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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years ago

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For Auld Lang Syne

12/31/2021

Pairing: Henry Cavill x fem!reader (2nd person)

Word Count: 3,142

Warnings: rpf, mentions of breakup and heartache, mentions of alcohol, fluff

Summary: It's New Year's Eve, and the first night you manage to leave the safety of your home since Henry broke your heart. Unfortunately, your worst nightmare seems to come true when he attends the same party.

A/N: I wrote this a while back and kept it for the occasion. Happy New Year, folks. May it bring you everything your hearts desire.

Picture by RENXIN PAN via Unsplash

Divider by @firefly-graphics

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

A pair of cerulean eyes found yours in the crowd. Again. About two hours ago, you had lost count of how many times that had already happened this evening. But no matter how often they locked with yours, they always caused the same reaction. Infuriation.

It was almost cynical how things came together so shortly before the turn of the year. It was the last night of the year, and ironically the first night you had found the strength to leave the safe haven of your home in months. It felt strange and awkward to be around people for the first time since… Really? A wave of shame hit you hard when you realised that, although it had been more than six months already, you didn’t even dare think the words, too afraid they would rip apart your poorly stitched up heart again.

But as if this night wasn’t bad enough on its own already, your worst nightmare had come true when suddenly you had heard the dark timbre of his voice from across the room. At first, you had tried to convince yourself that it was only your mind playing tricks on you, but when you had finally mustered the courage to look behind you, he had actually been there. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you hadn’t been able to avert your gaze. He was gorgeous as ever, slightly tanned, stubbly cheeks, hair neatly combed back, the width of his shoulders sinfully displayed by the tight shirt he wore—a shirt, you noticed, you had given him—and on top of all this torture, he had started to smile, brightening the whole room with his presence. It had been right in that moment when he must have sensed your eyes on him and looked over to you for the first of many times this evening.

As if someone had detached your brain from the rest of your nervous system, you were unable to move and forced to watch in horror while he made an excuse to the person he had been talking to and pushed his way through the crowd of people to get to you.

No, this couldn’t be happening, not now, not tonight, maybe not ever. And yet you were trapped in your petrified body, forced to watch in disbelief as he came closer and closer, a hopeful little smile dancing across his lips that brought back all the memories you had been trying so hard to force aside with an ease that made you shiver. Memories of days you had felt almost delirious with happiness, so complete that you thought your heart might explode from all the joy you felt. Like a best of video, scenes of your favourite moments together flickered across the canvas of your mind, a summer day at the beach, a walk in the winter snow, a whole Sunday spent skin on skin in his arms, whispered words of affection, soft lips pressing to yours…

And then, as if someone had decided to cut your favourite movie against your will, the words that had broken your world into a million little pieces echoed through your head and darkness fell across your cinematic masterpiece.

With a jolt you snapped out of your trance, just in time as it seemed, and took a few steps backwards before you turned on your heels and vanished into the kitchen. As soon as the door fell shut behind you, you could feel the panic subside bit by bit. It was stupid, of course, to feel safe inside this room when he could just walk through that door any time he pleased. Yet, it was easier this way to pretend that you had just been hallucinating this worst case scenario.

But of course you couldn’t hide from him forever. He probably wouldn’t leave, even if it would have been the decent thing to do in your opinion. After all, this was your best friend’s party and he should have known that you would be here. Which made you wonder why the hell he was here in the first place. You knew for certain that Hannah didn’t invite him. She would never do this to you, especially not after nursing you back to life for half a year after the breakup. Maybe it had been her husband’s idea. Gerry had always taken a shine to Henry and you had suspected all along that they might have stayed in contact.

But it didn’t matter in the end because he was here now and you had to deal with it somehow. The only problem was, you had no idea how. The one thing you did know however was that you didn’t want this messed up situation to ruin New Year’s Eve for you or your friends. And so you pulled yourself together, shutting away the despair that clawed at your heart, and stepped out into the living room again.

For two hours, or to be precise, for two hours fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds, this had worked out perfectly fine. It hadn’t exactly been a piece of cake, but you had somehow managed to avoid him this whole time. Although there had been some pretty close calls. On top of that, you had also successfully pretended that you were absolutely fine with the two of you being in the same room, his eyes on you every time you checked if there still was a safe distance between the two of you.

You had almost started to believe that your acting skills might be even better than his, when someone raised their voice to announce in excitement that there were only fifteen minutes of the old year left. And with that, the crowd started to move. Some of the ladies vanished into the kitchen to prepare the champagne, others went to get their jackets to watch the fireworks outside and someone had switched on the telly for the live countdown.

Panic began to grab you in a tight hold as you realised what was about to come. Like every year, all of you would go outside, grab your loved ones and hold them tight. Just before the countdown, everyone would chant ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Why you had decided to do this before midnight was still a mystery to you, but as far as you could remember, it had always been this way, and then…well, then came the best part. Except when you were one of the few singles. In that case it would be a horribly awkward moment until your friends were finally finished kissing their partners and would turn their attention to the lonely ones with a pitiful look.

Suddenly it dawned on you that you hadn’t fully planned this through when you had agreed to coming here tonight. But now that the awful truth of what was to come had dawned on you, there was no way you would drive down this highway to hell with open eyes. Especially not with him close enough to watch you.

And so you did the only thing that seemed reasonable and hid in the bathroom until all the voices had disappeared into the garden. At first you had planned on staying here until all the hugging and kissing and cheering for the new year was over, but then again you loved fireworks and didn’t want to miss them for the world. However, the only place to watch them without getting caught would be the dining room and so you carefully popped your head through the door of your hiding place and had a look around the hallway. When your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you found that it was empty and darted over to the dining room. Feeling a little like a super spy, a small rush of adrenaline made it impossible to suppress a giggle as you shut the dining room door behind you quietly.

“Seems like you didn’t want to be the odd one out either.”

The smile fell from your lips instantly as you realised you weren’t alone. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, you were alone in a dark room with the one person you had been trying to avoid all evening. Immediately, your frustration mixed with all the anger you had kept inside since that unspeakable day and you could feel the hot venom roll through your veins.

“I never took you for someone who hides away from an awkward situation,” you spat coldly, “I mean, after all, you didn’t have a problem telling me to my face that you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

Despite the darkness that surrounded you, you could see his face fall from your harsh words. But you told yourself that it was his own fault if he had come here, after everything that had happened, thinking you would play nice.

Yet, he didn’t rise to your deliberate provocation. Somehow you had known he wouldn’t. He had never been someone to lose his temper easily.

“Did you skip all the fun outside because of me?” he inquired calmly, taking a step towards you. And when you didn’t budge, he closed the distance even further.

“Maybe I did.” You sighed, rolling your eyes in frustration before you finally asked the questions that had been nagging you all evening. “What are you even doing here in the first place? You knew I would be here, didn’t you? So why did you accept the invitation? And who invited you anyway? Hannah?”

“Hannah didn’t know I would be here any sooner than you did,” he admitted. “It was Gerry.”

You narrowed your eyes to small slits. Gerry, that traitor. You would have a word with him later.

“I know what you think, but it really wasn’t his fault. I practically begged him to invite me.”

“What? Why?” Was he out of his mind?

“Because I needed to talk to you.”

Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you stared at him in disbelief. “You know, you could have just called instead of ruining this evening for me.”

A timid smile pulled the corners of his mouth upwards. “You never answer any of my calls.”

Outside, your friends had started to sing goodbye to the old year, their voices muffled through the glass, but the melody was unmistakable.

“All right,” you sighed. “Then let’s get it over with before the new year begins, so we can both have a fresh start.”

A glint of hope flitted across his face that was illuminated by the pale beam of moonlight that fell through the curtains.

“Well, since you seem to be in a hurry, I’ll make it quick. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. I was a fool for leaving you, Y/N, and I -“

You huffed, stopping his little speech abruptly, your head shaking in disapproval. After all this time, he actually had the audacity to come here to tell you that he regretted leaving you? And what did he expect now? That you would forgive him, just like that? As if he hadn’t ripped your heart out of your chest and crushed it so thoroughly that you didn’t know if it would ever be whole again. You could feel the tears that were threatening to spill, but you wouldn’t let him see them. And so you turned your back. For a moment, no one said a word, before you finally found the strength to speak.

“Do you have any idea how much you hurt me when you left?” your voice was quiet, inaudible to anyone but him above the chanting from outside.

But you didn’t really need an answer because obviously he either didn’t know or care about the distress he had caused and you had no desire to find out which one it was. And so you carried on, deciding to face him again so he could see the misery in your eyes.

“I was like a shadow, disappearing without the light. Whenever someone told me they didn’t know how to move on after a break up, I laughed at them and thought them weak. But now I know better. Because I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you. And I probably never will again.”

You didn’t know where that had come from, but you sure were glad to finally have it out of your system. In the rush of pride you felt for your courage, it took you a moment to register what your words had done to him. But as soon as you saw the hint of a tear glistening in his eyes, you somehow wished you could take them back.

“I’m sorry. I know what you’ve been through and I wish you would have never had to feel that way.”

His voice was a little shaky and you didn’t doubt for one second that he truly meant every word he said. Then again, there was some part of you that still didn’t believe him, that still wanted him to be the bad guy, needed him to be, so that you would have a target to aim your remaining anger at.

“How would you know what I’ve been through?”

It seemed to be a legitimate question since—other than you—he had chosen not to be with you anymore.

“Because I felt it too. The loss, the pain, everything. And on top of that, the frustration about my own stupidity to leave you.”

He took another step towards you, but instead of the desired effect, he had hit the wound with the precision of a scalpel, cutting it open again and releasing the beast within.

“How dare you say that to my face? You didn’t even love me enough to stay with me when you still had me.”

You almost screamed now, your voice breaking at the end of your sentence. If you had been here with anyone else, you would have done the smart thing long ago and simply left. But with him, your mind didn’t work properly, putting your masochistic heart in charge. And so you stayed and kept on watching your own trip down disaster road. But never in a million years would you have taken into account what happened then.

“Of course I loved you. You were everything to me. You still are. Y/N, I love you so much that it scares me because no one has ever been that important to me before. But instead of embracing this feeling, and cherishing it as the treasure it is, I ran because I didn’t know how to handle it.”

For a moment there was complete silence in the room. Inside your head on the other hand, your mind was screaming a hundred different thoughts at once. Not knowing how to deal with that at all, your autopilot simply took over, making the fatal decision to blurt out the one thought that was even louder than all the others.

“You still love me?”

The softest smile graced his lips as he finally reached out for you, his warm hand gliding down the thin fabric that covered your arm until it reached your fingers.

“I do. I guess I always will. And even though I lost you, I wanted you to know that. That’s the only reason I came here tonight, because I needed you to know.”

You didn’t really realise what had just happened, a thousand thoughts still spinning in your head and making you dizzy, as his lips gently pressed against the palm of your hand and pulled you back into the moment. It was only then that you realised his words had been a goodbye. He was already about to walk away, when, without thinking twice, you reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Wait.” And of course he did, letting you pull him back around to face you. “What about now?”

His forehead wrinkled slightly when he didn’t immediately understand what you meant.

“Your feelings for me. Do you think you could handle them now?” you clarified and without hesitation his face lit up into a bright smile.

“I can. If you’ll let me. Believe me, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

You wanted to believe him so badly, yet you hadn’t forgotten that he had not always been as sure about his feelings as he claimed to be now.

“And what makes you so sure of it?”

“The fact that now I know what losing you feels like. And even more than wanting to avoid that feeling, I don’t ever want to hurt you so deeply again.”

Silence fell across the room again as outside the countdown had begun. But neither of you cared about that at the moment. Taking a step closer, your hand had found its way to his cheek while you allowed yourself to take him in for a moment, enjoying all the little things you had missed so much. The dimple in his chin you sometimes laid your finger into just to tease him, the little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that deepened so beautifully whenever he flashed you one of his beaming smiles, the tiny freckle on his lower lip that you had kissed so often and of course his shiny blue eyes, perfected by their imperfect splash of brown.

With tender eyes he watched you, leaning into your gentle touch that he secured with his own hand above yours, afraid you might let go again, when the clock finally stroke midnight.

“Happy New Year, Hen Wen.”

Slowly you wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to pull you closer as well. You were sure that he could feel your heart beat against his chest, just as you could feel his, while the vibrant colours of the first fireworks illuminated the room. And then, finally, you felt him lean in, closing your eyes to fully succumb to the moment. His lips felt heavenly, just as you had remembered them, moving against yours with no hurry. The familiar taste of sweet malt and a touch of chocolate made you smile and even before he softly pulled away, you could feel that his lips mimicked your expression.

“Happy New Year, my love.”

He pulled you close again, embracing you with his strong arms the way he knew you liked. Slowly he started to sway you to a melody only the two of you seemed to hear.

“May it bring you everything your heart desires.”

You smiled foolishly, so deliriously happy as you rested your head on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck.

“Well, I think it is off to a very good start already.”

With a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest, he softly kissed your hair. And while he pulled you another impossible inch closer, for the first time in months a long lost feeling filled you again—hope.

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#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x female reader #for auld lang syne

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fanfictionaries · 4 years ago

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Oh So Many Years: Ch. 6 - Hurts to Be Alone

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The day has come for names to be entered and names to be called from the Goblet of Fire.

Fred ponders a relationship till then overlooked.

Hermione finds her hopes for the year crumbling.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: It’s a long one, so strap in lovelies!

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 5

Take from me what you can hold The things I need, already sold I'll try to be somebody else Or find new ways to be myself

It was warm in the messy confines of Fred’s dormitory that Saturday morning. Every day the stove placed in the center of the room heated the small space perfectly, making the thought of leaving his bed inconceivable. Today was no different from any other day. Rolling over onto his side, Fred pulled back the curtains surrounding his bed and squinted as the sunlight assaulted his eyes. The grounds were grey and hazy. Clouds sat low and full in the sky, threatening to drop heavy rain at any moment. Fred watched a single droplet of condensation make its slow descent down the windowpane before letting the curtain fall back into place. Encompassed in darkness once again, he closed his eyes. Today was the day.

“Oi! Freddie! Get out of bed, you lazy arse—" George laughed, hitting the curtains near his face “—It’s already half past ten!”

Half past ten? Had he really slept that late? Usually he was the early riser between him and his brother – always waking up first to putz around until the rest of the world joined him. But his eyes didn’t finally close until nearly four in the morning after returning to the tower from his nighttime stroll with Granger. The moment his head hit the pillow he couldn’t stop thinking about the goblet and the tournament, and most importantly the money. Merlin, they needed that money. Then of course there was the thought of a small bushy-haired second year Granger sneaking into Professor Snape’s office. Every time he tried to clear his mind, visions of the determined look on her face as she tiptoed into the greasy professor’s private store of ingredients filled his head.

“Seriously, get up! I’m hungry and I will leave you!” George threatened, pulling back the curtains completely, blinding Fred in the process. He let out a startled cry.

“Up!” George said exasperatedly, placing his hands on his hips. Fred tried very hard not to laugh at his brother but couldn’t help it.

“What’s so funny?” George asked, leaning further into one hip.

“I hate to break it to you brother, but you may as well be mum right now,” informed Fred as he sat up.

George looked from Fred to his hands placed stubbornly on his hips and gasped.

“Dear god, all this time I was worried about turning into dad, and somewhere along the way I’ve turned into mum!” cried George, mortified at his realization.

“Well, as long as you can cook like her, I’m not complaining. Do you think you’ll wear the apron too?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” George replied.

Fred pulled his covers back and swung his legs off the bed. His eyes felt heavy and gritty, like they were full of sand. Stupid Granger with her curly hair and her freckly nose, wandering the castle late at night. It was her fault that he hadn’t slept well. He stood and stretched his arms high above his head, feeling the muscles in his back give and pull. He really needed to start exercising again. With the quidditch season canceled due to the tournament, there was really no reason for him and George to go out flying and hit bludgers every day. He missed it and so did his body, as he could already feel himself getting weaker. With a yawn, he walked over to his trunk and grabbed some clothes.

“Ready for today, Freddie ol’ boy?” asked George. He was pacing the small dormitory, excitement coursing through him.

“Yeah,” Fred responded, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Just yeah? Come on! We’re about to make history brother! The brilliant Weasley twins that fooled Dumbledore himself!” George grabbed Fred by the shoulders and shook him. Fred rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

“Well when that happens you can have all the fame and glory. As long as I get to keep all the gold,” wagered Fred, slipping his shoes on and pulling a jumper on as well. He grabbed his robes and slipped his arms through the sleeves as he headed towards the door, George following closely behind him.

They walked towards the Great Hall, George jabbering a mile a minute about what people would say when they managed to get their names in at only sixteen years old. As they grew nearer, Fred’s nerves began to take over. What if it didn’t work? What if they failed? Why hadn’t they thought of an alternative incase the aging potion didn’t work? Fred could feel the small glass vial in his pocket, bouncing off his thigh as they descended the staircase. Absentmindedly he slipped his hand into the pocket of his robe and palmed the small vessel. His stomach flipped and his hand grew sweaty around the glass. He retracted his hand quickly, a stinging sensation lasting on his fingers tips as if the vial had burned his flesh. Before he knew it, they were at the entrance of the Great Hall and the Goblet of Fire stood before them. Students, Hogwarts and visiting schools alike, filled the entrance space. Some sat on the floor, others stood casually, but all watched the goblet as each brave individual walked up and placed their name into its glowing depths. Fred of course, had seen the goblet the night before at dinner, but that morning it stood more ominous and magnificent than before. Carved out of an ancient wood, it stood solid and archaic. A crystal blue light emanated from within it, swirling up every time someone placed a slip of parchment inside.

“There they are!” Fred heard his younger brother shout and turned to his left. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were headed in their direction, Ron leading the pack with great enthusiasm.

“Do you have it?” Ron asked, referring to the potion that sat sagely in his and George’s pockets.

“Sure do,” Fred said, pushing his worries down and pulling the vial from his pocket with great flourish.

“And you think it’ll work?” Ron looked up at them expectantly.

“Of course, little brother. Cooked it up just last night,” George remarked cockily.

“Where’s mine?” Ron asked in confusion.

“Excuse me?” Fred and George scoffed together.

“You said that you’d make me some!” Ron exclaimed, his face scrunching in anger.

“Now why would we ever do a thing like that Georgie?” Fred asked, finding a comforting distraction in tormenting his baby brother.

“I don’t know Freddie. I think he’s gone mad,” George responded.

Fred shared a smile with George before looking back down at Ron, whose face was a brilliant shade of red. It was clear he felt cheated by them. It was true that in the excitement of it all, Fred and George agreed to make him a dose of aging potion as well. George had been all too ready, but Fred remembered just how livid their mum would be if they succeeded and her little dim-witted Ronikins somehow got his name chosen. She would have killed them. So, at Fred’s suggestion, they did not make any extra potion for Ron.

“Don’t worry Ronald, it’s not going to work anyways,” the haughty little voice of Hermione Granger piped up as she stepped forward and placed her hand on Ron’s shoulder. Fred eyed her hand curiously; he couldn’t recall ever seeing Granger touch Ron before, aside from hitting him of course.

