#but guess who has the week off for the holidays and is cozy by the fire while staying with family 🤙

[pokemon-ranger-booker]

What are the responsibilities of a Pokémon ranger in Unova?

A large part of the job is rounding up invasive species that random idiots release into the wild. I don't know what it is about Unovans but the amount of idiots there are is astounding. Like I recently met a guy who thought it was a good idea to release like thirty Rattata into the subways in Nimbasa City where they quickly began to spread through the tunnels and found their way to Anville Town and created an epidemic of Rattata infestations in people's houses. There's a reason you always see those jokes about Unova Man headlines on the internet.

Other parts of the job mainly include subduing rampaging Pokemon, which usually is caused by idiots bothering strong wild pokemon until they start freaking out as a defense mechanism, as well as patrolling different routes to keep an eye out for anything amiss with local Pokemon, such as populations suddenly getting larger or smaller, new species making their way into the area despite never being there before, and keeping an eye out for any diseases or other ailments that may be spreading through the area. If we catch outbreaks before they get out of hand that's always preferable. And you can't forget our trap, spay/neuter, and release of certain species that tend to have large litters so their populations don't get out of hand and overwhelm the local ecosystem. And occasionally we are tasked with investigating possible new groups and reporting in to local governments so we can squash that before they become Team Plasma 2: Electric Type Boogaloo. We mostly keep on the lookout for them though and report in any suspicious activity; we don't really engage with them since that can be dangerous depending on their goals. No one wants the elder gods setting their house on fire again ya know.

Also paperwork. So much paperwork. So much paperwork about every little thing that happens and every item used and every encounter we have and every little thing that the office needs more of and this and that and the other thing it is NONSTOP some days. So much of it isn't even necessary too, like why do I need to write a report and fill out two forms saying that literally nothing happened on a random day when you can just submit a very short report that says "nothing happened today" instead of detailing that nothing happened on every column of one page and in every bullet point for possible incidents on the report. It's so stupid and I'm losing my mind. Please send help and possibly a Box of Joe from Ducklett Donuts.

[neocitycafe]

Home After the Holidays (Mark)

♡ genre: hot cocoa - fluff, sweet and steamy hehe; a bit smutty with too many thoughts; i guess "new year’s time pensive cheese" is a theme for me (here’s haechan’s version from last year) ✎ words: 2.1k ✓ summary/notes: busy idol husband Mark finally returns home :’) and you’ve missed each other. a trope that i love lots. @d-nghy-ck to bronwyn, here’s a slice of pensive cheese(cake), especially for you! this cafe would probably not be here if not for this first customer who came by and said hi! wishing you all the love in the world~

──────── °∘❉∘° ────────

It’s that awkward time in late January when you’re not sure whether it’s still socially appropriate to include “Happy New Year” in your greetings. Mark had told you not to come to the airport. The weather was frigid all week and it’d be way past midnight by the time he got out of customs, and then there was the long cab ride home.

But he missed you. 

Closing the front door gently, he looks down to find his old lace-ups where he usually left them, as if he were home this whole time. Your favorite pair is set neatly next to his, and a smaller set of shoes next to those. Ones with velcro and lights that he bought a couple months back, but it felt much longer ago so quickly. You’d replaced the original laces with neon green ones, and all of Mark’s teammates cooed at how cute that was. 

The lights are dimmed and Mark finds you on the couch in a pile of blankets, where you cozied up while waiting. His heart suddenly aches thinking of you with only a little cup of chamomile tea to warm yourself and get to bed. 

He had been so busy working lately, loving what he did, creating music, making crazy new connections, show after show, press conferences, collaborations. Had he done anything for you lately? His mind races.

From where you’d dozed off, you find Mark frozen by the door. After years of knowing him, you could see his raised brows and the running thoughts behind them. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes shifting to the side meant self-doubt. You want to erase those worries and pour love into all the spaces where he thought he was not enough. 

“I wanted to get you flowers.” His voice cracks and you get up to close the distance between you.

“Oh Mark... I have you now.” The cold from outside has clung on to his coat, but you ignore it and wrap your arms around him more tightly. “It’s the middle of the night, silly. I don’t need flowers.”

You feel him shake his head against you, “And I wanted to be home for the holidays,” he says with a bit of a whine. 

“You’re here now.”

Looking into his eyes, you brush the hair away from his forehead and peck him on the nose. The end of the year meant holiday tour stops, special shows, concerts, and awards nights. The holidays meant the opposite of holidays for entertainers like Mark. It meant he couldn’t really be with family until afterwards. He follows you into the kitchen where you set your mug in the sink. 

“Did you miss me?” You turn when he wraps his arms around you from behind. 

You’re momentarily caught off guard by his boyish smile and a pang of longing wells up, an emptiness in your chest that had been there behind your smiles when he had video called. The answer is a thousand times yes, but you bite back the truth in favor of not worrying him. You shake your head playfully. “I don’t have to. I get to see your features in our son’s face every day.”

Mark breaks into a grin that you can’t help but match. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah, but he sure begged to stay up! He can be a little headstrong sometimes. Like someone.” You give Mark a long look and he pouts in response. “But he finally fell asleep a couple of hours ago.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my home.”

“You’re sappy, Mark Lee.” Nonetheless, you’re more than willing when he tilts your head for a deeper kiss. He runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them to let him taste you. A familiar heat stirs in your belly, and you reach your hands up to tangle them in his hair and pull him closer. He groans into your mouth and presses you back into the kitchen counter. From this position, he places pressure where your bodies are connected, where you want it. He rocks against you once, twice, slowly, fluidly, and you pull him even closer. 

Mark’s hands knock into the stacked pots and pans behind you on the drying rack, and you’re grateful for your husband’s quick reflexes. He steadies a pan, preventing what would’ve been a huge clatter. You both freeze for a moment. 

“Easy, tiger,” you tease while throwing him a wink. “Or baby lion or cheetah or whatever small big cat you are.” 

He responds with a playful growl that is both adorable and sexy, his nose scrunching up. 

A delicious thrill runs through you as his gaze locks on you again. Knocking your legs apart and then lifting you onto the counter, Mark reminds you of how he wanted you everywhere when you were newlyweds. A tender bite between your neck and shoulder reminds you of how he wants you now. You make a mental note to call Jaemin for some babysitting this coming weekend, because you wouldn’t mind some more alone time like this. 

You tug on Mark’s hand and he knows what you mean. You slip off the counter and try not to trip over each other as you eagerly make your way to the bedroom. It’s a familiar but exhilarating path, like a choreography that your bodies move to automatically once the music starts playing.

When he finds a towel already laid out on the bed, he raises a seagull of a brow, and you can’t help but laugh. He teases, “Oooh, so you were prepared!”

You lean in to whisper in his ear, feeling cheeky and bold, “Well, my husband gets messy.”

The look in his eyes and how he kisses you next is the response you were hoping for. When you fall back into bed, it’s easy and slow. You take your time wriggling out of your clothes, and you laugh at his cute shimmy while pulling his jeans off. The both of you sigh in content when his body is above yours, skin to skin. 

Mark’s fingertips trail patterns along your sides, his left hand’s calluses from guitar playing are a little rough, but soothingly so. You map out the constellation connecting the mole on his neck, on his cheek, the tiny one on the corner of his mouth. He spends his time with his lips on your neck where you crave them, wet kisses with a slight bite that have you feeling hot all over and in want, and then you’re grateful they’re chasing paths over the crests and valleys of your body. 

Mark travels down until his face is settled between your thighs, his warm breath causing you to shiver in anticipation. He takes your hand and kisses your wrist, your palm, your fingertips, slowly and thoughtfully. He moves to do the same with your other hand. The love in his gaze staring up at you is too much for you to handle, so you close your eyes and lay your head back. And then he’s lacing your fingers together, holding your hands as his perfect mouth dives in eagerly. 

Mark isn’t shy about playing with your wetness and giving you what you crave. He laps at you with the intent of pushing you to the edge, like there’s nothing else he wants but for you to feel good, and you can’t help but arch up towards him. 

When he tires, he keeps stroking your clit with his fingers, keeping the contact consistent and insistent, and then switches back to working you with his tongue. He keeps going even when you cry out his name, your thighs close around his head, and your hips lift off the mattress as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure.  

When he comes back up to face you, he’s surprised to find the tears falling down your cheeks and into your hair. You don’t notice it yourself until he starts worrying. 

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head. “No, that was amazing.”

He rolls to his side and pulls you into his chest carefully. His eyes search your face.

The words are tumbling out before you can stop them: “I missed you. Mark… I missed you.”

You finally let yourself go.

Going to your son’s first winter concert at his school alone. You’d even saved a seat for Mark, but his filming schedule got delayed that evening. Opening holiday presents with Mark’s parents at their home, without him there. Counting down to the new year by yourself while his team celebrated their album of the year win. How you never wanted to burden him. How you understood his career and wanted to be his steady support, and yet... “I missed you so much.”

“You know you can tell me that. I’m not afraid of how you feel.” He pauses to dry your tears with gentle hands and a kiss on your cheek. “I want to know. I want to love you better.” He holds you tighter, as if capturing every bit of the emotion pouring out of you. It’s like Mark knew the exact words you needed to hear. While being laid bare and vulnerable, you feel safe and known, and now, ever grateful that your relationship is one you are both committed to growing and working out together. “Let’s talk more in the morning after some rest, yeah?”

“Thank you, Mark.” You gaze up into his shining eyes. 

“For what?”

“For being home.”

“Look who’s being cheesy now,” he teases back. 

You tug on him beneath the covers in response and Mark lets out a surprised moan. 

“Mmm, in the morning’s okay too… ah, babe. I mean, do you still want to make love now?”

You nod against his chest and laugh at his insistence on calling it lovemaking rather than sex or anything else. “Do you?”

He nods too and the boyish grin you love so much is back. You push at his shoulders and move so you’re seated above him, your thighs settled over his.

I love you, I love you, I love you. He seems to say, and you feel it in your soul. 

When you sink down onto him, you fill his presence with your closeness, as he fills yours with his. And it’s like the time and space between you disappears. All you hear is Mark, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he loses himself in loving you, and you him. He aids with your rhythm with his hands holding your hips, and then makes the switch so you’re under him. 

There’s the softness of the sheets, his lips, your fingertips, the moonlight shining in, the sound of rustling and sighs pulled from deep within. The flush of his cheeks, your parted lips, the thrum of beating hearts, and later, the patterns slowing steadily into dreams together.

──────── °∘❉∘° ────────

You’re gladly surprised by the warmth in your bed when you wake up in the morning. Mark kicked off his side of the covers in the middle of the night as usual, leaving a mountain of blankets on top of you, so you pull them up to cover his bare chest. You probably should have showered after last night, but it was too comfortable being cuddled up. Mark’s discarded shirt is closest, so you pull it on, mind reveling in everything for a moment: his scent, his return, his closeness, your shared love. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the bedroom door swinging open. Little hands, messy morning bed head, and eyes shining as they peer in. (You’d have to remind your son about knocking on the door again.)

He’s quick to spot the lump next to you under the blankets. “Dada!”

You smile and hold a finger to your lips. 

“Mm-hmm, yes dear, come here.” You sit up better and he clambers into your lap. “Shhh. He’s sleeping.”

His eyes are wide and he whispers rather loudly, “He’s snoring.” You cast a wistful gaze over the relaxed expression on Mark’s face, not knowing when the last time it was that he slept well. 

“Let’s let him sleep more.” You ready yourself to sneak out of bed. Your son was really getting too heavy to carry. He’s squirmy and ticklish, and of course he starts giggling almost immediately when you try to lift him, the sound bubbling out uncontrollably. Someone else you knew laughed just like that. You’re trying to get up quickly when you feel Mark’s arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Come back....”

The way he holds you tickles, and the added weight of your son makes you lose balance, so you fall back onto Mark’s chest, effectively making your family a little sandwich. Mark lets out a small grunt from the weight but he doesn’t really mind. His heart is as light as can be. His eyes are bright and his smile mischievous. He wriggles around and declares, “Love attack!!!”

There are lots of kisses and shared silliness, and you laugh until there are tears in the corners of your eyes, little crystals breathlessly kissed away too in the moment. 

—

"And at last, I open my arms wide again to give you warmth. I'll do anything to make it right. Those stars are shining on us. I'll cherish this moment, all of it, my baby. I’m gonna love you… Love doesn't come easy, girl, but loving you is easy.  Every day without you feels hollow. Because our memories refine even our imperfect moments into treasured times, I reflect, calling love a beauty."

[slocumjoe]

its easter but i dont care! i like to imagine halloween is celebrated in various parts of the common wealth. how would the companions celebrate it with sole? once they have some down time of course. by the way i like to imagine piper, nat and sole host and act in a haunted house attraction or something, what do you think?

I'm putting this in a modern AU so I can go wild, because I had two very specific ideas in mind that I needed realized. a candy for whoever correctly guesses which two im referring to 🍬

Companions and Halloween

Cait; Fucking loves scary movies. Will call all her willing buddies over for bloody marys and whatever shitty takeout they desire, and binges shlock films she finds on obscure horror fan forums. This sometimes backfires and they find a 2003 indie psychological thriller that ends up being too much to handle. When Halloween actually comes, goes to festivals, carnivals, etc... It's the one holiday she actually likes. Dresses up as iconic 'final girls' and gets annoyed when people don't recognize it. Went as Lady Grognak once and got a bunch of girls' numbers.

Codsworth; You bet your ass he's making the best homemade candy in the CITY. This is his Olympics, his Chomolungma/Sagarmatha (commonly known as Everest), his very own Great British Bake Off. Decorates the lawn and sets up picnic tables, has food and drink available. Preston helps him run the shebang with Sturges, Sole, and sometimes Deacon. Will dress up simply and cutely, depending on if he's a person or still a robot. If a person, his costumes are from cartoons, like Steve from Blue's Clues. If a robot, will become a floating pumpkin.

Curie; Her friend group has banded together to keep her from handing out fruit to kids. She only sometimes obliges. Will opt for healthier options, still. Sometimes goes to Codsworth's block party,, if she isn't too tired. Curie herself really isn't into the aesthetic of Halloween, but she likes the fun. She just doesn't like the color schemes. Curie doesn't have time to get a costume, so she just wears her doctor's garb when answering the door. To celebrate for herself, will make pumpkin pies, PSLs, and watch cozy kids spooky movies. Calls or texts Danse to make sure he's okay, as she knows the holiday is a source of stress ever since the...incident...

Dogmeat; local children trained him to run up to porches, snatch the unattended candy bowls, and run

Danse; Counts down to the day like the nukes are gonna drop. Curie once confirmed that the mere mention of the holiday raises his blood pressure. His brain just...can't do it. The thought of someone knocking on his door makes him nauseous. Dressing up...he's too uptight, he'll admit. Pranks always suck, regardless. Not even as a kid did he like Halloween. Hancock and Sole dragged him to a haunted house once and, uh...yeah. Don't take your easily-overwhelmed friend with PTSD to a series of dark corridors with flashing lights, loud, sudden sounds, and people jumping out. Danse takes a week off work, gets in his truck, and camps in the wilderness until society is safe to return to.

Deacon; BEST. HOLIDAY. EVER. Deacon plans all year for it. Every day of October has its own costume. He LOVES volunteering at haunted houses or festivals. It's just such a fun time, man! Gorges himself on PSLs to be 'ironic'. Carries massive candy bars for anyone who recognizes his increasingly obscure costumes. Deacon lives and breathes the spooky. Decorates his house with a new theme each year. Once commissioned a giant model spaceship 'wreck' on his roof and had alien corpses spread across the lawn. Would enter any costume competition he could fit in the schedule, if he wasn't banned.

Gage; He likes Halloween for one reason, and one reason only. When he was a young boy, he hit a growth spurt overnight, way ahead of his peers. So, before Halloween, a local farmer, hosting a corn maze, offered him a job in the maze as a slasher. Maybe it was destiny, or maybe that job helped Gage who he is. But to this day, even if he isn't as spry, Gage finds a haunted maze, and sends them his Chasing People Through Fields resume. There is no greater joy, to him, than hiding around a corner, hearing those poor, poor teenagers whine it'll be cheesy, this is lame, it's so fake...before he goes a'huntin'. It's exercise, it's therapeutic, and it makes for good conversation.

Hancock; His house naturally looks spooky, so he never has to decorate. Very pleased with this. Joins Cait for movie night with MacCready, Piper, Sole, and Preston, and always eats too much. Hancock spends a stupid amount of money on the good Halloween candy, and is part of the "Curie, Fuck Your Apples" gang. Will hide in her bushes and hand out the good shit to children if Piper can't talk her down to at least fruit gummies. Once, trying to be a friend, got Danse out of the dingy, dark hole he calls home, and into Pickman's Gallery, an annual haunted house. Thought it'd be fun, spontaneous, help him live a little.

Hancock didn't know folding chairs could...bend...

MacCready; Matches his costume to Duncan. Attends Cait's movie night. Once had a Parental Panic Attack at a movie involving babies in danger and now Preston has to screen everything to make sure its clear of child murder. MacCready himself goes hogwild with the candy. Makes pumpkin-shaped, pumpkin-flavored food. Takes Duncan to the festivals and carnivals, really wants him to not end up like Uncle Danse, who handled active warzones better. Mac tends to buy what he can afford, which means the cheaper, variety bags of hard candy. At least it isn't apples, Curie.

Nick; As a theater kid and bisexual, Halloween is like his second birthday, behind Valentines day (which isn't his actual birthday either). His costumes are tasteful, inspired, thematically appropriate. His favorite is the classic vampire, with a long, flowing cape, a high collar, and lots of shiny buttons. Carries a giant sack of candy and toys, wanders through the neighborhood, helps lost kids and keeps an eye out for unsavory types. Always ends up having to chase Dogmeat down after he swipes a candy bowl.

Piper; Saves up all the money she can to spare on the after-Halloween candy. Really into campfire smores with ghost stories. Also joins Hancock for haunted houses. Once, on accident, went into Gage's corn maze and recognized him by his build. Hid from him by staying on the blind side. Texted him videos of him charging past her after other maze-goers. Received a "🖕". Piper doesn't go all out on the odd occasion she dresses up. Tends to use clothes she already has. Is the spokesperson for the Fuck Apples gang, tries to talk Curie into something less...shit, each year. Doesn't hand out candy, takes Nat out trick-or-treating. Ends the night at Codsworth's, nothing like a hot dinner after a cool evening walk through the neighborhood.

Preston; Tired mom friend. Goes out into the woods looking for Danse when he doesn't answer his phone, makes sure he rejoins society, doesn't go off the grid. DD after movie night at Cait's. Wasn't into Halloween as a kid, but he participates as an adult to spite people who think adults can't celebrate it. Preston helps Codsworth handle his block party, and buys toys and such for kids with dietary restrictions. Dresses as either a cowboy or a revolutionary soldier. Went as a green toy soldier once and is still finding paint smears in his house. Sturges did warn him.

X6-88; Conflicted on Halloween. On one hand, childish. On the other...full of potential, possibilities, opportunities. He likes the chance to legally frighten people and have it be socially acceptable; he does not like people knocking on his door. He doesn't like pranks, but enjoys the theming and aesthetics. He dislikes the costumes, but people don't bother him dressing the way he does naturally (spooky and Terminator-esque). Eventually, settles into taking simple pleasure from it. He doesn't do much to celebrate himself, though. Not on the 31st, at least. No, no, no.

The real holiday is November 1st.

November 1st is a professional sport, as for as X6-88 is concerned.

[junebug-is-on-jupiter]

Merry Christmas, My Love | Jake Kiszka

Merry Christmas Eve for all who celebrate/Happy Holidays to everyone! Thought I would post a little christmas coziness with Jake to mark the occasion.

Warnings: None, all christmas fluff!

Word count: 1.4k

Playlist: 

The Christmas Song (Merry Christmas to You) - Nat King Cole

"Jake," I hummed, shaking my boyfriend's shoulder as I lay in bed, just having woken up. Jake groaned but simply rolled over, dragging the majority of our grey comforter with him.

"You can sleep in on any other day of the year, it's Christmas morning!!" I insisted. "Santa came!" I added when he just grunted again.

"Santa isn't real," he argued from where his head was buried in a pillow.

"Okay, that's rude. “I huffed. He just gave a lazy grin in response, eyes still closed. “Fine, I guess I'll just have to open gifts on my own because there is no way I'm waiting on your lazy ass," I said, flinging the small amount of blankets I had left off of me and pulling on a sweater of Jake's that was carelessly strewn on the dresser.

"Well hold on," Jake insisted, his head popping out of the mound of blankets. "Just give me a minute, it's probably like 6 am," he complained.

"It's 9 o'clock," I laughed, turning the clock to face him for proof.

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes before his head disappeared again.

"You are... unbelievable." I grinned and shook my head. If he couldn't get up, then I would carry on without him. He would join me eventually. I made my way to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, peppermint bark flavored, as well as pulled out some bagels to toast. As the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted its way around the house, I heard some banging from the bedroom and a curse followed swiftly after.

"You okay?" I called, my eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah, this dresser fucking attacked me." he yelled back.

I smiled, "Wow, well tell it to stop or it's gone in the next yard sale. No hostile furniture in this house."

"Hear that you bloody piece of wood?" I heard him ask the inanimate object.

After I had plated the bagels and placed both them and two mugs of coffee in the living room, Jake padded down the hall and stopped in the doorway. "Hey, come take a look at this." he called me over, leaning in to look at the door frame until his face was nearly touching the paint.

"What's up?" I asked, coming over to stand in front of him.

"It's right there," he said pointing to a spot on the wood.

"I really don't see-" He cut me off by standing up straight, grabbing me around the waist, and pulling me in flush to him. My arms when up to his to grab for balance.

"There's nothing on the wall," he said simply.

I raised my eyebrows, "Oh really?" I asked sarcastically.

"Unfortunately not, but there is something above us. What's this? Looks like mistletoe" he asked, looking up. The sprig of mistletoe I had put up two weeks ago and forgotten about loomed over us.

"Real slick," I assured him.

"I try to be," He slid his hands up to the back of my neck and gently pulled me in. The kiss was slow, it was a quiet morning and the soft fall of snow. It was perfect.

He pulled away after a moment, "Now what were you going on about presents?" He asked.

I smirked, "Well since you asked, I want you to open yours first. I've been waiting months without telling you, but I'm about to just blurt it out if you don't just open it." I insisted, pulling him to the couch where he sat, and I dug under the tree for his gift.

"Okay, now I'm nervous," he murmured.

"Me too, I hope you like it." I said, finding it and handing it to him.

It was a thin, square package, obviously a record or two, but I had sandwiched something between them as a surprise.

"Hmmm what could it be?" He teased, taking it from me as I sat down on the couch next to him.

"Open it and find out," I said. So he did, ripping off the paper and tossing it to the floor.

"The Nat King Cole Story? No way, that's awesome. It has all our songs on it." He said picking up the first vinyl and flipping it over to see the back with the list of songs.

"Thank you. I love it," he said, putting the gift down to wrap his arms around me in a hug and kissing the side of my face.

"You're welcome, keep going." I urged.

"Okay okay." he laughed, turning back to his gift.

He placed the vinyl on the coffee table and went back to his treasures. On top of the next vinyl was a printed receipt for a hotel as well as two plane tickets.

"What's this?" He asked, picking them up to inspect them.

"Well, we just loved Australia so much, and we talk about it all the time, yet we didn't get to do all the things we wanted to with your touring schedule and me having to leave early, so I took a look at your calendar and saw you had a break in the spring. So I got to thinking and I got us tickets to go back to Australia, but this time, just us two and entirely for fun. I mean, if you want to that is..." I waited for an answer, but he just stared at the tickets in his hand. "I got insurance just in case you don't want to go and it was really just an idea." I rambled getting nervous.

"Absolutely not," he responded, his head whipping up to look at me. "We are going on this trip, are you kidding? This is like the best gift ever!" He said dropping the papers on his lap as he tackled me back to the couch. He squeezed me tight and said thank you over and over as I laughed and told him he was welcome.

"I can't breathe," I whispered finally after he had calmed down.

"Oh sorry," He apologized, pushing himself back up and reaching back to pull me up by my outstretched hands.

"So I take it that you like it?" I asked, wanting to make sure before I got my heart set on Australia.

"I love it. Thank you so much." He smiled at me.

"Good, one more thing," I said pointing to the last vinyl that got thrown to the coffee table in his rush to thank me.

"Oh right," he said picking it up and pulling off the rest of the paper.

"Arctic Monkeys," he read aloud. "I love them," He said, flipping it over to take a look at the back. "Thank you." He said, placing it on the coffee table with the rest and getting up. "Your turn," He said giddily.

"Oohh," I giggled, reaching for the wrapped gift he handed me after a moment.

"I don't know it you'll like it, but they seemed like you and I just couldn't resist," he explained as I tore away the paper.

It was a shoe box and when I flipped up the lip, the most glorious satin, multicolored boots stared back at me. "Shut up!" I exclaimed, picking the top boot up and feeling the smooth texture. "I love them! Thank you so much, Jake. They are perfect." I said putting it down and it was my turn to tackle him.

He simply laughed but quickly pulled away. "That's not all." He said getting back up.

"What?" I asked, wondering what else it could be.

"Here," he said sitting down and handing me a small wrapped box. I pulled off the wrapping and saw that it was a jewelry box.

I opened it to find a delicate oval locket inside with an intricate floral design etched into the face.

"Open it." He urged.

I undid the clasp and opened it to find a picture of Jake and me from our one-year anniversary a few months ago, taken in front of our favorite restaurant in Nashville as we smiled into a kiss.

On the other side was an aging white petal tucked into the metal.

"What is the flower from?" I asked, my finger ghosting over the side of the necklace.

"It's a petal I saved from our first date. That was when I knew you were the one so I saved some mementos." He shrugged.

"Jake..." I trailed off, at a loss for words. "That's so sweet," I said, my voice cracking from emotion. "Help me put it on?" I asked, standing up and holding out the necklace.

He stood up and took it, so I turned around and gathered my hair so he could see. His fingers were butterfly wings on the back of my neck. After he had clasped it, his arms found their way up around my shoulders and pulled me back to lean on him. We were facing the window and watched the snow start to slow its descent, but still leaving the ground covered in a fine layer of white fluff.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

"I love it," mimicking his answer from earlier. "Thank you".

"You're welcome, I'm glad you like it," he answered.

"I really do, Merry Christmas Jake." I told him.

"Merry Christmas, my love," Jake said back.

[thnxforknowingme]

Naughty and Oh, So Nice

Pairing: Kublam

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Kublam returns for some seasonal smut! Kurt and Blaine don't see Sam much nowadays, so when they're all in one place over the winter holidays, they have to take advantage of the occasion.

Notes: Many thanks to all the other writers who have contributed to the 2022 Kublam explosion. This particular fic could be seen as a distant sequel to Confluence, but otherwise isn’t connected to the quasi-shared ‘verse created in the Impromptu Unofficial Kublam Summer Smut Fest. For the purposes of this fic, I imagine that Kurt, Blaine and Sam all had sex together semi-regularly while living in the loft, but that was the extent of their relationship. As in canon, Sam eventually moved back to Ohio and Kurt and Blaine eventually got married. This fic takes place approximately five years after their first threesome. Special thanks to the Lima Bean Discord server - particularly Court, Jen @1908jmd and Gwen @cerriddwenluna - who gave invaluable feedback to help me write something that even approximated sexy when I was feeling extremely unmotivated.

Christmas in Ohio - slushy and cold, the trees barren and sky the palest blue, suburban lawns decorated with the tackiest of inflatable singing decorations. More importantly, family and friends brought together after long periods apart. Present-giving, meal-cooking, and cozy reunions of all kinds.

Kurt could work remotely, and Blaine was between jobs - bad for rent payments, good for vacations - so they were able to spend over a week back in Ohio for Christmas, away from the holiday crowds of New York. They spent most of their time with family, but when Blaine’s parents departed on a Caribbean cruise on December 26th, leaving the Anderson house entirely empty, they gathered all their high school friends who were in town for a good old-fashioned Glee Club party.

The festivities lasted late into the night - drinking cider and wintery cocktails, decorating and feasting on Christmas cookies, singing songs around the piano. Finally guests began to reluctantly leave, as many had flights or family obligations the next day. Kurt had walked out to wish Rachel goodnight at the door, leaving Blaine to continue a heated debate with Sam, their last remaining party guest.

“A Christmas movie has to have like, Christmas-y themes,” Sam insisted. “It has to feel warm and cozy, you know?”

Sam was wearing a Santa hat with a bell in the white puffball at the tip, which jingled every time he moved his head.

Blaine took the miniature candy cane he’d been sucking on out of his mouth to respond. “Maybe your definition of how Christmas feels is just too narrow.”

Blaine heard the front door shut, and the sound of Kurt’s footsteps returning to the room. “Kurt,” he started, hoping he could get his husband on his side - Kurt was great at winning arguments, something Blaine normally loved about him, except when he was the person Kurt was winning against. “What do you -”

“I am entirely uninterested in arguing semantics over Die Hard,” Kurt cut him off as he sat down on the couch.

“Ha!” Sam shouted, as though Kurt’s refusal to participate meant a victory for him. He threw an arm around Blaine’s shoulders, and the movement caused both of them to stumble, the bell in Sam’s hat jingling as they regained their balance.

Sam smiled over at Kurt, then glanced around the room. “Is everyone else gone?”

“Yep,” Kurt said, tucking one of his feet beneath him. “It’s pretty late.”

Sam looked at his wrist, but there was no watch there. “I guess I better get going, then.”

“You, sir,” Blaine said, tapping the center of Sam’s reindeer-patterned sweater to make it abundantly clear who he was addressing, “are too drunk to drive home.”

Sam stared down at Blaine’s finger, and then looked up to meet his eyes. “That is very true.”

“Well, you’re welcome to crash here for the night,” Kurt said, “or for however long you need to sober up.” 

Blaine saw Kurt smile, and his own chest filled with warmth. He knew that Kurt missed Sam ever since he moved back to Ohio. Blaine and Sam had enough in common that they texted each other frequently about movies and comic books, and occasionally managed to align their schedules and play video games together. Kurt didn’t tend to talk to Sam much when they weren’t in the same physical location, but Blaine knew he valued their friendship and was glad to be back in his company.

