#and we need a new oven (that my mother refuses to let me buy with my next payment)

[sherlock-is-ace]

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[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Pool Adventures

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

I wasn't sure what to expect when I came out... there could have been a work of art on the concrete or what I got which are some very well done scribbles.

I tell him dinner is in the oven and he hands me a triceratops.

I'm not sure exactly how to hold it because the lake is done from above and the trees and mountain, no wait, it's a volcano, are done from the side.

I decide it doesn't matter.

He has the T-rex in one hand and is flying the pterodactyl around in the other.

"So what's the plan? I don't want you to eat me," I tease.

"No, that's mean. I won't eat you, Emmett."

"Good. Maybe we should be friends and go on an adventure."

Aren't we already?

"Okay."

He's looking to me and I have not watched a dino movie in quite awhile.

Um, a mission.

A dino-friendly mission.

"How about we go searching for something?"

"Like what?"

He perches his pterodactyl in the tree and walks his t-rex over towards me.

"How about a special tree with a surprise?"

I grab the same colors he's used for his other tree and make a new one a few feet away.

"It has two trunks, that's how we'll find it and a treasure box inside."

"I love it. There should be a river to cross," he says, drawing one between us and the goal.

We've found the treasure box and I've given him a riddle to solve when my phone beeps.

"Dinner time, let me check on it and then we need to finish our adventure quickly so we can eat."

"Okay, we can do it."

He's so excited... I love his Finn voice.

He doesn't sound child-like really, even though his words sometimes are.

He's not faking a voice or anything.

He just sounds happy and excited and he's thinking hard about the riddle, I can tell.

I pull the chops out of the oven, cover them with a towel and put the veg in the microwave.

"I'm thinking about the riddle, Emmett," he says when I come back out

"But I need a hint."

It's a good one, one my mother taught me ages ago.

A hint, eh?

"Okay, it's usually white or brown."

Too much of one, really but dinner is ready and I know he wants to solve it.

"So something you can't use until you break it," he repeats.

"Something white and brown."

"Yep. White or brown," I stress.

"It doesn't change colors, it only comes in two. Wait, they have blue ones sometimes now, I don't know. At the store they come in two."

"Another hint," he says.

"You buy it at a store?"

"Yep. And dinosaurs had them."

I'm actually amused at that one and the look on his face is priceless.

"Dinosaurs don't have stores, Emmett."

"I know."

He laughs and jumps up.

"Eggs. You break an egg to eat it and you buy it at the store and dinosaurs lay eggs."

"You got it. Let's go eat dinner and then we can swim afterwards."

"What's our prize?"

"I'll give that to you after we swim, grasshopper. Looking forward to it."

I get a wry smile in return.

After dinner on his new plate we get changed.

I spray his shoulders and he does his nose and cheeks because even though there is no way he can get burnt right now, I refuse to risk it.

He complains but does it anyway.

I bring out some drinks and the lube because I definitely plan on taking him out here once it's dark and blow up the two extra toys.

He jumps right in and uses two to float, one under his knees and one behind his head.

"Feels great, Emmett. Come in with me."

"Rather come in you," I mumble just loud enough for him to hear me before jumping in.

"Naughty Emmett."

"It's not my fault you make me crazy, Finnegan."

We swim around for awhile, play a game of Marco Polo, play a weird net-less version of beach volleyball and then he hops out and opens his bracelets.

He puts three together and makes me a necklace, does the same for himself and then asks me to put a bracelet on each of his wrists.

"We look very snazzy."

He decides to repurpose his bracelets as dive toys and spends fifteen minutes collecting them from the bottom of the pool over and over.

When he's tired I put them back on for him but don't let him escape.

I pull him against me and hoist him up and he wraps his legs around me and his arms around my shoulders.

"Hi Emmett."

I answer him with a kiss, trailing down his neck until he giggles and then stops giggling and starts breathing hard.

"I'm going to fuck you out here in the open. What do you think about that, Finnegan?"

"You... what?"

"I..." I repeat slowly.

"Am going to fuck you out here, bent over that table. I'm going to muffle your screams with a towel so the neighbors don't hear you begging for more or begging me to stop, either way works for me, babe."

I sneak my hand right down the back of his trunks and tease his bud with my fingertip.

"How does that sound?"

"Oh. I... I think it sounds fun, Emmett."

"Good."

He hops out and I'm right behind him.

I drape one towel over the table to cushion him a bit and he folds one up for under his head.

As soon as I get his trunks yanked down I bend him forward, step out of mine and sink to my knees so I can work him open.

He yelps and then sighs as I caress him with my tongue.

A few minutes later I'm sinking into him, working him open with my cock instead.

It's much less gentle but he's taking me beautifully and managing to stay fairly quiet.

I reach around and stroke him and he's hard and almost as desperate as I am and I have gotten over my fear of asking for too much when he's been working.

No, he's right, he needs this and so do I.

He comes right after I do, squeezing me hard as he shudders.

We both stumble inside and through a quick shower and soon we're in bed.

His head is on my shoulder as I try to read one-handed.

After our chapter, he kisses my neck.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Finnegan. Think you can sleep now?"

"Yeah. I was up so early. This morning feels like yesterday. I don't know how to explain it."

I know exactly what he means, it feels very distant and I guess it is.

Physically and mentally.

"I understand. Get some rest, we'll have a good day tomorrow."

"I can't wait and Emmett?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, lots."

He's waiting for me to say something but I'm sort of choked up and having a hard time breathing.

"Love you too, darling."

"Night night."

"Sleep tight, Finnegan."

[sunsents]

Content 2/2 - F.W (M)

Empty Chapter II

IT'S. OVER. Holy shit, this took way longer than I expected it to be. Yes, it’s 20k mf words and what abt it. Don’t look at me like that. I warned ya’ll 🙄. Now, I definitely made up some words while writing this. Like a shelved corridor, the heck is a shelved corridor?!?! Please tell me it makes sense…please for the sake of my sanity. The smut is kinda tame so I’ll whip out the chains on the next one.

CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD HERE

Summary —> Years later you find yourself face to face with the person that caused your ruin - yet this time, somethings different.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 20k... honestly I completely get it if ya'll wanna sit this one out

Warnings: *deep breath* a poor attempt at humor / gingers / pining idiots / normal idiots / excessive cursing / fred weasley in slacks / alcohol consuming / very little angst (its mostly just overthinking) to fluff / minor character death / smut / oral, (fem) / fingering / cum play / sexual mf intercourse mfs / protected sex (dont be silly protect your willy) / dirty talk / sappy stuff

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

tagged: @opalsheart @ronsbadidea @uselessmoonlight @boxofbadaddiction @lovenonymously @sergeantkilowog @rudypankowisdaddy, @nobutfredweasleytho some names didn’t come up when I tried, so what do we get from this? I can't properly use Tumblr <3

Five Years Later, 2003

"____, will you just calm down." Aleyna lets go of the book box full of bathroom supplies and they clink together, to which you wince because these are your stuff and you’re in a far too dangerous position to lose more money.

"How can I calm down?!" you exclaim dramatically, tossing your wand on the nylon wrapped couch. "It's all Stacey's fault."

Aleyna quirks a brow, "Whose Stacey?"

"That one chick from Magical Catastrophes who always has lipstick on her teeth."

"I don't think her name is Stacey though."

You send Aleyna a look that screams, stop being reasonable at a time like this. No, this was when you overpaid your TV cable to air The Twilight Zone and drank cheap wine while cursing out your boss who cared about your well being. Hermione had become The Minister of Magic, and of course you were proud of her. Though, this didn't mean she could let you have time off work whenever something insignificant happened.

"Probably not," you mutter, opening your fridge and coming face to face with the painful truth that it’s empty, and you’re hungry. Your hand unintentionally flies to graze over your scar as you survey your options, a small pack of ketchup and left over chips. "Suits her though, feels good to say 'Goddamnit Stacey' when something goes wrong in my life."

Stacey deserves it because Stacey doesn’t refill the staplers on purpose.

Aleyna snorts, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "What did Stacey ever do to you?" Then she wheels across your new apartment to retrieve more boxes from outside.

You’re grateful for the support of all your friends, but the pitying looks they give you whenever someone mentions the words house and fire is enough to fuel into your secret want of setting their houses on fire. It was an accident, you were just trying to make the delicious recipe Molly had sent you, ignoring the small fact that you didn't know how to properly use an oven. The savings you lost from your bleeding bank account were not worth pasta with tomato sauce on it.

Though, your new apartment is big, bigger than your first because after making a name for yourself as an Auror money came easily. Wide walls for a projector TV, long tail shaped couch standing firm on varnished wood floorings, and two bedrooms that have their own - kind of unnecessary - bathrooms. Not to mention the giant kitchen with an island, only rich people had islands, where you could make plenty of Italian recipes and not worry about burning the house down because Aleyna fool-proofed it for you.

The flat was at the top floor of the new bar she just built, and she was kind enough to let you start renting the place. The residents of Diagon Alley had been fighting for this apartment for months, and you were proud to have snagged it before anyone could even offer.

Gripping the last two boxes, Aleyna pushes the front door with her foot and navigates herself backwards through the other dozen boxes you had just tossed on the floor. "These are the last two, are you sure you don't need anymore help?" she offers.

You shake your head, "I can just use magic, not in the mood for pursuing the muggle lifestyle right now."

Aleyna frowns, this reaches her eyes though. "That bad huh."

Simply nodding, you don’t bother getting into an in depth rant about how a simple fire didn't mean you had trauma, and that you didn't need to stop working for a few weeks. Not that being an Auror was hard, your work days have been quite uneventful if you didn't count a few "Revalutioners" sticking a muggle's head in a toilet.

"I know what will cheer you up," Aleyna chimes, already clad in her pea coat and sneakers. "Dinner, and it's on me."

You couldn't possibly say no to free dinner, also making food for yourself was probably not a good idea right now. Stay clear of ovens, you reminded yourself.

After getting snug in your coat and fluffing your hair, you fall on step next to Aleyna as the two of you chat.

The London cold is brutal, shivering whomever until their noses turn red and making their hands feel itchy when sudden warmth overtook. You’re used to it, as is anyone in Diagon Alley. People are crowding the stores, chatting loudly and waving their wands around at stores to reserve whatever crappy gifts they were going to buy for their family's.

You hate the holidays, refusing to go back to America and visit your own family. Your mother couldn't cook, nor could your father. Though, that didn't stop her from insisting every year and giving you, your father and the Burke's food poisoning.

After three years of sitting through awkward family dinners where everyone ignored the fact that you were almost Head of Aurors, and focused on Eva's collapsing career of Healer only to praise her, you had about enough and stopped attending. It had been two years since then, they didn't bother to write. Your dad occasionally sent you money in a horrible christmas card with an even more horrible pun written in red glittery letters that also sang Run Run Rudolph.

"Ugh, everyone's crowding the joke shop aga- oh." Aleyna pauses. "I'm sorry."

She knows about your past with Fred Weasley, considering whenever you rant about work it ends up with you cursing him and Eva out. He had such a blame-able face, just like Stacey from Magical Catastrophes.

You give Aleyna a look. "You act like I'm not a grown woman who can't get over something that happened eight years ago." you say, shaking off the small snow particles that begin to lightly fall. "You should be like this with, I don't know...my relationship with Theo! We broke up last year, why aren't you fragile with him, hmmm?"

Aleyna claps your back in a friendly manner all the same. "I know I know, but come on. This is childhood trauma we're talking about."

"Now that I think about it, seeing Eva's coochie was traumatic." you grin, and Aleyna's jaw gape even if she heard the story hundreds of times before. Not that Eva's...modesty was bad per say, just not a pleasant sight seeing as you guys grew up together.

Other than that fact, you hadn't talked, even seen Fred after the war ended. Sure, you occasionally stole glances at their very successful joke shop, but there was no point in dwelling and trying to fix an already withered away friendship.

You had fixed your relationship with Ron and Harry, having had no choice since the three of you worked together. "You were right ____, we were assholes. You don't need to apologize." they had told you, and that was that. The two families and well, you did weekly dinners and enduring the two men for Ginny and Hermione got easier as days passed, finally ending up in a good friendship like old times. It was casual between you, easy when no one mentioned how abruptly your friendship ended. No one dared to either.

Also, Harry was your boss and him remembering that you called him a drama queen wouldn’t do you any good in your career.

People bump at your sides as the two of you squeeze your way towards Sacree Fleur. The end of Voldemort brought a new, reformative era in the Wizarding World. Diagon Alley expanded, new buildings were built and culture grew. You were happy to see that Ollivendar's Wand shop renewed, along with other crumbling buildings that needed desperate attention.

Bandits lessened, and the utter arrogance some parents had by not sending their children to get magical education faded, partly because there was nothing to fear, and partly because more job opportunities arose, like said, money came easily.

Fleur Weasley, your good friend and someone who had done the impossible and won over a Weasley brother - though she was gorgeous and possibly the sweetest person you've ever met, so really they were perfect for each other - had decided on a whim to open a french restaurant. Bill couldn't say no to his wife, the rough man you had met years prior was softened with age and the struggle of raising children.

Good wine, deliciously soft steak that melts in your mouth and warm atmosphere that makes five o-clock feel like midnight. It’s by far your favorite restaurant and you'd much rather spend your Christmas Eve curled up next to a warm candlelit dinner on a terrace.

"Bonjour!" an obscenely attractive woman, Fleur greets the two of you when the revolving glass doors are pushed, and you break out in a wide smile seeing your friend at the door. "____, Aleyna! Come here, give me a big hug!"

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

With dopey smiles, the three of you embrace.The door closes on it's own, and you shiver unintentionally, just now realizing how cold it is. Usually the big marble fireplace keeps Sacree Fleur warm, but even that seemed not enough and the restaurant is adorned with small muggle heaters, floating up above the ceiling and adding to the red light of the candles.

"You'll see. Came at a most amazing time too, silly girl always knowing when to show. Saw all the juicy drama when you were younger..." Fleur continues to joke lightheartedly, pulling away and leading the two of you through occupied tables as she faux scolds. People are content, it feels warm and almost soft. Conversation seems to flow easily and the unease you feel for the Holiday melts. Almost.

You blech whenever someone brings up the line ‘love is in the air’. It never made sense to you, because love was simply a fairy tale that would wither away with time. Also, how could love simply float? Of course, unless you count Amortentia fumes - which yours always smelled like sweat and crushed hopes. So frankly, you prefer expensive Dior perfume in the air rather than love.

Though now you find yourself doubting whatever you engraved in that well protected head of yours, love is truly in the air at Sacree Fleur. All kinds of love, mothers lovingly wiping food off their children's mouths, happy newlyweds clinking their wine glasses together with nothing but adoration in their eyes, friends enjoying sharing a simple dinner far more than should be done.

"My family, they're upstairs having dinner. The kids like the ice cream here, Mr Fortescue provides it well."

"Family? Ginny and Hermione are here?" you ask, lazily climbing the steps to the second floor to reveal the more, private part of the restaurant. Now, instead of wooden chairs with red cushions attached at the middle, there stand long booths with comfortable blankets and pillows with empty, eerily clean tables - except one.

The long table near the terrace is much livelier today, people sitting there whom you consider your own family. The three post luster that hangs low from the ceiling is turned on - it’s the first time you’ve seen the glamorous glass orbs in action. Its light ricochets off of several bright orange heads, simply calling it a lamp does no justice. The hue is yellow, low and it reminds you of the Christmas Eve fantasy you planned.

Said orange heads turn at the noise of delight you let out. "Oh Fleur! This is gorge- oof-"

"Auntie ____!"

A pool of orange locks squish into your stomach, snug in the soft fabric of your coat and you let out a chuckle. You can’t help it, even if you would never admit, he’s your favorite by a small number that-

"Well well, if it isn't Teddy Lupin."

The small boy chuckles, hair matching your black coat like a chameleon sticking itself on a flower and absorbing the color of the petals. You ruffle Ted's hair as the orange fades, he’s delighted to see you, and so are you yet your attention is quickly cut off by several disembodied voices thrown your way.

Bill Weasley is standing up, wine glass on one hand while grinning wide. “Look who my dear wife brought in!” his tidy yet visible scar stretches when his face brightens, you remembered again that day, just how much love you have around you.

“Hey everyone, hope we’re not interrupting.” you apologize, wincing but Bill quickly shakes his head and pushes his chair back.

You waddle your way towards the marble table, Teddy following suit with his face still smushed in your coat. He grips you tighter and you have to peel his small little limbs off your legs.

Aleyna scoffs, arms crossing together as she surveys Ted. “The blatant favoritism!”

Teddy rushes on his little legs to jump in Aleyna’s arms, and only then are you able to acknowledge the other - a little less important - people in the room.

“Happy holidays!” echoes around your head as several people embrace you all at once, and you have to simply stand and awkwardly loop your arm around whoever you can get a hold of.

Once the formalities are over, Ginny throws her arm around your shoulder. The red tresses of her dress hike up her leg from her slightly bigger stomach, and you can see the small broom tattoo on her thigh that she loves to display like a trophy. “You should’ve told us you were coming! We would have saved you a seat.”

A round of yes’s resonate around the room, and you take a quick moment to scan who’s afternoon dinner you’ve just interrupted. Hermione, hand resting on her very pregnant belly, is smiling warmly at you, and Ron quickly shoots up from his seat and wipes his mouth to catch up to his wife. Harry follows in his friend's wake, his hair has a white streak at the front and you furrow your brows.

“Age catching up with you Potter?” you grin, rubbing Ginny’s back fondly before she separates from you and greets Aleyna. “Or is it the pregnancy?”

Harry scoffs, pulling you in his embrace for a quick friendly second. “Always the charmer ____. I’ll have you know I’m handling it wonderfully, right Gin’?”

Ginny pauses, “Erm, yeah…”

Harry’s face feigns faux disbelief, and it quickly melts as you bombard the man with questions about how Ginny’s first trimester is going. You mentally take note of asking Ron about Hermione’s as well, your two best friends are fucking pregnant. It’s almost too happy, and slowly the anxiety creeping up from your spine wraps around your throat, ready to suffocate you whenever.

It was always like this, the past ready to make it’s deathly move, because nothing is perfect. Happiness doesn’t come this easily.

And you’re right, because not only a minute after the warm embraces of your friends comes the voice of the person you’ve been dreading to see.

“____?”

And then, you’re suffocating.

He’s a man. Of that you’re sure, because now his muscles stretch well over his broad shoulders, maroon satin shirt loose on his frame, tight around his biceps - properly sculpted of course - portraying defined collarbones.

His eyes are somewhat duller, though the same glimmer of loveable mischief he always had is evident. It will never go away, even after all these years, yet it’s tamer. That mischief caused him quite the trouble back in school, and now it seems he knows when to act, when to speak and when to stay silent.

His silhouette catches you off guard, his features are sharper, much sharper than how much Harry has matured. His biceps bulge obscenely when he rests his - also generously sized you might add - hand on the table, and the table suddenly doesn’t seem that long.

His forearms, on display with his sleeves rolled up, glistens under the soft lighting of the balcony. Your eyes fall on his bracelet adorned right wrist, one of which in particular catching your attention.

He’s still wearing the bracelet you gave him.

His face, always glowing, wears a large expression displaying his set of perfect teeth. He’s awestruck, you think.

You watch him push his large body out of the small chair, and wow chest, is your only thought. Then further down and...god damn thighs. Burly thighs - probably very comfortable too - squeezed in black tight fit jeans, however he managed that you don’t know but it was nice to imagine.

He’s leaned back, casual as he strolls towards you in two large steps, his long sculpted legs never disappointing.

Fred Weasley is genetically designed to ruin you and your insides with just one look, and you’re ashamed to have realized it all too late because when he speaks again you swear you saw stars.

“Wow - you,” he breaths, walking towards you with slow, unsure steps. “Grew!”

You raise a brow, Aleyna snorts. Grew? His steps should be unsure, because you want him to take them back, sit his fine fit ass back on that chair and pretend he never saw you.

Because this wasn’t your plan for tonight, seeing him wasn’t in your checklist. You woke up today, thinking nothing but coffee and a stressful moving day ahead. Not of the boy - the man you’ve been in love with since childhood, the man you blamed for your problems as an excuse to hide the heart squeezing pain of loneliness, the man you hadn’t seen in so many years you forgot what his voice sounded like.

You could have never guessed, and now you want to go back. Somehow rewind the clock to this morning when you were safe of your tucked away feelings trying to bulge, safe in your own little circle. All your efforts of leaving your house just a little early so you wouldn’t run into Fred seems stupid now. Your strategy ran smoothly for five years, it could’ve ran for more.

You would have continued avoiding him like your life depended on it, and his stupid joke shop, and the way he stupidly looked at you everytime he saw you. You’re reminded again, because no matter how older he looks he’s still Fred, and he still looks at you the same.

“I mean - beautifully! Shit I - fuck.” he groans, and George claps his brother on the back with a chuckle. Wherever he came from, because you were so entranced by Fred that you didn’t see George standing tall next to his family.

“____.” George stops before you, hands in his pockets. it happens too quickly that you’re forced out of your panicked state.

You raise a brow, and only then - Fred’s out of view with George’s figure towering over you - are you able to find your voice. “George.”

He pulls you in his tight embrace, “How come you never visited!” he scolds, chest stretching back to bring you with. “You’d think she’d bloody say hello once in a while! Maybe drop by our shop after 5 years, you quack!”

“George - can’t,” you heave and your legs wobble when he sets you on the ground again. You clear your throat, grinning widely at your...friend?

It would be fair to call him an acquaintance, right? You don’t know where you stand with the twins but you have love for them. This is clear from the way you can’t stop smiling like a sappy idiot - or perhaps it’s because of how contagious George’s smile is. You thought they hated you, but the youngest looks anything but displeased. He gives you a squeeze again before throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“I thought - I dunno. I thought you guys didn’t wanna see me.”

George scoffs, “Because you told us off that one time in seventh year?” he laughs, arms folding and displaying a set of bulging biceps much like Fred’s. “Yeah mate, you’re not that intimi-“

“George Weasley, finish that sentence I dare you!”

His eyes grow wide. “Sorry Ma’am.”

Someone clears their throat.

It’s Frederick Weasley, probably here to beat you to death.

“Hey Fred.” you greet, mouth dry. Get a grip, you scold yourself.

Fred opens his arms, “Well well,” he laughs, pulling you into a hug with a polite smile. His cheeks tint red when you shuffle closer, you would have missed this but you’re a creep, and you can’t stop staring at the beautiful man before you. He displays his beautifully indented smile lines, as if he was saying look at me! I’m perfect and sexy, I also broke your heart that one time, too bad I had no idea!

And it’s true, Fred never knew about your feelings. You kept them well hidden and they ate away at your organs from the inside, there was no reason to blame him. The realization is probably what compels you to accept him with open arms and wrap them around his neck.

You feel him shiver, dismissing it quickly because of the cold.

He smells good. Way too good that you melt in his arms and let him engulf you in his dangerous warmth. Manly, musky cologne, mixing with hints of cigar smoke that lingers on only certain areas of his shirt. You recognize the scotch in his breath when he whispers how much he had missed you, and his nape still has that cinnamon deliciousness he would parade whenever he came out of the shower, you fought the urge to shiver yourself, and it’s not because of the cold either.

It’s dizzying, and before you can start a detailed essay about how good his muscles feel, firm and digging into all the right places, he pulls away.

The past hits you like a ton of fucking bricks and crumbles down the firm foundations of the walls you have been building for eight years. You feel guilty, have you learned nothing? The loud pounding of your heart is a warning, yelling at you to stop getting swept away. Yet you can’t control it, just like how you can never control your feelings.

“I missed you guys too.” you breath shakily, you have to make sure to keep your distance. For your own good, you tell yourself.

Teddy pulls away your attention, and you silently add buy Teddy an expensively dumb toy to your checklist.

He sticks to your leg and is adamant on staying there. “I grew taller.” he says, looking at you between his eyelashes. “He says I didn’t, but I know I did!”

You chuckle, ignoring how Fred looks at the boy with such a warm expression, ignoring the way your heart nearly catapults out your chest.

“Well, stand straight soldier!” you demand.

Ted immediately lets go of your leg and straightens, hand going to his forehead to salute you. A giggle escapes him when you bend on your knees and act like you have a measuring stick on your hand. “Oh yes yes, seven feet tall and growing.” voice mock deep, you nod sternly.

“By this rate - I’ll pass you! Hah!” Teddy stomps his little foot on the stone floor, little sneakers barely making a sound.

You stand up again and fold your arms, “Well, I grow too you know! You can never pass me.” smirking slyly, you egg him on to see how much he’ll endure before he demands a ride on your shoulders - because that’s how giants saw the earth he told you. You doubt giants compare to a twenty four year old woman with attachment issues

Ted stands on his toes, struggling to tug on your shirt and bring you down. “No, I don’t like this game anymore…”

“Alright alright.” and with that you pick him up and prop the little boy on your shoulders.

Ted happily kicks his feet on your chest and you groan. He’s supposed to be five, not a midget wrestler. “Easy buddy boy.”

“You’re amazing with him, little twerp barely lets me tie his shoes.”

Fred’s voice startles you, only now do you realize that he had been watching you and Teddy. Speaking of, Ted’s busying himself with your hair, small hands pulling and twisting locks and mumbling incoherently.

Ear tips slowly catching fire, you chuckle. “Buy him a broom at four and see how he handles it.”

Fred shakes his head, tongue poking at the side of his cheek and you remind yourself to breathe. “You spoil him then? They say the way to a five year old's heart is money.”

“Damn, I’ll drink to that.”

Nuff words said, everyone soon sits on their designated chairs, and you pull one from another table, being the uninvited one.

Aleyna isn’t slick, you knew she had something up her sleeve the moment she had offered to pay for dinner. Though, this is your fault. You let her without calculating whatever end result was waiting to catch you off guard and ruin your entire life plan to avoid Fred Weasley.

Being the snake she is, snake Aleyna enticed you with nice food, dragged you to Sacree Fleur and did her little snake magic.

Awkwardly angled next to your best friend, you chat with Harry and Hermione while they tell you what you missed from work. (Not that you missed much, actually nothing different seems to have happened other than boring paperwork and Mrs Newersman’s new hairdo.)

Swirling your wine in one hand, the reflection of Fred from the rim of the glass keeps distracting you.

He’s changed, not personality wise though there were tweaks. Nor looks, he’s an adult now and his boyish charm is gone, but it isn’t quite that.

You can’t put a finger on it either, and you watch him laugh, carefree with his sister.

He looks relaxed, or maybe it’s merely the wine. Is it - no, couldn’t be. He looks happy. Genuine happiness and adoration for whomever. Love in his eyes as he looks at - Ah. He’s looking at you.

You jerk your head away and tip your wine glass back to gulp down liquid courage - because you need it tonight.  This is bad, you tell yourself, kick you on the shin and punch to your gut bad. This can’t keep up or else you’re going to end up right back in that hollow pit of empty hope and gooey saturday lasagna.

“So, any plans for Christmas Eve ____?”

Ron’s timbre voice thankfully grips your arms and pulls you away from said hollow pit.

“Uhh what?” you cough awkwardly, setting your now empty wine glass down.

“Christmas Eve, what are you doing? Going back home?” Ron asks, raising a brow.

You can lie but something compels you not to, maybe it’s how warmly they always welcome you, how they’re welcoming you now with open arms and nice food.

You shake your head, answering honestly; “No actually, I’ll just celebrate with Jambo and Christmas movies.”

And that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your Christmas Eve these past few lonesome years. It wasn’t that lonely, you had Aleyna and people loved her bar, you’d drop by and count down with people you didn’t know, at least you got to kiss a random stranger.

“Jambo? He’s still alive?” Hermione chuckles.

“No no, this is Jambo Fitzwilliam the Second, who is also a cat but don’t you dare tell him that!” smiling, you joke lightheartedly to conceal the harsh news.

Your hand reaches to trace around your scar as you speak.You know their eyes follow, and you know they stare at it when you’re not looking. Teddy asked you one day, even after Ginny’s scolding but you happily told him your heroic story and how Bellatrix smelled like piss and rum.

Sighing, you set your hand on your lap.

Jambo had unfortunately passed away because apparently dogs couldn’t live two hundred years, which you were disappointed because clearly Dumbledore could. You had already grieved and mourned, it left you with the happiest memories of your precious dog and you were grateful.

“Poor kitty doesn’t know he’s adopted?” George frowns, banging his fist on the table.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure he’s caught on by now, he’s three.”

“So, you’re spending Christmas Eve alone?” Fred asks, too suddenly and you flinch. He probably sees this, his effect on you.

You nod, and your friends gasp. Surely it wasn’t that big of a deal, or maybe it’s because of how normal it felt for you to be alone.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Ginny says, hand shooting out to rub your arm.

“I’ve been trying to get her out for ages-“

“Aleyna, don’t.” you nudge her arm.

“No Aleyna, do!” Ginny protests. “You’re spending it with us and that’s that.”

“Wha-“

George throws up his finger to shush you, “No objections!” he declares fiercely. “We’re having a party at our flat and you both are coming!”

“Oh! Unless you and Blaise have any other plans.” Hermione’s quick to ask, she isn’t being slick though.

Aleyna chuckles, “We had dinner reservations but we can make it.”

Hermione grins, and you watch Aleyna pretend that she didn’t notice her friend ready to snoop in her relationship with an amused smile. Not that it matters - she and Blaise have that kind of love you hoped for as a young girl. There was truly no two other people so perfect for each other.

“How’s Blaise doing by the way?”

Aleyna takes a sip from her almost empty glass and tuts on the bitter after taste. “Amazing, actually. He just got promoted…”

Almost empty glasses are soon emptied bottles, and two steaks turn into a large brownie for the middle. You know that it’s a good meal, because as you stand outside in the midnight cold, arm around Aleyna, your legs wobble and your stomach aches from all the deliciousness you’ve consumed. More like inhaled, you only realized how hungry you were until the second steak arrived.

“Thank you so much you guys!” you wave your arm, overly theatrical, forgetting about what a day you’ve had.

Though, the thoughts catch up as you lay awake in bed.

It had gone by too quickly, and your heart is still beating louder than any chirping of the bugs outside. Your bedroom lacks furnishing, it only adds to your wild imagination. Your mind paints pictures on the blank walls as your eyes dart around, Fred didn’t look in your direction once that night.

Or maybe he did, only you didn’t see.

It’s strange, whenever you turned your gaze his way, he seemed to be busying himself with whatever, whether it be his fork or napkin. How interesting can a damn napkin be? Hopefully not any lesser than you.

And are you just going to ignore that goddamned bracelet? The one you carefully sculpted with beads in such a way that you were sure Fred would suspect at least a drop of your raging crush. He’s still wearing it, that piece of string and glass - the symbol of your love and effort - survived through a war.

Are you reading into things? Surely not, he greeted you as anyone else would. Or maybe he remembered - you don’t dare think of that night.

How can they act so normally, so brazen after everything? It’s been almost six years since you saw them, have they got nothing to say to you? Maybe an apology?

Frustrated, you turn to your side and force your eyes shut.

————————

When night bleeds into morning, every cat has a tendency to quip over to their owners on their cushioned paws - which makes no noise but simple claw scratchings on the floor.

