#but I’ve been sober for two months and I’m so mad because how dare you shame me into quitting and then turn around and tell me to turn to

[canibalistic-brownie]

.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Dionysus

Hey y’all, sorry for going dark! I’m alright, almost completely recovered in fact! I just got so sleepy while my body was fighting stuff off and couldn’t really work up the energy to write... Still going to be spotty for a short time, but I’m glad to have gotten this done. See ya soon!

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus

Lucifer

Well, this mortal stumbled out of the portal covered in glitter, body paint, and carrying a red solo cup… which they proceeded to stare at like, "'ell sshhit… Thiz iz sum stron s'uff…"

First impressions were not on their side here.

He spent a depressingly long amount of time more or less assuming that the MC was a drunken f-up and spent the first few months trying to make them more… presentable.

But like… How do you stop someone from acting like a drunk fool when they can turn any drink they touch alcoholic???

For months they would show up to meetings buzzed or stumbling, all smiles and all giggles but HORRIBLY unprofessional, and he just couldn't stand it!

But then he found out their little secret…

Assassination threats befall the exchange students all the time. Most of them are dealt with quickly but some (through skill or dumb luck) manage to slip through...

He had been walking with the MC through their new vineyard in the House's courtyard, yet again trying to lecture them about their drunken behavior, when suddenly the two were ambushed!

Ten or so heavily armored demons dropped down from the sky to attack them! Lucifer was so preoccupied that he got cornered by three of them and it took him a hot minute to destroy them.

When he looked back at the mortal (who had been fighting a 1-on-7) he was certain they'd have been kidnapped or worse…

But he saw that they had already cut down two attackers with their weapon with ease. The other five were rolling in the dirt, babbling about inexplicable terrors and imaginary pain as their minds succumbed to madness…

Meanwhile, the MC just stood in the middle of it all with the icy glare of someone who’s just revealed how stone-cold sober they've always been under the surface...

When they turned back to him, they put their usual ditzy smile back on over the tormented wails of the demons around them...

MC: Whoopsie… Gotta little mad there. 🙂

He uh… took a big ol'step off their back after that. Surprisingly, they're more pleasant (and less dangerous) "drunk" than they are sober…

Mammon

Oh HELL yeah!! Lucifer actually gave him a mortal that knows how to party!!

Admittedly, they looked like utter trash when they first met, like, "Hey, I've been at this party since DAWN" trash, but they gave him one good look and pulled together a surprisingly hot smile.

MC: "-ey yer cute… Ya like strip poker?"

Spoken like someone else who also makes shit decisions… They were going to get along just fine!

And they did. The MC to him was that one friend that's always down for anything. Just anything. Whenever. Wherever.

He wants to try sneaking into Lucifer's room to steal stuff? Sure, what time?

He wants to take a mattress and see if he can ride it down the grand staircase of the palace? Alright, we bringin' pillows too?

He needs to set up another scheme that's gotta involve live rats and box of tiny hats and monocles?? That's oddly specific but count them in!!

Sometimes he honestly can't tell if they're laid back or just crave chaos... but it works out fine for him either way so who cares? 🤷‍♀️

And if you think normal Mammon is a pain in the ass for Lucifer? Check out drunk Mammon. All the same urges but literally none of the (marginal) competence!!

At one point, the eldest ended up stringing both Mammon and the MC from the ceiling after they both barged into his office looking for Goldie… while he was still in there… watching them wander around aimlessly calling out for a piece of plastic like it was a missing puppy…

They end up together on the ceiling a lot come to think of it, but hey, at least now he has some company. 😌

Leviathan

Thinks they're the most normal normie to have ever normed on this normie planet!!!

No, seriously. They're a billion times worse than Asmo!! All they want to do is go to parties and drink all the time! What kind of use is he to someone like that??

… That being said they ARE pretty fun to be around… And their sake is WAY better than anything he could get off Akuzon!!

They also like karaoke too! So at least he has someone else to go with (even if they get so drunk they can’t remember any lyrics and just belt barely coherent discount Mariah Carey vocals behind him...)

Of course, the real fun between these two is everybody else getting to watch a couple of the Devildom's sloppiest drunks attempt to communicate with each other…

Levi: MMM-*hic*-MCCC…!!! *throws himself at them from across the bar*

MC: What Leviachan??? 😨 Did the chair kick you off?!

Levi: Nooo! *pokes their cheek* I wanna-I wanna tell you sometin'...! *tries pulling them closer*

MC: Whaa? Secrets?? *leans in eagerly*

Levi: Mammon used all ma money on’a pyramid scheme a thou-zand years ago… AND HE STILL WON'T PAY ME BAAA-!!! 😭😭 *starts shaking them violently*

MC: *getting flung around like a limp noodle* Waaaat?! Nooo!!! I'm so sowwy!! 😢

Mammon: *watching it all go down right next to him* 😑 Ya guys need some water… I'm cuttin' ya off, got it?

MC: 😱 Shut yer whore mouth, criminal!! *starts pelting him with pretzel bites*

Levi: 😤 Yah!! *joins in*

Good thing he's a shut-in, because the hangovers he gets after those escapades are unreal…

Satan

A little concerned for their liver, honestly… How much damage have they already done to the poor thing...?

But at the same time, he'll be damned if they don't make some utterly fantastic wine!

Alcokinesis wasn't a power he would have pegged a demigod to have but apparently the great art of making drinks comes from their godly DNA.

When they first met, he was trying to get the MC to act less slovenly but made the mistake of agreeing to a wager: he'd let them dress however they pleased if they could give him the BEST drink he'd ever tasted.

Now, Satan isn't a huge drinker (thank you terrible alcohol tolerance), but he's still a man of fine tastes. Plus, he's sampled Demonus from Diavolo royal stock before. They should not have won…

But on that day, he had to let them go to RAD in a pink blanket toga... 😑 Their wine is just THAT good.

He hates to admit it, but they've gotten him drunk more times than he could probably count too… He's not a huge fan of clubbing with them and the others, but if they bring over a bottle from their vineyard he just can't resist. They're a master of their craft, truly.

And it's a good thing he likes their drinks so much, because if they called him, "Kitty-boy," when he's sober, he may have just become a sour grape himself…

They also may or may not have copious amounts of blackmail material of him either meowing between sentences, sobbing over some fictional character he likes, pole dancing on dares….

Yeah, he's been trying to destroy their phone for months now. If Lucifer were to see ANY of that, he's done for… 😣

He has also been meaning to ask them about other aspects of their abilities, their father is also the God of Madness after all, but anytime he tries to bring it up they shove another glass in his hand and tell him not to kill the mood...

Eh. What's the harm in having another drink, right? 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus 

Honey. He's MET Dionysus. He's been to a Dio-party or two and they're INSANE. He could not be more thrilled by this!!!

He practically scooped them up on the first night that they were in the House and it’s practically been a nonstop rave between these two ever since. They’re like the party twin he never knew he needed!!

He absolutely abuses their ability to turn pretty much any drink they touch into alcohol at clubs. It makes the nights so much easier on the wallet PLUS it makes an excellent little party trick to impress the succubi! Who doesn’t want a free drink? 😏

And can he just say that their drinks are better? Just flat out amazing! If it weren’t so unhealthy he’d consider drinking nothing but their booze and wine for the rest of his days, Satan’s certainly getting close to it.

But little does Satan know, he’s not even getting the GOOD stuff...

There’s the normal wine: grapes picked from the vineyard, hand squeezed, then magically helped through the fermenting process. But their real good stuff? They were given enchanted oak barrels from their father and anything that comes out of those is worth starting a WAR over. 😩

He knows, because he gifted an extra bottle to Diavolo once and Barbs came to him the very next day demanding to know what vineyard had produced it with the look of man willing to annex a small nation...

Asmo had to beg Lucifer to talk to Diavolo after the butler more or less kidnapped the MC back to the Castle… Devil knows even Barbs wouldn’t ever be able to reproduce their wine, so they could have been locked there for eternity!!

Thankfully, he got his party-buddy back and their debauchery continued! (Just now with Barbatos following them around sometimes like he’s trying to gather state secrets... It’s an impossible task but he hasn’t given up yet, bless his black heart.)

Beelzebub

He isn't much bothered by their carefree nature, at least they seem to be having fun with his family which he appreciates. 🙂

To be honest, though, he nearly ate them when they first met because they smell like freshly peeled grapes… and for good reason.

By their third day at the House they had (somehow) planted and cultivated a full on vineyard in the courtyard. Hell, the wall growing to their bedroom balcony was covered in grapevines!! Always ripe and completely healthy in defiance of the lack of sun... Whatever magic they used was strong.

And, of course, their grapes were also delicious! Easily among the best fruits he's ever tasted! Every cluster is ridiculously plump, juicy, and sweet like little droplets of pure Heaven… 🤤

When their fruit first ripened, the MC came out with a basket to collect some only to find Beel had gouged himself on over half of their crop!!!

… which may have been why he got snared up on one of the courtyard walls by pissed off grapevines... Even with all his strength, he couldn't break through them and had to wait for Lucifer to cut him down… 😔 

From then on, Beel was pretty much the pesky rabbit to the MC's harvest. They had to set up traps and magical barriers to keep him from their precious grapes…!! Which inevitably meant one of his brothers had to come rescue him from their furious vines at least once a week... 🙄

SOMETIMES, the MC will bring him along to help harvest with them with the deal that he can have an extra basket for however many he helps them pick. But the second he takes a bite he shouldn't, it’s back on the wall!

Out of the vineyard, they're nice enough. But put some grapes between these two and they're mortal enemies… STOP messing with their plants, Beel!! 😤

Belphegor 

So… this drunken fool is supposed to get him out of the attic? Never mind, this is never going to work…

He was SEVERELY underwhelmed when the "human" finally made it up the steps. This was who they decided to bring for their exchange program? They seemed like they could barely stand!

Naturally, he figured all the better for him. They probably wouldn't even last that long! 

Some poor, incompetent human falling victim to a demon out there? Diavolo's reputation would in tatters and he wouldn't even have to lift a finger! (His favorite way of doing things really 😌).

But… they just kept coming back? Like. Nothing was killing them….! How guarded were they keeping this moron?? 

Or… maybe it was something else?

Sure, the MC seemed like a drunken idiot but there were times when he'd swear that they were just… too aware to be sloshed…

MC: *suddenly stops smiling at him mid-conversation and looks him in the eye* You tilt your head when you lie. You know that?

How can someone so cheerful ALSO be so unnerving…?

So really, he should have seen their sudden heel-turn after they opened the door coming. There he was, fully intending to take them by surprise and choke them after a hug…

...and they knocked him down, climbed onto his back like a spider monkey, and rode him around like a bucking bull using his horns like handlebars!!

It wouldn’t have been AS humiliating if they didn’t also keep shouting things like "Giddiyap!" And "Yee-haw!!"

It took him a whole month to be sure that any and all footage of that nightmare was erased and he STILL hates the MC quite a bit for it…. But he's too scared to attack them now, so…

The lesson here? It's not a fair fight when one side’s crazy... 😔😒

[thebiggestfan1]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 2)

part one here

part three here

word count: 1573

TW: consuming alcohol, language

let me know if you want part three, I’m still not used to writing series but I can try <3

...

Calgary was so much different from Chesterfield. It was big, clean, full of life and even after two months of living there, you still couldn’t get used to it. 

The work was amazing, the income was amazing, your life was amazing. But as hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about Matthew.

Before the regular hockey season started, Matt got back to Calgary and you two met in a coffee shop near your apartment. It felt like as if you were back in Chesterfield, just two little kids living their dreams. You haven’t seen him since your sixth meeting, the hockey season occupied him too much, he said. Or was it just an excuse?

You cared too much. And you fell in love too quickly. And there was no way you’d let him ruin his life with all the partying you knew he loved.

After a few more weeks you grew really worried and after an useless visit to his home you’d finally decided to call him. It was long after the game he played that day so he might pick it up. Still, you nearly hung up on him just as he picked the call up, the loud music suddenly blasting through the speakers of your phone.

“Matt? Where are you? I called you yesterday and you didn’t answer so today I went to check on you and you weren’t home and your landlord told me you didn’t come home in days and-” You stopped babbling, scolding yourself. Did you sound as helpless as you were? It was his life and you had no right to talk into it but you just couldn’t help it-

“I’m okay Y/N, don’t worry!” Matthew shouted out and you winced at the loud noise. He sounded really, really drunk. He might have had a reason to celebrate with his team but tomorrow he’s playing again and if he’d be hung over...

“Where are you?” you asked flatly.

“I dunno,” he mumbled into the phone.

“Do you know someone there?” 

“I dunno.” Matt repeated. 

“Get out of there,” you said as calmly as you could, trying to shove the anger you felt aside. “And tell me on what street you are. Or what bar you’re in, I don’t care.”

“Just- just let me be. Go to sleep. You have work tomorrow.”

“That doesn’t matter, Matt. You have a game tomorrow, that’s far more important.”

Silence.

You heard the noise getting quieter; he must have been outside as you told him. At least he was sober enough to do that for you.

“Where are you?” you asked again.

“Eden.” he read aloud. You knew where it was - you were celebrating your promotion with your new friends there. It was close enough.

“I’m on my way. Don’t hang up on me until I get there, okay?”

“Yeah.” was the only thing he said. You needed to keep the conversation going til you get to him or he’d probably go back in the bar and you’d loose him.

“So, where did you sleep yesterday?” you asked as you started the car and drove onto the road. It was so dark outside, the only things lighting up your way the street lamps.

“At Dillon’s house, probably.” 

“Who’s Dillon?”

“My teammate.” His teammate, not a random guy. At least that was a good sign. 

You had no idea what to say. Congratulations on winning today and getting drunk as hell a day before another game? Thank god you could see the bar already and didn’t have to say exactly what you thought. 

“Okay, I see you. Just stay where you are, I’m here.” 

Matt didn’t answer but you could see him hang up, sitting on the curb with his head in his hands. 

“Hey, handsome,” you said, sitting down next to him. He gazed at you and you were once again charmed by how beatiful he looked even with the bloodshot eyes. “I think you had enough for today.”

“Can you take me home, please?” he whispered. You had to fight the sudden urge to press your lips on his, taste the alcohol on his tongue, get addicted to his touch; but he was drunk. The worst thing is you probably wouldn’t dare to kiss him sober, either.

“Yes, I’ll take you home.”

...

“You know you messed up pretty big, don’t you?” you asked Matt as you unlocked the door to his apartment. It was a pretty thing that looked really, really expensive; in was on 20th floor in the kind-of-center of the city with an amazing view of the town lighted up like thousands of little stars.

“I have to wash my hair,” was the only thing he mumbled out. You laughed quietly, just now remembering how Matthew acted when he was drunk. It made him even cuter and more clingy and you loved it. 

“In this state? You’re probably gonna drown.” you chuckled softly. “Let me help you.”

He let you take him to the bathroom, let you untangle his pretty hair. You were as gentle as you could be, parting the strands of hair with your fingers. You wanted nothing more that this moment to last forever - it was so intimate for the both of you.

Matt leaned his muscular back against the bathtub, tilting his head backwards as you turned on the warm water and soaked his hair with it. 

A moan escaped his lips as you scrubbed his scalp with the shampoo and your toes curled up in your shoes. Concentrate on washing his hair, you told yourelf. Nothing more. Don’t think of how would the moan vibrate through your whole body with your lips on his, don’t think about how he’d moan when-

“Here you go,” you breathed out, trying to get the images out of your head. Too late - all you could think about was the taste of his lips.

“Thanks, Y/N.” The way he said it...

“I have to go.” you said quickly, too quickly to seem casual. Maybe he wouldn't notice; maybe him being drunk as hell was a good thing.

And still, you didn't move.

Matthew looked at you then, really looked at you with his beautiful eyes - eyes clear despite all the alcohol in his blood.

You were leaning over him in an awkward position, nearly sitting in his lap, with your hands in his hair. And your face was so close to his that all it would take was leaning in and you two would be kissing.

Matt's lips parted, clearly wanting to say something before closing his mouth again.

"You washed my hair," he finally whispered, lifting his right hand and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Someone has to take care of you, you know." Especially when you can't do that by yourself, you added silently.

"I didn't want to make you angry, Y/N."

"But here we are, Matt."

Silence.

You weren't angry with him; you were so mad at yourself for falling in love with him. Love was dumb and unpredictable and useless and all it left behind was grief and at least one broken heart.

"Will you be there when I wake up?"

You had work tomorrow but...

“Of course I will. I'll stay as long as you need me to stay."

"You have to stop doing that," Matt straightened in his sitting position, the muscles in his arms shifting.

"What?" you asked cluelessly, not getting what was he talking about.

"Saying things that make me want to kiss you."

"Okay, I think it's time for you to go to sleep. A big day tomorrow, remember?" Your palms were sweating, your heart beating so hard you were afraid he could hear it. Did Matthew mean it? Or was he just drunk and wanted to fuck with someone?

"All my days are big if you’re a part of them," he mumbled as he leaned in and kissed you.

The first thing that hit you was that he smelled of cheap vodka and memories.

This was the moment you dreamed about but it was so wrong. You couldn't stop thinking about the alcohol that probably ruled over his body and how he'd regret this the next morning and that he would cut you out of his life once again-

"Stop," you gasped out, leaning out of his welcoming touch. "No, no, no, we can't do this. You're so clearly drunk and this is so clearly a mistake-"

"Is it? I've loved you since I first saw you; even though I can't exactly recall it because we were so young. But I remember that you held your knife and fork in a different way and you were so stubborn when the teacher tried to make you change it. I remember how you braided your hair in two braids with those cute colourful ribbons. I remember you smiling so widely it immediately made my day brighter. I remember I loved you and I think it would be easy to love you once again."

His words once or twice blended together but you got the meaning of them. It was easy to forget he was drunk. The fact that he meant this was enough to make you forget everything else.

"It would be easy to love you once again, too," you whispered. 

Your foreheads were touching and you felt his shaky breath on your cheeks. You should be panicking right now. Maybe leaving him on the bathroom floor would be for the best. But you knew Matt. You trusted him. Yes, it was probably a foolish thing to do, but in love, all people were fools. 

And so you kissed him once again, this time thinking only about how much he felt like home.

[cherryatiny]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐒/𝐎 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

��𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑎𝑙𝑐𝑜ℎ𝑜𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 (𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑖'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔), 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡𝑦

𝐺𝐼𝐹𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠

⩥ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

„Y/N pass me the bottle.”

Said the stern voice of your best friend Hongjoong, you were at a bar, with your other friends, celebrating Hongjoong's career success.

He finally got the chance to join a musical company and fulfil his dream of becoming an artist and a song producer.

Seeing your best friend happy that his dreams came true made you sincerely happy of course, but a small part of you was kinda sad about that.

Hongjoong has been your crush since you two were kids and now, that he is going to become a well-known artist, he'll for sure find some hot idol-model girlfriend and your love will go in the drain.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your blood, maybe the pent up rage and courage that made you confess.

„I have a confession to make... I-i love you Kim Hongjoong.”

Everyone looked up at you in disbelief, it was until you felt your stomach tightening from embarrassment, urging you to vomit, running out of the room to a restroom to push it out, without knowing Hongjoong was following you.

As he saw you scrunched and hugging the toilet he came to you, to hold your hair from falling into your face.

„I may like you too, but that's something we'll talk about once you are sober."

⩥ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

„Oh, come on, it would be fun, trust me.” Bullshit.

Going out with your best friend Seonghwa and his crush "to support him" was never a good idea.

Not only did you have to observe the cringiness of Seonghwa's love blind actions, but also see his crush treating him so poorly since she clearly did not have any interest in him.

As the movie ended and it was time for you to go home, you stood in front of the cinema with Seonghwa as he bid goodbye to the girl.

„Bye, be careful on your way home and have sweet dreams, I hope we could go out on another date soon.”

„Ah yeah, sure, bye."

You sighed softly, how could he not see the disinterest. As he turned to you, to thank you for helping him overcome this evening, your words stopped him before he could even start.

„Seonghwa, please stop hurting yourself by loving someone who's clearly not interested, when I've been showing you affection and interest for two years."

„What? Yo-you like me?”

As you realised what you've just said, earlobes and cheeks turning red from the embarrassment.

„I mean... kind of.”

⩥ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘���𝐧𝐡𝐨

„Y/N, I'm waiting outside the house, come on, let's go.” said Yunho over a phonecall.

You were celebrating the end of the semester with your classmates, and since you've had some drinks in you and despite that, you didn't know how to drive, you had to call your friend and deep-down also crush Yunho either way.

Rushing out to finally see your crush, you were met with the breath-taking sight of Yunho leaning to his car, one hand scrolling through his phone, the second one chilling in his pockets.

„Yuyu, my love, you’re here.”

„Gosh, Y/N you’re so drunk, I’m glad you called me and didn’t try to go home on your own. I don’t want to imagine what could’ve happened.“

„But nothing happened since I called that handsome guy I love.“

Yunho shook his head at your drunk talk, were you talking about him? Not knowing the sincerity of your words, but in the depth of his soul, he hoped the words that came out of your mouth were true...

⩥ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

„Happy Birthday dear Mr. Kang, happy birthday to you.“

Handclap noisier than the song of celebration for your boss, Kang Yeosang.

Although being a CEO, he was really warm-hearted and kind, not like the basic CEO type who’s cold and arrogant.

Being his secretary helped you to get to know him better over the years, but also made you grow feelings for him. You sometimes just zoned out and stared at his handsome face for hours, just like now.

„Y/N, can you please follow me to my office, I need to talk to you.“

You had no idea what Yeosang wanted to talk about, feeling only one emotion. Fear. Did he find out you like him? Did you do something wrong? Is he going to fire you? As he closed the door after you two, you couldn’t even look him in the eye, rather observing your high-heels.

„Y/N, what’s with you these days? You seem... different. Your mood’s been down lately, you’re impercipient. You know you can tell me anything, i want my most important employee to be happy.“

Employee. That’s all you were.

„I know you’re probably gonna get mad and I fully understand, feel free to fire me, but truth to be told, over the years I’ve been working for you, I grew feelings and I just can’t get over it... I-I love you, Mr. Kang.“

Yeosang’s face went pale, absorbing the words you’ve just said, mind going blank from the sudden confession.

„I don’t know what to say, Y/N. I mean... you’re a nice, young, hardworking girl, but.. I-I might need a few days to let it sink and think it over.“

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

San's hips moved to the rhythm of the music, his hands on the waist of some random girl, their sensual dancing just irritating you.

It wasn't like you and San were dating or anything, but you still couldn't stand the thought of him being with anyone else. An annoyed groan coming out of your mouth as you picked your glass and took a shot to drink away those thoughts. San taking the girl by her hand and coming your way.

„Hey Y/N I just wanted to say goodbye, since I’m leaving with Sora to my place, if you need anything you can call, but I don’t think I’ll be able to pick up, since my hands will have other work to do, so rather try Seonghwa.“

„Yeah, I thought so, just don’t forget to wear a condom when you get your dick wet, cuz it looks like you’ll end up with STD.“ you responded, rolling your eyes at him.

„Why are you so rude and foul today, are you jealous because I get some pussy and you’re left with no dick because no one wants to approach you since you’re so mean? Get your act together and we can talk tomorrow.“

„No San, you want to know why am I so cheeky? It’s because I have to watch the man I love fuck around with a random hooker. Go enjoy your dick appointment now, you must be busy.“ Without thinking of it any more, you left him there, your aura for sure full of pure rage.

⩥ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠

„Ew fuck no, Yeosang that’s nasty, I wish I could go back in time to five minutes ago when I didn’t hear this confession“ laughed Wooyoung at Yeosang’s confession in the game truth or dare.

Wooyoung took the bottle from Jongho’s hand, ready to spin the bottle and let it pick another victim of his stupid asks and dares. Spinning the bottle, it landed on you. Wooyoung's eyes already glistening from the excitement of daring or asking you something.

„So, Y/N, truth or dare?”

„Dare” a playful smirk finding its place on Wooyoung's face

„I dare you to kiss the person in this room, you have feelings for.”

You immediately started to regret telling him, that you like Mingi, the look in your eyes scolding him.

„Okay, but you all have to close your eyes.”

The 8 boys and your other 3 girl friends closed their eyes, as you hesitantly got up, making your way to Mingi, your crush of 5 months. Sitting on the ground next to him, your fingers landed on his jaw as your lips met his. Mingi’s eyes shot open as all your friends started applauding at your confession.

„I-I think i have feelings for you too Y/N...“

⩥ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

You were currently in the changing room, packing your belongings, to take from your workplace. You decided to leave your job as a makeup artist and stylist for the group ATEEZ. The reason was the fact that you liked one of the members and didn’t want to cause any problems to the groups, you knew it was inappropriate to like him, but it was irresistible.

You attached feelings for Wooyoung when you first started to work with them. All eight boys were absolutely amazing, but Wooyoung was just... different. He sparked a flame of interest in you, his personality, his talent, his looks, all those drew you to Wooyoung.

