#and this is one of the first times she's ever felt a warm springtime breeze on her face and it smells like flowers

[geturasstomars]

and if i wasn't supposed to cry tears of joy on the clock then life shouldn't have been so joyful and beautiful huh??

[kyber-crystal]

through the seasons || f.w.

summary: he would love you till the end of time. everyone can see it, and they can only hope that you’ll come to your senses and realize that too.

words: ~6.4k (i went overboard LMFAO)

warnings: light angst, some mentions of death / violence (but dw it's a happy ending)

a/n: first ever hp fic in like, ever LOL so apologies if this seems off in any way. the timeline for this is a lil weird?? but basically the fic starts during the spring of GOF: you’re a year below fred & a year above the golden trio : ) ALSO i highly recommend listening to 'moonlight serenade' by frank sinatra ESP during the parts it's mentioned in. you'll see why :))))

spring

Given that springtime was nearly over, it was rather cold outside. 

The sky gleamed a bright, cornflower blue, with the May morning breeze hitting your skin. You, Hermione, and Ginny found yourselves huddling together in the stands and tightly clutching each other to keep warm. 

Anticipation nipped at your insides like tiny needles. You had spent the past half-hour at breakfast listening to a nervous Ron ramble on about how he hardly knew what he was doing, and seeing an unusually quiet Fred pick at his food. You knew it wasn’t like him to spend almost an entire meal without saying more than a few words. 

“You ok?” you mouthed, glancing over at the redhead in concern.  “As long as you’re looking at me,” Fred replied, attempting a small smile. He pressed something warm and fuzzy into your hands under the table. “You’re my good luck charm today. Keep this for me during the match.” You nodded, and felt your heart warm as you looked down to see that it was the fuzzy scarf he always wore during Hogsmeade trips or around the castle when it got particularly chilly. His initials had been hand-stitched into one end—undoubtedly Mrs. Weasley’s handiwork. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” “That’s my girl.”

“Look!” Ginny whisper-shouted, ending your momentary flashback. “I think that’s them!”

The Gryffindor team filed out into the stadium to be instantly met with a cacophony of loud cheers and applause. Your throat was already starting to hurt from screaming alongside the seas of blazing red and gold, though the match had yet to begin. 

Without even realizing it, you found your eyes scanning the area for a particular ginger-haired Beater, and the tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulders loosened as soon as you saw him. 

“You’re not even playing, yet I’d say you’re as big of a mess as poor Ronald,” Hermione chuckled lightly. “Concerned for someone?”

“Oh shut up,” you muttered, tightening Fred’s scarf around your neck just a bit more. “It’s the last match of the year—I’m just as nervous as everyone else. I need to see someone beat Malfoy’s egotistical arse to a pulp.”

Both her and Ginny snorted at this. 

“You’re right…but that’s not who I was referring to,” your best friend reminded you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh.”

“Don’t you think you care a little too much? More than a friend should?”

“No,” you stated flatly. But Hermione knew this was a lie—after all, she had known you for five years now and could tell when you were lying. She watched as you fiddled with the ends of the colorful scarf around your neck—a flash of something caught her eye, and she squinted to see F.W. embroidered in delicate gold. 

Of course you were being serious, she chuckled to herself. She decided to not say anything about why you had Fred’s scarf on, and instead joked, “Do you think he or Ron’ll make it without getting a concussion?” 

“Now that’s hard to say…” you began, knowing how the two boys were sometimes often quite clumsy. “Fingers are crossed that my Fred will be just fine.”

“Your Fred? What about Ron?” she raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you care about both of them?”

“—Both of them will be just fine,” you quickly corrected yourself. “They’ll be alright.”

“Okay…” she said, unconvinced that your reply wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. 

Turning your attention back to the game, you heard Lee Jordan’s classic, enthusiastic voice echo across the grounds. “Welcome to the last Quidditch match of the YEAR! We have quite the game in store today, Gryffindor versus Slytherin…” 

Eventually, after the captains shook hands and everyone mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch blew her whistle and released the balls into the air. Loud cheers filled the stadium once again, and all fourteen players shot up into the sky. You were only really focusing on one thing—or person, really. It seemed that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

“—aaand that’s a Bludger to the head from Fred Weasley, ouch, that’s gotta hurt…There goes Katie Bell, making a swift pass over to Johnson…there’s Johnson with the Quaffle! And then, ,there he goes…Fred Weasley does it AGAIN! Malfoy gets a hard Bludger to the back—”

Right then, Fred caught your eye and winked. You sent back a shy wave in response. 

Everyone tries their best to ignore the Slytherin section’s jeering taunts and chants of Weasley Is Our King. You didn’t need to look over to know Ron was hardly taking it. 

From there on out it was a blur of motion, noise, and loud sounds, and before you knew it, the match was over and done. 

“—GRYFFINDOR WINS! WITH WEASLEY’S GAME-WINNING BLOCK AND POTTER’S SHEER SPEED, THEY WIN!” The excitement is clear in Lee’s voice. “GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The crowd went wild again as Fred made his downward descent. As soon as the tips of his shoes touched the grass he jumped off and immediately rushed over to you as fast as his feet would take him.

Your head was spinning and you could barely tell what was going on amidst the ground-shaking noise and overall chaos. But there he was in front of you now, sweaty and tired but grinning wildly nonetheless as he brought you into a tight embrace. He started spinning you around and you couldn’t help but join in on his contagious laughter. 

“There’s my good luck charm,” he whispered into your ear as he set you down, breath fanning against the skin behind your ear. 

Having no words left except pure joy, you shook your head and smiled as you leaned into him, squeezing him back even tighter. “I’m so proud of you.”

Both of you were too busy to notice that your friends around you had stopped congratulating the other players and chattering with one another, their eyes now on you two. Ginny, Harry, and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron, amidst his nerves and exhaustion, cracked a grin as he watched his older brother and best friend savoring a moment with each other. 

Hopefully, they’ll realize it for themselves…he thought. Amidst the chaos of the past year, he knew that all of them—especially the two of you—deserved a bit of peace more than anything. 

summer

“Last one there is a rotten egg and has to take the soddy backup broom!” Ginny shouted. You all immediately broke into a sprint at this, scrambling to go outside for yet another round of backyard Quidditch. Harry damn near tripped over his own feet as he and Ron tried pushing over each other to squeeze out the back door. Fred and George were doing the same thing, and you and Hermione used this chance to sneak past them. You silently high-fived each other at this.

“Boys will be boys…” she laughed quietly, linking your arm through hers as you continued walking across the meadow, the grass brushing against the fabric of your trousers. “There’s no catching a break around here.”

Lo and behold, poor Ron was forced to take the backup broom, grumbling the entire time as everyone put their gear on. “I hate you guys. Haven’t I been through enough already?”

Everyone took turns being the score-keeper, and this time it was Hermione (she had also been score-keeper the last two rounds as she was a bit tired, and didn’t really mind). She sat down under the giant apple tree as she chose the teams. 

“Harry, George, and Fred!” she called out. “Versus the rest of you.” 

“That’s so not fair!” Ron complained. “You have two Beaters and the—”

“—youngest Seeker in a century on one team,” Harry finished his sentence with a cheeky grin.

Ron rolled his eyes. “At least I’m with you, Y/N…I guess…”

“Thanks for the compliment, Ronald,” you said with a slight hint of sarcasm. 

It was only a few minutes in the match when Fred found himself distracted. He was supposed to be on guard, but his eyes kept wandering over to you, zipping around on your broom with ease, gliding through the air like a bird. He wondered when he stopped seeing you as just his ‘best friend’ and started seeing you as someone who made his heart beat faster; someone who he desperately wanted to see smile because that’s all he needed to make his entire day. 

“Awe, come on, Freddie, get your head back in the game!” you called out to him in a teasing voice as he just barely blocked a flying Bludger hurtling towards his face. “Don’t wanna be slammed into, now do you?”

He shook his head and quickly snapped out of it. “Of course not.”

“Blimey, Fred! You nearly gave yourself another concussion there from ogling at her!” George exclaimed. 

“I can’t help but be charming,” you joked, sending Fred a wink. “Enjoy the view while you can!”

It was only mid-morning/barely afternoon by the time you finished the last match, but if anything, your sore muscles told you that it felt like days had passed. Adrenaline was still thrumming in your veins as everyone headed in, laughing at the thrill of flying through the skies without a care in the world. 

“Remember that losers have to make lunch!” Harry reminded.

Ginny groaned. “Come on. Way to ruin the vibe.”

You, her, and Ron all let out long sighs before heading straight to the kitchen to whip something up for the six of you. Food bets needed to stop…

After a quick meal of sandwiches, everyone headed back outside to play more rounds of backyard Quidditch. You opted to stay in this time around; the dull ache in your shoulders and lower back telling you you’d had enough for the day. One cold shower and some quiet work helping Mr. Weasley organize his home office later, you slumped onto the sofa.

The remainder of the afternoon and evening went by slowly but peacefully. Eventually, you found yourselves sitting around on the living room floor, playing board games well into the night while the crickets chirped outside. The days were long, and cracking jokes and long talks came much easier than they normally did. Of course, Fred sat next to you the entire time, finding a way to be touching you in one way or another no matter what. Shoulders pressed together closely, fingers tracing patterns into your palms, a hand rubbing your back. 

Harry gulps down his mug of butterbeer before launching into a dramatic retelling of when Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret, earning roars of laughter and “That git deserved it” from all around. Fred follows up with the first time him and George tested prototypes of their Puking Pastilles, which ended with a delirious Lee Jordan and Ron’s face turning greener than mandrake leaves (much to Mrs. Weasley’s horror—she sent both twins death glares at this). 

You were too busy losing it to notice an arm—Fred’s—snaking around your waist, pulling you into his side. But when you did realize it was him, you didn’t say anything, and just simply relaxed against him. It was second nature to you both; you’ve learned to anticipate him sliding up next to you. And, it was comforting to know that he would always be nearby.

Despite being the last one to go to bed, Fred was the first one awake before dawn had even broken over the horizon. The skies were clear but grey, and the roosters had yet to make a sound. 

“Wake up,” you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Whaddayawant,” you groaned, voice groggy. “Listen Ron, it’s too early to play Quidditch, tell Wood that you want to go for a round instead…”

“Hey, it’s only me,” Fred replied. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you got up, being careful not to step on Hermione or Ginny’s hands or arms on the way out the door. He kept a hand pressed against the small of your back the entire way down the creaky staircase. 

“Ta-da…” he whispered, the classic Weasley grin spreading across his face. “Take a look at this beauty.”

“A…record player?” your brows furrowed in confusion. “This is what you woke me up at 4 a.m. for?” 

“Dad got it at this old Muggle store in central London years ago, he said it was a ‘thrift shop,’” Fred explained as your eyes glanced over the cracked, but beautiful record player on the kitchen table. “D’you reckon it still works, though?” 

“We’ll have to see for ourselves,” you shrugged. 

He placed the vinyl CD into the player and adjusted the needle, and within seconds a slow Muggle tune began to play. 

“Oh, I know this one…Hermione has told me about it before. Frank Sinatra is quite famous in the Muggle musical world.”

“Well, then…may I have this dance?” Fred extended a hand out to you. You shake your head and roll your eyes, but take his hand and allow him to pull you close. His arms wrap around your torso as your hands rest on his shoulders, and you allow yourselves to get carried away by the slow, melodic ballad.

My love, do you know That your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you, and I sing you  A moonlight serenade

Fred gently twirls you around the kitchen before bringing you back in and smoothly catching you by the waist, and you’re surprised at how easy it is for him. You often forgot that he had a knack for dancing—it wasn’t often that you got to see him do so. 

“And you were about to be upset at me for waking you up,” he leans in to say. 

“You’re forgiven,” you exhale, resting your head against his chest. “But you know I could never be upset with you.” 

Long after the song had ended, you still found yourself wrapped in his embrace.  

Mrs. Weasley was heading downstairs to start preparing breakfast, but suddenly stopped midway. Her heart warmed as she took in the sight of you and Fred standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes closed as he hummed a foreign tune, slow dancing without a care in the world. 

Deciding not to interrupt, she stands there for a moment, smiling as she watched her boy fall in love with the young woman that she hoped to call her daughter one day. 

fall

“—Godric’s sake, I’m so tired of losing,” Ron groaned as you quickly smacked the top of the deck with your wand, dust flying into his face. “I’m never playing this with you again.” 

You rolled your eyes as he coughed and dusted himself off. “Okay, no Exploding Snap, then no more sweets from Honeydukes ever again.” 

“Fine, I’m playing, I’m playing,” he sighed, rubbing the side of his forehead as the colorful deck of cards reshuffled themselves. “You’re almost as horrible as my brother.”

“Almost as horrible as who—hey, Y/N, is that my jumper?” Fred paused as he approached you and Ron sitting at the coffee table, as Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny watched on. 

“Dunno, is it?” you shrugged innocently, tapping your chin. “Hey, Nev, you want a go? I have to finish reading my book for McGonagall’s class.”

Neville nodded, and Ron raised a fist in triumph. “FINALLY! Bring it on, Longbottom.”

You shifted onto the couch so Neville could take your spot, and without another word, Fred sat down right next to you. The deep burgundy color of his Gryffindor sweater only further brought out the color of your eyes, he noticed, which sparkled brightly under the dim lighting. 

Fred then shifted to lay his head down in your lap, and you didn’t even do so much as flinch. With your book in one hand, you used the other to start brushing your fingers through his hair. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing until you heard him let out a quiet sigh of contentment. 

“Did I ever tell you that you’re absolutely brilliant?” he glanced up at you from where he lay, watching carefully and intently. “Sometimes I’m surprised that you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Weasley,” you laughed softly as you turned the page. 

Right as you were about to turn the page again, he stopped you by lightly tugging your wrist. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

He carefully turned your hand to look at the scratches etched into the back of it. They were beginning to fade, but the occasional shifts in movement would cause them to sting and sometimes crack open. 

“When did Umbridge do this to you?” Something unfamiliar flashed in Fred’s eyes, and he seemed angry for the briefest of moments. But the darkened look was quickly replaced with one of concern. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, not at all,” you lied as you set down your book, but he didn’t miss the way you winced slightly as he adjusted your hand to look at it again. 

The rest of your friends had scattered elsewhere at this point, the typical noise now having faded into a soft chatter of sorts. Hermione came back with a bowl of yellow liquid, eyeing you worriedly. “Strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles…these should help…”

“Oh…thank you…” You placed your hand into the bowl and immediately exhaled with relief. 

“I think I’m going to sleep a little early tonight…I’ll see you two at breakfast? Take it easy, Y/N,” Hermione gave your shoulder a squeeze. You nodded as she gave you one last smile and walked away. 

Once the pain had faded into a dull ache, you set the bowl of murtlap on the table and leaned back against the sofa. Fred was now laser-focused on something he was holding, fiddling with it using what looked like a small pair of tweezers. Assuming that it had to do with the joke shop he and George were working on, you paid it no mind, and picked up your copy of Guide to Advanced Transfiguration again. 

You were far too absorbed into your book to notice when Fred had slipped whatever that thing was onto your finger. It was cold to the touch but fit snugly. 

“D’you like it?”

“What is…” You put your book away and glanced down, about to say something half-sarcastic, but immediately stopped. 

It had to have been the most beautiful ring you had seen. Although it was slightly on the thinner side, it glittered brighter than any star you had ever seen. You twisted your hand this way and that as you watched the material catch the light. 

“...You know my ring size,” your voice trailed off as you took notice of the hopeful look in Fred’s eyes. “But what is this for? You know we’re—”

“For when the time comes,” he explained simply, raising your scarred right hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. His gaze on you remained steady and comforting in the same way that his presence made you feel. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

Tears prickled at the edges of your eyes, and you nodded, feeling a sudden lump form in your throat. You were filled with a warmth that you knew had nothing to do with the blazing fire in front of you. “You know there’s no one else.”

How your best friend could make your chest ache in this way, you had no clue…For some odd reason, you thought, it wasn’t all that difficult to picture a future with him in it. 

Not when he was your future. You loved him, no doubt, but when it came to describing your exact relationship all words fell short. You were close friends, but was it in the same way that you and Hermione were friends? Or you and Ginny? 

But he’s my best friend, you told yourself. He’s been my best friend for over six years. 

But ‘best friends’ don’t make you feel the way that Fred does. 

Best friends went beyond just saving you a seat at the Great Hall if you woke up late for breakfast or slept through lunch because of a long nap. They didn’t pull you away on Hogsmeade trips and insist on hanging out with you one-on-one when you could very well just hang out together as one big group with all your friends. 

They definitely didn’t fashion you a ring by hand in the middle of one quiet fall night, but he did. 

“Earth to Y/N?”

“Hm…what?”

“You okay? You seemed a little spaced out there, love,” Fred raised a brow at you as he sat up, taking your hand in his. 

“Just…thinking,” you hummed, letting your head lean against his shoulder. He pulled you into his side at this, tenderly brushing his lips against your forehead. 

“About how I’m your favorite person on the planet and that I’m loads funnier than Georgie?”

“As if you’d ever be the only thing on my mind.”

Fred pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“I’m kidding,” you glanced up at him, pouting slightly. “You’ll never leave my mind. I’m holding you hostage.”

“And that’s a sentence I’d want to extend for as long as I could,” he responded. 

Voldemort's return and the premise of another war loomed overhead. But he found that when your warm hand slipped into his, body leaning in close, and your laughter ringing through the air like shooting stars, it was easy for him to forget. To fall into you and feel as if you're the only thing that mattered in this world because frankly, you were.

winter

There was one big thing to look forward to today: another Hogsmeade outing. The final weekend trip before Christmas was always a little bittersweet, but filled with the most pure joy. 

The Great Hall was decked out from ceiling to floor as it always was during the holiday season. Bits of snow delicately floated down from the crystalline ceiling as the classic giant Christmas tree stood tall behind the staff table. You stopped every few seconds to admire the decorations despite having been here for nearly seven years now and seeing (and even having helped one time) the grandiose setup.

Excited chatter filled every table as you went over to the Gryffindor table to sit with your friends. Ron was already piling his plate with food, grinning excitedly as he did so. 

“Where’s Fred?” you asked as you sat down next to George. 

“Already missing your lover boy?” the younger twin teased. “He’ll be down in a sec. The lazy arse overslept so Lee went to drag him down here.” 

“Oh, okay…” You paused for a moment. “Wait, he’s not my—”

You felt someone squeeze your shoulder behind you before pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, stopping you from finishing your sentence. 

“Morning, my love,” Fred greeted casually as he slid into the spot next to you, seemingly oblivious to the stares he got from his gesture. “You sleep okay?”

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, when are ‘ou going ‘o admid it?” Ron groaned, in the middle of chewing his third drumstick. 

“Yeah, when?” Ginny echoed. “I’m going to hex you if you don’t.”

“Tell me what?” you tilted your head to the side as you glanced between them. 

“Oh, uh, nothing!” she said quickly. 

“Nothing!” Fred grinned sheepishly. Ginny sharply jabbed an elbow into his side. “OW!” 

You rolled your eyes, deciding not to question the odd exchange. 

Fred placed a soft hand on your thigh, using his other to swipe a croissant from your plate. 

“Hey!” 

“You know you love me,” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you muttered, feeling your face burn, a smile crept up on your face nonetheless. You continued eating, his hand remaining in place, and pretended like you didn’t mind what he was doing. 

You exited Hogwarts to flurries of snow blowing around, adjusting your hat and (Fred’s) scarf accordingly to protect your face from the biting winds. Hogsmeade was relatively quiet today, so you took every second you had to relish in the peace. 

“Godric, you’re freezing,” Fred’s bright smile turned into a slight frown when he noticed you were shivering, rubbing your gloved hands together. “Here.”

He shook off his coat and handed it to you, helping you put it on by holding the sleeves out. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief once the warmth enveloped your body.

“T-thanks, but aren’t you gonna get c—”

“Trust me, I’ll be alright,” he assured you, squeezing your hands. “Don’t want to get sick before Christmas, right?” 

You managed a nod, and he casually slung an arm across your shoulders. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he grinned. “Now come on, I think we have some drinks waiting for us.” 

As always, he had pulled you away from your friend group to “spend extra special time with the coolest and funniest girl in the world” and though you rolled your eyes at this, you allowed him to take the lead. (You weren’t complaining.)

Maybe it was the snow, maybe it was the added heat from Fred’s jacket, or maybe it was something else, but you were in an unusually good mood today. Fred noticed how you smiled more than usual, eagerly tugging his hand as you pulled him from shop to shop. 

“Y/N…you’ll drain my pockets,” he groaned as you stopped in front of Honeyduke’s, positively beaming. “And you’ll rot my teeth.”

“Please…?” you begged. “I’ll die if I don’t get a bag.”

“Y/N, love, come on…” But seeing the blissful and innocent twinkle in your eyes made it damn near impossible for him to say no. “Alright, fine. Pick out what you want, it’s on me.”

“You’re the best!” you squeezed his arm before heading into the shop together, hand in hand. “This is why I love you.”

“Ow? Placing my worth based on how many sweet treats I am willing to bestow upon you?” Fred feigned offense at your statement. “But it’s okay. I love you too.” 

Half an hour later, you were walking out of the sweet shop with a bag filled to the brim, and Fred was magically several Galleons lighter.

The two of you were only a three-minute walk from the castle grounds when the wind started to pick up. What was once a light snowy drizzle had suddenly turn into a full-blown blizzard, obscuring your vision for meters. 

“I can’t even—I can’t see a thing!” you yelled over the whipping winds, trying to shield your face. “Fred, where are you?” 

“Right behind you,” he murmured, circling an arm around your middle. “Don’t worry.” 

But then, you felt something cold and icy slip down your jumper. 

“Fred Weasley!” you yelled as he ran away, laughing with another clump of snow in hand. “You get back here right this instant before I kick your arse—” 

You lunged forward and went sprinting after him, well, as fast as you could through the thick blankets of snow. Fred’s laugh echoed through the frigid air as you rolled up a giant snowball and chucked it at him. It hit him square in the back and he nearly fell from the impact. 

The blizzard added an extra layer of difficulty, but you were determined to win by sheer talent and not take the easy way out with magic. 

Your arms began to ache from forming and throwing snowball after snowball, and you were sure that you’d be getting bruises all over your body (especially from one particularly hard hit between your shoulder blades when you’d been distracted). But seeing Fred so blissfully happy made it worth it—for a split second, you could pretend you were both thirteen again, no worries in the world except for beating each other in Quidditch. 

“Okay, this is so over!” you shouted as you chased him over a small hill and finally jumped on his back to tackle him, causing him to fall face first into the snow. 

“You absolute—” he began, voice muffled. “Ow.”

He fell silent for a few seconds and stopped moving, causing you to worry. “Freddie, you alright? Fred!”

After you panicked for a few more seconds, Fred finally flipped over, clutching his stomach as he laughed at you. “You actually thought I was hurt?” 

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed in a high-pitched tone. Your face flushed as you realized you practically sitting on him and awkwardly shifted off, opting to kneel by his side as he sat up. “What if you actually were? I’d like to be the one that heals you, not hurts you, thank you very much!”

He smirked. “Aw, so you were worried about me. You care, don’t you?”

“Shut it, I do not,” you scoffed. 

His eyes trailed down your ring, which still shone so brightly, as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. 

“...I think you’re missing a little something, don’t you think? Or maybe it’s me that is,” he said so quietly that you almost missed what he’d said. “A diamond, perhaps….”

“A diamond?” your voice came out in the tiniest of whispers as well. “I think you’d look alright in a little silver…”

Fred then cupped your face in his hands, which forced you to look back up at him. He gently grazed his thumbs over your cheekbones and there was now what seemed like a look of longing in his bright hazel eyes. He’d always gazed at you admiringly but that was because he was your best friend, you told yourself (a lie that, time and time again, you’d try and fail over the years to convince yourself of). Best friends loved and cared for each other, that’s what they’re supposed to do. 

But here he was, making you feel things that a friend normally didn’t. And you didn’t even try to push him away because you didn’t want him to leave; you never wanted him to. 

He finally closed the ever-decreasing gap between you two and kissed you, capturing your lips in his. You buried a hand in his messy hair and pulled him closer; as close as you possibly could, desperate for the way he made you feel so alive because he was the one thing keeping you anchored to the ground. 

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, he says over and over. You swore you’d explode, feeling him smile against your lips, tugging you even closer. 

the in-between

The chasm of grief, so cold and uninviting, seemed to open up and swallow you whole. 

You hated war. You hated watching the blood of innocent people being shed by the ruthless works of evil. You hated that you had survived while so many you had grown to know and love didn’t. They’re just kids. They’re too young. They didn’t deserve to die the way they did. They’re just kids. They’re just kids. 

You weren’t sure how you even survived. 

As soon as you locked eyes with each other, you, Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Parvati collapsed into one giant hug on the floor, tightly clutching one another. You had all been incredibly lucky to have made it through together.

Fred’s eyes carefully scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. When he saw you there in the corner, eyes squeezed shut and clinging to your best friends, he wanted nothing more than to approach and comfort you. But he knew you all needed this time together—you had lost many loved ones, and they were some of the only family you had left. So he let you be, leaning against the wall and watching from afar. 

Over the next hour or so, people slowly started trickling out of the Great Hall—parents coming to pick up their kids, families reuniting—until it was just you, Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, Fleur, and the Weasleys. There was an unspoken feeling of gratitude lingering in the air and you could sense the relief all-around. 

Your heart clenched as you watched Harry embrace his godfather. Your mother had died when you were young and your father had suffered a similar fate as the Longbottoms, so watching families reunite always sent a spear through your chest. 

“Hey,” you heard, feeling someone intertwine their fingers with yours. You didn’t need to look over to know it was Fred. “Sickle for your thoughts? Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Leaning into him, you closed your eyes, attempting to will the tears away. “I don’t…I don’t know.  I just hate war. While I’m glad this is over, I can’t help but think how unfair it all is. People losing each other, being torn apart…Voldemort’s gone, I know, but it just feels like he took a part of me to the grave with him.”

“I hope it’s not the part that made you fall in love with me,” Fred joked, and the corners of your lips quirked up in a grin.

“Of course not…” you murmured, “you’d have to pry your heart out of my cold, dead hands to try and take it from me. I’m here now, whether you like it or not.”

“For good?” 

“For good,” you stated, reaching up to kiss him softly. “I love you.”

“And you know I love you more.”

epilogue (it’s a new spring with you)  

With the Dark Lord gone, there were many loose ends to tie up and much-deserved resting to do. You had stayed behind to help start with cleaning up the castle grounds, before deciding to take the Hogwarts Express back home all togehter—for old time’s sake. 

“What about the shop?” you asked George as you sat down between him and Fred. “Don’t you two need to be there?” 

“We reckon it’ll be just fine—it’s not just us there anymore, remember?” he said, “but, Freddie thought you were more important. That’s why we’re here.”

Resting your head against his chest, you gazed up at Fred and smiled. “You left for me?” 

“You know all that I do is for you,” he explained as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Ew my teeth, they’re going to rot from the cheesy sweetness,” Ron groaned. “You’d think that the war would wipe all that out.” 

“Oh shut it, Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let them live.” 

You drifted off and slept through the entire ride home, feeling a tad bit more refreshed when pulling in to King’s Cross station. It was a blur from there: taking the Floo network, carrying bags, washing up, and whatnot. You felt as if you were on autopilot with a barely functioning Muggle battery. All you wanted was to collapse on the floor and sleep forever, but you wanted to sit around the living room floor with your friends and catch up like you always did during the summer. 

Lupin and Tonks had gone home to take care of Teddy while the rest of you were settling in. Chatter filled the Burrow as you spent time unpacking, and you found that you’d missed all the noise more than you initially thought. Dinner was an equally chaotic but also peaceful affair, filled with plenty of toasts, extra servings, and laughter, of course. 

While Sirius was busy telling the table about the Mauraders’ antics, Fred squeezed your hand, jerking his head behind him to indicate that he wanted to go out back. 

Now? What is it? you mouthed. 

Fred nodded. Yes, now, so come on. 

He took your hand and led you out the back door to the orchards, crescent moon shining overhead. A faint smile graced your face as you thought back to the days you spent together under the giant apple tree, reading stories from Hermione’s books to one another, skipping stones by the lake, and tending to the chickens. 

A familiar tune started drifting through the air, and Fred extended a hand towards you.

“May I have this dance?”

You were immediately hit with a wave of déjà vu at his question, and allowed him to sweep you up into his arms. He placed his hands on your waist and you felt sparks shoot up your spine at his touch. Your arms wound their way around his neck as you swayed to the melody, losing yourselves in a dreamy lullaby. Though you had done this with him before on several occasions, it still felt like you were falling in love all over again. 

You swallowed hard as you thought about how you had both been forced to grow up so fast. Moments like these—of pure bliss and childlike innocence—were far and few between, so they were to be greatly cherished. It was easy when he was twirling you around like this; effortlessly guiding your motions, to forget that anything and anyone else existed. 

Closing your eyes, you focused on the feeling of his warm hands through your sweater and the soothing sound of his soft hums, allowing them to carry you away. 

At one point, he briefly stops before spinning you outwards—but this time, he doesn’t pull you back in to catch you. You’re about to be confused but then, you turn around to see him down on one knee, a glittering diamond ring in hand. You froze in place, completely shocked. 

“A diamond, perhaps…” you echoed, recalling that one winter night when you had kissed him for the first time, feeling like your heart was going to explode out of your chest. 

“It’s always been you,” said Fred in a simple, soft tone of voice. “Always has been and always will be.”

Your eyes began to water. “You’re bloody kidding me…”

“Y/N, I know I joke around a lot—hell, I opened a whole shop with Georgie…but one thing I’ve never joked about is the way I feel about you.”

“Fred…”

“...Will you marry me?”

You opened and closed your mouth but no words seemed to come out. All you could manage was a small nod before tears fully blurred your vision and you stepped forward, hand shaking as he slid the diamond ring on. 

When his lips brushed against yours, time seemed to splutter to a stop, and you felt your weary heart slowly but steadily stitch itself back together. 

Except, he was the one holding the needle and telling you that there was no need to be anxious or scared because he’d be by your side for the rest of your life. 

So don't let me wait Come to me tenderly in the June night I stand at your gate And I sing you a song in the moonlight A love song, my darling A moonlight serenade

tags: @htchnr @arkofblake @xhanthexzoria @antriimx @pinkdaiisies @lovely-whale-is-lovely

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Pairings: Arvin Russel x Fem!Christian!Reader

Summary: Arvin knew he shouldn’t have left you alone with that new preacher... 

Warnings: Sexual assault, physical assault, cursing, Teagarden being a perv, really nothing out of the ordinary for this movie. 

Word Count: 5250

_________________________

“Arvin! Stop!” You giggled, pushing your boyfriend off of you as he nibbled up and down your neck. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, he just loved to hear you laugh and he knew how much the action tickled your skin. “You’re so annoyin’!” You laughed, cheeks flushed red as you gently pressed on his head to try and move it. 