Jambo’s no different.

So, you’d imagine the poor creature's shock when he finds your bedroom empty. If he’d bothered to check, you’re seated on your island stool, pen and parchment in hand and mug of hot coffee (instant given the circumstance) in the other.

You hung your new curtains this morning, and were making use of them by shutting them halfway on the hooks while your window stood half open. You watch the snow flurry outside and gulp. If this week was to go horribly wrong... at least you have nice curtains waiting for you at your ritzy new apartment.

Jambo wraps his tail around your dangling ankle like he always does and you barely hum in acknowledgement. He’s purring, and it brings you comfort even if it’s for a small moment. But your question still remains unanswered, What would a five year old boy want for christmas?

It had been exactly two days since Ginny invited you to spend Christmas Eve together, and you busied yourself with buying them gifts - a tradition you hated because 1. coming up with gift ideas is infuriatingly hard. It’s way too time consuming, nit picking every single personality and deciding what they’ll like and what they’ll pretend to like. Pretend like they’re going to use it, and then never touch it until that one very specific occasion.

Maybe it’s excessive, but you actually like these people. They somehow give you - a sad, lonely sewer rat that’d been a neglected child - joy.

And 2. you feel like those people you make fun of every Christmas. Though, somewhere deep in your heart, you know you enjoy being those people. You would never admit it though.

What? You actually relish in the idea that you belong to a group, and that said group causes you to carry out cliche holiday traditions?

Absolute blasphemy.

Finally deciding, you leave your apartment in warm but cher clothing. It isn’t as crowded this morning - or maybe it’s because it’s seven forty in the crack of fucking dawn. Though, with the amount of caffeine you’ve consumed, it feels like ten.

Would they even be open, you ask yourself, jogging quickly about the streets on your heels to avoid the cold. It’s Christmas, they have to be.

Of course your logic sucks.

Shivering, you round the corner tea shop and fasten your pace. Ass freezing, lip tucked in between your teeth, you realize you have underestimated the morning London cold.

Soon, thankfully, the giant head of George(?) you assume, comes into view. The animatronic is motionless, big porcelain eyes closed and displaying sinister gaping holes. You shiver, and not because of the cold either.

Keeping your eyes low on your feet, you push the glass doors of the shop open. You don’t bother to check the inside from the generous glass displays, it’s way too cold and you don’t want to spend any more time outside with the giant George doll.

A bell rings, a little jingle up above that puts a smile on your face. Jambo’s collar jingled like that whenever he got excited, whether it be a pesky squirrel ready to bum off your house food, or maybe a friendly one showing its face to piss off the house dog.

You sigh, and only then notice the delicious scent of fresh coffee roast. Invading through your nostrils and turning you into a drunkard, and you can’t help but gravitate towards-

Woah, you’ve had your coffee today.

“Who's here so early, couldn’t a man enjoy breakfa-”

You smile apologetically, it’s only natural that Fred just woke up. He isn’t a morning person, after years of knowing him you found out one way or another. In your case, he was mean to you and that’s when it clicked. Fred doesn’t like the early hours of morning, where his hair isn’t as tame and his lips feel like they’re about to pop. You find it charming.

“____?”, the man of the hour comes into view, standing at the top of the spiral staircase. The first step is a rung, rolling on the hinges of the wall's edges. The staircase rattles when Fred steps down, and you quickly jump forward in panic.

Mug in one hand, his fingers rake through his mussed morning hair then settles on the checkout counter. “Morning,” He smiles, and those dang smile lines greets you, as if they’re mocking you again.

“Morning, I know it’s early and-”

“It’s okay, have you had breakfast yet?”

Taken aback, you nod. Disappointment flashes through his face, and before you can analyze he straightens. Taking a sip of his coffee and humming, he fixes his pyjama bottoms. Red and checkered, loosely hanging from his hip and giving you a teasing view of his lower abdomen. “Can I get you anything?” he asks again, adamant on offering you something.

You shake your head no and you watch his face fall. Merlin, you would have come starving if it meant having breakfast with him. The view before you is enough to fulfill your darkest fantasies, and this is enough. Because you know that this is all you could get. His friendship.

But is it though? Is it truly enough? Will it ever be enough?

The questions that linger around your head have an answer that you wouldn’t dare set free. Everything you’re doing right now is wrong, how you’re standing in front of him, letting his delicious scent compel you further into him.

He smells almost alluring - he always does - less piquant than yesterday. Probably the after taste of neglecting a shower, yet his natural fragrance is just as charming. You remember those mornings at the Burrow when Fred stumbled down the stairs, sun early and bright, woken up just like himself. He smelled ama-

Woah, down girl.

Fred clears his throat, and only then do you realize how long it has been since you spoke.

“I need to buy something.” you blurt. Fuck, this couldn't get more embarrassing. “For Ted, his gift.” You finish lamely.

“Ah,” Fred chuckles, giving you a quick lookover. You flush. “You have come to the right place.”

It’s true, the shop is truly...something. A gateway to heaven for anyone twelve or younger. Fascinated, you take your time to linger your eyes on every little nook and cranny that catches your eye.

The shop feels much tamer without the telltale rowdy crowd, it’s almost comforting. You can really see a piece of each twin on each display, Fred’s being the Deflagration Deluxe. ‘A deluxe selection of Weasleys’ Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs’ read on the big cardboard. You chuckle, he always had a bag full of them that he carried around religiously.

“Those!” he exclaims, scurrying over to the display, “New and improved by yours truly.”

You chuckle, and Fred breaks out into a smile. “Here, I’ll show you around.” he mutters, before you can utter a protest, he takes your hand in his and drags you to a shelved corridor. “This is his favorite section, explosives and quidditch.”

You smile as you scan the heaps of colorful products lining the walls, all engraved with the shop's signature logo. Fingers coming out to touch a few, you subconsciencly swing your encased hands together. “These are real neat.”

Fred smirks, though his palms feel hotter than usual, “Not so much when he’s blowing up the bloody flat.”

You chuckle softly, eyes fluttering to imagine little Ted shaking up a pair of fireworks, unknowingly setting them off and resulting in a giant black mark on the ceiling. Because only that explains the small black stains on the walls of the shop.

“See anything you like?” Fred offers, almost in a whisper.

“No I,” you turn back to him, and something flashes between the two of you. “I’m still…looking.”

The air feels tense, warm, affecting your body. Your breath catches in your throat, Fred’s eyes bore into yours with such intensity that you don’t know what to do. Even your breathing feels on edge.

He moves closer to you and your heart flutters. His exhales hit your ear, only a breadth away from your neck and you flinch. Chills lift up the hair on your arms, “No...erm.” you mutter.

“Alright.” he says softly.

His eyes are hooded, displaying a perfectly long set of eyelashes.

How, is the question. They’re long and thick, and you’re jealous. Yes, you might have ruined yours with your curler but still, if you were born with eyelashes like that you wouldn’t even need a blasted curler.

“What are you thinking ‘bout.” he whispers, long digit lifting to stroke your cheek. So soft that you barely feel it, before he trails it up your cheekbones, to the panes of your face.

The same alarms blast in your ears, and you can’t ignore them this time. It isn’t that you don’t like this, on the contrary you’re ready to jump him.

“Eva!”

Fred takes a step back, face falling. “What?”

You shake off whatever just happened seconds ago and focus on reality. “Gosh, I forgot to ask.” you exclaim, over excited but at what cost. “How is she doing? Is she up there in the flat?”

Fred winces. “Actually-”

“I’m guessing you guys moved in together, after all those years you know. Don’t tell me you guys got marr-”

“____!” he takes a deep breath, “We broke up a few years ago.”

You freeze. “What?”

They broke up? “Why, oh Fred-”

Fred shushes you with a finger. Embarrassed, warmth spreads through you like a tidal wave. “I fell out of love, but it felt nice to have someone around, you know?”

You don’t say anything, yes you know but his loneliness and yours is much too different.

Growing up, Fred had the support of his family, he always had someone there. You knew it was bad to dismiss him like this, but the aching in your heart wasn’t going to allow him to speak like that. He always had someone affirming that it would be okay, someone to pat his back whenever he scored a goal through a hoop, whenever he got a good grade or did a cool trick with his broom. He still had them, even if he was at his worst. He had endless support. You didn’t.

It wasn’t easy after the war, living alone with nothing but the collar of Jambo gripped tightly in your hands. He had died shortly after Voldemort fell, and you had to hang onto the last piece he left until your agony died down. That was your only support.

Ginny, Hermione and Aleyna were there of course, but everyone's way of coping is different, and they didn’t understand yours nor each other’s. It’s worse to try and forget, run away from that fear because it would always catch up with you, and you found that the best way is to sit and feel.

But that doesn't mean your friends weren’t any less supportive. The after effects of the war were way more harsh on you than you let on, you were stuck on autopilot - a painful loop that made your life feel worthless. Work, money, survival - the three main aspects occupying your mind at all times. You didn’t have the love and attention to give to friends or a relationship (maybe that’s why it never worked out) but soon, Ginny and Hermione had reached out to you.

It was a simple letter delivered by their family owl Nebula - a descendant of poor old Errol. You remember tears pooling in your eyes when they told you how much they missed you, they gave meaning to your life. It was no longer the painful loop, they invited you over for dinner, visited every other day after hooking up your house Floo Network, you were always a welcomed guest in their homes.

They made you realize that friendship didn’t need much energy nor hard effort, just being there for each other was enough. Love for someone came naturally, and you didn’t need to extract some of your own self-love to give to others. They were two different things.

Skimming past that, you watch Fred show you three different options of Make Your Own Fireworks kits. You smile solemnly, accept a random one and quietly follow him to the checkup counter.

“So.” he starts, wrapping the product with the paper design you picked. “How about you, anyone special?”

Drumming your fingers on the counter, you shrug. “I dated Theo Nott for a year, I knew nothing would come out of it but like you said, nice to have someone.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Nott? Really?” he frowns. “Can’t believe that tosser managed to-”

You snort, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging, Fred hands you the package. “Nothing, it’s just that -” he pauses and his eyes look at you like you should know what he’s talking about. As if the two of you have some sort of telepathic connection, Fred was always like this.

He would look at you like you understood a word you said, even though he’s been silent for the past minute or so. He always struggled to express himself, and you’re sad to see that this habit followed him into adulthood.

Nonetheless, you smile. “Just that what?”

“Nevermind,” he sighs. “That’ll be twenty five galleons.”

“Twenty what?” Your eyes widen. “You heartless man!”

Fred gapes at you, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Twenty five, to your oldest pal? Twenty and a stick of gum.”

Fred pretends to think. “How about you keep the gum and give me twenty four.”

“Twenty two.” you narrow your eyes, leaning forward on the counter. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas!”

Fred scoffs,“I am giving you the holiday discount!”

Grumbling, you reluctantly stick your hand in your purse and take out your wallet. “I won’t forget this. You’re in my book.”

Fred gasped dramatically, “Not the book!” he exclaims, “Twenty two then, please for the love of merlin not the book.”

You lift your chin, head tilting to the side to survey him mockingly. “Twenty two it is, you won’t get away so easily next time.”

The two of you giggling, you pay him the money and leave a few sickles. “For the great service.” you say, him pretend-blushing at your words and tucking a strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear.

He speaks after some time, the laughter has died down and left it’s comforting after taste. “I missed you ____, why didn’t you visit?”

That turns the after taste into pure panic.

How can he ask that when the answer is so obvious. Fred’s still cruel it seems, he doesn’t bat an eyelash as he speaks. He knows the reason.

“Oh you know,” you start after some time, “Work and stuff.” you lie, and fight the urge to cringe at your words.

Though Fred doesn’t buy it, he doesn’t push it either. He simply nods, looking down at the checkout counter. You’re glad he’s avoiding your gaze, because it makes your departure much easier. “See you at the party Fred, thanks for the...uh. Yeah.” you awkwardly lift your bag up and give him a wave before pushing yourself outside. You can finally breathe.

——————

You look good.

Or, at least you think you do.

Blaise was arriving in exactly seven minutes and you barely just put on your dress. You’re sure of this because Blaise is always on time, he even has an unnecessarily expensive watch on his right hand that he obsessively likes to check. At least Aleyna’s into it, frantically trying to strap her heels, she’s wriggling herself towards the front door to somehow track her lover. You don’t know how love works, maybe they can smell each other from a mile away or something.

Shaking your head, you fluff your hair and wipe a hand across your under eye after wetting it with your tongue. You think Aleyna calls for you, you’re not sure because you’re too occupied trying to decide if you’re going to wear lipstick.

“Hey,” you walk out of your bathroom door and scurry towards her, “should I?”

Aleyna raises a brow. You scoff, “Stop doing that, you know I can’t raise mine individually.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem too if you don’t help me.”

As reflex, you roll your eyes. You only do this because you know it reminds Aleyna of that one chick from Blaise’s workplace - she knows no boundaries, apparently. It’s a shitty move, but it’s a shitty world.

Aleyna carefully inspects the two products you hold tightly between your hands. A simple shimmery gloss and a nude, almost dark red lipstick you stole - borrowed - from her. “Depends, who are you smooching?”

Throwing her an incredulous look, you hold out the two products on your palms. “I’m not smooching anyone.”

Unless of course Fred Weasley asks, if he does you would pull out makeup wipes from thin air and jump into his arms with naked lips ready to be kissed. Though, that’s only a fantasy and Fred is emotionally unavailable...scratch that, you are.

You’re not sure how tonight is going to end, and you can’t help but be aware of that looming clump of anxiety, clutching on your chest and refusing to let go until you're assured that it’s going to be fine.

“The gloss, just in case.” Aleyna stops your train of thought before it trashes off its tracks and crashes somewhere in Fred McDreamy land.

You nod, making no further inquiries and getting yourself ready as best as you can. Fixing your bodice and giving your scar a quick look, you finally hear the doorbell ring after a few long minutes, followed by Blaise’s deep voice greeting his girlfriend. You give the couple a few seconds to smooch - if you will, before walking back to the living room.

Blaise grins when he sees you, he’s wearing a sleek black suit with its first two collar buttons undone - you expect no less class from him.

“Happy Christmas!” you chime, pulling him into a hug and squeezing him tight just enough so you can whisper in his ear. “I hope you picked out the second ring, Zabini.”

Blaise swallows thickly before laughing, you know this because you physically feel him start to sweat. “I swear I did, don’t worry I have a plan.” he winks after letting go.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he loops an arm around Aleyna’s waist and pulls her by his side. “Only the best for my girl.”

Aleyna gives you both questioning looks.

You quickly clear your throat, “Anyways, let’s go before the serenading and the rose petals start.”

The three of you finally leave, the walk down your apartment building feels way too short, and the moment you exit you’re hit with the wonderfully chilly Christmas air.

For a moment, you forget where you’re going.

Lights are hung up everywhere, across shops, tangled through trees and some floating in the air. You can’t see the night sky, Diagon Alley has one of its own, adorned with radiant moons and luminous stars just bright enough for people to navigate themselves through crowds with zero accidents. It feels breathtakingly overwhelming.

Glass ornaments are charmed to fly across, a special show prepared by Madame Mulkin, and Mr. Eyelop tuned in by letting out a few snow owls rest around random trees to add to the warm atmosphere. There’s flavour wafting around the air, you inhale again to identify it better.

Speeding your way through - it hits you, gingerbread and chocolate.

You clutch your bag towards your chest, suddenly you feel disgustingly sappy. Though, you are in public so you decide to shake off that small warmth threatening your heart and continue walking towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

The walk towards the shop feels too short again, you almost check your watch to see if Hermione’s playing with the time turner again.

You almost turn on your heel, dump the bundle of presents you’ve bought on their front door and leave. You can, in theory, you’ve separated from Aleyna and Blaise midway through and you can just run and never look back.

Tough luck, when you walk through the generously decorated shop and up the stairs, you’re disappointed to see their flat door wide open.

You stare at it, it feels too inviting. Frank Sinatra blares through the walls, you can smell hints of incense, trailing through your nose and tickling you, causing you to sneeze. You were always sensitive towards smells, and it never bothered you until now.

“Bless you!” George Weasley appears, rounding a corridor and greeting you with open arms into his neat dress shirt. He hugs you like you’re family, and if you weren’t holding a sack like Santa Clause with his your jolly ass hanging on by the mere piece of fabric of your dress you would have hugged back.

“Thanks, Happy Christmas George.” you smile when he takes the sack from your hands and weighs it with raised brows.

“You didn’t have to buy anything ____!” he pats your shoulder, hand trailing to your lower back to navigate you inside. “We are the gift givers, you’re our guest.”

You chuckle, walking through the long entrance corridor, “Of course I’m getting gifts you quack.”

George scoffs, “Using my words against me now are we?”

When you gaze up at the famous joke shop as a little civilian in the streets of Diagon Alley, you don’t expect to catch the sight of a flat this large. You knew it was sizable since two grown men somehow fit and live there, but you underestimated just how successful Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was.

The floors are wood, clean with even several shoes stepping around, chattering with wine glasses in their wobbly hands. A bulletin board hangs next to a quidditch rack filled with different kinds of equipment - old and new.

Too entranced by the cozy interior, you don’t bother stealing glances at the bulletin board. The kitchen and living room are connected, yet they still somehow feel like completely different rooms. The den is lit up by a brick fireplace, lightly crackling and making the atmosphere all the more comfortable. The soft fur (faux you hoped, though Mr Weasley did have a muggle hunting rifle phase which you thoroughly discouraged) carpet tickles your ankles and you have to hold onto George’s arm for support

“Bevvy?” he offers you, holding out a pint beer glass and you shake your head, admiring the apartment further.

Most couches are leather yet they still look comfortable, the kitchen is big but not obnoxiously so, you can hear the clinking of a foosball table - commotion makes sense in their apartment - the wide living space narrows through a corridor, leading to what you assume must be bedrooms.

You’re glad Fred and Eva broke up, because you decide then and there that you’re going to visit the twins everyday despite your history, just to step into this apartment again.

“____!”

Angelina’s sweet voice causes your unease to vanish in an instant and you crush her in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas!” you smile, looping an arm around her shoulder and letting her guide you through the flat. “You changed your hair!”

Angelina nudges you with her hip, “Thank merlin you noticed, George is clueless.”

“Oh? George? You never told me - Hey Cho!”

You’re cut off by several familiar faces greeting you and telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you do, right next to Hermione and Ginny, two pregnant and fierce women that keep bickering with their husbands because of their weird cravings.

“I’m with you on this one Gin’!” you snort, eyeing Harry. You have a wine glass in one hand and the power you hold makes you feel too confident. “If the woman wants sausages marinated with toothpaste, she’s getting sausages marinated with toothpaste!”

Harry grumbles, “Will you please stop fueling this!” he protests, downing his drink and banging this on the table. “Look sweetheart, you wanted onions and mustard just a second ago so I got you ‘em, what made you change your mind?”

Ginny bangs her fist on the coffee table, in addition to Harry’s outburst. It seemed everyone was banging stuff on tables, so you do too.

“You think I know? Sod off or get me my toothpaste!” Ginny yells, banging another fist after you.

Harry kneels down next to the foot of the couch and holds his wife’s hand, gently massaging her knuckles. “We can’t get you toothpaste,” he says calmly.

“Why!” says Ginny, banging another fist.

“I think you know why,” says Harry.

“Stop damaging my property.” says George, materializing out of thin air.

You feel bad for Harry, you truly do but it only lasts for a second because this is even more entertaining than watching Aunt Muriel try to play foosball while shouting ‘Come at me you haired back marys!’

You’re enjoying yourself, the buzz, the warmth, the scent of fire. It’s comfortable and not at all like a party. It’s as if you’re visiting your friends for thanksgiving, homely and welcoming.

Though, the first crack forms when you see Fred, eyeing you from the small bar of their kitchen.

Dressed in navy slacks and a red, turtleneck sweater, he leans against the counter with a glass of Firewhiskey clutched on his big hand. He swirls it as his lips twitch, keeping his gaze set on you. His hair falls on his eyes, mostly pushed back but how strong hair gel can really be?

He looks good, way too good for a party. But it’s not the outfit, it's his entire presence. The way he holds himself, acts, speaks - shit, it’s attractive. He can do anything and he’ll always have that charismatic charm, it makes you feel envious, not to mention incredibly horny.

It’s Christmas, it’s a sacred holiday. You can’t let Fred sexy Weasley get to you, no matter how unapproachable and out of your league he looks.

You’re the bigger person - apparently - and you decide to greet him first.

You don’t know what compels you to do this, but it must be quite a strong force because you feel yourself start to quiver when you abandon your place on the couch. It’s so strong that your wobbly legs carry you while you push through tipsy friends and hold you up all the way to the kitchen area.

“Merry Christmas.” you croak, pulling him in a quick hug which he returns happily.

“Merry Christmas yourself.”  he smiles, gaze drifting lower to your dress only for a second before he swallows.

His signature cologne that you’ve engraved deep in your head this past week bursts out again. You smile softly, relishing in him.

“You look,” he seems to be giving much more thought on whatever he’s about to say, he settles on; “Beautiful, you’re, uh - the dress.” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” your face falls. The dress is beautiful, not you. Of course. “Thank you, I would say you don’t look too bad yourself but that would be a lie.”

Fred raises a brow, putting his wine glass on the bar with a clink before slowly turning on his heel. “Aw, cheers love.” he says casually, “Wore it for you,”

You raise both your brows, “Is that so?” you fight a grin.

“This little number is my lucky charm.” he smirks, pulling on his shirt. “Made women fall at my feet back in the day, maybe you will too.” he finishes, more bashfully than before. His cheeks are tinted pink and, now, for the first time, you feel clueless.

Your heart stutters when you speak, “Trying to butter me up Frederick?” you say shly, nudging the tip of his shoe with yours.

Fred winks. “And what if I am?” he suddenly straightens, arms folding together. His head bows as he continues with a smile, “I’m joking, got this a week ago for the party.”

You fight the urge to smile, “Ah, so not the chick magnet.”

“Well,” Fred laughs, “It’s still very wolfish.”

“Whatever you say, big ole pussy cat.” you pat him on the shoulder.

Fred scoffs good naturally, “Ah, you hurt my pride ____.”

When you don’t say anything, his gaze falls on you. He takes the time to look at you, really take you in and it makes your efforts feel appreciated for once. He takes a deep breath, head careening left for a moment.

“It’s not just the dress.” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes falling on your scar. “You really are beautiful.”

Your hand immediately flies to your brow, tracing a finger down the gash. It’s not as noticeable anymore and your hair grew back - thankfully - but the knowledge that it’s still there, parading itself to everyone makes you feel much more self conscious than you should.

Fred’s hand closes over yours and you freeze. “You might not think so, but not only is your scar a wicked bedtime story, it’s very attractive.”

Your ears feel hot, “You think I’m attractive?”

It’s a nice compliment - especially when it comes from a man like Fred.

“Do I think you’re,” he gasps, giving you an incredulous look. “Of course you’re - ! I mean you can’t be asking me that - are you, gah!”

A chuckle bubbles from your throat. It’s quite amusing watching Fred Weasley struggling to speak, clearly embarrassed. The knowledge that you made him this way, you were sleeping like a baby tonight that’s for sure.

“Look, ____. I actually wanted to tell you something really important.” he fidgets with his cuffs.

You furrow your brows, “Of course, what is it?”

“I used to, well I think I still do because it never truly went away but - okay, this is harder than I thought.”

You chuckle nervously. “Fred, you’re freaking me out here.”

You hear him mutter something along the likes of what’s wrong with me, until he speaks again.

“What I meant to say was, I wan-“

“Oh my god, ____, Fred!”

When you left your apartment a few days ago, your mind didn’t calculate the outcomes of meeting Fred Weasley.

The impact is so strong that it causes your past to - not flash, because this is painful - slowly start playing before your eyes, like a play you have to sit through because the seats were expensive, and the star of the show, the star of your own life is standing right in front of you.

She’s wearing a gorgeous, gold cocktail dress. The costume design is delicate, it’s the type of dress you flutter your fingers in (the fabric is ticklish and soft, you just had to touch it) before moving onto the next. The rack is full of other suitable options, because you know you can never wear a dress like that.

But Eva can. She was always gorgeous, you couldn’t compare.

Fred’s eyes are wide, the way he’s tugging on your dress makes worry wash over you. “Eva? Erm - who invited you?” His words sound more bitter than he intends them to, or at least you think so.

“Oh, is that how you treat guests around here?” she fucking giggles, playfully slapping his shoulder.

You can’t tell if she’s purposely ignoring you - you’re standing right there - or just forgot your existence after seeing Fred in those pants because sweet merciful heavens.

Fred shifts uncomfortably, “Right sorry well, Merry Christmas!” he’s back to normal, addressing her as he addresses anyone else you can’t help but smirk.

Of course, you immediately jump on this opportunity. Eva may have ruined most of your childhood, she may currently look gorgeous - mockingly so, but you’re not kids anymore. No matter how insignificant you feel, you still have your pride to protect.

“Merry Christmas,” you add, jumping forward. “How long has it been?”

Eva’s expression turns sour, though she conceals it quickly. “____! Oh I love your dress.”

She doesn’t wish you a merry christmas.

“Happy holidays Freddie! Where can a girl get a drink around here?” she squeaks? You’re not sure, her voice is too sweet and you don’t know how to act.

Fred grins, “Right there,” he points to a corner far away from the kitchen. “Lee’s in charge of drinks, I’m sure he can hook you up with something.”

Eva ponders, pausing for a beat. She’s expectantly staring at Fred, though when he shows no intention of accompanying her she gives you a menacing look and leaves.

You didn’t expect a big reunion because you saw Eva a few months ago at the hospital, you had sprained an ankle while training with Ron, and she tried to heal you before the Head Healer cut in and told her to take a walk.

Fred’s weight relaxes as soon as Eva’s out of view, it doesn’t take much to know something happened between the two - it wasn’t a harmless breakup like Fred had told you. You don’t push it though, if he wants to tell you he will.

“Well that was,” you say, and he hums in response, swirling his drink in one hand. You watch the gold hue with him for a moment. “Interesting.”

He snorts, “She drops by every Friday to give me green apples. I hate green apples.”

“How long did you guys date?” you can’t help the words that tumble out of your lips.

He stares at you for a moment, you swear his lip almost twitch in a smile before he clears his throat. “Three years, I thought I loved her for a year.”

“Well what changed your mind?”

Fred looks at you like you just asked the dumbest question a joke shop owner could hear. “You, daft idiot, you did.”

“Wha-” you stammer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Fred groans. “I need a drink.” and with that, he leaves towards where Eva previously walked on her precious Chanel heels. Leaves you alone.

It wasn’t like you called the man's family a disgrace and cursed his entire bloodline. Confused, you decide that maybe you need a drink as well to survive this night.

Everyone you had talked to so far ended with a disagreement, except George because he probably felt bad for you and your huge red gift sack. Embarrassment fills your cheeks as you walk towards the beverage table, you shouldn’t have come tonight.

The cherry on top gets dropped on the shit sundae when Eva Burke bumps into your shoulder and causes you to spill your drink.

“Oops! Babe I’m so sorry,” She pulls a red cloth from the glass table filled with different types of intoxications and rubs it on the fabric of your dress, further ruining it.

Embarrassment turns into frustration, this turns into pure anger. You see red.

You snatch the cloth from her hands and lightly push her forward, Eva dramatically - and very theatrically - falls on the ground with a yelp.

“Oh get up!” you hiss, throwing the cloth on the ground.

Eva scrambles to her feet, holding her right ankle with dainty, perfectly manicured hands. “Oh, now we’re turning to violence are we? Some things never change.”

You let out a frustrated grumble, stumping your heel on the ground. “I really don’t have time for this Eva.”

“We’re just talking babe, I don’t understand why you’re so upset over this.”

“I’m not upset, I’m tired.” you sigh.

Suddenly with her magically healed ankle she trudges forward. “Is it the dress?” she pouts, bending down to eye the splotch on your chest. “I can pay for it, say...two sickles?”

Your eyes narrow, “How about this, you show me how your career is going and I’ll decide if you can afford a wash.”

Eva barks out a laugh, “How about this, I’ll show you a family picture album.”

Gasping, you hold back the urge to slap her. You never expected Eva to stoop this low, and you know you shouldn’t be upset over it but it hurts. It hurts how easily she can use your family against you with no remorse.

Beyond pissed, insulted and done with tonight, you pull out your wand and get ready to apparate. This time it’s not to run away, nor do you feel like a coward. You feel tired, using your palms to press into your temple and relieve your throbbing headache.

Eva grips your wand and tries to pull you forward with failed force. “Let’s get this straight, Fred’s not interested in you.”

“And you think he’s interested in you?” you laugh, “You broke up remember?

Eva flings her long hair back, “And I’m gonna get him back. No one breaks up with me.”

“So, you're still a narcissistic bitch.” you smile.

“And you’re still pathetically clinging onto whatever I touch.” She takes a step forward, and it hits you then and there that you aren’t going home sooner or later. “Wanna know why we broke up?”

You hold your breath, her perfume is too sweet and you can’t process her words.

“He caught me cheating.” she smirks. “And he still begged me to stay, after all that.”

Your nostrils flare, and you’re about ready to punch her. You’ve never seen someone so prideful, so proud to have done something so obaminable. But it doesn’t surprise you, you pity her.

“Some loser from the bank.” she mockingly wipes a nonexistent tear with her jeweled wrist. “See, that’s the difference between me and you ____. “

You almost scream bloody murder. “Oh do enlighten me.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched but you don’t seem to care.

“He begged me, not you. He’ll never want you. You’ll always end up with the leftovers ____, accept that.” she hisses, taking another step forward.

You don’t know what you’ve done to the woman standing before you with nothing but red fire in her eyes, she looks ready to pull out your hair follicle by follicle, yet it makes you smirk. With a shit eating grin on your face, it hits you. “I knew it.” you laugh.

Eva stutters, “What?”

“Why you’re actually delusional to think he’s taking you back.”

“Oh but he will.” she protests, stomping her heel.

“No, he won’t.”

When you see Eva stay quiet, you continue. ”You grew up spoiled rotten, your parents love you, hell my parents love you, you always had the most friends and always got your way.”

She smirks, you’re tempted not to continue but years of pent up anger is ready to burst through your chest. “Yeah, jealous are we?” Eve mocks, and you quiver as you speak. Stating the obvious doesn’t hurt you anymore.

“No, because you grew up thinking everyone will love you, no matter how wrong you are, or what horrible things you do, you’ll always think that people won’t stop being by your side.” you shake your head, tutting. “But you’re wrong. I guess that’s what too much love does to you - you think a simple sorry will fix what you did? Because no, it won’t.”

“Oh stop it, Fred wants me back, it’s painfully obvious.” Eva speaks, but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“I’ll make it clear for you.” you smile. “Fred won’t take you back for cheating, you won’t get a second chance in your career, and you sure as hell won’t be getting an apology from me.”

By now, you don’t care who's listening, because they are. Oh, they’re eating this kitty fight up like free dessert Monday at Fleur’s. Your childhood friends are watching you with intense, widened eyes. And somehow, in a cruel, wicked way, you feel satisfaction. The harsh words slipping out of your lips like nectar, in comparison to the way they slap Eva across the face fills you with nothing but disgusting satisfaction.

