#sorry if i reblog it twice but this is an excellent point

[mel-the-fangirl]

The Escort

Walter Marshall x Reader

Words: 2,064

Warnings: none

Happy super late Valentine’s, Cavillry! As usual, this is a very very late upload but in my defense, it does say in my bio that I am a procrastinator soooo... Anyway, I’m really excited about this miniseries because I love the movie (The Wedding Date, 2005) and I really wanted to write Walter, I hope I do him justice!

Feedback (good and bad!) means the world to me as rookie writer, so I hope you’ll like, reblog and leave me some replies!

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You could not believe you were doing this. You just couldn't. But there you were doing it, even though your mind screeched at you to stop and save a little dignity for yourself.

The fact that you even considered doing this was already a serious loss of dignity points, so what the hell. People did this all the time, didn’t they? There wouldn’t be a whole network of people clumped into this app if it wasn’t a normal occurrence.

It just wasn’t a normal occurrence for you.

Once you filled your head with rationalisations to make yourself feel better, you took a deep breath and began browsing through what the great city of New York had to offer.

Z, 6’, loving hands, fit, athletic, good manners, for water sports, caramel complexion.

For water sports? What in the hell did that mean? And that single initial in place of an actual name? Serial killer vibes. No, thank you.

Lenny, 6’2”, pretty fit Italian, excellent dinner companion, all occasions catered.

Alright. Okay. Now we’re talking. Tall, European, excellent dinner companion equals to good conversationalist, accommodating. Lenny goes on the list of possibilities.

Terry, 6’, my soft voice will arouse you, my strong hands will pleasure you,  let me show you how a woman should be treated, hourly/overnight rates.

Oh no no no. Major creep vibes from Terry. That ad alone had you reaching for another long swig of wine.

Joey, 5’8”, are you into champagne?, bodybuilder, will treat you like a queen.

“If you like piña coladas…” you sang in not even remotely the right key, topping off your drink

Josh, 5’9”, I can make you feel sexy and wanted. Fit, sensual, strong.

“Well!” you exclaimed drunkenly, almost spilling wine on your couch, “Tough beans, Josh! I don’t need a man to make me feel sexy and wanted!” you faltered a bit, your drunk mind still seeing the holes in your logic

“I just… Need a man to help me not look like a tragic spinster in front of my family and my ex...”

With that thought fresh in your mind, you reached for some more wine.

The ads went on and on as you scrolled through your phone, it was all a little overwhelming, how were you going to make sure you weren't hiring some psychopathic serial killing pervert to pose as your date to your sister's wedding?

The groan you let out bounced off the walls of your apartment. The reality of your situation was sinking in little by little. 

Yes. You were hiring a male escort for your sister's wedding. It was your baby sister's wedding, by the way. You were a hundred percent aware that what you were doing was completely and utterly pathetic but you’ve already weighed the pros and cons in your head countless times.

Showing up alone: pitying looks, whispering behind your back, having to face ex by yourself, staggering levels of embarrassment.

Showing up with handsome -hired- date: mother can finally get off your back, date is more handsome than ex, ex will want to shrivel up and die, no one will know date is male escort except you and him.

Now, let’s break down some of the guests just for the sake of being thorough. 

There’s your slightly overbearing mother (slightly meaning every call you have with her opens with the question: “how's your love life, dear?” or “I have the most amazing man to set you up with!”), all of her judgy eagle-eyed friends (mostly rich widows whose sons your mom shamelessly shoves your way), your extended family (some terrifyingly old school great aunts and uncles who will definitely ask if you’re married and smile sympathetically when you say you’re not), and last but certainly not the least, Jeffrey, your ex-fiancé (best man, but apparently not the best man for you, his words not yours).

"Lordy fuck." you exhaled hard, chugging your wine straight from the bottle

How on earth did you get here? Sitting alone in your apartment, working your way through your second bottle of wine (or third? Who was keeping count?), clicking on ads that spoke of "hot single males in your area" waiting to meet you.

Would it be fair to pin it all on the end of your engagement?

Picturing that moment, you decided that it was only fair. Those were five years of your life you would never get back, you were prepared to sign on for more but, yeah.

You were blindsided, that's the only way to describe it. All the while, you thought that you and Jeffrey were on the same page, at the same place in life. You were the golden couple, the couple that all the other couples wished they could be, when you two walked past, girlfriends would give their boyfriends a slap on the shoulder that meant, "Why can't we be more like them?"

It was so out of nowhere, one minute you were discussing wedding cake options over dinner, then suddenly you're putting the ring in his palm, completely in shock. 

After that, you threw yourself into your work despite the fact that you were already a budding workaholic to begin with. That's how you ended up earning six figures a year. 

Six figure salary, check. Doing pretty well in life all things considered, check.

But even with all that, there weren't any conversations over casseroles and cobblers about your many achievements. Nope, your mother and her friends would much rather discuss their worries that you would essentially, die alone.

Your little sister, Amy, getting married before you didn't exactly help to put a lid on all the chatter. And with Jeffrey being the best man? And you being maid of honour? 

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe you could make up an excuse believable enough to get you off the hook so you wouldn’t have to go?

Were you really thinking about bailing on your little sister’s wedding? If she wasn’t taking cues from your mother, it would be the only one she ever had.

Not one of your finest moments as a sibling.

With the complications of your situation fully realised, you took to reading the ads with a little more effort. Luckily, you didn’t have to look for long.

Nick, 6’, male, tall, good looking, strong build. You will not be disappointed.

The ad was considerably less flashy than the others but you supposed that’s what drew you to it in the first place. It was understated, simple, and his ad wasn’t entirely made up of overcompensating flexing pics.

Mostly because he didn’t need them.

Call off the search, send the boys home. You had a winner here!

Staring up at you from your phone screen was the most handsome man you have ever seen in your life. Literally.

A mane of thick, artfully disheveled curly hair, eyes that were a light shade of blue that had a sort of dark intensity and intelligence that you could spend days trying to understand, and a smile. Oh, that smile was absolutely suckerpunching. It was odd though, something in your head was telling you that this man did not smile often.

You couldn’t tell if the warmth blooming in your chest and creeping towards your cheeks was from all the wine or from examining this prime specimen. Jeez Louise!

“Phew!” you fanned yourself upon stumbling on a photo of him crossing his arms in a tank top. Good God, you hoped he had a license for those guns!

You had to set your phone down for a minute to think things through although it seemed absolutely nuts that you had to think twice at all. It’s just that after the initial excitement and hormones wore off, it was becoming more and more evident that this man was too good to be true.

Just look at him! Were there actually men that looked like that? And why didn’t they live closer to you? A quick sweep of his profile placed him in Minneapolis.

What were the crime rates like there? And did they have a high rate of murders relating to escort services?

Before you could even google anything related to that, you stopped yourself. If you kept at this rate, you would never get anything done! Finally, after a methodical deliberation (aka ogling the pictures on his ad), you saved Nick’s contact number to your phone.

Aaand that’s as far as you’d go for the night. You could call him tomorrow when you weren’t a floundering drunk. It was like your mother always said, “Always be sober for a business transaction, but anything else calls for a cocktail.”

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

The following morning, you sat at your little breakfast nook, eggs still piping hot and untouched, and a hangover in full effect. You’ve been staring at the phone number for so long, you could say it in your sleep.

Come on, Y/N, the wedding is five freaking days away.

What if this guy was fully booked? You didn’t want to spend five days surrounded by family with Mr. my-soft-voice-will-arouse-you, did you?

You slammed your finger down on the call icon and stuck the phone to your ear. Your heart beat faster and faster with every ring and your palms became so slick with sweat that you almost dropped your phone a couple of times. 

Maybe you should have taken your mother up on the multiple occasions that she wanted to set you up with someone. Alright, on second thought, you didn’t really want to be with someone who only looked good on paper but was actually an insufferable mama’s boy.

“Hello?” a male voice answered, catching you off-guard

Oh, God. Okay, you’re really doing this.

“Yes, hi! Hi. Uh, I’m looking for Nick!” you chirped, in a startled high pitched squeak you didn’t dare recognise as your own

The silence on the other end was starting to make you sweat behind the knees. It suddenly dawned on you that you didn’t mention any specifics.

“Uh, sorry! I got this number from the, uh, the ad. I’m looking for Nick?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s right, but Nick isn’t in right now. This is his manager.”

Was that a good sign? That a male escort had a manager? Did all male escorts have managers? You clearly didn’t know enough about this stuff.

“It’s a pleasure, Mister..?”

There was another beat of silence before the person on the other line answered, you tried your hardest not to overthink about what that could have meant.

“Foley! I’m Foley, Nick’s manager.” Mr. Foley’s voice returned to your ear, sounding much too bright for your liking. 

Christ, what were you, a cop? To be honest, you were exhausted. Despite all the alcohol in your system last night, you barely got any sleep. You spent the rest of the night reading through some reviews of Nick’s service as an escort.

He had a glittering five star rating.

One woman hired him to pose as her husband at a high school reunion and by the end of the night, she ended up proposing to him. He respectfully declined and even bought her dinner afterwards.

That review alone was enough to convince you that you would be in good hands. So, it was time to buckle down, swallow the nerves, and handle your business like the adult you were.

“Mr. Foley,” you shook your hair out and put on your professional voice. “I’d like to book your client for five days, give or take. I need a plus one for a wedding. Is he available to leave on the-”

“Please hold. I’ll check his schedule.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mention when I-”

“He’s available. Would you prefer to pick him up at JFK or will he meet you at your place of residence?”

“Oh. Uh, I guess I could pick him up. Do I pay for his ticket or..?” you were feeling a teensy bit of whiplash at how fast this was all going

There was some rustling on the other line and the muffled sounds of bickering. You tried not to let that concern you.

“We’ll handle that, Ms. Y/L/N. We have your number, we’ll be in touch for further details. Good bye.”

The line went dead and you were left staring at your phone in confusion. Did you tell him your name?

[alirhi]

Loki ranting

Okay. I had this thought in my head of like just compiling links of all the Loki shit I've posted/reblogged so far so that when I get into a conversation about the show and how it fucking disgusted me, I can just be like "here. here's this masterlist post, go read all this shit. This is my entire argument, and not only mine, but a lot of stuff posted by people far more intelligent and level-headed and eloquent than I am, whom I happen to agree with." Because the alternative is constantly getting fired up all over again, and that is exhausting.

BUT! I'm stupid and don't know how tumblr works. Apparently I can't just be like "give me all the Loki-tagged shit I've got" I can only search all the Loki-tagged shit on all of tumblr. And I'm not scrolling back through all of my posts. I talk too fucking much for that shit 😂

So, I'll try to remember all of my grievances with how the MCU has treated Loki, and all of the excellent posts made by other, equally upset fans, and put it all together here under this nice, neat little cut for everyone else's sanity and scrolling convenience...

For people who actually read my shit fairly regularly - bless you, you crazy, patient people. I love you! - this is going to be a lot of repetition of shit you've already read. Probably at least twice. I'm passionate and I have a terrible memory lol. Sorry.

Anyway, first, for those who don't know me and haven't been following my explosions of rage for the past couple of months, some quick background: I do not read comic books, so Loki's Marvel comic canon means nothing to me. I know almost nothing about it. The reason I'm so in love with the character in the MCU is because I am an eclectic witch and the deity I've actively loved and worshiped the longest in my life (literally for as long as I can remember) is Loki. So when he was mentioned in The Mask, I squeed. When they named Matt Damon's character after him in Dogma, I cheered.

When Thor came out in 2011, I just about died from happiness. I was hungry for any representation of this underappreciated god, no matter what it was. I didn't even bitch about how underpowered he was, because at least he was there. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself.

I can hear anyone reading this going "Why Loki? Isn't he, like, evil? Like basically the Norse version of The Devil?" Because I heard all this shit irl all the fucking time. And no. So let me give you a quick rundown of who Loki actually is.

Loki is a Trickster God. He's often referred to as the God of Mischief. He is not and never was evil, simply chaotic and hedonistic. Loki Laufeyjarson was the son of Laufey (that's mama; they changed her to a man for some reason in the movie) and Fárbauti. Right from the start, from his name, we get a sign of how Loki goes against traditional norms of the time, because in Norse culture, families were patrilineal, and surnames were "son/daughter of father" (which would have made him Loki Fárbautitason), not the mother. But Loki's surname is matrilineal. Feminist icon woo! lol

Though he's a Jotunn, Loki is counted among the Gods (Aesir) in Norse tradition. Depending on his mood, he is alternately helpful or disruptive to the other Gods. I'm not gonna sit and teach a whole text class on him lol but I'll use my favorite example of Misunderstood Loki - the conception of Sleipnir!

So, get this shit. This is also part of why I DO NOT follow Odin and never fucking will (a very small part, but still part of the reason). So, the other Norse Gods are petty motherfuckers, and they wanted some shit built but didn't want to pay the dude doing the building. So they were like "okay, if you can get it done in X amount of time, we'll pay you, but if you can't manage it NO MATTER WHAT, this whole thing is free." And they made sure he had NO help, nothing but him, his materials, and his Very Good Horsey. And this guy and his horse were fucking BAMFs. So it was looking like he was definitely gonna get it done in time, and Odin was like "nah, fuck that shit. I'm cheap." and so he sent Loki to distract the work horse. Loki transformed into a mare and lured the horse away, got fucked, got pregnant, gave birth to the 8-legged (for some reason) horse Sleipnir. Odin rides Loki's son into battle. Um. Kay.

So Loki helped Odin be a petty mf, and Odin got himself a new pet out of the deal.

Oh, also, because he's smart af and a shapeshifter and a master magician and genderfluid, Loki "fails" to fit the super fucking toxic and narrow Norse/Aesir view of "a real man". He prefers intelligence and manipulation to solve problems rather than violence, he's not afraid to behave like a clown if it gets shit done, and that grosses the Aesir out, so they constantly ridicule him for being "less than a man".

Loki is the God of the outcast and the misunderstood. The marginalized people from all walks of life. He is the God of the LGBT community. In modern terms, he's pansexual, polyamorous (married to Sigyn and they are deeply in love, but boy gets around and I've never seen any indication that Sigyn gives a shit) and genderfluid.

Okay. Focus, Ali. This is part of why I usually post multiple rants instead of one big long one XD The longer I ramble, the more I get sidetracked and forget the original point.

So. Loki's awesome, and being a Trickster, is powerful as all fucking hell. There's not much he can't do.

And now we come to Thor (the movie, not the deity). Loki's there! 24-year-old Ali is spazzing! All is right with the world!

Oh lord, they've actually done him justice?! Amazing! He's complex and nuanced and emotional, just like the real Loki! I loved this movie. Loved. It. The climactic thing with trying to blow up Jotunheim never really made much sense to me until someone made an excellent point the other day about Loki being raised in a racist society that was racist against his own race, he just didn't know it yet, poor child. Baby Thor was never corrected when he pledged to commit mass genocide, so Baby Loki probably absorbed the lesson then that Jotunns=evil and killing them all will win his father's love. Anyway, 2011 Loki was a beautiful, heartbreaking portrayal of the God I've loved all my life and spent 24 years longing to see depicted on the big screen.

Then The Avengers happened. And I saw another Loki very close to Norse mythology - mainly, how he's treated. In the beginning of the movie, he's sick, exhausted, and in pain. He can hardly stand, he stumbles and needs help when he walks. He was very obviously tortured, and the sickly blue light of the scepter's control is in his eyes. That gets less and less pronounced as the movie goes on, showing Loki working his way free of it, but in the beginning, he's a mess. Because he was tortured and used by Thanos. Marvel directly confirmed this, and that he was under the scepter's/Mind Stone's control. Loki's actions are not his own in The Avengers. He's under both threat and Thanos' direct control. The movie actually shows The Other directly threatening him to keep him on task, because this is not Loki's plan. It is not what he wants. He's being used and villainized... Just like in real life. It hurt to see this done to him, but the accuracy was too beautiful to ignore.

Thor: The Dark World comes out. I've heard people complain that this movie is the weak link in the Thor trilogy. I disagree. I think that's Ragnarok, for a bunch of reasons, but we'll get there. (And for the record, I loved Ragnarok, too. It was a funny movie. Infinity War and the Disney+ series are the only portrayals of Loki in the MCU that I truly fucking hated.) Anyway, good, fun movie. Had its faults, as all movies do, but it still followed Loki's real-life arc in a way. How? By having Loki dragged back to Asgard in chains and imprisoned underground. Again, not super happy that this happened to my love, and having to see it on screen was painful, but at least in the MCU he's not chained to a rock with venom dripping on his face for eternity, so there's that. (poor Sigyn. how tired do her arms get, holding up that bowl? best wife ever, amirite?)

In TDW, we're shown Loki's love for Frigga, who favored him and taught him magic as a child. We see his bravado; his attempts to mask his true feelings, especially grief. We see him slowly coming back to himself after the events of The Avengers, and slowly mending his relationship with his brother. He accepts that Odin will likely never love him, but Thor just might, because they were close when they were young. "I didn't do it for him." No, no my sweet, you did it for your brother, and a little out of guilt for what happened to your mother.

At the end, Loki fakes his death and escapes, taking the throne, and I have mixed feelings about this. Not the writer's choices here; I love that completely! A natural progression in Loki's story. But my joy is tainted by how closely they're following the Eddas now. Because Loki's escape from his prison heralds the beginning of Ragnarok. And Loki will die in Ragnarok. I don't want to see that play out in front of my face. I won't be able to handle the grief (spoiler alert! IW broke me. I almost walked out of the theater. Loki's death was legitimately fucking traumatic for me. I don't even care how pathetic that is. That grief was real, it was intense, and I still shake and cry when I think about it.)

Marvel announces that Thor 3 will be called Ragnarok. The internet treats this as a shocking revelation. I roll my eyes and mumble "duh" to myself and move on XD

Then they say Ragnarok will be a buddy comedy. I throw up a little in my mouth and no longer want to live on this planet. If they're going to make something called Ragnarok, could they at least treat it with even a fraction of the respect they've shown these characters thusfar? Jfc. I mean, I'll see it anyway, because I'm a whore for Tom Hiddleston lol. But come on, people!

I hated that they made Hel the long-lost older sister and Fenrir her fucking pet/attack dog. Those are my favorites of Loki's children! Hel is such an incredible badass that the early Christians named their dimension of eternal torture after her! They were terrified of her, to the point of naming the place that terrified them most after her. That's awesome! And Fenrir's just the best. I love wolves. Those two details, and Odin's retcon of "we're not Gods! ...lol, except your sister. she's totally a Goddess. and def gonna kill literally everything, so... good luck! byyyeeeee" pissed me off royally.

The rest was great. I genuinely liked this movie. Still do. And they finally used The Immigrant Song! That was pretty cool. If they'd thrown in Bring the Hammer Down and Thunderstruck, I might've called this movie perfect. XD

I wasn't totally in love with their portrayal of Loki in Ragnarok. Yes, the falling for 30 minutes line was funny, as was "I have to get off this planet" and "YES! That's how it feels!" And "Get Help" was funny as hell. But also, like... There is no way Loki would have been the dumb one in that first encounter with Hela. Also, he can teleport and project copies of himself and shit, so... He would not have been that desperate to go straight back to Asgard and bring her right along with them. Loki's not stupid. But whatever. Movie's gotta movie.

What I did love was seeing the slow mending of his relationship with Thor continuing, and the badass fighting on the bridge. I also loved that, like Real Loki, Movie Loki helped when help was needed, was quick and clever, and while he was carrying out the main plan, he was also planning ahead and grabbing the Tesseract. Yes, that drew Thanos right to them, but that's a whole other thing. Loki never would have left that thing on Asgard to be destroyed or lost.

And now Infinity War. Hooooly fucking shit. You know what? No. I'm not going into this. He was killed, years of character growth were erased forever, my heart fucking shattered. The end.

Endgame. IW hurt me so bad I didn't see Endgame until this year. I actually watched Civil War first (for context: I had actively avoided all Cap movies until this year because I fucking hate Steve Rogers. I find him insufferable. Did not realize what I was denying myself until I watched CW and finally saw the charms of Bucky. When he appeared in IW, I was so lost. XD I was like "...who dis? Murder Jesus?" also I just... didn't care. I was numb by then from crying through most of the movie over Loki)

So, anyway. Endgame. Loki picks up the Tesseract in alternate 2012, escapes, fans go "yay! he didn't actually die!" I go "yes he fucking did. Five years of his life, gone. Five years of growth and change, erased. Loki is dead. This will not be the same."

I was more right than I could have predicted. Now we come to the point of this rant. Sorry it took so long, but you were warned lol.

The Loki series makes me so angry I actually get sick to my stomach. It was fucking TRASH. When I praised Marvel for following Norse mythology so faithfully earlier? Yeah. I DID NOT MEAN TREAT HIM THE WAY THE OTHER GODS DID. I did not mean paint him as a pitiful clown, a joke, a caricature of who he truly was, with his pain and suffering played for LAUGHS.

This is supposed to be 2012 Loki, newly freed from Thanos' control. The Loki we saw in the beginning of TDW - snarky, exhausted, nihilistic. The Loki who rolled his eyes and said "get on with it" expecting to be killed.

The bumbling clown flipping on a dime from posturing to calling himself weak is not 2012 Loki. That is not ANY Loki. That is Tom Hiddleston in a black wig doing what he's told by a shitty writer who had no fucking idea what he was doing and was salty about his (bad) original script (for something totally fucking unrelated) getting killed.

In Episode 1, Loki is mocked, imprisoned, stripped against his will, tormented, belittled, and given a flippant summary of all the trauma Actual MCU Loki suffered that this one skipped out on, with no context, no acknowledgement of the trauma he's already lived quite fucking recently, and with the narrative twisted to not only erase all the abuse he's suffered, but to make it all his fault. And this is supposed to make him want to help these people?

And worse, IT FUCKING WORKS. WHAT?! I CAN'T- FUCKING WHAT?! Remember when I said LOKI IS NOT FUCKING STUPID?! So why is he STUPID?

Episode 2, he's a child. Mentally, this Loki is a fucking child. Now we've erased all the growth and development of his entire adult life. He's dopey, impatient, impulsive, desperate for a pat on the back and actually shows it. Yes, abused and neglected children crave the positive attention we never received, and we often grow up to be a bit emotionally stunted. But not all of us, and not Loki. Not as we've seen him EVER in the rest of the MCU. Playful and a bit callous at times? Absolutely! But not a big dumb fucking puppy.

Episode 3, a ray of hope, despite Sylvie! (I hate Sylvie) Loki casually admits he's pan/bi; labels never come up, but he admits to being with both men and women! He sings! Not really relevant to whether I approve of his portrayal or not lol but Tom has a beautiful voice, Norwegian ("Asgardian" lol) is a gorgeous, entrancing language, and I could watch that one bit on loop for eternity and never get bored. And then, finally, we see a glimpse - a glimpse - of Loki's power! He stops a falling building and pushes it right back up! Are we finally getting to see what he can really do? Will the next episode bring us Loki in all his glory?

Nope. 4 and 5 we see him mocked and pushed around and utterly irrelevant. Again. We see tiny reflections of what he could maybe theoretically do in other random Loki variants, but the "main" (lawl. main. it was the Sylvie and Mobius show. Loki was never the main anything.) Loki? Nothing. He wears his heart on his sleeve for no reason, bonds with the man who imprisoned, taunted, and gaslit him, is killed, and continues to be a moron and a joke. Always the clown. Always the dumb one. The one with the bad ideas. The inferior Loki.