He pressed himself up, looking down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever lay his eyes on. Arvin was straddling you, his knees trapping your hips beneath him. A hand was placed on either side of your head and he looked down at you, “But you’re so pretty when you laugh.” 

“Oh? And I’m ugly all the rest of the time?” You asked jokingly, hands reaching up stroke up and down his arms. 

Arvin leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away ever so slightly, hovering just above your lips. Both of your guys’ eyes were still closed as if it were a romantic moment until he whispered, “Ugly as a mule.” 

You both busted up laughing and you shoved him, his body rolling onto the blanket beside you, “I’m breaking up with you.” You teasingly told him. 

“Ah, c’mon. You know you love me.” He looked over at you, loving how the autumn sun lit up your features. 

“I tolerate you. Don’t get it mixed up.” You rolled your head over to see him already admiring you. Your smile got bigger when you locked eyes with him. 

“Well I love you.” Arvin admitted sweetly, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek and kissing you one more time. 

Arvin made you feel beautiful and special and safe, all those things that no boy had ever made you feel. He always had. Even when you were children back in middle school and neither of you really talked to each other, when you saw him around the halls, a peace just settled over you that made you feel like you were on top of the world. When the two of you began dating ten months ago, that never changed. 

“I love you too.” 

The two of you laid back against the yellow blanket with little orange flowers on it, the one that you’d taken from the linen closet back home. This was yours and Arvin’s favorite place, a little clearing in the woods. The grass was tall enough to be soft but not so tall that it hid critters. Flowers lined the edge of the woods in the spring. It wasn’t springtime now but that only meant that instead of a display of white and yellow flower buds, the pair of you had a beautiful show of brilliant reds and oranges from the falling leaves. 

Everyone in town knew you were together. Word spread fast around Coal Creek and it was nearly impossible to hide anything. Your families were both supportive of the relationship. Emma loved that you were involved with the church and put effort into the community when you could, often participating in bake sales around town. She liked to tease that you won Arvin over with your “man catching apple cobbler” as she now called it, since he officially asked you to be his girlfriend over a slice of the delicious dessert after a Sunday service. 

Your parents liked Arvin as well. Even after Fred Dinwoodie had told your dad about what Arvin had done to Gene, it surprisingly made him like Arvin more. “You got yourself a good man who knows right from wrong and ain’t afraid to stand up for the people he loves.” Was what he’d said, which had surprised you. You knew that Arvin had beaten all the boys right after he’d done it, since he came to you to help him calm down and ice his knuckles. You were terrified for your parents to find out, though, sure that they’d tell you to break up with him for fear of violent tendencies. Thankfully, that day never came. 

It was nice out there, bundled up in a warm brown coat, laying on Arvin’s chest, and watching the leaves fly across the crisp sky in the breeze. 

“We should probably get headin’ back.” You said reluctantly, pushing yourself up to sitting. 

“Why’s that?” Arvin perched on his elbow to watch you tighten the jacket around your frame, a cool breeze hitting just right. 

“The new preacher asked me to come by this afternoon. Said he needed help planning a fundraiser to raise money for the less fortunate families in town.” You traced a finger over his knuckles gingerly, small pink marks littering his knuckles from his attack on Dinwoodie and his boys still healing over. 

“Ain’t you one o’ them less fortunate families in town?” He asked, trying to find a way to talk you out of this. Ever since Preston Teagarden had humiliated Emma on his first day, Arvin had it out for the man. 

You scoffed with a chuckle, “Yeah, but you are too and your grandma is still always bringin’ stuff to church. Just cause I’m broke as shit doesn’t mean I can’t try to help other people who are broke as shit.”

Arvin stood up with you and helped you fold up the blanket, “I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im.” 

“I agree that he was totally out of line callin’ your grandma out like that two weeks ago but I’d like to think that maybe I can talk to him about it.” The two of you began to walk back to Arvin’s car, grass swishing under your steps. 

Arvin’s face twisted, “I just don’t trust the man. He’s always up there on that damn stage actin’ all high ‘n mighty every Sunday like he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He reached forward and opened your door for you, closing it after you slid onto the seat. He walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. 

“He’s a sinner like the rest of us. It’s just about doing what you can to make yourself better.” You responded, looking over at Arvin sweetly. He gave you a skeptic look and sighed deeply as he turned his attention back to look towards the road. With one hand on the steering wheel, he slid his free hand over to hold yours gently. The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, with the exception of the radio quietly playing in the background. 

Arvin loved you. He really really loved you. You generally had your wits about you, a heck of a lot more than most of the girls in Coal Creek, not allowing your religion to totally cloud your vision. You were a good girl, good enough to make his grandma happy and not cause too much trouble around town, always helping those in need, but not so pious that you made everyone else around you feel like a sinner. You were still fun, you still made mistakes. Arvin felt like you were something between ethereal and real, somehow elevating him as a person but also showing him just how good life could be. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel like you were making a mistake with this preacher. Of course, with your caring nature, you would help him, especially knowing it was for the poor folks in town. But something about Teagarden just made Arvin’s skin crawl. He just couldn’t put his finger on it… 

The tires rolled to a crunching halt on the gravel outside of the church. The graveyard to the side looked dark and gloomy as always, the cloud of loss looming over almost everyone in this town in one way or another. The church, though, stood small and humble in the field, white paint chipping after years of weathering. 

“Thank you for the ride.” You leaned over and pecked Arvin on the cheek. 

He let out a heavy sigh, “You really sure you don’t just want me to take you home?” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a sweet smile on your face, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be fine, Arv, but thank you for the concern.” Opening the door, you climbed out, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“What? No. I’m givin’ you a ride home.” Arvin looked offended that you even suggested such blasphemy. 

“I don’t want you to have to drive all the way back here for me and I don’t know how long this’ll take. Besides, I don’t live too far from here.” You shook your head, leaning against the open door.

Arvin raised his eyebrows, “What kind of man would I be if I let you walk home alone at night? I’m givin’ you a ride home ‘n that’s final. I have to run to the market anyways to get some stuff for my grandma so I’ll just do that ‘n come back here for ya.” 

With loving warmth welling up in your chest, you leaned into the car, holding onto the roof for balance, while you kissed him on the lips, “I’ll see you in a few then.” 

Pulling yourself back out of the car, you closed the door and waved before spinning to walk towards the church. Looking behind you, you gave Arvin one final wave before disappearing through the door. 

The church was empty, though you expected nothing less on a Saturday afternoon. The pews were empty so you wandered into the building curiously. You closed the door behind you as you walked further in. “Hello? Reverend?” 

Preston Teagarden approached from the door off to the side of the main stage, where his office had been located, “Y/N! Forgive me, I expected you to be a little bit later.” 

You stopped in your tracks, “Oh, I’m sorry! You didn’t say an exact time. Just afternoon…” You chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling bad for arriving early. 

“No, no, it’s no problem at all,” He waved his hand dismissively. Teagarden made his way down the aisle a few rows before stopping, “So from what I’ve heard, you are the one to talk to about fundraising” 

Flattered, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “Oh, well I don’t know about that… I’ve done a few fundraisers but I wouldn’t say I’m the one to go to.” 

“Nonsense, girl! I’m sure you’ll help plan something amazing. Now, why don’t you come over here and we can start talking about it.” He gestured towards the pew he was leaning on and waited for you to sit down before sliding in next to you. 

Your legs crossed when you sat down, “So, I was thinking about this for a few days and the high school has a harvest festival every November. If we set up a bake sale, we could easily raise a few hundred dollars, at least. Everybody loves Mrs. Lyle’s lemon bars and I’m sure those alone could rake in a small fortune.” You giggled a little at your small joke and the preacher did as well. 

As he did so, his arm slid behind your shoulder so smoothly, you almost didn’t notice at first. Almost. Though the action took you off guard, you chose to write it off. People had done this before to you platonically so this probably didn’t mean anything. Just a show of interest in what you had to say. 

“Mmm, you’re makin’ me crave some sweets,” Teagarden chuckled, looking over his shoulder and then back around the room. 

“Well I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. Coal Creek ain’t got much but if we got one thing, it’s some mighty good bakers.” You dug around in your bag that you’d brought, searching for the journal that you’d been planning this event out on, “I actually did some math and I was thinking… we could charge a dime per cookie or a dollar a dozen, yeah? And then maybe a quarter for a slice of pie and then a dollar twenty five for-” 

The preacher stopped you, placing his hand on the notebook, “You really thought this out, huh? You sure are one smart girl there, Y/N. You go to the high school?”

The older man had scooched closer to you sometime during your ramblings and suddenly, you began to feel suffocated by his presence. His body was nearly flush against yours and his arm around your shoulders were trapping. 

He’s a preacher, he wouldn’t do nothin’, you tried to convince yourself but Arvin’s voice came ringing in your ears: I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im. Trying not to be obvious, just in case you were misreading things, you slid away from him just slightly to put some distance between your bodies. As you did so, however, Teagarden’s hand closed around your left shoulder, rubbing it firmly but gently. 

Your eyes widened when you looked over at his grip and your heart began to pick up pace. “Yeah.” Your voice was shakier than you thought it would be. 

“What are ya? Junior, senior? You look young… but definitely not a little girl.” His eyes raked tactically over your body. Your legs were shaped out well in your cuffed denim jeans and your white and pink striped boat neck long sleeve shirt was far from revealing but Preston was well aware of the way the stripes curved out of place over your breasts. 

“Senior. I’ll be graduating this June.” Now your voice was solid and low, just teetering on threatening. 

The preacher smiled, “Ah, ain’t that exciting. Such a smart pretty little thing going out into the real world. It’s good to see a nice Christian girl going out there but y’know, the real world is real bad. Believe you me. You gotta be real careful out there. Temptation and sin ‘round every corner. The devil hides himself, y’know? Wraps up all his evil and disguises it as everythin’ you ever wanted.” 

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” You stated quietly but firmly, looking up to lock eyes with him. Arvin was right. Something was certainly off about this man and you were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

Preston smiled proudly, “That’s right. Now, you gotta make sure you ain’t fallin’ into any o’ his traps.” 

Your jaw clenched and your eyes darted around the room before landing in your lap, “I’d like to think I got a good ‘nough head on my shoulders to see Satan working in disguise.” 

He tsked, “That’s a good start but you can’t go relyin’ on your own knowledge of the world. You need to let God tell you what’s right ‘n wrong. Trust in Him.” His hand on your shoulder shook you slightly for emphasis while his other pointed upwards towards Heaven. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which you could have heard a pin drop before he spoke again, “How is your walk with God?” 

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes, “It’s alright. Could be better but everyone’s could, I s’pose.” 

“I agree,” Preston’s leg started bouncing and he looked towards the front of the church, where he typically stood preaching, “E’ryone could walk a little closer. Myself included.” He gestured to the front of the church, “Why don’t we pray? C’mon over here.” 

He stood up and walked up to the head of the room, just below the cross. Cautiously, you followed him. “I like to think as a man of God, I can do some of His work. Or rather put the good word out there and try to save as many souls as possible. Why don’t you get on your knees? Lemme pray for ya.” 

A shiver ran through your spine as you knelt down on shaky knees, eyes going up to the large black cross that hung on the wall. Please, Lord, get me out of this. You prayed silently. 

Preston stood behind you, his hands coming to your shoulders as he began, “Lord, today we pray for Y/N and her excursions into the world as a young woman. Help her see through the devil’s delusions and guide her through this world. Lord, I pray that you see Y/N in everything that she is as she dedicates her whole self to you. Give her strength, amen.” 

“Amen.” When your eyes slid open, your whole body was shaking. 

“So you say you got some good judgement?” Preston asked as you stood up, “Say you walk in the light?” 

“I try to but we all have our slip ups.” You answered humbly and honestly, avoiding his eye contact. 

Preston hummed, “I seen you with that Russell boy. Y’all going steady?” Silently, you nodded in response. “There’s a lot of temptation in relationships like that.” 

It was clear what he was insinuating and it actually made you mad. What right did he have to be poking around in your romantic and sexual life? “Has he ever touched you?” 

The bluntness of his question hit you like a rock, “With all do respect, Reverend, that ain’t really none of your business.” 

He put his hands up in surrender, “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just concerned ‘bout that boy dragging you down into temptation. Sullying your position with the good Lord, ‘n all.” 

“Arvin is a perfectly respectful man. He ain’t draggin’ nothin’ or nobody down.” Your voice was getting more aggressive. 

“So he hasn’t touched you? He hasn’t seen you…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Like I said, that ain’t none of your business. Thank you for your concern for my soul but what Arvin and I do is between us and the Lord. I don’t need no middle man reverend to redeem me.” 

He shrugged, “But you know, one of the best ways to get right with the Lord is to surrender yourself. Fully.” He took a few steps towards you and your breathing hitched. There was a sexual tension in the air that made your skin crawl. 

“I’ve already given my life to the Lord.” 

You weren’t giving in quite as easily as Preston had expected. Those other girls, Lenora and Jeanette Reaster, had been easily manipulated into giving Preston what he wanted. Just tell them they were unclean and needed to get right with the Lord and right into his trap they fell but you… you were different. Smart in the worldy kind of way. You were the first girl to give him a hard time but Preston would be lying if he said he didn’t like the chase. 

You were staring daggers at him, your jaw clenched, and your body standing tall and strong. It was almost as if you were trying to prove a point. You could have run, could have darted out screaming about what had happened, but you didn’t. There was no proof and Preston knew it. This was how he got away with it all. No proof, all words and small touches that were just innocent enough to be misread. It wasn’t until he got them in the backseat of his car or in the office in the back of the church that he actually touched them but by then, it was consensual. Sure, for Lenora and Jeanette there was the issue that they were minors but that was the fun of these little towns like Coal Creek, The girl always took the fall. It was always her fault. Preston could get off scotch free and he knew it. He loved it. 

Almost like something out of a movie, he reached down and gently settled one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pressing his lips against yours without giving you a chance to object. You yelled indignantly against lips but when he pulled away, the hand on your cheek moved to cover your mouth. Preston leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I am an extension of the Lord’s work. Surrender yourself to me fully to surrender yourself to Him.” 

** 

Arvin watched as you walked into the church with a distrusting pang in his gut. There was just something about that reverend that didn’t sit right. It killed him to watch you leave, knowing that you were alone in there with him.

But he also knew you were a big girl. The logical part of his brain kept screaming at him that he was being irrational. The reverend was probably an okay enough guy. He’d never be number one or even number twenty on Arvin’s list of favorite people but that didn’t necessarily mean that the preacher would kill your something. Besides, Arvin really did need to run to the market. Lenora had requested some pecans for a pie she wanted to bake and his grandma  needed more milk. It would be a quick trip as town was just a short drive down the street. 

Reluctantly, Arvin backed out the driveway and sped off down the street. 

The entire time that Arvin was at the market, there was an unsettling tingle all around his body. It got harder to ignore as more time passed. The longer he left you with Teagarden, the worse he felt. 

“Just these.” Arvin threw a bag of pecans and a gallon of milk on the counter and paid for it quickly, rushing back to his car. He wouldn’t be having these feelings for no reason. Best case scenario, you were absolutely fine and Arvin was just being paranoid. Worst case scenario… Arvin couldn’t think about it because every time he thought of one, another worse one popped into his brain. 

It had only been about twenty minutes since Arvin left you alone with the preacher. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how long planning a fundraiser would take. Church activities had never been his thing but he supported you as long as it made you happy. 

He sat in the car in the church parking lot, lighting up a cigarette to calm his nerves. Arvin’s leg bounced anxiously as he watched yet another late autumn storm roll in. The clouds cast a dark gloominess, turning the minimal light left from the mostly set sun a shade of grey.. There Arvin sat for another five minutes, awaiting your exit from the building but it never came. 

Fuck it. Arvin twisted his hat on straight and threw the door open, nearly stomping out. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something was wrong. He could feel it. 

Sure enough, when he threw the door open, he was horrified. Preston Teagarden had you locked in a tight embrace, his hands running over your breasts. The two of you were standing in the middle of the aisle, right in the center of church. You had a furious look on your face, “I swear to God you touch me like that again and I’ll cut your damn dick off!” You gripped desperately at his hand that was groping you, trying to pry it away but to no avail. 

The sound of the door swinging open was enough to draw both yours and Teagarden’s attention. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Arvin wasted no time running into the conflict. Teagarden dropped you and your knees buckled from the unexpected action, landing you on the ground. 

He put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, now, let’s talk about this like real men.” 

Arvin threw one solid swing to his chin, sending his head flying sideways, “You ain’t no real man. Real men don’t gotta go around gropin�� girls to get off, you sick fuck!” Another punch landed on his opposite cheek and it sent Teagarden to the ground. 

You scurried away from him and stood up just ahead of Arvin. Preston cowered, hiding his face, “Please, please, have mercy.” His pleading eyes went from Arvin to you and he lingered on your gaze, knowing that he had a better chance with the mercy approach with you. 

He found none. Even with his blood smeared face, his teeth stained crimson, and the way his body shook, you just scowled down at him, “I’m gonna tell e’ryone in this town what a disgustin’ man you are. You think you can get away with this, you’re dead wrong.” You sent a swift kick straight to his stomach, making him curl into the fetal position with a loud groan of pain. 

But then he laughed. He actually laughed. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You and Arvin both spat in unison, blood boiling. 

Preston laid his head back and closed his eyes, an almost serene look of confidence contrasting the blood that covered him and the swelling of his lip, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me. You came to visit the church after hours under the guise of helping me with a fundraiser. But then you used your womanly charms to try and seduce me, a married man of God.” 

“That ain’t what happened!” Arvin yelled angrily, fists clenched by his side. 

When the words left the preacher’s mouth though, your heart dropped. You knew the truth, Arvin knew the truth, the reverend knew the truth. But none of that mattered if the Reverend told everyone his concocted story because he was a man of God. Why would he lie? 

A sadistic smile spread across his face, “It is if I say it is. Ain’t nobody gonna believe two teenagers over a preacher.” 

“He’s right.” Your voice faltered as you spoke, nearly coming out as a shattered whisper. When Arvin looked over at you, your face had paled and you looked utterly broken. 

It wasn’t so much that the assault itself was enough to break you, though, of course, it had definitely left you with the lingering ghosts of his filthy hands on your body. It was the fact that you knew he’d get away with it, that no matter what you or Arvin said, the town would believe Teagarden. 

Arvin swallowed hard, trying to see through the blinding rage. As a boy, he never truly understood the bias that women faced when they were victims of sexual assault- how it was perceived as their faults in towns like this. It had never happened to anyone he knew so he never had much reason to think about it. Now, you were forced to live with knowing that you assailant was going to keep his position as a fucking preacher in town and that you couldn’t do anything about it. 

Arvin wouldn’t let it stand. 

He stomped forward yet again and knelt over Teagarden, sending blow after blow into his face. Bone crunched bone with a disgusting crack with every hit and you flinched every time. 

Your eyes were wide with terror. Arvin’s violent past with Gene Dinwoodie and his boys was not unknown to you. You were the first person he’d gone to after the attack, in fact, and you’d actually supported him for the most part, only wishing that maybe he didn’t send them all to the hospital and only roughed them up a bit. Actually watching him beat someone to the brink of death though was something else entirely. 

“Stop!” The word left your mouth before you even knew you’d thought it. 

Arvin stopped and looked over his shoulder at you in surprise. He was doing this for you after all. 

“Don’t kill ‘im. Please.” You begged, your voice heavy.

“What?” Arvin wasn’t actually sure what he’d intended on doing to the preacher. Sure, he wanted to kill him. That horrified, angry look in your eye as he touched you made a fire burn in him so bright, he didn’t know if it could be put out. But Arvin had never wanted to be a killer. He only wanted to prove a point and make sure that the message stuck. Now that he thought about it, though, he would have to finish the job or the preacher would tell him he’d attacked him. 

Your eyes were almost brimming with tears, though none fell. This whole evening had been too much. First the assault and now watching the love of your life throw his good conscience away for you. You wanted the preacher to pay as much as he did but this just didn’t feel right. 

“P-please… I don’t want you takin’ the fall for none o’ this. He don’t deserve to die but I think a good beatin’ will give him some time to reevaluate ‘imself.” You’d walked towards Arvin and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. 

Arvin couldn’t fathom why you’d be protecting this monster. The question was clear all over his face. Why? 

“I’m not asking you to stop for him. I’m asking you to stop for you. I don’t want you to have blood on your hands for me. Not for this.” His heart broke seeing you look the way you did, your eyes shining with tears, and your hand a little shaky. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you more. 

Arvin grabbed the preacher off the ground by the collar and pulled him up almost a foot, leaning down to get in his disfigured face, “If I ever hear that you went near Y/N or any other girl again, I will find you and kill you. If you so much as look at her again, I will kill you. And if you tell anyone what happened here tonight, I will fucking kill you. You understand? Consider it that mercy you kept beggin’ for.” 

He dropped the preacher gracelessly with a thud and wrapped an arm comfortingly around you. For a moment, he was scared that you’d flinch away. You’d never seen him when he let his anger get the best of him and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t want you to think that he was a violent man because he really wasn’t. Arvin just cared for a special few so much that he’d do anything for them. He’d never hurt someone he loved though and needed you to know that. 

Thankfully, you leaned into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you back to his car, leaving the preacher an unconscious mess in the middle of the church. When you exited the building, night had fallen upon Coal Creek, casting a fitting darkness over the town. 

“Thank you.” You said simply and quietly, looking over at Arvin sincerely on the drive home. 

“For what?” 

“For everything. Just bein’ who you are.” You paused with a heavy sigh, “But promise me something?” 

Arvin looked over at you, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to show you he was listening. 

“Promise me you won’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble for me.” 

He shook his head, “He deserved-” 

“I know what he deserved,” You interrupted, “And I am so grateful that you stepped in to help. But I don’t want you gettin’ yourself thrown in jail or killed for me.” 

There was short silence before Arvin looked over with the most sincere look you think he’d ever given you, “I can’t promise that. ‘M sorry, Y/N, but if I ever see you in danger, I’m gonna do what I need to do.” 

It wasn’t the response you’d been hoping for but this boy had the ability to make you feel more loved than anyone else you knew. You only wished he understood that you only wanted what was best for him, just like he did for you. “I love you, Arvin.” You admitted, sliding across the seat to lay your head against his shoulder while he drove. 

“I love you too.” 

[oh-for-merlins-sake]

SLOW BURN | gw | golden

summary: y/n, a local florist, stops in weasleys’ wizard wheezes for the first time and finds more than she bargained for. soon, she’ll teach george that there are many reasons to stop and smell the roses.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: alcohol

a/n: AAAAAH you guys i did not want to stop writing this!! i had so much fun, and i’m really happy with how it turned out! it was really challenging for me to write a “slow burn” relationship, but i hope i did it justice! as you’ll see, this is not a “song” fic, but a lyric (in bold and italics) was used. cheers to the first installment of the golden collection!!

taglist: @iliveiloveiwrite @andromedaa-tonks @pansydaisy @a-little-too-much @slytherinsunrise @marvelettesassemble @msmarklee1213 @letsgotothehop @finnishslytherin @starlightweasley @witch-and-a-half @darthwheezely @vogueweasley @gcdric @breadqueen95 (message/ask to be added/removed, loves!)

Blackbirds trilled overhead as you glided over the cobblestone path to work. The sun was finally reemerging from behind the dark, dreary clouds, which had just finished bathing the streets of Diagon Alley in a springtime shower. You admired the lingering smell of fresh rainwater that dripped from the eaves above you.

Today, you were taking a detour from your ordinary route. Your younger brother’s birthday was just around the corner, and you had yet to find a gift worthy of a teenage boy’s microscopic attention span and angst-ridden ennui. You smiled to yourself as you spotted the vibrant shop down the street with its mechanical mascot tipping his hat to you.

It was curious to you that this shop had a natural magnetism to people of all ages. If you hadn’t found a thing yet, this shop should surely hold something that would cater to your brother. You’d seen the troves of young wizards clamoring in a morning or two before.

As you approached the large front doors, you glanced at your watch: half an hour until the start of your shift. You strolled into the whimsical shop, dodging a Fanged Frisbee in the process. You slowly turned in place, eyeing the towering shelves of eccentric gadgets and vivid pyrotechnics. Truthfully, it was a little intimidating; where to start was beyond you.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?”

Startled by the sudden voice, you spun to face its origin. You were met with a tall, redheaded man with freckles that practically danced across his cheeks as he chuckled at your expression. Suddenly, you felt sheepish. “Sorry?”

“You looked a little...” he pondered the right word, “overwhelmed.”

You laughed, “To be honest, I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.”

He nodded, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Younger brother’s birthday?”

“How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” he shrugged.

You were quite impressed. As he motioned for you to follow him up the stairs to the next floor of the shop, you couldn’t help but notice how familiar he looked. Surely you’d seen him before — perhaps in line at Gringotts or sipping mead in the Leaky Cauldron. You couldn’t quite pin it.

You were relieved to leave the gargantuan fireworks below — on behalf of your mother mostly. You followed him to a wall of massive tubes that were filled to the brim with colorful candies.

“Our full collection of sweets,” he announced.

You eyed the assortment, noticing the words Puking Pastilles on a golden label. “Are these different flavors or...?”

“Yes, but more importantly, they serve different purposes. These, for example,” he pointed to the pastilles, “induce vomiting — perfect for skiving class!”

You chuckled. “Surely these aren’t allowed at Hogwarts?”

“‘Course not! But that’s what makes them so bloody popular — hot commodity,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “We’ve got a sweet for nearly every malady.”

“Who even thinks of this sort of thing?” you mused — again, thoroughly impressed.

“I guess we do,” he answered, leaning against the counter.

Your jaw dropped. “You made these?”

He shrugged, the faintest smirk on his lips, “I made everything.”

“Get out!” you laughed, pouring some candy into a purple plastic bag.

“Of my own shop?” he teased. “I don’t think so!”

You twist-tied the bag shut and turned to face him. “So you’re Weasley?”

“One of them, at least — George, to be exact.”

“That’s wicked!”

You noticed his freckled cheeks growing rosier by the second. “That’s awfully kind of you,” he said, waving dismissively.

“No, honestly! It’s incredible!”

As you reached for another plastic bag, George rushed over to interrupt. “Here,” he pointed to the display of Skiving Snackboxes. “Take one of these — they’ve got all our best-selling sweets in one box. Your brother’s sure to love it.” He led you over, plucking a box from the top and handing it to you. “On the house.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“I insist! Consider it an incentive.”

“An incentive?”

He nodded. “To come again.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, George — really! I just know he’ll love it!” As you turned the box in your hands, you caught sight of the time on your wrist: five ‘til. “Merlin!”

George furrowed his brows.

“I’ve got to go!” If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “But, perhaps you’ll stop by sometime. I can return the favor — clip you a free dozen roses for your girlfriend or something,” you rushed out.

“I’d have to find one first,” he chuckled, following you as you skipped down the steps towards the doors.

A warm blush flooded your face as you laughed nervously. You spun to face George one last time as he landed at the foot of the stairs. “Well, maybe you’ll stop by anyways.”

“Florist down the road?” he asked, pointing in the general direction.

“That’s exactly the one!” you called, stepping backwards onto the street.

You rushed down the path towards the florist, your step feeling a touch lighter than it did earlier. You noticed the result of the sudden sun after the storm: a rainbow hanging above the grinning man attached to the storefront.

“Aha!” you exclaimed, finally realizing why George had looked so familiar.

When you arrived at work, you swung the screen door into the greenhouse open, announcing your presence, “Sorry I’m late!”

“Not to worry, dear,” Muriel remarked.

Muriel hired you a few months prior, admiring your proclivity to gardening and greenery. She taught you something new every day without ever realizing she was doing so. Her green thumb had a knack for nurturing every flower both under and out of the sun. And her extraordinary eye for piecing together various plants and flowers to create a stunning and elegant arrangement never ceased to amaze you.

“Be a dear, Y/N, won’t you?” Jasmine grunted as she attempted to haul a heavy-bottomed, ceramic pot.

You threw your things onto a nearby stool and rushed over to lift the side closest to you. The two of you managed to hoist the pot just above the dirt floor to carry it to its destination.

“Re-potting the Wiggentree,” Jasmine explained, dusting off her hands. “Pretty soon it’s going to be too big to stay, mum,” she called to Muriel.

“Yes, I know, dear,” Muriel muttered, “That does not change the fact that it must be re-potted.”

Jasmine was less fond of gardening than her mother was. But if something unfortunate were to happen, the shop would fall to Jasmine, so she figured it’d be best to at least try and learn a thing or two.

You walked through the door leading directly from the greenhouse into the shop. “Morning, Candace!”

“Morning, Y/N!” the cheery teenager chirped as she balanced a vase full of violets on the counter.

A set of hooks adorned with various dirt-stained aprons lined the wall just behind it. You reached for the one with your initial embroidered in the upper right corner, quickly throwing it over your head and down your body. You tied a bow behind your back before throwing your hair up and stepping back into the greenhouse. You grabbed a pair of gloves and began heaving soil into the planter with Jasmine.

Beads of sweat were already forming on your forehead as the humidity of the greenhouse settled into your skin.

Re-potting the Wiggentree proved to be a difficult and timely task, taking up most of the morning. By lunchtime, you’d moved on to trimming daisies and de-thorning roses, and come sunset, you were planting hyacinth seeds and watering Flutterby bushes in the garden.

“Y/N,” Jasmine announced, stepping out from the greenhouse. “Someone’s here to see you.”

You wound your way through the garden and the greenhouse, stepping into the shop in search of your guest. Candace giggled as she zipped her coat and nodded towards the front door. You stepped onto the patio, where the outdoor displays danced in the gentlest of breezes. You were shocked to spot George leaning over to smell the roses.

“George?” you laughed. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Someone said something about roses,” he teased.

“Well,” you began, walking over and gesturing to the basket of pretty, pink roses, “What do you think?”

“Well worth the walk over here,” he answered, smiling brightly at you as he rocked on his heels with his hands in his coat pockets.

Jasmine rushed onto the patio with her jacket and purse draped over her shoulder and swiftly said, “Y/N, I completely forgot about my mother-in-law’s birthday dinner, and Candace just left! I’m so sorry — would you mind —”  

“Go on!” you hurried, waving her off of the patio, “I’ll close up!”

“Thank you, Y/N!” she called over her shoulder, “You’re an angel!”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes in amusement as she disappeared around the corner.

“I’ve got to tidy a few things but... the bar down the street doesn’t close for an hour,” you began, your heart fluttering as your stomach burst with butterflies, “We should take a walk and look at all the flowers down the alley.” You chuckled, feeling your face grow warm, “I planted half of them.”

George smiled, a light laugh gracing his lips, “All right, sounds good then.”

George busied himself with the outdoor displays while you prepared the shop for closing. He brushed his calloused fingers over the delicate flower petals, occasionally indulging in their sweet scents. He imagined how you likely smelled of flowers after a long day of work, and how that would be the perfect antidote to the lingering smell of gunpowder that constantly plagued his pillows.

“Ready?” you asked, stepping back onto the patio.