Sure, it’s immature and yes, you could’ve worded everything much better to be even more impactful, but the way her eyes are bloodshot and vengenceful, it’s enough for you.

Eva grits her teeth, and you know she doesn’t have much to say. “I don’t need an apology from you, ____.” she speaks, and her next words cause you to freeze, because no matter what wrong doing, she’s still right. ”You’re right, I might not be forgiven, but in the end I will always be better than you. People will always favour me more and you can never change that.”

You try to lunge forward, teeth gritter. With harsh impact, you topple backwards. Strong arms are wrapped around your chest, holding you back from gouging Eva’s eyes out with the toothpick from the martini glasses.

“Nice weather we’re having,” Fred says, a deep rumble coming from his chest and against your back. You fight the urge to shiver, though you’re way too angry to be thinking of how good he smells. “Why don’t we sober up sweetheart.” he asks you, whispering.

“No!” you shriek, struggling to move forward. “This isn’t over until I break her nose!”

Eva laughs, “Oh come at me, babe! Let’s see what a traumatized neglected child can do, yeah?” her eyes flash.

A deep, growling of distress leaves you. “Oh let me go! Let’s see what a filthy adulter can do!”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you know!”

You groan, “Heaven’s above let me go Fred.”

Eva takes two steps forward before Lee grasps her arms. “But these things happen for a reason!” her shrill voice causes you to wince.

“Yeah, you!” you cry.

Eva shrieks, lunging forward in an attempt to reach you again, and at that moment Fred seems to have about enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” His stern voice causes you to flinch, muscular arms still holding you close to his chest, he yanks you backwards and starts walking towards the corridor. “That’s enough with the both of you, Lee take Eva outside, get her some fresh air.”

——————

Fred has the decency to take you to his bedroom rather than toss you outside like he had done with Eva.

If the situation was any different, you’d be over the moon right now. Alone? With Fred Weasley? In his big bedded, fireplace occupying, additional bathroom having bedroom?

Said situation did not have you sitting on a leather rocking chair, big mug of coffee in hand while Fred lectures you like a parent. Actually, you wouldn’t know.

You’ve been quiet for the past fifteen minutes, too scared to say anything and anger him further. You knew how much this party meant to him, and you had ruined it with your childish, pent up jealousy. It wasn’t just you per say, but you had let Eva get to you.

“Can’t the two of you act your age for one fucking second,” he groans, hand propped against the brick fireplace. “I know how infuriating she is, but you-” inhaling sharply, he strides towards you. “Say something will you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she cheated?”

Fred’s expression softens. “What?”

You gulp, you shouldn’t have brought it up when he was agitated, but you can’t listen to him while the words echo around your head. You feel awful, insensitive, anything else to call yourself that makes you feel better towards your lack of judgement. “She cheated, you didn’t tell me. Why?”

Fred pauses, after what feels like a seconds he bends down on his knees in front of you while you watch him, engrossed.

“Been waiting for you to bring it up.” he chuckles, his smile disappearing in an instant. His ginger locks hang in front of you and you realize that his shampoo, like the rest of him, smells amazing. You fight the intense urge to card your fingers through.

“Merlin, I just,” he meets your eyes. “I felt ashamed.”

Suddenly standing up, your hands flail. “Why?”

Fred stands up as well. His stance alarms you, arms wrapped around himself, brows furrowed and defensive. “Not ashamed because of you, because of myself.”

You take a step forward when Fred indicates that he’s going to continue. “I thought you were going to judge me. Bloody coward, can’t even break up with his cheating girlfriend.”

You scoff, “Fred, I’ve known you since I was eleven. Sure we had some tough times but do you really think that low of me?”

Now he scoffs, it’s nothing short of mockery. “Tough times my arse. You avoided us like the plague, ____.”

“I had my reasons,” you raise your voice, wincing slightly and it only fuels Fred’s anger.

“Proper liar you are, you didn’t even write, or even just explain why you suddenly walked out.”

You don’t feel ashamed for what you did, it was for your own good. Though, Fred’s right. You never gave a proper reason other than those childish insults at Hog’s Head. But now, with your head banging, you can’t think logically.

“Again.” you grit your teeth, words spilling between like venom. “I had my reasons.”

Fred quickly stalks towards you, enough so you can reach a hand, grab his jaw and smash your lips against his. But you don’t. “Excuse me for not giving a rat's arse about your reasons, do you know how worried I was!”

His words pull a small gasp from your lips, you refuse to believe him. “If you were so worried, you could’ve spoken to me all those years. How about that summer huh? I stayed over.”

“But I did speak to you!” Fred shouts, and your fists clench. “You were a bitch to me, remember?”

Your groan is filled with contempt. “You take that back!” your fist lifts to smack him on the chest, and you curse his overwhelmingly hard and attractive biceps. Shit, you really shouldn’t be feeling like this during a fight.

“You wanna know why I did all that?” you cry out, tears ready to strain your cheeks but you won’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

“Oh do tell?” he seethes, grasping your fist in a quick motion and holding it beside him before you can smack his chest again. “Merlin woman keep your-”

“Because I was in love with you, you dickwad!”

Fred freezes - second time that night.

Your heartbeat pounds against your chest, you feel vulnerable. Oh so vulnerable and stupid, you shouldn’t have said it.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You should have just kept your stupid mouth shut, dragged your stupid ass back home and took a stupid shower.

But it was too late.

Fred takes a slow step back, continued by several until he’s on the other side of the room with his arms propped against a wall, head hanging low. He’s breathing heavily, you’re finally crying.

“So you aren’t going to say anything?” you yell, stomping your heel on the ground. “Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you and Eva all those years, you wouldn’t even look at me.” you choke on your sobs, remembering everything. The painful memories, the emotions hit you like the Ford Angelia with Ron behind the wheels.

“The Yule Ball, I saw you two together. It hurt so much and I cou- umpfh”

You almost swallow your tongue.

Soft lips, those are the only words writing out in your mind. Fireworks erupting around the letters and causing shivers to run around your entire being. Taken aback, you can’t move until your mind processes that Fred Weasley is kissing you.

Fred groans, opening your mouth with his and grazing his tongue against your bottom lip. It’s so gentle that you doubt you feel it, until his hand grips the back of your head and presses you against him harder. Now you can taste the wet, warm feel of his tongue against yours, the certain flicks of the tip gracing your own.

He pulls back only slightly, panting against your lips and causing your breaths to intermingle intimately. “The Yule Ball,” he starts, going back in for another, hurried kiss.

“She told me, you - closer.” He yanks you in by your waist with his other hand, palm gripping your ass and kneading it with vigour.

“Told me she saw you with someone else,” he pulls you closer when your hands wrap around his shoulders. “It broke me ____.”

“Fred,” you sigh, gripping on his sweater tighter.

“That’s Freddie for you, love.”

Heat curls in your lower belly. His lips are on yours again, begging you for something you didn’t quite know yet. “Freddie,” you chant.

“That’s right.” he chuckles lowly, his rumbling voice against your chest.

You merely shiver, latch onto the tufts on his neck and anchor him lower to your lips until your lungs are overwhelmed with nothing but slow, languid kisses. Fred kissed really good - oh who were you kidding, he was the best kiss you’ve ever had. It’s addictively so, and you chase his lips when he pulls away.

“I,” he breaths, whispering. “I was so devastated by what Eva told me,” he hugs you tighter. “I loved - still love you so much, I didn’t know how to cope.”

“You love me?” Now, there’s more tears. You aren’t sure if they’re of pure joy, frustration or the ache between your legs. “For how long?”

“Since third year,” he murmurs against your cheek, breathing in your scent and shakily exhaling. “I still wear the bracelet, never took it off.”

“I saw,” you nuzzle your head in his chest, your heart feels like it’s about to burst. “It made me so happy, I thought you would have lost it by now or something.”

“Oh Flower, there you are hurting my pride again.”

The nickname knocks all the breath out of your lungs. You only hug him tighter, not daring to mention that throughout these years you flinched whenever someone said flower, or how you simply refused to visit any flower shop. Yes, it did cause problems during holidays and of course, funerals but at least your Disney gift cards contained sentiment.

“I wasn’t with anyone during the Yule Ball.” you mutter.

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?”

Fred shivers. “I didn’t know back then, Merlin if I had…”

“You’re an idiot.” you chuckle, hurriedly wiping away the drying tears from your cheeks.

“That’s right,” Fred rasps, pulling your face towards his. “I’m a stupid, stupid prat.”

That was, if the loud countdown roaring outside Fred’s bedroom door didn’t ruin the most pleasurable lips you were going to taste - yet again.

Your eyes widen, Fred whines and pulls you back into his arms but you’re already rushing to the closed door. “We’re missing the count down!”

“Oh come one,” Fred steps behind you, hand over yours to grip the knob. You struggle under his hold and try to turn it. “I’ll make you count, hop on the bed, love.”

You have to gulp down nothing but air to keep yourself at bay. God, yes, you would have shouted, stripped naked and let him have his way with you.

But you can’t, not with your friends right outside the door, slightly tipsy and merrily counting down from ten. Speaking of, they’re nearing seven - you have exactly seven seconds to push Fred off and throw yourself outside.

Six seconds until you turn the knob and ignore Fred’s protests, five until Harry and Ginny throw their arms around your shoulders, four until George decides not the comment on you and Fred’s flushed appearance, three until Fred does, two until you’re suddenly pulled forward - one, Fred’s kissing you in front of his friends and family.

Fuck.

It was that one, long second that Ron lets the confetti burst in utter silence while everyone stares at you. It’s a quick yet passionate peck - enough for couples to abandon their new year's kiss and focus solely on yours.

“Finally!” George yells.

Ginny cheers after his brother, “Took you ten bloody years!”

Last of the Weasleys, Ron, gapes. “When did that become a thing?” he mutters, completely oblivious but still happy nonetheless.

If Hermione and Ginny hadn’t swept you away, you would have spent your night glued to Fred’s side, demanding to show him off after all those years of pining.

Your two friends keep asking questions - not overly detailed considering Fred’s Ginny’s older brother. Your lips hurt from smiling by the end of your overly exaggerated story,

The end of the night brings tranquility over the apartment, after presents are ripped open and everyone says their goodbyes, you’re left alone the twins, helping them clean the flat with quick flicks of your wand.

Your watch reads one thirty, you need to leave soon. Aleyna and Blaise hadn’t shown, which only means the proposal was a success. You want to go home and congratulate them, but also spend some time with Fred.

Fred himself is busy wiping pint glasses and lining them neatly in empty cupboards. The both of you keep stealing glances at each other, and it would have been more romantic if George would stop scoffing whenever Fred bashfully smiled in your direction.

“____.”

You hum in acknowledgment, watching Fred’s back shuffle as he washes the dishes.

“Thanks for giving a hand, you didn’t have to.” George smiles kindly, hands tucked in his pockets.

You smile back, “Oh it’s alright.”

“I just wanted to apologize.” he looks down, it isn’t the dorky shyness George casually sports at times, he looks sorrowful.

“For what?” you ask, lips lowering into a frown to match his.

“For being a git all those years back. I was young and a shit head. I’m sorry.” he sighs, leaning his shoulder on the wall.

You chuckle, just the familiar voice of George resurfaces pleasant memories you wished you never forgot. “It’s alright, I’m over it.”

“Really?” he raises a brow. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself personally. Go on, give me a smack or something.”

“I’m not smacking you George.” you say, you make sure your tone sounds playful to put his mind at ease. “We all had our issues, I probably should have talked to you guys instead of just storming off. Partly my fault.”

George smiles, “It wasn’t your fault, but I’m glad you can forgive me.” He squeezes your shoulder in a way to reassure you, while it feels like he needs it more. You nod fondly.

“And about Eva, we didn’t really like her, y’know. She told us that you needed space, and that we should leave you alone. Just now realizing how rubbish it sounds.”

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles again, much more genuine like you prefer and pushes himself off the wall. “I better get some sleep,” he glances at Fred, “leave you two alone. And ____, please don’t distance yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Your lie slips so easily.

It’s the welcoming silence that accepts your doubts with open arms - everything was happening overwhelmingly quick, or was it just your fear of being left alone again?

You smile at George when he retires to his room, it’s more of a constipated grimace but George seems to have bought it.

You take this time to finally think, let your protective walls analyse what the fuck happaned in the last five hours because it was too good to be true. Fred couldn’t simply love you that easily, after everything he did. It didn’t explain why he started dating Eva without consulting you first, or how he was with her that night after the Yule Ball. If he loved you this much, why would he bury himself between her legs, abandon you in the hollow halls of Hogwarts? Why would he believe her so easily?

“____.”

Even his voice sounds distant. You can’t tell if it’s him speaking or your past.

“____, darling.”

Nope, that’s definitely Fred. His frustratingly sexy cologne is mocking you like every other amazing aspect this man has.

“Huh?” you snap out of your thoughts. “Oh, yes hello.”

Fred tilts his head to the side, expression softening the moment you speak. “You okay? Something on your mind?”

You tentatively shake your head. Fred sighs and reaches out to stroke your head - you close your eyes but the feeling of his calloused hands never show.

Eyes fluttering open, you realize your fears are coming true. He’s going to tell you that he changed his mind, that he doesn't love you and this is all a big mistake.

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks alight. You hold in your breath, ready to face the truth.

Fred’s silent; he’s doing that thing again. The thing where he somehow magically thinks he can communicate with you without saying anything.

“Fred,” you sigh, and his face drops. “Why did you date Eva if you loved me so much?”

There, you asked it. Because if you hadn’t, it would haunt you for the rest of your days, crawl around your heart like an infectious disease. You have enough of those, you don’t want another.

Fred breathing sputters, he looks at you like you know the answer. “Because…it was the closest thing to you I could have. I know it sounds awful-“

“Yes it does, and stupid!”

“I know!” he exclaims. “I didn’t know how to cope, she gave me the affection I longed to get from you.”

Your eyes start to swell, the sentence should make you remotely happy but it doesn’t. “Why did you stay with her for so long?”

“Look.” Fred cups your face, breathing heavily. “Yes, at first it was because I was petty. I thought you were with someone else that bloody night, I was heartbroken and needed a distraction. She was the closest thing.”

“That doesn’t explain the rest-“

“Let me finish!” He sounds earnest, adamant on wiping all your doubts and replacing them with nothing but his love. If only it was that easy.

“I can’t do this tonight Fred-“

“Please just call me Freddie.” he whimpers, kissing your cheek harshly. He stands there, face close to yours like if he let go you would leave.

I“I’m tired, I have a headache and my feet hurt.” you’re crying, again. Nothing out of the ordinary considering you’ve been doing it damn well for the last eight years.

“Stay over the night, it’s late. I’ll make you some chamomile, you always loved chamomile. Please.” Fred begs, lips against your cheek and you can feel the wetness of his own tears. His forehead presses against your temple. “Don’t leave me again.”

Your heart aches, it’s the most painful kind of hurt you’ve been dreading to feel again after all these years. This was worse than the neglect of your parents, the pain that night in the Burrow caused, watching Fred introduce Eva to his mother. This was why you’ve been avoiding him.

Because this time you know what to do, you know what’s for the best and it takes all of the protection you’ve built for yourself to push Fred off. Now, there’s none. Now, you’re standing before him, vulnerable and all your emotions on display.

“Goodnight Fred, merry christmas.”

This time, the door you walk out of feels much smaller and suffocating.

————

It’s ironic how the weather matches your mood for six days.

Saturday; clear skies with a blizzard hidden beneath the clouds. Aleyna’s engagement celebration. Show up with puffy eyes enough to make you blind, sit through nice dinner without crying, eventually start crying when she shows you the ring, act like you’re crying because you’re happy, get snot all over Aleyna’s ring, walk home while the storm finally presents itself and tells you that you’re a miserable piece of shit.

Sunday; small flurry. Spend your day weeping quietly and eating leftover takeout while browsing through your tv cable. Eventually watch a romantic movie, weep more.

Monday; cloudy, soft breeze. Cry more, hug your slightly overweight cat and get dragged outside by Aleyna because she figures out that you didn’t sob in front of an entire restaurant because your best friend was getting married. Sit at her bar, drink beer and stuff your face with cornish pasties while you tell her what happened, until you eventually pass out.

Tuesday; cloudy and dark. Spend your day thinking if you’ll ever be loved again. Regretful, pained, hungover and miserably under caffeinated.

Wednesday; crazy fucking blizzard that catches you so off guard you forget you ruined you chances with Fred Weasley for a moment. Aleyna tells you how stupid you are, you realize how stupid you are, then find out Aleyna is more of a snake than she lets on because she lets you eat a whole pack of doughnuts and that amazing Shepherd’s Pie her mom makes.

Thursday; clear skies. Not a cloud in sight. Your head is unusually clear, maybe too clear because you forget to feed Jambo and take out the trash. You think about running back to the joke shop, tell Fred you love him and that you don’t give a shit about the past anymore. But you don’t.

And now it’s Friday. You’re sitting on your bed, Aleyna in your closet, flinging clothes at you for you to try on because she insists you go out. It’s been a week since you walked out on Fred, again, and perhaps made the biggest mistake of your life.

“Stop wasting away your pathetic life here and do it outside!” she yells, voice getting closer when she comes into view.

“Aleyna, I’m really not in the mood.” you dismiss, laying back on your bed. “I just, should I go to him?”

Aleyna groans, pained. “Merlin forbid, this is the millionth time you ask me. I tell you yes, you don’t do it.”

“What if he says it’s too late, and it is! I don’t deserve-“

“Shut up. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. What matters is that you need to at least try.”

You need to at least try. Aleyna’s voice echoes around your head after she leaves and you're back to your routine. Get up, brush your hair because the tangles bother you more than you let on, (and sometimes your teeth, if you feel like it.) then stay in your pyjamas all day while lazing around your apartment. You’ve started making coffee for yourself again, which is a small step but still encouraging. Plopping down on your couch, you sigh. Jambo follows, leaving fur floating around the air in his wake.

Love To Love You Baby by Donna Summers plays softly in the background, your magic radio is mocking you yet again on how single and sad you are. Especially after how long it has been since you’ve had sex. It’s painful, but you can’t help but think of Fred whenever you try to at least relieve some stress. Of course, this ends with you curled in a corner and crying, it’s frustrating how much he turns you on, and now knowing you can never have him-

Jambo’s loud meow reminds you that you haven’t brushed him today and you slowly get up, striding to the kitchen. You try to relax your mind but your chest feels even tighter with your effort. Your house is an organized mess, you didn’t bother cleaning up throughout the stages of your grief.

You should talk to him. You should go outside, get fresh air, make out a game plan and at least talk to him. Fred’s kind, the funniest, most lovingly stubborn man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t deserve what you’re putting him through. You don’t want to leave things so bittersweet again, you want to keep seeing George, even Fred if time allows.

The pain of your past doesn’t allow you to follow your desires. You hate yourself for it and it’s only a matter of time before you break and go back to your old, quiet self. It’s as if the past got your wrists on lock, holding you back whenever you try to sprint free and love again. You thought Fred would have unlocked the chains and swept you away, but that was before you decided that he shouldn’t.

Gripping the fur comb on your left hand, Jambo watches you walk over to him with big eyes. He looks triumphant, lying on his chubby stomach and readying himself for the brush of his three year life.

Knock Knock

Perhaps this is why Jambo hates Aleyna. You chuckle. “Sorry Bo, give me a minute. She probably forgot her coat again.”

You put down the comb and rush over to the door. Not bothering to check through the peephole, you fling the door open while laughing. “Forgot your condoms or some-“

By the look Fred gives you, you’d think he hits it raw.

“Fred.” you whisper, frozen with your hand gripped on the handle.

He looks haggard, eye bags under his eyes with slightly damp hair sticking out obscenely from the sides. It looks longer, or perhaps it's the way he quickly runs a hand through it and smooths it back. You probably look no different, yet Fred still looks unfairly handsome, eyes dripping with honey and curved bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take in his appearance. He’s wearing a simple black pullover with a pea coat messily tucking in the material of his hoodie. You can see the after effects of the snow outside visible on his grey sweatpants, you can’t tell if he came to your house straight after working out for…however long he works out to have thighs like that.

“Can I-“ he gives you a look over and you blush. There’s a hundred different things you want to say, and you merely stay quiet and look at him with hopeful eyes. Coward. “Can I come in?”

You step aside wordlessly. He takes one, big step and he’s inside. Cursing his giant legs, you close the door behind him.

“Wow,” he clears his throat, looking around your apartment. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

Fred’s hand twitches when he hears your voice, as if he hadn’t heard it since he was a child. As if he was hearing it for the first time.

As soon as he steps in, his cologne engulfs the air around him - as if he’s marking himself in your house and leaving his delicious after taste. You would tell him he smells amazing but the air between you is too tense to say anything but;

“Fred I-“

“I wanted to-“

Fred breaks out into a smile, and you follow. It looks like a grimace, a hopeful one though. “I wanted to apologize.”

Your heart swells. You know it shouldn’t, because you don’t deserve an apology but the fact that he thought of you makes you feel like you have another chance. Of course you do, the poor man walked over to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. There’s got to be something there, right?

“Fred,-“

“No, let me finish this time.”

You stay silent.

“Been trying to think of the right ruddy words to say this past week but fuck that.” he growls, shrugging off his coat when you offer. “I’m not waiting any bloody longer.”

“I admit that at some point,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “I had feelings for Eva. That’s why I didn’t break up with her. It was well after three months of us dating and I thought I moved on.” you usher him to sit down, quickly following behind. Your legs feel wobbly as he continues.

“That’s why I didn’t break up with her, and I won’t deny that what I had with her was nice, but it wasn’t you. No one ever compared to you ____. I was fine until you decided to stop being our friend.”

“I didn’t decide that, It was something I had to do.” you defend fiercely, sitting next to him on the bar stool of your kitchen island. Damn rich apartments.

“I know that now, but at that time I thought you hated me. I clung onto Eva because I thought - seeing as she was your childhood friend - we’d be friends again.”

You scoff. “Look how that turned out.”

Fred raises a brow.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I started getting over it until that summer happened. It killed me to see you again, that’s when I realized I could never stop loving you. I blamed myself for everything, for fucking up all my chances even though I-“

You put a hand on his shoulder, “Freddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pauses, squeezes your hand and gives you a wide, hopeful smile that punches you right in the heart. His head dips down to rest on your shoulder and he sighs. “You called me Freddie.”

“I did.” you smile.

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept avoiding me. With the war and everything I just couldn’t, especially after that near death thing.”

“Near what?” You gasp.

Fred chuckles, as if it was no big deal. It makes your chest ache. “I got trapped under a wall, Georgie saved me. Owe him my bloody life. Took me sometime to get over it though, those were the times I needed someone the most.” he takes a deep breath before continuing.

“It was around those times that I found out Eva cheated on me. She was acting dodgy the past few months, and I feel awful for feeling relieved when we broke up.”

“But, that’s not your fault.” you sigh, hand caressing his back gently. He relaxes at your touch and a smile tugs at your lip at this. “You don’t owe Eva a damn thing. It’s okay to feel like that, because I do.”

Fred laughs, a small melodic sound that brings you pride that you pulled it out of him. “Oh, is that how it works now?”

“Yep, I said so.” you give him a toothy grin, and he chuckles, further causing your ruin.

But you can’t let things get too comfortable, not before you’re completely honest with him. Here he is, vulnerable and open, telling you his entire life story and you sure as hell are going to do the same - minus some embarrassing parts.

“Do you,” you clear your throat, awkwardly shuffling on your stool. The seat is uncomfortable and it makes everything all the more frustrating. “Do you want to know what I was thinking before you showed up?”

Fred pauses, gaze lingering over your face attentively. Breath catching, you let him look at you. Directly, fully look at you. He flushes, quickly hidden away by his hand when he nods his head slowly and leans on his palm.

“I was thinking of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was thinking if I should just go to you myself.”

Fred takes a quick breath. Shuddering because of the cold, surely, his tone is soft and barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared you’d reject me. I was going to apologize to you, get on my knees and beg for forgiveness until you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

You let him grasp your chin and turn your face towards his, he lovingly strokes your cheek, long finger somehow reaching easily. “I’m sorry Freddie, I love you.”

“I’ve waited to hear those words for so long.” his chest heaves when he responds.

“Well, how much of a let down is it?” you smile, nuzzling your hand in his palm.

He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek. “Let down?” he tells you, as if he heard the most obscene thing. “It’s so much better than I could have imagined, and I’m sorry too. I hate myself for letting you go through so much pain on your own. If I wasn’t such a clueless git I could’ve done this much earlier.”

“Do what?”

Fred kisses you. It’s not urgent, nor wanton, it’s soft and tender that still leaves you breathless. He leans his forehead against yours, and you ruin the kiss by smiling but he couldn’t care less. Opening your mouth, you let him flick your tongues together until it’s a sloppy, needy mess.

He groans, and that’s when you know the kiss progressed much too far to stop now. The needy ache between your legs pushes you to hover yourself over him, and his strong arms grasp you by the waist. His lips aren’t a perfect fit, it makes the kiss all the more pleasurable and it’s until he’s slowly walking towards your bedroom with your legs tucked around his hips that you break away.

“Fred,” you sigh when he sets you down against a wall. “I want you.”

He frowns, “It’s Freddie, how many times-“ he gathers your knee in one hand and pushes his crotch against your center with a grunt. “Do I have to tell you?”

You barely respond, clawing at his back. The curve of his thick cock gradually growing, his thighs encasing around your legs feels too damn good and you don’t know how long until you’re fully at his mercy. Fred roughly rolls his hips, a deep grumble leaving him and the stimulation is enough to make you whine. “Again,” you rock your pervis.

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, humping you harder. “You like this? How much? Let me feel.”

You rut against him desperately, trying to get off on the friction Fred barely decides to provide.

True to his word, Fred kisses you again with a groan, this time sparing you no tenderness and sucking on your bottom lip until it throbs. His hips continue to rut all the while his free hand slithers down your clavicle, down the sides of your waist - he makes sure to spread his palm wide to feel you everywhere - until he teasingly snaps the band of your pyjama bottoms. You yelp, relishing in his moans.

“If you like it so much- well shit.” his eyes flutter shut the moment he feels your slick from your underwear. “My love, you’re so wet that I bet I can taste you through your panties.”

If you weren’t wearing your yellow duck polka dot panties this would have been more sexier, and it takes Fred talking about eating you out to realize - oh my god, you’re wearing your duck panties.

“Fred, don-“

Fred has already pushed your bottoms down, revealing the abomination and further causing your face to feel hotter.

“Oh?” he smirks. “Sexy lingerie, all for me?”

You groan, hiding your face in his shoulder while he laughs at you. You feel his chest bob, and you can’t help but giggle alongside him.

“Now, strip.” he commands, and all the humor in the situation vanishes in an instant.

He lets go of your knee and you easily slip out of your bottoms, then slowly said polka dot panties. He grips your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips again and before you know it, he’s stumbling into your room.

His hand is cupping the back of your head, somehow gone there the moments he walked. You wouldn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate on anything else when the heat of his cock between your thighs feels like that.

Fred deposits you on the messily scattered forest you call your bed, and the smell of linen mixed with his cologne is enough for you to grind your hips on nothing.

Fred tuts, pushing a palm flat on your hip. He trails his hand between your legs and palms your pussy, bare. “Babe, you’re dripping. Since how long?”

You whine, “Since the moment you walked through - ah, my door.”

Fred’s eyes glaze over with nothing but dangerous greed. Dipping his knee on the mattress, he manhandles you into submission. “You think you can just get away with saying shit like that?” he groans, eyes fixating on wherever it lands on your body. It’s like he’s trying to take it all in, overwhelmed yet still wanton.

He shuffles to sit against your headboard and pats his large thigh, you waste no time crawling towards him. He quickly grabs your waist before you can approach him. Pulling you against him with your knees propped between his thighs, he’s face to face with your pussy and drooling.

“Such a sweet, pretty cunt.” he breathes, gently kissing your clit. You cry out, knees buckling but Fred’s large palms are flat on your ass and adamant on keeping you up and against his lips. Your center throbs, this is all you have ever wanted - the both of you have ever wanted and Fred has the audacity to tease.

“I know, I know.” He gently sushes. “I need to,” his head leans on your abdomen, desperate. “Need to get you ready for my cock.”

You barely nod, Fred seems to be in battle with himself. You don’t know which side wins, until he starts to suckle your clit with continuous, obscene kissing noises. You grip his shoulder, body bending in half. It feels so good, too good that you can’t hold straight. “Please - Fred,”

Gasping, your pelvis rocks forward. He keeps you still with his muscles digging in your hips, ass, back - everywhere he’s desperately roaming and memorizing.

His tongue finally darts forward - you knew that goddam tongue would be what did it - you nearly collapse, melting forward. It’s wet and warm and god - almost what you imagine his dick might feel like if it ever prods at your entrance.

He’s licking with bold, textured strokes. Your thighs are quivering, it’s the sudden brush of pleasure that meets your cunt every other second that causes this.

“Shit,” Fred pulls back, one hand holding your thighs wider. His thumb circles around your entrance and you cry out in pleasure. “My balls feel so fucking tight ____. If I keep this up, I might just come before I can put my dick in you.”

“Then - ahh Freddie!”

“Don’t get mouthy with me.” he smirks, sliding a finger inside. “I knew what you were gonna say before you opened that sweet mouth of yours.”

He fucks you like this, wet squelching noise mixing with your pants and moans. Working you open, Fred curls a finger inside and your thighs finally give out. “Merlin, you’re gonna get it,” he gives you a sweet kiss on the stomach. “I’m just as desperate to fuck you. Look,”

You do look, very gladly at that. He adds a second finger the moment your eyes fall on the wet patch of his bottoms. He’s rutting against nothing, all the while scissoring his fingers inside you - and from the look he gives you, you know he’s imagining what it's like to be inside you.

“Fred!” you gasp, rocking faster until your legs start to jerk and twitch. You don’t want to come yet, want to savor the way Fred’s fucking you with nothing but two fingers and it’s better than any sex you’ve had.

Your arousal pools between his fingers, dripping down his bracelet adorned wrist, all the way down to his veiny forearms. It’s a sight for sore eyes, Fred watches in a trance, gaze half lidded. You can see his cock twitch in his pants and he moans, “Fucking hell babe, look at the mess you’ve made.”

His thumb presses against your center with his two other fingers working, and he roughly drags it over to your clit to press. He’s licking again, slurping noises mixing with the pats of his tongue quickly dragging across your pussy.

That does it. Whining, and with quick breaths you hurtle towards such an intense orgasm that you swear you see Santa himself and his jingle fucking bells. It’s sudden and weakening, you barely register. Fred’s there all the while, desperately licking every drop of his hard work until there’s nothing. He groans and moans, like he’s having his thanksgiving now.

He’s not like a starved man, or any other cliche line you can think of. No, it’s like he has made a deal with the devil and is captured by the dark vitality of greed. He can’t stop, and merlin, do you not want him to.

“That was,” you breathe, taking a seat on his thigh when he allows.“That was the best orgasm I’ve had.”

“And that was the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen.” Fred smiles, it slowly turns into a smirk. The cocky bastard is way too proud of himself. He should be though, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex - if it always felt like this you would have never stopped.