Blaine ducked out from under Sam’s arm and headed for the couch, collapsing next to Kurt. “This has been a very merry Christmas,” he said.

“You did go pretty hard with the peppermint schnapps.” Kurt replied with a wry grin. He looked up at Sam and patted the couch on his other side. “Come on,” he said.

Sam sat down - close to Kurt, but not leaning into him like Blaine was. “It’s been a long time since it’s been just the three of us,” Sam commented.

With those words, something in the room changed - the heat from the electric fire seemed suddenly more intense. Kurt glanced down at Blaine. Blaine raised an eyebrow, and Kurt smiled back. “That’s true,” Kurt acknowledged slowly.

Blaine sat up slightly, so that he could look at Sam. He sucked on his candy cane as he considered his next words. “Maybe we could do something to celebrate this reunion,” he said. “For old time’s sake. What do you think, Sam?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Definitely.” He paused. “You’re talking about sex, right?”

“Yes,” Kurt and Blaine said simultaneously.

“Then yeah, totally,” Sam agreed, already sliding closer to Kurt.

The music that had been playing through the Anderson’s sound system ever since the partiers ceased their caroling clicked over to Santa Baby just as Kurt leaned in to press his lips against Sams’.

.

There was something nostalgic about all three of them together like this, and they settled into their dynamic with the familiarity of slipping on a cozy Christmas sweater or stepping back into a childhood home. The give and take of three bodies maneuvering together, the sounds and tastes of each other igniting old memories of times in the loft. It was reassuring and thrilling all at once as they kissed and touched on the couch, growing increasingly needy, warm outer layers of clothing being shed until they shifted to the spacious, plush rug in front of the fire.

Kurt was just reaching to unzip Sam’s fly when Blaine said, “Hey, why don’t we try that thing you mentioned to me?”

Kurt looked up, blinking as he tried to focus on his disheveled husband. “Huh?” he asked, but before Blaine could respond he realized what he’d been referring to. “Oh,” he said, his face flushing as he remembered the idea he’d shared with Blaine a couple of months ago. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, we could do that. If Sam is into it.”

“Into what?” Sam asked.

Kurt took a deep breath. It had taken some courage to admit this desire to Blaine, but as he met Sam’s gaze, he knew that he was safe here - Sam had trusted them with so much, and he could share in that openness without fear. “I want you to tie my hands and make me watch you,” he said.

Sam blinked, and Kurt couldn’t help but notice how pretty his eyelashes were. “Watch us do what?"

Kurt raised a shoulder in half a shrug, as though any of this could be nonchalant. “Whatever you like. I just wouldn't be able to touch you.” He swallowed. “Or myself.”

It was hard to articulate exactly why this appealed to him. He’d always loved watching the way Sam and Blaine moved together, getting to witness how they made each other fall apart - it was so sexy that he could never help himself from joining in somehow. Something about removing his ability to do that - denying his desire, building anticipation as he got more turned on and desperate for touch he couldn't have - made him shiver.

"Okay,” Sam said gamely. “Whatever makes you happy.” The earnest care in his voice made tenderness and arousal battle for attention inside Kurt.

It probably would have been the most practical to go grab an old necktie from Blaine’s bedroom, but Sam had another idea. He stood and walked over to the staircase, unwrapping a length of tinsel garland that was decorating the bannister.

Meanwhile Blaine reached under the hem of Kurt's shirt, his nails grazing against Kurt's skin as he pulled it up his torso and off of him. The room was comfortably warm but it was still a slight shock for so much skin to be exposed, and he felt goosebumps break out on his arms.

Blaine accepted the garland when Sam returned, and moved behind Kurt to bind his wrists. Sam took over undressing Kurt, unbuttoning the clasp on his pants, the slightest of friction against his crotch already making him ache.

Blaine wrapped the garland loosely around his wrists. “Is that okay?” he asked, leaning in so his breath was warm against Kurt’s ear.

“Uh-huh,” Kurt replied shakily. It wasn’t the most comfortable against his skin, but it would serve its purpose for the relatively limited time they needed it for. Already Kurt’s body seemed more sensitive, feeling the air around him and the heat emanating from Blaine and Sam next to him. The pressure of the bonds keeping him from moving his hands, and the knowledge that he was subject entirely to their whims, sent a zing of pleasure straight to his cock.

Once he stepped out of his pants, Sam put a hand on his shoulder and applied gentle pressure, encouraging Kurt to kneel. As he settled on the rug his face was even with Sam's pelvis, and he could make out the shape of his growing erection. He started to lean forward -

"No," Sam said, his hand holding Kurt firmly in place. "You just wanted to watch."

Kurt relented, leaning back on his heels.

“Good,” Blaine said, bending down and putting a finger beneath Kurt’s chin to guide him into a quick kiss. He still tasted of the candy cane he’d had before. “Now sit back and enjoy.”

In their past exploits, they’d learned that threesomes almost inevitably involved taking turns - there was a balance between being involved and getting in the way. There were always points in their encounters where one of them wasn’t directly giving or receiving physical pleasure. But they’d never done it intentionally like this before.

Blaine lay back on the rug, just a few feet from Kurt, and Sam hovered over him. They kissed, melting into each other, their hands roaming confidently as they made out. Kurt watched as Sam undid the buttons of Blaine’s shirt one-by-one, Blaine’s eyelids fluttering closed as Sam explored the newly revealed skin. He ran his hands over the roughness of Blaine’s chest hair, and leaned in to flick his tongue over Blaine’s nipple, repeating the action until Blaine keened.

It was agonizingly slow, and Kurt’s body grew increasingly tense as he watched, unable to touch or press or taste. He felt himself growing hard, his dick straining against the fabric of his underwear, and he had to bite his lip to keep from whining.

Finally, the last of Blaine’s clothes were removed, the familiar shapes of his body fully on display. Kurt had seen Blaine like this so many times, knew his naked body so well, but that repetition did nothing to quell the heat that rose through him. Blaine reached for Sam’s head and pulled him in close, putting his lips right against Sam’s ear. The tips of Sam’s hair fell against his skin. He whispered something that Kurt couldn’t catch. 

Sam let out a pleased grunt of acknowledgement. “Yeah, okay.”

“Not fair,” Kurt protested.

“Shhh,” Blaine told him, and then he reached for the packet of lube he’d retrieved from their bags.

Sam finished undressing as Blaine started to prep himself, and Kurt could hardly choose what to look at - the strong lines of Sam’s bare legs and the curve of his ass, Blaine arching his back with an expression caught between focus and ecstasy as he worked himself open, Sam stroking his cock as he too watched with a hunger in his eyes that surely mirrored Kurt’s own. It was almost unbearable to take it all in.

Finally Blaine was ready, and after Sam rolled on a condom Blaine straddled him, lowering himself slowly onto Sam’s cock until their bodies were flush together.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Sam hissed.

Blaine placed his hands against Sam’s chest and lifted his hips, setting a tortuously slow rhythm as he rode Sam. His thighs muscles strained as he moved up and down, his fingers tracing the hard lines of Sam’s pecs and abs.

Kurt’s mouth had fallen open and he was breathing unevenly as he watched. Blaine’s movement was hypnotizing, the sight of Sam’s cock sliding in and out of him intoxicatingly sinful. Their bodies were backlit by the fire as Sam’s head fell back in bliss. Kurt’s hips made small, pointless thrusts as he sought any sort of relief for his aching arousal.

After what felt like ages, Sam could no longer take Blaine’s slow pace. He reached up to grip Blaine’s hips, his fingers digging into flesh, and began thrusting up into him. Blaine gasped at the abrupt change in speed but took it well, surrendering himself to Sam’s control. Each thrust shook his body until Sam’s hips stuttered and he stilled as he came, his hands loosening from Blaine.

Blaine took a moment to catch his breath and then pulled off, disentangling his body from Sam’s. He pressed a kiss to Sam’s shoulder and ran a hand through his his hair. Then, finally, he moved across the short but impossibly frustrating distance that separated him from Kurt.

“How was that?” he asked Kurt, just a smidge cheeky.

“Please let me touch you now,” Kurt begged. The building anticipation had been just as much of a turn-on as he’d expected, but that meant he was desperate for attention now.

Blaine complied, kneeling behind Kurt to undo his bonds. “The best part of Christmas,” Blaine whispered as he untied the tinsel, “is opening presents.”

As soon as Kurt’s wrists were free he surged towards Blaine, cupping his face and kissing him with a force that pushed him backwards. As Blaine was pressed onto the rug, Kurt aligned their hips to relieve the tension in his groin.

Their passionate embrace was interrupted when they heard Sam speak.

“Hey,” he started, and took pauses between his words to breathe. “You can - fuck me - if you want.”

Kurt felt a thrill sizzle through his veins at the thought - he was so hard, and the idea of being inside Sam was excruciatingly tempting.  “But Blaine - ��

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “We can take care of him, too.”

.

Sam’s knees and palms sunk into the velvety throw blanket that Blaine had grabbed from the couch as Kurt pounded into him. It had been a long time since he’d been fucked - not having been with any men since he moved out of the loft in New York - and the intensity of the sensation felt like sating a thirst he’d forgotten he had. Kurt’s fingers had been as talented as ever, and now each thrust of his hips sent a shockwave through Sam’s body.

Despite the overwhelm of it, he tried to maintain focus on the other task he’d taken on. Blaine knelt before him, his elbows resting on the couch and his cock heavy and full in front of Sam’s face. Blaine had given him an incredible orgasm, and he wanted to return the favor.

Somewhat clumsily - as his hands were busy holding him up - he tongued at the head of Blaine’s cock before closing his lips around it. He stretched his neck so that he could take more of Blaine, and hollowed his cheeks.

Blaine gave a low grunt of pleasure, and apparently that did something for Kurt, too, as he slammed into Sam’s ass with increased vigor. Sam tried to bob his head, to take Blaine deeper and find some kind of rhythm, but it was all too much - the feeling of Kurt pumping in and out of him, trying to keep his throat slack and not gag, maintaining his balance in this position.

He pulled off of Blaine and looked up at him. Blaine’s pupils were wide, his hair curling with sweat. He reached over and held Sam’s jaw, his thumb stroking Sam’s bottom lip. “You okay?”

“I just - “ Sam said, and then swallowed. Kurt’s fucking had slowed, and the drag of his cock was so amazing and so distracting. “Could you - take control?”

Blaine’s eyebrows rose, but he nodded. “If you want.”

“Not rough, but - yeah.” Sam told him.

Blaine lifted his other hand to cradle Sam’s head securely. “Hit my leg if you need me to stop,” he said.

Sam nodded, and he opened his lips. Blaine pushed in and began to shallowly fuck his mouth, and Sam relaxed, losing himself completely to sensation. He was rocked by the movement of both Kurt and Blaine, and there wasn’t a nerve in his body that wasn’t on fire. He didn’t feel like a person so much as a vessel for pleasure. It was something debauched in a way he couldn’t imagine doing with anyone he didn’t trust implicitly. 

Blaine kept his promise not to get rough, never giving more than exactly what Sam could take, but before long his movements grew more erratic. The coordination that he and Kurt had built faltered as Blaine raced closer to the edge, his cock sliding between Sam’s spit-slick lips until he was coming down his throat. 

Blaine pulled away and leaned back against the couch, leaving Sam with an aching jaw and a bitter aftertaste. Sam shifted down onto his elbows, and the new angle of his body as Kurt thrust into him sent sparks up his spine and blood rushing back to his cock. It was like all the pleasure he’d tried to give was being returned to him tenfold - it felt beyond his physical body, as though he’d reached some new plane of divine stimulation. Kurt hammered into him relentlessly, and Sam reached down to fist his own dick, the roughness and tightness of his hand giving him just the friction he needed until his euphoria burst and he came, splattering onto the blanket beneath him.

Kurt gasped as Sam tightened around him, and his own orgasm followed. He rocked their bodies together a few last times, letting out heavy, gratified breaths against Sam’s back before pulling out.

Sated and sweaty and sore, they all collapsed onto the rug. The light in the room flickered unevenly from the fireplace, supplemented by the glow of the Christmas tree. The stereo played on in the background, Andy Williams’ voice proclaiming it the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. The room smelled of peppermint and chocolate and sex.

Kurt let out a long sigh, shifting so he could rest his head against Sam’s shoulder. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

They all laughed, exhausted and giddy. Blaine curled up against Sam’s other side. “And here’s to many more,” he whispered, and Sam couldn’t help but grin at the thought.

It was late, and they would need to clean up - he hoped he hadn’t ruined that throw blanket, it was really nice. He should also probably drink some water to avoid a major hangover the next morning.

But for the moment, there was nothing he wanted to do more than lay heavy-boned in the close comfort of his friends and lovers, savoring the brief time that they had together over the holidays. Cuddling together in front of the fireplace, heartbeats echoing through their bodies, he was grateful for the warmth and light they could share during the darkest, coldest time of year.

[kptssecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @languishingindian!

Hello, my Secret Santa giftee,

I hope you like my little ficlet I wrote you,

I tried adding all your favourite tropes to the story.

Have a wonderful holiday time!

*****

Our Differences Enrich Us

Sometimes Vegas just takes a step back and stares at Pete in awe. Life was so much easier when his lover was tied up at the safehouse and not running amok, causing a havoc everywhere he manages to reach and touch with his pretty little fingers. 

The two of them are as different as two people can be.

*

As for music, Vegas isn’t really a big fan. He enjoys the occasional classical music opus, especially when he’s back from an exceptionally tiring job, a Jean Sibelius Symphony no 5 will almost take his breath away every time he hears the highlight at the end.

But every couple of days, Vegas has a front row view to a pop music concert, performed by Pete in their cozy kitchen, his lover only wearing a large T-shirt. The ear-deafening loud banging and cheery music.. The singing.. the dancing.. 

Jesus, his bare ass when Pete reaches up to get the cereal from a high cupboard, still wiggling.. 

Vegas loves the view but detests the ruckus.

*

Actually working for the main family after the failed coup, Vegas is so thankful he doesn’t have to wear the boring outfits the crew members use. It would be a downright shame. He’s proud to say he’s still the most well-dressed member of the Theerapanyakul family. Now, Pete on the other hand, that dude has completely let himself loose. Short shorts and kiddy T-shirts with childish cartoon characters on them. Vegas is scared that one day someone will mistake them as father and son when they walk hand-in-hand on the street. (Although he doesn’t mind being sugar daddy for his Pete).

“For the love of god, what on earth are these, babe?” Vegas motions his head towards the abomination, actually shook. He’s seen men get beheaded. Gunned down. Just two days ago he pulled out three wisdom teeth from a spy to get them to talk. He has never seen anything more hideous than these khaki pants laying innocently on their shared bed. Who needs that many pockets anyway??

“Oh? I just got these! Don’t you like them, darling?” Pete’s face is so angelic and innocent when he says it that Vegas develops a devious plan right away - as soon as Pete puts the horrendous khaki pants on, he’d rip them right off him and make sweet sweet love to Pete right after. 

He’s sure Pete wouldn’t be mad..

*

Then there’s the stubbornness problem. They are both so damn headstrong. Vegas riots like the raging sea – harsh words and wild punches (never at Pete, though). That's how he was raised under Gun's palm, confrontation of any kind will bring out the beast trapped inside him. Pete, with his stoic calmness will be rational, his eyes stern and cold. That's what you get for falling in love with an ex-Theerapanyakul's main bodyguard, I guess. 

Afterwards it's always wet eyes, love confessions and apologies, though.

*

Weekly grocery shopping has Vegas on the brink of tears. He makes a meticulous list for all the food the two of them need to survive a whole week. He could call it his passion. 

Making plans. Scheming.

Pete, on the other hand.. the love of his life promises not to meddle between Vegas and his grocery shopping and says he’s bored and just wants to tag along with him to the market. It’s a whole other story when they actually get there. Vegas is amazed at how Pete manages to keep his weight (probably the hours his love spends in the gym?) if he insists on buying 3 different types of nachos ‘just to check which are the best flavored’ and his ‘let’s buy some ice cream in case Macau comes by?’, when Vegas knows for a fact that Pete would destroy all of those by himself in the span of 3 days. 

He does appreciate the squish it has added to Pete’s bottom, though.

*

Then there’s the generational gap - which is not really a thing because they are not that different in the age department. But Pete keeps talking about something called memes? 

Vegas tries to periodically remind Pete of how much he loves him, it’s still awkward for him to express his feelings, especially after their interactions during and post coup. “I don’t think I could survive without you, my love” they lay on the bed face to face, just staring, taking in each other’s features. The sun rays playing on Pete’s face make him look absolutely celestial. 

Pete holds his face so delicately before it turns into a couple of friendly pats on his cheek and saying: “So true, bestie!” And Vegas has actual no idea how to reply to that? The confusion is clearly portrayed on his face because Pete dares to roll his eyes and say: “Babe, it’s a meme!” He kisses Vegas’ nose quickly, “And I wouldn’t survive without you, either.”

The other day Pete learned a new meme from Macau who said he shouldn’t use it in public cause it’s an ‘oldie but a goodie’ - so now Pete spends an hour and 15 minutes trying to explain what a yeet is. He forgot how to write it in English and can’t find the video online and he’s grown quite frustrated about this matter, somehow convinced that it’s Vegas’s fault. “Cmon, it’s like you throw something with a force - YEET!” Pete basically whiles the last word, a little kid wildly flapping his arms in the air.

Vegas has had enough, though. “If you don’t shut up about it, I’m gonna yeet you from here to the bed and punish you so hard you’ll walk with a limp for the next three days.” He growls from his throat, this is an actual threat.

Pete beams at that and a full laughter ensues: “You got it, babe! You got the meme!” He jumps onto Vegas’s lap, somehow hitting his Vegas’s chin with his knee in the process and it hurts like a bitch. He feels weirdly proud of himself, though. Pete’s so pleased with himself.

*

Vegas likes to think he leads a nice quiet life, if you don't count the torture and the killings. He plans every little detail of his life, with his silk shirts categorized by colours, schedule for the day already arranged the day before, what he would be eating, when is Macau going to visit them, main family members's schedules so he doesn't come in contact with any of them.. 

He likes to think of his life like a sunny day. Everything is clear and precise. But Pete is more like a hurricane. Porsche could call him at odd times of the day and Pete would drop everything and just run to him. It usually involves Tankhun and his boyband of bodyguards doing something really stupid that Pete has to go and solve the problem.

Other times, Pete gets an idea in the middle of the night, when they are already in bed cuddling, to go and do the most dull things known to mankind. Vegas has to get up, get his motorbike ready because Pete wants that one specific type of ice cream from that specific store on the other side of Bangkok at 2am. Vegas would do anything for his love, though. Whilst on the bike, there would be familiar hands roaming around Vegas's torso until Pete whines that his hands are cold and they find a way underneath his shirt. More soft touches and even more groping. Then there's Vegas trying to hold onto the last thread of his sanity when Pete reaches for his zipper because they are on the highway for Christ sake! 

*

That being said (or thought), their differences are what enrich their relationship and their lives. 

Oh, how Vegas loves him. It feels like his heart is going to burst out of his sternum, he doesn't know how long it can contain all of the feelings he has for his lover.

[fantastic-wizards]

Albus couldn't say he was an expert at dead languages. While he had studied a few out of curiosity in the past, no doubt Corvinus could translate a lot better than he ever could. It did sound rather tempting -- venturing around the world and studying old scrolls. Certainly excited that part of him that always enjoyed feeding his thirst for knowledge. Still, how could he possibly enjoy himself to the fullest knowing that ever move he made would be documented? Not that he planned on getting into trouble. Corvinus was most respectful and so was Albus. Aside from playful banter, he couldn't imagine anything going south. But still… he valued his privacy. He really didn't want anyone knowing which professors he 'cozied' up to during the holidays.

"Oh?" Ah, yes. Spencer-Moon. He wasn't the Ministry's first choice --- as often hinted at by many --- but he was far more qualified for the job than many others hoping to move up in the world --- Travers being one of them. He seemed to think his association with certain pureblood families would win him a few extra votes, but Albus didn't see it happening. There were far too many in line ahead of an arrogant, hot-headed man like Travers. He would remain put for a while until he pissed off the wrong wizard.

"You are making it very difficult to turn down this holiday getaway," he said with a small smile. "Perhaps… I will consider amending my plans IF all is right in the world."

Because regardless of Travers being sent on a wild goose chase, Albus still needed to feel secure. He needed to feel like the world wasn't going to come undone with him indulging in his own self interests for a week. It always felt strange taking time for himself and he knew, even with something as innocent as research, it would still have him feeling like he didn't deserve to rest or do something he enjoyed outside of teaching or making plans to end dark wizards.

"It sounds nice. Being able to escape the world for a while."

And he would very much like that --- to escape for a little while so he could be 'Albus' in peace as opposed to the man the media has made him out to be. But in the meantime, at least there was some amusement to be had, even if it was at his own expense.

"I… perhaps you did not say that you were, but it also wasn't my place to inquire. I just assumed… but never mind that. It's… I suppose in your case, it isn't too farfetched that you would bluntly say such a thing, but I could never."

And he looked away, cheeks burning because geez. Corvinus' next words had much truth in them, but unlike the man across the room, Albus couldn't out himself. Not like that.

"Yes, but… no one knows. Except for those who were paying attention that day so… you and the Scamander brothers. That's it. And I've no plans of telling anyone because…" Because then the smarter people of the world may very well put the pieces together. That the REAL reason ( aside from the troth ) that Albus wasn't hunting Gellert down had a lot to do with them rolling around in bed once upon a time. A scandal indeed. "I just don't volunteer the information. I have doubts that many of the other men on the staff are...like us, and even if they were, I doubt much would come of it. Mixing business with pleasure is generally a great way to uh... complicate things."

And once again Albus found himself backed into a corner. If Dippet knew about Corvinus then that meant the man wasn't necessarily hiding his status. Albus wasn't always one for making such heavy assumptions but it had been easy given the way Corvinus carries himself. Or perhaps much of it was just Albus' own mind making excuses to turn the other way. Regardless of that fact, there were no more secrets in that regard. Corvinus was very much…well, like Albus to a degree and that kind of muddled the waters again. Well, damn.

"Alright, alright, fine. Point taken. I guess its no one's fault but their own for not noting the other ring upon your finger --- hey now, wait a minute. I--- that's--- you know what I meant!" he sputtered. "I meant to say…in GENERAL --- everyone knows you're… we've had this discussion before." By Merlin the hole he kept digging seemed to get wider by the second. Add to it how hot his face felt and he could just die right here on the spot.

"You play entirely too much," he muttered. "You know what I mean. If they think your eyes are stunning, what do you think they say about the rest of you? You know… your FAN CLUB?" He folded arms over his chest again, lips SLIGHTLY poked out. Just a little. A hint of a pout that he would deny until the end of time. "I always behave. I rarely spend my time teasing my poor coworkers. YOU on the other hand…"

Albus  |  fantastic-wizards

He knew Corvinus was right, for their differences were far too great in some areas. They were bound to butt heads again sooner or later although Albus hoped it wouldn’t be much more than a heated, but civil discussion. He hated fighting with friends — evident by the way he was quick in his attempts to shut down a discussion when he felt it going astray. He knew such a tactic wouldn’t always work, especially where Corvinus was concerned, but it was always worth a shot. Walking a way beat having a massive headache and mood drop for days.

“I guess you’re right about that.”

His mind shifted back to the founders and his research over the years. While he hadn’t done much of it lately for obvious reasons, he still found himself mulling over the fact that he never knew Salazar hesitated. Such information should have surely been plastered all over various accounts, but perhaps Albus was thinking too much. The truth became muddy after so many recounts. It was akin to a little experiment he once did in class. He told someone a secret and had them pass it along. By the time it got to the last student in class, his original message had been altered quite a bit.

The same could be said for history. The original recounting was the closest thing to the truth one could get, but original documents had been lost through time. Even some of the old paintings in Hogwarts that maybe knew the truth were nowhere to be found. Albus once suspected they might lay in the Room of Requirement but few even knew of the room. Perhaps it was something added long after the founders. This castle was full of secrets that even now he found himself stumbling upon. Perhaps some day he’d learn the truth, if only to satiate his own curiosity.

“Real honest to god scrolls huh?” Albus knew of some located in the library — not here of course — but in the archives of the Ministry’s library. One could easily obtain them with written permission, but what they had on file was no more telling than what was within history books. He didn’t know how much more Corvinus had dug up during his own research adventures, but it would be pretty neat to lay hands on actual first hand accounts. Furthermore, he knew it couldn’t hurt to start looking for alternatives to killing Gellert, but… Ireland was a long ways from Hogwarts. What even would Travers say? It seemed rather risky but…

“Even after everything, you are still kind enough to invite me to your home. You are much too kind, professor.” He toyed with one of the cuffs about his wrist, having need of something to fidget with nervously. “Admittedly I am rather curious of your scrolls, but more than that, leaving Hogwarts for a spell might… do me some good but I… will have to see how things are in the world coming up to the break. I’ll be watched and followed. That sort of thing takes the fun out of vacation.”

Which was the truth. Even though he knew it would be a completely innocent stay, he still hated the idea of eyes watching the manor with the Ministry possibly speculating over Corvinus. The man all but said he wanted no involvement whatsoever. Traveling to his home was a sure fire way to have the Ministry investigating him too.

Oh but how the mood was an ever growing wave of ups and downs. From the more serious business within Albus’ life to the not-so-serious as it pertained to nosy coworkers. Albus nearly choked upon hearing Corvinus’ story. Professor Latimer had never been shy about getting the information she desired. And Albus wondered if it was just a youth thing. He had noted many a conversations between her and some of the other ladies, bragging about the day’s gossip she acquired by using her charm ( or lack there of in some cases ). Even so, Albus would have paid to be a fly on the wall just to bear witness to her expression. Served her right for being so bold.

There was that and newfound information that Albus was shocked to see Corvinus let roll off of the tongue as if it was nothing of note. In their world, such a thing was a huge deal, especially among the elite. So two big blows of information had come at him hard leaving him almost at a loss for words again. “I… I’m quite shocked to hear this.” he managed. “I mean… you actually told her that— no wait. She actually approached you so boldly? I just— and you— wow. I miss everything,” he laughed, trying to ignore the raging fire within the back of his neck. Wow. Just wow and now he half wondered if he’d ever be able to keep a straight face around Corvinus again. At the very least before he could chalk all of his own antics up to not knowing where he rest on the fence but now? He had nothing and that… kind of frightened him.

“What? A–Ashamed?” Albus scoffed, looking away. So many things were happening right now that the door he leaned against was beginning to feel like the perfect escape route again. He didn’t WANT to run, but he also had no idea how much more of this he could stand before he unraveled again. “I— I could NEVER be ashamed… That is hardly the case. You are you. Easily the best looking…” He paused, realizing what just slipped from his lips. Merlin’s beard this was not how he envisioned this night going but it was definitely going… and going hard.

“That is to say, professor, that you offer little reason for one to be ashamed of being in your presence. I am more than certain a vast majority of the staff would love to be here right now — and not just standing here either.” There. Much better.

He swallowed… breathed… deep breaths… fight off the flustered state. There. He could speak again.

“You are married. It would be quite the scandal should someone think we are…conversing and acting most unprofessionally. Me… a homewrecker and a harlot and you? A dirty, rotten cheater. Could you imagine the looks we would receive?” Albus let lips curve into a small, teasing smile. “We have to set an example for others. So many look up to us you know. So we have to be good. It’s the rules.”

Perhaps the fact that certain things were in his possession would raise some questions. It wasn’t exactly things the common wizard would have though he was FAR from common. Hopefully the pieces were merely things he could chalk up to his research or even his contacts. He’d already made it apparent that he had many acquaintances and had already made it apparent some were in the Ministry itself so surely his status alone would be enough to pass off as a reason as to why they were privatized rather than in the archives or some other place. There were plenty of collectors in the world that had things they ought to not have but most turned a blind eye. There was still time to come up with an EXCUSE if he were questioned on it by Albus. Though more than likely he’d keep such questions to himself.

Watched and followed. By the Ministry, probably though there were others in their world that would also be watching him closely to see what move he might be plotting next. Those were ones that he couldn’t handle though his home had enough of a protective charm to ward them off. And if that fell—— well, he was more than CAPABLE of stopping any that might try to catch the other professor off guard though it would be quite the foolish attempt. There were still some within Grindelwald’s ranks that thought it might grant them FAVOUR so there was no such thing as being too cautious.

He nodded at the question of the scrolls. There was definitely an upside of living so long and acquiring so much knowledge in one place. Rowena would be quite PROUD of what he had gained.  ❝  In their original form so some translating will be needed which I can assist with. You don’t get to my level of study without picking up several dead languages.  ❞  He’d have much work to do before the arrival. But then came the question of pulling eyes towards his own home and that was a thought Salazar greatly disliked.

❝  I’ll put in a word with Spencer-Moon. I daresay one day he’ll be Minister so he’ll have enough pull to perhaps—— DIVERT Travers from you while you visit. That coward does not hold all power within the Ministry despite what he believes.  ❞  Spencer-Moon was one of his prime contacts within the Ministry, had known him when he was just a Tea Boy running errands and the like. Better not to get involved with Travers himself unless he wanted unwanted eyes on himself. He was willing to bet that if he could somehow also get Grindelwald under his thumb, he would despite the RISKS involved.  ❝  Rest assured, my home is free from prying eyes. At times, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist there. It’s quite a good place to escape from everything I’ve found.  ❞  

Every step had to be carefully planned and thought out. There were others that had been to the manor though they weren’t being watched by the Ministry nor were they so OBSERVANT as Albus was. But he had spent plenty of time within the shadows to know the steps to follow and keep himself hidden while in plain sight. It was nothing more than calculation and precision, almost like he was flirting with a very dangerous outcome. Who knew how Albus would react to him being perhaps the darkest wizard the world had seen? Especially to have lived so long acquiring POWER——

But those were thoughts best set aside until that day came if it ever did. Many brilliant minds before him had never known of his roots and true identity.