“More than ever,” he said.

As you walked down the alley together, you pointed out flowerbed after flowerbed resting on the windowsills of various shops and bakeries. Your favorites, he learned, were always the dahlias. He was surprised by the natural beauty that erupted from the brick and stone storefronts, and even more so by the fact that he never once paid attention to any of it. How could he have missed this?

“Merlin!” you gasped, rushing over to Mr. Reilly’s butcher shop. “Mr. Reilly has been doing an absolute lovely job tending to his poppies! You see, when I first popped in, he swore to Godric that he was incapable of keeping anything alive but himself, but look!”

George laughed, racing to keep up with you.

You led him to the pub that had just opened the month prior, Brenda’s Brews, whose owner agreed with your suggestion of keeping a few Fire Seed bushes out front to “really grab the people’s attention!”

Upon entering the pub, Brenda greeted you from behind the bar, “The usual, Y/N?”

“Two please!” you called, sliding a few sickles across the counter faster than George was able to dive into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it,” you winked.

“Okay, but next one’s on me, yeah?”

“No, no, consider it a thank you for earlier,” you said, raising your glass.

George clinked his glass with yours before sipping from the foamy ale. “Good choice,” he nodded.

“Can’t go wrong with a little Dragon Scale,” you remarked, savoring in its tangy, bitter taste.

“I’ve got to ask,” George began, setting his glass down on a coaster with The Weird Sisters plastered on it, “It seems like you know everyone in this bloody part of town. How come we haven’t met? Have you been here long?”

You laughed at his disbelief. “I’ve only been here a few months, so I haven’t quite gotten to everyone yet — for example, Number 93,” you muttered as you fidgeted with your diminishing glass.

“That’s wild,” he paused before snapping his fingers and saying, “Y/N?”

“Y/N,” you confirmed, taking a swig from your glass.

“And you’ve already made that big of an impact on everyone?” he continued.

You blushed, feeling flooded with a sudden warmth. You were quite flattered by the idea that you may mean something to this place; a place that was so new and intimidating not that long ago; somewhere you were certain a florist could never thrive: the middle of the city.

Perhaps the finger pricks from a thorn every now and then was worth it.

You shrugged bashfully, “I don’t know about all that.”

“Y/N,” a bartender called as he raced past, carrying two different mugs with different colored ales, “May loved the mayflowers! She said yes, by the way!”

You clapped, squealing in excitement, “Congratulations, Borden!”

George raised his eyebrows, as if to say, See?

Brenda bellowed, “Last call!”

You checked your watch: half an hour until close.

And despite the short burst of time remaining, it felt as though you’d been laughing and chatting away with George for hours. If someone insisted that they’d magically slowed time, you might have believed them. It felt so familiar to talk to George; it came so naturally. You wondered if he’d been talking since birth, given the way he animatedly told stories and produced witty comebacks within nanoseconds of the original comment.

At last, your glasses had been drained of their contents, and Brenda was shooing the last of the stragglers out the door. George followed behind you as you ducked out, calling goodbye to Brenda and Borden back inside.

Perhaps you’d been imagining it, but it certainly seemed that you and George were walking much closer together than you had been originally. One misstep and you might have brushed his hand.

You were suddenly distracted by the vibrant purple dahlias sitting outside of Rosa Lee’s. You raced over, carefully assessing exactly which flower to pick, explaining, “She won’t mind, I give her a new basket every week.”

George felt suddenly in awe of your natural grace and delight. It seemed so simple to please you: a dainty dahlia was all you needed to feel like the world was a good enough place to live. In a way, he envied your childlike wonder; it was different than the one exhibited in his shop by his products. It paid attention to the smaller things in life, rather than inciting big, booming bangs. It provided a sense of serenity.

You giggled and tucked the flower behind his right ear. He blushed as your hand gently grazed his skin. “How do I look?” he managed.

“Beautiful,” you said sincerely.

You continued walking as George fiddled with the dahlia. “Your favorite, right?” he asked, pointing to it.

“That is correct, sir,” you answered, impressed by his memory.

Once you reached Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, George leaned against the door and twiddled with the tiny flower between his fingers. He considered asking you inside, despite the lights clearly being off, indicating that the shop was clearly closed, and therefore, indicating that he meant inside his flat.

Likewise, you pondered the same prospect. You wondered if it’d be too forward: to suggest the idea of coming inside. Perhaps, tonight wasn’t the night.

And that was all right.

“Well, George,” you sighed, “I must say I’m really glad I stepped into this wacky shop of yours today.”

“I’d say the same,” he said earnestly.

You paused. “You’ll have to stop by again... you know, to finish off your bouquet,” you said, gesturing towards the dahlia.

He smiled. “You’ll be there tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” you echoed, a smile growing on your lips. You stepped onto the street and waved.

The sight of George waving back with a lopsided grin on his freckled face was enough to tide you over until next time. You spun in place and apparated home.

Honestly, George liked the idea of taking his time, carefully picking flowers — a few each day — until his bouquet was erupting from its vase.

Maybe then, you’d come in.

[startrekandberryrolls]

But For Now, We’re Alive (AKA. Pike and Una Confront Mortality)

Summary: Una puts together the pieces of what really happened to her captain on Boreth, all those months ago, as Pike picks up his own.

And they go horseback riding.

He’d asked her if she was even human once; her brain just moved that quickly sometimes.

That had been back when they were cadets: bright eyed, bushy tailed and painfully alive. Back before the world got them down- or built them back up to be stronger than before.

Once.

That was the keyword. The one thing that set the ‘then’ and the ‘now’ far apart. The ‘now’ and the ‘one day’ he knew threatened to swallow his present alive. He could live with dying- but knowing when and where that exactly would happen was killing him inside. It poisoned the moment. The moments. The ones he was letting pass by.

He should have known Una would piece it together one day. Not that he was mad but- well, he hadn’t quite been prepared.

“You’ll never be ready, Chris.” She began, softly. “That’s the whole point of living.”

“I-“ he tried to think of what to say, what answer he could scrape from the depth of his mind.

There wasn’t one, not one worth speaking, anyway. Una had a habit of being correct about these kinds of things.

Truth was, he was alive. In the here, the now. And that counted for something. It reminded him- to stop just surviving. That living was another thing entirely.

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” He asked, finally, pulling Tango to a stop in the deep snow.

It shouldn’t have surprised him that Una didn’t reply. Not for a few heartbeats, at least. She was thinking. Contemplating, as Flamenco rolled the bit in her mouth around boredly.

They let themselves drown in the depths of that warm winter night.

“I believe in this life.” She shrugged, finally. “And I believe in you, and sometimes even me, from time to time.”

He grinned ever so slightly, catching a glance of her eyes turned up to all those little, far flung suns in the dark abyss of the sky. Their reflection seemed to dance in her eyes.

She had bright eyes. Blue. He’d never really noticed till that moment of silence. That instant, when the heavens spilled open and poured out the stars. When he swore the wind was singing some hymn from lighter times.

Her hair was unbound, whisking round her head softly in the slightness of the breeze that whispered of springtime. A season that he wouldn’t see, not when flung off in his ship to some far corner of the galaxy. Worst thing was, to him, that was fine.

It just- didn’t stick. That he’d be leaving his domesticity, his earth, far behind. It almost felt nice: to look up to the endless stretches of dark, untamed sky. To let it call you small and undefined. That was the first time Pike learned his true place in life. Up there in the sky.

Home was wherever he had his mind, his life and- well, probably Una at his side. They had, through the years, become stuck together. Like carbide coating, or maybe a persistent kind of parasite. One he couldn’t live without now- he just wouldn’t know how.

The woman looked at him. She looked at him and she smiled. A real one. Soft and sweet and bright and- tinged with something. Something dizzying and scary that made him feel like he could jump off a bridge and manage to fly.

“One day, Chris, I am going to die. And it may well be before you-”

That was a thought he didn’t like.

“Una-“

She paused for a second- half a heartbeat, maybe. Long enough to stare with purpose deep into his eyes.

“Everyone dies.” She said, finally. “But for now, we’re alive.”

[soukokuwu]

heaven in hell

     genre: fluff      pairing: fyodor x reader      warnings: some religious references/themes; bonus points if you can see who i projected them both as      word count: 1.7k      synopsis: you and fyodor go through thick and thin together.      - requested by anonymous: fyodor with a childhood friend s/o who takes part in his murderous shenanigans — at one point she tells him: “it’s strange. when i’m with you, no matter how bad things get, i’m not afraid.”

White daffodils and crimson pomegranates.

Silk dresses and flower crowns.

That’s the sight that accompanied your beauty the first time he saw you. How old was he then? Eight? Nine? Somewhere there. He didn’t place much significance in that moment. How was he supposed to know then that you’d mean so much to him now?

The daughter of a wealthy family, someone who seemed to have everything. Everything but freedom. Even someone like you, who was constantly surrounded by people, must’ve felt lonely. The empty praises and fake kindness from those who surrounded you.

You hated it, Fyodor could see it. He had found you ravishing, and that was never a secret. That was what drew him in. At first. In all honesty he thought you’d be plain, a blank canvas in the mind, like a drone that only operated on commands.

But as he spoke to you that day, under the shade of the pomegranate trees, Fyodor found his expectations exceeded. The way you vocalised your opinions, the way you spoke of politics and disdain for the sinful nature of humanity. Then, only then, was Fyodor completely entranced.

Where he thought you grew flowers because you loved to see them grow, you admitted it was not; you liked to watch them fade and die. Like there was something worth admiring about a necessary death. A certain duality lived in you — like you could be the goddess of life, and yet at the same time, a ruler of all that was dead.

Fyodor found something in common with you that day. Both of you would kill for the sake of a better world, if only you had the means. That was the first time you spoke of him as that. It was when he confessed his perception of an ideal world — a world without ability users.

“Kill any one of them, that makes you a murderer,” you had commented once.

“But if I kill millions of them, that makes me a conqueror.”

You had turned toward him with a playful smirk then. “Kill all of them — that makes you a god.”

A wildflower — that was what he saw you as.

You grew from what you perceived as nothing. That house held no meaning, your choices were never actually yours to make and family was just an empty label tying blood relatives together. Where you used to be scared of going against your family, you stood up to them. Renounced everything they promised you, called them out for being nothing but self-fulfilling bastards.

You chose to run of your own accord, but that was not what your family spoke of. They spread rumours of how you had been seduced by evil, bribed by the demon, manipulated to leave your nest. They spoke of how you were stolen, not cast off. They were adamant on how you were dragged away from paradise and into hell. They omitted how you were the one who pounded on the its gates yourself just to escape the real devils parading as angels in their own personal form of ��heaven’.

There was a sickness in them. Rising like the bile that leaves that bitter taste at the end of your throats. You hated it. And so you ran to him, to Fyodor, with only your hatred for such greed in tow. You had absolutely nothing. Yet ironically, with nothing to your name, you stumbled upon everything.

Whatever it was initially, it had bloomed into something more. Much akin to friendship on fire.

Only a beautiful soul such as yours would kiss the damned. That was how he viewed all ability users at first, and that included himself. But you? You didn’t have any — you were all human, pure, untainted, this way. You didn’t think of him as a damned being though. Much as you viewed certain deaths necessary, so were certain evils. And if Fyodor viewed himself as damned, you argued to put it to good use.

“You are not the devil, you are a god.”

You always reminded him of that. Until it was ingrained in his mind. And just like that, you became the most influential person in his life — the reason he does anything for the dream of a better world in the first place. Not only for himself, but also for you.

That’s why you followed him wherever he went. Fyodor deemed himself god and you were his one loyal, devoted follower. No — he viewed you as his goddess, one worthy of standing beside him as an equal. Although he does not say.

He was still doubtful you’d follow him away from Russia, leaving the safety of familiarity for foreign lands. Fyodor was preparing to leave you, to say farewell. But you showed up with your luggage in tow this time, carrying with you the smile he called home. He found it fascinating, how with each step toward him it’s like you brought springtime with you, and with each step away it felt more and more like winter. Lucky for him then, you’d always stick close to him.

You became his partner-in-crime, a goddess standing strong beside her god, the bride to his ruler of ‘hell’ (as they used to call him back at home — you were nothing like your parents though, you thought being with Fyodor was like heaven on earth), minus the deceptions because he could manipulate everyone, but he would never want to do that to you. Only you.

Every scheme, every murder. You had a hand in it. There were other subordinates, sure. But you were his right-hand man. There was no other he’d trust more than you. And you hid in the shadows, far deeper than any of them did.

But not for tomorrow. For tomorrow they needed a female. And you had volunteered.

Fyodor isn’t one to worry, much less one to admit it. Although you can always tell when something is off. Tonight is one of those times.

You’re on the balcony, looking out at the view before you. It’s a nightly routine for you, to stand here and just enjoy the song of the breeze, along with the choir of stars that blanketed the sky, seemingly endless. There’s something more tonight though — Fyodor. He’s right there behind you, bony, icy fingers nestling against your stomach, cheek resting against your back.

He’s the first to break the silence by calling your name.

“Yes, fedya?”

Fyodor exhales gently through his nose before he says anything, the warm air hitting the back of your neck now that he straightens up. “Мне так повезло́ тебя́ встре́тить,” he whispers in your ear.

He celebrates inwardly as he sees the smile creep up on your face. You’re trying not to grin silly, but you fail miserably the moment he leaves a chaste kiss on your earlobe. “I consider myself lucky to have met you too, Fyo.”

“Are you not worried, lyubimaya?”

He knows he is. He’s always preferred to keep you safe behind the screens, never let the enemy even know of your existence if he can help it. He’s not worried about whether you’re capable of carrying it out properly, no. He has the utmost confidence that you’re the best person for the job. As you did for the few previous times you had to help out. You’re intelligent, capable, tough. Perfectly able to kill anyone you had to. But you are also the only thing he is afraid of losing.

You turn around in his arms and cup his cheeks in your hands, giggling slightly as his cheeks grow rounder from being held. Your gaze shifts to his purple orbs, finding it endearing how you’re the only one who gets to see his hardened gazes melt into an earnest plea for answers.

Fyodor can’t help it; the way his vision wanders to your body — your torso. He only has to furrow his brow ever so slightly for you to know exactly what’s on his mind: the last time you went on a mission, how you had severely underestimated the enemy, how they had stabbed you and nearly killed you. Not a day goes by that Fyodor doesn’t think about it. The man is dead now, yes, but he can’t get the sight of your scar out of his mind. A reminder of how he had failed to protect you.

“It's strange. When I'm with you, no matter how bad things get, I'm not afraid.”

Your words snap him out of it. He swallows the lump in his throat. He appreciates your attempt at easing his worries, you can see that from the slight pink tainting his pale skin. His thumb rubs over the spot of your scar through your shirt.

They say that when you lose someone, you’ll only ever regret the things you don’t say. Is this what he’s feeling now? The taste of loss — however false it may have been now since you’re safe and alive — is still fresh on his tongue. Nothing will stop either of you from continuing with this. So maybe, this is the least he can do, isn’t it? Let you in? After all, you’ve been with him for as long as he can remember.

“Я хочу́ провести́ с тобо́й всю оста́вшуюся жизнь,” he mutters with a serious expression before he releases you from his embrace and turns around. “So you better not fail tomorrow.”

As he disappears back into the room, you lean back against the railing and smile to yourself. Over time you got used to his shows of affection. People who knew always commented on how he doesn’t show enough — but to you he shows plenty. Fyodor has never said he loves you. It’s always said in a roundabout way because that’s just who he is.

But what you heard earlier? That must be the best one yet.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you too, Fyo,” you whisper after him into the night. Because you’ve never said you love him either. But just like you, he already knows.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes

[foreveranevilregal]

Short fic: Stable Queen with prompt 41 or 2

Send me a ship and an AU

Let’s go with 41, spice it up a bit.

41. Ghost/living person AU

The first time it happened, she thought she imagined it. She had retired to her bedchamber, ready to go to bed, when the lamp on her table flickered. Not a terribly unusual occurrence, for sure, but there was no wind tonight.

She blinked hard, shaking her head to clear it. But as soon as her eyes went back to the table, the lamp flickered again, a few times in rapid succession.

“What’s going on?” she called out. All of a sudden, she heard a door slam. “Who’s there?”

A cool breeze enveloped her, the sensation of it not unpleasant. It felt like early springtime, smelling of fresh grass and...

“Horses,” she whispered. Instantly, her heart ached for Daniel. Oh how she missed him! All she had ever wanted was to be with him, together. Being Queen meant nothing to her. She had no use for fancy trappings and titles. Not when the only title she had wanted was Mrs. Regina Colter, and that had been taken from her.

The breeze blew once again, hitting her cheek almost playfully. It seemed too intentional to be an act of nature. People told stories of ghosts, of the dead coming back to visit their loved ones. Was it actually possible?

“Daniel?” she asked. “Daniel, is that you?”

In response, the breeze whipped her hair behind her ear, just like how Daniel used to tuck the strands that fell into her face. She choked down a sob. After all the pain and suffering, he was back somehow. She could be happy again.

“Oh, Daniel...” She smiled, the motion having grown foreign to her in the months she had spent trapped inside the castle. “I’ve missed you so much.”

A drawer flew open, a small brass ring shooting out towards her. Its surface was burnished from all the times she had taken it out in secret to run her fingers over it, sometimes placing it on her ring finger where it had rightfully belonged. Where Daniel had placed it.

“My engagement ring...” Regina held it in her palm. “Yes, of course I held onto it.” Somehow she could feel his disbelief. “I never gave up on us, Daniel. Even though you’re gone, I never want anyone but you. But the King has decided otherwise, darling.” She twisted the ornate ring adorning her ring finger, covered in sparkling gems. None of them could compare to what was given to her by her beloved.

“I wish I could wear this ring instead,” she confessed to Daniel’s ghost, “You are the one I wanted, not him.” A lump rose to her throat as she fought the bile, remembering the vile ways he had treated her, defiled her. He took and took from her until all that was left was a fragile shell on the verge of cracking.

A leather strip appeared in her palm next to the ring. It seemed long enough...

“Of course,” she murmured, threading the cord through the ring and then tying it around her neck. Now, he could be with her always. “Thank you.”

The breeze caressed her cheek, and Regina basked in the feeling. How long had it been since she had experienced a welcome touch? Suddenly, fear gripped her.

“Please don’t leave again, Daniel. I’m so lonely. There is no one here who cares about me, despite what they claim. I would rather be with you.” Had tried, in fact, but was once again stopped from being with the man she loved. “Don’t go.”

The ring glowed and grew warm on her neck. He was there. He wouldn’t leave her. She rubbed the ring, cherishing the warmth and connection to her Daniel. Here, in her bedchamber, she could wear it freely. For elsewhere, it was discreet enough to tuck under the neckline of her many dresses.

“I love you so much, Daniel,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut as she succumbed to sleep. For the first time since she began living in the castle, she slept soundly.

[lightskinrry]

maybe one wedding for the bad boys

the one where the wedding ceremony does go according to the plan...almost

A/N: hello lovelies!! part two of no wedding for the bad boys is here!! hope you like it!! and don’t hesitate to lemme know your thoughts about this mess!

Word count : 6K

TW: angst again lmaodehjsd

Taglist: @stfxlou @shreeyanshi @harrystylesholland @iloveshawnieboi @smoljules @soy-una-conejo @seasidecrowbar @evalynanne @nibabyy @la-cey​ @ashtonsfxvorite​ @merlinaes​ @gucciboots​

“Fuck… Fuck. Fuck.” You watched Harry pacing around in his room, walking in circles, his hand clutched to his hair, his suit pants loosely hanging on his hips and his unbuttoned shirt draped on his shoulders.

You could see he was muttering something. “I fucking can’t believe this. Fucking kidding me. On this fucking day. Fucking shit.”

“Look… If you’re going to be an asshole about it like yesterday. I will find a solution alone.”

You were sitting on the big chair in the corner, your legs spread apart and your yellow suit on. You didn’t want another fight but you had no choice but to tell Harry about the marriage license. Today was the big day and in 3 hours the ceremony would start. And if he was going to sign another marriage licence, he could face imprisonment since bigamy is illegal. So yeah, kinda had to tell him otherwise he was good to spent his honeymoon in a cell.

He groaned a little bit, you could almost see the gears of his brain working through his head. “Let’s...um… think, okay?” His breathing was unsteady so you got up and made him sit at your place.

“I already contacted a lawyer. We can annul the marriage, we just have to prove the marriage is..um… voidable. Yeah, that’s what she told me.” Harry sat back in the chair, relaxing a little bit. “So we have to prove that at least one of us couldn’t agree to the marriage because they were under the influence of drugs or alcohol.” He nodded silently. “Basically, we just have to go see the lawyer and that’s done. There’s no court appearance or anything.”

His eyes got softer as he listened to you. He sighed. “Thanks.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re welcome?”

“Look, Y/N… I’m really sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to be such a jerk about all this. It’s just… I’ve been planning this wedding for months now. I’m so fucking stressed. I don’t know what to do and then I found out I just fucked up everything. I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. I’m more mad at myself than anything and I just didn’t want to take accountability for my actions. It’s just such a fucking weird time and now everything is on the edge of falling apart.”

You gently stroked his shoulders. “Thank you for apologizing. I know you didn’t mean it… Look, it’s not entirely your fault. There was a lot of alcohol and we wouldn’t have been in Vegas if it wasn’t for me.” You took a small breath. “But, hey! We can fix this. All we have to do is annul the marriage and make sure you don’t sign anything in terms of legally binding documents or you can actually be prosecuted. And spending your honeymoon in jail isn’t what you want.”

He giggled softly, finally taking a breath and releasing a bit of tension. “Yeah, definitely not. I reserved a private beach in St Barth, there is no way I’m spending this time in jail instead of on the beach.”

“Oh wow. You went all in.” You smiled smugly at him. “Okay we have about 2 hours before the ceremony starts. I made sure the groomsmen get their shit together and do the list of check-ins with the planner so it’s a full open window before we have to get you back here fully dressed and looking fresh for your wedding.”

“If we can do that in two hours without being on crack, we truly are some lucky motherfuckers.”

“Oh we are, Harry. We’re lucky motherfuckers.”

He got up from the chair and you placed your hands over his shoulders. “Here’s the plan. We put on jogging clothes cause you don’t want anyone to recognize you or be suspicious. We go downtown to meet with the lawyer, we pressure her to state the annulment today. It will be sent to a judge for approbation and then the annulment should be fulfilled in about a month. And that’s where you come into play more than ever. You have to make sure the officiant don’t bring the marriage licence, say you want to sign it after your honeymoon, find an excuse, whatever you want to make sure you don’t sign this fucking paper, okay? And then we come back here, get you dressed and you go get married, you lucky motherfucker.”

He nodded agreeingly. “Okay.” He reached out his hand for you to shake. “And no-one will never know about all this.”

You shook his hand. “Taking this shit with me in the grave.”

You started changing rapidly into the sports clothes and leave as soon as possible. You made your way downstairs quietly but Tania’s sister, maid of honor and witness in the wedding, stopped the two of you.

“Where are you two going?”

You and Harry looked at each other for a second, trying to think of something that wouldn’t rise suspicions.

“Well, we’re going for a jog. As you can see.” You pointed out the clothes you were wearing.

“The ceremony is in two hours, no-one is going for a jog.” Her tone was stern and almost mean.

Harry came a little forward to her. “Look, Jill, I just need a breather. It’s a stressful time so… You know? Taking my best-woman on a jog before the big thing!”

She sighed loudly, annoyed. “Fine… But make sure to be back before the ceremony begins. A wedding without a groom... It would kill Tania.”

You both gave her a thumbs up and a dumb smile before running out the door.

The clock was ticking on you. And you had to get that annulment.

***

You closed up Harry’s last few buttons, making sure to leave some open. You took a few steps back to look at him. You smiled proudly. “You look great.”

He gave you a smug look. “I know.”

You laughed off his little narcissistic comment. “You know what? You look like a victorian vampire wannabe.”

“And I’m rocking the look.” He shrugged before tugging on one of his loose curl to make it fall on his face. He stepped closer to you. “Thank you.” You smiled at him tenderly. “Thank you so much for being a good friend, Y/N. I know I’ve been a terrible one lately.”

You chuckled as you pinched his cheeks in a playful way. “We’re cool, Harry. Now, let’s move before Jill kills us.”

You accompanied him to the backyard where the ceremony was about to start. He stood next to the officiant, waiting for his bride to walk the aisle. And as you watched him, glowing in the sunlight, looking beautiful and smitten, you felt a pinch in your heart and bitterness in your throat. Not that you wish it was you walking down the aisle, just that he would turn around and give you a last look that says “I don’t want to get married to her, I want to wait with you until we’re both ready.” Well, in some way, you guessed you kinda wished it was you walking down the aisle. Just.. not right now.

“Are you okay?” Gemma was standing next to you, a tender smile on her face.

“Yeah, I’m good… I’m.. you know… emotional. That’s all.”

The music started blaring in the air, the golden hour slowly approaching and bathing everything in a pool of honey. You could hear the birds chirping and the soft breeze caressing your neck, people shushing each other waiting for the bride to be announced. The air was soft and you could feel the tenderness of the atmosphere. A gentle springtime warmth and the smell of lavender. Harry’s shadow was dancing on the floor as he was waiting, chewing on his bottom lip; a little nervous thing well known to him.

You watched Tania walk down the aisle, you couldn’t bare to look at him and see the love in his eyes. A love that wasn’t yours and wasn’t for you.

She joined him in front of the officiant, ready to exchange their words of love and become one forever. You tugged on the jacket of your suit to readjust it. You listened carefully to the vows they shared and watch them place the ring on each others fingers. And you smiled widely all the way through. You made sure the officiant didn’t bring the marriage licence after Harry tipped him a little extra not to. You closed your eyes for a second and  when you opened them, Harry was kissing his bride, now his wife.

The first half of the ceremony went pretty fast, the newly weds went to get their pictures done and the rest of y’all entertained the guests and showed them around the manor where the party would be. Obviously some parts were closed to the public, the upstairs apartment where the weds would spend the night were closed and the maze in the far back of the garden was too. It was huge and we were scared people would lose their kids in there.

When Harry and Tania came back, looking stunning, kissed by the sunlight and insanely in love, they walked in the huge reception hall where everyone was waiting to cheer on them. And make them feel like real superstars.The tables for the dinner were outside, next to a beautiful lake, it was still warm and the sun was about to set. Everyone sat down at their designated place. The time for toasts and speeches was coming. First Tania’s dad did his little speech about not liking Harry at first but realising that he’s never seen his daughter so happy. Next was Tania’s sister, Jill who made a sly comment about him trying to sneak out of it this morning. Gemma was next and she gave a prompt little joke about her baby brother before congratulating the beautiful spouses. It was now your turn. You took a deep breath and stood up, you looked around, checking the faces only for your gaze to rest upon Harry.

“Ahem. Well, as most of you already know me, I’m Y/N. I’m the best-woman, it’s always been a fact; I’m just glad that I have the official title now. I didn’t really know what to do or where to go with this speech so I guess I’m just gonna check on y’all. Is everyone having a good time?” Everyone gave you a cheerful yes. “Great, cause the next five minutes are going to be absolute hell. I’m mostly just going to make fun of Harry and then I’ll swap some emotional shit by the end so you guys don’t hate me.”

You paused, leaving the time for the guests to spare you a giggle. “First of all, I would like to say, you made the worst choice of your entire life tonight, Harry.” His eyes got suddenly bigger. “You gave me a mic, and a chance to ridicule you in front of all your family and friends.” You watched him take a breath, relaxing in his chair and giving you a tender smile. “That’s really the dumbest shit you could’ve done. But anyway, I have to address a few words to today’s main man. I can honestly say that he’s one of the most handsome, most funny men you’ll ever meet and I’m proud to call him my friend. So if you bump into him today…” You turned your face to look around. “Where’s Cam?” Cam stood up and waved, cheering you. “Ah! Here he is! Today is his birthday so please buy him a drink.” You waved back at him with a big smile. “Happy birthday Cam!” Everyone said happy birthday and Harry’s smile got wider.

“Well, I was thinking what crazy story I could tell about Harry today. Cause we had so many crazy ass stories together, ones that end up in basements, others on top of roofs and some ending in crappy ass motel rooms in Vegas.” He chew the interior of his cheek, holding a giggle. “And then I thought ‘What is the story that sums up perfectly Harry?’ Could it be that time he bit off a piece of his tongue after jumping out a window while high off his ass on shrooms or that time we got locked up in a hotel room in Atlanta and somehow managed to burn the carpet? Yeah… We fucking burned that carpet.” You let a breathy laugh escape your lips, reminiscing that night.

“So, I had to think long and hard about this… Long and hard also being something Harry… Well no, I promised I wasn’t going to say anything sexual during this speech.” You turned to look at the next table. “Hi Anne! This is Harry’s mom, guys!” She laughed and gave you a big smile.

“Well, then I remembered that story… It was after Harry’s SNL double duty.. And we were throwing this after party to celebrate and by the end of the night, we were both hammered, there was no-one left in that penthouse in NYC, except for us and then fucking Rocketman started playing outta nowhere and we sang that shit with our hearts, as the sun rose behind us. And despite all the glamour, Harry ended up throwing up in the bathroom. But just that moment of drunken glory singing Rocketman at the top of our lungs with the sun rising. And nothing else mattered. In that moment, Harry was the fucking Rocketman.”

You took a moment to breath.

“And you are. You’re a fucking legend, Harry. I’ve known you since we were five, from the first time you sang in front of your mom to you touring arenas around the world. I kinda been a witness of your greatness, I guess… Truth is, the moments I’ll remember the most and the ones that makes you such a good friend, and probably an amazing husband, are the ones when the lights are off, when you’re just a dorky, lanky stupid white guy. When you bring me soup when I’m sick, when you tell me everything will be alright when I’m about to give up, when you scream Bohemian Rhapsody in the phone, when we dance at 2AM in the kitchen or when we sing Rocketman as the sun rise.” You took a little breath, watching as Harry gave you the biggest grin, probably a little teary-eyed.

“Well, I’d still like to remind y’all that he threw up that night, and many other nights actually.” You laughed.

“But hey, I’d like to finish by addressing a few words to the beautiful bride... You still have time to run away. But if I were you, I wouldn’t do so. He reserved a private beach in St. Barts… Run after the honeymoon, girl, get yours.” You winked at her.

“All jokes aside, I hope this day has been as beautiful and fairy-tale like as you dreamed it would be because you look like a princess and I’m glad you found your prince. I hope you guys live happily ever after.”

You started raising your glass as the end of your speech approached. “I’ll end this little speech by saying on behalf of the beautiful bridesmaids and groomsmen, thank you to Harry and Tania for including us on this very special day. And if I could ask you all to join me in a toast.” You were now holding your glass up. “To the happy couple, Harry and Tania, may you live a beautiful wedded life!”

Everyone joined you in the toast and you sat back down, giving Harry a small grin that he gave you right back, letting you know that you did a great speech.

