached the little shop, however, he heard a yelp and a startled cry, and was knocked off his feet by something large and hairy. His vision was filled by long camel’s lashes and lips drawn back on long yellow teeth in what Jonathan might have taken as a smile if he hadn’t known better.

Why did every single camel have to have such foul breath, he wondered.

“ʾAhlan1, Djem,” muttered Jonathan with a sigh that was half annoyance, and half amused resignation.

And was astonished when the camel immediately disappeared from view, replaced with a familiar face. Satiah’s big brown eyes went wide when she saw him.

“Oh, it’s you, bāša2. Hello,” she said with a smile.

Jonathan got up and dusted himself off, irritation quickly fading away. The jacket could survive a little dirt; besides, Satiah’s smile as she hung on to Djem’s bit had lost some of its previous shyness. Considering how fearful she had been the last time – and who could fault her for that, really – it almost made getting knocked over by a foul-smelling bag of hair and wind worth it.

“Good morning, Miss Satiah,” he said in Arabic, picking up his hat from the ground so he could salute her with a flourish. Her hand flew to her mouth to hide a giggle. “It’s a stroke of luck finding you, really. I wanted to thank you for your help the other day, and for, er…”

He reached his limits of the language, and finished in English, “I mean, thank you for returning my wallet to my sister. That was very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Satiah said in Arabic, her cheekbones a little pink. “I’m glad you and your friends got away from those men.”

Jonathan’s smile slipped a notch or two, but he rallied quickly enough.

“Yes,” he said just a little wryly, “we did, at that. In the end.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve just reached my destination,” he added, pointing to a door above which hung a sign saying something about gold in painted Arabic script, “so I’m going to wish you a—”

“You’re going to see Cousin Ashar?” Satiah interrupted, her eyes shining. Immediately afterwards she clamped both hands on her mouth and cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right. Small world, eh?”

She gave a small smile and led the way into the shop, stopping only to tie Djem to a post.

Ashar – the goldsmith Ardeth had recommended – was a tall, wiry man with a long face, his hair going grey at the temples. He welcomed Satiah warmly and sent her to the backroom to get what she came for. Before she closed the door, she gave Jonathan a little friendly wave, which he returned with a smile. Ashar gave him an odd but not hostile look, eyebrows raised.

Jonathan placed his order, left the coin, and was about to leave, when Ashar called him back, frowning slightly.

“You’re one of the O’Connells, aren’t you.”

Jonathan’s mouth opened and closed as though of its own accord.

“You could say that, yes,” he said finally. “Why?”

“Because word of the second raising of Anubis’ Army made it to Cairo recently.”

This time Jonathan’s mouth dropped open and remained like that for a handful of seconds. Ashar gave something that was almost a smile.

“Not all of us wear the ritual tattoos, you know.”

“I do know,” Jonathan articulated with only the slightest difficulty. Dr Hakim was a Medjai, and his face was devoid of any tattoo as well. Dr Bey had been the same, now that he thought of it. His gaze went to the door that led to the backroom. “Satiah, too…?”

“Yes. But her mother’s family has lived in Cairo for fifty years. The girl has never seen the desert. She will get good schooling and find a trade, inshallah3. The time for living legends is coming to an end.” Ashar looked at the cartouche Ardeth had drawn for reference. “I know what this says. Who the name belonged to. Your commission is either a hollow trinket or a great gift.”

Jonathan drew himself up and said, as dignified as he could, “I’m rather hoping for the latter.”

His own signet ring had been gambled and lost in some card game or another, years ago. His parents would have been so disappointed had they still been alive. The least he could do was make sure his sister had a ring of her own, one that paid tribute to the woman she was and the woman she had been, three millennia ago.

Evy’s reaction when she opened his present proved him right, and even surprised him.

She stared into the box long enough for Jonathan’s brain to go into overdrive. Her silence made him panic ever so slightly. Then she looked up at him, her eyes very bright, lower lip trembling.

Jonathan barely suppressed the need to shuffle like a schoolboy and buried his hands into his pockets, hoping his face didn’t give too much away.

“I know I wasn’t… there – or, you know – then,” he said, almost sheepishly. “But I thought… Well. I hoped you’d like it. The cartouche must be right, I got it from Ardeth, and the goldsmith was a bloody good artist, as it turned out, but—”

Evy cut him off by launching herself at him and flinging her arms around his neck, throwing him off balance. As usual, Jonathan stumbled, but managed to catch her in the end.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered into his neck. “Thank you, Jon.”

If his smile was a little wobbly, his eyes a little moist, nobody seemed to notice. Rick and Alex had picked up the little box; Rick’s face lit up in strange recognition, while Alex deciphered the cartouche slowly and grinned.

“Nice one, Uncle Jon. That’s a pretty good present.”

“Yes, about that,” said Jonathan irrepressibly while Evy broke away and wiped her eyes, “I hope you realise that this is the last birthday present you’ll ever get from me, old mum. Since – judging by your reaction – nothing I could give to you could ever top this, I have decided to simply refrain from trying.”