Oh but apparently his comment towards being attracted to men had caught Albus equally off guard. He raise a brow at his reaction. Choking on words, growing red. Hardly one he expected considering Albus’ past love affair.  ❝  Are you so caught off guard? I don’t believe I ever said I’m EXCLUSIVE to women. I value people of all sorts or, rather, their minds and hearts. I see no need to hide that, our kind had suffered enough PERESECUTION already.  ❞  He had witnessed the worst. Torturous deaths for the sake of some religion or other. So many gone, entire bloodlines wiped out. As much as he disliked it, having children with Muggles was probably one of the reasons their kind still survived and THRIVED. So what did him enjoying a man’s company have to do with anything? There were far greater problems in the world at any given time.

❝  Besides, you’re probably the last person that should react poorly to that. It’s merely another thing we share in common despite our great differences.  ❞  

He watched him stumbling over his words, practically struggling to spit them out and there was amusement shining in light green eyes. Oh, this was truly grand to see him unravelling so quickly over so simple of a question and they certainly weren’t hiding under the guise of what a student might say this time. And how his face lit up at the mention of his appearance, clearly catching on just as he stopped himself though he remained silent for the professor to gather himself for a moment. Attempting to save face at the words sputtered out but they had already left his lips and were released into the air. Was it the fact he now knew he was attracted to men as well that had him behaving in such a manner? Either way, Salazar quite ENJOYED it. Quite a powerful wizard unable to find the right words.

His next excuse was enough to bring a loud scoff from Salazar though the growing grin stayed in place.  ❝  Married? I’m only married so far as no one has actually ASKED me of my status or they would have learned. Headmaster Dippet is well aware of it so I’m sure any rumours would swiftly be put to bed.  ❞  Assumptions were easy to jump to he had learned though to get leave for the holidays, he had been sure to tell the headmaster the true reason for his departure. Or, at least, a half truth.  ❝  Plenty of people still wear rings after a loved one has passed, it’s hardly my fault they don’t inquire. Or even take notice of the MOURNING ring beside it. Besides, I already play the ‘proper’ role. Although——  ❞  he paused and there was that light in jade eyes again, one that so often appeared when he meant to TEASE.  ❝  I’m not the one mentioning how attractive the other is right now, am I? So, are we talking conventionally or for you PERSONALLY, professor?  ❞  

[qyllenhaal]

Good Wives Club [2]

Lee Bodecker x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 4.2k.

Spin-off to American Pie

Chapter One || Chapter Three

Summary: It's been more than a year since she's escaped the ghost of her past but life is never fair to a girl like her. Lee doesn't care that she has a husband, a nice house, and sugary fake friends, he wants what's rightfully his.

Warnings (series): Cheating, smut, violence, housewife kink, period-typical misogyny, age gap (about a ten year difference), manipulation, dark themes all around.

A/N: If anyone wants to be added to future tag list just let me know!

Y/n woke up at 5am with a dry mouth and her head spinning. Her night has been plagued with restlessness and she couldn't stay still. When she did fall asleep, it was for small periods of time. Each time she woke up she was not aware of where she was for the first five seconds, panic almost setting in before she registered the sound of her husband snoring.

The end of her irregular sleep cycle ended because she saw the hallway light was on. She sighed when realized it must be time for her husband to get ready for work. She virtually got no sleep and she'll probably be tired for the rest of the day.

She gets up from their creaky bed and starts walking down the hallway. It takes a while for her eyes to adjust to the brightness as she slowly plods down the hallway. She follows the light to the bathroom where she can hear her husband getting ready for work. On the days he goes in this early Y/n is relieved that she doesn't have to get up and cook breakfast for him.

The door is cracked but she opens it to find him inside. She situates herself in the doorway, watching him shave his face through the mirror.

"Good morning," he spoke with a scratchy voice. Even though Y/n didn't marry Llewellyn for love, she's still attracted to him and likes his company most of the time. She feels an ache inside of her that wants him to take her, but after running into Lee last night she's afraid she won't be able to get Lee's face out of her mind while beneath her husband.

"Good morning. Going in early?"

"Yep. Dad wants to do inventory today since he put it off last week."

"Oh okay," she accepts quietly, ready to leave her husband alone so he can get ready in peace.

However he asks her a surprising question, "hey, did you enjoy last night?"

"Uh, it was fine I guess. Did you?" Her hope is that he at least enjoyed himself somewhat.

"You know I don't like that super fancy stuff like that, but I have to eat crow; it wasn't all that bad and Bodecker's not as bad as I thought. He's kind of a funny guy. I still think he's not as hard on crime like everyone claims he is, but personally, he's not that bad. Florence was nice too. She invited us to dinner on Wednesday night, apparently that's the only night Lee has off. I told her we'd be able to join them."

The turn of events was shocking. Y/n couldn't believe her ears and she thought maybe she indeed was still asleep. Lou was not fond of many people and his only "friends" were his two brothers so him warming up to Lee and Florence left her speechless. So speechless that she didn't register the fact that he accepted a dinner invite for them.

"What?"

"What do you mean ‘what’? You dragged me to that dinner last night and wanted me to be nice, and now you're confused when I do just that?"

"I-I'm not confused...just shocked," she admits truthfully, "I can't believe you want to go to someone’s house who isn't your mother house for dinner —are you sure you want to go?"

"We're going Y/n."

His tone of voice indicates that the conversation is done and over with and the decision has been made. Y/n didn't even get to contest his decision but Lou can tell when Y/n is in a defiant mood. Her folding her arms and walking away was confirmation for him. She stalks her way back to the bedroom where she takes to hiding under the covers.

Lee and Lou under the same roof — it makes her stomach churn just to think about it. They're wildly different from each other but the thing she hates about them is what they have in common.

All she can hope is that this nightmare ends and she wakes back up to a life without Lee's ghost lingering around.

-

She decided to go with a floral dress again. She really wanted to take out the checkerboard dress that made her legs look good and showed off her arms, but Lou would have made her change before she had the chance to step out of the house. The floral print is dizzying, but it's the kind of dress that Lou likes to see her wear.

It's just a small dinner at the Bodecker's house but Y/n opts for kitten heels instead of sensible flats. She feels obligated to look her best despite there being less people to dress for. She's never been alone with Florence save for that day at the grocery store. Florence is always dressed to the 10's and Y/n needs to look just as good, if not better. She claims to hate Lee, but it would be so satisfying if she caught Lee ogling her breasts.

"Are you ready?"

Y/n thought Lou was too dressed up for a home dinner of four. He wore a pinstriped suit and those nice leather shoes he bought himself around the holidays.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she sighs in an attempt to let off some steam.

It was a shorter drive than Y/n expected. Florence hadn't disclosed where she lived before, but Brewer Heights wasn't that for them to live at a distance. The sun was nearly dipped over the horizon and the remaining light that hits their house makes it look like a model home. Everything little aspect and detail Y/n was going to compare herself too. She lives in a nice house, but Florence lives in a nicer house. It tears her up knowing she has the ultimate upper hand over Florence in the form of her own husband and she can't even act upon it. She would royally fuck up her life and their lives too if she decide to let her jealousy get the best of her.

As she walks up their stairs as another man's wife, she accepts that she is jealous. She's always been jealous of Florence even when she didn't know her name. What made her so worthy of all of these things? Lee used to act like he hates the woman so she must be a bitch behind closed doors. It wouldn't be surprising if she is because most people in this town will smile in your face and then gossip about you a minute later.

Lou knocks on the door and only a second later Florence is opening the door with a big smile on her face and Lee right next to her. He wore his police uniform without the jacket while Florence looked like a Lilly Pulitzer catalog girl.

It only took one millisecond of their eyes locking together for Y/n to feel the electricity between her and Lee. She drags her eyes away from his, but she can bet that he has a smirk on her face. He always liked to see her squirm; in a good and bad way.

"Y/n, Llewellyn! I'm so glad you could make it! Why don't you come on in," Florence steps to the side, nudging Lee over with her, to make way for Y/n and her husband.

Her eyes scan over every inch of their house. It's warm, cozy, and oddly comforting. Everything little thing was in its place; perfectly dusted and polished. Y/n is sure that Lee had no hand in decorating this place, it screams Florence through and through.

"Dinner is almost ready. I started the scalloped potatoes a little too late, but it should be done soon! Y/n, do you want to help me set the table?"

Y/n didn't want to leave her husband alone with Lee, but she also didn't want to be in the room with just them. She nods at Florence and follows behind her to their kitchen.

The house smells like Lou's parent's house on holidays. Y/n's stomach rumbles and she doesn't realize how hungry she was. She despises herself for wanting Florence's cooking, but she barely ate today because of how nervous she was.

"I already laid out the place mates, you can place the plates and silverware."

Y/n picks up the expensive dining ware that Florence points towards. She wonders if Florence cooks like this all the time, even when Lee works well into the night.

The walls of their dining room have an awful floral pattern. Y/n is beginning to become sick at the sight of anything that pertains to flowers. The cedar table is perfect for accommodating guests and Y/n wonders how many dinner parties they had in this room. Florence seems to put a lot of stock into being a good hostess. Y/n herself has yet to throw a dinner party at her home, but setting the plates on someone else's dining room table feels like practice. She silently imagines her house filled with Lou's family as she cooks dinner for them.

Florence enters the room and starts placing the dishes in the middle of the table. Her presence takes Y/n out of her fantasy, and when she sees how Florence made a 3-course-meal she feels worse.

"Does the food look good? I tried some new recipes from Julia Child's cookbook to try to impress you and Llewellyn," she admits, "I wasn't sure what you two would like, but Lee loves when I make those recipes from Julia Child and I bet Llewellyn would love it too! I could lend you the book some time!"

"Of course. I love her work!" Y/n lies straight through her teeth. She has no clue who the hell Julia Child is.

Florence grabs one last thing before calling the husbands into the dining room. She places one beer on the coasters designated for Lee and Lou. Lou has never been much of a drinker, but she knows that Lee can knock down a few beers in one sitting. He might be on his best behavior tonight in front of his wife and company.

"Dinner's ready!" Florence called out.

Y/n took her seat on the right side of the table and Florence sat opposite of her. Their husbands come walking in laughing as if they were young boys sneaking back into the house during a family get together. Y/n doesn't like it; she doesn't like it at all. They look too cheery with each other and she knows that Lee is doing it on purpose — she can see it in his eyes when he quickly glances at her. He takes pride in making her uncomfortable. Y/n wishes she had that same affect on him to scare him off a bit, but no matter how chummy she gets with Florence, Lee looks unbothered.

Florence stands up from her seat as if she's presenting the food on the table to an audience. Everything is placed perfectly with the main dish being the middle of the smaller plates.

"This looks great honey, you made a whole feast," Lee walked up to Florence's side and kissed on the cheek. Y/n's eyes are trained on his hand snaking around her waist and giving her a light squeeze before letting go. When she pulls her eyes away from his hands, she sees that Florence almost looks shocked at her husband's affection; Lee is definitely putting on a show for Y/n and it's a damn good one.

Lee sits opposite of Lou and the first thing he does is open his beer. The food isn't even on plates anymore and he's drinking.

"I hope you like Schmidt's, Llewellyn. Lee loves it so it's all we have in the house."

"I'm not one to drink beer often, but I'll try it. And call me Lou, Florence."

Lou was acting out of his normal character. Him only interacting with his family and Y/n left him a bit awkward in the presence of others, but around Florence and Lee he seems to be much...warmer. If Lee was someone else then Y/n would be over the moon, but because it's him she can't even force herself to even look happy about it.

Y/n takes note of how Florence places portions of food on Lee's plate. They were small portions too. She was always strict about what he ate and how much he drank. She's surprised Florence is letting him drink tonight, but she must be trying to look nicer in front of guests.

Y/n was not as controlling as Florence. She always let Lou fix his plate to his liking. She thought it made her a good wife for letting her husband make his own decisions. But Y/n felt a tap on her shoulder after she finished making her own plate. He looked down at his empty plate before looking back at her and nodded towards the food.

"Y/n," he tries to whisper but his tone is rather harsh.

"What?" She whispers back in true confusion.

"My plate."

He looked at her as if she was crazy, as if it was a common occurrence for her to fix his plate. She starts to scramble to save herself from further embarrassment, the sound of silverware against plates so loud. She can feel the stares coming from the other side of the table but she doesn't dare look up.

Her skin began to grow hot. Her husband had embarrassed her in front of Lee and Florence. The worst part was when Florence tried to change the subject to something lighthearted to pull the attention off of Y/n. She felt small and useless. Lou never expected her to fix his plate, but he looked at her as if she was crazy for not doing so. She didn't want to spend dinner almost in tears. This changed behavior in her husband is giving her whiplash and making her dizzy.

"So, Y/n, did you enjoy the other night?"

"It was really nice Florence," she replies sheepishly.

"Susie and I put so much work into planning it. You should join us next time! We're going to start working on the fundraising events for Lee's next campaign-"

"Let's not talk about that tonight Florence," Lee interrupts. It was a moment that would've left Y/n embarrassed if she was in Florence's shoes but Florence was much better at masking her emotions. Only for a split second can Y/n see Florence flinch at his interjection before she just smiles.

"Sorry Lee, you know how excited I get about those things," she masks her apology in a cheery voice.

Dinner basically became a probe of Y/n and Lou's relationship. Florence wanted to know how they met, when they got married, how long they had been together, and what their future plans together were. Y/n let Lou answer the last question by herself because she genuinely didn't know what their future plans were. Lou usually wakes up and decides what major life change they're going to undertake, that's what happened when he decided to move to Brewer Heights.

When the topic of work came up, Y/n thought the coast was clear. Lou talked extensively about the work he does with his father and what his plan is for the next five years regarding the business.

"Once my father retires I'll have to hire someone to do his job. I didn’t go study in school after high school so I can't take over his position, even though it would make things easier."

"I'm sure you can find someone. I know it's rare for someone to leave the city and come to this little town, but Brewer Heights is always a nice incentive!"

"It is nice here," Lou agrees, "and it's quiet. We were in Meade before which is okay-"

"But, it's nothing like Brewer Heights," Florence interjects. "So, Y/n, what did you do before meeting Lou?"

Lee had not looked her way since the plate-fixing incident but his eyes were sure on her now. If his mouth wasn't stuffed with food he'd be grinning from ear to ear waiting for her answer. He knows she's not a good liar, but she's going to have to come up with something.

"I helped my mom with her business. She used to sell fruit preserves out of the house before she passed."

It wasn't a complete lie. She did help her mother label her jars, but that became less frequent when her hours picked up at Tecumseh. Her parents didn't know about her job either; she told them she was a waitress and it was a safe lie seeing as they didn't go out to diners.

"I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sure she was a lovely woman if she raised such a lovely daughter! Have you ever thought of continuing her business?"

"Not really. It was pretty small. I still make the preserves sometimes for Lou and I."

"If you wouldn't mind, would you be interested in making some for us one day? You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's just so hard to find any good fruit preserves around town." Florence's social habits were very transparent once you were around her for long; she tends to make it impossible for people to say no to her by making them feel bad about even possibly saying no.

"I'd love to Florence. I have fresh peaches at home and I can make peach preserves."

"Oh I'd love that so much," she fawns, "a jar for me and a jar for Lee! He loves his sweets."

"I'm not too big on peaches, Flo. You know I like cherries more."

"You always have," she leans into him and pats him on the chest before straightening up again.

The audacity of Lee is astounding, however not only is he a cop, he's the sheriff. It's such a cowardly move to pick at Y/n when she can't react, but what someone would call cowardly, he'd call fun. She looks like she wants to disappear from her spot and it scratches an itch for him. He missed seeing her get flustered and if he'd known that it would be much more enjoyable to taunt her while his wife was around, he would have found a reason a long time ago to bring her around.

And as if the night couldn't be more humiliating for her, Lou finished his plate before anyone else. He devoured the food on his plate, like a starved man. Y/n felt embarrassed when her husband went for seconds. He never eats this much at home, even when she makes his favorite meals. It makes her want to reach across the dinner table and smack Florence in the face. She hates her; she hates that she has to smile in her face and be friends with her. It's her own fault for continuing this "friendship" with Florence, but her rage makes her blind to her own faults.

She could ruin Florence's life with one sentence: "I've been fucking your husband for years." She'd cause a scene but it would be so gratifying.

Instead she just shuts her mouth and lets dinner continue without anymore incidents.

-

Y/n thought it would show she was grateful for dinner if she helped Florence with the dishes. She was glad to accept Y/n's help and the two spent their time in the kitchen while Lee and Lou sat on the back porch. With Lee's influence, Lou took another drink out back with him. Y/n wondered what they had to talk about, but she would truly not like to know.

"Your wife cooks like that every night, sheriff?"

"Enough with the title. And she cooks every night, but she went a little overboard since she was happy with having guests," he tells him. If it was anybody else, Lee would just answer the questions and not have any for himself. However, he really wants to know what Y/n has been up to since she's adopted this new image. "How about Y/n? Does she cook for you like that?"

"Not at all. She tries, but she's not the good of a cook," he brings the alcohol up to his lips before pulling away and sighing, "she tries but it's just not her best."

"Her mother didn't teach her how to cook?"

"I don't know much about her family. Her mother was dead when I met her and her father doesn't seem to be doing so well. They're from the same area as my folks but moved when they had Y/n. Maybe she was just too spoiled considering she's an only child."

Y/n's past was a mystery to Lee too, but he's surprised to learn she hasn't opened up to her husband. All he knows is that whether it was her home life or not, something had messed her up and it was almost made worse by her time at Tecumseh. He isn't sure how she made it out, but so much of her old life still bleeds through.

"You know I thought I was getting a good girl. One that would clean and have dinner ready when I get home," Lou continued.

Lee wanted to laugh in his face. Lou is proof that you can come from a smart family and still be dumb as rocks. How could he not know what type of girl Y/n was when he first laid eyes on her? She'd dress just like his sister Sandy; shorts that suffered from mistreatment over the years and a sleeveless blouse that was always stained. He's sure her hair was mussed up that day too. Many people would mistake her for a whore (which many people did see her as one even though she didn't outright sell her body to anyone).

"It can't be that bad," Lee tried to vouch for his former lover. Even he can name some good qualities about her; they just don't include any wifely qualities.

"It's not, but things could be better. Anytime I tell her to shape-up she gets this timid look on her face and flinches a little bit. I try to be nice and gentle but I'm losing my patience with her. I’m not looking to leave her, but what’s the point of marrying a woman who can’t do anything? She won’t even talk to me about having kids — was Florence ever like this?”

“No. Her family is from here so she’s been primed to be a housewife. But I will say it’s not all that fun havin’ a doting wife…she’s overbearing at times and I can never unwind with her around. She’s always on my ass about somethin’.”

Lee felt the need to vouch for Y/n. Anytime he would go to Tecumseh, she would accompany out back or get into his cruiser whenever he told her to. All the gritty things he dealt with at work, everything he kept inside, he dumped it on her. Florence would never sit there to listen to his grievances. Lee would never admit it, but he was vulnerable around Y/n, he knew that she would always be there to listen and he attached himself to that. In the beginning she wasn’t willingly listening to his problems but by the end she was. She took care of him when he was too drunk to go home, or she would let him take his stress and frustration out on her body. However, it doesn’t seem as if Lou is budging; his mind is made up.

“I work long hours. My father is putting more responsibilities on me. I put Y/n in that nice home, the least she could do is not serve me burnt food. Hangin’ around Florence and that Susie woman should have at least influenced her or something,” he continued to complain.

Florence was the last person that would be able to influence a girl like Y/n. Lee didn't know why his wife was seemingly grooming that girl. If anything it was just another person for her to control since Lee started telling her to knock it off. The only time she can get away with controlling her husband is if they're in the company of others where Lee has to be on his best behavior.

Y/n is not the type to be influenced by another woman. The only woman she held in high regard was her mother. Y/n listens to male authority. She listens to a man that will rough her up a little bit but then be sweet on her afterwards. She’s a little fucked up and jaded from her former “profession.” Lee knows this, but not Lou. He seems to know nothing of her past and Lee isn’t going to snitch on her.

“I can talk to Florence and see if she can do something. I know she likes taking people under her wing and shit. She seems to really like Y/n too.”

“I’d greatly appreciate that Lee. I know I sound like I’m hard on her, but I do love her. It’s hard for me to show when she just doesn’t put any effort in.”

"Don't worry. I'll talk to Florence — I'll make everything right."

[krethes]

For @goodboylupin’s Candy Hearts Challenge. My candy heart prompt was "UR THE BEST". Read below or on AO3

He's fourteen when he realizes.

He's always known, he supposes, in the back of his mind where he stores other unpleasant thoughts (such as his fragile mortality, the ache in his bones, his mother's cough) that he was a little different than the other boys. Lily's shy, questioning press of her lips to his in the library in third year had unburied the Box. James's sloppy that-was-not-just-punch-this-kid-is-bladdered kiss at last month’s Quidditch victory party had blown the dust off of the sealed Box of Uncomfortable Thoughts, but Sirius has blown it wide open.

He’d come back from summer holidays a little taller—not as tall as Remus, who worried he wouldn’t ever stop growing—but broader through the shoulders, stronger. He’d evaded his mother’s multiple attempts at cutting his hair into something “respectable”, and though his voice was changing, settling into a register that made parts of Remus take notice, he was doing so gracefully. While Remus and Peter and James all had embarrassing turns of squeaky falsetto, Sirius appeared to be the master of his own vocal chords.

Remus figures he out to have guessed it would be Sirius. Sirius or James, really, and of the two…Sirius is honestly the better choice simply because he’s unobtainable. James is too, in his own “Evans is looking fit this year, yeah?” way, but Remus could see…something happening between them. Maybe. Once or twice. Sirius, though…he is the wind, whipping through Remus’s life, kicking up leaves and swirling them around in pretty patterns only to leave him breathless and shivering.

Sirius with his watchful eyes and his steadying hands. Sirius with his beautiful, breath-taking face and sparkling laugh. It’s just a pash, Remus hopes knows, and it’ll pass in time, but being in close proximity to someone so perfectly lovely is hard, especially this time of year.

While Valentine’s Day previously went uncelebrated by most of the students of Remus’s year, now that they were all fourteen-going-on-fifteen, there was a certain expectation that hangs in the air. Girls gather in gaggles and giggle at him and his friends when they pass. James and Sirius puff up their chests and walk taller, while Remus and Peter exchange embarrassed grimaces. Notes are passed in class, and plans to go to Hogsmeade together are being made.

Remus keeps clear of it. He’s not interested in girls—that previously referenced kiss with Lily had all but solved that for him—but even if he was, he can’t. There’s a full moon, because of course there fucking is, would he never catch a break?—and while his friends are cozied up in front of the fire or drinking butterbeer and making eyes at each other, Remus will be rending his flesh and turning into a monster.

It’s not as dramatic as that, except it definitely is. He’s tired. It’s been ten years. Ten fucking years of this with no relief. He just wants one month where he wasn’t anxiously watching the night sky. One month of peace. Of normalcy.

“Morgana’s minge, Moony, what’s that quill done to you?” Sirius’s laughter interrupts Remus’s melancholy, and Remus stares down at the quill, cracked and broken in his hand. “S’it one of those Quick Quotes ones, because Gideon gave me one last week and you should’ve seen the things it wrote about our Minnie when I was trying to dictate my Transfiguration essay!” Sirius prattles on in his way, bounding across the dormitory to flop across Remus’s bed. His weight crumples the Potions homework Remus has been fussing over for the past two hours, but it was rubbish anyway.

“Uh, no, it’s…Potions,” Remus offers lamely, gesturing to the smeared essay. He taps the quill with his wand, mutters the spell, and it’s restored, good as new.

Sirius peers at him through his fringe, humming thoughtfully. “Mmm, no, that’s not your Potions face,” he decides, prying the quill from Remus’s hand and sweeping it and his useless homework to the floor.

“Oi!” Remus shouts, thumping him on the shoulder.

Sirius grins and thumps him back, and then it’s on. The four of them wrestle often; it’s a great way to let off steam and besides, the brief dust-ups can settle a score far faster than talking about their problem. Though Remus lets James win most of the time and goes easy on Peter, he can’t pull his punches (figuratively, because punching, pinching, and prick-shots were banned after the Incident of 5 November 1972) with Sirius. Simply put, the wolf doesn't want Sirius to win, though Remus hasn’t ever been able to figure out why. It has nothing to do with how his heart flutters when he’s got Sirius’s attention, because it’s been going on since day one, though it’s not helping him now.

They roll right off the narrow bed and onto the floor below, huffing laughs and looking for weak points. Sirius grumbles about unfair advantage as he pushes on Remus’s shoulders, trying to knock him down, but Remus holds steady, aided by the wolf’s strength this close to the full moon. But then Sirius’s hair falls from its small bun, and god he smells quite nice, doesn’t he, and that brief moment of pause is all Sirius needs to pin him to the ground with a triumphant crow.

“Circe’s tits!” Sirius caws, clearly quite pleased with himself as he kneels astride Remus in a way he really needs to not be doing right now if Remus wants to keep any shred of his dignity in tact. Remus shoves him off, but Sirius laughs as he rolls away, holding his sides. They lay like that on the floor of the dorm, Potions homework well and truly ruined now, giggling like loons. “So,” Sirius says, catching his breath. “I won. What’s bothering you, Moonbeam?”

Moonbeam. Sirius has started making up new nicknames for Remus’s nickname, which is utterly ridiculous and frankly very annoying in how it makes his stomach flop over and his heart leap uncomfortably into his throat. He doesn’t answer right away, and Sirius kicks his ankle impatiently. Remus considers lying, but Sirius’s eyes, even more striking against his flushed cheeks, pin him, too. “It’s stupid.”

“Okay, so it’s stupid. I’m stupid, and you talk to me . What’s bothering you?”

“You’re not stupid.”

“Don’t change the subject, Moony!” Sirius warns, kicking him again.

“I’m just…tired,” Remus sighs, throwing one arm over his eyes to avoid Sirius’s piercing, calculating gaze.

He expects Sirius to make a joke, to tell him to take a nap or drink some tea, get some fresh air to wake up, if that’s his issue, but nothing comes. Silence drapes between them, unfamiliar, like in first year when Sirius would keep his nightmares at bay, curled up next to Remus. There’s a tension there that sets Remus on edge, like something bad is about to happen. But Sirius just squirms his way (somehow elegantly, the tosser) to Remus and rolls to his side, propped up on his elbow to look down at Remus’s prone form.

“I know,” Sirius whispers, and there’s such a profound sadness in his voice that Remus has to look at him. Every trace of mirth and youthful wickedness has fled Sirius’s face, leaving him solemn and grave in a way Remus hasn’t seen since the first time Sirius saw (some of) his scars. “I wish there was more I could do for you, Moony. It’s… it’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s not, but I’m still sorry,” Sirius offers gently, the severity of his expression softening to something just as unfamiliar. “For right now, all I can do is just…be there when you go and be there when you wake up.”

“Not this month, though,” Remus says before he can stop himself. His cheeks flood with heat, embarrassment threatening to swallow him up.

“What? Why not? Are you going…home, or something?” Sirius asks, confusion plain on his lovely face.

Remus peeks through his fingers at him and regrets it—he’s too much to behold. “It’s the fourteenth, Sirius.”

“Uh-huh…and? ” Sirius says, still not quite grasping the issue.

Remus groans and plucks up the remainder of his courage. “And... it’s Valentine’s Day? You’ll be off with Emmaline or Florence or Bertha, or-”

“Whoa, not Bertha,” Sirius, the vain creature, interrupts, and smiles apologetically when Remus huffs.

“Or Marlene,” Remus finishes lamely.

“Don’t take the piss, Moony,” Sirius scolds, flicking his chin. “As if I’d ever be seen with McKinnon. Please.” Sirius and Marlene were far too similar to ever get along properly, Remus knew, but she was very pretty. “Why do you think I’ll be off with one of them?”

Remus pulls his hands away from his face and stares flatly at Sirius. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day? And you’re Sirius Black?”

Sirius shrugs with his non-weight-bearing shoulder. “I am Sirius Black, but it’s a full moon. That takes precedence over something as stupid as Valentine’s Day.”

That fluttery feeling stirs up again in Remus’s belly, threatening to spill out in an embarrassing confession that he’s not quite sure he’s ready to make, and he squashes his emotions down tight. He’s skilled at this, at least, a practised hand at repressing and smothering his stronger feelings to stay…safe, maybe, or at least in control. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Sirius asks. “Moony, you don’t honestly think that I’d abandon you on a full moon because of some made-up holiday? Give me some credit!”

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know,” Remus murmurs, shame-faced. “It’s not like… not like you can do anything once I’m, y’know…transformed. You should go on a date.”

Sirius groans and raps his knuckles across Remus’s skull sharply. “Oh piss off, Moony. I’m not going on a date with some bird and that’s final!” His pride is wounded, Remus knows, and while that fluttery feeling is gone, it’s been replaced by the twist of guilt for having caused the injury. When Remus remains silent, Sirius stands up with an annoyed noise and storms out of the dorm, leaving Remus to wallow in his self-pity.

Remus tries to avoid Sirius in the days leading up to the full moon and, for the most part, is successful. He busies himself with redoing his Potions homework with Lily’s help and helping Peter with his Astrology essay. Sirius, by comparison, flits amongst the girls in their year and above, flirting and joking and amassing quite the following, by the looks of things. So, by the time the fourteenth comes around, Remus assumes Sirius has forgotten all about his hasty promise.

“You sure you’re alright, Moony?” Peter, one foot out the door asks. He’s secured a date with Bertha Jorkins and seems just as surprised as the rest of them that she said yes. Remus has already forced James out and into the amused arms of a Fifth Year girl who finds his twin dimples cute under the guise that James needs a proper first kiss instead of the dozens he’d assaulted them all with at the infamous party.

“If you don’t leave now, Bertha’s going to be furious,” Remus says. He’s not alright, but he has to be. It’s not his friends’ fault—nor their responsibility—to see him off for the night. Peter hesitates one final time, offers a weak smile, and ducks out the door.

Remus paces. He’s restless and scared, something he wishes would just stop. The fear is a lot to juggle on top of the crackling energy that simmers in his core, the wolf preparing for its night out. He’s hungry, but the shepherd’s pie at dinner, with its copious vegetables, wasn’t appealing. Sirius had disappeared soon after that, Remus noticed—because he always noticed Sirius—and he hasn’t seen him since.