The party started going well, people were chatting and laughing and the beautiful lights lit up the garden. The food came a little late but it was all so good, there was nothing to really complain about.

After the main course, people got up to dance and request songs to the band… You were talking with one of the waiters when Tania interrupted you.

“Hey, have you seen Harry? I can’t find him anywhere and the cake is going to arrive any minute now and we’re supposed to cut it together.” Her sharp tone made you uncomfortable.

“Hm… I haven’t seen him but I’m gonna check around and I’ll make sure he’ll be here for the cutting of the cake!”

“Fine. You better find him fast.” You watched her leave and greet some old couple drinking champagne.

You thought for a second ‘where the fuck could Harry be?’. You started by checking on his family, not being too pressuring so they wouldn’t worry. None of them saw him in the last half hour. You asked Jeff and then check with the waiters and still no sight of him.

You decided to go check inside; the bathroom, the upstairs apartments… And you found him in the closed office on last floor of the manor. You walked in quietly and closed the door behind you.

“Everyone is looking for you, man. What the fuck are you doing?”

He was leaned on the open window, watching the night sky.

“Yeah, what the fuck am I doing, Y/N?” He was playing with the only ring on his fingers : his wedding ring.

You stepped closer, placing yourself right next to him, your arm touching his.

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

He scoffed softly. “Yeah… I just… What if all of this is a fucking mistake?”

“Whew.. You’re having cold feet now? You’re always late to the party…” You watched him as he giggled, his hair gently flowing with the midnight breeze.

“Look, it’s not a mistake if you love her. And I know you do.”

“You know Jill followed us this morning? She literally threatened me that she knows what’s going on and…”

“Wait what?”

“Yeah. That crazy bitch followed us.” He threw his arm in the air.

“Hey… Be nice, she’s not crazy. She’s just a bitch. Why in hell did she follow us?”

“Because she was having suspicions I was cheating so she followed us and saw us going to the law cabinet.”

“Fuck. So she knows about the marriage?”

“No, I don’t think so… But like… About this marriage, the one of today, I don’t want it… You were right. I don’t want to get married to miss Boring Pants.”

“Oh no… Oh hell no… Why is that happening right now? You have to be downstairs in 10 so you can cut your fucking wedding cake and you’re hitting me with the ‘I don’t want to be married’ shit? Harry I swear to god…” You sighed loudly and he gave you the puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t blame me! I’m just a little boy.” He always had the timing for a good joke.

“Oh… I’m blaming you. I’m blaming your dumbass.” You both laughed and suddenly it wasn’t the sky you were watching, it was each other. The stars were reflecting in his eyes and his floppy curls made him look so pretty.

“I know… It’s not like there is no-one else to blame anyway!” He chuckled and you gazed fondly at him, tracing his features with your eyes… From his jawline to his eyebrows, finally looking at his lips.

“You know your speech was great… It reminded me of all the crazy things we did together. You’re my partner in crime.” He stared into your eyes for a minute, his teeth playing nervously with his bottom lip.

“Yeah… We always been partners in crime.”

And in the floating moment of silence between you two, the space between your face got smaller and smaller; so small you could feel his breath on your face.

“I really want to be with you.” He whispered on your lips before his hand grabbed your face so he could kiss you. It was intense and soft and somehow you felt like your feet lift up from the ground. You were holding his hands on your face and slowly opened your lips but before your tongues could meet, a voice from the hallway resonated: “Harry, Y/N, what are you guys doing? They’re waiting for the cake!!”

Jeff’s footsteps were getting closer to the door and so, ended prematurely your kiss. You inhaled deeply and before Jeff walked in the room, you locked eyes with Harry and his swollen lips and a blissful smile on his face.

“They’re waiting on you, Harry! Get your ass down, right now!”

You watched him leave the room silently, still a little shook from what just happened.

Jeff stroked your arm in a soft way. “Are you good?”

“Yeah… I’m.. Great. Everything’s great. So great. What a great wedding.”

You walked off still rambling about how great everything was. Jeff watched you leave, a confused and amused look on his face. He followed behind you closely as you walked back downstairs.

You walked straight to your seat, making sure to grab a glass of champagne from one of the waiter’s platter and chugged it down in one stroke before sitting down. Harry and Tania were standing in front of all their guests and they announced the cake. Two waiters came out with a cart and on it; a huge white cake with pink roses all over it. It was more pretty than it probably tasted good. They held the knife together and cut the first piece. They both took a spoonful of the cake and gave each other a taste. Everyone was clapping as they wiped the cream off of their face.

The waiters started serving the cake to all the guests. You were pretty much blacking out, the lights around you were flying and everytime someone talked to you, you would just nod or laugh. Every now and then you would catch Harry’s gaze on you and you’d feel your cheeks burning. It was a weird feeling, being at the wedding of your bestfriend and resenting every minute of it. How did you got to this mess?

You made the movie in your head. You met Harry in kindergarten, after he stole your favorite crayon and you almost beat his shit up. The school called both your moms because the teacher saw you two fighting and from there you wouldn’t let each other live. You spent most of elementary school together, doing stupid science experiment in the back of his Holmes Chapel room. You two would always buy and wear the worst graphic tees at the same time. Then, in middle school people started bullying you and Harry would always stand up to them and defend you. You would play video games in your basement and watch each other’s acne break out and he even came to the dentist with you for your first braces. In 9th grade, when you were reaching your dreadful 14th birthdays, it seemed all that mattered was you never had a first kiss, neither you or him. So you decided to take the matter in your own hands and during one of your recurring sleepovers at his place, you suggested to give each other a first kiss. You climbed onto his bed and hid under the covers, a flashlight and some potato chips between us; he leaned onto your face and kinda sucked your lips in the weirdest way and you thought it was great.

And tonight it was great, and maybe it’s the nostalgia or maybe it’s the fact that looking back to everything you did together showed you that no-one will ever know you better and love you better. One of the common mistakes you’ve made in love was considering romantic love as a superior kind of love when your friendships always sustained you more than any romance. And now it was becoming clear, friendship was a strong love, your friendship with Harry was a very strong love; filled with intimacy and commitment and now passion. It was the kind of love you couldn’t let go.

You avoided Harry for most of the night despite him trying to check up on you a few times; you would pretend someone’s calling you or that you have to go to the bathroom; really anything that would put off the conversation with him. How were you supposed to discuss what happened now that you knew how you feel about him? It was a predictable heart-suicide.

The rest of night went achingly slow. It was already 4:30 in the morning. You were going around helping the waiters clearing the place and cleaning. Harry and Tania were saying goodbye to the last guests to leave while Gemma and Jill were showing their rooms to the guests that were staying the night.

You made a last round to the kitchen to pay the caterer and tip a little extra the waiters. When you came back to the garden, Tania and Jill were going back inside and Harry was nowhere to be seen.

You walked around, watching the night sky and the stars reflecting on the lake. You sinked into the garden as the darkness of the night was washing over and the lights of the party were fading… Your eyes got caught by a soft and dim light in the far background of the garden. There; a weeping willow with light strings on its branches and underneath it, Harry was sitting alone, playing with the twigs under him. You walked up to him and quietly sat next to him. You didn’t look at him but the night was warm and the tree branches dancing to the breeze made the atmosphere softer.

“So…” You paused as you brought your knees back to your chest. “That was a beautiful wedding.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’m trying to picture what my life will look like.”

“Hm… I see a nice house on the hills and a few babies.” You still didn’t take a look at him, you were just watching the sky reflection in the pond of water in front of you.

“Sounds good… I can see it.” A giggle left his mouth. “What about you? What do you see for the future?”

“Oh shit. That’s some existential dread right there cause I don’t know. I can’t tell you where I’ll be in two weeks. Can’t even tell you what I’ll eating for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

He scoffed. “That sounds good too.”

“I guess so… I love not knowing, I guess. I love a good adventure.”

“So do I…” He turned his face to look at you. “Do you think I’m out of adventures now?”

You finally locked eyes with him; his face was softly lit by the lights in the trees and he looked a little tired. “Nah.. I don’t think so. I think you have plenty new adventures coming your way.”

He sighed and turned his eyes away from you. “They won’t be with you though.”

It took you by surprise. No they won’t. You felt a sore feeling in your throat. You took some time to answer. “No… They won’t be.”

A moment of silence filled up the air. You could hear the breeze and the water.

Harry finally spoke up. “Should we talk about it?”

A breathy and nervous laugh stifled through your teeth. “About what?”

“What happened in the office earlier?” He raised his eyebrows at you in a smug way. “When you kissed me?”

“First of all, you kissed me!”

His voice went up two octaves higher as he playfully answered. “Did I?”

“Yeah you did!”

“It was nice…” He said this so nonchalantly, as if it was nothing, as if it didn’t mess up with your mind.

“It was nice? It was mostly the dumbest shit you’ve done tonight. And you got fucking married tonight so...”

He chuckled… “I know…” He took a deep breath before gazing far ahead. “What are we supposed to do about all this?”

You sighed softly, trying to come up with an answer. You thought that being a good friend you should tell him that it was a mistake and that he’s happily married and will live a beautiful life and so will you… But it wasn’t the truth.

“Look… I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck happened in those last weeks. I  fucking wish I could tell you that everything is on track, that you married the love of your life and that everything will be okay but it feels like a lie. When I say it at loud, I hear myself and I hate it.”

He pinched his lips as he listened to you...“Yeah… I mean, we’ve known each other for 20 years. 20 years, that’s a fucking lifetime. And I can tell that everytime something in my life goes wrong, you’re right there and when something goes right, you’re always there too. I try to think of what I want my life to look like, what’s next and now I’m faced with what’s next and it’s not what I want... It’s not you.”

“That’s some bullshit, isn’t it? How nobody else will ever know you better than I do? And nobody knows me like you do? And how close we are and suddenly our closeness is tearing us apart. That’s some tragic poetry shit right there, I hate it. I always thought you and I would be like 70; making wheelchair races and talking shit about the neighbors wig. And now, I think that’s what I want, you know but I also want to…”

He interrupted you. “I would win the races, though.”

“Huh?”

He insisted, a smug smile on his face. He was trying to break the tension.

“I would win the race.”

You laughed at his face. “No, you wouldn’t! I would beat your ass every time.”

He let a soft chuckle leave his mouth. “Yeah you would….”

He sighed before picking up the conversation again.

“Anyway…” He took a deep breath. “I want that too. But I also want to kiss you and dance with you and fuck you and do all the next crazy shit with you. I want to live those adventures with you.”

Your heart fluttered and you felt a warm rush get to your cheeks. And you felt like everything was falling into places. You and him together; it made sense. But then reality hit you in the face; he had a wife waiting for him a few miles away, he had a new life in LA and you had to move on or none of you would be happy. Because the truth was, if it wasn’t for each other being in the way, he would be next to Tania right now, happy and ready for his married life. And you would be in love with someone else, someone you can have.

“Maybe we’re just standing in the way of each other’s happiness. Maybe all this don’t mean a thing…” You paused to look at him. “You’re happy, right?”

He looked confused for a second, he bat his eyelashes twice trying to understand what you mean and then you saw it on his face. He got you. “Yeah.. I mean I thought I was, at least…”

“You see! That’s what I mean. If I wasn’t there, you wouldn’t be second guessing everything.”

He was quiet, his voice was down. It was hard reading him right now but you could tell he knew the answers. “Maybe… Would you?”

“What?” You asked yourself what did he mean with this question?

“Would you second guess if it was for me?”

That was it. He understood it. Being in the way of each others happiness, that was it. You thought for a second, if you were in his situation, what would you do? Would you go back to your spouse or would you leave with him? Would you even think about it?

“I don’t know… I probably shouldn’t.”

He swallowed the gulp in his throat and suddenly the air got colder. “I guess that says it all, then.”

You inhaled deeply, trying to hold back tears that were slowly taking over.. “So, that’s it?”

He smiled with all the tenderness known to him. “I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart broke a little… It was a goodbye more than an I love you. So you told him goodbye too. “I love you too.”

He got up and brushed over his pants to sweep off the twigs off him. You looked at him, still sitting down.“We should just do what’s best for each other.”

He gazed down at you, a sad smile on his face. “For a second I thought we’d run away together but…” He coughed softly. “We both know that’s not what’s best.”

You tried to steady your breathing and keep your composure as you started getting up too. You turned around for a second and gave him a last look before leaving. “I guess I’ll see you around...”

***

Weirdly enough life without Harry was bearable… London seemed empty and the bars and places you used to hang out to seemed lifeless but it wasn’t all bad. You weren’t worrying about him or about yourself and you were just going along with your routine, your job, seeing your friends, a few dates and whatever else in between. It has been 10 months since the wedding day, almost a year if you round it, you haven’t seen Harry in that time, a few check up texts every 3 months and a congrats for your new job was all you got from him… You had to convince yourself it was enough.

You were laying down on your couch, wrapped up in your jog pants and oversized hoodie; you were switching channels trying to find something remotely interesting to fall asleep to. It was already 11PM and the city lights outside the window were reflecting on the floor of your living room… Your phone rang next to you and you grasped it to check your notifications.

Harry sent a message: I did something stupid

You were confused as fuck at this weirdly threatening text from Harry. It’s been months since he texted you so what did that mean?

You heard a knock that you thought was the TV until it got louder so you got up to check on it. You walked to the door carefully. When you opened it, your heart missed a beat.

“Hey… Told you I did something stupid.”

Harry was standing at your door, a cheeky smile on his face and you were just looking at him, confused.

“What are you doing here?”

He inhaled in a smile. “Doing what’s best, I guess…” You tilted your head to the side, trying to understand what he meant. “Look, you don’t have to let me in but if I’m not going to be with you then I just don’t want to be with anyone else. I’m not asking you to elope with me… Again…” He chuckled and you let a giggle fall from your lips. “I just wanna be friends again.”

You just couldn’t get that stupidly happy grin off your face so when he stepped closer to you, reducing the space between your faces, you just grabbed his face and kissed him. You could feel him smile against your lips and his hands grabbed your waist pulling you even closer. “I guess we’re just doing what’s best, huh?” You giggled into his mouth and he kissed the corner of your lips, smiling against your skin; “That’s exactly what we’re doing.” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and to your cheek and your jaw. Whatever was happening right now was the best for you and for him, so you’d just work out the details later.

[nialledfromfics]

The Dating Game | Chapter Nine

~~

The door closed. Niall stood motionless, his blue eyes transfixed to the painted wood panelling half expecting it to open again and for her to rush back through and jump into his arms like she had many times before. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He knew that beautiful, wistful, carefree part of their story was over. More over than he had failed to realize. His chest rose high with his quickened breaths and he swallowed hard, not wanting the slow blink of his glassy stare to move off of the door. His mind tried to rattle around the single thing that sparked the very reaction he couldn’t escape from: the look on her face. 

He didn’t understand why she had looked so defeated, so anguished upon seeing Lila, maybe she was just shocked. He would have been too, he decided. He had been, many times. But that still didn’t explain to him, why. Her gorgeous light brown eyes peering up at him, wide and with a hint of sadness that Niall had only seen one other time over the course of their friendship. It felt like his heart was breaking all over again. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

Breaking him from his thoughts, Lila ran her touch down the center of his back. “Uh...yeah,” he sputtered.

The girl smiled at him. “That was Joey, huh?”

Niall pulled in a sharp breath. “Yeah.” His stare hadn’t left his closed front door, his jaw clenching slightly as he felt Lila’s fingers intertwine with his. 

“She’s pretty.” 

His eyes snapped over to the girl standing next to him, his lips just barely falling to a part. “Yeah,” was all he could muster in response. 

Lila huffed out a short chuckle. “So what did she want?” 

With his stare sliding back over to the door, Niall briefly shook his head. “I...dunno, to be honest…”

“Hmm...weird,” Lila mumbled as she shifted her body to stand right in front of Niall. His blue eyes, their entanglement with the closed door interrupted, locked with hers. “We should get going now so we’re not late.” 

He tipped his head down slightly, running his hand through his hair and down the side of his face in a faint sigh. “Yeah…” he mumbled, a half smile pulling at his lips before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her mouth, “yeah, sorry, babe. Let’s go.” 

•

Of course he would be dating her. She was exactly who Joey had always pictured as his type. Irritatingly gorgeous with perfect bone structure and pore-less skin, beamingly white teeth and that model-slim body shape. She was athletic and perky in all the right places with not one ounce of body fat to be seen. Her hair was perfect, her smile, her nails, her clothes…

She was blonde, stunning and looked like she had stepped straight out of a damn magazine centerfold. 

Lila was everything Joey wasn’t. And on top of that, she had him.  

If Joey hadn’t felt like the biggest fool to walk the earth before, she definitely did after meeting Niall’s new girlfriend. The entire following week was spent cursing herself out for being so deluded into thinking he had even a fraction of feelings for her, and trying her hardest not to stalk Lila’s Instagram every five minutes like some kind of masochist. She had called Alexis on her way home from Niall’s house, tears streaming down her face, her voice cracking with the inability to stop crying enough to choke out how dumb and ridiculous she had been to even show up to his place like that. By the time she arrived back to her usually empty and lowly apartment, she had her best friend, her brother and his girlfriend there waiting to cheer her up. It was an unexpected welcome, and they spent the evening drowning Joey’s problems in cheap beer and greasy pizza and laughing until their cheeks hurt and they could no longer breathe. It was a nice distraction. 

But the next morning Joey woke up to a text from Niall. And another later that night. And then again the following morning. She received 10 texts from him within that week. And Joey ignored every single one. She felt stupid and embarrassed and even if she were to answer him, what was she going to say? She couldn’t pour her heart out to him like she had planned, she couldn’t tell him how the thoughts of him kept her up at night and how badly she wanted to kiss him over and over and how no matter what...she could not get him out of her head. Joey couldn’t do that, and it wouldn’t be fair if she did. He was obviously with someone else, he had feelings for someone that was not Joey and she just needed to accept that. 

But that didn’t mean she had to like it. It also didn’t mean she had to talk to him. Or see him. Or be around him. 

Joey wasn’t sure she could ever be around him as long as he was with Lila. 

It took another few days for her to really get a footing on the situation, and to come to terms that Niall actually had a girlfriend, and that person wasn’t her. Joey was jealous, she was a big enough girl to admit that, and she was heartbroken but most of all, she was beyond humiliated. How on earth she could have thought that someone like Niall would ever be into or want to be with someone like her, was enough crazy to send her to the looney bin. She was, once again, right back to square one. 

Alone. 

Taking what had happened to her over the previous six weeks as a sign, Joey decided to just let Niall do his thing, and she would do hers. It was well into springtime and the summer season was quickly creeping up on everyone, school would soon be out, and Joey thought her best bet was to immerse herself into her work and her students for the last couple months, and forget about everything else. 

The following five weeks breezed by. Well, as much as it could breeze by when the only thing on Joey’s mind was the one thing she was trying not to think about. But she powered through, focusing on getting her kindergarteners ready for the first grade, spending some needed time with her bestie and giving her love to the only one who really deserved it; Sadie. Niall had stopped contacting her by the third week of Joey not responding to his texts and calls and while it did make her heart hurt to read over his pleas of wanting her to answer him, she knew it was for the best that she didn’t. At least not at that time. It was too fresh, like picking at an unhealed scab to just reopen the gnarly wound. Joey knew it was the right thing to do. But that didn’t mean it didn’t send her heart racing and make her knees weak and have that knot tie in her tummy every time she saw his name pop up on her screen. Because it did, every single time. 

It was only a couple days later that Joey got hit with the most gut wrenching thing that could happen to her in this kind of situation: paparazzi pictures. 

And not just any paparazzi pictures; lovey, cutesy, vomit-inducingly sweet kissing paparazzi pictures. Had she not been standing in the middle of the coffee shop’s line waiting to order, innocently scrolling through Instagram when she was assaulted with the shots of them, she probably would have screamed bloody murder and thrown her phone against the wall. But as she clicked on the post of some random celebrity gossip site, flicking through the two full sets of photos, she could feel the sweat beading up along her hairline and the heaviness invading her heart. Holding hands, his arm around her shoulders, his lips pressed to hers. Her hands on his face, on his chest, curling into the back of his dark hair.

Joey swallowed hard and she tried to resist, tried to tear her eyes away from the pictures, but she couldn’t. Her fingers were trembling, almost losing grip on her phone and the noisy space around her dissipated into a long drone of static as her mind jumped back to when she had felt Niall that way. Touching his pretty face, his toned chest. His arms around her, his big hands wrapped around her body as he held her tight. His warm breath against her ear, his soft skin pressed to hers. Easing her eyes closed, Joey quickly turned off her phone and dropped her arm down to her side. She could feel her chin start to wobble as the faint sound of her name being called out waved over her ears. It took another minute before Joey peeled her eyes open to see the barista repeatedly calling out her name, a puzzled look on her face. 

Sucking in a jumbled breath, Joey threw her shoulders back and plastered on a smile, stepping up to the counter to retrieve her coffee order. 

She didn’t mention the paparazzi pictures, or her reaction to them, to anyone. Not even Alexis. And her blonde friend knew better than to bring them up even if she had seen them. Joey was very grateful for that. 

Not more than two weeks after Joey had been visually assaulted, she was curled up on her couch watching tv late one Saturday night with Sadie in her lap and her second glass of merlot, when a text came through her phone. Assuming it was Alexis sending her some useless Facebook link or her brother with another dumb meme, Joey mindlessly picked her phone up from the couch cushion beside her and glanced down at the screen. 

N: Hey stranger

Her heart skipped three solid beats, her phone dropping into her lap and onto Sadie’s backend, making the little dog jump. “Sorry,” Joey managed to say, giving the pup a pet as she rested her head back down. Picking her phone back up, Joey pulled in a slow steadying breath, her hazelnut eyes flicking about her darkened living room for a moment before she decided to go ahead and shoot him a text back. 

The first one in nearly 2 months. 

J: Hey. 

N: Holy Shit . . you answered me hahahaha

J: Lucky day, I guess. 

There was a slight pause from Niall after Joey’s last text, and she thought maybe she was coming off a bit too harsh. She clearly didn’t hate Niall, in fact it was the total opposite, but it was like every time she even saw or heard his name, she pictured him with her. Him kissing her and touching her and it drove her absolutely insane. Joey swallowed hard as she stared down at the lit screen, watching those three little text bubbles flickering…

N: I miss you .

And there it was. Three words that Joey was dreading but also yearning to hear. She was so confused, so entirely fucked up from the entire situation, she wasn’t even sure what she was doing anymore. All she knew was that reading those words from him made her chest tighten and her fingers go numb and her skin bleed with a heat that could melt a glacier. Swallowing hard, Joey bit at her lip as she carefully constructed her next text. 

J: Did you need something?

She was not about to let him know the hold he had on her. 

N: uh haha yeah. . I just wanted to let ya know Im havin an album wrap party this Saturday and i really really want ya to be there .

N: Please , if you can

J: I don’t know. I might be busy. 

N: Okay . Its at my place at 7 if you decide ya wanna stop by .

Joey thought for a moment, her teeth sinking further down into her bottom lip. 

J: Can I bring someone?

There was another slight pause, almost as if Niall wasn’t sure how to answer or what she really meant by ‘someone’, and Joey’s stare drifted over the screen as she waited to see what he was going to say next. 

N: Yeh , sure. Bring anyone ya want .

J: Okay. I’ll think about it.

And that was it. He didn’t respond, and Joey puffed out a long sigh and tossed her phone to the coffee table. 

That was unexpected. 

•

Joey immediately decided that there was no way she was going to go to Niall’s album wrap party. There was no way she was going to be able to hang around his house with people she barely knew, and watch him being lovey and cute with his perfect girlfriend. It sounded like pure torture to her. 

But somehow, some way, Alexis had talked her into going. She promised that it would be good for Joey, it would help her heal and move on, confront the situation head on instead of hiding from it and pretending it didn’t exist. Joey knew she had a point. Alexis offered to go with her, to not once leave her side and if at any moment that things got too weird or too hard for Joey to deal with, they would leave. And Joey agreed. 

That Saturday came without a hitch. The nerves surging through Joey, however, were as prominent and irritating as ever. It took her nearly two hours to just pick an outfit, something she usually had no issue with and it almost made her angry at herself for caring so much about what she looked like when obviously Niall didn’t care in the least. After applying her makeup, blow drying her hair into soft waves, and fussing endlessly with the tiny hairs that wouldn’t cooperate, Joey was finally ready to go. 

Walking out into her living room where Alexis was waiting, Joey heard a low whistle come from the blonde. “Damn, girl,” she remarked, “you planning on sending this man to his grave?” 

The girls both giggled and Joey looked down at her outfit. She didn’t seem to think she was that dressed up, but a pair of skin tight white ankle jeans, a low cut beige wrap blouse that showed off her ample cleavage and a bit of her midsection, finished with a pair of heels obviously was doing her lots of favors. 

She smiled at the thought and peered back up at her friend, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Guess we should go get this party started, huh?” 

•

Her anxiety only escalated the closer they got to Niall’s place. Her hands slowly rolled into tight fists in her lap as she stared out of the passenger side window of Alexis’ car. Her heart was pounding, like an annoying uneven beat of a drum in the back of her ears, as a dryness crept to the back of her throat. Joey nibbled at her lips, any trace of her lipstick long gone by the time they had pulled up to the front gate. There were at least two dozen cars parked along the main road, Alexis managing to squeeze her Toyota Corolla next to an old tree. Taking in a settling breath, the two friends climbed out of the car and started to make their way up the street to his house. 

By the time they stepped into his kitchen, there were already at least forty other people spread throughout his house and outside, drinking and chatting and laughing. Music was blasting through the integrated speakers, Niall had his large patio doors swung all the way open onto his pool terrace and down by his grill and picnic area which was all perfectly aglow by hanging lights. There was wine, beer and liquor arranged along his kitchen table and the two young women had just shuffled over to help themselves to a beverage, when Niall walked up. 

Joey didn’t even have to look up to know he was right beside her. She could sense him, and even though he wasn’t standing super close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body and the burn of his eyes on her, and the distinct scent of his skin. The air stuck thick to the back of her throat, trapping any kind of ability to function normally with it, as she slowly looked over at him. 

“Hey, Jo,” he said, a sweet smile tugging at his lips. She hadn’t heard his voice in two months, but the low gritty baritone slid like warm caramel over her ears and made her knees just as weak as ever. 

Joey breathed out a smile in return, lowering her stare for a moment as she nervously reached behind her neck to sweep her red hair over her one shoulder. It was Niall’s turn for his knees to go weak. “Hi, Niall,” Joey replied, glancing back at him.

“It’s been awhile,” he went on, clearing his throat as he dragged his stare down the length of Joey’s body. “You look...really good.” 

She scraped her teeth across her bottom lip. “So do you.” His gaze was intoxicating, searing like lava into hers the longer they stood there, still and wordless. They just stared. Soaking each other in, relishing in the silent scorching heat that wafted between them, not sure what to say or what to do next. Alexis had grabbed a beer, quietly sipping on it as she stood off to the side of them and curiously darted her eyes back and forth between the two. Then Lila stepped up. 

Swallowing hard as her stare shifted over to the blonde that was slipping her hand into Niall’s, Joey shook herself out of the trance she had succumbed to. “This is my best friend, Alexis, by the way,” she said, introducing her friend to Niall. 

Niall looked over at Alexis and promptly stuck out his hand for her to shake. “Sick! I’ve heard a lot about ya,” he stated, “glad you could come.” 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, too,” she replied with a smirk. 

Niall pointed a finger at Lila. “Eh, this is my, uh...this is Lila.” 

“Yeah,” Joey spoke up, “we’ve met.” 

Lila nodded her head. “Yeah, we have.” The girl turned her attention to Niall, holding his hand in both of hers as she gently pulled on his arm. “Can you get me a drink, babe?” 

“Sure,” Niall replied, tugging his hand away from her grasp as he stepped just past Joey and grabbed a stemmed glass from the table, pouring his girlfriend a drink. “Would you guys like a drink?” 

Alexis held up her beer bottle and Niall glanced at Joey over his shoulder. She shook her head. “I’m okay for now, thanks,” she mumbled. 

“Alright,” he said to Joey, stepping back over to hand Lila her glass of wine. “Well, there's plenty of stuff to drink as ya can see, and tons of food, we’re grilin’ out and shit so...please just have fun. Enjoy yourselves.” 

Joey nodded lightly, giving him a soft smile. Niall reached out and gently rubbed over her upper arm. “It was good to see ya, Jo,” he went on softly, “I’m glad ya came.” 

“Me too.” 

Niall licked over his lips and stuffed his hands down into his shorts pockets, Lila whispering a whiny ‘babe, let’s go outside’ as she clutched his bicep and proceeded to pull him away. 

The two friends watched as the blonde led Niall out to the open terrace, forcing him to engage in conversation with a small group of people. “Well, she's an insufferable bitch,” Alexis scoffed, taking a sip of her beer. 

Joey pushed a shaky breath past her lips, and rolled her eyes as she twisted her head to the side, glancing at her friend. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered. 

Swinging her arm up around her friend's shoulders, Alexis leaned in slightly. “Just don’t let either of them see that it’s getting to you,” she said, her voice low as she held her beer bottle close to her lips, “let’s just…forget about them, get some drinks and have fun being in this big ass house with all these people who are way cooler than us.” 

Joey chuckled, dropping her head in her hand for a moment. “You’re right,” she admitted, looking back over at the blonde who took another big swig of her beer, “let’s get wasted.” 

“That’s my girl!” Alexis cooed, tugging her friend over towards the table full of alcohol.

•

After a couple of hours, and about three drinks in, mostly everyone had moved out onto the picnic patio area. Niall had hired a chef to grill and prepare a plethora of foods, while all the guests hung out and drank and had a good time. Joey tried to keep her mind open, she had tried to keep her eyes off of Niall and Lila but as the night drew on, it got harder and harder to ignore them. Alexis had taken off somewhere to converse with some partygoers, leaving Joey standing alone near the sliding doors and taking small sips of her expertly made margarita as her eyes stayed glued to the couple. Niall was sitting at the end of the cushioned bench of his huge patio table, his head tipping back in his loud but infectious laugh with a smile swept over his entire face as Lila sat perched happily in his lap. 

Joey couldn’t help herself but to stare, wondering and wishing, the knot in her tummy clamping tighter every time Lila leaned in and brought Niall into a kiss. She watched as his big hand gripped around her hip, holding onto her so she wouldn’t fall, and by the fifth time Lila had her arms tangled around his neck, her tongue slipping past his lips, Joey just couldn’t deal with it anymore. The jealous heat had found its way to her cheeks, a sick feeling bubbling up from her stomach and she pushed out a groan, stomping her way inside. 

Niall had heard her. Niall had seen her. He had peeked up at the red headed girl that was standing by herself near his sliding glass doors, more than once while he had been sitting there uncomfortably engaged with the girl in his lap. He could feel the undeniable tension in her gaze, the slight scowl that was sitting on her pretty face as her stare stayed focused on him and it wasn’t until he opened his eyes, Lila’s lips still pressed firmly to his, that he saw her storm off inside his house. 