But you know it never feels this good. No, it’s because of Fred. It’s him, and how much you love him, and how attractive he is - how skilled, amazing, passionate of a man he is. He’s perfect and way out of your league but you don’t care because he’s finally yours.

Said man is breaking out in a sappy grin, kissing your lips sweetly to whisper against them. “Get used to it.” He kisses you again. “I’m going to make you come again, and again, and again until you can’t walk.” he’s lowering you down onto your back, hands caressing your thighs.

“Really?”

“Especially now that I know how sweet and tight you are,“ Fred runs a finger through your pussy and you whimper. “How amazing you smell,” he dips down to lazily suck a hickey on your collarbone. “How soft your skin is,” his hands are lifting your waist up to unhook your bra. “How much I’m in love with you.”

Your gaze softens, and you let him undress you, bra after shirt until you’re left bare beneath. He shivers, his eyes are darting everywhere, to the curve of your hips, up your stomach - and finally, the slope of your breasts. He sucks in a breath. “You,” he rasps. “You had this bikini, that summer.”

“Wha- which one?”

“The white one.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

“We all loved that bikini, especially the days when the lake was particularly cold. Your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

You should feel embarrassed, fuck you really should but you knew what you were doing when you bought that bikini. That doesn’t stop you from acting clueless though, “Fred you big oa - oh!”

Fred dips to suck on your nipples, mouth wide open and hungry. “From that day onward, I fucking knew your tits were amazing.” he groans, gazing at them for a moment. “ Shit, was I right.”

You feel his clothed cock rub against you as he speaks - and it finally becomes a problem.

“A-ah, Fred. Clothes,” you barely gesture, though Fred understands you quickly. Sitting back on his heels, he swiftly removes his hoodie overhead.

Of course he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

Of course he has abs.

You curse under your breath - Fred’s chest is well defined, as you expected it to be. Well toned pecs, pert nipples hard and on display, golden skin stretching over his abdomen and six pairs of muscles you’d like to mark. He’s lean yet buff, corded well with muscle and now you know where those enthusiastic years of Quidditch have gone into

You reach for his arm, Fred quickly obliges and lets you guide his palm flat on your body. You breathe heavily - you love how you're he’s feeling you up like this. His hand lands on your breast, and he gives it a rough squeeze before rolling off the bed to get out of his bottoms.

“Are you trying to kill me, doing that? Huh?” he rasps, stumbling slightly. He swings his socks somewhere and gets back on the bed. “Is that what you want?”

When you don’t respond, he chuckles. Slowly, he pushes down his boxer briefs. It’s teasing, this motion. But then again, everything about Fred Weasley is.

His cock slaps against his abdomen - that’s how big it is. You feel yourself salivate, pupils expanding at the thought of such a thick, attractive cock inside you. You almost jump forward and sit on it but when you see the angry red color of his cock, the twitching of his head and the pre-cum that drips, it becomes clear how much he has been holding back.

Fred grips his cock and the head gushes slightly, you feel your cunt flutter. “Come here.”

You let him grip your body and settle you on his lap, entrance inches away from the head of his cock. You’re making eye contact, it’s almost intimidating how intense his gaze is. On your heat, breasts and fucked out face. “Merlin, I’ve been dreaming about this for fucking years. Let me,” he breathes. “I should just take a picture and stare at it all day.”

“Why take a picture when you have the real thing.” you smirk slightly.

Fred groans, “Ohh, you’re such a good girl.”

You smile, “Freddie, please get a condom. Flattery won’t get you that far.”

“Damn it.” he smiles jokingly, reaching for your night stand.

“Wait, shit.” you get off his lap and down your bed, legs wobbling a bit as you stride towards your dresser with hurried steps. Fred whines when you leave but you pay him no mind. “Been a while, here.”

Grabbing the pack, you stumble back on the bed and sit on your knees.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Fred nods his head. “Put it on, baby.”

You rip the packet open and slowly roll it on him, his cock is already wet and glistening enough for it to be quick. Your center pulses with want as you do this.

Fred pushes you down and crawls on top, centering his cock with your entrance. “No more,” he grunts. “Gotta have you now.”

Gasping, you feel him rub against you. He continues to tease, until the tip of his cock finally pushes past.

You cry out and glance down at where his cock bulges, it’s a type of pain you’d love to feel everyday. “A-ah Fred!”

“I know baby,” he whines, pushing further in with a quick thrust. He strokes slowly to work you open. You cry out, arousal gushing out.

“Such a sweet pussy, taking all my cock so well.” he kisses your jaw, feathering his lips around your throat and lazily sucking. “Feel so good.”

It’s true, it feels so fucking good that you can’t hold in your moans anymore. Not that you were trying to, but the desire to chant his name becomes reality when he rolls his hips against your center. He’s so close to bottoming out and the woozy cloud floating in your head grows. “Oh my god, don’t want you to stop.”

The stretch feels so good that you can’t help but clench around him, pain jerking your hips up.

Fred's balls deep in, his chest heaves and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment. He pauses, letting the two of you adjust to the euphoric feeling of his cock inside. ”Why the fuck would I wan’t to stop?” Your insides are throbbing, and you find yourself arching your back every time he gives you a sweet kiss on your chest. “Why would I ever stop. Shit, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too - oh!”

Fred withdraws, then slams into you with such vigour that you scream. Another shameful flow of your juices gush out as pleasure rips through you. He continues this, another harsh thrust into your cunt that makes you arch in pleasure. “Freddie!”

“Just like that.” he grunts, rolling his hips. “Love when you call me that.”

His hand hooks your leg around his waist, and he speeds up his motion, soothing the needy ache you feel.

lt’s dizzying, how good he can make you feel. Like you’re the center of the universe and all that matters is Fred fucking you open with sweet, yet untetheredly rough thrusts. It’s scary how lost you can get in him, and it becomes haunted when he captures your lips in a kiss and lifts your leg up on his shoulder.

“You’re so tight, oh fucking hell. Look at you, my goodness you’re absolutely perfect.” he murmurs against your lips, muting your moans.

“Fred! Oh god - ah!”

Your cries egg him on, he’s ruthless with the way his fingers dig in your ass to slam into you faster. The angle, his thick cock, how he’s biting down on your lower lip, you can barely take in. You feel helplessly at his mercy, and soon he’s fucking you too hard to keep kissing. “Easy, baby,” he coos when you squirm underneath him. “I’ve got you - my sweet little flower. Feel good?”

The question itself is clearly hysterical, your pleasure is etched on to your face and your thighs quiver underneath him. His mouth hangs open, eyes droopy, yet he still wears that infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Yes! Feel so good - ah you cocky bastar - umpfh!”

He drapes your other leg over his shoulder, your breasts bounce as his thrust turns more languid. Your back arches, mouth hanging open. “Oh my god - Fred!”

It feels so fucking good like this, so deep and good and - fuck, everything else other than him becomes a distant memory.

“Ahh - shit baby. Doing so good,” he grunts, his moans turn more high pitched when you meet his thrusts halfways. “Drown me baby, my flower takes me so well,”

Fred’s hand curls around the mattress as his other grips your thigh. He slams into you, stretching you out so good that your orgasm builds rapidly within. With your legs draped over his shoulder, he bends forward further until he’s sucking in your chest and leaving red marks. “OH - Freddie,” you whine, clawing at his back.

“That’s it my love,” he croons, head thrown back yet still adamant on watching you. His hands tangle in your hair, carding through and gripping them hard. “Come on my cock - make a mess of your sheets. Doing so well for me, wanna feel you clench around me.”

His face contorts in pleasure when your cunt does clench, hair draping over his eyes to cover his glazed, blown out pupils. Fred reaches between your legs to sweetly thumb your clit, squeezing it between two fingers and it’s the final straw until you break.

You arch in pleasure, shuddering violently underneath him. Fred’s letting you ride it out, finally gasping and his hands clench around your thigh and the mattress. Your hand finds his, interlacing your fingers together as you messily grind your hips and finally come down. Ropes of hot cum fill the condom around your sensitive walls. You tighten, aching a little from the warmth that you can’t feel directly from the plastic barrier.

Fred collapses on top with panting breaths. His head rests in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” you chuckle breathily. The post orgasm clarity makes you realize; fuck, I love this man way more than I let on. You suddenly feel the need to show him, and yet you settle for tenderly brushing his hair back when he lifts his head.

Fred smiles, grin lazy and sappy. After pecking your lips, he slowly pulls out. You whine from the sudden coldness when he rolls out of your arms, then he grins at your noise of distress.

“Hold on love, be right back.” Fred pulls off his condom, ties the top and tosses it to the trash before collapsing next to you - way more dramatically. His arm drapes over you, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.”

You sigh, content. “Love you too,” you smirk. “Would love you more if you cleaned me up.”

Fred’s eyes flash dangerously. “Oh?”

“Not like that you idiot!” you smile, gently slapping his chest. “Swish your wand or something, I don’t wanna get up.”

“Hm,” he taps his chin. “Give me a tour of your apartment and I’ll think about it.”

You sigh, propping yourself on your arms. Fred whines and tries to pull you back in but you don’t relent. “Alright alright.”

Rolling off the bed, you rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pulsing soreness in your core. “Wha - come back! What about my tour?” Fred yells after you.

You laugh at his eagerness. “You’re not getting it!”

After cleaning yourself up, you practically hurl yourself in his arms. Fred catches you with something between a grunt and a chuckle, leaning against the headboard and letting you rest your head on his chest. Your eyes lull around, begging to give into your exhaustion. “Close your eyes, flower,” he whispers sweetly, gently running his hands across your hair and massaging your scalp.

The snowstorm outside has gotten intense, the wind howls against your sealed windows yet the world feels much brighter from this morning. It’s hard to focus on anything besides the way your heart flutters, and the feel of Fred beneath you. Snuggling closer, his fingers gently trace around your shoulders.

“Freddie?” you murmur, cheek pressed against his chest.

He hums in response.

“You’re staying over, right?”

Fred peers down at you, his brows are etched together and the concern on his face nearly makes you sob. “Do…do you not want me to?” he answers shakily.

You let out a breath. “Of course I want you to!”

“Good.” he smiles, letting out a bigger breath than you. For a moment, you think you broke the man. “Because you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

[callmemythicalminx]

Birds and the Bees 4- DBH Connor x Reader

Can be read as a stand alone!

Fandom: Detroit:Become Human

Warning: Talking ‘bout sex, Awkwardness

Summary: Now that you and Connor have been doing ‘The Devil’s Tango’ for a few months now, you’ve noticed something recently that seems too insane to be true. It’s time for you to see if it’s actually possible. 

A/N: I had to write another part of BATB for my first fanfic back after being away for so long. You guys really love this series and it’s one of my favourites too. Every since finishing part 3.5, I always wanted to add more as there’s definitely more ideas to be told with Connor and his innocense. I feel like this might be the last one, but who knows, I might write more in the future...

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

What. The. Fuck! 

This is actually happening. The stick in your hands confirms it- you’re pregnant. For the past two months, you’d noticed that you’d missed a few periods, nearly every morning waking up with a trip to the bathroom to throw up and your tiredness had been getting worse everyday too. You’d had initial ideas that it might just be stress or your irregular cycle making you feel ill, but eventually you had to come to the absolutely insane idea that you may actually be pregnant with Connor’s baby. 

You’d tried to put off taking a test because your mind refused to believe this could be happening. Not that you don’t want a kid, you’d love to have little versions of Connor and yourself running around. But you want kids much further in the future. And also, there’s the teeny tiny odd question of how the hell this has happened! You’re human. Connor is an android. For this exact reason, the two of you haven’t been bothering with protection with all the sex you’ve been having, as you’re both clean and your boyfriend is infertile- or so you thought. 

You don’t even know how he’s going to react to this. Will he be happy or sad? And how is everyone else going to react? Yourself and Connor have only been dating for over a year, so it’s much too soon to be having children. You take in a deep breath, sighing as you move your hands down to your stomach.

“I don’t know how you got in there little Floobie, but here you are. God, I hope your Daddy is gonna be okay with this”.

You walk into the living room to see Connor seated on the couch trying to complete one of his puzzles, the stick containing the proof of your future feeling like a burning weight in your sweaty palm as you approach him. 

“Connor? I- I uh- I have something I need to show you” You announce, breaking him from his deep concentration as he stares at the pieces in his hand.

“Y/N? Is everything alright? You look really pale and I can detect your temperature rising rapidly”.

You let out a short laugh, walking forward to rest your free hand on his arm as you take a seat beside him. “I’m fine Connor, I’m just a little nervous. I’ve just found out some big news”. He opens his mouth to question you, but your worried look has him stopping short. Instead of telling him, you decide to instead place the test in his hand so he can see it for himself.

As you move to do so, a million thoughts race through Connor’s mind. Are you sick? Are you leaving him? Are you finally gonna get a dog and you’re putting a collar in his hand? With trepidation, he opens his palm as your closed hand begins to open, his eyes flickering quickly as he tries to figure out what you’re about to give him. When the light weight of the stick falls into his hand, his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and he tilts his head slightly to the side. You hold your breath as he brings the test closer to his face, his face tilting (nearly touching his shoulder now) as he inspects it. 

You wait for a reaction, a smile or a frown, anything. But he just continues to look at it. You begin to fear the worse when he finally looks up at you and-

“It’s not working”.

You copy his earlier movement as your own head now turns in confusion, looking at Connor's oddly very calm face. 

“What-what do you mean? I just used it. I just used three of them actually to make sure it was right”.

“So you are ill then? Y/N, darling, you should have just come to me, you didn’t need to waste your money buying these things. I am quite advanced with this sort of health observation, thanks to Cyberlife, but you already know that. Which is why I don’t understand why you’d-”.

“Wait, hold on Connor, what do you think this actually is” You ask, incredulously.

 “Um… A thermometer. As I said darling, it’s quite easy for me to simply look at you and take an accurate reading of your temperature, in fact I’ve noticed recently-”.

“Connor I’m pregnant”. 

He stops for just a moment. Then…

“Oh yes, I already know. Like I was saying, I’ve noticed recently that your bodily readings have been different than usual these past few months and on more than one occasion, I have detected that you’ve been sick in the mornings and hid it from me. I was getting so worried that I just decided to do a full body scan while you were sleeping one night and that’s when I realised there was new life growing inside you”.

“Connor… I-I… You... You knew I was pregnant?! W- why didn’t you tell me?”.

“I thought you already knew? Because of your periods? When a woman discontinues having a monthly release of blood, is it clear to see that she’s pregnant with new life. That and you haven’t been buying any new sanitary products or telling me to go out on calorie hauls everytime you go through that specific time”.

You breathe a deep sigh, of both relief and shock. In fairness, you probably should have realised Connor would have been able to sense you were pregnant- he is the most advanced detective android there is. You guess that your disbelieving of the possibility of this happening also overlooked the fact that your boyfriend is a robot genius.

“If you already thought I was pregnant, did you not question why I hadn’t told you?”

He looks away sheepishly, lifting his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I thought this was something that women just deal with on their own, the male doesn’t really do much in most cases of animals. The female is the one who cares for the baby with her body, the male is just there to protect and keep them both safe. So I thought it was just a way for you to keep ‘the bun in the oven’ to make sure you’re looking after it okay”. 

You blink. You blink again. Then you let out a small laugh and bury your face in your hands shaking your head. That has to be the weirdest thing to come out of your boyfriend's mouth, even after everything he’s said these past few months. When you look back up at Connor again, you see him looking at you, head titled again and you let out another laugh, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. 

“Oh Connor… We’re not animals, even though we do act like them sometimes, especially rabbits,” You let out another small laugh, while Connor smiles nodding in agreement “, Couples bring their babies into the world together, supporting each other. Granted the woman does do pretty much all of the work, but the man doesn’t just ‘protect’ and keep them safe, though it is appreciated. They help keep the mother healthy, comfortable, relaxed, loved- like you will right? You do want this baby don’t you Connor?”

“Of course, this is what I’ve wanted since we first made love”.

“Wait… what?”.

“Well, ever since you told me that sex is primarliy to create new life, I have been questioning Cyberlife about installing a new function within me to make me fertile. Though I have been quite enjoying our love making, I still haven’t been able to get the thought out of my head that we haven’t been doing it properly. So thankfully, Cyberlife agreed, on the grounds that it will be a good step in the right direction of progressing human-android relations”.

“So when did you become fertile?”.

“About half a year ago, maybe more”.

“Jesus, Connor, we’ve been having so much sex, it’ll be a wonder if I’m not pregant with twins”.

“I know, I’m surprised it took that long for you to become pregnant. And, statistically speaking, twins are only 3-4 out of every 1000 births, and there are many contributing factors. Sex can contribute to some extent, but it in our case it seems to have helped massively. Just last night, I did a scan again and saw that there are in fact two life forms inside you- how did you know darling?”

“Only 3-4 out of every 1000 births, eh? Well, that’s- WAIT WHAT?!?”

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

“What the fuck?! Twins” Hank utters as he places his half eaten burger down on his arm rest. 

To be honest, it probably wasn’t the best idea for you and Connor to tell him that you're having two children at this specific moment in time, eating the food that you had brought him for dinner to help ease this situation. The smarter thing to do would have been to tell him before, then give him the burger and drink from his favourite takeaway to calm him down. But as you sit there next to Connor with guilty smiles on your faces as you look at a horrified Hank who looks like he’s gonna be sick, you definitely know you should have told him sooner. 

“Wait, wait, wait, how is this even possible?! You’re an android and Y/N’s human, how does that work?”

You begrudgingly reply “It’s a long story”.

Connor however has no shame and immediately launches into re-telling the story of how you two began having sex. You have no power to stop him as you know this story is getting told no matter what because he is Connor afterall, so you simply sit back and stare down at your wine glass in embarrassment, feeling like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. 

Every once in a while, you’ll look up and see Hank growing progressively more green as your boyfriend retells how he first asked about sex and then anal, and then your many different sexual escapades including the one where he was in a meeting with Amanada, and then finally how you got pregant. Connor, still as innocent as ever, goes into great, unneeded detail not realising that this isn’t something he should really be telling his dad. Even Sumo looks sick, paws nearly over his ears as he lays at your feet. 

Finally after some time to reflect on what has just been said to him, Hank, looking equivalent to a cucumber in colour and looking faint, mumbles “So you two rabbits have been doing it everywhere huh?”.

As Connor happily nods in response, you sit in shame, taking a much needed gulp of wine, then another as Hank takes a big sip of his own drink.

 “We even did it on your desk.

Wine. Soda. Everywhere. Again.

*Sigh*

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

A/N: I realise a year later that I wrote the reader to be drinking alcohol during this... while she's pregnant. Don't drink if you're pregnant fellas, my dumbass forgot that 😌

[secret-rendezvous1d]

Blogmas: maybe something on Darcy being sad at Christmas as they’re trying for a baby and they’re surrounded by all her nieces and nephews

Hello, hi!

Welcome to Blogmas 2020.

Many more blurbs, many more chats and a lot more festivities to come; my inbox will be open all through December this year for blurb prompts for Blogmas so don’t feel afraid to pop in a prompt to get written for tis year; all I can say is that if you’re asking for a lengthy prompt, I’m not the right person right now, haha.

I’m welcoming absolutely anything for this year; any AU, any characters, any ideas.

Reblog, like, comment and share your thoughts with me. Please let me know what you think because feedback is always appreciated on here; much more appreciated now given that I’ve not written a lot in a long while. Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

* TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF MISCARRIAGE, INFERTILITY, DRUG AND ALCOHOL ABUSE.*

By 8pm on Christmas day evening, in the Styles’ household, everyone was usually parched and falling asleep almost anywhere they could find a space to stretch out.

This year, the living room had been taken by the children and the grandchildren and neither Harry or YN minded as they sat at the kitchen table and finished up the cleaning and packing away of leftovers that their four kids would tuck into or save for trips back home. Their eldest and her husband taking space on the sofa with their two children cuddled up on their laps with full bellies of ice-cream and strawberry jelly, watching the Christmas television; their only son and his wife sitting in the living room alcove, by the window, with their children asleep as their feet and cuddled under blankets and dressed in their new pyjamas; their twins, one sitting on the sofa with her husband as they spoke amongst themselves and one squeezed into an armchair with their new baby tucked up on her father’s chest. Everyone full of a good turkey dinner that Harry had been adamant on making that year, with some of the adults all wine-drunk and the children all tuckered out from playing with their new toys and enjoying the chance of staying up late. It was something the two of them had thought about when they were single and growing up, something they spoke about when they were two years deep into their relationship and it was something they dreamed of seeing when they celebrated their first Christmas as parents.

“I could do this till I’m ninety, you know?”

YN looked up at him and he smiled, the stubble on his face grey and patchy, lips darkened by the red wine he’d disguised in the mug in front of him.

“Yeah,” she found her eyes drifting to the sitting room, her heart aching with love and adoration, “it’s a good feeling.”

Harry stretched his arm over the tabletop and squeezed her hand, “we did good, baby. We did so good.”

*

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Sam whispered, pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek as he sat down on the sofa beside her, “it’s Christmas, come have a sneaky turkey sandwich with me in the kitchen. Your mum’s left some in the fridge for us.”

“M’not really hungry,” Darcy responded, lifting her eyes from the wine glass in her hand, looking at him to give him a reassuring smile before looking back to the rim of her glass. The usual burn from, what would have been, red wine being replaced with the tingle of fizzy apple because she’d been on a health cleanse since the beginning of December, “you can go and make one though. I’m sure Mum can make you the gravy to soak the bread in.”

Darcy and Sam had been huge lovers of the whole “chuck it together and it’ll make anything” attitude and Christmas gave them a chance to show that off. Bubble and Squeak was their Boxing Day lunch, the leftover turkey went into a packed sandwich full of the leftover vegetables and potatoes for their dinner and the ‘forgotten’ pack of Pigs in Blankets went into the oven because they weren’t really ‘forgotten’ - they were being saved for a day when they were really, really fancied as a snack in between meals - because Christmas was the time to pig out on anything they wanted and not feel guilty about it.

“I know you, Darce,” Sam nudged his elbow into her arm, “I’ll make one and it’ll look so good that you’ll end up stealing half of it to see what it tastes like.”

“I won’t. I’m honestly not hungry,” she informed him.

The tone of her voice felt… off.

Sam could tell something was bothering her… that it had only just started to bother her because she’d been on an excitable high all day. There was no cheeky sarcasm that she used on him from time to time when he said something that irritated her, there was no sweet remarks when he said something that warmed her heart because it was a cute little something he’d picked up on, there was no smile that accompanied her words and she seemed so hidden away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she turned her head to look at him and gave him a warm smile, “I promise, it’s nothing.”

“Don’t promise me that when I can tell by your face that you’re not happy,” he admitted, reaching over to set his red wine down on the coffee table, “talk to me. Tell me. I won’t be able to sleep if I know I haven’t done my husbandly duty of looking after you.”

Darcy gave him ‘the look’ and he cheekily smiled in response.

“I know you want to tell me. Is it because you think I’ve had too much to drink? Because, I’ll tell you now, this is my third of the day. If your dad cracked the beer out, I’d be a goner. Slouched over the kitchen table, needing a bucket, because the crate would be gone,” Sam laughed, “I stuck to my word. No being hungover on Boxing Day.”

“I just-” Darcy sighed heavily, “I look at everyone here and feel so sad that we’re not there yet. We were supposed to be parents right now, with our new baby, having my dad dote on me like mad because he thinks I can’t do anything because I’m tired and having trouble sleeping.”

Her eyes went from Persephone and Jack to Alfie and Ellie to Rose and her newborn baby and she couldn’t help but feel the constant beating of her heart, feeling herself getting worked up but trying to hard not to show any emotion because she’d constantly promised people that she was fine with the year she had; a miscarriage after a miscarriage, being told she was infertile and unable to carry her own children, finding out that the cost of IVF was something they weren’t close to affording and losing herself to misery that took her usual bubbly self away and left a shell behind.

Deep down, she knew she wasn’t fine but she wasn’t ready for the conversations that came soon after that.

“I was supposed to bring our baby into the world a few weeks ago, for my nieces and nephews to play with today, to buy presents for and to open presents for them, to cuddle and enjoy our first Christmas. We were supposed to dress them in cute elf outfits and my sisters were supposed to be aunts again, my brother was supposed to be an uncle again, my parents were supposed to be grandparents again. Your parents were going to be grandparents,” her eyes felt like they were burning and she refused to look back towards her eldest sister, feeling Persephone's eyes looking at her with worry from the sofa she was snuggled into. Her body already perked up and pushed from Jack’s arms,“this was supposed to be our first family Christmas.”

“I know,” Sam hummed, “I know. And we’ll get there. It’ll happen.”

“I’m not under the impression it’s happening soon,” she laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes, “I’m just not made out to be a mum. All the troublesome things I did as a teenager are coming back to bite me on the arse.”

It wasn’t her fault; no way was it her fault.

Sam knew that blaming herself made things better because placing guilt on someone made it more ‘understandable’ but, in truth, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. No matter how many times she blamed her teenage self for participating in recreational drug use or for the alcohol intake on a Friday night at a house party or for the constant sex and one-night stands with those she felt attracted to when she was drunk, that wasn’t the reasoning behind her infertility but she wasn’t ready to confirm that.

“Shut up,” Persephone retorted, sitting up in her seat and looking at her youngest sister, “that’s a load of rubbish and you know it.”

“I’m not just saying this because you’re my sister or anything. I’d say it to any of my female friends. You deserve the world and more. If things aren’t happening right now then that doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen to you,” Persephone said, reaching her arm over and squeezing Darcy’s hand, “you’re a fantastic aunt, the best godmother to be little man, and you’ll be such a fabulous mother when the time comes. I know so. I grew up with you.”

“Don’t.”

“No, I will. Because I know the feeling of not having what you so desperately want. Granted, it’s a different situation but I’ve been there. The pit where you think nothing good will happen.”

“You’re going to get what you want, I know so, Darce. Trust me.”

“You should listen to her,” Sam smiled.

“Yeah, you should. I’m the big sister, I know everything about you lot.”

[tact-and-impulse]

Holiday fic for @shepherds-of-haven! Thanks for the deadline extension. I hope I’m not too late! More under the cut or on AO3.

midwinter depths

It all started with an innocent conversation, Lavinet asking what they were planning to wear for the Wintersun Gala. The confused, collective answer was: what gala? After some back-and-forth, it became apparent that the Diminished-majority members of the newest government agency had not been invited to the illustrious holiday celebration. The reactions were varied, but they eventually came to one conclusion. Couldn’t they host a competing, more inclusive, and most importantly, better party? Certainly not as fancy, but in terms of community outreach, it would be far superior.

Responsibilities were dealt, and by dawn, the Shepherds set out to prepare.

***

The bus was late. Croelle adjusted his hat and clenched his teeth. Another inconvenience, just the latest obstacle to his work. The shelter’s glass panes looked very fragile and tempting at the moment, but ultimately, he didn’t move from his current seat on the metal bench.

A tall woman approached the bus stop, ashen hair pulled into a high ponytail to reveal slightly pointed ears. Her hazel eyes glinted with the iladrin, and one hand carried a bag of groceries. She checked her wristwatch, which sparkled with miniscule gems, and stopped at the other end of the bench. A strong wintry gust blew past, rattling the shelter. Heavy silence descended upon them.

“If you’re waiting for the bus, you might as well walk to your destination.” He intoned.

“Excuse me?” Her polished voice was more amused than affronted.

“It’s been twenty minutes. I hope you don’t have anywhere urgent to be.”

“And why are you still here?” She retorted.

He lifted the brim of his hat, to look at her again. Pale brows, an aquiline nose, a thin mouth colored by dark mauve lipstick. Handsome, he supposed. “Are you a Shepherd?” He had dragged his line of sight away from her face to the embroidered hound on her coat.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Dragged into it, really. Speaking of which...” She handed him a blue and silver flyer, detailing games, raffles, and a potluck dinner. “We’re hosting a party tonight at our headquarters. Ten danars admission, though I’m not sure whether it’ll be enforced. It’s mostly for the rest of the Shepherds, and their friends and families.”

“Is that what your bag is for?” He turned his attention to her purchased items.

“Oh, I don’t cook for groups. But I was assigned to buy ingredients for punch and I’m very good at making vytas.” She rummaged through a variety of fruits, before removing a jar of honey and admiring the color in the weak morning light. “I’m picky about my ingredients. No alcohol though, to be palatable for Mages like us.”

“I’m not a Mage. And I don’t eat fruit.”

She tilted her head, stepping in his direction. He flinched, as her gaze ran over him in obvious scrutiny. “How are you still alive?”

This close, he was able to see her hair clip. Three birds in flight, carved out of lacquered wood. He evaded her question. “For the same reasons anyone else is.”

She didn’t respond to that, still analyzing and trying to puzzle him out. Definitely, this Mage was a strange one. He hadn’t heard of any such figure in the Shepherds, but he could always use his resources to find out. She pivoted away from him, putting her jar back. “So, are you going to attend?”

“I have work. Why? I’m not your friend or family. Are you desperate for my company?”

“No.” She easily replied. He refused to feel a twinge of disappointment. “I only want to make sure that my effort pays off.”

“You hate holidays, don’t you?”

Her slight smile became brittle. “Do you only ask questions and never answer them?”

A short, derisive laugh escaped him. “Part of the job.” Wait, what was he doing? Conversing, letting down his guard, still sitting here instead of headed to his next assignment. He might have suspected she was an Enchanter if it weren’t for the wristwatch. The pearly face bore the symbol of the Shifters, the points and curls in fine etching.

“And what is your job?”

“You’re a nosy woman.”

“I prefer ‘curious’.”

“There’s such a thing as being too curious for your own good.”

“I’m not particularly interested in being good.”

He grabbed her slender hand, and she emitted a startled noise as he pulled her towards him. He lowered his voice, speaking into one tapered ear. “Interested in being bad then?”

She was perfectly still for a moment, her pulse rapid under his fingertips, and then, she roughly pulled away. Her eyes locked him in a deadpan stare. “That’s another question, and for this one, I’ll follow your example and decline to answer.”

“Hmph.” Determinedly looking past her form, he spotted a van turning the corner, the Shepherds’ emblem on the hood to mark its status as a government vehicle. “There’s your ride.”

She followed his line of sight and blinked. “Oh. So it is. Would you like to come along? The driver’s my kin, and he won’t mind.”

“I’d rather not.” He scowled, standing and brushing himself off. “Goodbye.”

“Well, if your work allows it, feel free to stop by tonight’s dinner. I don’t have to remind you to try the vytas.” She pointedly lifted her bag and then laid a hand upon her lapels. “You can ask for me, Zoegea. And you are…?”

He grunted. “Croelle.” And with that, he walked away before the van arrived. Minutes later, he wondered how he could be so foolish to tell her his name. Just for that, he had to pry more information out of her. He crumpled the flyer in his pocket but it stayed there.

***

The smell of baking bread was one of the best things in the world. Trouble knelt down, to peer into the oven. The rolls were puffy and golden-brown, nearly ready to eat. There was something nostalgic about waiting and watching, like he was five again and his mother was cooking in their tiny kitchen.