Evy had slapped his arm and called him an idiot with a big smile, then hugged him again. And he had hugged her back, just because he was alive and able to.

The ring hadn’t left her finger since.

“Jon?”

Jonathan was abruptly pulled back to the present, the Stars and Crown, and Tom’s curious smile across the table.

“Hm?”

“You were a thousand miles away.”

“Sorry about that. What about you and Lizzie? Dorset been treating you well, I hope?”

Tom shook his head with a smile.

“It has, sort of, but we’re moving to Oxford. Did Liz tell you she’d been replaced while she was gone?”

Jonathan nodded. Lizzie disappearing for two weeks had not gone unnoticed in her little town, but since the police didn’t have the beginning of a clue and nobody was able to reach Tom, they had moved on to other things and her boss at the telephone exchange had hired someone else. There had been a subtle but definite irony in Lizzie’s letter as she described her and Tom’s return and the scrutiny they’d had to stand up to in order to prove her husband hadn’t killed her and stashed her body away – or vice versa – before his former Chamber of Horus hierarchy stepped in to explain things.

“Well, they needed an operator at the exchange on Pembroke Street. And you know the interview I had this morning at Whitehall? I won’t be too far, as it turns out.” Tom took a deep breath, then said with one of the goofiest smiles Jonathan had ever seen on his face, “I’ll be workin’ from the Bodleian.”

This could only mean one thing. Jonathan grinned.

“The British Antique Research Department accepted your application, didn’t they? Congratulations, old chap. That’s fantastic.”

He downed a mouthful of his G&T and laid an elbow on the table, his chin in his hand.

“Haven’t been to Oxford in almost fifteen years,” he said thoughtfully. “Not since Evy finished her degree. I wonder if the city’s changed.”

“It’s Oxford,” said Tom quietly, looking like his mind was straying down the same path Jonathan’s thoughts were. “I can’t imagine it’ll ever change that much.”

Jonathan smiled quickly into his palm. Then he raised his glass.

“To the two of you, then. And to publicans hopefully not holding grudges, otherwise we’re still banned from half the pubs in Oxfordshire.”

Tom snorted and raised his own glass, now almost empty. “To the three of us, and testing that theory sometime. And let’s not wait two decades this time,” he added with a twinkle in his eyes.

The two glasses clinked.

For just a second, the decades fell away, and Jonathan was twenty years younger.

Lizzie was already waiting for them on the platform by the time they finished their drinks and walked back to Paddington. She carried a shopping bag that looked entirely too small compared to what should be expected of a woman who’d just spent a few hours in the old metropolis. Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you say you planned to go to Harrods while we were in London?”

“I also said I only needed a new suit and the latest Agatha Christie novel,” she said, light teasing in her tone. “The next one will be out sometime in November, I think. Have you heard what the title will be? Death on the Nile, of all things.”

Jonathan gave a mock shudder. “I might just give this one a miss, then.”

The train’s whistle pierced the air, cutting the rest of the conversation short. Tom picked up his wife’s bag and Lizzie turned to Jonathan with a smile.

“Goodbye, Jonathan,” she said softly.

The use of his first name had always been a signal that the game was paused and the masks were off, as clear as a referee blowing halftime. Jonathan answered in kind, his throat just a little tight.

“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

They hadn’t even actually said ‘goodbye’ last time. They had just stood there, she leaning out the train window in her brand-new nurse’s uniform, he and Tommy on the platform amidst the soot, the steam, and the throng of people, until the train departed. The memory was an old hurt that still twinged sometimes, like his left shoulder when the weather was bad.

He cleared his throat and smiled.

“See you on the next Christie novel, then?”

What Lizzie did next might have shocked twenty year old Jonathan, who thought he knew her well, and as such very much surprised his current self, who had a little too much experience of the world to truly get shocked anymore. She took his hands in hers, flying in the face of propriety and what had been her rules of conduct in public, and kissed him on the cheek near the corner of his mouth with an aching sweetness. The old Lizzie, so shy and unsure of her self-worth that she was terrified of what people may think, would have been appalled.

It had taken a while for Jonathan to truly grasp how much the years had changed Tommy and start thinking of him as ‘Tom’ to account for that change. Through this apparently simple gesture – simple only to someone who didn’t know Elizabeth Ferguson, née McAllister – Lizzie became ‘Liz’ in an instant.

“I can’t bear to think you died,” she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “When I think… Without that – that book…”

She took a deep breath. Tom caught Jonathan’s eye and gave a small nod. Of course he had told her. Knowing Liz, she’d take the secret to her grave anyway.

“Take care of yourself, Jonathan, please. The world would be so dreadfully dull without you in it,” she added with a tentative smile, to which he replied with a smile of his own, one that hopefully looked steadier.

“Likewise.”

Her hands tightened around his. Just for a second or two, he softly ran his thumb on the back of her hand, an echo of the old intimacy that used to bind them; then their gazes fell away, their hands separated, and the moment was over.

