#send me fake musicals to cast pls....

[iid-smile]

★ — ANO BASHODE

燃える恋も水の様に流れ

春は遠く　また冬の日が流れる

content — chika takiishi x gn!reader, maybe ooc, literally no dialogue, umm fluff?, cuddling by the (fake) fireplace

wc — 0.5k

★ event masterlist — for the lovely @kaiser1ns !

a/n — can i be really honest about something? while i was writing i literally FORGOT this was for ano bashode and i got it mixed up with the fire fic you wrote for your bday event 😭😭 thats why theres a lot of mentions of fire... pls forgive me kiki...

chika has been unusually silent today. typically, he’s not one to make much noise, but the absence of sound today is certainly noticeable. it's as if the usual hum of his presence has faded completely. you can’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity as you step out of your bedroom, glancing around the living room in search of any hint that he might be moving about.

still, there’s nothing. no rustling, no footsteps, not even the barely audible shuffle of him adjusting his position. the only thing that catches your attention is a warm, orange glow seeping out from beneath the door, casting flickering shadows on the hallway floor. it’s strange, you think.

as you approach, you peek into the living room to find him settled in the closest armchair to the television. his gaze is fixed intently on the screen, where a mesmerizing fireplace video crackles and pops, despite the fact that there is no actual fire in the room. he looks almost entranced, as if the soft glow and simulated warmth have pulled him into a trance, his mind drifting far away.

upon closer inspection, he looks a bit silly, engulfed in an oversized sweater that you somehow managed to knit for him. the fabric hangs awkwardly on his frame, its sleeves spilling over his hands, and a fuzzy scarf —your favorite one — twists around his neck, even though the air inside is warm and inviting. he doesn't seem to be sick, nor is it cold indoors, so what exactly is he protecting himself from?

despite the risk of disturbing him, you gather the courage to curl up by his side. you tuck your legs beneath you, feeling the soft texture of the cushion, and lay your head softly on his shoulder. there’s silence, but it’s a comfortable one. following your luck, you inch closer, seeking warmth and comfort in his presence, gently nudging his arm until it settles around your shoulder. his fingers brush lightly against your thigh, a soft tickle that sends a pleasant warmth coursing through you.

'comfy,' you think, feeling the comforting warmth envelop you. it's surprising how he can stay so still without burning up, even with all the layers and the heating running throughout the house.

the soft crackling of the audio fades in and out, becoming a dull hum in your ears as time slips by unnoticed. whether it's the gentle music or the calming atmosphere, you find yourself getting increasingly woozy — too woozy to keep your eyes open. especially since chika hasn’t moved or spoken; the stillness in the air feels soothing, causing you to drift off into sleep.

it’s a shame you’re not awake to see the moment he gently places his hand on the top of your head. he doesn’t run his fingers through your hair; he simply rests his hand there it's a quiet gesture filled with warmth and affection. there’s still a long way ahead before he could express his feelings, but for now, this simple act speaks volumes, and it’s more than enough to comfort you in this peaceful moment.

chika has always compared you to fireworks, realising how you always seem to spark something special in his heart. but now, as he looks at a real fire, he realizes you might be more like a fireplace. you're a source of comfort that he naturally turns to when the world feels dark—a warmth that never fails to touch his cold heart, even when he least expects it.

[fbfh]

rocks at your window pt. 12 - ricky bowen x reader

disclaimer: this series contains smut and chapter by chapter warnings, so as with all nsfw works, ricky is aged up to 18+!! ricky and reader are 18 and in their senior year. additionally, ricky begins to desplay more symptoms of mental illness and bpd but he does get therapy and has a good support system. Obviously I'm not a professional and this is for entertainment so while I have done my research pls take this with a grain of salt!! or several!! /lh

!! contains some spoilers for season 1 of hsmtmts, and previous chapters of this fic !!

wc: 5k

genre: mild hurt/lotta comfort, smut, feels

pairing: ricky bowen x (afab she/her) reader

warnings: post show depression, more backstory for reader, brief mentions of gifted kid burnout and rediscovering your love for theatre, more fake texts, ricky is down ba-a-a-a-ad, classic Hot Boy Climbing Through Your Window moment, heart to heart convos, smut, body worship, clit sucking n fingering, penetrative sex, emotional 'i love you' sex, ricky begging <3, possible cliff hanger?? (BUT NOT BAD I PROMISE)

summary: it's late at night and you're reflecting on your experience performing high school musical the musical with all your fellow wildcats when someone shows up, throwing rocks at your window, and thinking the exact same thing.

song recs: rocks - imagine dragons, end of all things - panic at the disco, I hear a symphony - cody fry, fuck it I love you - lana del rey, tell me that you love me - victorious cast, where do we go from here - amelie obc, I can't handle change - roar

a/n: this is the last chapter of rocks. I got so emotional writing this and I sincerely hope yall enjoy. also before anyone asks YES I'm planning a sequel about season 2 but it's curretnly tba. I hope you cry when you hear rocks by imagine dragons and get flustered as FUCK when you hear tell me that you love me by the victorious cast because Ricky Bowen needs to be told I love you to cum it's canon Tim Federle told me so. Fangz again to Cici for proof reading and fangz to you guys for reading <3 send in Ricky asks lol

tags @yesv01 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @afidiofobia @aliyahsutherland @pikzel @demirunner @brinaslittlefreak @girlfriendwhoseawitch @matiere-detoiles @ifilwtmfc @uselesssapphickitten @nxstalgicnxbxdy @ggclarissa @n-slayaaaaa @stormi-ames @rainforest-daisies @sunshineangel-reads

The show is over, midterms are over, now it’s Friday night and you can’t sleep. It’s one of a handful of Fridays over the past few months that you haven’t spent at rehearsal, and no matter how many times they roll around, it still feels weird. You chalk it up to routine, muscle memory, but part of you still worries you’ll be late when you see it’s past 6pm. You miss the El Rey, you miss the auditorium and rehearsal room at school, you miss circle time with Miss Jenn and all your friends. Post show depression always sucks, but after everything that happened during High School Musical, how intense things got, the letdown is worse than usual. 

Even all the fun things Miss Jenn had planned to keep everyone’s spirits up until the next show gets announced are all over. You’d spent a week with your friends learning a song about winter Ashlyn wrote and Gina and Carlos choreographed so everyone could do a flashmob for the new East High theatre department’s instagram page. Miss Jenn got everyone together to make some content in advance to post before the break, but you finished your last take of the flashmob after school today. New Year’s isn’t until later this week, so you’ve finally reached the wasteland between closing one show and starting another. 

“Hey,” your mom says softly from your doorway, and you look up from where you’re sitting on your bed. You greet her quietly, flipping through your playbill from the show, still wearing your cast shirt. You have a few open hat boxes in front of you, adorned in light florals and other delicate patterns and designs. Each one of them is full to the brim with playbills, confetti, and other mementos from past shows, except the one in front of you, which still has some room left in it. 

Your mom walks over to you, watching your expression closely as you flip through your playbill, not wanting to put it away just yet. She rests her hand on your back, rubbing her thumb affectionately before tucking the tag of your shirt back into the neck. You both know what’s coming. You think back to the deal you made with her after your dad left. You didn’t realize until months after how much you’d been struggling with everything. Your mom discussed dropping out of the show you were in, even though you were so close to opening night, and you’d refused. You’re not the type to drop out of a show you’ve spent months rehearsing for just because of some struggles in your personal life. 

Your mom could see clear as day how you weren’t having fun like you used to, how burnt out you were going to get if you kept up like that. What kind of mother would she be if she just let you do that to yourself? Once you’d found a new house and a new job out in Utah, you came to the agreement that you’d take a break for the summer. After that, if you wanted to do theatre again, you could do a show at your new school - nothing high pressure, or competitive and catty, or overly professional. After that, if you still want to, you can return back to professional theatre after you graduate. 

“So?” she says softly. Your chest squeezes, and you’re so grateful that you’ve been able to feel and see and do and experience every single thing you love about theatre so much. There had been no high stakes, nothing riding on you and your ability to perform. It was just fun. Passion. A passion you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to let go of. 

“I want to do the next show.” You say, without a trace of reservation. She smiles softly, looking down at you. She hasn’t seen you like this, so much like yourself, in years. You’re glowing and at peace, and she has never, ever been happier to see it. After everything the two of you have been through, the divorce - and the events leading up to it - she remembers this is what she’s been fighting for, the goal she’s been working toward; seeing you happy and thriving. She had a hunch that high school theatre was exactly what you needed, and now she thanks her lucky stars she was right.  

You don’t talk about what you’re going to do after the next show, it’s not quite time to worry about that yet. There’s no need to rush anything, especially when it comes to stuff like this. You’re sure that when it comes time to make a decision, you’ll know in your heart what the right one will be. But even just from looking at you, even if you don’t know yet, your mom has another hunch that you’ll be back in New York, lighting up every stage on Broadway at some point. She presses a kiss to your forehead, rubbing your back again as you finally, reluctantly place your playbill in the open hat box in front of you. 

“Try to get some rest, sweetie.” 

She goes off to bed, and now you really have nothing to do. You sigh as you organize your hat boxes back on the top shelf of your closet, in the order you usually keep them in. You look around, deciding to clean your room. You run down to the kitchen to get a trash bag, then return to your room. You dig through all the scented candles you’ve been hoarding and pick out a nice smelling one to light, then put something on Netflix for some background noise. You start by folding your laundry, then pick up any stray trash. Usually cleaning your room gives you time to think, but you’re not really thinking much of anything now. You’re grateful for the break. 

You move from task to task, losing track of time as Netflix continues to autoplay. You pause what you’re doing for a second, trying to figure out why two characters are arguing. You’ve barely been paying attention, but are still managing to follow the plot for the most part. During that moment of stillness, you hear your phone buzz with a text. You pick it up, shocked at how late it is, how quickly the time got away from you. It also makes you wonder who could be texting you so late. It’s Ricky. That makes sense, you think. You wonder what he’s doing up so late as you open the message. 

You set your phone on the windowsill, then head towards your closet to try and make some sense of it. You’re not sure how it got to be such a hot mess - in all fairness, it’s not really that messy. You just need a project to work on. You straighten up your hanging clothes, refold all your jeans and folded sweaters, then reorganize it by color. Or maybe cut. You’re not sure yet. You make a mental note to rewatch Tidying Up with Marie Kondo later for more ideas. 

You decide to revisit that in a few minutes, instead turning to all the pillows and blankets hidden on the floor of your closet. You adjust them, remembering the first time you’d shown your nap hole to Ricky. Your mind wanders idly, recounting all the things that have happened since then. You really hope that in spite of everything, Ricky had a good time performing. A part of you really hopes he’s going to do more shows. He’s so talented, and he has so much natural potential. After what he’s been through, it would make total sense if he never wanted to do theatre again, but a part of you silently hopes that he’s grown to love it the way you do. 

Thunk. 

You turn your head suddenly, wondering if you’d imagined the small noise. You glance back at the window, and see you left your phone there. You figure it was a notification or something. When you press the power button to check, you’re met with the words no new notifications on your lock screen. 

Thunk.

Something moves in the corner of your vision, followed by another noise, then another.

Thunk- crack! 

Your brow furrows as you stare at the hairline fracture left in the glass of your window. You try to peer down, but it’s so dark you can’t really see anything. You open your window up wide, lifting the latch and popping out the screen. You lean your head out just enough to look down, but it’s still too dark. You turn on your phone flashlight and hold tight to your popsocket, angling the beam down, only to be met with Ricky. 

He’s holding a small plastic bag and a handful of rocks to throw until he gets your attention. He waves up at you awkwardly, and you laugh, covering your mouth to not make too much noise. It sounds beautiful. Everything you do is always so beautiful, he’s not sure why he’s still surprised when you take his breath away effortlessly. His stomach twists for a moment, and he hopes he gives you butterflies like you give him all the time. He looks up at you, and leaning down from your window like this, he thinks you’d make a really good Juliet. He’s not sure if you’ve done any Shakespeare before, but he makes a mental note to ask. 

You watch from above as he holds the plastic bag in his mouth and starts climbing up the tree next to your house. You lose sight of him for a moment, until he reappears on the lattice on the side of your house. He’s careful not to disturb the ivy slowly growing its way up in spite of the cold weather. You laugh in disbelief, watching him climb through your window until he’s standing in front of you. It feels like something out of a movie, and your heart is pounding in your chest. 

“You could have used the door…” you laugh. 

“Well,” he shrugs, “I wanted to shake it up a little.” He smiles at you, pulling something out of the bag. 

“I brought you coffee.” He pulls a to go cup out of the bag, handing it to you. He’s hopeful it will make you happy, and the way your eyes light up when you accept the drink is worth the stranger looks he got from the barista for ordering espresso at 11 at night. He takes out his drink, throwing the empty plastic bag in your garbage. You look up at him with those pretty eyes and his stomach flips. You move closer, pressing a kiss to his lips, one he leans into. 

“Thanks,” you say after pulling away, sending him the most blinding, dazzling smile. He’s been inside you more times than he can count, and your kisses still make his head all fuzzy. He lets out a soft laugh, feeling a little high from your attention. He sits on your bed, watching you as you sit backwards on your desk chair. You both sip your drinks, and it’s quiet for a moment. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask. He lets out a breathy laugh, surprised at how well you can read him. 

“It… still feels weird not being at rehearsal.” he says, thinking out loud. You nod in silent understanding of everything left unsaid. You chuckle lightly.

“Yeah, post show depression will really kick your ass.” He laughs, feeling called out at your words. 