Someone’s coming up the stairs, and Remus tenses, spring-loaded apprehension. Sirius bursts through into the room in a bloom of what smells like meat and lobs a turkey leg at Remus, who instinctively catches it. “We’ll make a Seeker out of you yet, Moony!” Sirius chirps, loud and brash as always. He’s got his own smoked leg and takes a hearty bite. “Wot?” he says around a dripping mouthful of turkey—long gone are the posh manners from First Year. “Eat.” Sirius swallows, pounds his chest a bit as it gets stuck, and coughs. “ Moony.”

Remus’s stomach grumbles and he gives in, tearing into the leg with a grateful moan he can’t quite stifle. He glances at Sirius, whose face has gone a bit pink, but he thankfully remains quiet while Remus eats.

“Figured you’d be hungry,” Sirius says when he’s done, and produces a couple of greasy sausages from his robe pockets.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Shut it,” Sirius interrupts, shoving the sausages into Remus’s hands. His face is properly crimson now, and he folds his arms across his chest defensively and glares at Remus until he devours the sausages, too.

A glance at James’s modified tempus charm on the wall—something he’d brilliant come up with that counts down the minutes til moonrise—resurfaces the dread Remus felt earlier. He can’t do this. He doesn’t want to. It isn’t fair. He just…he just wants to curl up and sleep through the night and not face the terror that awaits him. The turkey and sausages threaten to come up, but Sirius places his cool hands on the back of Remus’s sweaty neck and leaves them there, breaking  him out of his spiral.

“You…don’t have to stay. Pomfrey’s going to meet me, and-”

“Hey,” Sirius says, giving him a little shake. The wolf doesn’t like that, but Remus bites back the bubbling growl. “I made a promise, didn’t I? You will never have to do this alone, Moony. I know… I know I can’t go with you, not y-” Sirius exhales sharply and releases him. Remus’s skin tingles where his fingers gripped him, and he mourns their absence. “Just…yeah. We should…you should probably go. I’ll see you in the morning, Moony.”

“Thanks, Sirius, you’re…the best, really,” Remus whispers, dons his cloak, and heads down to the Shack.

Poppy—she’s insisted he call her that since they see each other so frequently—is waiting for him, eyeing her watch, but smiles bracingly when she sees Remus. “Remus,” she greets fondly, her words a warm hug. “I’ll have a big hot chocolate waiting for you in the morning.” She’s stopped apologizing for his situation at Remus’s tear-streaked request in second year, but he feels it in the way her hand rests gently on his shoulder.

The Transformation in the Shack is one of the worst of Remus’s life, and he wishes, when he wakes to searing, terrible pain across his body, that, like the memories of what he did as a wolf, the memory of the agony of Transforming would also vanish with the dawn. The morning’s freeze does him a favor, as he drags himself to the bed, bleeding sluggishly and praying to his mother’s God that Pomfrey comes for him soon.

There’s a swearing at the door, a startled gasp, the scolding of Poppy to someone feigning recalitrance, and the squeal of the Shack door, admitting the nurse…and Sirius. Remus whimpers and drags the thin sheet up over his body. Remus has been careful to hide the full extent of his scarring from his friends, but he needn’t worry. Poppy throws up a concealment charm that prickles his nose, and Sirius huffs in exasperation.

“Poppy, loo-”

“Madam Promfrey to you, Mr Black,” she says, peeling back the sheet from Remus’s chest. “Oh, lad,” she whispers brokenly.

“I just-”

“Mr Black,” Poppy warns, already casting a spell that starts to close the ragged edges of the wound. “I do not know why or how you are here, but if you do not cease your jabbering, I will be telling Professor McGonagall about this.”

Sirius’s jaw shuts with an audible click, and Remus hears him take a seat in the armchair. He’s so close, but from the way his eyes flick across where they stand, Poppy’s charm is strong. “Just help him,” Sirius mutters.

Poppy sighs, but continues to work. “Poor lamb,” she says again, soft as a breath, knowing Remus can hear her. “You’ve done quite the number on yourself, but we’ll get you patched up, Remus. I am going to give you a potion for pain and then one that will make you sleep so I can move you to the Hospital Wing. Is that alright?”

She asks him every month, without fail, something Remus found extremely odd. His healers in the Creature Ward at St Mungo’s had never asked him for permission. They were fans of the knock the werewolf out and poke it method that left Remus with massive gaps in his memory. But he trusts Poppy more than he’d ever thought possible, and nods. “Yes,” he rasps, and lets her tip two vials into his mouth.

He wakes in the Hospital Wing, a warm, solid presence pressed against his arm. Remus startles, making the wound on his—well, everywhere , it would seem, as he can feel a solid line of agony from his sternum to his hip, bisecting him—start to bleed again. But it’s just Sirius, asleep next to his bed with his head propped on his folded arms, on his mattress.

“Moony,” Sirius says groggily, blinking silver eyes owlishly to look at him. “Shh, Pops doesn’t know I’m here.”

“I most certainly do, Mr Black,” Poppy corrects, bustling in to see to Remus’s wounds. “I’ve tolerated your presence thus far because you’ve been unobtrusive, but do not make me regret letting you stay.” She pins him with a hard look, and Sirius nods, cowed.

Sirius stands and steps back so Poppy can do what she can to heal Remus’s injury, but they both know the only thing for it is time. It’s a wide gash, and his self-inflicted wounds reject the normal stitching spells. He just has to wait it out. It’ll be gone in a few days, replaced by shiny, pink skin that will silver with time.

“Can I see?” Sirius asks when Poppy leaves them again.

“I’d rather you not,” Remus mutters. He expects push-back, but Sirius just shrugs.

“Alright. Oh! Here!” Sirius pulls out a heart-shaped box of chocolates that’s beaten up around the edges. “Bit bent, but s’alright, still good, right?”

“Why are you here, Sirius?” Remus protests. He looks dreadful. His hair is unwashed and hangs in uncharacteristic limpness around his face, his robes are rumpled like he’s slept in them—because he has —and there are great, big bags under his eyes.

“Because it’s the morning after the full moon?” Sirius says slowly, arching one brow at him.

“But-”

“Sod off with your buts, arsehole,” Sirius huffs, and opens the box. “I told you I’d be here when you woke up. Now! I took this from Honeydukes last night, but I reckon it’s defective as there isn’t that little guide saying what’s what. That’s where you come in.” Sirius leans in conspiratorially, and Remus can’t help but be caught up in his infectious positivity. They spend the rest of the morning with Remus sniffing out the weird flavors of chocolates, and James and Peter spill into the Hospital Wing after breakfast with more candy and stories of their nights, and Remus reflects that he’s very lucky, indeed, to have such wonderful friends.

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[hes-writer]

All Too Well

Summary: right person, wrong time

Warning: sweet fluff and angst

Word Count: 4519 words

A/N: listen to ‘All Too Well’ by Taylor Swift first as there are some references throughout the fic. I also added time stamps as this occurs over the course of one year. I’m sorry if it’s confused—I tried my best to make it as coherent as possible ❤️

also, covid doesn’t exist in this au!

‘~~~’ = flashback, ‘—‘ = cut scene

November 2020

Y/N scrambled through the many articles of clothing sprawled in her drawer. The fabrics mingling with each other into a giant mess. It didn’t even include the pile of clothes sitting on the mattress and dripping on the floor.

That was the thing with Y/N. She had a habit of keeping things she didn’t need. She wasn’t a hoarder—although, Y/N did keep more things in favour of their sentimental value. It was her thing.

The fact that she could cradle a t-shirt in her palms and tell someone exactly what happened on a day that moulded the story of that specific shirt was her skill. Y/N liked to think that you could tell a lot about a person on what kind of clothes they wore—whether they were seeking affection or isolating, but not lonely.

In fact, her clothes didn’t just hold meaning for herself—it catered pieces of places she went to wearing the outfit. The things she thought of while adorning it, the emotions that she felt as it covered or—barely—shielded her skin. It was especially important to her to remember the people she spent it with.

Like that oversized, knee-length coat hung near the back of her closet. Y/N barely wore it now but seeing it beneath the splayed doors of the wardrobe, she could see flashes in her head about the last time she had worn it.

The way the pea coat flowed behind her as she twirled in a gentle circle, twisting the fabric slightly and catching tiny drops of littered snow. Y/N could picture the bulbous hat she wore on her head. A tiny pompom weighing every which way with the direction of her head. Her hands were in warm mittens that rendered her fingerless. The snow boots on her feet were crunching with every step of the crisp white snow beneath her feet.

It was truly a winter wonderland when the white weather sprinkled down on her—on them.

Y/N could just about feel the same large grin replicating her face when she snapped out her memory. The ghost of the hung overcoat literally hunted her as it rested in the shadows of her closet.

Y/N blinked twice, slouching her shoulders as she stayed frozen on her knees. The carpet wasn’t doing much to protect her taut skin, but she was in search of something and intended to find it. Except, she couldn’t find it anywhere.

She was sure that there was absolutely no way that she could lose it. It was a loud patterned scarf that frayed at the edges. It was, quite possibly, the ugliest design Y/N had laid her eyes upon. Though, a certain someone had reassured her that she looked beautiful regardless. Besides, the air was way too chilly to think about fashion choices that day.

~~~

December 2019

“Why don’t you pose for me, love?” Harry suggested, holding his phone tightly in one hand. That same hand was pulled free of the warm confines of his leather gloves as he insisted on capturing a few photos of his girl.

“You got it, mister,” Y/N replied, bending down to ball a glob of snow in her mitten-covered hand. She could just barely feel the iciness radiating off the protective layer. “Mind if I add some props?”

She lifted her hand, a raised brow quirking up her knit beanie.

Harry chuckles, “Go right ahead,”

He tilted his phone, ignoring the way his fingers lost feeling at the fingertips in favour of watching the woman of his dreams throw the patch of snow in the air. He captured the picture, admiring the way her back looked. Y/N really was beautiful from all angles. It was kind of counterintuitive, really, since it was snowing after all. But Harry was way too enamoured to question the questionable actions of his lover.

Besides, the gleaming smile on her face was enough to wipe his mind clean of anything other than her.

“Great! Why don’t you turn around?”

The woman looked over her shoulder was a subtle roll of her eyes, “No way,”

“C’mon, love. ‘S not even tha’ ugly,” Harry urged, commenting about the scarf wrapped around her neck.

She scoffed, “The fact that you have to reassure me is proof that it is ugly,”

Y/N played with the thin ends of the fabric, smiling to herself as she heard Harry groan loudly behind her. They were staying at Gemma’s house for the holidays and Y/N had purchased the first scarf she had seen at the store. She had nearly forgotten it if it weren’t for Harry calling her the night before to ensure that she would be warm during their stay. Not only was it cold, but the chilliness was just a tad too crisp to leave the cozy home without some sort of neck protection.

So, here she was dressed all cute from head-to-toe except her shoulders. It was a bit stupid to care so much about an ugly scarf design but Y/N guessed it had something to do with wanting everything to be perfect.

“I don’t think it’s ugly,” Harry quipped, sounding much closer than he had before. “‘Think it’s really nice. Especially the cutie who’s wearing it. Mind if I borrow it some time?”

Y/N couldn’t help the appearance of her love-struck eyes, smiling again when she felt his bundled arms snaked around her waist. Harry was warm, as usual, and he was sturdy as a rock both literally and metaphorically. Standing still in the snow gave her a bit of a shiver but having Harry’s body close was a breath of relief.

He cradled her between his arms, resting his own scarf-covered chin on her shoulder. Y/N knew that he must’ve been bending at the knees to reach that height. She clutched his naked hand between her mittens, directing it to a pocket in the confines of her coat to keep warm.

“Are you talking about me or the scarf?”

“How about both? Make it a two-for-one deal, yeah?” Harry’s voice was a bit hazy.

He felt as though he was captivated in a trance, watching the snowflakes rest gently on the slope of Y/N’s lashes. Her eyes glancing at their joined, mittened and gloved, hands.

She sighed, “Why not?”

Harry gave a silent cheer, leaning little ways into peck her cold cheek with his lips.

“Alright, now why don’t ya’ twirl for me, Y/N?” He instructed, taking cautious steps back in the snow.

“Like this?”

Harry nodded, thumbing the red button on his phone to press ‘record’. He watched as Y/N gracefully spun in a circle. Her pea coat flailed just at knee-level. Her boots squelched the starch white snow.

She did a full 360 before fully facing him with a bright grin. Harry couldn’t be sure how much his heart could take. He switched the setting to capture a photo.

“Exactly like that,”

He wanted to remember this.

~~~

Upon realization that Y/N would not get hold of that specific scarf—at least not for a while—because it was at Gemma’s home miles away from her, Y/N forced herself to clean up the mess she had made. Maybe it was the sudden strike of sensitivity coursing through her but Y/N felt much more emotional than she did before.

Perhaps it was the match-strike ignition of burning memories that flickered through her brain because once she started; she couldn’t stop.

It started with the frosty memory of twirling in the deep snow. Then, it was the flashback of driving from the grocery store to pick up ingredients before heading back to Gemma’s.

Y/N couldn’t deny the butterflies she felt playing that particular memory back because it was one of the moments that cemented a deep-rooted emotion in her.

The feeling of being beautiful—captivating, charming and alluring that Harry failed to notice the red traffic light switching to a reflective green. (‘Oi! Eyes on the road’)

She could still see the blush on his pale skin, realizing that he had been caught staring. And, by the way, the car behind them honked when Harry failed to move through the intersection. (‘Sorry, got distracted’).

And Y/N didn’t want to say anything but she could feel his tiny glances over her when Harry thought that she wasn’t paying attention.

———

November 2020

It has been nearly a year now.

Only a few more weeks until the dreaded date looped around to a full year passing. This time, Harry wasn’t around to celebrate the festivities with her and that ugly scarf was an article that Y/N had desperately missed. Ironically.

It would be just under a year when Harry had taken Y/N to his childhood home—now Gemma’s house as Anne had moved to a smaller place. It was where he excitedly showed her his room—the posters on his walls. The comics he used to read and the CD’s he used to listen to piled on his desk.

~~~

December 2019

“Quite an improvement,” Y/N commented, sitting on the edge of his twin-sized bed. She was referring to his King-sized bed from when she had slept over a couple of times.

“I’d say,” Harry agreed. The wood creaked under his weight as he sat beside her.

They both stared at the wall in front of them, feeling a sense of intimacy as Harry shared the remnants of his life to her.

The day continued when Anne had called the both of them down for hot cocoa, paired with a striped red, green and white candy cane dipped in the mug.

This was the part that hurt Y/N the most. It was almost too painful to remember—to reminisce because it was proof that the couple were so close to making a future together.

It didn’t happen, though.

Despite Anne and Gemma’s stories about a once upon a time, dorky Harry in his glasses (‘He still is’)—his family couldn’t stop referencing Y/N as his future.

“Hope your kids don’t take after his naked habit”

“Maybe your garden will have wild roses”

“Reckon you guys will get a small home?”

It made Y/N’s cheeks heat up. His family already thought of her as part of their family. And one sneaky look at Harry ensured her that Anne and Gemma weren’t the only ones thinking of their future because Harry caught her gaze long enough to give her the answer she was subconsciously searching for.

And when salutations had to be said, Harry and Y/N said goodbye to Gemma and Anne as they were to return to their respective London homes.

It was also the day that Harry had asked Y/N to move in with him.

——

It was exciting, to say the least. Moving in with your significant other was a big step in any relationship. The fact that Harry was a world-renowned superstar almost disappeared from Y/N’s mind because even though his home was a million times larger than her tiny flat—it immediately felt like home.

Harry wasn’t one to dwell too much on changes. In fact, he often referred to it as a sign that things were moving forward. There was no use being stuck in the same place when the universe had so much to offer. So, he was quite glad when Y/N made herself comfortable in his—their—home.

She managed to make the large place feel cozy. The decorations and tiny trinkets she had placed all over the house were really just pieces of her heart sprinkled in a home in which they’d build a life together. He would look at a pastel-coloured tea kettle and question when he had gotten the appliance before realizing that it was Y/N’s. Harry would use the tea kettle to boil water instead of using his Keurig.

___

Their schedules wouldn’t always line up. But Harry and Y/N were too loved-up to care how little time they spent with each other. There was no use in complaining when they could use that time to appreciate each other—for sticking around. For being the same when things moved too fast. For being the rock that both of them needed when times get rough.

Harry’s late studio sessions ran through the early morning when Y/N would be cooped up in their shared bedroom. Fast asleep and hugging his scented pillow. Sometimes he would find her bundled with a blanket on the living room couch. The soft glow of the television highlighting Y/N’s beautiful features. One look at her was enough to release Harry of the tension he felt on his joints and shoulders.

Y/N’s night shifts were the same too. She would return to a quiet house because Harry had fallen asleep. Despite his attempts to stay awake, he was not a night owl at all. Not only to stay up past ten in the evening unless he was out to do work. She had reassured him countless times that she would be okay on the drive home and that he should sleep when his body grew tired.

Harry tried to stay awake. He really did. And Y/N could tell because as soon as she crawls to her side of the bed, Harry’s right arm immediately pats the cold sheets for her as if sensing that she was nearby. He would mumble a quiet murmur of her name, “Y/N? Tha’ you?”

He would receive no verbal response, nor would Harry be able to see his love in the dark of the night even because Y/N hadn’t bothered to switch her bedside lamp on. Y/N was aware of Harry’s sensitivity to light, especially if he was in the dark for a long period of time. Despite that, Harry would hum in satisfaction when Y/N’s body would etch perfectly against his in a silent greeting that yes it is her.

They would fall fast asleep cuddled into one another.

If they managed to stay awake or if sleep failed to come, Y/N and Harry would trudge down the stairs for a midnight snack, squealing loudly as one playfully chased the other down the staircase.

Sometimes it was Y/N walking in on Harry munching on a few biscuits (‘Not such a health nut anymore, huh?’). Sometimes it was Harry catching Y/N making a fruit salad—an array of fruits and vegetables laying on the counter (‘I take credit for this’, he would say.)

But it would always end the same.

With both of them dancing goofily with each other. The refrigerator light was the only source of illumination because neither would be bothered to turn on an actual light. Not when the fridge served as a light source and a container of a variety of edible choices.

One night would end with Y/N slow dancing in Harry’s arms. His hands-on her waist, grazing her skin when her pyjamas too lifted. Their bodies would rest against each other like a stacked jigsaw. Harry’s chin on her head, hers on his broad shoulder. A pair of their hands clasped tightly on one another while the other found purchase with their bodies.

Harry would hum a light tune or sing softly so that they can find their rhythm. They would sway across the kitchen—slowly—crying out in pain and laughter when one would bump their hip on the marble counter. Y/N would listen to his heartbeat thrumming beneath his chest and even though she could only see a bit of him—it was enough.

One night would end with Y/N and Harry goofily flailing their limbs every which way. Boisterous laughter filling the room as Harry practically wheezed at Y/N’s admittance of performing a mean Dougie.

And with the fridge light catching the bits of it, Harry would slap his palm on the counter to catch himself before his knees gave out below him (‘There’s jus’ no way you’re that good’). She proved him wrong.

Neither of them knew when it would be the last time these moments occurred. Until they stopped completely.

——

It was the small changes that brought them closer together. And what would inevitably drive them apart.

It was the fact that even though the couple didn’t see each other much, they still cherished the time they had together because that was enough.

The relationship was built off of mutual trust, respect and honesty. Time was essential but Harry and Y/N didn’t necessarily need a lot of it. They just needed the reassurance of ‘always’. That no matter what happens, however far away they were from each other physically, however, the time they spent apart—that Harry would always come back to her and Y/N would always run home to him.

——

It was late-August when they broke up.

Leading up to it, Y/N had been promoted at her workplace and Harry was no longer spending late nights at the studio. He was sleeping in the studio instead of coming home.

Y/N was understanding. He was on a time-crunch since his second album was due to be released at the end of that year. She wanted to be as supportive as she had always been—if not, more. Harry didn’t need more pressure from her—his partner—who was supposed to be his solid ground in a cracking centre.

It was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

It was fine that they were spending less time than they normally would—not that it was a lot in the first place.

He was still trying. She was still trying. Messages, video calls—hell, even emails were there. The rare times when their schedule would actually coincide were spent peacefully sleeping on the bed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Then, Y/N got promoted. More responsibilities. Training her colleagues. Interviewing assistants. Typing detailed emails. Double-checking spreadsheets.

At the same time that Harry was being pulled left and right to make decision after decision. Finalizing next year’s tour dates. Promos. TV shows. Modelling campaigns. Photoshoots. Interviews.

And like any other, answering later turned into a message left on ‘read’. A missed call manifested into an unopened voicemail. A desperate-measures email was only one of the many in each others’ inbox.

Harry wanted Y/N to come with him on tour the following year but it was a stretch waiting to be snapped.

She couldn’t.

Y/N was starting to build her life, building her career and she wasn’t going to give that up for him just yet. He could go on tour and she could visit when time allows. They knew that. Harry would buy her a ticket and she would be off to see him—when she can.

~~~~

June 2020

“I can’t go. You know that,” Y/N sighed, rubbing a palm over her face.

Harry leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom. “I knew that. ‘Was worth a try though,”

They shared a comforting smile with each other. A hint of reassurance when uneasiness prevailed. There was something about the shift from spring to summer that simmered in their chests.

“Promise you’ll come to visit?”