Excusing himself and leaving Lila sitting at the table, Niall made his way inside in search of Joey. She had found her way into the main living room, the only room that was quiet and a bit further off from the bustle of the party. Her eyes had eased closed as she frantically paced in front of the massive open windows by the end of his grand piano. She was trying to settle her breaths, trying to fight off the urge to want to vomit but also break down in tears and she was so overwhelmed and fixated on the thoughts whipping around in her mind that she didn’t even hear Niall walk in. 

“Jo...what’s wrong?” 

The sound of his voice ripped her from the jumbled mess inside her head and her feet halted on the wood floor. Looking over at him, she saw the concern written across his face. His brows pulled in, his lips parted slightly. He was standing but ten feet away from her, but it felt like he was so close that she couldn’t properly breathe. But there was no way Joey was about to tell him anything that she was feeling. “Nothing,” she blurted out, shaking her head as she began to pace again, “nothing, I’m perfectly fine.” 

Niall chuckled. A more nervous reaction than not. “You don’t seem perfectly fine.” 

Joey felt a piercing anger start to over take the misery. “Really, Niall?” she shouted, her feet once again coming to a stop as she darted her stare with his. “How would you even know how I seem? I haven’t even spoken to you in over two damn months.” 

Niall was taken aback by her outburst, his face scrunching up at her words. “And whose fuckin’ fault is that?” he snapped back. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Give me a fuckin’ break, Jo, I have tried to call ya, to text ya, to fucking see ya and hang out and I got nothin’ back,” he told her, holding his palms up as he spoke. “You’ve been the one ignorin’ me every single time I’ve tried.” 

“No, I haven’t.” She lied. 

Niall rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Jo? Jesus, I had to practically force ya to come tonight, to me own wrap party. I’m surprised ya even showed up at all.” 

Joey crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. “As if it even matters that I came…” 

“It does fuckin’ matter!” Niall yelled, his voice rising louder than Joey had ever heard from him. She lifted her eyes back to his, watching as he shook his head in disbelief at her. “This is a big deal for me, Jo and I wanted ya to be here, okay? I wanted to celebrate with ya.” 

Joey flicked her eyes away from his, turning her head to rest her chin on the round of her shoulder. “You don’t need me here, Niall,” she said quietly. 

Furrowing his brow, Niall pushed out a sigh. “What would ya say that?” 

“Because you have Lila.” 

“What?” Niall said, bowing his head to rake his fingers through his dark hair. His mind was reeling, any words that came to his head were instantly stuck on the tip of his tongue. “What-...what does Lila have to do with anythin’?” 

Turning her face back to his, Joey caught his stare. Her brown eyes dragged over the gorgeous blue of his, and she stood silent, her jaw twisting as she pulled in a heavy breath. “Jo…” Niall desperately urged, his voice straining his throat and his brows raising as she remained quiet, “what the fuck does Lila have to do with us?” 

“Nothing,” she finally said, fluttering back the wetness that was forcing its way to the brims of her eyes, “she has absolutely nothing to do with us.” 

Her words spit out harsh, like rusty barbed wire cutting through exposed flesh and Niall was left stunned, his mouth hanging agape and his head ready to explode with confusion as Joey rushed past him and right out of his front door. 

•

What in the hell was she thinking? 

Alexis, who had caught the very last of their little argument, along with nearly everyone else at the party, ran after her friend, trying her very best to calm Joey down as they hopped into the car and drove back to Joey’s apartment. Dropping her off, Alexis was willing to stay with Joey, to talk or just hang out so she wouldn’t be alone, but the young woman told her good friend that she was okay, she just needed to be by herself that night. The past three months had been one humiliating disaster after another, and at that point, she didn’t even want to think about it anymore. Curling up in her bed with her little sidekick and a crappy tv show playing in the background to drown out the busy noises in her head, was all that she wanted. 

An hour after Joey had changed into a pair of tiny cotton shorts and an oversized worn sweatshirt, she had settled down in her mound of cozy blankets with Sadie. She had dimmed all the lights and was flipping through the tv stations to find anything decent with just the flickering white glow of the screen glinting across her bedroom walls. A faint knocking sound made Sadie’s ears perk up, alerting Joey who, at first, brushed it off and assumed it was something on the tv that made the little dog react that way. But then there was another louder knock that made both of their heads turn towards Joey’s open bedroom door. 

Creasing her brows, the redhead clambered out of her bed in an annoyed groan, Sadie right at her heels already barking as they both shuffled into the main living area over to the front door. She slowly eased it open, half expecting the person on the other side to be Aleixs coming back by to lovingly force company upon her, but it wasn’t. 

It was Niall.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment she found it hard to breathe, hard to pull herself away, but then she remembered how upset she was, that she was hurt and mad at him. Mad at herself. He didn’t say a word, and Joey just watched as his heavy lidded stare dropped to the ground at their feet. His back swelled beneath his linen shirt as he pulled in a long breath, and for some reason it irritated Joey and she pushed out another groan, cocking a hip out. “What do you want?” she snipped. 

Niall glanced up at her, his brows wrinkling slightly at her tone as he licked across his lips. “I wanna talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Niall.” 

It was Niall’s turn to get irritated. “That’s some bullshit right there, Jo, and ya know it,” he grumbled, darting his stare over hers. The red haired girl rolled her eyes in haste and spun around, shuffling further into her apartment. Niall took the invitation and followed her inside, easing the door closed behind him. Sadie was already at his feet begging for a pet and Niall glanced down at the precocious little dog for a split second before he trailed after Joey into her semi-dark living room, only illuminated by a small lamp in the corner. “Why did ya have a go at me like that? And then storm outta me house all pissed off?” 

Joey crossed her arms over her chest, peering down at her toes to watch as she curled them into the fibers of her living room carpet. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” she quietly detested. 

“I wanna talk about it, Jo.” 

The frustration and pettiness was boiling inside her and it was as if she would implode at any second. She just didn’t see the point in having this conversation with him, it wouldn’t change anything. But she gave in. Because it was Niall, she gave in. And she was not happy about it. “Fine!” she fumed between slightly gritted teeth. “You wanna talk about it? Then tell me, why did you send me those flowers?” 

Niall questioningly peered at her out of the corners of his eyes, his hands perching on his hips. “What?” 

“The flowers, Niall,” Joey repeated, darting her light eyes over his, “like...two and a half months ago, you sent me flowers while you were in London.”

Niall’s face softened as he realized what she was referring to and he let out a long sigh, reaching up to comb his fingers through his hair. “I...I dunno,” he stuttered out, catching Joey’s stare again. “I was tryin’ to be nice. You’d just gone through hell with that fuckin’ idiot and I didnt like the thought of you feelin’...alone or-...or sad or whatever.” 

“So they were pity flowers...” Joey scoffed, turning her head slightly to coax her eyes on anything but his. She fought to keep her chin steady as she chewed on her bottom lip. 

“No,” Niall quickly argued, “no, I was tryin’ to show ya I was thinkin’ about you. That I-...I care.” 

Glancing back over at him, Joey pursed her lips tight. “That you care…,” she mumbled with a shrug, “right, okay.” 

Niall shook his head as he struggled to comprehend anything that was happening. He could tell that Joey was obviously upset with him, but he still had no clue as to why she was so upset. Taking a small step towards her, Joey averted her stare but Niall kept his eyes on her, his brows lightly wrinkling. “Now I’m really fuckin’ lost, Jo,” he said, his voice noticeably softer, “why are ya askin’ me about the flowers?” Joey remained quiet, lowering her head as she clamped her arms tighter across her chest. “Jo…” Niall went on, raising his brows at her demeanor, “why did you think I sent the flowers?” 

Joey glanced up at Niall for a split second, enough to cause a rush of emotions to crash through her entire body before she eased her eyes closed and sunk her teeth down into her bottom lip. Really it was the only thing she could do to hold in the words that were sitting like a ticking time bomb on the tip of her tongue. She knew exactly why she thought he sent the flowers, she knew exactly what she wanted–needed–to say to Niall, and she struggled with wanting to let all the words flow like a burst dam that had been holding on with just a tiny crack in its foundation, or swallow it back down and keep it to herself forever. She wasn’t sure how he would react to any of it, and that was her fear, and what was holding her back. 

Niall took another tiny step closer, the blue in his eyes becoming darker and filled with more perplexity the longer he stared at her. He swallowed hard. “Jo…”

“Because!” Joey snapped, finally meeting his gaze again as she held out her hands to him, “ ‘cause...I thought you liked me, okay?” 

The words tumbled off her tongue like a slippery stone that you couldn’t get your grasp on, no way to control it and Joey’s eyes went big, her mouth hanging open as her outburst hung idly in the silent air between them. Her chest was heaving, her breaths so quick she had started to feel lightheaded and all she could do was dart her eyes over Niall’s as she forced herself to choke out the rest of what she needed to say. “And...and that day, the day that I stopped by your house and was going to tell you something?” she paused, looking for the change in Niall’s expression that confirmed to her that he remembered. “You were...you were there with her, this...perfect blonde gorgeous model who was fucking all over you, and of course I end up being the complete idiot that was going to run over there and confess all my feelings to you and pour my heart out like you would even care in the slightest–”

“...wait–”

“...but no, I’m just that big of a fucking dumbass to think you could ever have those kinds of feelings about me.”

Joey pushed out a long breath upon finishing her rant and she half expected Niall to start laughing, or even to say that she was being ridiculous and walk out. But he didn’t. Niall, instead, just stood there facing Joey, his eyes dragging over her features with his jaw hanging open as her words floated breezily through his ears like a lost melody he had been dying to hear his whole life. His heart was pounding in his chest and his knees nearly buckled under him as he tried to regain his sense of what had just flown out of her mouth. “Jo…” he whispered, his tongue shakily running across his lips, “you...had feelings for me?”

Joey rolled her eyes, a low breath hissing past her lips. “Niall, why do you think I’ve spent the last two months trying to avoid you?” she told him, furrowing her brow. “Because every time I see you, I see you with her and it fucking kills me, I just...I can’t do it. And I tried tonight, okay, I tried for you ‘cause I miss you and I really wanted to be there for you and I thought I’d be alright,...but...seeing her all over you, I–” Her voice waned as her words cut short and Joey peeked down at the floor as she carded her fingers through her red hair and swept it over her one shoulder. 

Niall fell quiet again, his stare searching over her face, bathing himself in each beautiful little nuance of her that he could. But then it hit him, like a ton of bricks it hit him. Why she was so upset, why she had run off, why they were having that very conversation at that very moment and an alleviation instantly poured over him. “...you still have feelings for me.” 

“Niall, even if I did,” Joey paused and shook her head, watching as she nervously picked at the edge of her fingernail. “What would it even matter?”

“It does matter.” 

Joey shot her stare up to his, her head tipping to the side. “Why? Why would it matter if I still have feelings for you?”

A gentle smile tugged at the one corner of his mouth. “ ‘cause I still have feelings for you.” 

Her heart stopped. Her chest tightening as her lungs twisted like rope around her breaths and it was all Joey could do but keep herself from succumbing to the dizziness that was filling her head. “What?” she sputtered, her brows folding in. 

Niall pressed his eyes closed for a moment, taking a few steps closer to the girl standing before him. Gathering the words he wanted to say, he stuffed down the nerves that were raging through his body and finally peered back up at her, trapped by the sparkling light in her eyes. “Joey, I’ve had feelings for you since the first night we met. The second I laid eyes on ya...Jesus Christ,” Niall paused, rubbing over the back of his neck before he continued, “but I never thought ya saw me that way. You were always goin’ on all these dates, and even that night that I stayed over here with ya after your break up...you just kept tellin’ me how you felt so lucky to have me as a friend...and it broke me, Jo.” Niall swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly as he glanced down at the floor. “I knew after that, that I didn’t stand a chance to be with ya and it’s why I left. I couldn’t be where you were. I had to get away.” 

Joey let her stare slide over Niall, every heartstring tugging inside her the longer she immersed herself in his words. “I-...Niall, I don’t even know what to say,” Joey finally spoke up, “this whole time you’ve had feelings for me and I’ve been...going on and on about my stupid love life and other guys with you...why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I gonna say, Jo?” Niall faintly chuckled, darting his eyes with hers, “I knew how you felt, or at least I thought I did, so I just...dealt with it ‘cause it was better bein’ your friend than nothin’ at all.” 

Joey dropped her shoulders, bringing her fingernail up to her mouth as she peered down at Sadie, who was curled up on the couch behind Niall fast asleep. There were a million different thoughts crashing through her head, a million different feelings and just when she had decided that it was time to get over Niall, to move on and leave that part of her life behind...he was standing in front of her confessing the very same feelings that she had for him. It was startling, electrifying, overwhelming and frightening, all at once. Her heart was going wild in her chest, swelling with each tiny breath that left her lungs and she peeked up at Niall and a single, excruciating realization swiped all of it away. “But...you’re with her. You have a girlfriend.” 

Niall sighed, lowering his head as Joey kept her stare glued to him. “Niall, do you know how fucked up I’ve been these last couple months watching you with her?” she softly confided, “I can’t even breathe when I’m around you…”

“Yeh, I do know,” Niall quipped with a brashness, his eyes rising up to look at her as he cocked his head back slightly. “I felt the exact same way, watchin’ ya go out with all those guys who weren’t even worthy of bein’ with ya.” 

Joey pulled her face in. “So...what, you’re just dating Lila to be vindictive?”

“No! Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” Niall rolled his eyes as he ran his hand over his forehead in a sigh. “I was tryin’ to move on.” 

“Move on from what? We weren’t even together.” 

“From you, Jo, from my feelings for ya,” Niall paused, shaking his head as he held his palm to the front of his chest, “I didn’t date Lila to hurt ya or make ya jealous, I swear. I didn’t know ya felt that way about me.”

Joey bit at her bottom lip. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” 

Stuffing his hands down into the front pockets of his shorts, Niall’s shoulders bounced in a light chuckle. “Well, love, we proper fucked that up, didn’t we?” 

She pushed out a faint giggle, shaking her head as she reached up to tuck some hair behind her ear. A soft quiet had fallen between them, Joey bringing her stare up to Niall’s. “So...what now?” she then asked him. 

“Um...dunno really, though, I guess it’d be a good time to tell ya that I broke up with Lila,” Niall told her. 

Joey’s brows pulled in. “What?” she questioned. “Wait-...when did you break up with her?”

“After ya left me house.” 

Her hazelnut eyes darted over his, and Joey almost couldn’t believe what he was telling her. It seemed a little too good to be true. “You broke up with her after I stormed out of your house? Today? Why would you do that?” 

Niall gave her a shrug. “ ‘Cause I knew in that moment, after seein’ how upset you were, that I had to tell ya how I felt.” He paused, licking across his lips as he pulled in a deep breath. “There was somethin’ in your eyes when ya looked at me, Jo. Somethin’ inside me just...I dunno. But I knew I was done pretendin’ that I didn’t feel nothin’ for ya. That what we have between us could be real, whether ya felt the same way or not.” 

Joey felt a warmth pulse to the top of her skin, curling in her belly and whipping through her veins. Her stare flitted over his, almost helplessly as she fought off the smile that was trying to break across her mouth. “It was the way I looked at you?” 

“It’s always the way ya look at me,” Niall said softly. “It makes me heart stop dead in me chest. You said before that ya can’t breathe when you’re around me? I can’t breathe when I’m around ya either…” 

Joey bowed her head down, a sweet smile spreading over her lips and a ruddiness punching to her cheeks as the heat swam through her body. Niall caught a hint of her expression and it made the same befall him. He couldn’t help himself; this girl, this beautifully exquisite, smart and captivating girl in front of him, made something inside him come alive. It made him want to burst at the seams and never be whole again without her. His blue eyes fawned over the long strands of her red hair that fell down the side of her face, to the soft slope of her neck and with his heart practically thumping out his chest, he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. 

Easing in a breath, Joey caught his stare once more. “What’d you tell Lila?” she asked him, her curiosity taking over. 

“I just told her it wasn’t workin’ out,” Niall admitted with a shrug.

“Did she believe you?”

Niall shook his head. “I don't think so. She heard us fightin’, so I think she knew the real reason I was breakin’ up with her.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Joey tipped her head to the side. “And what reason is that?”

“You.” 

She lightly rolled her eyes in a tiny smile, the flutters in her tummy going wild. Niall smirked at her playfulness, overwhelmed by how damn cute she was and he slowly shuffled closer to her. Joey’s chin tipped up to meet his stare as Niall stood right in front of her. “I really like ya, Jo,” he breathed out, reaching up and using his fingers to delicately brush her hair away from the side of her face. “And I know ya really like me too…”

Her heart was racing, her legs nearly turning to Jello the longer they stared at one another and Joey could see the softness in his eyes, feel the heat penetrating from his body as his chest moved fast below the tan-colored buttons of his blue shirt. Her fingernails twisted into the material of her sweatshirt at her inner elbows, anticipating whatever was about to happen next as her eyes darted fast over his. The room was dead silent, burning and swirling around her ears like a tornado of fire and Joey tried to catch a decent breath, but all she wanted was one thing. One simple thing. 

With her stare slowly moving down his features, over the prominent tip of his nose and the dusty shade of his grown-in beard, it settled on the one place that she had been dreaming of. His lips. Joey’s eyes fluttered and she anxiously shifted on her bare feet as she bit down on her bottom lip. “Niall?” she barely choked out. 

“Yeah?” 

His touch had fallen from her skin by then, his hands hanging down by his sides and Joey glanced back up to the darkening pupils of his eyes that were held steady on her. “Can you stop staring at me and just kiss me already?” 

A short chuckle rumbled from his throat and he gave her a smirk. “Yeah, baby, I can do that…” 

Hooking a finger underneath her chin, Niall slowly started to bring her mouth to his. Joey rushed to pull in a breath, her eyes easing closed as she felt Niall’s parted lips gently cradle around her own. With his hand moving from her chin to cup around her jaw, Joey fell into him; her hands pressed to the front of his chest, feeling the banging of his heart against her palms as his mouth slowly moved over hers. 

His lips were soft, smooth and he had a hint of gin on his breath and as his head tipped further, Niall deepening the kiss, Joey felt as if the ground below her was fading away. She was floating, floating up and up, her hands slowly sliding over his shoulders to encircle his neck as his tongue slipped between her parted lips. Fireworks burst unstoppable in her tummy, sparking recklessly from her rising chest to the ends of her bare toes and Joey roughly tangled her fingers up into the back of his dark hair, not even willing to let him go if he tried.

She hummed against his open mouth, Niall tasting the sweetness of her breath on his tongue as he reached up with his other hand and curled it into the thick of her hair. He kissed her harder, not meaning to but not being able to hold back any longer. He wanted her; wanted her soft kisses and her fiery touch, he needed her; every bit of her trembling body and her enrapturing soul. Tiny whimpers edged from her throat, the feel of her fingers gently pulling at the ends of his hair every time his tongue swept over her own with the heat of her body pressed taut to the front of his, it was all more than he could have ever imagined. 

It was only when Niall could feel himself fully reacting to her, that he was forced to pull away, their eyes slowly peeling open. Joey lightly ran her tongue over her lips as she rested her forehead against his to catch her breath, and just a few more heart-stopping moments passed before the young woman had urged him back into a kiss, peppering his lips with hers over and over. 

[akaashisupremacy]

Chapter 2: Chasing Springtime (Summer)

Tsukki x fem!reader/Oc

genre: romance, angst, friends to lovers, lowkey nsfw (wc: 5072 lol)

Summary: Kei Tsukishima, now in college is reacquainting himself with a childhood friend. Old feelings that he has long shoved aside resurface.

Notes: Kaori Miyahara is an original character, but readers are free to put themselves into her shoes! There will be more chapters to come and let me know if you have any feedback or if you want to be in the taglist. 

Chap. 1 (Ao3) || Chap. 2 (AO3) || Chap. 3

Summer (July) || Sendai City || 2018

It was a warm summer evening in July. The gentle summer breeze swirled with a bit of humidity plied on Kei Tsukishima’s skin as he made his way into the train station. Usually buying a strawberry shortcake was an errand he readily undertook, but the day has been long and he was hungry that he was almost ready to neglect his errand. Besides, the anxiety building at the pit of his stomach as he walked towards the store was of no help.

As he selected a cake from the display stand, Tsukki tried to shake off his nerves. He was tired, worn and a little bit sticky, but today required special effort. Today was Kaori Miyahara’s birthday and he promised himself that he would surprise her with her (and his) favorite cake. He saw her regularly around the Sendai University campus, but he only ever hung out with her on Sundays. Today was Tuesday.

Tsukki was a second year college student playing professional volleyball in the Division 2 league. Since school was out, the training hours have extended themselves into the day. His schedule looked similar to a signed professional’s during his breaks, testing his stamina and his patience to their limits. His sport was fun, but sometimes it could be draining and Tsukki was the type of athlete who needed to rest.

The shopkeeper asked if he needed anything else. He requested for a candle to which she willingly obliged. He paid for his purchase and briskly walked in the direction of Kaori’s apartment which was located in a nearby residential street. He found his feet taking him into a dark brown door with a single pale of light lighting the doorstep. He rang the doorbell door.

A girl that barely hit the height of his chest opened the door. The smell of a maturing dinner wafted out into his Tsukki’s nose. He could hear the sizzling of meat and smell freshly cooked rice.

“Tsukki!” exclaimed a surprised Kaori. She looked like she just got home; she was still dressed in training shorts and her team shirt. Kaori trained with their university’s rhythmic gymnastics team.

“I didn’t expect you’d be dropping by,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the cooking, but her face looked drained. She too looked like she had a long day.

“I came over to drop this off. Happy birthday.” he said, handing her the paper bag containing the cake box. He tried to be cheerful in his tone, but Tsukki had never been great at being sunny.

“Thank you!” she smiled brightly, ”You really shouldn’t have-“ She stopped midway to take her cooking out of her pan and throw her windows open before rushing back to the door. The smoke from her pan had quickly filled her small room.

“You really shouldn’t have! I’m sorry to have caused you trouble on a weekday, I know how hard training is lately. Anyways, have you eaten dinner yet? Is your brother home for dinner?” she asked, with one hand holding the cake and another hand fanning herself. She had forgotten to put it down on her table.

Tsukki lived with his brother who was working in the city. They usually made dinner together.

Tsukki shook his head, “He’ll be out tonight. I’ll be heading home to get started on dinner. Sorry to bother you, I hope I didn’t distract from your cooking.” He shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in his pocket, slightly embarrassed that he had caused a ruckus in her home.

“Why don’t you stay over for dinner? I’ll make a little more teppanyaki beef.  Okasan came over last weekend and she brought over enough food to stuff my fridge.” she said, ushering him in. Tsukki tried not to show that the smoke lightly fogging his glasses was bothering him.  

Tsukki put down his bag and put himself to work. He filled two bowls with rice, plated some pickles and vegetables and helped her set the table as she made more beef. Kaori seemed to have run out of miso paste, so instead he made soup from powdered miso from her cupboard. This was the first time he’d been inside her home in the city.

While he helped her prepare their dinner, he quietly observed her little apartment, which was little more than a glorified room. Her dining room was her bedroom when her bed was rolled up. Her left wall was occupied by a desk and shelf stacked with books, memorabilia and some baskets of clothes. What looked like sliding doors to another room were where she kept her bed things and some clothes. Kaori was by no means big, but the room looked too small for her (at least in his eyes). The two of them making dinner off a minute counter quickly crowded the space.

Her apartment was drastically different from her old family home near Karasuno, just outside of the city which was a relatively spacious concrete home with wooden floors. The house had a backyard that was the size of a small half court. The house had multiple rooms and a wide receiving area. If Kaori did mind the size of her apartment, she did not show it. In fact, she was almost oblivious.

Once dinner was set, the absent sound of cooking begged to be filled by conversation. They sat down on her table on the tatami floor and began their dinner.

“How’s your birthday so far?” he asked. The table they were eating on was so small for Tsukki that even when his legs were folded and crossed, his knees would still touch Kaori’s toes. He felt conscious about touching her and moved himself back.

Kaori’s teammates had surprised her with some home-baked treats as birthday tokens, but other than that her training went on as usual. She proudly showed off some of the treats and told him a little about each team mate that gave it to her.

“How was your day? ” she asked in return.

“Nothing new,” he shrugged.

“Any ideas for internship plans for your senior year yet?” she asked. Tsukki was aiming to eventually enter a historical or science museum.

Kaori hesitated a bit, “When Okasan was here last weekend, she talked about her retirement plans. She is thinking of retiring in the Kansai region and I might move there after I graduated to be closer to her. I’m a bit concerned if I can get a job there considering our internship will be here.”

“So you’re moving again?” he asked as casually as he could. He could sense his nerves building while remembering Kaori’s last move. He had almost forgotten about that memory.

As far as Tsukki remembered, Kaori had moved a lot when she was in elementary. At one point her family lived overseas because of the nature of her Otoosan’s job. When she entered Junior High, her family moved into the house next to Tsukki’s family home. She stayed there until she abruptly left during their second year of high school which was the last time he saw her before college.

Kaori nodded, “Probably, if I can find a job in the region.”

Tsukki’s facial expression shifted. His face stiffened and then immediately erased any semblance of emotion.

“Is anything the matter?“ she asked, as she looked up from her food. She sensed his tension. She knew he was holding back.

“Nothing, it’s not my place to say. You should do what you like.” he said, shaking his head. He could sense his temper rising.

“Tsukki, I feel like you have something to say.” she said, treading carefully. Tsukki definitely had opinions even if he was quiet most of the time, “Just air it out.”

He put his bowl down unintentionally slamming it onto the table.

“ I can’t believe you’re moving…again! Every time things start to fall into place, you leave.” His voice was brimming with hurt and anger. His eyes were beginning to feel hot. It was taking all his control not to let angry tears roll down his eyes.

Kaori had never seen Tsukki so emotional. He kept trying to hold his outburst down without much success. Whenever he was disappointed or angry, Tsukki was always careful not to show it and now he had just exploded. She was stunned into silence.

“At least this time you’ve said it ahead of time, last time you didn’t even bother to say goodbye.” he said, crossing his arms and avoiding her eyes, “You just left.”

“Tsukki, I wanted to say goodbye. I had prepared to say my goodbyes to everyone -“ Kaori was pleading with her voice.

“You literally said goodbye to all you other friends except me!” he exclaimed with his hands.

Suddenly Tsukki felt like he was sixteen again, sitting in his high school classroom during lunch. He mentions to one his few friends that he had not seen Kaori yet after summer ended. A friend replies that Kaori had moved away during the break. Surprised that Tsukki had not known, his friend asked if Kaori had spoken anything about her move. Tsukki sits on his desk shocked and unable to process what he had just heard.  

Tsukki remembered being asked to walk with Kaori to school on their first day of Junior High. His mother informed him that their new neighbors had a daughter that would be attending the same school.

“Moving to some place is always hard, it would be nice if you can be a friend to the Miyahara girl.” she said.

Tsukki grudgingly obliged to walk her to school on the said day, barely talking to her on the way there. Although he only promised to walk with her on the first day, they somehow left for school almost the same time every day. And so for all three years of Junior High, they walked to school together. Their friendship wasn’t particularly chatty, but Tsukki knew about Kaori’s dream to qualify for the national team for gymnastics and secretly thought it was cool whenever she got invited to selection camps. Kaori learned about Tsukki’s admiration for his older brother who played volleyball and was not surprised to find that he had barely made any friends in his volleyball youth group.

“Tsukki, I think your experience at volleyball would be richer if you made more friends.” she said, looking up to the sky with her hands in her pockets on their way to school, “I wish I could have teammates, you know. In gymnastics even your teammates are your competitors so it can be difficult to find lots of support from them during high pressure moments.”

Some time in their first year at Junior High, Kaori was invited to a selection camp for junior level gymnasts hoping to compete internationally. She found the experience stressful.

“Then why don’t you just join a team?” he asked. That seemed like a pretty obvious solution.

“Coach says I can better polish my individual skills if I work alone. Group routines take longer to choreograph and clean,” she sighed, “Joining a team will require me to learn a different skill set too. We don’t really do teams for individual competitions if you’re qualifying for elite.”

“See even your coach thinks team mates are unnecessary for improvement.” he pointed out.

Kaori retorted that it was because she competed in an individual sport.

“You compete with a team. You can’t compete alone.”

“Whatever, I still think I don’t need to be friends with my team.” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s like you weren’t listening to what I just said,” she said with her hands on her hips as she stopped walking. Tsukki ignored her and continued strolling to the direction of their school.

“Hey! You can’t just pretend not to hear me.” she exclaimed, with her hands still on her hips.

“Yes, yes I can.” he called out, turning his nose to the sky.

“You can be such a snob sometimes,” she said, her nostrils flaring while running to catch up with Tsukki’s long strides.

Tsukki chuckled on the inside as he walked slower so Kaori could catch up.

They began drifting apart in High School when Tsukki could no longer regularly walk to school with her because he had morning training. Still they tried to keep in touch, Kaori would sometimes go to his games and he would keep tabs on her competition scores. After summer training ended in his second year, he noticed he hadn’t seen the light in their house for a while. He heard about her move at school and hurriedly asked his mother as soon as he got home to confirm if it was true. His mother validated that the Miyahara family moved away because her parents had separated. Kaori would be living with her mother, who got a job somewhere else in another city.

“I was so tired by the end of it all explaining why I was leaving them that when it came to saying goodbye to you, I couldn’t do it anymore. I was so so tired of having to keep explaining a move I didn’t even want. I felt that we had drifted apart and that was excuse enough not to tell you at that time.”

Kaori looked worn. She had not anticipated Tsukki’s reaction. With her back against the wall, she could not decide between letting Tsukki vent or airing her own frustrations about him. She decided to pick up another piece of beef and continued chewing, too tired to do more than ignore the conflict at hand.

“Kaori, we’re next door neighbors. Could you really not have said anything?!” he snapped. His eyes glared at her intently. Tsukki did not have many friends so he felt particularly betrayed by her sudden move.

His last line incensed Kaori. She forcefully stabbed her chopsticks into her bowl of rice and crossed her arms. She couldn’t believe he was laying all the blame on her. Part of the reason they had drifted apart was him too.

“Tsukki, we barely talked during High School. We were both busy and you weren’t making time for me either. Qualifying for Nationals in important and hard work on your end, but you can’t just toss people aside while you compete. You would never even talk to me at school, because you were afraid that people would tease you about it like they did in Junior High. It made me feel like you had outgrown me. Every time I tried to reach out it felt like you were pushing me away.

I know and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was only thinking of myself. I didn’t think you’d be so affected by my move. ” she said. Tears started welling up in her eyes. He realized too late that he went too far. Kaori was clearly hurt. His anger shifted to guilt.

“I was just so tired, Tsukki. My parents had been fighting all the time for years at that point and they were getting divorced during our first year. I was pretending that everything was alright even if I’ve been wearing thin all of freshman year.” she continued, not meeting his eye. She buried her face in her hands, sighing heavily.