As you cleaned all your makeup brushes, the door to the changing room opened, as the figure of the aforementioned boy stood there.

„What are you doing Y/N? Why are you packing your things, are you going somewhere?“

„I’m leaving, Wooyoung.“

„What, why?“

„That is none of your concers.“

„It is, you’re my stylist, but more importantly, you’re my friend.“

„Yeah, that’s the problem Wooyoung, I’m your stylist - your colleague, that’s why I have to leave.“  

„Why would you have to leave because you’re my stylist, what ar-“

„Because I like you Wooyoung, okay?! That’s why I can’t keep on working with you and mix my feelings into my job, it’s inappropriate, now if you excuse me, I’m leaving.“

The boy stood there as a column, without any movement. Should he go after you, accept your feelings and then you’ll keep on working with him and being his friend, or should he stay there and not go after you? Either way, it was already too late...

⩥ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„So, what’s new in your life, Y/N? We haven’t seen each other for a long time because of our busy schedules.“ Jongho said as he sipped on his boba tea.

„Well, not that much happened in my life. You know how it is, a lot of work and stress, and lesser free time and sleep. I’ve bought a new notebook since my old one broke down and uhm... yeah well... I’ve been catching feelings for this boy lately.“

„Wow, really? I’m so happy for you Y/N, tell me more about it, I need to know what kind of a boy owns my bestie’s heart.“

„Well, he’s a really talented singer, he’s kind and funny, he’s more of an athletic type, hmm... and he’s really really strong. But he’s for real one of the nicest and best persons I’ve ever met, I like him, but I don’t know whether to tell him, because I'm not certain of his feelings...“

„Wow, he seems to be a nice guy, but don’t be blinded by your feelings, if he doesn’t like you, let it be, I don’t want you to get hurt, because of some stupid boy who won’t acknowledge the feelings such a beautiful and amazing woman like you has for him. Anyway, do I know him or who is he? I’m like really really curious right now.“

„It’s you Jongho.. you’re the boy i like.“

[autumnsart22]

Suna x reader: Final part (smut)

Here’s the final part to my Suna series! I wasn’t satisfied with my fluff version of the ending (which you can read here if you’re interested) so I decided to write a more smutty version. 

Warning: degradation, angry sex, light choking, mostly just a lot of degrading lol

I genuinely think this is the hottest fanart I’ve ever seen of him I can barely look at it without ✨butterflies✨. 

Art creds go to @minghuaa_art on twitter!

Despite Kita seeing you that day in the car, Suna still asked to keep whatever was between you a secret. That was fine with you--you didn’t particularly want a boyfriend, especially with the second semester of college work picking up. You still got to see him pretty often, hooking up in his car or your dorm at least three nights a week or more. Never the frat house; apparently his roommates were annoying. 

It was nice. Easy. Far easier than you ever expected friends with benefits to be. And beyond the sex, you loved talking to Suna; laying together on your tiny bed, legs tangled, while he explained the new music he was listening to, or walking together to the cafeteria as he made you laugh so hard that water came out of your nose. 

The good parts were enough to overlook the bad parts. At first. 

Suna was an abnormally horrific texter, barely ever responding within the day, if at all. If you ever wanted to get in contact with him, you’d have to call directly. And honestly even then he didn’t have the best track record. 

What was more frustrating was that it was always on his time. He would text you asking to hang out that night, and you would say yes, and then he wouldn’t respond until the following afternoon with some vague excuse about being busy. The first few times it happened, you got so mad that you didn’t respond to his calls, until he showed up at your dorm with panda express and forced you to watch Tokyo Ghoul with him. 

He had apologized...but it didn’t stop happening. It made you feel like you were some sort of side whore, who he called when he was bored and had nothing better to do. Like you were second best to everything else he had going on in his life. 

You had promised yourself from the beginning that you wouldn’t allow yourself to get close enough to get hurt, but it was hard. You really, really liked him. 

You liked the way he would stare at you while you talked, actually listening and curious as to what you had to say. You liked the way he hugged you after a few days of not seeing each other, burying his face in your hair like he couldn’t get close enough to you. You liked the way he laughed, both the usual, quiet chuckles and the rare snorting wheezes. You liked the way his mouth looked when he smoked, the way he moaned your name when he came, the way he could make you laugh at anything at any time. 

You didn’t want to get the “I told you so” talk from Kiyoko, so you avoided the topic all together: with her, and yourself. 

After one month of hanging out with Suna, you were planning on meeting up and going to see a movie. Both of you were more homebodies, preferring to stay in rather than party, but you had decided that you wanted to try and expand your horizons once again. The movies seemed like a happy compromise. 

The film was something Suna had been talking about for a while, an action thriller that honestly looked like shit but got good audience reviews because of all the flashy fight scenes. He had been so excited when it came out that you hadn’t been able to say no to going, especially not after he pried you with food. 

He was coming to get you at 6 pm, and your last class ended at 3pm, which gave you plenty of time to get ready. You stared at the face of your teacher on the screen within your zoom class, zoning out as he explained the flood system around the school. You glanced over as your phone buzzed, a message from Suna popping up on the screen. 

Suna

Wha u doying rit now?

You

What?

Suna

Sorr little drynk 

You

You’re drunk? 

Suna

im at psrty

You

Are we still seeing a movie tonight?

There was no response, and you felt your stomach drop. You didn’t even notice as your teacher ended class and logged you off the meeting. Suna was at a party at 3 in the afternoon, drunk, and didn’t seem to remember you had plans. You swallowed, shoving your phone aside as you ground your teeth. Why was he so frustrating? 

You stood up, angry at yourself for caring, furious at Suna for making you feel this way, for being such a piece of shit. You knew what party he was probably at--Kiyoko had said she was going at some point--and suddenly you were moving before you could think about it. 

You dressed nice, but casual enough that it wasn’t out of place at a frat party. Sexy enough to make him want you though, of course. 

You didn’t give yourself time for nerves as you strode from your dorm and headed in the direction of the frat house, following a steady stream of people already going in that direction. You knew it was Friday, but how the fuck were so many people already getting ready to party when it was literally 3:30????

It wasn’t overly crowded in the house when you entered, but enough where it was confusing as you wandered through the crowd. You snatched two drinks from the counter, downing them as fast as possible as you searched for Suna in the crowd. You’d need to be at least tipsy before having this confrontation. 

You found him in the living room, sprawled out on the couch next to who you recognized to be Akaashi, Kuroo, Kita, and Iwaizumi--all who you knew through Kiyoko. There were a few others you didn’t know, and they were all clearly drunk out of their minds. 

As you entered the room, Suna met your eyes for a brief moment, but then they moved on without a reaction. He didn’t care at all that you had come to find him, or that he had never responded to your text. 

The drink in your hand trembled, and you walked out of the room without looking back. 

Instead of talking to Suna, you decided to get wasted. An hour after first coming to the party, you were deep in a game of beer pong and you had a pleasant warmth in your gut, the world a little hazy. You felt braver, more angry, and suddenly all you wanted to do was track down that yellow eyed idiot and slap him. 

“Where’s Suna?” You slurred, turning to look at your partner at beer pong. You knew him vaguely as one of the frat boys, Suna’s friend Atsumu. 

Atsumu grinned, raising his eyebrows as he stared down at you. “Suna? Why?” 

You weren’t drunk enough to tell him of your “friendship” with Suna, so you just shrugged. 

“He’s over there,” Atsumu pointed towards the kitchen, and you felt all the blood drain from your face as you followed his gaze. Sitting in a chair, his back to you, was Suna...and on his lap was a beautiful blonde girl with her hands in his hair as she kissed him fiercely. 

You must have made some sort of sound, because Atsuma looked back at you. “You good?” 

You forced yourself to nod. “I’m...going to go get some fresh air.” 

“I’ll come,” he said, and you decided not to argue. 

Seeing Suna had sobered you up considerably, but your emotions were still a complete mess. All you could feel was a deep, unending hurt. 

As you headed down the hall, Atsumu grabbed your wrist and spun you around to face him. “So...you and Suna huh?” He said, a strange smile on his face. 

“What are you--?” 

“It’s fine, you don’t have to keep it a secret.” He took a step towards you, and you raised your eyebrows. 

“We aren’t together.” 

“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind,” He gently took your chin, lifting your face. “If I did this?” 

“I--” 

“What the fuck.” 

All the breath wooshed out of you at the familiar voice, which was now laced with anger. Suna stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets as he watched you and Atsumu. He was smiling, but it was icy with rage and...jealousy?

“Suna,” Atsumu grinned, releasing your face but not stepping back. “What do you want?” 

Suna jerked his chin in your direction. “How about you get away from her, and then we’ll talk?”

“Dude,” Atsumu rolled his eyes. “She just told me she was single. I don’t get what the problem is.” 

Suna’s face tightened. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here in the next three seconds, I swear I will break your--”

“Chill, ok!” Atsumu stepped back from you, given you a frustrated look before heading away down the hall. 

When he was out of sight, Suna’s head slowly turned to face you, his eyes dark. “Single?” His voice was a low snarl. 

You swallowed, feeling your anger return full force. How dare he. “Yes!” You snapped, “Since you clearly don’t view this as any sort of relationship.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“So you can go off kissing other girls, but I can’t flirt with Atsumu?” 

“Looked like a bit more than flirting,” he said, teeth bared, before the other part of what you said caught up to him. “And how drunk are you? I wasn’t kissing shit!” 

“Are you seriously lying to my face right now? I saw you!” 

“I didn’t kiss anyone! Do you really think that little of me?”

You clenched your fists. “Atsumu said--” 

Suna was in your face in a second, towering over you as he backed you against the wall. “What did he say?” He growled. 

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him in silence. 

Suna gave a dark chuckle. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” 

You barely had time to react before he gripped your chin, kissing you roughly and shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moaned, and the sound snapped whatever restraints Suna had. His hands ran down the back of your thighs, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you through the nearest door into a random bedroom. He kissed down your neck as he kicked the door shut, and you gasped as he tossed you on the bed. 

Your eyes slid down his chest and across his toned stomach as he pulled his shirt over his head, completely at a loss for what to do. You could feel the heat pulsing between your legs, making your heart race and your body tremble. But this was wrong. Right? 

You didn’t have anymore time to think about it as Suna gripped your ankles, dragging you to the end of the bed. 

“Why do you still have clothes on?” He snarled, yanking your leggings off and leaving them in a tangled mess on the floor. His eyes darkened as they swept over the pair of lacy underwear you had worn, sliding towards your center where you kept your thighs clenched tightly together. 

He didn’t say a word as he forced your legs apart, dropping to his knees at the end of the bed, yanking down your underwear, and positioning one of your legs over his shoulder. You shuddered as his hot breath caressed you, and he ran lazy circles along the inside of your thighs with his long fingers. 

“Fuck…” He murmured under his breath before looking up at you. “Do you want me to--”

“Stop teasing me Suna,” you groaned, shifting your hips, and he laughed darkly. 

“Fine.”

You practically screamed at the first sweep of his tongue, managing to turn your face into a pillow to muffle your noises as he worked around your clit and used his fingers in your core. You bucked your hips up into his face, and his laughter vibrating through your body almost had you coming within the first minute. 

You let out a low cry of protest as he pulled away, raising his head to glare at you. His mouth was covered in your juices, his hair rumpled and eyes glassy. He leaned over you, yanking away the pillow you had been using to cover your mouth and throwing it across the room. 

“What are you--”

“I want to hear you begging for it,” he snapped, and you managed to roll your eyes before he shoved his fingers back into you. 

“You’re so--ah!” You shuddered. 

Over the course of a month of fucking each other, Suna had figured out exactly how to make you fall apart under his tongue and fingers, so it didn’t take long for him to work you into an early climax. Your legs shook, and you let out a series of moans as you came all over his mouth. 

He got to his feet after making sure he had licked you completely clean, gazing down at you with possessive smugness. 

“Why do you look so fucked out already? We’ve barely gotten started.” 

You didn’t even argue as you got onto your knees on the bed, hands sliding into his hair as you kissed him angrily, unsaid words erupting. He allowed you to shove him onto the bed, and you focused on unzipping his pants and throwing them aside, ditching your shirt and bra along with it. His boxers went next, and then you had his dick in your hands, stroking it while Suna groaned. 

“Here,” he panted, tossing you a condom, and you slid it over his cock just like he taught you. You positioned yourself over him, impatient, your knees on either side of his hips as you thrust yourself down on him in one go. You both moaned at the feeling of finally having him inside you. 

“F-fuck,” you gasped, slowly rolling your hips as you rested your hands lightly on Suna’s chest. You went slow, taking the time to feel how deep he reached inside you, the movement on your clit enough to send tingles up the rest of your body. 

Suna watched you ride him lazily, his yellow eyes half closed as he took in the way your naked body shifted to move on top of him. 

“Ha, you’re doing so good...god--you’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, and you glared down at him. 

“You make me so...mad…” You managed between pants of pleasure, and Suna raised his eyebrows. 

“You can still talk? I guess I’m not doing enough…” 

Before you could protest, he flipped you over so that you were lying on your back with him hovering over you, his dark hair falling around his face as he gripped your throat lightly. 

“You’re such a little cumslut aren’t you?” He murmured in your ear, and you arched slightly. “Don’t you ever try and fuck someone else again, got it? You’re only allowed to come around my cock.”

You moaned in agreement, and Suna rolled you over onto your stomach, dragging your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He gave you no warning as he thrust back in, practically fucking you into the mattress. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he used his fingers to reach around and rub your clit, his other hand running along your breast. You could  barely think through the pleasure, and the only coherent word you were managing to say was his name.

Suna leaned over you, yanking your head back to murmur in your ear. “You’re mine, got it?” His words were rough, and you clenched hard around his cock. You could feel your second orgasm approaching, and he could tell too by the way you shuddered around him. He paused in his motion, and you wiggled your hips in protest, trying to get him going again. 

“Why’d you stop?” You snapped, glancing over your shoulder when he didn’t continue. 

Suna grinned. “Beg for it, bitch.”

He moved slightly, letting you feel the friction, and you gasped in anger and pleasure. This bastard wanted to tease you, make you submit to him…

Despite knowing this, you broke almost immediately. “Please, Suna, please please, I need you so bad--”

Immediately, he picked up his pace once again, adding more pressure to your clit, and you jerked. “That’s a good girl.” 

“Ah, ah, Suna, fuck, I love-- you, ahhh…” You cried, feeling moisture spill down your thighs as your stomach erupted for the second time that night. 

For a moment he stilled, and you bit your lip in tired confusion. Did he want you to beg again? You weren’t sure you had another round in you. 

You looked over to see him with a shocked expression on his face, but it quickly melted into smugness again once he caught you staring at him. “Of course you love me while I’m fucking you like this,” he growled finally. “It’s because you’re such a slut for it, right?” 

Your mouth dropped open, but you didn’t have time to say anything as he started moving once again, making you yelp at the overstimulation. Had you said you loved him? Out loud? Oh my god…

“Have I fucked you stupid already?” he purred in your ear, pulling out of your dripping cunt before slamming back in and picking up his pace. You moaned loudly, thrusting your hips back to meet his as all thoughts flew from your head. 

“S-Suna I--” You could barely speak, it felt so good, despite the fact that you had already come. Twice. 

 He began to pant in your ear, groaning as his grip on your hips tightened.“F-fuck--” He grunted, arms sliding around your waist as he jerked and came. 

You both collapsed on the bed, sweaty and exhausted, and Suna easily pulled the condom from his dick before tying it and tossing it in the trash. After a long moment, you rolled to your feet to padded over to where your clothes lay--until you realized that your leggings had a massive rip in them. 

“Suna!” You cried, holding up the fabric. He raised his eyebrows, and had the decency to at least look vaguely guilty. 

“Sorry.” 

“What do I wear?!” 

“Here.” He threw the shirt he had been wearing earlier at you, and you gave him a glare.

He had already wiped himself down with the tissues on the counter, and had pulled on his sweatpants once again, leaving him shirtless. His eyes swept lazily down your still naked body, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and you crossed your arms in annoyance. 

“Suna,” You snapped, but finally pulled his shirt over your head, not seeing another option. “I’m going to go get cleaned up,” you said, before heading out the door without waiting for a response. 

The bathroom was thankfully right down the hall, and thankfully empty. You didn’t feel very guilty about fucking Suna when you should have been communicating in a healthy way, but you definitely still felt mad. 

After you had wiped all the fluids from your inner thighs and core, you headed back to the room to grab the rest of your stuff. 

You found Suna on his phone lying on the bed, but he looked up as you came in. 

“Where are you going?” He said as you gathered your stuff, and you huffed. 

“Back to my dorm.” 

“Wait,” he lunged out of the bed and grabbed your arm. “Don’t go.” 

“Now you want to spend time with me?” 

“Just...stay. Please.” 

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Fine.” 

His expression relaxed into a happy smile, and he dragged you onto the bed with him before flicking out the lights. You weren’t sure what time it was exactly, but you were sure it was far past two in the morning. Your eyelids drooped as Suna wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. 

You were right on the edge of sleep when he murmured, “Did you mean it?” 

Immediately you were awake; you knew exactly what he meant. “U-um--” You hadn’t worked out any of the problems between you two, and you were sure he didn’t feel the same way. How were you supposed to admit to loving him like this?

“It’s fine,” he finally muttered. “We can talk about it tomorrow.” 

You swallowed. “Yes. I did mean it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you felt Suna tense around you. 

“Really?”

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to say it. “Yes... I love you.” 

You felt his sigh against your air, ticking the little hair on the back of your neck. His hand slid across your stomach while the other gently began to stroke your hair, and the movement had you relaxing despite the tears that had built up at his lack of response. 

You closed your eyes and set it aside; you would deal with it tomorrow. Now, it was time for sleep. 

“I love you too.” You heard, so soft that it was almost just a breath of air.  

It was probably just a dream.  

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Teapots, Secret Passageways and Forever - George Weasley

Title: Teapots, Secret Passageways and Forever Pairing: George x Fem!Slytherin!Reader Warnings: NSFW!!! Dirty talk, fingering, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, orgasm denial, light spanking, degredation. Summary: turns out falling in love with your enemy is more complicated that George and Y/N thought. A/N:  here it is, the sequel to good girl!! This actually ended up turning out differently than I thought I would and im not sure how I feel about that but I’m gonna upload it anyway otherwise it will quite literally never end up on here haha. But anyway, feedback is always appreciated/welcome!! Read part 1 here!

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

George lets out a sigh, causing Y/N to glare up at him. He had promised to be good when Y/N agreed to let him tag along with her to the library, but they’ve only been there for 20 minutes and this is already the 5th time he’s let out a deep sigh. George grins at her, and even though she wants to be mad, Y/N finds him too adorable to even act like she’s mad.

Y/N rests her chin on her hand, just letting herself watch George for a moment. It’s hard for her to believe that just a few months ago she hated his guts, because now just the sight of George makes her feel dizzy with love. “What do you want, George?”

“Your attention,” George responds as if the answer is obvious. “When you said I could come with you I figured you’d end up sucking my cock or something. Not actually do homework.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down her spine. “How can one person be that horny? We literally just had sex this morning.”

George bites his lip, memories of their early morning meeting taking over his mind. Y/N is still apprehensive about spending the night in his dorm, so Saturday mornings have become their opportunity to be together before George has Quidditch practice. There isn’t a deserted corridor or secret passageway they haven’t done it in, and they spent quite a few hours together this morning in the same secret passageway they hooked up in for the first time.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately, darling? You’re absolutely gorgeous and not to mention sexy,” George compliments, reaching out to cup Y/N’s cheek. “I just can’t control myself around you. Every time I’m around you I have the overwhelming urge to just touch you and pull you close.”

Y/N can feel her cheeks flushing, and she tilts her chin forward to silently ask George for a kiss. He kisses her briefly, but it doesn’t fail to make Y/N feel lightheaded. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Georgie. And while I find you extremely, extremely sexy, I do actually have to do my homework. Because of your inability to keep your hands to yourself I’m falling behind in Potions and Herbology.”

“Oh come on Snivellous loves you, he’d probably do your assignment for you if you asked. And Sprout is a total pushover. All you have to do is give her some sob story and you’ll get an extension easily.” George’s lower lip juts out, giving Y/N his best pout. “Please? Just pay attention to me a little bit.”

“Or, you can sit here with me quietly while I do my homework, and when I’m all done you can take me to the room of requirement and have your way with me,” Y/N suggests, picking her quill back up.

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.” George sits back in his chair, just watching Y/N work. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she works on a Potions essay and George finds it incredibly cute. He finds it hard to believe that he once wanted nothing to do with Y/N. He’s absolutely captivated by everything she does, and he could spend hours just sitting there watching her do nothing.

“First Quidditch game of the year next week,” George comments idly. He knows he shouldn’t say anything, but he’s been sitting there quietly for the past 45 minutes and he can’t resist his urge to say something. It’s a Saturday evening and they’re the only two in the library, so he doesn’t even have anyone else around to watch and distract himself.

Y/N hums, not looking up from her essay. Honestly she’s surprised George lasted 45 minutes without saying anything, so she’s willing to humor him a bit while she works. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Angelina’s first game as captain. She’s a nervous wreck. But she’s been doing really good. It’s like Wood is still there.” George pauses, watching as Y/N scribbles a few things down. “You gonna be there?”

“Of course.” She looks up to wink at George. “Slytherin’s playing. I never miss a Slytherin game.”

George rolls his eyes playfully. “But you’re not just going to be there for Slytherin, right? You’re gonna be there to watch a super-hot Ginger whiz around the field hitting bludgers at everyone.”

Y/N shrugs. “I dunno. If you ask me Fred really isn’t that good of a Quidditch player.” When George pouts at her Y/N laughs and leans forward to kiss him. “I’m only joking, love. ‘Course I’ll be there cheering you on. Maybe not as loud as I’ll be cheering for Slytherin but cheering nonetheless.”

“Guess that’ll have to do,” George drawls, fake disappointment in his tone. George bites his lip, watching Y/N flip through her Potions book before she scribbles something down on her essay. “Can I ask you something?” When Y/N nods he continues. “Will you wear one of my extra Quidditch jumpers to the game?”

Y/N looks up at George then, putting her quill down. “And betray my house? George Weasley how dare you ask that of me!” she responds, feigning shock. “How about I wear your Gryffindor hat or scarf? That way you can spot me in the crowd of Slytherins and I’ll be warm.”

George frowns. “But I want you to wear my jumper. You can wear your own hat and scarf and my jumper will keep you warm.”

“It’s just that. I always wear one of Adrian’s quidditch jumpers. And Daphne wears one of Marcus’. It’s like, our thing. Has been since second year when they made the team,” Y/N explains. She reaches out to grab George’s hand, frowning when he pulls it away. “Georgie. Don’t be like this.”

George huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. He knows that Adrian and Y/N are best friends, and even though she’d reassured him that her and Adrian never had romantic feelings for one and other, George can’t help but feel jealous when it comes to him. Obviously Y/N is his girlfriend and he knows that she loves him, but the mere mention of Adrian never fails to drive him up the wall.

“Just thought you’d want to wear you boyfriend’s Quidditch jumper,” he mumbles, settling back into his chair.

“It’s just a jumper, George. I don’t see what the big deal is.” When George doesn’t say anything Y/N sighs and gets up, walking over to George. She straddles his waist and places her hands on his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to George’s mouth. She keeps pecking his lips until George melts and kisses her back eagerly, his hands settling on her hips. “If it really means that much to you, I’ll wear it.”

“Promise?” George asks, unable to keep from smiling.

“Promise. But I’m wearing my Slytherin hat and scarf. Can’t let people think I’ve gone completely soft for you.” Y/N looks back at her homework, before looking at George again. “Ah screw it. I’ll just finish that tomorrow. Take me to the room of requirement?”

George’s eyes light up and he grips Y/N’s thighs as he stands up. “No need to ask me twice.”

-

“You can’t even have one meal apart from him without making love eyes at each other across the hall. It’s disgusting,” Daphne teases, pretending to gag.

Y/N flips her off, not bothering to break eye contact with George. Ever since they started dating Y/N and George have eaten every meal together, taking turns at which house table they sit at. But since it’s the night before the first Quidditch match George had opted to sit at the Gryffindor table without Y/N, so that Angelina could go over a few last-minute things with the team. He’s supposed to be listening to whatever Angelina is saying, but with how focused he is on her, Y/N knows whatever she’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. Adrian and Marcus join them then, and Y/N finally breaks eye contact with George, since Adrian sits right in their line of sight.

“You guys ready for tomorrow?” Daphne asks as they start to pile food on their plates. Snape had given the whole Slytherin Quidditch team permission to skip their afternoon lessons so they could get one last practice in on the field before tomorrow’s game. And both boys look exhausted, but also excited.