Tom held out his hand with a smile, and Jonathan’s mind was whisked back to that sunny afternoon in Cairo, almost two months ago, and a chance encounter that had reshuffled the cards in a major way. Tom’s handshake was slower this time, steadier, warmer.

“Bye, Jon.”

“Cheers, Tom,” said Jonathan, determined but failing to swallow the lump in his throat. “Have a pint at the Oxford Arms for me.”

Tom nodded, and added his left hand to the handshake, not saying anything. He didn’t need to. As usual – almost – everything he meant to say was on his face and in his eyes for the world to see.

The train let out a burst of steam. Tom hastily let go and made for the train door, stopping only to help Liz aboard. Jonathan looked wistfully at the train for a minute and was about to turn around and go home when he heard his name being called over the din of the locomotive and the running gears chugging into motion.

Tom and Liz were leaning out of a window, wearing identical wide smiles. Liz was waving, her other arm wrapped tightly around her husband. The light in her eyes and her curly hair whipping around her face made her look like the girl from Jonathan’s memories.

“Send my love to Evelyn!” she called. “And say hello to your brother-in-law for me! You’re all welcome anytime for tea!”

“I’ll make sure they know!” shouted Jonathan as the train gathered speed.

The blatant disregard of platform etiquette made several passers-by turn and stare at him with a touch of glower. Jonathan ignored them and kept his eyes on the departing train. Tom’s and Liz’s beaming smiles remained in his head a long time after they had gone back inside the carriage.

He would see them again. This time he was determined not to leave the possibility of a reunion to chance and the vagaries of life. They had been through too much – both twenty years and two months ago – to just go their separate ways.

Besides, Jonathan mused as he left Paddington behind to wade through the bustling streets, he still had some research to do before he set out to sell the objects he had found at Ahm Shere. The Bodleian Library was as good as the British Library; at least he didn’t risk meeting Evy there and being subjected to her prodding curiosity, which he wasn’t ready to face yet. At least not before he unravelled the mystery of the little gemstone. It looked like an emerald and felt vaguely familiar, as though he had seen it somewhere or heard a story about it.

This required some investigation, if only to be prudent.

After all, he was particularly well placed to know that you can only go so far on fairy tales and hokum alone.

THE END

.⅋.

1(أَهْلًا): informal “hello”, “hi”.

2باشا (bāša): “sir”, “mister” in Egyptian Arabic.

3ʾin šāʾa llāhu, (إِنْ شَاءَ ٱللَّٰهُ‎) – literally “if God has willed it”, “God willing”

Don’t look for the Stars and Crown in Paddington, or the Oxford Arms in Oxford. Unlike the Turf Tavern they’re entirely fictional.

Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile was indeed published on 1st November 1937. I couldn’t resist, I mean, come on ;o)

The Bodleian Library is the main research library in Oxford and one of the oldest in Europe.

If you’re wondering, yes, that little gemstone might be the basis for a sequel of sorts, but I haven’t really started to plot it. Considering my track record for these things you might see that story sometime in the next decade and a half :P

Writing and publishing Fairy Tales and Hokum has been such an adventure. I was 21 when I started writing it; now I’ll be 38 in four days. Much as I miss the old crowd of 2003-2006, reposting and updating the story here on AO3 allowed me to know some awesome people. I’m so glad these characters somehow – FINALLY – sneaked back into my head and my heart again with their quirks, their (updated) backstories, and their voices and allowed me to finish this story the way I wanted to. Like I’ve said before, whenever you started reading this, I hope you had a good time now that you’ve reached the end. If you’ve read and left a signed comment – if you’ve read and left an anonymous comment – if you’ve read and left no comment at all – know that I wrote this for you and I hope some of it made you smile.

Take care of yourselves, love you all, and see you on the next fic? :o)

#Fairy Tales and Hokum #fanfiction #my stuff #the mummy films

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tofascinate · 3 years

Text

twenty-twenty reflection

The year is 2020. I distinguish this year from the others. And there will be more. There might be many! I want to remember, if ever asked upon myself, that my year of 2020 was distinct from the mash of living. From the accordion of living, perhaps. From the “bellows” of my accordion life, here is my layer of 2020:

January

began with a visit from Kellan, the preparation for a long-anticipated trip to Hong Kong with Rohit. I was living at Momma’s. I had been working for her since I graduated in 2019, while I applied for job positions in cities and graduate programs in Europe and the West Coast.

In January I spent almost 2 weeks in Hong Kong with Rohit and his family. This was a life-changing trip. This was amazing. I felt so taken care of, and each day filled with exploration. And snacks. For the first time, Rohit helped me with Cantonese – every single time I asked, which was a lot, considering my personal goal was to learn as much casual Cantonese as I could while there. I recorded all my new vocabulary and phrases in a list on the plane ride back. Here I met Rohit’s family in their home element, spent an afternoon with Rohit’s mom, accompanied Rohit to friend meetups, and experienced a Chinese New Year family celebration (!!). I hiked the most exhausting and thrilling mountain of my life, called Lantau Peak (the second highest peak in Hong Kong). I felt some of my biases melt on this trip, and some of my interests open up and blossom.