Don't even get me started on that finale. I can't. This already took so much out of me. Fuck Marvel. Fuck this fucking show. I just... I'm done.

[marvelousell]

The Agreement (Part 5.)

Pairing(s): frat boy!fwb!Tom x reader, frat boy!Harrison x reader

Summary: Tom is a typical frat boy, his love for partying, drinks and girls are bigger than his ego. Y/N is a whole different dimension, she keeps her circle small, and even though she knows her best friend Tom is a total douche, she can’t say no to the little deal that was sealed between the two of them.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: I really went with this one lol, I just can’t wait for more Haz in the next parts ngl 👀. Hope you like this andd I would appreciate it if you reblog, leave a comment, or send a feedback!❤️

My tag list is open for this series!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of alcohol

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Masterlist

“He is looking at you, and he has that smile on his face Y/N!” Anna whispered, laughing with you.

Oh this feeling. You missed it so much.

You would catch him staring, giving you a shy smile every now and then.

And there was Tom. Looking hot as always.

He was talking with him and Harry, laughing and drinking, eyeing almost every girl that passed next to them. Some of them were lucky, getting a hug and kiss on the cheek.

He caught you staring, sending you a quick wink.

Nice one Tom, totally original.

Focus Y/N. Tonight is definitely not about him.

“How did you end up together? Did he approach you first? What did he say? Or you? Or...”

“Okay, okay..breathe!” You chuckled at her excitement, happy to have a friend like her by your side.

“You don’t even know how much I would love this to happen!” She pointed at you and him, trying to look as calm as possible.

“I was in the kitchen getting your drink, and I really didn’t see him. He was getting a refill I suppose, so he started a conversation with me, and yeah..” You explained.

“He asked me if I wanted to go outside because the house was packed, and we just sat there and the chat went really smoothly. He is so sweet Anna.”

“I told you he was so your type! He is the most caring and warm-hearted person. He deserves you, and you absolutely deserve him.”

“We really clicked the day we met, and you know how much I like to talk, he listened to every single word. Every day. Especially when I was talking about you, so I thought this would be a great opportunity.” She began.

You didn’t feel that thrilled about a boy ever since Noah.

He really was the first boy that showed some interest in you. It was a nice 2 year relationship and friendship, however the spark just faded.

That’s what he said.

At least it wasn’t an ugly break up, full of screaming and bitter words.

But still it was your first heartbreak and you didn’t want to hear the lousy “we should stay friends” or “we are going to be in touch” sentence. So you just cut him out of your life, and it sure was a great decision after seeing him a few days after with a girl by his side.

“Y/N!!! Woah look at you! You’re having fun I see huh?” Amelia winked, tipsy already.

“How much did you drink Mel?” You giggled when she hugged you.

“Ya know not that much! But definitely enough to go talk to that blondie back there.”

“Good Mel, I’m glad you are having fun too.”

“I think it’s time that you strip and show that piece under your innocent dress babe.” Anna whispered, trying to coax you.

“Are you kidding me? In front of everyone? If you told me that half of the town would be here I wouldn’t even bother to put it on.”

“Oh please Y/N. Look everyone is already in their bikinis! Believe me you don’t have nothing to hide, only to show.” She smirked, tapping your bum twice.

“God. Okay. But I’m not doing this alone, you two are stripping also!” You said.

“Amelia sure forestalled you.” She laughed, looking at a now half naked and drunk Amelia that jumped in the pool.

“I just hope she will not pass out and end up puking in the car like last time.” You said, looking at her laughing and calling for you to join the party.

Sure why not.

You let your dress slide down your body, admiring the red bikini that was on full display now.

“Well holy moly, if he doesn’t want you I’m gonna take the opportunity.” Anna’s eyes went up and down, admiring your figure.

You were so engrossed in the conversation with Anna that you didn’t feel two pair of eyes staring at you.

“Holy shit.” Harrison muttered under his breath.

He was dumbfound. He couldn’t find the right words to describe how gorgeous you were.

Harrison was already struck by your inner beauty, this was just a bonus.

But he sure wasn’t the only one staring and admiring the girl near the pool.

Right behind him was Tom whose eyes were about to pop out of his eye sockets from the view.

He saw already much more than that, but he couldn’t look away.

The red bikini hugged your tits perfectly, your bum looking better than ever.

The scenes from the previous night were on his mind.

If he could, he would take you right there. In front of everybody.

Tom’s erection was getting more visible through his swimming trunks. The throbbing inside was driving him crazy.

“You ready to jump in mate?” Harrison’s voice broke his silent thoughts.

“Yeah, of course.” He said lowly, trying his best not to groan.

Tom thought that the refreshing pool water would help him to calm his hot mind.

He really needed you.

After all the deal said that you would help each other, isn’t that right?

However his plans to come and talk to you were ruined by his friend who was trying to keep you entertained.

“You call that entertainment? We will see what will you like more soon love.” He thought as he swam away, losing his patience now.

-

You were okay on your own, dipping your feet in the pool, waiting for Anna that dragged Amelia to the bathroom to pee.

You saw Harrison entering the pool again, sending you a small grin letting you know he would join you in a minute.

He presence was making you so nervous, but in a good way.

“Finally got some more time with you, Mel was killing me with the stories about this blonde dude that she met while spilling almost her whole drink on me.” He laughed, slicking his wet hair back.

“Tell me about that, Anna took her to the bathroom to pee. She is really wild tonight.”

He was in front of your legs, his crystal blue eyes were focused on yours.

“You know.. I really want to ask you something.” He began, swimming closer to your legs to rest his arm on top of your knees leaving a trail of goosebumps on your hot skin.

His cold and soft touch sent waves of pleasure through your body.

You could get used to this.

“Go on.”

“I really enjoyed the time we spent tonight, and I really want to do this more often if you would like that too. I mean I would like to take you out, you’re really lovely Y/N.” He reddened after the words slipped past his lips.

“Of course, I really had fun tonight thanks to you Harrison. I really like you.” You spoke back.

“The feeling is definitely mutual. Are you available on Monday?”

“Yes, Monday sounds perfect.”

“Excellent love, now I think it’s time to cool off a little.” He smiled mischievously, grabbing your hips.

“What do you mean cool—“ You didn’t even finish your sentence because you found yourself underwater.

You were out of breath laughing, splashing water on him.

“Oh you’re trying to drown me? You sure are messing with the wrong person here.” You joked, putting your arms on his shoulder.

“Gonna need much more strength for that love.” His arms sneaked around your waist under the water, drawing you close to him.

“Want to try that again?” He whispered, his face close to yours.

His breath fanned your skin, you were so sure something would happen, but something stopped that.

Or should I say someone in particular.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Gosh Tom, you really are a bitch.

“No, no Tom, we were just chatting.” Harrison answered him, stepping outside the pool to sit.

“Well, Amelia is plastered and Anna asked if you could help her so she could put her in bed.” Tom said.

“Sure, are they inside?”

Tom just nodded.

“You gonna wait for me?” Harrison asked before leaving.

“I’m gonna dry myself off, so we can meet in the garden?”

“Deal love.”

Tom just waited for his friend to disappear from your sight so he could finally speak to you.

“Look at you darling, you look divine.”

“Thank you Tom, you sure know when to come.” You spoke back.

“I’m sorry for ruining your sweet moment here darling, but they really needed him.”

You stepped outside the pool, making your way to the house.

“So you really made my mate go all insane for you.” Tom stated, guiding you to the bathroom.

“Did I?” You asked, your heart fluttering at his words.

“Absolutely. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from you.”

“And me as well.” Tom spoke in your ear, looking around so you could enter the bathroom unnoticed.

Fuck Tom.

Should I be even doing this?

“You made me so hard just by watching you in this red two piece bikini.” He growled in your ear.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, trying to relax as much as possible.

The feeling of getting caught was stressing you out.

But you couldn’t say no to him.

You sighed as his lips were teasing your neck and shoulder.

“Shit I craved you so much baby, couldn’t wait any longer.” His hands made their way to the nape of your neck, untying the knot of your top.

Tom’s fingers danced on your skin, coming in contact with your belly.

His palm was placed there holding you close to him, while his other hand toyed with the knots that held the bottom piece of the bikini in place.

“Can you feel how much I want you right now baby?” He rubbed his crotch on your ass, receiving an exciting moan from you.

“Shh, we don’t want anyone to burst in here do we?” He shushed you, pressing a sloppy kiss on your jawline.

“Fuck, no. Just do something already we don’t have much time.”

“You mean you don’t have much time? I have the whole damn time if you ask me.” Tom teased, chuckling into the nape of your neck.

His free hand reached the edges of your bikini, pushing the material to the side dipping one finger into your folds.

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one excited here hm?” He rubbed you slowly, slipping one finger inside of you without a warning.

You tried your best not to be loud, but the feeling of Tom’s fingers buried inside of you made you weak.

“Would love to see you fall apart on my fingers baby, but we both know we need each other now right?”

“Hell yes, please fuck me.” Your eyes still closed, enjoying the pleasure he was giving you.

He removed his hand, making you whine from the feeling of being empty.

“Don’t worry I got something much more better.”

The dark trunks of his were now long gone, his hands lifted you up on the washing machine spreading your legs wide open.

Tom smashed himself inside of you, making you both whine from the feeling.

Your palm grasped his wet curls tightly, pulling him closer to your trembling body.

God this feels so wrong, but so great.

What are you doing to me Tom? No wonder Sophie went crazy about you.

“Tell me love, who can make you this good?”

“Shit you Tommy.” You bit your lip drawing blood to the surface, only to stop the moans escaping from your throat.

“Don’t break the deal between us love. Look how good we make each other feel. You can still be with whoever you want and me as well, no one needs to know it will be our little secret.” He pleaded into your ear.

You were aware of the situation.

Although you knew that this would be wrong in every possible way if something happens between you and Harrison, you couldn’t say no.

He was so addicting, his touch, movements, small talk.

Everything.

What happened? How did you fell for someone like Tom?

“Christ, this will be so wrong but I-I can’t break this fucking deal.” You muttered out, squeezing your eyes shut from the familiar sensation forming in the pit of your stomach.

You’re going to be the end of me Thomas.

He smiled at your response as his hands pushed through your hair gripping it lightly.

You were close to the edge. You whimpered as his fingers started rubbing your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m gonna cum.” You managed to choke out.

Tom wasn’t that far from coming and seeing your beautiful face as you came, he almost bursted.

“That’s right beautiful, you’re doing so good for me. Don’t worry just our little secret.”

And with that he pulled out his length shooting his load on your bare chest.

“Fuck you look so good with my cum all over you.” He smirked playfully, eyeing your tits.

“Full of yourself Holland, hand me a tissue please.” You replied.

The reality hit you hard in that moment.

You were nervous, anybody could tell if they saw you honestly.

You loved Tom and ending this..whatever it’s called wasn’t something you wanted.

And hurting a guy like Harrison by doing something behind his back was a no as well.

“Hey, don’t stress that much.” Tom spoke handing you the tissues.

“You know he likes you, I’m thousand percent sure, he is my best mate I know when he likes someone or not.” He laughed, helping you down from the washing machine.

“I hope so..but that’s not the only thing why I’m worried.” You whispered as you searched through your bag for dry clothes.

“Look I know you think that this is bad..but believe me it’s just a silly deal that’s here for us if we need to blow off some steam and stuff like that. No feelings love, that’s making everything different.”

Maybe he was right?

No one would say a thing, eventually your crush will fade and no harm done.

You hope so.

“Yeah..you have a point. No one will know?” You asked once more.

“No one love.”

“Okay.”

You could feel him staring as you tried to dress yourself.

“Do you mind turning around?” You asked, trying to hide your breasts and everything else as much as possible.

“Why? Nothing I haven’t seen or felt before.” He leaned on the white tiles with his eyes still on your body.

“Dear God.” You spoke. Annoyed.

You gave up, starting to dress in front of him.

“I look like shit now, great.” You stared at the reflection in the mirror.

Hair a complete mess, the light makeup long gone by now, your cheeks flushed.

“Oh c’mon you stole his heart anyway, he won’t notice anything.”

Crap, Harrison.

He is probably looking for you.

“How long are we here? He probably thinks I stood him up or something.” You panicked, grabbing the doorknob.

However Tom’s hand was fast enough to stop you.

“Wait, I will go first to see if someone’s around. I will knock if the air is clear, then you can go.”

“Okay, just hurry up.”

The 10 seconds were like an eternity.

You’re heart was running wild because of Tom and Harrison.

You wanted them both.

“Come out.” He said, knocking on the door.

“I see you around then?” He added before you tried to disappear.

“Yes.” You gave him a one last look before speeding down the stairs.

“There she is!” Anna shouted, pointing at you.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t f-find my bag so it took me a while.” You spoke, looking at Anna and him.

“No problem, but you missed the fun with Amelia.” Anna giggled.

“Oh that was a show I bet.”

“Definitely, Harry said that she can sleep here tonight, so we don’t have to worry if the car will smell like vomit.” She joked, making a slightly disgusted face.

“Ew.”

“Okay, I’m going to find Harry and when you two are done call me.”

You were lost for words again.

He was absolutely beautiful.

“So..” You began, rocking back and forth on your feet.

“Our date still on?” He asked nervously.

“Of course I really did enjoy my evening with you.”

“I’m so glad you did, because I honestly want to see you more.”

Before you could even answer, his arms were on your back.

He pressed an innocent peck on your cheek out of the blue.

Harrison didn’t want to rush anything, but he wanted to show how much you fascinated him.

“See you on Monday?” He said.

“See you on Monday.” You confirmed, embracing him in a short hug.

-

“Oi, oi already going home?” The cocky voice spoke behind your back.

“Someone wants a decent amount of sleep Holland.” Anna replied, stopping just like you to see what he wanted.

However he did have some company with him.

The same blonde from the living room.

Wasn’t the sex a while ago enough for him?

Of course not.

You felt sick seeing his fingers caressing her slim hip.

Please let us leave.

“The party just started, you’re no fun like always.” He was being a total douche in front of her, nothing like Tom that hangout with us.

“If you’re trying to impress your girl here, you’re failing. Try to sober up a bit then you can talk to us, good night.” She grabbed your hand, marching to her car.

“He is being an total ass tonight.”

“Yeah..” You mumbled, the picture of Tom and the blonde occupying your mind.

“You upset about something? You know you can tell me everything.” She glanced at you, bringing her attention back to the road.

“Oh n-no, nothing’s bothering me really. I’m just stressing about my date on Monday.” You spoke, it was true after all. You were nervous about that as well.

“OHH, yeees Harrison told me he asked you on a date. Believe me nothing to worry about he is head over heels for you babe!”

“Will you come help me out before the date?” You questioned.

“Absolutely! I’m always here to help!” She screeched happily.

“See you then Ann, thank you for this evening and Harrison and everything. Have a good rest, good night.” You hugged her, before exiting the car.

“No problem love! Love to see you happy like this, good night!”

This was an intense night. You were all over the place, the whole night repeating in your head.

Your apartment was dark and quiet.

You kicked your shoes off, exhaling loudly as the tune of a received message grabbed your attention.

Unknown number

I loved your company so much I forgot to ask for your number. Hope you don’t mind that I asked Ann. :)

Haz x

Of course not! I’m glad you asked her! I enjoyed your presence as well. Xx

You were so overwhelmed that sleeping was impossible at that moment. The only thing on your mind was the date and Harrison.

-

Tag List

@averyfosterthoughts @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @timey-wimey-lovi @rachaeldonnaspiteri1 @peterparker-rickybowen-mybabies @sweetestscape @quacksonhq @stuckyyrogers @kaylinfayezink @tomhollandthing @stardustom @hannahholland1811 @yoinkyourheart @magicwithaknife @thurstyforholland @quaksonhehe @fanficscuziranout @runway-to-my-aid @definitely-not-black-cat @got-to-get-away @littlebookbengal @primadonnasdream @readheadwriter @ifntelyinspirit @juliebean247 @hes-amarillo @danicarosaline @lukesbabylon @lulueliott24

[ringleader-inky]

Sorry for taking a while to reblog. I've been busy with college and what not. So uh.. yeah.

Anyways!

You make an excellent point with ditto. I didn't even originally think about that until now. Hell even if ditto was rare in this universe Gardevoir is in two egg groups. TWO! And I'm pretty sure one of them is the biggest one as well. I'd have to double check. But a few of those pokemon in that mating group are ghost types. So going by Lily's world building here if a Gardevoir/Gallade (I'm including Gallade because I think they form bonds to not to sure.) were to form a mating bond with one of the dusknoir line. They could live forever! Cuz you can't kill a ghost twice. So not only are they fumbling the bag and running it over. They're nuking it!

Oh and don't even get me started on Bonnie. She's like every bad deviant fan kid trying to make them fun and quirky. I don't have a set and stone idea for Bonne, but she's either A. Going to be a normal ralts or B. Going to a variation/hybrid between a ralts and something else in Gardevoir's egg group.

Things that don't make sense in poke-madhouse part 1?

So... I haven't posted on this site in a hot minute. (college be damned) So I'm making up for that now. I might make post like these where I rant and rave about poke-madhouse and how bullshit the plot points are. As well as dunking on Lily. So if you're interested in this please let me know. Anyways one thing of that I've noticed that has always kinda aggravated me about poke-madhouse; is that Lily claims that the gardevoir line is an endangered pokemon and the rarest. When other pokemon exist and fit the bill better than gardevior ever could. Pokemon such as Deino and Lapras. Lapras because back in the red and blue entries it makes note of how they was an endangered species. And even in sun and moon it mentions on how it was near extinction, but because of protective regulations there's been an overpopulation.

And Deino because the thing's blind and it's dex entries makes note on how it'll ram and bit into anything. Causing it to have multiple wounds and bruises. You could easily spin that into Deino's falling off cliffs, eating poisonous berries, or just dying because it encountered a strong pokemon.

But no the most endangered species in pokemon was the psychic type that can sense a person's intentions, could teleport, and also doesn't have any disabilities to hinder it's survival.

[the-pale-goddess]

The Talk - Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tiffany Addams)

And I’ve got nothing left to lose, besides you

I’ve already lost you once, what more could you do?

Warnings: a few curse words, a bottle of wine, just a mere mention of some adult themes? nothing filthy this time – what happened to me???

Author’s note: This fic is the second part of We’ll Talk About It Later two shot based on OH2, Ch 8+9 > the first part: Breaking The Habit (NS*FW)

It’s been an emotional rollercoaster, but... the talk™ is finally here. I’ve put so much work into this and I don’t think I’d ever be satisfied with the result so...I’m just posting the last version and never reading it again lol  

Taglist - none of the tags worked last time, so I’ll post the taglist separately in a reblog

_____

We'll talk about it later.

Tiffany's mind was racing at a speed she couldn't control. She stared out the window the whole ride from her apartment to Ethan's, stealing only occasional glances in his direction. They didn't talk much in the car and she was grateful he didn't push the small talk through. The young doctor was reluctant to burst the bubble prematurely and this soothing silence proved to be a source of cold comfort.

Everything seemed so volatile...She needed them to be real now more than ever. But the fear of another heartbreak was eating her alive. Sure, there's been an evident shift in his behavior. As the walls of his stern professionalism have been gradually crumbling down, the list of their unethical pursuits kept on growing – he let her back in, he confided in her, he was showing her affection, he kissed her twice, he comforted her, he fucked her brains out just a moment ago in his office...But he never said he changed his mind about the nature of their relationship. We'll talk about it later. And later was finally coming their way.

„So...Your friends weren't home?” Ethan was the one to break the silence and Tiffany's stomach jumped.

„Yeah, Sienna & Elijah are doing the night rounds. Jackie's probably out & about. I'm not sure about Aurora.” She tried to keep her thoughts in check by recognizing the neighborhood. They must've been just a few minutes away from his apartment.

„What about Lahela?” Tiffany cocked her brow and looked at him with arms folded across her chest.

„What about him?” Her giggle received a reproving side-eye.

„He's not living with you?” Ethan's hidden agenda behind this question was blatant and made Tiffany laugh even harder.

„No. He's just always around, you know, as a part of the gang. Just like...” Her voice suddenly cracked and she swallowed loud before finishing the sentence. „Kyra.”

Ethan's hand slipped on her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze as they were driving into the underground parking in his building. He parked in his spot and turned the engine off.

„Tiffany...” He took her hand in his, their fingers entwined tightly. They shifted in their seats to face one another. There was something different about his smile, something warmer than what she was used to. „Do you remember your first weeks at Edenbrook?”

„How could I ever forget?”

„I've made the beginning of your internship truly horrible, haven't I?” The roughness of his fingers far removed from the gentle touch of his thumb against her silken skin.

„Well...I wouldn't say it was that horrible. But I have to admit you were extremely demanding and harsh. Not to mention you had a real mean streak.”

„I was an asshole, Tiffany. Let's face it.” She dropped her jaw in surprise, but didn't oppose. „I played on your emotions and pushed you to your limits.”

„You wanted me to be the best doctor I could be, I...”

„You had the potential to be the best even without my supervision. Besides, my motives are not the case here.” He interrupted her with a shake of his head. „The point is...I pushed you hard. And you always pushed back. You have a habit of finding a way through all the mud and the dirt. Everything you've experienced only made you stronger and prepared you for the worst. You can do anything, Rookie.”

„Ethan...” She smiled at him with teary eyes and leaned closer.

„I suppose it's not much of a comfort when your friend is dying and you're more than aware of the grim prognosis...But we'll do whatever it takes to save Kyra. And you'll be the strongest support by her side.”

„Didn't we establish earlier that the idea is to stop me from crying, not make me all weepy again?” They shared a laugh while Tiffany tried to keep her tears at bay.

„We did. I just thought you needed a reminder of how powerful you are.” Without a warning, he captured her lips in a sweet, long kiss. Her heart was ready to jump out of her chest.

„I feel reminded. Your mission was a howling success, Doctor.” She muttered between a few quick pecks on the lips.

„Have you seriously considered a different outcome?” His scoff earned a roll of her eyes.

„Oh, boy...I suppose your ego will be joining us at the dinner?”

„My ego will cook the dinner. Quit complaining, let's go upstairs.” She gave him that look before they finally got out of the car. The you're fucking unbelievable look, the one that always gave him an unhealthy sense of pride. Truth be told, he was justifiably proud of himself this time – shutting Tiffany Addams up is quite an accomplishment.

***

„Jenner's in Providence again?” Tiffany asked while taking her heels off. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth when her bare feet touched the cold marble floor.

„Yes. My father's babysitting him.” With a simple hand gesture Ethan invited her to follow him further inside. He watched her walk by his side in a skintight jacket dress. He noticed the change in her clothing back in the car, but it was impossible to admire it in the dim glow of the streetlamps. He had to catch up.

„I miss this fella and his cute little paws.” She pouted with disappointment as they moved towards the kitchen.

„Don't worry, he'll be back next week.” Tiffany flushed under Ethan's intense gaze. The unspoken promise of whatever could happen next startled them both.