“Yeah…” he agrees. When Nini dumped him, he felt like there was a sinkhole in his chest. Then after that, when she left, when she just walked out on him and his dad, he felt like he was going to cave in. Then he met you. You didn’t make him stop missing her or Nini, but you gave him something to lean on. You helped him realize he had something else to think about - the show. Now he doesn’t think about Nini nearly as much as he used to; that wound is starting to heal. As for the other thing, long as he doesn’t let himself think about her or Todd, as long as he keeps moving, he’s sort of okay. 

But now he’s feeling a new kind of emptiness. He doesn’t like goodbyes, he never has, so even though he knew closing night would be hard, he didn’t expect it to hurt this much. He didn’t expect himself to grow so familiar with the soundtrack and the script, running lines and remembering blocking. He didn’t expect to miss being called Troy so much. 

“I didn’t ever expect to love theatre, or love you, as much as I do,” he muses. You glance down, face flushed from his words. He gives you butterflies so effortlessly, it’s really amazing. 

“I love you too,” you smile, taking another sip of your drink. He giggles - actually giggles - at your words. 

“So,” you continue, “you liked it? Doing the show, I mean. I know there were some ups and downs but-” 

“I loved it.”

He smiles, and you both laugh, light and bubbling over your shared adoration of each other and the experiences you just shared. 

"I really, really loved it." He breathes, distracted for a moment as he remembers it all. "I just… I didn't expect to be so sad after?" 

You spin a little in your seat, taking another sip as you listen. 

"Like, I spent so much time learning how to become Troy, learning all the lines and blocking and choreo and now I'm never going to get to do that again."

"Yeah," you agree, looking down. "I mean, that's the beauty of theatre; it's always fleeting, but there's always going to be another show."

You can see him soaking in your words, really letting them in. It doesn't mitigate his sadness, but you don't expect it to. You get up from where you’re spinning side to side on your desk chair and sit next to him on your bed, placing your coffee on the night table. You wrap your arm around him, resting your head on his shoulder. You don’t say anything, and you don’t need to. Your presence is more comforting than words could be. Maybe it’s the sweet smell of your peachy perfume, maybe it’s the way you’re so consistent in his life, but he’s reminded in a rush of the first night you spent together. Memories replay like flashbacks in his mind, and after a moment, he turns his head toward you. 

His face is so close to yours, and it’s obvious what he’s thinking from the bedroom eyes he’s giving you, flicking between yours and your lips. It happens so suddenly, your heart barely has time to pound before he’s pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. Ricky needs a distraction from the ache in his chest. He needs something else to do, something else to think about, something else that makes him happy. He can’t think of something better to focus on than you. He deepens the kiss as you hold on to him tight, loving the way you always melt under his touch. You sigh against him, giggling as he works your lips open, slipping his tongue into your mouth. 

He climbs on top of you as his hands move down. He takes his time, feeling you up, obsessing over every part of you until he gets to your thighs. He gropes your pretty thighs that he wants so badly to put his face between, not missing the way you were squirming a moment ago, already needy for some friction. He slots himself between your legs as he presses kisses into your neck, adoring the pretty sighs and noises you let out. He squeezes your thighs in his hands, before pulling you flat on your back with him hovering on top of you. The sudden change in position makes your heart race, and you can feel your cunt getting hot and puffy with arousal. The expression on your face makes it so worth it, he thinks, watching it grow even more flustered as he moves down. He pulls off your shirt and presses kisses between your tits. He plays with them, squeezing and running his thumbs over your hardened nipples in little circles. No matter how many times he sees them, it always feels like the first time, when all he could say was Wow. Oh my god. Wow. You let out a choked noise at the feeling, one he reciprocates, moaning into the soft flesh he has in his mouth.

“Fuck, Ricky…” you breathe, watching him closely as he moves down, trailing kisses along your stomach, squeezing your waist and hips, finally tugging off your bottoms. He trails his fingers over your panties for a moment, taking in how pretty they look on you, how much he loves to see that little wet spot growing bigger and bigger. He throbs as he takes them off, and you watch with wide eyes as he opens your legs a bit more. 

“There we go,” he says softly, and your pussy pulses in anticipation of his touch. He spreads you open, taking a moment to take in how pretty your pussy is, how nice you look all spread open for him like this. It’s a shorter moment than he would have liked, he just can’t resist you, he can’t wait to press soft kisses to your heat, to flick his tongue over your clit, to make you feel good. He won’t wait any longer, doing just that, listening to every noise that escapes your pretty lips like a breathtaking song. He traces a finger around your dripping hole, fluttering and desperate for contact. 

As he works his first finger in, he can't help but feel like he's home. You're so tight around just one finger, he wonders how you're always able to take all of him. The thought makes his stomach flutter with anticipation. He pumps his finger in and out gently, feeling you get wetter around him as you get used to the sensation. He continues licking and sucking on your clit, pulsing in his mouth, as he does. You taste amazing, and he wants more and more. 

"Fuck, Ricky…" you sigh, and it's like music to his ears. He pushes his second finger in, and moans against your clit as he feels your tight walls stretch and relax to accommodate him. You let out a sharp gasp, throbbing erratically against his tongue. He scissors his fingers, breath hitching as you stretch around him. 

“Oh my god,” you choke out in a breathy sigh, “Ricky…” 

He loses all his progress as you clamp around him, bucking into his mouth as you cum around his fingers. He pauses for a moment, dizzy from the sensation, that he did that to you, made you feel that good. You tug on his hair, and before you can even ask, he knows. You want more of him, want him inside you. He climbs up on top of you. You tear his clothes off, throwing them on the floor, not wanting to waste a moment. His cock throbs, almost painfully hard, and he can’t wait any longer. He needs to be inside you more than anything. He lets out a jagged sigh, pumping his cock in anticipation. He’s so ready, more ready than he’s ever been to be welcomed back into your wet, hot, tight embrace. 

He finally begins to nudge his cock inside you. He chokes at how easily it goes in, how you seem to pull him deeper and deeper inside you. You’re ready for him, even more so than usual from how hard he made you cum a few minutes before. He can feel you suck him up inside you, gripping and squeezing him just right. Each time you let him inside, each time you let him stretch out your perfect, dripping cunt, it always feels unimaginably better than the last. Every single time, he thinks that this, you, have to be the best he’ll ever have. And every single time, he’s right. You feel so good, so indescribably good, a part of him wants to cum right on the spot. 

“Fuck, I love you…” He chokes out, voice breathy. And he means it. God, does he mean it. He says it right as he pushes his cock inside you, filling you up in the most delicious way, knocking the breath out of your lungs in tandem. You try to say it back, you want to say it back, but his tongue is already shoved down your throat as he covers your mouth with deeper and deeper kisses. He’s insatiable, not ever getting as much of you as he needs to satisfy what he’s craving. 

He starts moving, unable to wait, unable to stop himself from pistoning his cock as deep inside you as he can get it. He drags his cock against your gummy walls, the friction already making you both dizzy. He keeps going, rutting his hips into yours, moaning into your mouth. He cages you in with his arms, resting his hands on your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes. He’s so in love with you, so fucking in love with you. You’re… his world. You’re his everything. Everything he does revolves around you; he’s not the main character in his story, you are. 

He would move mountains for you, overcome anything, travel any distance just for you, to be in your arms. He loves you so much it almost hurts, and he knows he’s never felt more relief than he did on opening night, when he finally, finally told you everything he feels for you. He was so sick of biting it back, of worrying about timing, if you would say it back, if he could even say it at all. He can’t remember ever being happier than he was when he finally said fuck it, and spilled his guts to you. Right here, right now, he can feel the little bulge he’s making in your tummy. He can feel where your bodies are touching and squishing together, and he can feel you wrap your legs around him to pull him even closer. He didn’t think he could be any more crazy over you than he already is, but all of this, all of you is driving him to even higher heights than he could imagine. 

It’s overwhelming, and he moans, long and low into your mouth. There’s no other way to express what you make him feel than through his beautiful moans, like music to your ears, or telling you that he loves you every chance he gets, with his last breath he’ll be telling you again and again. He presses kisses to your cheek, moving down to your neck, taking in your sweet scent. God, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anyone this badly. He doesn’t think he’s wanted anyone or anything as much as he wants you. He’s so attracted to you, drawn to you in an almost primal way that leaves him rutting his hips into yours, grinding into your clit to get as close as possible, moaning shamelessly into your neck. It sends jolts of electricity through you, lighting you up like a powergrid. 

His breath hits your skin in steady, warm puffs. He lets out another moan as you scratch your nails down his back. Your hand tangles in his hair and tugs it just right, making him throb inside you. He knows in this moment that no one can ever make him feel this good, no one else can do what you do to him. He can feel himself getting closer and closer as he sucks bruises into your neck, leaving constellations of love bites across your perfect skin. Even though he’s holding you as tight as he can, drawing noises out of you that no one else has had the privilege of hearing, and it makes his head spin, he needs more. 

He finally pulls away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours. You lean up to kiss him, and even though he’s aching for you, he doesn't kiss you. Not quite yet. Instead, he looks into your eyes so deeply, so intensely, with such a burning hunger that you feel like you’re being fused together. He’s still panting, this time your warm breaths fan over each other’s faces as he really soaks in everything about you, how pretty you look in his arms like this - and fuck, you’re pretty. 

“I’m close, peach,” he pants, sending even more heat to your core, making you squeeze around him as he presses a burning kiss to your lips; one you accept eagerly.  

“‘M so close,” he says again between kisses, “Can- fuck- can you say it for me? Can you tell me? Please, peach, I need to hear it, need to hear you say it…” he rambles, drunk on you and p=-

You’re trying your best, but it would be a lot easier if everything he was saying and doing didn’t render you breathless and unable to do anything but moan and writhe beneath him. 

“I love you, Ricky,” you choke out, desperate and sincere. You finally connect your lips, only for him to moan into your mouth. It’s loud and shameless and has you teetering on the precipice. “Love you so much, so fucking much,” you continue to babble as he buries his face in your neck, moaning so much he almost can’t register what you’re saying. He’s glad you’re saying it anyway. 

He can barely register how close he is before he cums. It’s hard and sudden, and he’s barely able to hear your sweet words over the blood pounding in his ears. You let out a noise he thought only existed in porn, following closely behind him. Your legs shake around him as you grab him as tight as you can, desperate for something to hold onto. You squeeze him in a vice grip as you let out the most beautiful whines and moans, and it’s enough to make him dizzy. Just your noises alone are almost enough to make him hard again - which he probably would be, if you hadn’t just milked his cock completely dry. You stay like that for a moment, letting yourself be filled up with him, letting himself be squeezed tight by your throbbing walls. He can feel your heartbeat in your soft cunt, and he lets out a shuddering sigh at the feeling. He mutters sweet nothings into your ear, rambling about every good thing he feels for you. He doesn’t think he could shut up if he tried - he usually can’t when it comes to you. He presses more and more kisses to your skin as you mutter sweet nothings back, rubbing your hand over the red marks you’d left on his back, playing with his hair. You take your time coming down from this, letting yourselves be right here and now, in each other’s arms. 

Eventually, he pulls out more reluctantly than he’s done anything. You manage to clean up enough to fall back into bed, into each other’s arms. In those few moments, you glance around at the several unfinished cleaning tasks you’d started earlier. You shrug them off, telling yourself you’ll finish them later. As you’re welcomed into Ricky’s warm embrace, you think this is way more fun than cleaning anyway. 

You settle into each other, getting comfortable as he holds you tight against his chest. You can feel the steady rise and fall of each other’s breathing, your heartbeats gradually slowing back down, the warmth pooling between you. In the quiet air surrounding you, you can feel the calm turn into a sort of melancholy. You trace your fingers over his skin as he takes solace in you. Everything about you is so comforting, he can’t deny that you’re what’s kept him as centered as he’s been able to be. 

“Where do we go from here?” he asks.

His voice is quiet, breaking ripples into the glassy silence surrounding you, but you can hear the emotion wavering through it. You’re quiet for a moment, considering. You’re not quite sure if he means him and you, him and his dad, or the next audition. It doesn’t matter, you realize, because you’ll have his back through all of it. And he’ll have yours. 

“I dunno,” you start gently, and he holds onto your words, cherishing them like heirlooms, “but I do know one thing. Miss Jenn is announcing the next show in a few days, on New Year’s Eve. So, we should probably start thinking about audition music.” 

Just the briefest mention of auditions has him smiling at the memories from a few months ago, bursting in late with his guitar. At the time, he had only ever expected to remember that audition as the day he won Nini back. He never could have predicted what a different, more significant weight that would hold for him now. The mention of New Year’s Eve brings something else to mind as well. 

“Ashlyn’s having a New Year’s party, right?” 

“Yes!” you exclaim softly, “I totally forgot about that…” 

Ricky traces his thumb over your cheek as you discuss carpools and if you should bring drinks or cupcakes. He never knew he could feel this way, this warm, just from listening to someone talk. He doesn’t know what happens next. He doesn’t know what’s going to change, but he thinks he can handle it if he has you. He’s so wrapped up in you, so invested in the quiet little conversation you’re now having about sheet music and party outfits that he doesn’t notice his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans, strewn across your floor. After a moment it lights up with a new notification. 

1 missed call from Dr. Robert (therapist)

1 new voicemail from Dr. Robert (therapist) 

[tragedyposting]

if u had to cast a good omens musical...

*Pulls out large playbill box to mull over*

CAST: (forgive me on two counts- one I’m going off the show because i read the book ages ago and i barely remember it, two i mainly know american stage actors so no actual english ppl)

Crowley- Raúl Esparza

Aziraphale- John Cariani

Anathema- Barrett Doss

Newt- Adam Chanler-Berat

Adam- Zell Steele Morrow

Pepper- Juliet Benn

Brian- Cole Grey

Wensleydale- Anthony Rosenthal

Shadwell- Joel Hatch

Madame Tracy- Orfeh

Agnes Nutter- Mary Testa

Gabriel- Andy Karl

War- Kennedy Caughell

Famine- Malcolm Armwood

Pollution- Cameron Johnson

Death- Timothy Hughes

 ANYWAYS, sorry for posting this at three am, here it is.