Marcus nods happily, “Oh yeah, Gryffindor is going down, no doubt about it.” He turns to grin at Y/N. “No offense to you or your boy toy, of course.”

Y/N flips Marcus off. “He’s not my boy toy, he’s my boyfriend, there’s a difference, moron. And there’s no need to be jealous, Marcus. I know it’s hard to watch me and George be together and I’m sure someday Daph will want to kiss you when she’s sober.”

Adrian laughs, prompting Marcus to hit him in the back of the head. “Don’t get feisty with me because Y/N is right. Oh, that reminds me.” Adrian reaches into his bag and pulls out one of his Quidditch jumpers. “Here, for tomorrow. I probably won’t see you before the game.”

“Oh, um. I don’t need it.” All three of her friends give Y/N a look and she puts down her fork. “I’m gonna wear George’s jumper tomorrow.”

Daphne frowns. “But you always wear Adrian’s. And I wear Marcus’. It’s a tradition, Y/N.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “It’s just a sweater, Daph. You’re acting like I’m stabbing him in the back or something.”

Adrian huffs and puts the sweater back in his bag. “If it’s just a damn sweater then why are you wearing Weasley’s? Didn’t know you stopped making decisions for yourself when he started shagging you.”

Y/N whips her roll at Adrian’s head. “You’re lucky there’s a table in between us Adrian or I’d break your fucking arm. Why are you being such a dick? George is my boyfriend and he asked me to wear his jumper. It doesn’t mean anything to me, but it does to him, and I love him so I’m going to wear it.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Adrian apologizes. “It just annoys me that things are changing. It used to be just us four. Now it’s always us four and George.”

Y/N sighs. As much as she hates to admit it, Adrian is right. They’ve operated as a foursome ever since the first train ride to Hogwarts, when they were all just scared 11-year olds. Throwing George into the mix has changed their dynamic and she’s sure it’s been hard on all of them to adjust. “I’m sorry. It’s not like I planned on getting a boyfriend, it just kinda happened. I’ll wear your jumper to every other Slytherin game, okay?”

“Guess it’ll do,” Adrian settles, taking a bite out of the roll Y/N threw.

-

“Woo! Let’s go George! That’s my boy!” Y/N shouts, causing the Slytherins around her to all glare. Harry has just caught the snitch meaning of course, Gryffindor has won. Y/N turns to Daphne who’s pouting next to her and shapes her fingers in the form of an L. “Sorry, Slyther-losers. Good luck winning the Quidditch cup now!”

Daphne rolls her eyes and scoffs. “You’re a Slytherin too, you realize that, right?”

“Not today!” Y/N pulls her Slytherin knit cap off her head and shoves it into her jacket pocket as she unzips it to show off the red and gold jumper she’s wearing. “I’m a Gryffindor today, baby! Now come on let’s go, you can go make sure Marcus doesn’t drown himself in the showers and I can give George the congratulatory blow job I promised.”

“Ew! Way too much information, Y/N,” Daphne grimaces.

Y/N laughs as they start to head down to the pitch, unable to keep the smile off of her face. George looks hot just sitting there doing nothing, so seeing him whiz around the field hitting bludgers has left Y/N feeling dizzy with a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. He was gripping his bat so hard his knuckles were turning white, and the veins on his hand were visible from her seat in the stands. He looked so powerful up there on his broom, and it’s a sight Y/N never wants to forget.

When Y/N and Daphne finally reach the ground she’s about to breakaway to sneak into the Gryffindor changing room, when Daphne grabs her arm. “What?”

“Look!” Daphne insists, directing Y/N’s attention towards the outskirts of the pitch.

Y/N swallows the lump that has appeared in the back of her throat. Angelina, Katie and Alicia are holding onto Fred, who’s desperately fighting against them, a dark look on his face. George has an identical look on his face, and he’s trying to throw Harry off of him. Draco is standing in front of them, and while Y/N can’t hear what he’s saying, she knows it’s nothing nice. “That can’t be good.” Her and Daphne rush over, just as Marcus and Adrian start to approach.

“Get back up to the castle,” Marcus directs not even bothering to look at them.

Daphne hesitates, but Y/N grabs Adrian’s arm. “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re gonna back up Malfoy, obviously. You heard Marcus, get out of here.” Adrian tries to shake Y/N off, but she tightens her grip on him. “I’m serious, Y/N. Go back to the castle. Whatever is about to happen is not going to be pretty.”

Y/N looks over at George. Harry now looks just as angry and is struggling to hold onto George’s Quidditch robes. They’re close enough now that Y/N can hear the tone of Draco’s voice, and it’s dripping with cockiness. George’s fists are clenched at his sides, like he’s preparing to knock Draco’s lights out. She’s never seen George like this, and while it turns her on to no end, it also scares the shit out of her. She lets go of Adrian’s arm and starts heading towards George to try and stop whatever this is that’s about to go down.

It’s Adrian’s turn to stop Y/N, and he wraps his arms around Y/N’s waist. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re about to put yourself in the middle of a blood bath.”

“Let me go, Adrian! As much as I would love to watch George beat the shit out of Draco this is not the time or the place.” She tries to break free from Adrian’s grip just as George finally looks away from Draco. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, but Y/N doesn’t miss the pure rage in them. George’s eyes drop to where Adrian is gripping her and before anyone can do anything George is lunging at Draco, punching him straight in the jaw.

“What did I tell you?” Adrian growls as he starts to pull Y/N back towards the castle.

Y/N lets Adrian drag her away as watches in horror at the scene unfolding in front of her. Harry has joined in the fight as well, and he and George are on the ground on top of Draco. Fists are flying everywhere and every time one connects with a body Y/N’s stomach lurches. After what seems like an eternity Madam Hooch and several professors are descending on the scene and their view is completely cut off.

-

Y/N takes the stairs up to Gryffindor tower two at a time, desperately in need of seeing George. It’s been a few hours since the debacle that went down on the Quidditch pitch and Draco has just finished bragging about the event after getting back from the Hospital Wing. What Y/N had wanted to do was grab Draco and hang him in the dungeons from his ankle, but instead she stormed out of the common room in search of George. His punishment is severe, and all she wants to do his hug him close.

“Oh thank god,” Y/N greets Ginny as she reaches the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. She really hadn’t thought about how she was going to get in until she was already halfway up the staircase. Y/N had planned on just standing around until a Gryffindor showed up, so she’s truly thankful that Ginny is already there.

Ginny smiles at Y/N and pushes the Fat Lady Portrait open. “When George got back I figured it would only be a matter of time before you came to find him. He’s up in his dorm”

When Y/N steps into the common room it’s dead quiet. Gryffindor’s parties are notorious around school, and Y/N knows that if the match had ended differently there would be a rager going on right now. Fred is starting daggers at Y/N, and she can feel her face heating up as she heads up towards George’s dorm. Fred is still not the biggest fan of her relationship with George, but he’s usually less obvious about his feelings towards Y/N.

Y/N takes a deep breath as she reaches the seventh-year dorm and she knocks quietly. “George? Georgie? It’s me. Can I come in? ”When George doesn’t say anything, she frowns and pushes the door open anyway. “Georgie,” she coos as she enters, shutting the door behind her tightly. George is sitting on the edge of his bed shirtless, facing away from her. His shoulders are tense, and it makes Y/N’s chest ache.  

“How did you get in here?” he asks firmly, not bothering to look at her.

Y/N bites her lip and starts to tentatively walk towards him. “Ginny let me in, she was waiting for me, actually.” She stops when she’s a few steps away from him. “Are you okay?” she asks softly.

George huffs. “What do you think?” His tone is sharp, and Y/N can feel tears welling up in her eyes. She figured he would be upset, but she has no idea why he’s upset with her.

“I can’t believe that toad banned you guys from Quidditch. Actually I can believe it, she’s fucking awful.” When George doesn’t say anything Y/N starts to play with her fingers. “Will you talk to me George, please?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Y/N. Just go hug Adrian or whatever it is you do when I’m not around.”

Y/N frowns and goes to kneel behind George on the bed. She reaches out slowly and places her hand on his shoulder. “Georgie what are you talking about? You’re the only one I wanna be with. Every second of every day. You know that.”

“Do I?” George asks as he stands up and turns to face her. “Because you two looked pretty cozy today down on the pitch.”

Y/N lets her eyes drag over George’s face. His eyes are dark and narrow, reminiscent of the way he was looking at Draco earlier. His lip is busted open and he’s got a pretty daunting black eye, but he still looks like George. “We weren’t hugging down there, George. Is that what you thought that was?”

“That’s what it looked like, Y/N. His arms around your waist like that. Only I’m allowed to touch you like that,” George growls, his fists clenching. “If you hadn’t been standing in front of him I would have broken his jaw, not Malfoy’s.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot, George,” Y/N spits, suddenly feeling angry. Although she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t turned on a little as well. Seeing George so angry and possessive has ignited a pit of arousal in her stomach. “He wasn’t hugging me. He was keeping me from throwing myself at you to keep you from hitting Draco. You know if it wasn’t for Adrian you could have hurt me, George.”

“I’ll be sure to go thank him then,” George sneers. “God, Y/N how can you be so daft. He’s clearly in love with you. I’m sure he was just looking for some excuse to touch you.”

“You can’t be serious George. We’ve talked about this. Adrian and I have never and will never have feelings for each other.” Y/N gets off the bed and comes around so she’s standing in front of George. “And you know what even if Adrian does have feelings for me I don’t return them. I’m in love with you, you big fat fucking moron. So quit it with this jealousy crap, George.”

George suddenly grabs Y/N’s hips and pulls her into his chest harshly before leaning down and kissing her hard. “I’m not jealous,” he insists as he pushes her back onto his bed. “But you’re mine, Y/N. And I’m gonna make sure every person in this school knows that. Especially that prick Adrian.”

“God, George. You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” Y/N sits up and wraps her hand around George’s necking, pulling him in to a desperate kiss. She lays back against the bed as George forces his tongue into her mouth, pulling him on top of her.

George starts to bite and suck on Y/N’s neck, feeling the need to mark her up as much as possible. He wants there to be no doubt in anyone’s mind who Y/N belongs to when he’s done with her. He nibbles along the underside of her jaw, leaving small purple bruises in his wake. “You look so fucking hot in my jumper, Y/N. Such a shame I’m gonna have to take it off.”

George’s hands have started to run up under the jumper, his cold hands shocking her warm skin. “Then don’t,” she gasps as George bites the crook of her neck harshly. “Leave it on while you fuck me, please. It smells like you, Georgie.” Y/N moans and tangles her hands in his hair as George starts to cup her bare breasts, his calloused thumbs rubbing harshly at her nipples.

“That desperate for me already, darling? So needy for me that you wanna be able to smell me while I ruin your pretty pussy with my cock?” George pinches Y/N’s nipples hard, smirking as her back arches up off of the bed.

“Please, George,” Y/N moans, tugging on his hair. “Just wanna be your good girl.”

Y/N’s words send a shiver down George’s spine and he kisses her briefly. “You sure you wanna be my good girl? ‘Cause the way you’ve been talking makes it seem like you wanna be a bad girl.”

“Yes, George. Always wanna be your good girl, wanna be so good for you.”

George pulls away from Y/N completely and sits up, starting to fumble with the button of his trousers. “If you wanna be my good girl so bad, then you’re gonna use that pretty little mouth to show me just how good you can be.”

Y/N sits up and bats George’s hands away, undoing his trousers and shoving them down to his thighs along with his boxers. She practically drools as his hard cock pops out, and Y/N immediately wraps one of her hands around it and starts to stroke him lightly, while her other hand pulls George down into a searing kiss.

George grabs Y/N’s face in his hands as he lays back onto the bed to keep their lips connected as she settles in between his thighs. He groans as Y/N’s thumb starts to swipe over the tip of his cock and he pulls away from her mouth, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as he does. He watches it snap back into place, a little redder and plumper before and he starts to shove her head downwards. “Go on then, Y/N. Wrap those pretty lips around me so I can fuck your throat.”

Y/N immediately settles on her knees between George’s thighs, gripping the base of his cock tightly as she takes him into her mouth. She loves it when George is rough with her and tells her what to do. Seeing him jealous and angry turns her on to no end, and she can already feel her wetness coating her thighs. Y/N takes him down as far as she can, moaning when he gathers her hair in a ponytail and gives it a sharp tug. His hips jut up, shoving his cock farther down into her throat, and Y/N braces one of her hands on George’s hip while the other fists his bed sheets.

“Oh fucking hell,” George moans as Y/N looks up at him from under her eyelashes. “Look so fucking pretty like that, darling, with your mouth wrapped around my cock. You love sucking my cock, don’t you Y/N?” She hums around him, and George’s hips surge upwards, burying the rest of his cock between her lips. Y/N gags as he hits the back of her throat and George uses his grip on her hair to keep her there for a moment before he pulls her off slightly.

Y/N lets her tongue run up against the underside of George’s cock as he starts to thrust into her mouth and as his hand guides her head. George shoves the tip of his cock into the back of her throat with each thrust, and Y/N can feel tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes with each gag. She makes sure to pay attention to the tip of his cock every time he pulls her back, letting her tongue flick at it and collect the precum that’s started to bubble up at the top.

George picks up the speed of his hips, groaning as drool starts to dribble down Y/N’s chin. “Always suck me so well, Y/N. Such a good girl for me.” George let’s his cock hit the back of Y/N’s throat one more time, before he pulls her off completely. He wipes some of the drool off of her chin with his thumb and cleans it off on his pant leg. “Thank you, baby for getting my cock nice and wet, perfect for me to fuck you with. Go on then, get on your hands and knees.”

Y/N gets into position as George gets off of the bed to take his bottoms fully off. She feels George push the bottom of his jumper up, so it bunches around her hips and she moans as his large hands grab her ass. The bed shifts as he settles in behind her, his hands tugging at the fabric of her leggings.

“George!” she gasps as his hands tear a whole in her bottoms, suddenly exposing her bare core to the cold air of the room.

“No panties?” George asks as he shoves two fingers into her wet heat. Y/N moans as her walls clench around his digits and George starts to slowly fuck her with them. “Such a dirty fucking whore you are, Y/N. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to use you like a little fuck toy, like you’re just a warm wet hole for me to bury my cock in. Isn’t that right?”

“Please,” Y/N begs as George’s fingers curl and finally brush up against her g-spot. George has never been this lewd with her, and she can still hear the anger in his voice. “Please, Georgie,” she whines, pushing back against his hand.

George smacks Y/N’s ass hard with his free hand, revealing in the moan that leaves her lips. “Answer me, Y/N. If you wanna cum tonight you’ll be a good girl and use your words. You’re just a warm wet hole for me to fuck and ruin, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, George, yes,” Y/N pants as his thumb starts to rub her clit.

George bites his lip as Y/N’s thighs and arms start to shake, and he smacks her ass again. “And you love being my dirty little fuck toy, don’t you?”

Y/N moans as George curls his fingers again, nodding wildly. “Love it so much Georgie, please. Wanna be your good girl, wanna make you feel good.”

In one fluid motion, George removes his fingers from Y/N’s core, grabs her hips and slams his cock into her, his hips moving until he’s buried completely inside of her. “Always so fucking tight for me darling,” George groans as he starts to move his hips. He sets a relentless pace, fucking into Y/N hard and fast. “I want to hear every little noise that comes out of you as I fuck you, understand? Want this whole fucking school to know just how good I make you feel.”

“So fucking big George, holy fuck,” Y/N moans. “Always fuck me so good, Georgie. No one can ever make me feel as good as you do, love your cock so much.” Unable to hold herself up from the pleasure coursing through her veins, Y/N falls forward onto her forearms, arching her back for George. The new positions allows him to slip even deeper inside of her, and she clenches her walls around George as she whines. “Right there, oh fuck. Harder George please. I need you,” she begs.

George tightens his grip on Y/N’s hips and slams into her harder. Normally George prefers to take things slow, but he still has the image of Adrian’s arms around Y/N’s waist and he wants to fuck her so hard that he forgets it completely. “Such a dirty fucking whore, Y/N. Begging for me to ruin you.”

“George,” Y/N groans as his thumb starts rubbing harsh circles on her clit. The tip of his cock rubs her g-spot with every thrust and her hips start to push back against him as her orgasm starts to build. Her body feels like it’s on fire and she can’t help the noises that come out of her mouth with each of George’s thrusts. “Please, George. Been such a good girl. Can I? Can I come George, please?”

George grunts as Y/N clenches around him even tighter, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay. “I don’t know if you deserve it, darling. Fuck toys don’t get to cum, do they? And that’s all you are, isn’t it? Just a little fuck to for me to use for my pleasure?”

“Please, please, please,” Y/N babbles as tears start to stream down her cheeks. She’s teetering on the edge of her climax and all she needs is for George to allow her to feel it. Pleasure is moving like an electric shock through her body and she desperately wants to let go. “Georgie, please,” she begs, the desperation clear in her voice. “I’m all yours, only yours please. Only want you, George. Please, please, let me cum.”

“Fuck that’s right, Y/N. You’re mine,” George growls. “Forever. Understand that? No one’s ever going to touch you or kiss you or fuck you ever again. Just me, only me. Go on then, baby. Be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

Y/N cries out George’s name as she cums, her whole body shaking as pleasure courses through her. She collapses against the bed as her chest heaves with heavy pants, her body feeling like it’s floating. George’s hips have started to stutter as his own orgasm approaches, and Y/N clenches around him to help bring him to his climax. “Fill me up George, please. Claim me, make me yours forever.”

“Fucking hell, baby.” George collapses against Y/N’s back as he cums, his orgasm rocketing through his body. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum this hard before, and his hips slowly roll as he twitches inside of Y/N. Once he’s finished releasing inside of her George slowly pulls out and collapses on the bed next to Y/N. Silent tears are still rolling down her cheeks and George immediately pulls her into his chest. “I went too far didn’t I? Fuck I’m so sorry Y/N.”

Y/N sniffles as George starts to stroke her hair and press soft kisses all over her face. “They’re good tears Georgie I promise. It was incredible, honestly, love.”

George wipes away a few of the tears before he pulls Y/N in for a passionate kiss. Their lips move together slowly, and George starts to gently rub her back. “I would never be able to forgive myself if I hurt you. I love you, Y/N, so much.”

“I love you too, Georgie. Forever, yeah?”

George pulls Y/N closer to his body and kisses the top of her forehead, praying that the anger he still feels in his chest goes away. “Forever.”

-

Despite the fact that George had promised her forever that night, Y/N can’t help but feel that they’re starting to drift apart. With their lifetime Quidditch ban in full effect, George and Fred have started to put even more time into their Weasley products and Y/N feels like she barely sees George anymore. He still walks her to class holding her hand tightly and he’s always sure to remind her that he loves her, but they no longer eat meals together and Y/N can’t remember the last time George begged her to skive off her homework to fool around in the room of requirement. But she’s happy that he’s found something to put his extra time into, so she doesn’t think too much is wrong until George misses their next Saturday morning meeting.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian asks as Y/N slumps over to the Slytherin table. Most Saturdays Y/N’s friends don’t see her until lunch time, so they’re all surprised as she falls into her seat next to Adrian.

Y/N sighs and starts to put random food onto her plate, not really feeling like eating. “George never showed this morning. We were supposed to meet in the room of requirement and I just sat there for thirty minutes feeling like an idiot.”  

“You mean your prince charming stood you up? Guess things aren’t as happy in the kingdom as they seem,” Marcus teases. Daphne smacks him upside the head, prompting him to frown. “I was just trying to make her smile Daph no need to try and take my head off.”

“You’re an idiot, Marcus,” Daphne scolds before turning her attention back to Y/N. “I thought something was up with you guys, but I didn’t want to say anything. I feel like I’ve barely seen you two together this past week. George is usually always hovering around you, I mean he practically worships the ground you walk on. You guys get into a fight or something?”

Y/N shrugs, picking at her muffin. “He was pretty pissed after what happened last weekend at the Quidditch match. When Adrian was trying to hold me back from going over there he thought we were hugging or something. I don’t know, he was really angry though. But I thought we uh, worked it out if you get what I mean. But clearly not.”

“What a git. He managed to score the hottest girl in school and yet he still managed to fuck it up,” Adrian murmurs, putting his arm around Y/N’s middle. “You deserve better than him, Y/N.”

Y/N rests her head against Adrian’s shoulder and sighs. “He’s all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Don’t look now,” Daphne whispers, leaning over the table. “He just walked in with Fred, act natural.”

Y/N ruffles Adrian’s hair as she sits up, trying to pretend that she can’t feel George’s eyes starting at the back of her head.

-

George slams his quill down on the table, running his hand through his hair. “Fucking bullshit. No matter how many times I calculate it the numbers just don’t match up.”

“Will you chill out? It’s not that big of a deal we can work on that shit later,” Fred urges, watching George carefully. “What’s got your panties in a twist lately? I’ve never seen you this worked up.”

It’s Saturday afternoon, and Fred and George are tucked away in a corner of the common room, working on stuff for their joke shop. George has been trying to work on an input output expense sheet, but all of the numbers keep blurring together and he can’t seem to figure out how to make them balance. It probably has something to do with the fact that things between him and Y/N aren’t quite right, but he doesn’t want to think about that.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” George says flatly, looking back over the sheet in front of him.

Fred sighs and leans back in his seat. “You’re a shit liar, you know that? And I do have eyes, you know. Something’s going on with you and Y/N and you’re clearly upset about it. And I’m not going to stop asking about it until you tell me so just spill it so we can get back to work.”

“I’ve just been so angry with her lately, like constantly. Every time I’m around her it just flares up in my chest and I have this urge to just, I dunno. Yell at her.” George pauses. “I mean did you see the way he was touching her today? I wanted to storm over there and rip him away.”

Fred knits his eyebrows together. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Adrian,” George clarifies, his voice dark. “He’s always touching her, and Y/N just lets him. Even though she knows how I feel about him. Did you know I had to beg her to wear my Quidditch jumper to the game last week? And do you know why? Because she always wears Adrian’s,” he mocks. “I’m her bloody boyfriend and I had to beg her not to wear another guys jumper, it’s ridiculous.”

Fred reaches out and puts a comforting hand on George’s shoulder. “You’re my brother and I care about you, please try and remember that as I say the next thing. You’re a fucking idiot, George. I know I’m not Y/N’s biggest fan, but it’s clear that she cares about you. The way that she looks at you George, even when you’re not paying attention it’s like you’re the only thing in the world she cares about. I don’t think she means any harm when she’s like that with Adrian and deep down you know that too. I mean they’ve always been like that. Remember when you guys got detention before you were together? He showed up to walk her back to the common room and he gave her a piggyback ride. It’s not like they’ve just started being close. I don’t think I ever saw her away from Adrian or any of her friends until you guys started dating. Whatever you’re feeling is all in your head.”

“It doesn’t feel all in my head. The way he looks at her, it’s not the way someone looks at a person who’s just a friend,” George insists.

Fred rolls his eyes. “Okay so say Adrian does have feeling for Y/N. He’s clearly very deep in the friend zone. We all heard you guys last weekend, screaming about how she’s yours forever or whatever. Nearly made me throw up in my mouth, mate.”

George punches Fred’s shoulder lightly. “Fuck off. Y/N said the same thing but-“

“See! There you go,” Fred interjects, cutting George off. “Y/N said it herself. She’s in love with you, not Adrian. So, stop being an idiot and go apologize to her before she realizes what a dolt you are and ends it for good.”

George does leave the common room then, fully intending to go and see Y/N. He still feels angry deep in his chest, but his need to be close to her overwhelms all of it. That is until he finds Y/N in the library, her head titled back in a laugh at something Adrian has said. The anger in George’s chest flares as she pushes him playfully, a wide smile on her face that’s usually reserved for George.

-

Y/N can tell something has gone wrong, when there’s no Weasley’s in attendance at breakfast on Monday morning. They had all been a dinner the night before, and one Weasley not being around is perfectly normal. Even two being absent is normal if it’s Fred and George. But all four of them is unheard of, especially when Harry never shows up for breakfast either. She tries to keep herself calm, thinking that maybe they’re just doing something for the DA or planning some revenge on Umbridge. But when lunch comes around and Y/N has yet to see George or Fred in class and there hasn’t been a single streak of red hair floating around the halls, Y/N makes a beeline for the Gryffindor table where Hermione is sitting alone.

“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s George and everyone else. I haven’t seen them since dinner last night,” Y/N asks as she takes a seat next to Hermione. When Hermione finally looks at Y/N there’s a worried expression on her features and it makes Y/N’s stomach drop.

“George didn’t owl you?” When Y/N shakes her head, Hermione leans forward to whisper in her ear. “I can’t say too much, Dumbledore’s orders. But something happened and Mr. Weasley was badly injured, he’s in St. Mungo’s. George and the rest of the Weasley’s along with Harry took a portkey home last night, Dumbledore gave them all permission to start winter break a few days early.”