“Of course,”

~~~

London may be Harry and Y/N’s home but LA was calling for him. Hence, why he spent the summer on the other side of the world. On another continent, across the pond, as some people might say.

It’s just a few months. He’ll be back before you know it, Y/N thought.

Harry will be home for the holidays and they would drive up north to spend it with Anne and Gemma as they did the previous year. The year when Y/N had met them for the first time and despite that, attained their approval to build a future with Harry.

Just a few months and then Harry will be back with her. The same Harry who will gently loop an ugly scarf around her neck. Teasing her about its hideousness before reassuring her that it was ‘as stunning as the woman wearing it’. . .or something. Harry always complimented her.

Yet, Harry never came home a few weeks shy before their scheduled road trip as they had planned. And Y/N did not visit him like she had promised to do.

Though, none of them blamed the other because they were too busy with their own lives to keep up with each other. What once was a loving and caring relationship was not a liability pushed to the back burner.

One might say that Harry and Y/N’s love was a case of wrong timing. They were perfect for each other—but just not now.

Because Y/N had a lot of things going for her and expanding her career. Harry was becoming more and more popular and successful by the minute. It wasn’t like they meant to ignore each other or be oblivious that they were still very much in a relationship with each other. Both Harry and Y/N just had a lot on their plate to even think twice about a relationship.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault—really. Even though their phone call says otherwise.

——-

August 2020

“Y-you what? Y/N, love,” Harry spoke through the phone.

Y/N’s breath hitched at the sound of the beloved nickname. It had been a while since she had heard it.

“I want to break up,” She repeated.

“Why?”

The woman picked at her fingernails, distracting herself from going back to the spreadsheet in front of her. She was in the middle of a break up yet her body urged to continue working.

“What do you mean why?” Y/N sighed exasperatedly. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, Harry. You said you’ll be home before Christmas so we can see Anne and Gemma but—,”

“We don’t have to see them! Y’can fly out here and spend it with me,”

“You know, I can’t,”

Upon letting those slip past her lips, Y/N was starting to question if Harry had disconnected because of the eeriness over the phone.

And as he said that night months ago with the alteration of Y/N’s word, “‘Know y’cant. You promised, though.”

Harry’s voice cracked and Y/N wondered if he was gnawing on his lip like he usually would when tears overflowed the ducts of his eyes. In the distance, Y/N heard a door close shut and she wondered if he had been working—the same as her—before she had decided to call and he had decided to answer.

A knife pierced into Y/N’s chest, guilt seeping in her veins as she recalled the words she had uttered to him. A promise that she would visit if he gave her the ticket. But that was then and this is now.

She wasn’t the head of her department then. Y/N had a lot more responsibilities now and she couldn’t just up and leave whenever she wanted to.

“And you promised to come back. Did you?”

He didn’t.

“Look, can we talk about this later? ‘M in the middle of recording and—“

“When are you not?” Y/N cut him off absentmindedly, splitting her attention on the Excel sheet in front of her.

“Excuse me?” Harry quipped, faintly hearing the clacks of a keyboard. “I know I work a lot but y’do too. Barely even respond to my texts anymo’”

“Says the one who doesn’t answer my calls,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes.

And there it was again. The defeat of silence that proved no matter how much they retaliated against one another—neither of them would win because both of them were at fault.

“I was busy,”

“I am, too,”

“Y/N—“

“What?”

“I-I don’t want to lose you. . .”

The ache in Y/N’s chest grew tenfold. Her fingers momentarily paused over the keys of her laptop board. There was nothing to lose. Not when they’ve already thrown it away.

“I don’t want to either, H. But don’t you think breaking up is better than waiting for something that will never happen?”

“What won’t?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N pushed her chair back, staring at the view of the city from her office.

“Us. Our future. It won’t happen because you’re busy and I’m busy. There’s no right time for us to start, Harry.”

“Who says there has to be a right time, huh?”

“Says, everybody! How are we supposed to build our relationship further when there is no relationship to work on?”

The waves of emotion came crashing down. For months, Y/N had suppressed the feeling of loneliness inside of her. She missed Harry so badly that it hurt her to admit so she went with the temporary bliss of balling it up until it became too much.

“We just need time, Y/N. We don’t need to do it at the right time. Y’know that,” Harry whispered, wishing so badly that this conversation didn’t take place over the phone where he was currently locked in a bathroom stall.

He continued, “You were there, weren’t you? Barely saw you but y’were there. You know how I feel about you and I know you feel about me. We jus’ need time,”

Time.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N  would slow dance in the kitchen at god-knows-hour of the morning.

Because time is when Harry and Y/N blissfully spent their time in the cold, watching her throw the bundle of snow in the air as if it was in slow-motion.

Because time is when Harry would look at Y/N and swear that it has stopped because nothing else mattered except her.

“You know it, you know it,” Harry gulped, breath hitching over the phone. Was he crying?

“All too well,” Y/N responded underneath her breath. She knew that he was right—that all they needed was a chance to reconnect and rekindle the flame put out by distance.

She hated how familiar every memory was to her. She hated how easily she was brought back to the moment it all happened with just the breath of his whisper.

There was no denying the emotion she felt wearing his hoodie and red and black plaid pyjamas at three in the morning. The affection she received wearing those pieces of clothing from the man who owned them. Her sock feet glided against the cold floor. Everything came flashing back to Y/N and it hurt because there was no way she could grant his wish.

“You’re asking for too much, Harry. I-I can’t give you that. You can’t give me—us—that,”

“W-what are you saying, love?” He whimpered, clutching the device in his hand as a last resort to hold onto something that was drifting away.

He knew that she was right. Y/N couldn’t give him that and he certainly couldn’t either.

“We can’t be together. At least, not now. We’re not the same anymore. We want the same things but we’re headed on different paths,”

“But we’ll meet again, won’t we?” Harry’s hoarse voice exemplified that he was—indeed—been crying. And Y/N’s wet cheeks were proof that she was as well.

“Always,”

_____

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 08

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, eating disorder (personal experience, don’t be a bloody twat), heavy(?) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom trying to be a normal boyfriend

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

I am seeing a trend starting to develop where every chapter turns into a behemoth that makes me not want to edit it at all. Nevertheless, I pulled through on this one despite being in the middle of a 32-hour work week and being absolutely exhausted.

Summer holidays, you said? I only see extra shifts and little me-time nor writing time and inspiration. That said, though, be prepared for some heavy worldbuilding because the plot thickens.

Also, and this has been edited in the previous chapter, a new special someone makes his debut in this chapter. Is this also a hint about whose story is next?

Who knows?

I don’t know.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

“Jaebeom? Jay!” I nudge the big man’s shoulder to signal for him to step aside so I can turn the stove off before the burned pancake catches fire. “That’s the third one in a row.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly. “I- I have a... I can’t focus.”

“Is it because of this morning?” If so, then that makes two of us. However, I tried to forget as best I could by working with timed productivity sprints instead of writing the article on Bruges in one go. It worked fairly well until lunch time came around.

That’s when I, too, couldn’t escape the claw mark.

The image of it flashes before my eyes once more, joining my thoughts with his if his blank look is anything to go by.

How did it get there? What did you do?

“Yeah. Morning. I... I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, this should be a nice evening. A cozy night in. You deserve my attention, for me to,” his breath tapers as he finishes the sentence, “be here.”

The quiver in his lips makes the roof of my mouth dry up and my mind empty save for gut-stirring concern, unable to think of a proper response. Nevertheless, I look for words to say what seems best. Like I did this morning when I went to get his medication. “How about I take it from here and bake the pancakes? You already made the batter and I can’t let you do all the work.”

“I like cooking for you.”

“I know you do, but it’s fine. Really,” I gesture at the couch by the living room window, which provides a glimpse of the small balcony, “sit down. I’ll call you once dinner’s ready.”

“Y/N,” he reaches out for my hand yet only dares to hold my fingertips, “I’m sorry I can’t be more.”

The crack in his voice breaks my heart. But its the vulnerability written across his normally stoic face which tears me apart at the seams. Whatever he means, it’s nothing to do with this morning. Rather, it’s about him as a person, the wonderful man he is. 

Throat blocked by something I can’t swallow, I scan his attitude for any hint about what he truly means. “What’re you on about?”

Let’s just forget about it for a little while and be a normal couple. I promise I won’t run away despite what happened.

Unfortunately, Jaebeom dismisses the question to make a point I wish he didn’t. “We both know what’s ahead. But, sometimes it’s as if you’re avoiding the inevitable.”

I let out a deep sigh, caught red-handed. “I’m not, because I know or, rather, can guess where this is going. I just don’t know how to respond at times. And I don’t want you to feel bad so I try to keep the mood high as best I can. To, well, keep us both happy.”

“Is your avoidance of food also part of that?” he asks, carefully formulating the question while keeping a close eye on any change in my demeanour.

“Yes.”

“I hate it when you don’t eat.”

“I know, but if you knew the reasons behind it, you’d understand why it’s difficult for me. Although, I want you to know that I’m trying to keep my promise to you and eat when you tell me to.” I cup his cheek, lovingly swiping my thumb to and fro over the tanned skin. “It’s really hard to escape your determination. You’re very insistent on things.”

“Too much?” Eyes dim and glistening with withheld tears, he nuzzles my palm.

“Sometimes.” I kiss the tip of his nose and smile, a sign of happiness that’s only half a lie. “It doesn’t make me love you any less. Now, let me be a proper girlfriend and cook for you.”

Regardless of the wonderful sight of Jaebeom wearing an apron and being absorbed in his element in the kitchen, it’s equally as wonderful to have something to eat tonight. Secretly, I would rather have made a healthier and less calorie-rich dish, but we both need a bit of a reprieve from last night. Thus, for the sake of us both, I’ve decided to let go of my rules for a little while.

To enjoy something sweet.

As wholesome as the sight of the wolf man seated on the couch, knees pulled up with round gold-rimmed glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose as he reads the novel he apparently borrowed from my bookshelves. I should write a little note on the title page and give it to him as a present so he’ll have one of my books like I have his.

They’ll be on his shelves for as long as we’re here.

Be there even after he’s gone.

Then they will return to me yet still be his.

He will still be with me.

The pages filled with his love.

It’s everything that will be left of him.

His legacy.

His remains.

The thought leaving me filled with bittersweet affection, I cut the fruit to put on top of the pancakes while gradually using up all the batter. Were it not for the move to the cottage at the end of the month, I could easily be content here if he’d ask me to move in. Wherever we are, evenings like these might become a common occurrence, a splendid reward at the end of a long day at the office.

They could turn any place into our home.

The long road of the lone wolf would finally come to an end.

Because as long as he’s there, I’m home.

“Mind your head.” Despite the warning, Jaebeom nevertheless puts a hand on my head while he opens the cupboard above to grab two plates.

“I was just about to say dinner’s ready.” I let out a breathless laugh, hardly hiding the sobs at the thought of one day having to live without his touch. “Talk about timing.”

For a second, a curious expression treks across his face. It passes by too fast to properly describe it, but it seemed to be triggered by the meaningless remark about his return to the kitchen.

When a dangerously short and sharp breath escapes me, he swallows it with a kiss. Perhaps it’s the sorrow of knowing a storm lies on the horizon that makes me delusional, but a soft whine rises in his throat each time he kisses a stray tear away as he peppers my face in small pecks. 

Satisfied he has taken the sadness more or less away, the corners of his mouth curl into a lop-sided smile as if nothing happened. Notwithstanding, it isn’t hard to figure the blissful ignorance is merely feigned. “Right. Timing.”

Our gazes lock and neither of us says a word until he perks up and motions for me to step back. “Fork and knife.”

Discombobulated by the shared confusion, I indeed set a step backwards so he can open the drawer. In the meanwhile, as Jay sets the dinnerware down, I put the final pancake on the stack and set it down in the middle of the table. 

Chest puffed out, I clap my hands. “Dig in.”

Like yesterday, Jaebeom insists on doing the dishes while I settle down for the night. However, whereas I gladly did before, I now do with an uneasy mind. Arms wrapped around my knees, my thoughts run down a familiar dark path.

I ate too much. Maybe I should go home and do a workout. Then again, I really don’t want to even though I have to.

“Y/N?” The faint though surprising mention of my name breaks the imaginary stones weighing down my shoulders. I snap my head to the side, almost headbutting the wolf man who has appeared at my side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lips pulled into a wistful smile, I scratch him under the chin in hopes of distracting him to the degree he won’t be able to ask further questions. “I’m tired, that's all.”

Unfortunately, Jaebeom is like a guardian who somehow notices a lot despite his absent-minded demeanour. Henceforth, the topic is all but abandoned. 

Without warning, and as effortless as if he were picking up a book, he lifts me up from the couch to hold me in his arms. Instinctively, I clutch his loose black shirt to have a grip of something in case I fall. It’s an ungrounded fear since his arms are sturdy, but it’s comforting nonetheless to have something to hold on to.

My haphazard action elicits a low chuckle that makes my heart skip a beat, although it almost thumps out of my chest again as he rests his forehead against mine. “Let’s go to bed.”

“It’s only eight o’clock,” I sputter, chest tight and no breath sufficient enough to lift the sensation. “Besides, I- I don’t have any fresh change of clothes or toiletries or a pyjama.”

Did he turn the central heating up?

“Doesn’t matter. Can borrow. You. No, that’s not right. You… you can. You can borrow clothes from me. Also, I think I have a spare toothbrush somewhere around here.”

“Jay,’’ As best I can, I try to keep my tone steady though the words come out too fast and uneven regardless, ‘’I think I should go home.” 

If I don’t and I won’t get in some more exercise, I’ll gain weight and slowly go back to how I was.

And I’ll lose him.

Back to square one.

Loveless.

Despite the effort, I can’t prevent the crack in my voice as I weakly tug at his shirt. ‘’Let me go.’’

“No.’’ The gentle kindness has malformed into rough sternness, translated in a sound similar to a growl. ‘’You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” I retort, more ferocious and sharper than intended though the equal harshness might help to drive the point home.

For a split second, he snarls and bares his teeth. Simultaneously, a flicker of a second personality passes across his mismatched eyes.

The calm ocean warps into a watery grave with high waves on a stormy night.

The hazelnut cracks to set that which it contains free.

His lashes abruptly flutter shut, as he lets out a pained gasp. Beneath my fingertips, his chest caves as if an imaginary fist has dealt him a blow in the guts.

And in mine as well.

Rippling flesh.

There’s… there’s no… Jay, what is happening to you?

I hold on tighter to the fabric, hyperventilating while trying to refrain from bursting out in tears.

There has to be something I can do! But what? What do I do? How can I make this stop?

How do I get you back?

Withal, shivering lips parted to beg for guidance, are interrupted by a shake of the head hanging low. Slowly, Jaebeom looks up, a light layer of sweat on his skin. Our gazes lock, but whereas the wolf man’s was filled with savage chaos, it’s now returned to the stern tranquility it held before the attack. Nonetheless, an uncomprehending whimper betrays the fact that whatever happened wasn’t experienced consciously.

The rage was beyond him.

Outside him.

Another’s.

Still breathless, he scoffs, the sound gruff and overtly disagreeing. “Let’s watch the moon and stars.”

There is no chance to ask any questions about the swift changes in demeanour since he promptly moves to the hallway and up the stairs towards his bedroom. The bedframe of the two-person bed also functions as a bookshelf which takes up the entire right wall, the shelves stacked with second-hand paperbacks in various conditions. An empty picture frame is placed on his side of the bed, a pair of glasses next to it.

Jaebeom puts me down on the navy wool blanket on the edge of the bed and leans in to steal a kiss, which is easy to do considering I’m too shaken to offer any protest. Nor do I feel the comfort of his lips. “Take your clothes off. I’ll go find you pyjamas.”

A tad reluctant, mind occupied by guilt and terror, I start to undress as he rummages through the wardrobe on the other end of the room.

Left only in my underwear, I sit down on the edge of the bed. Although he’s seen me naked once, I still wrap my arms around myself to hide my body. A shield to protect a fragile ego housed in equally as vulnerable body flesh.

Afraid of what might happen when those ripples grow out of control.

Terrified of who he will become.

Of who he is.

“Don’t.” Jaebeom turns around with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants in his hands, eyebrows drawn together. He closes the drawer, throws the clothes on the bed, kneels, and firmly yet gently grabs my wrists to break the walls I put up. And I let him. “Don’t hide from me.”

Not understanding where the shame originates from, he grows still as he scrutinizes my face for clues. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Instead of giving an answer, I change into the makeshift pyjamas. The hoodie is oversized yet comfortably baggy while the sweatpants hang disconcertingly low on my hips. Fortunately, any skin it reveals is covered up by the top.

Continuing to avoid his gaze without saying a word, I crawl under the sheets. Face turned to the window, I pull up the blanket he drapes over me and bury my nose in it.

A wild forest and cologne with a musty hint of pages.

It’s undeniably him.

I don’t know what else to do or say. So, I let the silence speak for itself.

A language he is fluent in too despite his oftentimes loud demeanour.

The mattress dips under his weight when he lies down and rearranges the sheets to cover us both. An arm wrapped around my waist and legs tangled, Jaebeom pulls me flush against him, his chest warm against my back.

A sob rises in my throat when I feel his lips place a kiss on my crown with a sigh of contentment.

I don’t deserve this.

Us.

Him.

The fear of losing him to whatever is happening inside.

Then again, Life isn’t fair. It deals everyone the same awful hand and leaves it up to the player to make the best of it.

I guess we’re both dealt a crappier hand than others. That, or we play them wrong.

Can we win at all?

“Talk to me.” As loving and happy as the casual intimacy of the embrace is, as forgetful it could make me if only I’d manage to fall asleep, Jaebeom’s oddly sweet cooing keeps me awake.

Staring at the moon.

A woman as fickle as me.

And infinitely more beautiful.

Funny how I, too, am jealous of a celestial body.

In love with the heavens. 

He continues when he notices I won’t be the one to break the silence, his intonation laced by a whiny undertone like a dog wanting something yet being denied what it wants. “You know what I’m dealing with. But...” he digs his fingers deeper into my hips, the grip iron-like without being painful, “I hope this is okay to ask, but what is it with you and food?”

The encouraging squeeze in my side almost has me bursting out in tears again. There has to be a price to pay somewhere in the shadows, the overwhelming sensation of being genuinely loved and protected must turn out to be as two-sided as the silver goddess in the sky. After all, Life is bittersweet.

“It’s only fair I tell you.” Especially after how open he’s been. Besides, there’s no opportunity to avoid the topic since we’d arrive at it sooner or later. And he deserves to know. In fact, I don’t want him to forget my brokenness the moment I tell him about it.

We both want each other to remember our own missing pieces.

So I sigh, turn over and bald my hands into fists to rest against the warm skin of his bare chest. As I speak up, I try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “I used to be quite a fat kid, to the degree the GP advised my parents to put me on a diet. Queue high school and social pressure which led me to perhaps work out more than is healthy and left me bordering on the edge of anorexia. There are still foods I won’t eat and days I’ll worry about my calorie intake, especially on the days I don’t work out.”

I can’t help the mirthless chuckle which turns into a rueful smile. “It’s the good old cliché. Just another soul broken for the shallow enjoyment and acceptance of others.” 

Lips pulled into a stern line, the wolf man remains silent. Notwithstanding, his eyes speak volumes when I dare to look up at him, the ocean and hazelwood alight with a watery sheen. Perhaps it’s the comfort of his nearness or the familiarity of those one of a kind eyes, but he inspires a confession which I never thought I’d make. “Nevertheless, I’m getting better and it’s partially thanks to you.”

Morgan spamming me with ‘Have you eaten?’ texts and Bam making sure I finish my plate whenever we go out for food either here or abroad help a lot too. Nonetheless, it’s mostly the bookish wolf who makes me want to try.

And be a little better than before.

“What do they feel like, those days?”

“The bad ones?” Jaebeom nods. “They’re ridden with guilt and self-loathing.”

He leans in, leaving only a few centimetres of distance between our faces. His breath is warm on my skin as he bumps his nose against mine. “You’re feeling that way now.”

“I am.”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re still you. Beautiful as always. And I’ll love you regardless of how you look. I like your mind, which is as weird as mine. The way you hold my hand, as if you’re afraid I’ll walk away. How you unconsciously squeeze it when you need my protection more. How you feel in my arms, soft and warm as a bunny.” He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts it upward to run his tongue over my lips and nose. “Love you. A lot.”

“I love you too.” I turn my head to nuzzle his palm, my face perfectly fitting into it.

Please, no ripples. Let us have this moment. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Let me have him, just him as he is. At least tonight.

The secure affection of the touch transforms into something else when he glides the back of his hand over my cheek and folds his fingers over my throat. Testing the waters, eyes boring into mine to stop at the slightest sign of discomfort, he slowly closes off my access to air.

It’s funny how the body and mind react to certain situations. Whereas I normally would flinch and run in the direction of safety, there is no urge to run. In fact, the tingling in my chest travels down to rekindle a familiar heat between my thighs while my adrenaline-infused system aches for the wolfish lover. Henceforth, instead of jumping up from the bed, I spread my legs so Jaebeom can comfortably nestle between them.

“Let me prove it. Let me mate you.” The calloused fingertip journeying across the collarbone to the crook of the neck sends a pleasant shiver down the spine. Another electric shock follows at the coarse prickly sensation of his moustache rubbing against my skin as his soft lips kisses and nips at it. “It will only sting a bit, I promise. Please, the mark will look pretty.”

“No biting, Jay.” Reminded of our agreement this morning and the movement beneath his skin when his emotions seem to get the better of him, I pull him against my chest. Before he can protest I scratch his jaw exactly in the way he likes it, thus subduing his great ability to argue. “Not today.”

“It’s not... hm, k- keep go- What do- Bit higher. There. Like, hm, mhm, there. But... what normal-’’ Arms wrapped around my waist again and letting out a content hum, dark lashes flutter shut. For a moment, it seems he’s fallen asleep. However, his drowsy murmurs, while growing incomprehensible, still haven’t finished. “It’s not what couples do.”

“You’re learning,” I giggle, amused by the remark which sounds like a student recalling a piece of knowledge during a test and repeating it for himself.

Without understanding the knowledge completely. “What do they do?”

Staring at the ceiling, I run my fingers through his long dark manes as I try to come up with ideas about what we can do next. “Well, you’ve already given me your clothes. We could try jewelry next, maybe a promise ring. It’s an old-fashioned idea, but people who are promised to each other wear matching rings. 

‘’What mean? Promised?’’

I say nothing of the faulty grammar of his question. After all, speaking becomes harder once exhaustion overtakes the body and mind. I have yet to find a sleeper being able to form comprehensible sentences. ‘’They’re sort of similar to engagement rings, but without the immediate implication of getting married soon.”

“Let’s get en- enga- enge-’’ Jaebeom lets out a groan, frustrated by his lack of speech. Nevertheless, it doesn’t perturb him enough to completely give up on the effort to properly pronounce the word he’s struggling with. “En. Gage. Ment. Engagement rings instead.”

I let out a breathless chuckle, amused both by his determination and the absurd proposal. “It’s definitely too early for that.”

“It’s not!” He barks, shooting up with a pinched expression on his face.   

Scratching him like before, I manage to calm him down enough to make him lie down on my chest again. Nonetheless, his discontent shines through in the gruff scoff he lets out. “It is.”

“What if...” Prompted by the idea in his mind, Jay scrambles upright to face me once more. Lips parted, the feral sharpness in his mismatched eyes is replaced by a twinkle of barely contained excitement. However, the enthusiasm dims with a shake of the head and a low self-deprecating chuckle that ignites my curiosity. At the same time, it also tugs at the strings of my heart. “No, it’s wrong of me to ask.”

“What is?”

What were you about to say? Don’t keep it to yourself. Tell me!

“Never mind.” He lies down again, nuzzling my breasts as he snuggles up into me.

Then, he slips his hand under mine to lift and compare it to his. “Cute paw.”

Fine. Keep your secrets, you big burly bastard.

“Go to sleep.” I push him off of me, earning myself a disappointed noise which resembles a yelp. “On the other side of the bed, please and thank you.”

In the days that follow, the movement like water set astir under his skin continues to haunt my mind. In fact, it does to the extent that even the keys beneath my fingers seem to flow rather than be pushed down, causing me to flinch for the third time in a row. 

For the past hour I’ve been trying to type out the notes on an interview with a chocolatier in Bruges and compose them into a coherent article. An otherwise simple task my mind won’t allow me to complete despite the attempts to remember the good moments we had recently. The video calls right before bed, the cuddle session a few days ago when we gazed at the moon, his enthusiastic texts about and photos of new recipes Jaebeom tried. None of it prevents the likely imagined terrible from destroying our happiness.

I’m going insane. He’s a normal person. Somewhat. I was jet-lagged and therefore not thinking clearly.

That’s why I thought I felt his skin move. I was delusional.

Drunk on him.

A buzz pulls me out of my reverie, the screen of my phone lighting up with a message.

Morgan: Starving! Found a new café thanks to a friend.

Y/N: Let me guess. I have no choice but to come along.

Morgan: There wasn’t a choice to begin with :)

Y/N: Of course not. What am I talking about, eh? See you in five.

Chuckling at the woman’s classic brashness, I shake my head, pack my belongings and head to the elevators.

Outside, regardless of the November chill, it’s pleasant. The sun shines brightly and the wind blows the little bundles of fallen leaves at the roots of the birch trees lining the street into motion, scattering them over the neatly swept pavement.

Winter is around the corner. God, I hate the cold. Hopefully, there won’t be snow any time soon.

I sit down on the bench under one of the birch trees, its branches already bare. 

Autumn is truly ending now. Shame. I haven’t even had a pumpkin spice latte and cinnamon roll yet. Maybe I should ask Jay out and find a nice coffee shop where we can get them. After all, if he’s there, we can share the pastry. He’ll be happy and I won’t have to eat the whole thing. A win-win situation.

Enjoying watching the people pass by, each stranger essentially a book with a unique story that is yet not entirely different from someone else’s. Withal, the world feels colder without him, the missing part embodied in the unoccupied spot next to mine.

A delighted sigh on the right makes me snap my head around, alarmed at the notion someone has appeared out of the blue on the empty seat. 

A woman clad in a white suit and matching fur-lined coat with pale skin and brown hair glowing copper in direct light stares contentedly up at the clouds. She’s in her very early twenties, although the freckles dusting her cheekbones and rosy cheeks might simply make her look younger than she is.

For a moment, taken aback and speechless, I cannot help but blatantly gape at the otherworldly stranger.

Wow, she’s like a goddess.

A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach as a dark thought intrudes my mind. My throat dried up, I twist my wrists, the muscles stiff beneath my fingers.

Would Jaebeom like her? If he saw her on the street, would he... would he stop and stare? Prefer her over me or even try and give it a shot by introducing himself?

“It’s a bit chillier than I’d like, but at least it’s better than rain or snow.” The woman turns to face me, her features soft. “I hope spring will come again soon, though.”

I don’t get the chance to respond because a familiar voice calls out. Not that I would be able to form a proper reply otherwise. “You’re here already?”

“I happened to be nearby,” the stranger turns away to answer as Morgan comes to a halt in front of us, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I texted you fifteen minutes ago and you said you had to clean up. I thought you’d join us later.”

“The birth and after birth went faster than I thought so here I am.”

“I’m sorry, but what is going on?” More than a little lost, I look from one to the other in hopes of being given an explanation. “I didn’t know we’d head out with the three of us.”

“Right, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Brigid.” The dark-haired woman holds out her pale hand in greeting. “I work at the hospital as an obstetrician.”

“I’m Y/N,’’ I reply, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lass,” wonder turned to a darker version of itself yet not saying anything, Morgan shifts her attention to me, “you look famished. Come on, let’s go.”

Offering a few muttered words of agreement, I get up and sheepishly tag along with the other women. As we walk out the street and round a corner, following the signs leading to the artist district nearby the university, I’m occasionally tempted to join the conversation. However, as soon as a short silence falls, I don’t chip in, unsure how to contribute to the small talk they seem to deliberately keep up in order to avoid a topic neither is keen to discuss. Thus I walk in urban loneliness, my train of thought displaced on my face as I let the ghosts of Jaebeom’s skin freely haunt my mind.

Right before the descent into the darkness of the rabbit hole, strong long fingers wrap around my wrist and hold it in an iron grip. The slightly painful squeeze interrupts my reverie.

Jaebeom?

I snap my head to the side to find Morgan standing there, leaning in a bit and her voice low. “We’re here.”

I don’t know how I’ve managed to ignore the bustle of students looking for a free spot on one of the terraces and loud conversations accompanied by the rustle of the paper bags hailing from the shops owned by self-employed artists. It’s also miraculous that I haven’t bumped into anyone by accident.

“Oh,” is all I say, looking at the café we’ve stopped in front of.

Wolf’s is spelled out in a modern font on the sign outside and above the door. A big window provides visitors with a view of the plaza. The interior is simple yet cosy, the white furniture warmed up by oak accents and the bare walls decorated with various art pieces, centered around wolves and various flowers. By the looks of it, they were all made by a single artist who likes to experiment with style every now and then. A few plants are dotted around the place as well to add a hint of free nature to the underlying strangely forest-like aesthetic.

A tall broad-shouldered man with short curly chocolate brown hair partially covering up the scar running over his left eye, strong dark eyebrows and a big koala-like nose stands behind the counter. Both of his arms and hands are decorated with various intricately designed tattoos. Whereas Jay is muscled yet lean, the tanned barista looks like a man who knows how to fight yet is a warrior in a society without combat.

As soon as we walk in, his lifts his head and turns to us. Playful lights illuminate the milky white of his left and raven dark of his right eye. A meadow of snow, its glimmer reflecting off of the smooth feathers of a wise bird. “Hi, welcome. Brigid, long time no see.”

Nobody seems to notice it, but his female colleague, a short woman with long flowy caramel brown hair tied into a ponytail who has her back turned to us and is busy extracting a shot, cringes at the merry mention of the woman’s name. Slowly, she steals a glance at us, hazel eyes sharpening when they fall on the woman in white. Nevertheless, she remains silent and quickly returns her attention to preparing someone’s coffee.

Looks like I’m not the only one envying her.

It is wrong to hate a woman for her beauty. Nonetheless, although it’s shameful, part of me refuses to associate with Morgan’s acquaintance out of a toxic mixture of spite and jealousy.

Such is the female nightmare.  

“So this is what you’ve been up to,” Brigid muses, nodding appreciatively while inspecting the coffee shop. “You’ve got a nice thing going on here, Rome.”

“Please don’t call me that anymore. It’s Christian now. Chris or Ian for short.’’ Muscled arms crossed, he grimaces and shakes his head while looking down. Notwithstanding, the stern attitude melts into casual friendliness as a bright smile forms on his lips. ‘’But I do, don’t I? However, it’s not just me running the place. I’ve had some help.”

He turns around and motions for his colleague to come over. For a second she doesn’t move, darting glances to each of us like an alarmed cat checking for danger. Notwithstanding, though clearly tense, she warily approaches and halts at the man’s side.

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when Christian places a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, Gráinne here still helps me out every day. She’s basically the second owner.”

“I- I’m not,” she sputters in a soft Ulster accent, fumbling with her fingers and her cheeks flushed, “I just work here some days.”

“You’re a bit more than a colleague,” her co-worker remarks, shoulders lowered and his tone holding more affection than would be the case when talking to a friend. A warm glow seems to form around him, ignited by the fondness he harbours for her.

Funny, Jaebeom wears that same expression when he’s with me.  

“I’m not.” Gráinne stiffens, each word dripping with venom as she steps away, grabs a serving tray and puts the order she was preparing before being called over on it. “Get back to work.”

Lips parted, Ian watches her as she moves past us as fast and agile like a hunting cat without any further acknowledgement of our presence. I hadn’t noticed before, but beneath her apron, she is dressed in clothes reminiscent of the Victorian era. “I know she can be harsh and isn’t easy to get along with, but I’ve never seen her act like this.”

“Och, let it pass. She has every right to be pissed with you since you put her on the spot like that,” Morgan jokes though nobody goes along with it.

She likes him yet doesn’t see it’s mutual. Should I say something? Then again, this is their business, not mine. Furthermore, why would they believe me, a stranger?

So I remain silent.

And leave this to blossom however it is meant to in Fate’s hands.

The icy glare Gráinne gives Brigid behind her back sends a chill down my spine. Evidently, she is a woman not cross paths with once angered. Withal, as the fair beauty looks over her shoulder, the other woman restores her professional composure. 

“You okay?” Christian asks as he watches her retreat into the kitchen, done serving for now.

“I’m fine,” she says thickly, the next breath hitching in her throat. Her focus shifts to the moon-shaped amethyst pendant around his neck. The ghost of a rueful smile forms on her lips, but it fades as fast as it appeared. “It’s not like I’m having a vision or something. Help them.”

She waves her hand dismissively when he doesn’t move, lips parted to say something yet at a loss for words. Notwithstanding, although I can’t see his expression clearly, it’s evident her feigned nonchalance is hurting him. “Go on.”