“Oh really? And why is that Granger?” George swooped in, coming around to her side.

“Yeah, Granger. Why?” asked Fred. He followed his twin’s lead, pushing past Ron so they surrounded the young witch. He hoped his voice held the same cock-sure confidence that George’s did, for beneath it all he secretly hoped to know exactly why she didn’t think it would work. Hermione scoffed and pointed towards the goblet to their left.

“Do you see that surrounding the Goblet? —" She moved her hand, mimicking the circular shape of the glowing blue line on the stone floor “—That is an age line. Professor Dumbledore drew it himself.”

“So?” Fred asked indignantly. He looked around and noticed a crowd had begun to form, watching the conversation between them and the brightest witch of their age. Fred steeled himself, unwilling to look like a nervous prat in front of all his peers.

Hermione scoffed again. “So, only someone as pathetically dimwitted as yourselves would think that it could possibly be fooled by something as simple as an aging potion.”

“Ahhhh but that’s why it’s so brilliant, Granger,” George laughed, leaning in.

“Because it’s so pathetically dim-witted,” finished Fred, gripping the vial of aging potion tighter in his palm. The pair stepped up to the blue line, all eyes trained on them as they uncorked their vials in synchronized flair.

“Ready Freddie?”

Fred took a deep breath and looked at his brother before turning back to the potion in his hand. “Ready Georgie.”

“Bottoms up!” the two exclaimed before tipping the vials past their lips. The cool liquid slid down Fred’s throat with ease, settling in his stomach in a warm pool. Fred tried to feel if the potion had worked. He certainly didn’t feel any older. Although why would he? It was only supposed to age them by a few months. Then, taking quite literally a leap of faith, he hopped over the line. Feet planted firmly onto the concrete; Fred let out a breath of relief when he met no resistance. Whoops and whistles erupted from the room as Fred and George shared a small silent victory. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the small slip of parchment with his name on it and locked eyes with George as their hands hovered over the goblet. With a nod, they let go. The papers floated into the blue fire. Fred held his breath and…nothing. His heart lifted with joy; they had done it! He couldn’t believe it! Turning towards the crowd, he raised his fists above his head as cheers continued. Everyone was clapping; everyone except Hermione Granger.

She smirked at him—a secret only she was partial to written on her face. Then he felt a strong grip around his middle. Like a giant’s hand it lifted him into the air and threw him across the room. Fred landed hard on the ground, cushioned only partially by another body who turned out to be George. Except it wasn’t really George. He was older and grey, with a long beard. Horrified, Fred reached up and felt his own face. Sure enough, his hands found long scraggly whiskers. The room, which previously roared with cheers of triumph, had gone silent. However, the silence did not last for long. Very quickly, laughter took its place.

“You said it would work!” Fred shouted at George, leaping forward, and wrestling him backwards.

“You agreed with me!” George retorted, rolling them over so he was on top, knee placed in Fred’s chest as he stubbornly tried to knock George upside the head.

“Gentlemen!” The stern voice of Professor McGonagall resonated through the entrance to the Great Hall. Fred and George froze. Their head of house stood above them – dark hair pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck, and arms crossed disapprovingly. A thick scowl marked her face.

“I suggest the two of you take yourselves up to the hospital wing and quit making a fool of yourselves and your house, before I feel inclined to subtract five points from each of you.” Her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles as she waited for them to stand. Slowly Fred drug himself to his feet and held out a hand for George. His brother took it reluctantly. Neither of them enjoyed the long walk of shame down the halls on their way to the hospital wing. Giggles followed; mocking them as they went. Of course, the two did their best to play the faux pas off as if it were nothing. They winked and waved at those they passed, knowing that in the grand scheme of things it really could be worse.

Several hours later Fred and George were still in the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey had been kind enough to allow them to wait there as they made the slow transition from old men to teenagers. He and George were on good terms once again as they were never actually mad at each other in the first place. They even found a way to laugh at the position they had gotten themselves into. The two were very pleased to see that they would, in fact, one day be able to grow beards as glorious as their headmaster himself. George made a comment about how handsome they were, even at age eighty. Fred joked that they would still be able to woo the ladies whilst in their nursing homes. They laughed. Now George lay dozing across the room in his bed and Fred sat twiddling his fingers, bored out of his mind. He thoughts drifted but never landed on a single topic as he stared at the ceiling above him. So far lost in his head, he didn’t even notice someone entering the room until a hand on his shoulder startled him out of his stupor.

“There you are.” Angelina smiled. Fred smiled back scooting over on the small hospital bed for Angelina to sit. Effortlessly she slid in next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Come to visit me in my time of need?” asked Fred smugly.

“More like I heard what happened and had to see for myself—” smirked Angelina “—You look ridiculous by the way.

Fred picked up a tray from his bedside table and held it in front of his face. In the shiny metal he could just make out his warped reflection staring back at him. He certainly did look ridiculous. His usually bright ginger hair was speckled with patches of snow white. The beard was halfway gone, leaving long white mutton chops on the sides of his face. There was still the faintest trace of wrinkles near his eyes, but they had almost completely disappeared on the rest of his face. Fred couldn’t help but laugh at just how hilarious he looked. So hilarious, that he began to think of ways to replicate the look for a possible W.W.W. product.

“When I heard what happened I was devastated that I hadn’t been there to see it myself,” teased Angelina.

“Well I’m glad you weren’t. You do not need that kind of leverage over me. It’s bad enough that Hermione—”

“Hermione?”

“Granger—” Fred corrected himself “—she told us from the start that it wasn’t going to work. Looks like she was right. Like always.” He rolled his eyes.

“Since when do you spend time with the resident Golden Girl?” Angelina asked, her face one of curiosity.

“I don’t really. It was more just a thing in passing. You know how she always has to give her opinion,” responded Fred picking at the skin around his thumb. “So, if you weren’t there this morning, where were you?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I was out on the pitch, getting in some practice. It’s absolutely rubbish that quidditch was canceled this year. I don’t know what to do with myself.” Angelina frowned.

“Well you did put your name into the goblet, didn’t you? You could be doing that this year,” Fred suggested, turning his head to look at her. The corners of her lips rose into a sweet smile.

“Yeah, maybe. D’you reckon I’d be good enough to win if I got chosen?”

“Of course!”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely. I think you’re brilliant, you know that Angie.” Fred wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. Angelina rested her head on his chest and sighed. They sat there for a while. George’s soft snores lilted through the room, filling the silence, and Fred began to think again. It was nice having Angelina in his arms; it felt comfortable and easy. But there was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost like the feeling he got when he made mum cry. Fred wracked his brain for why he would be feeling something like that but when he came up empty, he simply chocked it up to a side effect of the spell backfire.

“I’m not sleeping with you until you’re back to normal by the way,” said Angelina, breaking the silence.

“What?! That’s an absolute outrage Miss Johnson!” Fred sat up, positioning himself so he hovered over the pretty girl.

“Oh really?” She raised an eyebrow in playful defiance.

“Really. I won’t stand for it,” Fred jested.

“How about just a kiss then to compromise,” Angelina proposed.

“I guess. I’ll take what I can get,” Fred sighed dramatically, sending Angelina into a fit of giggles as Fred leaned down to press his lips gently to hers. It was a sweet kiss, just the soft brush of lips that lasted for a moment. When it ended Fred rolled onto his back and Angelina slipped her hand into his. The churning in his stomach returned. They laid there for a while, enjoying each other’s embrace, until Angelina stood and made her goodbyes. It wasn’t until she exited the hospital wing that George magically awoke.

“Ahhh young love,” sighed George, sitting up and stretching. “But wait, there seems to be trouble in paradise. What seems to be disrupting the natural chemistry of the happy couple?” he asked, his tone mocking but expression one of genuine concern.

“What are you talking about?” asked Fred, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Don’t play dumb with me Freddie; you’re too good at it.”

“Come now. We both know I’m the brains of this operation. Calling me dumb would just insult you more than me.”

“You’re avoiding the subject.”

“I’m not avoiding anything!”

“Ah and now he’s defensive.”

“I am NOT—” it was at that point Fred realized he was being defensive “—fine. Nothing is really…wrong exactly. It’s just things with Angelina, well I don’t—”

“—think you want to sleep with her anymore?” George finished his sentence for him, looking at Fred like he was an idiot.

“I don’t know. I think it’s just been an off day,” muttered Fred, rolling onto his side.

George raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to pout. I was merely suggesting that perhaps you’re getting cold feet because it’s obvious Angelina wants something more than just a quick shag in a secret passageway these days.”

Fred grimaced. “We shag once in the passageway behind Gregory the Smarmy and you never let me live it down!”

“Only because I had the unfortunate luck of walking in on it!”

The two stared at each other for a long moment before bursting into laughter. As their laughs trickled into contented sighs, the two laid back in their respective beds with a new-found ease.

“Do you really think she wants something more?” asked Fred, feeling the churning in his stomach begin again.

“You don’t see any of the girls I’m shagging coming in and holding my hand.”

Fred chuckled, “That’s because you’re not shagging anyone.”

“Well no, but still…”

“Yeah, still.”

Fred pondered on the thought for a while. Angelina Johnson wanted to be his girlfriend. He supposed he could do a lot worse. She was pretty – prettiest girl in their year if he was being honest, fun – she never ragged on him or George for being troublemakers, and she liked quidditch – probably more than he did. No, as far as girlfriends went, Angelina Johnson was probably the best possible option he could think of. So, despite the persistent churning in his stomach, he concluded that when the time came, he wouldn’t be opposed to calling Angelina his girlfriend. With that problem solved he moved onto his next issue. The money. How were they ever going to afford their dreams when they just lost their only other option? Ludo Bagman had yet to answer their owl and at this point they were beginning to think the leprechaun money mix-up might not have been a mix-up at all.

“What are we going to do now Georgie?” Fred asked, shifting his eyes from the ceiling to his twin.

“I don’t know mate. I’m not really a relationship expert,” laughed George.

Fred rolled his eyes with a smile. “I mean about the money you prat. The only reason we wanted to compete in the tournament was for the money. Now that it’s out of the picture, we’re at a bit of a loss.”

“Speak for yourself. I was in it for the fame and nothing more!” George joked before returning to a more serious note. “Don’t worry brother. We’ll figure something out. We always do. We’re much too clever to sit around and wait for a solution.” His words were reassuring but Fred knew George was just as disappointed as him. And the only thing worse than feeling hopeless was knowing his brother felt just as bad. Springing to his feet, Fred reached for his shoes.

“Come on then old man,” said Fred, tying his laces.

“Where are you going?” George asked in confusion.

“Not me – we. We are going to go have fun and forget about all this for a while.” Fred stood and threw on his robes before looking back at his twin who was now getting to his feet as well. Once George’s shoes were laced up and his robes were on, they exited the hospital wing. Fred glanced at his brother as they strolled down the halls and smirked. While his appearance was almost completely back to normal, grey still speckled George’s hair giving him a distinguished look. Perhaps that’s what they would look like in fifteen or twenty years when they were adults with jobs and families of their own.

“So, what’s on the agenda Freddie? A few Whizz Poppers in the prefects’ bath? Portable Swamp in Filch’s office? Some Ton-Tongue Toffee for the first years?” mused George as they strolled.

“Nope, flying,” Fred responded, steering them towards the quidditch pitch. George nodded in approval.

“Ahhh, some old school entertainment. Couldn’t think of anything better brother.”

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table with Harry and Ron, debating excitedly over who they thought the goblet would choose to compete in the tournament. Ron of course was certain Viktor Krum would be chosen for Durmstrang. They had witnessed the Bulgarian enter his name shortly after McGonagall sent the twins to the hospital wing after their…unfortunate mishap. Hermione smiled at the memory. Few things fill her with pure joy and apparently watching the Weasley twins completely and utterly embarrass themselves was one of them. They, of course, were making the best of the situation. The minute they sat down in the Great Hall they began making jokes at their own expense, beating everyone to the punch. It was annoyingly charming.

“But Krum is the obvious choice!” Ron bellowed, beating his fist down on the table for emphasis.

“On what grounds Ronald?” Hermione asked. She made sure to lean towards him as she spoke, taking up his full attention like she’d been instructed to do. She still wasn’t sure how good her roommates advise was, but it was certainly better than carrying on as she had been.

“Okay! That’s it! I can’t take it anymore,” exclaimed Lavender, throwing up her hands.

Hermione who had been quietly seated in the small windowsill reading from her arithmancy book, looked over to her roommate with mild interest.

“Lav, really. Just let it go. It doesn’t matter,” said Pavarti, brushing another coat of Wicked Witches’ Pigmy Puff Powder Blue nail polish onto her left thumb.

“No! I’m fed up with it!”

Hermione was just about to inquire as to who or what she was fed up with, when she made the gut-wrenching realization that Lavender was talking about her. Lavender Brown, the pretty fourth year with her golden-brown hair stomped in her direction in a huff. Crookshanks, who had been dozing peacefully in Hermione’s lap, leapt to his feet, and stared untrustingly at Lavender, his tail raised high swishing back and forth.

“Listen, Hermione, I realize not everyone has the fortitude to study as much as you do, but this really has to stop. I thought last year was bad, but at least you had the common decency to sleep during regular human hours!”

“Lav—”

“No! Someone needs to tell her,” said Lavender to Fay, who had very kindly tried to halt Lavender’s beratement. “You’re up at all hours of the night studying or mumbling to yourself under your breath the way you always do. You come and go from the room at the oddest hours. It’s interrupting with all our sleep! I know getting good marks is important to you, but you can’t possibly need to study this much!”

“I think what Lavender is trying to say—” said Fay, sending a pointed stare in Lavender’s direction “—is that we’re worried about you. What’s going on Hermione? You can tell us.”

Hermione looked to Fay in appreciation. She always liked Fay the most out of all her roommates. Fay Dunbar was a spunky girl who spent most of her time with their fifth roommate, a mousy ginger girl named Emmy, who hardly ever spoke. But that didn’t seem to matter as Fay did most of the talking for her, always chatting on about quidditch or Gobstones. While Lavender and Pavarti were interested in things Hermione labeled as silly, Fay was at least capable of conversation that didn’t lead to hair, clothes, boys, or a combination of all three. In fact, Fay’s goal to one day be an auror led to many interesting conversations about their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Now, for once she wished Fay had kept quiet. Lavender and Pavarti didn’t care why Hermione wasn’t sleeping these days. They only cared how it affected them. However, now that Fay had inquired on her well-being, she had to come up with something to say. For a moment she contemplated on just telling them the truth about her nightmares. But then an even better idea popped into her head. It was in that moment Hermione realized she could use Lavender’s own trivial interests to kill two birds with one stone. So, with a heavy sigh, Hermione placed her book down next to her and buried her face in her hands.

“I’m so sorry Lavender. It’s just that…well I’ve been having a bit of boy trouble…” Hermione trailed off, fighting off a satisfied smirk when Lavender’s eyes widened in interest.

“Ooooo,” squealed Lavender, rushing forward to sit on the rug in front of Hermione. Pavarti joined her, looking equally as excited. “Hermione Granger having boy troubles? I never would have imagined!”

Even Fey and Emmy perked up from their beds, looking to Hermione with interest. Hermione took a deep breath, situating herself so sat upright, Crookshanks lying comfortable in her lap again.

“Well I guess it all started with this dream I had…”

Hermione went on to paint a lamenting tale of girl likes boy, girl thinks boy might like her, but then boy makes stupid comment about another girl. She stretched the story to encapsule the whole two months they’d been in school, instead of merely the past forty-eight hours, but kept almost all the details the same. Hermione figured it couldn’t hurt to seek advice about her recent Ron-related issue, and she also felt Lavender might be kinder about her unusual sleeping patterns if it were over something she could relate to – such as a boy. Looking at the contemplative looks on Lavender and Pavarti’s faces, she knew she had been right.

“Oh Hermione, we had no idea!” Lavender exclaimed, pushing up onto her knees and wrapping her arms around Hermione in a big hug. Hermione, unused to such physical contact, stiffened for a moment before reciprocating the kind gesture.

“Boys are so stupid!” Pavarti cried, rolling her eyes, and falling onto her back in the middle of the rug.

“I don’t get it,” said Fay scrunching her eyebrows. “How do you know the dream was about Ron when you never saw his face?”

Hermione shrugged. “I had the same thought, but I came to the conclusion that there wasn’t really anyone else it could have been.”

“I don’t know…those older boys. Fred and George. They’re pretty cute,” remarked Emmy quietly with a giggle. The girls turned to Emmy with amazement at her declaration.

“Isn’t that considered incest or something?” Fay asked cheekily.

Emmy grabbed a pillow and threw it at her friend. “Not all gingers are related you twit!”

Fay laughed, using the beater bat beside her bed to block the pillow, sending it back towards Emmy.

“Hmmm Fred and George are cute, but they’re so unruly,” said Lavender scrunching her nose at the thought. Then, turning her attention back to Hermione she took a much more serious tone, “I’m glad you came to us with this problem Hermione. Really, I wish you had asked us sooner, but all the same I’m here to help now!”

Hermione braced herself for the advice that was about to come.

“I think what you need is a makeover!”

At the mention of a makeover, Pavarti perked up, propping herself on her elbows and smiling widely.

“I don’t know how comfortable I am with that Lavender…” said Hermione, suddenly regretting her decision to turn to her roommates for advice on the matter.

“You’re right. I don’t any of us could afford the amount of Sleekeazy’s it would take the tame your hair anyways—” Lavender bit her lip in thought as Hermione let the mild insult roll off her back “—oh! I’ve got it! You just need to make yourself known!”

“I’m pretty sure Ron knows who she is,” laughed Fay.

“Well yes, but only as a friend,” sighed Lavender in Fay’s direction. “What you need to do is make yourself known as a woman.” Lavender waggled her eyebrows at the word.

“A woman? How would I do that?” asked Hermione, finally intrigued by Lavender’s insight.

“It doesn’t have to be anything big. It can be small things like touching his shoulder, laughing at his jokes, standing close to him. Anything to make him notice you as something other than another one of his mates. His fascination with the French girls will fade eventually, but you have the opportunity to make a lasting impression.”

“Well, I suppose that doesn’t sound too hard.”

That whole morning she’d been attempting to follow Lavender’s advice. Every opportunity she encountered, she made sure to touch Ron in some small way. She stood close to him when walking from the common room to the Great Hall. And when they sat down at the Gryffindor table, she made sure to squeeze as close as possible to his side without it being odd.

“Yeah, are you about to tell us you know more about the inner workings of the Goblet of Fire than the rest of us?” asked Ginny, backing Hermione’s question up with a roll of her eyes.

“I bet you a week’s worth of chores this summer that Krum’s name gets called for Durmstrang,” challenged Ron to his sister. The fiery girl’s eyes lit up and she thrust out her hand.

“Make it a month and you’re on,” she countered. They shook hands.

“Hey Granger—” Hermione turned to her left at the sound of Fred’s voice “—bet you ten knuts that Ginny wins.”

Hermione shook her head, “I don’t gamble Frederick.”

“What? Too good for a little wager but not too good to steal?”