I left Hong Kong as the coronavirus became an issue in the Eastern Asian world. I spent a night in Tokyo, not with Rohit, but with my nourishing airport snacks and exhausted schedule until my flight left the next day for the U.S.

February

In February life moved quickly. I applied to all 4 master’s programs, I had a second interview for a serendipitous job position in Philadelphia (the only job among many that wanted an interview!), I helped Rohit find an apartment in Norwalk, I left Rohit at his apartment in Norwalk, I accepted the job in Philadelphia, I found a place to live in Philadelphia (more magic was to come of that 2-weeks-before-moving FB find), and I moved to Philadelphia!!!

March

My momma helped me move here. To the city I’d never before been to, but in which I was about to find the happiest home. The first 2 weeks of this month were extremely memorable. I worked in the Comcast Technology Center building (a wow) as a LaunchCode teaching assistant for a 12-student, 14-week intro to computer programming and web development intensive course. I took every opportunity to explore the building, the surrounding city. The first week of connection with students was special. The idea of working the rest of the course remotely was ridiculously unlikely.

On March 14th, the pandemic was real. On March 13th, my co-teacher took home the classroom’s bottle of Purell.

My second roommate, Channing, and her kitty Tycho moved in. Deeksha, Channing, Tycho, and I would become a mini family.

We were in quarantine times, but I hadn’t had so much social interaction, peer interaction, freedom, intellectual stimulation, and work to do since the end of college 2019. It was a blessing to be where I was.

April

I will use April to say that I loved this job. It was a pinch-myself moment all the way through. I still sometimes can’t believe that I rose to the responsibilities, leadership, and organization required of me. Maybe it’s like that with new jobs that push you outside of your comfort zone and give you so much room to grow. LaunchCode was an extremely supportive and inspiring company to work for. The community of students (Comcast workers transitioning into future software engineering roles) were admirable and kind in how hard they worked, and how they helped each other.

I realized at this time that I was experiencing the dream I had put intention towards. It’s not always obvious realizing this. In fact, at first I thought I was accepting the job because it was the next best and only option. On the outside I didn’t know how meaningful it would be to me once immersed in it. When things all came together, I realized here I was, in the freedom of living independently from my home nest, in a friendly family of roommates, in a new city to explore, with a working position that supported me financially, allowed me to save for grad school, that opened me up to the computer science industry world, that used my strengths and pushed me to grow, that used my creativity, and that felt like I was being paid to learn.

I am sooooo grateful for serving in this role. It served me tremendously.

Also to be noted, Philadelphia spring. And Tycho the kitty made me love cats more than I thought I could love cats (who are now sometimes allowed to sleep under my blankets too).

May

At some point here, Deeksha, Channing, and I got to be really creative and goofy together. This plus sharing food and Deeksha eating my desserts ♡ ♡ = start of roomie love. Channing’s surprise birthday scavenger hunt.

At some point, I got accepted and not accepted into master’s programs!

And how did it happen that my random roommate’s husband was living and working in Germany following his CS master’s program there? Or that my roommate-friend would eventually move there too?

June

Work program extended by a week = another week of pay = I justify more so staying in Philadelphia longer… and longer… Staying also meant more time in the magical family and incredible bit of life I knew would end eventually. Staying meant not putting my parents at risk, or having to stay inside to keep them from risk.

In June I saw 6 helicopters flying above the city from my rooftop. I filmed them one night and was captured fleetingly in their search light. I stayed home for 6 and 8 pm curfews. I read ideas and information, and observed the panicked passion of my social media a little hesitantly. I spoke with my family. I read more until I felt settled and inspired with the movement of change. I walked around the city. I saw society a little differently; I saw reasons to question how I saw almost everything.

The Monday after the big weekend, my coworkers asked me and us all how we were doing, if there were protests in our neighborhoods. It was the first time I saw my coworkers as Black. I didn’t know if I was saying the right thing.

My co-teacher told me I was “lucky” I’d be moving out of the country. I told him I still wanted my home country to be a welcoming place for all. He was not so confident.

And! Rohit visited for a week :). I had fun and we both couldn’t wait to go back to having individual spaces to be ourselves.

July

At one point, with my job ended and Channing in North Carolina for most of the month, I was met with the pressure of everything I could do in the calm before the storm of change, and everything I wasn’t doing. A little rough. Oh to be leaving a place that has already been leaving you.

August

I moved in with Rohit in Norwalk! Took all my Philadelphia belongings in a car with not-friends Deeksha and Channing, and drove (Channing drove) to Norwalk. I was so grateful to them for that trip. We got a glimpse of the no-parking beaches. Specifically, we parked for 15 minutes in the “15 Minute Parking ONLY” spot by the beach at cotton candy sunset while Deeksha and I ran to the warm water and the two of us dove in like happy water pups and not 23- to 30-year-olds. Next day was a rockier beach and I’m still wishing Channing her next sunny beach day. This month was fun and without-a-car adventurous, though the airbnb-turned-rented-apartment that was actually’s Rohit’s didn’t quite feel like my settling in home. My daily purpose was working for my mom again and preparing for my master’s program.