Y/N frowns, a mixture of emotions flowing through her body. On one hand she’s worried about George’s dad and how he’s coping with everything. And on the other she’s hurt that George didn’t feel comfortable enough to reach out to her and tell her what’s going on. Y/N had hoped they could make things right before being a part for two weeks, but it seems that the wedge between them is only being pushed farther and farther apart.

“Is he going to be okay? Mr. Weasley? God George must be freaking out.”

Hermione shrugs. “I haven’t heard anything yet, Harry sent an owl when they got to their destination last night. They hadn’t heard much yet, but I’m sure he’s in good hands at St. Mungos. And I’m sure George will reach out soon, Y/N. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Y/N gives Hermione a small smile before she goes to join her friends, a pit of despair growing in her stomach.

-

“It’s Christmas eve, Y/N. You’ve been held up in your room sending letters all break, can’t you give it a rest for a few days? I’m sure Daphne or Adrian will understand if they don’t get any letters from you for a bit,” Y/N’s mother says, reaching over to grab the quill from her hand.

It’s been a week since George’s father was attacked, and Y/N has been sending him letters nearly nonstop without hearing anything in return. Her owl always comes back with an empty beak, so she knows he’s been getting the letters, and her heart hurts every time he doesn’t respond. She just wants to know if he’s okay, if there’s anything she can do for him. Y/N knows she’s been ignoring her parents a little too much, but she can’t think about anything except for George.

“I’m not writing to Daphne or Adrian,” Y/N huffs, finally looking up at her parents. They’re sitting at the table having lunch together, or at least her parents are. Y/N’s owl had turned up without a response from George just before food was ready, and Y/N wants to send another to him as soon as possible.

“Well then who have you been writing too?” her father asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you write this much in your entire life.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a pink blush appearing on her cheeks. “George Weasley,” she mumbles, looking away.

“George Weasley? Y/N whatever prank that boy pulled on you can be dealt with when you get back to school. There’s no need to be going on and on with him over break,” her mother tuts with a shake of her head.

Y/N’s parents have spent much of their time over the past few years listening to Y/N complain endlessly about both Weasley Twins, so it doesn’t surprise her that her mother thinks her letters to George are out of anger instead of love. Especially since she’s yet to tell them about their relationship.

“Actually, George is my, um. He’s my boyfriend,” Y/N mutters, sheepishly looking back at her parents. They both look shocked and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t look so surprised, I’m a great catch, of course I have a boyfriend.”

Y/N’s father laughs. “Sweetie we’re not shocked that you have a boyfriend, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world of course. But I’m going to be honest, George Weasley is the last person I thought you’d end up with. Last we heard you hated the very sight of him.”

“Well not anymore. I love him, so much. He’s been going through some stuff recently and I just want to make sure he’s okay,” Y/N explains. She makes sure to leave out the part that she thinks he’s going to break up with her when they get back to school, since she’d much rather ignore that for now. “Can I just finish this one letter, please? And then I won’t send another until boxing day, I promise.”

Her mother sighs and reluctantly hands her back the quill. “Fine, just one more letter. But seriously no more until boxing day. Not only is it the holidays but your poor owl needs a few days to rest.”

-

“You should write her back you know,” Ginny comments as she sits down next to George.

George hums, gripping Y/N’s most recent letter in his hands. His chest aches at how sad she sounds, but he can’t bring himself to pick up a quill and write her back. “I don’t know what to say.”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “How about I’m a big fat idiot and the second I see you again I’m going to fall to my knees and beg for your forgiveness? That’s probably a good place to start.”

“Dunno why I have to be the one to apologize,” he mutters, wincing when Ginny smacks him upside the head. “What the hell was that for, Gin?”

“For you continuing to be a big fat idiot,” Ginny spits. “You’ve been acting like a huge asshole to her lately George that’s why you need to apologize. It only takes a person with half a brain to see how you’ve been pushing her away. So cut the crap. Either apologize to Y/N and beg for her forgiveness or break it off.”

The thought of breaking up with Y/N makes his stomach lurch. There’s no doubt in his mind that he wants to be with her, but it feels like he doesn’t know how to anymore. It seems that whenever Y/N is around Adrian is right there too, and it makes anger flare up in his chest. He knows it’s not rational, but it doesn’t make it any easier to stop feeling that way. George wants Y/N all to himself, as selfish as that may be.

“She’s probably gonna break up with me, so I don’t see the point.” George tosses the letter in his hands onto the coffee table and leans back against the couch. “Who knew being in a relationship would be so difficult?”

“It wouldn’t be so difficult if you just talked to her, git,” Ginny points out. “She’s written you a letter practically every day of break, obviously she cares about you and is worried about you.” Ginny pauses so George will look over at her. “What’s wrong anyway? Thought you guys were doing okay?”

George shrugs. “I can’t stand Adrian and his smug fucking face. He’s just there. Always. Watching her, trying to get close with her. And Y/N just sits there and lets him. You know I caught them together in the library a few nights before Dad was attacked.”

Ginny’s jaw drops. “You caught them hooking up?”

“What? No. They were doing homework,” George explains.

Ginny punches George in the thigh as hard as she can. “You’re a fucking moron, George. Since when is doing homework in the library someone cheating? Or a reason to get mad?”

“It wasn’t just the fact that they were doing homework. They were sitting next to each other and he was making her laugh,” George huffs, as if Ginny is the one being unreasonable.

“You’re joking, right?” When George doesn’t say anything, Ginny rolls her eyes. “Since when are you this insecure, George? Y/N is crazy about you. And Adrian is her friend, of course he’s gonna be around.” She bites her lip. “I think you’ve been putting too much thought into this George.”

George sits there for a moment, letting Ginny’s words sink in. Perhaps he has been getting a bit ahead of himself. Something about seeing Y/N with Adrian when he was so worked up over what Draco had been saying must have twisted something in his mind. He had felt jealous about Adrian before that, but never in a way that made him question his relationship with Y/N. Usually all it takes is one look from Y/N and all of his ill thoughts flush away. But lately it seems nothing can calm him down. He’s been putting distance between them in the hopes that his anger would finally go away, but as soon as it feels like he’s back to normal the second Y/N is in his vicinity with Adrian it all comes rushing back.

“I think I have been too,” he admits quietly. “It doesn’t feel real, sometimes. That Y/N is actually mine. I thought I only started developing feelings for her this year, but I think I’ve felt things for her for a while, I was just too stubborn to realize it. And now that I have her I want her all to myself. Like if I share her with other people she might just disappear from my life completely.”

Ginny reaches out to pat George on the shoulder. “Then tell her all of that, George. Because it’s actually kind of sweet in a weird way. Y/N loves you, George. And I know you love her. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt because you don’t have the balls to just talk to your girlfriend.”

“What a pep talk you give, Gin,” George chuckles. “But you’re right. I’m gonna talk to her, first chance I get. This is too much to put into a letter. I wanna be able to look at her while I talk to her.”

“Great. Now will you stop being so miserable? It’s really killing the Christmas spirit,” Ginny teases, ruffling his hair.

-

“Are things with George getting any better?” Daphne asks from her spot on Y/N’s bed. Her parents had decided to do some traveling in the new year, and Y/N’s parents allowed Daphne to finish up the last few days of break at their house.

Y/N shakes her head, flopping down next to her. “Nope. I haven’t heard a thing all break. Every time Aries comes back his beak is empty. So, he’s clearly reading my letters and he can’t be bothered to write back.”  

Daphne puts her arm around Y/N and tosses the copy of Witch Weekly she’d been reading off of the bed. “What a fucking prick. I haven’t said much about it because I love you and you’re my best friend and I know he means a lot to you, but Adrian was right. You do deserve better, Y/N. Your boyfriend should be worshiping you, not ignoring you.”

Y/N hadn’t told anyone about George’s dad, and she’s sure he’d get a bit more sympathy from Daphne if she knew, but if Hermione couldn’t even tell her how his Dad got hurt Y/N is sure she shouldn’t tell anyone about it at all. And besides, Hermione had owled the day after Christmas to let her know that Mr. Weasley was home and recovering well. George’s lack of communication cut Y/N deeper after hearing that.

“I think he’s going to break up with me,” Y/N admits out loud for the first time, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I love him so much and I thought he loved me too, but I don’t know. It’s like overnight things changed between us and I’m the only one trying to fix it.”

Daphne pulls Y/N in tight and hugs her. “This is the second time you’ve cried over George being an asshat and my offer still stands. I will have Adrian and Marcus beat him up.”

“The last time I cried over George he was only being an asshat in my head. But now, I’m sure he’s being an asshat in real life too,” Y/N sniffles. “God I wish break lasted just a little bit longer. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I see him on that stupid train tomorrow.”

Daphne starts to stroke Y/N’s hair and wipes away a few of her tears. “Well just say the word and I’ll have Adrian and Marcus on him before he can even say Quidditch.”

-

When Y/N and Daphne get on platform 9 ¾  the next morning George’s shock of red hair is the first thing she sees. She forces herself to stay focused on her parents as they say goodbye, no matter how badly she wants to look over at him. Her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest, and all she really wants to do is sneak onto the train and to her friends without running into any Weasley. But of course, the second she’s on the train she walks smack into a hard, familiar chest.

“Trying to mow me down?” George teases, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

It reminds Y/N of when they were still dancing around each other, too scared to admit their feelings, and it punches a hole in her chest. “Hi, George.” Y/N pushes away from him and starts to walk away, but George’s hand wraps around her wrist and pulls her back towards him. “What?” she asks flatly, looking up at him. Her eyes catch something shiny stuck to the scarf he’s wearing, and Y/N bites her lip to keep from smiling. “You got your Christmas present I see.”

She had wanted to get him something big and flashy for their first Christmas together. But everything she considered just didn’t seem special or sentimental enough. She had found it in some muggle store in London while shopping with her Mum, and even though it was tiny and simple, it was the perfect thing. It’s a little enamel pin in the shape of a teapot. The hours she spent with George scrubbing teapots is the foundation of their relationship, it was after that night that she first started falling in love with him.

George bites his lip and reaches out to cup her cheek. “I was an asshole to you. And you have every right to be super mad at me. But can we go talk somewhere, please?”

Y/N nods and lets George grab her hand and take her over to an empty compartment. It’s clear to her that she and George have some issues they need to work out, but she’s happy to just enjoy some time with him for now. They haven’t been alone together in nearly three weeks, and she’s been dying for his attention. She takes a seat as George closes the door behind them and pulls him down next to her once he’s close enough.

“I have a lot of things to say and I don’t know if they’re going to come out right so please just stick with me while I try and say them, okay?” George takes a deep breath and reaches out to grab Y/N’s hands in his. “I’ve missed you so much these past few weeks, even before break. I think Draco knocked something loose in my head when he punched me, I’ve just been so angry since that day, and I don’t really know why. Just seeing you and Adrian together fills me with rage. And I know it shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t know what I would do without you. I just kept getting in my head about everything and it made me not treat you the best. I’m sorry, Y/N.”  

“Then why push me away, George? Why not answer one of my stupid letters? I’ve been losing my mind here, trying to figure out what’s going on in that head of yours. I meant what I said that night, I’m yours forever, Weasley.”

George sighs and leans down to press a lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “I started over analyzing everything and I couldn’t tell what was real and what was going on in my head. You mean so much to me, and the thought of losing you made me go even crazier.” George pauses so he can tuck a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “I should have written to you and at least let you know I was okay, I’m sorry for that. But this is a conversation I didn’t want to have in a letter. I wanted to be able to see you and hold you.”

“It’s okay, George. I guess when we started dating there was some stuff we should have talked about that we kind of just ignored and that’s partially my fault. I just tried to integrate you into my life that already existed, when in reality we should have started something new together,” Y/N explains, squeezing his hands. “Adrian and I are closer than normal friends, and I can see why that would concern you. Same thing with the sweater. Of course, you’d want me to wear yours, I shouldn’t have even questioned it. I’m sorry, George. I’ll try and do better too, okay? Because I love you and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“I love you so, so much.  And I’ve been really shit at showing it. I meant what I said that night too, Y/N. Forever.” George leans down and presses a soft kiss to her lips, melting when she returns it. “I don’t deserve you.” George kisses her again, winding his arms around her. “Alright, I think now is the perfect time to give you your Christmas present.”

Y/N holds her hands out, bouncing up and down excitedly. “Come on then, let’s see what you got me!”

George rolls his eyes playfully and takes a long black box out of his jacket pocket. “I do want to preface this by saying that I bought this ages ago before I got your present in the mail, and they do say great minds think alike.”

“You got me a tea pot pin too?” she teases, taking the box from George. A quiet gasp leaves her lips as she opens the box, and she gives George a small smile. “George it’s perfect.” Inside the box is a delicate silver chain with two charms attached. One is in the shape of the letter G and the other is a teapot. “Although I find it quite funny that we both got each other teapot related items.”

“Well that’s the night it all began, isn’t it?” George ask as he takes the box from Y/N. He grabs the necklace and motions for her to turn around so he can put it on her. “After that detention I knew I couldn’t live without you, Y/N. Listening to you talk about wanting to be a healer, and how you wanted to change the world, it made me see you differently. Made me start to fall in love with you. Besides I don’t think I could find a charm of a secret passageway.”

Y/N giggles, and as soon as the necklace is on Y/N turns around and pulls George into a kiss, her hand coming up to grip the charms tightly. When George starts to pull away Y/N surges forward to keep their lips pressed together for a few extra moments. “I love you, George. Thank you.”

“Course, darling. Anything for you.” George pulls Y/N into his chest and presses a kiss to the top of her head, the anger he’s felt for so long finally quieting down.

[anxiousstark]

The Tape | JJ MAYBANK

Request: Hi can I please request a JJ x reader fic where he thinks his Kook girlfriend is ashamed of him until Sarah shows him a video of the reader defending him❤️

Warnings: None. Swearing (a lot).

Word Count: 1680

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

A/N: If you guys like Teen Wolf or Dylan O’Brien, I have a Teen Wolf Rewrite. I would be so happy if you guys check it out.

BIG MASTERLIST

John B and Pope examined their blond friend with concern. "He has been like that all morning?" Heyward asked as he rested part of his weight against the counter placed in the kitchen. As an answer, the Routledge boy nodded.

The blond friend was JJ Maybank. He had spent all morning sitting on the couch, feet pressed against the cushions. In normal circumstances, John B would be telling him to put his feet off his furniture, but something was going on with JJ, and he didn't dare to make him more upset than what he already seemed to be.

JJ had spent all morning with his eyes glued to his phone, biting his nails if he had some left. John B was sure that he had seen the skin around his nails bleeding a couple of times. "Let's go," The owner of the Chateau punched Pope gently, making a gesture with his head. "Hey," JJ didn't look up when hearing one of his friend's voice. "Are you excited to go to The Wreck tonight?" No answer. Both boys glanced at each other, not knowing what to do.

"I'm excited," Pope answered, earning a confused look by John B. "And it's been long since we have seen Y/N! I miss her!"

At the mention of your name, JJ decided to glance up. "Y/N is coming?" Both boys nodded, puzzled. "Uhm, can you guys let me borrow some clothes for tonight?" He swiftly stood up, still clutching his phone. "Like some smart clothes?"

"Like a suit?" The most intelligent guy out of the three asked, earning a nod from the blond boy. "JJ, I don't think a suit is suitable for The Wreck."

"And what the heck," Routledge interrupted. "You hate suits and all of those smart clothes. C'mon, what's going on?" JJ shook his head, trying to avoid the topic that would occur. "Is this about Y/N?"

"She is ashamed of me." His voice slightly cracked, and his eyes wanted to tear up, which he avoided blinking quite fast.

"What are you saying?" Pope chuckled. "I've never seen a couple more in love than you two." When he saw that his friend maintained a sober expression, he realized that Maybank truly felt like you were ashamed of him. "Wait, you seriously think she is ashamed of you? What happened?"

JJ sighed, sitting down on the couch again, feeling like his legs would give up on him. "She has been ignoring me for a couple of days. No answers to my 'good morning' or my 'good night' texts. Dry answers such as 'yes' or 'no'."

"Maybe she is feeling sad, or something happened with her parents?" One of the other boys suggested.

"If something had happened, she would call me to tell me." He groaned, fingers clutching strands of his hair. "She doesn't love me anymore. I'm just a pogue with no future ahead of me, no money, mentally unstable, and-"

"Who doesn't love who anymore?" A door closed. The three boys turned around, Sarah Cameron was standing there, offering them a quick smile that was rapidly covered by a curious gaze. JJ widened his eyes, warning the boys not to say anything as the girls were best friends.

John B walked up to his girl, offering to carry some bags she was holding while kissing her lips a couple of times, making her smile lovingly. "JJ believes Y/N is ashamed of him." He quickly replied, trying to run to the kitchen, not before JJ threw his sandal, hitting him straight on the back of the head.

"What?" She walked closer to him. "Where did that come from?" JJ groaned when Pope started to explain what the blond guy had said a couple of minutes ago. John B came back from the kitchen, arm around Sarah's waist, listening to Pope who explained the situation. "Uhm, I see." She bit her lower lip while placing a strand of hair behind her right ear.

For JJ and Pope, Sarah was just biting her lower lip while brushing her hair with her fingers. But for John B meant that Sarah knew more than what she was saying. "What do you know that we don't know?" He gently touched her chin, making her gaze at him.

"Nothing." Now, the other two boys could see that she knew something. JJ walked closer to Sarah. "Hey, don't do the puppy eyes on me." She groaned, mumbling that it wasn't fair. She finally confessed, feeling the pressure. "She told me not to say anything."

"About what?"

"I'm surprised you guys haven't heard anything." She took her phone out of one of the back pockets of her denim shorts. She scrolled down her gallery until he found the video that had been running around Outer Banks.

The three boys huddled together, paying attention to the video that was being played. "Is that Y/N?" Pope asked while JJ narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look at what was going on. Sarah nodded.

The video showed you, confronting a man that seemed to be tall and intimidating. You even pushed the guy when he got too close to your face, which ended up in receiving a punch on the face, making you fall to the ground, hitting the back of your head.

"What the fuck?" JJ Maybank could feel a hot sensation running through his body. He was going to kill him. He was going to kill whoever dared to put his hands on you. He tried to run to the door, but he was stopped. "I need to-"

"JJ, wait." She placed her phone on top of the table. "She told me not to tell you, and I'm surprised you guys didn't hear anything about what happened." She swallowed, peering at John B, who nodded his head to comfort her. "I talked to her," That made JJ stop resisting his friends' hold, anticipating for the Cameron girl to continue. "Her mom sent her to go buy a dress for Midsummer's party, I couldn't go with her because my dad was being a psycho about something Rafe did."

"And?"

She swallowed, knowing that JJ would go mad after hearing what she had to say. "Topper and some of his stupid friends saw her." The blond felt his heart beating quicker. "He insulted you," Her eyes examined Maybank for any type of reaction. "He said that she could do better and made some sexual comments. She told me she couldn't let him talk like that about you, so she started insulting him, and he punched her."

"Topper punched MY girl?" His voice was full of horror, and in his head, he asked himself how many years would he end up in jail for murdering someone. "I swear to god I'm going to fucking kill him. I'm going to kill him."

John B and Pope had to join their strength, tackling JJ to the floor. However, he continued resisting, trying to set himself free.

"JJ, please." One of them grunted. "Y/N needs you more than Topper needs to get his fucking ugly face broken."

He relaxed at the mention of your name. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"She didn't want you to get into trouble." The girl explained, offering a little smile. "She didn't want the cops to arrest you because she knew you would confront him." He grunted, hating how much you knew him. But also hating that you didn't go to him for aid. You had taken care of his wounds so many times that he wanted to be there to take care of yours.

A soon as you entered The Wreck, JJ Maybank was running up to you. You were a little late, spending too much time trying to conceal the black eye given by Topper. "How much?" You were confused by your boyfriend's words.

You have been ignoring him for a couple of days, feeling quite distressed. You hadn't told him about what had happened with Topper, and you wanted it to stay that way because you knew JJ Maybank would rock the entire world if that meant that he could protect and love you for the rest of his life. "How much?" He repeated. "How much make-up are you wearing to conceal the black eye?"

"Who told you?" You swallowed. Fuck the Outer Banks, rumours would fly at the speed of light. At least, he discovered a couple of days after the incident. "Not much," You mumbled. "It's going away."

Your boyfriend sighed, nodding. "Baby," Your legs shook. It's been days since you heard that nickname, therefore it had a more powerful effect on you. "I love you." His cheeks reddened. "Maybe I don't say it enough, in a verbal way. But I love you with my entire heart, and I want to be there for you like you are there for me when I need you the most."

"I was worried you would get into trouble." His fingers started playing with yours. Not even a month ago, JJ got into a pretty bad fight with his dad, which meant he was hitten repeatedly. It happened in the middle of the street, therefore the police had been called.

"I don't care," He groaned. "I care about what that fucking bitch said to you AND did to you." His eyes went from your sparkly eyes to your tender lips. "Promise you won't keep anything from me?" You nodded, arms tight around his waist. "Can I kiss you?" Again, nodded. You smiled while his lips pecked yours a couple of times, until the kiss intensified, making you both gasp for air and hearing some of the pogues groaning. "Should we ditch them and go back to The Wreck? I have to make up for all these days without seeing you." The Pogues complained, throwing french fries at the both of you. JJ was able to catch one with his mouth, smiling victoriously.

He was so happy to see you smile, and he would decide how to beat Topper after seeing you without make-up. Should he tape himself beating Topper?

REQUEST RULES SPECIAL 800 FOLLOWERS

[2am-theswifthour]

The 8 Theory-Folklore’s Commentary on Youth

Yesterday, I took note of @taylorswift​ and her careful attention to the number 8.

“Not a lot going on at the moment” had 8 words. The 8th track is “august,” which is also the 8th month in the year. She has 8 deluxe editions of her album. Many attributed this to Folklore being Taylor’s 8th album. I thought it meant either a.) we needed to pay very close attention to track #8 or b.) that 8 references infinity, a.k.a “forever and ever.”

To my surprise, I was actually selling Taylor Swift short.

When listening to the album, there’s a lot of back and forth in emotion and circumstance. I was confused about the order, especially when the strikingly sobering “hoax” followed the self-aware almost-tranquility of “peace.” Then it hit me. There are two schools of thought going on.

There are 16 tracks on Folklore (excluding the bonus track none of us have heard). 16/2=8. This means there are 2 equal emotional song threads on the album. In other words, you can get two drastically different lessons listening to each group of 8.

When you separate the even numbered tracks from the odd numbered tracks you get the following:

Odd

the 1

the last great american dynasty

my tears ricochet

seven

this is me trying

invisible string

epiphany

peace

Even

cardigan

exile

mirrorball

august

illicit affairs

mad woman

betty

hoax

Odd Interpretation:

Starting with “the 1” and “the last great american dynasty,” the lyrics are very upfront in showing that the protagonists are making fully intentioned mistakes. “the 1” says, “in my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone” (I see you “ME!” reference). In “the last great American dynasty” it says, “she had a marvelous time ruining everything.” These characters’ folly is their youth-induced selfishness. They’re casual in the harm they cause because they distance themselves from it. They’re fine with what they don’t look at closely. When you’re young, you make a mess of things in service of YOUR need. Your need for companionship. Your need for the thrill of danger. Your need to make your mark, to be somebody, to leave something behind. The marvel of the excitement and the chase and the very vitality of teens to 20-somethings’ shenanigans blinds us to the scale of our destruction…

…until you have no choice but to face the consequences of your recklessness.

The next track, “my tears ricochet” is not your average track 5. It functions as a pivoting point. Now our narrator is the hurt party, the one baring the brunt of callous treatment. Fickle mistreatment is no longer so casual. Now it’s a torment, and the tormentor learns the scale of their damage. So much so, that they get burned too. They learned their lesson at a terrible price, but what’s most important is that they learned.

“seven” is a long-overlooked memory revisited. In this picture of naïve innocence, the narrator tells of their childish belief in the impossible. Through magic and play pretend and fantasy they are invincible. They have all the control in the world to control the world they live in. Obviously, this is a flawed perspective that everyone eventually grows out of. Fairy tales don’t solve real problems. The point is that their sense of self-importance is in service of a stronger moral compass than the first two songs. If we accept our responsibility to others, to do what we can to ensure their welfare, are we not better and more satisfied people for it?

“this is me trying” hears that lesson and attempts to walk the walk. Part of being responsible to your fellow human is taking accountability when you fumble. The narrator doesn’t know what to say or how to make it right. What they do know is that they’re here, they’ve put the bottle down, and that they’re willing to try what’s necessary to heal what they’ve hurt.