Hermione should have known she’d regret telling him about her second-year escapades. She just never assumed it would be so soon. By the time she ran into Fred in the hallway the night before, she had worked herself into such a frenzy over Ron, she really would have done anything for Fred’s approval. Now, she couldn’t understand why she would want his approval in the first place. Still, that didn’t stop her next words from tumbling from her mouth.

“Ten knuts and a week’s supply of sugar quills,” she said, before turning her attention back to her friends around her.

“Who do you think’ll get picked for Hogwarts?” asked Harry, picking at the remnants of his treacle tart.

“Well statistically, the Slytherins have an advantage,” stated Hermione. “They had the most students enter.”

The table around her collectively groaned.

“Well if it is one of the Slytherins I hope they lose,” grimaced Harry.

“Yea, I’d rather have Beauxbatons or Durmstrang win before giving the Slytherins one more thing to inflate their egos,” Seamus interjected across from them. They all laughed.

It was then that the expanse of the Great Hall tables cleared, catching Hermione off guard. Regretfully, she wished she had taken one more bite of her pumpkin pasty. Dumbledore stood, extinguishing all but a few of the candles in the room with a flick of his wand. Madame Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons and Igor Karkaroff remained seated at his sides looking stiff. Further down the table two ministry officials, Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch wore very different expressions. Ludo Bagman appeared as though any moment he was going to bounce right out of his seat in excitement. Mister Crouch on the other hand, couldn’t look any more bored if he tried. With the Great Hall now cast in eerie opacity, the students were quite silent. The whole room sat on edge as they watched the stately Hogwarts headmaster levitate the Goblet of Fire through the hall till it was front and center for all to see.

“I do believe the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate we have two minutes to spare,” declared the eccentric Headmaster. He then went on introduce Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, explaining they would be acting as impartial judges for the tournament along with the three headmasters. Hermione nodded, finding that incredibly fair and well thought out. Dumbledore then instructed that those whose names were called from the goblet would exit the Hall through a side door into the next chamber where they would wait for further instructions. After this last bit of information, the room returned to silence. All eyes remained on the goblet, the occasional student checked their watches, waiting for the longest two minutes of their lives to pass. Then, the icy blue light within the goblet transitioned to a brilliant red. So brilliant and alive it was if a fire burned deep inside of it. Sparks floated out from the top before a tongue of flames lapped through the air. The whole room gasped. When the flames were gone, the only thing remaining was a small bit of charred parchment floating down towards the stone floor.

Dumbledore caught the paper effortlessly and read from it before looking back into the crowd and decreeing in a boisterous voice, “The Durmstrang champion is, VIKTOR KRUM!”

The room erupted into applause, Ron’s being some of the loudest, rivaling all the Durmstrang students put together. Krum stood and walked to the front of the hall, his fists raised high in triumph and then disappeared into the next chamber. Hermione looked across from her to see Ginny’s head in her hands. Briefly she cast a glance in Fred’s direction. He was already looking at her.

“I expect those sugar quills by next Hogsmeade weekend Frederick,” said Hermione before turning back to the front of the room.

As soon as Krum disappeared into the adjoining chamber, the cheers died down and all eyes were back on the goblet in anticipation. They didn’t have to wait long. A few moments later, flames shot from the goblet, this time almost licking the ceiling.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is, FLEUR DELACOUR!” cried Dumbledore.

At the announcement, Harry and Ron lit up. Ron seemed even happier than when Viktor’s name was called, and Hermione felt a sinking feeling form in the pit of her stomach. Lavender and Pavarti caught her eye as Ron cheered, giving her a sympathetic look. Looking away from them, she watched as the girl, who uncannily resembled a Veela, gracefully glided up to the front of the room. Hermione glanced back at the rest of the students from Beauxbatons. They were devastated. Two girls who had not been chosen were in tears, a full meltdown threatening to occur. Hermione rolled her eyes so hard, she risked getting them stuck in the back of her head. So much for school spirit, she thought.

Once Fleur was gone from the room as well, everyone was once again watching the goblet. This was the moment they had really been waiting for – the Hogwarts champion. Flames shot up into the air for the third and final time, expelling another charred bit of parchment. It floated gently into Dumbledore’s hand. The headmaster spent a bit longer looking over the name this time, no doubt for added effect, before smiling and turning to the crowd.

“The champion for Hogwarts is, CEDRIC DIGGORY!”

The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers so loud, you would have thought they were triple their size. They jumped and stomped and clapped more enthusiastically than anymore at Hogwarts had ever seen. Hermione clapped as well as the handsome Hufflepuff boy stood, all smiles as he walked to the front of the Great Hall. He shook Dumbledore’s hand enthusiastically and headed towards the door behind the teacher’s table. The cheering continued for some time, only halting when Dumbledore called for attention. Pleasantly, Hermione thought of how excited Diggory’s dad would be, having seen just how proud a father he was that summer.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called elatedly. “We now have our three champions and I am hoping that each and every one of you will carry on this enthusiasm throughout the year. Your support can make—" his voice cut off. Students gasped in surprise as the goblet began to glow for a fourth time. Hermione frowned; something wasn’t right. Sparks soared, a large flame shot into the air, and with it came a fourth piece of parchment. Dumbledore seized the parchment, his face blank. He stared at the name, and the room stood still.

Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke.

“Harry Potter.”

The room stayed silent, stunned by the name that had just left the headmaster’s mouth. Hermione turned and stared at her best friend. Her heart fell. His face was filled with shock and confusion as he stared back at her and then at Ron.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry stated to himself more than to them. Hermione was at a loss for words. What she wanted to say was that she believed him. That she knew that he would never put his name in, but her throat closed, and she froze.

At Harry’s delay, Dumbledore called his name again, louder and forbidding. Harry looked from Dumbledore to his two best friends, desperation emanating from every part of his being. His eyes pleaded with them, begged them for help.

“Harry, go up,” Hermione told him, finally finding her voice and wishing she could say something better; wishing he didn’t have to go but knowing it was the only thing he could do at the moment. Truthfully, she wanted to grab him and pull him out of the room. She wanted to look every last person in the eye, Dumbledore included, and tell them no. No, Harry Potter’s name was not called. Harry Potter’s name was not called, and he will not be competing. You’ve made a mistake.

She watched with teary eyes as Harry stood shakily and walked to the front. As he moved, students began to yell out in anger. Shouts of ‘cheat’ and outcries that he wasn’t ‘even seventeen yet’ were heard from every part of the Great Hall. Hermione looked away; she couldn’t watch her best friend walk into a death trap as students ridiculed him. Instead she stared blankly at the table in front of her and worried her lip. Maybe they wouldn’t let him compete. Clearly some kind of mistake or foul play was at hand here. Dumbledore was a rational man. He wouldn’t possibly send a fourteen-year-old boy to compete in a deadly tournament. It was just crazy! Yes, Dumbledore would fix this. He would protect Harry. Hermione continued to reason with herself, telling herself that things would be alright and that everything would turn out okay, until she felt Ron shaking her shoulder.

“You alright Hermione?” Ron asked, looking at her apprehensively.

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” she responded, running her hands over her hair which suddenly felt twice its normal size. It always seemed to do that when she was stressed. Ron nodded.

“Ready to go?” he pointed towards the large double door entrance of the Great Hall. Hermione looked between it and the side door Harry had disappeared through.

“Shouldn’t someone wait for Harry?” she suggested. Ron made a sour face.

“Nah, he’ll be alright. Who knows how long it’ll take anyway. Let’s just go back to the tower.” He rubbed at his nose, making the skin all pink and flushed. Hermione was hesitant to agree but Ron had a point. They had no idea how long Harry would be and of course they would be there in the tower when he got back. So, she got to her feet and walked with Ron back up to the tower. Upon arriving, Ron exited up the stairs to his room without a single word to her. This struck Hermione as very odd, but Ron’s problems were the least of her worries now. Instead she ran up to her room and pulled out the book she had checked out on the Triwizard Tournament at the beginning of the term. She was going to wait for Harry and while she did, she was going to do the thing she did best – research. She had to find out why this happened and how to get Harry out of it. Many hours later, when the common room was empty, all the other students having trickled off to bed, Hermione decided to turn in. It was half past one and Harry had yet to return but she figured she’d catch him in the morning. Merlin knew she would be awake.

The next morning Hermione arose at her usual ungodly hour, despite having stayed up so late, and went down to the common room to wait for Harry. Her nerves were still recovering from her nightly bad dream when she spotted him coming down the stairs looking very angry. She waved to him, but instead of greeting her back, he walked past her and through the portrait exit. Hermione stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and chased after him. On the second floor, she finally managed to catch up to him.

“Harry!” she called after the black-haired boy. He stopped, his shoulders slumping and then pulling back up, squaring himself. He turned around and faced her.

“What Hermione?” he asked, his tone short and filled with annoyance. Hermione took a step back, affronted by his tone. He hadn’t spoken to her like that since she told Professor McGonagall about the broomstick Sirius sent him third year. What had she done?

“What’s wrong?” she asked, realizing how dumb her question was the minute it left her mouth. But his immediate hostility had thrown her for a loop, and she hadn’t known what else to say.

“What’s wrong? Are you serious Hermione? What’s wrong?—" Harry looked at her as if she were as stupid as Crabbe and Goyle “—Let’s see: for one, my name was entered into the Goblet of Fire and called last night, now I’m competing in a tournament that is potentially deadly, and to top it all off my best friend thinks I had something to do with the whole thing!”

Ron. So that’s why Ronald was so angry the night before. It also explained why he hadn’t wanted to wait for Harry either.

“He what? What did he say?” Hermione asked, feeling like she could throttle the red headed dunce.

“He thinks I entered my name into the goblet! Or at least got someone else to do it and he’s mad that I didn’t tell him how I did it.” Harry ran his hands through his messy hair, revealing the scar on his forehead briefly before the dark locks fell back into place.

“Are you sure you have no idea how your name got entered?” Hermione asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“Are you serious?!” Harry exclaimed.

“What?” Hermione looked at her best friend in confusion, now feeling just about as stupid as Crabbe and Goyle.

“You think I had something to do with this too!” he accused her, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Harry, I never said—"

“No, but you didn’t have to. Merlin, you’re just as bad as Ron! You know, I thought you’d at least believe me, but I guess I was wrong… Just leave me alone Hermione.” and with that Harry walked away leaving Hermione in the corridor alone and completely lost. She stormed back to the tower in a blinding rage, hoping that Ron hadn’t left for breakfast yet. Lucky for her the Weasley in question was sat in a chair with Seamus and Dean chatting and laughing as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Marching over, blood boiling, Hermione grabbed Ron by the ear and dragged him out of the common room and towards the corridor. She could hear Ron’s yelps of protest and see the strange looks from their fellow Gryffindors, but she didn’t care. When they were finally in the safety of the empty corridor, she released him.

“Bloody hell Hermione! What’s wrong with you?” Ron yelled, rubbing his ear.

“Did you seriously accuse Harry of putting his own name into the goblet?!” Hermione cried exasperatedly. Ron looked at her, his expression stony.

“I don’t think it Hermione, I know it.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“You know, this is typical of you Hermione!” Ron yelled back.

“What?!” Hermione responded, feeling like she had had enough whiplash that morning to last her a lifetime.

“You’re always against me! You never take my side!”

“I’d take your side more often if you weren’t always wrong Ronald!”

“Oh, I’m always wrong? You know, you’re not as smart as you like to think you are.”

“Well I think you’re being a horrible friend right now to Harry.” Hermione crossed her arms, ignoring the insult Ron had just accosted her with. She wasn’t there for herself. She was there for Harry.

“Well I think you’re being a horrible friend to me!”

“This isn’t about you Ronald!”

“It’s never about me! It’s always about Harry! It’s not enough that he’s the Boy Who Lived, now he’s had to go and make this about him!” Ron was red in the face now.

“He didn’t put his name in!” Hermione yelled, knowing she might as well be arguing with a wall at that point.

“You know, if you really feel that way then why don’t you go find Mr. Boy Wonder and talk to him!” Ron yelled with finality and stormed back into the common room.

Hermione felt exhausted. She had such high hopes for the year and now in a matter of twenty-four hours everything had completely fallen apart and somehow, she was the bad guy. Having both Harry and Ron mad at her wasn’t something she was unfamiliar with, but having them both mad at her and at each other was entirely new territory. Unsure of what to do with herself she walked towards the library like she usually did when Harry and Ron were upset with her and hoped it would serve her some kind of solace.

Chapter 7 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

#fremione #fanfic #fanfiction #fred weasley x hermione granger #fred x hermione #harrypotter #gobletoffire #slowburn #friendstolovers

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .epilogue iii.

after hours

masterlist

Warnings: dub con sex (oral, intercourse)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is surprised.

Note: Fic daddy here. Please tell me to stop calling myself that. I’m here, writing this still and this part is 🔥🔥🔥 I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply!

...

Sunday morning. You woke up in a foreign bed with a foreign feeling of someone laying next to you. Steve's hand was on the blanket along your stomach.

You barely remembered falling asleep. He was too tipsy to drive and didn't trust your own state on the subway. So you relented and stayed, only too eager to sleep. Now you wished you'd left as you peeked over at him.

He laid on his side, his arm stretched across you. He was peaceful. He looked older. Well, he acted younger than he was. You rubbed your forehead and slipped out from beneath the covers.

You grabbed the white robe hanging from the closet door and wrapped it around yourself. You went to the floor length windows that overlooked the city and stared out at the early morning traffic. You yawned and lost yourself in the distant lights and muffled cacophony of the streets.

You sensed movement behind you. You didn't look back as you focused on the colours and people below. What were you doing? Why had you done it again?

You just couldn't help yourself. He had this power over you. The ability to pull your guiltiest urges to the surface. To make you forget all qualms and surrender entirely.

"Coffee?" His voice was still thick with sleep. "There's a machine here."

"No, I think I'll get one on my way out. I gotta study. I've got my first midterm this week." You turned slowly to him as he neared. Naked.

"You got your bag. You can study here." He coaxed as he pulled you into his arms. "I have some running around to do so I won't bother you...until I get back."

"Thanks, but I can't." You ran your hand along his chest.

"Fine," He shrugged, "Will you at least leave me with a little something to distract me?"

Your brows knitted as you considered him. He was insatiable. "Again?"

"It's a new day," His hand dipped down and squeezed your ass. "Let’s end the weekend on a high note."

You sighed and brought your arms up along his shoulders. "I suppose you've got a point."

Monday you had class until one and then the workshop at three. You expected it to last a couple hours and you’d be ready to settle down and study until you fell asleep. A full day to start a full week.

Wednesday was your midterm and you spent every empty minute going over your notes, even at the expense of your other classes. Next week, you’d deal with those as you crammed for three exams in as many days.

Your morning classes were slow. The first lecturer was a small old lady who refused to use a mic so every student hunched over their desk to hear her. Your second was a younger man, a new hire all too eager to enrich the minds of those only a few years behind him. You diligently recorded your notes and ignored the buzzing of your bag. Steve was as relentless in text as he was in person.

In the hours between, you grabbed lunch and checked your messages. Kylie wanted a study night as she crammed for the exam she’d forgotten about and Steve wanted what he wanted. You told both you’d see what happened. Neither was happy. The Rogers’ were rapacious.

You were early to the workshop as you were early to everything. The door was open and you peeked inside to find only Professor Barnes inside. He was fiddling with the projector remote and you shyly stepped inside. Since your night of beer with the two older men and you little conversation with Steve, your nerves had grown more frantic when thinking of him.

“Um, hey,” You alerted him to your presence as you entered. “Looks like I’m early.”

“Or just in time,” He flipped the projector on and tossed aside the remote. “You wanna help set up?”

“Um, sure.” You set your bag down along the front table and crossed to him. “What can I do.”

“Just have some packets that need to be distributed. We have about twenty people. You can space ‘em out.” He pulled out a stack and dropped it on the table along the front. “Oh, and another favour…”

“Yeah,” You looked up at him as you pulled the pile over to you.

“Don’t mention our little beer night to anyone.” He lowered his voice. “I just don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

“Oh, of course,” You agreed with a nervous chuckle. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Thanks,” He smiled and turned back to dig around in his bag.

You went along the tables and doled out the packets. You glanced over at the professor now and then and wondered. Had Steve been wrong? He surely didn’t want to fuck you. Steve just liked to flatter you. He was good at that. Liked to tease you over your stupid little crush. You shook your head as you came to the end of the stack and kept the last for yourself.

You sat beside your bag and tapped your fingers on your desk. You picked at the corner of the front page and Bucky cleared his throat. Professor Barnes, you corrected yourself as you looked up. He neared the other side of your table.

“You have class after this?” He asked.

“Nope, only studying for my demise,” You answered.

“Hmm,” He nodded. “Would you be open to discussing your last paper then? Only fifteen minutes or so but I thought you’d rather that than stay behind on Friday.”

“My paper?” Your voice quavered without your consent.

“Oh, it’s nothing bad,” He assured you. “Don’t worry so much. So, does that work for you?”

“Sure, yeah,” You shrugged. “I haven’t got anything else to keep me.”

“Great,” He smiled and backed away.

He glanced up as voices echoed down the hall and grew nearer. Other students began to trickle in and you pulled out your phone. You sent the same message to Steve and Kylie. ‘Appointment tonight. Dunno when done. Sorry.’

The workshop went relatively quick. Barnes reviewed the schedule and the basics of journalism and publishing. The ten-week program would include visits to magazines and editors all over the city and culminate in the chance to have an article published by one. It was exciting and you wondered what kind of strings the professor had to pull to set it all up.

When he dismissed the class, chairs scraped and voices filled the silence quickly. You packed up and checked your phone. Kylie had sent a sad face and Steve was much less affected; ‘no problem ;)’. As you slipped your phone away, Barnes looked up from his bag.

“Hey, you didn’t forget already, did you?” He kidded.

“Of course not,” You grabbed your jacket and bag. “Just in here?”

“Nah, there’s a class coming soon, we’ll have to head to my office but it’s just a few floors up.” He hooked his bag over his shoulder and waited at the end of your table. “Elevator’s under service right now though. You’ll get a decent work out in.”

You giggled and followed him out of the room. You hated how dumb you sounded when he was around. How you must have seemed like some little girl. You weren’t, not anymore. The summer had made you a woman and you were tired of being treated otherwise.

When you reached his office, you were out of breath. You needed to start walking as much as you read. He unlocked the door and ushered you inside with a wave of his arm. You entered first and were surprised when he closed the door behind him. Most professors made a point of leaving their offices open.

“I don’t wanna keep you all night,” He put his bag on his desk and threw the flap open. “We’ll just go over a few things.”

He sifted through the papers within and pulled out a stapled bunch. You neared the chair opposite his desk and set down your bag and jacket. he was beside you before you could sit.

“I’ve underlined all the errors, as few as they were. Comments in the margin.” He handed you your paper. “Again, minimal, but helpful. We learn something new every day.”

“Uh, yeah,” You took it and thumbed through it. “Thanks.”

“You make all the corrections and it’s perfect.” He praised. “Ready for submission.”