[plant-flwrs]

house unity // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: this story has taken me so long and i feel like i’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. i love it a lot and you can really tell what i was watching/ doing in each sections lol. for example, the dramatic ending is courtesy of the heart wrenching sylvia plath poems i was reading earlier today lol :’) also i made the reader a ravenclaw because im a ravenclaw and i felt like it hehe. n e way! hope you all like it and pls leave feedback if you have any! like, rb, follow <3

summary: Fred Weasley and you have a bit of a love hate relationship, however, on Fred’s behalf its more love than hate. Dating a Ravenclaw would be a great stride in house unity, wouldn’t it?

(disclaimer: when i describe the differences in the twins i mean the actors! especially since she who shall not be named did not give us much about their physical differences >:/ i found the info from fandom.com so it may be wrong, but i went with it. also, i made up a few things for this story, like the annual Christmas ball)

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You wished you could enjoy some things as easily as your peers could.

You didn’t like most sweets from Honeydukes, you didn’t care for Quidditch, but you especially hated the Weasley twin’s pranks.

In your first year, just weeks after arriving at Hogwarts, you had met Fred and George. You had been unable to answer the riddle to enter the Ravenclaw common room, so you decided to take a walk around the grounds.

You just turned the corner to the courtyard, when a hard snowball hit you square in the face. The sheer force of it made you stumble backyards, and you barely had time to wipe the snow off your face before another one hit you hard in the back. You were unable to keep your balance and tumbled forwards. Your hands braced your fall and scraped against the rough stone harshly. Your palms stained the snow red as they began to bleed. You barely had time to nurse them before another snowball, this time the size of a Quaffle, plummeted onto your head. It pushed you face-first into the snow, and you recovered quicker, not wanting to stay there for any longer. You whirled around, looking for anyone who could have seen who did that. You saw two boys with flaming red hair running away, and you followed them.

You caught them just before they entered the castle, all three of you winded. They were twins.

“Did you see who did that? Was it you?” you had pried, and both of them looked giddy.

“What’d you mean?” the shorter of the two answered immaturely.

The other looked down at your hands and robes, seeing blood still flowing from your palms, and your stained tights. He glanced at his brother, who was still laughing about it all and shoved his shoulder.

“You git,” he mumbled to his brother, “she’s bleeding,” he took your hands in his and tried to wipe some of the blood off, only for it to stain the sleeves of his sweater.

“Oh, gross!” the shorter one exclaimed, backing away from the two of you.

“How did you two do that?” you asked, pulling your hands away from the kinder one.

“Bewitched ‘em,” the short one said arrogantly before his brother could stop him.

“You bewitched them to attack me?” you felt tears stinging your eyes and hoped the taller one wouldn’t notice that too.

“Well, we didn’t mean ‘em to go after you,” the kind one said quickly, trying to rub the blood out of his shirt.

“Yeah, but it was still a laugh,” the shorter one said, nudging his brother’s shoulder good spiritedly.

“Shut up, Fred,” he mumbled, obviously annoyed, “we’re sorry about your hands, we didn’t mean for it to happen, honest.”

Fred watched you silently as you swallowed hard, only able to nod at them, accepting the boys’ apology. You turned on your heal and went to the infirmary, hoping Madam Pomfrey could mend your cuts. You had wiped your tears all the way there.

In your third year, you had been told there would be a Christmas ball. You had been stuffed in a large room with the Gryffindors, and you bumped shoulder to shoulder with a boy who had long dreadlocks.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick stood in the center of the room, a large record player was next to them.

“As some of you may know, there is an annual Christmas Ball here at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall explained, looking sharply at the Gryffindors.

“Professor McGonagall and I have a tradition,” Flitwick said, casting a glance at the Ravenclaws, “of holding a class on how to dance properly at these events.”

“Think of it as charity,” McGonagall said devilishly, “we wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourselves.”

Flitwick stifled a laugh and moved his wand to turn on the music. Loud, old-sounding music blared from the ancient device and you looked confused at your teachers.

“Everyone, pair up!”

An awkward haze fell over the room of third years. None of you knew how to talk to the opposite sex, let alone dance with them. You turned to look around you, accidentally making eye contact with the Gryffindor boy with dreads. His eyes widened when they saw yours, and his friends behind you noticed. You looked at his friends, only to see Fred and George Weasley. You rolled your eyes at the two, but their friend was jolted forwards.

He bumped into you, Fred having pushed him lightly on the back.

“Go on Lee!” Fred shouted, laughing loudly.

People were moving to the center of the room in pairs, and Lee looked at you nervously. He held his hand out to you.

“Want to dance?” He asked you shyly.

You took his hand with worry, nervous about the wicked grin the twins had. That grin always worried you.

You let Lee lead you out to the floor, falling in line with everyone else. You both watched McGonagall looking around for a partner for her to demonstrate with.

Fred’s obnoxious laugh cut through the room, and her eyes landed on him.

“Perfect! Mr. Weasley, come be my partner.”

He groaned and moved forwards, his brother laughing loudly. Beside you, Lee had a wide smile.

“Place your hand on my waist,” she said flatly.

“Your what?” he repeated, his eyes going wide.

“My waist, don’t be daft,” she replied, moving his hand to the right place.

It seemed everyone’s cheeks had gone red due to stifled laughter. Lee bumped into you as he doubled over, not trying to contain himself.

In your fifth year, you were made a prefect.

You were hesitant to accept the position, feeling a bit tied down by the prat status that came with the responsibility.

Wearing your slightly dusted badge, you had never polished it like you saw Percy doing every second of his life, you led a group of Ravenclaw first years up the stairs.

“Right this way,” you shouted over their heads, making sure no one got lost.

“Who had the sense to make you a prefect?” Fred taunted, coming up from behind you and flicking your ear.

You moved to swat his hand away, but he had already jumped back.

“Shove off, Fred,” you shot him a glare and turned back to the children, “the stairs can get a bit confusing, so watch your step!”

Fred watched you admirably, noticing the way your voice changed to a sweet sound when you spoke to anyone but him.

“Yeah, watch the stairs!” Fred shouted, pulling you by your elbow onto a new staircase.

The steps moved away from the first years, taking you and Fred to the opposite corridor you wanted to go down. You looked down and realized how close you were to the edge. Without thinking, you grabbed onto Fred’s robes, pulling him closer to you. He tilted forward and nearly lost his balance, which would have sent you both down. He flung his hand out and firmly held onto the railing, suspending the both of you over the edge for a moment before he pulled you back up. You were close to his chest, still holding onto him until the stairs stopped moving. You hadn’t meant to close your eyes, but when you finally opened them you saw your group of first-years looking at you from the other staircase, seeming absolutely terrified.

You leaped from Fred’s embrace, sending him stumbling back a bit. You marched up the stairs to loop back to the first years and heard Fred calling after you.

“Going so soon?” you heard his laugh echoing off the walls of the room.

For most of your life, your interactions with Fred Weasley were that simple. Maybe once a year you two would spit some insults at the other, and be on your way, not to speak to each other until next year.

However, when you walked into your Transfiguration class, late by a few minutes due to your prefect duties, you felt a punch in the gut when you saw flaming red hair.

The punch in the gut was increased tenfold when you saw that the only empty seat was next to the flaming red hair.

Breathing deeply and sending a fake smile his way, you sat uncomfortably next to Fred.

It would have been difficult to tell them apart, but your observant eye had always been able to. Besides a few odd growth spurts they were prone to, George usually came out the taller of the two. Fred also had a small scar on his left eyebrow.

“Oh hello, prefect,” Fred said lazily, drawing back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head.

The bottom of his shirt rose a little and you willed your eyes to not look at the toned bit of stomach that peeked through.

“Weasley,” you said, pulling your textbook out of your bag.

“Looking forward to your new prat duties?”

“More than I’m looking forward to sitting with you,” you pushed your hair behind your ear and out of your eyes, Fred stared at the side of your face.

“Always so charming,” he finally drawled, leaning forwards and tugging his sweater down.

Something about Fred always made you want the last word, the last laugh.

“Only for you, Fred.”

In professor McGonagall’s opinion, Fred Weasley had the littlest appreciation for time of all the students she had taught.

He wasted his time in the common room, in the Great Hall, and in the hallways.

Even during her Transfiguration class.

He was happy to spend his time with what he thought was shamelessly flirting with you, and McGonagall was happy to embarrass him while he did it.

“Mister Weasley?”

Fred turned to look at McGonagall’s severe face. Before he could say any excuse, insisting that you were talking too, she waved her wand at his desk. His book flew open to the right page, and a force that was not his own was pushing his head into the book. His hair fell in front of his face, and you could tell he was fighting against the spell McGonagall was using.

Fred seemed to be tamed by McGonagall after that and didn’t bother you for the rest of the class. On the way out, he held the door open for you. He called out to you in the hallway.

“Good luck with that weird rash, Y/n!” you felt your cheeks burn furiously as laughs sounded off in the hallway. You turned to see Fred watching you walk away, and lifted both of your middle fingers in the air to him.

“So classy!” he called back.

“Shove! OFF!” you yelled, shouting over the now deafening laughter in the hallway.

You were already dreading the upcoming months.

You were right to, for class with Fred did not get any easier.

You traded your thin tights for thicker ones and your light dress shirt for a heavy sweater. Your blue scarf was wrapped tightly around your neck, and you didn’t bother to pin your prefect badge on it these days.

“Miss, y/l/n, you must remember your badge,” McGonagall said as you came into class.

You looked down at your scarf, patting your robes until you felt the metal. Lifting up your scarf and showing the professor the badge underneath it, you gave her a reassuring smile.

She nodded approvingly and waved her hand, you moved to your seat.

Before you could put your things down, Fred was looking at you. You could hear the gears turning in his head, thinking of something presumably rude to say to you.

“Weasley,” you said first, hoping this would inspire him to stop looking at you.

He blinked at you, before smiling and turning back to his textbook.

“Today, we’re going to be learning a vanishing spell,” McGonagall started.

You had already turned to the page before she told it to you, you had read through the entire textbook over the summer.

You heard Fred scoff next to you, but ignored him.

Looking down at the directions in the book, you had remembered your successful attempt at making one of your father’s shoes disappear. He had been so proud of you, he didn’t care that he only had one brown Oxford instead of two.

“How did you do that?” Fred asked, watching as you easily made the rat in front of you vanish.

“Practice,” you said absently, turning your head to look back into the textbook.

Fred began to try the spell himself, his focus on the goblet he had taken from the great hall. He did the right wand movements, but his pronunciation was all wrong. You watched as the spell rebounded off the goblet and hit his tie, making the bottom half of it vanish. His hand flew to his chest, his mouth curved in a disbelieving grin when he didn’t feel the point of his tie.

“Well, bloody hell, that could have been much worse,” he gasped out, pushing his hair off his face and leaning back in his chair.

You couldn’t help the small nervous laugh that escaped your lips, but you were able to stifle it quickly. Fred had noticed your smile and glanced at you, happy to amuse you.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, Fred regaining his composure after nearly vanishing himself. You pretended to read your book, but you had already read the page dozens of times. You wanted an excuse to not talk to Fred.

“Ever going to turn the page?” Fred asked from beside you, and you became very aware of his eyes on the side of your face.

“I’m absorbing the information,” you replied flatly, keeping your head in the book to hide your blush.

He laughed, sitting straight in his seat. He seemed to be attempting the spell again. You bit your lip as you watched him practice, wondering if you should correct him so he doesn’t hurt himself.

He had just begun to say the spell when you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” he glanced at you and your hand on his shoulder, smirking at you.

“Yes, darling?”

You rolled your eyes and felt the urge to gag. Your face crinkled in disgust and Fred smiled.

“Your pronunciation is wrong.”

“Well go on then,” he said, urging you to continue.

“Evanesco,” you said simply, but Fred’s eyes wrinkled in confusion.

“That’s what I’m saying,” he said, turning back to the goblet but lowering his wand, “Evenesco.”

He had replaced the ‘a’ with an ‘e’ sound, but he hadn’t heard it, you supposed.

“It’s ev-an-es-co,” you said slowly, placing your pronunciation on the ‘an’, “you’re saying ev-en-es-co.”

His eyebrows raised, finally understanding. He repeated it to you slowly, and you nodded your head when he said it right.

He smiled confidently, casting the spell on his goblet. The goblet turned foggy, and Fred could wave his hand through it like it was a ghost.

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“This is miserable,” he groaned.

You waved your wand and said the verbal part of the spell, finishing off the goblet. It completely disappeared and Fred let out another groan, rolling his head back in annoyance.

“You’re miserable,” he said to you teasingly.

You looked at him through your lashes, your brows furrowed, “Whatever, Fred,” your face grimaced in annoyance, “I’m just trying to help, your welcome, by the way.”

You pulled your bag onto your lap and began to pack up your books.

Fred let out a sigh like he was going to say something. You turned to him, but he merely shook his head.

“Forget it,” he said, seeming to be at a loss of words.

You stood from your seat the second McGonagall dismissed class, leaving Fred at your shared desk.

“She’s totally into me!”

“She hates your guts, mate,” George said, pulling his lips into a thin-lined sympathy smile.

Fred scoffed and shook his head, his long hair falling over his forehead.

“You don’t get it,” he pressed, determined to make George see.

“She looks like she wants to throw herself into the Forbidden Forest every time she sees you,” George replied, determined to stop his brother from future heartbreak.