“invisible string” gives us the reward we’ve been waiting for. The narrator says, “cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart, now I send their babies presents.” This is someone who has gone from lashing out in anger at a partner from a burned relationship to genuinely wishing them well in their next stage in life. It’s a powerful testament when you can recognize that youth drives us all to make hurtful decisions and that no one is immune to change if they truly want to change. When you let the anger and lies go, the strings that tied you to them fade away. All that’s left is the string you want to hold onto. The string tied to the one who matters, because you’ve made the conscious decision to deduce that their worth as a person should equal yours. It’s a painful path to traverse through, but when you do it’s all worthwhile. That’s why the narrator can say with confidence “hell was the journey but it brought me to heaven.”

In any other album, a song like “invisible string” would be the quintessential emotional payoff for this story arc. However, because this album is a masterpiece, we have a different payoff point in “epiphany.” “epiphany” takes us out of the world of a romantic relationship. We hear descriptions of war and nurses dealing with the despair of this international pandemic. This point in this emotional thread is that it powerfully declares it’s not enough to do no harm nor is it enough to just empathize with your romantic partner. You MUST show your responsibility to your fellow man. Stand beside them. Empathize with them. See them as whole human beings. Do good by them. In other words, it is our duty to do right by everyone, for everyone bleeds, loves, and dies.

The 8-song selection ends with “peace.” The song begins by saying that their, “coming-of-age” has come and gone.” I believe this (along with “invisible string”) to be the most overtly “Taylor Swift” track in perspective. This is her speaking as herself. She lets us know that she’s grown through taking her mistakes, and the mistakes she learned through folklore, into account. She is overly aware of her flaws and feels she pales in comparison to her partner. Rather than allow those insecurities to manifest in unchecked rage or resentment, she takes it as a challenge for herself to do better. She knows she can never give him complete peace (due to inside and outside factors), but she can make the choice to give him unselfish promises and embrace the entirety of her partner’s life. This is a person who has learned the value of selflessness in love and life, which makes this whole thread worth everything.

Even Interpretation:

“cardigan” foreshadows the eventual failure of the even path. The odd interpretation I just described culminated in the narrator finding their place with “the one” because they’ve left everything petty and casually cruel behind. In “cardigan” it says “chase two girls, lose the one.” On top of this directly referencing the first track, it also implies the partner’s self-destruction. By toying with two girls, James is losing “the one.” I don’t think losing “the one” means that you keep one of the two of them. I think it means that engaging in that kind of behavior makes you into a person that isn’t ready, or worthy, of “the one” that they are meant to be with forever. Meeting and keeping “the one” has to require each partner to love themselves and their partner wholly, truly, and selflessly. They can’t be a cardigan you pick up and only wear on the weekends. They must be a wholehearted commitment.

“exile” shows the blowout from “cardigan.” The two couldn’t stay together, and Bon Iver’s (character’s) toxicity comes out full force. He thinks her new man is lesser than him. He’s prepared to throw punches despite being at fault over a hundred times. He’s seen the film before, and he didn’t like the ending because it didn’t work out for him. He wants her under his thumb, not having learned from his prior relationships that that just can’t work. They leave out the side doors, neither fully ready to confront the problems head on.

“mirrorball” is daring in its shift of focus. While all of the tracks I’ve mentioned thus far have dealt, in some way, with the problems that result from a young person’s selfishness, this song doesn’t do that. This song illustrates an extreme that young people participate in at the opposite end of the spectrum; radical selflessness. To be selfless means that you should never allow something that harms someone else to happen just because it benefits you. Young people, girls in particular, are often groomed to interpret selflessness differently. Their definition is synonymous with accommodation. Change your looks, change your personality, don’t object, and embody what your partner wants so that they’re happy. That’s why the symbol is the mirrorball in the song. It reflects everything in the room but itself. By explicitly not factoring in their own sense of self-respect in a relationship, they are unknowingly and tragically enabling their partner’s mistreatment. To be clear, that doesn’t mean abuse is their fault if they have low self-esteem. It’s not, even remotely. But not having the capacity to defend your self-worth is what keeps so many drawn into toxic relationships there for so long. This radical selflessness manifests itself in the other woman too. In “august” it explicitly says that she was living on the, “hope of it all” and that she would cancel plans in the name of a potential hookup with someone who was never hers. The idea of radical selflessness culminates in “illicit affairs” when one of the women deals with their addictive compulsion toward someone who treats them like a cheap lay. Their relationship is a secret that leaves her feeling used in parking lots and as though any trace of her is gone. These three songs have taken the desperate hopelessness of “Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” to the extreme.

Many have speculated that “mad woman” is a commentary on the Taylor/Scooter conflict and I’m inclined to agree. However, if I were to assign an interpretation that goes with my theory, I would say that “mad woman” details the unforeseen consequences of a tormentor’s abuse. When a toxic partner performs bad behavior, their expectation is that they will always be found in the right. After all, Taylor noted on her previous album that for men, “everyone believes [them].” So in the face of lies about her character that everyone believes, she gets rightfully angry. Her anger is their affirmation. For many, a woman being angry on her own behalf is “crazy” and “irrational.” What kind of a society have we set up? A society that promotes women to lack self-worth and, should they find it, they’ll meet a whole other exile.

“betty” is our complete look into James’ perspective. On its own, it sounds like a big romantic gesture to get behind. However, this path is very clear to put “cardigan” first. “cardigan” says, “I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired and you’d be standin’ in my front porch light.” Lo and behold, in “betty” he shows up to her party when she doesn’t want to see him and asks if she would, “kiss [him] on the porch in front of all [her] stupid friends.” It’s an absolute punch in the gut. Betty knows in “cardigan” that he would come back after he had his fun with another girl, but that she would take him back when he saw momentary value in her again. James in “betty” claims he didn’t know anything, but that’s just an excuse. He knew what he was doing, he knew that he would be able to pick up her broken pieces with ease, he knew he could isolate her from her friends, and he knew that he could capture the imperfect “comfort” of that cardigan again.

This path ends in the final even-numbered song, “hoax.” In the odd numbers, “peace” shows a lesson learned. This even path shows what happens when we don’t learn. The seeds of youth-driven mistakes have led us here. The narrator wants nothing outside the pain of this faithless love. Without learning what it means to be selfless, the traumas of these young relationships create a never-ending cycle. The narrator knows that the “love” is a “hoax” but doesn’t care because that’s all they have. There’s no point to wanting anything else. Without the perspective of age, of truly going beyond that, they’re stuck in a truly dark place.

Final Thoughts:

Taylor Swift is an exceptional artist for a lot of reasons. No one makes albums this good this far into their career. Most artists teeter off after two or three because they retread. Their audience inevitably gets bored of them e same thing time and again. Repeating themselves is something that a lot of artists do because they want to go with the formula of what works. With Folklore, Taylor has done what few artists have dared to do. She’s allowed her discography as a place to uncompromisingly expand her worldview and challenge her listeners. She’s not reiterating previous lessons to make another quick sale. Instead, every album prior has been a steppingstone. As she said at the Time 100 Gala, she has truly turned her lessons into her legacy. From a variety of narrators, she has brought what I decree to be her best album to date. This wouldn’t happen for anyone else 8 albums into their career, but she’s done it by devoutly embracing age’s wisdom.

Learn from the highs and lows presented in these paths. As all good folklore does, it teaches us how to live better. It is our duty to live selflessly and with self-assured dignity. These writings, I have no doubt, will become integral to the legend that is Taylor Alison Swift.

[delaber]

Could you do like a short piece where Daveed and reader are a thing but not really a couple. And he ruins it by not wanting more but comes back and apologises. Thanks!

Title: Stepping Up

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Note: Thanks anon! First time I’m writing Daveed. This was fun and challenging.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of sex. Slight angst. I think that’s it but let me know

"U up?"

Two words and a question mark. That was all it took and you felt your heart start pounding in your chest. Your feet started moving around, unable to stay in one place. You had to shred the duvet, you had started sweating. Two words and a fucking question mark and he could make your body betray you. Two words and you were ready for him.

You had to actively remind yourself that you were in withdrawal. That you couldn't hit him back no matter what. That he hadn't treated you the way you deserved. That he was fine and sweet and wonderful - but a dick nonetheless.

Still, it was hard to resist temptation. If you finally allowed yourself to text him back he would be here in a jiffy. You needed it. You missed him. And suddenly everything came rushing back: Daveed's athletic body the first time you'd seen him jump around on stage, his smile as he had introduced himself to you, his teasing manner as he had thrown around millions of jokes to you and the rest of your cast-mates. How you had already fallen for his wicked charms by the end of the first rehearsal. How you had flirted desperately to get him to notice you, and how he had finally pulled you backstage and kissed you in secret. It had all lead to a daring affair between the two of you, Daveed fucking you roughly every day in between rehearsals and later in between shows. His long fingers curling inside you while you moaned his name, the taste of him on your lips, his demanding movements as he took you in various positions all over your dressing room.

And no one could know. Not even Jas or Leslie or Oak. Daveed had made you promise not to tell - that this was your personal thing. You had agreed and said 'of course' right before he had hoisted you up beside the powder room mirror and slid into you. At first, the sneaking around had been nothing but arousing - you one hundred percent condoned it; your only goal back then had been to keep fucking Daveed in your costumes, the blue revolutionary jacket always open against his toned chest, but as the weeks proceeded, you felt yourself wanting more from him.

You wanted to be able to snog him senseless every time you saw him. You wanted to intertwine your fingers with his in public. Treat him to dinner. Take him home. Watch movies on lazy Sundays. Run your hands over his abs in your own bed. Waking up to find him covering your body with kisses.

But Daveed had said no. That he didn't want those things. That he didn't want to engage in anything serious with someone he worked with. That you were just co-workers who helped each other relieve some of the stress that the highly demanding job craved. Nothing more. In other words, you deduced that you were his stress ball - and you got angry! You yelled, and you threatened to kick him out of your dressing room, and you even threw a small lipstick at him, but his chocolate brown eyes were so sweet and so kind that you eventually felt yourself nodding along to his arguments of how the two of you could mess up the entire production if you started dating and things didn't work out. You sighed and you nodded and you agreed with him. And not even ten minutes later had he pulled off your panties, bent you over the couch, and dropped to his knees behind you. A lousy way to make up for it.

You had let it continue like this for eight months until his contract finally ran out and you were no longer co-workers. You had been looking forward to this. On his last night at the theatre, Daveed had stumbled into your dressing room in his Jefferson robe. The door behind him had barely closed before he had ripped your corset open, his warm fingers immediately rolling your nipples they way he knew you liked it. He had pressed his pelvis up against you and whispered in your ear that he had been hard on stage all night, patiently waiting for the show to be over so he could come see you. And you had decided that now was the time; slowly, you had turned around in his arms with a smirk and you had asked him out seeing as you wouldn't be working together anymore. You had thought it was a sure thing. But Daveed had pulled down your pants mumbling "My contract's in effect until tomorrow," right before you had felt his tongue on your skin.

"So what happens if I ask you again tomorrow?" You'd panted as his tongue was joined by his fingers.

"It'll still be a no," he grinned up at you, apparently unaware of your aching heart. He was a good man. If he knew the effect he had on you, he would've either stepped back or stepped up.

"And what happens after tonight?" You'd asked.

"We keep fucking," he had grinned with a content sigh as he spread your legs apart.

That was five weeks ago.

Now you had endured five weeks of Daveed constantly texting you that he was stressed, or hard, or thinking about you. Five weeks of him sending you dirty texts explicitly describing what he wanted to do to you. Five weeks of you ignoring him completely.

And now you were staring at his text consisting of two words and a question mark, contemplating if a small toe-dip into your old addiction was such a catastrophe. You felt your phone buzz in your hand as another text from him ticked in: 'I know you're reading my texts. Please stop ignoring me I miss you.'

You almost choked. In the year you'd known Daveed this was the most sensitive he'd ever gotten with you. You read the second text over and over and over again contemplating what to do; text him back? Call him? Or keep ignoring him?

In the end, you decided to call him up. He needed to be told of. He answered before the fourth ring.

"Hey," he almost whispered.

"Daveed," you let out a sigh, "you can't keep texting me."

"I know. I know I'm sorry," he mumbled, "are you mad at me?"

"Of course I'm not mad at you," you said quietly, "but things can't go on like this."

"I know... Are you in love with me?" He said abruptly but in a soft voice.

You went completely quiet when you felt your heart ache. So he did know about it. He had managed to put two and two together... "it isn't fair of you to ask me that," you almost whispered, "you know I am."

Daveed went quiet too and you could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the phone line. After a couple of seconds he finally said, "can I come over?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Please. I have to see you. I want to apologise properly," he groaned painfully, "can I please come over?"

Unable to resist him, you breathed a short "yes," and ten minutes later opened the door to him.

"Hey," his face curled up in a smile the minute you came into sight. He stepped closer to you, and pulled you in for a soft hug, "you look cute."

"Yeah, well thanks," you mumbled against his neck. You didn't want to reciprocate his compliment even though he did look awfully cute too.

He followed you to the living room.

"Whiskey?" You asked him.

"Nah, I gotta stay sober for this," he shook his head.

"Sober for what?" You asked quietly.

"I - ehm - I wanted to apologise. Like a man," he looked at you with a firm gaze, "I've been a dick and I've been treating you badly."

"Yeah," you nodded and folded your arms across your chest, "you've been acting like an ass. When did you realise?"

"It's embarrassing for me, but I honestly didn't realise before you started ignoring me. I was so used to having you around me all the time, and suddenly I missed you like crazy," he took a deep breath before he continued, "I was so sexually frustrated that I called a friend back home in California and told him about it all. I thought he would agree with me and call you stone-cold or something like that but instead he called me an idiot. He called me out for the way I've been treating you. He made me realise why you wanted to ask me out. I didn't even realise. I'm very sorry."

"It's okay," you said softly, "I know you didn't mean to."

"Good," Daveed nodded and looked like a schoolboy who'd just been scolded and you suddenly felt bad for him.

"I didn't mean to ignore your texts. After your time was up at the theatre, I wanted to keep seeing you - it was just too rough. I had to back off."

"I'm glad you took care of yourself. It's made me realise some stuff about myself that I want to change. I want to be better."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Let me start by making it up to you," he smiled, "tomorrow's Valentines day. Let me treat you to dinner. Give you the proper date you deserve."

"I'm not going on a date with you just because you're sexually frustrated and you know I'm an easy fuck," you huffed.

"No! Never! But how about going on a date with me because I like you and I want to see where it could go?"

You shot him a look.

"I understand if you don't believe me but in the past couple of weeks I haven't just missed having sex with you. I've really missed... you. The goofing around, the banter, your infectious laughter. I want to treat you to a date. Let me take you out."

You looked at him suspiciously, "romantically?"

"Yes. Rafa was right. I have a crush on you too. Let's see where this goes."

A small smile crept onto your lips, "okay. If you're sure."

"I'm positive," he grinned and pulled you in for a hug, "fuck I've missed you."

@ramp-it-up

[jobrookekarev]

One Step Forward and Three Steps Back

Chapter One of Six

Words: 2783

Summary: Jo wants to marry Alex more than anything, there’s just a few hoops she has to jump through before she can make that a reality. When she finally takes the plunge to free herself from her past, it all comes back to haunt her.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, Jo Wilson/Paul Stadler (Past). 

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, Stephanie Edwards, and Paul Stadler.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences, 

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Assault, Drinking, Alcohol, Divorce.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: Updates Bi-weekly 

……………………………………………………………………

“Let's make a baby,” Jo said as she walked over to him, offering up everything she had to him. 

“What?” Alex paused, truly looking over at her for the first time since he came into the loft.

“You said that you wanted a baby, and you would make an amazing dad,” Jo said, she knew that this was what he'd wanted for years now, and if that's what he wanted, she could be ready. “And that's what you're worried about, right, that I'm not all in? But I am. And I love you.”

The second her fingers touched his cheek, he pulled away. It was something he had never done before. All the times they had fought before, he had never pulled away from her touch, and him doing so now truly scared her.

“Are you gonna tell me why you won't marry me?” Alex asked again, staring deep into her eyes as if he could read the answer in her face. 

“I told you that I love you,” Jo said, but when she wouldn't answer him, he just turned away and went back to packing his things. “And that I'm not going anywhere. So isn't that enough? Can't that be enough for you?” 

“You know, I was with Mer this morning, and I was thinking, the two of us, we've been through hell. You know, all kinds of drama, crazy family stuff, we both almost died, losing people we love.” 

“No, you're not losing me,” Jo interrupted him, she wanted him to know that he wasn't going to lose her, and she didn't want to lose him.

“The point is, we grew up. Mer and I are grown up,” Alex said, turning around to look back at her. “We got through it. And hell is behind me. It's in my rearview mirror, and I'm not going back. I'm done.” 

“Alex, please,” Jo begged him, the last two words rang in her ear and broke her heart in an instant, but she held back the tears. It wasn’t the end, it couldn’t be.  

“I'm not, I'm not, some idiot kid anymore, Jo. I'm a man, and I'm done with games. I'm done with, with crazy. I'm done with losing. I'm done with drama. I don't care about your secrets and your excuses and your drama. You know, I've had that,” Alex said, and he was right. He shouldn't have to put up with her drama and her secrets, and she wished she could spare him from it all and tell the truth, but she just couldn't.

“Alex, if we could just,” Jo pleaded with him one last time.

“I just said I don't want to do this!” Alex screamed, as he raised his voice, she grew quiet. “I, I have never had one second of anything real my entire life. I want truth. I want, I want a wife and a house and a family! Amelia and, uh, Owen's wedding today, I want that!”  

“I can give you family and a home,” Jo pleaded, trying to get Alex to say. 

“But you won't be my wife?” Alex yelled as he stopped throwing the rest of his clothes in his bag to look at her. 

They had fought before, but not like this. He was so angry, but Jo wasn't frightened of him. She was, however, frightened to tell him the truth. She knew he deserved the truth, but she couldn't give it to him. Jo knew what Alex would do to Paul when he found out. She knew because she saw how mad he got when she had shown up on his doorstep after her fight with Myers. She knew that if Paul even looked at her wrong or dared to lay a finger on her, Alex would kill him and she couldn't live with herself if she caused that.

“I, I can't,” Jo whispered, her words coming out in a painful breath. 

She wanted to explain or at least give him a part of the truth. A part of her was protecting him from his own anger, but another part of her had held the secret for so long and, every time she tried to say it, it was like the words were trapped in her head.

Alex looked so disappointed as he shook his head before he grabbed his bags and left. It broke her, it broke her to see Alex walk away like that. Jo sat down on the bench, held the pillow to her chest as she cried. After everything she had done to get away from Paul, changing her name, leaving behind all of her friends, including the boy who is like a brother to her, and starting over in Seattle. He was still ruining her life and her relationship with Alex. 

She had thought about divorcing Paul for the past few months, ever since Alex proposed. She had contacted the lawyer that Arizona had used for her divorce case. Michelle had shown Jo her options and it all seemed easier than Jo realized. She had also dug up Jo’s medical history from her time with Paul. With the clear evidence of domestic abuse, Michelle said she could help Jo get an emergency protective order. It would go into effect right away, and then a domestic violence restraining order would protect her during the divorce proceedings and for the rest of her life. Michelle said that because of their separate lives, it would be an easy divorce. She had drafted the papers and sent them over to her, all they had to do was sign them. 

Jo didn't know if Paul would make this easy and sign the papers, or if he would drag it out for years, but she wanted to try. She tried to tell herself that with the restraining order and a lawyer on her side, she could do it. Jo wanted Alex to be by her side, but now Alex was gone, and he would be gone for good if she didn't divorce Paul. 

She went over to the liquor cabinet. Jo grabbed the bottle of the hardest rum they had and took a swig. It burned her throat as she drank it and Jo took as much as she could before she put the bottle down. If she was going to do this, she needed as much liquid courage as she could get. 

Jo made up her mind. She was going to divorce Paul.

She pulled out her phone and called Michelle. Michelle set up an appointment to meet with her the following day and said she would get the ball rolling. She would file the emergency restraining order and finalize the divorce papers that had been sitting in her drawer for months. Michelle assured her that she would have a restraining order against Paul at the end of the day and that she would be protected. Jo thanked her and quickly hung up. 

Jo had always kept tabs on Paul just in case. Which was good because she knew that he was in Seattle giving a talk at the University of Washington. The past few days, she had felt trapped in the loft because of it, as she feared he would see her when she was out and about or at the hospital, but now she could divorce him before the weekend was over and Alex would never know. Then she could say yes and marry Alex. They would be happy and Alex would never know. Paul would never ruin his life because of her. 

Jo took a deep breath as she looked down at her phone. She was drunk enough to think that this was a good idea and before she knew what she was doing, she had dialed Paul's number. But, of course, he didn't pick up, Paul didn't pick up any strange numbers. Hearing his voicemail was enough to send shivers down her spine, but the liquid courage had given her enough strength to speak and leave him a message. 

“Paul, it's me, it's Brooke. I want a divorce. I'm leaving you for good. I found another man and he's wonderful. He's better than you ever were and I want to marry him. So I want a divorce. I'm in Seattle. I work at Grey-Sloan Memorial and I live here. I live at 4196 Cale St. I know you're giving some stupid talk at U-Dub, and I’m sending you the divorce papers, and you are going to sign them. Because you ruined my life enough and you don't get to ruin it any more.”

Jo hung up and she smiled. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she felt free, freer than when she was driving away from him all those years ago. Finally, she felt truly free. 

Then Jo looked around the empty loft. Alex wasn't there, he had left, and she was all alone. Jo sighed, taking another swig of the bottle. Then she texted Stephanie to meet her at Emerald City Bar. Jo needed her friend and there was no way she could spend the rest of this day sober. 

……………………………………………………………………

“Hey, what are we drinking about?” Stephanie asked, appearing at the bar and sitting next to Jo.

“Alex is gone,” Jo said as she leaned against the bar. She was genuinely drunk now and was suddenly second guessing everything that she had done. “I had the love of my life, and I just, pssh, pushed him away, and now he's gone. And I’m doing it, I’m finally doing it, but I already lost Alex, he's gone.”

“Okay, this again,” Stephanie said as she took a swig of the beer the bartender gave her. “Let's not overstate this. He's just living at Meredith's.”

“Steph, you didn't see his face. He’s gone,” Jo said, looking over Stephanie and seeing her face, Jo suddenly realized what she had said. “Oh, God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. He's not gone-gone. Kyle is gone-gone.”

“Making it worse,” Stephanie said as Jo leaned over to put her arm around Stephanie and lean her hand on her shoulder.

Stephanie shook her off and Jo decided to shut up before more words fell out of her mouth. In her endeavor to divorce Paul, it was like all her walls had finally come down. The truth slipped from her tongue like a bar of soap between her fingers. 

“He just kept asking me to marry him again and again,” Jo said as she picked at the peanut shells on the bar and tried to throw them into the bowl. “I just couldn't say nothing anymore, you know, so I just, I just said no.” 

“You could've said yes,” Stephanie said, taking a sip of her drink and shaking her head as if it was as easy as that.

“I should go home. I need to go home,” Jo said, reaching for the bag next to her and getting out. 

“What? No, you cannot drive home,” Stephanie said, getting up and chasing after her. She tried to grab the bag as Jo turned away from her.

“No, stupid, I'm gonna call. I'm looking for my phone to call a goober,” Jo said, looking through the bag and trying to find her phone. “I can't marry him. I want to, but I can't marry anyone.”

“Why's that?” Stephanie asked in her rude and sarcastic voice what made Jo realize what she had said.

“Just 'cause, none of your business,” Jo yelled, looking back at her.

“Okay,” Stephanie said, holding up her hands and leaning back.

“God, where is my. Oh, my God!” Jo paused, and she looked down at the strange purse in her hands. “This isn't even my purse.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes and took the purse from Jo's hands, replacing it with Jo's own bag. “Here, just wait, and I'll call us a cab and you can tell me all about why you can't marry Karev.”

“I can't marry him because I'm already married,” Jo said, the words slipping off her tongue. She guessed she was done hiding the truth.

……………………………………………………………………

“Okay, you can't just drop a bomb on me like that and then not say anything else,” Stephanie said as they walked into the loft, and Jo stumbled over to the couch before she caught Jo around her waist and led her over to the bed. “Okay, come on, time for bed.”

Stephanie left her on the bed and went to grab a cup of water. This was the last thing she wanted it to be doing, but Jo was her best friend, and they were both going through it right now. Cleary Jo had some deep dark secrets and Stephanie would be lying if she said she wasn’t immensely curious about it.

“I was living in my car. Did you know that I lived in my car?” Jo said, stumbling over, reaching out to put her hand on the table. It seemed Stephanie couldn't leave her for a second and she reached out to grab Jo again. 

“Yes, I know all about your street kid days,” Stephanie said, trying to grab ahold of her, but Jo pushed her away, and she was surprisingly strong for a drunk girl.

“And then I met him, and I wasn't living in my car anymore. Everybody loved him, I did,” Jo said, undoing the button to her jeans and pulling them down her legs.