He clears his throat and forces himself into a rigid posture, frowning as he shifts his attention back to us. Finger hovering over the tablet functioning as a till, he stares at the display with an empty and distant gaze, which is as dull as the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. “What can I get you?”

We place our order and settle down at the table by the window, neither of us offering a word of solace or dedicated to his colleague’s behaviour. 

After a while, Christian comes up to us to serve the food and beverages. As he puts the plates with our sandwiches down, he and Brigid exchange looks like siblings telepathically conversing. Whatever it is they mentally discussed, it only leaves the barista a slight bit less worried though the grave expression plaguing him remains as he returns to the counter.

An expression which must be similar to mine since it prompts Morgan to speak up regardless of having her teeth sunk into sourdough bread, looking equally as somber. “What’s on your mind, lass?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head and stir my cappuccino with the vintage silver spoon next to the porcelain cup, smiling at my own silly assumptions of what happened now four days ago. “Everything’s fine.”

“Except it’s not.” The raven-haired woman cocks an eyebrow, far from willing to dismiss my worries. “Now tell me. Or, well, us.”

“It’s something to do with your lover, isn’t it?” Brigid remarks, head tilted to the side as she assesses me while sipping at her Irish Breakfast Tea. Her features soften when she notices she has hit a sensitive snare, evidently meaning no harm.

I pull back in my seat as I take a sip of my coffee, flustered and cursing myself for being an open book. There is no way out of this conversation since the current company is like-minded in their refusal to simply let the topic pass before it has been discussed.

I swallow, put the cup on the dish again and clear my throat. Fumbling with the spoon and eyes cast on the cappuccino’s silky milk foam, I tell them of what I think happened. The story sounds strange to my own ears, like a terrible fairy tale told by a chaotic storyteller who can’t tell it in a manner that makes sense regardless of how he manipulates the plot.

Afraid of their reaction, unable to fathom the slightest bit of sympathy and empathy, I look from one to the other. Fortunately, my silence can be excused by drinking the remainder of the coffee although it’s futile since the thirst has nothing to do with bodily needs.

“Sounds familiar.” The woman in white scrunches her nose in disgust as she glares at Morgan.

“He was different,” Morgan sneers through gritted teeth, jaw clenched.

“In essence, he was similar to her lover.’’ Brigid points at me though she remains focused on my best friend, her voice dripping with venom. ‘’Or should I say, is similar?”

“Since when does it matter what he is?” Thin lips painted plum purple curl into a mirthless smile, onyx locks shaking in discontent. “How hypocritical you’ve become. Forgetful of the past.”

“A past worth forgetting. It’s never too late to change your political opinions, Morgan.”

Great, now I’m the one to open Pandora’s box. I should have kept my mouth shut, changed the topic.

Desperate for help yet knowing he cannot do anything, I look for Christian among the other customers. Expression stern and standing as rigid as a statue, he watches our table from behind the counter. It appears he, too, feels the sense of danger increasing as the conversation carries on. Notwithstanding, as becomes clear from the apologetic shake of the head when our eyes meet, he also knows his hands are tied at the moment.

We are on the same boat, waiting to see how the situation will develop.

Playthings of Chance and Fate.

“We’re not here to talk politics,’’ the woman in question answers, covering her mouth with her hands while chewing on a bite of goat cheese and pomegranate seeds, ‘’but to have lunch like civilized and amiable women. To help our friend.”

“You’re right,” Brigid concludes. Nonchalantly, she pierces a piece of egg in her salmon salad and puts its on the bread provided with it, a bread called St Michael’s Bannock according to the menu. Then, she points her fork at me. “But the best thing you can do is leave him while you still can.”

“L- Leave?” Utterly confused, I look at the woman calmly eating her lunch. “Why would I do that?”

Who is she? What’s more, who is she to tell me to leave Jaebeom after what I told her? He needs help and support, regardless of what may or may not be there beneath his skin.

Unless she is on to something I am not and judging by the current circumstances, I won’t get an answer even if I dare to ask. Henceforth, if only not to snap, I clear my throat and swallow the vile words dancing on the tip of my tongue. 

“Morgan can tell you why. All I can say is that it’s better to avoid men like your lover in the first place.” She coughs and takes a sip of tea to wash down the salad leaf stuck in her throat while the woman with hair as black as night chuckles darkly. Luckily, it is only loud enough for me to hear and Brigid is too busy preventing herself from choking.  

“Sétan-, I- I mean Seán was the one to leave me, not the other way around. And we mutually agreed to part ways in favour of our own well-being.”

“Sure you did. Totally didn’t resort to throwing plates and other pieces of furniture because he rejected you.”

Morgan growls something under her breath, glaring at the woman seated next to me. However, Brigid doesn’t seem to notice the reaction she has provoked or is indifferent to it. “Or washed clothes at the ford where he so ‘happened’ to pass by. Funny how he died soon after.”

Ford? There are quite a few in Ireland, so where and most importantly, when was this? Then again, what are these two on about? Washing clothes in a ford, people dying, politics, lovers to leave. They’re like arguing voices from ancient times.

Moreover, there is the question of Seán’s life. Is he alive or dead? One moment she speaks of him as if he’s still here, but then why would Brigid remark he’s dead?

“You shut your whoremouth, traitor!” With a loud bang, Morgan slams her fists on the table. She stands up with an expression that makes me cower in fear despite not being the target of her wrath.

Behind the counter, Christian slowly comes into motion, carefully moving with the likely intent to inconspicuously circle our table and jump in if necessary. He flinches as Gráinne places a hand on his arm, holding him hard enough for her knuckles to turn white when he tries to escape from her grip in order to prevent the worst from happening. Notwithstanding, whatever the plan was, it goes to waste since he decides to listen to what his colleague tells him. Sighing deeply, he stands down although he continues to observe us.

Gráinne follows his gaze, which seems to be directed at the brown-haired woman in white, her personal target of envy. Her wolfishly fierce expression falters, growing as bleak as the ash of a great bonfire.

This time he doesn’t see how she comes apart at the seams.

Brigid calmly finishes her tea, daps her mouth on the napkin and stands up too. “Get over your crush. There’s no future for you with him. As for you, Y/N,” eyes oddly alight with motherly affection, she turns her attention to me, “and as a piece of advice from a friend, end this relationship while you still can. There’s only heartbreak ahead.”

“Thank you, but,” a wistful smile forms on my lips regardless of the urge to give into the savage nagging inside, “I can’t leave him because I made a promise to stay.”

“I see. Perhaps you’ll prove me wrong and the flowers will bloom in spring.”

And with those final cryptic words, she leaves the café after waving at the tattooed barista.

Or so Brigid intends, but her way is cut off by his colleague. 

While clumsily taking off her apron she storms outside, clenching it hard and shivering as if she’s on the brink of tears.

“Gráinne? Gráinne!” Christian runs after his colleague, pale and eyes wide with worry as he comes to a halt in the doorway. “Where are you going? Gráinne!”

Brigid places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a consoling squeeze. After giving him an encouraging slap on the back she sets off, leaving the man standing there like a defeated soldier.

“Poor lass,” Morgan whispers as she watches the female barista pass the window. Something in her tone hints at a level of familiarity between the two.

“You know her?” I ask, frowning.

“I don’t think she remembers me.” She glances at Chris, who has retreated behind the counter. He has his head bowed, smooth black locks hiding his face from the customers. Trembling fingers entwined to conceal his distress as best as possible, he resembles a man of religion fervently praying for forgiveness. “And neither does he. I saw him and his close friend, Finn, once in the woods. No, it was his brother, Jor… was it? When he came to the island. Was that… who was that?’’

A mist clouds her ocean blue eyes, lost in thoughts far removed from this world and time. ‘’He was there. As for Gráinne, we met… somewhere. There was smoke, a burning body. It was- It was at… where? Fuck, I can’t recall. I think it was at his fu-’’ she abruptly cuts herself short to correct herself with a strange undertone in her voice, “not long after I... saw them.”

‘’Morgan, are you alright? You’re looking awfully pale.’’ 

Instead of breaking free from the spell that has taken hold of her, the reverie only seems to deepen. Rocking side to side, she clutches her arms to her chest. Her skin, although naturally pale, grows sickly like a walking corpse.

‘’I- I’m supposed to remember. I’m one of the few that do. No, he and I are the only ones left that do. I can’t forget. If I do, everyone will. I can’t… I can’t!’’

‘’Morgan!’’ I stand up from my seat to rush to her side. Rubbing her arms, I try with all my might to bring her back to reality from the depths of deliria. ‘’It’s all right, Morgan, nobody is going to forget. Please listen to me and follow my voice, use it as a guide back to me from wherever it is you are. Please, come back to me.’’

‘’May I?’’ Christian has appeared with a glass of water, which he sets on the table before crouching down at the woman’s side as well.

Gently he grabs one of her hands and holds it, talking in a voice that is surprisingly steady and soothing in spite of what happened mere moments ago. It’s rougher and more gruff, making it hard to distinguish one word from another if you are not well-acquainted with the speaker.

In fact, it belongs to a completely different person. ‘’Morgan, as long as there are people who remember, there is nothing to fear. The past has taught us that what might seem like the end isn’t necessarily truly the end. We are still here. We remember because you do and you remember because we do. You’re safe and sound. Instead, return and help me make her remember.’’

‘’Why, of everyone, did you have to fall for her?’’ Gaze blinded by her mind, Morgan reaches out to tenderly run her fingers through the barista’s hair. ‘’What makes her special?’’ 

‘’She understands.’’ A similar fog veils the misty white and dark eyes, Chris or, rather, the stranger pulled into the same realm of consciousness as my friend. ‘’She broke the chains that bound me and doesn’t allow me to slip into the shadows of what I once was.’’

‘’You’re all the same, aren’t you?’’

‘’It’s rare to find understanding and acceptance in a world naturally turned against you. So, please help me. Help me find her.’’ His voice breaks, the begging words coming out  high-pitched like a whining wolf. ‘’Help me find my reason to stay in this world and not forget nor be forgotten.’’ 

The veil lifts, the spell broken with the whimpered plea. 

Christian falls back, but manages to catch himself before his head hits the tiles. Refusing every helping hand from the customers hurrying over, he scrambles to his feet. Fortunately, he accepts the chair I offer him when his dangerous swaying almost causes him to hit his head against the wall.

‘’Are you okay?’’

‘’Yeah, I’m only dizzy.’’ The hiss he lets out flows over into a sound akin to a growl. ‘’And a splitting headache.’’

Morgan has a better return to reality, completely fine aside from a dazed mind. ‘’What happened?’’

‘’You tell me.’’ I search her face for clues, a sliver of the knowledge she is lying. However, I find none.

She is telling the truth.

‘’I… I don’t know. It’s the first time.’’ She clears her throat, brow furrowed. As if having heard a noise, she snaps her head to the side. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Drink your tea, eat a sandwich and go home early from work.”

She hands the glass of water to Christian. ‘’And you, you drink this and stay seated for at least five more minutes until the dizziness has faded. Are you nauseous?’’

‘’No. Although,’’ he dry heaves, ‘’never mind.’’

‘’Make it ten. You look as pale as a banshee.’’

‘’Speak for yourself.’’

‘’You’d make a pretty one, though,’’ Morgan muses when she returns her attention to me. ‘’Beauty makes suffering leading to death easier.’’

Apparently, her return to reality has left her as mad as a hatter so perhaps it wasn’t as good as I initially thought.

“Why on earth would you say that? Besides, what kind of comparison is that, us and a banshee?”

“One based on truth. Now,” she shoves the remainder of her goat cheese and pomegranate sandwich to me, “eat, rest up and get cracking again. We’ll be in touch and visit the new café I found yesterday later, alright?”

“Hey, not so fast. Where are you headed off to?’’

She can’t be serious. There is no way she is unaffected by what happened. 

“Attagirl,’’ Morgan says as if I promised to heed her words, ignoring what I actually said. ‘’By the way, ignore what Brigid said and stay with your man. It’s plain to see how he makes you feel.”

“It is?”

“You’re glowing and you come alive when you speak of him. It reminds me of how I was with Seán.” She starts as if awakened from a dream, but tries to hide her awkwardness behind a sheepish smile. “Well, then, take care.”

“You too.’’ The two simple words, otherwise casual, are now carefully chosen in order to not to trigger another ‘attack’.

My gut tight and skin prickling thanks to her inhuman behaviour, I watch the raven-haired woman leave. I hold my wrist, my pulse too rapid to be healthy beneath my thumb.

Like I am at death’s door.

The next morning, there’s an article in the newspaper. A man’s been found dead at the edge of the bogs near town. The cause of his demise is unknown, but there are witness accounts who said they heard a high screech late the night before. In the days that follow, their names show up one by one in funerary advertisements.

A week later, none of the witnesses are alive. Moreover, nobody has heard the screeching since, though everyone remembers the description of the sound.

It was like the howl of a banshee.

[suchalonelysunflower]

Tell Me What You’re Thinking (c.h)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Fem! Reader

Summary: You overhear something you shouldn’t hear. But Calum will make it right, won’t he?

Warnings: ANGST. Language (including insults), mentions of alcohol, drugs and cheating. MC with low self esteem. Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 4 k

Author’s Note: hi I’m back with the angsty shit. This is very self indulgent, and I put Mitchy as a bad guy here, so sorry if you like him? Reblogs, Commets, Feedback and likes are very welcomed and encouraged! I love to hear from you guys ❤️ hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

You sighed as you finished your last paper. It was finals week and you were officially done with your exams and term papers for the semester. The last couple of weeks were rough and no one knew that more than you and your boyfriend Calum who has been by your side through this whole stressing process.

You smiled to yourself as you remembered the encouraging words that Calum often said to you. He knew how hard you worked in school and at your part time job in a law firm, and you appreciated how much he cared for you in times of stress and frustrations. Always cheering you up from the bleechers as you made a name for yourself.

Calum promised that once you were done with school for the semester, he was going to take you out on a well deserved Holiday, just the two of you and Duke as you celebrated another six months worth of work done. Everything was already planned for the next weekend and you couldn’t wait.

You reread your final essay one more time and decided that it was enough for today and if there were any mistakes left, then you’ll deal with them tomorrow. Now the only thing in your mind was a cozy blanket and a feel good movie. But first, you needed to get some food and drinks for your mini celebratory self care session.

The thought of asking Calum to come join you crossed your mind, but you quickly remembered that tonight was boys night. Every couple of weeks Calum and his friends have a little night out to catch up and decompress all of the stress of the week. Tonight was Calum’s turn to host boys night as they decided to have a quiet night in, so they must be having a good time downstairs and you didn’t want to ruin the mood.

With that thought in mind, you carefully placed your laptop on Calum’s side of the bed and carefully untangled your legs from under the covers so you wouldn't wake up Duke, who snuggled with you every time you had to work to keep you company. You put on one of Calum’s hoodies and headed downstairs trying your best to not make any sound.

Before you even reached the last step of the stairs, you could already hear your boyfriend’s laugh and it made your heart flutter. Even after almost three years of being together, his laugh still gives you butterflies every time you hear it, falling even more in love than what is possible.

Once you were in the kitchen, you started looking into the cupboards as you searched for your favorite snacks, but in the end you were unable to find any, thinking that maybe Calum has hidden them somewhere on the top shelves where he knows you can’t reach.

Letting out a small huff, you debated with yourself the option of climbing up the counter or admitting defeat and go ask your boyfriend for some help. Luckily, you didn’t have to decide as you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite scholar” Said Ashton with a light chuckle “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be out tonight since it’s boys night”

You smiled as you let him wrap his arms around you to give you a hug. Ashton was the first friend you made when you moved to LA a couple of years back, he was the one who introduced you to Calum in the first place, and you were very thankful for having him as a best friend.

“I had to finish up some term papers, so I had to reschedule my girl’s night for tomorrow” You explained to the black haired man “And what are you doing here? Need a refill?” You ask, pointing to the empty glass he was holding.

Ashton nodded, “Yeah, but I also needed a time out. Mitchy is kinda being very obnoxious today” He said with a sigh.

Mitchy Collins was a close friend with the boys for many years now, but you can’t say that he is a friend of yours. It’s not like you haven’t tried to befriend the singer, on the contrary, you both had multiple chances to get to know each other but he either ignored you or made things very awkward between you. And, to be honest, you were not that excited to become his friend either. There was something weird about him, a bad vibe per se, that made you not trust him at all. He was always very loud, obnoxious and downright rude sometimes and it made you very uncomfortable. Both Calum and Ashton knew about your uneasiness with Mitchy, so they didn’t push it too far and you were thankful for that.

“Oh?” You asked, trying to mask your discomfort “What is he saying this time?”

“Just a bunch of bullshit, to be honest. He is very high right now and thinks he’s above everyone else” Ashton said, taking a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. You did the same as you offered him a glass of water.

“Are you high right now?” You chuckled.

“Nope. Calum and I decided to stay clean tonight cause tomorrow we start early in the studio and the weed kinda messes up our pipes” He explains.

“What about Luke and Mikey?”

“They are not here yet, they said they needed to finish up something for a song and then they will meet us here” Ashton shrugged, not giving it too much importance “And what about you, darling? How was your day?”

You began to tell Ashton about how you finally finished the semester and how excited you were for your little getaway with Calum next week. However, every couple of minutes you were interrupted by a loud laugh or an obnoxious comment coming from the living room where the rest of the boys were sitting. Sometimes their loud comments started loud conversations that neither of you could help but overhear, but you did your best to ignore them. But some things are easier said than done.

“I’m telling you man! You can do so much better” You heard Mitchy’s voice echoing through the house, followed by a chuckle from Calum who mumbled something among the lines of “Fuck off”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you stopped the conversation you had with Ashton in order to pay attention to what was being said down the hall. You looked at Ash with a confused face, wondering what they could be saying but at the same time not knowing if you should continue listening to their private affairs. You were about to open up your mouth to continue what you were saying until another comment made by Mitchy caught your attention.

“You have to admit she is the worst sometimes. All she does is boss you around like you are some kind of puppet. She is the definition of annoying”

You sat up straight as you looked at Ashton, who mirrored your puzzled expression.

“Is- is he talking about me?” You asked in a whisper.

Ashton shook his head “I don’t thi-”

“I swear! What does she even do besides work and study all the time? She barely has time for you. You said it yourself! And when she’s not doing any of those things? She’s nagging around and clinging to you like you’re a damn purse! That’s who Y/N is”

You froze in the spot. So they were talking about you… and did Calum really say you don’t have time for him? You don’t even get time to yourself and he knows that! He said he was okay with it, that he understood and supported you through and through… Guess not.

“I still don’t know what you saw in her, dude. She’s just plain boring, playing to be a good girl when in reality she has zero personality” He continued his rant “She does nothing for you! Honestly! I’m surprised you made it this far with that bitch”

You knew that wasn’t true. He never really made an effort to get to know you! how could he be saying all those stuff? You did everything for Calum, all your goals, your plans are for the both of you. How could he know that if he never really talked to you? But you had to admit that that first comment really hurt. You were always doubting yourself at the beginning of your relationship with Calum, always feeling like you weren’t good enough, or pretty enough, or smart or fun or hot… To fight off those kinds of feelings was a difficult job to say the least, but Calum was always there to fight them with you, reassuring you that he loved you. He loved every part of you and he will love you forever.

“Is she at least a decent fuck? Cause I don’t see her doing anything remotely interesting in bed” Mitchy laughed “If she’s not she’s just wasting your time”

You noticed how Ashton suddenly stiffened next to you when he heard Mitchy’s comments. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his fists at the side of his body “Okay, that’s enough” But you were quicker, grabbing onto his shirt as a sign to make him stay there with you and not cause a scene.

His eyes found yours and you could see the anger build up on them, you knew that he would defend you no matter what and you loved him for that. But you knew Calum would defend you over there, he wouldn't let him talk about you that way.

“Ash, please” You pleaded, tugging on his shirt for him to take a seat again. But he preferred to stay standing next to you, almost like guarding and shielding you from any other comment that might hurt your feelings.

“I can’t let him talk about you like that!” He hissed. But you just shook your head.

“I know, Ash. I know. But Cal will handle it” You said confidently, trying to keep yourself together.

You knew Calum would not let those comments slide. Even if you weren’t in the room with him, those comments were awful and very hurtful, no one deserves to be treated like that, especially by someone as close as a friend of his.

You waited for his intervention, but your heart crushed when the only thing you heard from him were laughs.

“She’s a good fuck” That’s all he said.

The grip you had on Ashton’s shirt suddenly flattered as you fought the lump in your throat “Y-you said he wasn’t high” You whispered to Ashton, who was just as frozen as you were after hearing his best mate’s comment.

“He’s not” He said, standing tall next to you. As much as he wanted to go in there and give the guys an earful, he knew you needed him here with you.

Out of all the things Mitchy has said, out of all the insults and belitments, that’s what he says? That you’re a good fuck?

You knew that you could be annoying sometimes when you got happy. You just wanted to share that happiness with everyone around you and you thought… you thought that Calum liked that. You were not a bad girlfriend, you always tried your best to make him as happy as he makes you; to love him as much as he loves you, cause he loves you. Doesn’t he?

If he loves you then why is he letting his friend say all of this stuff about you? Why is he not saying anything? Does- does he agree with him?

The tears started rolling silently, half of you not believing what you were hearing while the other half clang to the idea of Calum defending you at some point.

“Oh I know!” Said Mitchy after a while “I can introduce you to someone! Right now, actually. Her name’s Vanessa and she’s crazy hot, dude”

He can’t be serious.

Ashton looked at you with pleading, furious eyes. Almost begging you to go and let him deal with them. But you grabbed his hand and made him stay. This has to be it. This has to be the chance for Calum to say something.

“You’re kidding right?” The curly haired man asked. Making you let out a breath of relief.

“Not at all! Think about it. We go, you meet her, you fuck her and done!” He said like it was nothing “Y/N will never find out cause she’s stuck up her ass. Your fans will never know or they won’t care cause they don’t even know you are in a ”relationship” to begin with! You are single to their eyes. And you get a decent fuck from someone who looks the part and knows how to have fun! It’s a win - win!”

Your heart stopped as you waited for Calum to answer. To tell Mitchy to go fuck himself. To tell him that he loves you and would never do that to you.

“I don’t know, man. I’ll think about it” Calum shrugged “Plus, if we go out I’ll have to tell Y/N. She’s upstairs finishing some shit for her university”

“Fucking hell… see! I told you! A stuck up bitch” Mitchy said, making Calum laugh.

But their laughs and the rest of the conversation grew numb to your ears. Your body trembled as the tears came flooding in, holding in the sobs that were tearing up your throat. How could he? He was really thinking of cheating on you.

You could feel every little piece of your heart shattered as you search for some kind of leverage that could hold you still so you don’t fall and break. You felt ill, disgusted and heartbroken.

As you tried to get up, you felt your knees buckle and almost fell to the ground if it weren’t for Ashton holding you up. He was still there and you knew by the look in his eyes that he was not going anywhere.

He was just as disgusted and angry as you. He couldn’t believe all the things that were said tonight, all the things that Calum failed to make it right and hurt you in the process. He knew that if he were in that room that the conversation would’ve died the moment it started. He would never let them talk about you that way.

“I-I can’t-“ You cried, moments away from hyperventilating “I can’t stay here, Ash”

He nodded, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head for reassurance “Go upstairs, love. Grab your stuff and we’re getting out of here. You’re staying with me tonight, okay?” Ashton let go of you and started walking towards the living room where the rest of the guys were still talking.

“Ash” You called, making him turn around “D-don’t make a scene, please”

He sighed as he muttered a quiet “okay” before turning around, leaving you alone as you went upstairs to grab the bare necessities to spend the night, you’ll figure out the rest later. Right now you just needed to get out of here.

You opened the bedroom door and almost collapsed at the entrance. Duke came running towards you, sensing that there was something wrong as he started to whine and tried to jump into your arms. That only made you cry harder as you realized that you were leaving him too. You fell to the floor and patted the puppy as he tried to wipe off your tears with his tongue, breaking your heart even more.

A loud voice cut you out of your thoughts. You could hear Ashton yelling, although you couldn’t exactly figure out what he was saying. This meant that Calum knew you heard everything and that, if he had at least some decency left in him, he would come and get you. You needed to act fast.

You stood up and grabbed the first big bag that you could find. Inside of it you threw your laptop, your books, your charger, some clothes and some bathroom essentials. You debated on whether or not to take with you a picture of you, Calum and Duke… it was your favorite memory with them. But the damage was stronger than the nostalgia, so you threw that picture to the ground before you left the room that once belonged to you.

You were running down the stairs when you passed Calum running up them. You ignored him as he stopped in his tracks and followed you to the hall.

“Y/N!” He said, desperate to try and stop you “Y/N, baby, please! Hear me out!”

“Hear what?! I already heard enough!” You said as you turned around.

Calum’s face was almost unrecognizable. The fear in his eyes, the desperation in his voice and his close off body language was not something you’d normally see in him. The “I fucked up” expression showed all the regret in the world, yet you didn’t seem to care at the moment.

“I. Heard. All of it, Calum” You cried through gritted teeth, anger boiling inside of you as you stared at the man you thought you’d marry “All of it and not once did I hear you say something to try and defend me. How do you think that made me feel?!”

“Baby-“ He tried, but you cut him off.

“I work my ass off all day and night for you, for us. For me to go and see you on tour like you ask me to, knowing damn well I would go to the ends of this fucking earth for you! Catching up extra classes and shifts so I can go with you. I cancel everything to be with you. I gave up everything for us to be together. I barely even have time for myself as I try my best to be something worthy of you!” Your tears were staining your face, but you pushed away the pain for a moment, knowing that once you break down it’s over “I try my best to be a good girlfriend, a good friend! I loved you with all my heart and this is what I get after almost three years? A good fuck? That 's it?”

Calum’s world fell to the floor as he tried hard to fight off the lump in his throat, whispering in a broken voice “Loved?”

“That’s all you get from it?” You ask defeated “Calum I would’ve never let my friends call you names, insult you or offend you in any way. I would’ve gone to the ends of the world for you, defended you till the day I die. All because I trusted you to do the same for me and you failed me, Calum. You broke me. You let him call me a bitch, a stuck up, worthless, stupid, bossy, annoying… should I go on? Cause those words are now printed in my memory, next to you agreeing to all of those things. Is that what you think of me?”

“Baby, I swear it’s not like that!” He said, grabbing your hand and trying to make you stay “I fucked up! I know! You are right, I failed you and you don’t know how much I hate myself for it! But please, love. You know I could never think of you like that… you are the most wonderful person there is! You are kind, smart, loving, beautiful-“

“Did you cheat on me?” You ask bluntly.

“What?”

“Did you cheat on me?”

“No!” Calum said instantly “No, I would never!”

You nodded “Yet, you thought of it.”

Calum opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off again “Is that why you never made our relationship public? So you could have a free pass whenever you want to? Cause I thought it was to protect our privacy, for us to have a normal life in the midst of the chaos that is to date a celebrity. When you told all of that I thought “wow, this is a guy with integrity and with values” Yet I don’t know what to believe now. I thought you loved me-“

“I do love you-“

“I thought you loved me” You said, the tears were already dry as the anger came flooding in “But you don’t hurt the people you love. You don’t break them like you did to me. You don’t let anyone hurt them, even if they are not in the room with you. And you don’t cheat on them like you were going to tonight with that girl Vanessa while I waited here like an idiot for you to come home and spend some time with me”

You pull your hand out of his grasp, holding onto your bag as you heard Calum cry “Y/N-“

“You are free to do whatever you want now, Calum. Cause to the eyes of your fans you are single, and I am as well”

You turned around and saw Ashton waiting by the door with his keys in his hand. He opened up the door for you as you walked by, ignoring all of Calum’s pleads for you to stay.

“So you are just going to leave?!” He yelled, not knowing what else to do. “Whe- Where are you taking her Ashton?”

The black haired man made sure that you were already sitting in his car before turning around to face his friend “I’m taking here with me and away from you cause that’s what she needs now. So don’t bother calling or showing up cause you are not welcome right now. And don’t even try to call Luke or Michael cause they already know and we won’t support you on this” Ashton said as calm as he could. He already told him off, but the anger of seeing you cry in front of him still resided in him.

“I- I love her , Ash! You can’t just take her away from me. I’m her boyfriend!”

“Correction, you were her boyfriend. And I can take her away and I will cause she asked me to” He said taking an intimidating step closer to Calum “Cause while you were here talking trash about her behind her back, planning on how to cheat on her. I was back there, holding her while she broke down crying cause she couldn’t believe that her boyfriend didn’t stand up for her and let a fucking stranger insult her all night long! You weren’t there to see her eyes water or her lip tremble. You weren’t there when she begged me with tears in her eyes to not make a scene cause all she wanted to do was to get out of here. She is the most amazing person ever, she is a light in all of our lives and you extinguished her without a second thought. You might be my friend, but she is too and I love her and I will defend her no matter what, she doesn’t deserve this kind of crap you just showed to her. So don’t count on me to try and help you get her back, I won’t blame her if she doesn’t”

Calum felt small as Ashton walked away from him, closing the door with a bang and leaving him all alone in his big house. Well, almost.

“Dude, that was intense” Mitchy laughed as he placed a hand on Calum’s shoulder “So, wanna go now?”

A blind rage fell over Calum as he heard the mocking laughs of his so-called friend, acting like his life just didn’t fall apart in front of him.

Calum grabbed the singer by the neck of his shirt and pushed him forcefully against the wall “You are going to get out of my house and never come back. You hear me?!” He yelled to his face, almost letting out steam from his nostrils as he was sure he could kill him right now.

“Dude, what’s wrong with yo-“

Calum quickly grabbed a bottle from his nearby mini bar, suddenly gaining all the courage he should’ve had hours ago, and throwed it to Mitchy’s feet, making him jump “Get the fuck out!” He yelled, grabbing bottle after bottle, glass after glass and throwing them into the ground “OUT!”

Only when the last bottle was smashed into pieces did he realize he was completely alone.

And only then did he allow himself to cry for the loss of the love of his life, walking away from him and leaving him to pick up the pieces of two broken hearts.

part 2

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @talksoprettyjjx @mystic-232

[jlalafics]

"The Long Weekend"-Part One

Happy belated birthday @keelaree!

Hope you enjoy this first part. Thank you for being such a wonderful part of my writing life, and an even better friend. Can't wait till we can reunite in SF, so we can tea time together and eat soup dumplings.

Love you!

Summary: Two assistants who barely tolerate each other. One snowy cabin. One very long weekend.

Oh, and one bed.

-----

“I’m making the turn now, Haymitch,” Peeta told his boss as he navigated the icy road. “Should have everything prepped and ready by the time you and Effie arrive.”

“Thanks,” Haymitch replied over the speakerphone. “I should tell you that I did ask for someone to help you out. Someone who knows Effie better than I do sometimes—”

Peeta slowed his car as he spotted the cozy cabin in front of him. However, he grimaced seeing the red Jeep already parked on its side.

“You didn’t.”

“Peeta, Katniss knows Effie very well,” his boss said calmly. “Just like you know me. I know that you two don’t get along—”

“Understatement of the year,” Peeta replied as he parked roughly.

“This is important. I’m proposing to Effie and I want it to be perfect,” Haymitch explained. “Katniss knows all the foods she likes to eat, and how to decorate the place to make it comfortable yet romantic. Effie and I are finishing up our meeting with Mr. Snow then we’ll be making our way up to the cabin for the holiday weekend. I’ll call you when we’re on our way so you and Katniss can take off—that is if you haven’t murdered one another by then.”

“I’m only doing this because I’m your assistant,” he called out.

“You could at least like me!” Haymitch joked. “I pay you an obscene amount for an assistant.”

“Katniss probably gets paid more.”

“Well, she picks up tampons for Effie without being asked so probably.”

“Everything will be ready by the time you get here,” Peeta promised. “And I’m doing this because I like and respect you.”

“Thank you, Peeta. Call you soon.”

++++++

Peeta Mellark sighed as he stepped out of his car, bags in hand. The snowy wind picked up and he wrapped his parka tighter around himself before rushing up to the porch. It was getting worse up here, and he hoped that the soon-to-be engaged couple would make it safely.

Getting out the key that Haymitch lent him, Peeta unlocked the door and quickly stepped in to keep the cold air from entering with him.

“Oh, you’re finally here.” Katniss Everdeen sailed into the room, placing a charcuterie board on the coffee table in the center of the sitting room. “I thought you died or something.”

Peeta gave her a wry smile, placing the bags on the floor before shaking off his parka and hanging it on the hook by the door.

“Thought or hoped?” He searched his bag before pulling out the champagne that Haymitch asked along with the two glasses. Going to the table, Peeta placed them on the table before going back to the bag for the champagne bucket. “Is there ice?”