„Is that an invitation?” She leaned on the counter trying not to show how nervous she was. But Ethan looked right through her. He took a step forward, approaching her with a similar trepidation, and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

„It is. Mind that Jenner tends to extend his walks – you'll need a pair of comfortable shoes for that.”

„Noted. I'll be ready.” She nodded, cursing herself as a reminder to stay stane. But it was already too late, she was under his spell.

„I need a shower before we start demolishing my kitchen.” Ethan looked her up and down, his eyes were trailing over her curves while his thoughts tormented him with the vivid memory of the silky skin underneath her clothes. „Would you...like to join me?”

Tiffany hesitated with the answer. A part of her demanded immediate answers, the other urged her to throw herself into his arms. She bit her lip so hard she probably bruised it, if Ethan's teeth haven't already done that before.

„As tempting as it sounds...If I'd choose to shower with you we wouldn't be able to keep our hands off each other.” She returned the hungry look and smiled like a wicked witch. „And I came here for that talk you owe me.”

„You're right.” Tiffany could sense the heightened tension in Ethan's voice, no matter how much he tried to hide it. „First things first.”

„First things first.” She repeated after him. „Besides, I freshened up real quick in my apartment. I can actually play the assistant chef while you're showering.”

„Not a bad idea. We're having salmon with tomato sauce.” He moved across the kitchen to get the ingredients. „It's the kind of comfort food that doesn't require much time and energy.”

„I really like the sound of that. Just boss me around, Chef Ramsey.” Tiffany winked at him with a teasing smile, unintentionally testing his patience. He shook his head undefeated, the iconic smirk playing back on his face, his fragile composure still in place.

„You can start with squashing these tomatoes.” He put a bowl of ripe cherry tomatoes in front of her, soon joined by a bulb of fresh young garlic. „And then slice the garlic nice and thin. You'll find all the equipment you need in the drawers on your left.”

„Got it! Just don't take too long.” She waved at Ethan's back while checking the nearest drawer in search of a proper knife and a cutting board.

After gathering all the necessities, she washed the tomatoes and chopped them in halves. When she finished slicing the bulb of garlic into thin wedges, she instinctively moved to the liquor cabinet and started browsing through an impressive collection of expensive wines, allowing herself to pick their poison for tonight.

The search was interrupted by Ethan's footsteps. Tiffany strolled back to reality, experiencing another surge of undeclared anxiety. She glanced at him over her shoulder and the sight had her taken aback.

„Ethan Ramsey in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants? My, oh my...You took the sleepover joke way too seriously.” She hid behind a soft giggle, hoping it would relieve some of the tension.

„You don't think that I move around my house in a suit, do you?” The amused grimace on her face made him chuckle. „Please, don't answer that.”

„Sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you. I just...” Her eyes scanned his body, admiring the way the tight white shirt fit over his defined chest. „Didn't really expect you to be serving this kind of look.”

„Well.” His hand flicked through his damp hair. „I intend to serve you dinner.”

„Then what are we waiting for?” Tiffany grinned at his response and Ethan shook his head with a slight discomfiture as he guided her back to the kitchen. She took one of the bottles and quickly followed him.

„Peregrine is an excellent choice.” Ethan pointed at the red Burgundy cradled in her arms. She fixed him with a meaningful look and put the bottle on the table, waiting for him to bring the corkscrew and two glasses.

„Yeah, I'm a big fan of high-class red wine.” He snorted with laughter while opening the bottle.

„You picked the one with the funniest name, am I right?” Tiffany bit her bottom lip and laughed along as she walked up behind him, sniffing at the fresh scent of his musky cologne mixed with the shower gel.

„What gave me away?” Her eyes were fixed on the burgundy liquor slowly filling the glass. In spite of the seemingly laid-back atmosphere, neither of them could shake the pervasive tension off.

„Let's just say I'm familiar with your drinking habits.” He offered her a full glass and a cheeky smile, and she readily accepted both, brushing his finger ever so slightly when she reached for her drink. Their eyes immediately locked.

„I can't even disagree with you on that. Would you like to propose a toast?”

They kept on staring at each other for a long while, the maddening silence wrapped around them, closing the distance between their bodies.

„To happy endings and new beginnings.” As soon as their glasses clinked, they dipped their lips into the wine, holding the gaze the whole time.

„We should...”

„By all means, yes. The cooking will take about 10 to 15 minutes, so you can make yourself comfortable in the living room.”

„No, I'm coming with you, Chef.” He raised his brows, a knowing smile lit his face up and he nodded in approval.

Tiffany sat on a bar stool in the kitchen, where she had a first-row view at Chef Ramsey in action. He put a drizzle of oil to a hot frying pan and fried the garlic until it was caramelized. Then, he added the tomatoes and cooked the sauce for a few minutes, trying not to distract his attention from the kitchen maneuvers. With a determined effort of will he maintained his focus, barely squinting at Tiffany, as she watched him hypnotized – studying his face and every move he accomplished with mathematical precision.

„You're strangely silent.” He stole a glance at his companion while seasoning the salmon.

„Shh. I'm watching a cooking show.” A dulcet laughter escaped Ethan's mouth and he found himself distracted for one split second when Tiffany sent him the most charming smile.

He put the fillets in another pan and cooked them until the fish was done. After he chopped and stirred fresh mint and dill through the sauce, he dished up the salmon fillets and served them with a generous spread of the sauce and a side of Greek salad.

The Chef Ramsey Special lived up to Tiffany's expectations and she eagerly praised Ethan's cooking skills during the dinner. They managed to forget about the whole purpose of the visit for the time being, chatting about everything and nothing in particular. As quickly as they finished the first glass of wine after the meal, the odd vexation sneaked up on them again.

„Shall we move somewhere comfortable?” Ethan's offer was greeted with a quiet acceptance. Tiffany strolled to the living room and curled up on the couch. Ethan refilled their glasses and joined her, keeping the safe distance between them. His emotions rapidly skipped from vaguely calm to a nervous wreck. He took a massive gulp of wine in order to gather his courage and looked over the room.

„So...”

„We're really doing this.” Tiffany crooned.

„I suppose we are...” He took a deep breath, thinking of a proper way to verbalize his thoughts.

„I had a really long talk with my dad after you've left the other night. It made me realize what a timorous fool I've been.” He downed his Pinot Noir, holding the glass with shaky fingers.

„That's one way to put it.” She took a sip of her wine, leaning on the big pillow.

„A delusional jackass. A blind asshole...” He continued, his voice was dripping with absolute contempt.

„I think I got the gist, Ethan.” She covered his hand with hers. A rueful smile spread across his face as his thumb brushed her skin.

„Tiffany, I can't even begin to apologize for all the hurt I've caused.” He muttered, deeply ashamed.

„You tore my heart apart. I won't lie about that. All these nights I've been wondering where did I go wrong. I've tried to explain to myself which part of me was so undeserving...” She trailed off, her gaze focused on her half-empty glass of wine. The anguish of rejection was stamped on Tiffany's mind. She felt a stabbing pain, much like an old wound just reopened in her chest. The depth of this feeling was so overwhelming, it made her sick and she found herself near to tears.

„Tiffany.” Ethan squeezed her hand tight, his expression dead serious. „It was never about you.”

„I've realized that soon enough. It was always about you, Ethan. And I really thought I could fix you.”

„But you did fix me.” Her eyes met his again, their gaze reflecting the overflowing wave of emotions that filled the room. „I'm sorry it took me so long to acknowledge all the effort and hope you've put into me. You've fought for me tirelessly even when I felt like giving up on myself.”

„I'd never give up on you, even if it was the right thing to do.” She smiled through fresh tears cascading down her cheeks. Ethan's thumb immediately came to the rescue, wiping them away with a gentle stroke and a reassuring smile.

„Does that mean you accept my apology?” Tiffany bobbed her head in answer and sniffled quietly. Ethan drew closer to her, sighing softly with relief when she allowed their knees to touch and leaned into him.

„It's very rare that I'm wrong...But I'm willing to admit when I am. And I was hopelessly wrong about pushing you away, Tiffany.”

She regarded his features thoughtfully without saying a word. Once he realized it's a subtle sign that she's waiting for him to elaborate on the subject, he pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed ahead with his discourse.

„I always considered love to be a load of bollocks. I never thought it was on the cards for me. Then I met you and I knew right from the start that you will turn my world upside down.” The words stuck in his throat for a second. Her fingers entwined with his, sending an encouraging shiver down his spine as he continued. „I was such an adamant coward, too scared to admit that I'm losing my heart to you. I fooled myself into thinking that running away will solve everything.”

„But it didn't solve anything, did it? The reset button didn't work.”

„I don't remember psychology major on your resume, Rookie.” The corners of his mouth formed a cheeky grin.

„I can't blame you, it was listed as a hobby.” She shrugged her shoulders with a triumphant smile. Ethan studied her face in silence for a moment, as if he was looking for the missing piece of the puzzle.

„That's right, it didn't.” He finally affirmed. „I've been living in denial, making excuses I didn't even believe myself. But it ends now. I'm coming clean. ”

Tiffany freezed, feeling panic-stricken all of a sudden. It was happening. She wrote the script down in her mind, rehearsed it about a thousand times and waited patiently until that very moment to watch it unfold. It was really happening. Deep in her heart she knew what he was going to say. He didn't have to actually say it. And yet, it was crucial that he did.

Ethan imagined he'd be composed. He prepared himself to remain calm. He had it all planned, calculated and revised. The world-beating diagnostician failed to add one variable to his equation, though – the presence of the woman he's in love with. The way her wet emerald eyes penetrated his every thought, or how quickly her unstable breathing caused his limbs to shake. But this was the moment. The ultimate make-or-break decision.

The air suddenly brimmed over with bullish expectations. They gazed into each other's eyes, anxiously anticipating what was about to happen. Ethan inhaled sharply before speaking up, trying not to let the overpowering variety of emotions affect the outcome of the talk.

„I want you. I want to...Be with you.” He reached for her hand again and placed a kiss on her palm, studying the thunderstuck expression on her face. „I want to make us work properly this time. If you would have me back I promise I won't let you down.”

Tiffany freezed up completely as she stared at him speechless for what felt like forever. Ethan held her hand tight, stamping one of his feet impatiently in the hope of an immediate response.

Nothing could possibly prepare her for this. His last words triggered something hidden in Tiffany's memory. Her mind flashed back to the first day of her internship, and that distant thought brought an arcane smile to her lips.

„You can see the future?” When she finally found her tongue, Ethan's jaw dropped on the floor. Those were his words. A quick recollection of their conversation during the very first day of Tiffany's internship splashed across his mind.

„I guess I deserved that.” He chuckled lightly and rubbed his chin. Tiffany's infectious giggle was short-lived as her expression turned into an unsolvable riddle. She looked him deep in the eye, still holding his other hand.

„I can't have you back, Ethan.”

Ethan stopped breathing for a second and his body broke out in cold sweat. He didn't understand. Everything was going according to the plan...Has he misjudged her intentions? Could they really be at cross purposes?

„I can't have you back...Because you've never actually left.” Tiffany closed the distance between them, lowering her voice to a soft whisper. „You're the blood in my veins.”

Time stopped the moment they exchanged looks, allowing the meaning of their confessions to wash over them. They marvelled at each other with a beam of happiness, never breaking the gaze.

„Don't let me down, Ethan.” His face lit up with the most radiant smile she's ever seen on him and it was the only answer she needed.

„I'm never making this mistake again. I've learned my lesson.” He grabbed her by the sides and with one swift movement placed her on top of his legs. His hand traveled all the way up to cup her cheek, while she hooked her arms around his neck and squeezed him in a crushing hug.

„I'll be the judge of that.” Tiffany gently bumped her nose against his and licked her lips. Before she could blink, Ethan's lips crashed into hers with tremendous ardour. The kiss tasted like dry red wine and the longed-for sweet victory. It was urgent and deep.

And it still wasn’t enough.

[wolfiethewriter]

For the prompts: 29 "We haven't spoken in so long dear, the year has gone by in a blur" for Rat with either Toad or Badger maybe? :)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31527923

Reblogs are welcome.

....

Ratty, Mole and Toad stood on Badger's front porch, waiting for Badger to answer after Ratty rang the doorbell. Badger had promised to host a get together for their little friend group, and Toad for one was eager to share his latest, greatest hobby with his friend. Ratty just wanted to see a friendly face – and for someone else to be the target of Toad's enthusiasm for a change. Mole had just been dragged along for the ride by Ratty.

They heard Badger muttering and shuffling towards the door from the other side, and Ratty dusted down his jacket, hoping to look at least somewhat presentable. Next to him, Toad was bouncing on the balls of his feet, excitement personified.

Badger opened the door to them, and though his old face didn't change, his eyes crinkled and his gaze brightened when he saw them.

“Ah, hello. Do come in, do come in. It's so good to see you chaps. There's a pot of tea waiting for you inside.”

Toad's grin broadened. “Ohh! Tea! I do hope there's biscuits too!”

Ratty followed Toad inside with a sigh, just hoping his friend wouldn't cause too much trouble this time.

. . .

Toad swept into Badger's home, casting off his coat and throwing it to Ratty to fumble and catch, oblivious to the glares of his friend.

“Oh, Badger, how are you? We haven't spoken in so long, dear friend. The year has gone by in a blur!”

Toad made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs while Ratty stalked into the room, having dealt with Toad's coat.

“Maybe for youit has,” Ratty grumbled. “You weren't the one who had to keep up with your ever changing hobbies,” he sat down on one of the vacant armchairs, arms crossed. “Or clean up the mess,” he muttered.

Toad snorted, “Oh, pish posh. There wasn't much mess to clean up. And besides, no-one got hurt.”

“No, you just caused hundreds of pounds worth of collateral damage,” Rat pointed out. Not that Toad was listening to him at this point. Too busy thinking of his daring escapades in everything from jet planes to motor cars.

“And a fun time was had by all,” Toad finished. Ratty just groaned and covered his face with his hand. Badger chuckled, glad he wasn't the one managing Toad this year.

“I need a drink,” Ratty announced, and Toad immediately leapt onto the bandwagon. Afraid he'd miss out on something exciting if he refrained.

“Why, excellent idea Ratty! Drinks for everyone!”

Mole cheered.

Badger nodded and rose, ambling slowly back to the kitchen. “I'll go get the whiskey.”

. . .

The evening progressed quite merrily, and the little quartet were happily enjoying the bottle of whiskey between them. Chattering away until the bottle was empty, and Badger had to go out and buy another. Leaving Mole, Toad and Ratty to entertain themselves for a while. Unfortunately however, Toad was already well into his cups, and getting tipsier by the moment. Which was bad news for Rat and Mole.

“I say- I say, old chaps,” Toad drawled, hiccuping loudly.” Did I ever tell you about the time I drove a rally car? I tell you it was one of the most exciting things ever.”

“Yes, you have. Many times.” Mole answered. “It was only yesterday you drove it.”

“You drove it here today,” Ratty added.

Toad cleared his throat. “Well- well, yes, but... I don't think you understand just how exciting it is. How thrilling to drive at such high speeds.”

“I think we know, Toad,” Ratty said. But Toad wouldn't believe a word of it.

“No, you can't. Not until you've experi- hic! Experienc- hic! Tried it yourself.”

Toad swayed in his seat a little and then stood, lifting his glass up. Proudly announcing that he would show them how it felt to be in a rally car doing that kind of tippity-top-speed.

Mole and Ratty paled, each keenly aware of what it'd be like to be in a car with Toad behind the wheel. Especially after the last time. Wild, reckless, unconcerned-about-safety-and-speed-limits Toad.

“Erm, that won't be necessary, Toad. I'm sure we can imagine just fine.” Mole said as gently as he could. Hoping to pacify Toad and dissuade him from the idea they all had to let him drive them. To stop him getting behind the wheel. Again.

“Oh, poppycock,” Toad waved dismissively. “Pish posh. Imagination just won't cut it this time my friend. Here, let me show you the car. You can sit inside and check out all the fantastical gadgets and gizmos!”

Mole nearly choked. “It's quite alright Toad. I'd rather just sit in here and enjoy my drink, thankyou.”

“But-” Toad said, turning to Ratty. “What about you Ratty? Surely you want to take a spin in my new beloved car with me?”

Ratty blinked, put on the spot. “Uhhhh...”

“Excellent!” Toad cheered. Taking that for a 'yes'. Grabbing Ratty's arm and attempting to pull him outside and lifting the car keys out of his pocket. Steering Ratty towards the front door.

“I'll drive!”

Ratty snapped out of his daze of reliving past traumatic car rides with Toad and snatched the keys from his green hand. “No you won't!”

Toad stopped, looking at Ratty pleadingly. “But... but Ratty...”

“But nothing, Toad!” Ratty said firmly. “You're too drunk to drive. I cannot in good conscience let you get behind the wheel.”

“Well then let me do it in bad conscience!” Toad countered, trying to pull the keys out of Rat's grip.

“No means no, Toad.”

Toad glanced at Mole. “Moley old pal, help me out here!”

Toad pleaded with Mole, but Mole just shook his head. “Sorry, Toad. I'm with Ratty on this one. We'd hate for you to get yourself killed in an accident.”

Toad glared at them both. “Traitors! Fine then. I guess I'll just have to give you guys the slip!”

At that, Toad snatched the keys out of Ratty's grip when his guard was down, and fled the house. Tearing across the grass towards his flash car. Laughing and whooping at his victory.

“Wooohooo! Time to drive! Come along, Ratty and Moley! I'll give you both the ride of your lives!”

Both Mole and Ratty gaped at him in horror for a few moments, until they snapped out of it and ran after him. But by then, Toad was already trying to drunkenly clamber into the driver's seat, going “Broom, broooom! BEEP BEEP!”

They ran after him, yelling at him. “Toad NO!”

“Toad YES!”

They thankfully got to him before he managed to plug in his seatbelt and start the car, and fought to haul him bodily out of the car by force. Getting him out of the vehicle before he could do some serious damage. Though Toad wailed and protested as they pulled him away from his beloved car – with no small amount of effort.

“Noooo! My baby!” Toad wept as they lugged him away.

“We said NO, Toad. No drink driving!”

“But I wanna!”

“Well tough noodles!” Mole huffed.

“Noooooo!”

They'd almost gotten the struggling Toad back to the house when Badger appeared. He blinked once, twice, and then shook his head at the commotion.

“I say, what on Earth is going on here?” he demanded.

Immediately the squabbling trio froze, staring at Badger.

“Uhhh...” Ratty began, but Badger held up a paw to silence him.

“Actually, I don't care. Just get back inside before you all embarrass yourselves even more than you have already.”

Badger huffed a sigh and walked right past them back into his home. Mole, Toad and Ratty all looked at each other for a moment, and then with unspoken agreement they all got up, dusted themselves off, and followed Badger inside. Each thoroughly chastised for their childish and undignified behaviour.

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 12 - December

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The Yule Ball has been announced and Fred Weasley has made the sinking realization that he’s completely and utterly attracted to Hermione Granger. But is he the only one with seemingly unrequited feelings?

So many questions and yet the biggest one of all: Who is taking Hermione Granger to the ball?

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS WAS LATE! The week got away from me and before I knew it, it was Sunday and I hadn't written ANYTHING. So, I ended up writing this entire chapter in one day and fell asleep editing it. I hope you guys like this chapter as much as I do!

I update every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST) (except for this time...ha ha ha...)!

Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<<Chapter 11

  December come to me I hope I can see You not just in dreams

I will let you be

Why can't you believe

How much you really mean

 Hermione sat in the library, feeling more on edge than she ever had in her life. Krum was due to meet her at any moment and all she could think about was…her face heated just thinking about it. She’d had the dream again. No, not her nightmare. Her nights of fear inducing dreams were long gone ever since she started spending most of her days with the twins. No, she had had the dream again. The one that left her stomach in heated knots and raised her pulse to a terrifying level. While the dream started the same as last time – the library, the couple, the hands on her body and lips kissing up her neck – this time, when she turned to catch a glimpse of the fiery red hair, the world spun around her. It spun and spun until she realized the world wasn’t spinning at all – she was. She was dancing, turning circles in space as the same pair of hands held her close. Her mind fought tooth and nail to catch a glimpse of the mystery man, but it was as if her spine was fused – unable to look anywhere but straight ahead. Who was it and why did they turn her hot and feverish? Why did she melt at just the thought of their embrace?

When she awoke that morning, sweaty and out of breath, she couldn’t ignore the thrumming of her heart at the apex of her thighs. Shifting in her seat, she tried to quell the achy feeling starting to rise just from the brief memory of her subconscious escapades. Fully expecting to become a jumbled mess of embarrassment and arousal, she was nervous to see Ron in History of Magic that morning. However, much to her pleasure and confusion, when she saw him, she felt nothing more than a slight heat on her face which she attributed to nerves over how she might feel, rather than a true reaction due to her dream. Perhaps her ability to compose herself was better than she thought. The possibility quelled her racing mind, but she couldn’t ignore the small nagging voice in the back of her head that said she knew more than one person with red hair.

“Hello, боец, you are vell, yes?” Krum’s voice broke Hermione from her thoughts. She jumped, dropping the heavy book in her hands onto the parchment covered table with a muffled thud.

“Viktor hello. Yes, I’m doing quite well,” greeted Hermione breathlessly. “I can call you Viktor, correct?”

“You can call me vhatever you vant, боец,” said Viktor, giving her a reserved smile that Hermione found to be quite charming.

“Ah, yes. Well, I suppose if we’re going to be studying together, I should probably introduce myself properly—” she extended a hand to him “—Hello Viktor, my name is Hermione Granger. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Hermy-own?” said Viktor with great difficulty as he shook her hand. His full lips twisted and stumbled over the vowels and consonants.

Hermione laughed nervously. “No, no. Hermione. Like this: Her-my-oh-nee,” she spoke slowly, sounding out her name bit by bit.

Viktor’s brows scrunched in concentration as he repeated her to the best of his abilities, “Her-my-oh-ninny.”

“Close enough,” sighed Hermione in good nature, gesturing for Viktor to take a seat across from her.

He surprised her by seating himself in the chair next to her with ease. Or at least as much ease as possible for the tall Bulgarian. He was surprisingly uncoordinated for someone who flew with such grace on the quidditch field. The one advantage to seeing Viktor Krum off of his broom, however, was the ability to see just how handsome he was. He had a very pleasing face, with a broad brow, sharp cheekbones, strong nose, and equally strong jawline. Yes, he was really quite handsome, Hermione thought indulgently as she observed him. His black hair was cropped exceedingly short, which Hermione thought was a shame – she quite liked the way longer hair looked on men. Feeling as though she had been staring for much too long, Hermione turned back to her book as Viktor pulled out a notebook, quill, and ink.

“This library – it is much larger than the one at home,” commented Viktor casually.

Hermione looked up from her book again and glanced around at the tall shelves, expansive stone walls, and large tapestries. “Really? What is your school like?” she asked curiously. While she had read everything she could on Durmstrang, she had been left wanting – the Bulgarians were quite secretive.

“Vell, it is a castle much like yours, but it is much smaller. Ve have less students, I am thinking. The library is smaller, but you do not have all the same books here, I have noticed. Ve do not have a, what you call a restricted section,” said Viktor thoughtfully.

“Really?” asked Hermione in surprise.

“Yes. Ve do not view knowledge as good or bad at Durmstrang. Just knowledge.”