“What are you doing?” Stephanie said, putting her hands on her waist and glaring at Jo. Everybody always joked about how drunk people acted like toddlers and Jo was certainly acting like a toddler right now. 

“I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go to bed,” Jo said as she stumbled over to the bed before apparently changing her mind and leaning against the post. “He never wanted anyone to stop loving him.”

Stephanie paused and sat down on the bench at the end of the bed, watching Jo for a moment. Jo had never mentioned anything about past boyfriends, much less a husband. She watched as the tears collected in Jo's eyes as she started to sob and she could sense why Jo had never mentioned him before.

“So if I, I bought the wrong something he would, he would hit me in my face or my stomach. Nobody knew that but me. So, so I ran. I had to make sure he would never find me.”

“And if you try to divorce him,” Stephanie trailed off, still trying to take in the news of Jo's abusive husband.

“I'm trying to divorce him, but he’ll never sign the papers, I'll never be free of him,” Jo said, putting both of her hands on Stephanie's shoulders and staring into her eyes. 

“Can’t you get a restraining order or something?” Stephanie asked, watching Jo pull away from her. “Does Alex know about any of this?” 

“No, no, Alex would try and protect me, but he can't. I have to do this on my own. He doesn't even know my real name,” Jo said as she stumbled over to the bed.

“You should tell him, he'll understand. Alex is a really good guy. Okay, so we're going to get naked now,” Stephanie sighed as Jo unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. “Just keep your panties on, okay.”

Jo didn't say anything else as Stephanie grabbed onto her waist and pulled her over to the bed. They both ended up stumbling and falling on the bed together and Jo laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Stephanie rolled her eyes and got up to grab the covers. As she looked up, Alex was standing in front of her in a rain soaked suit. 

“What's so funny? Alex asked as he smiled and came around to sit next to Jo on the bed.

“We fell,” Jo laughed, closing her eyes and pulling the covers over her head, still giggling from underneath them.

Alex looked up at her with a raised eyebrow and Stephanie just shrugged. “She's drunk off her ass.”

Alex nodded and put his hand over Jo's back, rubbing up and down as her giggles ended and she seemed to settle in. Stephanie got up and grabbed Jo's shirt from the floor before grabbing her jeans, tossing them both in the hamper.

“You came back,” Stephanie said, looking back at Alex.

“Yeah, well, Jo’s earned the benefit of the doubt, and whatever reason she has for not marrying me, I love her too much to let her go.”

Stephanie nodded, she didn't want to spill Jo’s secret, especially now that Alex was back, but she didn't want him to leave Jo again. She saw how messed up Jo was all night and Alex wasn't even dead. Stephanie loved her friend enough not to want to put her through that again. 

“She has a good reason for not marrying you. I won't tell you what it is, that's her job, but it's a good reason, and she’s trying to make it right,” Stephanie said as she folded her hands together.

“Thank you,” Alex said, nodding at her before he looked back at Jo and leaned down to kiss a little bit of her head that was still peeking out from under the covers. 

Stephanie wobbled as she took another step towards the door, realizing how drunk she was now that she didn't have Jo’s drunkenness to compare her sobriety to. 

“Do you want to crash here?” Alex offered, taking off his wet jacket and tie. “I'm going to hop in the shower, but I'll take the couch if you want to take the bed.”

“Sure,” Stephanie said, dropping her purse and kicking off her shoes.

She had slept over at the loft enough times with Jo that this was normal. They would have a girl's night and fall asleep on the bed, and Alex would come in and sleep on the couch. In the morning, he’d make them a hangover cure and waffles and Stephanie loved those waffles. Alex hung up his wet suit and went to take a shower and Stephanie crawled into bed. Jo would still giggle occasionally, but eventually, they both fell asleep.

……………………………………………………………………

Jo woke up to the sound of someone banging on the door to the loft. She rolled over to lay on her back and saw Stephanie sleeping soundly beside her. Her best friend had always slept like a log and she would sleep through her alarm if she was tired enough. Jo got up before she went to the hamper and pulled on her shirt. 

“Alright, Alex I’m coming,” Jo said as the banging continued, despite how late it was she figured Alex had forgotten something. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, but Alex wasn't standing on the other side. 

“Hello, Brooke.”

[docholligay]

"Two Truths and a Lie" Haruka & Minako 

-

-

-

“Hey bud.” Keeping herself upright with the door frame, Minako greeted Haruka with a smile. “Come in! Come in! Did you bring some vodka?” Haruka stepped in, trying to ignore the strong reek of alcohol coming from Minako. In her hands was a brown paper bag from the liquor store. And even though Haruka wasn’t the most observant, she could still tell Minako’s focus has solely been the bag since Haruka walked in the door. 

“Got Fireball instead. It was cheaper.”

Minako smiled and clapped Haruka’s shoulder. “Always so cheap. Or, um, how’d your girlfriend say it?” She was giggling to herself as she shut the door and walked back towards the sofa. Bottles of liquor were fucking everywhere. Some were empty, some half full. Once Minako was on the couch, she finished her thought. She brought her tone up to a mocking imitation of Michiru’s preppy tone. “My dear Haruka, always so economical.” Minako burst out laughing while gesturing Haruka over towards the couch. Haruka obediently listened, walking over to the sofa and sitting next to Minako. 

“Why are you always making fun of Michiru?” Haruka asked a bit grumpily, pulling the bottle of Fireball out from the bag. “I never made fun of Rei.”

At the mention of Rei, Minako snatched the bottle from Haruka’s hand. “Why are you being such a whiny bitch about it? It’s just some light teasing.” Minako screwed the cap off the Fireball and took a nice long glup.

“You literally called her a cunt on the phone an hour ago.”

Minako paused in her sip, bringing the bottle down. “So? I was just having fun.”

“She’s important to me, you know.” Haruka stole the bottle back and took a sip. “I wish you’d stop being such a bitch to her.”

“And I wish I was a millionaire, but we all can’t be Miss Michiru Kaioh now, can we?” A thick silence filled the room. Haruka’s grip tightened on the bottle before she set it down entirely. 

“Minako, we need to talk-.”

“Oh, Ruka, I’ve got an idea.” Minako cut Haruka off with the wave of a hand. “What if we played two truths and a lie, huh?” The look of absurdity Haruka gave Minako didn’t even affect her. “Come on! It’ll be fun! And it’ll be like we’re in middle school again.”

Haruka sighed and leaned back. “Sure, whatever, let’s play.” It’s not like Mina would let her refuse anyways.

“Great! I’ll go first.” Minako grabbed the bottle of Fireball and took a few leisurely sips while sipping. “Let’s see….”  As Minako thought, her smile became more and more malicious. “The sky is blue. Rei’s a fucking bitch. And Michiru actually loves you.” Haruka glared at Minako for a moment, but it was ineffective. Minako just grinned back, daring Haruka to answer. “Come on pal, what’s the lie?”

“It’s that Rei’s a bitch.”

“Wrong!” Minako shouted. She took a long glup of the Fireball. “Rei’s the biggest fucking bitch I know. I still can’t believe she broke up with me! With me! Of all people! I’m a fucking catch!”

“I mean...you know, sometimes people just have different goals in life.”

Minako scoffed. “Ruka, stop repeating shit you heard from Michiru. She fucking wrong anyways. Rei’s goals were shit. She had shitty ass eyes too. If she couldn’t see what she was missing out on when she broke up with my fine ass.” Pausing in her rant to take another glup of the Fireball, Minako regained her composure. “So, bud, if that’s not the lie, what is?”

Haruka glared at her. “Nothing else you said was a lie.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, bud.” Her words were starting to slur at this point. “Michiru doesn’t actually love you, bro. She fucking couldn’t! Have you seen her? That bitch is all stone cold and icy - a fucking snake. I don’t think she’s said a single true thing in her entire fucking life.”

“That rich coming from your ass. You lie all the time!”

“Yeah, but like, that’s different.” Minako snapped back. “I’m like you, Haruka. We both had to fight to get where we are. I lie outta necessity. But her? She just lies for the fucking fun of it. I bet you she leaves your ass in a few months. All she wanted to do was fuck the hot car mechanic working on daddy’s limo for a while before moving onto the next hot butch that catches her eye.” Minako noticed the tightening of Haruka’s toath, the wetness in her eye, and the thinning of her lips. “Look, Ruka, I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m just saying it ‘cause I want ya to be ready. It’s gonna happen. It’s only a matter of time.” 

When after a few moments Haruka didn’t respond, Minako just rolled her eyes and took a few more chugs of the Fireball. On her side of the sofa, Haruka composed herself. She did not want this to devolve into a screaming match - with Minako intentionally trying to get Haruka as mad as possible. 

“Can we just move on?” Haruka asked. “I came here for a reason. I need to talk-.”

Minako cut her off. “Talk-smalk. We can do that after you do two truths and a lie.” 

Haruka let out a sigh. “Fine, whatever.” She paused to think, her burrows furrowing together. “Um, the sky is green. Rei is dating somebody else. Last weekend I pro-.”

“Hold it!” Minako interjected, smacking Haruka’s knee to get her to stop. “The Rei’s one has to be a lie. There’s no fucking way she’s moved on already. It’s been a month!”

“It’s not a lie.” The scathing glare Minako sent her way made Haruka pause for a moment. “Michiru and I ran into her and this other girl a few days ago. They met in Rei’s self-defense class. She seems nice - the girl - she does judo and stuff. Likes to bake too. Um, yeah. Rei seems really pleased.”

“I’m sure she fucking is.” Minako spat. “I’m sure this new girl is ‘responsible’ and ‘an actual adult’ and whatever fucking bullshit else Rei claimed I wasn’t.” In one last furious glup, Minako finished off the Fireball. “Whatever. Let’s move on. What was the last thing? Last week you what?”

“The sky is green. Rei is dating somebody else. And I… Last weekend I proposed to Michiru.” 

A look of sober awareness dawned on Minako’s face. She looked at Haruka slowly, examining her friend up and down. Bringing both hands up to her face, Minako pinched her cheeks, flinching when it hurt. 

“I...Ruka, you proposed to Michiru?” 

“Yeah.”

“Without telling me?” Genuine hurt was laced through Minako’s voice. Haruka was pretty sure she’d never seen Minako this open before. “I could’ve helped you pick out a ring. Or helped you plan out the proposal. Or talked you out of marrying such a rich asshole!” The hurt from Minako’s tone was gone and replaced with anger. 

“This is why I didn’t tell you! ‘Cause you’d try to talk me out of it!”

“Of course I would! Marrying Michiru is gonna be the biggest mistake of your life.” Minako’s standing now. Wobbling on her feet, Minako struggles to stay upright as she yells at Haruka. “In a few years you’ll be telling me ‘I told you so’. That bitch has nothing good to offer you - except her tits and her money.”  Haruka looks ready to yell right back, but she stops herself. She takes a slow, deep breath in.

“Minako. This behavior of yours is why I wanted to talk. Our friendship is-.”

Minako snorted. “Listen to you! You sound just like that bitch. Are you just repeating what she told you to say? That bitch never liked me. Not from day one. She’s been messing with you Ruka. Makin’ you forget who’s helped you and been a friend for you all these years.”

“No!” Haruka snapped back. All attempts at diplomacy were gone as Haruka stood to her full height. She loomed over Minako, who just craned her head back to glare at Haruka. “She’s shown me that I don’t have to keep letting you drag me down into your pit of hell. She made me realize I’ve been fucking miserable around you! Everytime I tried to get serious with a girl you’d chase her away or convince me to leave her! Why’s that? ‘Cause you’re afraid I’d become happier than you? More successful than you?”

“What the fuck kinda lies has she been feeding you?” Minako scoffed. “You’re my friend! I want you to be happy. I’ve kept you from boring women who wanted to tie you down and shit.”

“I want a wife and kids! That’s all I’ve ever wanted. ” Haruka gestured around the room to the copious amounts of liquor. “Not all of us want to spend their lives living like some washed up actor. Getting drunk and high every damn day.” 

Minako groaned and sat on the coach. “You sound like fucking Rei.”

“Good. She was right about you.” Frozen on the sofa, Minako listened to Haruka rant. “You’re a fucking child. All you want to do is fuck around. You lie and cheat your way to cash that you blow on stupid shit. You’re a selfish bitch who can only think about herself. And this - this past month of lying around feeling sorry for yourself - is because you know she’s right, isn’t it? She hit the nail on the head and you hate her for it - ‘cause now you can’t hide from how shitty you are.”

“Get out of my fucking house.” 

Haruka paused, looking at the door before looking back to Minako. “I’m not coming to see you again. Unless you pull your shit together.”

“Like I care. Just get out.” Minako grabbed another bottle off the floor, twisting the cap off aggressively. When Haruka continued to stare, Minako threw the cap at her. “If you’re not out in the next five seconds I’ll throw the damn bottle at you.” Haruka walked out, slamming the door behind her, leaving Minako to drink alone on her sofa.

Ooooohhhhhh man, this is a place I've never personally gone, but love? The idea of Minako trying to drag Haruka down with her, because if SHE'S miserable, and so everyone else should be, walling herself off and lashing out at people untiol she ruins EVERYthing, amazing, chef's kiss.

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 33

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: After the rest of the staff is caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester. As the arrangement becomes more defined, you and Sam begin a sexual adventure with dangerous consequences.  

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Parts 1-42 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories, including Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

You enjoy being out, it’s great to see your colleagues outside the office. People’s personalities come out here in the real world. But somewhere between your third and fourth drink, the bar doesn't seem like where you’re supposed to be.

Going back to Boston feels like both a beginning and an end. Everything will change once you get home and your relationship with Sam becomes public. And there’s a piece of your relationship you find yourself mourning. These quiet, private moments here in London. You’ve practically been living together. Going home means spending more time at your own place. Before it felt like independence and self-care. Now it just sounds lonely.

Smiling at Millie, you check your phone for the tenth time. It’s almost midnight. Sam must be done with dinner by now. If you leave now you could make it back in time to order dessert from room service.

“You’re always checking your phone.” Millie rolls her eyes. She points to Cole who’s across the room engaged in some rather animated storytelling with Mick. “Your boss is right there. What are you worried about?”

“I just wanted to see how late it was.” You tip back your glass, downing the last of the vodka.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” She grabs your arm. “Leaving me here all alone?”

“You’ll be fine, I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

“Yeah, well no wonder. You’ve been working too hard. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you since we got here.” Millie helps you pull on your coat. “See you on the plane.”

-

As you walk down the hall heading towards Sam’s room you let two fingers trail along the wall. You’re a little drunk, enough to let your inhibitions go. Luckily Sam is always more than willing to fool around.

You fish the room card out of your handbag and slide it into the door.

What you find is the otherworldly sight of Sam sitting on the couch, and a naked Toni on her knees beside him. Doing a double take, you stare at Sam who looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His hair is askew. You don’t want to imagine how it got that way.

“Good evening, Y/N.” Tony flashes a smarmy grin. “We didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

You blink twice and step back out into the hallway.

Sam is fucking Toni Bevell.

No, it can’t be true.

But you just saw it. Witnessed the proof with your own eyes. You can’t think, all you can do is feel and there’s an avalanche of emotion headed your way. Your hands are shaking when you hear Sam call your name.

Maybe if you just close your eyes this will all go away.

“What?!” You turn to him, getting a good look. His shirt is rumpled, hair wild, sticking out in all directions. You’re going to be sick. “Jesus Christ Sam! I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

“Don’t overreact,” he instructs, taking a step toward you. You want to slap him, to beat on his chest and scream in his face. If anyone has a reason to react, it’s you.

“Don’t overreact?!” you erupt. How dare he tell you what to do. You’ve never hated anyone more than you hate him at this moment. Toni’s smug, shit-eating grin comes back to you. They must think you’re so naive to trust him. “Fuck you! I trusted you. I must be so stupid. It never even crossed my mind that you would do something like this.”

“Nothing happened,” Sam says, holding up his hands.

Is that even possible? The sight of him tells you everything you need to know. He must think he’s got you wrapped around his little finger.

“Don’t lie to me. Something sure as fuck happened.” Your heart breaks at the sight of him. “For a guy who’s all about the details you’re not covering your tracks very well. You’ve got her lipstick on your mouth and your fly is still down.”

All the anger quickly sours into sadness and embarrassment. All his talk of love and commitment and then he’s fucking this aristocratic bitch the minute you’re out of the room.

“What?” Sam feels at his crotch, looking genuinely surprised to find his fly down. “Look, she tried and I-”

Does he honestly think he can talk his way out of this? As if you didn’t just see what you saw.

“And you what? Let her take her clothes off? Did you fuck her?”

You don’t want the answer. The thought of Sam and Toni is wretched.

“No, of course not,” he snips, as if you’re the one being ridiculous.

The heartbreak bubbles over and there’s no stopping the tears.

“I don’t get it.” Your voice breaks as tears slide down both cheeks. Why would he do this? You rack your brain trying to remember if there were any warning signs. He’s been all in, fully present. You didn’t see this coming. “I thought we were in a good place. I try everything you want. I gave you a blowjob just this morning. What could you possibly want from her that I’m not giving you?”

“Nothing.” He reaches out, moving toward you and you have to step back. It takes everything within you not to throw yourself at him. You want to pretend this never happened and go back to the happiness that existed only minutes ago. “Nothing happened. I know this looks bad. I get that. But nothing happened. You came back at the worst possible time, but nothing was going to happen. That’s the truth.”

Fuck him. You had bad timing?

“Oh, this is my fault?” you yell. “I need to get out of here. I have to think.”

You just need to have a second to collect yourself without him right there. You can’t think straight.

“Don’t leave.” He grabs your arm, forcing you to look at him. “If you leave it automatically makes things worse than they are. You can stay here and be pissed at me. We can talk. I’ll sleep on the couch. Just don’t leave, please don’t leave.”

He’s right, but the idea of going back into the room where he’s just done God knows what with Toni is stomach-turning.

Crossing your arms over your chest you look toward the door. “She’s still in there.”

“She’s leaving.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and you almost pull away from him. What if this is it? What if this is the last time he puts his hands on you? “Just let me get her out of there. Don’t go anywhere.”

Sam disappears back into the room and you immediately panic. You’re about to really lose it, so you head for the elevator and press every button until the doors close.

There’s a bathroom in the lobby and you lock yourself in the first stall, sinking to the ground and promptly sobbing into your hands. How is this how your life turned out? Cheated on by Sam fucking Winchester of all people. It wouldn’t be the first time. In fact, this makes a perfect streak, five out of five. Every guy you’ve ever been with has been disloyal at some point. You should have expected it.

Scrolling through your phone you look for someone to call. Your mom...no. She’d overreact. You could tell Millie, confess the whole thing. She loves you and she’s a good friend. She’d order a pizza and stay up all night talking about what a pig he is. But that’s not what you need, either.

Cole. He’s always said he’s there to listen. Telling him the truth about your relationship with Sam would make everything easier. And Cole cares about you. You know that much is true. But running to Cole seems wrong. It feels like retaliation because you know how much Sam would hate it.

The phone vibrates and Sam’s name pops up. You almost answer, but the image of he and Toni is too vivid. Her breasts in his face, the surprise when he saw you at the door. You press the power button on the phone and watch as the screen goes black.

This hurts so bad.

You find yourself suddenly sober and in desperate need of something to take the edge off. Cleaning yourself up as best you can, you cross the lobby and enter the hotel bar. There are a dozen or so people scattered around.

Finding an empty seat you order a shot of tequila and a beer.

You trusted Sam with everything. Up until twenty minutes ago, your biggest fear was that he would walk away, but never did you imagine he would cheat. Your sex life is active to say the least, and he’s definitely not looking for an emotional connection.

Maybe he was just bored. Maybe it’s his own personal brand of self-sabotage.

Wiping a single tear away, you sip your beer, watching an older couple happily chatting at the end of the bar.

The longer you sit, the more the details come back to you. The way she was perched over him, the red lipstick at the corner of his mouth. You’re irrational and semi-drunk but aware of both. You really want to call Cole and disappear for a night, really make him hurt the way he’s hurt you.

If you leave now, everything is worse. He was right about that.

He said nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. And Sam doesn’t lie. Maybe about his feelings, but he’s never lied to you about anything else. He’s brutally honest to a fault.

-

You stand outside the door to his room for several minutes trying to decide if this is what you really want to do. But in the end, you knock on the door.

Sam answers immediately. His eyes flutter closed when he sees you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he shakes his head and steps to the side as a silent invitation to come in.

“I thought you left,” he admits. His voice is tight. He looks mad and you wonder if this is directed at you, Toni or the fact that he got caught.

“I went to the bar downstairs. Not far.” You stand just inside the door. For the first time, this feels like his space instead of the home away from home you’ve shared for the past two months.

“You weren’t answering your phone.” He runs a hand up the back of his neck. “I was going to come and find you.”

“I shut it off. I needed to think. I’m here now.”

His wool coat is thrown over the back of the couch and he’s got one sneaker on. He’s in sweatpants and his face is clean of any trace of Toni, but his hair is mussed and his eyes are red. You’ve never seen him quite like this before. He looks like a mess.

“I need you to tell me what happened. And if I feel you’re not being one hundred percent truthful, I am going to leave.” You look him in the eye for a fleeting second before taking a seat in the closest chair.

“Okay.” Sam nods adamantly, perching on the edge of the sofa. His knee is bouncing up and down at an exponential rate, he’s agitated. “We came back here after dinner to go over projections.”

“Go on.” It takes everything within you to remain cool collected.

“She came out of the bathroom like that. I told her to stop but she kept it up. She always fucking pushes to get her way.” His hands curl into fists. “Nothing was going to happen. I told her to stop, to get dressed.”

“Why was there lipstick on your mouth?” you ask, voice shaking. “And your fly was down…”

“She kissed me. I pushed her away. I don’t know about the rest of it, honestly. I couldn’t believe it was happening. I would never do that to you. I don’t want her.”

“You know Sam…” You stop to look at him. God, you want to believe him so badly. “I get that you can’t control her actions. And I understand that you had no idea she intended to make an advance...but fuck. You thought coming back to the room was okay? Our room. You came back here with a woman you used to fuck, alone. That seemed like a good idea to you?”

“I didn’t think of it like that.” He presses his lips together, hands on his knees, eyes locked on your eyes. “I don’t think of her as a woman I used to fuck. I think of her as a colleague.”

“Oh, well.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “That’s funny, but I exclusively think of her as a woman you used to fuck.”

You stare at each in silence, the seconds feel like hours. This is a complete role reversal, you’re in complete control here. You get sole determination about what happens next.

“You didn’t think that it would bother me?” You ask a genuine question. “For the two of you to be alone together in a hotel room?”

“I know you don’t like her. But I thought she’d be gone before you got back and that it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Do you see how that’s problematic for me? I almost called Cole tonight. Not for anything weird, just to listen because I needed a friend. But I thought about how you’d feel if I did that. I could have called him, met him and not told you. But the difference between us is that I wouldn’t do that. You mean enough to me that I would never want you to feel the way you’ve just made me feel.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, looking down at his hands. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Did you do anything with Toni tonight?”

“No.” He looks up at you.

“Was there any part of you that wanted to?”

“No.” He confirms succinctly.

“Have you been with anyone else since we’ve been together?”

“No.” This question bothers him, his brow furrows. “Do you think that’s something I would do?”

“I didn’t think I’d come home to find you with Toni, but it happened. I just want to be sure there’s nothing else I’m missing.”

“No. I haven’t been with anyone else. You’re the only person I want.”

“I see.”

“Are you going to stay here tonight?” he asks. And for the first time, you get a glimpse of a Sam that you didn’t know existed. He’s crying. It’s just one tear, but it’s there. “I’m trying. I’ve been trying to do things the right way. To make a life for us. I shouldn’t have brought her back here. I know that now. I thought you left tonight and I didn’t think you were going to come back...I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I almost didn’t come back,” you admit.

“Why did you then?”

“Because I love you,” you explain matter of factly. “And I trust you. I couldn’t throw those things away, I needed to hear it from you, hear what happened.”

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“No.” You shake your head. You want to go to him, hold him tight, but it’s too soon. There’s more you need to talk about and it might as well be now. “I was thinking about when we go home. I should move in with you. We should live together. How do you feel about that?”

“I would like that very much.” He smiles an exhausted little smile, relief overtaking his body and he slouches forward. He looks down at his hands again, sucking in a breath. “I bought a ring. I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

All the air evaporates out of the room. Did he just say what you think he said?

“Are you serious right now?” you whisper, eyes the size of saucers.

“Yes. All I could think when I came back to find you and you weren’t in the hallway is I have this diamond waiting back in Boston and you’re never going to know. So, I’m telling you. I love you. I’m committed. I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

“Well…” you don’t have words. An hour ago it seemed as if the world was falling apart and now this. “When are you going to ask me?”

“I can’t tell you that.” He presses a thumb into the opposite palm. “What are you thinking right now?”