A rustle of movement caught his attention and he met bright amber eyes as his partner mirrored his position. “Hey, so the mashed potatoes should be done soon. What’s next?”

“We should be good for now. Thanks, Senna.” He grinned.

“No problem! So, what’re you doing?”

“Just checking on the rolls. Best part of being on the team in charge of side dishes.” It was always enjoyable to mold the balls of dough in his floured hands. He splayed his fingers over the warm glass. “It takes me back to when I was a kid. My mum made her own bread.” Right now, the yeasty aroma of the dinner rolls was just like the one that permeated the cozy apartment of his childhood.

“So did mine!” She eagerly shared the similarity. “Not that the Westwood bakery’s was bad, but I always liked hers best.”

“Yeah, that’s how I feel!”

She rocked back on her heels, her tanned face flushed. “I actually remember my mom’s recipe, so I bake now and then. It’s not exactly the same though.”

“But it’s something. I couldn’t read before my own died.” His memory of her was vague. She had pinned her hair when washing other people’s clothes, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair had been blond like his, but her eyes were a warm brown. Her voice was sweet though it was harder to recall now. Her scent was the easiest: clean linen and a touch of spiced apples. Other than that, he didn’t even have a photograph. “Wish I knew how she did it.”

“Maybe, we can figure it out. Or at least, get pretty close.” She suggested. “We can bake multiple batches and narrow it down from there, based on what you tell me.”

“Trial and error, huh?” He chuckled. “I like the sound of that! When should we start?”

“Probably sometime in the new year. When are you available?”

“Don’t worry about me; I’ll find the time. Just text me and I’ll be there. Do you have my number?”

“Yup, I saved it when you recruited me.” She flashed a thumbs-up. “I’ve just never had to text you before, because I keep running into you.”

“Hey now, you’re the Diviner.” He joked. “You’re not using magic to find out which bar I go to?”

“Trouble, you always go to The Burning Crown.”

“It’s the free drink Nessa gives me every time. Actually, I think I should probably switch it up. Too many fights break out in there, and uh, I’m trying to follow your advice.” If she hadn’t stopped him, his old gang would have been too glad to bring him down to their level. That wasn’t what a Shepherd did, and having her near was a good reminder.

“That’s great!” Her smile was wide and honest. “I know it’s hard, but I’m really happy you’re trying. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You can do it, I believe in you.”

He coughed, as an excuse to stop staring. “Well, you’ve shown me that talking out of a brawl is an option.” Then, he winced. “Ah, shit, I gotta stand up again. My legs are killing me.” He stood, his thighs burning, and offered a hand to her. She grasped it, and as soon as she was upright again, she quickly squeezed.

“I don’t think I’ve had a Wintersun like this before. Today’s been so much fun.”

“Me too. It’s always fun spending time with you.”

She looked at him through her dark lashes, and he felt suspended in place. Then, with a sudden draft, Riel stepped in, carrying a clipboard.

“Are we on schedule?”

Trouble noticed she had let go, and he crossed his arms, pressing his empty hand against his body. “For sure, we are. Even though we won’t be serving until six tonight, we’ll be ready by then.”

“Parties usually start late, anyway.” Senna added, with a sparkle in her eyes.

Riel pinched the bridge of his nose. “And guests arrive early. Regardless, if you need anything from the supply team, tell me before five so I can accommodate you accordingly.”

“Understood!” A whistling ringtone began to play, and she removed her phone from her apron pocket. “Oh, good. I was waiting for them to call back. Sorry, this will be just a few minutes. But if not, I’ll see you later. And I’ll text you about our meeting, Trouble!”

“Looking forward to it!” He replied as she sprinted out.

Riel’s cool gaze shifted between Trouble and the swinging door. “A meeting?”

“Yeah, we’re going to bake bread together. Isn’t that nice? She’s a great friend.” In response, he gave such a long sigh, that Trouble demanded. “What’s eatin’ you?”

“Never mind.” He was already walking away.

“Oi! Just tell me!”

***

The knife moved easily in his grasp, as he sliced the parsnips. If the rest of his family could witness what he was doing, they’d be delivering the full brunt of their disapproval. Before today, he also thought he was better suited to security detail, but he had been convinced to join the rest of his friends. His squad insisted they’d be fine, Trouble had extolled the benefits, and a particular pair of deep brown eyes had been disappointed as the owner asked. “Are you not going to cook with us?”

Thus, here he was, preparing roasted vegetables for an impromptu party.

His partner for this task had her own tray, and she carefully sprinkled garlic salt over the halves of looked like miniature cabbages. When he brought over the parsnips, she glanced up at him. “Oh, you’re already done? Thank you, Blade!”

He stiffly nodded. “Do you need any assistance?”

“No, I’m okay. These are ready, so I’ll put them in the oven. You can get a drink.” A quick smile, and she was off to the adjacent kitchen. The storage room wasn’t as warm, and soundlessly, he crept out. He returned before she did, with two water bottles retrieved from the cooler in the hallway.

Wintersun was just another day, or at least, that was what he believed before. Now, far from the place of his upbringing, he was often out of his comfort zone. However, he didn’t mind learning more about the world, outside of the family business. And today had been very pleasant.

When Captain Enris walked past, he held out the extra bottle, nudging it against her hand.

She blinked. “Is this for me?”

“Yes.” He raised his brows. “Take it. You haven’t been hydrating.”

“It slipped my mind.” She admitted but accepted the water. From under her sleeve, her tattoo peeked out, the inky scrawl of Kettish script unconventional but poetic. She removed the lid and drank deeply; her mouth was red and gleaming.

He abruptly dropped his gaze. “You have the tendency to put yourself last. It’s not sustainable, so you should remember to look after yourself as well.”

Her laughter rang out, clear and crisp. “Ultan said something like that, a long time ago.”

She had never mentioned the name before. He tensed, the plastic bottle crackling in his grip. “Who’s Ultan?”

“He owned a little bookshop in Courtshore. I worked for him, after Drummond’s Point was…wiped out. It was my longest job, about two years, and I really enjoyed it. He, um, found some old magic books for me; that’s how I started learning magic.”

“He must have liked you.”

She hummed, considering the possibility. “I think so. He was a Norm but his late wife was a hedgewitch, so he always kept me safe. If anyone was suspicious, he said I was his granddaughter sent to live with him. I’m not sure if they really bought it though…”

He was a tiny bit happier that the connection was familial, although he was unsure how to feel, being compared to someone who was like her grandfather. He decided on tentative compliance. “Would you have stayed with him?”

“I don’t know. He fired me, you see.”

“What? Why would he? You’re…a good worker.” Damn, that sounded utterly inadequate. As if two words could describe how important her presence had become to the Shepherds.

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” She smiled. “But what he thought is still a mystery. He just gave me the week’s wages and told me I wasn’t welcome anymore. So, I just kept moving, and I never heard from him again.”

His anger on her behalf lingered but he kept his response neutral. “It’s his loss and our gain. I’m glad you’re here in Haven. It would not be the same without you.”

He was certainly not as eloquent as she was, but he hoped the Enchanter was more at ease. Her shoulders lowered a fraction, and she rested her back against the wall. “That’s kind of you to say.” Fondness colored her expression.

“Does it surprise you?”

She laughed again, and he welcomed the sound. “No, not at all! You’ve always been kind. Strict, but you truly care. You’ve never led us astray, despite how you’re not a big fan of Wintersun.”

“Was I obvious?”

“Compared to everyone else, just a little bit.” She pinched her fingers together. “But I noticed you’re not frowning as much. Are you having fun?”

“I’ll take the quiet now, before the crowds arrive.” He wryly answered.

“It’s close enough!” She set her half-empty bottle down and clapped. “Let’s finish seasoning the rest. I was thinking of having lunch afterwards; how about you?”

He deliberately paused. “That sounds agreeable. Do you have anywhere in mind?”

“Tallys mentioned a sandwich shop the other day. I can call ahead for pick-up.” She was already pivoting.

“Linaria.”

At the rare use of her given name, she immediately turned, lips parted.

“Let me see the menu first.” He grumbled.

With another giggle, she offered her phone. “The next thing we should work on is your pickiness.”

***

The free chair was inviting, and Chase took it, sliding over to the other person at the raffle table. “Hey, sunshine. How’s the sprain?”

“Better today, but not enough.” The newly incapacitated Battle-Mage scowled reproachfully at her left foot. “So I’m still stuck here.”

“You wanted to cook?”

“Even if I could, that’d be better than tearing up tickets.” She snorted. Her fingers pulled at the paper chain, twisting at the perforated end and depositing a fresh one in his open hand. She kept the other half, flicking it into a large glass jar. Valeriana had let her hair down, which was a first. Wine red and pin straight, it framed her face and grazed her elbows. She seemed more vulnerable, her features relaxed and youthful. He idly wondered who else had seen her like this. She must have sensed his regard, because her gaze shifted to him. “Did you need something else?”

“Nope, just hanging here and watching the rest of the hospitality team. Mostly, it’s Lavinet though.” The heiress had taken charge over the decorating business and she was ordering some of the newbies around to meet her standards. Embroidered white tablecloths, silver streamers, tea lights, and authentic pine trees for ambience. It all sounded magnificently meticulous, and he was trying to avoid her, just in case. “My side’s done with the party games.”

“Yeah? What have you got?”

“Elements, dreadnoughts, pin the tail on the ahfuri for the kids. We dug up some sui boards for the older folk. Anyone with spare change can play intrigue or Angels and Devils. And darts. Bet you’d like that.” As strong as she was, he knew she valued precision most of all. It was also what he liked about her, that she could run rampant on their missions given half a chance but opted for control.

He was interested in what she was like, if she lost it.

She leaned back in her seat, the motion steering him to the present again, and cracked a smile. “That depends on what prizes you have.”

“Ah, and like with all games, your prize is based on your stakes. Anything from chocolate truffles to plushy Shepherd hound toys to gift cards. Or I can always surprise you.”

“The bar is high.” She raised her brows but her eyes glittered at the prospect. Good.

“I’ll do my best, gorgeous. So...what has our dear organization obtained for the raffle prize?”

“You’ll have to win and find out for yourself.”

“Fair enough. Let’s hope this is a lucky one.” With a flourish, he brought the ticket to his lips in a light kiss and pocketed it. Then, he gestured towards the fall of her hair. “No bun or braids today?”

One hand tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “I want less tension for now, I’ll tie it back later.”

“Gotcha.” In the meantime, he’d appreciate the view.

“Caine asked me the same thing too.” The kid was eager to help out, and at the other end of the hall, he was stringing icy blue lights on one of the smaller trees. “He said it was nice.”

“He’s right, it suits you. You look lovely.” And he meant it, not even winking.

She held his gaze, about to bite back, but she paused. The moment stretched, before she quietly replied. “Thanks.”

His skin itched and he rubbed the back of his neck. Huh. She was attractive, it was hard not to notice since the day they met. It was only that she was a lot more so, because of how intimate her appearance was. It was lust, he decided, and he could deal with lust. Yeah.

“Well,” Chase cleared his throat and ruffled her hair. To his pleasant surprise, it was very soft. “I’m off to check on my people. Keep getting stronger, sunshine.”

“Uh…right.” Her dark eyes were wide, and he couldn’t look away.

“I’ll bring you a plate of food at dinner, and then, we can swing by the darts. Sound good?”

“Sure, I guess, mm.” She didn’t blush easily, but she was clearly flustered, blinking rapidly and tripping over her words. Cute. Her long eyelashes fluttered and he was transfixed.

Then, there was a clatter, and they both whipped towards the sound. Caine had dropped a third of his lights. Wincing, he called out. “Sorry!”

“Are you hurt?” Valeriana asked.

“No, I’m okay! How’re you?” He was giving them a trepidatious expression.

Oh. Chase was still touching her head. Slowly, he let go and forced a two-fingered salute. “We’re fine here! You’re doing good, little man!”

“I’ll see if I can help him out.” She muttered.

“You don’t have to, I’ll send a couple of my guys to check on him. Get some rest before tonight, alright?”

She didn’t seem fully appeased but she grabbed her ticket chain and reluctantly nodded, echoing. “See you tonight.”

“It’s a date. Later, Valia.”

If she protested at her shortened name, he didn’t hear it. He strolled along, starting to whistle. After making sure no one else was around, he glanced down at his hand and grinned.

***

The pressure cooker must have disappeared into an adjacent plane of existence. Red sighed as he closed the latest cupboard. “Nope, not here either.”

“Seriously?!” Alcea popped her head up, from behind the counter. Her golden curls bounced, her gray eyes brimming with dismay. “Damn it, where else could it possibly be?”

“At this point, I’m wondering if we should go to the nearest mall and buy another one.”

“Yeah, but we just bought this last week! Riel would throw a fit if we went back. Anyway, it should still be in the box!” She dove again and he smiled, leaning over the granite.

“Or we could always just do it the old-fashioned way. There are plenty of pots that no one else is using.”

“I guess we can.” She grouched. “It’d just be easier to make vegetable curry when we don’t have to be watching the stove the entire time.” She pulled away from the clutter of miscellaneous cooking utensils, and agonizingly rose to her feet. “Augh, my back!”

“Are you alright?” He rushed around to help, but she shook her head.

“Only out of shape, but I’m alive.”

“Good, because I still need you.” He grinned, hiding his relief. “Who else is going to taste test?”

“Uh, nobody, because that’s my job for today? A privilege of being on the entrée team.”

“Just one?”

“One of many.” She smirked. “But I’m not giving up on our missing item! I’ll send a text to the group chat.” She dug out her phone and her thumbs flew across the screen, her charm bracelet jangling with its trio of silver birds. As they walked through the corridors, he kept a close eye, ensuring she wasn’t bumping into anything.

Their allotted kitchen space was looking rather colorful. Onions, garlic, ginger, cauliflower, peas, cans of coconut milk. Jars of spices were lined up on one end, their labels in large print. And in the midst of the ingredients, an open book waited, displaying the pages of the recipe.

He rolled up his sleeves. “So, we’re making two batches: mild and spicy.”

“Yup. Oh! Should we ask Mimir for input on the latter?”

“If she ever shows, and doesn’t she have a high tolerance? Like, she inhales what would kill everyone else?”

“Right…maybe not.”

“It was a nice thought.” He squeezed her shoulder. Years ago in Capra, he wouldn’t have imagined this scenario.

They hadn’t been close then; they shared mutual friends, but he was only aware of her as ‘the other Conjurer who was always in the stacks late at night’. Conversely, she knew him as ‘the guy who tried to descend the university into Hael itself’, but mercifully, she didn’t blame him at all. In fact, the first thing she asked upon their formal introduction was how he did it. The rest was history. The Shepherds had inherited a massive library from a Mage, and on their coinciding off days, the two of them claimed a study room and filled a whiteboard with spell runes and equations. She was bright and vivacious and daring; his younger self had made ignorant mistakes, and now, he could add overlooking her to the list.

After plenty of scrambling and bitten-off curses, some of which were Elvish, their main dish was bubbling. She ladled a spoonful, blew, and sampled. Her eyes shut as she broadly smiled.

“That good, huh?”

“Don’t take my word for it. Come on, try for yourself!” She grabbed a new spoon, taking from the top. Holding the steaming mixture to his mouth, she ordered. “Open wide!”

He chuckled. “Sharing a privilege?” However, he accepted. It was delicious, fragrant with coconut and bold with delayed heat. He ran his tongue across his lips to catch any left.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Nope, it’s a second to see you eat something I helped make.”

“I hope your expectations were met.”

“Exceeded, for the entire morning actually. I love working with you.” She was incredibly close, her cheeks rosy. He tilted his head-

“Hello?” A timid voice called, and they both spun around to see Shery, standing at the threshold. Her hands shook as she lifted a large, familiar box. “Um…I saw your text to the group. Were you looking for this?”

“That’s it! Thank you sooo much, Shery!” Alcea bounded forward, relieving the other blond of the pressure cooker. “Where did you find it?”

“On our side.” She pushed the nose bridge of her glasses. “It was behind one of the trash cans.”

“We really appreciate it.” Red smiled. “We’ll save a bowl for you later. Mild, of course.”

She seemed very reassured. “I’ll look forward to it, and I’ll hold some fairy bread for you two. See you soon.” Just as silently as she arrived, she hurried off.

He peered at the box. “I’ve never used a pressure cooker before. Have you?”

“Not for curry.” She conceded, lowering it to the floor for unpacking. “But here, let me show you the basics!”

Settling in for the explanation, he watched her animated face with pleasure. This was a privilege he would claim for himself.

***

The van slowed to a stop for the red light, so Ayla propped her feet up on the dashboard. “Think a lot of people are going to show up?” They’d been traversing Haven for a second round, buying additional supplies and plastering the last of the flyers.

“It’s cheap food and entertainment. So, probably a fair amount.” Her companion answered, sliding his hands around the steering wheel. His green gaze didn’t move from the road. “Are you inviting anyone?”

“Who would I invite? You’ve been in Haven longer than I have.”

He huffed. “Sure, I have a head start of six months, but I’ve been away on missions. Some of them were with you.”

“As if I could forget.” The light changed, and the van continued on its path.

She had hoarded every piece of information she learned about him. He was an Elementalist like her, but his skillset was well-rounded, with a preference for ice. The tattoo under his collarbone was of three birds, belonging to a species with a distinctive call, which his clan had taken for their own name as well. That song had not been heard in decades though, and he always shut down when it came to the fate of Vale. He couldn’t join the military because he was Diminished, so he had been a mercenary for a number of years. He liked his khav strong and bitter, and his toast just this side of burnt. Alright, the last bit was extraneous, but it wasn’t like she wanted to make him breakfast or anything.

“Hey, E.”

“Yeah?” He responded in kind.

“What’s eggnog taste like?”

“Did they not have any in the desert?”

“It has raw eggs, right?” She glanced behind her, to the milk jugs and egg cartons they had purchased. The other bags had remained stationary, teeming with chocolate, peppermint sticks, and whipped cream cans. “It would spoil in the heat.”

The corner of his mouth pulled into a half-smile. “True. Did you ever have custard?”

“Something like that, a milk and rice pudding my parents gave me once.” She remembered the little bowl in her hands, how she licked the spoon clean. Her mother and father, grinning as they watched her try the dessert for the first time.

“It’s similar, but more drinkable. You add cinnamon or nutmeg, and sometimes, alcohol. If you don’t like it, you can just stick to the cocoa.”

“I’ll try both.” She countered. “Do you add spices to the cocoa too?”

“Some people do. I like mine with cinnamon and a pinch of chili powder.” Interesting. Another thing she learned.

The car in front suddenly braked, and she swore. The van lurched, Erigeron’s solid arm bracing over her front. As they halted, way too close to be comfortable, his other fist slammed the horn. Up ahead, a couple scurried across the road. Noticeably, there was no pedestrian crossing.

“Tourists.” She scoffed.

“Too busy looking around them to care about anyone else.” He was still touching her, and he slowly pulled away, studying her face. “You okay?”

“I’m good.” Her pulse was elevated from the near hit. The intensity of his stare made her shift in her seat. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He twisted around to examine the back, grimacing. “Hope nothing’s broken.”

“That would really suck.”

They started moving again, and she glanced at the speedometer. He must have caught her wary expression, because his rough baritone added. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it slow.”

Damn, that was really smooth. She fixed her gaze out the window, trying to think of icicles and snowstorms.

It was a matter of minutes before they parked at headquarters. As soon as he removed the key from ignition, a familiar figure entered the garage.

“Oh, wonderful. I was just about to call you, darlings.” Lavinet tossed her hair and marched out to meet them. “Have you procured what’s left on our list?”

“Sure did.” He grunted and removed his seatbelt. “Check for yourself before we bring them in.”

“No need, I trust you two.”

Unloading was going to take longer than expected; they would need multiple trips. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be leaking. Ayla took a few bags, but he stopped her from grabbing the next.

“You can go inside first.”

“I can take more.”

He firmly clasped her shoulder. “Nah, just come back. Everything will be here, and you must be cold.”

She was, but she nudged his side. “Hurry up, won’t you? Elementalists can still get sick.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Nevertheless, he smirked. Stupid, sexy, silver-haired Mage.

Lavinet held the door and joined her for a short distance, eyes glittering. “How was your outing?”

“O-outing?” She spluttered. “We were running an errand, that’s it.”

A lofty laugh escaped the other woman, shielded by a fur-lined glove. “You aren’t fooling me at all. I noticed those little touches. I expect every detail over appetizers, dear.” With a wink and wiggle of her fingers, the heiress glided off to her next task.

“Hey!” Her protest went ignored. Burrowing her face in her scarf, she redirected an air current to cool down. It wasn’t enough.

***

The door opened, and Halek glanced towards the direction of the noise. “You’re late-” He stopped, noticing that while the newcomer also had violet eyes, she wasn’t who he was expecting. Black hair was styled in a braided crown, with a finger’s width of white weaving down the left side. One hand gently closed the door, as she hastily ducked her head.

“Sorry, I’m not Briony. We switched last minute. I’ll be helping you instead.” She went to the sink, quickly scrubbing her hands.

“Well, I’ll take any help right now. What’s your name?”

“Kalmia.” She even pronounced it the way a Hunter would, the first syllable in the back of her throat. But she was a Mage, apparent enough from her eyes, and her hair color automatically disqualified her from being a pure-blooded Hunter.

“Are you a Battle-Mage too?”

“No, I’m a Healer.”

“That’s better. Briony means well, but she tends to break things and I need the stove today.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, as she turned off the faucet. “I read the menu. It does seem like a lot…”

“It’s why we’re the first ones in the kitchen.” The pot roast was going to take most of the day to cook, and the glazed ham was a new addition to his repertoire. But he was excited to try.

She joined him in peeling the carrots and potatoes, introducing herself. She had been adopted by Hunters in Maj; he vaguely recognized the town as a former refugee campsite. After they passed, she slowly made her way to Haven. Meanwhile, this was the first year he spent beyond the largest Hunter city, The Reach. She didn’t fawn over who he was, and perhaps, that could be chalked up to how distant Maj had been. Either way, he was secretly happy.

By five, the pot roast was keeping warm in the slow cooker, and he closed the oven door on the ham. “This will be ready in a couple hours.”

“And what’s next?”

“Next, I’m going to take a nap. You can do what you want in the meantime. I’ll be in the back.”

“Oh. Alright.” She looked around, hesitant. “Um, sleep well?”

His attempt at a nod was more of a head droop. “Later.” The nearest break room had a decent couch and when he stirred awake, he felt a little better.

And the kitchen hadn’t burned down. Kalmia was taking a kettle off the stove and acknowledged his return with a little wave. Her braid had been undone, her hair falling in waves past her shoulders. “I made tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure.” He yawned. When he sat down, a steaming cup was waiting for him. The liquid was a dark gold color, still spinning gently. Used to the blends their quartermaster liked to offer, he expected sugary sweetness. Instead, this herbal tea was surprisingly mellow, like chamomile at first, before giving way to a deeper bittersweet flavor. Complex and refreshing. “This is just what I needed.”

She beamed, hands wrapped around her own cup. “It’s one of my favorites from when I was living in Leore.”

He stared at her for a few moments, before remembering to look away. “You have good taste.” His phone suddenly vibrated and he scowled at the caller ID. He let it ring, watching as the inevitable voicemail notification appeared.

“Is it a spam call?”

“Worse. My fiancé. You know, Hunters and their arranged marriages.”

“You don’t like her.”

“No, I don’t. But the other choice is to condemn everyone at home, depending on more new Hunters.”

Her expression was melancholy, and barely above a whisper, she said. “If you’re trapped, it’s not a choice at all.”

The sentiment warmed him as much as the tea did. But there was also the ring of truth in her words and the strength of memory in her distant gaze. He wondered what had happened to her, who could have hurt her. If he wanted to, he could reach across the table and pat her shoulder. Pushing the thought aside, he refilled their cups. “I have a recipe for almond cookies. It’d go well with this, next time.”

“I’d really like that. Thank you.”

The implicit promise cut through the tension, and he exhaled. “I’m free whenever. In the past, I always liked Wintersun, because I have the time to cook, eat, and sleep. Or because it has ‘sun’ in the name.” Halek dryly noted.

“Oh, that’s right. I like Wintersun too. The hanging laurel especially.” She sounded wistful. “Probably because Kalmia means laurel. But you already know that.” She added, self-conscious.

“Mm. Did your parents want you to fly?”

She laughed, for the first time that day. She seemed almost surprised by it, and tried to answer him but her giggles kept breaking through. “Me, flying? As a baby?”

Happiness suited her better than sorrow, and he started to shake with repressed laughter too, at the mental imagery of a pair frantically running after a dark-haired infant drifting away from a farmhouse. He didn’t have to think of other traditions involving laurel.

***

The icing smeared in a runny white trail, drawing a groan from Briony.

“Come on!” She glared at the sugar cookie she was currently decorating, and then at the rest of the tray she had wreaked havoc on. She thought switching to the dessert team would be more fitting to her skillset and it was, until the baking was done. Somehow, all of her miniature Shepherds appeared awkwardly proportioned at best and hideous at worst.

“Everything okay?” The kind voice meant to comfort but she only felt more ashamed. Gentian’s recreation of Tangriel’s Tower was the most impressive cake she’d ever seen, with its fudgy center and raisin-lined battlements. Also...he was really cute in an apron, with his blue-black hair gathered into a bun for convenience. Really cute, even if she was kind of jealous.

“Oh, it’s just fantastic.” She grumbled. “How do you make everything look so tasty?”

“I don’t know?” He sheepishly shrugged. “How are your-oh. Well...they’re definitely original.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Yeah, her creations stood out, compared to the cake, Tallys’s individual servings of Elvish trifles, and Shery’s traditional fairy bread. “But they should taste okay! I think...”

Gentian reached for one of the smaller cookies, intended to be one of the few replicas of herself and topped with light pink frosting and violet sprinkles for her eyes. He took a bite; she held her breath. She tried not to stare at his throat as he swallowed.

“This was your first time making them?”

“Technically, yeah. Shery read the recipe I was using and said it seemed alright. I just followed the instructions and hoped for the best. I mean, I don’t remember baking anything before.” Briony nervously laughed. Beyond the past few months, she only knew her name and the password to her phone, which had been wiped clean. The Shepherds had found her in an underground fighting ring, where he slipped inside to recruit her. The glaring lights had targeted his figure when he stepped forward as her next challenger. Unassuming at first glance, but she immediately recognized he was a skilled fighter, just by how he moved. “Anyway, what do you think?”

He smiled. “I think if the rest of the tray is just like this one, you won’t have any left at the end of tonight. It’s delicious.”

“Really?!”

“Try one for yourself.”

She chose another doughy Shepherd, a navy-colored mess, and chomped it down before he could notice. It was slightly warm, the edges crispy. Vanilla and sweet icing filled her mouth. “Ah, it’s good! I need to save that recipe…it should be in my phone’s history.”

“If you need help tracking it down, I can help.”

“That’d be great! But didn’t you only see it during this morning’s meeting?”

“It was enough.”

Now, she was certainly confused. “You memorized it in less than a minute?”

Hesitantly, he replied. “I have an eidetic memory.”

“Eidetic?” The word was unfamiliar.

“Photographic is another word. I don’t forget anything I’ve seen or experienced once.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! That’s like the opposite of my problem.” That earned her a laugh, which was encouraging. She paused. “But if you don’t forget anything, that includes things you don’t want to remember, right?”

“Yes, that’s true.” He became quiet, his thoughts obviously far away. She’d seen him like this on occasion, especially around the Ket members.

She strode around the table and as his blue gaze drifted to her, she hugged him.

“Briony?” His soft voice had dipped low, and the vibration against her cheek made her heart flutter.

“You look like you needed a hug. And Wintersun is exactly the time for hugs. Well, so is Lovelace Day, but that’s not right now!” Lovelace Day was also a long ways off, and she imagined it would be nice to spend it with him. If he agreed. “Is this okay?”

“It is.” His hand touched between her shoulder blades, with the lightest pressure. She was about to hold him tighter when there was the distinct sound of a throat clearing. Immediately, they let go of each other. Tallys stood at the door, appearing spotless despite the day’s work.

“I was about to ask if you two had finished.” She gave them a very pointed look. “But it looks like you just started. See you around.” As she spun on her heel, she was definitely smirking.

“Oops.” Briony grinned at him. He was even cuter when he blushed. “She crept up on us.”

“I should have noticed though.” He sighed but smiled when he finally met her gaze again. His expression was gentle, without a trace of sadness. “Thank you.”

“No problem. If you’d like any more hugs, just let me know.” She spread her arms in offering.

“I’ll remember.” His tattooed wrist lifted, and he quickly tugged a lock of her pink hair, his fingertips brushing her cheek. While she was still processing that, he cited a need for more powdered sugar and headed out.

Alone, she pressed her hands to her burning face. Maybe, she could pass by him under the hanging laurel later…

***

The party lasted into the late hours of the night, and by the end of it, the Shepherds were exhausted and trudging during the cleanup. The leftover prizes were fought over, though most somehow ended up in Caine’s arms, and there was enough cake remaining to bring home, so no one was going to leave unsatisfied. The laurel branches had been plucked clean, petals stuck to sleeves and clinging to mussed hair. The unanimous consensus was that it had been a success, one final fun celebration together before they began anew. And really, that was what Wintersun was all about.

[elisaphoenix13]

Before The Dawn (Ch.4)

"...what is this?"

Tony had woken Cassie early that morning so she could keep an ear out for Diana while he ran errands. She had no idea where he needed to go so early in the morning but when he got home, everything explained itself. Cassie was in the middle of eating her cereal after making sure the baby was taken care of when Tony nearly burst through the door. After shoveling the rest of her breakfast into her mouth, and Tony got Dia out of her high chair, he herded them out front just in time to see a trailer driving away. Just as Cassie was about to ask what it was for, Tony led them around the corner where she found an alpaca happily grazing on bits of grass.

"Your pet alpaca!" Tony says with a grin and Cassie looks up at him before sighing. "What? What's with that look?"

"You're so extra." She tells him flatly as Diana pries herself away from Cassie's leg to waddle over to the alpaca.

Tony snorts. "Then I wouldn't be Tony Stark."

"I meant a puppy or a kitten. Or even a fish!" Cassie says with some exaggeration. "You went with an alpaca!"

"Don't sass me."

Cassie rolls her eyes and watches Diana pet the alpaca in the way only babies can, glad that it didn't seem bothered with her. She really didn't want to be spit on if it felt threatened. She knew that because she did a lot of reading about animals on the tablet Tony gave her. At least it was another...what did Peter call Tibbs?

A chill animal.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Cassie asks Tony.

"Boy. You going to name him?"

"Uhh...I can't think of anything." She looks at the alpaca that happens to be staring back at her while munching lazily on grass.

"Alright then. We'll call him Gerald." Tony claps his hands together and then rubs them."Let's get him settled in his new home."

Cassie gives him another look. "He's not going to sleep in the house is he?"

"What? Pfft. No. I had a little stable built for him."

Cassie picks up Diana while Tony leads Gerald to the small stable behind the house, and they watch as he gives the alpaca a large pile of hay. She knew that this would likely turn into one of her daily chores, but she was okay with it because she expected it. There was just one thing she refused to do.