“Whatever, just you watch,” Fred said, tossing his Quidditch broom from hand to hand and looking at the massive stands above them, empty for the practice, “in a few weeks she’ll be in one of those seats, cheering me on.”

“He’s lost it,” Harry mumbled to George as he walked past, baffled by Fred’s dazed look.

George nodded hastily, following Harry away from his lovesick brother.

Fred was not often detoured by anyone’s cautionary guidance, so the endless warnings from George slid off his ego like melted butter.

Fred had spent so much time in the last Quidditch match with his eyes glued to the Ravenclaw student section, looking for you, that he had barely hit any bludgers the entire game. Oliver had some tasteful words for him in the changing rooms, but it was no worse than his mother’s screaming.

You were not at the Quidditch match, you never were. You had always used the advantage of the empty castle to go to the kitchens. The elves were the only ones left there, and you liked talking with them. Some times Luna would join you.

It seemed you and Fred were going opposite directions while searching for each other at the same time.

No matter how many cookies Dobby shoved towards you and Luna, you could not get Fred out of your head.

You thought about his arms wrapped around you on the stairs, you thought about the way he could always make your cheeks burn, and you thought of the way his eyes poured into your face like it was the only thing he’d ever seen. You hated him. He was rude, arrogant, and annoying. He ran around your head constantly.

McGonagall had some choice words for Fred that night after the match. The sulking from the loss had been toned down, but the hushed sounds of Oliver’s feet pounding against the floor in his bedroom could be heard all the way from the common room.

“Where is Wood?” she burst through the portrait hole, still in her robes she wore to the match.

“He’s upstairs, why?” Harry replied, looking nervous.

“I need to have a word with him,” she cast a glance at Fred, “and his methods of training his beaters.”

Fred and George both shot from where they sat on the couch.

“What?” George yelled.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Mister Weasley,” she squinted at them, “whichever one of you was looking around at the Rave-” she stopped before she could finish her sentence as if she had an epiphany.

Her pursed lips twisted into an evil looking smile.

“You know, Mister Weasley,” she took a step towards the boys and spoke to them only, “dating a Ravenclaw would show great strides in house unity,” Fred’s eyes bulged out of his head and George was already turning pink with laughter, “perhaps then you could focus on Quidditch again.”

George was nearly purple due to lack of air, and Harry’s mouth was agape in shock as McGonagall whisked her robes and swiftly climbed back out of the portrait hole.

“What is she on about?” Harry asked George.

Fred flopped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. His life was over. If McGonagall could catch onto something like that, couldn’t you? You hadn’t started to flirt back, and Fred was beginning to wonder if George was right about your feelings towards him.

Soon enough, George was spouting everything McGonagall had said before he could catch his breath. He told anyone in the common room how much you hated Fred, and how much he desperately fancied you. Fred figured there was no use to stop him, because once again, if McGonagall could catch on, couldn’t everyone else?

Sunday morning was always rough for you. You pulled your heavy quilt closer to your cold cheeks, hoping for the sun to go back down and the weekend to restart. It never did.

You slipped on a pair of jeans and a tight turtle neck. Still feeling the cold air of the castle seeping through, you pulled on a sweater over the turtle neck. You tugged on some wool socks and pulled the fabric of the shirt as high up your neck as it would go.

You and Luna had plans to go to Hagrid’s hut today, he had promised her some magical flower seeds he had found in his garden. You liked to spend time with Luna, she was an easing presence and you always knew how to talk to her, even if most people didn’t.

You clutched an old muggle novel to your chest, hoping to trap some of your body heat. The hallways were surprisingly crowded for a Sunday morning, and you glanced at your watch, seeing breakfast had just ended.

You noticed that a lot of students with red ties were looking at you oddly. They would see you and smile widely, as if you were a new friend to them. You kept your head down until you met Luna in front of the great hall.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked before she even greeted you.

“What?”

“I just saw Harry, he said McGonagall told Fred to ask you out.”

You laughed, expecting her to do so as well. She didn’t and her face stayed stoic. She began to walk outside.

You were locked into place for a second before you jumped into line with her.

“What?” you repeated.

“Harry told me-” she began, but you waved your hands, cutting her off.

“No, I heard you, but what do you mean? What did McGonagall say?”

Luna had to have finally gone loony.

“He told me that after they lost Quidditch yesterday, she came in looking for Fred, she said he was quite distracted during the match,” she said, looking dreamily at you, “and she said something about how dating a Ravenclaw would be great for house unity,” Luna finished, toying with the tote bag at her side.

“Why did Harry think the Ravenclaw had to be me?” you asked, thinking there was a huge misunderstanding.

“Oh, well,” she said like she had forgotten a large part of the story, “after George heard what McGonagall said, he lost it. Harry said he laughed so hard he cried,” Luna giggled to herself while imagining the sight, “and he told everyone in the common room that Fred fancied you.”

Your face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment. The entire Gryffindor house had been laughing all night because George said Fred fancied you.

You were about to burst into protests, insist that it’s not true, but a gaggle of second years wearing red ties all pointed at you, talking among themselves.

You stepped towards them, making sure your prefect badge was visible. You watched their eyes flash down to the blue pin, and back up at your face, eyes wide. They scurried off and you fell back into place with Luna.

“That was rude of them,” Luna said, looping her arm with yours.

“Yeah,” you said quietly under your breath, your mind cloudy with thoughts.

You and Luna walked quietly out to Hagrid’s. You glanced up and saw the last person you had wanted to see.

Fred and George stood at the point where the path diverged to the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid’s hut, throwing a little flame-like ball to each other, bouncing it off their arms, feet, and chests. A small group of some younger kids had huddled around them, ‘ooing’ and ‘awing’ at each pass.

Fred had a large smile on his face, and the sight of it made your stomach churn with nerves.

You ducked your head down, hoping you and Luna would pass without a problem. You would not.

“Hi Fred,” Luna lifted a hand to wave at him, and the small light fell onto the ground as Fred saw you, “hi George.”

George smiled evilly at the sight of his brother nervously looking anywhere but you.

“Fun looking game your playing,” Luna said, trying to stop to talk, but you dragged her along.

“See you later Luna, Y/n!” George called out to the two of you, the laughter obvious in his voice.

“Why didn’t you want to talk to them? You could have asked Fred about what Harry said,” Luna asked you soothingly, looking at you curiously.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, feeling very overwhelmed, “it’s weird. I don’t even know what happened but the thought of it is so weird,” you paused, trying to grasp the words, “I mean, Fred can’t like me. We detest each other, its fun.”

“Well, do you like him?” she had asked the one question you were avoiding.

Fred had always been a thorn in your side. Ever since you met him he was rude. He never apologized for anything, he laughed, poked, and prodded at you for his own amusement. Yet, whenever you saw his soft-looking hair, you swallowed hard. When he inched closer to you, even just to whisper something rude, you felt your chest tighten. He looked at you, and you could swear he actually cared about what you were saying. Maybe detest was a little strong, perhaps just annoyed.

Granted, he was a teenage boy, and you are a teenage girl, mixed messages are bound to be sent. You thought you had been clear with your messages to Fred, though. “Leave me alone,” nothing bitter, nothing kind, just the wish to be left alone. Of course, Fred did not read your message that way. The enticing message he got was more along the lines of: “I’m going to pretend I want you to leave me alone, but please, don’t. Chase me through the hallways, confess undying love for me, kiss me passionately”. Now, it is entirely possible that Fred’s interpretation was a little clouded by his own wants and wishes, but this did not stop him.

The talk of the castle, for at least the following school week, was you and Fred.

You had never been whispered about, pointed at, or thought of like this. Fred seemed to be enjoying it.

In class Monday, Fred pretended nothing had happened. He swung his arm over the back of your chair and waited for the look of disgust to flash across your face, which it did, and he chuckled to himself.

Soon enough, the whispers and pointing had subsided, and they were replaced by odd looks as if they were disbelieving of something.

Luna found you in the courtyard sitting under a tree and skipped over to you.

“You hadn’t told me Fred asked you out,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “officially.”

Once again, you laughed, but she did not. She sat in front of you, crossing her legs.

“Oh my-” you trailed off, lifting your head to look at Luna, “what’s happened now?”

“Hermione told me that Fred has been raving to everyone about how you’re dating.”

Your eyes were wild with disbelief. You couldn’t have even comprehended what was going on at this school these days.

“Well, no one’s told me that we’re dating,” you said, your voice riddled with annoyance.

In perfect timing, Fred, George, and Lee bounded from the school and out to the courtyard. They were laughing and shoving each other, looking to be having a great time.

You stood from the ground, dusting off your pants and walking over to the three with fury.

“Fred!” you called out to him, and he stopped and turned to you.

A look of fear flashed on his face, but he covered it with something else, was it admiration? Love?

You clenched your jaw and narrowed your eyes, stepping close to him. He tilted his head down to look at you, a small smile on his lips.

Around you, George, Lee, and Luna stood with their arms crossed, watching intently.

Your bodies were almost touching, and your finger stabbed into his chest.

“Who do you think you are?” you said in a hushed tone through gritted teeth.

Once again, Fred’s face fell for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around your waist in some sort of embrace. You squirmed from his touch and backed away from him.

“Who do you think you are?” you repeated, this time louder. George and Lee flinched from behind you.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly.

Your face twisted with confusion, what is he on about?

“What?”

He continued, stepping closer to you.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked earnestly, moving to rub his hand on your arm.

He was trying to flip the script, make you feel crazy.

“Fred, you’ve lost it, really,” you replied, walking back to the tree to gather your books.

“Maybe when you’ve regained consciousness,” you walked back up to him, keeping your distance, “or the effects of whatever potion you took start to wear off, please try to explain what is going on.”

You walked away from them, leaving Fred with a wicked smile.

“Alright, see you later!” he called out to you.

You turned your head to look at him, your hair blew in front of your face but Fred could see your puzzled expression. His smirk grew wider and he turned to George, Lee, and Luna. They looked awfully concerned.

“Oh,” he placed his hands on his hips, “isn’t she great?”

You had gotten to Transfiguration early, your prefect duties switched for the week. You crossed your legs and placed a book on them, reading discretely while McGonagall was still in her office.

Just as she began to address the class, Fred strolled in, hands in his pockets. He slipped into the seat next to you and you bookmarked your page. You scooted your chair in and slipped the worn book into your bag, listening to McGonagall begin her lecture. Monday’s were often boring lecture days in Transfiguration.

You heard the screech of Fred’s chair on the floor, and in the corner of your eye saw him moving closer to you. He rested his elbow on the desk and placed his chin in his palm. He leaned close to you.

“Hello,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You ignored him, dipping your quill into your ink in case McGonagall said something note-worthy.

“What’s ‘a matter,” he paused as if he was thinking of the most annoying thing to say to you, “darling?”

You audibly gagged, and his smile widened.

“What do you want?” you caved, asking him.

“Oh nothing,” he leaned back in his chair, still whispering to you, “just for you to be my girlfriend.”

You went rigid. Your face suddenly got very warm. You lost grip of your quill and it toppled over your ink, sending dark liquid across the desk and onto your white sleeve. You cursed loudly out of reflex and it caught McGonagall’s attention.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/l/n?”

Everyone turned to look at you and Fred in the back of the room, some people smirking. Fred stayed leaned back in his chair, watching you.

“I’m sorry Professor,” you stumbled out, wiping both the ink and your sleeve at the same time, making both things worse, “I just-”

Fred pulled his wand out from beside you and did a simple cleaning spell, you supposed. The ink receded back into its bottle and the stain on your sleeve disappeared. McGonagall watched him intently.

“Very resourceful Weasley, Miss Y/l/n, please don’t disrupt my class again,” she said curtly, returning to the lesson.

You heard a few snickers from your classmates, your face still a deep shade of red. You swallowed hard as you felt your heart beating in your ears.

Fred leaned forward again so his mouth was aligned with your ear.

“What do you say?” he whispered.

“What are you talking about Fred? Why are you doing all this?” you asked, straining to keep your desperate voice in a whisper.

“I’m only having some fun,” he replied as if he hadn’t been making your life a living hell for the past weeks.

You shot him a pleading look, and when he saw your flushed cheeks and watery eyes, his face softened.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on your knee, a knot formed in your throat and shivers went down your arms, “I didn’t mean to-” he trailed off and your jaw clenched. You returned your gaze to the front of the class.

“Listen, I’ve just been,” he paused, searching for the words, “I’ve been playing a sort of prank. On everyone but us.”

His tone was soft and playful as if he were letting you in on a secret. You supposed he was.

You raised your eyebrows, pressing him to continue.

“Well, George basically told everyone in our house that I fancy you, so I wanted to have some fun with it, switch it on them.”

You pressed your eyebrows together, still looking to the front of the room while Fred was inches away from your ear.

“I’ve told everyone we’re dating,” he said plainly, “house unity and all, as McGonagall said.”

“So that was true? What Harry told Luna?” you said before you could stop yourself, happy to finally get answers.

“Well, I don’t know exactly what Harry said, but I’m sure he didn’t leave anything out.”

“Why did George tell everyone that? That you,” you trailed off, feeling the words choking in your mouth, “that you fancy me?”

“Because I do,” he said quickly, and just as quickly moved on, “so what do you say? Want to be my girlfriend-” he paused, realizing what he had just said, “well, my girlfriend of sorts, not like my real girlfriend, because I’m sure you wouldn’t want to, and-” he stopped himself.

This time it was his turn for his cheeks to burn and his eyes to awkwardly avoid yours.

“Why do all this? Seems a lot for a joke that no one but us will laugh at,” you said, trying to ignore his confession.

“I’m willing to go to the ends of the Earth for a joke, my dear.”

Fred was dreadfully serious when saying that, and this became clear within hours.

Walking past the Dungeons and up the many stairs to your common room, you heard Fred call out to you.