“I’ve always thought the same thing,” said Hermione excitedly, mindful to keep her volume low with her increased enthusiasm. She didn’t need to be kicked out of the library a second time that year. “I think knowledge should be accessible to everyone. Sure, some things can be quite vile, but it’s not the magic that makes the witch or wizard bad and a bad person will find the information out one way or another if they really want it. Tell me more about Durmstrang.”

“It gets very cold in the vinters and the fires are only lit for classes and such. So ve vear heavy cloaks to keep us varm. But in the spring and summer, you should see the grounds. Vhile our castle is smaller than yours, the grounds are triple the size! Ve vill fly for hours over the mountains and lakes. It is beautiful,” said Viktor proudly. Hermione tried to imagine a school with grounds triple the size of Hogwarts. She already felt like the space around her school was expansive.

“That sounds lovely,” responded Hermione with a smile.

“Do you fly, Herm-own-ninny?”

“Oh no—” Hermione chuckled bashfully “—I’m quite afraid of heights if I’m being honest. But I love quidditch. I think the sport is so fascinating. The theory and tactics behind it are very interesting and of course the talent it takes to fly the way some players do is very impressive. Like you, for example—”

Viktor raised his dark, thick brows in surprise.

“—I saw you at the world cup, you know. You’re an excellent flyer. Even Harry agreed. He was quite impressed with your…oh what was it…oh! The Wronski Feint. Does that sound right?”

“Yes, yes! That is vone of my favorites. Unfortunately, ve did not vin…” Viktor trailed off, frowning as if the loss of the world cup was still a freshly open wound.

“Yes, but you ended things on your own terms,” said Hermione, remembering Harry’s explanation for Viktor’s catching of the snitch while Ireland was up by 160 points.

Viktor perked up at her comment. “Yes, that’s exactly it! Ve vould not be able to catch up, I knew that. Their chasers vere too good.”

“So, you caught the snitch to end the game with only a loss of ten point, as opposed to three hundred and ten,” concluded Hermione, settling comfortably into her seat. She felt much more relaxed now than she did when Viktor had first sat down.

Viktor smiled at her in appraisal. “That is exactly vhat I did. You are very smart Harmony. Smart and strong.”

Hermione blushed at his compliment, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, and looking down at her textbook shyly. Still, she couldn’t fight off the smile that formed on her face at his praise. They were silent for a moment, both of them turning to their work to fill the time. Afterall, they were there to study.

Hermione was just finishing her chapter when Viktor spoke again, “Have you heard of the ball that is happening at Christmas time?”

Hermione looked up, finding an earnest Viktor staring back at her. “Yes, they announced it formally last night with some unfortunate dance lessons as well. Did you have something similar?”

“No, ve at Durmstrang learn how to dance first and second year. It is expected that ve know how, for formal events vhen ve are older,” said Viktor.

“How fortunate,” said Hermione. “I was lucky enough to have my dad teach me a bit when I was younger. My mum and dad like to play the radio in the kitchen and sometimes on Sunday mornings my dad will pull me away from whatever I’m reading at the table and make me dance with him.” She smiled at the memory, feeling a small pang of homesickness. It was high time she sent her parents a letter – with all her extra time spent with Fred and George her weekly letters home had dissolved into a dismal once or twice a month.

“That sounds very nice,” responded Viktor genuinely before clearing his throat and looking down at his folded hands on the table. “Perhaps you vould like to accompany me to the ball?”

“Pardon?” Hermione pulled out of her innocent musing of home with confusion. Surely, she must have heard him wrong because she could have sworn Viktor Krum just asked her to the Yule Ball.

“The ball – vould you like to go vith me?”

The question hung in the air – Viktor looking expectantly at Hermione as she tried to comprehend it. Viktor Krum wanted to go to the Yule Ball with her?

“Why?” The question blurted out before she could stop herself.

Krum blinked in surprise. He took a moment to mull her words before answering, “Vell, I think you are very pretty. You are very smart, and you have the heart of a fighter. Vhy not?”

Hermione was struck – mouth gaping and brain short-circuiting. Viktor Krum thought she was pretty. Out of all the girls in the school to pick, and there were many available girls as the ball was only announced the day before, and he chose her. Answer him you daft airhead, her brain screamed as she still delayed her response.

“Of course, if you already are going with someone then—”

“No, no. I’m not,” Hermione reassured him in a panicky manner.

“Then you are just not interested or…?”

“No—I just…Can I have some time to…think about it or something?”

Krum stared hard at her for a moment, before nodding with a small smile.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go with you—” Hermione sat forward, running her hands through her frizzy curls and pushing them out of her face as she rambled “—it’s just I don’t know you very well. Perhaps we should get to know each other a bit more first. It’s important that we know each other before we decide to go together, otherwise we’d get there and risk finding out that we can’t stand each other. But please don’t think that I’m just delaying an inevitable ‘no’ to be nice. I swear—”

“Of course, Herm-oh-nee. Take all the time you need. Until then, ve vill spend more time together. Yes?”

Hermione was grateful for the interruption of her nervous babbling. Any second longer and she was sure to make such a fool of herself that Viktor might rescind his offer. “Yes, I would like that.”

Viktor stood, collecting his things, and placing them in his bag. Hermione glanced at the large grandfather clock across the study area and noticed it was almost time for Charms. She stood too, placing her book in her bag. Once the two were packed up, they headed towards the exit of the library. It was just outside the large double doors that the two parted ways, headed in opposite directions of the castle for class. Expecting his usual bow of departure, Hermione was surprised when instead Viktor grabbed her right hand in his and brought the back of it up to his lips. She blushed something furious, her face growing hot as embers as his soft lips brushed the sensitive skin. Then he was gone, and she was left to gawk in his direction as a bubbling glee built up in her chest.

The joyous moment was cut short however by her two troublesome shadows.

“My, my, my…was that Viktor Krum?” asked one twin as the two of them rounded the corner.

“You know, you two really must stop spying on me. It’s getting sad and weird,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes and turning away from the two ginger boys as she headed in the direction of her Charms class.

“Excuse you missy. We were not spying. We were merely walking by and decided to stop and watch the show,” said who she now recognized as George.

“Hmmm,” responded Hermione flatly, continuing to walk.

“So, what did Viktor want?” asked George.

“None of your business George Fabian Weasley.”

“I’m wounded—” George held a hand up to his heart “—we simply want to be a part of your life, Hermione. You know, be good friends and all.”

“Sure, you do,” she grumbled.

“I don’t think she believed me. Back me up, Freddie,” said George turning to his brother.

Hermione waited to hear Fred’s familiar sarcastic quip and cheeky tone but was surprised when all he did was give a distracted hum. She turned her head, looking at Fred fully for the first time. Catching his hazel eyes, he looked at her with an indistinguishable expression. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest and the heat that had occupied her face shot south, leaving a burning sensation in her lower stomach. Oh no, thought Hermione quickly looking away from Fred and instead focusing on the grey stone beneath her feet. They reached the Charms classroom a moment later, much to her relief. She made to head into the room, but a long arm extended in front of her, blocking her path.

“I have class. Can’t you just save your routine till tonight? I’ll laugh and everything,” promised Hermione, trying her best to keep her voice light and not show the inner turmoil she was currently experiencing.

“About that – change of plans.”

“What? Are we not meeting at the usual place?”

“No, Fred and I have a bit of a surprise for you—” George looked to his twin with a pointed stare “—isn’t that right Freddie?”

Fred, who had been staring off down the hall, turned to his brother and nodded distractedly. If Hermione hadn’t been trying so desperately to get away from Frederick Weasley and into the safety of her classroom, she would have noted his odd behavior. But instead, she raised a curious brow at George.

“Right—” George stared at his twin with an odd expression before looking back down at Hermione “—meet us in the common room after dinner and make sure to bring Harry and Ron along as well. It’s really a surprise for all three of you.”

“Okay, yeah, we’ll be there,” Hermione said before ducking under George’s arm and disappearing into the classroom. She found Harry and Ron already seated a few rows back from the front and took her chair between the two of them.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” asked Harry as she stared down at the desk in front of her breathing deeply in through her nose.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she squeaked, before taking out her notebook and writing utensils.

It all made sense and simultaneously no sense at all. Fred was the person in her dreams. It explained the dancing certainly. It also explained the timing. The first time she’d had the dream was the night Fred found her in the hallway and walked her back to the tower. He had held her in his arms that night, even held her hand. At the time she thought nothing of it, but clearly her subconscious had been squirreling away those brief moments of contact and saving them to manifest in an entirely different way. No – this was not good. She didn’t like Fred! He was loud and obnoxious and troublesome. He wasted his potential and squandered his talents. Two things she wholeheartedly disagreed with. He pushed her buttons and got her into trouble. How could she possible like him as anything more than a friend?

The rest of the day went by in a blur, all of Hermione’s waking thoughts dedicated to Frederick Weasley in the worst possible way. By the time dinner was over and she found herself in the common room with Harry and Ron, she had come to decision. She did not like Fred. It was simply her subconscious playing a cruel trick on her. Dreams didn’t mean anything anyways – even if they did happen twice. Dreams were simply an amalgamation of your conscious memories and thoughts mixed into an incoherent jumble as your brain tried to process them at night. They weren’t accurate representations of ones waking feelings. They held zero stake in reality.

Unfortunately, that didn’t keep her heart from stopping when Fred and George emerged from the portrait hole with wide grins as they chuckled mischievously.

“What’s got you two so chuffed?” asked Ron, pulling a chocolate frog from his pocket, and opening the package.

“Just ran into Adrian Pucey in the hallway—”

“—struck him with a nasty sticking charm.”

“Won’t be going anyways for a while,” laughed George, leaning on the back of the couch to peer down at the work in Hermione’s hand. She’d dedicated this time in her day to working on the Canary Creams and was still determined to do so, change of plans or not.

“You can’t do that by the way,” stated George casually as he pointed over her shoulder to a bit of Charms work detailed on the page.

“Excuse you,” sneered Hermione, pushing his hand away. “And just why do you say that?” she asked taking offense.

“Because I’m the Charms master, remember?”

Hermione sighed, knowing begrudgingly that George was right. He was very well adept at Charms work – even better than herself. Slamming the notebook shut, she placed it on a side table and stood.

“Well – what’s this surprise then?” she asked digging into her pocket to distract herself from the two tall ginger boys in front of her. Her fingers closed around one of the hundreds of sugar quills Fred gave her and she pulled it out satisfactorily.

“The whole point of a surprise, my dear Hermione—” began George.

“—is to surprise you with it—" continued Fred.

“—not just tell you!” the two finished together before turning and heading back towards the portrait hole. Ron and Harry followed them, Hermione hanging back as she unwrapped the sugar quill and placed it in her mouth. She trailed behind the four of them as they traveled deeper down into the castle.

“Hey,” said Fred, dropping behind to walk beside her as George boldly led the way.

“Hi,” Hermione responded shyly, worrying the candy in her mouth to calm herself.

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“You?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Hermione felt stiff and uncomfortable, like at any moment her skeleton would relieve itself from its fleshy prison, shedding her skin and running as fast it could from Fred and this painful conversation. The worst part of it was that she knew why she was being weird, but why on earth was he in such a strange mood? For a brief moment, the mortifying thought that perhaps he knew about the dream, flashed into her head, but she quickly brushed it away. That was impossible. There was no way he could know.

The four of them continued further into the castle, heading down stairway after stairway until they were in its deep underbelly. It was when they found themselves in a large, well-lit corridor – the walls adorned with portraits of food – that Hermione realized where they were headed. Harry seemed to have the same realization as he groaned, turning around the look at her.

“Hermione…this isn’t another S.P.E.W. thing, is it?”

“Please don’t let it be a spew thing, Hermione. How many times have I told you – it’s no use! House elves like to work!” exclaimed Ron.

“First of all, it’s not called spew—”

“Oh, what is it now then – the House Elf Liberation Front?” asked Ron sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare thank you very much, and secondly in case you didn’t remember, I’m not the one dragging us down here. They are!” She pointed to Fred and George who now held amused grins on their faces.

“Quit your fighting and come on you lot,” laughed George coming to a halt in front of a picture of a large fruit bowl and ticking the green pear. The fruit squirmed and giggled until it turned into a large green door handle. George grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the door open to reveal the cavernous kitchens. Hermione wasn’t quite sure what she imagined the Hogwarts kitchens would look like, but it definitely wasn’t the enormous space in front of her. With ceilings almost as tall as the Great Hall, it seemed to host everything you could even want or need to make a large feast.

“Harry Potter! Oh, it’s Harry Potter!” a squeaky voice yelled out before Hermione heard Harry let out a guttural yelp. Turning to her best friend she saw Harry standing there with a small house elf nearly wrapped entirely around his middle, holding him tightly.

“Dobby?” Harry gasped in surprise.

“Yes sir! Dobby has been waiting and hoping Harry Potter would visit him and now he has!”

Dobby released Harry, stepping back, and allowing Hermione to get a full view of the infamous house elf Harry had told her so much about. He appeared to live up to his description. Long thin nose and batlike ears. However, instead of the filthy pillowcase Harry had described, he donned the strangest assortment of clothing Hermione had ever seen. Dobby wore what appeared to be a tea cozy adorned with brightly colored badges on his head like a hat, a patterned tie with no shirt, shorts, and mismatched socks. However, despite his strange fashion sense, Hermione found Dobby to be quite appealing. His enthusiastic personality and overwhelming love for Harry was enough to make her fond of the little house elf – no matter how odd he was.

“What are you doing here Dobby?” asked Harry.

“Dobby works here, sir! At Hogwarts! Professor Dumbledore has given Dobby and Winky jobs!” proclaimed the small elf proudly. Hermione perked up at the mention of a second house elf she was familiar with.

“Winky’s here?” she asked looking around her to try and spot the poor disgraced house elf she’d met so many months ago.

“Thought that would interest you, Hermione,” said Fred in a knowing manner. “She’s over there by the fire. But be warned, she’s not in a great mood.”

“Or at least she wasn’t when we were here yesterday,” added George with a grimace.

Rounding the corner, Hermione was greeted with a large crowd of busying house elves. They bowed and greeted her kindly as she passed them, spotting a small and slumped figure on a stool by the fire.

“Winky?” she asked hesitantly.

The little creature turned, looking a complete and utter mess. While dressed unarguably more fashionable than Dobby, in a matching blouse and skirt, her clothes were dirty and wrinkled. One look and Hermione could tell she was a very unhappy house elf. That sentiment was only confirmed when Winky burst into large, hysterical tears.

“Winky, oh Winky, please don’t cry,” pleaded Hermione, rushing forwards and placing a hand on Winky’s shoulder. Winky only cried harder. Unsure of what to do, Hermione stepped to the side, allowing Harry to take the lead. She watched in rapt horror as Winky, Bartemius Crouch’s ex-house elf wailed at her failure as a good, loyal elf. The whole thing was so upsetting. So upsetting, in fact, that by the time they left the kitchens – after Harry promised Dobby about a thousand times that they would visit – she was in a whole new kind of bad mood.

“Cheer up, Hermione. Winky will be alright eventually,” said Ron casually as they strode through the halls back up to Gryffindor tower.

“It’s just absolutely horrid. I can’t believe that anyone has allowed this to go on for so long,” cried Hermione, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Now, now. You’re forgetting that house elves like to work. It’s their way. Their tradition,” said Fred, slinging an arm over her and squeezing her shoulder kindly. A gesture that would usually calm and reassure her, made Hermione jump out of her skin, pulling away from Fred and his touch that filled her with new sensations and confusion.

“Yes, and why is that Frederick? Because they’ve been used as slaves by wizarding kind for so long that they’ve been generationally brainwashed into thinking that working for nothing and being treated horribly is some sort of badge of honor!” she shouted at Fred, all of her conflicting feeling bubbling up into one unanimous feeling of anger.

Fred gawked in surprise before responding with equal annoyance, “Well if they were truly so unhappy, they would say so like Dobby. Clearly, they’re smart enough to think for themselves or Dobby wouldn’t be walking around asking to be paid for his work!”

“But even Dobby said he’s been looking for a job for over a year. No one wants to pay a house elf to do work when they ask for it! Don’t you think there should be laws to help him with that kind of discrimination?”

“Sure, but he’s different! If more elves wanted rights, then there would be a demand. But seeing as it’s ONE house elf out of thousands it doesn’t really make sense that they would rewrite legislature,” scoffed Fred.

“But if there was new legislature then perhaps they’d feel more inclined to break away like Dobby—” Hermione ran a hand over her hair, feeling it already growing ten times its size as her anger increased “—you know what? Clearly you are all either too thick or too heartless to understand.”

Pushing past their group she charged forward, determined to put some space between herself and the lot.

“Hermione!” one of the twins called after her.

“Just let her go. She gets like this, but she always gets over it,” said Ron.

“Hermione!” the twin called again, ignoring Ron’s comment.

Continuing to march ahead of them, she made it as far as the end of the hallway before a pair of arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her into the air. Hermione let out a cry of surprise and then a ragged grunt as her stomach made contact with one of the boys’ shoulders. Sputtering in indignation, she attempted to brush her hair out of her face enough to figure out who had the audacity to pick her up. Finally making a part in the curtain of her curls she saw Ron, Harry, and George laughing as they caught up.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, you put me down right this instant!” yelled Hermione, pounding her fists on his back,

“You three go on ahead. Miss Granger seems to have her knickers in a horrible twist. Just needs a moment to decompress. We’ll catch up,” said Fred casually as Ron, Harry, and George looked down at her in amusement.

“Are you three really just going to let him do this?” Hermione asked, looking up at them with pleading eyes.

They pondered her request for a moment, before George gave her a sweet smile and bopped her on the end of the nose with his pointer finger. “Yep.”

Ron was next, rubbing a hand on top of her head and messing up her curls. “Good luck, Hermione,” he chuckled before disappeared around Fred.

Harry was last, smiling the widest. “I hate to say it, but he’s right. Sorry, Hermione,” he said giving her a small wave and disappearing as well.

Hermione listened to their fading steps as they turned the corner and left for the tower. Then, Fred began to walk, and Hermione let her head hang once again, tired from the strain of keeping it upright.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” she questioned, feeling all the blood in her body rush to her head.

“Hush now. No talking,” said Fred gripping her legs tighter. Hermione tried not to focus on the way his grip sat dangerously close to the top of her knee-high socks. Instead, she focused on the ground moving below her and the backs of Fred’s shoes as he walked down hallways and corridors. It felt like they’d been walking forever when he finally lifted her off of his shoulder and deposited her down onto the ground. She stumbled, all the blood rushing back to her limbs and making her faint. Fred caught her, grabbing her by the upper arms and keeping her vertical. After a few moments he released his hold, instead reaching up and brushing her messy hair out of her face. He smiled down at her as he did so, making Hermione’s heart stutter as he tucked the pieces behind her ears.

“So…” Fred sighed looking down at her and then to his left, staring hard at the wall. Hermione followed his gaze to see what he was staring at and realized just where Fred had taken them. It was the painting he’d found her at, those few months ago.

“Why…?” she drifted off, confused as to why he had brought her there of all places.

“Well last time I found you here you were upset. I figured it might be a good place to take you. Clearly something’s bothering you—” he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck nervously “—I’ll just…leave you to it then.”

He made to walk away but before Hermione could stop herself, she called out to him. Fred halted in his tracks and turned back to her. “You can stay…if you’d like,” Hermione said softly, turning away from him and sitting down gently on the cold stone. She heard the shuffling of shoes before she felt Fred take a seat next to her. Hermione stared at the painting with unwavering concentration. Just like last time, the field had metamorphosized into an entirely new vision. While previously it had housed a mixture of many flowers on a bright sunny day, now it showed her nothing but thousands upon thousands of purple lilacs with an overcast sky.

“Viktor Krum asked me to the ball,” Hermione blurted. She didn’t know why she felt the need to tell him. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone – at least not until she made her decision. But something about the moment, the painting, and it being Fred, made her want to tell him more than anything.

Hermione expected him to be surprised. She expected him to look at her incredulously – perhaps call her a liar. Instead he smiled and gave her a look that said: ‘I could have guessed that’ before asking, “Is that what’s got you all in a twist? Worried you made the wrong choice by saying yes?”

“I didn’t say yes.”

That did surprise Fred. “What? You said no then?” he asked, a glint in his eye that if Hermione knew any better, she could have sworn looked something akin to hope.

“No – I told him I’d think about it.”

Fred laughed.

“What?” asked Hermione defensively.

Fred wiped a tear from under his right eye before catching his breath and answering, “Nothing, it’s just…only you would tell an international quidditch player ‘maybe’ when he asks you to a ball.”

“I want to make sure his intentions are right.”

“What? Want to make sure he’s not just trying to get into your knickers?” asked Fred with another laugh.

“More like I want to make sure he actually likes me and isn’t just trying to get to Harry,” admitted Hermione with a whisper. Looking at her hands, she worried the inside of her bottom lip. She felt foolish for her confession, but Fred had the annoying ability to put her at such ease that she blurted out all her worries before she even knew what she was doing.

“Hey—” Fred brought a hand up, grabbing ahold of her chin softly and turning her to face him “—why would you think a silly thing like that?” He smoothed his thumb over her skin, pulling her lip from out between her teeth as he frowned at her.

“I just…why would he like me? I’m nothing special.”

“Nothing special? Hermione Granger, I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. Nothing special, she says,” Fred scoffed.

“Well, it’s true! My hair is a ratty nest, I’m skinny and knobby, and plain and freckly—”

“What’s wrong with freckly?” asked Fred accusingly before breaking out into a wry grin.

Hermione laughed. “You know what I mean,” she said, aware now that Fred’s hand had never left her face. Instead it found it’s home cupping the side of her cheek sweetly.

“No. I don’t think I do because…well because when I look at you, Hermione, I don’t see a knobby plain girl with ratty hair.”

“You don’t?” Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat. Suddenly the space between them seemed much too close but not close enough. Fred’s eyes scanned her face, flitting from her forehead to her lips before landing back on her eyes as she waited with bated breath for him to speak again.

“No.”

“What do you see?”

Fred hesitated, swallowing audibly as his sight flitted once again from her eyes to her lips and back up. “I see a beautiful girl with a wild mane and an equally wild fierceness. I see a beautiful girl that any man would be lucky to take to the ball,” said Fred, his voice a low timbre.

Hermione let out a shuddering breath. “What if…” she began, but stopped, unsure of whether to say next what she wanted to.

“Yes?” asked Fred, pushing her on.

“What if…what if I didn’t say yes because I was secretly hoping someone else might ask me?”

Fred deflated at Hermione’s question. Releasing her face, he dropped his hand and looked off to the painting once again as he sighed. For a brief moment he thought he saw what looked like disappointment on Hermione’s face, but that couldn’t be. Not when she’d just confessed, she said no to Viktor Krum because she hoped Ron would ask her to the ball. Still, it was probably for the best. He was taking Angelina after all – he hadn’t asked her yet of course, but she had made it exceedingly clear after Professor McGonagall’s abysmal dance lesson that she expected them to go together.

“I was thinking purple,” said Angelina, leaning lazily into Fred’s side as he stared into the fire of the Gryffindor common room.

“Huh?” he asked dumbly, Angelina’s comment pulling him out of a deep concentration. He’d been thinking about Hermione. He was…always thinking about Hermione.