“That I’m going to say yes.” You let out a laugh, overcome with emotion. “But I’m still mad at you right now. You can’t just magically make everything better by talking about a proposal. We’re going to have to talk about Toni. Assuming she’s going to continue working for you, I need there to be clear rules.”

“Anything you want.” He nods adamantly. “You can have anything you want.”

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Three Seasons in Wonderland

(Haymitch sleeps better holding Effie instead of a knife. Sensual content. NSFW depending on your sensitivities. — I hopped on board this ship quite late, like the white rabbit. Better late than never; this experience is a joy.)

*TAKE ME*

🐇 🎩

‘...Have I gone mad?’ ‘I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are...’ (L.C.)

***

*OPEN ME*

WINTER 🌧⚡️

‘...How long is forever? Sometimes just one second...’ (L.C.)

The first time he slept with her — with anyone — he was 47. Then it happened. Inadvertently... almost.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he told her.

“Why not?”

They’d been having sex on and off for 5 years, and she knew he would answer as he always did.

“I don’t sleep without holding my knife.”

“Keep holding ME instead...”

She was persuasive that night: clinging afterwards as he softened inside her, threading her fingers through his hair, taking his warnings on the tip of her tongue and swallowing them whole. In that moment of intoxicating sobriety, he fell asleep with her.

When he startled awake later, he thought her a courageous fool to be tangled up with him. Logic called him to go sleep on the couch, as usual, but the air was cold, and he told logic to wait. He wanted more of her.

His mind was too sleepy to tease out the fragrances — flowers, maybe vanilla. Tracing the handle of his knife was his usual routine. He obviously couldn’t do that without the knife, but his fingertips could sketch its length at the base of her spine, along her wrists, between her breasts.

Sliding down until his feet hung off the bed, he rested his forehead against her heartbeat and slung his arm over her hip. If she woke, he’d caress her in other places until she was ready for him to fuck her again, but he didn’t want to wake her. He wanted to feel her breathing. He wanted the fleeting feeling of safety that came to him on rare occasions.

In thundering stillness, he slipped down the rabbit hole and held her there in Wonderland. On the roof, rain tapped into nothingness. He’d walked through it, and she’d made him warm. For a second, anything beyond Effie ceased to be relevant.

‘...In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again...’ (L.C.)

Haymitch didn’t dare name the feeling. He just let his eyes close.

***

*DRINK ME*

SPRING 🐦💦

‘...At least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then...’ (L.C.)

The room was still dark when a Mockingjay called her awake. Another echoed, and a conversation between the two ensued. The geese started up next, searching for a breakfast of shoots and worms in thawed soil.

Haymitch slept through it all like the dead, even though he’d gone to bed relatively sober. His chin rested above her collarbone, and he breathed evenly against her neck. The sensations tickled, and she leaned into them instead of pulling away.

He shifted his hands on her arm, holding her like a child snuggles a blanket. Effie wriggled her toes in between his leg and the flannel sheets. She pulled at the covers which had slipped to his side of the bed.

His side of the bed. The thought was a novelty.

His warmth made her sleepy, but falling back to sleep was impossible with every bird in District 12 gathered outside the window and the first light of sunrise peeking through the curtains.

She’d brought those last year to replace the yellowed sheets which used to hang in the window. At first Haymitch had complained about her *gift* as controlling, but he must have liked the curtains since he didn’t take them down.

As much as she wanted coffee, she needed this more — this closeness of waking up with him beside her rather than on the couch. She covered his hands and tucked her fingers against his chest.

“Are you trying to freeze me to death,” he muttered, “Your hands and feet are like ice.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be if you hadn’t stolen the blankets — again.”

“You have them ALL”

“I just took them back!”

He stretched across her waist. The far side of her body was cold too, so he acquiesced to her version of the truth.

“Want me to warm you up?” he whispered into the crook of her neck, plucking kisses in between words.

She caressed low on his stomach, feeling fine hairs and scar tissue. The intimacy was tempting.

“Don’t touch my dick until your hands are warm.”

She chuckled and thought for a moment. “My mouth is warm... Do you want to feel it?”

He propped himself up on his elbow and brushed a thumb across her lips. Her hair was a tangled halo on the pillow. She was a soft mess, and, fuck yes, he wanted her mouth on him.

“Yeah, I wanna feel it.”

“I want to feel yours too. ...Shall we?”

“I sure as hell ain’t gonna say no to you sitting on my face and sucking my dick.”

Effie rolled her eyes. “Must you be so unromantic!”

“Romance is overrated.” He stroked the laugh lines on her cheeks. In the dim light he couldn’t see them, but he liked knowing that she was smiling and they were there.

She touched his chest. “I think you actually have more inside you than you care to admit.”

“I’ve got PLENTY inside me, sweetheart, but it’s not romance.”

The deep truth was she enjoyed him like crazy. She’d been thirsty so long for sleeping with him and waking up him. Now that this connection was accessible to her, work was in the Capitol and his life was here. His life was always going to be here.

‘...If you knew Time as well as I do,’ said the Hatter, ‘you wouldn’t talk about wasting it. It’s him...’ (L.C.)

Effie wasn’t sure what she wanted to do in time with this awareness.

***

*EAT ME*

SUMMER ☀️🔥

“...A dream is not reality but who’s to say which is which?...” (L.C.)

Midnight was as warm as high noon had been. Every window was open, yet the house was still filled with the day’s stagnation. A cotton nightie was the only thing separating Effie from the furnace that was Haymitch’s body. In sleep, he’d rolled onto her pillow and draped his arm and leg across her. His fingertips brushed low on her spine, which might have been erotic if not for the sweat beading up everywhere he touched.

She tried rolling onto her back with a plan to escape to the edge of the bed, but he was dead weight pinning her down. She tried rolling him off, but he just pulled her closer in an unconscious death grip — death by heat stroke, considering the way this was going.

“Haymitch...” she whispered, not wanting to startle him.

Irritated when he didn’t respond, she spoke louder. “Haymitch, I’m suffocating here.”

“Haymitch Abernathy!!”

In a dream he heard his mother’s voice, chastising him for running into the house and leaving the door open behind him. Still asleep, he mumbled her old words. “We don’t live in a barn.”

He was hard to wake after falling asleep drinking. Effie considered the possibilities: smacking him, pinching him, stroking his dick... The latter seemed like the safer way to try to wake up a man who sleeps with a knife when he’s not in bed with her.

She was not gentle about it, tugging him while describing the things she could do to him when he woke up. Like ring your neck!

Still asleep, he murmured, “Need you, Effie.”

“Then wake up, honey,” she told him.

“I love you.” The words came out so quietly in sleep that she wondered if she imagined them.

Holy shit. “What?” Reeling, she stilled her hand. She hadn’t imagined them.

Haymitch groaned, and finally woke up, disoriented at first, then aware of her fingers curled around him.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He yawned. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“It’s hot. I need space, and I couldn’t wake you...” Her voice wavered. “So I thought... ” She was too choked up to keep talking.

He lifted his arm and leg off of her. She was sweating where his weight had been.

“Are you alright?”

You love me. She didn’t say it, because all at once she knew it was true. Maybe the reality was unconscious. Maybe it was a conscious truth which he kept silent. Tears gathered in her eyes and threatened to spill onto her cheeks. She held them in, because how would she explain them?

Having heard them in her voice, he touched beneath her eyes in the dark and was confused when her face was dry. She let go of him, sat up in bed, and stripped off her nightgown. He watched her silhouette framed by the open window behind her. A fleeting breeze on her skin chased away some of the sweltering.

“You can’t hold me so tight!” She was breaking open, and how could she explain? She loved him. She was in love with him, but those words were only for dreams.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to. Guess I’ve just gotten used to this.” Sleeping without you is miserable now, he didn’t say. He sat up and slung his legs over the edge of the bed, facing away from her but not leaving.

She knelt behind him and gently kneaded the back of his neck. “Do you have any idea how much it means to me to sleep in this bed with you?”

“Yeah, I do.” His certainty surprised her since they hadn’t discussed it.

“This with you is like air for me.” She was crying now for sure. He didn’t need to touch her cheeks to know it. “...I also need to be able to actually breathe.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I still think that I’ll wake up, and you’ll be dead. I don’t know how I’m ever not gonna think about that.”

She slid her hands down his chest and kissed the top of his head, his temple, the soft spot beside his ear. “We’ve been sleeping together for 7 months, and I’m still alive.”

He gripped her hands. She was part of his life. Confusing as hell, annoying as fuck, and so precious. You’re the best goddamn part. He’d known it for years. “I want you to stay alive.” I need you to stay alive.

“Come here.” She let go of his hands and lay back on the sheets.

There was too much running through his mind. “I don’t want to sleep.”

“Neither do I.”

He turned to see what he could of her in the dark. The moment was silver and otherworldly. “My ma called this ‘The Witching Hour.’ When I was a kid, it made me think of demons and shit.”

“Maybe that’s something parents say to convince their children to go to sleep long before midnight.”

“Could be.”

“My Nana called it ‘The Magic Hour.’ She’d say to me, ‘I miss the magic hour. My bones are too old to stay awake for it.’...”

Haymitch slid back into bed. Her stories of her great-grandmother were soothing.

“...When she talked about it, I wanted to stay awake to feel that magic too. ‘Your bones are still too young,” she’d say, ‘You’ll feel the magic when it’s your time.’”

Effie scooted closer, lying face to face with him on his pillow, close enough to feel his breath on her lips.

He was hesitant to touch her because of what happened before. “Is this your time to feel it?”

“Yes, honey. We’re in it.”

“I wanna kiss you.”

All that she was feeling poured into his mouth and over his body, and came flooding back as he fucked her in the feeling of stagnant fire and magic.

Her eyes closed afterward. “I’ll be alive in the morning. Do you trust me?”

He held her arm, and traced the tendons along her wrist instead of the handle of his knife. “I’m trying.”

‘...Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible...’ (L.C.)

Almost anything could happen for a moment, and what’s life if not a series of moments? Madness. Rain, song, and demons. Falling into the unconscious, and coming undone.

[ashestoashesjc]

Bad Witches (0.3)

Some towns sleep more than they’d care to admit. They claim to be the town that never does, but they sleep. They bustle until the wee hours when even the traffic lights must catch shut eye. (This is the leading cause of late night car accidents, in fact). But not in Riverwake. No matter the hour, Riverwake is alive and in motion. At the peak of dawn, the rumble of mechanized street cleaners is something of an alarm: A new day is here. The only challenge is survival. The road is now adequately shiny.

On a day this beautiful, a person would be mad to waste even a second of it inside. This is why when the coven meets at their favorite restaurant, Giorgio's, for cocktails and gossip, they ask for outdoor seating, beneath a veil of dark gray umbrellas.

After the waiter brings around the first tray of flutes, Bev flags him down and whispers in his ear. When he returns, he has a pitcher filled to the brim with a hazy, dim yellow. He places it at the center of the table and walks off to attend to other diners.

Shrugging, Bev says, "Save him some trips."

During a third round of mimosas, Kate off-handedly mentions her father-in-law and his rocky relationship with his son, but that he thinks gifting Dan membership to their familial country club is effective enough as tension relief. Dan's typically too busy to take advantage of it, she says.

"But you still want to," says Bev, drinking from her orange-tinted glass.

"I didn't say that," says Kate.

"You didn't have to," Bev says, swatting at the air, "Does anyone else hear that buzzing? What is that? Do you think a WASP snuck in?" The other witches attempt to stifle their giggles.

Turning bright red, Kate leans back into her seat, clutching at her glass and bringing it closer to her face so as to slightly cloud the next words she mutters, "I can invite guests, by the by."

The witches' ears perk up.

"You know, I don't think I've ever been to a country club," Matt says, "The wealthy have historically neglected basic hand-washing techniques. Seems like a petri dish, but in a higher tax bracket.”

"I'm from the country. And I've been to a club. Does that count?" Haley asks, still nursing her first mimosa.

"What should we wear?" Bev asks.

Kate sets her glass down to refill it from the orange pitcher, "Dress for spring."

So, they do. The next morning, they are all casual shorts and solid-colored polos and white visors. Only, it's a month away from the dead of winter and it's the middle of Massachusetts. Bev, Matt, and Haley stand outside of the given address and, with their miserable shaking, resemble a group of very posh street urchins.

Kate arrives in a cozy-looking fur-lined parka and upon seeing the other witches' bewildered expressions, snuggles affectionately into the mink hood, "Teach you to mock me."

The other witches follow Kate into the almost intimidatingly large, red-bricked building. What are presumably wings stretch nearly a kilometer in each direction.

"One of you couldn't have ch-checked the weather before leaving the house?" Bev admonishes, one shiver away from legally qualifying as an icicle.

"T-throwing a lot of stones in that g-glass igloo, aren't you?" Haley asks.

The combination of central circulated heating and at least two fireplaces (one in the den closest to the club's entrance; one in the more formal of the two dining areas) nearly melts the witches as they linger with Kate at the front desk.

"Okay, we're approved," Kate says, shaking hands with the attendant behind the desk, "Just don't touch anything."

"Damn. There goes my Grand Theft Itinerary," says Bev.

Looking at her sternly, Kate says, "Don't even joke about that. They will absolutely kick us out."

The witches huddle at the end of the entrance hall, dissecting the list of offered activities. Bev is interested in exactly none of them, but does wish to examine their stock of spirits. Matt begins spraying himself with hand sanitizer the moment he notices how many of the items have a "Group Activity" label.

A woman in a calf-length Houndstooth coat walks past the group but stops to gaze at Kate's jacket, fawning over its charm and subtle glamour. She asks if Kate also bought her coat from Nordstrom. She then asks if Kate plans to play in a tennis match later.

Kate happily confirms that, yes, she will be playing. They chat for a little longer and Kate is still smiling when the woman bids her farewell and walks further into the club's interior.

"How are you going to play?" Matt asks, pointing to the tennis poster pinned to the cork bulletin board at the lobby entrance, "It's Doubles and three of us will likely solidify if we venture outside."

"Oh, we're still playing tennis. Do you know how much I had to bribe the babysitter to come on such short notice?" asks Kate, "They have a heated indoor court," she says, taking off her coat to reveal a sensible, pale beige skirt and thin, rust red pullover.

"Oh, they're fancy fancy," says Haley.

Kate finds the sports center in the left wing, guided by the rambunctious sound of middle aged aerobics. It is a vast gymnasium filled with varied exercise equipment and a bounty of helpful regimens: elliptical trainers, stair masters, Homeless Person Avoidance Training, medicine balls, etc. There's even a rock climbing wall mounted in the back. There are no cables attached to it for fear that people may actually wish to use it, but it has its scenic benefits. She then sees the tennis court, a green square girded with a chain link fence. She spies the sign-up sheet on a plastic folding table at the entrance and begins scrawling her name.

As she flourishes the Barston-ending 'n' and admires her penmanship, an unexpected voice takes her by surprise.

"You're in the way," says the voice and Kate notices that it belongs to the robust, older gentleman looming behind her. He is accompanied by a smaller, leaner fellow and together they look like a before and after advert for malnutrition.

Kate nearly leaps out of the man's direction when she notices her folly. "Sorry! I wasn't paying attention."

"Never seen you here before," says the shorter, wheat blond man.

"Yes, I'm a new--" begins Kate, holding out her hand in anticipation of a handshake.

"Who's your husband?" interrupts the other man, a gray halo of hair situated on the perimeter of his scalp.

"I'm not sure how--" starts Kate, slowly lowering her hand.

"That's how you got in, right?" he asks as he bends down to add his own name to the roster, "Bring the 'Girls' for a 'Fun Weekend' at the country club and then fuck off to whichever Wellness Spa you crawled out of?"

"That's--" Kate tries to interject.

"We promise not to beat you too badly later, okay?" the blond interrupts as he saunters off, followed shortly by his friend.

She is left standing alone at the front of the sports center, not entirely sure she has correctly interpreted the preceding events. In her mind, she loops through their meeting again and again, wondering what she did wrong. When she does realize that she, in fact, ‘Just Got Dunked On’, grim is not the right word to describe the aura she emanates. It's pretty close, though.

Kate staggers into the common area and, seeing the rest of her coven lying haphazardly across an island of recliners, plops into one of the vacant chairs. Her entire demeanor is a haggard sigh.

Trading concerned looks, the witches aren't sure who should handle this. They play "Rock, Paper, Sigils" while Kate slumps further into the padded leather. The agreed upon worst candidate for helping someone through distress is also apparently really bad at games of chance because when she loses, Bev swears under her breath.

Bev very tepidly strokes Kate's back and whispers, "Now, now. Emotions are..." she gulps, "Perfectly normal. I have them all the time." She retches.

Taking Kate's hand, Matt asks, "What happened?"

A full body sigh later and Kate appears to have summoned the drive to retell the tale. By the time she's through, the witches bear the expressions of those personally wronged. How dare anyone make fun of Kate? And not even behind her back like a decent person. WASPS have feelings, too.

"You should've led with that," says Bev, cracking her knuckles, "I'll kill them."

Matt nods, "I don't know about getting someone else's blood on me, but yes, murder seems in order."

Haley can't believe what she just heard. She really can't. She stopped listening halfway through to stare at someone she thought might be her Little League coach. But why would they be here, ten states away in this country club common area? It just doesn't make sen-- Oh, no, that's someone else, nevermind. Oh, god, now everyone's looking at her. Make something up, make something up.

"Like a flock of crows in V-formation," says Haley. Nailed it.

"You guys... you have no idea how much this means to me," says Kate, a welling in her eyes, "I know with you by my side, Bev, we can--"

"Oh, yeah, no, I don't want to play," Bev corrects.

Clearly disappointed, Kate's face sobers a little, but she looks to Matt with hope.

"Sorry, me either. I didn't mean to mislead you," says Matt, sincerely apologetic.

Kate feels as though the dinghy she just acquired footing in has capsized beneath her.

Haley smiles.

Kate looks to her nervously, but the smile only widens. "Have... you ever actually played tennis?" Kate asks.

"Sure, I played a little at home," Haley says. Kate sighs.

"Of course, we had wooden rackets and the strings were made from goat guts, but how different could it be?" Haley asks. Kate sighs again and internally resigns to her fate, but still intends on having a very fun, very non-competitive time.

On the court, shortly before their starting match, Haley tests the weight of the carbon fiber racket. She tosses it from hand to hand and gives a few practice swats. Once, she sends the racket flying, leaving her to run to the middle of the court and retrieve it.

Their first few matches - one with a couple from Denver and the other with the woman they encountered in the lobby and her "chiropractor" who is definitely only half her age because it helps to be young and limber in his profession. Definitely - are nothing to write home about. Haley's home, in particular, is where you should not be writing to. Because they would not be very impressed with her performance. But after getting used to how light this inferior plastic racket is, the aerodynamics of its slender frame, the whistle of its whip through the air, she feels a touch more comfortable.

This comfort is promptly squished like a windshield mosquito when their next opponents enter the fence. Kate's heart falls when she recognizes the sheen of one man's head and the smarm on the other's lips, but her face is unflinching steel.

"Didn't think you'd still be here," the blond says, his eyes a sneer.

The walking comb over assumes his place across the court and, beginning to stretch, says, "They wanted to lose to real men. I don't blame 'em."

Haley exhales. The match begins.

For the first set, the court is a frenzy of movement. Rhythmic thwacking echoes across the gymnasium. The squeaking of sneakers, the breathy grunts upon each impact, the flicked beads of sweat as they dart to strike the racket. All four are giving it their all.

But Kate and Haley are just too accurate. Too fast. Too relentless in their fury.

Nearing the end of their third set, Kate and Haley have dominated the game, easily leading over their opponents' hefty score of one. What was only meant to be a playful diversion sees the girls one favoring play away from taking the whole kit 'n' caboodle. Reigning victorious. But, like, in a fun, non-competitive way.

This is what it all comes down to.

"They would be good at this," huffs the gray-haired man to his partner, "Chicks and tennis." He serves the ball, and Haley, in her distraction, swings and misses. A green blur zips by her head.

The gray-haired man chuckles, "I think that's our point."

"One of them even looks like Serena," his blond partner wheezes hoarsely. They burst into ill-concealed snickers.

"One more round?" Kate asks, bouncing a tennis ball.

"One more round," Haley concurs.

They trade the tennis ball back and forth with their opponents, the net flapping with every pass. For a few tosses, they are very light swings, measured and contained. But in one of her connections with the ball, Kate applies a considerable amount more force to the racket. The tennis ball responds with equal vigor, shooting from her racket's wired face and careening toward the other side of the court.

But it never hits either of the men's rackets. Or makes contact with the ground. It simply floats and whirls at a standstill just past the net.

No one moves a muscle.

The silent stillness of the moment is broken when the blond man appears to muster the confidence to approach the green rotation. He seems to have descended from glaciers with the time it takes him to close the gap. Mere inches away, he stares up at the tennis ball in the exact way that you're not supposed to stare at the sun.

He lifts his hand and reaches slowly upward with an extended finger.

The ball, still in a rapid spin, yet frozen in mid-air, comes undone and pelts the blond directly between the eyes. He goes to the ground and rolls onto his back, his scream slightly muffled by the hands now covering his face.

Exclaiming his name, the gray-haired man runs over to kneel and assist his partner.

Focused on tending to his friend, he is blissfully unaware when, under Haley's intense stare, his shoestrings loosen and then intertwine, lacing together.

"I think that's our point," says Haley.

The man clambers to a stand and starts off toward her with a warning, huffy "Why, you little..." before tripping and spilling to the ground like a freshly slingshotted Goliath.

The blond, a red burn at the center of his face, goes to help him, but his shorts sink quickly to his feet and he falls in a tangle to the green mat.

"That's set," says Kate.

"And match," says Haley.

They grasp hands in a high five and make their way to the fenced door.

As they exit the court, Haley shouts back to the groaning men, "And I would love to look like Serena! She's a goddamn Amazon!" Even after they've exited, Haley can still be heard shouting, "An Amazon!"

They've made it halfway into the main house when they run into Matt just outside of the kitchen, wearing a black apron, stamped with the country club's logo.

"Why are you--?" Haley begins before Matt raises a hand and cuts her off with a sharp breath.

"I went to the restaurant to sample their Chateaubriand," he says, pulling the apron strings over his head, "But someone mistook me for a waiter and one thing led to another, and I report for duty at 9 am."

Slinking down the hall to join them, Bev says, "That's really going to confuse your students."

"Where have you been?" Kate asks.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you guys about," she says.

Occasionally looking over her shoulder to ensure she's not being followed by any of the club's staff, Bev leads the coven to the rear section of the expansive building. Despite the recently watered ficuses, it doesn't appear as though this area of the club receives much visitation.

Taking another cursory look, Bev waves the witches into a room and closes the door behind her. Once she flicks the light on, an old ballroom comes into focus. The dusty, white grand piano, tucked in the room's corner, has uneven keys. The floor is cedar coated in a thoroughly scuffed varnish.

At the center of the room is a freshly painted and ornamented circle, surrounded in thick, off-white candles.

"You've been busy," Kate says.

"Since we got here, I've sensed a mass of souls, trapped just beneath the floorboards," says Bev.

"I felt it, too," says Matt, "I suspected it was just the unease that comes with being in a country club."

"There's that, too," Bev says.

Bev stomps on the floor and a chorus of weak groans ekes up, "That's at least 30? Maybe 40 unhappy ghosts." She locks eyes with Kate, hesitates for a moment, and says, "We have to do something." 

Kate, all out of sighs for the day, brings her hands together and lets them go with a deep breath. "Okay," she says, "What do we do?"

There's no boom box available to blast "Wannabe" while they work, so their preparation lacks a distinct Spice, but they each have their jobs and they each complete them with an expected diminished enthusiasm.

Once Kate's finished lighting the candles, Haley flips the light switch and they take their positions.

Because it was her idea, Bev heads the ritual, and thus initiates the throaty, guttural chanting. As she nears the end, like a musical round, another witch starts from the beginning. And the cycle continues until, thrumming like a locust swarm, the coven is in overlapping cacophony.

As their chanting increases in volume and an impossible wind whips their hair to and fro, the candle flames grow into angry blazes. And in an instant, they extinguish.

And the room goes dark.

Then, suddenly, light returns as a host of faint, blue-white specters encircle the witches. As a few seconds pass and they regain more human forms, a great variety of age among them, the "Leader" of the group, a weathered man in an eagle feather-adorned headdress, nods to the coven. One by one, their forms dissipate. Soon, they've all faded, leaving one little girl, clutching a small toy bunny. She waves at the witches and too disappears.

The candles flicker back to life.

"So good of you to release them," Kate says, laying her hand on Bev's shoulder, "The afterlife will be kind to them."

"Right. Release," Bev says, tapping Kate's hand.

From outside of the ballroom there comes a scream. Looking a smirking Bev in the eyes, Kate pulls her hand away and makes for the door.

The chaos encapsulating the country club can be heard in its full intensity the moment Kate cracks the door open.