Kaori knew from the moment she decided not to let Tsukki know that it would eventually backfire if they had met again and that moment had definitely arrived.

Tsukki slowly regained his composure. He didn’t mean to yell at her on her birthday. He hadn’t expected that he would be confronting the resentment that he held for her tonight and now that he finally did it his anger was slowly evaporating. He pulled the box of tissue beside him and handed it to her. He hated to cry and he even felt worse that he reduced her to tears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out.” he sighed, his temper finally cooling. He stood up to make another pot of tea to make himself useful. After adding more cold water and some ice onto her small pitcher of mugi cha, he poured the drink into her cup and gently pushed it towards her.

“I was so hopelessly attracted to you for so long, but I preferred to just shove things down.  I liked you so much that I didn’t know how to deal with it when you suddenly left. At the end of the day, you don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t even have to apologize.” he acknowledged, nodding his head.

Kaori was quiet for a long while after that. At a loss at what to do next, Tsukki  awkwardly kept eating his dinner in silence. When they were done, he brought out the cake and lit a candle for her to blow. She looked at the cake thoughtfully and waited a bit before she blew it out. She silently cut the cake in half, giving a slice to Tsukki, who started clearing dishes into the sink to make room for dessert.

“Where do we go from here? What do we do now?” she said in a subdued tone, not meeting his eye. Dinner was so still that one could hear the soft clacking of utensils on plates. Tsukki was tempted to wash her dishes to avoid any more conversation.

The two only ever met up every couple of Sundays under the guise of aiming to explore more museums in the area. Any conversation they had were usually related to school work or their current living situation.

“Well…ahh” Tsukki stammered, “We always talk about what we’re doing now, but we haven’t really caught up on the things we’ve done when we were apart….”

He was conscious of his wording as not to put the blame of being away on Kaori, “Do you want to start there?”

What supposedly began as a quick weeknight dinner dragged into the night. Kaori narrated how she was injured through most of her high school gymnastics career from a combination of pacing, stress and growth spurts which made her determined to pursue gymnastics through college so that she could have another chance to rediscover her love for the sport. Since she joined her current team, her training was lighter allowing her to be healthier.

“I’m doing so much better I feel like I’m having a resurgence of sorts. Competitive gymnastics is not really a long term career so to still be doing this now makes me feel so happy,” her eyes glistened as she spoke, “I can’t do all the tricks I used to do but I’m the healthiest I’ve been in a long while.”

She turned around and lifted her shirt a bit to show him her back. It was a slim back with some athletic tape here and there.

“I used to be covered in tape, like it was the only thing holding me together. Now, I feel so much stronger.” Kaori beamed as she talked about her health. Tsukki vaguely remembered a time in High School where she lost her spark for gymnastics.

“I mean if you’ve been in sports rehab for most of High School I should hope you really did come out stronger,” he said, sipping his tea.

Kaori put her shirt back down and patted herself, “That is true, but I don’t expect you to understand since you’ve had a relatively healthy career. What about you?”

Tsukki was slightly taken aback but tried not to show it. He talked about qualifying for nationals all three years of his high school career and how he found his passion for volleyball. In Junior High, he felt like he was only playing because he needed something to do, but that changed during the finals for his first prefectural.

“Nobody thought we could beat Shiratorizawa High because they’ve been unbeatable in the finals at the prefectural level the past three years, even I thought we were going to lose. When I learned how to block his spikes and play against them, we won. That really changed the sport for me. It stopped being just a club. I realized how much I liked playing and winning.”

“It’s still not fun all the time, but it started becoming fun some times.” he added.

Tsukki briefly touched on how he was recruited to play professionally in Division 2, which was a far less exciting story than qualifying for his first Nationals.

Their conversation kept going and they began talking about their future plans for after college. Kaori explained why she was so adamant to be near her mother and how she found it difficult to be away from her so long now that she worked in another region.

“After my parents divorced, I felt very lost. I knew I was a child, but I had no choice but to be an adult. After she started getting part, I was set to start out college and she moved south. I want to get some time with my mom back. It’s very important to me Tsukki.

When she retires, she might not like it here in Japan so she might just move back home to be with the rest of her family. She said she might stay in Japan for a couple of years in her retirement to give it a shot.”

Tsukki stated that he would like to work for a museum and that he was aiming for Sendai City Museum. He wasn’t really sure if that would pan out with his professional contract, but he is quite looking forward it.

The night ended quite late with Tsukki standing just outside her door. He had felt much lighter than when he first stepped foot into her apartment earlier that evening but he also felt more exhausted. Not only was he physically drained, but the emotional weight of the evening was wearing on him.

“If you really want to move to Kansai, I’ll move with you.” he said in all earnestness. Tsukki caught himself after he made his promise, “Depending how things pan out I guess.”

Kaori was caught off guard. It was near impossible to get him to be expressive and vulnerable and here he was promising to plan his future with her.

“What about your career? How will you continue to play volleyball professionally if you move?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“We can talk more about this another time. I don’t have to play professionally. I can just find another league. I’m not sure I can keep playing like this after I do get a normal job.” he shrugged.

“Really?“ she smiled brightly.

“Kaori I just said I would,” he said, raising his eyebrows, his cool had returned after an evening of being unnerved.

“It wasn’t loud enough. Could you say it again? I don’t think I heard you right the first time,” she teased, laughing while cupping her ears closer to him.

“You’ll have to wait another day.” he nodded while tilting his head and turning his back on her, “See you on Sunday.”

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

Summer (August)

Sendai City

2020

On a rainy August afternoon, the change of weather had finally eased the sizzling pavement of its heat. The unyielding sun and the dry air gave way to a cooler temperature made it an easy enough day to spend under light summer blankets.

Although there was a little bit of sun out, Kaori’s apartment was barely lit. Her curtains were drawn and the lights were off. The only sliver of light in the apartment escaped from a part of her window that could not be covered. The light barely grazed Tsukki’s head, illuminating the strands of his hair.

Despite the darkness, Kaori was aware of exactly where Tsukki was. He was laying on his side atop of her futon bed with a thin blanket covering most of him. She could see the outline of his toned body draped beside her. He had one hand on her waist and another running back and forth her hair and her spine.

“I called Okasan to tell her that I would like to work a bit in Sendai before I move to Kansai. I told her it might be easier to get my start here since I’ll be doing my internship in the area. She must have sensed that I’m seeing someone because she immediately told me to make sure that I put my career ahead of my priorities,“ she sighed her forehead pressed against his throat. She could feel his throat rise and fall as he listened to her.

“She went on a tirade cautioning me about getting into a serious relationship too early. She went on about me being in the age of curiosity - a time to explore what I like and don’t like. Now was not the time to be committing to something I might later regret was what she said.” Kaori murmured, her hand around his neck while she lay across him. She could feel his fingers continually running through her hair and bare back as she talked.

“I’m sure the advice was well-meaning.” he murmured into her ear, his fingers drawing shapes on her hips and lower back.

“Do you think she really knows?” her tone sounded a bit troubled.

Tsukki adjusted his glasses and gently pushed her away to look into her eyes, “She is probably just casting out a wide net honestly. I don’t think it’s anything to be worried about.”

In truth there was probably no repercussion if Kaori’s mother found out she was seeing someone. Kaori was just intensely private about her personal life and she felt mortified at the thought that her mother would know about her relationship.

“Do you ever get curious though?” Kaori asked.

“Curious about what?” said Tsukki, looking somewhat confused. He kicked the blankets down to his feet which were barely covered just because he was just too tall for her blanket. Kaori instinctively covered herself as her blanket slid down. Tsukki, grabbed his jacket from his side and covered her.

“What it’s like to be with other girls? Athletes have lots of fans, right?” she asked, only half paying attention.

Tsukki thought back to incidents with fans. He did remember hearing his name occasionally from the spectators during big matches. There would be girls trying to go up to talk to him every now and then and he opted to ignore them or shake them off.

“I don’t have the time nor the interest to entertain romantically interested fans frankly. Even when there were girls approaching me in high school, I thought it was just annoying,” he said, scratching his head, “I think Yamaguchi would have been a better audience for their attention honestly.”

Yamaguchi was his best friend and teammate from his High School Volleyball Club. One of his pet peeves was that girls would often approach him to ask about Tsukki. Tsukki felt that Yamaguchi was probably more suited to the attention Tsukki received from girls his age.

Tsukki was puzzled by the direction of the conversation especially considering how they had just spent the afternoon together. Just thinking about the intense pleasure he had experienced half an hour ago made tingles up his spine. How could he be thinking about other women during an hour like this?

“Are you actually jealous of my ‘fans’ ?” he smirked, then feigned shock, “I didn’t think you’d ever be the jealous type. My my!”

Kaori punched his ribs.

“You play in a Division 2 league, get over yourself.” she huffed, turning her back on him. Tsukki didn’t even play in the top tier professional league. There were more tiny children asking for his autographs than women shrieking for his attention. “You’re not Kageyama.”

“I’ve known you since we were in Junior High. If I was more curious I think I’d opt to look for someone I didn’t know as well or maybe a flashier girl…maybe I am the country bumpkin simpleton you tease me to be.” he said, “If country bumpkin equates to my lack of attachment to fame and attention.”

He tried to put his arm around her waist to draw her back to him. Kaori instantly swatted his hand away. Tsukki resigned to himself and lay flat on his back with his arms on his head.

“I mean I wasn’t even looking for a relationship, we kind of just stumbled onto each other. I really like you, I do but if we hadn’t been seeing each other I wouldn’t be actively going around searching for someone to date.”

He flipped the question onto her.

“How do you feel about your fans? Are you curious what it would be like to date one of the people cheering for you in the stands.”

“Not really? I mean I feel thankful and respectful for the people cheering me on, but honestly I’ve never thought about being romantically linked to any of them. Liking the same sport is not a good foundation for a relationship.

Also, the majority of gymnastic fans are either hardcore fans of the sport, former gymnasts or families of budding gymnasts. There are very few casual fans looking for a date in the audience, you know?” she said, turning towards him with her arms crossed.

“Oh wow, that’s very balanced of you.” he said.

“Are you not curious?” He asked, suddenly conscious of being her lover.

“Curiosity doesn’t always pay off.” she swiftly answered, “Every guy that has tried to ask me out either looks like trouble or believes me to be a different person from who I am.”

Kaori thought back to the time her friend tried to set her up on a double date with a guy that asked her to be more “kawaii” and lady-like because he felt she was taking too big a bite of her food. The boy thought she would be more attractive if she demurred herself. The experience made her shudder at the audacity of men.

“Does that mean I look like trouble?” he gasped, faking his dramatics.

“No, you’re too anti-social to cause trouble.” she laughed.

“Then are you not content with me?” he followed up.

Kaori quickly paused to think and said, “I am.”

Tsukki moved over closer to her, covering her body with his. Kaori wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed himself onto her. He could feel her breathing in his skin.

“Then I don’t see what’s the problem.” he said, planting a kiss along her neck.

[generaldisdainn]

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA 

Summary: After accepting a job as the head of marketing for a local animal shelter, Anna finds herself in a new city in need of a place to live. Luckily, 3 guys know just the place.

Previous chapter

Chapter 5 (A reminder that this fic is rated MA!! There may or may not be a little smut in this chapter,,,,)

Anna threw her keys onto the table next to the front door as soon as she entered the apartment. Usually, she adored spreading the word about a cause she was passionate about, but today had been absolutely brutal.

They were running a large dog adoption event at a local park, and while everything had been going well for a while, some lady had her dog out without a leash. Of course, the dog ran over and went ballistic at the sight of so many other dogs. The lady apologized profusely for the inconvenience, but it didn’t change the fact that Anna had to run after a dog and ended up slipping into mud in the process. Not to mention the fact that it was still oppressively hot outside, and she had already been sweating profusely at that point. She was sweaty, sticky, and she smelled distinctly of wet dog, a smell even the most loyal of dog lovers can admit is unpleasant.

She was dying for a shower.

She made her way into her bathroom and promptly undressed, eager to get out of the clothes that were virtually plastered to her body. Over the last month, she had gotten intimately acquainted with the garden Ryder had set up in their shared bathroom. She had even gotten to know each of the plants by the name Ryder gave them. Frederick, one of the more obtrusive plants in the space, brushed against her arm as she undressed, the long tendrils of his leaves jutting into the bathroom from where he sat atop the back of the toilet.

She locked the door and started the shower, relishing the sound of the steady stream of water and the steam that filled the room moments later. She drew a smiley face in the condensation on the mirror before hopping into the shower- something she’d done since she was a kid.

As soon as she was in the water, she let her mind drift in an attempt to wash away the stresses of the day. She already felt better now that she wasn’t so damn sticky.

Her mind rested on her living situation. She was only about a month into living in the apartment, and yet, she already felt like she had melded into their little group. She had gone grocery shopping with Ryder just yesterday, and they joked about how detailed and exact Sven had made the shopping list. It wasn’t Anna’s first time going grocery shopping for the apartment, but she consistently found the absurdity of Sven’s lists funny.

“I’m glad you’re here though,” Ryder had said. “Now if we get something wrong there’ll be two of us for him to yell at.” Anna had laughed at that.

Sven had always been extra friendly with her as well, almost protective, in a brotherly sort of way.

She could tell she was making significant strides with Kristoff, but he still seemed closed off and a bit cold sometimes. One day he would be cracking jokes with her in the kitchen, and the very next he would just brush her aside after she tried to ask him some questions about himself. He was also the only one of the three guys who had never been into her room, save the time he brought her dresser in from her car. She still didn’t really know how to feel about him.

But his body- she knew exactly how to feel about that.

She hadn’t noticed it at first, but ever so slowly, he had become someone who consumed her thoughts. He had even made his way into a few of her favorite fantasies, including the one she found herself thinking about now.

He would walk into the shower and throw her against the wall without a word, strong arms holding onto her hips as he fucked her. Anna blushed profusely as the thought sent a wave of desire straight to her core. She glanced up at the showerhead, suddenly remembering why she had been so excited about it being detachable in the first place.

Embarrassment aside, this was her apartment now too. She grabbed the nozzle of the showerhead and brought it down to where she ached for it. She changed the setting so the water condensed into a gentle, pulsing stream, one that stimulated her in all the right places.

She spread her legs farther, allowing the water to massage her clit. She threw her head back and let out a soft moan as she thought of Kristoff caressing her, touching her, and bringing her to the edge of bliss.

So close . Her back was pressed up against the cool tile of the shower wall and her thighs shook as she grew nearer and nearer to her peak. A soft cry left her mouth.

Suddenly, the warmth was gone. The water had stopped.

“Fuck!” Anna shouted as she messed with the shower handle a few times and came to the conclusion that the water was not turning back on.

“Is everything okay?” she heard someone faintly call from the living room.

Anna let out a loud huff and wrapped herself up in a towel. “No,” she replied as she exited the bathroom. “The shower stopped working.”

Kristoff seemingly stopped in his tracks. His gaze shifted downwards and then immediately snapped back up to meet her face. He swallowed thickly. “You can use our shower to finish if you want. I can take a look at it when I get home from work tonight.”

“Oh my god, Kristoff, thank you so much.”

Kristoff murmured something that she didn’t quite catch, and she grabbed her things and hurried to his bathroom so she could chase her high once more. She turned on the water, let it heat up, and stepped in, reaching up to take the showerhead down from its perch. She was practically throbbing with need, her body heating up as she thought about Kristoff using this shower and what it would be like for him to be in here with her now.

“Fuck,” she thought to herself. This showerhead didn’t detach like the one in her bathroom. She guessed she was just going to have to finish up the old fashioned way.

***

Sometimes, Kristoff forgot Anna was even living with him. Other times, it was impossible to forget. This time it was one of the latter.

Construction was fine work. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t love it either. He was just grateful to have a decent income and health insurance. Usually, the work was easy-going enough that he could let his mind wander without any dip in productivity. Except today, every time he let his mind wander, Anna popped back into his head. The image of Anna wearing nothing but a towel around her body was seared into his mind. The fact that he had heard her wasn’t helping matters either. Stifled gasps and a pitched moan or two- he wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like he could blame her; from what he could hear it seemed like she was doing her best to stay quiet, but the walls were thin and the water flow wasn’t strong enough to really drown out any noise from inside the bathroom.

Kristoff tried to convince himself that he didn’t like her as much as he knew he did. She was comfortably the sweetest person he had ever met, and the fact that she was so attractive didn’t hurt her appeal either. He had never been so enamored by a girl before, which was why he couldn’t let himself give in to those feelings.

He realized the cruel irony. The more he liked her the more closed off he became. His previous relationship had left him with only the part of himself that made him push people away, whether he wanted to or not. He knew he didn’t want to push Anna away. The last thing he wanted was to shut her out or make her feel unwelcome. He desperately wanted to get to know her better, to sit and listen as she spoke about the things that made her heart sing. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and kiss each beautiful freckle that dotted her face. But accompanied with all that wishful thinking, there was still that nagging fear, the lingering part of himself that said “she’s going to hurt you just like the last one.” Whether or not it was true, despite the pull of his heart to take a leap of faith, it was the fear in his mind that he fed.

“Maybe one day,” Kristoff thought to himself as he resumed his work.

***

Kristoff entered the apartment after his long day. He was tired and sweaty and spent. He was ready for a warm shower and a good meal before he turned in for the night.

He headed straight for his bathroom, peeling off his grimy clothes and turning on the shower faucet, letting the water heat up. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked tired-- dark circles hanging under his eyes and his mop of blonde hair falling in awkward, sweaty strands after a day of hard labor in the sun. He shook his head and hopped into the shower. There was no use overanalyzing something as mundane as a physical appearance.

Something was different in the shower. He noticed it as soon as he stepped in. It smelled like flowers and springtime. It certainly didn’t smell like him or Sven. Suddenly, it hit him. Anna . It smelled like Anna . The unmistakable smell of strawberries and cream was lingering from when she had used his shower. The smell was soft and full of whispered promises. His cock immediately stiffened at the realization. The thought of her had plagued him all day, and here she was once again, the smell of her surrounding him and conjuring up an image in his mind of her in her towel. This time, however, she would drop the towel and saunter over to him, swaying her hips. He would hold her breasts and push her up against the wall. He would inhale her deeply until the flowery shampoo and feeling of the summer breeze became a part of him too. He wanted to taste her, to feel her on his lips.

Kristoff turned the shower to cold and yelped at the sudden rush he felt. His mind was cleared and his cock stopped straining painfully upwards, begging for attention. He was not going to fantasize about her-- about his roommate. It just felt wrong. He thought of work instead, of what his day might look like tomorrow. Anything to distract himself from her perky ass and freckled shoulders.

Kristoff stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He began walking over to his room when he heard something.

“Oh, Kristoff!” Anna called when she heard the door open.

Kristoff noticed her draw in a breath and stop as she regarded his form. He only had a towel around his waist. He figured he wouldn’t run into anyone on his short walk back to his room.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Anna looked away uncomfortably.

“No, it’s fine. I was just headed back to my room.”

“Yeah- I was just wondering if you could still fix our shower tonight? If not that’s totally okay though.”

“I’ll definitely do that tonight. I just have to change and dry off and stuff.”

She still wasn’t looking him in his eyes. Her gaze flickered over the towel hanging around his waist and then flitted back to the floor. “Okay, thanks Kristoff,” she said, finally raising her head to flash him a soft smile.

Kristoff entered his room, shut the door, and let his towel fall to the floor. He was still somewhat hard, but it wasn’t as painful as it was earlier. He just hoped Anna hadn’t seen him straining against the towel. He laid down on his bed, rolling his shoulders to ease some of his tension. He always did this after a shower. He preferred letting himself air dry and he appreciated the peace and quiet he got for a moment while doing so.

Before he could stop himself, his hand began lazily stroking his cock. He let out a soft gasp at the contact. He had been holding himself off all day, and while he didn’t want to fantasize about her …

Kristoff moaned as she entered his mind, towel dropping to reveal her breasts. Would they be freckled just like her shoulders? He was completely hard now, his motions more deliberate as he gave in to the temptation. Although he did feel a bit weird fantasizing about his roommate, it wasn’t like she would ever find out.

His mind spiraled, and soon he was trying to figure out what she tasted like. Perhaps a sunset, or like salted caramel. He swirled his thumb over the top of his shaft, spreading the thin bead of precum around the head and increasing the speed with which he touched himself.

He worked his shaft with an eager hand, his head thrown back against the bed and his toes curling as he worked himself with a practiced grip. He reached for a tissue with his free hand and let out a hiss when he came. It didn’t take long, as he’d been worked up all day. Kristoff laid back on his bed and sighed, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to continue living with this girl that he couldn’t get out of his head.

Kristoff shook his head and stood to get dressed. He had pretty much dried off at that point, and besides, he had a shower to fix. And unless he wanted to be sexually frustrated by a certain someone’s shampoo after every shower, he needed to fix it soon.

[lighteyed]

once upon a dream ❦ peter parker au

summary: sleeping beauty au but peter is aurora and reader is prince phillip 

word count: 8.8k so hold onto ur hats 

author’s note: if u would like to give feedback that would be REALLY NICE ok akkfasjlakfjljdf thank you i love you

   It starts once upon a dream, with a boy who had rose petals for a mouth and honey for eyes, a boy born of the King and Queen, the kindest and gentlest soul to ever grace the grounds of the kingdom, as was apparent from the moment he blessed the lives of those around him. Good-natured and sweet, even as an infant, he smiled and laughed rather than cried, and he was the King and Queen's greatest joy. His name was Peter, for it meant stone, and they dreamt of their precious boy who filled their lives with the brightest of sunshine one day growing strong enough to rule over them with his benevolent hand. A celebration was proclaimed to pay homage to the newborn prince, and the entirety of the kingdom was beckoned forth to the castle to take part in the grandest of holidays.

   From the neighboring kingdom came the King and Queen’s dearest friend, another King who brought with him you, his darling daughter only a few months old, his gift to his lifelong allies, as they had long and fondly dreamt to unite their two kingdoms through the marriage of a son and a daughter. Your sleepy, infant eyes hardly glanced at the other baby being presented to you, the boy you’d one day adore, the boy whose presence was to incur the wrath of the most vicious fairy in the land.

   Though, of course, not all of the fae were vicious. In fluttered three kindly fairies, the announcer proclaiming, “The most honored and exalted excellencies, the three good fairies. Mistress Flora, Mistress Fauna, and Mistress Merryweather.”  

   They appeared at his cradle, cooing at him profusely as the guests of the celebration, delighted, waited for them to bestow their gifts upon the child. Each was allowed only one.

   The first smiled down upon him and decreed that her gift shall be the gift of beauty of the rarest kind, the warmth of springtime in his every step and loveliness beyond compare.

   The second smiled down upon him and decreed that her gift shall be the gift of song, his precious life filled with joyful melody, his heart filled with the croon of a nightingale.

   The third smiled down upon him, but before her gift could be given, all the light in the room winked out of existence, the candles blown out by the abrupt gusts of wind rattling the chandeliers, the doors to the room thrown abruptly open. The gathering of villagers and nobility alike parted for her, for Maleficent.

   Any semblance of good residing in Maleficent had left her long ago, and the flair with which she had entered the room, to join the party she hadn’t been given an invitation to, foretold that the fairy was not here to join in on the revelry of the day. The smirk adorning her red lips, as her patronizing gaze fell on the King and Queen, was indicative enough of her intentions. “Well, well,” her tone is velvet, falsely sweet, and she ascends the stairs to where baby Peter lies in his bassinet. “What a glittering assemblage, King Richard… royalty, nobility, and, how quaint, even the rabble.” Her leer turned on the trio of fairies surrounding the child’s cradle before it went back to the King, and she let out a mocking sigh. “I must say, I really felt quite distressed of not receiving an invitation.” She paused to allow room for an apology.

King Richard, making a show at being brave, said, “You’re not welcome here.”

Maleficent, in turn, made a show at being hurt, but it does not last. She lifted her head and laughed at him. “Oh, dear. What an awkward situation.” She turned, seemingly to make her leave.

The Queen, however, asked quickly, for reassurance, “You’re not offended?”

The fairy’s strange eyes fixed upon the Queen, a shudder creeping up her back. “Why, no, your majesty. And to show I bear no ill will, I, too, shall bestow a gift upon the child.” She ignored the protests of the King and swept the meddlesome fairies aside with one wave of her hand. She glared down at the tiny prince, who stared back up at her with innocent, doe-like eyes. Her hand hovered over him and her sinister voice, the falsetto of sweetness gone, echoed through the throne room. “Listen well, all of you. The prince shall indeed grow in grace and beauty, beloved by all who meet him, but,” she leaned back from the child, raising her arms, “before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, he shall prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die.”

The Queen rushed forward for her child as her husband called for Maleficent to be seized, but the only thing left of her when the guards lunged forward was her maniacal laughter ringing in their ears; just a flash of green lightning and black smoke and she was gone.

The curse itself could not be undone, for Maleficent’s magic was so mighty, all other magic-wielders lacked the power to reverse it. The third fairy, Merryweather, having been unable to present Peter with her gift before, smiled down at him, and gently decreed that if he should prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, he would descend not into death but a deep slumber, and there he would remain until true love’s kiss is bestowed upon him to break the fateful spell.

   Such was a temporary alleviation to the nerves unsettled by Maleficent’s curse; it was not a good enough antidote to the fears of King Richard, who then and there commanded every spinning wheel in the kingdom to be burnt forthwith, and so it was done. However, the safety of the kingdom’s most precious possession remained uncertain, and it was henceforth decided that, for the young prince’s safety, he was to be sent off to live with the three kind fairies and that night, the King and Queen watched, hearts heavy, their only son be carried away from them.

   For sixteen years, the location of the prince remained a mystery to all, but there he lived deep in the woods with the three fairies who had raised him as their own, disguised as three mortal women with hair of red, brown, and gold. They bustled around the tiny cottage, a flurry with preparations for his birthday party, mumbling amongst each other about how to get the boy out of the house.

   Peter, lacking in his former title of prince, appeared down the stairs of the cottage, and it is evident that the years were kind. Beauty of the rarest kind indeed; something sunshine-filled about each move he made, his soft smile and sparkling, joyous eyes the sweetest gift, given to him to bless the rest of the world. He tilted his head curiously at the trio. “What are you three up to?” He asked, their suspicious stances poised over the kitchen table piquing his interest.

   They stumble over an answer in unison before the golden-haired woman stated, “We want you to go out and pick some berries!” in a hurried, panicked tone.

    His brow furrowed, Peter replied, “But I picked berries yesterday.”

    The red-haired one sternly said, “We need more.”

    The brunette places a hand on his shoulder, pushing him out of the house, “Lots more!” She chimed. “Don’t hurry back, but don’t go far, and don’t speak to strangers!” And with rushed goodbyes, they ushered him out of the little house. He didn’t question their mischievous behavior, it was hardly in his nature to question the women who had raised him. They watch him retreat good-naturedly, recalling the day they brought him there, a tiny thing swaddled in a blanket sleeping soundly as if not a thing in the world could possibly harm him, and it was a beautiful thing to behold: the innocence of an infant. Soon, he’d be theirs no longer, once the curse came to pass and he could return to the castle that would one day be his. 

    Peter hummed a tune as he journeyed through the forest, and it’s almost as if the creatures hum it right back alongside him. Birds, rabbits, chipmunks, they follow his quiet, honeyed voice as it picks up, no longer a hum but a song, though he keeps it low as to remain as inconspicuous as possible. His guardians had always emphasized the importance of a discreet existence, one where he kept to himself, ran his errands for them if need be, then returned quickly without much talking to anyone. He never really minded. It was all he’d ever known, so what was there to mind?

     Elsewhere, you lifted your head, surveying the woods. The pretty voice seemed to ride in on the warm spring breeze, drifting through the canopy of trees overhead. “Come,” you pat your horse lightly, “we’ve been needing an adventure.” You start toward the melody, now a saddened sort of tune.

    The animals watch Peter as he sings and picks the berries. When he speaks, more to himself than them, they answer regardless, in their way. “They treat me like a child,” he grumbled, pushing a curl off his forehead as the owl answered who? He sighed, placing a few more berries into the basket. “Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather. They never want me to meet anyone, and I’m always alone.” He paused, then smiled, for all was not lost. There was one thing he held on to, night after night, dream after dream. “I have met someone, though, sort of.” He amended the statement. It was not a formal meeting, but all in his head. Another chorus of who? comes in from the owl, prompting him to say more. “A princess. A beautiful, darling one, kind and intelligent and caring toward everyone, yes, even you,” Peter taps a finger on the nose of an inquisitive rabbit. “It was brilliant, we would talk for hours upon hours, and before we say goodbye, I take her into my arms, and then, of course, I wake.” He shook his head. “Yes, only in my dreams. However, they say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true, and I see her each night, so I can only have hope that she’ll reveal herself to me one day when it is time.”

     You, hidden behind a tree out of his sight, glow with adoration at his pronouncement. It was quite a sweet declaration, paired with his charming voice, a voice you’re sure you’ve heard a thousand times in your dreams, a lullaby that helps you drift back off when you’ve risen only briefly, you’re sure of it. You long to step out from the shadows and greet him; his apparent shyness, indicated by those eyes he casts around wearily and the softened, almost inaudible pitch of singing, while endearing as anything, made you hesitate from such actions. You decide to leave him be, but before you can climb soundlessly back onto your horse, you step on a twig, the resounding snap of the branch echoing unmistakably. You winced. 

     Peter nearly dropped his basket and the woodland animals scurried off in fear. He’s never had to deal with people before, let alone people sneaking up on him in the woods, so his fear is heightened extraordinarily at that very moment. Nevertheless, he lingered, waiting for the creator of the noise to reveal itself. Perhaps it was simply another animal being a troublesome little thing, as some were prone to be. However, when what steps out from behind the throng of trees is a girl, pretty and smiling nervously and taking a tentative step forward, he realizes he’s even more unprepared than he had initially thought. You’re awfully familiar to him. He feels it like a punch to the throat, leaves him breathless and utterly incoherent. He knows you without knowing you, impossibly so.

    “My apologies,” your face feels warm in a bashful sort of way, and you’re not accustomed to feeling bashful. You pride yourself on the confidence you possess (you’ve hardly had much reason to doubt yourself, an advantage of being royalty), but it all seems for naught in the presence of this boy, the glowing, springtime-eyed boy gazing at you, stunned. “I, um, I didn’t mean to frighten you…” Your hands find your dress and clutch at it tightly to have something to focus on rather than the boy with his mouth agape.

     He shut it abruptly as if finally noticing his impropriety. “Oh, oh, no, it- it wasn’t- you didn’t- you’re just…” he took a deep breath to settle his nerves, acutely aware of his cheeks aflame and shaky hands. “A stranger.”

    “I gathered as much,” you replied, remaining at a distance as to refrain from frightening him further. “I- I- well, I wanted to tell you that, that your voice is very pretty. I am sorry if I startled you, I’ll be on my way-”

    “You heard me?” He squeaked out, the pink of his cheeks darkening like mad. “Singing and talking? You heard me?”