“For my dress for the ball. Purple – I like purple. It’s my favorite color, you know?”

“I didn’t know. Is it really?” asked Fred, looking down and wrapping an arm around Angelina’s waist.

“It is. I figured you’d want to know now so you’ll know how to match your dress robes.”

“I think…” began Fred, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. “I think that if you’re holding out for someone else and you’re not 100% sold on Krum, then you should wait.”

“Really?” asked Hermione, looking at him with those wide, Firewhisky brown eyes.

“Yeah, make Krum sweat it out for a bit. I’m sure he isn’t used to having to work for dates – it’ll be good for him. And it’ll give this other bloke some time, maaaybe he has something special planned for you.”

Hermione stared at him speculatively. “You say that as if you already know,” she said with an earnest, vulnerable expression on her face.

“I have it on good authority that by the end of next week you’ll have more than one invitation to the ball, ‘Mione. Trust me,” he winked, trying to keep a cool composure and not show the inappropriate disappointment he currently felt.

They continued to sit and stare at the painting above them for a while longer until Hermione broke the silence once again, “What about you?”

“What about me?” asked Fred, continuing to stare straight ahead.

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been…off today. Something bothering you?”

Fred breathed deeply. “You remember how we won all that money off Ludo Bagman at the world cup?” he asked.

Hermione nodded.

“Well, the arsehole paid us in leprechaun gold. We’ve tried to get in touch with him since, but he’s been dodging us and well…not only do we not have the money he owed us, but we also don’t have the money we gave him either. It’s why supplies are so tight for the business,” he admitted, remembering when Hermione had asked why they weren’t putting their development efforts into more than just one thing at a time.

The soft touch of Hermione’s hand on his brought Fred’s attention away from the painting. Briefly he looked down at the place where their hands were entangled. He should stop her. The touch while friendly in nature, did nothing to quell the stirring attraction in the pit of his stomach. But he didn’t. Instead he allowed himself to indulge in the small bit of intimacy. After all, it was innocent enough.

“Have you considered writing to him and reminding him just how serious unsanctioned gambling is in Britain? I’m sure he’d like to know how…consequential it would be if someone in the Ministry found out he’d been gambling illegally at the cup, especially with at least two underage wizards,” said Hermione.

Fred look at her incredulously. Had he really heard her say what he thought he did? “Are you suggesting blackmail, Miss Granger?”

“I’m just saying that if I were Ludo Bagman, I’d like to keep my job at the Ministry. How he chooses to do so, is entirely up to him.” She said the words so casually, you would have thought she was discussing an article in the Daily Prophet – not the plotting of blackmailing a Ministry official. But Fred didn’t miss the evil glint of mischief in her eye as she stared at him impishly. Good god, he did not deserve Hermione Granger.

And neither did his little brother, thought Fred as he sought out Ron that afternoon. It was Wednesday – a week and half till the ball and he had a mission. Despite his feelings towards Hermione and the thought of Ron being not nearly worthy of her, he knew that what Hermione wanted was for his idiot of a brother to ask her to the ball. So, he was going to make sure just that happened. He found Ron on the grounds, under a tree near the black lake with Harry and Hermione. Despite the snow and freezing temperatures, the three were huddled up arguing about something as a small blue flame floated near them. Wrapping his robes around him tightly, Fred trudged through the snow towards the three of them.

“What’s this then? Not you three freezing your arses off in the snow when there’s a perfectly good castle just over there!” he called out to them, breaking the small trio out of whatever spat they were in.

“Hullo to you too,” called Harry.

“What do you want?” asked Ron.

“Oi. Very rude! I can’t come and see my favorite baby brother?”

“Is it me that you want?” questioned Ron, sending a glance in Hermione’s direction.

“Actually yes—” Fred dug his hands deep into his pockets “—mind if we…” He gestured behind him and Ron stood with a huff – clearly put out by having to pause his conversation.

Fred walked a distance from where Harry and Hermione sat before he stopped and turned to Ron.

“What?” asked Ron again, looking down at him expectantly. Merlin, when did he get so tall? wondered Fred.

“Have you got yourself a date to the ball yet?”

“Why do you care mate?” laughed Ron, looking around like he expected George to pop up at any moment and pummel him with snowballs.

“I’m just saying, time’s running out and before you know it, the ones you really want to ask will be taken,” he said sending a purposeful look towards Hermione.

“What? Hermione? Don’t be ridiculous,” squeaked Ron.

It took every last ounce of his strength, for Fred to not throttle Ron for his stupidity. Here he was trying to do a nice thing for Hermione and subsequently his little brother and what did he get in return? He was Father bloody Christmas at this point.

“Listen – you can say whatever you want, but your little crush on Hermione—”

“—I don’t have a crush on Hermione—”

“—your little crush on Hermione isn’t as big of a secret to some. So, I advise you ask her before somebody else does.”

Ron scoffed, “Sure.”

“Hey—” Fred held his hands up in defeat “—I’m just saying. And now that I’ve said my peace, my moral obligation is done, and I can leave you to it. Don’t cock it up, mate.”

Ron looked at Fred like he was a strange creature from the depths of the Black Lake itself. “Okay…well if that’s all, I’m gonna head back. Weirdo…” Ron breathed the last sentiment as he turned away from Fred and headed back towards Harry and Hermione.

Fred shook his head, having the sinking feeling that Ron would, in fact, cock it up.

And he’d been right. Two days later and Ron had yet to ask Hermione to the ball. Even worse, he had it on good authority – from some gossiping third year girls – that Krum had approached Hermione on the grounds the day before. For all he knew, Krum had asked her again and the poor girl had said yes because at this point it was so close to the day of the ball that she probably thought Ron would never ask! Fred glared down at the parchment in front of him and then over to Ron who was seated on the couch between Harry and Hermione. Scratching a quick note onto a bit of spare parchment, he crumpled it and threw it in Ron’s direction. Ron picked it up, unfolding the note and reading it out loud.

“Hurry up and ask someone before all the good ones are taken. Who are you taking the ball then?” Ron asked in annoyance.

Fred looked from Ron to Angelina who sat at a nearby table with Alicia working on her potions essay. Crumpling up another piece of parchment, he sent it flying in Angelina’s direction. She looked up at him with a tired expression when the paper landed on a bit of ink not yet dried.

“What?” Angelina asked.

“Fancy going to the ball with me, Johnson? I think we’d make a rather good-looking pair.”

Angelina smiled widely, looking excitedly at Alicia before turning back to Fred and nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, I’d love to Fred.”

George clapped a hand on Fred’s back in congratulations which he gracefully took. Really it wasn’t the most romantic thing. Perhaps it would have been more romantic if Angelina hadn’t already decided they were going together. But at least he’d asked her. Fred shot a smug grin and wink in Ron’s direction. While the irritated expression on Ron’s face was expected, the look on Hermione’s face was not. She almost seemed upset as their eyes met momentarily, but before Fred could properly tell, she looked away.

“Say…Hermione…” began Ron.

Alright, not off to a great start, but it’s something, thought Fred as he listened closely.

“Yes?” asked Hermione, looking at Ron in trepidation.

“You’re a girl…”

“Very well spotted,” Hermione said, giving him a confused look.

“Well, why don’t we go together?”

Yes! He’d done it! Just when he thought Ron didn’t have it in him, he overstepped Fred’s expectations. Fred was almost tempted to walk over and pull him into a hug, but then all temptation was erased at what he heard next.

“Really?” asked Hermione in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean it’s one thing for a guy to show up alone, but for a girl it’s just sad.”

No…no, no, no. Fred groaned, laying his head in his hands. George winced beside him, knowing that a comment like that absolutely would not fly with Hermione.

“What makes you think I’d be going alone?” asked Hermione – a seemingly innocent question, but Fred knew that behind it, lurked only bad things for Ron.

“I mean, come on…” remarked Ron, faltering a bit when he saw the rage in Hermione’s eyes. Just when Fred thought it couldn’t get any worse…

“For your information. I won’t be going alone because somebody already asked me…” Fred looked up when Hermione hesitated. While he knew it wasn’t really any of his business, a part of him was wildly curious as to what the next thing she had to say was. Hermione seemed to agree with his involvement, for her eyes landed on him for the briefest of moments before she looked back at Ron and seethed her answer, “And I said yes.”

Christmas morning came without a hitch. The term had been over for nearly a week now and Fred could finally focus all of his time and effort into working out the remaining kinks of the Canary Creams. In fact, he’d spent the last week cooped up in the small classroom that was their work area, reading and brewing. George had been there quite a bit as well, but he often snuck out to the kitchens or to play a few rounds of exploding snap with Lee. Usually Fred would go too, but with the added company of Hermione he found he didn’t mind staying behind to continue working. Hermione had almost no qualms with spending most of her time hidden away in their workspace as she was still vexed with Ron over his disastrous attempt to ask her to the ball. While Fred felt bad that it didn’t work out the way he planned, he hated to admit that a small part of him was happy Ron wasn’t taking Hermione to the Yule Ball. She was too good for him, he told himself resolutely.

Fred rolled over in his bed and pulled back the curtains to see the sky still inky black. Winter mornings were always so bleak and dismal. He preferred summer when he woke with the sun. But still, the cheer and excitement that came with Christmas morning left him wide awake and so he sat up excitedly, ready to see what presents were waiting for him. The pile at the end of his bed looked its usual size except for a rather large box at the very bottom. He wondered for a moment who that could be from. Did his mother hit her head and forget they were poor? he pondered, reaching out and grabbing the first present from the top. Looking at the tag, he recognized it was from Angelina. He smiled, knowing with a chagrin that it was most likely sweets. She always got him and George sweets – despite Fred mentioning many times that he didn’t care for candy all that much. Tearing the wrapping, he was pleasantly surprised to find not candy, but a small golden compass for his broom. They had seen it in a shop last Hogsmeade weekend. Fred had innocently mentioned he’d quite like a compass for his broom, but never did he imagine Angelina would buy it for him. Amusedly, he thought of the present he got her. That same Hogsmeade visit she’d spent hours eyeing a scarf in a little side shop. When she wasn’t looking, he’d snuck back and purchased it for her. Placing the compass gently to the side, he dug into the rest of his presents. A big box of chocolate frogs from Lee, a sweater from his mum and dad along with some fudge, and a year-long subscription to Jokester’s Magazine from Alicia. All in all, a good turn out – but there was still one present he had yet to open. A big box that simply read: To Fred and George, From Hermione.

Fred reached for the box and then stopped. Looking over at the closed curtains of George’s bed, he wondered if he should open the present when it was meant for him and George. Really, he should wait for George to wake up and open the present together, thought Fred before grabbing the corner of the wrapping and tearing it open. Ridding the large box of its wrappings, he pulled off the lid of the box to reveal a number of small vials and boxes.

“What?” Fred pondered out loud.

“Oi! You started with out me, ya git,” grumbled George, pulling back his curtains and glaring at Fred.

“Come and see what Hermione’s got us Georgie. I’m not quite sure what it is.”

George groaned, rolling out his bed with a heavy thump of his feet and shuffling over to him. George stared down at the contents of the box and reached in. His fingers closed around a vial of deep blue color. Turning it over and reading the card attached to the top George read aloud: “Billywig sting—" George reached in and grabbed a box this time “—dried mandrake root. Freddie, I think the girls gone and bought us potions ingredients for Christmas.”

“Really?!” Fred asked excitedly, reaching down, and grabbing a jar of newt spleen. Sure enough, it looked like the box was filled with a bit of ingredients Fred had ever heard of and then a few he had not. This would help their progress more than he though Hermione even realized. Brilliant. It was just brilliant.

“We’re set for a while now, Freddie!” exclaimed George, sitting down on his own bed and beginning to open his presents.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Fred couldn’t wipe the grin from his face for the rest of the morning. With the knowledge that they were free to explore and experiment to their hearts desire, he was constantly reminded of one of the best Christmas presents he’d ever gotten. He meant to tell her as much too, but Hermione was distinctly missing from the breakfast that morning and the common room as well. When he finally ran into Ron and Harry and asked about her, they had said something about her getting ready for the ball. Ron had scoffed, still convinced that Hermione was lying about her date for the Yule Ball. While Fred was one of the few who actually knew who she was going with, he wasn’t going to tell Ron any different. Secretly he couldn’t wait to see the stupid look on Ron’s face when Hermione arrived that on the arm of Viktor Krum.

How could it possibly take her all day to get ready for a stupid dance? thought Fred as he settled into a game of chess with Ron. While his little brother walloped him, checking his king for the third time that morning, Fred thought of Hermione’s fantastic Christmas gift. Self-consciously he wondered if his gift to her matched up. What was a small book compared to all those ingredients? It must have cost her almost all her pocket money and then some. The rest of the day was spent in the common room, alternating between chess, exploding snap, and chatting with his fellow Gryffindors. The tower was much busier than any holiday Fred had spent at Hogwarts – the Yule Ball keeping everyone over Christmas break that usually would have gone home. It was a little after two when Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and Ginny stated they were headed up to their dorms to get ready for the ball. He, George, Lee, Ron, and Harry bid they goodbye before deciding to take a walk around the grounds before getting ready themselves. The wind was bone chilling as they strolled from the castle to the quidditch pitch and back, leaving their faces tinged pink and raw.

By the time they got back, they had nearly an hour till the ball began and so, they all departed to their dorms to get into their dress robes. Fred’s dress robes were a standard black, but he’d purchased a purple tie a week ago via owl-order to match Angelina’s dress. Checking himself in the mirror one last time, he straightened his tie and smoothed down his long, ginger locks. George appeared in the mirror behind him, straightening his tie as well and giving him a shit-eating grin.

“I reckon we’ll be the best-looking blokes at the ball tonight,” said George definitively.

“Yes, but only if you mean I’ll be the best looking and you’ll be a close second,” quipped Fred.

“You both look like two huge identical prats to me—” Lee rolled his eyes, pulling at the sleeves of his baby blue robes “—now let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get to hear the Weird Sisters play.”

Lee hadn’t shut up about the Weird Sisters playing at the Yule Ball since Dumbledore had announced it. Fred and George were excited too, but they didn’t hold quite a candle in their hearts for the band like Lee did.

The night went by quickly and spectacularly. The food was divine, the Weird Sisters were just as good as Fred imagined, and Angelina was as good a date as he could imagine for the night. They talked and joked and danced, never lulling into awkward silence like so many couple there that night. It wasn’t until Angelina excused herself to the restroom that Fred realized it was nearly eleven at night. Where had the time gone? Glancing around the marvelously decorated room, he saw George laughing loudly at something Lee had said near the punchbowl, Kenneth Towler was dancing slowly to a ballad with his Ravenclaw date, and across the room sat Ron and Harry looking miserable. Their dates had long since abandoned them, Fred noted, as they had failed to dance with them once – a missed opportunity as Fred acknowledged that both Padma and Pavarti Patil were very pretty girls. Unfortunately, Ron and Harry were just too preoccupied with Hermione and more importantly her date. When he failed to spot the duckling turned swan of the evening, he meandered casually out of the room and into the adjoining corridor where several students stood mingling. Traveling further down, he spotted a terrace door ajar and peaked through the glass to see Hermione standing by herself in the cold. Hands braced on the stone railing, she looked out into the dark expanse of the knight.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” exclaimed Fred, noting Hermione’s flushed appearance and looking for any signs of her turning blue. Luckily, the only thing blue about her was the fabric of her dress – a dress that every girl apparently adored that evening, for even Angelina had spent a fair bit of time discussing it with Alicia. Hermione truly did look beautiful. Everyone had been gossiping about her since the moment she walked into the ballroom on the arm of Viktor Krum. Her dress revealed a figure Fred had never seen before – one that was womanly and soft, her skin looked soft and dewy like she’d stepped out of a painting, and her hair had somehow been tamed into an elaborate updo with a few loose curls framing her face. Although, if Fred was being honest with himself, he preferred her hair the way it usually looked – wild and lioness-like.

Hermione jumped, grabbing ahold of the railing in front of her and bringing a hand up to her heart. Clearly, she hadn’t expected company out here and Fred didn’t blame her – only someone truly insane would be standing out in the cold like this without the proper robes. “Merlin Fred, you scared me!”

“What are you doing out here?” he asked again, stepping towards her.

“Nothing…Viktor went to get drinks and I needed a bit of fresh air,” said Hermione, but the way in which she worried her bottom lip, her deliciously tempting bottom lip, between her teeth told him there might be more. So, he stared at her, raising an eyebrow in question until she broke.

“Oh god, Fred. I don’t know what to do!” she yelled, bringing a hand up to her temple. She began to pace back and forth, the hem of her dress dragging in the snow that was beginning to build on the terrace.

Fred reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, halting her movements. “What happened? What’s the matter?” he asked, looking over her for any signs of physical ailments. Had Krum hurt her somehow?

“Nothing, well no that’s not true. It is something, but it hasn’t necessarily happened yet and I—”

“Just tell me why you’re out here trying to freeze to death, please Hermione,” said Fred, cutting her ramblings short.

“I…what if he tries to kiss me?”

Fred wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“I mean, you kiss him back. If that’s what you want and if it’s not what you want, then kick him in the shins. You’ve got a killer kick – I can attest to that personally.”

Hermione smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, the golden amber color shining with worry. “I just…I was dancing with him and there was a moment where I thought he might kiss me and then someone interrupted us and so we didn’t. But I had the realization that he might try to kiss me again and I’ve never kissed anyone before. What if I’m bad at it, Fred?” she asked looking up at him with a desperate expression.

“It’s a first kiss – everyone’s first kiss is a little awkward,” reasoned Fred, trying very hard not to look at her plump pink lips.

“Yes, but what if I’m so bad that he never wants to kiss me again? I just…I don’t know what to expect or what to do and I—”

Before Fred could weigh the pros and cons of his actions, he was leaning down and capturing Hermione’s frantically moving lips in his own. The kiss was sweet at first, a firm yet gentle press of his lips to hers, but like a man thirsting in the desert, the moment he reached water he had to drink his fill. Reaching up, he cupped her face and deepened the kiss. Slotting their lips, he moved in slow measured movements. For her first kiss, Hermione was more skilled than she knew. Her lips moved naturally and achingly sweet with his, parting just enough for him to swipe his tongue along the crease and taste her. Later on, he would reason with himself that he only did it to shut her up. He’d go on to tell her, after breaking the kiss, that he merely did it so she wouldn’t be nervous for when Krum kissed her later – she’d be prepared and know what to expect. But in that moment, as he felt her soft skin beneath his fingertips and breathed in her essence, he couldn’t lie to himself. He kissed her because he was selfish. He kissed her because the idea of Krum being the first man to sample her sweet lips lit a burning fire of rage in his veins. He kissed her because he wanted to.

Chapter 13>>>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

[janiedean]

JKDHKJDSGHSDJKGSDJKGHDSJKHGDSJK GOD PLS DON’T LET HANLANDO END UP LIKE FINNPOE IS2G I’m gonna die

What the hell?

[flowerfan2]

My Boyfriend’s On The Baseball Team

David x Patrick, 1200 words, A03. Please reblog if you are enjoying this series!

Summary:  After the baseball game, Patrick gives David a massage.  It makes David a little emotional.

After the baseball game, and the barbeque, and listening to his dad wax poetic about every scene in the game at least twice, David finally convinces Patrick that the baseball day is over, and they retreat to Patrick’s apartment.

David goes into the bathroom to shower first.  He’s joined by Patrick a few minutes later, who slides under the spray to wash away the dirt and sweat before the hot water runs out.  They don’t have time to do anything sexy, not unless they want to freeze off certain sensitive body parts, so Patrick scoots back out of the bathroom while David does his hair.  

“How’s your back feeling?” Patrick asks when David emerges.  Patrick’s wearing a soft white t-shirt and gray joggers, and David wants to wrap him up and cuddle him until he squirms, and then peel off his clothes until he’s as naked as David is under his towel.

But Patrick has dimmed the lights, lit a scented candle, and set a bottle of massage oil on the bedside table.  It seems like Patrick has a plan, and it’s always best to go along.  Patrick makes excellent plans, and he gets grumpy if he’s interrupted.

“I don’t know, will telling you it’s aching get me a back rub?”

“You don’t have to convince me to give you a back rub, David,” Patrick says, holding out a hand.  “It’s the least I can do.”

“Mmm, you don’t need to keep apologizing,” David says.  He knows Patrick feels badly – between Patrick’s competitive side making a rather pointed appearance, and David getting whacked with a ball thrown by his father, it was kind of a rocky day.  At least their team won.  “Although a selection of handcrafted chocolates wouldn’t go amiss.”

“We’ve been over this, David.  Those chocolates are for the store.  Come over here.”

“Want me to - ” David waves his hand at himself, thinking perhaps he should put some clothes on, at least some briefs, but Patrick shakes his head.

“No sense getting massage oil on your clothes.”  Patrick points to the bed, where he has covered the duvet with a large, soft beach towel.  “Lie down.”

David stretches out, balling a pillow under his arms, and tilts his head to the side so he can keep watching Patrick, who is biting his lip in concentration as he kneels on the bed next to David.  He’s incredibly cute.  “Which massage oil is that?”

“Lavender almond,” Patrick says.  “With jojoba.”

“All of our massage oils have jojoba, you don’t have to mention it every time.”

“But I like saying jojoba.”

David laughs, and then groans in appreciation as Patrick drizzles some of the oil on his back and spreads it across his shoulders, his palms moving in warm, firm strokes.

“Ugh, that feels really good.”  David closes his eyes and lets himself drift, relishing the feeling of his boyfriend’s hands on his skin.  Patrick works his fingers up David’s neck, just into his hairline, massaging at the base of his skull.  It feels so good, David doesn’t even warn him not to get oil in his hair.

Patrick moves his hands down, his thumbs working the trapezius muscle and pressing at the top of David’s spine.  It’s heavenly, and David lets out a low moan.  There was a time when he would have been embarrassed with this type of intimacy, but with Patrick, he loves it.  He feels wonderfully safe.

Patrick lightens the pressure when he gets to the center of David’s back, where the baseball struck him.  “This okay?  Not too hard?”

“Mmm, yes, it’s good.”

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“Does it matter?  You said you’d give me a back rub anyway.”

Patrick snorts a little and leans down to press a kiss between David’s shoulder bones, his lips warm and damp against his skin.  “I will.  I am.  But I still don’t want to hurt you.”

David twists to look up at Patrick.  “You never hurt me.”  His words come out more laden with meaning than he intended, and he sees Patrick absorb it.

“I love you, David.”  Patrick leans down again and kisses David on the lips this time, tasting of massage oil.  

David returns the kiss, lazy and sweet.  “Mmm, me too.  But keep going.”

Patrick pours some more of the fragrant oil onto his hands and works down each side of David’s body, his thumbs pressing and releasing, working the muscles along David’s spine.  His touch is sure, Patrick’s confidence extending easily to David’s body.  Patrick finds a knot and focuses on it, fingertips making circles on David’s skin, then moves on to another tight spot when the knot loosens.  The aroma of the body oil surrounds them, and David breathes it in, feeling blissed out and boneless.

Patrick glides his hands further down, teasing at the edge of the towel on David’s hips, hinting, perhaps, at what’s to come later.  David is feeling so floaty he just files it away, and sinks deeper into the mattress.