I loved running so much with Rohit.

I did not love figuring out how to acquire a car to stay in Rochester for a month. Haha (thinking about tears). But we did it! And then we packed too many of my things into the car with Rohit’s things and drove 6 hours to Rochester, NY.

September

I think we each ran longer distances than we had run before along the river trail in Rochester. We were a little outdoorsy. We had an ample supply of local Chinese bakery goods (that reminded me of Hong Kong bakery items). There was sun, but not in the apartment. By the way, this apartment was a miraculous coincidence from one of Rohit’s (very tidy and kind) friends who hadn’t been living there for months but would have to move out at the end of October. So we could pay him rent!

Also surprise to AriaRay’s patience, calm, and going with the flow acceptance: as a bonus level to the desperately declared plan of packing ahead of time to avoid the overwhelming stress of the previous move, Rohit and I learned we would also be cleaning and clearing out our friend’s apartment first!

In the end, I had to accept that it was Rohit’s leading responsibility. Whatever we could do would make the experience easier for our absent friend. We moved out and found donation homes for almost everything. We did it! 5 pm and out the door to Burlington! (Extra exclamation points for whirlwind desperation and relief.)

October

I spent my last day with Rohit in Burlington. Burlington was love. And glorious fall.

I packed for Germany, I found a place to live in Germany, I boarded a plane to Germany. I got on the plane to Germany and went to sleep in Germany and thought, “Haha, isn’t it funny that I’m in Germany? Who thought of Germany?”

A new country and a new day to day life! I was grateful to be finally there and in awe that I had gotten to this point. My childhood self said, “when I’m 23, I’ll be in Europe.” Well, here I am.

We’re still in a pandemic. Meaning my classes are online and my traveling is cautiously limited to grocery store treks and to walks or bus rides around the city.

I have 3 very nice (and extraordinarily clean??) roommates from Ukraine, Russia, Iraq. All studying. One speaks better German than English, which is sometimes amusing as I really do want to have a conversation with her anyway.

Birthday, Halloween. But sometimes I forget and think my last birthday was in 2019. Blurry.

November

Hmmm studying. It still feels unprocessed to reflect on this. My master’s program can be considered a computational linguistics degree, formally called “Language Science and Technology M.Sc.” because to be more specific, this degree covers broader areas of computer science for language, and linguistics for computer science, than only computational linguistics.

I do love the subject. It is by far a synthesis of my linguistics and cs interests. I’m learning a little more than what my focus for here initially has been. Is this a good thing? Maybe a nice cushion of knowledge and perspective. Still looking for how to study and process spoken language, how to relate this to second language acquisition.

I think I get it. My core lectures right now are foundations for this field. I will leap from them into my specific field of interest. My software project is a learning ground for tools and seeds for future ideas, practice with coding group projects again. My seminars are for thinking, reading, discussing, weaving ideas, hearing from others seasoned in the topics and those of my peers investing their newfound or nurtured interests. Three more semesters.

Where will I be next?

I think I should mention one Thanksgiving meal that we cooked for, and shared with the additional guests of Olha’s partner Gaston and his roommate...with a name I can’t place now...from Morocco. This was a widely, uniquely fun night.

December

Hello cozy holidays, the first, by myself. My roommates and I decorated a tree from our local grocery store. I made cookies and cards, sent 14 gold letters. I spent hours decorating and felt creatively festive. ‘Tis the season :). Hoping everyone can feel the love I’m sending.

Surprises came after small gifts appeared from each roommate to each other. Olha made us all Christmas gift bags of gingerbread cookies. I strung a decorated card on the tree for each roommate and shared cookies and oranges. Uliana wrapped Russian tea and a scented candle in parchment paper, leftover gold glittered tree ribbon, and a holiday clothespin. She wrote “Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!” in each of our languages: Russian (well, not Ukrainian), English, German. Zhenas gave us each a gift bag of treats. So, there has been magic in my apartment this season.

Happy New Year, and thank you 2020, for all the joy, discoveries, and change you have brought me. Here’s to love in 2021.

♡

#menotes

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develin13 · 4 years

Text

I need advice!

My male best friend's mother no longer likes me, and now he doesn't want people to know we are hanging out. Now I doubt wether to stay friends with him or not.

Let me start at the beginning.