“The fridge has an ice machine,” Katniss informed him tersely, nodding her head towards the left. “I’ve already gotten their dinner started.”

“Not surprised.” Peeta walked into the kitchen, heading to the stainless-steel fridge. “You’re so anal that you’ve probably carved those little radish flowers for garnish.”

“They’re in the fridge so they’ll be fresh.”

Peeta wasn’t sure why they didn’t get along.

For one, Katniss was admittedly attractive with her long dark, and almond-shaped grey eyes. The first time he saw his stomach had definitely done a little flip. She had been walking alongside Effie, notebook in hand, wearing a fitted black dress with a peter pan collar and paying scant attention to anything else around her.

She literally knocked him to the ground.

Katniss had apologized, holding out her hand to help him up.

And Peeta had fucking tingled at her touch.

Over the next few days as he learned the ropes of being Haymitch Abernathy’s assistant, Peeta noticed her across the hall. Effie Trinket’s office was directly adjacent to his boss’ and Katniss’ desk was in the same spot as his.

She kept her head down, never acknowledging him, so wrapped up in her work or answering her phone.

So, Peeta asked around.

“She’s an ice queen,” Cato, who was in Marketing, informed him. “Never wants to hang out with anyone or even join in during happy hour. It’s important here to form relationships with everyone. Panem Industries is all about workplace harmony and Katniss embodies none of that.”

“Yeah, she’s snooty, too,” Clove from IT added. “I once asked her something about her family and she replied that it was none of my business. Like I was just trying to get to know her!”

“Wow. I guess if Katniss is that much of a head case, then I shouldn’t bother to ask her for help,” he told the two.

After that, during any interaction, she treated him indifferently…cold even. Peeta couldn’t help but be disappointed that Cato and Clove’s words were true.

And that was the end of his fascination with Katniss Everdeen.

“You want to get out here and help me or was the ice machine too hard for you to maneuver?” Katniss suddenly called out.

Peeta quickly filled the bucket and stepped out.

Katniss was bent over the couch, arranging the pillows, and he felt a heat rush through his skin.

There was also the slight twinge in his crotch at seeing a firm apple-bottom in tight ski pants.

It seemed that Katniss Everdeen had a bigger effect on him than he realized.

++++++

Peeta Mellark had a huge effect on her.

Katniss struggled to keep the heat off her cheeks as she fixed the pillows that she bought for the cabin. Effie loved those cheesy sayings, so she went on Etsy and ordered custom-made pillows with her favorite quotes.

No one should spend so much time arranging pillows, but Katniss could feel his stare on her. It made her nervous…and tingly.

However, these feelings didn’t belong—especially in a work situation and she needed this job.

Taking a breath, Katniss turned…to find Peeta right behind her.

He jumped back, startled by her abrupt movements.

Whoa—was he checking her out?

“Why were you so close?” she blurted out.

“Sorry. It looked like you were confused about how pillows worked,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “You were there for a millennium.”

“Funny.” She sighed at the amusement in his gorgeous blue eyes—stop it!—and steeled her expression. “Do you think you could help me set up this romantic dinner for our bosses instead of standing there like an ass-licker?”

“You mean asshole.”

“I stand by my words,” Katniss replied and was surprised when he chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he did. She couldn’t help but let her mouth rise. “The table is in that closet next to the door. I got some table linens from a vintage shop that Effie likes last week.”

“Wow, you’re really on top of it,” Peeta remarked, going to the closet. “How do you have time for a life?”

She didn’t.

As in, Katniss didn’t have a life.

She had work, she had a home, but a social life was non-existent. Katniss knew what everyone said about her; that she was cold and distant, never wanting to be part of the team. It never bothered her because she did have her reasons.

So, she was surprised at how hurt she was when she heard Peeta call her a headcase.

Katniss hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, only passing the breakroom to get to the copy machine. However, she stopped at the mention of her name.

Cato’s words were no surprise, though he failed to mention that her iciness was due to him inappropriately putting his arm around her and telling her that they should get to know each other on a personal level. Katniss also didn’t trust Clove for shit; she was the office gossip.

It hit hard to know that the one person who had made her tingle was so easily influenced by two douchebags.

Katniss had decided, then and there, that if Peeta didn’t see past her exterior, then he must be like the rest of them.

“I’m very organized,” she replied. It came out harder than she intended. “I have to be.”

Peeta had already set up the table in front of the fireplace.

“Well, it’s in your favor,” he told her. “You’re a good assistant.”

Katniss looked up in surprise. “You think I’m a good assistant?”

Peeta snorted. “Like you didn’t know it—where are the tablecloths?”

She handed him a beautiful fuchsia tablecloth followed by a cream lace one.

“Fuchsia first then layer it with the lace,” she told him. “I always hope I am. Effie is a great boss and she’s so supportive about work-and-homelife balance. I want to make sure this is all perfect for her.”

Katniss helped Peeta straighten the cloth, smoothing it down and making sure that there were no wrinkles. They settled into a light conversation about working with their respective bosses while setting the rest of the table. While Peeta worked on the place settings, he told her about how he admired Haymitch’s down-to-earth attitude despite being one of the most successful people in the company.

She arranged the florals in the center of the table while telling him how she had worked two jobs prior to getting this one.

“I was a waitress and housekeeper before this,” she revealed. “I was working a crazy lunch rush when I met Effie. We got to talking because she noticed how I met her coffee exactly the way she liked it despite my ragged expression—her words not mine. Effie kept on coming in, and a month after we met, she offered me the assistant job. Said she like my gumption.”

“That’s really cool,” Peeta said. He set down one of the forks he was cleaning and met her eyes. “You know, this is the first time we’ve really talked. I kind of believed you thought of me as your enemy.”

“I thought the same thing.” Katniss placed a folded napkin on the plate in front of her. “You called me a head case.”

His blue eyes widened, shocked at her words. Slowly, she could see in his eyes, the memory of his words.

“I didn’t know you heard that,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean it and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine!” Katniss stood up abruptly. The pain of his words churned in her stomach. “I know that everyone talks about me. In my defense, Cato was completely inappropriate when we first met. I thought acting like a bitch would stave him off. Clove has no filter—”

Peeta’s brows furrowed at her sudden coldness.

“I realize that now—one year later…is that why you completely ignore me? Why you act like the sight of me makes you sick?”

“I do not!” Katniss cried out into the room. “You avoid me at all costs!”

“Because the one time that I attempted to ask you a question—you brushed me aside!” he shouted. “If you had bothered to talk to me, I wouldn’t have believed what people said in the first place—” Peeta’s phone rang, and he quickly picked up, seeing his boss’ face on his screen. “Haymitch? You on your way? What? No, I haven’t looked outside—”

Katniss rushed to one of the front windows, pulling back the curtain.

White everywhere.

She couldn’t even see her car and it was bright fucking red!

“They’re not coming.”

Turning, Katniss found Peeta putting his phone in his pocket as he approached.

“The snowstorm came unexpectedly, and the roads are blocked. They’re staying at Effie’s to wait it out while we…are stuck here until it passes.”

++++++

The good thing was that the house was fully equipped. Food was stocked in the fridge since the couple had planned to stay for the long weekend. Both he and Katniss had even brought Haymitch and Effie’s luggage so there had clothing.

“Well, dinner must be ready,” Katniss informed him with a sigh. “If you want to get more comfortable, you can probably change to something of Haymitch’s. I have a call to make before my phone dies and then I’ll pull the food out of the oven.”

Peeta nodded numbly, grabbing Haymitch's duffle and going to the opposite open door where the bedroom was. He tossed the bag on the bed—

The one bed.

Turning, he rushed out of the room to look for his female counterpart. “Katniss!” He found the sitting room empty and headed into the kitchen.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” she spoke quietly into the phone. “Just be nice to Johanna, okay? I’ll be home soon.” Her voice sounded completely different, light and happy—even affectionate. “I love you, too. Good night.”

He knocked on the archway and she turned to him.

“We have a problem,” he told her. “There’s only one bed.”

“And the couch is really just a loveseat,” Katniss mused as she pulled the food—steak with roasted asparagus and potatoes. Her expression was pained, and she blew out a breath. “I don’t really want to think about this right now. Why don’t we just eat?”

Peeta quickly nodded in agreement, rushing to the sitting room, and grabbing their plates.

“Why don’t you let me set this up?” he told her, seeing how frazzled she seemed. “Have a seat. Open the champagne—”

Katniss laughed and the sound of her lightened the load on his chest.

“You trying to get me drunk, Mellark?”

Peeta smirked. “If it makes you like me, then yes.”

“Fine, fine…” Katniss sauntered off towards the doorway. She stopped at the archway and their eyes met. Her gaze was nervous, but he could see the warmth in her greys. “You’re not my enemy, Peeta. And…I like you more than you think.”

Katniss disappeared, but not before he spied the blush on her cheeks.

Peeta felt another twinge. This time—in his chest.

++++++

Instead of sitting at the table, Katniss grabbed Effie’s luggage, a classic Louis Vuitton that cost more than her old Jeep, and brought it to the bedroom.

The one bedroom. With the one bed.

A sudden image of herself spooned contentedly against Peeta in that very bed rose in her mind—

“Stop tripping off him!” she chided herself.

Distractedly, Katniss opened the bag, sorting for something remotely comfortable in her boss’ luggage. However, it looked like Effie was expecting some sort of kinky weekend. The only sleepwear she had was a tiny red number that Katniss would probably bust out of; Effie was a tiny but fierce woman.

Maybe she could borrow something from Haymitch’s pile—

“Katniss?”

“I’m coming!” she called out before stuffing Effie’s lingerie back into the back.

Walking back into the room, Katniss saw that Peeta had already placed the plates on the table. He stood waiting for her, looking obnoxiously handsome as he had the day they met.

That first time, she had knocked him to the ground so caught up in following with Effie’s rapid pace. When Katniss held out her hand to him, she was caught up in the open smile he gave her. Then it was the gold waves along his forehead, which Katniss desperately wanted to brush back and the blue of his eyes—they had a tinge of grey in them.

For a moment, she was just a girl, and he was just a boy. Peeta didn’t know anything about the rumors of her iciness or how someone like her, with no college degree, managed to get a position like hers.

In that moment, Katniss was pure.

“You alright?” Peeta asked, interrupting her moment down memory lane.

“Yes.” She let him help her into her seat. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Was it the one bed thing?” he joked. “I’m fine with sleeping on the floor—”

Katniss held her hand up. “Let’s be grownups. It’s a big bed and we can put a pillow between us.”

“Very to the point,” Peeta replied, holding up his champagne glass. “To being grown-ups.”

“To being grown-ups.” She clinked her glass to his and took a full gulp. The liquid bubbled through her, making her laugh. “Wow, that’s some good shit.”

Peeta guffawed. “We’re going to have some fun.”

END OF PART ONE

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: maybe two more parts after this

Commission info for a Love Letter from your favorite HP character here - close 3/10/21!

You sigh as you lean your head back on the arm rest of Draco’s couch

You can see him extending a glass of wine towards you, and you take it gingerly into your hand

“I think I want to quit my job”

He doesn’t say anything, just raises an eyebrow and takes a seat in the arm chair next to the sofa you’re sprawled over like you’re at the therapists office

“Planning to coast along on your good looks?” He finally says, trying to keep his face as stern as possible.

Despite himself a smile arch’s onto the corner of his mouth

“I’m being serious!” You say, sitting up.

Draco openly laughs now, and he doesn’t stop until you throw a pillow at him.

“Well what do you expect when you say somethin’ like that out of nowhere.” He manages to say between bursts of laughter

You both have been dating for a while now, almost a year- you even brought him to a company holiday party

Life has been good

Having to hide his wizardry from you isn’t all that hard, he just had to completely reprogram the way he operates as a human being and now he’s fine

...

It’s been a little challenging

You sigh, a hand threading through your hair, eyebrows threaded together

Well now he’s a little worried, he figured you were just joking around but-

“Did something happen at work?”

Did someone say something to you- or maybe someone did something to you

Draco’s already running a list of curses in his mind by the time you sigh and shake your head

“Nothing that hasn’t been happening- not really.”

The cruciatus curse seems a little to far, maybe boils? No that’s too obvious

“It’s a nice place to work, I have it really good, it’s just-“ your eyes flicker from your glass of wine to Draco

“I always figured once I had a steady income life would be exciting yknow? And I would travel and be making memories but-“

You should be grateful, you have a good life. A comfortable job, a cozy house and-

Your eyes flicker to him, taking his impeccably handsome face, that ash blonde hair, and vibrant grey eyes

And you’ve got Draco

But even though you have all these things, you can’t help but feel like life is just passing you by, and before you know it you’ll be 80 on your death bed having done nothing at all

Draco’s quiet for a moment, picking up on the unspoken sentiment

Maybe you shouldn’t have unpacked on him like that- he’s got his own problems too after all

“Let’s go on Holiday”

Huh?

Draco picks up on your confusion and elaborates on his reasoning

“You’re just a little burned out, you need a break.”

It happened to his Dad all the time when he was a kid, he’d get caught up in all of his dark magic council meetings and his board positions and wonder if this is just life was- an endless power struggle

And that’s when his Mum would swoop in with an elegant family trip to some exotic location, and they would all come back like new people.

Right now you need someone to show you the joy in life. That it’s not just going to work for fifty years and dying

There’s a long stretch of silence between the two of you

And Draco starts to wonder if maybe his Mum had it all wrong

Maybe he should have just offered to make you his spouse, he makes enough money for the both of you- you don’t have to work if you don’t want to when you’re his

He’s internally rehearsing his proposal speech, picking out which moments he should highlight

Which is pretty hard because every moment with you feels like a highlight

“Where would we go?”

Your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but Draco doesn’t overlook the twinkle in your eye

He grins

“Anywhere you want”

You find out pretty fast that Draco is a meticulous planner- everything is carefully decided

“Alright we’ll get off the flight, and we’ll get one of those mu- I mean we’ll get a car from there so we don’t have to worry about transportation-“

Literally everything is reserved, the hotel you’re staying in the city at for the first few nights, the car you’ll be using while you’re in France, the bed and breakfast Draco found out about in a small village in the French country side, even all the restaurants you’ll be eating at

Which is totally fine, some structure isn’t a bad thing

It’s just Draco’s never struck you as someone who plans everything out

“Is everything alright darling? Is this a personality trait of yours I’m just going to have to grow to love?”

You wrap your arms around his torso from the back, your chin resting on his shoulder to glance at the travel documents he’s reviewing

“Oh I never do this when I’m traveling alone- I don’t even take a travel bag most of the time, I can just buy whatever I need when I land- one time I didn’t even take my wallet because your phone is a wallet these days.”

You raise an eyebrow, what a little rich boy

You can’t think of all the times your family packed everything they could possibly need when going on vacation so they wouldn’t have to pay for anything when they got there

“So what’s the difference this time?” You ask, has hitting the quarter of life struck him with a lightening bolt that’s transformed him into a dad now?

“Because I’m going with you”

So everything has to be perfect. You’re taking a whole two weeks off of work, he’s got to make sure you don’t regret it, and give you the best time possible

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on proposing”

You’re only joking, but the disgusted look that crosses Draco’s features makes you flinch

You know it’s probably a little early to mention marriage, it’s only been a year after all, but you would be lying if you said that didn’t hurt

“I would never propose in France (Y/N), I have taste”

That whole country is just overhyped, and Paris is way too dirty - like most cities.

But it’s where you want to go- you like art museums and fresh baked bread so here he is

Going to god damn France

But he’ll be hexed before he proposes to you in that god forsaken country

“Oh so there’s going to be a proposal?”

“Of course there is” he says off handedly, verifying that both of your passports are up to date

And then he realizes what he just admitted and feels a ruby red blush creep onto his face from his neck

“W-wait-“

He turns around to face you, face bright red, only to see you smiling like you’ve just won the lottery

And he should be hopelessly embarrassed,

he’s been trying to play it cool for the last year, to play at your pace in terms of relationship development

Only to let it slip through his fingers in a single moment

But you look so happy to know he see’s a future with you

“Alright, sounds good. Just give me a heads up a few weeks before so I can get a spa appointment to look pretty for all our pictures”

You’re joking.... kind of

You don’t put it past Draco to have a photographer follow you both around and take pictures of the whole engagement thing

Draco’s actually taking your joke quite seriously though, a dopey grin on his mouth

“I’ll give you a hint the weekend before”

That should be enough time to get all your affairs in order

It’ll also give him enough time on how to break to you that he’s a wizard and well- his parents probably hate you

You’re smiling, an embarrassed expression crossing your features as you change the topic to which places you’ll be visiting

But there’s a shadow on Draco’s face

He sighs when you leave, saying you have to go back to your house to pack-

It’s always so lonely when you’re gone

He collapses on his arm chair, twirling his wand so that there’s a glass of fire whisky in his hand

He’s going to have to tell you soon- not just about his wizardry, but also about his family

His Mum’s already got half a guess there’s something going on here - but he bets the worst she believes is that he’s dating someone beneath him, maybe a muggle born at worst

Certainly not an actual muggle

His father’s clueless as always - too busy with his council positions and appearances

His mother will be fine , she would be upset of course, but she would come around eventually

His Father would disown him

He’s fairly confident about that

The second he says he’s in love with a muggle- it’s over for him

His dad might actually curse him when he finds out he’s marrying a muggle- bringing dirty blood into their bloodline

And Draco might curse him back

Because they can say whatever they want about him, but not about you-

Nothing about you is dirty

You’re the purest, kindest, loveliest person he’s ever seen

And he still can’t believe you’re his

You shouldn’t be surprised when you find out Draco booked you both first class seats

Or when you get to the airport and see a Mercedes convertible waiting for you

Or even when you get to the hotel - which turns out to be The Ritz

The tipping point is when you find out the “room” Draco booked is actually the penthouse

“Well that was exhausting, should we take a nap before going to the Louvre?”

You’re sitting on the sofa in the living area, your head in your hands

Draco doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy pouring Perrier into two crystal glasses.

“Draco, love, do you remember before we went on this trip, that I insisted paying my portion- even though you said there was no need?”

Draco looks up from the Perrier. But you’re still staring at the ground

“And then when I asked why my portion was so low- you said you got a really great economy deal from a travel package.”

That was the excuse he used wasn’t it

“Well there was a discount travel package, I just didn’t book it.”

Honestly he’s not sure what his end game was here- honestly he was just hoping you would believe this was all included in the package

Your palms are pressed together, your head resting against them

Draco extends a glass of Perrier towards you

You look at it for several long seconds,

he probably got it out of the mini fridge that charges 10x mark up

“I’m paying for our next trip” you say, accepting the glass with a sigh

Draco only grins

“So there’s going to be a next trip?”

You almost snort laughing

“Are you seriously asking me that after you basically proposed to me last week?”

Ah, you’ve got him there

You smile as you tug his towards you, pressing a kiss to his mouth

“Of course there will be you dork”

He smiles as he holds you close, kissing you again

Being in Paris is really cool

You go on a tour of the catacombs

“Watch your step” Draco says, offering his arm for support

“Thanks” you hold his hand as you make your way through the dark space

And the Louvre

“Am I supposed to be feeling something right now?” He asks

You’re both looking at the Mona Lisa, and you’ve got tears in your eyes, feeling very small

You’re almost humbled being in her presence, the painting that has withstood centuries

“Yes” you sniffle, taking the handkerchief Draco’s extended towards you

“You’re a rich kid, aren’t you supposed to be super invested in art and stuff?”

He gives you a mischievous grin

“I look at you everyday don’t I”

You manage a laugh, lightly smacking him in the arm

Things are going really well, you’re both having a really good time, and then something happens-

It’s your last day in the city before you head out to the french countryside,

you and Draco decided you would spend the morning souvenir shopping before heading there in the afternoon

You’ve put in an order for some macrons for your friends and the people at work

“Do you think they’ll still be good by the time we get back home?”

It will be at least a week until you head back, and longer until you see any of your friends

“I think as long as we freeze them” Draco assures

He’ll put a charm on them for good measure

“Malfoy?”

The second Draco hears that voice he goes rigid

You see, being with you for a year has been utter bliss.

Draco’s had a good year, the best year of his entire life-

The thing is though, he got so caught up in who he was becoming-

that he completely forgot who he used to be-

Until this moment

“Weasley. Granger”

Weasley looks the same as ever, flaming red hair and a splatter of freckles across his nose and spilling onto his face

Still that tall, lean, but muscular build he had when he last saw him.

Granger looks great though, she’s got her curls framing her face, smooth dark skin glistening against a clean cut pant suit

“Lovely to see you both”

Draco seems composed

But on the inside he’s on the verge of having a panic attack

Maybe they’ll just give a wave and be on their way

Yes that’s entirely pos-

Nope. They’re walking over to you two

F*ck

“Are you going to introduce us?” You ask with a teasing smile

Oh crap, he forgot the social protocols a situation like this calls for in his panic

“R-right, (Y/N) this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-“

“Actually we’re both Weasley now” Ron says with a proud grin

“- well she was Granger now she’s Weasley too, we um-“

Were sworn rivals. Mortal enemies. Fought on opposite sides of a great and tragic war.

“Went to school together”

He can honestly say that isn’t a lie.

They all did go to school together

A magic school in the mountains of Scotland, where they rode brooms and befriended magical creatures

Somehow he gets the feeling that’s not the type of experience you’re picturing though

To his surprise things are going pretty well, the conversation is mostly revolving around Paris, you and Granger seem to share a similar love for Mona Lisa

“And when you stand in front of her-“ Granger starts

“It’s like she’s judging you!” You finish

The two of you are only a moment away from embracing

Weasley looks like he couldn’t care less about Mona Lisa

And for once Draco thinks they’re in agreement

Maybe it’s because they’re from pureblood families

Because something surviving 500 years isn’t all that big of a deal to wizards

Not when the average wizard can live a few hundred years, his great grandfather even lived until the ripe old age of 652

“So are you two on Holiday?” You ask and Granger shakes her head

“No, we’re actually here for work on behalf of the Au-“

“On behalf of their museum I’m sure” Draco cuts in quickly

He was so comfortable in the fantasy  where his previously sworn enemies might become causal aquantinces that he completely forgot there were three wizards and one muggle in this conversation

“”They um-“ Draco clears his throat giving a meaningful look to Granger and Weasley before lowering his voice “they actually work for a rival museum. Managed to get an exhibit from right under me”

The lies just seem to stack on one another.

Draco’s not sure what’s worse- that he’s getting better with coming up with these lies-

“Is that why they aren’t invited to your hangouts with Blaise, Theo and Pansy”

Or that you trust him so much you wholeheartedly  believe each and every lie

“That is exactly why they’re not invited”

Some force in the universe must like him, because luckily enough that’s when your order number is called.

“Oh looks like it’s ready, I’ll see you in a bit darling” you press a kiss to his cheek before making your way towards the counter

And Draco’s so caught up in the subtle affection you’ve just shown him he’s completely forgotten all about the situation at hand until Granger clears her throat.

Ah yes, the mountain of lies he’s haphazardly built.

How could he forget

Granger looks like she’s got the gist of the situation,

Weasley on the other hand looks just as dumb as Draco remembers from school

His mouth agape

“Are they a muggle??”

Draco flinches at how loud Weasley says the word Muggle

“Yes, they are could you please keep your voice down”

He looks in your direction

Oh good it looks like you didn’t hear

He turns back to his old enemies

They both look like their mind is broken

“But your family they hate-“

“That’s my parents, that’s not me” Draco snaps quickly

But it was him, wasn’t it

All those times he tormented muggle borns at school, the dark magic artifacts he toyed with-

He looks at Granger

All the times he called her mud blood

He’s not as bad as his parents

-but he’s still not good

“Since I was there I got yours too-“

The second you’re back you can tell something is off

The tension hangs in the air like fog

Draco looks like he’s just seen a ghost, face pale and thin pink lips trembling

“What’s wrong?” You ask

Draco was a monster, that’s what’s wrong

“Nothing,” he puts on his most believable smile “we should get going or it will get dark before we get to the manse”

You nod, taking his hand in yours

It’s trembling

“It was lovely meeting you, maybe we’ll see each other again soon”

Granger who’s been awfully quiet for this whole ordeal smiles

“Yes, I hope we do”

The look Granger gives you is genuine and warm

- like she already considers you a friend

and it makes Draco feel twice as bad

It’s not like anything has really changed as you two drive through the countryside

You’re still joking like you always do,

Draco’s driving and he stops in several places on the way there so you can take polaroids in the French country scenery

But something feels...off

Like he’s just pretending to be happy

You really shouldn’t be surprised when you roll up to a large iron gate,

Draco types in the code into a keypad and they creak as they open revealing a rather impressive winding drive

At the end of which is an absolute unit of a mansion

“This isn’t a bed and breakfast is it?”

For one there’s not even a parking lot, Draco gives you a fleeting look before taking your bags out of the car.

“This is my family’s manse, we would come up here during the summer for vacation”

He was on the fence about bringing you here, but his Mum always had a rule that all dark magic artifacts would be kept away from their vacation home

His father could have free reign over the manse near London, but not here when they were on vacation

“You grew up here?” You say, taking in the fountain, the thirty windows you see in the front face alone, and the massive rose garden to the side

“Not really, we would just come here to vacation, it was really for my parents. I spent most of my time climbing up trees-“

And playing with the house elves, which his mother would later reprimand him for

It was always worse for them though

At least Father pays them a wage now, however meager it may be

“There’s no servants right now though, so it will be just us”

He says it as he leads you through the manse, passing the drawing room, a rather impressive parlor, up a long pair of winding steps into the east wing into a rather lavish room

“I hope you don’t mind staying in my old room, my parents used to use the master and that just seems... icky”

you laugh And he gives you another smile, and this time you know somethings wrong.

“We can go to the village nearby and grab dinner, or we can stay here but I doubt the pantry has-“

“Draco,” you stop him mid speech about getting dinner “What’s wrong?”

Draco does his best to smile for you

“Nothings wrong-“

“No, something is wrong” you cut him off quickly, taking his hand in both of yours

“You’ve been...sad”

that’s what it is, the emotion he’s been trying to cover up

He thought he was covering up his internal turmoil pretty well

Draco won’t lie, the fact that he’s more transparent then he thinks hurts

“Ever since we saw your old classmates at the bakery”

The way he flinches when you mention it tells you all you need to know

You feel a protective flare swell inside you

“Did something happen? Did they do something to you?“

you’re already thinking about how you need to protect you Draco from them, they work in the same industry so they’re bound to cross paths. Maybe-

“I’m the one who did something to them.”

Draco breaks you away from your thoughts

“What?”

“I-“

Draco looks into your puzzled face, and his heart squeezes

He didn’t want you to find out, not like this

Pretty soon you’ll be thrust into his history headfirst-

His hand is held in both of yours,

your eyes are so warm as they look up at him.

And all he can think is that he doesn’t deserve any of this

The truth is he didn’t want you to ever know

“I wasn’t a good person” he croaks

He knows he’s just as much a victim as the others, he’s got the scars and the death eater mark to prove it- both things he didn’t really want

It was coercion, they told him.

He grew up in an environment where he was punished for showing any original thought, his therapist had said

He’s a victim too

But that doesn’t mean it was okay for him to treat people like that- for him to call people that word-

“I was a bully, a monster, I was-”

Draco’s cut off when you pull him into a hug

Draco stumbles back when you throw yourself at him,  wrapping your arms around him

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that.” You say

He doesn’t understand why until he see’s  the tears drop onto your hair

Oh, he’s crying

“Shh, it’s okay” you hum, holding him close as he sobs into your shoulder

And you two stay just like that for a long time

“I just don’t want you to think less of me” Draco murmurs, you’re both on his bed now, you’re both sitting cross legged across from each other

He looks so ashamed, it’s like he’s admitting he killed someone

In all honestly, you figured something like this might be the case.

Draco’s a rich boy, he doesn’t seem like someone who’s experienced financial struggle,

He’s  someone who experienced life with a sense of entitlement

You look at him, rim of his eyes tinged pink and swelling. The almost pitiful sniffle he lets out

But the Draco in front of you isn’t like that, not anymore at least.

His kindness is still a little rough...but it’s there

You know that, you see it every time he picks up on your mood, every time he comforts you when you have a bad day

You’ve seen it during this trip, where he catered everything so you would have a good time

You just have to make him see that now

“All of that, it’s in the past now Draco” you squeeze his hand, and he finally stops looking down and up at you

“You have a past, I do too” you give him a warm smile. “but that’s all behind us now, all that matter is where we’re going from here”

Your reassuring expression and tender words make him feel like he might cry again, but this time for a different reason

“We don’t have to talk about it, not until you’re ready” you tell him

he feels his eyes sting

“I don’t deserve your kindness”

And from another man you would think it’s a plot to earn your sympathy, but looking at Draco you know he means every word

He looks like a broken man

Like he’s haunted, worn down to the bone

So you do the only thing you can think to do, knees pressing into the mattress you hover over him. Your hands cup each side of his face, tilting it up so those brilliant grey eyes are looking at you

“You deserve every part of me my love” you murmur, peppering his face with kisses

Scattering them across his cheeks, his hairline, down his thin nose, and across his jaw

Before finally catching his lips, your mouth gently caressing his

“(Y/N)-“ your name leaves him in a breathless voice- half in want and half concerned

His hand caresses your face, stopping you as you kiss down his neck

He wants to tell you that You don’t have to do any of this just because he’s feeling emotional

But he doesn’t have to say anything, because you understand immediately, giving him a kind smile

“I’m doing it because I want you-“ you take his hand , pressing kisses to the end of his fingertips

“Do you trust me?”

And Draco, who doesn’t trust his voice, can only manage a nod

“I’m going to be good for you” you murmur against his hand, and you feel him shiver underneath you.

Draco’s made love to you countless times, felt your burning skin against his hands so many times he’s lost count.

But it’s never been like this

It’s so....

He looks at you underneath him, your eyes are warm as you look up at him, and full of so much love

It’s.....Comforting.

This time making love to you is comforting.

Your hand presses against his lower abdomen, right above the place you both are connected, and it earns an involuntary shiver from him

But you don’t stop there, your hand trails up his stomach, across his chest, fingers lightly brushing against the nape of his neck before resting on his face

The action, mixed with that warm look in your eyes, feels so tender

“You’re so pretty” You murmur, your thumb rubbing tenderly across his cheek.

Caressing his face.

“My pretty boy Draco”

And he feels emotion well up within him once more.

A tear slipping down his face as he leans down to kiss you

He doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve your love

But he’s so grateful that he has it

That he has you

“Being good for him” extends past the bedroom it seems, because the next morning he wakes up to an empty bed, his body littered with kiss marks, a hot bath drawn for him with flower petals scattered across the surface, and a note

‘Took the car to the village, will be back soon. P.S take a bath and relax until I get back, I have your favorite tea in the kettle for when you’re done.’

Draco can’t help the goofy grin that spreads across his face

“I really don’t deserve you”

You come back only fifteen minutes later, while he’s still soaking in the tub.

You walk over to him wordlessly, rubbing his shoulders as you lean against the rim of the tub.

“How are you feeling today darling?” You murmur, kissing his temple.

“Better now that you’re here.” And he means it, he loves what you’ve done for him, but it’s always so lonely when you’re gone

He takes your hand in his, looking up at you with shining grey eyes.

“Will you join me?”

You laugh, your other hand caressing his face

“I have to go get things ready for our picnic- I thought it might be nice, there’s a place the locals told me about- a hill a few kilometers away from here.”

“That can wait can’t it?” He asks, and when you make no move to undress he adds -

“please?”

He looks like a little boy, and you find yourself relenting, pulling off your sweater with a sigh

The tub is massive, probably half the size of your bedroom, so you give Draco some room, sitting on the other side of the tub

Last night was intense, for you and for him, you don’t want to overwhelm him with too much stimulation

But Draco doesn’t let you stay far away, beckoning you to him. Only satisfied when your back is pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your chest and stomach

“I’m sorry-“ he starts, but you silence him with a simple squeeze of his hand

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for”

And it’s true. How many times has Draco comforted you- bringing you dinner when you pulled late nights at work, or kissed your tears away?

“It’s nice. Seeing another part of the person I love” you reassure

There’s a moment of silence before Draco opens his mouth again

“When I was in school, I-I -“

“ you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to” you reassure,

the two have the rest of your lives to talk about these things, there’s no rush

But Draco shake his head, and offers you a small smile

“I want to talk about it, I want you to know”

And so Draco tells you as much as he can without giving away his secret

He tells you his family comes from old money, and he internalized certain messages from that

“It’s not an excuse,” he clarifies, “but it’s part of the story too”