A sweep up and over the spot where the baseball hit pulls David out of his dreamlike state.  It does ache, a little.  But it’s nothing like when he was a kid, his one attempt at baseball – his dad’s absolute favorite sport – ruined when the rest of the boys decided David wasn’t one of them, and did what little boys everywhere do when they sense weakness.

“You didn’t mind me being on your team,” David says, the contrast between today’s events and his memories turning into words he forgets to hold back.

“What?  Of course not.  I asked you to play with us, remember?”

“Yeah, but… some people wouldn’t have even asked me.  Even if they were desperate.”

“Do you mean Ronnie and Roland?  They were just talking shit, they would have done that to anyone.”

David shifts, lifting up on one elbow and looking at Patrick, because patronizing him is incorrect.  “You know that’s not true.”

Patrick gives David’s shoulder a squeeze, and then runs his hands down David’s arm, massaging his palm and his fingers as if that was part of his plan, and not just a way to hold David’s hand as their conversation gets weightier.

“Everyone assumed I was a liability,” David says slowly.  “When Ronnie and Roland found out I’d be playing, they were thrilled.  They thought I’d be terrible, and they let everyone know, in no uncertain terms.”

“David,” Patrick says softly.  “I didn’t realize it would be that bad.  I’m sorry I asked you.  I should have listened when you said no.”

“No, no – that’s not what I’m saying.  I know what people say about me.  I don’t care, much.  I’m used to it.”

Patrick’s brow is creased, and he looks upset.  “Then what are you saying?”

David sits up and puts his hands on Patrick’s face, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes.  “I’m saying that I’m glad you asked me.  Thank you for trusting me with the fate of your finale.”

“Championship,” Patrick murmurs, leaning in to kiss David.

“I know,” David says softly against Patrick’s lips, both of them smiling into the kiss.

“I know you do,” Patrick agrees, his hand cupping David’s cheek.

David turns over and pulls Patrick into his arms, holding him tight.  David never would have thought that a baseball game would bring them closer together, but then again he never thought he’d be the VIP, either. David’s starting to believe that with Patrick at his side, anything is possible.

[aelia-likes-monsters]

Monster Match #7 - @xtheomniverse​

I have a wide variety of interests. I tend to hop from one thing to the next. Anything from witchcraft to astrophysics to mythology to history to learning (basic) new languages and beyond. I take open courses almost like a hobby. The only thing that’s been consistent is my love of reading (but even then I have a nasty habit of not finishing books before moving on to a different one). I, like most people, am fairly introverted and awkward. Though once I’m comfortable (that can take a while though) I’m energetic and funny -or a least I think I am. When it comes to what I want in a partner(s): a sense of humor would be great. That can be varied too, I find almost anything funny so the humor can be dry, sarcastic, goofy, dark, etc. Someone who would patiently listen to me info dump about my interest of the week. Other than that I don’t really have an ideal and I get on with most personality types. I’m interested in all genders (men, women, enby, etc) though I do tend to have a preference for men. I’m gender fluid (AFAB). As for what kind of monsters, surprise me! Thank you!

You’ve been matched with a Werewolf & a Naga. Werewolves are known for their humor, energy, and ability to cuddle. Naga, meanwhile, tend to be fairly studious, appreciating the climate control found within modern libraries. That doesn’t mean they’re boring; quite the opposite, actually. A naga is likely to be able to keep up with you where others can’t. 

“I’m not really into the whole monogamy thing if that’s alright?” You tell Asher the Naga when he first asks you on a date.

You’re pleased to note that his grin widens. 

He’s a handsome naga, his skin mottled in a rich gold-and-brown pattern that matches his tail; he’s from a boa constrictor line, you think. He usually wears soft, drapey clothes and bright gold accessories, and today’s no different. He’s told you before that he works for a clothing design company, so it makes sense that he’s always pushing the edge of men’s clothing. In fact, it was his clothing which first caught your attention; it’s always beautiful and trendy, but it looks comfortable, and the fabrics seem so soft that you just want to nestle into them. You wonder if he’d like cuddling.

“That is quite excellent. It’s not really my thing, either.” He smiles. “I don’t currently have any other partners though.” 

“Oh, me, either.” You shrug.

“Not you and Colton?” He asks, his eyebrows shooting up. You know Asher’s seen the way Colton flirts with you, but you hadn’t realized he’d read the situation that way. 

Colton is the werewolf who works at your regular coffee shop, and he flirts outrageously with you. He’s got dimples, broad shoulders, and a great ass. Not that you uh… look too much, but a person can’t help but notice things like that sometimes. You like Colton a lot, with his boy-next-door good looks, and the way he teases you without ever taking things too far. 

“No, not me and Colton.” You realize you sound disappointed, and you jerk your attention back to Asher. “But it’s um… we’re not talking about that. I’m glad you finally asked me on a date. I’d been trying to convince myself to just ask you for a while now.” 

“It’s alright. I get it. Colton’s delightful.” He smiles, showing a flash of fang. You love it. He’s sweet, charming, educated, and still has that edge of danger that you really like. “But so are you.” 

He lifts your hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss there. You blush brightly, and he seems thrilled by it. 

Since you first met Asher at the library a few months ago, he’s spent quite a bit of time teasing you and making you blush. You’ve circled around each other for a while, especially since you’ve found that he has similar study habits as you; picking up and throwing himself at new interests all the time. He’s maintained his focus on you, though, making a point of sharing tables with you, suggesting books, and even once or twice loaning you books out of his personal collection when they were things the library didn’t have available.

“You should ask the silly werewolf on a date,” Asher suggests. “Since he hasn’t gotten his act together. Consider this a tip from someone with some insider knowledge.” 

You’re about to ask for more information when his phone chimes.

“Ah, I need to get going. I’m so sorry to rush away, but this is important. I’ll call you later?” He looks genuinely remorseful, so it takes the sting out of him leaving abruptly.

“I look forward to it.” You say as he grabs his bag and slithers away.

Asher’s words haunt you for the next several hours as you try to keep reading. Ask the silly werewolf on a date? But what if he says no? You don’t want to make things weird. You don’t want to find a new coffee shop. But… the two of them seemed to know each other, and that has to mean something, right? Maybe you’ll feel it out. You decide to stop by the cafe for a cookie on the way home.

Colton’s still working, and as you come in the door you take a moment to appreciate the view. He really is gorgeous, and you wonder if there was something to what Asher was hinting at earlier. 

Nothing ventured nothing gained, right? 

“Oh! You’re here!” Colton says, his face lighting up with a grin as you approach the counter. His dark brown eyes flash with the hint of gold that Weres often exhibit when excited. If it were closer to the full moon, you think he’d have a tail and it might be wagging. “What can I get you today?” 

It’s his clear excitement at seeing you that makes you bold enough to actually speak. To use the pickup line that he’s just set you up for.

“Your number…” you say. And then immediately regret it. You want to disappear as soon as the words are out of your mouth. Did you really just… you did. And… oh no. “Oh, gods that was so awful.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Colton says with a laugh. “But I’ve been trying to figure out if you were interested for a while now. You just answered that” 

Colton fishes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it before passing it to you. “Put your info in there and then send yourself a text from me.” 

“Seriously?” You say. “Even after…” you gesture vaguely “that horrible pickup line?” 

“Even after that.” He glances around but there aren’t any other customers waiting for help. “So… I have to ask though. Are you and Asher dating?” 

“As of today, yeah?” You smile. “He’s the one who encouraged me to finally ask you though.” 

“Dammit,” Colton says, but he doesn’t seem upset. “Yeah, I asked him about you a while ago, back when you first started coming into the shop with him. I didn’t expect him to get the drop on me though.” 

“So you’re good with me dating both of you?” You clarify, just to put it in words. 

“Yeah,” Colton says. “I’m good with you dating both of us, or to put it another way, I’m open to open relationships. We can figure out exactly where our boundaries are after I get off work in half an hour if you want?” 

You take a moment to think about it. You’ve got your laptop with you in your bag, and you could kill time here while you wait for him. And you did want that cookie. 

“Okay, sure.” You answer. “I can hang out until you’re done. Can I get a chocolate chip cookie though?” 

“Absolutely.” 

If you spend the next half hour thinking about how absurdly lucky today has been instead of doing anything productive, nobody could blame you. After all, you now have not one, but two dates with gorgeous inhuman men. 

It couldn’t get much better than that. 

This was a “Monster Match.” ♥ If you want your own, check out my Ko-Fi Commissions or my regular Commissions page for details. You can find all my writing on my Masterlist.

Love what I do? Tip me with a Ko-Fi, and/or back me on Patreon. I also truly appreciate reblogs, likes, and comments. They keep me going. ♥

[benichi]

I played Chou no Doku (so you don’t have to) - Mizuhito’s Route Part 4

The Finale. Let’s finally get this over with. Here’s the link to the [last part].

Yuriko made her way to Majima’s quarters in order to ask him about going to the Brothel in Mizuhito’s stead. Majima remarks that it would be better to just let her Brother know about what’s going on, but Yuriko starts freaking out and acting like a jealous child again. She sure got a lot of trust for her beloved Brother. Ultimately Majima agrees to go and Yuriko ends up reminiscing about the feelings she used to harbor towards him

Sure, it’s his fault now.

On the next day Kyoko decides to pay the siblings a visit, however, she requests to only speak with Yuriko. With just the two of them she reveals that Kyoko’s well aware of the things that are going on between our Brother and Sister.

Her “romance senses” were tingling apparently. Though to be honest considering how the two of them are acting you don’t need to be a genius to figure out what’s going on. Kyoko also reveals that she a... relationship dealer? Basically she arranges fake marriages that allow cover ups for illict relationships of whatever sort. Mizuhito eventually shows up and pretty much kicks Kyoko out. Which has Yuriko frantically going after her, since she does consider her offer. Outside she meets Majima who’s back from his “errand”, stating that the Geisha did in fact not have one of Mizuhito’s belongings but simply wanted to get him to visit. She gave Majima a comb that he’s supposed to pass on to Mizuhito. Yuriko goes inside to hide the comb but meets Mizuhito on the way

She slips it into her... Ouch. That’s dedication.

They have another painting session, but Mizuhito soon starts asking questions about their current situation.

Romantic. Obviously she doesn’t tell him that though, but the following:

Me avoiding my responsibilities. She literally dodged his question because she knows she wouldn’t have. While trying to get up Yuriko ends up dropping the comb and Mizuhito immediately recognizes it. Though not mad he does confront her and Yuriko laments that she was scared of losing him forever.

No, he doesn’t talk about eloping Yuriko. It’s coming guys: close your eyes, hide your children. The moment this game has been building up for has come: The smex. And while we don’t get the full smex we do get enough to count our lucky stars that we don’t have to sit through the entirety of the “act”.

Things you should say before smex:

Things you should not say before smex:

Followed by things you should not say during smex:

Concluded by things you should not say after smex:

Kinda? Luckily that’s it (for now at least).

The following day Mizuhito holes himself up in his room to finish the painting. When Yuriko calls him for dinner he suggests they go out to eat something. On their way they run into the Proprietress of the Brothel he used to frequent. She remarks that she noticed something odd about Majima when she saw him a few days ago and that he may be involved in dangerous affairs, such as dealing with Opium. After the Proprietress excused herself Yuriko noticed that Mizuhito did not introduce her as his sister.

Because these two go so well together.

They conclude that confronting Majima head on is a bad idea. Mizuhito eventually tells Yuriko to head back without him first. She decides that this is the time to play Detective and find out more about Majima. Fujita says that he actually doesn’t know much about Majima either. Apparently he does fequently take time off however, so Fujita says it’s not impossible he’s doing something on the side. 

Yeah mess with the potentially dangerous guys room. Great idea. So Yuriko starts sniffing around (quite literally) .

So apparently Yuriko goes around sniffing men’s rooms in her pastime if she’s got that much ground for comparison. But moving on, obviously she doesn’t find anything just lying around. What a shocker. Her “I’m the Heroine of this story” genes kick in however, so as she knocks one of his Kimonos to the ground something falls out of it. Mind you, that is a pretty dumb hiding spot so I guess she wasn’t that far off after all. We don’t get to find out what she found yet though, because she’s interrupted by a loud noise.

Once outside Yuriko finds that the entire Manor is on fire. Majima magically appears and seems rather calm as Yuriko freaks out. He steadies her but is quickly interrupted by Mizuhito who screams at him to let her go. Majima taunts him by saying that he didn’t even think it possible that Mizuhito can run.

Hello 911. There’s a fire and a murder.

Mizuhito reveals that all of the things the Proprietress said are true. In fact he’s not just any Opium dealer, Majima is referred to as the “King” (agshskdl sorry I had to laugh). He got the information from one of his previous clients, revealing that Mizuhito would sell his body a times in order to protect his sister and help with the debt. Majima comments on the relationship between the two “siblings” and becomes super mad about it.

Tbh when I read this for the first time I had to read it twice to check if it’s really Majima speaking. His reaction makes more sense if you know the grand scheme of the game (I’ll add a link with my verdict later). But yeah moving on Mizuhito exclaims that the only filthy one is him and that Yuriko is a pure Maiden (are you sure about that.png). She concludes by telling Majima that they’re not biological siblings (why didn’t you just say that from the start lol) which seems to soothe Majima. He exclaims that “the curse never touched” her and yeets himself into the fire with these words. 

And dead. But that’s beside the point apparently.

Some time later we see Yuriko who’s currently in Paris (paint me like one of your french girls coming full circle). She’s looking out on a balcony while thinking about the past. After the fire some random “stranger” got rid of their debt, which gave Mizuhito the opportunity to study art. His creations were not well received in Japan however (you mean people DIDN’T like him painting pictures of his Sister 24/7) so he went to France. For some magical reasons his art became a big hit over there and now they’re living a luxurious life.

Also the thing she found in Majima’s Kimono was a Chinese Bellflower. Yuriko still wasn’t sure if Majima killed her parents or not despite stating herself that these don’t grow where they live (girl wut).

What’s with that random paranthesis. Mizuhito says that there are always a lot of people looking at Yuriko during the parties, and that they want to “own” her by buying his paintings (which is not weird at all).

You’d think that they would see this as a chance to get out of this “sibling” relationship but apparently not. Also HER HAIR IS NOT BLACK FOR FU-...

Anyways. Yuriko says that she ran into Shiba which makes Mizuhito grrr horny so he throws her onto the bed.

Is it cringe? Yes. Is it an upgrade to “my little sister”?... Maybe. I’ll take it I guess.

Bruh. But Mizuhito wouldn’t be Mizuhito if he didn’t have an excellent plan, he even has two: either pretend you adopted the child from an Orphanage OR from distant relatives. Whta a grand idea that child will be so happy being lied to in order to hide their parents relationship.

That’s not how marriage works. Anyways that’s the end, thanks for sticking around. I hope you had a good time, I’ll be adding a small “review” like thing as a reblog later. I’d like to end this post with the following words:

NEITHER OF THEM HAVE BLACK HAIR I HATE THIS.

[bewitchedfeathers]

A Cold Performance (Part 2/2)

[COLD PERFORMANCE PART 1 HERE]

(Please do not reblog if you are not a kink blog. Thanks!)

Crowley returns from the stage to try and get himself back together in his green room. Aziraphale comes to help tend to his poor sick love.

“Bloody Hell. Hh-Hih...Hih’GGSSHuh...ngh. Just need to to get it together before the closing act,” He muttered to himself rubbing roughly at his nose. He darted a look to the dressing room mirror and grimaced at how much of the makeup on his nose and upper lip he’d rubbed off, leaving it looking bright red. “Hh...c-come ah...on...Heh-CHUSSHoo,” His nose teased him for a moment before he let loose another sneeze towards the floor and pulled out some tissues, blowing his nose.

Aziraphale noticed Crowley rushing off stage and politely excused himself as he left before the next performance could begin, making his way backstage with the pass Crowley had given him. 

He knocked lightly on the door and heard a rough “Just a sec!” followed by the sound of two muffled sneezes. Then the door opened to Crowley looking sniffly and annoyed, which immediately changed into a brighter surprised expression when he saw who was at his door. “Angel, hey. What are you doing here? You’re gonna miss the main performance,” He said with a chastising frown.

“I’m actually here for the opening act and the closing funnily enough,” Aziraphale snarked as he stepped into the dressing room, Crowley moving to let him inside with an affectionate sigh. 

“I’m fine, Aziraphale. You don’t need to be...be back here,” He said his voice just slightly wavering as his nose gave a twitch. 

Aziraphale shot him a disbelieving look tinged with fondness. “Well I want to be here. So unless you ask me to leave because you don’t want me here. Then this is where I’ll be,” He said firmly, gently leading Crowley to sit back down in the chair he was previously occupying. Aziraphale pulled up a small ottoman and settled next to his lover.

“Don’t want you to leave,” Crowley admitted begrudgingly with another sniffle. Before Aziraphale could respond Crowley’s face collapsed into sneezy desperation, his face turning away from Aziraphale as his breath hitched wildly. “Heh….Hh...Hehhh...Gonna...g-gonna sneh-sneeze….Hehhhh-SHUH...Hh-Heh’CHUSHOO...hh...Hh’HUHAESSHuh…”

“Gesundheit, sweetheart. Here, blow your nose when you can,” He said bringing up a bunch of tissues and pressing them to Crowley’s dripping nose.

“Heh’MMPSSH-MPHSSHuh….Heh...HEH’AESSHoo...Hehhh-TCHOO...HMF’SHUH,” He sneezed into the tissues completely overcome, and Aziraphale placed a hand on the back of his lover’s neck to help steady him until he finally was able to blow his nose and get some relief from the constant tickle.

“Goodness, such a cold you have dear. Salud,” He murmured as he wiped Crowley’s nose clean with a gentle hand. 

“Christ in heaven,” He cursed under his breath, blushing bright red. “M’sorry I’m so disgusting right now. Was it...erhm...obvious when I was on stage?” He asked rubbing his nose as he looked away from Aziraphale’s soft gaze.

“No, darling. You were excellent. I wouldn’t have been able to tell if I hadn’t already known,” Aziraphale offered gently tilting Crowley’s face back towards him. He pressed a light kiss to his sick lover’s cheek, knowing Crowley would fuss over contagion if he kissed him on the lips. 

Crowley smiled back, “Thanks, angel.” 

“Now come lay down on the couch, you still have quite a while til you need to be back on,” Aziraphale said urging Crowley to stand.

“I shouldn’t, I might fall asleep and I need to fix my makeup still,” He said nibbling his lip as his anxiety showed through.

“I’ll wake you with plenty of time dear. Promise.” Aziraphale dragged him gently over to the couch and got his lover settled with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, legs draped over one of armrests. Aziraphale pet through his hair soothingly, and Crowley’s eyes drooped sleepily even as he shot his lover a look that said ‘don’t mess up my hair’.

“And I’ll fix your hair, daring,” Aziraphale said bemused as Crowley was already drifting off. Then he was left in the quiet with only his lover’s snuffling and breathy snores. He petted Crowley’s hair and watched the clock, hoping to let Crowley sleep as long as possible.

Crowley started wriggling a bit in his sleep and Aziraphale noticed him rubbing his twitchy nose against the blonde’s pant leg. Aziraphale smiled slightly down at his love in sympathy, poor thing he thought to himself.

Then Crowley’s breath hitched and he sneezed himself awake against Aziraphale’s tan slacks. “Hiiih….hh….hh-Hh..Hih’Gssshuh...Hih’Esshoo...snf Heh’TSHuh...nggh…” He groaned rubbing groggily at his nose and looking up at Aziraphale as he took in his surroundings. Then his eyes widened a bit as anxiety kicked in. “What--TSSHoo...what time is it?” He asked sitting up with a flail and another abrupt sneeze. 

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, “You have plenty of time, darling. Deep breaths. We’ll get you ready with time to spare,” He said as he took a few deep breaths himself, giving Crowley something to match his own breathing to.

Crowley let out a sigh of relief and let himself go lax in Aziraphale’s arms, his heart slowing from his initial burst of adrenaline. “Gesundheit, darling. Let me get you a tissue,” Aziraphale offered, making to get up but as Crowley made a displeased sound Aziraphale resettled with a bemused smile. “You’ll keep sneezing if you don’t blow your nose, sweetheart,” Aziraphale reminded Crowley gently. He’d seen him during the height of ragweed season and Crowley could sneeze and sneeze for ages if he failed to blow his nose.

Crowley frowned but his expression had taken on a distinctly sneezy edge, proving Aziraphale’s point. The guitarist reluctantly leaned forward to let Aziraphale get up and grab a box of tissues and bring it over just as Crowley began to sneeze. “Hh….Hehhh….Heh’KTCH-shoo...Heh’AESHuh….Hh…” Aziraphale held a few tissues to Crowley’s nose encouraging him, “Blow your nose for me, sweetheart.” Crowley blew his nose wetly and then let out a quiet sigh as the urge to sneeze faded.

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley said softly, looking up his lover with flushed cheeks, embarrassed at what a pathetic sight he must make.

“Love you, my dear. No need to be embarrassed, I’m happy to care for you,” Aziraphale murmured softly pressing a kiss to Crowley’s forehead. 

“Love you too, angel. Sure you don’t want to catch some of the show?” He asked rubbing at his nose with two fingers.

“I’m sure, darling. Let me help you with your makeup,” He said while gently guiding Crowley up and over to the vanity seat with firm implacable hands. Crowley didn’t bother protesting after that, knowing how stubborn his beloved could be. He smiled softly to himself, feeling incredibly lucky to have Aziraphale as his lover and partner in all things.

“Oh dear your nose is quite red, poor dear. Perhaps if you hold your breath while I try to cover it?” he offered without real belief that it would help when Crowley’s nose was this sensitive.

“Can’t hurt anything,” Crowley muttered and took a breath.

Aziraphale tried to move quickly but Crowley’s nose was so red it was going to take him several layers to cover and almost immediately Crowley flinched away from the brush to sneeze off to the side of the chair.

“Heh’AESHUH ...HEHHhh-AAAESSHUH….Hah’RRushoo...ugh damb it. SNF Sorry Zdira,” Crowley said stuffily, cheeks pink and eyes downcast as he struggled with feeling embarrassed over his pathetic state.

Aziraphale frowned with concern, and rubbed at Crowley’s shoulder sympathetically. He offered Crowley a tissue and the guitarist dabbed gingerly at his nose, sniffling wetly against it.

“No need to apologize, love. I’ll try to be quick, dear.” But it didn’t seem to matter even a pass of the brush over the top of Crowley’s nose set his breath hitching and he managed to hold back his sneezes only long enough for Aziraphale to pass over his nose with the powder twice before he turned to sneeze again.

“Hh...Hihhh...HIEEHSHOO...hh-Heh’TSHOO...Heh’GSShh...Bloody hell. Damb cold,” He swore his voice horribly congested. His eyes were watering from sneezing as well and he tried to dab at his eyes and nose carefully to not disturb his makeup.

“Salud, darling. Do you have any cream based concealer perhaps?” Aziraphale suggested with a worried frown.

“Ndo snf dodn’t usually like how heaby it feels on mby face,” He looked miserably down at his lap, hands picking at his nailpolish, “I’ll try dnot to sdneeze this timbe.”