I never had any real friends until I got really close to my best female friend (Let's call her Clary) when I was about 16. Before that I had many "friends", yet no one wanted to be seen with me, hang out outside with me, wanted their parents to know we where friends etc. You get my point. In February last year I met my male best friend (Let's call him Simon) on Tinder. We had two dates and soon we came to the conclusion we do not like eachother that way at all. Yet we did like eachother enough to become friends. Skip forward to May, where I introduced him to Clary and my other friend at the time (Let's call her Isabelle). Everything seemed to be going really well. Everyone seemed to like eachother and we had a great evening filled with out favourite things (good food and lots of wine). Then in June things went down between Isabelle and I. We had discussed on having a matching friendship tattoo, yet I had also long since before that talked about that with Clary. Isabelle and I got as far as actually visiting my tattoo artist, yet when we walked back she kept on doubting it. Even though she tried to play it off as a joke, whenever you have doubts, don't get a tattoo. So because of that one afternoon I had called Isabelle, and told her we could better wait until we were both completely sure if we wanted it. She agreed and everything was fine. Skip to the evening, when Simon (who I had added to the whatsapp group I shared with Isabelle and Clary to make plans for the dinner party in may) send a message in the group app asking when Clary and I would be getting that friendship tattoo. Both Clary and I were very confused, as we had never discussed any plans with him, we might have mentioned talking about it in the past but there were no plans made what so ever. Understandibly, this didn't fall right with Isabelle, adn what followed was a very heated fight that ended our friendship. That same night Simon send me a private text telling me he really liked Clary. I was very tired of fighting with isabelle all day, I was mentally and emotionally drained. And I was pissed at him, cause in my eyes he had started this fight with isabelle (Ofcourse it would have gone down hill one way or another, that was just how I felt that day.) But I pulled myself together and texted him back. Saying that I wasn't going to stimulate nor hold him back. It was up to her. However, I did warn him, that if the two would ever get a relationship, and they would put me between the two, I would choose Clary. She has been there through so many dark times, and especially after what happened between Isabelle and me, she helped me through that as well. He agreed and understood.

Skip to September. Earlier that week I had asked Simon if he wanted to do something on a Tuesday, the day when our cinema holds sneak previews. it had been a while since we last went. He said he couldn't go. I didn't ask him why, I mean who am I to ask that. Anywho, skip to friday, when Clary, Simon and I had another dinner party at Simon's place this time )he is the only one with a place of his own). That is when I heard Clary and Simon went to dinner and the cinema on Tuesday. Truth me told, Clary didn't know I didn't know, yet what pissed me off is that Simon had not been honest with me that he went with Clary. But I have never been good with my emotions, first there is the shock and then the anger, yet over the years I have learned to control my anger and not spit it out immediately. Anywho, skip to the drive back home. Clary tells me on our way home that she likes him as well. At first I was a bit shocked, but not completely surprised. There was a selfish part of me, that wanted to stomp the floor like a toddler and yell "I don't want this!" but I knew I couldn't. The only thing I could do was support my two best friends in their happiness. So i told her to tell him, and see where it would lead you two. And she did, and they have been dating ever since. Now I knew things would change, I mean how could it not. And where Clary tries to include me as much as possible, and not make me feel like the third wheel, Simon is basically the walking heart eyes emojie. And every time I ask him to tone it down around me I always het a "You will find someone as well." bla bla bla. Like that is not the point. I have been on my own for over 21 years (Minus two months), I don't mind being single.

Skip to Christmas, where I am from we have 2 days of Christmas, and we had agreed to come together the second day to celebrate Christmas with the three of us. At the time I had a boyfriend as well. Sadly he couldn't come. But back to the point. We had not agreed on a time so I was there way to early. They thought we had agreed on 11 p.m. I thought it was right after dinner. So I waited in the car for an hour, and eventually got pissed. Simon told me I could come to his parents house where his entire family was, but I thought he had invited me, in the end it turned out it was his mother who had invited me. But I didn't feel like intruding, so I waited. Until I waited in a nearly freezing car (college student, trying to save gas) and called them angry that I was going home. Understandibly, I had a small argument with Simon and Clary, and ofcourse his parents where not happy at all. Clary, Simon and I talked about this and eventually had a nice evening, even though I missed my boyfriend at the time dearly.

Skip to January, where it was Simon's birthday. After all the congratualtions and everyhting, I appologised to his family for what had happened. They all accepted my appologies and I thought we where fine.

Skip to the 12th of Februari. Clary is doubting her relationship with Simon (quite manipulated by her own parents who never really liked Simon) and I try to be a good best friend. She tells me she wants to break up with him, and I offer her to drive her to him (we live about 30 minutes apart and she doesn't have a car.) So I asked her if she was sure and she was. So I drive her there. I stay in the car and wait patiently until she returns. He was a complete mess apearently when she left him. I texted him saying it hurts now but it will be fine. At some point all contact is broken and no one can reach him. We both get worried and I contact his family through facebook as I do not have their numbers and Clary doesn't have any social media. I tell them briefly what happened and if they could check up on him, worried he might do something wreckless like driving to us and maybe getting in an accident in his mindset. Skip to the next day, alot of talking later Clary and Simon are back together. Yet Simon starts basically ignoring me. I just let it go for a week or two until I had enough and wanted to know what bothered him. He tells me he has the feeling I no longer support their relationship, which is nonesense. Yes I may have moments where I wished it was back when they wheren't dating, when it was the three of us equally, but that is simply something that is my problem. In the meantime I broke up with my boyfriend cause he was a manipulative asshole. Another long talk further and everything seemed fine.