“Submission?” You turned and looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a contest in Media Scope Journal. I think you’ve got a good chance of winning and I’d hate for you to miss the opportunity.” He explained. “A second year, published in a scholarly journal is a hell of a thing to have on your CV.”

“You--you really think I could get in?” You marveled up at him. “I--” You looked down and let the title page fall flat. “Thanks. I’ll make the changes and get it back to you.”

“Great,” He patted your arm but his hand lingered. “You’re a smart girl. You could go very far.”

You looked at his hand and then up at him. His blue eyes gleamed and his silver-laced beard defined the natural angles of his jaw. You smiled back at him and your cheeks burned. He squeezed your arm and slowly his fingers brushed along your sleeve.

Without a second thought, you stood on your toes and pecked his lips. The tickle of his beard and the smoothness of his lips broke you from your trance at once. You backed away and slapped your hand over your mouth as the paper threatened to slip from your grasp. He blinked but was calm as ever.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You pressed your palm to your hot cheek. “I didn’t--I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have--” You turned and grabbed your bag and shoved the paper inside. “I should just go work on this.”

“Wait,” He followed closely, his hand planted on the back of the chair to block you as you turned to flee. “You don’t have to. It’s...okay.”

“It’s really not,” You cringed. “That was so--so--”

“Right.” He finished for you. “Don’t you feel it? This thing between us.”

You stared back at him stunned. Did you knock your head and pass out? What was going on?

“It’s wrong,” You insisted. “You’re my professor.”

“So,” He countered. “It shouldn’t matter. I mean, I’ve never...with a student. Never felt like this but…”

“Professor--”

“Bucky,” He corrected breathily, his hand on your shoulder again. “Call me Bucky.”

“I...I...I…” You stuttered.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” His hand came up to cradle your face. “You’re young. You have the whole world ahead of you. What’s one little lapse.”

You searched his face. His finely lined eyes, his cheekbones still perfectly chiseled, his soft lips just beneath his thick beard. He was a handsome man, despite his age. The time only seemed to have complemented his looks. He leaned in and all your reticence slipped away. As his lips met yours, the tension snapped and you were swept up in the rush. You dropped your bag and jacket to the floor.

He turned you and pushed you against the desk so that you were caught between him and the wood. He was strong but gentle, his hand tickled your neck as he kissed you deeply. He was fervent, determined, as if he has been thinking of this as long as you had.

His hands traveled along your arms and gripped your hips. They slipped around and he lifted you onto the edge of the desk as he slouched to keep his lips on yours. He pulled at the hem of your knit sweater as he pushed between your knees.

You raised your arms as he parted to pull the sweater over your head. Your wore the same grey bra beneath and his eyes flared along the top of your breasts. He cupped one and bent to bury his face in your chest.

His beard tickled and you giggled. His teeth surprised you as he nibbled the flesh and you exclaimed. He was rougher than Steve, his touch as decisive but without the same tenderness. Bucky didn't think of you as a girl, you realized, liked Steve did. He treated you like a woman.

His fingers unhooked the button of your fly and pushed the zipper down. He slipped below your panties and you spread your legs wider. You welcomed him as he played with your clit, his lips inch back up you neck and to your mouth.

He rubbed your bud as your breath caught and you pulled away to gasp. He kissed your neck and teased your skin with his teeth as he continued to toy with you. You grinded against his hand and his fingers slid back to your entrance.

He pushed two fingers inside and you moaned in surprised delight. You never expected him to be like this. Straight to the point. He pressed his palm to your clit and curled his fingers. His hand moved steadily and he raised his head to watch your face contort in pleasure.

You pouted and rasped as your nerves started to buzz. His other hand grasped the back of your head as his blue eyes bore into yours. Don't look away. You were ready to burst as you clasped his shoulder and your other hand squeezed his bicep.

"Come on," He bent and whispered in your ear. "Let it go."

The orgasm tore through you like a storm and left your wits scattered. He eased you down from your peak and slowly removed his hand. He held up his glossy finger and licked them. The sight inflamed you.

"Get down." He ran his hand along your thigh. "Turn around."

You stood shakily and obeyed. When your back was to him, he took your hands and placed them flat to the desk. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back so you were slightly bent over.

He tugged your jeans and panties past your ass and the cool air tickled your pussy. He grabbed your ass and squeezed. Then slapped it so hard you squealed. He gave a dark chuckle and drew his hands away. You heard his belt, then his zipper. Your lashes fluttered and you peeked over your shoulder.

He spanked you again. “I didn’t say you could look.”

You bit your lip and faced the wall. A small window behind his chair looked out onto campus below. You had a sudden sense of deja vu. He stepped closer and his cocked poked your ass. He purred as he pressed himself to your back and his hand fiddled around between you. He guided himself to your entrance and pushed inside.

He was thick and stretched your as he got deeper and deeper. Your nails dug into the wood of his desk and he reached around to cover them with his own. He bottomed out and nibbled your ear with a growl.

“Fuck.” He swore and squeezed your hand as his other floated up to your chest. He pushed your bra up and tweaked your nipple. He kneaded your tit and gave a long slow thrust. “You want more? Ask.”

Your tongue slipped out between your lips and you groaned. You pushed back into him and wiggled your ass.

“Ask,” He pinched your nipple again.

“More, please?”

“Please?” He repeated and nuzzled your neck.

“Please, Professor Barnes.”

He snarled and slammed into you. The buttons of his shirt rubbed against you and caught on your bra. You were on tip toes as he crashed into you again and again. You whined as the reverberations rippled through you. Your thighs and back tingled with the mounting pleasure. Steve was firm but never this harsh. Never this savage.

Your hips hit the edge of the desk each time he rocked his hips. Your hands slid across the wood and messed the papers and pens atop his desk. He pounded into you until you were bent over it entirely. His hands went to your shoulders and he pinned you down.

He never wavered. His grunts and groans filled you with pure heat. You gripped the far edge of the desk and panted into the wood. You exclaimed as you came again. This time it was even more intense. Your feet were off the floor as he rutted against you.

He grabbed your hips and fucked you harder. His thrusts grew erratic as his breathing got louder. He pulled out of you all once and growled. You felt warm ribbons spill along your left thigh as he came. His fingers spread across your ass as his other hand stroked him through his climax.

When he was done, he tapped your ass and backed away. You trembled as you pushed yourself up and looked between your legs. His cum was all over your panties. You turned to him as he tucked his cock away. You would’ve been embarrassed if the haze of lust hadn’t blinded you.

“Just take ‘em off,” He said as he smirked at your dirtied panties. “Or keep ‘em on...that’d be kinda hot.”

You glanced up at him in shock. The eloquent professor, the disciplined scholar, was as lewd as any fratboy. You shoved your pants down and swiftly untangled your panties. You pulled your jeans back up and buttoned your fly. You frowned at the wet fabric. You folded them carefully so that the mess was hidden.

“I...should go.” You took your bag and buried your panties at the bottom. You grabbed your sweater from the floor and stood. “Study.”

“Sure,” He neared and his hand traced the curve of your waist. “I need those changes by Thursday. Can you do that, baby?”

You blanched at the nickname. It sent a thrill through you and yet it sent you into a spin. You had fucked your professor. In his fucking office. And he just happened to be buddy buddy with your best friend’s dad. Who you had also fucked.

“Of course,” You smiled and he brought both his hands up to cradle your face.

“Good girl.” He kissed you hungrily, his tongue pushed inside and he didn’t stop until you were breathless. “Go. Study.” He caressed your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll see you around.”

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foxesandmagic · 4 years ago

Text

Update of Sorts

So, as I’m going to have a little more time coming up soon, I just wanted to make a couple of announcements for how I’m going to try running this blog come the new year. I feel bad about having to do this, but I also know that it’s probably for the best - so I’m trying not to let the guilt get too bad, still I feel the need to apologise so before we begin, sorry.

Now that part is out of the way, here’s the important stuff (more for me to try and keep track of stuff):

Weekly questions will still go ahead: I’m planning on putting them into the schedule at the beginning of a month so if I don’t log in or whatever, they’re there. I’ll reblog answers the following day.

My ask box and messages are always open for people: I can’t promise quick replies, or replies that make sense, but the option is there. If you want to talk, if you want to scream at me about your favourite OCs, if you need someone to bounce OC ideas off, I’m always here for that.

Updating tag lists: I’m updating my tag lists from the 1st, so if you want to remain on them let me know - I’m removing everyone and starting again (currently the lists I have are weekly OC questions, original story things, fanfiction things, tag games, giveaway things, birthday list [day of your birthday included, please]).

My OC things on Saturdays/Sundays: I’m going to try and schedule any things I’ve done for my OCs on other blogs here on Saturdays and Sundays. They’ll all have the tags ‘foxesandmagic’s OCs’ if you want to ignore them.

Now for the bit I’m not looking forward to. Reblogs might be significantly reduced: I love learning about OCs, seeing all the fantastic things people make for their characters. There’s so much talent out there, but I just can’t keep up with it all - at least not in a way that isn’t draining for me (nobody asked me to do it, and it’s a pressure I know I put on myself, but writing it down holds me more accountable to do something about it). So, what I’m proposing - and will try over these coming weeks - is to set aside a little time for adding things to the queue. Once a week I’ll try to message people about their OCs - either through asks or messages - just as a little boost. I did have another thing I wanted to add to this, but small steps; we’ll see how I fare with this first.

And that’s it for now. Also, a reminder that my giveaway is still open. I haven’t done any yet, but I’m hoping to get a bunch done in the next week. Link to post here.

Hope everyone is safe and well; enjoy yourselves.

#Update #Other Things

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shyvioletcat · 5 years ago

Note

Okay this one can be used earlier in the story (soon maybe?): “I’ve been waiting to get to know you from the moment I first saw you.” - more Rowaelin fireman au please ❤️

Think of this as the fluffy epilogue. *Excessive amounts of notes at the end*

Masterlist

~~~~~

Rowan woke up to an empty bed, and for a moment he thought last night might have been a dream. Then he realised whose bed he was in and saw a note neatly folded on Aelin’s pillow.

I’ve gone for a run. I expect you to be gone by the time I get back. I’ve got a hot date to get ready for.

Rowan smiled and got out of bed, the smile was from knowing he was her hot date.

On the kitchen bench there was a pen and Rowan used the blank side of Aelin’s note to write his own. Then he gathered the lights he’d brought over the night before and locked Aelin’s door behind him as he left.

~~~~~

Even though it was Sunday morning Aelin had woken up fairly early. Rowan had looked so peaceful as he slept beside her so she’d snuck out of the bedroom, grabbing her running clothes as she did. Before she left she’d dropped a note on her pillow, taken on last lingering look at the beautiful man in her bed, and left.

Before Aelin set off she called Lysandra, then started at her warm up pace. It almost rung out before Lysandra answered and she clearly wasn’t happy about it.

“You better be dying,” Lysandra said hoarsely.

“I’m not dying. But you just might when I tell you what happened last night,” Aelin said and then told Lysandra exactly what had happened between her and Rowan.

Lysandra was squealing by the end. “Finally!”

Aelin just laughed, “So what do I wear?”

Lysandra went through various outfits, Aelin giving a few one word answers as she picked up her pace. It took a while but they finally agreed on what would be the perfect outfit for her lunch date.

“Good luck,” Lysandra sang into the phone as she hung up.

Aelin had decided that she’d gone far enough and started home. She was only slightly out of breath by the time she unlocked her door. The bag of lights were gone from the coffee table so Aelin assumed that Rowan was gone, but she checked her bed anyway to be sure. On her way to the shower she saw a slip of paper on the kitchen counter.

Kingsflame Cafe 1130. I’ll see you there.

Aelin grinned. She thought they’d go from here, together. But she approved of this idea. Aelin did like to make a good entrance.

~~~~~

Rowan was nervous, even though he had absolutely no reason to be. After that kiss last night there was no doubt left whether or not their feelings were mutual. Aelin had been the one to ask him to stay but Rowan had been the one to start the kiss.

He’d told Aelin to meet him here because he wanted to get her flowers from the florist two doors down. If they had arrived together the whole buying process would have been awkward. Instead he’d arrived at the cafe 10 minutes early, went to the florist and picked out a small bouquet of flowers that he thought would look nice on her coffee table and come back to the cafe to get a table.

Then he waited, 5 minutes, 10. He got nervous when it approach 15 but then the door opened and there she was. Aelin breezed in, confident and beautiful, wearing a blue floral dress that wrapped around her and to float about her knees as she moved. Her hair was swept away from her face but was mostly left out as it tumbled over her shoulders. Aelin looked around for him and when she spotted him her blush pink painted lips spread into a smile.

Rowan stood without thinking and Aelin walked right up to him placed a hand on his chest and kissed him, so softly it was barely a whisper of a kiss. Rowan’s hand had gone to Aelin’s waist and she smiled at him as she pulled away.

“Again?” Rowan asked, his hand squeezing her waist.

Aelin only took a step back. “Make this a good date and you’ll get the rest.”

Rowan’s hand tightened on her waist, Aelin only smiled innocently up at him. He let go and picked up the flowers from the table.

“For you.”

Aelin looked genuinely surprised as she took the small bouquet from him, a delighted surprise.

“Thank you,” she said and sat down.

Rowan sat as well and watched as Aelin moved aside the salt and pepper to make room for the flowers. They looked over the menus and the waiter came over and took their order, then they were left to themselves to wait for their food.

“So,” Rowan said.

“So,” Aelin copied, leaning her elbows on the table.

“How was your run this morning?” Rowan asked, leaning forward as well.

“Refreshing, I love the smell of the air after rain,” Aelin said.

“Petrichor.”

“What?” Aelin said tilting her head a little.

“That’s was its called, the smell after rain,” Rowan explained.

“Is that right?” Aelin said.

Rowan chuckled, “Yes.”

“I never picked you as a man for fancy words,” Aelin said.

“What did you pick me as then?” Rowan asked.

“Very boring. Probably would only ever read biographies, but the ones about to dullest men imaginable, the blandest beige food palette, no sense of humour at all,” Aelin listed off.

Rowan lent back in his chair. “When did you decide all this?”

Aelin sighed. “I’m not sure exactly. Maybe it was when you refused to smile at me all those times we passed on the stairs.”

“Well maybe it you hadn’t thrown obnoxiously loud parties every other weekend when you first moved in I would have been more willing to smile,” Rowan countered.

“It was summer holidays and a lot of my friends are teachers, it’s what we do,” Aelin said in her defence. “What about me? What did you pick me as?”

“You?” Well,” Rowan leaned forward and took Aelin’s hand, “I’ve been waiting to get to know you from the moment I first saw you.”

It wasn’t a lie. The day she moved in he’d come home and there she was carrying a box and struggling to open her door, he had helped her and she had given him a dazzling in smile in thanks.

Aelin’s flushed, an adorable blush on her cheeks. “Why didn’t make your move earlier then?”

“You opened that depraved mouth of yours and I changed my mind.”

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed, her golden hair falling down her back. “What?”

“I accidentally parked you in just after you moved in,” Rowan said. “You went off.”

Aelin’s brows furrowed for a moment and then she smiled as she obviously remembered.

“You don’t accidentally park someone in,” Aelin said.

“I just had to run upstairs and someone else was in my spot, one of your friends I recall,” Rowan said. “Your main excuse for ranting at me was that your pizza was getting cold.”

“I was on my way to pick it up and was running late,” Aelin said with a shrug as if that excused her behaviour of yelling at him.

Rowan let out an disbelieving laugh “You are…”

“I’m what?” Aelin leaned forward again and tightened her grip on his hand.

“I’m just glad I broke down your door so that I could get to know you better,” Rowan said softly.

Aelin bit her bottom lip and she smiled at him.

“I think,” Rowan said as he lent over the table, Aelin instinctively lent in too.

“Yes?” She whispered.

“I think I see something I like.”

Rowan closed the distance between them and he could feel Aelin’s smile on his lips as he kissed her. Then there was someone clearing their throat beside them and Rowan reluctantly pulled away. The waiter stood there with there food and quickly put it down and walked away.

Rowan saw the blush on Aelin’s cheeks, and knew his own were flushed as well. But he didn’t care. Finally he let go of her hand and picked up his cutlery.

“Alright Fireman Whitethorn, do your worst. Get to know me better.”

While they ate Rowan asked Aelin any and every question that came to his mind, and she did the same for him. They laughed and smiled at each other, caught in the thrill of getting to know someone new. A while after they had finished eating Aelin and beckoned him closer and given him a long lingering kiss. Rowan go the message and paid the bill. Aelin was waiting at the door, her small bouquet in one hand but she link her other hand with his while they started their walk back to their apartment building.

Rowan couldn’t wait that long to kiss her again though, and stopped suddenly. When Aelin turned to ask him what he was doing he didn’t give her a chance to ask before his lips were on hers. Someone muttered an ‘excuse me’ and it was then Rowan realised they’d stopped right in the middle of the footpath.

Rowan scowled. “I swear if we get interrupted on more time...”

Aelin just laughed as she led them on. “Come on. I’ve got and fancy new lock on my apartment door thanks to some bubbling idiot.”

Rowan smiled as she tugged on his hand. Breaking down Aelin’s door was to best mistake he would ever make in his entire life.

~~~~~

Well. That’s it. I did it. I finished a fic. Wow, what a ride.

I want to thank everyone who liked, reblogged and commented on any of the chapters. Especially the comments. I seriously would have given up so long ago if it wasn’t for your reactions and support. It’s been fun. I just want to say I’m sorry that I couldn’t reply to each and every comment, life is busy. But I want you to know that I read every single one of them.

Thank you to everyone who sent in prompts to keep this fic going. It literally wouldn’t wouldn’t have happened without you.

Lastly big thanks to Alex @tangledraysofsunshine. You’ve had my back during this. You’re the best.

OH AND HERE’S THE BIG ANNOUNCEMENT! The slowburn might be over but I am 100% not closing the door on this AU. I’m still open to prompts for it, basically forever. The future drabbles wont be written chronologically but I’ll try to put them in some kind of order on the masterlist. I’ve already got a Christmas special lined up.

I just want to say thank you again. I love you all.

Tags: @tangledraysofsunshine // @nalgenewhore // @highqueenofelfhame // @galyxsy // @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @http-itsrebecca // @highladyofthesith // @aelinfire-bringer // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @sleep-and-books // @3am-reading // @average-girl-at-best // @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius // @rowaelinforeverworld // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @tswaney17 // @mydarlingfireheart // @rowansfirebringer // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @vanilla28 // @fireheart-of-your-dreams // @enquires-state-building // @im-not-rare-im-rarr // @your-high-lady // @mariamuses // @ttakeitbacknoww // @vi0let-femmes // @kindofawalkingpoem // @sleeping-and-books // @armixers-unite // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @princess-galathynius // @heroesofterrasen // @ladyofstoriesandmusic // @unassumingsodalovesherbooks // @empire-of-wildfire // @brittneym15 // @camerooonchiu // @worldoffae // @mybbyfeyre // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @pilesofriles // @chemicha // @keshavomit // @sarahbringsoutmygay13 // @wifeofchrishemsworth // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @illyrian-velaris // @flowerspringsea // @whitethorn15 // @whiskeybusiness1776 // @notaddictedtoanything // @thereaderandfangirl // @mynewdreamwasyou // @tintinnabulary // @the-regal-warrior // @searchingforbellarke // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @officialasianbitch //

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thirstythylacine · 4 years ago

Text

Stress Relief

Alright. This damn band and fandom has got the best of me finally.