"I'm not picking up his poop." Cassie says as she turns to take Diana back inside.

"What?! You wanted a pet!"

"You wanted to be extra so you have to pay the consequences!" She calls back.

"Do you take after your mother or was your dad a secret sass monster?"

"My dad!" She replies and closes the back door when she gets back inside. "I hope you take after your mommy." She mumbles to Diana.

=======

A few years passed similarly, and as Cassie got older, she took on more of the household responsibilities. She cooked more, cleaned, took care of Diana and Tony, and took care of Gerald too. For the most part, Tony did clean up after the alpaca but every once in a while she would have to do it. Potty training Diana was actually pretty easy. She was ready to learn by the time she was running and she wasn't even two years old yet.

The biggest thing that happened was when...puberty hit Cassie. Fortunately she had an idea of what was going on, but neither of her parents had been able to give her the talk before the snap. Tony...bless his heart...gave her the talk even though she knew he was wildly uncomfortable about it. He hid it well, but it wasn't that the subject made him squeamish, but the fact that he had to be the one to talk to her. He felt he wasn't the right person to answer all of her questions, so he told her what he could and then did the smart thing by calling Pepper.

To Cassie's amusement, Tony had no problem buying her sanitary products when she needed them. When they were at the store and Cassie told him that she needed to restock, Tony nodded and took her down the feminine hygiene aisle.

"You're not embarrassed?"

"Nope. It's a part of life and one day Diana will need them too."

Tony sighed after he said that and it made Cassie laugh because she knew it was because he was faced with the reality that his little girl would one day grow up. She smiled when she was done laughing and pat his arm before picking out what she needed and adding it to the cart.

Now, at fifteen, she was currently stuck in the bathroom after looking under the sink and finding that she hadn't put her new box of tampons under it after their shopping trip yesterday. Cassie groans and reaches for the door and cracks it open.

"Dia!" She calls loudly.

"Yeah?" The five year old replies from downstairs.

"Can you get my box of tampons from the bag on the table and bring them up to me?"

"Kay!"

There was crinkling of the grocery bag a couple moments later, thumping on the stairs, and then the bathroom door swung wide open. Cassie's eyes widen and she scrambles to at least get Diana in the bathroom so she can close the door, and the little girl puts the box on the sink. The teen was used to Dia barging in on her whether it was in the bathroom or her bedroom, and was working on privacy with her.

"Dia! I talked to you about this!" Cassie sighs and grabs the box.

"Daddy is in the garage." She says.

"Okay, well, that's not the point. You knock and crack the door open just enough to come in if I'm in the bathroom or changing in my room." Cassie points to the door. "Practice that while leaving and close the door behind you, okay?"

"Can we make cookies?"

"Diana."

The little girl sighs dramatically and leaves the bathroom just like Cassie taught her to, and when she closes the door behind her, the teen finishes up. After storing the box under the sink and washing her hands, she goes downstairs and shakes her head with an amused smile when she finds Diana pulling out all of the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. Just this once she would go with Dia's decision since cookies did sound good, and it would probably lure Tony out of the garage for the day.

"I guess I better go put my hair up." Cassie says and turns back toward the stairs.

"Oh! Me too!" Diana says and follows after her after carefully putting the sugar on the counter.

It was a bonding technique they enjoyed together. Every morning, or after a bath, Diana would go into Cassie's room with a brush and the teen would turn on the TV so Diana could watch it while Cassie brushed her hair. Now, while Diana crawled onto Cassie's bed when they got to the teen's room, Cassie grabs her brush and a couple of hair ties and smiles when she sits on the bed behind the little girl. This time, Diana was content to read one of her picture books while Cassie brushed her hair, and the older girl took a little longer than usual to put Dia's hair up in a small ponytail.

"Will my hair get as long as yours, Sissy?"

"Sure it will."

"Daddy keeps telling the haircut lady to cut it short like this." Diana pouts and Cassie laughs as she ties her hair.

"That's because he doesn't want to hurt you if he ends up having to brush your hair."

"But you almost always brush my hair."

"Almost. Just be patient. Your hair grows fast and soon you won't need his help."

Cassie smiles and gets back up to look in her mirror and brush her hair back into a ponytail, and Diana patiently reads her book while she waits. A few of her things ended up finding a semi-permanent home in the teen's room since she spent so much time with Cassie, and there were times she ended up falling asleep with her. Cassie didn't mind it since it didn't happen all the time, and she even enjoyed the company. There were just some things only another girl would understand that Tony wouldn't. Or maybe he would understand but Cassie didn't feel like torturing him.

"Would Mommy have brushed my hair?" Diana asks quietly and Cassie sets her hairbrush down when she finishes.

"Maybe. He would have at least tried."

"Because of his hands?"

"Mmhmm." Cassie holds out her hand and helps Dia off the bed when she takes it.

"How come Daddy doesn't talk about him or Peter or Harley?"

Cassie stops and kneels down in front of Diana. The little girl knew about the snap even if she didn't fully understand what happened. She knew that her mom and brothers were taken away because of it and Cassie's dad as well, but she didn't know that Tony watched it happen. He asked Cassie not to tell Diana that bit of detail and she promised she wouldn't, only telling Dia what she could to help her understand.

"Because it still hurts him Dia." Cassie says softly.

"Does thinking about your daddy still hurt you too?" Diana asks.

"Yeah...not as much as it used to but...the reasons are different. That's all I can say."

"... okay."

Poor Diana knew when a subject should be left alone, and unfortunately the taboo was about her deceased family. She just wanted to know about them and the majority of the task landed on Cassie's shoulders. Sometimes the other Avengers would visit and tell stories that Diana drank in like a sponge, but for the most part it was Cassie telling her the stories and whatever Tony let slip. The older girl often caught Diana looking through Peter's photo album before bed and would tell her a couple of stories before having her go to sleep. Cassie never begrudged Tony for it though. He watched Stephen and Peter (and the other people he allied with) turn to dust. Cassie was fortunate enough not to actually see anyone get dusted. Especially her father. If she did, she had a feeling she would be hurting just as much as Tony.

"Let's go make those cookies now. Maybe we can make some with butterscotch chips for your dad."

"He likes milk with his cookies too!"

"He does. I think we'll all have milk and cookies."

Diana smiles and races down to the kitchen to pull out the rest of the ingredients, and Cassie turns on the oven when she finally makes it down as well. After checking that Diana got everything they needed, they started to pour everything into the mixer. As they were pouring the flour mixture in with the wet ingredients, the mixer was going too fast for the amount poured in and the flour blew up in their faces. The two cough and wipe their faces free of it before finishing, and Tony walks in just after they put the first two sheets in.

He promptly started laughing.

"You making flour bombs in here or cookies?" He chuckles.

"Guess you'll have to find out." Cassie answers as she wipes the rest of the flour off of Diana.

"Having fun piccola?" He asks Diana.

"Uh-huh! We made some cookies with butter...umm…" she furrows her brows together in thought and then smiles. "Butterscotch! Just for you!"

"Oh yeah? I'm looking forward to them. You two always make the best cookies." Tony smiles as he sneaks behind them to grab the bag of coffee beans from the cupboard.

Cassie promptly smacked his hand though and took them to put them back.

"No! Breakfast only and two cups maximum!" She scolds as Tony shakes his hand.

"I feel like I'm losing my authority in my own house." He gripes half-heartedly.

"Don't be so overdramatic about coffee. Just wait a few minutes and you can have milk with cookies like we're going to." Cassie huffs.

"Alright, alright. I'll go watch tv in the living room." Tony says. "No more flour bombs."

Cassie grabs a cleanish measuring spoon and chucks it at his head.

[jawritter]

Promised

Chapter 7

**Series Warnings!! ** ABO dynamics! Smut, unprotected smut, knotting, claiming, mating, heat, rut, language, overly protective Jensen, age gap! 19-year-old reader, 41-year-old Jensen, virgin reader, loss of virginity, sort of an arranged marriage, hint at possible mob type settings.

Story Description:

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

A/N: Pt.7!!! Please don’t copy my stuff! Feedback is welcomed! If you want to be added to the series tag list, or just my tag list in general let me know! Cross-posted on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy it!! This is my first ABO series so be nice lmao!

Missed it so far? Catch up!!

************ Promised Series Masterlist **********

It took you about three weeks to get fully settled into your new environment, and of course, Jensen was more patient than you would have ever dreamed an Alpha would be. Giving you plenty of space. Letting you gain some independence, but never really getting out of arm's length. Which was comforting more than you ever wanted to admit to yourself? 

He’d been teaching you how to do things on your own. Like buy groceries, pick up the dry cleaning, doing things around the house that a normal housewife would do. He said he could hire people to come in and do things like that so you didn’t have to, but if you were being completely honest with him and yourself you like the normalcy of it all. It was something you never had. He taught you how to do laundry, and what he liked to eat. You learned pretty quickly that you liked cooking. 

Jensen told you that you could have social media if you wanted to, but you honestly didn’t feel the need for it. You didn’t really want to admit it to him, but you were a little afraid of social media, to be honest. You knew Jensen was famous for the series Supernatural that he was in for 15 years. Which you had taken to watching when you have free time. You thought it was interesting to see Jensen so young. You even watched a few movies that he was in when he was closer to your age. 

All that though just made you more, and more afraid to be on social media. You knew from talking to Gen, who had become more of a friend to you than you expected, that people on there could be mean, and cruel, and you just didn’t want that kind of negativity. Jensen didn’t seem to mine your offput mindset to it. He didn’t really like it either. Only had it because it was sort of a requirement for his job. 

Since he had claimed you though he didn’t seem to like leaving the house or being away from you to far. He had taken more to working on his music, something that had become a sort of an outlet for him, and you never get tired of hearing him. 

It had taken you a little longer than you expected for you to get used to the amount of freedom Jensen offered you. Just three days ago Gen had wanted you to go out and get your nails done with her. You were afraid to ask him to go, even though you wanted to, he practically shoved you two out the door. He had plans to go golfing with Jared that day and was always pushing for you to get out and do something you enjoy. 

It was the night you looked forward to though. When the day had finally come to a close. When the doors were locked, and the lights went out. His lips on yours, his big warm hands roaming your body, his strong arms holding you close while the two of you slept. Bodies still locked together. His knot buried deep inside of you. Connected on a level you never even knew existed and really don’t even understand. You fell more and more in love with Jensen every day you were together, especially at night….

Leaning over to pace Jensen’s diner in the oven your mind a million miles away from where you were standing in the kitchen. You heard the front door close. His scent entered the room before you really saw him. As always. 

You listened as his footsteps made their way to you where you were in the kitchen. When you saw him you knew immediately something was off. He wasn’t his usual cuddly self but kept his distance staring at you across the bar island in the kitchen. Both his hands leaning on the counter. A square box in one hand. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry, I tried to get us out of this, I really did.” 

Your heart rate jumped up to an unbelievable speed in your throat. Fear gripping the corners of your subconscious. An uneasy feeling coming off your Alpha you had never felt before. Sitting you on edge. 

“Get us out of what?” 

Jensen made his way across the room to where you were standing, box left unopened on the island. His arms wrapping around you, pulling you as tightly to his chest as possible, burying his face in your neck and scenting you deeply. He was looking for some form of comfort and trying to keep his own emotions in check. 

Not lifting his head from your neck he began to speak, his voice so low at first that you weren’t even sure that he was talking to you.

“My dad called me today while I was at the studio working. They are going to set my brother Josh up to take over as pack leader once my father passes away because I forfeited the right when I refused to move us into the estate with my family. Which I knew. It’s what I wanted. The only problem is that we are required to come to the ceremony that will be held to announce my brother as air as to Ackles family estate, and the family business.” he paused for a moment, giving you time to catch up.  

You and Jensen had disgusted your family over the past three weeks. You saw now just how unhealthy and abusive your relationship with your family really was, and you decided you didn’t want any part of it. You wanted to do just like your Alpha and walk away, create a life for yourselves. Grow old together. If you ever did have pups you didn’t want them to grow up in that life. It’s something, to be honest, you wanted to forget about completely. Now here it was. You were going to have to make your first public ‘family’ appearance with Jensen. 

He could feel your body tense underneath his hold and he kissed your neck softly. His warm, soft lips making a trail over your claiming mark in an attempt to try to calm you.

“Do we have to say at the estate? Or just for the Ceremony?” you asked, your own voice barely above a whisper.

“Just the ceremony then we can leave…. Y/N, your parents will be there,” he said looking at you for the first time.

“Y/N, if there was a way out of this, I would take it. I’ve tried. I’ve been arguing on the phone with my father for over an hour. I don’t want to bring my Omega in a room full of Alphas, that think it’s okay to treat their mates like slaves. I’m not okay with bringing you back in that. I will protect you Omega. They won’t be able to touch you.” 

His lips softly grazed your forehead as you nuzzled into his chest. You could feel the anxiety rolling off of him. 

You knew what he was referring to. Not all the Alphas in either the Ackles clan or yours thought old school formalities were needed concerning Omegas, and if you were claimed you were claimed into the clan… Meaning any Alpha could have you, as long as they were part of the pack. 

Reaching over to the island Jensen grabbed the box and handed it to you.

“As you know in these types of formal events it’s custom to have the Omegas wear these..”

Opening the box your stomach churned a little. You had read about these. Even seen your mother and the other Omegas wear them. At one time you would have been excited to be asked to adorn one. Now though, having been away from it all; you noticed just how disgusting and degrading these things really were.

Inside the box was a, I’ll be it beautiful for what it was, claiming collar. It was a golden linked chain with small diamonds laid around it, and Jensen’s initials engraved into the side. It had his scent on it as well. 

“I would never ask you to wear it, you know that, and when this is over you can go throw that fucking thing in the fireplace,” Jensen said. Looking down at the box with pure disgust. 

Closing the box you lay it on the counter behind him. 

“Once this is over Jensen we’re free. I’m not looking forward to this either, but it’s worth the little bit of trouble we have to go through, and one uncomfortable evening with the two packs for a lifetime of freedom isn’t it.” You ran your hands through his hair that was already sticking up everywhere. Probably from him running his hands through it with frustration over and over again. 

Jensen melted into your touch. At that moment you noticed something that you had never noticed with Jensen before. 

Normally he was a strong, independent Alpha. Aside from the playfulness, the fact that he was the most caring Alpha you had ever seen. Even more so with you. He had a big heart. He would go out of his way to help complete strangers in the grocery store that were struggling to load their groceries for God’s sake! 

You never saw anything that really bothered him. Not until this. He almost seemed…. Vulnerable. It hit you then. There were times, that even though he liked to act like nothing ever got to him. The big strong Alpha that man, that he definitely was, he needed reassurance and someone to take care of him from time to time too.

He pulled you closer to him. The two of you just standing there in the kitchen holding on to each other like nothing else mattered. Like if you held on to each other tight enough, then this would all go away, and you would be safe again. Just the two of you.

“Your father, he’s going to be livid,” Jensen said. Scenting you. Looking for the comfort you were giving him. Searching deeper. This was it. This is what he didn’t want to talk to you about.

“Why would my father be angry? We mated. You claimed me. I was given to you just like I was promised… Why would he have any reason to be angry?” You ask. Confusion clouding you.

“Well y/n the thing is. Even though we upheld the union between the families ultimately kept the peace and staved off what would basically be a civil war in all of South Texas. Me not taking my father’s position upon his passing, and turning down the role as pack leader made your father lose his title. See even though it held off the feud. Because I turned it down, and you are not a pack leader’s Omega, he lost his rank in your pack. They ousted him, and gave the role of Pack Leader to your Uncle David and his family.” He said pulling away to search your eyes. 

You stared back at him, confused at first. Not sure what to do… How to make sense of what Jensen was telling. Your father was demoted…. He was no longer the pack leader…

“What’s going to happen to my family?” You asked. Afraid for your sisters. They had been through so much too, and they weren’t lucky enough to have a strong Alpha to protect them from your father’s rath. You knew Jensen was right about one thing. He would be livid.

“From what my father told me was that the pack gave them a nice estate out in the country. He still has a pretty high rank don’t get me wrong, and he will be taken care of. It’s just… the shame that came with the demotion he didn’t take well..” 

You stood there as fear gripped your every fiber of your being. He was going to be at this party, and he was going to be livid. You didn’t know for the first time in your life what his reaction would be to you. You were no longer under his control, but Jensen’s that was a game-changer for sure, but would it be enough? 

You buried your face into your Alpha’s neck, scenting him deeply. Letting his scent surround you. Warming you from the inside out. Calming you in a way that made all the unpleasantries and uncertainties not matter anymore. He smelled stronger than usual. Making your stomach quiver a little. Tentative you reach up and lick at his neck. Pulling the low purr from him that you loved to hear so much. 

“What do you smell so strong today Alpha? I noticed it when you left the shower this morning.”

Jensen took a deep breath. Calming himself and you. Brushing your lips with his lightly. It was things like that. The simple little displays of affection that made you weak for him. Made you fall harder and harder for the handsome green-eyed Alpha. That was currently clinging to you like a drowning man. 

“I’m probably about a week out from my rut. That’s what makes this worse. Stress can bring it on early. I DO NOT want to go into rut at this fucking ceremony. I wanted to be home with you when we went through this the first time together. Not have to settle for being in some fucking hotel room.” 

Well shit. That was a game-changer. You had been a little nervous for Jensen’s first rut to strike since his claiming you, but now. With it very much an impending reality you really wanted to be home to. Somewhere you both felt safe. 

“When do you have to leave?”

“Tomorrow… It’s tomorrow night…”

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​  @imabitch4jensen​  @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​

Promised Series Tag List:

@spnfamily-j2​  @stoneyggirl​ @onethirstyunicorn​  @bloo-moon-freak​  @musiclovinchic93​  @perpetualabsurdity​ @theoneandonlymelol​

[glimmeringgroveavenue]

Meet Mom

“Don’t worry, she won’t eat you.” Leriana reassured her friend Jacqueline. Well, more than just a friend really, as Leriana and Jacqualine had realized recently that they had feelings for each other that extended beyond common friendship. It was complicated, as most things are in teenage years.  “

“She’s really nice! You’ll like her, and she’ll like you.” The “She” in question was Leriana’s adoptive mom, an elf by the name of Sha’Rystria Moonrage. Leriana and her younger sister, Neried were both elves as well whose biological parents had passed away not long back.

“So.. is there anything I need to know before meeting her? Any topics to avoid, or anything like that, you know?” Jacqeline asked with a hint of apprehension in her voice. She was a human girl just slightly older than Leriana. She and Leri had a date set for tonight that would consist of a good old fashioned lineup of a movie and dinner afterwards.

“I mean, just be cool and be yourself. It’s okay to acknowledge that she’s a pred, but don’t like… ask anything beyond that on that topic. It’s just rude.” 

“Okay, got it..” Jacqualine was nervous. Predator people, though fairly well represented in society, were a minority outnumbered by prey people by nearly a ten to three margine. Though all predators were elves, not all elves were predators, and Leriana was in the later category. 

“Come on, let’s go, it’s hot out today and this car is like an oven.” The two girls exited Jacqueline’s car and made their way to the front door of the modern suburban home. In the driveway there was a minivan with a faded “Soccer Mom” bumper sticker on one side and a smaller sticker on the other that was a stylized pair of lips. This particular sticker was an emblem that was generally accepted as the predator’s seal. It wasn’t official of course, but was more so on the lines of a “Deadhead” sticker or something of the like. Jacqueline noticed it with an ever so slightly growing apprehension. 

“Oh my gawd it feels better in the air conditioning.” Just as Leriana had finished the statement, someone else entered the room from a hallway off to the side. An elven woman dressed in a pair of blue jeans shorts and an old faded and somewhat ragged Led Zeppelin t-shirt. “Hey mom! This is Jacqueline! Jackie, this is mom.” Leriana gave a brief introduction that left Sha’Rystria and the human in an awkward position of having to continue the introductory process on their own. Jackie spoke first. “Hello Mrs. Moonrage.” she almost stammered, but managed to hold her composure fairly well anyway.

“Hi Jacqueline, I’m Sha’Rystria, I’m Leri’s mom.” she stated the obvious. “But you can just call me Shar, everyone else does.” The elf smiled. 

Sha’Rystria Moonrage. Elven woman in her mid forties, mother to six biological children who all lived away from home now. Her late husband, a human man named Daniel, had passed away a few years back in an unfortunate accident. The combination of both of these scenarios left Shar with a serious case of “empty nest syndrome”.

Other details of note were that she was incredibly attractive, curvy as a mountain road, and it could be said that she was endowed with a pair of uniquely large breasts. She was also a predator person. 

“Would you girls like a glass of water?” She asked

“That sounds good, you want one too, Jackie?” Leriana asked.

“Oh, well, yes please. If you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all! You all just have a seat and cool off.” Shar offered before going to the kitchen and drawing two glasses of water which she brought to Jacqualine and Leriana. “Thank you.” they both said.

“So, what do you girls plan to do tonight?” Shar inquired.

“Just a movie and dinner afterwards.” Leri answered.

“Oh what movie?”

“We’re not sure yet. It’s a toss up between the one about the boy who can see into the spirit world, and that new slasher movie.” Leriana explained

“Oh I don’t understand what you see in those slasher movies, they disturb me, so much violence.” Shar wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Yeah, and it’s like, the fifth sequel anyway. But, I need to go get ready. Jackie, I’ll be back in a little bit, you and mom can talk while I’m doing that!” Leri said as she stood up. “Be right back!” She took the staircase upstairs to the hall that would lead to her bedroom.

Sha’Rystria crossed one leg over the other while looking at Jacqueline. “So, how are you doing today?” she asked. The elf nonchalantly picked up her purse which was conveniently close by, and upon opening it she extracted a pack of chewing gum from it.  “Would you like a piece of gum?” she offered Jacqueline, who refused “No thanks, Mrs. Moonrage.” she replied. The young lady felt ill at ease, but tried her best to not show it.

“Please, just Shar.” Leri’s mother said as she placed the gum stick into her mouth. “But anyway, how has your day been?” she asked the question again.

“It’s been okay.” Jacqueline said   “Just work, and meeting up with Leri.”

“Oh, what do you do for work?” 

“I work at an auto shop, Engine Zone.” Jacqueline answered

“The one on Magnolia Avenue?” Sha’Rystria chewed the gum in her mouth silently as she spoke.

“Yeah that one.”

“Do you know a lot about cars?”

“Oh, I just work at the cash register really.”

“Ah I see, do you get a lot of interesting customers?” Shar seemed to have a rolodex of casual questions in her arsenal, each leading to another.

“Not, not really.” Jacqueline found the line of questioning oddly unsettling. Sha’Rystria chewed her gum as she listened to Jackie answer her questions. Her clawed toes splayed now and then  as was often the case when she was engaged in casual conversation. She continued the line of questioning. 

“What do you like to do for fun?”

“Well, just stuff, you know.”

“Stuff? Like what?”

“I don’t know, go to movies, read, stuff like that.” Jacqueline felt self conscious and a little nervous, as one who is aware they are being watched does.

“Those seem harmless enough, what do you like to read?” Shar pressed on. The young human glanced toward the door that led out to the front porch. A fleeting glance and quite unintentionally subconscious, but a glance Shar noticed with her predatory sharpness all the same. “It’s okay, I guess I’m asking a lot of questions aren’t I. I don’t mean to make you nervous.” She smiled. Jacqueline smiled sheepishly as well. There was an awkward silence, broken only by the faintest sound of Shar’s chewing of her gum.

“So, you adopted Leri and her sister then?” Jackie asked, more so to end the silent standoff. 

“Yeah, they had been living next door with a roommate actually, and when we all met, I felt a connection to them right away. After some conversation, we all decided that it would be great to live together. I have missed being in the active role of mother, and they needed a family. So, it kind of just worked out.” Shar explained, then added “I love them both very much. They are wonderful girls, and anyone that they trust is bound to be someone special. Or, at least I would hope.” Shar’s lips parted slightly and in a brief instant her tongue could be seen to roll the gum over in her mouth before closing again. A shiver ran down Jackie’s spine, one that seemed to internally say “Oh shit”. She asked her next question reflexively and a little to her immediate regret “So, you are a pred person, right?” She quickly followed with “Leri told me you were. It’s cool, I was just--” she couldn’t find words to finish her thought, and Sha’Rystria’s face lit up with a big smile.

“Yes, I am.” she answered, leaving it at that. The omission of any further information was intentional. It created another awkward silence. Jacqueline fidgeted in her seat, glancing at the door once again. “It’s okay, I’m not going to eat you.” Shar said in as friendly a tone as possible. “Besides, you are so small you wouldn’t be very filling anyway” she added with a mirthful laugh and splay of her toes. If it were possible for Jacqueline to sit up any more straight or rigid than she already was at this time, it would only be by a miracle. 

“Relax, I’m kidding. Sorry, predator humor.” Shar continued to chew on the gum in her mouth.

It was at this point that Leriana could be heard coming down the upstairs hallway to descend the carpeted staircase. “Okay, I’m ready! We should be going now or we may be late. Both movies start at about the same time, and I want to get there early enough to get popcorn. We can bring soda cans with us too if we stop at Four Diamonds along the way. It would be way cheaper than buying them at the theater.” Leri explained, oblivious to the exchange that had gone on in her absence. Jacqueline had never been happier to see Leriana, and wasted no time in replying. “Okay, yeah we should go now then.” She looked to Shar once more, a nervous glint still in her eyes. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Moonrage- Shar, I mean.” 

“And you too, dear.” The elf replied. “Have fun and be safe.” Sha’Rystria said as the girls went to exit the front door to the porch outside. Before closing the door behind them, Shar would say; “And Jackie” at the pronunciation of the young woman’s name, she tilted her head back slightly and in a needlessly dramatic fashion, swallowed the gum. 

“Have her back by eleven.” She waved with a wiggle of her fingers, and closed the door. The bulb in the porch light flickered on.

                                                                                                                    --End

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

sports metaphor

summary: Nolan waits until the last minute to decorate his apartment for Christmas and unsurprisingly needs your help.

warnings: swearing

word count: 2k

requests are currently open!

“You’re a lifesaver.” Your best friend sighed in relief as he opened the door. You laughed at this, watching from the doorway as he retreated back into the apartment to grab his jacket before leading you to the elevator.

“When’s your family coming, anyways?” You questioned, watching as Nolan refused to meet your gaze. Though his adorable red cheeks seemed to get even more rosy. Nolan had called you last night, panicked, saying he had promised his family that he would host Christmas at his place since his crazy hockey schedule was making it difficult for him to find a time to go home.

“Tonight...” He dragged the word, wincing as you gasped and slapped his arm. The elevator dinged open and you both made your way inside. You leaned against the wall, eyeing Nolan as a sudden wave of stress fell over you. 

“They’re coming tonight and you want to decorate the whole apartment, and set up a fake tree, and decorate that. All before tonight.” You groaned at him, running a mental checklist as you thought of all the stuff you would have to buy. 

“And I told my mom there would be cookies.” Nolan mumbled and you narrowed your eyes at him, adding cookie ingredients onto the list.

“There’s no way I’m letting you bake, so I’ll do that too.” You teased, elbowing him playfully. He may have been a damn good hockey player, but he was pretty much hopeless in his domestic life. Sometimes, you would show up to his apartment to do laundry—he insisted you used his place to do it since your building was full of creeps and you had caught someone going through your clothes more than once—and would occasionally catch him up on his own laundry. He insisted you have a key to his place incase you needed anything while he was away on road trips and to return the favor you would clean his apartment for him. It kept you busy when he was gone and you knew he loved it when he came home and everything was in its place. Sometimes, you would leave him little notes to congratulate him on wins for him to read when he would get back.

When the two of you finally got to the store, your annoyance had quickly worn off and your excited eyes casted across the multitude of Christmas lights. Nolan grabbed a cart, chuckling at your amazed expression as he followed you through the store. He watched at you worked your way through the isles, letting you decide what would work best in his apartment. He had given you orders to go big, so you threw whatever caught your eye into the cart.

“Oh my god, look how cute!” You exclaimed, holding up a pack of ornaments. Nolan just smiled at you, watching as you put the package into the cart. Your heart rate increased, blushing slightly under his adoring gaze. The domesticity of picking out Christmas decorations was almost too much for you to handle and it was doing nothing to stop the swell of feelings in your chest. Who could blame you for developing a crush on your best friend when he was so adorable?

After you had gotten everything you needed from the store, it was only a matter of getting all the bags to the apartment. That was, until, you realized Nolan felt the need to show how strong he was by taking nearly all the bags and leaving only the cookie ingredients—he didn’t trust himself with the eggs, and you figured that was the right call. 

“You’re going to set up the tree, and I’ll start the cookies.” You ordered, gesturing loosely to the plastic tree you had gotten at the store. Nolan had argued that he wanted to get a real tree, but you had shot down that idea by telling him that he would need to water it everyday and clean up the needles. He agreed after you pointed out he barely remembered to give himself water everyday. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Nolan teased and as he brushed by you, he reached a hand out to squeeze your hip. You hid your blush by retreating to the kitchen, starting the cookies. By the time you had put the first batch into the oven, Nolan had gotten all the ornaments out of their packages. “Hey, what’s this one?”

When you glanced up from your phone to see what he was referring to, a blush grew on your cheeks. The single ornament he was holding wasn’t inherently embarrassing, but the meaning behind the simple piece of plastic hanging from his finger tips made you turn red. 

“It’s nothing.” You were quick to dismiss. From the teasing smirk on his face and the quirked brow, you could tell he wasn’t going to let it go that easy. You sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Spill.” He ordered, a laugh spilling past his lips as he watched you try to grab the ornament from him. It took basically no effort for him to raise the small object high above your head and leave you pouting.

“It’s just, every year I get a new ornament from my tree at home. And since my flight is so late, I wasn't sure if I would get the chance to get it when I’m back home. So...” You trailed off, not able to meet Nolan’s gaze since you figured he probably thought the whole tradition was childish and you really did not need to see his face when he told you so.

“That’s fucking adorable.”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, and it took everything in you to not melt under his stare right in the middle of his living room. He was smiling so widely at you, you thought your heart was going to burst. Sure, you loved how focused and aggressive he would get on the ice, but nothing compared to when he was looking at you with the softest look in his eyes and a lazy grin finding home on his face. 

And as if on cue, your phone buzzing caught your attention and your mood dropped as you read the notification. 

“What’s wrong?” Nolan asked, having spotted the way your smile faltered and your shoulders slumped in defeat. Sometimes, you really hated how well he knew you.

“My flight home got canceled. And there isn't another flight until after Christmas.” You groaned, dropping onto Nolan’s couch and sending a text to your parents to let them know about your unfortunate change of plans. Nolan shrugged, and you watched as he turned to the fake tree, putting your ornament on. “What’re you doing?”

“Since you can’t go home for Christmas, you’re going to stay here.” He said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You rolled your eyes, but were secretly thankful he had offered to take you in, even if it did mean you were going to feel like you were interrupting his family's celebration. “And since you’re staying here, this is your Christmas tree, and the ornament goes on it.” 

“You can’t just do that.” You huffed, tossing your phone to the side and standing up from your spot on his couch. Nolan narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you removed the ornament from the fake tree.