“Wait up!” he was breaking away from a large group of Gryffindors, and all of them watched him with a keen eye,

“What, Fred?”

“Hey, that's not a very girlfriend-y tone,” he wrapped his arm easily around you.

You were sure it was meant to be sweet, but it felt a bit imprisoning.

“I never agreed to this,” you didn’t shake off his arm, but you felt inclined to. You were aware of the many eyes pouring into your back.

“I thought we had? Oh,” his arm left your shoulder, and you felt a little colder, “well then I suppose I could leave it all be, go back on my word, humiliate myself.”

His tone was a playful one, and you couldn’t help the bashful smile that reached your cheeks. You knew you had no obligation to Fred, but the whispers and gossip had seemed to subside during this new joke of his. You stopped at the landing, and the group of Gryffindors walked past you, staring at you both. Fred waved them off and nodded his head towards you, smiling.

“Why should I?” you clutched some textbooks to your chest, feeling grateful for the wall it put between you and Fred. He looked down at you, his hair falling into his forehead.

“Well,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, inching closer to you, “as I said, I just think it could be a bit of fun.”

“Fun for you. What’s in it for me?”

“What? Besides utter fame and popularity from being associated with me?”

“Oh shove off, Fred,” you rolled your eyes at him, but once again could not help the smile that spread across your face.

“See? I’m growing on you already.”

“I’m still seeing no benefit for me.”

“Well, I do see where your coming from, but I’d like to raise another point,” he slipped a hand from his pants and waved it casually while talking, “I will indeed pretend like we are dating even if you don’t.”

“So essentially, you would just be flirting with me while I hurl insults at you?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Is that the image you want, Fred?” you teased.

You moved to lean against the wall behind you, and Fred trailed after you.

“Any image is a good one,” he winked dramatically at you.

You shrunk away from him and gagged, sending him into a fit of laughter.

“I hate it already.”

“So you’ll do it?” he asked.

You breathed in, looking at him seriously. His hazel eyes were dark in this light, his hair had gone a deeper red in the lack of warm weather and sunshine. He towered over you slightly, and you looked at him through your lashes.

Shrugging your shoulders, you agreed weakly.

Fred saw the error of his thinking almost immediately. Walking through the hallways with you, he felt his heart soar higher and higher each time you laughed. When you would loosen up, or walk a little closer to him. He was being awfully unfair to himself, making himself think that you had something, some sort of relationship. It was like dangling a treat in front of a dog and wanking it away right when the dog drooled.

He saw the flaming house, and still walked in, looking for a place to sleep.

“Why, hello,” Fred drawled, coming up from behind you in the hall.

You felt his hand snake around your waist, and he pulled you. Your feet twisted from under you and you twirled, turning to face him. Your hair had skewed into your face, and he watched your delicate hand reach up to brush it away.

You looked dazed as if you had a lot on your mind. He smiled down at you and you did your best to reciprocate it.

“Are you alright?” he asked, dropping his hand from your hip.

“Yeah, just-” you took a deep breath in, “just got a lot of homework, been a bit busy with my prefect stuff.”

This was not what was bothering you. You felt a lot of inner conflicts these days, an endless moody and angsty monologue sounding off in your head day and night. You felt odd. You felt odd for agreeing to Fred’s stupid plan. You felt odd for toying with him and yourself. You had disliked him just last month, and now you let him wrap his arm around your shoulder, let him hold your waist. You felt like a traitor to yourself, letting him win you over with a few charming looks. You felt even worse when you thought of Fred’s confession. He had said he fancied you, and the idea of pretending to date him didn’t alarm you for some reason. You hated the feeling of toying with his emotions or allowing him to live out some sort of fantasy. Everything about it made you feel awful.

You didn’t feel as awful, though, when Fred would call out a comment from across the dining hall that would make your cheeks burn and all the other girls swoon. You didn’t feel as awful when he would sit in silence with you by the black lake, keeping you company among the chilling wind. You didn’t feel as awful when he slipped little notes into your bag when you left Transfiguration.

You had enough, one too many genuine looks of admiration. You needed to tell Fred how you felt.

You caught him on his way back from Quidditch practice. He was trailing near the end of the group, huddled with George and Harry. He had some dirt on his forehead, and his cheeks were tinted pink. He smelled of grass and sweat.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around you, wishing you had brought your scarf. Your hair whipped in the wind around you, and you rocked on your feet.

You began walking to him, and when he saw you he smiled widely.

“Hey!” he called out, walking faster to meet you.

“Hi,” you said nervously.

“I’ll meet you guys back in the common room,” he told George and Harry, who glanced over their shoulders at the two of you.

It was dusk and he looked strikingly handsome. You felt like you were seeing him as a different person. He wasn’t the boy who bewitched snowballs to attack you, he wasn’t the boy who laughed at your scraped hands. He wasn’t the boy who shoved Lee at you, and he wasn’t the boy who awkwardly danced with McGonagall. He was the boy who held you in his arms, stopping you from falling over the stairs. He was the boy who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, he was the boy who held you above anything else.

Your mouth was agape as you looked at him, he stood awkwardly waiting for you to say something. You looked at the ground, licking your lips and feeling them dry as soon as the cold air grazed them again.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you said quietly, hoping your voice would fade into the wind and carry you away.

“What’s up?” he looked down at you nervously.

“Fred, I-” he cut you off, placing a hand on your arm.

“You can’t do this anymore?” he looked deeply at you but you couldn’t meet his eyes.

You didn’t want to have this talk anymore, you felt content, suddenly, in pretending. You could both pretend to love each other until it wasn’t pretending. The lines would blur and soon, his kisses would come easily and his hands would have their place on you. You would touch his soft hair and know his eyes only looked at you. But you had already said the words, or rather, he did.

“I just,” you kicked the dirt beneath you, hoping he would finish your sentence again, he didn’t.

“I don’t think its fair,” you looked up at him finally and felt surprised to feel tears in your eyes, you blinked, forcing them to subside, “to either of us.”

You heard him gulp, and his eyes moved to look at the castle behind you. The candles had been lit and the stone glowed from the inside.

“I get it,” he said, removing his hand from your arm.

You looked down at where his hand had been and felt a tear drip down your cheek.

“Fred-”

He shook his head, pulling his mouth into a line. You stopped talking, feeling the words stuck in your heart.

You really wished you hadn’t said anything. You wished you could pretend again.

He walked past you, leaving you in the dusk. You hadn’t meant to, but a sob escaped your mouth. You heard his feet shuffle for a moment, and stop. He walked back to you.

He had finally been able to fall asleep among the fire, and it seemed you had come to join him at some point. He didn’t know when, but looking at you now, it seemed you had been burning for a while.

“What’s got you so torn up about this?” he said gently, stopping a few paces away from you, “Didn’t fall in love with me, did ya?”

A laugh fell from your lips at the same time another sob did. Your shoulders hunched over more, and Fred’s heart hurt him. He walked to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned to face him, and you both moved at the same time. He pulled you close into his chest and your cheek pressed against him. He smelled, he was dirty, and he was tired, but he still held you tighter than you had ever been held before.

You pulled away from him after a while, coming to terms with yourself in the moment of affection. You wiped your tears from your face with your sleeve, taking a few deep breaths.

“I think,” you hiccuped, feeling it hard to speak, “I think that the pretending was too hard.”

Fred felt guilt wash over him. He felt guilty for himself, because you had said exactly what he was feeling. He couldn’t stand to pretend, to keep himself from gripping your hand, or from kissing you any chance he got. He wanted it all to be real, he wanted this wall between you to crumble into a genuine relationship. He felt guilty for making you feel this way. He felt guilty for pressuring you into this allusion of intimacy. He hadn’t stopped to consider if this would be negative for you, only insisting it would all work out for the best.

As he watched your uneven breathing and swollen nose and eyes, he knew this was not the best.

He breathed hard, forcing himself not to cry as he looked at you. George was supposed to be the sensitive one, but Fred had always been a sympathetic crier.

“Me too,” he replied, his voice sounding far, far away.

You looked at him, feeling terrified. The cold air was moving through you liked you were transparent. Tears kept flowing down your face, and no matter how fast you dried them, you only cried more. Your head felt miles away from your body, so you stepped closer to him, hoping to step closer to yourself too.

“I don’t think I want to pretend,” you croaked out.

He blinked at you, and you saw a single tear fall down his cheek. He didn’t move to brush it away, and it moved slowly. It left a clean mark on his dirt-stained face.

You took a step towards him, covering your hand with your sleeve. You cupped the back of his neck with one hand and brought your sleeved hand to his cheek. You wiped the tear and the dirt away, but your hand didn’t move. You peaked your fingers from your sleeve and they grazed his face. His eyes fluttered closed and your throat tightened as more tears poured from your eyes. Your vision was blurry as you traced his face, moving over his nose, eyebrows, and lips. You stopped to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your palm. You felt the wetness of more tears fall onto your hand, and you bit your lips, holding in a wretched noise.

“Fred?”

His eyes fluttered open, and you realized his hands had found their way onto your waist, he held you tightly.

“Do you want to pretend?” you asked him.

He moved his head from your cheek and kept his wet eyes locked with yours.

“I want you,” his voice was hoarse and sad, but that was all you needed to hear.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

The dusk had turned into the night, and you pulled away from Fred. You looked up at him and swallowed away the tears that remained. You began to walk past him and up to the castle. He followed you quickly.

You were scared. You had safety in pretending, knowing this was all something for fun. But as you looked at Fred now, you saw something deeper. You saw the threat of genuine love and connection, the threat of heartbreak.

Neither of you wanted to go without the other tonight, you had decided. You wordlessly followed him to his common room, and he slipped his hand into yours. You had both ducked into a prefect bathroom on the way there, looking at yourselves and covering your swollen eyes.

He said the password to a portrait of a large lady, and she looked suspiciously at you both.

“Are you two alright? You’ve just about missed curfew,” she said, her voice booming through the staircase.

“Yeah, we’re alright, just tired from practice, is all,” Fred reassured her, and the door swung open. He walked in first, and you followed.

You relished in the warmth of the spacious room, feeling drawn to the fireplace. You walked over to it and sat on a large couch. The room was relatively empty, a few kids hunched over books.

Fred sat next to you, still in his Quidditch robes. He grabbed your legs with his hand and guided them to rest on one of his legs, hanging over it. This angled your body to him, and he moved his arm to wrap around you.

“When did you realize?” he asked, his face lit by the fire.

“Just then, when you walked up to me after your practice.”

His chest moved with a chuckle and you moved your head to looked up at him.

“Well that's a little embarrassing for me,” he said, pushing a piece of your hair out of your face while you gazed up at him, “I've known since I met you.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you said lightly, assuming he was trying to be some sort of romantic and inflating the truth.

“I did,” he said seriously, “I teased you for so long for a reason.”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

“Yes.”

You both laughed, pulling each other closer.

“And because I liked you.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking deeper into him. You felt yourself getting tired and you peered up at him. His eyes were half-closed and his face was drooping.

“Fred, you’re tired, why don’t you go to bed,” you began to move off of him, but he pulled you back.

“Only if you make me a deal,” he said mischievously.

“What?”

“I’ll go upstairs and take a quick shower, but only if you come with me,” he replied.

“I am not showering with you, pervert,” you smacked his arm and stood from the couch, blushing furiously.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, turning it to kiss your palm. You shivered at his touch.

“No, just come lay with me,” he looked up at you, suddenly serious, “I want to be with you tonight.”

Your heart sank to your stomach and you bit your lip. You couldn’t speak, so you nodded your head slowly.

Fred fished his wand from his robes and waved it towards the stairs, performing the counterspell for the stairs. You followed him up to his room, where he put his finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. When he cracked open the door, it was dark and the curtains for the beds had been drawn. He crept over to a chest at the foot of his bed and looked at you before turning to its contents. He pulled out two large pajama pants, both plaid, and two heavy sweaters. He tossed one of each on his bed and took the others with him.

“Here, you can sleep in these,” he whispered to you, and it felt like you would blush forever.

He smiled softly at you before closing the curtains for you, leaving you to change.

“Oi, mate,” you heard someone’s annoyed and hoarse voice, “what took you so long? Practice ended an hour ago.”

“I was talking with Y/n,” you heard the bathroom door open, “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, I’m gonna shower. And don’t wake me up for breakfast tomorrow, I want to sleep in.”

You smiled to yourself, holding the soft sweater in your hands. It had a large ‘F’ on it, and you traced your fingers over it. You slid out of your jeans and folded them, placing them on the floor by the trunk. You slid on the pants he gave you and silently laughed as they easily ran past your feet and dragged on the floor. You folded them at the waist, and they were still too long. You had just slipped on the sweater when Fred slid open the curtain. He watched you fold your shirt and place it with your jeans. His eyes trailed from his sweater to the way his pants covered your feet. He smiled widely and drew you closer to him by grabbing your hips.

You looked up at him, your chests pressed together. He brought one hand up to your jaw, tilting it up to align with his face. His lips parted and so did yours, the air between you becoming a mixture of your breaths. His was minty, he must have just brushed his teeth.

His thumb grazed your bottom lip, and he finally closed the space between you. His neck craned down to you, but when you stood on your toes he was able to stand straight. You pressed as close to him as you could, and so did he. His lips were warm against your cold ones. He felt the many places that had been chapped and bitten, running his tongue over them slowly. You sighed and ran your chilled hands up his sweater, feeling him shiver beneath you. Your fingertips grazed the muscles on his back, tracing every line you could feel.

You pulled away first, sinking down to stand flat on your feet and rest your forehead on his chest.

“I’m so glad we didn’t pretend to do that,” Fred laughed out, pulling you close to him.