Haven't written in over 10 years. Definitely never written smut before.

I've given in! There are pages and pages of smut notes in my journals, phone, and computer so I guess this is my new hobby in quarantine.

Relatively unedited so apologies there.

Yell at me here, or yell at me on AO3 under the same name.

Also I have a very limited knowledge of how the hell this cursed site works despite being on it for most of its existence. So if there's shit I didn't tag correct here let me know.

Also Tumblr apparently hates making the italicized bits appear here so I’ll reblog this in a sec with the AO3 link if you, like me, really like seeing the emphasis :)

I am otherwise too lazy currently to figure it out or fix it and I’m already reposting this since Tumblr also apparently hates outside links! Thanks Hell Site.

STRESS RELIEF

He’s been working on this project for a week straight and as usual it’s cutting into personal hours. Though that doesn’t faze him, scribbling notes in the margin of this current translation and completely forgetting to call for dinner. It’s 10:30 at night and I’ve brought him ever meal today as well as coffee multiple times. At this point it’s half just so I can make sure he’s still awake and breathing.

His dinner looks untouched and he’s got ink on his cheek. I don’t even think he noticed me come in until I was right behind his chair with my hands on his shoulders. He only startles a bit and I lean forward to peek at his progress. “You’ve gotten far today” I note, “Though dinner was over two hours ago you know.”

He sighs sitting back against me. “I know Tesoro, I know. This one is just.....very difficult. And she wants it earlier than the rest.” He drops the pen and stretches his fingers. “If I can get this one to her before Friday I think we can have a few days off finally.”

It would be a relief for us both to have a few days off. He squirms as I press at the knots in his shoulder.

"I will literally stand guard outside this office to fend people off if it will help. I was starting to think I might have to tie you up somewhere to keep you from coming into the office this weekend.” He breathes in sharply once and there's a moment of stillness before he’s laughing quietly. Interesting.

I’m solidly around the front side of his desk before I notice the flush on his face. Double interesting.

The last paper in front of him has been moved aside in favor of the dinner plate. He’s frowning at it. The dish isn’t one that would be particularly appetizing cold. “I think......perhaps a trip to the kitchen might serve us better?” I offer. “You can find something better than that and I can find something for desert. I think Papa mentioned there was pie tonight.”

Pie makes a good dinner.” He says with a quirk of the eyebrow. Problem solved.

———

“Hey!” I gasp as his teeth scrape down my neck. “Hey, I told you, none of that tonight. I have a ton of important meetings tomorrow. You know, the kind with people from Outside This Church whom I need to view me as respectable, buddy.” He isn't looking at me but growls a little against my skin.

I tangle my hands in his hair and tug sharply back to meet his wild eyes with mine. “No biting.” “You’re gonna have to save those hickeys for tomorrow, Cardinal...”

He’s adorably huffy about it but also doesn’t falter as he ruts against me. His hips grind sharply into my thighs, pressing me hard down into the cushions of his couch. His arms have me caged in below him and he rests his forehead against mine with a low moan.

At some point we’ll have to decide if we’re moving to a bed, or at least stopping long enough to take off literally any clothing instead of writhing on the furniture like teenagers. It’s so good this way though.

I came by to drop off the last few papers for him to finish and somehow convinced him they could be done in the morning. I meant to also convince him to come have another late dinner in the kitchens but he's in a mood and I can't complain. Having him over me, desperate and needy is better than any drug. I busy myself with the buttons on his jacket and shirt, impatient to get my hands into his chest hair. He hums as I run my fingers through it, and lower. His mouth is at my ear, his nose in my hair. I tug at his belt as he arches over me.

“We should go go to bed” he whispers “we should go to bed so I can fuck you into the weekend. I want to wrap you around me and make you cum until you can’t remember your name”. The words coming out of his mouth are getting deep and breathy. That voice.

Even his perfectly normal, reasonable Latin lectures make me want to get on my knees for him. I'm pretty certain the whole class feels that way. Technically, I know I’m not the only one he sleeps with either but recently I seem to have lucked out.

“You can’t” I growl back as he presses me down. “As much as I’d love to have you buried in me from now until Sunday, you still have 'homework' for tomorrow and I.... I can’t bag out of my important meetings. Sister will literally have me murdered if I leave her alone with those delegates.”

He moans low and deep grabbing at my thigh to pull me further under him, tighter against him. We press back and forth rocking against each other and making out. He’s driving against me over and over in a way that will have me undone very shortly. I have to bury my face in his shoulder to keep my whimpers quiet. Office hours are over but the door isn’t locked and Ghouls have a way of showing up when shit is about to get good.

I'm starting to lose it. “Please, Copia, please, pleaseplease” I beg. He grinds into me slower and slower pressing closer and longer and I think I could die from needing to cum. His breath is in my ear choppy and hot. Little wines, murmurs spilling from his mouth as he gets closer to the edge.

My body arcs up against him, my hands trapped against his chest as an orgasm washes over me. Head thrown back into the cushion I cry out when he sucks at the skin at my collar. I’m gasping as I come down. And then I realize.

Yanking my hands from between us to grab at his head. “COPIA, Satanus! What the fuck did I just say!” He’s a bit of a mess this close to an orgasm and only whines at me when I scold him. His rhythm is getting lost now and though I'm mildly pissed about the bite, I don’t think there’s a better time to test my new interesting theory than now.

I wind the fingers of my left hand tight into his hair and grab harshly at his hips with my right. “Bite me again and see what happens Cardinal. Don’t make me tie you down next time.”

He comes hard. Face buried in my collarbone despite my hard grip on his hair. He’s arched so hard into me I think I’ll be feeling it well into next week. We collapse slowly into the couch. It’s hot and sweaty not to mention the utter mess he's just made. Whatever. He must own 20 pairs of those black pants anyways.

I stroke his hair and laugh softly into it as he tries to regain some steadiness of breath. “Well then, Cardinal.” I arch my eyebrow at him and he's absolutely blushing. He won't quite make eye contact and I can't keep this crooked smirk off my face. He buries his face back against me and grumbles “Maybe time for a real dinner, Tesoro?” as the office door opens. A silver face peeks through, checking the desk and then turning to see us tangled on the couch. “Oh! Sorry, boss. Just, uh, making sure the, uh, lights were off in here. Yeah.” “But um, never mind if you’re still in here working!” The voice fades as the face retreats quickly.

Copia makes a tired sound. “Ghouls.”

———

The free weekend has been axed.

Delegates from the Unitarian Church apparently liked our pitch enough that they decided to hang around for a few days and view the abbey in it’s working state. On the one hand it’s great. Not completely bonkers church allies would be incredibly helpful to us. But I'm mentally tapped out from the socializing. Copia too, has been dragged into the fray. Unlike our Third Papa he can be counted on to treat our guest well without shamelessly flirting with each and every one of them. Unitarian Universalists might not immediately kick a bunch of Satanists out of church club but they still probably view married couples as a little less fair game than Terzo does.

They leave just in time for us to jump right in on the next round of translations. Some books from our archives can only be opened for a few nights a year or a decade. Some can only be opened for a few hours at a time, or only in the perfect humidity, or only by a woman, or a ghoul, or Papa. It’s a particular kind of puzzle game to schedule the translations of these texts. Plus very few people can translate them at all let alone as quickly as the Cardinal.

Imperator schedules, I ferry book and papers. He translates. I return books and papers and organize translations by type and date so we can digitize them later. It’s part of the push to get this church into a modern century. Making an effort to have other church allies is as well. Nihil is totally against it even though his sons are all for it. Or maybe that’s because his sons are all for it.

Everyone is tired. Everyone is busy. The congregation is much bigger than it used to be but still there isn't a lot of down time. We've got a horde of siblings at our disposal to help with all the cleaning, data entry, filing, etc. but someone still needs to steer the ship.

It turns out that managing people is a pain in the ass and regretfully I'm good at it.

Thankfully I still end up spending most of my day filing and organizing piles. It's boring but methodical and leaves me with enough brain space to let my mind rest or wander as it chooses.

I'm deep into sorting notes from the early 30's so we can see if anything matches up with books from that era but my mind has wandered back to the Cardinal's ass in his red pants.

He stepped away from the monstrous paper pile for coffee this morning but two moments later was back leaning across the front of his desk to scribble a note in the margins of whatever he's trying to decipher. It's a very nice ass.

It's been over a week since we've been able to do anything more than snag a kiss between meals, sleep, and work. It's fine, except that it really, really isn't. Stress relief is important. And doing it myself is currently feeling a little subpar when the alternative is so incredibly attractive.

Also. There's this whole other aspect of him that I really want to get another glimpse of. We have been mostly on equal footing or he's been in charge since we've been seeing each other, but I know that's not all there is. Not just because of the way he blushes when I boss him around but also because of that dinner months ago where a wine drunk Terzo whispered in my ear all sorts of things about how delightful and versatile a bed partner Copia is.

I think I want to know all the ways to make him whimper and beg.

Unbeknownst to him, Thursday night we're going to catch a break. Imperator is headed out of town with a few of the Emeritus family for some swearing in of a little sect or two a few cities over. Copia and I have been excused to finish up one really time sensitive book and they're going to be gone for two whole days.

Of course, I know that the book is finished already. He did the last bit around 2am and I just couldn't bring myself tell her in case she decided to dump another stack on us as she walked out the door. Two days isn't enough for a real vacation but it's definitely enough for a little rest and stress relief.

______

I feel like I'm laying a trap. Getting us out of work, convincing him to come back to his rooms to change for dinner.

There's a tiny unmarked bottle of lube tucked on the hallway table next to the Baphomet statue where he hangs his keys. Normally he never looks at that table, just drops his keys across it, puts his hat on Baphomet's head, and comes to collapse on the couch or bed.

There he is though, looking at the bottle curiously, fingers starting to unbutton the top of his jacket unconsciously as his brow creases. I have to move fast. I walk up and my hands take over for his. Unbuttoning the jacket and pushing it back over his shoulders but not taking it off of him. I push at his chest gently until he steps back all the way against the heavy wood door.

"Tesoro, I... " He looks down at my face as I'm unbuttoning his shirt. My hands work downwards and I see as he completely forgets about the bottle. "Hello there" he says with a smile and slides his hands into my hair to turn my face up towards him. I get an arched eyebrow, a little half smile, and then, a little hitched breath as I tug open his belt.

I lean in to rub my nose under his jaw and breathe him in. His arms come up to pull me close and I can feel the rumble in his chest. We stand for a moment in peace, enjoying the closeness before I tug his hands down to lay flat against the door. "Keep them there, alright?" I whisper in his ear.

He breathes out an unsteady yes while I lay kisses down his neck. His trousers are undone and he hums through his teeth as I take him out and stroke him. Lightly over and over. Teasing gently. His head is back with eyes closed which is perfect.

When I ease my lube slick hand down his dick his whole body jolts and his eyes fly open to stare at me. "Oh! Ohhh...." Hands tight against the door his hips push forward into my hand and he screws his eyes closed again as I stroke him a second time.

"F...uck. Oh. Fuck. Tesoro..." he whimpers and the sound strikes deeply hot at the center of me.

I keep my touch firm but slow. A steady torcherous pace. I wonder how long I can keep him here. Trapped between my body and the door, gasping and moaning as I tease him higher and higher.

I want to talk to him but I'm a little afraid this will end too soon if I do so I settle for brushing my lips across his, across his face, against his sideburns until he's begging. "Tesoro, pleeease. PPlease. Ah. Ah. Oh, lord, Tesoro. I need....ah, please."

His face is plastered to my neck and I dig my free hand into his hair to hold him there. He hasn't moved his hands an inch though I see them tremble and grasp.

"You're doing so well, yeah?" I whisper. "You sounds so good like this. I love it. I love hearing how badly you need this." I can feel his knees knock a little as I speak to him. "I've been thinking about this for weeks. Making you come undone for me like this. Did you think I hadn't noticed how pink you get when I tell you what to do?"

"Ah, Satanus. Por favor...." he wines. "por favor....." His hips are trying to press forward, but I've got him tight against the door. I up the pace of my strokes until he can hardly speak. Low gasps and whimpers escape him as I bring him higher.

"Are you close love? I need you to tell me when you're close. I want you to tell me when you’re going to cum." That pulls a little wail from him and he gasps, crushing his face deeper into my neck. "Oh, Santanus. Oh, Lucifer. "

"You gonna beg me, sweetheart?" I husk in his ear. "Come on. Say please?"

He doesn't manage it, curling tight over my body as he comes. His arms forget the door to crush me against him. Fingers grip my back and shoulder so hard it almost hurts and I can hear his breath stop completely for a moment. I let him hold me, pressing myself tight up against him, toes to head.

It hardly feels like he is going to stand on his own so I just clean him up with a conveniently located cloth and pepper his face with little kisses. I brush the damp hairs back from his brow and when he lifts his eyes to mine he still flushes a even brighter red.

I must look entirely too pleased with myself because he quickly closes them again and lets his head fall back against the door with a solid "thunk."

"Fuck", he breathes, "I...ah, just.....Fuck."

I am pleased with myself. Humming softly I tuck him back into his trousers and pull the edges of his collar down so I can kiss him long and hard before patting his chest and moving away back into his rooms. He doesn't follow me and I look back to see him still leaning against the door staring.

"Dinner?" I ask with a bright innocent smile.

He growls with narrowed eyes and launches himself into the room. Shrieking with laughter I race to the other side of his couch. "Come here..." he murmurs. And when I don't move he crooks a finger at me. "Topolino. Come on. Come. Here. "

It's so goddamn hot. I want to.

But.

"Make me." It's impossible to keep a grin off my face knowing that the whole wing of this abbey is definitely going to hear about when he catches me. I have the advantage of steady feet, but his eyes are dark and his smile dangerous.

I am super, super fucked.

#the band ghost #thebandghost #cardinalcopia #cardinal copia #ghost bc #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus #popia

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mayquita · 5 years ago

Text

Damn You For Making Me Love You (12/15) - Memories

Thank you so so much, for your likes, reblogs, kudos and comments. It means the world to me.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans and @onceuponaprincessworld, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 7800 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

About this chapter: Christmas is coming... That means a perfect setting to face the consequences of their first (second) kiss.

Chapter 11: Memories

Killian - December 2019

What do you think if we include a current hit in the poll to choose our song for the duet next Saturday? - ES

Emma's message was the first thing Killian saw when he woke up that Sunday morning. He was laying in bed, his mind still dragging from the vestiges of sleep, so he had to read the contents of the text a couple of times until he was able to understand its meaning. Or rather, understand the only thing that mattered to him at that moment. Emma was still planning to sing with him next Saturday.

He was tempted to send a reply including that topic, but in the end, he opted for a less risky approach.

Hi, love. I see no problem with it. I guess you've already thought about a specific song - KJ

Yeah, what do you think about Memories? - ES

After reading the message, he sat up abruptly, dropping the phone in the process. Bloody hell... Memories? Seriously? What the hell was Emma playing at? Was it a way to mess with him? Or her way of telling him that she also remembered? Or was it just a damn coincidence?

A deep breath escaped between his lips as he grabbed the phone again, leaning his back against the headboard of the bed, his fingers sliding across the screen while he debated whether to call her directly and question her or, on the contrary, continue getting the lay of the land. He was about to press the call button, he really was, but in the end, he decided on a simple message. He was nothing but a coward, after all, afraid of what Emma would tell him.

Memories? The one by Maroon 5? - KJ

Yeah, I think it could work since that weekend will be the last of the year. It has a certain festive spirit, with those toast references. - ES

Aye, you got a point, but what do you think if we discuss it later at the bar? We can meet there a little earlier to talk. - KJ

Killian held his breath as he watched as the dots on the screen appeared and disappeared intermittently as if she couldn't decide what to type as a reply. When her new message finally arrived, he couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment.

That won't be possible. I've already talked to Liam about that. I've got an issue to deal together with Elsa so I will arrive later today. - ES

She was lying, which only increased Killian's confusion. Still, he was now sure that the use of that particular song had been deliberate, although he hadn't yet caught the real reason. He had no choice but to continue playing along and see where all this mess was going.

Okay then. I have no problem including Memories in the poll. - KJ

Great. I'm sending you the rest of the candidate songs and as soon as you give me the approval I will upload it to the website. - ES

You don't need to send them to me, Swan. I trust your ability to choose. I will take a look at the website later. And maybe I’ll even vote ;) - KJ

The conversation looked too professional, even distant, so he made an attempt to approach Emma as her friend instead of her coworker, hence the inclusion of the emoji. It was a poor attempt, he was aware of it, but his brain seemed not to be working properly after their kiss and the remembrance of their weekend in Storybrooke. Emma didn't seem to take the bait, though.

Okay. See you later. - ES

After that last cold message, he had to suppress the urge to throw the phone against the wall, a pull of frustration firmly settled in the pit of his stomach. To make matters worse, the bloody lyrics of the song had found their way in his head and he now felt unable to get rid of those verses. A humorless laugh escaped between his lips when he realized the irony of the song.

Here's to the ones that we got Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not 'Cause the drinks bring back all the memories Of everything we've been through

In their case, the drinks worked in the opposite way. Instead of bringing back the memories, the alcohol had taken them away. Killian shook his head as he tried to focus his thoughts on something else, anything that didn't remind him of Emma and the taste of her lips on his.

Emma had definitely chosen the bloody song on purpose.

He was sure about that when he entered the website and saw the poll consisted of that song and its rivals, three insubstantial and little known songs. In fact, the poll had only been up for an hour and several people had already voted, with Memories being the one ahead by a wide margin. He didn't know whether to get excited about the prospect of singing that song with her or, on the contrary, feel annoyed because it seemed that Emma was trying to communicate with him in a language he couldn't decipher.

Hopefully, he would find a moment in the following days to talk to her.

Emma was avoiding him.

Killian had not only not found the opportunity to talk to her privately but he had barely seen her in the past few days.

On Sunday, she arrived quite late at The Kraken and remained busy throughout the evening. She hardly waited for them to close the bar to leave, alluding that she was tired. On Monday, he didn't even see her since the bar was closed and she excused herself indicating that she was going to take advantage of the day off to do some last-minute Christmas shopping. Today, Tuesday, The Kraken would remain open only a couple of hours, since it was Christmas Eve. Both he and Liam had organized a late Christmas dinner in their apartment, to which Emma was invited, of course, but he was no longer sure if she would bother to come.

He wasn't imagining things. Liam had also noticed that something strange was happening with Emma. He had even tried to question Killian about it since he suspected —and he wasn't wrong — that Killian had something to do with it. But Killian wasn't in the mood to explain their current situation, especially when he didn't even know what the hell was going through Emma's head.