It's difficult to decipher exactly what is transpiring: a typhoon of well-clothed, well-fed patrons bounds in every direction. They wail and beg and stumble over each other, flown after by a roaring cavalcade of translucent figures.

The witches watch as the little girl who thanked them earlier flies through the bottom of a couple's table and into their roasted duck, chasing them with scornful, flailing drumettes as they scream for mercy.

Kate's face gets in the way of her palm.

"You know, I saw a hand sanitizer dispenser in the bathroom," says Matt, "Maybe this place isn't so bad after all."

[essaysfromthedeep]

Wash, rinse, repeat.

A little bit about being Southern, gay, and estranged.

CW: Suicide mention

Where I am now is exactly why I didn’t want to come out in the first place. I was terrified as a teenager that I would have to leave my family behind to be happy. It turned out to be true.

I figured out when I was 17 that I was attracted to girls. I had a boyfriend. It wasn’t going well. It wasn’t his fault, of course. I tried and tried to be okay with dating him, but I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt three months in that I didn’t feel the same way about him. I just didn’t know why for another few months. Or I didn’t want to admit why. I’m not sure the distinction matters at this point.

I remember which class I was sitting in the first time I wrote down “I think I like girls.” It was almost lunch time, I had no friends in there and no one was paying any attention to me. I put it in a journal I later burned. It was terrifying and imprinted itself on my memory. It was also a truth I couldn’t outrun any more.

I wasn’t expecting that coming out would be so similar to the stages of grief. I remember being so angry. I tried to kill myself. An expression of anger, fear, and disappointment.

I tried to kill myself on Valentine’s day because my boyfriend so desperately wanted to spend time with me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of it. I knew exactly where I’d rather be and why. I couldn’t take it any more.

I took, what I thought to be at the time, a lot of pills, and drank, what I thought to be at the time, a lot of alcohol. And laid down to go to sleep. I started feeling very ill and couldn’t fall asleep. I remember praying. “Okay God, if I survive this, it means you want me to be gay. And if I don’t well, I guess I’ll find out if you’re going to send me to hell for it.”

I threw up all night. The next day I felt like death warmed over, but I was alive. Now came the hard part, figuring out how to be gay. It took me 6 more years to come out in any kind of public way. I told my closest friends in high school, but that didn’t go so well. I came out as bisexual. Which, I am not. But I couldn’t be a full on lesbian yet.I wasn’t ready to give up.

I was still desperately hoping some boy would come along and fix me. Someone, anyone! That they would love me enough somehow and, even though I would never feel the same way about them, that it would be enough. It didn’t work out.

My first few years of being out to myself were full of this kind of bargaining. “I’ll just be alone forever and that will be fine. I don’t need a relationship.” I had resolved to stay in the small, rural town I had grown up in and just be the person my family wanted me to be. But the idea of being forced to be alone became unbearable. I had finally let go of some of my self hatred and honestly I wanted so badly to hit on women. Being a lesbian sounded amazing, if I could just figure out how to do it!

In college it still took awhile for me to come out, again.

I was technically bisexual at that point, so the assumption was this was a phase. I was so tired of the implication that I’d just eventually like a dude! I knew I wouldn’t. I kept pretending. Latching on to dudes left and right because I assumed (rightly) that there was more to lose when I let everyone know there would be no more men for me.

I tried to date exactly one guy in college. Attempting to be the person he wanted me to be was like cutting off parts of myself. I kept trying to make myself into something that I wasn’t to make men happy, when I was already pretty sure that I wasn’t at all interested in men or making them happy. I ‘broke up’ with him after four days.

I wish I could say that was the end of my misadventures with men, but it wasn’t. It was the last time I tried to date one. Everything else was just drunken mistakes in an attempt to try to make myself into a straight girl.

I finally gave it all up when I was 23. I had been fighting and fighting and fighting for years. I slept with one woman and it’s honestly laughable to me at this point that I ever thought I was straight.

That’s the only reason I decided to come out to my family at all.

After stumbling upon the (finally sober) realization, that I was decidedly uninterested in men, I realized that I would need to tell my family.

I didn’t want to, but I’m a terrible liar. And honestly, I was so tired of being afraid of them. To be clear though, when I came out I was still terrified of them. My timing could have probably been better, but that’s not how life is.

I decided to come out the weekend I graduated from college. I was sure, certain, in fact, that it would be alright. We would be riding the high from my accomplishment (2 degrees!) and they would love me regardless. I would tell them and then we would have a nice Christmas.

I have not been to a Christmas with my family since then.

I graduated right about the same time as all that Duck Dynasty nonsense where that guy said really homophobic stuff in GQ back in 2013. Well, my sister spent the entire weekend talking about it. Agreeing with him. Being angry because the show got dropped. “Gay people need to learn their place.” I could still direct you to the booth we were sitting at in Steak’n’Shake when she said that. There are some things that just stick with you. All gay people were going to hell anyway, why should it matter that he said it! And how dare A&E cancel them!

I left after that. Saying I was tired and didn’t want to go back to the mall. I had some friends to hang out with. Whatever excuses I could come up with. Really I went to my apartment and talked with my girlfriend for hours and hours about what I should do. I didn’t feel safe going home with them at that point. My family isn’t known for solving these kind of disagreements peacefully. And my family disagreed with my existence. What’s a girl to do? I ran away with my girlfriend for Christmas.

And this is where the Southern part of my story starts rearing its ugly head. My girlfriends parents were not sure about hosting me. I should be at home with my family. I didn’t know how to tell them, I didn’t feel safe with my family.

There’s this stigma about not being in touch with your family. Like it’s some kind of easy choice to cut them off. I already knew what my family thought of me, why am I required to open myself up to further abuse? Why am I required to submit myself to them for in-person derangement.

After the fact, when we were discussing it my mother said to me “Were you scared I was going to shoot you?” And yes. I was. That’s the thing. I know how my mother reacts. I react in similar fashions sometimes. A blind rage. You can’t see anything but your anger. I felt I was taking my life in my hands if I went home and came out. And who would know if they killed me and buried me in the back yard? Who would care? There are lots of pig farms in Arkansas. There are lots of places to hide a body.

Perhaps this is horrifying for me to say, but it was a natural conclusion for me. There are many people where I’m from who would have understood why my family did it. A jury of their peers wouldn’t convict them.

After that we tried for a few years, but the problem is I wanted it all.

I can read my parents like a book. They were so uncomfortable in my presence.

Growing up my father only referred to gay men as faggots. I had only ever heard gay used as a slur until I was in high school at least. It definitely wasn’t truly de-stigmatized for me until I was in college.

And about three years after I came out to my parents, I was tired of being tolerated. I didn’t want them to think I was disgusting. I wanted them to be able to look at me. I wanted them to be able to say the word gay and it not be a slur. And so I confronted them about it.

And my mom told me that she can only accept my relationships that are ‘biblical.’ She will never accept my marriage. And so I decided that I wasn’t going to live my life in pieces, and I told her to contact me when she could accept me for everything that I am, and that includes being a lesbian.

And now I don’t know what to do.

My family always made it very clear that if you didn’t talk to them in life, you shouldn’t show up at their funerals. I don’t know whether to grieve now, later, or both. I assume both makes the most sense.

This is excruciating, but it’s still better than sitting across the table from my mother and seeing the disgust in her eyes. The fear. Knowing that she thinks there’s something wrong with me.

My mother’s love is conditional. She loves in the hope that it will make me change. That I will repent and be born again, again. That it can save me. That she can make me straight.

After being the ‘sinner’ that’s been ‘loved’ for so many years, I have to say it feels less like love and more like coercion.

I feel like I’ve chosen the lesser of two evils. Trying to maintain contact with my family is destabilizing. So I’ll live with the guilt and the shame of not talking to the people who conceived me. I’m not sure what I continue to owe them though.

My mother left me a voicemail last week. She claims she doesn’t know what she’s done to “upset me.” She thinks I’m just punishing her because I’m mad. I’m not mad. I’m painfully aware of how little there is left of me for her to love. I won’t change. Why do I have to expose myself to her obvious disdain? What obligations do I owe her?

She brought me into this world, but the truth is she doesn’t want me. She wants whatever version she keeps of me in her head.

It’s much harder to love people as they are. And what I am now is so far removed from what she wants, I just don’t see why I have to keep trying. She isn’t going to meet me halfway, and I have to give up everything I am.

There’s no voice I can turn my mother to that teachers her to love me. The people my mother respects hate me. They teach I’m the reason why Jesus will soon return and wipe people like me from the face of the Earth and put us in hell where we belong.

I’ve heard “Blood is thicker than water” so often that I can’t help but feel like the asshole in this situation. Oh, what I’m doing to my poor mother! Have we considered what she’s done to me?

I’ve always been aware of how tenuous my relationship with my parents was. I knew there were parts of me they could never love. I’ve been keeping secrets since I was a child, hoping that I could be good enough one day that they’d like every piece of me. I’d settle for like, I think.

I grieve for my childhood. I wonder, often, what it’s like for kids who’s parents love them unconditionally. It’s difficult knowing that is something I will never experience.

I can’t blame my mother for it. I don’t think it was something she was ever capable of. It’s about as useful as being mad at the rain. There’s nothing I can do to change it.

I always want these kinds of things to have a lesson. I would like to wrap it up nice and tidy, but this is all messy ends and unfinished work.

The anger has run out of me and all that was left to do was this. Hollow myself out so the pain and sadness can’t grow and fester until they try to kill me again. You face them, you name them, you find a way to get up the next morning. You do things that make you happy. You wait for them to make you happy again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

[frozenartscapes]

The End and the Beginning - A Frozen 2 Fanfic

AN: I teased this before I went to see the movie. I tweaked it slightly after coming out from it. This is still what I would like to see after the ending of the movie, though perhaps not as aggressively so as when I first began writing this. This is the very start of my Snow and Sunshine AU. Before any arranged marriages. Before any kids. This is how the canon universe ends and my story begins. I hope you all enjoy. Obviously, this is full of spoilers. So it will begin under the cut.

It was post-charades on a calm summer’s night. The air was cool but in a refreshing kind of way. Crickets chirped from the grass and bushes. Lamplight flickered off cobbled streets and was reflected on the still waters of the fjord. The moon was almost full, covering the land in a silvery glow. A million stars sparkled in the dark sky beyond it.

Anna and Elsa occupied one of the small balconies overlooking the town, spending some quality time together in the wake of family games night. Anna leaned against the railing, eyes closed as she breathed in the sweet summer night air. Elsa was seated on the railing, balancing perfectly with her back against the wall, one leg hanging freely over the edge. It was the kind of pose that still seemed odd to Anna, as she couldn’t think of a time when Elsa had ever been so casual and relaxed to sit like that, but recent events had changed many things.

Elsa let out a calm sigh, and said wistfully, “I’ve missed this.”

“You’re here practically every week,” Anna replied with a small giggle.

“Yeah, but...” Elsa returned, gesturing out toward the town, “It’s the little things. And I never get tired of watching the kingdom at night.”

Anna smiled and looked out as well. “I know. I get it,” she said with understanding. She looked back toward Elsa and added, “I miss spending time with you. Even if you are here about once a week.”

Elsa nodded. “There’s a difference between coming here for game night and, well... Staying here,” she said with a sigh. She fidgeted with her hands for a moment, avoiding eye contact, before glancing back to her sister. “It...it gets lonely up there.”

Anna’s expression shifted into one of agreement. “Same here,” she confessed, “I mean, Kristoff’s still around. And Olaf, I suppose. But... Well, they don’t get it, sometimes. I’ll think of something I thought you might like, or something dumb will happen in council, and I’d get halfway to the study only to remember that...”

Elsa shot her a sad smile. “I’m not there?” she finished.

Anna moved over to the railing Elsa was perched on, leaning her back against it. “At least I still have them to talk to,” she pointed out, “You were never much of a talker, though, I guess.”

Elsa chuckled softly. “Well... There is the Northuldra. And I can sort of talk with the spirits, but... Yeah, it’s not the same. They also don’t get any of my jokes. Not like you can.”

“Your jokes are very unique,” Anna teased with a small laugh, “But that’s why I love them.” She paused, bringing her arms across her chest as her mood sobered. After a moment, she asked, her tone hesitant: “Did we do the right thing?”

Elsa frowned. She sat up from her relaxed position, swinging both legs over so she was sitting on the railing. “What do you mean?” she wondered, looking over Anna with concern.

“You know... The...the separation,” Anna clarified softly.

“It’s not a separation,” Elsa responded, slightly defensively, “You and I can still see each other.”

“I know it’s not like that separation,” Anna replied quickly, “But... What with you being a magic Snow Queen and me being the Queen of Arendelle it feels like... I don’t know. I don’t like not being able to see you all the time.”

“Anna...” Elsa began gently, reaching out to her sister with a comforting hand.

But Anna pulled away. “Are you...happy...up there?” she asked quietly, not daring to look at Elsa.

“That... I...” Elsa stammered. Then her frown deepened with worry. “Are you happy?” she asked in return.

Anna shrugged weakly. After another moment’s pause, she turned to her sister. “You have to promise me you won’t get mad,” she said, her gaze bold and serious.

Elsa shot her a confused look. “I promise,” she said.

Anna bit her lip, and confessed carefully, “Some people... They don’t like me as Queen.”

At first, Elsa said nothing. But then Anna noticed the gentle breeze had picked up into increasingly violent gusts. The fire in the lamps flickered and threatened to be extinguished. And frost was beginning to form on the wooden railing closest to Elsa’s hands. “Elsa, you promised!” Anna declared, pointing a threatening finger at her sister.

“Ugh, fine!” Elsa complained. She then closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, and the world around them settled. When she opened her eyes, she asked in a low voice, “And who, may I ask, thinks that?”

Anna avoided her gaze. “Oh, you know...” she began slowly, “Some people in town who miss my weekly visits - I had to stop because I’ve gotten a lot busier. Same problem with the school kids. And Lars misses our sword training time. A few of the guild leaders aren’t happy because it takes forever to work on their reports - I suck at math. You know that.” She paused her ramble for a moment, gathering her thoughts as she took a deep breath. “And...me. I don’t...really think I’m making a good Queen.”

“Anna,” Elsa said soothingly, hopping down from the railing and moving in front of her sister to collect her hands in hers, “You’re an amazing Queen.”

“But I’m not you amazing,” Anna groaned. She noticed Elsa about to say something else, and added quickly, “I know I’m not you. I get that. I can’t make it snow with my hands. I approach problems differently. We’re different, and I shouldn’t try to be you. But it’s the basic stuff. It’s all the paperwork. And the meetings. And appeasing the other nobles of Arendelle and all the guild masters and other merchants. And communicating with other nations and keeping track of which nations I need certain tones for and trying to foster peace while avoiding conflict and...and...ugh! It’s just so much!”

“Anna, all of that takes time,” Elsa assured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze, “You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

“But it’s already been a few months and it still feels like I just started!”

“It took me some time, too.”

“But you never showed it!” Anna huffed in frustration, taking one of her hands back to wipe away the wetness in her eyes. “You never ran into a meeting late because you accidentally slept in. Or messed up and mislabeled trade agreements with two different countries and only realized after you sent them. Or tried to help a kid catch a pig in the market only to end up in the fjord!”

“Wait, what was that last one?” Elsa shook her head, realizing now wasn’t the time. “Anna, I messed up plenty of times. I did plunge the kingdom into an early and almost eternal winter on my very first day as Queen.”

“I just...” Anna sniffled, looking up to meet Elsa’s soft gaze. “You were better at this than me.”

Elsa returned with a small, sympathetic smile. “Can I...tell you something?” she said hesitantly.

Anna nodded, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes.

“I...I’m not...as happy as I thought I’d be. Up North,” Elsa confessed.

“But...you seem so...free. And relaxed,” Anna said, “Just now! You were just reclining on the railing like it was the most normal thing in the world! Our etiquette tutor would have freaked if she saw you!”

Elsa chuckled softly. “I’m not saying I’m not those things. And I’m grateful that I finally do feel laid back enough to do that sort of thing. But...” She frowned, and pulled her hands close. “It’s almost like it’s too much freedom.”

“What? How does that work?”

“I guess I have the opposite problem you’re having,” Elsa explained, “I went from busy days and tight schedules to...nothing. The only set commitment I have now is Friday game night. Otherwise... I can get up whenever I want, go to bed whenever I want. Come and go as I please. Anything I want, really. There’s no limit.”

“Gee, that sounds horrible,” Anna replied sarcastically, though her little grin suggested she was teasing.

“It is for me, though. I liked the structure,” Elsa stated simply, “I mean, when it was overwhelming, sure it wasn’t great then. But now it’s like there are so many possibilities that I can’t decide what to do. The other day I slept in until past noon and I couldn’t do anything for the rest of the day because losing the morning felt like I... I don’t know, like I had lost the whole day, somehow.”

Elsa turned away, her gaze focused on the peaks beyond the town. “It’s like...how I felt after I built my Ice Palace,” she sighed, “Initially, it was amazing and freeing and wonderful. But, after that elation wore off, it’s almost...boring. I miss watching the town. I miss seeing ships come and go in the harbour. I miss my daily interactions with the staff. Kai’s banter. Gerda’s fussing. Kristoff’s terrible Sven impression. Olaf’s antics. And...you. I might be free now, but... I’m alone. And I’ve grown enough by now to know that that isn’t what I want. Not anymore.”

Anna moved to her sister’s side and gently took her hand in hers. “I wish there was a way to fix things,” she said sadly, “To make things go back to normal.”

Elsa frowned, her eyebrows furrowed in that little way whenever she pondered too hard. She glanced down at her hand entwined with Anna’s, and suddenly it became clear. “They might not go back to normal, but... There is a way we can make it close,” she said, her voice taking on an excited tone as the idea cemented itself in her head.

“What do you mean?” Anna asked, her own emotions beginning to rise as she watched her sister’s face.

“We unite the kingdoms!” Elsa declared, taking Anna’s other hand eagerly and holding them close, “Arendelle and the North, together under one flag.”

Anna shook her head in confusion. “But... Aren’t they already united?”

“They are, but as an alliance. They’re still two separate entities,” Elsa explained, “But if we truly unite, there only has to be one political centre. One monarchy. One seat of government.”

“Which means... We can live together again!” Anna gasped. But then she frowned. “But what about the magic?” she asked, “Don’t you have to be up North to see to that?”

“Magic is at peace right now, Anna,” Elsa told her, “Balance has been restored, and due to its small presence in this world, taking care of that balance is relatively simple. I could stay here, and just travel up North a few times a year to meet with the spirits. Or they can even come here. There’s nothing separating our worlds anymore. With unification, the spirits can come and go as they please.”

“Arendelle would benefit from that, too,” Anna mused, “I’ve had a few relatively aggressive letters come in from other nations attempting to flex their power over us, but if you come back and bring the literal elemental spirits with you no one would ever want to touch us ever again!”

“Wait, what?” Elsa demanded, “Who’s been threatening you?”

“Oh, the usual suspects,” Anna said with a shrug, “It’s all talk, but it’s annoying. You coming back will shut it up.”

“I’ll have to make sure it’s alright with the people of Northuldra first,” Elsa said after deciding it best to drop the subject, “I know their history with Arendelle hasn’t been great. They might be hesitant to formally join the kingdoms.”

“It’ll be different this time,” Anna assured her, “I’d be happy to join you for that talk, to help show them that the Arendelle of today isn’t like that Arendelle.”

Elsa smiled, a proud look in her eye. “And I thought you said you were bad at being Queen,” she said lightly.

Anna sputtered for a moment, flustered under her sister’s glorious gaze. “I...I mean, that was Princess stuff, too,” she said quickly, “I know how to make the kingdom look good to other people.”

“Speaking of that, by the way...” Elsa began.

“Yes, I was thinking...” Anna added quickly.

Then, together: “You should be Queen.”

Elsa blinked in surprise. Anna took a step back in shock. “But...” she stammered, “We just went through-”

“Anna, I trust you to be a great Queen,” Elsa cut in, “After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done, you deserve such a title.”

“But it’s more than a title, and you know it,” Anna argued, “And that’s not to say what you’ve done! You saved the kingdom! You united it before we even knew about what’s up North! And...you held it together after...after we lost Mama and Papa.”

Elsa sighed heavily. “Anna...”

“It’s not like things will go back to how they were before,” Anna said, “I can help you out more. Maybe do some paperwork, or go to some meetings. We can spread the tasks out more. And when you have to go up North, I can look after things here. But... You’ve done so much for both kingdoms. And so much of it was done behind the scenes. If people knew how much you work yourself to make their lives better, they’d agree with me. You should be Queen.”

Elsa still seemed a little skeptical. “And...you’re sure?” she asked nervously, “I don’t want to cast a shadow over you. What with me being the fifth spirit, returning to Arendelle to take my place as Queen again could...”

“Elsa,” Anna said gently, throwing her arms around her sister, “You will never cast a shadow on me because you are my source of light. And I have the utmost faith you will be Arendelle’s, too. And Northuldra’s.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Wait. What are we going to call this new kingdom? Arenhuldra? Northdelle? North-Aren?”

Elsa chuckled as she pulled away. “We can figure that out in time,” she said, “Uniting the kingdoms will take a fair amount of work. Figuring out a name is going to be the least of our worries.”

Anna smiled, eyes gleaming with determination, as she stated, “Then let’s get to work.”

---

“People of Arendelle: I have been honoured to be your Queen. You truly are an amazing kingdom, filled with the most wonderful, kind, and accepting people. You have all inspired me to do my very best for each and every one of you. As Queen, I wanted to try to improve our little nation and pave our way to a brighter future. You have all helped me so much, especially at the start of my reign, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

“But the time has come for me to step aside. But I only do so because our little nation isn’t quite so little anymore. I, Queen Anna of Arendelle, do hereby resign as Queen, and give that title back to my sister, Elsa, Spirit of Ahtohallan and protector of the North Forest.”

The crowd gathered in front of the castle cheered. Guards and soldiers lifted their swords in triumph. The Northuldra struck their staffs on the ground in rhythmic harmony. Reindeer brayed happily. Snowmen clapped with glee. The four Spirits came together - fire, earth, wind, and water - in an explosion of jubilation.

Elsa stepped out onto the stage, facing a crowd all cheering and chanting her name. She glanced to Anna, tears present in her eyes. Anna, too, offered a teary smile as she removed the crown from her head. Elsa bent down, and Anna gently placed the crown atop her head. As they rose, their eyes met once again and Elsa wasted no time in gathering Anna up in a tight hug.

After a moment, they pulled apart, and Elsa turned to face the crowd. “Arendelle and the North are now and forever united as one,” she declared, her voice proud and strong, “What once were enemies are now friends - two worlds brought together by the compassion of a young girl. Our mother. And now, her legacy lives on in my sister and me. We stand before you now not as a Queen and a Princess but as two leaders, both devoted to your safety and your growth. We promise you that this new kingdom of unity will be a beacon of peace and prosperity to the world. Arendelle and Northuldra. Mortal and magic. Humanity and nature. These are no longer divided forces, destined to stay apart because of arbitrary differences.

“I swear to always uphold the core values of our new kingdom. With bravery, I shall protect you all. With wisdom, I will strive to do what is best for you. And with compassion: I will lead you, all of you, together. You have my word as your Queen of the United Northern Kingdom, for as long as I may live.”

The response was unanimous. The crowd threw their arms up in celebration, and cheering the loudest yet, chanted, “Long live the Queens!”

---

Elsa pushed open the door to the study. It was quiet and late, but after everything that happened, she couldn’t sleep just yet. She walked into the room, past the portrait of her father at his coronation. She glanced up at it, pausing only for a moment, and for the first time, his painted gaze didn’t seem stern and imposing - proud, almost, instead.

She ran a hand along the ancient desk as she walked around it, feeling that familiar smooth wood under her fingers. Slowly, she pulled the chair back and settled down in it. It creaked slightly, like it always had. It was worn, but sturdy. Water might hold memories but wood did as well. The armrests, polished by generations of use. The faded upholstery. The intricate carvings, some smoothed out as restless hands traced the patterns while in thought.

The first time she had sat in this chair, she was maybe four years old. Her father had to help hoist her up into it. And she could barely see onto the desk.

She closed her eyes and breathed in. It smelled like the study she had always known. The old books, the ink, the dust, fresh parchment. She opened her eyes and spotted the work that was to be done the next day. Documents and schedules and first drafts of new plans. But for once she didn’t feel tied down to them. She was here by choice, now. And it was the freedom in that choice that only gave her greater inspiration to do more. More for Arendelle. More for Northhuldra. Even more for the spirits and Ahtohallan.

She then noticed a letter on the top of a nearby stack of documents for review. It was sealed with the crest of the Apline Islands. She thought it odd - she hadn’t been expecting any correspondence from their allied nation any time soon. She lit the lamp on the desk and reached for the letter.

What that letter contained would change her life forever.