You smiled and hugged him, before moving to the other side of the small bed. You both slid under the covers silently, thinking that if either of you said something, things would suddenly be awkward.

The lack of bed only made him hold you tighter, and the two of you fell asleep relatively soon.

You were awoken by the sounds of laughter. The curtains were still drawn, and Fred’s arm was still wrapped around you. Your leg was resting on him as he laid on his back, hugging you close to him. Your head lifted from his chest as you squinted your eyes.

“No, he said he wanted to sleep in, mate,” you heard George say. The door opened and you heard footsteps walking towards it.

“You think they finally told each other?” Lee asked George, pulling on a wool hat.

“I hope so, bloody awful letting Fred think he tricked us,” George said before closing the door behind them.

You smiled and let your head sink back onto Fred. He stirred and pulled you closer to him. Through the fabric of his sweater, you swore you could hear the steady rhythm of his heart.

[lightlia]

And it breaks my heart

Pairing: Dream x reader (irl!Dream x reader) [They/Them] [mentioning Wilbur a bit]

Synopsis: What has gone wrong? Is it the fact that they are pretending to be happy or they’re never meant to be?

Inspired by:  LÉON -  And It Breaks My Heart [stream LÉON music!!]

Words count: 2.6k

[ANGST]

A/N: My first fic on this site, yay! Hope you like it! It could be cringing but bare with me, uwu! Feedbacks are accepted so if you have sth to say, pls do so. I literally didn’t save the damn thing and I had to type it all out again. Fuck me. I didn’t proofread it cuz i’m lazy and tired so enjoy reading this.

♪ Think of days when I was yours

Seems so long ago ♪

Y/N moved in their last stuff into their new home after successfully putting everything in their new place. They looked around the living room before sitting down on the floor. Holding in their am was a box with stuff that they were going to decorate. As they opened the box, it wasn’t the stuff that they would decorate with but a photo album, a sweater and a necklace in it. They held back their tears as they took out the sweater and the necklace and wore them. The sweater wasn’t theirs but it was Clay’s.

“Babe, have you seen my sweater? I can’t find it anywhere.” Clay shouted from their wardrobe, opening each drawer to find his sweater.

Y/N skipped towards their room, “Which sweater? You have like so many sweater.”

“The one with dinosaurs on it. The green--” Clay then turned around to see Y/N was wearing what he described. “--sweater.”

Y/N looked at Clay then down at their clothing. “This one?”

Clay then walked towards them with a grin on his face. “Well, never mind. I’ll find another one to wear. And by the way, you look cute in it. So keep it.”

Y/N was flustered and hid their face in the sweater. Clay wrapped his arms around them and his chin was on their head. “But it would look even better when it’s on the floor along with my clothes.” He smirked, causing Y/N’s cheeks to go red. 

Y/N hit Clay hard with their sweater paws but to him, those hits were like patting. Clay then remembered something and jogged to their bedside drawer and took out a box. He took the necklace out and went back to Y/N. Clay went behind them and put it on for them.

“I saw it when I was out strolling with Nick. He said to pick the one with ‘Daddy’ on it but I’ll buy next time if you want.”

Y/N tiptoed to give Clay a kiss since the man is 6′3. “Thank you, Clay. I love it.” 

♪ Now we're standing in the cold

Nervous when we talk ♪

“Goddamn it! I forgot to bring my umbrella.” Y/N cursed under their breath. They decided to walk through the park but the rain ruined it. They looked up to the sky who decided to rain on the day that they wanted to be away from the loud noises and they wanted peace and quiet before they went back to their workplace tomorrow.

“Should’ve had a roommate so they could pick me up when I call them.” Y/N took shelter under a big tree. Their clothes weren’t helping them shield their head and they were soaking wet from the immediate rain. They hung their head down and kicked the dirt beneath them, cursing the rain.

Then something shielded them from the rain, making them look up to see Clay with his umbrella out over your head. He got wet a bit now that the umbrella was above them. 

“Hey.” Clay opened his mouth.

“Hi.”

Then silence surrounded them both. Y/N shifted around awkwardly to ease the silence around them. 

"How are you?”

“I’m doing great. How about you? Find someone better yet?” Y/N asked back.

♪ Such a sadness in your eyes

And now you're looking down

You try your hardest not to show it

Yeah, I can't hold you, give you hope

'Cause I'm not coming home ♪

Clay then casted his eyes down but Y/N caught the look on his face, sadness. Y/N immediately apologized, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” He gave a fake smile to Y/N. “I couldn’t find one and I don’t need one.” He wanted to hug Y/N and asked them to rekindle their relationship but he couldn’t.

“So you’ve been single now for 2 years?”

“Yea. Do you like someone at the moment?”

“Yea, I found someone I like.” Y/N gave him a smile. “But I don’t want to tell him though.” 

“Oh.” 

Clay thought immediately of Wilbur. His initial thought was about Wilbur, probably Y/N liked Wilbur. Of course, they would like him. He was there for them, not physically. But Wilbur would call them to see if they were okay. Wilbur would also talk about Y/N a lot while he was streaming with Clay and others and   told them that Y/N doing fine now, getting the job that they wanted and was in search for a new place to live other than her friends’. Y/N didn’t want to bother them so that’s why Y/N searched for a new place.

But what Clay didn’t know was that it was a lie. They couldn’t tell him that they still need him a bit. However, they moved on because they knew they weren’t  meant to be.

“Let me take you home.” Clay offered and walked out the park with Y/N under his umbrella.

♪ And I wish that I could give you more

When you're leaving me an open door ♪

Clay had been neglecting Y/N a lot lately. They knew about his streaming career and they were very supportive of him. But lately, he had been neglecting Y/N and his food because of his streaming and uploading a YouTube video. Y/N would bring the food up to his office just for him to yell at them for entering his office. He would start missing out on their date nights and the most important ones, the anniversary. He would forget about them and go and hang out with someone Y/N didn’t know. While Clay was having fun with his new friend, Y/N was lying on their bed and crying to sleep. When he was given free times, Clay would be on his phone, typing something. Y/N would peek to see what he was texting but Clay would get up and go to his office, feeling annoyed at their behavior. Clay was never like this so what made him to be like this? 

Then one day, Y/N walked past his office to overhear his conversation with George.

“No, George. You don’t understand. Y/N was never like this. Now they’re annoying. They would ask me whenever I got home like where I went and who I was with. They even brought up Olivia and I told them every time that she’s just a friend but they wouldn’t believe me.”

Feeling annoyed, Clay pushed his hair back and getting frustrated every time he mentioned Y/N.

“Yes, we are happy, George. No. George, you don’t understand. Yes, I know. I’ll talk to them whatever.”

This pushed Y/N to the limit. They tiptoed to the bathroom and just silently cried.

♪ And I wish that I could let you know

How it hurts me, too, that we're moving on ♪

Clay and Y/N walked down a couple blocks then turned the corner, arriving at Y/N’s place. Just as they had arrived, the rain stopped.

“So this is my stop. Thank you for walking me home, Clay.” Y/N smiled and he nodded. “Oh and the rain stopped as well. How convenient.” They looked up to the sky and laughed, making Clay laughed as well.

“No problem. Don’t want you to get sick after all.” 

“Nah, I think I’m gonna get sick cuz I’m soaking wet.” Y/N pointed to Clay. “You’ll get sick too.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Y/N unlocked the door and got in. They were about to invite Clay inside but he held his hand up. 

“It’s fine. I need to get back or Nick’s gonna starve.” Then Clay’s phone went off with someone calling him. He pulled out his phone from his inside of his jacket and he laughed. Clay answered and turned on the loudspeaker.

“Yea?”

“Clay, where are you? I’m starving like I’m gonna die.” Nick shouted into the phone and they giggled at his antics.

“I’ll be there in about 15 minutes.”

“Clay, you’ve been out for about 2 hours and I’m literally gonna--”  Just that, Clay cut off Nick’s nagging and hung up the phone.

“He’ll be furious.” Y/N giggled.

“He’ll be fine. He’s just being too dramatic. I’ve lost a challenge against him and I had to buy his favorite.”

He held up the food package for Y/N to see. 

“You’d better get home quick before he call you again.” Then Clay’s phone rang and they both knew it was definitely from Nick. They laughed once more.

“Alright, I’ll get going then.” Clay said and turned around but stopped to say the last thing. “It was great seeing you again.”

“You too, Clay.” Y/N waved their hand and Clay did the same thing, walking off to the distance.

Y/N watched Clay walking off until he was no longer in their sight. They closed the door and sat down at the door, not worrying about the dirty floor. Clay seemed like he had moved on and got a hold of himself. He was not taking well about the break up at first. So they were happy for Clay that he moved on but they were hurting themselves that they had moved on as well because Clay was everything to them.

♪ Oh, where do love go?

It's right in your hands, then suddenly gone

Oh, no, nobody knows where it disappears

And it breaks my heart ♪

Clay and Y/N sat at their dining table, eating peacefully before Y/N decided to break the silence.

“Clay, we’re not meant to be.” 

“What?” Clay furrowed his brows and moved his hand to place on top of their hand. Y/N shook his hand off and continued talking.

“We’re gotta stop pretending we’re happy when actually we’re not.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?”

“Clay, don’t pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about. We both know our relationship is dying.”

“Y/N, I don’t understand.” Clay grabbed Y/N’s hand, caressing it.

“You neglected me, you forgot about our date nights and our anniversary just to hang out with Olivia.”

“Baby, I told you many times that we’re just friends.”

As calmly as they could portray, Y/N shook their head and pulled out their phone and slid it to Clay, showing him all the messages Olivia had been texting them.

“No, we’re just friends.” Clay shook his head this time.

“Well, have fun with her. I’ll move out tomorrow. You don’t have to send me off since I’m gonna annoy you.” Y/N got up and walked towards the door.

“Baby.”

“You said I’m annoying so I hope me not being here would no longer make you feel annoyed.” And then they walked out the door to find their friend parked their car outside, waiting for them.

Clay on the other hand, was shocked from the event. He didn’t finish his meal as he hurried to his office and dialed George’s number.

♪ Empty station, 2 AM

See your name on the phone

Sayin', "So good to see you, but it made me really miss you

It's hard to be alone" ♪

Y/N got off the train at 2 am after a night out with their friends at the newly opened bar. The station was empty and quiet, enough for Y/N to concentrate. They were sober as they found an empty seat and sat there, remembering that they had seen Clay at the bar.

Their phone lit up with a notification. Clay’s name was shown on their screen, showing that he has texted them. Y/N opened the text, reading ‘So good to see you, but it made me really miss you. It's hard to be alone.’

Y/N teared up and started to type back. They were about to send long sentences to him but decided against it and just sent ‘It was great seeing you again.’

♪ And if I only could, I'd go back in time

Take back every word, say I've changed my mind

But no, nobody knows where it disappears

(And it breaks my heart) ♪

Clay was there as well with his friends because they didn’t want their friend to be sad anymore. They had seen him sad for the last 4 months after the broke up so they dragged Clay out for a night out. Clay downed all shots into his system and got a bit drunk but he was conscious about his surrounding so when he turned around to look at other people, his eyes saw their figure a couple table from him. He couldn’t avert his focus elsewhere.

Y/N after downed the shots into their system, looked around the table to see Clay looking at them. They too couldn’t tear their eyes away from Clay before hanging their head down. 

Clay wanted to go to their table and just talked to them once again but he knew he would mess up again so he just sat at the table and downed some more shots.

Y/N wanted to talk as well and maybe take back their words and want Clay back into their arms but they didn’t want it to happen again because they had gotten back together before, they had sworn that they would never hurt each other feelings anymore and if they break up again, they would let it go for real.

♪ And you want answers, but I don't have them

Say we were happy, so what happened?

Now you're acting like it's nothing, but it was something

You can't erase me, all the memories, you can't change them ♪

Y/N went back to Clay’s house to get their stuff out. They still got the key of his house and unlocked it. They opened the door and stepped inside. They walked to the stairway and turned to the living room to find Clay sprawling on the couch with booze on the table and their pictures scattered around the living room. He was asleep so Y/N took the opportunity and ran up to their room and organized their stuff.

As they finished packing the last box, a cough blurted out. Y/N didn’t have to turn around to see Clay standing by the door.

“Y/N, I don’t understand. We were so happy together. What went wrong?” Clay uttered.

“I don’t have the answer for that. You can find it yourself.” 

“No, tell me. Why is this happening? I want to know why.”

Y/N sighed before getting up and walking out the door. But Clay grabbed their arm, preventing them from leaving the room.

“Let go, Clay.”

“Y/N, tell me.”

“I can’t tell because I don’t have the answer. Now if you excuse me.” Y/N tried to wiggle their arm out of his grip.

“Y/N!”

“Clay, we’re done.”

“WE ARE NOT!”

“Clay, we fell out of love. You just didn’t realize that yourself. Thanks for the memories, Clay. I don’t think I can’t erase them out of my head and I hope you won’t erase our memories or change anything.” With that, Y/N freed their arm from his grip and walked out their shared bedroom.

Clay dropped to the floor and let his tears flow down. Y/N could hear him sobbing from downstairs and left the house with their stuff.

♪ Oh, where do love go?

It's right in your hands, then suddenly gone

Oh, no, nobody knows where it disappears

And if I only could, I'd go back in time

Take back every word, say I've changed my mind

But no, nobody knows where it disappears

And it breaks my heart ♪

Even though they wanted to get back together.

♪ (But I don't have them)

(And it breaks my heart)

(Say we were happy)

(So what happened?)

(And you want answers)

(But I don't have them)

(Say we were happy)

(So what happened?) ♪

They both knew they weren’t meant to be together.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Cal and finding out you both are the missing pair to your costumes pls

A huge HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU BLANCA! Enjoy!