“It’s alright if you can’t manage it dear. We have time, even if this takes a little longer than usual,” Aziraphale promised, heart aching as Crowley looked down at his lap ashamed at his inability to fight off a truly terrible cold.

Again the powder filled brush passed over Crowley’s nose, which was slowly becoming more skin tone as his red tender nose was covered by the makeup. His breath started hitching, face falling immediately but he tried to hold still and when he couldn’t hold back anymore he stifled as best he could trying to keep still so Aziraphale wouldn’t have to keep stopping.

“Hihhh Hh-hh...f-fuck HGXSHTuh...hh..HXTSHT...HGGSSHXT….Heh-HEHPTSSHoo,” He sneezed wetly across Aziraphale’s hand and a bit of the brush as he couldn’t manage to stifle anymore as the brush tickled and tickled his nose.

“S-sorry Ah-HAHssshuh Andgel, fuck I did’’t mbean to Heh’GGSHHuh get you. I..IIEESHUH..” His eyes were growing teary from sneezing so much and from starting to get a little emotional over how unable he was to keep his cold ridden nose in line.

“Oh sweetheart it’s alright, I know you couldn’t help it.” He bit his lip as he tried to figure out how best to help Crowley blow his nose without taking off the makeup they’d just applied.

Azirapjhale pressed the tissue up just under Crowley’s nostrils, pinching just around the skin to the sides of his nose, leaving it likely that Aziraphale’s hand would end up catching some as well. “Blow you nose, love. I’ve got you,” He said gently, rubbing Crowley’s shoulder soothingly with his free hand.

“A-hah-angel I’ll get your..your HGSHXT-guh...ha’d…” But Aziraphale just looked at him firmly and Crowley yielded just to keep from sneezing on his hand instead. He blew his nose wetly several times until finally he managed to clear the tickle from his nose for the moment and he sighed.

Aziraphale pulled his hand away when Crowley was done, trying to surreptitiously wipe off his hand with a clean tissue. “Bit better, dear?” He asked gently wiping Crowley’s eyes with a light touch of his clean hand.

“Yeah. Christ, thought I’d sneeze my bloody head off. Sorry about making a mess of things, angel” He said not quite able to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured softly, gently tilting Crowley’s face up by the chin, “You are doing just fine, my love. No need to be embarrassed by a few sneezes. I love you in sickness and in health.”

As expected Crowley took on an exaggerated offended look, “Really angel? Bringing marriage vows into this?”

Aziraphale grinned cheekily, “As is my wont when faced with my beloved’s handsome visage.”

Crowley gave a hearty sigh but his eyes had a bit more twinkle in them than before. “Such a sap, angel,” He chastised before following it with a soft affectionate, “I love you.”

“And I you, darling. Now let’s get you ready for the stage,” Aziraphale said as he settled in to take care of Crowley as well as he could for the evening. Happy to take care of his love even in less than ideal circumstances.

The End! (I think)

AN: Comments and kudos always appreciated! I also am taking prompts so feel free to message me with them or drop a comment! Thanks!

[thecatprince]

Stages and Stars

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Read on AO3

Relationships: Eventual Prinxiety, Eventual Logicality

Summary:  Four people, an actor, an astronomer, a musician and a baker, move into a flat together at the start of the year. As they go through the various struggles of life, they slowly become friends and end up making friendships and relationships that are unbreakable.

Warnings: Panic attacks

Reblogs > Likes

--

Chapter Three - Friendship

It had been a couple of days since they had all moved in together and they had started to settle into a comfortable routine. Patton got up first, and tended to make a pot of coffee for everyone to help themselves (Logan was horrible before his coffee in the morning), and he would be the first out the house on the days when he worked at the local bakery. Logan and Roman were often up next and would help themselves to coffee and jam and toast (they had bonded over a shared love of Crofters). Virgil would be the last up, and he would come in with his headphones over his ears and dance around the kitchen a little as he made his breakfast.

“I am going to go food shopping today, so add what you want me to get on this list,” Patton said as they were sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast.

“I’ll come with you,” Roman said. “I need a distraction from my audition this afternoon.”

“I am sure you will be fine Roman. You have been practicing a lot,” Patton responded reassuringly.

“Oh, I know I will do well, I am just a little nervous.” Roman gave Patton a confident smile that was unfortunately ruined by the jam on his face. Virgil gave a snort of laughter and Roman shot him a glare. “What are you laughing at JD-lightful?”

“Nothing, it’s just you have jam smeared all over your face, which kind of ruins your act of confidence.”

Roman gave a huff of annoyance, and went to wash his face.

“So, what are you guys doing today?” Patton asked.

“Well, I was planning on doing some more research on the local observatory, and probably spend the day reading. There was a new book on astronomy that came out last week that I haven’t had a chance to read yet.”

“That sounds fun. How about you Virgil?”

“I was just going to fiddle around with my music. I was expecting a call from someone as well, so I am going to wait for that,” Virgil said, in a slightly harsher tone than usual.

Patton gave him a slightly confused look, but he brushed it off as Virgil being tired. The conversation changed to the weather for the week and the answers of the crossword that Logan was doing. He did them most mornings as he had breakfast, and the others would chime in occasionally if they knew a word. Roman was quite good at crosswords, mostly from all of the books he read, much to the surprise of everyone, especially Virgil, who had found out couple of days ago that Roman had been taking toast out of the toaster with a fork when it was stuck (it was a wonder he was still alive).

“What is a thirteen letter word, starting with m, for a collection or group composed of members or elements of different kinds?” Logan asked.

“Miscellaneous,” Roman said as he entered the room after washing his face. Logan wrote it down.

“How about a nine letter word for obscurity or vagueness? Starts with a ends with y.”

“Hmmm…. Try ambiguity.”

Logan filled in the squares. “It works. Well done.”

After the crossword was done, Logan and Virgil disappeared into their respective rooms and Patton and Roman headed out to the shops to buy some more food. “Hey Roman, do you think Virgil sounded a little off today?” Patton asked as they made their way to the store.

“No, I thought he seemed just as moody as normal. Why?”

“Oh, it was probably nothing, but he just seemed a little on edge.”

Roman gave this some consideration. “Maybe. I didn’t really notice that much. Also we have only known each other fully for a couple of days, so I can’t say I know any of you well enough to know if you are acting off from your usual character.”

“That’s fair. I just have a feeling.” Roman shrugged, not sure how to respond. The two men entered the store, and they headed around the aisles, grabbing the food they need off the shelves and into the trolley.

“Hey Roman, look!” said Patton as they went to the produce section. “Oni-on.” He pointed to the pile of onions. “Oni-off.” He pointed to floor. Roman smiled, having a great appreciation of puns.

“You know,” Patton began as they passed the tray of potatoes, “I actually have a lot of jokes about potatoes, but I just don’t know where to starch.” Patton had that very specific look on his face, like the facial equivalent of a ‘ba dum tss’.

“I always try to look nice wherever I go, because you never know who you are going to meat,” Patton joked, pointing to the fridge of meat products. Roman was enjoying himself immensely as Patton jumped from food to food, making a punny comment of each one they passed.

“I have a fondness for bananas. I find them very appealing.” Patton had the biggest smile on his face. He picked up a pair. “I think you and I make an excellent pear!” “Me too Padre,” Roman said as he laughed. “Those puns are very good.”

“Thanks. I have a lot more.” Patton started thumping the beetroot as they passed it. “Listen to that beet.” Roman gave an appreciative chuckle, watching in amusement as his friend ran around the store.

“Being around all of this food has made me berry hungry,” Patton quipped as he grabbed some strawberries and raspberries from the tray and placed them in the trolley.

“Gosh, aren’t my puns just grape?” Roman gave a huff of laughter. He thought Patton’s puns were excellent and he admired how fast he could come up with them.

“Indeed they are Patton.” Patton gave Roman an appreciative smile and Roman returned it. The two bought their food, and walked back to the apartment, swapping jokes and laughing as they went. -- Virgil’s morning went a little differently. He had been on edge all day, waiting for the manager of the local pub to call him to see if they were willing to let him perform there. He wasn’t normally this anxious, well, not since high school at least. Years of therapy meant that his anxiety had reduced drastically, and he had a good control over it when it did happen to get worse. However, for whatever reason (probably moving in to a new place with people he had only met once or twice before), his anxiety was worse than it had been in a while. Which meant that a simple phone call like the one he was waiting on, which would usually make him feel a little nervous, was sending him into a full-blown panic attack.

It had been so long since Virgil had had a panic attack that he was thrown quite off guard and lost control of the situation pretty quickly. He felt super sick and a bit dizzy, and he could feel himself start to hyperventilate. He knew he needed to shake himself out of it, but in his panic he couldn’t remember any of the grounding strategies that he normally used. Virgil curled up on his bed and grabbed the sheets as a way to try and ground himself.

Through his state of panic, Virgil heard a knock on his bedroom door, and Logan’s voice asking if he could come in. This sent him into a further state of panic, as he didn’t want Logan, or any of his new roommates to see him in this state. What would they say? What would they think of him for panicking over something so small? He felt silly for having a panic attack over a stupid phone call, but he couldn’t help it. He barely registered the door opening and Logan entering. He vaguely heard Logan say something, and he forced himself to listen to what Logan was saying.

“Hey, Virgil, listen to me,” Logan said in a clear calm voice. Virgil listened the best he could. “I need you to take deep breaths for me, okay? Breathe with me. In…1…2…3…4… Out…1…2…3…4…, good, again, deep breathes.” Logan repeated the exercise a couple more times, until Virgil’s breathing was back to normal and he had calmed down significantly. Virgil mumbled something under his breath which Logan didn’t quite catch.

“Could you please repeat that Virgil?”

“’m sorry,” Virgil mumbled, looking down at the ground. Logan was taken aback and unsure of how to respond.

“Why are you sorry Virgil?” Logan asked. Virgil avoided looking at Logan as he responded.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that and I understand if you don’t want to be my friend after this.”

“Nonsense. There is nothing to apologise for. Anxiety attacks, while unpleasant for the person having them, are not a deal breaker when it comes to friendship. My mother had anxiety, and she taught me how to help someone who was having a panic attack, and so I am not deterred by having to help someone while they are having one. There is no reason to apologise for something you can’t help, and I am still willing to be friends.”

Virgil gave Logan a shy smile. “I’m still embarrassed though. It has been ages since I have had one and I thought I had a grip on my anxiety, but look at me, having a stupid panic attack over some dumb phone call.”

“Virgil, there are other factors in your life that may cause your anxiety to be heightened. You just moved places to live with a group of people who you hadn’t really met! That’s a big change and I am sure it would make you more anxious than usual. Also, if it is any consolation, I won’t ever judge you for having anxiety,” Logan said, giving Virgil a smile. Virgil returned it with a shier smile, and Logan stood to leave.

“Hey Logan?” Virgil called out as Logan opened the door. Logan turned around.

“Yes Virgil?”

“Thank you…. for helping me.”

“No problem. That’s what friends are for.”

--

Tag list - ask to be added or removed

@patton-cake @alias290

[florencefallons]

Life and Stuff

August 10, 2020. The the first day of the most insane month of my life. Of course it would happen in 2020. I hope you’ll forgive me for using this platform as a means to get the thoughts jumbled around in my head out into a more organized form. I rarely ever even use this platform anymore. When I do, it’s to reblog pictures of Carol Burnett or Barbara Stanwyck. The occasional Emma Thompson photo. Never to sit down and spill out everything on my mind into what, very likely, will become a novella on its own.

I’m not a prolific speaker. I trip over my words. I say “um,” and “uh” a lot. My brain is moving at twice the speed of my mouth and my poor mouth can’t keep up. Therefore when I have things on my mind, like I do today, I can’t just talk about them. A) Who would I talk about it to? and B) Even if I had a place to talk about these thoughts, it would come out all jumbled up and I’d end up sounding totally ridiculous and having said nothing I wanted to actually say.

When it comes to expression, writing is where I’ve always excelled. Excelled is a strong word, but when you compare it to other forms of self expression, it’s the only form I am able to use proficiently. I don’t have a vlog or a youtube channel. I don’t have a blog that reaches people. I have no voice. No influence in this world. But I have this platform and it allows for posts like this, and for once, I’m going to use it.

As I said, August 10, 2020 was the first day of the most insane month of my life. More has happened to me in this one month span than has happened to me at any other time in my life...and you’re hearing from a person who was injured on the job and has had a fractured spine and 13 surgeries. I’ve been through some stuff. Nothing with the intensity and frequency this month has thrown it at me though. This month has resulted in seven major events that have deeply impacted my life in some way. Nobody is being forced to read this. In fact I expect most will see its length and scroll past it faster than a fundraising ad for Donald Trump. I do hope SOME of you will take the time to read it though. I’m mainly writing it for posterity. To have a place where this month is recorded, so I can come back someday and remember it. So, with that being said, here are the things that have happened (or are soon to happen) in this 1 month span. Listed in chronological order.

1) August 10, 2020. I was in my 2nd week of work at the new clinic our hospital opened. Working for the largest hospital and clinic system in the state, sometimes our clinics outgrow our ability to contain them. My job was in the neurology clinic. I worked as the nurse who took care of all the multiple sclerosis doctors and nurse practitioners, while answering all the patient questions, emails, and voicemails. We’re looking at about 2,500 patients on the generous side of the estimate. Needless to say, I was busy. It was said many times by coworkers, by the doctors I worked with, and--admittedly--by me, that the job was a two-person job. It was too much for one person to handle. I was drowning fast in a mountain of paperwork that needed to be filled out, messages that needed to be answered, phone calls that needed to be returned. I’d accomplish finishing, say 25% of the work, and 50% more work would come in. I was at the end of my rope. 

--Let me interject here by saying that, over the course of the 16 months I worked this job, I had to start seeing a psychiatrist, I had to start psychological therapy with a licensed therapist, and I was started on no less than 5 new psychiatric medications. Once the correct balance was found, I was reduced down to only 2, but regardless, I think this fact alone proves the point that the stress of the job was getting to me.--

I finally looked at the mountain of work in front of me and I broke. I set up a meeting with my boss, the director of nursing for all of the neuroscience service line (that covers 6 clinics). We met, and I told her “You told me to be open and honest, and to come to you whenever I have an issue.” She agreed. I went on to tell her that I was losing my mind. The workload was entirely too much to hold over one person and needed help. Desperately. I was constantly being interrupted by people needing help with this or that, which was fine. I don’t mind helping anyone, I love it...but it took away from the time I had to do my already overwhelming job. I may have cried some, I don’t remember. 

Her solution was probably the worst idea ever put forth, but I was so devastated and down and overwhelmed, I didn’t really even hear anything she said after I spoke my piece. Her suggestion was that, if our clinic was too hectic for me, I needed to transfer to the new clinic. It was an epilepsy clinic but we had 2 multiple sclerosis providers there too, so I could go there and be the MS nurse there. At that moment, that sounded like a great idea. Fewer people=less stress. Yeah, no. Once she sent me over there, she decided with me being there, they had no need to keep our patient care tech there. So she took her away and made her work at the main campus, where they have tons of patient care techs. That left me and another nurse who, due to a bad knee, did very little that tinvolved getting up off his ass and helping out with goings on in the clinic. He much preferred to sit in his fancy chair and delegate duties to me from there. I was younger, I was newer, and he was--in his mind--the charge nurse.

So, thus began the saga of my doing at the new clinic, the job that THREE DIFFERENT PEOPLE did at the main clinic. I was forced to triage (get into a patient room and go over everything to make sure it was up to date) every patient, draw labs on every patient, all while trying to do the job I was ACTUALLY hired for, which was answering phone calls and returning messages. Which was a full time job on its own. Needless to say, my “new’ duties took all that time away and all my stuff went unanswered. I kept getting harassed by patients and managers that stuff had been sitting waiting too long to be done. 

Mr. Charge nurse, from his chair he never left, didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. “It’s not that bad here” he’d say. Sure, if you never have to get up and do anything, but for me, it’s very hard. I have to do all the job of a PCT (getting paid nurses’ wages by the way) along with a job just as busy as the one you’re having to do. I’m expected to do as much if not more in the computer as you do, yet I never have time to touch it because I’m always triaging patients (half of which are YOURS) and drawing all the labs. Well of course he disagreed and said he helped and I was overreacting. By that he means he maybe got up once or twice a day because someone needed attention and I was still busy in another patient’s room.  My boss would berate me, asking why my inbox was sitting there so full and nothing was being done. 

“WHEN DO YOU WANT ME TO DO THESE THINGS *Insert her name here*??? I spend my entire day, I mean my ENTIRE day, doing the job of a PCT and you’re paying me to do the job of an RN. “Well, *insert his name* says he helps you.” That’s a damn lie and he knows it. He thinks that he’s the charge nurse, he’s older, and he has a bum knee (mind you I have my entire lower half of my spine fused so don’t give me that “I have hardware in my knee” bullshit. I’m full of titanium too. Fight me.) Well, help was refused, the other nurse was just told to try and help more and that he was not the charge nurse, that our clinic didn’t HAVE a charge nurse since there were only 2 of us. Well, he got so butthurt over that, he interviewed for a new job in the same building as our main clinic. He was offered the job. He was getting ready to give his notice and I was literally at the end of my sanity. So I turned in my notice to my manager on August 10, 2020. I told her I couldn’t keep doing the job of 3 people by myself and it was too much I was through. My doctors begged me to stay. She asked if I was sure that’s what I wanted. I said it wasn’t what I WANTED, but I can’t keep working like this. So I really don’t have a choice. “Well we don’t have the staff or money allocated to give you a tech if you’re over here.” So I shrugged, said I was giving her 4 weeks notice and I’d have to leave.

This was a Monday. On Wednesday, she came back and not only gave our tech back, she gave (*insert his name here*) everything he wanted, because she’d caught wind he was getting ready to leave too and she’d have no nurses at the clinic. I told her I’d retract my resignation if she would let us keep our patient care tech, because with her, I have time to actually do my job. She all but said “OK” and to give her a definite answer on Monday. So I did. Monday I told her I’d stay since we had adequate help. Well apparently she discussed thsi with her boss and came back at me with “Sorry, but all we can accommodate is an as needed position or you can extend your leave date and stay on full time until your replacement is hired and you can train them to make the transition easier.”

Are you freaking serious, bruh? “As needed” meaning “free reign to fire you with no consequences when we don’t want you anymore, plus all my benefits would be taken away.” Or, I could “stay and help train my replacement.” Are you out of your mind? Then what? Fuck off into the sunset, your job here is finished? I think I’ll take a hard pass on both those options. My last day will be September 4.

So, while going through all this I was being tested and was diagnosed with not one, but two life-altering disorders.

2) First, I was diagnosed with severe attention deficit disorder. I was told I’d actually had it my whole life based on testing and had never been evaluated or treated. This would have been the 1990s when this started, and I found out my parents were approached about the possibility I had ADD. I made excellent grades, but had major problems with impulse control and talking too much and paying attention. My parents dismissed this suggestion. They did not--and to this day still did not--believe ADD was a real diagnosis. They said ti was nothing more than kids who needed their asses beat and they’d learn to behave. I could not possibly be one of those hyperactive kids who suck in school and just all-around do poorly. I did too well in school. I was told to pay attention more and stop goofing off. I was threatened with spankings if I messed up. So I worked really hard to stop my impulses from taking over. And I did, some, but not always. I got punished quite a bit for things I did in school. Not on purpose, but it’s how I was. And now, as an adult, I was still struggling with impusle control and with paying attention. I still struggled in prioritizing tasks and organizing things. I could never figure out why my brain wouldn’t let me do those things. My PCP said I had ADD--he KNEW it--but I had to be diagnosed by a licensed psychotherapist. So I went and was diagnosed. And it changed my world. It was a lot to process, knowing what I went through as a kid and knowing the punishment I went through for something that was not my fault. I wasn’t abused, I wasn’t mistreated. If I’d been treated for ADD as a child though, I might not have just done well in school, I might have kicked ass. I might have been valedictorian rather than 6th in class to graduate. That was hard to swallow. Yet a relief at the same time.

3) Went to the sleep clinic and got a take-home sleep apnea study kit. It came back positive for sleep apnea. My oxygen was dropping to 70% at night, which is basically hypoxic, and the reason I’m probably so sleepy all the damn time. As soon as I get home from work and get settled, I fall asleep for at least an hour, maybe 2. I haven’t always done that. I used to have trouble sleeping to the point I needed Lunesta for help (although the taste was so bad I rarely took it).Sure enough, I need CPAP when I sleep to help keep my oxygen over 92%. They told me I’d feel better almost instantly. So I’m hoping to go see them next week about getting my machine. 

4) My friend’s little 4-year-old niece died. She was a special, miracle child who touched so many lives it’s insane. She was a beautiful soul. I never met her but her death affected me profoundly because her aunt posted so many photos and videos online. I felt like I lost one of my godchildren or something. It hurt. I can’t imagine what they are going through.

5) My uncle Jerry died. The day after the little girl I just mentioned. I can’t even attend HIS funeral due to COVID and the risk of contamination. My mom is  on a chemo drug for an autoimmune disease that destroys her immune system. So we’re trapped away from everyone (if I want to see my mom that is). 

6) My last day of my job was today, September 4, 2020. It finally came, my time there is done. 16 months of hard work down the toilet. Because of poor management, shitty leadership, lack of care or respect for employees, etc. I offered to stay, but my offer was rejected as it was given. It just served to remind me I made the right decision, even if it was a bit rash. Several others have quit or gotten fired so staffing will be interesting. My old “charge nurse” is about to learn what getting off your broad butt and helping is all about now. They aren’t sending him ANY nurses to help him next week. I’ll be honest, I hope the whole thing blows up in (insert name here)’s (my director’s) face. she is trying to run the neuro clinic like she runs her other clinic--which is TOTALLY DIFFERENT. I thought she’d be good for the clinic, turns out she wants to get rikd of EVREYONE who has FMLA-Anyone who has permission to be off work without fear of repercussions. She wants a bunch of “as needed” staff so she doesn’t have to hire full time people, she doesn’t have to pay anyone benefits, and she can get rid of them whenever she likes “your as needed position is no longer needed,” without going through all the bullcrap red tape the state puts you through to fire anyone. Anyway, bottom line, today was my last day at a job that--the job itself--I loved. The patients I loved, the doctors and nurses I loved, and my coworkers I loved. I have never left a job I loved. It was 100% management. My main doctor, the medical director of the service line, did not want me to leave and keeps asking me to say. I had to explain to him I tried, but they refused. Broke my heart. He’d take me back in a minute though, if the situation at the clinic ever changes. I hope it does. He was the most brilliant, kind, generous, respectful, patient, and dedicated man I’ve ever met. He taught me a lot. I’ll take a lot of what I learned from him with me wherever I go.

7) The final thing has not happened just yet, but it will be very soon and I’m already dealing with it. So September 7 is the 1 year anniversary of the death of my best friend. I still miss her like it was yesterday. Time has, as they say, healed some of the wound, but not all. Every now and then I get slammed with the realization she’s gone. I’ll never see her again. Talk to her. Hug her. Laugh with her. Ever. Again. And I cry and suffer with it all over again. That is happening less frequently, but it has picked up again now that 1 year is approaching. I can’t believe it. My best friend has been dead for 1 year. The 1 year anniversary of the last time we spoke was August 20. It hurts so much. But slowly, over this year, I’ve started dreading getting up in the morning a little less, I can breathe again, a little. I can laugh again without feeling guilty about it. I’ve finally hit all the 1 year milestones with her death (well, as of 9/7). I’m going to her grave this weekend to place some special things I purchased in honor of her 1 year anniversary since her passing. Damn I miss her so much.