“I just did and I’ll do it again.” His sass made you laugh as you turned back to the couch, grabbing the box of what you needed before once again facing a confused Nolan Patrick. 

“No, you idiot. You have to put the lights on before the ornaments.” You shoved the package of string lights into his chest, moving to place your ornament among the pile Nolan had gotten for himself. 

When Nolan had called you and asked you to help him decorate his apartment you had assumed you would be getting the job done with him—not in spite of him. He really was acting like a child, wanting the decorations to be put up without actually having to put them up himself. And you practically had to fend him off once you started frosting the cookies.

“You promised your mother there would be cookies, so there better be some left, Patrick.” You warned, pointing the butter knife you were using to frost at him threateningly. He just laughed at you, raising his arms in mock surrender before picking up his own knife to help out. 

“We make a pretty good team.” He sighed after a few moments without conversation. At first, your only response was a roll of your eyes, since you knew that most of the work had been done by you. And most of what he had done had been at the request of you. A Christmas playlist you had put on filled the silence and when it became apparent that you didn't have a verbal reply to his statement, Nolan set down the cookie he had been working on and made his way to your side of the table. “What do you say?”

“About what? Us being a good team?” You questioned, not letting yourself look up at him, no matter how much you wanted to. With each moment that passed it was becoming harder and harder for you to convince yourself that everything that happened between the two of you was as just friends. Nolan hummed, letting you know that was what he had been referring to. “I think I’m more of your coach than your teammate.”

“I’m fine with you as my coach.” The seriousness in his voice made you freeze, and suddenly you wondered if he was talking in sports metaphors about something that really shouldn't have been. You weren’t sure if you were misconstruing things simply because you were holding out hope that maybe your feelings were returned. You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't even register the butter knife being slipped out of your hand until one of Nolan’s large hands cupped your cheek, the other resting comfortably on your hip. “I mean, if you want to be my coach.”

So maybe you weren't reading into things.

“Is this your way of asking me out?” You blanched, feigning an unimpressed stare as you felt a wave of confidence surge through you. His hand on your cheek dropped to your other hip, and you started to wonder if you shouldn't had said what you did. Your heart was thumping in your chest and as a beat of silence passed where Nolan didn’t say anything, you began to panic. If he rejected you, you didn't have anywhere else to be for the holidays, and would most likely spend Christmas alone, with a bottle of wine and sappy romance movies. You would picture yourself and Nolan as the protagonists and probably cry with the knowledge you ruined a perfectly good friendship. 

“What if it was?” After what felt like ages, Nolan finally responded. You thought he looked adorable, with his brows drawn together as he tried his best to understand what was going on inside your head. 

“I’d say drop the sports metaphors and actually ask me.” As you spoke, you wound your arms around his neck and carded your fingers through the hair on the base of his head. The smile that broke out onto his face was borderline infectious, and had you grinning madly as he pulled you fully into his chest. 

“Can’t believe I get you introduce you as my girlfriend to my parents tonight.” Nolan sighed in content, pulling away just in time to see your face drop despite the warmth that grew in your chest at the sound of him calling you his girlfriend. Instantly, he was riddled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m meeting your parents!” You all but shouted as the realization dawned on you. It was different when it had just been your best friends parents that you would be meeting. Now, it was your boyfriend’s family. You would be spending Christmas with your boyfriend’s parents—and you really only had been dating for mere seconds at this point. Nolan grinned, though you couldn't see what was so funny as you started fiddling with your fingers due to nerves. 

“Relax, they’ll love you. I talk about you to them enough, anyways.”

And now, you were grinning like an idiot too. But then you looked to the table and saw just how many more cookies you had to finish and how little time you had before Nolan had to leave to get his parents from the airport.

“Start frosting, Patrick. You promised your mom cookies and I’m not disappointing my boyfriend’s parents just because you're adorable.”

[etheralisi]

ρυмρкιη ριε αη∂ αℓℓ тнιηgs ηιcε

Uses references to this fic:<br /> https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832037

And more or less based on this prompt:<br /> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/160337841310/fluffbird-writing-prompt-s-an-old-and-homely#notes

Alternatively titled ‘Why Gloria Jenkins Should Not Be Allowed Near Candles’, this was the first tau fic I managed to complete back in 2018. It’s undergone a few changes, because ehhh, but I’ll release it into the wild as a short something. It’s doing nothing here, lying around and collecting dust.

𝙰 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐  

𝙱𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎   

 ~ 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙺𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛

 Gloria smiled to herself as she sunk into her chair, her heart as toasty as an open fire, and insides tingling with the lingering feeling of contentment. Sure, the darn thing was falling apart, ragged at the edges and probably worth no more than a penny or two in a garage sale. Stuffing was oozing out that very moment. But it was home , and everything she had left of a life lived, with children running and screaming within these walls. Growing up. Living. Thriving. Leaving the coup to fly free.

 But her? The mother hen? She stayed home.

 After such a busy day of rooting around her loft for family photo albums, she honestly felt this time to rest her aching bones was well and truly earned, and no, she won’t take any constructive criticism on the matter thank you very much. What was, however, unfortunate to admit aloud and something she’d never in a million years concede to in front of her family was that her bones weren’t as energetic as they had been once upon a time… much alike her dwindling eyesight. Hazy blobs, it all was. Pretty ones, but hazy nonetheless. Her world became an abstract painting the very second her glasses left her face.

 The elderly woman groaned, realisation dawning like a sledgehammer to the head, full on smack. She knew something had been missing. Her glasses! The darn things! How could she have possibly forgotten such an important item as those? 

 Using as much force as she could, Gloria found it in her to haul herself out of the comfort of her chair, even with her body’s initial protest. She stumbled about the house a bit, the grace of a drunkard or woman in need of glasses, searching for the location of wherever she had last left her glasses case. It had been, what? Two moments ago when she saw them? She’d put down the glasses into the case, taken her seat, and fallen into quiet bliss in her chair. Had it been knocked off and fallen under something? 

 Luck was on her side since her vision wasn’t as bad as it could have been in a few years time, deteriorating as the months wander by, so she managed to make out the basic shapes and colours of her surroundings just fine. No walking into walls for this woman!

 Ah. Wait. No. Luck was very much not on her side at all, the case still having failed to show, and Gloria had to result to “making a strategic retreat” as she put it, deeming it inefficient to keep looking for something which would just turn up sooner or later when she wasn’t really looking for it. Thus is the way of life. Shrugging, she made her way back to her sad but lovable excuse for a couch seat, only stopping when she noticed the basket by the front door that she had placed there little under an hour earlier. Her niece, Juliana, had asked if Gloria had any family photos left in her house that she could share with her immediate family, and she had risen to the challenge by diving into her vast loft. And yes, she meant vast . There’s got to be at least two or three sigils on the walls at least to enlarge the interior to twice that of the outside. It was all new technology at the time she bought this house. All the rage.

 So. The whole place was a disaster zone. Where all those missing trinkets turn up. Lost some socks? Probably go there, somehow. Good luck finding it in the coming year.

 Getting to that album sure took some sweet sweet time. Which is why, on her long perilous journey, family photo albums weren't the only things she had found in her search, the numerous other knick knacks of various interest lying within the basket being an obvious example of this. There had been plenty of things she’d forgotten about, stashed away within the depths of the loft, never to be seen until they resurfaced that very day. Her gaze drifted to the fuzzy, orange sticks lying atop the basket that vaguely looked like fat carrots, if a little waxy if you so chose to chew them. But don’t be fooled by her eyesight, for they weren’t as they seemed.

 She was pretty sure those were the candles she’d found hiding in a box labelled “ dangerous ”. Gloria had no idea why they had been labelled as such (maybe a potential fire hazard? Children’s grabby hands and whatnot) and could honestly never remember buying any candles from the Pine River Candle Company in her life. Yet, she knew good quality candles when she saw them, so she had taken them out of their box and added them to her basket to be brought down and used whenever she wanted to make her home smell like fresh pumpkin pie.

 Hmm… fresh pumpkin pie, huh? It got her in the mood for a spot of baking. Reminded her of all those years back, the big grin her grandson had always given her whenever a plate stacked with her baked treats was laid out before him.

 Alas the boy never really seemed to come visit his ol’ granny anymore, always giving excuses (and oh how he had the audacity to deny them being so — she knew an excuse when she heard one, could sniff one out from a mile away, blindfolded), and barely ever sent her up a Christmas card! 

 Well, it was his loss. He didn’t want to eat her baking anymore, then fine! She knew others, like the postman, for one, who’d take kindly to being fed.

 With that thought in mind, Gloria picked up all six of the candles and made a return back into the living room. She began placing them all around the perimeter of the room, lighting them one by one as she went.

 Her chair made protests of its own as she plonked herself back, age being something they both shared in common. Sadly. But she was no feeble woman, and outright refused to fall apart. Nope, not today. Life was good. Great even. 

 Caught in the moment, she sniffed the now heavily sweet scented air, an aroma that spelled everything she loved more than words could describe. It frolicked, dispersing itself throughout the air, tickling her nose as if it were a feather.

  Ah, perfect.

 Her eyelids began to shut as exhaustion took ahold of her, which is why it can be excused how she completely missed the way the candles in the room flickered, one by one being replaced with a much more menacing azure flame. Nor did she bear witness to the figure who popped into her living room in a plume of smoke.

 What she did not miss, however, was the way said figure grumbled under his breath at the use of scented candles. Just, come on! She may have been old and her sight may have been lacking, but she wasn’t deaf! 

 Gloria wearily cracked open her left eyelid, before blinking twice to snap herself out of her stupor. The peculiarity of a strange man being in her house was something to pay attention to. And complaining about her candles no less?

 Wait…

 That brown blob of hair, that voice… could it be? 

 “Arthur, is that you?” Speak of the devil, had her grandson finally decided to get up off his backside and visit his old lady?

 Somehow, though she didn’t know how, the room seemed to become ever more quiet as if trapped within a bubble of silence where not even time dared to flow.

 “Uhm…” ‘Arthur’ choked out at last, “ Excuse me? ”

 “Aha!” Gloria’s mouth twisted up with glee as she let out a small, victorious laugh which somehow morphed into a gleeful cackle when on the verge of petering out, “I knew it! You couldn’t stay away from my baking forever!”

 “Your- nevermind .” He took a deep breath just before he continued, his words strained. “Look, Gloria, I’m not Arthur. I’m Alcor and I-.”

 “Alcor huh?” She hummed in thought, not noticing how ‘Arthur’ harrumphed at her interruption. “Sounds pretty dumb. Why’d you change it?”

 “And...” Gloria squinted, continuing. “What’s with the wardrobe change? Have you gone gothic, Arthur? That’s a lot of black you’re wearing.”

 ‘Arthur’ didn’t take too kindly to her plethora of questions, already shuffling backwards from her chair. “... Look, this seems like it was some mistake. I’m just going to go..”

 With a speed so fast that she might have even broken the sound barrier, Gloria was out of her chair and had her hand firmly grasped around his arm, “You’re not going anywhere young man! Don’t you dare stop by for two minutes and then leave! You’re coming with me to the kitchen and we’re going to do some baking together just like we used to.”

 She noticed him start to speak, though she cut him off before he could even so much as squeak a word out.

 “Now off you trot, to the kitchen!” She released her hand from his arm and began pushing him through to said destination. “This rocky road cake isn’t going to bake itself.”

 ‘Arthur’ seemed to perk up at the mention of ‘rocky road’ and Gloria couldn't help but snicker at his sweet tooth. Some things never seemed to change.

 “Ro͜cky̶ ͟ro͘àd͏?” He asked with an odd layer of reverb, getting Gloria to begin questioning if hearing was going a little off after all. 

 “Yes.” She sighed, already shovelling him into the kitchen and dismissing the reverb. “Now make yourself useful and turn on the oven.”

  Alcor’s gold on black eyes numbly trailed after the woman’s figure as she left, leaving him alone in some random kitchen and wondering what the actual heck just happened?

[rainandhotchocolate]

Honeymoon - Part 2

A/N this was a lil aftermath of Honeymoon P1 - when Sirius & Y/N go home :))) Literally just pure fluff - written for the AMAZING @siriuslyjanhvi who just had their bday!! I hope this makes you feel all gooey :))

Home

Y/N felt Sirius’ hand brush her lower back as he followed her into the Potter’s hallway, closing the door behind them.

“Padfoot!” James’ voice bellowed down the hall before he even reached the doorway from the kitchen, “Yes! Welcome back!”

“Good to be back, Prongs,” Sirius slipped forwards, hugging James tightly, “It smells bloody amazing in here.”

“Lily has been cooking all day, but don’t try and steal anything before dinner, she might try to cut your fingers off.”

“Duly noted,” Y/N snorted, embracing James a little less tightly than Sirius, smiling at him, “She’s in the kitchen?”

“Yep!” James was already wheeling Sirius away and towards the living room. Y/N rolled her eyes and made her way into the small kitchen off to the right of the hall. Sirius was right, it did smell absolutely amazing, salt and spices wafting up to her as she spotted Lily tossing something vigorously in a large pan.

“It smells amazing, Lils,” Y/N took in a deep breath and sat down across from her.

“I’m aware, I’m an amazing cook,” She grinned, turning around to wink at her, “I’m so glad we can all get together, I feel like there’s always an emergency or something that means someone has to up and leave at any moment.”

“Don’t worry I’ve told Sirius that if he even tries to check in with work I will have to kill him.”

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if that’s enough motivation for him.”

“Should have told him no more sex,” said Marlene’s voice, and Y/N found her leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous smile playing on her face.

“Yes, using sex as a weapon always works well,” Y/N breathed out a laugh, “And anyway, there’s no win in there for me, is there.”

“Very wise you are, Y/N,” said Marlene, chuckling lightly as she sat down next to Y/N, “So how did your no-sex weekend together go then?”

“I’m betting on badly,” Lily shook her head, leaning down to check what she’d been cooking in the oven.

“I bet they didn’t last an hour all alone in a fancy hotel room…” Marlene trailed off, her eyebrows raised.

“It was fine, thank you very much,” Y/N gave Marlene a pointed look, “We have more self control than that,”

Y/N couldn’t help but think back to Sirius’ head between her legs on their large king-sized bed, him pushing her up against a wall in the shower as he pushed himself into her…

“Sure you do,” Marlene winked again, leaning back in her chair, “It’s alright, I’m sure Sirius will tell James who will tell Lily who will eventually tell me… or you could just make it easier and tell me that you broke.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Marlene, eyeing her closely.

“Did you bet on us,” Y/N turned to Lily as well, who was avoiding her by moving pans around on the stove.

“Perhaps,” Marlene’s grin got wider, laughing at Y/N’s annoyed expression, “Oh come on, you would have done the same if it was anyone of us.”

Y/N grumbled, not wanting to admit she was right, ignoring Marlene and Lily’s soft giggles.

“How much longer, Lils?”

“A year since James has refused to help me all day, I don’t know what he’s up to but I sense something large and ridiculous.”

“Wouldn’t be James if it wasn’t large and ridiculous,” Y/N snorted, turning back to Lily, “Do you honestly not need any help.”

“It’s nearly done,” Lily smiled at her, “just hope it’s good, I wanted to make something my mum would have made.”

“Well by the smell I can tell she’s rejoicing that her daughter can cook like a good housewife,” Marlene dodged a large tea towel that Lily threw at her, laughing.

“I’m allowed to enjoy cooking, thank you very much,” Lily poked her tongue out at Marlene, who returned the gesture.

“Don’t worry, it’s just cause she can barely cook toast,” said Y/N, mischievously, “I had to teach her how to make scrambled eggs.”

“That was a secret!”

“Serves you right for being mean to me,” Y/N’s smile grew as Marlene narrowed her eyes.

“Scrambled eggs! It’s in the bloody name!” Lily cried out, doubling over with laughter, her eyes watering.

“It’s not my fault I grew up in a household that liked to eat out!”

“I actually can’t believe you didn’t know how to make eggs,” Lily wiped an eye, still sniggering slightly.

“I’ll destroy your dinner right here and now,” Marlene threatened, giving Lily an overexaggerated glare.

“Oh I know you wouldn’t, you can’t resist a roast,” Lily waved a hand in dismissal, switching off the stovetop, “And anyway it’s all done.”

Lily grabbed her wand that was sitting beside her on the countertop, and flicked it. Within moments, the food that had been cooking was sitting on the table in front of Marlene and Y/N, placed perfectly in a long row down the middle.

“Did we hear the word done?” James poked his head around the door, grinning widely. Lily rolled her eyes at him as Sirius poked his head around the other side of James, making James look like he had two heads.

“I see food,” Sirius said in a sing-song voice, eyes trailing over the roast, “It looks amazing, Miss Evans.”

“Thank you, Mr Black. Come on, I want to eat it whilst it’s hot.”

The boys sidled in, pulling out the empty chairs around the table to join Marlene and Y/N. Lily reached up into one of the topmost cupboards and pulled out a large bottle of something red, turning back to the group with a look at the rest of them, as if silently asking who else wants some.

“Oh, breaking out the firewhiskey already,” Sirius raised an eyebrow, “I’m always in for a glass.”

Lily went around the table, pouring everyone a glass except for herself, before joining the table herself. She beamed at all of them, her food sitting in front of her, steam billowing from the large chicken and potatoes that sat right in the middle of the table.

“Not to be too sappy, but I’m glad you are all here, with me. Us, I mean,” Lily continued to beam at each person around the table, landing finally on James, “Though I know we are missing Remus and Peter, and I know we said we would wait for us all to be here, but with Remus working every waking hour to advocate for Werewolves and Peter still studying counselling I just, I want to tell some of you at least.”

“What’s going on?”

“Is everything ok?”

Y/N and Sirius shared a look, Marlene reaching under the table to grab Y/N’s hand. Ever since the war there was this tension in the air, a jolt whenever there was news. Y/N could feel her gut twisting as the thought about every possible thing that could have happened whilst they were away, all the people that were still at large, who could hurt them or worse…

“Everything is fine,” Lily laughed, smiling reassuringly. She looked over at James, who was smiling back at her, his eyes twinkling as he nodded for her to continue, “I promise, this is good news.”

She took a deep breath, grinning a little wider.

“I’m pregnant.”

There was a pause, wherein Y/N, Marlene and Sirius stared at her, mouths gaping open. Y/N felt her brain going into shock.

“Congratulations!” a shout came from Sirius, who stood up quickly, pushing back his chair and hitting the table in the process. He rushed over to Lily, pulling her into an extremely tight bearhug before pulling away equally as quickly.

“Holy shit, that didn’t hurt the baby did it?”

“No, Sirius, you dork,” Lily looked a little giddy, looking back over to her two girlfriends who were yet to make a move.

“Lily, congratulations,” Y/N stood up as well, shaking off her internal thoughts and smiling widely as well. She reached out and grabbed Lily’s hand, “I couldn’t think of anyone who would be a better mother.”

Lily beamed at her, squeezing her hand back tightly as Marlene sprinted around the table to take over from Sirius, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“We are going to give you the wildest baby shower anyone has ever seen.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Lily’s face was flushing lightly, and Y/N swore she saw her eyes begin to tear before she spun quickly to grab utensils to serve, “Come on, time to eat!”

They bombarded her with questions throughout dinner, when did it happen, how did it happen, when is she due, do they know if it’s a boy or a girl, have they told their parents yet. James let Lily do all the talking, watching her with so much love in his eyes that Y/N felt herself want to squeeze his hand. If anyone deserved this kind of happiness in their life it was them.

Once they’d finished eating, all leaning back in the large oak chairs Lily had gotten as a house-warming present from her parents, James finally spoke.

“Alright, now all you girls fuck off, Sirius and I are cleaning,” James looked stern, placing his hands on his hips and pointing into the living room, “I have to practice my fatherly tones, you know.”

“No kid would take you serious with that face,” Y/N snorted, standing up and stretching. James’ mouth couldn’t stop twitching.

“Oh shoo, Mrs Black,” James winked, skipping backwards to avoid Y/N’s hand reaching out to slap him on the shoulder.

“I’d die before I kept the Black line continuing,” Sirius started clearing the plates, swatting Lily’s hand away as she tried to stack her own plates, “Leave us men to the manly cleaning, jobs thank you.”

“Fine, fine, don’t destroy my kitchen.”

“Our kitchen, dear,” James pushed her out of the room, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Marlene and Y/N followed her, Marlene quickly swiping the bottle of Firewhiskey and bringing it with them into the large living room across the hall. All the couches faced the large fireplace which James had recently connected to the floo network and painted a deep maroon colour because he ‘had to remember his roots’.

Lily was still trying to convince him to buy a television set, but he’d not let up, saying it would destroy their personal time together. Lily was sure that it was just because he didn’t want to admit he had no idea how electricity worked.

Lily plopped herself onto the large couch, pulling off her shoes and unbuttoning the top button on her jeans. The two girls followed, Marlene on the floor in front of her and Y/N on the small armchair to her right.

“So…” Lily grinned, turning back to face Y/N, “what do you say about an early baby shower gift.”

Y/N groaned, throwing her head back onto the chair.

“Fine, but you have to tell Sirius that you put veritaserum into my firewhiskey.”

“THEY DID IT!”

“Damnit, Y/N why!” Lily groaned, rolling her eye back, “One more week! One week and you could have gone as wild as you liked.”

“You bet for me?” Y/N faced her, surprised.

“Of course! Someone had to be rooting for you.”

“I on the other hand was hoping for you to root,” Marlene dodged the pillow Lily threw at her, waggling her eyebrows at the two of them, “Ok, come on we need details.”

Sirius stood in the doorway, absentmindedly drying a large plate as he watched Y/N giggle and share some of her favourite moments of the weekend away they had spent.

“So you broke?” James came up behind him, grabbing the plate out of his hand and swapping it for a large saucepan.

“Oh, yeah, within like 5 hours.” Sirius barked a laugh, “There was no way we were lasting a whole weekend in a private room.”

“I honestly don’t know how you lasted 5 hours, Lily and I would have found time before we even unpacked,” James winked at him.

“Well obviously, daddy.” Sirius grinned widely at James who cringed at the term.

“So, one week before the wedding huh, you nervous?”

Sirius looked over to Y/N. She had a twinkle in her eyes that she always got when she was telling a story she was particularly excited about. After a moment, as if she could sense him, she turned her head and her eyes met his. She stuck her tongue out at him, before turning back to the two girls leaning forward towards her.

“Couldn’t be more ready for anything.”

Taglist:  @averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana​ @avengersassemblee​ @maraudersandco​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood​ @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad​ @evyiione​ @minerva26love​ @aikeia​ @gollyderek​ @greatwombatblaze​  @songforhema​  @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom

[littlemisswolfie]

i get too attached

Based on this post [x]. New Moon AU where Charlie calls Harry instead of Billy when Bella gets depressed because he thinks Leah can help.

Bella Swan is a pathetic girl, Leah thinks. And it makes her angry because she used to be a pathetic girl, too.

She never asked for this. She never asked to babysit the daughter of the white guy her dad hangs out with. But her dad said, “You know what it feels like to be in her shoes. You’re her best hope,” and Leah can’t bear to let her father down after he weathered her meltdown after Sam left, so she agreed. And now Bella is sitting in her living room in a hoodie than hangs off her too-thin frame and barely breathing. 

Jacob Black has been sniffing around the house, but Leah chased him off with her dad’s rifle after the fifth time he knocked on the door. “If she wanted you,” she spat, “she woulda asked. Get off my property.”

Everyone around her--her dad, her teachers, her friends--are babying her. And Leah doesn’t think that’s what she needs, because it’s definitely not what she needed. So she barks, “Hey, Swan, you like cooking, yeah?”

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Bella lifts her head and meets Leah’s eyes with her own. “Yes,” she says, so quiet Leah almost can’t hear her over the sound of the waves nearby.

“Good.” Leah throws the fridge door open and gestures vaguely to the insides. “Mom’s working a double tonight and none of the rest of us can tell our ass from a frying pan. If you’re gonna be hanging around here, you might as well pull your weight.”

Leah waits for the command to register, and watches with no small amount of satisfaction as Bella slowly rises from the couch and makes her way to the small house’s small kitchen. “Allergies?” she asks, sounding a little more sure of herself now that she has a task.

 Biting back a smug grin, Leah says, “We’re garbage disposals. We’ll eat anything.”

*

Leah isn’t gentle with Bella Swan. She doesn’t talk to her in a soft voice or walk on eggshells around her. She’s loud and commanding and crude, because that’s what she wanted when she was mourning the loss of Sam and his love.

And, lo and behold, not babying an almost adult and making her confront her feelings actually works. Who fucking knew?

*

Leah looks at the two trashed bikes in the bed of the old truck, then to Bella, then back to the bikes, then back to Bella. “Are you high? What makes you think I know anything about bikes?”

Bella doesn’t cower like she used to when Leah snapped at her. “What? Are you afraid of getting your hands dirty or something?”

“Where’d you even get these pieces of shit?” Leah asks, not willing to dignify her taunt with a response. 

“I found them on the road.”

“And you just picked them up?”

“No one else wanted them, obviously.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

“You can bitch at me and hold a wrench at the same time. Let’s see if we can get these babies up and running.”

And, well. A snarky, swearing Bella is a lot more entertaining than a zombie Bella, so Leah rolls up her sleeves and gets to work.

*

Bella brings a printed out tutorial for riding motorcycles to the rez after the bikes are fixed up and they spend a few days teaching themselves how to ride. When Bella falls off and scrapes her knee and passes out at the sight of her own blood, Leah runs back to town to buy her knee pads. The only kind the closest store has are kiddie ones, but Bella’s definitely small enough, so Leah buys a whole set of sparkly Barbie elbow-and-knee pads.

Bella laughs when she sees them, and the sound makes Leah’s heart thud a little harder in her chest.

*

Leah’s over at Bella’s for once, sitting with criss-crossed legs on the cool tile of the Swans’ kitchen floor while Bella whips up a lasagna that smells so good her mouth is actually starting to water, when she finally feels comfortable enough to open up.

“Do you ever wonder why your dad called my dad instead of Billy?” she asks.

Bella pauses in her layering and tilts her head down towards Leah. “Not really. Why?”

“Because he knew I know how you feel.”

Bella freezes. “What do you mean?”

And so Leah tells her about a girl and a boy, and about a life they were supposed to spend together, and about the girl’s heart-sister who took her happily ever after away.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until Bella’s arms (still too thin, god, she needs to eat more, what the fuck?) snake around her shoulders and pull her head to rest on her pale shoulder, exposed by her too-big Mariners shirt that is probably actually Charlie’s. “I’m here,” she says in a soothing voice that somehow doesn’t make Leah feel like she’s being pitied. “I’m here.”

It takes another twenty minutes for the lasagna to make it into the oven, but Leah doesn’t complain.

*

Despite her newfound friendship with Bella, Leah feels her temper rising. Little things like Seth using up the rest of the milk or her mom not closing her door when she leaves her room send her flying off the handle. For a few weeks she thinks it’s PMS, but when her period comes and goes and she still feels angry all the time, she starts to worry.n

It all comes to a head one night when her dad gets upset with her for a bad grade on an English test. What could have been a quiet, if heated, confrontation becomes a shouting match that makes Seth (little Seth, who’s grown what seems like a foot in a month) start edging towards the gun mounted on the wall. 

Then her dad says, “Maybe I should call Charlie and tell him not to send Bella ‘round anymore if you can’t focus on your studies--” and that’s what does it. Anger tears through her like a bullet and suddenly her bones and muscles are snapping in unnatural directions and her clothes are shredding and where she was once a young woman she is now a gray wolf.

*

Leah knows she killed her father.

That’s why she doesn’t answer Bella’s phone calls. That’s why she keeps her door locked when she smells Bella coming into the house. 

Her father had a heart attack because of her. And she’ll never forgive herself.

Maybe being in the boys’ heads and the boys being in her head is her punishment. Having to see Emily living the life she was supposed to live is how she can pay for her father dying. 

(Except it doesn’t hurt, seeing them together. She doesn’t want Sam anymore. She doesn’t think she has in a while. The worst thing about the pack mind is Jacob fucking Black and his 24/7 Bellathon.)

(She refuses to think about the implications of that.) 

(Because Bella already loves someone else. A very male, very leech-like someone else.)

*

The day of the funeral, Bella has finally had enough.

She pounds on the door to Leah’s bedroom. “Fuck you, Leah Clearwater!” she shouts. “You don’t get to abandon me! Not like Edward! I won’t let you!”

“Leah.” She winces at the sound of her mother’s stern voice. “Bella’s right. I understand you’re hurting, but you can’t cut yourself off. Get your ass out of your room and come to the funeral, or else I’m gonna tan your hide.”

Leah’s already dressed in her funeral dress that’s a few inches too short on her, even though she wore it to old man Joseph Featherstone’s funeral six months ago. Must be the werewolf thing. She looks at herself in the hand-held mirror she nailed to her wall by the handle in an attempt to recreate a vanity a few years ago and sighs. “Time to face the music, Lee Lee,” she mutters to herself, and she stands up and throws open the door.

As soon as her eyes meet Bella’s, her whole world crumbles and rebuilds itself, with a skinny, pasty, leech-loving white girl at the center of it all. 

“Fuck,” she says. and before either Bella or her mother can react, she pulls Bella into her arms and buries her nose at the point where her shoulder slopes up to her neck and inhales, and, for just a moment, things aren’t terrible.

One day, they might even be kind of alright.

<Previous | First | Next>

[junie-bugg]

Prospects and Propriety - Chapter Two

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

Katniss Everdeen and her younger sister Prim are the adopted daughters of Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, a wealthy man with no biological heirs. By the rules of Panem society, an older sibling must be married before the younger can wed. In a time when women have no means of making their own living, marriage is the only way for Katniss to save her sister from destitution and set her up for a happy marriage of her own. Katniss sets her sights on Mr. Gale Hawthorne, a wealthy man who just moved to Whitley and who seems to have his eye on her. But what of the poor baker’s boy who once took a beating to save her life?

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQbx-OkfN-M

(If you want to listen to this song on Spotify it's called Symphony No.5 in C Sharp Minor: 4. Adagietto (Sehr Iangsam))

Word Count: 3125

Chapter Two

Prim and I have the next day off of lessons. We’ve been homeschooled ever since we came to live with Haymitch, but the weekends are saved purely for whatever we see fit to fill them with. For me, that’s mostly hunting and being out in the woods, unless the weather is bad, and sometimes not even then. 

If I decide to stay at home I usually lounge around with a book and see what Prim is up to. It’s mostly knitting, dress-up, or playing with the ugly cat Haymitch let her keep a few years back. Prim named him Buttercup, claiming that his matted, ruddy coat matched the bright yellow of the flowers she so adored. I had wanted to drown the thing in a bucket when we caught him stealing scraps from the kitchen, but Haymitch had laughed, even picked the thing up by the scruff of his neck and shook him around. 

“Look at this little guy, sweetheart. He’s a survivor. We can’t kill him!” He had placed the dirty, mewling kitten into Prim’s arms and the thing had hissed at me. I was worried he’d give Prim some kind of disease but he never did. I don’t feel gratitude towards him though. Only suspicion. It could still happen. 