     “Indeed,” you school your features into an ambiguous expression, afraid the pleased smile you bite furiously back might be misinterpreted. “You sounded quite nice. I thought maybe it was the fae playing tricks on me, they do that often, but no, just you. A welcome surprise.” The twinkle in your eye makes Peter’s heart flutter rapidly against his ribs. “I do think I’ve heard your voice before.”

    “Have you? Where?”

    “Why you said it yourself, did you not? Once upon a dream,” you murmured to yourself before glancing back at him, a prominent grin adorning your face. “That’s where we met, of course. That’s where I’ve heard you. Assuming it is me you’ve been meeting in that head of yours.”

   “It is, indeed,” he echoed your previous words. “You remember my voice, but I remember you. You are not easily forgotten.”

    “Oh, please,” you waved a hand at him. “Your voice is far lovelier than my face could ever manage to be.”

    “I must disagree with you there, my dreams did you an injustice compared to the loveliness I see now.” He’s unsure of where this self-assurance has risen from and he does not waste time on thinking too much into it. He must say it whilst he still can, lest you vanish before his very eyes as you do each night as he awakens from his slumber.

    “You flatter me, truly,” you smoothed out your dress, stained from traipsing through the forest all day. “Though I must know your name, after meeting you in my dreams and such, it would only be right.”

    He hesitated. “I- I’m not supposed to give it out, ‘m very sorry, I would if I could, but you must stay at least a while longer until I’ve finished collecting these,” he held up the basket clutched in his hand.

    “Very well, then I won’t tell you mine, either.” You take your horse by the leash loosely tied around its neck and follow the boy into the forest.

     His walk gave a vague, pleasant impression of poetry. Loping grace, calculated strides, like a doe in its natural habitat. It wasn’t just his walk that was poetry, it was entirely him. Every blush of his cheek, each blink of his eyes, the radiating (if not teasing) smile he sent your way when you cursed underneath your breath about the bugs nipping at your ankles exposed by your dress. He could tell, easily, that you were unaccustomed to the throes of the deep woods, despite your most valiant efforts to hide it save for the string of profanities you uttered every time you felt another bug bite into you.

     “If I had to guess, I would say you were a princess,” Peter cracked another grin as you slapped a mosquito away from your arm, its body leaving a bloody splotch there on your skin in its death.

    “What gave you that impression?” You flipped your hair away from your eyes.

      A lot of things, he supposed. Perhaps he could simply say it was your unfamiliarity with your current surroundings, as if you’d never been in the presence of a tree that wasn’t perfectly cut and shaped courtesy of some royal gardener or whatever they called it. That wasn’t, of course, the only reasoning behind his assumption. It was the way you carried yourself. The regality of it. An air of confidence you gave off, the formality with which you spoke. You, simply put, looked like a princess, an ethereal being. His first thought upon meeting you was that you mustn't be real. No, impossible. You were a fairy creature; you should have wings like a butterfly’s sprouting from your shoulder blades, flowers wreathed among the strands of your hair, your voice like a wind chime and your laugh like a bell. You were spun from his fantasy-filled sleep, all terribly pretty with those dreamy eyes. He knew you, as you said you knew him, but he had been woefully unprepared to encounter you in the real world. Oh, he could hardly bear it. Just shyly observing you, as you did him, made him flush from his neck to his ears, across his lightly freckled cheeks and nose until he had to refrain from looking at anything other than the ground to prevent further embarrassment.

      It was perfectly reasonable for him to say that you, simply put, looked like a princess, but instead he just said, “The way you have no idea how to deal with being outside in nature.”

     “I appreciate nature a great deal, I’ll have you know, however, I am, unfortunately, not wearing proper hiking attire, nor was I expecting such an adventure today with a boy so accustomed to these woods in a way I neglect to be.” You huffed in faux-annoyance. He was clearly jesting. You were in no position to argue too vehemently, lest you blow your cover. “I can assure you, I’m no princess. I just tend to stick to my little garden in the back of my home rather than the dark woods.”

     “Your ornate dress would also give the impression of royalty, but if you insist you’re of humble birth I am inclined to believe you, as per our agreement to secrecy.” He wished he was able to tell you his name… well, he could, if he desperately desired it so… but, no, he respected his guardians far too much to disobey them to such an extent, and there was no harm in spending these hours with you as long as he didn’t reveal his name. No harm whatsoever. Though he did not always understand their rules, he abided by them out of his goodness and his inherent loyalty.

    “Who’s to say I am not a thief and this dress is stolen?”

     “You don’t strike me as a thief,” Peter continued pulling off the berries from bushes he knew were safe for eating.

     “And why is that?”

    He paused. Does he dare? “Too pretty.” He did dare. 

     You fought off the look of surprise threatening to break open your face. Composure was your finest, most practiced quality. “Too pretty to be a thief? Thieves aren’t allowed to be pretty, then?”

      “They can,” he decided, then said, “Your prettiness just looks like it stems from goodness. That’s all.”

     “Thieves can steal for good reasons.” You avert your eyes from him, examining a tree with brilliantly bright flowers hanging low from its branches. Easier than looking at him was looking at flowers, but what was the difference, really? Both were beautiful.

    “You just don’t look the type.” He said after a while. He came to where he had wanted to take you since the minute you’d chosen to keep him company. “Close your eyes for a second.” 

      You turned back toward him once you had secured your horse to the tree, arms folded across your chest. “Presumptuous of you.” He shakes his head at you, the florid hue of his complexion quickly becoming a permanent fixture of his face. “Fine, as you wish.” You held your hands together as you shut your eyes. He shuffled closer toward you, grass ruffling underneath his light footstep.

     “Open them.”

      You did, and clasped in his grip was a dainty rose, held out for you. You feel a swarm start inside your stomach, butterflies fighting to be free of their cage. They did not appreciate the proximity between you and Peter, they begged closer closer closer, they pleaded kiss him kiss him kiss him, they cried indignantly when you did not. Your breath seemed nonexistent when standing so close to him, so close each fleck in his brown eyes stood out against the gold and pink of the blooming sunset. Composure no longer existed. Before you could say a word to him (though you were unsure how you were going to do so without sounding like a complete and utter fool), he said, “I have more for you, but… well, may I?” You nodded, and he slipped it through your hair, careful to mind the thorns. “There, now you look like you belong among the briar patch, a wild rose.”

      “You’re a sweetheart,” you said while his fingers were still twined in your hair, lingering on the soft curve of your cheek. He couldn’t match your gaze for long, the intensity made his skin warm all over, if it were even possible to blush that hard, and he was afraid he’d do the impulsive thing in the rush of heat and kiss you full on the mouth. Oh, it did cross his mind, but he was not an impulsive boy, and he pulled back the littlest amount to restrain himself. He tried to feel the wind whip across his face, to cool him down. Passion, apparently, was going to make an idiot of him, and he’d only just met you. He couldn’t allow himself to be an idiot in front of you, yet. “Thank you, truly. I don’t get out much, or talk to people much, and this has been a lovely day.”

      “Neither do I,” he admitted. “Hardly at all.”

     “When might I see you again?” Earnest in your question, you reached for his hand. You liked his hands, nervous and all over yours, a perfect fit. “Or, better yet, when might I learn your name?”

     Maybe making such hasty promises was the wrong move, but regardless he said, “Tomorrow, at the cottage by the glen,” and walked you back toward whence you came, the rose in your hair and a quickly made bouquet in your hands. He watched you mount your horse, basking in the feel of your lips delicate on his cheek from when you had bid him goodbye. You departed from him in the grip of some bright, beautiful, bold dream, lighter than life or air.

     Peter headed back to his home, humming happily to himself. A raven is perched atop the tiny cottage’s roof, but Peter paid it no mind. He was held aloft in the clouds, in the radiance of the sunset, in the hands of another. When he entered the cottage to see the slightly lopsided cake that Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather had made for him, his happy mood increased tenfold. Their cries of happy birthday helped a smile light up his face. “Oh, thank you! You’ve made today even better than it already was!” His sincerity is touching, but the three women pause.

    “What else happened today?” Fauna asked, taking the basket out of his hand and noticing a stray rose left inside.

   “I met someone,” he informed them, and he’s glowing as he says it, glimmering with happiness and hope and dreams. “A beautiful someone. The most beautiful someone the world has ever seen.”

   They cast quick looks among one another. This just wouldn’t do. “You’ve met some stranger!” Flora exclaimed. “After all we’ve taught you?”

   “She’s not a stranger, though, I’ve met her before, once upon a dream,” he laughed at his loophole to their rule, and he began humming dreamily again as he helped himself to some of the cake on the table.

   “He’s in love!” Fauna felt his forehead for the unmistakable flush of first love, and there she found it.

   “Oh no!” Merryweather sat down in a chair, fanning herself dramatically.

   “This is terrible!” Flora took the cake out of his hands and started eating the rest herself.

   Startled, Peter wiped the frosting off his lips and stared around at the trio of women, pale and acting more melodramatic than ever. “What is the problem? I would say I’m old enough for love. I am sixteen now, after all.”

    Flora sighed. “It isn’t that, dear.” She glanced at her sisters for help.

    “You’re already betrothed.” Fauna explained, wringing her hands. Perhaps they should have told him sooner, rather than later. It was just that, well, if the curse were to come true it would be today, on his sixteenth birthday, and it only felt right to wait until today, up until this very moment, of course, watching his previous elation fade into dejection and hurt. “To Princess Y/N, of the neighboring kingdom. She’s lovely, as well-”

   “But that’s impossible because for me to marry a princess I would have to be a-a-a-”

   “A prince, dear, yes,” Merryweather reached over to him to pet his hair gently. He backed up toward the kitchen window before she could touch him.

     “You’re Prince Peter, son of King Richard and Queen Mary, who we are to take you back to tonight.” Flora tried to place a motherly hand over his, and again he jerked back from touch. He felt completely and utterly betrayed. Outside, a raven caws at the sky and flies off, an omen or a metaphor.

    “I-I-I can’t go there, she’s coming here tomorrow, and I promised to meet her!” It’s the only thing his mind can focus on, out of the billions of thoughts swarming around up there right now. Her. You. The impossibility of having to marry anyone other than you. It was incomprehensible.

    “I’m sorry, dearest, but you can never see that girl again.” 

     Peter said nothing. He stormed out of the room, the rose you’d placed in his basket when he wasn’t looking to make him think of you later in the evening between his fingers. Tears well up in his eyes, burning against his shut lids. He settled himself down on his bed once the door was safely closed and bolted, placing the rose on his pillow and letting the tears spill out. The three fairies huddle around his door, listening to his muffled, shallow breaths. They thought he’d be so happy with the news.

    Far away, in your own kingdom, you were just entering the castle, singing softly to yourself and spinning throughout the halls, your heart rosy with joy. You were hoping to slip quietly into your room and send one of the maids for a vase to put your new bouquet into. Then, you wanted to sleep immediately after a bath, to fast forward time in your own way and get to tomorrow quicker. You could hardly wait.

     You were, however, stopped in the hallway by your father. He had a bemused expression on his face. He’d been watching your twirls of delight for a few moments now and, as endearing as it was, had business to attend to with you. “What has you in such a mood, my girl?” 

    “Oh, father! I had the most lovely day! Enchanting, really, so splendid I can hardly believe it was real!” You grabbed his hands excitedly, bouncing on your toes.

   “What happened? Not talking to strangers, I hope?”

   “I met someone, a most handsome someone, father, he was kind and funny and romantic, gave me this rose and a dozen other flowers to keep with me until I see him again tomorrow! You can meet him, too, of course, that’s a given!” You added the last part upon seeing the surprised knit of his brow. “I’ve met him before, once upon a dream, so he’s not a stranger, I’m sure you’ll like him as I do. You mustn't look so worried!” You patted his shoulder.

     “It’s not that I’m worried my dear, it’s- well, I’m sorry, child, I should’ve told you sooner…” he trailed off, wiping the sweat off his brow. You take a step back, a feeling of dread creeping up your neck. You wanted to clap your hands over your ears to avoid hearing the next words to come out of his mouth. You almost did. “You’re betrothed. To the lost prince Peter. We’re to meet him and his father King Richard there tonight, at their castle, when the prince comes home. You’ll be married soon enough, and I already have a castle ready for the two of you. Nothing elaborate, forty bedrooms and a dining hall, room for the children, naturally-”

    “That is absurd!” You cried, eyes alight. “Married? Children? To a stranger? This is- this is absurd, absurd and impossible and ludicrous and all other synonyms for the damn word! Prince Peter? He doesn’t even exist to me! I don’t even know what he looks like!”

     “He was blessed by the fairies to be quite handsome, and kind, too, he’ll make a suitable match for you, Y/N-”

    “Enough of this! I’m to meet the other boy tomorrow, not marry some random prince tonight! I don’t want it, I renounce my title, I reject the crown, I will not go with you anywhere tonight or tomorrow or any day after!” You stomped your foot, childish as it may be, and ran off in the other direction to the stairs, to the safety of your bedroom, as your father yelled after you that you would do as you were told. “You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming there!”

      “I command you to come to your senses! No daughter of mine will marry a peasant boy!” And he would drag you kicking and screaming if he had to, mark his words. If he could get to you before you escaped, that is.

    Spoiler: he doesn’t. That, however, comes later.

    In the woods, the fairies and Peter walked cautiously down the path leading to the castle, the greatness of it looming overhead. Begrudgingly, Peter had gone with them. He would explain, he had decided, to his parents that it would be impossible for him to marry just anyone, and he would tell them about the girl he’d met, and implore them to meet her instead of marrying him off so soon. It had to work, or at least sway them in his favor.

    Unnoticed, they reach the castle and head into an unoccupied room with a fire burning in the fireplace, ushering him inside and locking the door. Fauna pulled the drapes closed, shutting out the light from the sunset completely. He sat down, and Flora nestled a crown atop his curls, his final gift from them as a symbol of his regained royalty. Peter then let out a distinct sniffle and hastened to wipe his eyes. Everything in his life had been upheaved in a mere moment and it frightened him, made him anxious and frustrated, made him want to run, hide, never look back. He was eager to meet his parents—well, more curious than eager— but a royal life was too much of a shock, coupled with a predetermined marriage plan and he was about ready to collapse. Happy birthday to me, he thought glumly.

    They all flutter around him as he made his misery apparent, awkward pats on the back were distributed, and they soon bowed out of the room to alone him a few minutes to himself. He held his head in his hands, breathing deeply to calm himself.

     The fire goes out suddenly when he lifts his head. He’s in pitch-black darkness, save for a small sphere of green light winking at him from the other corner of the room. His eyes go glassy, unfocused, as he stares at it, entranced. There’s no looking away from the little ball of light, and Peter resolved that he needed to be closer to it, needed to touch it, so he got up from his seat and started toward it. It floated beyond the fireplace, where a wall suddenly opened up. He continued walking. He had to. His only thought was the mysterious ball of light, there was no other option but to follow it.

     Outside, the fairies discuss their boy’s sadness, worried for him. “Do you think his plan to tell the king will work?”

    “I do hope so,” Merryweather leaned against the door. “I don’t see why he must marry any old princess, anyway.”

      “That’s not for us to decide, dear,” Fauna answered, though if it were she certainly would give him the choice of his happiness. It gave her, and all the fairies, the greatest satisfaction to see the boy’s happiness. He was such a sweet boy, he deserved endless happiness and smiles and love. They hadn’t meant to make him this unhappy. “We shall see what the king makes of it- what was that?” They halted their discussion, ears pressed against the wooden door, and all collectively gasped. There was a distinctive giggle ringing in the room. “Maleficent!” They chorused, barging into the room, cursing their decision to leave him alone. They watched him vanish behind the reappearing wall, unable to hear their cries for him. They try to push the wall back open, and when that didn’t work, they had one thing left to use: their magic. But even as they found the passageway, there were multiple ways going off the fireplace, and they couldn’t find the right way at once.

     He continued slowly up a staircase, following the light. He followed it into another dark room in the tower, where it floats into a corner and transforms into a spinning wheel. He reached toward it, a hand outstretched. There’s the voice of the fairies far away behind him, telling him not to touch anything, and another soft voice, invisible, crooning in his ear when he holds back, “Touch the spindle, Peter.” A command if he ever heard one, and Peter was nothing if not eager to please.

    The rays of the sun are a scarlet red as he pricked his finger sharply, like droplets of his blood had escaped and found their way into the sky.

     The fairies entered the doorway a minute too late, horror in their gaping mouths and wide eyes as Maleficent cackled. “Fools, the lot of you, for thinking you could defeat me, me!” Another wicked laugh curls from her lips. “Here’s your precious prince!” She kicked Peter’s crumpled body lightly. When she disappears, she leaves nothing behind but that cruel laugh and her cruel curse.

    Peter was face down on the floor, curled in on himself, the blood spooling from his finger making a tiny puddle on the wooden floor. The fairies gathered around his motionless body, crying, blaming themselves.

    The entire kingdom has already filed into the castle to celebrate their beloved prince’s triumphant return to his royal roots. The sun had set, and he was supposed to be entering now, cheered for by all, embraced by his parents. The fanfare outside is indicative enough of the momentum of the celebration, but if that weren’t enough, fireworks were beginning to sound off.

     Fauna began to wail, “Poor King Richard and Queen Mary, they’ll be devastated when they find out!”

    “Heartbroken,” Merryweather agreed, blotting her eyes.

      Resolutely, Flora said, “They’re not going to.” Her sisters looked to her curiously. “Everyone in the kingdom is here, at the castle, so we’ll put everyone to sleep until Peter awakens. No one gets hurt.” First, they conjured a bed to situate him on, and then, in his hands, place the single red rose you had left him. “Now, let’s get to work.”

     They flew around the castle, putting everyone to sleep swiftly and efficiently. Flora settles down to put the spell on the other king, who is lying next to King Richard, already asleep. While drifting off to sleep, this king mumbled, thinking he is still speaking to King Richard, “I’m sorry, but my daughter has run off, seems she’s fallen in love with a peasant boy…” his eyes fluttered briefly shut but Flora shook him back awake, alarmed by his statement.

    “Peasant boy? Who is he? Where did she meet him?”

    “Just some peasant boy she’s met.”

    “Yes, but where?” She pressed, shaking his shoulder again.

    “She said once upon a dream,” he slumped over, finally asleep.

     Flora’s eyes widened drastically as she scrambled up from the floor, calling for her sisters. Oh, this was glorious. Peter would have no reason to be sad once he awakened, for his betrothed was already the object of his affections. They just had to find her.

      You hadn’t given your father a chance to drag you out of your castle kicking and screaming; you had already left. You had propped open a window when the maid had gone to draw your bath, found your footing on a sturdy vine, and cascaded to the castle grounds with only minor cuts, scrapes, and assaults to your dress. You would’ve worn more suitable clothing, but you had none, therefore you made do and accepted the dress’ fate.

     You ran toward the stables just as the maid was discovering your absence, readied your horse with a gentle coaxing of a shiny apple, and escaped faster than your father could call the guards to find you. You felt like you were flying, freedom settling on your shoulders as you ride your way to the cottage in the glen. You had to see him and tell him of the atrocity your father was planning to force you into.

      You dismounted from the horse as soon as you see it, the only cottage for miles. You tie the horse to the tree, giving her another apple and a pat on the head. You knocked on the flower-covered door, smiling to yourself.

     “Come in!” Called a voice from within. You entered and immediately got the feeling that something was off. It was too dark in the cottage, unnaturally black, and you couldn’t even attempt to turn back and hurry away because you were seized at the arms by two strange yet strong creatures.

    “Get off me!” You struggled against them to no avail. You were soon tied up, though you had spat on them and kicked them enough to wound their pride at least. “Do you know who I am? Release me this instant!”

      A candle lights up your face, illuminating your angry eyes and snarl. A ferocious look for a princess, Maleficent noted. Deeply satisfied with her catch of the day, she said to you, “Look at this,” she runs a hand over her raven’s head, “I set my trap for a peasant girl and I catch a princess. How darling.” You sneered at her, craning away from her icy gaze. “Well, away with him, my pets, but do be gentle. I have such plans for our royal guest.”

     The fairies arrived again a beat too late, finding their door propped wide open. When they enter the cottage, they find your red rose on the floor, strands of hair entwined from where it’d been yanked out.

    “She’s taken the princess!” Merryweather picked the rose up from the floor.

    “To the forbidden mountain,” Flora gritted her teeth. It was a horrid place, the stuff of nightmares and evil. Darkness bloomed there, ceaseless. “We must.”

    “We can’t!” Fauna moaned. “It is forbidden for a reason!”

    “We can and we must! For Peter and for Princess Y/N, so that they may know each other truly! And for the whole kingdom, so that they may know peace!”

     Merryweather and Fauna can hardly argue with a sentiment such as that. They reluctantly journey forth with their sister to the forbidden mountain, a twisted castle shrouded in black and green smoke, its towers like jagged spikes.

      Shrunk down to microscopic size, the fairies approach the castle. The guards do not detect their presence and they passed the gates unseen. They shimmied through a window to a room where Maleficent and her little pets are feasting and dancing around a fire. “What a pity Princess Y/N can’t be here to enjoy our celebration! Come, we must go to the dungeon and cheer her up,” she said to her pet raven, perched on her shoulder as always. She departed the feast, her raven and the fairies following her. 

      They held in their gasps when they saw you, chained to the wall with a cut across your cheek and your head down so you didn’t have to look Maleficent in the face.

      Maleficent cooed to you, “Oh, come now, Princess, why so melancholy? A wondrous future lies ahead of you, the destined heroine of a charming fairy tale come true.” She made images dance before your eyes to depict a story. “Behold, King Richard’s castle, and in yonder topmost tower, dreaming of his true love, your betrothed, Prince Peter. Behold the gracious whim of fate, ‘tis the same peasant boy who won the heart of you, most beautiful Princess Y/N, only hours ago. He is indeed a sight to look upon. Beauty of the rarest kind, yes? In ageless sleep, you’ll find. The years roll by, but a hundred years to a steadfast heart as his are but a day. And now, the gates of the dungeon part, and the princess is free to go on her way. Off she rides on her noble steed…” Maleficent’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she continued on, smug and sly. “A valiant, radiant, beautiful figure. Regal.” The image of you she showed was that of a shaking old woman, hunched over and sad. “Off to wake her love with true love’s kiss,” she mocked the phrase with a high-pitched tone, “to prove that true love conquers all.” You growled at her, struggling against your chains, trying to rip them off the wall and get your hands around her throat. The cruelty of it all. To make you a prisoner here while your prince was alone and ageless, to release you once you were too feeble to give him any sort of life together or even entertain the thought. The most brutal punishment of all, to give you to him, at last a savior, except like that. And she loved every second of it, basking in her triumph and laughing back up to her feast. “A most gratifying day,” she had smiled as she locked the dungeon door. 

      After she is gone, the fairies appear, approaching you. “No time to explain,” Flora hushed you, opening your chains with her magic.

     “Who are you?” You asked, rubbing at your bruised wrists and standing up on weak legs.

     “Peter’s guardians, fairies, and we have heard so much about you, Princess Y/N,” Flora said. Merryweather produced the rose from her pocket and placed it back in your hair. “You must save him, you’re the only one who can!”

      “I’ll do whatever it takes to save him, and to stop Maleficent,” you added, scraping dried blood off your cheek from where she had cut you. “Tell me what I must do, what I must face, and I will face it gladly.”

     The set of your jaw and the determined stance of your shoulders ease the fairies’ worries. They’d thought that perhaps you’d be too scared to fight. Flora conjured two weapons with her magic, presenting them to you. “The road to true love may be buried still with more dangers, which you alone will have to face. Arm thyself with this enchanted shield of virtue and this mighty sword of truth, for these weapons of righteousness will triumph over evil.” You suit up, ruined dress and all. The fairy halted from opening the door. “Do you, ahem, know how to use these weapons, Princess?” 

      You unsheathed the sword, chin raised. “ I shall learn.”

     The door swung upon, and you and your new companions flood out, the raven shrieking for its mistress. You and the fairies start up the stairs and Maleficent’s servants come streaming down toward you. You narrowed your eyes, raising the sword and beginning to fight. It was a heavy thing, nearly impossible to hold upright without the proper training, but you managed to fight back effectively before they jump right out the window. They began a counterattack of throwing rocks, which Flaura turned to bubbles, and shooting arrows, which Flora turned into flying daisies. If you had more time, you’d marvel at the wonders of her magic.

     Merryweather freed your horse outside, waiting for you. You hopped on, riding off determinedly to the gate. You would not be deterred, even when hot oil came pouring toward you (which Flora turned to a rainbow). Merryweather followed the raven as it tried to wake a slumbering Maleficent, and she turned him into a stone raven outside the dark fairy’s door, but not before he succeeded in waking his mistress. Maleficent screamed, “No!” when she saw her beloved pet turned to stone, then again, a panicked “No!” when she noticed you making your daring escape. She raised a hand, and the drawbridge, too, started to raise.

    “Watch out, Y/N!” Flora called, and you tightened the reins on your horse, ground your jaw, and launched over the gap just barely. “Hurry, hurry!” She called again. Your grip is so tight you can feel your fingernails against your palms. It feels like flying again, you’re going so fast through the dark forest you have no time to think or plan your next move. All that matters is going as fast as you can and getting away from Maleficent. To Peter. Your Peter. To know his name brought you strength.

       Maleficent raised her arms, casting a spell. “A forest of thorns shall be her tomb, born through the skies on a fog of doom, now go with the curse and serve me well, round Richard’s castle cast my spell!” Bolts of lightning strike the darkening castle, causing a wild growth of thick and thorny bushes, seemingly impenetrable. Maleficent breathed loudly through her nose. She had foiled your daring rescue. “Finally, for the first time in sixteen years, I shall sleep well.”

      Or so she thought. You hesitated only for a moment. Then, hauling the heavy sword back up, you fought your way through the thorns, because they reminded you of the rose in your hair, and the rose reminded you of Peter. This was for him. You continued cutting your way through until you were free on the other side.

     Maleficent gaped. “No! It cannot be!” Enough was enough. She appeared in front of you suddenly, and you stepped back out of habit. “Now, you shall deal with me, dear princess, and all the powers of hell!”

       A tad dramatic, you thought, or maybe not, you thought after she transformed herself into a monstrous dragon in front of you. Your breath caught in your throat, and not in the happy, love-filled way from before. No, this was much different. Still, you squared your shoulders, making a courageous step toward her despite there being absolutely no chance of your victory. She spewed fire, and your fight with her was short-lived. You raised your shield against her, but you knew that would only last so long. She was too much. She was blazing fire and snapping jaws. You retreated, backed up against a wall, shakingly holding the sword high. If you were to die, you would go down fighting, with that stupidly heavy sword in your first and a scowl on your face. That’s how you would want to be remembered. Cowering in fear did not exist to you. Composure was your strong suit.

      “Up here!” Flora said from above you, and you climbed up to where she was, only to find yourself trapped on a cliff. Fire blazes all around you and one meticulously aimed ball of it destroys your shield into a pile of ash.

     Maleficent’s laugh at your loss ignited a rage in you, and you raise the sword again, staring her in her strange eyes, as the fairies chant, “Now sword of truth fly swift and sure, that evil die and good endure!” It feels lighter in your hands somehow, and when you throw it in a spiraling arc at the dragon, you know your aim was true. It struck her right in the heart, and she goes down off the cliff in an eruption of flames. You peered over the side of the cliff, blowing a strand of hair out of your face, dusted with char. She was reduced to a pile of nothing, the sword sticking out of the ground.

   The horse and the fairies came to your side, and you made your way to the castle. You let them lead you to Peter, nearly tripping over yourself to scramble up those stairs in an effort to get to him faster.

    He lay there on the bed, serene-looking in his sleep. Even when you look away, you’re still looking. His face had been burned into your memory; that beautiful, sweet face. And here he was. Your Prince Peter. The boy from your dreams, the boy of your dreams. The rose clutched in his hand and tied in your hair, binding the two of you together. You know what is meant to happen next, yet you hesitate.

    “What is wrong, Princess?” Flora asked, fluttering around you with her sisters. “Is it your attire? You are looking a little worse for wear, but we can fix that up.” They wave their wands and clear the ash from your face, fix your knotted hair, patch your dress good as new. “A new color dress for the occasion, I think, as well.” She makes it pink.

   Merryweather wrinkled her nose in disgust.  “Blue.” She turned your dress blue.

    “Pink!” Flora commanded, making it pink again. Merryweather raised her wand again, but you wave your hands wildly about to capture their attention.

    “Can’t you just make it both?” You said, exasperated. Flora shrugged, doing as you asked. “Anyway, that’s not what I was going to say. Must I really, um, kiss him?” You stared down at the boy in front of you, placing a hand on his.

    “Why? Is that a problem?” They cocked their heads in confusion.

    “Well, it just feels a bit intrusive, he’s not awake to say it’s okay for me to kiss him, and I don’t want to make assumptions on his behalf but I know it’s the only way to wake him up so I’m not really sure what-” The fairies all stare at you blankly, so you halt the confused monologue.

     Swallowing your nerves, you lean down and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It was what felt right in the moment, and so you did it, and the world tilted on its axis. His brown eyes opened slowly, catch yours, and he beamed.

     “It’s you,” he said as he sat up, cupping your cheek. “You’re…”

    “A princess, it would seem, betrothed to a Prince Peter. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you? I’ve been waiting to meet him, though I hear he gets himself into all sorts of trouble. I’ll have to deem him worthy of my time.” He crinkled his face up in that boyish, shy manner of his, just the most darling thing you’ve ever seen. “I’m very glad it’s you.”

    “As am I,” he said sweetly, face leaning up toward yours.

    “I was thinking I might kiss you now if that’s alright,” you played with the collar of his shirt apprehensively. He nodded a yes, a please kiss me, and so you did, and he tasted of fairytales.

     Inside the throne room, as the people begin to awaken, your father is attempting to explain to Peter’s that his daughter has decided to marry a peasant boy, mumbling something along the lines of it being the fourteenth century and a perfectly acceptable thing, but King Richard is hardly listening. He stood up, eyes bright, as his child and the princess descend the stairs and come into the throne room together, hand in hand, a rose in the button of Peter’s shirt and a rose in your hair.

    You kneeled together in front of the throne, and Peter embraced his mother and father tightly. Your own father stands there stuttering like a loon, and you send him a wink.

    You and Peter danced together, alive with love and joy, the whole night spent in the company of one another’s arms. You resolved to never let him go, and he resolved to keep you in his heart for the rest of his life. Fauna dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and, when asked what was wrong, said softly, “I just love happy endings.”

THE END. 

[twittytelly]

What Christmas is About

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

A\N: This is my submission to @capcountdownchristmas​ Christmas Challenge/Celebration. My prompt is “Christmas is for Children”.This is my first time writing for Bucky and this is also Endgame compliant - but I have ignored everything the Russos, Markus and McFeely have ever said and gone with my head canon. Hope you all have a lovely Christmas or whatever you celebrate, and to those that find this time of year hard – I feel ya!