He tells you how he was a bully all through this childhood and into adolescence.

Even early adulthood.

How he basically tormented the people he bullied-

“Granger... I was terrible to her.” He admits, you’ve since moved away from the bath tub, and you’re sitting in the garden, drinking tea and eating scones. “I called her terrible things”

He means he called her a mudblood, the greatest insult a person can get

You’re thinking he probably called her a b*tch or a c*nt.

Honestly I’m not sure which version is worse

“Did you have a crush on her?” You ask, and Draco sputters. His cheeks blooming red

He remembers being jealous of Granger, she was always at the top of their class, and he always came in second to her.

He remembers getting lectures for it everytime he came home for the holidays

His Father always fuming how Draco  was so inept that even a ‘mudblood’ could surpass him.

And some of that did transfer to his dislike for the person

He does remember thinking she looked awfully beautiful at the Yule Ball though, in that pink dress

“She’d look better in green” he had thought and then realizing what he just thought blushed and looked towards his date.

“Maybe I did.” He admits to you, almost a decade later.

And you laugh

“I bet you were a cutie” Draco only blushes even more

What you wouldn’t give to see a teenage Draco, you wonder what it would have been like if you met him when you were younger

How different would things be?

You watch Draco flush bright red, trying to cover his embarrassment with a sip of his tea

Well, the way things turned out isn’t so bad either

You spend the rest of the trip at Draco’s family’s manor, in domestic bliss

You stand on your tip toes, trying to reach a pair of mugs on the top shelf

“Here let me get that” Draco says reaching them with ease while standing behind you

You drink tea in the garden

“Draco darling, will you pass me the preserves?”

You’re both dressed like something out a a historical drama, he’s in a suit and you’ve got on a tilted sun hat and white gloves

Playing like you’re nobility vacationing in the Parisian countryside

Which... Draco sort of actually is

.... let’s not think of that

And go on picnics on the nearby hill

“Oh no” you mumble

“What’s wrong?” Draco asks while setting down the picnic blanket

“I forgot to bring glasses for the wine” you sigh

Draco shrugs

“We’ll just drink from the bottle”

You make a face and he laughs

“What does the thought of an indirect kiss make you nervous?”

You lightly shove him with a laugh

And late nights spent in their family library

“Your family sure has a strange book collection” you say holding up a book titled ‘witchcraft in the mid-1800’s’

Draco scrambles towards you

“Y-yeah that’s probably my dad, he’s kind of interested in that occult stuff...for fun, not like, because he’s apart of a cult or anything”

Not anymore at least

“I wasn’t thinking that he was apart of a cult... but I am now” you joke

You’ve moved on, scanning the rest of  their collection, but Draco’s looking at you-

This last week has been like something out of a dream

He can’t imagine how happy he would be to have this everyday

He watches your hand brush against the spine of a book

He extends a hand over your own, stroking your ring finger

“Make sure this finger is empty for me, okay?”

[callsign-mischief]

The Gift of a Weasley Sweater is a Powerful Thing [F.W.]

Day 23 prompt of ‘A Very Harry Potter Christmas’ : ‘Weasley Sweater’

Thank you so much to @jamilelucato and @whack-ed for letting me participate in this writing challenge! I am so sorry it is extremely late, please forgive me. Hope you like it!

Fred Weasley x Female!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: Mention of fighting, Umbridge, Umbridge’s using that quill, George being mean, a few cuss words, mention of  “bloodtraitor” *if I missed anything that should be put into the warning, please let me know!* 

Word Count: 6.5k (so sorry!)

As the Christmas holiday was quickly approaching and many students were preparing to leave the comfort of Hogwarts to spend time with their respected families, it was becoming increasingly normal to see different love-sick couples scattered about the castle basking in each other's presence to soak up every last ounce of time they could before being separated by the long vacation. What wasn’t normal, however, was seeing Fred Weasley spending any, and almost every, spare second he had with a girl doing the exact same thing. And to make it even more unusual, a Slytherin girl! 

It was a few days before Christmas break and George Weasley has had enough of seeing his brother act like a lovesick fool.

“I do not know what is going on in that head of his but I’m right ‘bout to take my beaters bat and knock some sense into him. Thank Merlin she’s not wedged her way into coming home with us!” he huffs sending silent daggered glares toward his twin brother sitting a few feet down the way at the Gryffindor breakfast table with his serpent of a girlfriend nestled into his side. He couldn’t stand the sight. How did Fred Weasley, a proud Gryffindor of all people, become entranced with none other than a snake? It just didn't make sense! 

From across the table, Lee Jordan casts a glance up towards the inter house couple before returning to face the boiling redhead sitting across from him. “Honestly George, I don’t know why you hate her so much, you've never even actually met her! She is actually quite nice y’know? She helped me escape Snape once, it was brilliant!” 

“She’s a Slytherin, Lee! The whole lot of them can't be trusted…” he grumbles, taking a quick bite of his slice of toast before sipping his pumpkin juice and clearing his throat. “I don’t know what game she's playing but I’m gonna find out what it is. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Lee could understand where the boy in front of him was coming from. Fred had never taken a liking to any Slytherin house member before, no matter who they were, up until the week before the end of the previous school year when you had transferred to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons. “Just give her a chance George. You never know, she could be genuine in her love or whatever she feels for him and not be as bad as you think!” 

On top of what George, and almost everyone else at Hogwarts, was already putting up with this school year (aka Professor Umbridge terrorizing the school and you know whos return creating chaos amongst the wizarding world) George didn’t want to add having to be civil with a snake to his list of things to deal with. 

“Yeah...guess not but still! She has not approached any of us, his siblings, to get to know us and they have been cozied up since she got here last semester! In my book, that's already a bad sign.” he frowns looking at the couple again. 

Meanwhile down the table, the two lovesick teenagers are conversing amongst themselves, oblivious to the pointed looks from her boyfriend's twin.

“So I have Ron, George, and Ginny’s gifts all wrapped up and ready to be handed out...and I was thinking, maybe I could come up to the common room later after lessons and give them out? What better time than to finally let me meet them and get to know them than Christmas!” she asks, voice dripping with excitement and hope. 

A grin graced his lips as he admired her excitement. “That sounds like an excellent idea, love, but with Umbridge, I don’t think it’s safe to be going into others common rooms.” 

“I really would love to officially meet them, Freddie. We’ve been dating for three months and you haven’t introduced me to any of them. They’re your siblings, part of what makes you,you! Especially George. I mean come on- he’s your twin! Your other half! And when has Umbridge terrorizing the school ever stopped you from breaking the rules? I can come up and watch them open presents, maybe stay the night so I don’t get caught sneaking back to the dungeons….we can spend some time in the common room after everyone’s gone to bed?” you giggle playfully.  

“You had me at ‘stay the night’!”

Another giggle slips past your lips as you peck his lips before rising from the bench. “I thought you would like that idea. I am off to see Professor Snape before my potions lesson starts, I will see you later in Transfig, yeah?”

Fred nods quickly, leaning up to peck your lips once more before you turn and strut out of the Great Hall. He watches you go with that same dopey smile on his face and his eyes swirling with pure adoration. He was in love. 

After a hefty handful of morning classes, a quick lunch with friends, Transfiguration with Fred (whom of which you got to spend no time with due McGonagall partnering you with other people) and one intense charms lesson, it was finally time for your favorite part of the day; your free period. You weren’t sure how you got so lucky to have a free period at the end of the day but you definitely weren’t going to complain. 

Normally you would spend the free period in the Slytherin common room, on the Quidditch pitch practicing, or in the Room of Requirement (which had quickly become yours and Fred’s spot when he decided to skip afternoon lessons), but today you decided to change things up and direct yourself to the library. You had spent your fair share of time amongst many stacks of the old, dusty books for studying purposes and to grab different for-fun reading material but hardly ever did you come in here to spend your free time. 

Upon entering, you quickly set your course for the small ‘Muggle Fiction’ section that had been added in recent years, in search of a new adventure to lose yourself in. Your study partner, Hermione was the one to actually introduce you to the section and recommend a few novels to try reading and you turned out loving them all. Despite being a pureblood and having the nasty ‘I hate everything Muggle’ stereotype follow you around everywhere like a shadow, your heart couldn’t help but get excited about Muggle literature, your favorite genre so far being Romance.

Once you have made your pick of entertainment, you gravitate your way to a back corner nook of the library to get comfy-that is until you see the back of a familiar mop of fiery red hair fluttering between shelves before plopping down at a table with his books. 

Having not been able to contain the excitement of seeing your man (even though he should be in potions), you quickly divert your course to him, staying quiet with a beaming grin on your face. Once close enough behind him, you reach out, playfully covering his eyes with your hands blocking his vision from the herbology book he had been scanning through. 

"Guess who, Freddie." You giggle. 

"What the bloody hell? Get off of me!"

Your eyes went wide in horror upon hearing the voice of the man who was definitely not your boyfriend!

"Oh, Salazar, I'm so sorry! I thought you were Fred from the back!" 

George stood up from his seat, turning to you with a piercing glare, "You should really make sure you know who you are approaching before you touch them!" 

He hadn't completely yelled at you but the angry tone and rise in his voice made you want to nearly cry. 

 You cast your eyes to the side, the amount of complete embarrassment you felt had your face feeling as though it was on fire. "I..I know, and again I'm really sorry about that. I- I'm uhm...I'm (Y/N), by the way...Fred's girlfriend." You look back to him, introducing yourself properly for the first time. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you George." 

"I can't say the same for you, snake." 

You recoil at the name, "What did you just-" 

"You heard me, a snake. That's what you are, clearly. Whatever love spell you have my twin under, you need to end it, and end it now." 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "What are you talking about? There is no spell. I wouldn't do that to Fred, or anyone for that matter! How can you stand there and accuse me of something like that when you don't even know me?" 

“Don’t think I know you, do you? You're a stuck up, entitled, conniving witch whose family only cares about things as ridiculous as blood purity and money. Everyone knows what kind of people you are. You and Fred have been dating for months and you haven't approached any of his siblings to get to know them. And what’s more is that over the summer you didn't even want to come to the Burrow to spend time with his family; it was always him leaving to meet you. What does that say about what kind of person you are?"

"You don't know a thing. That was not because of me! That was always Fred's choice, I wanted to-" 

"No, don't try to seem all innocent now. You don’t want anything to do with us and we certainly don't like you. Now, if you'd excuse me, I best be leaving."

Before you could get another word out, George turned and collected the books he had grabbed, walking away to the front of the library and out its doors. 

*

*

After your encounter with George in the library this afternoon, your day had only gotten worse.  

You had attempted to break up a fight between two of your younger Slytherin female students but you had ended up getting elbowed in the face, leaving you with a small black eye. Yet before you had the chance to visit the Hospital wing, you were summoned to Umbridge's office.

What had been intended as a “friendly chat” -the pink toads words, not yours-, upon seeing your forming black eye when you stepped into her office, you were dished up a detention for “unacceptable display of muggle dueling from a prefect”. You tried to explain the situation and what had happened but it only seemed to aggravate the woman more. She implemented your detention immediately- the punishment being having to write lines. Instead of writing lines for the said cause of your detention, you were made to write lines for "associating with a blood traitor below your class grade". The way she talked about Fred made your blood boil with rage but you didn’t want to make your situation any worse than it was so you kept the angry words and insults for the woman to yourself.  

And finally to top off  your terrible day, you had received a letter from your parents stating that they would be spending the Christmas holiday in a tropical paradise while you were to stay at Hogwarts, alone.  The day was turning out to be too much to handle and all you wanted was Fred. But with him nowhere to be found, you took to locking yourself in an abandoned classroom in the dungeons, crying out your frustrations. With your eye swelling, your hand stinging like crazy, and your chest aching knowing that Fred's family already hated you without meeting you, you felt completely miserable.

After what had seemed like hours, you finally managed to get your hysterical sobs under control to only getting small hiccups ever so often. Your eyes stung from the hours of repetitive rubbing away of tears and you could only imagine what you looked like. Breaking from your ball-like position in the corner of the room, you rise from the chilled ground, stretching your aching limbs as you take a glance at the small watch on your wrist. You see that dinner had started almost half an hour ago. With a sigh, you emerge from the dungeon’s classroom making your way up to the Great Hall. 

When you enter through the hall's double doors, you immediately scan the Gryffindor’s table for the man you have come to love. You spot him quickly as he's waving his arms around wildly with a wide grin on his lips, seeming to be telling a crazy story to the surrounding group of his friends made up of George, Ron, Harry Potter, your study partner Hermione, and Lee Jordan. You can't help the way your eyes fill with nothing but pure love seeing him in his element; entertaining people and making them laugh and smile. Your eyes cut to his twin sitting beside him and your face falls. 

In that moment, his harsh words from earlier this afternoon ran through your head on repeat like a broken record you couldn't stop. You never wished for anything more than to meet Fred's family and have them approve of you and your relationship but with the way things were going, that would never be anything but a wish. 

You b-line for the Slytherin house table, taking a seat next to your best friend. As you start to shovel food onto your empty plate, his eyes fill with concern. 

"Blimey, (Y/L/N)! What in Salazar’s name happened to you."

You pause and give him a quick pierced glance before resuming to fill up the plate of food. "Do not start with me Zabini. I've had a rough day." 

"I can tell by that black eye of yours. Did Weasley do something he shouldn't have to make you cry? Because you know I will-" 

You crack a sad grin at his over protectiveness but let out a sigh, "N-no, he didn't do anything...he's great. It's just...I don't know.." you trailed off. You didn't want to out George and have him face Blaise's wrath, but how could you keep the day's events away from your best friend?

Blaise noticed your hesitation and rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, "hey, if you don't want to talk about it right now, you don't have to but I'll be here for when you're ready and have the right words." 

You give him the best side hug you can manage as your eyes begin to prickle with a few tears. "I know and thank you Blaise. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

He returns the hug with a smile, "probably be miserable, I suppose. But I meant what I said. Just because I support you and Weasley's little love fest doesn't mean I won't hex him into next year if he hurts you." 

You shove his shoulder playfully before returning back to plate to enjoy your meal. 

As always, dinner was delicious and you stuffed your stomach full with too much dessert. You rise from the bench along with your fellow Slytherin's and begin to trickle out of the great hall. As you are walking between Theo and Blaise, a hand reaches out and grabs your arm from behind, spinning you around. You're met with a pair of familiar soft and warm lips being placed on your own. Before you can respond to the kiss, your boyfriend pulls away with a smirk leaving you with a small pout.  

“Don’t go pouting, love. You will get more kisses soon, are you ready to go? Hell- what happened to your eye?!” he cups his hands around your face, inspecting your eye closely.

 “It's nothing, don't worry. Where are we going?”

“You don’t remember? You were going to stay the night after you handed out gifts to Ginny, Ron, and George. Which by the way, I've got to tell you, I’m a little peeved off I’m not getting my gift yet and I’m your loving, devoted boyfriend who adores you and who worries about you.”

You rub your neck nervously, looking away from him. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day and I forgot..”

His eyes scan your face, his frown only growing deeper “I thought you were excited, love. I didn’t think you would forget something like this. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t help it. Hearing Fred ask ‘what’s wrong’ after the day you’ve had, unleashed a new wave of fresh tears. 

“Woah, woah, love what happened? Why are you crying, did I say something wrong?” he quickly encases you in his warm embrace, pressing your head gently to his chest to muffle your sobs. Your body shakes horribly as you try to keep yourself from crumbling right then and there in the hall in the presence of other students. 

He looks ahead to see Theo and Blaise have stopped in their places, noticing your absence and are now looking at him holding your distraught figure. He sends a pleading look to Blaise, desperate for him to give a clue as to what was wrong but Blaise only shook his head and frowned in response.  He knew Zabini was your best friend and that you told each other everything so when even he didn’t know what was wrong, Fred began to worry even more. 

As Fred held you to his chest, he gently brushed back your hair with his fingers a couple of times hoping it would calm you. Bending down slightly so as to not scare you, he whispers into your ear, “C’mon, love. Let’s go up to my room and we can cuddle until you’re ready to talk. How does that sound?”

You nod your head slowly, breathing deeply as you can as you step away from him. His heart shattered seeing your eyes so puffy and bloodshot. Gently wrapping an arm around your waist, he guides you up the moving staircases to the portrait sealing the Gryffindor common room. Fred mutters the password and once there is enough space for you both to walk through, he softly pulls you along, hoping that the room will be empty or at least empty enough so you will be comfortable walking through. To his relief, the only people who have opted to stay out in the common room were George, Lee, Ginny, and the Golden Trio. George is the first to notice his twin's sudden presence.

“There you are Freddie, been wondering where you went off to. Hopefully not to see that-”

“Shut up, George. Do you and Lee mind staying down here for a while? We would like to be alone for a bit.”

Ron pipes up from his spot on the carpet by the roaring fireplace. “We?!” 

Just then, George and Ginny’s head snap to Fred, only now noticing you curled into his side, face pressed into his shoulder. 

“WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?! She-”

“Not now George! You’re my twin and best friend and I love you but please don’t start right now, mate. Just give us some time, please.” Fred begged. 

George backed away with a scowl before nodding. Fred glances at Lee who gives him an encouraging nod with a soft smile. With a sigh of gratitude, he thanks his roommates, guiding you to the stairs. With a flick of his wand, he says the counter charm to keep the stairs from changing and walks you up.

Once you're in the safe space of his room, he sits you on his bed as he couches down by the end of it rummaging through his trunk. Once he finds what he's looking for, he stands facing you handing you a small stack of clothes. 

"Here, sweetheart. These will be more comfortable for you than your uniform. And look, I even picked out your favorite sweater of mine." 

You let out a weak smile, leaning up to plant a loving kiss on his lips. He returns the kiss, cradling your face carefully between his hands. Fred is the one to break the kiss, placing his forehead softly against yours. 

"Let's get changed, love." 

With a final nod, you pull away and stand, moving to the opposite of the room to change giving Fred his own space. Once you're both changed, you walk back to his bed with your uniform gently folded in your hands. Fred takes the stack from you before gesturing you to get in bed. You happily oblige and wait for him to get I'm with you. Once he settles in, you get comfortable in your favorite cuddling position. You being the little spoon with Fred cradling your body to his front.

No words are spoken for the first half hour. Fred doesn't rush you to talk, only softly brushing his hands up and down your arms in slow comforting strokes. Once you feel comfortable and ready to talk, you turn over to face the loving man behind you. You wrap an arm around his waist pulling your body flush against his, burrowing your head into his chest. 

Fred let out a gentle chuckle, squeezing our waist a little tighter. “Are you ready to talk now, love?”

“I ha...frrible ay…” 

Fred let out a deafening howl of laughter. “I have no clue what you just said, do you mind repeating that more clearly for me, sweetheart?”

You pulled away from his chest, “I said that I had a terrible day.”

His joyful expression was quickly replaced by one of alarm. “Why what happened?”

‘Here goes nothing…’ You thought. 

With a deep breath you begin. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Double potions went okay, lunch with Blaise and Theo was good. Transfig sorta fell short because McGonagall split us up but that was okay too, nothing to ruin the day. It all started in my free period.” you stopped, beginning to feel nervous and nauseous . “W..we always say that honesty is the best policy...right?”

He confirms your question with a small dip of his head. “Of course”

You continue on, “I went to the library today to find a new Muggle romance book to read and well...before I could pick one that I liked, I thought I saw you weaving in and out between the bookshelves. I got excited seeing who I thought was you and so I ran up behind him and put my hands over his eyes like how I do with you and well…”

Fred knew where this was going and he instantly began to feel awful. 

“It was George, as you could have guessed and needless to say he did not appreciate that. Of course I apologized, but he was still so angry and not just about me touching him. He seemed to be mad at me, as a whole person. He accused me of having you under a love spell and said that he knew what kind of person I was because of my family. Told me I was entitled and stuck up because I haven’t approached him or Ron or Ginny to get to know them nor did I visit the Burrow to spend time with your family this summer. I tried to tell him that me not coming to your home or meeting your family wasn’t my choice but he didn’t want to hear it.” you sobbed, letting the building tears in your eyes fall freely. 

If Fred didn’t feel terrible before, he sure as hell did now! He knew that it was long overdue for you to meet his family but just when he got the nerve to introduce you, he couldn’t. While Fred was a very confident man in many aspects, your lifestyles were complete polar opposites and it oftentimes left him feeling inadequate. While you live a life of luxury, Fred and his family oftentimes struggle to make ends meet. While Fred’s family is thought of as a full lot of blood-traitors, your family name is highly admired and respected amongst the Wizarding community. Now, the Weasley boy knew such trivial things didn’t matter to his girl, but the worry he had of you leaving him once you dived in deeper to what made Fred, Fred was just too much to take the risk. 

Fred couldn’t even begin to be mad at George for what he said to you because he was too busy being angry at himself. He was the reason this happened. He was the one who kept you from meeting his family. He was the one who would reject your wishes to spend time at the place he’s called home all of his life and with the people he loved more than anything. He made you look like you didn’t want anything to do with his family when in reality, you wanted nothing more than for his family to adore you almost as much as Fred did.

“Baby I am so so sorry about all of this. George had no right to say that to you but he wouldn’t have if I had just gotten over my own insecurities. I promise I will make things right, love.” his solemn expression broke your heart and made you cry even harder. 

Wiping your eyes hurriedly, you shake your head. “That’s not even the worst of it! I got this stupid black eye from trying to break up a petty fight between two younger girls from my house, and then when I wanted to go see Madam Pomfrey, I was summoned to Umbridge’s office. One look at my eye and she gave me a detention of writing lines with that horrid quill of hers and my hand hurts so bad! And then on top of everything, my mum sent me a letter this morning saying that she and dad will be going somewhere for Christmas while I stay at Hogwarts instead! It was just one thing after another and when I couldn’t even find you, I broke down. Ended up locking myself in a classroom to cry, it was awful. That’s why I was late to dinner.”

“That bloody woman used that damned quill of hers on you?! I swear, I will make that vile woman regret ever using that on you! Let me go see if Hermione has anything to help with the scarring.” 

Before he could get out of bed, you wrapped your arms around him tighter, “No! Don't bother her about it, I just want to be with you right now. Don’t leave, just stay.” 

It was hard for Fred to contain the anger he had raging through his body but he gave in to your request.  He settled back into his position, pulling you in tighter by your waist. “I am so sorry all this happened to you today, sweetheart. I promise, the first thing tomorrow, I will make things right. I will owl mum and tell her you will be coming home with me for Christmas and then I will face my siblings and explain everything to them. Then once I’m done there, I will make that pink toad wish she never set foot into this school.”

By now the tears had stopped falling, leaving you to the occasional sniffle. “Can we just go to bed now? I’m tired.”

Fred snuggles down deeper into bed pulling his heavy crimson duvet up around you both, tucking you in. “Let’s sleep. Tomorrow will be better”

You wish Fred had been right. No sooner than you were both peacefully asleep, you had been rapidly alerted awake by Professor McGonagall busting into the dorm room. You and Fred had both sprung up to see her shaking George awake. When she made her way over to Fred’s bedside, she paused in shock seeing you there.

“Miss (Y/L/N), what in Godric’s name are you doing in Gryffindor tower? And in the boys dormitories no less!” 

“I-I.. well.. You see, what had happened was-” 

“Never mind that, we don’t have time. I need you and mister Weasley to come with me immediately.”

Once you were all out of bed and met with a disheveled Ginny, the four of you were guided back to the Headmaster’s office and upon entering, you all see Harry looking distraught. 

Ginny was the first to speak out, “What’s going on Harry? Professor McGonagall said you saw dad hurt-”

Dumbledore answered the girl before Harry had the chance. “Your father has been injured doing some work for the Order of the Phoenix. I am sending you all to Sirius’s house by portkey instead of the Burrow, where you will meet your mother. But we must hurry before Umbridge is made aware you all are out of bed. Hurry now, all of you.” 

Immediately you all gathered around the kettle you would be using to transport you and waited for the countdown from Dumbledore. On the count of three, you all placed your hands on the portkey and instantly you felt the pull behind your navel and a rush of wind before you were met with the ground of a...kitchen? 

Before you could comprehend anything, into the kitchen came Sirius Black. You weren’t entirely sure what to make of seeing the man in the flesh but looking at him as he spoke to Harry and the Weasley children, there was no way he was this “mass murderer” you had read to believe. After a small riff between the twins and Sirius about staying put instead of rushing to St. Mungo’s, he offered everyone up a butterbeer (which you graciously accepted) to calm the nerves. When you all had received the small letter from Mrs. Weasley, Sirius suggested that everyone try to obtain some rest so one by one, each of you filtered off to catch some sleep once you were finished with your respective butterbeers. You and Fred go off together to find a couch big enough for the both of you, quickly settling into deep sleep.

*

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*

In the days that followed upon your arrival, you had finally met Mrs. Weasley and although you were seeing her at a tough time, she was thrilled to meet you and have you around for Christmas. Things were a bit tense with Fred’s siblings given the state of things, but you didn’t want to make what they were going through worse so you gave them their space. With your free time you had got to know Sirius and seemed to get along well given the many similarities between the two of you. You had also learned about the Order of the Phoenix and found that his home was made the Order’s headquarters. And then on the day the Weasley family was heading to St. Mungo’s to visit Mr. Weasley, you met a few more of the Order members, including Mad-Eye and Tonks. After a few discussions with them about the Order and their careers as dark wizard catchers you just knew you wanted to follow their paths and become an Auror and join the Order after you finished your schooling. 

It was finally the day Mr. Weasley would be getting released from St. Mungo’s and the whole lot of you Hogwarts students were busy tidying up around preparing for his arrival while Mrs. Weasley, Mad-Eye, and Tonks went out. 

You were currently cleaning down the tabletops in the kitchen with Hermione when you heard George in the next room over beginning to speak out of the blue. “I just don’t get it. My father has a near death experience and he has to come home to around another slimy snake...unbelievable.” he scoffs. 

You halt in your movement as you look up to the door separating the two rooms. The whole time you had been here, you hadn’t possibly done anything to set the boy off.

You hear your boyfriend speak up, anger laced within his tone. “George mate, stop. What the hell! She hasn’t done anything to make you be so cross with her. What the hell gives?”

You drop the towel in your hand onto the dark table, rushing over to the swinging door that separated the rooms. You push it open to see the two redheads glowering at one another in rage as Ginny,  Ron, and Harry stop in the midst of their own cleaning to watch the building argument.

“What gives?” he shouts. “What gives is that she shouldn't be here! She doesn’t belong here with the Order nor is she family! It’s not like she likes us anyways! Besides, she’s a Slytherin for Merlin’s sake! Who knows what she’ll go and tell Umbridge when we get back to school. Better yet, who knows what she will go say to those death eater parents of hers to get all of our asses all killed. ”

“That’s enough! Your bang out of line! You don’t know a thing about her but yet you decide to hate her?! That’s my girlfriend, George!”

 “None of us know her because she doesn’t want us to know her! We’re your family Fred and she’s kept herself from that. She-”

“ENOUGH!” Fred bursts in anger, making you flinch. You had never heard Fred so...so livid before. “That.  Is. Enough.” his tone rough and grave. He looked around the room, looking into the eyes of each of his siblings as he spoke, “You three loathe her because you believe she thinks of us as beneath her. She’s not like that! You all don’t know her because I didn’t want you to know her. I wanted to keep my family and my relationship separate and I see now that that was a horrible mistake and I’m sorry! She truly has always wanted to meet and spend time with you guys  but I have been the one to say no every time, even when she begged and pleaded!”

“Ginny.” His little sister's body straightened upon the hearing of her name, “you would actually really like her. The way you feel and talk about Quidditch, she’s the exact same way. You’re as much of a headstrong firecracker as she is too. You would get along so well..” 

“Ron…” he paused looking at his youngest brother, “I have never seen someone more strategic with Wizard’s Chess and obsessed with the Chudley Cannons than (Y/N). You both could talk for hours about that team and never get tired, you would think she’s great, too.”

Fred looks back to his twin, his eyes softening. “And Georgie...you’re my twin. You have no idea how hard she fought to meet you. After mum and dad, she’s wanted to get to know you the most because she knows just how much you mean to me. You aren’t just my twin, you’re my best mate. Not only does she support me, and you too, she supports our dream of opening the joke shop; something we’ve wanted since we were kids! You would love her maybe just as much as I do.  She’s actually brilliant, I’m telling you. She’s smart, funny, inventive, ambitious, and just as much of a kid-at-heart as we are..” he grinned a bit with a few tears pricking his eyes.

The tension encased in the quaint room was undeniably thick. With teary eyes, you take a glance at his siblings and see their faces are all beginning to mirror the same emotions. Embarrassment, guilt, and shame. You couldn’t lie, seeing them at least a bit remorseful for the way they treated you and made you feel, made you feel a tad bit better.

As he takes a few paces across the room to stand next to you, he looks around at his siblings one last time, “If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at me. Not (Y/N). As my family, I’m begging you, give her a real chance. I love her and I can guarantee you all would love her too.” 

You gently wrap your hand around Fred’s bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze with a watery smile. He looks down at you, tenderly kissing your forehead before grabbing your hand in his much larger one and leading you up the staircase to the room you were staying in. You peek back at his siblings as you ascend the steps, offering them a meek smile of their own. When Ginny had returned with the slightest smile in response, it gave you a new hope that things would be different from here on out. 

*

*

*

Christmas was finally being celebrated at 12 Grimmauld Place and everyone was in high, happy spirits. In the past few days, Ron and Ginny took the initiative to get to know you, and you with them; and as Fred predicted, they enjoyed you and the company you offered. You connected very well with the both of them, and you couldn’t be happier.  Mr. Weasley was ecstatic to finally meet you at last and welcomed you wholeheartedly. He ended up talking your ear off quite a bit about all things he knew about Muggles but you genuinely enjoyed his conversations and enthusiasm! 

Currently, you were helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, placing the last few finishing touches on the small feast the lot of you would be indulging in when Fred and George strolled into the room. Fred waltzed over to you wrapping a strong arm around your waist, spinning you around into his chest. You giggled happily as he placed a quick tender kiss on your lips before pulling away when his mom swatted his shoulder from behind him. Mrs. Weasley announced that the food was ready and for everyone to take their seats so you could get started. Before you all tucked in, she walked around the table handing out brightly colored paper wrapped packages to each of the children. You were beyond surprised when she gestured for you to grab the one she had been holding out in front of you. 

“I got something, too? Mrs. Weasley, you shouldn’t have! Thank you so much!” You spoke as you tore open the wrappings. You see a beautifully homemade scarf and matching gloves in your house colors of silver and green. Your eyes crinkle in excitement as you wrap the fluffy scarf around your neck. You peer up at her again, “I love it, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, dear. I hear those dungeons are quite chilling, those ‘ought to keep you extra warm, I guarantee it.” 

You thank her again and before you can begin to show Hermione your wonderful gift, another package is thrusted your way. You see only this time, it’s George holding it out to you. 

“What is this?” you gently grab it from his hands, your eyebrow arching in wonder. 

“This is technically something from the entire family but I had been the one to ask mum to make it. I owe you, and Fred too, a huge apology. I was a right foul git to you and should have never said those awful things to or about you, and for that I’m very sorry. I know it doesn’t completely change the fact that it happened but I hope you both can forgive me. I have never seen anyone a better match for my twin and I’m happy he has you in his life. Go ahead and open it.“

Your beam at him as you unwrap your second gift, your eyes immediately filling with happy tears when you look down to see what it is. You take the dark green plush sweater out of the paper and hold it up, your eyes roaming over your first initial  that had been stitched in white,  in elation. “My very own Weasley sweater?!” 

George cracked a sincere smile as you hurriedly pulled the sweater over your head to try it on. “Welcome to the family, (Y/N).” 

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Taglist: @weasleytwinswheezes