Killian rubbed his hand over his face and hair, feeling the frustration creep over him. Although there were still a few hours left before they had to open the bar, he was tempted to go there to play the guitar and try to disconnect for a while and get rid of that bitter feeling that had settled inside him since last Saturday.

He needed distractions and it was clear that he wasn't going to find them in the solitude of his apartment. Not even Liam was here since he had gone to the grocery store to get everything they needed for dinner tonight and Elsa was accompanying him.

The corners of his lips rose slightly at the fact that at least one of the Jones brothers seemed to be on the right track to win the heart of his potential love interest. Not that Liam had confessed anything about it, but Killian had the feeling that his role as a matchmaker wasn't necessary at all. Still, he took a mental note to question his brother in that regard. In addition, he hoped that the Christmas spirit in the form of a sprig of mistletoe could finally push them together. His lips curled up again when his eyes drifted to the strategic spot where Liam intended to place the plant.

Just when he again valued the possibility of going to the bar, the sound of someone knocking on the door caught his attention. His eyebrows pinched together in confusion, since he wasn't expecting any visits. When the person on the other side of the door knocked again with a little more insistence, he hurried to open the door.

Whoever Killian was expecting, it certainly wasn't the person he found on the threshold. His eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat as he stood with his mouth hanging open, unable to react.

"Surprise!"

Killian blinked a couple of times and then shook his head, noting that she was still there right in front of him. That's when he finally reacted, sort of.

"Belle?"

"Well, are you going to greet me properly or are you going to remain still as if you had seen a ghost?"

A renewed energy seized him at that moment, pushing him forward, a laugh bubbling deep in his chest as he wrapped his friend in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground.

"What the hell are you doing here? We thought you couldn't make it this year!" he said, still amazed by her unexpected presence, after lowering her and loosening the hug so he could look her in the eye.

"Are you going to invite me in first, or do you prefer that we have this conversation on the threshold?" Belle replied, her lips curled into a grin, her eyes sparkling. Gods ! He had missed his friend so much.

He let out a laugh and stepped aside to let her in and then helped her take off her coat and hung it on the rack near the door while placing the travel bag she was holding in a corner of the hall.

"Does Liam know?"

"Nope." She shook her head and then she narrowed her eyes as her gaze wandered around the room. "Where is he, by the way?" Belle then turned her head in his direction, her eyes widened. "Tell me he's with Elsa."

Killian tilted his head as he frowned, giving her a skeptical look. "How the hell do you know about Liam and Elsa?"

Before answering, Belle rolled her eyes as if to imply that the answer was evident. "Isn't it obvious? Because your brother hasn't stopped talking about her lately. So there is something between those two, right? Ha! I knew it!" Belle raised a fist in triumph as her face lit up.

"Slow down, love. There's nothing official, as far as I know. For now." If Belle felt disappointed she didn't show it. On the contrary, she kept an excited expression on her face. He made a mental note of talking to Emma to inform her that they had gotten another ally. The mere thought about Emma caused his smile to weaken but he forced himself to park those thoughts for later. Belle deserved all his attention. "So tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, that!" Belle paused for a moment as she bit her lower lip, a playful spark in her gaze. "Let's say we can blame Emma for my visit."

"Emma? My—" His voice trailed off as he looked away, feeling the tips of his ears begin to burn.

"Yes, your Emma." She smirked at him before continuing. "She contacted me because she wanted to give you both a surprise as a Christmas gift. And also as a way to apologize for her behavior the first time we met. I was really busy, but she insisted and insisted. She even offered to buy me the plane tickets. So I had no choice but to accept. She’s pretty persistent, that girl of yours, isn't she?"

"She's not my..." He trailed off again, uncertain about how to continue. Well, she was his everything, that's for sure, but that wasn't something he was willing to share with Belle. In response, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look: "She is quite persistent and also stubborn," he conceded and then decided to focus on Belle's other words. So if Emma had contacted her, that meant... "When did she contact you?"

"A month or so ago?" The little flame of hope faltered for a moment. Still, he tried to maintain an impassive expression. "We've been chatting these last weeks organizing the trip. The last time I talked to her was yesterday afternoon."

"Is that so?" he asked nonchalantly, trusting that his voice would not reveal his renewed level of excitement.

Belle was too perceptive, though. She tilted her head to the side as she studied him through her narrowed eyes. "Yeah, we've been in touch all this time, even this morning we've been sharing messages. She wanted to make sure everything went well."

He tried not to smile, he really tried, but his lips acted on his own, curling up. His gesture only increased the expression of suspicion on Belle's face. "Why do I have the impression that it's a big deal as to when I've talked to her? Have you gotten into a fight or something?"

"Not exactly," he admitted reluctantly. He hadn't confessed to anyone what happened with Emma, but he wondered if it would be a good idea to share it with someone as a means to lighten the burden he was carrying. Belle seemed like his best option. "She's kinda been avoiding me since Saturday."

Belle's brows furrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What have you done this time, Killian?"

"What? I haven't done anything." It was true, but Belle's expression denoted that she didn't believe him. After letting out a heavy sigh, he finally confessed. "We kissed." A huge smile blossomed on her face, but he hurried to continue. "Well, technically she started the kiss. And then she freaked out. And she's been avoiding me ever since."

"Have you tried talking to her?"

Had he tried? No, not really. Maybe because, deep down, he was afraid too. He didn't even respond, the expression on his face revealing his emotions perfectly without having to express them out loud.

Belle first rolled her eyes and shook her head, but then her features softened, her gaze searching for his as she gave him an affectionate squeeze on his arm. "You have to talk to her, Killian. Whatever is going on in her head, she still has you in her mind. She was the one who started the kiss. She was the one who contacted me because she knew that my visit would make you happy. Don't you think you should take the initiative for once? Maybe that's what she is waiting for. Maybe she needs to know that you are on the same page as her."

"Aye... I... I should talk to her."

"So, what are you waiting for? Go!"

"What? Now?" Killian wasn't entirely convinced, though he wasn't sure if what was holding him back was the uncertainty about how Emma could react, or if it was the fact of leaving Belle behind when she had just arrived. Maybe both. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse because he was a bloody coward. "I don't think it's appropriate for me to leave you here all alone. I can talk to her later."

"Oh, come on! Stop looking for excuses, Killian," she scolded him, although the expression on her face, with an amused half-smile, never disappearing from her lips, denoted she was actually excited about his current situation. "I'm not going anywhere for the next couple of days. We'll have time to catch up. Now go!"

Her bossy tone made him finally react. He approached her and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "Thank you, love. See you later." After putting on his coat he remembered something, so he turned back to her. "About the kiss and other stuff, Liam doesn't know anything and I would prefer that he stay like that for now, until I figure things out with Emma." He preferred to clear things up with Emma without having more people involved around them.

Belle seemed to catch the hint. "My lips are sealed. I like her a lot, by the way. I'm happy for you, you deserve it." She offered him a soft smile to which he responded with a matching one before slightly bowing his head in farewell and then leaving the house. He had a mission to accomplish.

All the determination Killian had felt after talking to Belle went out the window the moment he found himself in front of Emma's apartment door. He felt the palms of his hands begin to sweat as his stomach tightened into knots. But he needed to have this conversation with Emma, so, after taking a deep breath, he finally knocked on the door.

His breath caught in his throat when she opened the door quickly, barely giving him time to school his features.

"What are you doing here?"

Although Emma's words were laced with a harsh tone, he knew that he had made the right decision when he observed the expression on her face, her eyes widened slightly in surprise, the flash of something resembling longing across her gaze. Killian almost smiled to himself as he checked, once again, that she was like an open book to him. No matter how she tried to hide her emotions, her deep green eyes were like a window to her soul.

"Where are your manners, Swan? Happy Christmas Eve to you too. I'm fine, thank you." He winked at her getting the desired effect, she rolled her eyes as she pressed her lips together in an attempt to curb an incipient smile. "May I come in or do you prefer to have this conversation here?"

She ignored him, although he suspected it was more a sign of the reserved pose she intended to hold. Then she stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind them. "I'm surprised you didn't use the key."

"Well, considering that my presence here might not be welcome, I didn't want to take a chance."

"So, what are you doing here?" she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest, although this time her voice showed curiosity rather than annoyance.

She was so beautiful that morning that Killian got distracted for a moment watching her features. There was no trace of makeup on her face, her hair was in a loose braid over her right shoulder and her eyes sparkled in such a distracting way that he had to blink to force himself to look away. Big mistake, since his gaze then traveled to her lips, causing a soft hum under his skin, while his own began to tingle, craving to savor them once more. She was like a siren inflicting a spell on him that prevented him from functioning properly.

After shaking his head slightly, he looked for her gaze again before speaking. "I'd like to express my gratitude for making that surprise visit possible."

"Oh."

"Thank you so much, Emma. It means the world to me." Her cheeks acquired a soft pink hue as she averted her gaze, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He had to suppress the urge to reach out to her.

"Well, it was nothing. I did it for myself, actually, to apologize for my poor behavior the first time. Besides, I know that, for one reason or another, you haven't been able to see each other during the holidays in recent years. I felt it was time for you to be reunited again at Christmas." She shrugged one shoulder as she gave him a timid look from underneath her eyelashes. "I'm looking forward to meeting her, by the way, and rectifying the impression she must have of me."

"The feeling is mutual. I mean, she's looking forward to meeting you too. And you shouldn't worry about that first impression, believe me. She likes you a lot. Her words," he assured her, earning a soft smile on her part. "You're still coming to dinner tonight, aren't you?"

"Sure, why wouldn't..." Her voice trailed off, the pink of her cheeks turning a more intense shade of red. "Sure, I'll be there."

This was the decisive moment, the moment he had been waiting for a long time. The moment to act. "I was wondering since you have been avoiding me these past few days."

"I haven't been avoiding you. I've been busy," she defended herself, although neither her voice nor the way she looked away were convincing.

"Come on, Swan. I'm quite perceptive. You've been avoiding me. And you and I know the reason, right?" His last words sounded in a soft cadence devoid of recrimination. The last thing he wanted was to cause her to hide again behind her protective wall.

Killian watched as a whirlwind of mixed emotions crossed her face, as if she were fighting a battle inside. He could feel the tension radiating off her, until, after what seemed like hours, the turbulent expression on her face softened slightly as she took a shuddering breath. "This..." she muttered as she waved her hand between them, "... This is too much, Killian. The kiss, the feelings, the sudden memories..."

"So you remember too."

A noise escaped from her mouth, half snort, half groan. "It seems the damn kiss acted as a trigger." She trailed off, as she bit her lower lip and averted her gaze as if doubting whether or not she should continue. "I now know we kissed before. Rather, I have the notion, not the detailed memory." The frustration was evident in her voice, which, despite the circumstances, was a good sign, wasn't it? "And then I freaked out and ran away."

“I don't know if it will help you, but I also remembered that kiss in that instant.” Before continuing, he watched as her features softened and her shoulders sank slightly, shedding part of the tension. It was as if his words had brought some kind of relief to her.

"It's quite frustrating, to be honest, the idea that we don’t remember our first kiss."

Just then, the reminder of a certain poll came to his mind. "Speaking of which, I keep wondering if your unusual song choice for this week has something to do with our lost memories."

Her features twisted in a grimace before covering her face with her hands. "Shit! I'm such an idiot," she whined as she shook her head. When she finally decided to show her face again, her cheeks were flushed and she looked mortified. "I needed to know if you also remembered. It was a desperate attempt to get a reaction from you. Pretty fruitless, I must say." She looked at him in an apologetic — and quite adorable — way.

"It's a good song, Swan. Very appropriate in every way," he hurried to reassure her. "Besides, everything seems to indicate that it will be the winner. But the damn song has been repeating itself in my mind since I read your message."

"Well, you can consider it as a kind of rehearsal for this Saturday," she suggested as she raised an eyebrow in his direction, any trace of her previous embarrassment disappeared from her face. "I haven't yet decided whether I like the song or not, since the lyrics seem quite ironic, with that reference to the drinks bringing back the memories, since with us it was the opposite."

Killian wasn't at all surprised that they had had the same thought about the song. He was madly in love with her for a reason, right? Well, for several reasons actually. Still, the reference to the drinks brought an idea to his mind that, for some reason, he hadn't considered until now. But at least it could offer some explanation to what happened with their memories. "Maybe our brain blocked those memories as a kind of weird defense mechanism, using alcohol as an excuse. We might not have been prepared to face the consequences of that kiss at that time, so our mind blocked that memory or, in my case, transformed it into a kind of very pleasant dream."

Her cheeks blushed and her eyes sparkled in a special way, causing his heart to melt a little in the process. "And what makes you think that now we are prepared to face those consequences?"

"Well, love, you kissed me again. I guess that's enough indication, isn't it?"

She let out a heavy sigh, a reluctant smile blossoming on her lips. "I guess you're right."

"In addition, we can always turn what happened into something positive. Now we will always have two first kisses. The first technical one, and the first real kiss, without alcohol involved."

"If you put it that way..."

"I know you're afraid, Emma. You don't want to get hurt again." He took a tentative step in her direction. Not only did she not back down from his advance but she reached out, looking for his hand and intertwining her fingers with his, a smile of encouragement pulling at her lips and causing his heart to almost stop working. He needed to take a deep breath before continuing. "We don't need to put what's happening between us into words. I won’t even ask you to express your feelings. But, please, don't push me away again."

The look Emma gave him was so intense that he felt how it reached his very soul. After what seemed like hours lost in each other's eyes, she shortened the distance between them even more and, after offering him a tiny smile, she pressed her lips to his in a soft, brief kiss, one full of promises. "Be patient," she whispered, her warm breath caressing his lips.

"Always," he replied. "I'm not going anywhere, Emma."

"Good."

His heart pounded frantically in his chest as he reached out his other hand, cupping her cheek delicately. She tilted her head under his touch as she closed her eyes, a quiet sigh sliding between her lips.

It was a beginning. He was aware that they still had to work not only to build their relationship, but to be totally honest with their feelings with each other. He had waited four years to reach this situation, and the wait had been worth it. He would not change what he was experiencing now for anything in the world.

When Emma opened her eyes again and he met the emerald intensity of her gaze, he had to resist the urge to kiss her senseless. Instead, he settled for circling her with his arms drawing her to him and wrapping her in a tight embrace. He would never tire of the incredible sensation of holding Emma in his arms, feeling her intoxicating scent seeping inside him making his head spin, while the warmth of her body against his caused a pleasant humming under his skin.

After placing a gentle kiss on the crown of her head, he whispered against her hair. "Do you have any plans right now?"

Emma pressed even more against his chest before answering, "I'm waiting for Elsa to come back. We have to start making dessert for dinner."

Although reluctant, Killian untangled from her, but entwined his hand with hers. "I think I have a better idea. Come with me to meet Belle."

"I'd love to, but Elsa will kill me if I leave her alone after she has also taken care of going to the grocery store."

After everything that happened, he was reluctant to separate from her. "Text her and tell her to go to my apartment instead of yours. After all, dinner is going to be there, isn't it? Besides, I guess my brother won't mind helping her at all."

"Okay… Give me ten minutes to get dressed." After turning to her bedroom, Emma seemed to remember something. She approached him again with a suggestive smile adorning her lips. "About the trip to Storybrooke. We've already talked about it on other occasions, but it never hurts to mention it again. I may not exactly remember the kiss and that we shared a bed, but I do remember everything else. It was a fantastic weekend."

"Aye, love. We should return there someday. To create new memories."

"And maybe this time we meet your twin, The Captain." Her eyes suddenly widened, while her face lit up. "We should also invite Elsa to join us; she would love the town and its inhabitants."

"And we would have to make sure we make the room reservations correctly," Killian added as he raised an eyebrow, his lips drawing a smirk, causing Emma to giggle, infecting him in the process. They shared a liberating laugh for the next few seconds, managing to drag away part of their concerns.

"Wow. I needed this moment," Emma said when the laughter subsided. "But I better get ready before it gets even later." She hadn't walked two steps before she turned and approached him again. "And above all, no alcohol involved, please. I want to remember everything." She then placed a quick peck on his lips, a subtle touch, but one full of promises. It was all he needed for now.

Christmas Eve Dinner-Party

Killian was elated. After his conversation with Emma, he began to feel like he was walking on clouds. That feeling, far from fading, had accompanied him throughout the day, with Emma by his side since she had barely separated from him since that morning.

As he had already imagined, Elsa did not mind at all moving the dessert preparations to his apartment. His brother gladly agreed to be her assistant in the kitchen, while Emma was relegated to help Belle and himself to finalize the decorations of the house, mistletoe included.

Belle and Emma got along well from the start. Killian still wasn't sure what had gone through Emma's mind the first time they had met and she had behaved quite impertinently with his friend. Since they hadn't discussed that subject again, he took a mental note to ask her later. Even so, Emma had rectified the situation, making this reunion possible. He couldn't feel more grateful to her.

After leaving everything ready for the dinner party, everyone left for The Kraken, where they would work for a couple of hours. A wave of pride seized him when Belle could see for the first time how the bar had changed in these four years thanks to Emma's touch, giving the place a soul of its own.

Although his friend had visited The Kraken long ago, in recent years she had been busy taking care of her sick mother while carrying out two jobs. Belle's visits to Boston had been very sporadic, with him and Liam being the ones traveling to see her on most occasions. That was why she had taken so long to meet Emma. Fortunately, her mother had managed to recover, so that opened the door to more frequent visits in the future.

After closing the bar early, all of them, Ruby and Robin and his family included, went to the brothers’ apartment to enjoy a special Christmas Eve celebration, with delicious food, relaxed conversations, and even some Christmas carols. It might have been the festive atmosphere around them causing bright smiles and sparkling eyes on all the guests. Whatever it was, the truth was that he had never felt more at peace with himself and with the rest of the world than at that precise moment, witnessing the happiness that emanated from all his loved ones.

"Did you figure out what was going on with Emma these last few days?" Killian had been so focused watching the conversation that took place in front of him between Emma and Belle that he hadn't realized that Liam had approached him until he heard his voice.

Killian offered an elusive response after casting a sidelong glance at his brother. "It was nothing important, I guess. She's fine now, isn't she?" He took a sip of his drink, wishing that Liam would not continue his line of inquiry since he wasn't willing to offer further explanations, at least not until he talked to Emma again. Killian kept looking forward on purpose, reluctant to face his brother. Liam didn't seem to catch the hint, though.

"Have you talked to her, you know, about your feelings?"

Liam had tried to keep up this kind of conversation in recent weeks, but Killian had always answered evasively. It wasn't going to be any different today. Besides, he might have found the best way to divert attention, launch a counterattack.

"What about you?"

Liam's brows furrowed in confusion. "What about me? What do you mean?"

"Do you intend to do something about your feelings towards a certain other blonde?"

The way in which Liam's features changed was almost comical. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open. Then his gaze drifted for a split second in the direction of Elsa while he scratched behind his ear. Finally, he nodded almost imperceptibly, as if he were convincing himself, before answering. "Maybe."

Killian cocked his head to one side while arching an eyebrow in appreciation. "So maybe?"

"Aye. You know the motto, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants..."