Halloween blurb night going until Oct. 31st at 8 PM PDT. 

Enjoy the masterlist for Halloween Blurb Night 2020

Enjoy my full masterlist.

__________________

It was Michael’s idea. That’s how Calum would up in this, reading the invitation email send to him, telling me to follow the specific directions for his costume. It gave no name to the character or to the show. Just a bulleted list underneath the not quite passable graphic that Michael probably made either in Photoshop or some equivalent. 

A white and black pinstriped suit jacket and pants (a black suit will also do as listed on the invitation), a black bowtie, a white dress shirt, and a fake mustache. It almost like pin straight too in the picture that’s obviously been screenshotted and pasted into the body. 

Michael wanted to do a Halloween party and the guys didn’t need much excuse to readily agree to supply with their presence, booze, and non-alcoholic choices for a party. The treats for working on during the year. The only caveat had been that Michael wanted to arrange for a couple’s theme--the trick if you asked Calum. 

He didn’t really have anyone to partner up with and he for sure wasn’t about to scroll through his phone for whoever was just as lonely as him. He could’ve asked you. Truth be told, you would’ve been at the top of his list. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Sure you two had hung out and were close--for God sake, you dog sat for Calum when he left for tour. He trusted you and adored you beyond belief. But he couldn’t bring himself to taking that any further. 

You always talked about the latest person in your string of attempts to date in LA after moving into the town about a year ago. Calum knew he could’ve made a move. Shit, he should’ve made a move. But timing never felt right. And who was Calum to push back against the waves and tides of the universe? 

And of course, Calum recounts his woes to Michael. 

You will have a partner, reads at the end of the email. You’ll thank me later. 

And of course, Michael wasn’t just listening to woes. 

When Calum returns walks up to Michael’s house two weeks later, stressed in his pinstriped suit, with a terribly itchy fake mustache, a black bow tie, and upon Michael’s request after Calum told Michael that he had acquired all the pieces to his costumed, Calum slicked back his hair. The gears in Calum’s brain were still trying to decipher what all this put together was, but he wasn’t mad at the attire in the least.

The door barely contains the thumping of music from inside and the second the door opens to Michael’s flushed face and bright smile, Calum is blasted with the rattle of bass. “You look good, dude!” Michael greets, waving Calum inside. 

“Thanks. I can follow instructions.” Initially glances over the room don’t show anyone dressed to match Calum. And he tries not to like that thought make his throat quiver and his hands shake. But it does. No doubt Michael has just randomly assigned partner. There’s no way. Calum is looking for you because finding you will answer the question, quell the anxiety that’s spiking. 

What had Michael planned? 

There’s no sign for a while in the living room, or in the kitchen, or in the backyard. The drink in Calum’s hand sits so long, sloshing at his fingers as he dances and shimmies through crowd to search for this partner that Calum’s sure more of the alcohol’s wound up on the floor than in his bloodstream. He tries to keep his mind pre-occupied, talking to the guys and dancing to the music, though he’s a self proclaimed shit dancer. But his gaze always wonders. 

“I’m so sorry!” you shout. 

Michael’s waving it off. “Don’t sweat it.” You’re nearly an hour late though the party looks like is just gearing into full swing. “Your partner’s here, so you’re fine. We just got started for real.”

“Where’s-where’s this partner?” 

“Last I saw of him, dancing. Outside? But that was ten minutes or so?” Michael shrugs, unsure of how long ago it was. That’s your only lead so you take it. Your heels click against the floor as you march deeper into the house. 

Calum’s shaking the drink from his hands, the last of it finally sloshing as he steps into the sea of other dancing bodies. He probably should’ve been paying more attention but it doesn’t matter now. Finally, stepping from from the crowd he spies you, black dress, a slit up the thigh, lips painted red. He curses his heart for fluttering. But god, you look amazing. 

Your attention is elsewhere, along the walls, flickering side to side as you stalk closer and closer to the door of the backyard. Calum bounds up the steps after being knocked into again by the outliers of the dancing crowd. You’re not leaving looking. One hand stretched out for the knob without seeing the door open. And ready to press your weight into the door, you stumble. “Whoops!” you laugh catching your balance and not missing the arm that wraps around you. 

“Careful.”

“Thanks.” You finally look up and see Calum. Half of the fake mustache is gone and his hair is slicked back. “Looks, uh, like you lost part of yourself there, Cal.” You reach up and peel off the other end of the mustache. 

“Oh,” his brows furrow and his gaze casts down as if he could actually see the missing piece. He chuckles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t have to apologize to me.” You slip out of his gaze just a little. “Who’s your partner?” It’s only as the question leaves your lips do yo start to take in his suit, and the bow tie. 

“They haven’t--”

“Me,” you answer interrupting the thought. 

“What?”

“You’re dressed as Gomez.” You wave over yourself, twirling a little in the black dress. “I’m Morticia.” Your heart races. You’re Calum’s other half. Oh shit. How did Michael know? He sent you an email with specifcs for your costume. But how did Michael know. You hadn’t told him a thing. You weren’t that obvious were you?

“Morticia?” Calum’s still not processing, not the characters at least. And he’s definitely not processing that his guess was right. He knew Michael was up to something. Just not this. Not really making you his partner.

“Addams Family.” You sing a bit of the theme song, in the hopes that it finally clicks for Calum. But he seems floored--gone even. “Hey, uh, is everything alright?”

He nods. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. It just-just took me a second.”

You nod in return. “You look good though, Gomez.” 

Calum chuckles, kicking at the ground just a little. “You-you look really great by the way.” Calum’s quick to cut in, glancing up and reaching for your elbow. “I mean it. Really you look great.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you want a drink? By chance?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You follow behind Calum back through the house and into the kitchen. The drink isn’t too heavy of a pour and you hang out in the kitchen a while, laughing as Calum recounts some story that you’re almost sure you’ve heard before but you can’t quite be sure so you just listen as he tells it. 

You suggest a dance as you down the the last of your drink. Calum hugs close to his drink, pressing into the counter. “Too shy? Or tuckered out?”

“I’m-I can’t dance. You know that.”

“Oh I’m not asking you to join Dancing With The Stars. Just dance with me please?”

He knows he can’t say no to you. With a nod, he downs the rest of his cup and follows behind you back outside. He doesn’t know how many songs the two of you dance to. It could be three, it could be forty--he doesn’t keep track at all. All he does know is that you laugh at every misstep of his and it sounds like magic in his ears. 

There’s a pause or two for drinks here and there. And maybe it’s just the buzzing of his head that finally cuts through the fog and tells him that who gives a fuck if it’s the right time. And you’re laughing, head thrown back just slightly leaning into his chest as you recount the fiasco of trying to find the right dress for this costume. The kitchen is empty, or maybe it’s full and Calum’s only paying attention to you. 

“Can I kiss you?” Calum asks, his brows are furrowed and his tongue wets his lips quickly. 

Your breath hitches as he hand cups your cheek. “Huh?”

“Can-can I kiss you? And you can totally say no. But-I-please?” The words aren’t coming out right and he’d almost be annoyed with himself but you stretch forward, lips pressing into his and words don’t matter. 

You kissing him, like actually kissing him and you can taste booze. But underneath that, what floats into your sense is the smell of his cologne. What buzzes your skin is the fact that he asked. Sure it was in the middle of your story, but you’ve been craving it since you noticed Calum in the fucking suit. 

And truth be told even though you had gone on dates and some went places you had always wanted to press your luck with Calum. But he always seemed busy or like his focus was on something different and you didn’t think you actually had a shot. But you still wanted to press. 

And now you’re pressed against the edge of counter in the kitchen. Your hands cup his face as a soft moan escapes you that Calum swallows. “There are bedrooms for this. Just not in my house,” Michael laughs, slamming down another 12 pack of coke onto the counter next to them. “Just not in my house.”

The two of you blush, but are slow to pull apart. “I was just waiting for another Coke,” you tease, your red manicured nails popping open a can. You offer a sip to Calum who takes it, smiling too as the stupid antic. 

“Refreshing, don’t you think?” Calum asks. 

[thewayofthetrashcompactor]

Winter Holiday Prompts

I’ve been trying to find a holiday prompt list, but didn’t find any where I wanted to write most of them, so I ended up cobbling a few together and making my own. List has 50 prompts mixed from here, here, here, here, here, here, and here, plus my own additions.

Send me a prompt or an emoji + a number and I’ll do my best to write a short fic! 

🌿 Deck the Halls 🌿

What no I have no idea how mistletoe got under every doorway in our house...but since it’s there we should really honor the tradition

Yes you look like a movie star with your tinsel boa but i think it suits me better so ha

I love you but your christmas ornaments are weird, we’re not putting those on the tree

You’re gonna fall off the roof if you try hanging lights with that ladder

Yes, I know it’s a 6 foot door and this tree is at least 8 ft but i’m not asking for advice I'm asking for help

🌲 Rocking Around the Christmas Tree 🌲

Our christmas party turned into a tropical theme because the radiator is broken and it’s hotter than hell in here - damn you look good without a shirt

I came to my friend’s family holiday party as their fake date but have just definitely spotted my soulmate over by the green beans

I was really looking forward to this holiday party bc my crush was supposed to be here but they've just introduced me to their date

I already told you i don’t like ugly christmas sweater parties because everyone just wears one that’s vaguely cute anyways so what’s the point and wHAT THE FUCK IS THAT I’VE ACTUALLY NEVER SEEN A SWEATER THAT UGLY WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S PART OF A MATCHING SET

🎁 All I Want for Christmas is Youuu 🎁

I got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years

I have a crush on you and we turned out to be secret santas and oh no you put a lot of effort into your gift and mine is garbage so I better make it up to you after work 

I mixed up my wrapped presents and accidentally gave you a suggestive gift but you’re into it so I’m just gonna go with it 

You asked me what I wanted for christmas and I was feeling really sarcastic so I said “a unicorn” and you actually went out and got me a stuffed unicorn

We’re in line absurdly early for black friday and both intend to buy the same item

I/MY MOM KNITTED YOU A SWEATER

🔔 Jingle Bell Rock 🔔

We’re going ice skating for the first time this year and it’s pretty obvious that you’re secretly an olympic figure skater or something how the hell are you so graceful, I can barely stand

let’s go walk around and look at all the lights and stuff

PULLING YOU IN FOR A KISS WITH A SCARF

I should probably be at home sleeping off this terrible cold but there's so much to do for the holidays, no I don't need your help

The nye countdown has begun uh oh it’s my platonic bff conveniently within kissing distance

I broke my ankle slipping on ice but hey at least the ER nurse is cute

Snowman/gingerbread house/tree decorating competition aka why can’t I be less competitive

💚 You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch 💚

Yes I know it’s almost christmas no that doesn’t mean you should watch every movie with snow in it seriously i can hear you singing along to love is an open door in front of my room and this needs to stop

We’re the only people in this movie theater on christmas eve; what’s your excuse

Actor that hates christmas gets cast in hallmark movies and they really need the paycheck

It’s not yet thanksgiving you’re not allowed to play christmas music until at least december 1st 

If I hear that same terrible cover of a christmas song one more time, I’m going to stab someone

No, I’m not helping at this party willingly, what was your first clue?

How am I not the only one in the ER for getting in a fight just before Christmas

I just loudly announced that santa isn’t real and turned around and there’s an entire group of children looking like they might cry and their teacher/chaperone looks murderous but also slightly entertained

You accidentally got in the middle of my very mature snowball fight with my adult friends, pls don’t sue us

🌰 Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire 🌰

I know we've never talked even though we're neighbors but my oven broke and people are coming in an hour, can I bake this in yours?

Hi we’re neighbours and omg are you alright i could smell cooking burning - whoaaa step aside i’ll handle this

Someone ate my advent chocolate for today, and when I find out who it was, they will suffer

stop eating the popcorn you little shit, i can’t make caramel popcorn balls with just caramel

I'm making christmas cookies sTOP SNEAKING IN HERE TO EAT THE DOUGH OR I’LL SMACK YOU WITH A SPOON

If you try stealing the whipped cream off of my hot chocolate again i swear i will stab you with a candy cane

Barista + person who unironically orders specialty holiday drinks that are 90000% sugar 

Food delivery person  + person who ordered food on NYE in pajamas

❄ No Place Like Home for the Holidays ❄

You're a rich asshole who only flies first class but the airline messed up and you have to bear the indignity of coach if you wanna get home by christmas and I’m very amused in the seat next to you

I know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside

We’re strictly ‘platonic’ but we’re snowed in omg we’re gonna have to repopulate the earth

I slipped on ice outside your house and you ran out barefoot to help me quick let’s get inside under a blanket

I know it’s supposed to be romantic to be snowed in but literally all I have in my apartment is pop tarts

I'm RA-ing over the holiday and this is the 3rd time in 2 days you've been locked out of your room and i can't tell if you're trying to make a move or if your life is genuinely this out of control

There’s a storm and omg I’m losing signal are you okay?? hold on let me drive 489432 miles to get you the night before christmas

My car broke down on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere and you're the only one who's answering their phone

You said you were coming over but it's been a while and you haven't shown up and the snow is getting heavy and I'm starting to panic

My flight got delayed and I'm taking selfies to send to the fam about how annoyed I am and I just realized you're photobombing all of them; can I help you?? 

Living the nyc dream is nice but it also means I can't fly back west for the holidays and I'm moody about it and literally WHOMST is playing christmas music let me sulk in peace

[not-another-imagine-blog]

New Traditions (David Pastrnak)

Anonymous said:

Can you pls do a David Pastrnak Imagine please! Just pure fluff I need some fluff in my life rn lmao maybe something Christmas related too? Either way I’m good! Thank you so much doll! Xoxo

Word count: 1526

Author’s note: I love Christmas/holiday season so much you have no idea. Please send me all of your holiday imagine requests so I can cry into my mug of hot cocoa while writing these and watching endless amounts of Christmas movies. 