Skip to two weeks ago. We finally hang out again, everything at 1.5 meter distance (Thank you corona...) and as I wanted to share a story on facebook (as I do usually) he asks me not to tag him this time, because his mother wasn't exactly a fan of me anymore and he didn't want his mum nagging him or something. Like I mentioned before, it stang like a bitch but I have learned to not let my emotions get the overhand right away, I told him it was his mum's problem and right now it was more important that the relationship between Clary and his parents gets repaired, as that was also greatly damaged because of the incident in February.

Not comes the part where I need advice. What he said and asked has opened up old wounds I thought had long since healed. He claims to be my best friend, yet wants to hide me. Even though he said it would be temporarily I just can not shake it off. I actually want to put our friendship on hold, as I can not do what he wants. I don't hide friendships, from no one. Either we are friends or we are not. I also want to discuss this with my best friend, but truth be told, I don't know how to feel or what to do. On one side I want to ignore these feelings and feel like "Fuck it, it is his mothers problem." and I could feel that way, if he had not asked this of me.

So should I put our friendship on hold for now, until things calm down with his mother, or should I try to ignore my feeling and just keep going?

#help #advice #friends #drama

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goldenvalentyne · 4 years

Text

Castaway

Masterlist

Word count: 2111

May 20

You never meant to lose your temper. It just happened. One moment you and Ashton were fine. You could be snuggled up, watching a show, and the next second you’d be in a full blown out war. That is exactly what happened that night.

The previous weeks had been tame in the context of your relationship with Ashton. There was no fighting, minor remarks to one another, but for the most part you had been relaxed. Ashton had gone out for a guys day while you stayed in and had some much needed self care. He came home at a decent time and had dinner with you. Everything was going smoothly, until a stupid photo emerged. One you should not have been jealous of, or even taken a second glance at. But the relationship had been too solid, you were in need of drama, something you often got caught up in and enjoyed a little too much.

You knew she was only a friend and that she even had a boyfriend. You felt no threat by her, but you let it all out. You hit below the belt in this argument. Every little thing that Ashton had done in the 2 weeks prior that pissed you off in any way was spewing from your mouth. He was caught off guard by your sudden anger, but that did not stop him from releasing some of his own pent up aggression.

It ended with you leaving his apartment, making sure to slam the door, leaving the place to raddle

June 27

The next time you would see Ashton was on stage at a festival. Against the advice of all your friends, you still went and watched their set. Your heart ached watching him. He looked just plain sad the whole time, not like he was enjoying every minute of it which he always did. You stuck around in hopes that he would come out and you could “accidentally” bump into him, but that never happened.

Instead you went back to your apartment, no longer filled with pictures of the two of you, those were smashed or stuffed into the back of your closet. The last piece of evidence that Ashton had ever been there was a teddy bear. So cliche, he had won it at a fair for you in the early days of your relationship. You held that damn bear close to your chest the whole night and let the tears flow. In the weeks since you had left you never once blamed him. You knew that you had been the one in the wrong and that he did not owe you anything, but it still hurt. He didn’t answer the phone calls the days after you stormed from his apartment, but you never expected him to. You had been unfair to him, and he was protecting himself.

July 7

It was Ashton’s birthday. You spent the whole morning contemplating if you should call. You weren’t friends and no longer lovers, but you felt like he deserved something from you, after the way you had treated him.

It was after many drinks and three rom coms before you actually built up the courage to call him. You did not even hesitate at the point. You didn’t not expect an answer, and you did not receive one. Then you left an embarrassing long, slurred happy birthday message along with an apology. By the end of the night you left five more. In the morning there was finally an answer from him. It was a short text asking you not to call him again. Even though it was a generic message you could feel that he was hurt, and you did not want that for him.

September 29

The fall was setting in quickly. Leaves had already started to change. Emotionally you had been improving. Every second of the day was not spent thinking about Ashton but there were the occasional moments when he would slip in your mind. Then it would get bad again. You weren’t hurt that the relationship was over but more upset how you had hurt him.

You saw him again. It was the first time since the summer. He had his hand wrapped up. You could tell that the injury had taken place not long before. It was at a party. He had the same daunting look that he had at the festival. Everyone was dancing around him and having a good time. You sat across the room, intently staring at him. He was beautiful. You always made it a point to tell him that. Had anyone told him he was beautiful in four months?

He locked eyes with you. It was a cold look that you felt in your body. It was one of hatred. You left soon after. Then spent the rest of the night replaying the way his eyes looked. They were dull, but there was still a spark somewhere deep inside them. Maybe he was forgiving you? But you had not forgiven yourself, so that felt like a long shot.

October 25

It was your birthday. The first one in three years that would not be spent with Ashton and his friends. The first one that was not going to consist of a large party, music and drinking too much. Instead you sat yourself on the couch and prepared for a long night of sad movies, the only feeling that you had felt in so long.