"...deserves what he gets," Killian finished for him, letting the words sink deep into him.

"Life is too short, little brother." Liam patted his shoulder affectionately before continuing, "Sometimes it's worth not thinking so much and simply acting and pursuing what we really want." After those last significant words, Liam offered him a smile of encouragement, before walking away with a clear destination.

Killian couldn't feel happier for his brother. It was as if the pieces of the puzzle that formed the life of the Jones brothers had finally begun to fit together, offering a glimpse of a promising picture. Just then, one of the pieces of that puzzle, the most precious for Killian, began to walk in his direction, a radiant smile adorning her face and a special glow in her eyes that had the ability to take his breath away.

"Can you come with me to the kitchen, Jones? I need something from there." Emma didn't even wait for an answer, but kept walking in the direction of the kitchen. He, of course, followed in her footsteps.

This woman would never stop surprising him. At the moment when the kitchen door closed behind them, she practically pounced on him, pressing her lips against his in a burning kiss, one with the ability to set him in flames inside. Any coherent thoughts vanished in his head being replaced by a single image, Emma.

He got lost in the incredible sensation of her lips on his and her body pressed against his, generating a delicious friction in the right places. They devoured each other until they had to pull apart to catch their breaths.

"It's not like I'm complaining. Obviously I'm not. But what was this about?" he muttered, his breath still agitated, his forehead resting against hers.

"Well, I've seen you talking to Liam and for some reason, I thought about the mistletoe that was hanging near you."

"You've lost me, love." His brain was certainly not working properly yet, because he didn't catch how those two aspects were related.

Emma separated a little from him while raising an eyebrow in an amused expression. Then she rolled her eyes before answering, "I'm only going to kiss you when I really want it, not because I'm forced to do it due to a stupid tradition marked by a plant."

"So there will be no kiss under the mistletoe?"

"Nope."

"Okay... No kiss under the mistletoe. I got it." He let out an exaggerated sigh pretending resignation and then his lips drew a small pout. "A pity."

"You're such an idiot," she snorted. "Besides the stupid tradition, I prefer to keep this, whatever it is, just for us. At least until we figure things out better."

Killian realized at that moment that, until now, Emma had been the one to initiate all their kisses. Maybe the time had come to rectify that. "Just to clarify, I'm also allowed to kiss you whenever I want as long as it's in private?"

Emma tilted her head while biting her lower lip in a mischievous way. "I guess you'll have to find out for yourself," she replied before finally turning away from him and opening the door again. The bloody siren had the audacity to blow a kiss in his direction before heading towards the living room, a smile of satisfaction drawn on her lips the last thing he saw before the door closed behind her.

Killian needed to take a couple of deep breaths while waiting for his body to recover before he returned to the living room as well. This woman was going to be the death of him, no doubt.

A couple of minutes later, Killian felt able to return with the rest. His gaze inevitably turned in Emma's direction. When their eyes met, she offered him a soft smile before continuing to talk to Ruby and Mulan. Killian's gaze then roamed the rest of the room until he found his brother who was talking to Elsa. When Killian realized the specific spot they were located in, he couldn't help smiling with delight as he went in search of Emma.

Luck seemed to be on his side that night, finally. Just before he approached Emma, Ruby and Mulan left her to start a new conversation with Regina, Robin's new girlfriend. Killian took advantage of that moment to shorten the distance between them to stand right in front of her. "Swan, about the mistletoe..."

"I've already told you, Jones, I'm not gonna kiss you with everyone around." She cut him off abruptly with a somewhat exasperated tone, although Killian detected a hint of playfulness and perhaps desire in her voice.

"I know, I know, a stupid tradition and whatever, but, you may change your mind now." Killian pointed his head in the direction of Liam and Elsa, a huge grin pulling at his lips.

Emma's eyes widened immediately as she gripped his arm tightly. "Holy shit! They're about to kiss!"

Killian couldn't help a quiet chuckle from escaping his throat. It seemed obvious that whatever prejudices Emma had against the mistletoe, they did not apply to Elsa or Liam.

"You were saying, Swan?" he muttered into her ear, resisting the urge to bite her lobe or slide his lips over her neck. Maybe another time…

"Shut up, Killian, don't distract me now," she mumbled as she pulled her phone from the back pocket of her pants. "Do you think they'll get mad at me if I take a picture of the moment?"

Killian barked out a laugh as he shook his head. He then turned to his brother and shouted, "Hey, Liam. Look up."

Liam - December 2019

"Hey, Liam. Look up."

Liam ignored his brother's words at first, too focused on his conversation with Elsa. They had been discussing the next step in relation to Killian and Emma as it seemed that they both were still reluctant to take the final step.

"Oh my god! You are under the mistletoe!" What his ears did catch was Anna's almost deafening yell. It was then that his brain finally processed what was happening.

Slowly, he looked up, finding himself, of course, with the mistletoe sprig hanging just above him. Bloody hell. His gaze then turned to Elsa. She seemed visibly nervous, her gaze traveling from the mistletoe, pausing briefly on him, and then looking at her sister with a pleading expression on her face.

"You have to kiss, guys. You know the tradition," Anna continued, squealing as she bounced and clapped excitedly.

"Don't listen to her, love. You certainly don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Liam assured her in a quiet voice as he offered a reassuring smile, even though his heart threatened to beat right out of his ribcage.

Elsa's cheeks colored a soft shade of pink, highlighting her innate beauty as she bit her lower lip in a way that was perhaps too tempting. He also felt his cheeks burn but he ignored his inner agitation, looking for Elsa's gaze to make sure she was alright.

Her lips curled up as she shrugged. "It's just a kiss, isn't it?" She moved closer to him, causing his heart to beat frantically as the butterflies in his stomach began to flutter. Before shortening the distance completely, her eyes widened slightly. "You want this too, don't you?"

"Aye, since it's a tradition..." he muttered while his eyes bored into hers. The corners of her lips rose slightly before standing on tiptoe and pressing her lips against his own. It was a brief kiss, just a gentle brush, but enough for him to feel the softness of her lips and the warmth of her breath, causing something to stir inside him while everything around him seemed to fade.

Only when Elsa pulled apart was Liam able to recover his senses. Ignoring the cheering around them, he devoted himself to observing her features, finding no trace of regret, but rather an expression of contentment while the flash of something similar to hope crossed her gaze.

"We're definitely the worst matchmakers ever. Not only do we not get them to kiss, but we fall into our own trap. We are idiots."

Liam couldn't prevent a liberating laugh from escaping from his mouth, getting to infect Elsa in the process. "I’m not complaining at all, love," he managed to assure her once the laughter subsided as he placed an arm on her shoulders. "But we better think of another plan for these two stubborn ones."

"Hey lovebirds, stop whispering and share with the rest." Liam was tempted to ignore Emma's words and remain in his own bubble with Elsa, but he certainly did not enjoy being the center of attention. So, after letting out a heavy sigh, he began to walk away from the mistletoe, keeping his arm around Elsa's shoulders, gently pushing her to accompany him.

"Well, taking advantage of everyone's attention, I'd like to announce something." All eyes in the room suddenly turned to Anna, while Liam noticed how Elsa tensed beside him. Anna's eyes narrowed before she let out a snort. "No, it's not what you're thinking. I'm not pregnant, nor are we getting married. Yet."

"Nor have I proposed to her. Yet," Kristoff added as he winked at his girlfriend.

"What I wanted to announce is that Kris and I have gotten an early Christmas gift and we will also be able to share it with some of you." Anna made a deliberate pause as if she wanted to create tension in the atmosphere.

"Come on, Anna, spit it out."

Anna frowned as she raised a finger in warning in Emma's direction. "Patience is not one of your best virtues, Emma. I guess Killian agrees with me." Anna directed a conspiratorial glance towards Killian who responded by nodding, earning a nudge from Emma. "Anyway, as I was saying before the interruption... We... are going to spend New Year's Eve in a cabin in the woods. And best of all, there is room for six people, isn't it wonderful?"

"What Anna means is that both the brothers Jones and Elsa and Emma, are invited to join us," Kristoff explained. "I'm afraid there's no room for anyone else." He gave an apologetic look in the direction of both Ruby and Robin.

Liam's excitement lasted exactly five seconds, the time he needed to try to add that event to his mental schedule and realize that he would not be able to attend. A sense of disappointment took hold of him, because the idea of further developing the incipient relationship with Elsa in a different environment was too appealing. But he could not ignore his responsibilities.

"Thank you so much for the offer guys, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. We're throwing a New Year's Eve party at The Kraken."

"But having a party at The Kraken doesn't necessarily mean you have to attend, right? I mean, you're the boss, you can do whatever you want!" Anna insisted, looking at the others in search of agreement.

She was somehow right. He might feel obligated to stay but that didn't mean Emma and Killian had to decline the invitation too. Just when he was about to make the proposal, Ruby came forward.

"Anna has a point. In fact, I think you three should go. Mulan will be with me that night. She has experience serving drinks, so she will be very helpful." Ruby looked at her girlfriend who offered her a smile while nodding in agreement.

"And you have already given me all this week off to enjoy the holidays with my family, so I will be there too." Liam was about to reply, but Robin kept talking. "Besides, I literally live three floors above the bar and Regina will be there taking care of Roland. I can take small breaks during my shift to see them.”

"I appreciate your support guys, but there will be a lot of work since we estimate that public attendance will be high. I don't think it's fair to load you with more work than necessary, honestly."

"You could hire more temporary bartenders. You have a week ahead to get everything organized." This time it was Belle who made the suggestion, clearly interested in sending him to that cabin in the woods. Yes, he could afford to hire some waiters, but still…

A deep exhale escaped between his lips, while he felt all eyes on him. He wanted to accept the invitation so badly, not only because that would allow him to spend more time with Elsa, but because it would also be the perfect excuse for both Killian and Emma to continue exploring their relationship outside their usual environment and because he had worked hard during the year and deserved a break.

He cast a sidelong glance at Elsa, who was still by his side. She was looking at her sister with whom she seemed to be having a silent conversation. His gaze then shifted to Emma and Killian who were also sharing furtive glances. It was as if everyone was waiting expectantly for him to make a final decision.

"What do you think, Emma?" Liam had learned to trust Emma's instincts as far as business was concerned, so he decided that if she gave her approval he would cease to be opposed to the idea.

Emma cast a last sidelong glance at Killian before answering. "I have a couple of people in mind who could help. I think there will be no problem at all. Ruby and Robin will have everything under control." To reaffirm her words, she quietly nodded her head, her lips curled upward. "It will only be one night. It will be fine."

His decision seemed obvious. If everyone agreed, who was he to refuse the possibility to spend a couple of days off with his loved ones? "Well, guys, if you put it that way I will have no choice but to accept." Everyone broke into applause but he ignored them, looking for Elsa's gaze instead. The radiant smile she offered him was enough to convince himself that he had made the right decision.

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Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

Just three chapters to go... What might happen when you put six people together in a cabin to celebrate New Year with all those simmering feelings around them?

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au #csrt #damn you for making me love you #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs au ff #mayquita writes #my cs writings

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petersquips · 6 years ago

Text

Stark Contrast [CHAPTER THREE]

Masterlist | Introduction | Chapter One | Chapter Two || Chapter Four (pt 1) | Chapter Four (pt 2)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 5,991

Warnings: Slight aggression, but mostly it’s all the ever-loving fluff you could want.

Chapter Summary: Y/N is suspended for hitting Amadeus Cho and struggles to make amends with her family. While she continues to wrestle with her place as a young woman in the world, now in the spotlight, Peter invites her to a sister march.

A/N: Inspired by the album “A Woman’s Guide to Survival” by Miss Li. This is the chapter that came to me on the tram and made me want to write this fic, so I hope I’ve done it justice.

If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, Inbox me and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. I look forward to your feedback, friends!

Y/N was sitting in the middle of the training room working on yesterday’s schoolwork. She liked the training room. It was wall to wall windows on three sides, the floor was black and glossy, and it just felt vast. It was a good place to be alone, and more than ever Y/N wanted to be alone this week. Tony still hadn’t really forgiven her for forcing him to talk the principal down from expulsion to suspension, Pepper was unsuccessfully trying to act normal, and Steve just seemed disappointed. So if she could avoid all of them for the week of her suspension and keep up on her school work, it was really the best she could ask for.

“There you are.” The warm voice of Peter echoed through the giant room as his amplified footfalls grew closer to where she sat in the center of the floor. “Delivery,” he lamely joked, as he approached and dropped a pile of paper next to the girl. Y/N didn’t move from the problem she was working on and she didn’t so much as acknowledge her friend, so Peter carefully sat down next to her and asked, “Still that bad, huh?”

“They’ll come around,” Y/N assured him, or perhaps herself, as she finished writing down the answer to the math problem she had been working on when the boy walked in. She sighed in disbelief. She didn’t really know any of them at all. She’d only been around for a few weeks and she’d already screwed up. She had no way of knowing how long this would last, and her new family aside, she herself had been struggling with the grey moral area she seemed to be sitting in. Disgruntled, Y/N pushed the textbook away from herself, asking, “Is what I did really that bad?”

“I mean, it’s not the approach I would have taken…” Peter pandered lightly.

Y/N jumped on his statement asking, “and what approach would you have taken?” She was desperate for some form of validation. She didn’t want to feel like a bad person. “If someone was boasting, lying about you like a sexual conquest, making you a trophy to be won because of your name, what would you have done?” She was staring straight into Peter’s soul, begging him for an answer.

Peter looked away uncomfortably. “I don’t know,” he admitted to the floor, pulling one knee up to his chest.

“I can’t even picture it,” Y/N realized. She looked off into the distance and could see the quin-jet through the far wall. She lived in a place full of such integrity. This was a place of heroes, and she was just some kid who could handle a cafeteria tray like a baseball bat.

After a moment's silence the gentle boy finally inquired, “Why did you do it?” She’d been asking herself the same question. She paused the think, and then came to a conclusion.

“Because my words meant nothing,” Y/N responded urgently. “No one was going to believe my word over Amadeus Cho, you know that. So I had to be louder.” And she was. The sound of the plastic smacking against Cho’s face was very loud, indeed.

“You really thought all that out during the walk from our table to his?” Peter quizzed in disbelief, looking back at the girl in awe.

“No!” Y/N scoffed as she gave the obvious response. “He was being a dick and I got angry.” Peter snorted at the abrupt change of tone in their conversation and began laughing along with the girl. Y/N was relieved to be laughing with Peter after everything that had happened. If she could laugh despite the guilty pit in her stomach, maybe things would be okay. The two began to grow quiet again, and Y/N sighed and confessed, “I do feel bad.” She didn’t like the serious conversation and she didn’t like feeling guilty, but she knew she needed it, so she continued to explain, “He’s not a bad person. I mean- I don’t think I believe that he’s a bad person, he just did some bad things-“ she paused to self-assess, “But did you hear that smack?” She was mortified. “That shit had to have hurt, and at the end of the day he made some bad choices, but I’m the one who actually hurt someone.”

“Hey,” Peter said as he elbowed Y/N in the side. “He did hurt you. In more ways than one,” the boy mumbled the second half, before quickly inquiring, “How’s that healing up, by the way?” She knew what he was referring to, but Y/N preferred to pretend it wasn’t there, because if it wasn’t there, maybe it didn’t happen. Peter kindly held out a hand to receive the Y/N’s arm and examine it. The bruising had mostly healed, but the last yellow remnants wrapped around her wrist in a splotchy fashion. He frowned and sighed at the sight. “Tell you what,” the boy said, staring at the remnants of her encounter with Amadeus Cho. “Don’t schedule anything for Sunday,” Peter commanded before suddenly standing up and casually walking toward the exit of the vast room.

“What?” Y/N quizzed. When she got no response she yelled after him in her confusion. “Peter!”

“Don’t ask any questions,” Peter called back as he turned around and began walking backwards. “Just trust me on this.” Y/N was confused why her friend would be so coded and was tentative to let him walk away on that note, but she inhaled sharply and nodded in agreement, earning a charming smile from Peter before he disappeared from the room.

It was quiet again and Y/N felt small in the huge facility. The teen miserably looked at the fresh stack of assignments Peter had left her. She had only just reached the end of the work he dropped off yesterday, and she didn’t want to keep going. Y/N groaned and dropped her face into the trigonometry book she’d been working out of before Peter had shown up. “Just land the fucking quin-jet on my head,” she mumbled into the pages, the sound of her voice echoing circles around her. She realized how pathetic she must look and quickly sat up with a gasp, shaking her head as if to wring out the bad vibes. She was completely determined to keep chipping away at the pile of work before her.

She begrudgingly crammed in the last of her trigonometry work and threw the heavy textbook across the room just to get it further away from her. It landed on the tile floor with a resonant smack that rang in her ears and made her immediately regret the impulsive act. Still, she was intent on powering through and picked up the fresh pile of work are started from the beginning of her day, pulling off the AP Lit sheets on existentialism and transcendentalism. She pushed through organic chemistry equations and the introductory history of the world, and by the time she had finished it all the training room was glowing orange with the light of the sunset over the horizon. It was beautiful. The same sunset she’d watched with such uncertainty her first day in the facility. Now it simply filled her with peace, a familiar view in the midst of her renewed confusion.

Y/N began to collect all of the completed paperwork as she watched the warm light of the sun disappear into a blue haze. Gathering everything into her arms, she quietly made her way out of the comforting room and across the building in the dim light. As she wandered down the many halls it took to get to her room, she caught a glimpse of Tony sitting on the couch of the lounge with a drink in his hand, a nightly ritual for the man. The girl paused. She didn’t want to be seen by him, and she especially didn’t want to talk. Y/N nervously ducked her head and tried to sneak by unnoticed.

Just as she’d reached the opposite wall, the man called, “Y/N.” Clearly, he’d noticed. The teen awkwardly stepped backwards, reversing back into view.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked tentatively. Tony didn’t speak, just curtly waved his free hand, a gesture that said, ‘come over here’ with ultimate clarity. Y/N anxiously hurried over to the man, setting the heavy pile of books and homework on the coffee table. She had a feeling this might take a while, and if she kept holding all of those papers her arms would give out before the conversation even started. She didn’t feel like sitting. She’d been sitting all day, so the teen opted to stand in front of the aloof man. She was antsy and began rolling her feet over to the side and back just to keep moving.

Tony rubbed his mouth with his free hand as he leaned forward and set the glass of liquor next to his child’s assignments. As he sat back into the couch he revealed his first card, “Peter told me what you said today-”

“Traitor,” Y/N whispered to the side.

Her heart leapt into her throat when Tony aggressively demanded, “No, see, this is where you listen.” The violent tone made Y/N fearfully snap back to center, looking at the man and trying to ignore the pounding in her chest. “Peter’s a smart kid and he cares about you. He told me because I care about you, too.”

This was a statement that made Y/N uneasy. She wasn’t convinced and she immediately argued, “You barely even know me.” It was in a hushed, hurt tone. She couldn’t understand where Tony got this idea that he had to put on this concerned parent persona when he’d only known her for a few weeks. She hadn’t exactly done anything to earn his affection since she’d shown up. It hurt to know that she didn’t really have anyone to care for her the way family should, and her own body betrayed her as water began to flood across Y/N’s eyes.