“What do you mean you’ve never had a real Christmas tree before?” You shrug, shooting David an amused look. Your conversation had taken an unexpected turn when David graciously picked you up from class. As the car was passing TD Garden, you and David both said how pretty the tree looked, with you mentioning that you wish you had had a real Christmas tree growing up, This, in turn, caused David to look at you in astonishment.

“We moved around a lot when I was growing up. It was just easier to have a fake tree that we could take with us anywhere.” David huffs and taps his fingers on the wheel. Glancing at him, you see a gleam in his eyes that you only ever see when he has an idea.

“What?” You question. David smiles slightly and hums in response.

“Nothing. Just thinking about your deprived childhood.” You jokingly scoff and lightly hit David’s arm.

“I did not have a deprived childhood! We still celebrated Christmas, just with a tree that we could take down and put away in a nice little box.”

“It’s the experience of the actual Christmas tree. It’s going out and finding that perfect tree, getting to chop it down, smelling the fresh pine…” David trails off, basking in the nostalgia of childhood holidays.

“I’ll just take your word for it.” You’re both silent for a few minutes, each wrapped up in your own thoughts.

“I’m just saying, we are living together now. Why not start our own holiday traditions?” David suggests. You nod, but can’t help being the pessimist in this situation.

“If we could ever find time where we’re both together for more than a couple of hours, then I’d love to do that. The holidays just fall during such a busy time for both of us. You guys are on Canadian or West Coast road trips and I have finals.” You point out. David bites his bottom lip, thinking.

“I’ll figure something out. Just you wait, (Y/N).”

You forget about your car conversation as the next couple of weeks pass by in a blur of busy work, attempting to schedule a flight home for Christmas and supporting David and the Bruins as they embark on a win streak. Eventually, a free Sunday rolls around where you can sleep in past 8 in the morning. Instead, you get to sleep in until 9 before David is gently shaking you awake.

“Wake up, miláček! I have a surprise for you!” You groan and throw an arm over your eyes, not wanting to wake up yet.

“Is it more sleep?” You mumble, trying your hardest to block out the sunlight. David chuckles and pulls your arm away from your face, his smile flooding your vision.

“I think it’s something better than sleep.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoff, reluctantly sitting up in bed to see David already dressed. “What time did you wake up?” You ask, David looking too wide awake to have just gotten up. David shrugs.

“7 or so. I wanted to get a workout in this morning.”

“God, you’re too much of a morning person. It’s kind of nauseating, actually.” You joke.

“Nauseatingly endearing?” David suggests. He grabs your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “Now come on, get up. You don’t want to miss your surprise.” You finally haul yourself out of bed and head towards your closet. “Wear something warm!”

“Is it a puppy?”

“No, it’s not a puppy.”

“Is it pizza?”

“Why would I be driving us to surprise you with pizza?”

“Wishful thinking?” From the minute that David had started the car, you had been trying to guess what his surprise was. You had no clue where you were going and you were starting to run out of ideas.

“A giant tarantula?” You guess jokingly. David laughs and snaps his fingers together.

“Damn, you finally figured it out!” He plays along.

“I knew it!” You know that you’re probably going to push your luck with your next question, but you dive in anyways. “So, are we there yet?” David quickly glances at you, removing a hand from the wheel and grabbing yours as he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Five minutes. Relax, (Y/N), you’re going to love it.” You let out a long breath and lean back in your seat, resigning yourself to silence as you look out the window at the trees passing you by. Finally, there’s a sign that alerts you to your location.

“A Christmas tree farm?” You ask excitedly, lips pressed tightly together to contain your smile. Still, David can’t help but to laugh at your expression as you crane your neck, attempting to get a glimpse of all the spruce trees.

“I figured this could be one of our traditions. Instead of going to some lot of trees that are already chopped down, we can find our own tree that’s perfect for us.” You close your eyes in an attempt to stop tears from leaking, not quite sure how you got so lucky with David.

“David, this is the greatest surprise ever.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “I can’t believe you would do all this for me; I really don’t know what to say.”

“I know my English isn’t the best, but I think you start with ‘thank you?’” David gives you a cheeky smile as you kiss him.

“Thank you, babe. So, so much.” David smiles at you one more time before you both open your doors, David jogging around to your side so that he can lead you through the mini forest.

“It smells so nice out here.” You comment as you smell the sweet sap from the trees coupled with the fresh air.

“Something you missed out on with your fake tree.” David points out. You both grab passes and start walking through the trees, trying to find the perfect one for your apartment. It turns out that, although both of your picky personalities clash with most things, picking out a tree together works out good. You both like and dislike the same trees, systematically looking at them one by one.

“What about this one, babe? It’s not too big, and the needles won’t fall off too terribly.” You suggest, turning to look at David. David, though, isn’t in the spot that he previously was. Instead, you turn in a circle, attempting to find your boyfriend. You’re almost at a loss when you catch a flash of yellow through the trees: David’s coat. You laugh at your boyfriend’s playfulness as you sneak towards the tree he’s hiding behind.

“Found you!” You shout, jumping to the other side of the tree. David groans at being found as you jump on his back, his arms immediately wrapping around your thighs.

“How did you see me?” He complains.

“You shouldn’t wear a bright yellow coat.” You say smugly. David grabs you from his back and places you on your feet in front of him, his arms finding his way around your waist.

“Well, you found me, so you should get a prize.” You smirk, your arms going to his broad shoulders.

“And what do you suggest?” David doesn’t respond with words, choosing instead to capture your lips with his. The kiss is soft and sweet, yet strong at the same time, which is David to a tee. Eventually, you have to pull away, smiling softly at David.

“So? What do you think about the tree?” David walks towards the tree you had found earlier, inspecting it.

“It looks great, miláček. Let’s find someone to cut it down for us!”

Picking out the tree was fun, but you have to say that your favorite part of this new tradition involves what happens afterwards. Christmas music softly plays through the living room as you and David meticulously decorate the tree with ornaments you had picked up from Target on the way home. Snow is falling softly outside the window, creating an almost picturesque scene. Eventually the tree is to both of your likings and you get ready for the reveal. David turns the tree on right as you turn the lights off, the twinkling strands casting the room in a festively soft glow. You and David find your way to the couch, where there’s mugs of coffee waiting for you. You curl up next to David, who slings an arm around you and pulls you closer. There’s no talking, but the silence is welcome; you both take in this perfect moment before you, the creation of your new little family.

“Babe?” You say, eventually breaking the silence. David responds with a hum, looking down at you and motioning for you to continue. “The league breaks for Christmas, right?”

“24th through the 26th.” You think for a moment, not sure how your suggestion will be taken.

“I know that you’re sad you can’t go home for Christmas, so...would you want to come home with me for Christmas?” David smiles widely and nods, all the confirmation you need that these new traditions are going to last for many years to come.

[annieedisonfriendofellen]

pls do my smiley girl Vanessa!

I am so so sorry this took me so long to get to!!!! I had a response all ready to post and then my internet went whack and deleted everything I wrote :/ and since then I’ve been crazy busy with school and volunteering and trying to get enough sleep. Anyway:

Hoo boy Vanessa Bayer is a smiley ray of sunshine and she lights up my life

I have to thank my friend Riley for making me a huge fan of Vanessa (and for getting me into SNL in general) because he once told me his favorite cast members are Kate and Vanessa and made me watch the og High School Theatre Show sketch where Vanessa plays the parent in the audience and the Baby Shower/THE CUT sketch where V is one of the moms. I found both of those sketches to be hilarious and we had a bonfire last summer that just became a “let’s quote these two sketches in particular.” She’s so funny in both her low-key satirical humor and her ridiculous over-the-top stuff. She seems like she’d be so fun to work with and also a great friend to get dinner with or drink wine and watch TV. Basically everything she does is wonderful so here are just a few of my favorite sketches she’s done/characters she’s played/Vanessa-isms:

1) Jacob the Bar Mitzvah Boy: definitely my favorite weekend update character that Vanessa plays. Vanessa said in an interview that Jacob is basically all of the awkward parts of her squished together into a 13-year-old Jewish boy. She embodies the awkward middle school boy SO well that I nearly forget it’s Vanessa, and all of my jewish friends are/were 100% this kid at some point in their youth. I’m not Jewish but I was raised catholic which I would say is kind of like being an orthodox jew in the how we (generally) take our customs very seriously and follow our readings more closely than protestants (no hate on protestants y’all just saying I draw more connections between jews and catholics than jews and any other christian denomination) so I kind of feel like I was Jacob whenever I explained the catholic stuff I had to do to my friends

2) all of her mom/wife characters: Vanessa has a real knack for playing white suburban moms/wives/women in all of their stereotypical glory. My absolute favorite one that she plays is Gene’s Wife (from the Gemma dinner date sketches with Kenan and Cecily and guests The Rock and Benedict Cumberbatch) because she is the epitome of white wives on TV sitcoms. Like have you ever seen a Disney Channel show? All of the mom characters are these cheesy women with weird inflections that make jokes and little jabs at their husbands, but are completely over their husbands’ flaws as soon as the husbands point out why their flaws are a good thing (does that make sense? it’s like the wives are endlessly forgiving and the jabs are just there for comic relief, or possibly to provide some “tension” within the couple). And I just think Vanessa really nails it. I love making fun of the stereotypical white woman because I am, in some ways, a stereotypical white woman and I agree that I do some dumb fake shit now and then and it’s super obvious to everyone around me

3) when she talks about her cancer: this may seem like a weird thing to include  but this is kind of a personal connection so I’m going to talk about it anyway. Vanessa has said in interviews that she got into comedy because she and her friends would make jokes about her cancer when she was a teenager and it helped her get through it. I don’t have cancer but I DO have anxiety and, while I realize these aren’t the same things at all, part of the reason I got into comedy and performing in general is because it has helped with my anxiety, especially when I get validation from people in the form of applause or laughter or even a smile. And even more so, joking about my anxiety with my friends has helped me a lot in that it kind of normalizes it and makes it less weird to talk about panic attacks and therapy and whatever else I’m dealing with. I realized when I was pretty young that my love for performing is related to my anxiety and I think for a long time I believed it was weird for publicizing and joking about my issues to be helpful, hearing vanessa talk about how cancer boosted her love of comedy made me feel better about having this dark part of me connect to one of my brightest parts

4) Office Christmas Party: I saw this with some friends from high school (including the aforementioned Riley) over winter break and I thought it was pretty good, like obviously it wasn’t a cinematic masterpiece because most party movies aren’t (unless we’re talking about Sisters bc that movie is my shit) but I thought it was good overall and funny and had some good subplots. I know a lot of the SNL fandom was really focused on how ridiculous and goofy Kate’s character was and my friends kept pointing at the screen and saying “leah that’s so you” whenever Mary, Head of HR made an appearance, but I was personally more interested in Vanessa’s character and storyline. This is jprobably because every time I go to a party (which is rare and really only in the summer) I always think to myself “tonight could be the night I fall in love!!!!” and I end up flirting hardcore with someone and then it never goes anywhere so I just felt very connected to Allison bc she is me in all large social settings

5) Vanessa’s parts in SNL music videos: to be fair, I love all parts of all snl music videos because I think they are just packed with so much genius, but I really really love Vanessa’s part in Back Home Ballers when she raps: “Once everyone’s in bed I go insane/heroine, marijuana crack cocaine/are not what I want, I want cheese on chips/and to put on some very old crest white strips” because again I just hear it and I’m like ME like I could go out with my friends and party or whatever because my parents would never expect me to do anything like that but of course I just stay home and watch netflix and see what kind of meal I can make myself with whatever is left in the house. Also in Crucible Cast Party and Do It on my Twin Bed when Vanessa tries to be sexy it just cracks me up because you can tell she is seriously trying but I’m just so used to seeing her be a goof or like super virginal that the sexiness doesn’t come through for me

6) her Rachel Green impression: this is probably most people’s favorite Vanessa thing and honestly I can see why. I’ve been watching Friends on and off for years since it’s usually on Nickelodeon from 11 pm to 1 am, so I would just watch it when I could and like a lot of people I was a huge fan of rachel (that has changed in some ways since I watched it more regularly but that’s not the point). Until I saw Vanessa do weekend update, it didn’t even occur to me that Rachel is freaking annoying. Like there are still a lot of things I love about her but her speech pattern is just phrases!!! Lots and lots of brief phrases that rarely form a whole sentence unless she is a doing a dramatic monologue!!!!!! And that is just annoying to listen to!!! However watching Vanessa do that impression along with her other impressions of Friends characters has helped me to pay more attention to speech patterns of characters and real people so that I can improve my own impressions so thank you Vanessa more making that so clear for me

7) the fact that she writes sketches where she can make out with the host: so I don’t actually know how much of this is Vanessa’s idea this is, but Aidy said in an interview that Vanessa would get a mock election award for writing sketches where she gets to kiss a hot host so I’d assume Vanessa does in fact write these. For those of you who don’t know, Vanessa has made out with Ryan Gosling, Chris Pratt, and Kristen Stewart in sketches (Santa Baby, Kissing Video Game Characters, and Totinos, respectively) and it’s always HILARIOUS. All of these sketches bring sexuality to an otherwise non-sexual situation, and it’s so awkward and uncomfortable but at the same time we’re all jealous of her getting to kiss such hot people. The kissing shtick, especially sloppy kissing, always gets me on snl as it’s usually weird and unexpected and as a performer I assume it’s super fun/terrifying for the cast members

I’m going to end this here because it ended up being super long but thank you for the message! I love talking about people I adore and everything that makes them so great :)

If you want me to do this for another SNL cast member, send me an ask here!!