Deep inside you wished that Ashton would call you. Maybe he would just send a text letting you know that he had not forgotten about you. It was just a hopeful wish.

The afternoon turned into darkness. Raindrops tapped on the windows. You cried a lot that night. You did not know if it was from the movies or the fact that you were spending the day alone. Sure you had friends and family that sent birthday wishes and reached out to get together. But all you really wanted was Ashton.

It was 3 am. You felt the vibrations against your leg. Your heart was climbing out of your throat. You grabbed for it as fast as you could. The shaking of your hands weren’t helping. All of the adrenaline left as you realized it was not Ashton calling. Instead it was Luke, someone who you also had not talked to months.

“Hello?”

“Happy Birthday y/n”

“Thank you Luke”

“Did you think I would forget?”

“Considering it has been over for 3 hours, yes I thought you forgot.”

“Hey I’m just a little late.”

“Can I ask you something Luke?”

“Sure.”

“How is he?”

“Y/n, lets not get into this.”

“Just tell me if he is okay.”

“He’s doing better okay. He still gets upset and punches things. But he’s better at controlling it all. You really fucked with him.”

“I kinda fucked with myself while I was at it.”

“Don’t get yourself worked up about it though okay. You weren’t right for each other for months before you broke up. Even though it hurts, I think it’s better for both of you to be apart.”

December 27

It took everything out of you to get through family Christmas alone. You watched all your cousins, even those younger, with their partners. They looked extra in love during the holiday season. All while you sat on the couch, looking miserable to others.

The days following Christmas were harder. There was a rumor Ash had been seen with another girl. The same one from that night you left. This time they walked hand in hand. If you were being honest, it broke you. You screamed until your throat was on fire. You found all the pictures shoved in your closet just to smash the glass.

The remainder of the night was spent looking out the window as snowflakes drifted down. A tear would slip down your cheek every once in a while. At some point you fell asleep curled in a ball beneath The window.

February 17

Days had gotten so much easier. You got back into the routine of being alone and even picked up extra time at work. Life felt great for the first time since last spring. You felt like you could breathe again. Everything was almost perfect again. But nothing stays like that for long.

It was 3:00 on the dot that afternoon. After a short two months he had broken up with her. It was like breaking news all over you social media. You couldn’t help but feel relieved that she was no longer taking your spot, but something didn’t feel right. You knew he was probably at home, broken all over again. Everything he did to forget you and move on, probably all ruined now.

It took everything to not call him that night and give your condolences for the lost relationship. You wanted so badly to go to him in a time of need. Maybe he would be with you for the night. But you knew that would just be playing with him in a vulnerable time. So instead you just sat quietly in your room hoping he’d give you a call.

March 16

The hardest day of the healing process was when you talked to Ashton. For some reason you ended up at Luke’s house, and of course Ashton so happened to also. In the end you knew it was a set up.

Ashton yelled a lot. You took it though and let him explain his frustration.

“Do you understand how fucked I was y/n! Cause you walked out and left me stranded, nothing left but broken picture frames”

“I’m sorry Ash. I don’t know why I acted that way that night, but you didn’t deserve it. But don’t you think we are better off apart?”

“Of course I do y/n! But I just keep asking myself how’d we drift so far away?”

“Times changes people. We spent so much of our young years together and were still growing up. As we grew, we grew apart. It happens.”

His body softened. He sat down and but his head in his hands. You wanted so bad to reach out and hold him, but it would make the situation even worse.

“Late night conversations led to complications. You know I was stupid and got jealous. I’ve grown over the past year, I really have Ashton. Neither one of us could if we didn’t separate.”

“That’s all true but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. Everyday I wake up and hope it wasn’t true. My heart aches for you. It’s heartbreak I can’t escape. I’ve tried to move on so many times and I just keep seeing your face. Eyes closed, all I see is good time disappearing. And yes our relationship was complete shit at times, but I loved you. You left in such an unfair way. I feel like it’s a sinking ship that I’ll never save. Now my heart is in my hands and I’m lonely like a castaway.”

Every word tugged on your heart more. You knew that you had hurt him, but not like this. Your head was spinning. Flashes of that night in May were swirling around. You reached for his hand and to your surprise he let you hold it. You met his eyeline. His eyes were filled with tears but that was no different to yours.

“I’m sorry Ashton. I was awful to you in the end. You did some terrible things too but that does not excuse how I acted. I loved you and a part of me does and will forever. But I know we are better off not together. If I could change how it ended, I would go back a thousand times until I was all okay.”

“And I’m trying to hold on. I don’t know what to. The rest of my life maybe, or everything you were a part of. But everything feels wrong. But maybe after tonight, things can get better once and for all.”

You gave the smallest smile you could because that warmed your heart. From that you knew you could move on and not worry about Ashton anymore.

May 20

It took two months from the confrontation for things to feel okay. Ashton was not on your mind every second of the day. You knew he was okay and he was getting better. For the first time you felt that you could move on if you wanted. You smiled and cheered him on as a friend. That longing for him was disappearing. Life felt content, like a weight was lifted.

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