“Don’t I?” the man asked as he pushed off from the couch to stand, causing Y/N to stumble backward in her fear. “I know you’re a strong personality, you don’t like being told what to do. If someone tells you what to do you’re most likely going to do the opposite. You like black even though it’s not a color. Your favorite flavor of ice cream is cake batter, I know because it keeps disappearing from the freezer, and I know that you feel guilty about hitting that boy,” Tony finished. His face softened as he begged, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well…” Y/N was annoyed by the persistence of this conversation, and insisted with a bitter tone, “it doesn’t exactly make a difference, now does it?” She didn’t understand this mode of conversing with Tony. So much of what they had done so far was quips and arguing. She didn’t understand why he was so determined and concerned, and she was completely unprepared to deal with it.

“It makes all the difference,” Tony protested. The aggressive nature in his sharp tone startled Y/N and caused the first tear to brim over and roll down her cheek. She thought she wanted to argue with her biological father, but she felt so emotionally fragile she wasn’t sure she could handle it anymore. “We all make dumb mistakes in the heat of the moment, but feeling remorse is what makes you a good person. It means you care about doing the right thing.” Y/N took two steps back, needing to distance herself from the man. She was overwhelmed. Where was this conversation days ago? Before she felt so alone in the great big office building she was so lucky as to call home. And now that it was here she was terrified, this wasn’t what she wanted. It didn’t feel good to be receiving this relentless support, it felt like suffocating and she couldn’t breathe.

The tears began to rain down her face and Tony took a step toward his daughter, while the girl took another step back and yelled, “Stop!” she paused to summon enough air to finish the command, “…consoling me, it doesn’t help!”

“What do you want me to do?” Tony asked pointedly. He was at a loss, but he just wouldn’t give up.

“I don’t know!” The teen near screamed back. She felt her face turning red and thought she must look like a maniac with the water drenching her cheeks. “I’m going crazy here! One moment I’m fine and I understand that what happened with Cho was not my fault, and the next I’m tearing apart all of my clothing in frustration!” She was ranting with no end, and she didn’t feel like stopping. “I keep saying I don’t think he would have forced anything on me and I don’t think he would have hurt me if Peter hadn’t shown up, but I don’t know that. I don’t feel safe anymore, Tony.” She stopped to breathe. The tears suddenly stopped as she said her peace and her face felt sticky like rice as the trails of water began to dry.

Tony inhaled deeply and bumbled the air out through pursed lips as he dropped back on the couch. Y/N watched as the man desperately picked up his drink from the coffee table and downed the mostly-full glass in one go. It was nerve-wracking. These were not the actions of a man in control, and Tony controlled everything in that tower. Tony sat with the empty glass in his trembling hand, hanging limply at his side. He stared at the unlit fireplace across the room and for a moment things seemed still. Then Stark unexpectedly jumped up and yelled as he violently threw his glass across the room. Y/N flinched in terror as it thunderously shattered against the wood floor, scattering in devastation.

Pepper came running into the room in a frenzy, her long silky robe flowing behind her. “What happened?” she asked urgently as she observed the shards of glass and the horrified teen. “Tony?” Pepper inquired carefully as she slowly approached the man consumed by stifled rage. Y/N watched as Pepper strategically touched his stiff shoulder. Carelessly, Tony shook her off and dropped to the couch once again, burying his face in his hands as they worked their way into his hair. He looked ill, almost like he might vomit if the eyes in the room weren’t staring at him. Pepper sat next to the distraught man and glanced up at Y/N, suggesting, “Maybe you should head to your room for the night.”

Y/N nodded and without any argument began hurrying out of the lounge in her panic. Tony held up a hand to signal her to wait. The girl slowed down as she approached the hallway before deciding to stop and listen to what the man had left to say. He hesitantly lifted his head from the other hand and looked at the teenager in anguish. “It’s tearing me apart, too, kid,” Tony mentioned hoarsely. Pepper began to coddle the man only to be met with him holding up a hand to her and complaining, “I’m fine.” Tony got up and walked toward the teenager who was waiting frightfully where the hallway met the corner of the room. He spoke as he crossed, “I don’t know what to do to help because I couldn’t keep this from happening to you in the first place, and I can’t help feeling that that’s on me.”

“I-i…” Y/N stuttered, the sound barely reaching her lips. “It’s no one’s fault,” the girl insisted quietly. At some points, she believed it more than others, but she maintained that it was true. Tony finally stopped face to face with the young and vulnerable teenager. She fearfully looked between his sad eyes, unsure what to say to the man who was meant to care for her. “I don’t blame you,” she whispered.

Tony nodded irregularly and simply said, “Get some sleep,” before turning around and walking back to Pepper. Y/N watched the broken man sit down next to his wife and lay his head on her shoulder. The teen felt stupid to have never realized that Tony took a hit that night, too. She glanced once more at Pepper combing through the mans hair and whispering comfort to him before tearing away to her room. She needed sleep. She needed today to be over.

She woke up early Sunday morning and was eager to see Peter after avoiding Tony all of Saturday. It scared her seeing him so manic Friday night, and she didn’t want to encounter it again. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement, but as she glanced at the clock she wasn’t surprised to see it read, “4:48 AM”. Y/N knew herself and she knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep, and she’d felt so trapped and stiff being suspended in the facility all week. A peculiar urge came over her that she just couldn’t shake and she rushed across the room to her closet, throwing on her Midtown gym tee with some ill-fitting shorts. She hurriedly pinned her hair back and ran downstairs to the lobby of the building. She saw Steve on the front patio stretching out and jogged to the entrance. As she opened the door, she felt the crisp morning air of autumn cool her skin and Steve looked over the shoulder he was stretching in calm surprise.

“Can I come with you?” the teen asked uncertainly. She knew she couldn’t keep up with a genetically enhanced soldier, and it seemed silly to even entertain the notion, but it was less about getting out and more about being a part of the family she was dumped into. She could run on her own anytime, and while she needed to feel the movement and the burning in her limbs after such a stressful week, she had an overwhelming urge to do it with Steve.

“As if you hadn’t been punished enough already,” Steve teased, smirking as he waved the girl over to join him in stretching. She wasn’t exactly an expert in the sport of running. She did some track and field in elementary school, but not much else. So she tried to follow Cap, doing the stretches as she saw him doing them. After about five minutes of loosening the tension that resided in her stressed joints, Steve asked, “Are you ready?” Y/N was uncertain if this was a trick question or not. Of course, she’d never be ready to keep up with the mighty Captain America, but she nodded, determined to try her best.

Steve began jogging down the long driveway, and Y/N ran beside him. She knew he was holding himself back for her benefit, but she was kind of glad he was doing it. It meant he wasn’t doing anything begrudgingly. He actually wanted to spend the time with the teenager, and that meant the world to Y/N in the midst of her internal crisis. Everything was so uncertain lately, swirling with confusion in an ever-changing atmosphere. She wanted to join Steve’s ritual because it was consistent. It was always the same, and it was reliable, and Y/N needed that after everything that had come crashing down in her life over the last month. So she pushed, even when her tongue began to taste of metal, she sped up when her body begged her to slow down, and when her mind started to wander from the present task she would glance at Steve, and the determined look on his face as he watched the road before them would inspire her to keep present.

They paused at a drinking fountain located in a nearby park where Y/N could catch her breath and get a drink. She knew this wasn’t Steve’s normal ritual, but she could tell he was looking out for her, trying to make sure he didn’t push her too hard, so he forced her to stop and take a break. As she leaned into the bubbling stream of water, Steve placed his hands on his hips and looked off into the distance mentioning, “You know, Tony means well.” Y/N pulled her face away from the refreshing water and looked at the man, imitating his posture as Cap continued, “He just doesn’t know what to do this time.” Y/N was both intrigued by Steve’s insight and annoyed that her life continued to be the business of everyone in the Avenger’s Facility. The large man sighed and shook his head as he explained, “He wants to do the right thing to help you, he just doesn’t know what that is and it scares him-“

“I’m fine,” Y/N interrupted bitterly. She began walking along the path they’d been running down. “I don’t need his help.”

“Do you really believe that?” Steve asked with the kind of insight only a 100-some-year-old-man could provide. It was infuriating how considerately aware he was.

“I appreciate it, Steve,” Y/N mentioned limply, turning back around to face the man who was still standing at the water fountain, “but I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” At that she turned around and began running again, forcing herself to go faster than she thought possible. Within the blink of an eye, Cap was running right by her side once again like a bug you just can’t seem to shake off. She was really thankful that he hadn’t pushed the matter. It made her feel like she’d been listened to, and that triumph made her want to push harder, to run fast enough that Steve was doing more than just a jog beside her. She tried to smash her feet into the pavement as hard as they would allow, and lengthened her stride, catching that knowing smile in Steve’s perfect teeth as he sped up.

The burn of the rest of the run was almost unbearable, but Y/N was persistent. By the time she got back upstairs to her room and into the shower she was spitting down the drain, half expecting red blood to be swirling around at her feet. The cool water felt relieving as it ran over her sweaty body. Her muscles were sore, but the burning had died down. She used her favorite soap to thoroughly cleanse her body, delighting in the sweet scent, and took extra time to care for her hair even if Peter would be there in less than an hour. She was in a push for time as she stood infront of her wardrobe wrapped in a towel with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, trying to figure out what to wear when she didn’t even know where they were going. She decided to just wear her normal ensemble with the exception of pulling out her light-wash denim jacket instead of the leather jacket. It seemed brighter, and it may have been the adrenaline from the run, but she was feeling more playful and present. She was lacing up her classic red converse when her phone began vibrating with Peter’s text that he had arrived. The girl bounded down the stairs and across the building, feeling the pain of the mornings run as she hurried to the lobby where Peter stood speaking to Tony. The sight of her friend made her smile. She felt really good about today.

His Aunt May had dropped him off at the facility, but they took Y/N’s Audi. It was strange for her to have to look away from the console so Peter could secretly type in the address of where they were going just to preserve the surprise. She never could have been prepared for where they arrived. It was a small park, but it was full of people. There were some stands around the edges of the field for groups and organizations from Planned Parenthood to Midtown School’s own feminism club. Without stopping to explain what he’d gotten them into, Peter walked off straight toward the booth from their school, and Y/N raced after him in confusion. The Midtown Feminist Club had small tent covering a modest table with a single petition in the center of it. There were only a few girls from school at the table, but front and center shouting at the crowd was MJ, only pausing her rallying to smile at Peter and Y/N as they approached.

“You guys made it!” Michelle exclaimed gladly as she reached over the table and embraced Peter.

As the two pulled away from each other Y/N admitted, “I’m still not exactly sure what we made it to,” hoping for some voluntary answers.

“Its a sister march,” MJ explained. “It’s not that big, but we’ve been growing every year. It's a festival and march for supporting women, which is why I’m standing here with a petition you two have yet to sign,” the girl pointed out, not caring to hide her ulterior motives as she held up two pens expectantly.

“What for?” Y/N asked as she leaned down to push pen to paper and sign it regardless of the answer. She may not know MJ like Peter did but the girl was still her friend and Y/N wanted to support her.

“We at the Midtown School Feminist Club believe that feminine hygiene products should be supplied in all bathrooms in the school, so this is a petition to the head of schools to divert funding toward that cause.” Y/N was thrilled by MJ’s proposal as she added the still unfamiliar ‘Stark’ to the end of her signature. Having to bring and organize one’s own sanitary products was like asking someone to carry around their own toilet paper. It wasn’t exactly a choice. It seemed like every day there was a teenage girl asking around for a tampon because they just so happened to run out, or not have one because their period took them by surprise. It was a common and biological issue, and it made sense to her that these products should be accessible. Y/N smiled kindly as she handed the pen back to Michelle.

As Peter leaned down on the table to sign his name on MJ’s petition, Y/N asked self-consciously, “So what exactly does one do at a sister march?”

“I have schedules if you want one,” the girl at the table offered. She grabbed a post-card looking itinerary from the left side of the table and handed it to Y/N, who glanced it over as MJ explained, “The booths will be up for another hour and then we march.” Peter lifted his head and MJ gave a closed-mouth grin as she took the second pen back. She seemed to be in her happy place. Y/N noticed she was much more talkative when there was activism involved. “Oh, I have pins, too!” the girl exclaimed as she pulled a couple of buttons from a small cardboard box and handed them to her friends. Y/N examined the baby pink pin in her hand. It had a multi-gender symbol in the middle and around it read, ‘Midtown School Feminist Club’. It looked like it had been designed in Microsoft Paint 15 years ago, but the identity of it made Y/N’s heart flutter as she proudly placed the pin over her heart on the denim jacket. It felt like being a part of something bigger than she was. She looked at a smiley Peter who had just pinned the button onto his sweater and felt the corner of her lip turn up at the adorable boy.

When Michelle began explaining the petition to attendees who approached the table, Peter and Y/N decided to keep walking and explore the festival. They were approaching the booth next to MJ’s when Y/N asked, “So why did you take me here, Peter?” He picked up a pin from a bowl and handed it to Y/N as she strolled alongside the boy uneasily and stumbled over the uneven terrain.

Peter glanced at the ground nervously, before responding, “I thought you could stand for seeing that you’re not alone and that you’re supported.”

Y/N sighed, frustrated that she couldn’t seem to get away from this conversation with anyone. “Is this about the Amadeus Cho thing?” She didn’t want to talk about it. Why could no one get that through their thick heads? She was fine. It sucked, but she wasn’t stuck on it.

Peter stumbled over a bump of grass as he attempted to explain, “Well, yeah, but-”

“Peter, I’m fine,” Y/N insisted, her heart sinking at the topic that resurfaced like a buoy. It was incessant and she was tired of having it.

“I don’t think you believe that as much as you want everyone else to,” Peter stated firmly, taking Y/N back. This was a level of assertiveness she’d never seen from the boy and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it.

The boy handed her another button he’d picked off of the table for Planned Parenthood and Y/N systematically added it to her jacket as they continued wandering. “He made some bad decisions, but he didn’t hurt me. If anything I’m more angry at him spreading rumors that he scored a Stark,” Y/N admitted, turning to look at her feet in shame and discomfort.

Peter stopped walking and looked at the closed-off girl. He sighed and confessed, “I don’t get why you’re more upset about him lying about what happened than you are what actually happened.”

It was a revelation to be had. Y/N hadn’t even realized that was what she was feeling and it was hard to come to terms with. It was the presumptions about her for sure, the disgusting toxic masculinity, yes, but at its core, it was all about that name. She wasn’t mad about the party because he did listen to her, and he did stop, but when she showed up to school Monday, “He reduced me to nothing but a name,” she spoke aloud for Peter as she continued to process this realization. “Ask anyone at school and the first thing they’re going to say about me is that I’m Tony Stark’s daughter, but I’m not Tony Stark.” It was hard to explain how being know as Tony Stark’s daughter, how even with all those eyes watching her, or even because they were watching her, she could be completely erased and ignored.

“Well if you ask me,” Peter began unsolicited, “You need to own your name.” Y/N looked up at him, baffled. “People aren’t going to stop knowing you as Tony Stark’s daughter, so you need to change what that means to be a Stark.”

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N responded slowly, still trying to fully comprehend what it was she was agreeing to. They began walking again as she mulled it over. The made their way to the next booth for a nearby safe house for victims of domestic abuse, and Peter handed the fretted teen a small pin that said ‘You are not alone.’ The more she read that message, the more she felt like she understood what Peter was trying to do for her. She was surrounded by people who got it. She’d been having this conversation for days now about Amadeus Cho and how she was dealing with it and it only led to more confusion, but she was standing in this crowd of women, and they understood because they were going through it, too. She didn’t have to tell them a word about what happened, or why she did what she did, or how she felt. They all knew it because they’d felt all those insecurities themselves. She pinned the button on with the rest and continued on with Peter with an open mind and willing attitude she hadn’t held before.

After an hour of visiting all the booths, Y/N’s jacket was plastered with buttons of varying sizes. Planned Parenthood, “Sisters not Cisters”, and “The future is female” littered across the denim, and Y/N was ecstatic. She felt like she could be proud of the beautiful controversy she was wearing and she was ready to show it off to the streets of New York. They caught up with MJ as the crowd began to move and Y/N’s heart fluttered with excitement. Taking those first steps felt momentous, and it was huge. Michelle held up a sign between her two friends and yelled protests and chants along with the crowd, and it made Y/N feel powerful to follow such strong young woman’s lead. Soon enough Peter joined his friend in shouting and Y/N mustered the rest of her energy to scream, “My body, my choice!” on repeat with the mass of women. She felt supported and safe, not just with this crowd, but Peter who had the perspective to bring her to the sister march in the first place, and was now yelling feminist chants full-heartedly at her side.

By nightfall, the group spread around candles to be held as they continued through the darkness. MJ had pushed her way to the front lines and left Y/N and Peter to slow down to the back of the crowd. As a nice woman in front of them lit their candles, Y/N couldn’t help turning to her friend and saying, “Thank you for bringing me today, Peter.” She couldn’t explain how much it meant to her to be in that street. It didn’t fix anything, and it didn’t take away her confusion about everything surrounding her incident with Cho, but she finally felt free again. Walking with Peter in the crowd, felt like facing her fears, and she knew she could return to school Monday with renewed energy, holding her head high.

“You know I would have done anything to bring that smile back to your face,” the boy teased, poking her cheek with a free finger, which caused the girl to turn away shyly. For the first time she felt beautiful, her guard dropping away completely as she marched alongside the supportive boy.

“Would you want a ride to school on Monday?” Y/N asked quickly, eager to change the subject to something normal and friendly.

“Yeah,” Peter accepted mindlessly.

“Yeah?” Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected, but still his answer surprised her. “Cool,” she said, looking forward awkwardly as they continued following the warm candlelight through the sleepy streets of New York.

It was a beautiful orange glow that flickered on the walls of brick buildings. The screaming of chants had mostly died down to soft murmur as the women peacefully marched on. Y/N felt the back of Peter’s hand sweep across her cold fingers as she listened to the lullaby of the protesters. She couldn’t stop thinking how safe she felt surrounded by these people she didn’t even know, and with whom she’d just started walking with this morning. She felt courageous for the first time in a long time as she observed the giant shadows of their bodies casting on the wall. Y/N felt Peter’s hand once again, as it slowly brushed down her wrist and caught on her finger. The clear intent on his end made her pulse flutter. It seemed strange as she tangled her fingers uncoordinatedly with her friend, but as they sorted themselves out and he took her hand in his, it felt so right, she knew it couldn’t be wrong.

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stark-web-warriors · 6 years ago

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Stark Contrast [CHAPTER THREE]

Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 5,991

Warnings: Slight aggression, but mostly it’s all the ever-loving fluff you could want.

A/N: Inspired by the album “A Woman’s Guide to Survival” by Miss Li. This is the chapter that came to me on the tram and made me want to write this fic, so I hope I’ve done it justice.

If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, Inbox me and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. I look forward to your feedback, friends!

Chapter Three