When I want to be alone I go to my greenhouse. Really it’s Prim’s and my greenhouse, but ever since she found maggots in the compost pile nearly two years ago, she hasn’t stepped foot in there.  The greenhouse is small, maybe a third the size of my bedroom, but it’s peaceful. Especially when it storms and I can hear every hollow beat of the raindrops on its glass roof. It’s situated on the edge of the grounds by the tree line that morphs into the large forested hill behind Victor Greene, Haymitch’s estate. Over the years I’ve planted herbs and flowers and medicinal plants I’ve found on my journeys into the woods. The plants do well here in the rows of dark soil I’ve fortified with compost and fertilizer. The whole place smells of earthy rot and there’s something about how sunlight scatters lazily through the frosted windows that calms me. There’s a nook on the far side of the greenhouse, past all the plants, where I’ve scattered some quilts and pillows on a wide triangular window ledge. It’s a perfect place to read or sleep. Or sing. 

This is the only place where I let myself sing. I don’t even do it in the woods, always afraid someone else taking a stroll will hear me or that I’ll scare away game. Ever since Prim and I were placed under Haymitch’s care, really ever since our dad died, I refuse to sing in front of others. Maybe it’s because I’m shy and I don’t like people listening to my voice swelling and breaking on the high notes. Or maybe I’m lying to myself and I don’t sing in front of others because it’s too painful to remember a time when my life was filled with music. Mountain aires and lullabies and love songs, all sung by my father. I guess I don’t like breaking apart when there’s an audience. But when I’m alone I can shatter beneath the notes for a time, before I’m needed back up at the house. 

Today, however, instead of knitting or playing hide and seek in the gardens, Prim has informed me she wants to walk to the village. “You need new ribbons for the ball!” She squeaks as I button up her light pink dress from behind. We have servants available who help us dress or bathe or brush our hair but I always like helping Prim myself. She looks like a tiny little princess with her frilly dress and her curls pulled back with a pearl white ribbon. In contrast, I look plain in a forest green frock and my light brown shawl. 

“I told you, Prim. I’m not going.” I struggle with the last button. Prim has been going through a growth spurt and soon she’ll be too big for this dress. I feel sad, watching my little sister growing up so fast. 

“I heard Mrs. Winthrop and Ms. Trinket talking and they said you had to go,” She’s grinning so hard I can see the slight gap between her two front teeth. “Because Mr. Hawthorne is going to be there.” 

Ah, yes. My supposed husband-to-be. So even Prim has heard about Ms. Trinkets’ ridiculous arrangements. A man with that much money has his pick of the litter when it comes to choosing brides. I’m not ugly, but I’m no exquisite beauty either. Not like some of the girls I see around Whitley. I have no fortune of my own, really no status either besides being Haymitch’s ward and that will go up in smoke the second he dies. Most likely Mr. Hawthorne will look right through me and move on. But the news that I’m being forced to attend the public ball worries me. The whole village will be there. Including him. The baker’s boy. 

Maybe some new ribbons aren’t such a bad idea. 

We turn down an offer for the carriage and instead walk along the main road into Whitley. My boots have barely brushed the cobblestone sidewalks when Prim is dragging me into the seamstresses’ shop. The dressmaker, Cinna Ludgate, and the tailor, I think her name is Portia Peever, both turn to welcome us. Prim tells Mr. Ludgate about my need for new ribbons and in a flash he pulls down the display from the ceiling, winking at me as he walks back to the counter. 

There are so many to choose from. Streams of all colors flutter between my outstretched fingertips like butterfly’s wings. I see ribbons of frilly lace, satin, velvet, and even silk. My eyes land on a simple, white cloth ribbon with a delicate embroidered lavender pattern. I hold it up for Prim’s inspection and she declares I have to buy two in case I manage to get one dirty before the ball. 

I’ve just handed Mrs. Peever the money for the ribbons when the bell over the door rings. In walks Ms. Delly Cartright, one of Prim’s closest friends, and her older sister, Ms. Marianne Cartright. Their father is the village shoemaker, so they’re well known and well-liked by almost everybody. Delly is Prim’s age which gives them plenty to talk about. Prim grabs a hold of Delly and begins showing her the latest shipment of buttons Mr. Ludgate has displayed. 

Marianne is one year younger than me but we’ve never exchanged more than simple pleasantries. I dread small talk but from my personal experience, a trip into town wouldn’t be deemed official without at least one awkward encounter. 

“Are you coming to the ball, Ms. Everdeen? You missed the last one,” Marianne asks. She’s absolutely gorgeous, with big, blue doe eyes and a pouty mouth. Her nose is small and her figure slender. She is what they call a “country belle” in Town. I know at least five love songs written about girls like her. I expect in a few years Prim will grow to be one herself. 

“The dancing was splendid. I do hope you’re coming next week,” She continues.

I hold up my ribbons in response. “My tutor Ms. Trinket won’t let me miss it.” I force my mouth into a smile. 

“Oh,” Marianne’s eyes have settled on my ribbons. They’re probably a tad dull for her taste seeing as there were velvets and silks to choose from, but I like the simple flower design. The white cloth paired with the purple and green thread looks pretty. “Well, as my darling mother always says: simple never goes out of style.” She smiles up at me but the warmth doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “My sister and I are here for my dress fitting. I can’t wait to show everyone what Mr. Ludgate made me for the ball. It’s a custom piece!” She practically squeals. I nod and bid her goodbye, waving Prim over so we can leave. I breathe a sigh of relief as we exit the shop. I hate girl talk. 

With our main objective for coming to Whitley carried out, my feet automatically turn towards home, but Prim has other ideas. “Can we look at the cakes, Katniss?” She begs. She’s like a little puppy. I can’t refuse, though I grow more anxious with every step closer to the bakery we get. 

I know what this is. A look at the cakes in the window leads to Prim asking to go inside. It’s happened before and I’ve been lucky enough to avoid him. He works alongside his parents and two older brothers anyway. What are the chances that he’ll be manning the counter and not the ovens in the back? 

Prim pulls me through the bakery doors and runs to press her face against the display case. I hear a call of “I’ll be right there!” from the back, followed by a grunt and the shuffling of boxes. I join Prim and am just starting to admire the selection of pastries when I hear a quiet gasp and look up. 

It's him. The baker’s youngest son. I don't know him by name but I remember him. Of course, I remember him. I can almost feel the icy sheets of rain and the hollow numbness of hunger from that horrible day as I meet his gaze. 

Our father had died three months earlier. He had been a poor wheat farmer but the income from the harvest was enough to support a small household. My mother traded plants and home remedies to supplement what our empty pockets couldn’t buy. One winter, my father had been kicked in the head by his horse. My mother did everything she could but even as young as I was, I knew he had died before he hit the ground. After that my mother stopped eating. She just sat in bed and stared at the walls while her children turned to skin and bone. I did everything to try and rouse her but it was no use. With our father dead so too was her will to live. 

At eleven I became the sole provider of the family. I ventured into town alone to sell that damn horse, some old jewelry, and even dresses of my mother’s from her merchant days, but the money ran out quickly and there was more to buy than food. Our hearth sat cold, unused, and wanting of wood, and we resorted to rubbing ourselves raw to keep warm. We stopped attending school in the village, afraid that a teacher would see how hollow we were becoming and would whisk us away to the orphanage. I had seen orphans in the schoolyard, their faces empty and their shoulders slumped in defeat. I would never let that happen to Prim. 

We had eaten nothing but dried mint leaves in water for three days before I decided to try selling some of Prim’s old baby clothes in town. The clothes were threadbare and faded so nobody had wanted them. My arms were shaking so violently from cold and malnourishment that I ended up dropping them in a puddle. I decided to leave them there, afraid that if I bent over I wouldn’t be able to get back up. 

I found myself stumbling around behind a row of brick buildings. The rain had started and I was soaked to the bone. The smell of baking bread carried over the frigid air and I realized I was behind the bakery. The back door was open and I stood, trancelike, basking in the warm glow of the ovens before a thought floated through my foggy head. Maybe they had food scraps in their trash. A crust of bread or rotting vegetables, something only my family was desperate enough to eat. I lifted the tops off of the bins and my hopes died when I saw that their insides were heartbreakingly bare. 

Suddenly, I heard a woman screeching. It was the baker’s wife. She spat remarks about how she was sick of people going through her trash bins and if I didn’t leave she would call law enforcement. As I dropped the lids and backed away I saw a boy peeking out from behind his mother’s skirts. I recognized him from school but we had never talked. 

With my final hope gone I slumped against a scrubby little apple tree in their yard. My knees buckled and I slipped down into the mud. I would rather die than go home empty-handed to Prim’s gaunt face and my mother’s sickly, unblinking eyes. 

I heard a commotion from the bakery and then the ring of metal on flesh. 

“Feed it to the pigs you worthless creature! No one decent will buy burnt bread!” The witch screeched. There was the boy again, come out the back door clutching two blackened loaves. A bright red mark shone on his cheek and my heart twisted when I realized his mother must have hit him. He looked between me and the pigpen, and then glanced back towards the door. His mother must have gone up to front to serve a customer because then I heard him sloshing his way through puddles to get to me. 

“Take them!” He urged, pressing the loaves into my skeletal hands. “Take them! Go!” As quickly as he came he was gone, back into the kitchens. I watched him disappear. As he closed the door only then did I realize what he had done for me. 

Two loaves of bread! And they weren’t even that burned, really only the crusts had been damaged. I quickly pressed them to the skin under my shirt and hurried home. The searing heat from the loaves roused something within me. I couldn’t die. Not when I had Prim to take care of.

I dropped the loaves on the table and stopped my sister from savagely tearing a chunk off for herself. I sat her down, forced our mother to join us, and then began scraping off the blackened bits. That night we feasted on two slices of bread each, afraid so much food might make us sick. The loaves were hearty, filled with nuts and bits of cranberry. I had never tasted anything so good in my entire life. 

 As I predicted, it was a teacher that found out about our situation. Upon our absence at school, she had come looking for us and found Prim and I living in squalor with a mother that was too sick to care. I thought that was it, that we were to be sent to the orphanage now and our mother taken away to an institution. But a man by the name of Haymitch Abernathy, wealthy and lacking a family of his own, intervened. He had heard of our misfortunes from hushed gossip around the village and had petitioned to adopt us. Our mother was eventually sent to an institution by the sea and we’ve lived with Haymitch, fed and clothed and taken care of, ever since. 

The baker’s boy saved our lives that day. Surely I would have given up and died under that apple tree if it wasn’t for the kindness he showed me. I owe him everything. And because of that, I will never be able to pay him back. 

I take him in now. He's taller than he was before. Much taller. His chubby child’s build has been replaced with an imposing stature that takes up almost the entire doorway. I guess a lifetime of hefting bakery pans and kneading dough has left him broad-shouldered and muscular. 

“Katniss,” he says. I can tell he’s surprised to see me. His voice is deep and I note that his blonde hair curls with sweat. There’s a streak of flour on his cheek and an apron tied around his waist.

“It’s Ms. Everdeen,” I correct him. It’s out before I can stop myself and as soon as I say it I want to bite my own tongue off. How pretentious I must sound. It's only after Prim has begun ordering a sugar-dusted fruit tart from the case that I realize with a start that the baker's boy knows my name. 

His face is flushed and pink when he turns his eyes to me. 

“I'll take four of those cookies,” I get out. “The orange lilies.” My voice sounds weaker than normal. I hate this. I feel fragile under this boy’s gaze. And that's when I realize: he must be waiting for his thank you. For the bread that he burned and took a beating for. But I can't do it, either because Prim is with me and it would confuse her and probably embarrass the boy, or because it's been five years and the time for ‘thank you’ is over. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he doesn't remember. He probably only knows my name because it was a source of gossip around town when Haymitch adopted Prim and I. He must remember me from then. 

He gives me a timid smile, deftly wraps the cookies in parchment paper, ties them securely with a piece of fringed twine, and hands the package to me. I suddenly feel the need to fill the silence so I blurt: “They’re beautiful. The cookies.” 

He manages to turn a shade pinker. “Thank you, I do most of the frosting around here. I made those this morning.” As I hand him the money for the treats, I assume that's it. That was the end of our conversation. But my tongue is moving again. 

“They look just like the lilies in the woods. I see them on my morning walks.” 

“Yes, exactly,” He grins and reveals a charming set of dimples. “I’ve seen them when I go to the woods to paint.” 

I don't know what else to say and Prim has started tugging on my hand. She’s probably anxious to get home so we can enjoy our treats with tea, so I give him one last look and utter one last thank you before heading back out into the crowded square. 

“Do you know him?” Prim asks as we begin walking towards home. 

“No,” I say, a little relieved to be leaving. I can't catch my breath and my heart is racing like it does when something frightens me. “I don't even know his name.”

“Well, I've never seen you be that talkative with a stranger.” She beams. “Wait until I tell Mrs. Winthrop!” 

Is that what he is to me? A stranger? I shake the thought from my head.

He knew my name. The very least I can do is learn his. 

[lokisgame]

A Generous Donation [16]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12][part 13] [part 14] [part 15]

She pulled his mouth to hers and it was as if they were kissing for the first time. Mulder pushed the album gently aside and puled her into his lap, feeling the warm, trembling silk under his palms. They didn't rush. Holding tight and slowly claiming his mouth, she grounded his heart. These kisses could last a lifetime, if only he had time to breathe. "You wanna go to bed?" She asked, never letting go of his shoulders. "I don't think I can sleep," he said and they both laughed, relaxing into each other. He ran his hands over her back, feeling the silk slip under his palms. "Where did you get this robe?" Looking up, she met his smiling eyes. "I tell you, you have a son and you ask about my sleepwear?" "I guess I am." 

"It was a gift," she explained, "from Will and Emily." "Wow, that's not something a son would buy for his mom." "But definitely something a grown-up niece would buy for her single aunt." That made him laugh. "She spent some time in Japan, and Will went to visit." "Japan? Impressive." "That's Missy in Emily, once she tasted independence, she could never stay long in one place. Will brought this back, saying he and Em picked it out for me, when they visited Kyoto. You like it?" She spread her arms, letting the sleeves fan out and he saw white cranes flying across midnight sky. "It's amazing." "You can borrow it sometime," she teased, watching as his expression changed to somber again. "Does Will know?" Mulder asked and she lowered her gaze, drawing reassurance from his embrace. "He does about the IVF." She said, swallowing the memory. "When he turned sixteen he became obsessed with this idea that his father abandoned him. So I told him the truth." "How did he take it?" "Pretty good, considering age and his rebellious streak." "Meaning?" "He didn't talk to me for a week." "I'm sorry." "He thought he was a vanity project." "What did you do?" "Charlie talked to him, and we never spoke of it again." "You know what he said?" She shook her head, pulling herself closer. "Right now I'm just happy you're still talking to me." "Don't worry," he sighed, hugging her tightly, "I'm not going anywhere." "What about bed?" He laughed and kissed her neck. "Okay, fine, let's go to bed."

With her arm around his chest and her thigh draped over his leg, it was easy to believe, that this could be the first night of the rest of his life. Warm breath washed over his neck, filling his head with a mixture of shampoo, body lotion and something unidentifiably feminine, bringing up images of homemade cookies and clouds of perfume in the morning. This tiny weight draped over his side, once carried a life inside her. They grew together, winning, failing, learning. Now where did he fit into that story? Certainly not in the main credits. A supporting role, somewhere in the third act, maybe, Will's Father. Even if they shared genes, he couldn't claim the title with a clear conscience. He wasn't there for his first fever, first step, first bike rides and fist scraped knees. The thought humbled him and put fear in his heart. What if Will still believed his father abandoned him? What if now, he would refuse to accept him? What if this new knowledge, once more turned him against his mother? And what did Mulder actually know about the role of an adult male in a young man's life? His own father abandoned him, he could at least relate to that. Could he be the father, his father never was? Scully stirred beside him, drawing herself closer, fingertips flexing on his chest. "I can feel you thinking," she mumbled. "Shhh, go back to sleep." But she was already shifting, lips grazing skin and climbing onto his chest. Face to face in the faint glow of waning moon, he felt fingers comb through his hair. "It'll be okay," she whispered, honouring the midnight hush. Mulder sighed, running his hands over her thighs and back. "I'm sorry, I just have trouble processing it all." Beyond words, she let her head drop, and he held on. "Where do I fit in, Scully?" "Here," she replied softly, wrapping her arms around him. "Right here."

Scully woke up late, in an empty bed. "Oh no," she groaned and rolled over, burying her face in his pillow, "it was too good to be true." She breathed in the last of his scent, cold but still there. If she could have it bottled, just to have something to remember him by. "Hey, I still need that." She heard his voice and looked up, but blinded by her own hair, all she got was a soft thump and a laugh, when she tried to blow the tresses away from her eyes. "You still there?" He chuckled, parting the strands and taking her face in his hands. "There you are, good morning." "I thought you left." She said, before giving back the small kiss that was quickly becoming the best part of her morning. "Ye of little faith," he grinned and kissed her again. Scully sat up, giving back the pillow in exchange for a steaming cup of coffee. The pillow landed against the headboard, followed by Mulder, then her back, resting against his side and finally his arm around her waist. Settled, they both sighed. "Thanks for telling me," Mulder said, pressing a kiss to her skin before resting his chin on her shoulder. "When do you want to tell Will?" "I don't know," she said taking a sip, "he's so fragile right now." "But he's a grown-up too," Mulder said gently, "he has the right to know." "It's been ten days since transplant," she sighed, "I don't want stress to ruin his recovery." "Will he suspect something, if I visit more?" "Maybe, but he adores you, so we might get away with it, for a while at least." "Who else knows?" "Charlie," she said, sheepishly. Mulder chuckled. "That explains things." "And I guess Emily." "That's why she called me Uncle Mulder." "I don't know if Charlie told her or she figured it out on her own, it's like she has a sixth sense or something. I'll talk to her before I set out to kill my baby brother." "It's your mother I was worried about." "Oh, there's no need," Scully laughed, "you saved her favourite grandson, you could eat fried kittens for breakfast and she'd still love you." "Kittens?" "Or puppies." "I'm going vegan." "No you're not." She laughed and turned, setting her mug on the nightstand and draping one, slender, bare leg over his lap. The short, silk nightshirt rode up, and she saw his eyes follow the tantalizing lines. "You're right, I'm not," he teased, his tone turning smoky as he pushed her to lean back, "just don't tell your mom what I really like for breakfast."

"Hey kid." Mulder said when Will woke up. "Hi, where's mom?" "They called her in to some ER emergency." "Oh, right, it happens sometimes." "So, what's with the face wear." "You guys wear something all the time, I got jealous." "Don't joke." "They say my saturation is a little low," Will said, fixing the tube under his nose, "I told them, I could use some fresh air, but they insisted on this canned stuff." "Not a fan of the can?" Will laughed and rubbed his nose. "It tickles." "Leave it, try not to think about it." "There's not much to think about left." "What did you think about?" "You know, the usual, school, girls, grades." "Girls." "There's this nurse who usually comes for nightshifts." "And?" "I think she likes me." "You're a likeable kid." "No, I mean, she doesn't call me honey or darling, like the other mother hens around here." "What does she call you." "Will, just Will, and she doesn't treat me like a needle cushion. Very gentle, nice hands too, from what I could tell through the latex." "What else?" "What do you mean?" "You said you thought about FBI, investigative work. Even the smallest detail can be crucial to solving a case, so, pay attention. Practice on something that's easy on the eye before you have to deal with the gruesome stuff." "What did you see?" "You don't wanna know, and I don't feel like remembering." "That bad?" "If it didn't affect me so much, I would probably be an FBI agent, myself." "Agent Mulder," Will said, testing the words, "it has a nice ring to it." Mulder laughed. "It does, doesn't it."

"Dinner's in the oven." Scully said, plopping down on the couch, then promptly falling over. She pulled one of the throw pillows under her head and set the egg timer on the floor, making the little bells inside chime quietly. "Okay, but I repeat, you should have let me help, I'm surprisingly apt in the kitchen." "I'm sure you are, but this is my way of winding down. I tend to take out my frustrations on the chopping board and I wouldn't want you to get into crossfire." "That dangerous, huh?" "Fair warning." "I'll try to remember that, want a blanket?" "No, I'm good, ignore me, I'm just gonna doze for a bit." "Okay." Comfortable silence fell between them. Mulder worked at his desk, Scully relaxed on the couch, timer ticked off minutes going by. "What do you want for Christmas?" She asked suddenly, when he was sure she had fallen asleep. "What?" "Christmas, gifts." "I'm half Jewish." "And the other half?" She murmured, keeping her eyes closed. "Atheist and I think it's always been the bigger half, because it always wins." "There's no such thing as bigger and smaller halves," she said, smiling, "a half is a half." "Nobody likes a math geek, Scully." "Nobody likes a party pooper either, so what do you want for Hanukkah, Mulder." "You won't let this go, are you." "No," she replied, grinning, still with her eyes closed. "Then I'll let you know." "Okay, just don't take too long." She said and went back to playing possum.

"Professor Mulder!" Mulder heard someone call and, surprised by the audacity, turned around then laughed. "Charlie!"   The younger man grinned and stopped his bike a foot from where he paused. "I had you," he said as they shook hands. "No you didn't." Mulder chuckled, "I thought we were meeting downtown." "Sadly, I don't have that much time, but I was in the neighbourhood, so I figured I'll catch you here. Traffic is awful." "And it's just the beginning of Christmas rush." "You're a psychologist, so you gotta have some reasonable, scientific explanation." "Nope, beats me, and I don't even participate." "Right. Is there somewhere we can sit down around here?" "Sure, you wanna eat? There's a good Thai place down the block." "Lead the way." Charlie got off the bike and they picked up a steady pace. "I wanted to give you a heads up," Mulder said after a moment, "Scully is coming for you." "She usually does," Charlie laughed, "what is it this time?" "You telling Emily about the test results." "Oh," Charlie looked up, surprised, "oh! She told you!" "Yeah," Mulder smiled, slipping hands into the pockets of his coat and Charlie put his arm around his shoulders. "Thank you for what you did," he said with complete sincerity, "Will is a great kid." "In large part thanks to you, I imagine." "No, thanks to Dana, she did an amazing job raising him. And just when she was about to lose him, she found you, exactly when she needed you the most. I'll be forever grateful for that. Still," his tone changed, if only a little, "if you hurt her, I'll be there to make you pay for it." Mulder glanced up and saw the grin, back in full swing. "What? She is my sister." "I'll remember that." "I'm sure you will." Charlie laughed, good-naturedly slapping Mulder's back before letting go. "So, is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" "No," Mulder chuckled, "actually, it's about Christmas." "What about it?" "What kind of gifts does she like?"

[heads-in-the-clouds-spacecadet]

When asked to write a daily diary for anxiety management.

Here are a few days example....

Sunday 24th 

Mood/anxiety = numb. 

Additional meds =8mg of diazipam.

My whole body aches yet it shouldn't. My stomach is growling yet i feel physically sick. 

Things i ask myself....

Q.1 Will i leave my safe space, weighted blanket & mountain of pillows?

A.1 NO. 

Q.2 Will i manage my yoga routine

A.2 NO

Reasons....Why

I feel exhausted even though ive not been outside since Thursday. I just want the aching to subside the pain to leave. My jaw is clenched closed making eating an ordeal. I know this needs to be done. 

The dread of what passive aggressive message/s ill receive today either in person or written either way im struggling to motivate myself to move.

The Internet has been blocked for nearly a wk now. But i just let it slide as the saying goes choose your arguements "wifi is not the hill i want to die on" quote from TBBT. I hear Luke (my brother) is now in his bedroom and his door is closed. He has been banging around the house sending passive aggressive messages (sms) since 4am. My belongings that i left downstairs were thrown into my room. I'm nervous to leave my room till i know he is asleep. 

Flashback/negative thoughts....

1. How can my baby brother be an emotional manipulator. 

2. Last time i had to justify my everymove i was in Portugal in a very bad relationship. 

*****Ways im looking to excuse his behaviour. Find the cause to my sudden crash of low mood aka depression with a nice battle of anxiety.

---Logically i know its not the same. 

---Emotionally it hurts the same. 

The way he looks at me with disgust, resentment & impatience is the trigger. I realise this. How someone you love can make you feel this way. 

Solution: i decide to find a solution to the sudden conflict of money and i know there is a receipt in the car. I go to the normal place the keys are kept and theyre no where to be found. I look in all the obvious logical places they  could be and realise theyre hidden by my loving brother. His Reasons, 1-to stop me  buying shit (his words). 2. He has decided its his house, his car so therefore his rules. (Its all my mums btw)

As im downstairs i notice the kitchen is a mess. Pots all over from a feast Luke cooked up the night before. Or should i say 2am. 

So i feel defeated. Ive basically been cleaning non stop everytime i use a room as per gov guidelines and he just doesnt seem to comprehend the severity of the situation. 

I decide i need to eat. So i opt for Shreddies with Oat Milk (Luke has a serious milk allergy to the milk proteins in cows milk so im not fussed about milk and am happy to use alternatives) topped with vanilla soya yogurt, bannana, a few cranberries, 3 strawberries, sultanas and crushed Almonds. My logical brain is telling me eat well as we are not leaving the bedroom again unless desperate. 

I send a few messages to the family whats app (Luke refuses to be a part of this) and receive encouraging and support in return. Everyone is struggling in their own way so i appreciate having a small outlet between us all.

After food i sleep finally. 

Trying now to Ready myself for round 2 which i know is coming.

My mum calls i dont want to answer but i do. I explain the situation. She knows, she has dealt with his angry behaviour since he was 11yrs old. She stated she is coming to visit Tuesday as per new gov guidelines and we will meet in the park. She then asks me to pass the phone to Luke which i pointblank refuse. Im not ready for round 2 yet. Especially since he has his own phone he is just not answering making everyone worry about him but he just resents it. Its safe to say im proud i refused to do something. Gold star award ⭐

Monday 25th

Mood/Anxiety -  still no change from yesterday but i decide i have to force myself to move. Wash, clean and pack the additional things my mum has requested. 

Additional meds - i decided against taking anything today as i need to be clear headed for my appointment Tues and obvs my mums visit.

I check the weather see its a nice day decide washing is task 1. I set a bath running (multi tasking saving time from all the free time) and head downstairs to pop the washing machine on. Before i left my room i checked my phone for messages i have one from my mum telling me she has had words with Luke and that he needs to basically deal with the resentment in a more positive way. 

This explains all the banging and loud music yesterday early eve. He decided to actually clean. 

Anyhow I head downstairs. Kitchen is clean, messages all wiped from the black board. 

I decide i must try and communicate with Luke as we cant take the conflict with us to the park it isnt fair to our mum. 

I can hear him moving so send a sms message asking if he wants anything in the oven. No response. ***He did finally get out of bed at 3pm so a peaceful day so far. 

I decide food is required. I opt for protein soya burgers x2 with Spinach, tomatos, avacado, sultanas, almond pieces and some crumpets. I sit in the garden to eat.

All washing is out and drying but im to anxiety ridden and unmotivated to enjoy the sunshine. 

I head back to my room to sort bits for my mum and throw away my origami collection. It was over taking my room and again causing conflict. 

Lukes awake!!!. I decide to say hello. So far so good. He decides to make himself lunch and throws a fit because i ate a £0.45 avocado. I walk away as i know he is just venting and i need to not start the circle of negative thoughts or interactions. This is rewarded with resentment. Luke suddenly decides to do his own washing and cut the grass. Which means my washing is in his way. Before he even starts i am pulling in whats dry mainly because i want to go back to bed and need my bedsheets but also because he wont care if my washing turns green or is damaged. To my delight my sheets are dry but my pjs etc need another 30mins so i leave them whilst i go and make my bed. 

Im bellowed at about washing as Luke needs the line. So i head down stairs to reteive the rest of my belongings. 

Self soothing thoughts...

Im walking on eggshells trying not to provoke the beast and i need to keep going. Focus on my achievements. I left my room. I cleaned myself, my clothing and my pillow fort which has been my safe zone for the past 4days. 

Deep down thought i am disappointed as i know isolation and distancing is not a long turn solution as the yrs pass im becoming more and more isolated and lonely. 

Im downstairs again and i ask Luke if he wants anything popping in the oven as i was having toast. He requested 2 burgers and chips but on seperate trays as he was hungry. Easy to do popped into the oven. 40mins later chips are cooked he is plating up and all he says is "why have you cooked so many chips, clearly we now live in a household of wastefulness". 

This was the turning point for me id had enough for 1day and just told him to give it a rest and went to my room. 

Im dozing with Big Bang on in the backround and Luke is banging on my door. Mums on the phone. Confirming arrangements for tomorrow. I say a few oks with the occasional nod. 

I start packing the bits n bobs my mum has asked for and carry then downstairs so theyre ready for the car tomorrow am. 

Its PJs and bed time. Luke has other ideas. He is awake and up and about at 4.30am. Having a bath at 5am, doing weights after his bath at 6am then leaves in the car at 7am. He is back around 8am banging has a shower then decides to leave again in the car. He is meant to be house-bound until July 1st. This in itself causes me anxiety as i cant handle watching another member of my family die in front of my eyes. 

Thoughts...

Yes this is VERY dramatic. STOP IT BRAIN!

Take precautions all will be ok. 

Tuesday 26th

Mood/Anxiety = No change 

Additional meds = 4mg diazipam but late afternoon as i couldnt stop shaking and fidgeting.

My mum is coming to visit. Im trying not to think about the fact Luke is out of the house. 

We are having a picnic social distancing style. 

We head to the coop as Luke has decided even after knowing our mum all his life never be on time, we have to be early. I buy Costa coffee, fresh bread, hummus, bananas, diet coke and some biscuits the nature valley ones theyre really good. Luke doesnt go into the shop I think at least he is listening to some rules. He rolls his eyes as i spray the shopping with dettol spray and use the alcohol hand sanitizer for my hands and door handle etc. I just tell him its how it needs to be done.

We find a perfect parking spot under a bunch of trees. I notice that all the trees are trimmed in a very even shelf across the bottom. It looked like it was designed perfectly for people to walk straight onto the park from the car park without having to fight with tree branches or go around.  But in actual fact its the deer. They eat the lower leaves this made me smile and relax for a moment. WIN.

My mum is late so im nervous that she is 

1. Stuck somewhere (over reaction)

2. Lost (over reaction)

3. Just running late (normal reaction) 

Im a tad fidgety as im aware i have an appointment in 2hrs. Hurry up MOTHER...

I ponder about work and whether or not ill still have a job to return too. Had an email this am stating theyre cutting 200jobs from the team i work in. So not sure if thats a good thing or not. But its also increasing my anxiety as ive read the email and now have a burning desire to do the research to see what my probability of keeping my job will be. Before my brain can go on a major tangent my mum arrives. 

Shes brought Oscar (her poodle) he is so excited to see me. And the big hairy fluff ball  gave me the biggest snuggles. He has a major Covid hairdoo. My mum doesnt hug me which hurts but i know she cant. 

Picnic time. We sit in the middle.of a field away from everyone. Social distancing 10/10. My mum has made me my favourite cakes, rock buns. (Apparently these are a northern thing) but im feeling the love. Its fairly chilled only 1 disagreement with Luke over blinkin avocados.

Im clock checking and aware of impending appointment, im a little (understated) nervous because ive not had positive relationships with therapists or doctors in the past.