So, this month--this whole year technically--has been a lot to process. A lot to find out, a lot to digest, and a lot to grieve through. I keep thinking “it can’t possibly get any worse, maybe things will get better now” and it always does. That trend for 2020 doesn’t bode well with the election coming up. That makes me so nervous I feel sick. But I refuse to get political here. If you’ve stayed with it this far, you have tremendous stamina and I salute you. It’s taken me hours and several breaks to write thanks to my ADD and just being sleepy and falling asleep in the middle of typing. But that’s it, my month inside the year straight out of hell. 

[wilstudies]

Get a grade 9 in a language GCSE!

Please note:

1. These tips are almost entirely applicable to any AQA language at GCSE. 2. Modern Foreign Languages at GCSE Level is anywhere from A2 to B1 (dependant on the tier and grade) on the CEFR scale, but, there is no official equivalent.

In November 2018, whilst in Year 10, my teacher saw that I was excelling in French, with my extensive knowledge of tenses and idioms. So, she proposed that I’d do the January mocks, alongside Year 11, despite not knowing more than half of the subject content. Then we’d see where I’d go from there.

I followed the AQA exam board, higher paper. Specification. You can find the Kerboodle textbook I used, here.  

Here’s what I did:

Throughout the year, I was also studying the Year 10 content (Theme 1 - Identity and culture) in class.

In my own time, each month I’d cover one or two units, completing the more challenging activities on each page of the textbook. Luckily, each unit was only 4 double-page spreads long.

In January I completed my mocks. This was the first time I had ever sat in an exam hall, so it was really daunting to be doing it with a bunch of kids who were older than me, even though I knew I had enough knowledge. Overall, I got a secure grade 8, in my mocks, despite not knowing half of the course content.

I also did “pre-exam mocks”, two weeks before each exam. These consisted of specimen papers which are notoriously harder, so my results looked almost exactly the same as past papers, which was upsetting as I couldn’t see that I’d actually improved. But practice is practice!

MY ACTUAL GCSE RESULT: 

With a lot of work. I managed to achieve a grade 9 (the top mark, higher than an A*), which was insane. I’m so, so proud of myself, and grateful for all of the teachers that supported me!!!

^Edit from 25/08/2019.

LISTENING

In my opinion, listening is based purely on practice and knowing the exam technique that works for you.

To practice: 

frenchpod101 intermediate listening comprehension

Going through every specimen track and listening activity I could find - pausing it after each sentence, saying it once in French, then translating it into English. I’d do this in the shower, on the way to school, wherever.

Know your vocab!

My exam technique:

In the 5 minutes reading time: underline keywords and themes in the questions. This time goes very quickly, but I’d also try to jot down a few synonyms in the French section too.

Multiple choice questions: the process of elimination; key vocab; negative and positive tonality and opinion words - watch out for negative structures!

Completing the sentences: note down words said in French or translate each sentence into English in your head, then remember it when it comes to writing it down.

French section: fill each sentence with key French words that you hear. Don’t worry about accents, unless it helps you determine the word.

Remember each track plays twice.

READING

The January Mock: I didn’t know much of the course content, so I struggled with the translation. I also circled and placed a question mark near any words I didn’t know, as it was a mock and my teacher would be able to note down any translations for me. I think what boosted my grade, to a 9 for this paper, was knowledge of grammar.

T/F/NM questions are usually a gamble. Just look for explicit information and know your negative formations.

Texts change their minds often: look out for counter-arguments and opposing exclamations

Use the method of elimination for multiple choice: rule out if there’s no mention. Be wary that a text can mention an option, but say it wasn’t that.

Texts often refer to things mentioned prior.

If you know a certain type of texts are your kryptonite (it was the classical stories with dialogue, for me), then download as many of that genre as you can. Understand the way speech and dialogue works, and the structure, before you tackle the vocab.

Many say skim read and don’t read the whole thing, but I found it easier to translate big chunks in my head as I went along and lightly annotate each text, which just comes with practice.

WRITING

Top tip: don’t go any more than 10% over word limits!!!!!!! Teachers say they have to mark all of it - no they don’t. If you do double the word limit, your last few bullet points could come after the cut-off point, cutting off access to half of the marks!!! 

90 WORD - 99 words maximum! About 20-25 words per bullet point.

150 WORD - 165 words maximum! About 75 words per bullet point.

Which brings me to mention, that you must cover every bullet point: those are your content marks, which cover about half the marks of each question.

90 WORD Question (16 marks)

Content - 10 marks: Making sure your writing covers each bullet point enough.

Quality of Language - 6 marks: Using interesting vocabulary, such as “malheureusement”.

Stick to about one page.

If you’re giving an opinion, great, just stop there. If you explain it too much, you risk going over your word limit.

150 WORD Question (32 marks)

Content - 15 marks: Every. Bullet. Point. Detailed.

Range of Language - 12 marks: get in those adjectives, idioms and grammatical structures!

Accuracy - 5 marks: correct basic tense conjugations (present, past, future simple/future proche)

In order to hit all of these I came up with a mnemonic checklist, and it scored me full marks in a specimen paper I did for my teacher! And I made it into a cute phone background, so I’d start to remember it, I still can now, hehe! You can find it here. If that doesn’t work, then download it here.

SPEAKING

Know your question words! (x)

For the roleplay and photocard, my teacher printed off me a load of practice cards in bulk and annotated two or three every day, using the planning techniques mentioned below.

Roleplay - 2 minutes; can be any theme. 

When planning, try to avoid writing out answers, but just keywords and gaps for you to fill in with pronouns or articles etc.

Keep it brief, one sentence per bullet point, but cover each part of each bullet point. 

Photo card - 3 minutes (aim to speak for at least 2). 

Plan with a small spider-diagram of nouns, opinions, anecdotes etc. for each known question. 

Use one or two prepped anecdotes for the prepared questions - e.g. where you went last year, who with, what you did. 

For the unknown questions, keep it short and sweet and fill up any time with opinions and reasoning.

General conversation - 5-7 minutes. 

Lie and make up stories! Be creative and use the words and structures you know.

I was a little extra and I prepared every theme as flashcards. You can’t get away with only revising your chosen theme! 

I made flashcards that could cover several types of questions: I had bullet points of topics and keywords on one side and a sample paragraph on the other. 

Pretty sure I made about 80 flashcards oops.

I also went through the mark scheme and see which areas I could secure marks in and which areas I needed to improve.

VOCAB

Learning vocab is SO important!

I started by making spreadsheets of jumbled word lists from the specification and doing a colour-coded match up. 

You can access a pdf of all of the vocab grids here. There might be the odd word missing due to copy-pasting errors, but if so, don’t stress, just look it up in a dictionary and note it down - sorry in advance!!!

Then with the vocab that I had to look up in a dictionary, I added to a Quizlet and wrestled it into my noggin. 

You can find the Quizlet here.

Remember that:

sauf - except

puisque - since

presque - almost

GRAMMAR

To me, learning tenses was like learning formulae for maths. So find a way to learn rules like that, if it’s easier for you.

e.g. Conditional Tense = subject + (future/conditional stem + imperfect ending)*

*note that future stems are the same as conditional stems.

Know your DRMRSPVANDERTRAMP verbs, and their past participles. These verbs go with ÊTRE and always agree with the subject.

Know your auxiliary and irregular verbs.

MUST KNOW: avoir, être, aller, faire, vouloir

HELPFUL: devoir, pouvoir, vivre, boire, voir, dire, savoir

OTHERS: mettre, prendre, venir, écrire, lire, recevoir

I learnt these by making flashcards, and then brain dumping them on paper over and over again until they stuck - my teacher thought I was insane, madly scribbling away.

Memorise some key structures that can be used in writing and speaking. 

If you want 7+ structures, find them here.

MISC TIPS

Always write notes about improvements and errors in practice papers and mocks.

Find a native french internet friend.

In my opinion, music, movies and TV shows aren’t great for revision. However, if you begin to understand them, they are a great confidence boost.

I highly recommend the Skam France series, which you can find with and without les sous-titres (subtitles) here.

And here’s my french music playlist on Spotify.

MORE ASSISTANCE

I’m happy to offer my assistance to anybody who needs it, pop me a dm or an ask if you think others will find it useful too. 

Here’s some ways I could help:

Finding some resources about a certain topic (videos, worksheets, mindmaps) - I have them all backed up hehe

Sending you some of my past answers

Sending you pdf of my general conversation/irregular verb table flashcards

Marking practice answers

Talking to you in french

Etc. etc.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog to help any others that might find this useful. If any of the links are faulty, please pop me a dm, and I’ll get them sorted asap!! 🥐

-Wil x

[mega-aulover]

School Cat II

This is for @lovely-tothe-bone​ & @alliswell21​ (I Want MY Gif!!) lol. This is for anyone who has ever taken the time to read any of my stories and liked them and reblogged them. I am so grateful for this fandom. Peeta’s POV a prequel of sorts. PS I’ve loved this song forever and it felt appropriate to use in this story.

Rated T  /Unbeta’d; Part two of School cat found here.

Peeta was glad the Spring semester was over with. Now he could enjoy the summer, and dedicate himself to his bakery. 

“You need to relax.” Finnick put his hand on his shoulder. He handed him a cold beer. “Doctors orders.”

“Sure,” Peeta snorted. Finnick wasn’t a doctor, Fin’s wife Annie that was another matter. She was an excellent obstetrician and gynecologist. Finnick was a house husband these days, taking care of their three-year-old boy.

Peeta winched as a drunken couple sang, no scratch that destroyed, Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.”

“Why do we come to See’s again?” Peeta asked taking a swig of his beer.

“It’s tradition,” Thresh shouted.

Peeta raised an eyebrow, the couple were now drunkenly making out.  

“Come on Peeta, you know this is our lucky bar,” Jo said grinning.

“Yeah each one of us met our significant others here.” Finnick pointed his beer bottle at him.

It was true everyone except him had found their soul mates here. He and his buddies stumbled onto this place while in college. It was a local dive bar that had Friday Eve Karaoke. It was a small place with exposed brick walls and a TV in the corner, it smelled of stale beer and the floor was littered with peanut shells. What kept people coming back was the rustic, delicious and economical food.

“Face it Peeta we come here twice a year to reminisce and to find you a good ol’ ball and chain.” Jo slapped him in the back so hard Peeta pitched forward. Jo ran a construction company and was known to operate a jackhammer or two.

He and his friends frequented the bar all throughout college. When they graduated they made it a point to come back twice a year once in the spring and once in the winter with their significant others.

“Jo I think at this point in my life, finding someone is pretty futile.”  His long hours at the bakery combined with his teaching commitments meant he was utterly unavailable. Most women complained he didn’t make time for them, and they were right. Finnick once said the bakery was his wife and teaching was his mistress.

“Nonsense Peeta love is like a chair.”

“I’m sorry,” Peeta wasn’t sure where Jo was taking this.

“There is an ass for every chair. You just got to find your chair.”

Peeta was always amazed by Jo. He looked up as the music stopped. Thenstage was empty and off to the side Peeta saw a statuesque blonde pulling a smaller dark haired woman. He grinned as the blonde pushed the woman up to the stage with her.

The blonde pouted.

The brunette sighed and nodded.

The blonde looked at the petite woman as if she had hung the moon when she grabbed the microphone. She scowled into the crowd before the sound of an old scratchy record filled the air before a guitar began to play. You could barely hear the music over the talking people. Peeta had never heard of the song. He sat back in his chair, watching the woman in the stage grip the microphone pole.

“Oh, she’s going to sing, “You and Me,” by the Penny and the Quarters, this one knows good music,” Thresh said.

The chorus began, “You and me, you and me, nobody but you and me…”

She took a deep breath and on cue sang, “Hey,” she sang. And Peeta felt like he was punched in the gut. He watched as the front row got quiet by the third ‘hey.’ By the time she finished singing the repetitive my’s the rowdy bar was silent. Peeta’s blue eyes checked the bar, the servers stood stunned even the bartender stopped working and leaned forward their face in total bliss at her sound of her voice. All were listening attentively to the small girl on stage, there was at first glance nothing outstanding about her, she wasn’t that pretty. But her voice was glorious, rich and velvety like chocolate.   

“If the stars don’t shine, if the moon won’t rise, if I never see the setting sun, again…” She turned to the blonde and she gave her a crooked smile.

Peeta was enamored as she sang she became the brightest light in the room. It was then he noted the unusual color of her eyes, a gray as luminous and rare as the as a strand of Tahitian pearls. Her hair hung in a braid and he pictured what it would look like lose. His pants became tight and he shifted in his chair. His blood became liquid fire in his veins and he was sweating as if he was facing the bakery oven’s on the hottest stickiest day in the year. Peeta sat at the edge of the chair watching her, it wasn’t like a predatory glance, it was the type of look of a man who was on the cusp of falling in love at first sound.

His heart beat with each strum of the guitar.  

The song poured from her soul. “If you love a soul more than fame and gold and that soul feels the same way as you…”  She was magnificent, alight with the fire of life and he was jealous of the blonde on the stage, who clearly was being serenaded with passion and pure sweetness.

The blonde wiped her eyes.

“It’s a natural fact there is no turning back…” she sung and Peeta wished it was him standing in front of her, he would get on his hands and knees and beg for her to be with him.

“You and me…” She sang and her voice dropped off.

The blonde crashed into her in a fierce embrace. There wasn’t a person who didn’t stand up and applauded and cheered. Even Jo, who was for the most part a total cynic, stood whistled enthusiastically. The blonde took the microphone and yelled, “MY SISTER KATNISS!!!”

Peeta sat there dumbfounded unable to coordinate his thoughts. He was always handy with words they were his weapon, yet he was rendered speechless.

“Peeta stand up!” Thresh yelled.

Peeta blinked, “I have to meet her!” He rushed forward but by that time it was too late she’d slipped out the back with her sister. He ran out into the alley but she was long gone. All he saw was the ugliest looking cat hissing at him from a fire escape across the alley.

“You found her didn’t you,” Finnick said coming outside.

Peeta shrugged.

“If the odds are with you Peet, you’ll meet again.”

Peeta didn’t say anything but that entire summer he came back to the bar frequently trying to see if maybe she’d show up once more to the bar. He dreamt of her night after night, of the way her voice washed over him like rivers of life. Everywhere he went he swore he saw a glimpse of her, a long braid whipping around a corner. A flash of gray that reminded him of her incandescent eyes. He listened to the song ‘You and Me,’ over and over.

By the time the fall rolled around he had exausted his searching options. No one knrw a gray eyed signing goddess named Katniss. Wearily he dragged himself inside of his classroom, he'd rather be searching for her. He plopped his briefcase on the table and sighed at the perky mostly scantily clad females. “Good morning class. My name is Professor Mellark.” Peeta grabbed his stack of syllabus.

The back door of the classroom opened, he was cranky and was about to tell the late student they could leave but his words died on his lips when Katniss stood frozen at the door. Peeta felt his hands shake. He tugged on his collar as his entire body became hot. He stared at her with want and he tore his eyes away and told himself to get a grip.

“I will not tolerate tardiness. If I have to commute arrive here on time so should you. I am not running a preschool. You are responsible for bringing your own material.” His voice sounded grave and he could see how pale she became at his rough sounding tone.

He began to hand out the course outline. “You can find the book on a dozen media outlets and also in the campus bookstore, so if you tell me you do not have the resources to buy the book there is even a site where you can download it for 5.99. Now let’s get started.”

Peeta forced himself to not react viscerally to her, she was gorgeous and he sat down at his desk quickly. It was too late he had a raging hard-on. He forced himself to take attendance and wondered how the hell he was supposed to teach for the next fifteen weeks. He had handouts and he couldn’t even stand up.

“Marcela,” he called the first name on his list.

“Yes?” A redhead with a skirt that barely covered her ass stood. She leaned over his desk showing her boobs and that didn’t bother him, it was the fully clothed woman with the eyes of the color of liquid mercury he was having trouble with.

“Please hand these out,” Peeta gave her the stack.

“Yes, Professor Mellark,” Marcella winked at him.

Peeta shook his head and muttered, “Only fifteen more classes.”

He was able to give his introduction without any embarrassing moments but that night in his home he was growling at Finnick who was delightfully dancing around the room making fun at him. The video chat was going south quickly.

“Come on Finnick,” Annie admonished. “This a real problem, our Peeta has finally met the woman of his dreams and he cannot show her any affection. He can be fired from the school if he does.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Finnick kissed Annie’s forehead. “You have to be on your best behavior Peet for the next fifteen weeks.”

“I know…” Peeta groaned suddenly feeling like a hormonal awkward thirteen-year-old boy.    “How the hell I am going to do this.”

“Act like the gentleman I know you to be Peeta. Of all of us, you are the only one who can. Fin is an utter flirt who cannot keep his clothing on, Jo is a nymphomaniac with a fear of water bugs, Thresh has the personality of a bulldog in a china shop. But you, you’re sweet and romantic. You’re kind and she’s going to be so lucky at the end of the semester when you can finally ask her out.”

“Hey, hey I’ve got redeeming qualities…” Finnick pouted.

“Of course you do dear, you’re an excellent nanny…” Annie winked.

“Hardy, har-har,” Finnick mocked.

It was a joke amongst them people always thought Finnick was Annie’s nanny.

“Seriously though Peet you can do it.” Finnick encouraged, “Annie is right she’s a lucky girl. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Just then their son Junior walked into the room, “Daddy.”

“Got to go, Peet,” Finnick said turning off the chat.

Peeta rubbed his face he wasn’t sure he could do it, but he had to. He stood in front of his calendar and began counting down. Week after week he noticed things about her. She drank tea with lots of milk and sugar. She was a practical dresser, often wearing dark jeans, sweater, and her boots. She frequently wore green, grays, and blacks. She once wore a dress and he nearly choked on his hot chocolate at the sight of her tan legs. He had to spend the entire session either at his desk or facing the chalkboard. It wouldn’t do for his students to see the tented front of his pants.

Except for that first day, she was punctual and he knew she was neat for her notes were orderly. Her assignments were clear and concise. She didn’t wax poetic like most of his students. She reported the facts. He could see the way her eyes widened and lit up when she got a concept and Peeta found that sexy as hell. Her voice was hesitant in class and he found out it was because she hated public speaking. Her book bag looked like it was a hand me down, there was Primrose Everdeen scribbled on a corner and a picture of a cat. 

As the classes flew he marked off his calendar until a day before the preview, he was trying to figure out how to ask her out. He practiced in the mirror. “So Miss Everdeen, no that sounds wrong. Ah Katniss can I talk to you after class? Would you like to accompany me to an evening of libations and fine culinary experience?” He faced palmed himself, “You’re a geek Peeta and she won’t want to be with you. Fine culinary my ass." All throughout his car ride he still practiced looking like a loon talking to himself in this car. "How about would you like a coffee or a date with me?”Peeta unconsciously asked the security guard as he drove on to the school parking lot the security guard shook his head and laughed and told him was married.

“I’ll ask her for coffee this way if it goes south it’s just coffee right?” He muttered to himself as he entered the classroom. She was sitting in a pretty blouse and sneakers. He took a deep breath and began, “So let’s talk about tariffs.”

From his position, he could see her grab her book bag, as she unzipped it a giant furball leaped out of her bag. The cat came right to him. Peeta opened his arms and although the cat was ugly he couldn’t help but sooth the poor frightenecat.

“Hello there,” he chuckled.

There were several giggles as the cat began complaining loudly and unlike its owner in a dramatic manner. “Merrrow, Merrow, Merrow!”

“Oh,” Katniss worriedly sprung up from her chair and rushed forward. Her voice uncontrolled and shaking, “Buttercup, how’d you get in there?”

Buttercup looked like he’d seen better days but it was obvious by the shiny fur and weight he was a well cared for kitten. “Is he yours?”

“No actually, he belongs to my sister, she was supposed to be back this morning but her flight was delayed and he…”

“Stowed away in your book bag,” Peeta finished her sentence delighted to see her eyes up close.

“I’ll leave,” Katniss said putting her head down.

“Who asked you to leave?” Peeta didn’t want her to leave, having Buttercup here was the best thing ever. He now had a reason to speak to her after class without sounding like a stalker or a creep.

“What if someone has an allergy?”

The way she looked at him caused his knees to turn into Jell-O. “Does anyone have an allergy to pets?”

The class was shaking their heads and shrugging. “See no allergies. No objections.”

“Okay,” Katniss voice was so sweet and he had to control himself. She held out her hands to Buttercup but the cat refused to leave the safety of his arms. He rather liked this, it was almost as if the cat was his wingman.

Her face was crestfallen and he quickly said, “Don’t worry, he probably smells the cheese-bun I was eating.”

Katniss nodded walking back to her seat. With Buttercup in hand, he was able to have a normal class, the cat was a distraction, and it livened the mood of the class. At one point the cat was held by at each student until he curled up on the table next to Katniss.

Time sped by quickly and he found himself saying, “Don’t forget I’m going to have a review class on Saturday night.”

Everyone packed up and left. Katniss was the only student left in the class, this was his chance, he walked up to her. “Do you need a ride home?”

“I’m sorry,” Katniss stammered looking at him with those mesmerizing eyes of hers.

Peeta quickly conjured up a reason for her to take his offer, “You can’t ride on public transportation with Buttercup unless he’s in a carrier.”

She looked puzzled as if she didn’t quite understand him or maybe she thought him strange. His face became hot, “I’ve seen you waiting at the bus stop.” He cleared his throat, “I must sound like a stalker, but it’s cold outside.”

Katniss smiled and nodded.

Buttercup sat up. He looked up at Peeta with a happy look his tail wagged. It was all of the encouragement he needed. “I normally do not ask my students out but come next week you won’t be and I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me.”

Her mouth hung open and Peeta thought for a moment she was going to run for the hills when Buttercup purred and put his paw on his arm. “Meow.”

“I guess your wing cat said yes.” Peeta said grinning, Katniss blushed prettily and he finally had his date with the girl of his dreams.

***

Six months later Peeta glanced at Prim, “Do you think it’s going to work?”

“Of course it will Peeta, you’re the best thing that’s happened to my sister.”

“Thanks,” Peeta said as they sat at See’s. Everyone had made an exception to be here tonight they all knew of the plan he'd hatched with Prim.

“You’ve got to sing!” Prim declared.

“What no…Prim the last time…”

“Come on Katniss for my birthday…”

“Prim your birthday was last night,” Katniss grumbled.

“Then for me,” Peeta asked.

Katniss looked at both of them and she rolled her eyes. “Fine but you are both are coming with me!”

“I’ll pick Prim,” said clapping.

Peeta nervously grinned. When the familiar song began to play Katniss locked eyes with him. Prim jumped off the stage, and Peeta got down on one knee. Katniss stopped singing, “Peeta?”

“Will you marry me, it’ll just be you and me for a life time?”

Katniss nodded as tears sprang down her cheeks. This was the song her father proposed to her mother with.

& it was just you and me…and possibly a baby or two later on…the end.