Summary: Bucky is looking forward to celebrating Christmas for the first time in nearly eighty years, but you have some reservations. Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, grief, Endgame compliant.

“So what are your usual plans for Christmas?” Bucky asked with excited trepidation.

“Nothing,” You huffed. “Christmas is for children.”

Bucky nearly dropped his phone into his pumpkin-spiced latte. Granted you and Bucky hadn't known each other for very long, but he hadn't put you down as a Scrooge. It was barely October and you already had your couple's costume locked down (you were going to rock The Stark's Halloween Bash as Gomez and Morticia Addams thank you very much).

“Bu-”

“I just find it anti-climatic.” You noted, giving Bucky a stern look indicating that the conversation was over. You picked up your phone and started browsing, ignoring the slight awkwardness that had fallen over your table.

Watching the crisp auburn leaves as they danced in the breeze, Bucky did his best to hide his disappointment. Truth be told he was really looking forward to spending the most wonderful time of the year with you.

Bucky had always loved Christmas. While they were never lavish affairs back at the Barnes' household in Brooklyn, Bucky loved spending time with his family as they all enjoyed their family festive traditions and when Steve lost his mother, the Barnes' had opened up their arms and hearts and incorporated some of the Rogers' traditions with their own. That had all changed when the war dragged Steve and Bucky to Europe. But even then they had come up with their own traditions with the rest of the Howling Commandos. Hydra were capable of many monstrosities, but they could not stop Bucky celebrating Christmas.

But then they did.

If Bucky was ever asked what was the strangest thing he ever saw as the Winter Solider it would probably be a small Christmas tree on a desk in a Hydra base. Creating a new world order didn't seem to go hand in hand with Christmas, but Bucky knew many men who would commit atrocities as their 9-5, then go home to play the role of the loving husband and father. Home life must've sometimes bled into work life.

Freedom didn't grant Bucky with another opportunity to enjoy Christmas as he was either under the ice in Wakanda or 'blipped', whatever that meant. When Bucky had first met you back under the springtime blossom, everything Steve had ever said about the right partner had made sense and Bucky couldn't help but look forward to creating new traditions with you.

Bucky knew you were holding back and desperately wanted to know more. But Bucky knew how hard it was to talk about the past and one of the things he loved about you was how patient you were with him, how you allowed him to open up to you on his own terms. Giving you a reassuring smile, Bucky knew that he had to extend the same courtesy to you.

-

Halloween had come and gone, where you had tried to distract Bucky from loosing the costume contest to Morgan and Happy by making preparations for a large Thanksgiving Dinner. You had invited everyone who would be staying behind in the recently reinstated Avengers Tower and you were planning to host an event that would make Monica Geller jealous. Although deep down you had an ulterior motive. By going all-out for Thanksgiving, you were hoping that no one would bother you about Christmas.

On the day itself, when Pepper helped you prepare the not-so-modest feast you learned that Steve would be spending Christmas with the Starks, (well, Morgan had become Steve's surrogate granddaughter), you hoped that the invitation would be extended to Bucky. Neither of you had broached the subject of Christmas since that afternoon in the coffee shop some weeks ago, and you were hoping that it would stay that way. For years you had managed to get away with avoiding Christmas without getting noticed; though you had conceded that you would now have to buy a few presents. Thankfully, thanks to the internet, you could do that from the comfort of your own bed out of earshot from Michael Bublé and his dulcet tones.

Well, your wish came true. As you loaded up the dishwasher for the thousandth time, you overheard Steve bring up Christmas with Bucky. But to your disappointment, Bucky did not jump at the chance to spend Christmas with his childhood friend.

“I need to see what Y/N is doing first.”

A lump formed in your throat as you knew that the conversation you were dreading was coming.

-

Funnily enough the subject was brought up at the same coffee house at the exact same table. Only now the trees outside were bare and the syrup had been changed to gingerbread. Nervously Bucky reached across the table and took your hands in his.

“Sweetheart, I know you don't want to talk about it. But Pepper's invited us over to hers for Christmas and it's gonna be rude if I don't give her an answer soon.”

“You're right, I don't want to talk about it. Go spend it with Pepper, Steve and the others.”

“But what about-”

“I'll be fine Bucky” you snapped, hoping that he would drop it like he did last time, but you weren't expecting him to look at you like a kicked puppy.

“But I want to spend it with you.”

“Not unless you want to have a miserable time you don't.”

“Y/N, I want to know why you feel this way” Bucky practically begged, tears forming in his perfect grey-blue eyes. Guilt washed over you, but it was too late, the wall had been fully erected.

“Bucky I said that I didn't want to talk about it.” Before you could give him a chance to react, you yanked your hands from his, grabbed your bag and stormed out of the coffee shop; leaving Bucky stunned and alone at the table.

-

Bucky paid as much attention to the darkness blanketing his apartment as the TV show he was watching, his mind racing. He wanted to understand why you felt the way you did, but he didn't want to risk pushing you further away from him; you were the best thing to happen to him in decades.

A sharp knock at the door pulled Bucky from his thoughts, a knock only he would recognise. Jumping from his seat on the sofa, he practically sprinted to the door and almost wrenched it off it's hinges praying that his mind wasn't playing tricks again. His insides somersaulted as his eyes were met by yours and his heart broke as he registered how red and puffy they were.

“I'm an idiot..” you both said to each other in unison, before you both burst into laughter. Any lingering tension was now well and truly shattered. Bucky motioned for you to come in as he headed towards the kettle, knowing that you would need a strong cup of tea to help you get through the impending discussion.

Bucky took his place next to you on the sofa, handing you your warm steaming mug of liquid courage.

“Look sweetheart, the last thing I want to do is to pressure you into something you don't want to do,” Bucky started as his flesh hand reached for your leg. “If you don't want to do Christmas, we can ignore it together or if you'd prefer to be alone I'll go with Steve's to Pepper's. I just ask that one day you'll tell me why you feel the way you do.”

Taking a sip from your tea, you temporarily broke your eye contact with Bucky as you watched his hand trace shapes on your thigh. Taking a deep breath your eye's reconnecting with Bucky's. The time for stalling was over.

“You remember when I told you what happened to my mum?” Bucky nodded, not wanting to interrupt your flow. “Well she first got sick around Christmas time, and by the time the next Christmas came around she was gone. It has always felt weird celebrating Christmas and marking our old traditions without her. And everyone always seem so happy and I feel like I'm doing something wrong for being a bit sad.” You paused as you tried to fight back the tears that were beginning to form. Bucky, pulled you into his arms, silently comforting you by rubbing your back. You leaned into him and found the strength to continue.

“When I fist moved to New York I decided that it wouldn't be worth celebrating Christmas without everyone back home and I was able to slip under the radar. And when the blip happened, everyone was too dazed and traumatised to even think about Christmas. I was dreading this year as everyone was celebrating getting their loved ones back reminded me of what I've lost. But after I stormed off earlier, I thought about what you've been through and what everyone in that tower lost bringing everyone back and I feel so stupid and sel-”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bucky interrupted. “Everyone is dealing with their own shit and while some people go through more shit than others, it doesn't diminish what you went through and how you feel.” Bucky took your now empty mug from your hands and hugged you.

“I know, but I was so wrapped up in my own isolation, I forgot.” Breaking off the hug, you started fiddling with Bucky's shoulder length locks. “I'm sorry I was a bitch earlier. I would honestly love to spend Christmas with you and the others. But I can't guarantee that I'll be merry all day.”

“That's fine Doll, I don't think any of us can. But I promise that if it gets too much for you we can leave.” For the first time since the coffee shop a smile stretched across your face as thought how lucky you were to have someone so understanding in your life. Crossing the space between you, you showed Bucky how grateful you were by pressing your lips against his.

-

The weather grew colder and New York became coated in a layer of white and before you knew it it was Christmas Day. You decided that rather than to force yourself to enjoy the day, it would be better to just allow yourself to feel what you needed to feel and it felt like a weight had been lifted off you.

After a quiet morning of opening presents in bed with Bucky, the pair of you made it to Pepper's lakeside home and you volunteered to help Pepper prepare dinner. As the pair of you chopped vegetables the pair of you talked about how hard you both found the holidays. However, just as you were about to start serving up you were stopped by Pepper, who asked everyone to join her outside.

After everyone bundled themselves in their coats and scarves, Pepper led everyone to the lake, where at the end of the jetty were a number of wreaths.

“I thought we would remember those who can't be with us today by casting these afloat-”

“Like we did at Daddy's funeral Mummy?” Morgan asked.

Pepper bent down to meet her daughter's eye level. “Just like that Morgoona,” Pepper placed a delicate kiss on the young Stark's forehead before straightening up and starting handing out wreaths. You were so enraptured by watching Bucky help Steve with his wreath for Peggy, that you almost dropped the wreath that was placed into your hands. Looking down you felt your eyes well up, as you read your mother's name on the card. You looked up to see Pepper giving you a reassuring smile.

“Thank you” you whispered making your way to the end of the jetty, where Bucky and Steve were making their way back inside. Bucky put his metal hand on your shoulder

“Are you gonna be okay Darlin'?” You gave him a small smile and nodded.

-

The rest of the day seemed to go by in a blur. After everyone ate more food than was believed to be humanly possible, you joined everyone in the living room. Chatting with Pepper while nursing a glass of wine, you watched the scene unfold before you. Morgan had roped Happy into playing Frozen with him for the hundredth time that day; on the sofa on the other side of the room Steve and Bucky were reminiscing about their life in Brooklyn; while in the middle of the room sat Sam, arguing with an instruction manual as he had somehow been given the task of assembling Morgan's doll house.

“That's who you thought worthy of entrusting the shield to?!” Bucky loudly exclaimed to the room. As everyone else erupted into laughter, you saw Sam give Bucky the coldest of death-stares. When the laughter died down, you noticed that your smile was staying on your face. Despite everything, you were enjoying yourself. This is what Christmas is all about.

[mioriia]

𝕿𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖔 𝕸𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖔𝖚 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 ➸ 𝕾𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖞

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Headcanon of the day!

Muichirou is really oblivious when it's come to the "spark of warmness" or "the feel of butterflies in the stomach" because he's very young who never experience it himself due to his memories loss.

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↱ Request by losekatze from wattpad ↲

Can I just say that I adore this boy? He's so adorable that I want a child just like him ;w; Also this story is based off my friend's parents' love story! I think it's cute since the Reader is 24 years old with a young teen like Muichiro like how they got together! I seriously love how pure their love is <3

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The divine conductor brings the soft serenade of the autumn. If comes as a serene music, at first quiet below the high notes of the summer, the ones that dance with a rambunctious joy as the trees are laughing once more, dressed in their carnival clothes, the gold and scarlet of the autumn days.

They play about the earthy hues of the branch and trunk, proud flags in any sky. As they do, you take in the freshly calm air with that hint of an earthly aroma, the fragrance of homeliness. The autumn breeze carries fine drops, each one a promise of the rain to come. As newly chilled air moves the clouds, streaks of brilliance break through from a patient sun.

You let your eyes rest for a moment, feeling the ambiance of the road, hearing the sounds, taking in the aroma, letting your brain be still. Then when you want to see, it's as if you just arrived here, beamed in from some other place and time, able to see clearly.

This autumn breeze has a way of moving your (hair's color) hair, of tousling it into buoyant curls. It carries with it the fragrance of earth, soft after the washing of the rain and a sweet and steady sense of joy. And as it dances with the canopies of flame, it alights both eyes and soul, yet more as the feeling of a mother's lullaby, a comforting delight.

The locks of your hair were floating behind you freely as you stood there, a smile spreads across your lips as you slowly reopen your eyes, revealing a pair of (eyes' color) eyes to the world to see. A small figure stood behind you, seemingly deep in his thoughts as he was gazing at the clear blue skies.

❝I wonder what kind of shape that cloud is supposed to be...❞ He murmured, slowly getting deeper into his thoughts.

He've been wondering why you dragged him here almost immediately when he got home from a mission. He didn't understand why you were always stuck by his side even though he doesn't clearly remember who you are to him before he lost his memories.

❝Hey, Muichirou❞

He hummed, signaling you that he was listening to whatever you were about to say next as his eyes still focused on the very clouds that caught his attention.

❝I know you don't remember this but whenever you feel sad, I always dragged you away from your home so we could do this❞

Raising your hand towards him, reaching for his hand as you held his softly before deciding to tell him ❝You've always seems to dazed off a lot, so may I have this dance?❞

The autumn breeze tousled Muichirou's hair and pinked his cheeks. The warmth that had been in the wind just last week had either evaporated into the sky or leached into the earth. It gave life to the long grass at the side of the road, still yellowing from the high August sun. The strands swayed out of time with the gusts brought on by the road, a postage stamp echo of the prairie wheat fields he knew as a small child.

He didn't know why he suddenly felt so warm whenever you're looking at him with a smile as you pulled him towards the middle of the empty road with the orangish gold leaves dancing against the wind. Heart beating so fast yet so soft against his chest as a faint pink dust spread across his cheeks, letting you guiding him to dance with you as the autumn leaves come and join the dance, floating passed by you two.

As you continue to dance and spins around the road with the trees and leaves surrounding both of you ❝I might be your senior to you now but I've had always been  looking out for you ever since you were a little kid and that's why... ❞

You paused for a moment, finding the right words to say as your (eyes' color) orbs met his mint green ones, grinning ❝If you can't remember me from the mind then I'm make sure that your heart will remember me!❞

Autumn breeze and scarlet leaf come together to choreograph the new season. The road in its new gaiety no long says "walk" but instead "dance with me." Nobody notice it, but on the inside, if they pay more attention to it. They can hear the music that belongs to the autumn, the notes that strike a chord with our inner rhythms and keep their younger self from the inside.

The way you were claiming that, he could hardly believe you were older than him. You act like a young teen would yet you has the appearance of a young woman and you were also one of the oldest among the pillars yet he couldn't stop the smile from growing onto his face as the both of you continue to spin and dance freely.

The leaves dance from branch to ground, each a colourful flag without strings or pole, free to roam. You feel the breeze, rich with the aroma of the earth, the keeper of the seeds for the springtime to come. There is a calmness, as if all the gold, berry-reds and browns that flutter about are a cozy quilt, bringing both of you the same peace as the nighttime. It is the time you once again see how the trees are clad in the many hues of the soil, see how their bark is their fingerprint, speaking to us of beauty in their silent way.

At first, you weren't not sure if you hear it right, if it is truly there, and there you are. It comes like a lullaby, a mother's song, to soothe in the most beautiful way. It is the way life gives even when she must take, to show that your dance together is both eternal and wonderful. And so you love each note, this music that comes as reliably as sunrise.

It was as if Mother Nature knew about this little dance was going to take place there and you were sure happy to know that he finally opened up a little now, it was all thanks to Mother Nature for bringing the season of Autumn at the perfect timing.

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A/N:

I'm not sure if I portrayed his character right but I hope you enjoy it since I was waiting for episode 22 to come out so I could put the gif! Also did you know that in Japan, Japanese women who aren't married after the age of 25 will be called as "Chrismas Cake"? I didn't know till I learned about it from a video I found.

[ladystillheart]

The Great Tree.

The war is over, my Lady. Stromgarde is free. You can rest now.

The words of her most faithful knight rang within Juliette's mind as she made her way down the cobblestone streets of Greenguard toward her own keep. The war was indeed over on both fronts, the Horde and the ever creeping presence of the Dark Beyond. And yet, if this was so, why could she not calm herself? Why was there such a weight upon her shoulders? She inquired silently, letting her thoughts roll with the beat of her sandal-clad feet. 

The tips of her pointed ears would shift slightly at the various sounds of a bustling market caught them, well, as bustling as her humble community could be. She stopped at a few of the small shops and craftsman to check on their supplies and relative needs, only to be met with weary smiles. The war had taken a great toll on her people, even if they were so fortunate to have been protected from the ferocity of the Horde War Machine. Supplies would take a while to accumulate, hearts would take time to heal, but they would persevere. They always have. They always will.

The fair noble adjusted the thin cloth rested atop her shoulders as she continued down her path to the only place she truly could be alone with her thoughts.

On the grounds of her abode was a great tree, tall and mighty, age causing the bark to become pure white towards the base and streak upwards into its branches. They say it was planted atop the burial site of the first of her ancestors to settle here and claim the land as under his protection - for a Stillheart never claimed the lands as their own. These lands belonged only to itself, it was simply letting them share the space and in exchange, they kept watch over it and aided where they could.

This tree stood in the very middle of a hedge maze, a marvel of flora planted amidst the curving, winding, and intricate design. The hedges grew tall, too tall for any human no matter how Stromic to peer over with ease. It was a safe haven for the Stillhearts to meditate, to be left alone and away from others. Juliette had many precious memories here, for it was cared for by her own hands, and her father's and her father's father, and so many generations before her. When she was here, she felt warm. She felt comfort.

Eyes of a gentle blue peered at the entrance and another soft breeze gently rustled through her blonde hair. Walk with me, my child… We have much to discuss. Her father's words echoed in her ears as she stepped forward and lost herself in this maze of inner peace.

You must always remember that we are not owed anything from the Glades. The Glades does not need us nor is it obligated to grow our vegetables and bless our hunts. Respect the ground beneath you, the beings around you, and the sky above you. She paused at the second turn to allow a delicate touch to a beautiful rose of pastel pink, letting its floral aroma calm her senses as the soft, velveteen petal graced her fingertips.

Remember that the people of our banner are not our servants. It is we who are servants to them. A noble who drinks fine wine and adorns precious jewels while the bellies of his people grumble will feel the error of his ways upon death, when their souls devour him whole for eternity… But he who ensures full bellies and warm hearts will forever be honored, respected, and loved into the next life. His words were always so wise, his eyes filled with wisdom far beyond his years of living despite the silver in his beard.

Lady Stillheart turned to the left and continued on her path, her robes trailing in the grass behind her. Should one who is your enemy come to your doorstep in an hour of genuine need, do not turn your back on them. Extend a warm welcome, for this is our way, but do not trust blindly. Even the great and peaceful stag of our forefathers will stand tall when challenged by the wolf.

"Oh Papa, how I miss your council." Juliette cooed to none but those long since passed. A few more turns, a moment's pause, and she found her worries melting away within the maze. Her hand remained outstretched towards the flowers, letting their petals caress her palm as she walked.

A turn and a twist, a dip in the path, a fork in the road, she knew how to navigate throughout the maze of roses until she came face to face with the great tree. Standing before it felt as though she were standing before an old friend. Within a few steps she was close enough to place a hand atop the trunk and a pang of bittersweet sorrow shot through her heart. How many of her ancestors had done the same, stood before this very tree and mourned, rejoiced, rested, wept…?

Gracefully, she slid to her knees with the skirts of her dress flowing all about her. Her free hand rested atop her breast, over her heart, where she felt the steady rhythmic beat. The other hand remained pressed against the wood and her head bowed. While her mother discouraged such beliefs and practices, her elven blood far too proud to accept it, Juliette always felt more connected to this side of her bloodline. There was a nostalgia, a warmth, and a comfort that she never felt in the books of her elven heritage.

My heart is heavy, my blood hears my worries. Please. Your youngest daughter seeks comfort. Juliette thought, eyes opening and gaze drifting from the roots of the tree upwards to the trunk, her head tilting back so she may peer even further upwards into the branches. The green leaves danced lightly, playfully, within the fresh breezy air of springtime. Her father's words echoed within her mind, this time as if a chorus of others spoke with him.

Juliette, our youngest daughter. You honor your enemies, respect your allies, remain true to your people, and bring revival to the land. These burdens you place upon your shoulders, they are self-inflicted. You, she with a gentle heart, must learn to also be gentle not just with your allies, with your people, but with… Yourself. Be gentle with yourself, sweet fawn. Be gentle and rest.

The whispers came to her as sweet as honey and light as the butterfly's gossamer wing, fluttering across her freckled cheeks like soft kisses. The pale woman turned to lean back against the strong trunk of her ancestors' tree, head tilting towards the sky and thick eyelashes fluttering before closing entirely. A sigh of relief tumbled from her lips and she heeded the words given to her. She pondered on the achievements of her people, how they stood strong against the overwhelming storm, and how they would withstand the future ones as well… And she rested. 

[mirrorballparkers]

flower boy [p.p.]

summary; peter may not know much about flowers, but he did know how much he loved you.

authors note; i wrote this with zero sleep, an empty stomach and literally no intention of it being long or good in that matter soo fjsjfk yeah i’m sorry if i suck i won’t stop sucking at writing:/

warnings: my bad writing but hey peters cute and this is filled with fluff and cute :)

words; 2.5k

~

peter parker never really made huge, romantic gestures. not that he didn’t want to, it was simply because he was too shy and embarrassed to do so. the most that he did was say that your hair looked nice or that your smile was pretty. he wanted to do more than that, more than just saying that your hair looked nice or that you had a cute top on.

sunday afternoon, springtime — peter parker found himself at the local flower shop. he had spent the last five minutes eyeing the display window; admiring the various flowers.

peter didn’t know that there were so many different flowers to choose from; roses, tulips, sunflowers — so many. but as he walked in, he saw the daffodils displayed in the corner of a shop, wrapped in a brown floral wrap and the sun beaming on it, he remembered that you once said that daffodils were the prettiest flowers and your favorite. you loved how soft and delicate they looked, sure every flower was soft and delicate, but daffodils were by far your favorite.

peter’s face softened as he held the eesome bouquet in his hands, wrapped in the brown floral wrap. did he have to have a legitimate reason as to why he was doing this? often his uncle ben would buy a bouquet of lilies for his aunt, and most of the time it was after a silly argument they had - sometimes it was simply because his uncle was a sappy, hopeless romantic. he always admired their relationship, and simply wanted to be like his uncle. for peter, it was just because. because you were you, and he couldn’t really put it in words. maybe he was in love with you. that was something peter didn’t really want to think about; frankly, that word freaked him out.

for now, it was just because.

he held them with diligence; not wanting to squish them or mess them up in any way as he walked up to the counter.

peter tried not to feel so tremulous as he set the perfectly wrapped bouquet gently on the counter, feeling the middle-aged employees eyes pouring into him. he didn’t know what he was doing, he was fifteen and awkward — and possibly in love. very in love. the dowdy woman finally spoke up after a few seconds of silence as she rang him up, “daffodils, huh?”

peter looked up at her after reaching in his pocket for his wallet, he gave her a generous smile as he simply nodded.“ they’re not our most popular flower, even though they are predominantly spring flowers. what made you choose them?” she questioned him as she carefully caressed the brown wrapping of the yellow flowers.

now, there was no way peter was going to just flat out tell this woman that it was because they were his girlfriends favorite. he couldn’t help but feel way too awkward to tell that to a stranger. peter didn’t do so well when it came to talking to people, constantly stumbling on his words or his own two feet. so he simply just shrugged as he took out a five dollar bill and responded, “not entirely sure why. something about daffodils seemed like a better choice.” he responded, his hands trembling as he stuffs it in one of his pockets.

the woman gave him a kind smile before she spoke again, “someone special?” peter felt his cheeks grow warm as he nods, feeling utterly ethereal. incredibly special. he thought.

“yes, miss. she’s special.” he quietly replied, meeting the woman's eyes as he felt his cheeks heat up. the fact that all he was doing was simply talking about you and his cheeks still were tinted pink, as more than enough to explain how he felt about you. she could see the compassion and amity in his eyes and this made her smile at the young boy.

“i see, i see. three dollars, hon.” she tells him sweetly, not wanting to ask him any more questions. she could tell he was in a hurry, and he definitely was. peter quietly thanks her as she first hands him her change, then the bouquet.

“good luck, son. she’s very lucky to have you.” peter hears as he makes his way towards the door to exit. he turns around and gives the woman one last kind smile and a wave, then leaves the shop to head to your place.

he feels the brisk air brush against his skin and making the chestnut curls come down just above his eyebrows. peter brought out his phone, texting you that he was on his way

peter held the daffodils with tenderness as he walked along the streets of queens; a gentle breeze and his chestnut locks softly brushing against his face as he reaches your apartment building.

it was quite clear that his heart was racing more than ever; peter was being risky with love and he was okay with it. it was you.

all you knew is that he was coming over to study for your spanish quiz the next day, so you spent the afternoon cleaning up the house and making sure that your parents would keep their distance while you guys studied. your mom continuously tried to tell you that you didn’t need to clean the counter twelve times, but of course, she gave up eventually because it was pointless.

peter been to your house once, but it was brief. it was your first date and you didn’t have time to invite him in because you were going to see a movie - so, technically this was the first time peter would be coming over, and your heart was racing.

as he reaches the front door of your apartment, peter adjusts himself, fixing his hair up and quietly telling himself to relax. “you got this, peter. you got this.” he whispers, before balling his hands up into a fist and slowly knocking on the wooden door. he shyly bites his lip as he puts the bouquet behind his hand. he bounces on his feet as he anxiously waits for you to open the door. “just don’t be such a dork.”

“just a second!” he hears from the other side of the door, his heart flutters as he tries to prevent himself from smiling so much - but he couldn’t help it. just hearing it, your voice, made him feel like he was gonna burst with utter love.

little did he know, you were feeling the same mushy feeling and were trying to hold back the smile as you take a deep breath and unlock the latch on the door, swinging it open.

peter’s lips curved into a small smile, “hey.” he spoke softly. he didn’t even know why, but whenever he saw you his whole outlook on life changed.

the sun was brighter, the world was kinder; whenever you were around, he was a different peter.he saw the good in things he usually saw the bad in. he laughed more often, and he smiled more often. he wasn’t sure why this happened, but he had no problem with it, as long as he was with you.

you smile back, “hi, pete.“ you felt your cheeks heat up as you saw that smile that you absolutely adored.

peter was fully aware of his own heart beating rapidly, but he was not aware that yours was beating just as fast - if not faster. this was such a big step for the boy raised in queens, for he had ever done anything so drastic before.he clears his throat as he brings the flowers from behind, the delicate bouquet visibly shaking due to peters fidgety hands. and gives you a lopsided smile as he holds them out to you. “i - here. i got you these. sorry if their a little smushed..i was on the subway and it was crowded.” he nervously chuckles as he carefully adjusts the paper wrapping of the flowers. “can’t ever find a seat on the weekends.”

you giggle back, gently taking the flowers from peter as you place your hand softly over the paper wrapping. smiling softly, you admire the vibrant yellow arrangement. the smell was probably your favorite, for it reminded you of sunny days in the spring; the season of love.

you blush, realizing that for the last twenty seconds or so, you were just standing there in silence. “daffodils? these are my favorite kind.” you spoke softly. “how’d you know?”

of course, peter’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red as he ran his fingers through his oh-so-pretty curly locks. you found it adorable when peter blushed. it was very rare that peter was the one who was blushing, it always being you, but whenever he did, it was the cutest thing in you had ever seen. see, peter had freckles; not many, but since it was springtime they started to show up. they were often on the tip of his nose and a few sprinkled on his cheeks, making his face more pretty than it was before if that was even possible.

“i don’t really have a reason,” peter giggles nervously, scratching his earlobe and looking down at his shoes.

you quirk an eyebrow, moving to the side to let peter inside your warm apartment. it was tiny and cute, very homey and welcoming. you were all those things.

you sit down on the sofa, setting the flowers in your lap carefully and motion peter to sit next to you. hearing his voice, his poetic, beautiful voice, was all you needed to continue with anything. it was perfect.

peter sits next to you, careful not to sit too close, your hands brush against each other and you felt like you were getting launched into a world full of love and stars. you glance over at peters baby browns, smiling at him sweetly, a small gesture for him to continue. you were patient with peter, always patient.

“spring is my favorite time. i know it’s yours too,” peter states, his gentle hands reach towards yours, shaking in the process. once his hand was intertwined with yours, he felt safe.

“i remember you told me how much you love spring mainly because of the different kinds of flowers,”

“oh, the list!” you perked up, eyes glimmering. gosh, could you be any more beautiful to peter?

“yeah! the list, yeah.” peter giggles, you as well.

you had told peter this on your first date. he had made a list of things to ask, bringing it with him and stuffing it in his pocket. as he brought it out on the park bench you were sat at together, the stars in the sky and knees brushing against each other, he went down the list to ask you all the things he wanted to know. he wrote your responses down, but you didn’t think much of it. you thought it was cute, sweet actually. nobody had ever done something so tiny yet kind. this helped peter; whenever he needed to remember something, he’d just pull out that list. he carried it with him most of the time, he just had to.

“since i’m not good with words or anything, i pulled out the list and the first thing i jotted down was that your favorite flowers were daffodils,” now peter was blushing. and he was blushing a lot. if his hands weren’t sweaty before, they were definitely sweaty now. he was nervous that you could hear his heartbeat like he could, it definitely wasn’t your average, healthy heartbeat. but you did hear it, and it was melodic and pretty, like him.

“i-i just felt like...i needed to tell you how much i like and care for you, you know, how important you are to me,” peter stutters out. even though he wasn’t looking at you much, he knew you were listening. that was the one thing about you, you listened to peter. didn’t matter what it was about, you listened. “because you are. you’re so important to me and i wanted to show you, so that’s why i got you these daffodils. it’s my way of saying,” peter did this thing where he spoke with his hands too, and it was the cutest ever. he did it when he was caught in a ramble that he couldn’t get out of. all of his rambles, you thought, were sweet and too adorable.

“i love you, y/n. i love you and this is why i did it. because i love you.” it just came out, without warning or anything. was it evident that he was going to say it at some point? absolutely.

but, he went by what his uncle ben always says, “speak with your heart, and never look back.” he took those words and painted them onto his heart forever.

part of him thought, what if you didn’t love him? but, the minute he looked at you, he knew just maybe you felt it too.

and spoiler alert: you loved peter parker, too.

not one, but an infinite number of butterflies were swarming inside you right now. peter had absolutely no problem with expressing his feelings towards you, unlike most people who were non-combatant about it and didn’t feel like it was important. this was important to you. having the same thoughts, the same feelings. you were so glad peter had the same, so glad. it was the little things, the tiny little things, the kind that makes the smile form and the flowers in your chest bloom. it was those kinds. and, luckily, you were both a fan of the little things.

“you do?” you finally breathe out. peter giggles slightly at your adorable doe-like eyes, blush cheeks, and a nervous smile.  darn right peter was in love with you.

“i do,” peter cups your cheek, rubbing it sweetly. “gosh, i do. i love you so, so much.”

he plants a sweet, gentle kiss on your lips. something he didn’t do often, but when he did he was nervous, heart beating out of his chest and the feeling of dizziness and eternity. he was careful kissing you, never too long or intense a kiss. it was like holding onto a delicate baby bird, protecting it with all he had and making sure it was safe.

“i love you too, pete.” you breathed, eyes still closed, but at the same time, you could still picture peter and his gorgeous eyes and a pretty smile.

“aw, sweet,” he joked. “freaking sweet, dude.” you both go into a fit of shy giggles, eyes never leaving each other.

in the spring, on rainy days, when all was wrong in the world - you had and loved each other, always. to laugh, to cry, you had each other. but, most importantly, to love.

~

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