#maybe it's his accent with french words or maybe i heard it wrong... or both!

[writingbyshiloh]

Cautious yet optimistic and graceful

Part 2 & Part 3

CW: Morally gray reader, Fem!Reader, John Wick type of violence, drinking, Marquis is a bit of an ass, French is not the reader's native language but there are only 2 sentences in French. Both say “City of Lights” but the reader's French is off.(will update as the fic goes) 

AN: if the title is still messed up idk what to say I have been working too many hours. I have parts 2 and 3 planned if there is an interest! IDK French sunset times nor the weather so just roll with it. I also watched the entirety of community s4 so if he's ooc blame it on that. No beta

The other managers have it easier you think. If anything goes wrong in New York, that's okay because New York is gritty. Paris has such a large history and many different names that it is hard to include in one hotel. In Casablanca, Sofia has her dogs with her at all times so the hotel is a bit more laid back.  Maybe you are just bitter because your hotel in Paris is considered to be the epitome of class. 5-star dining, showing off the best French cheeses, hotel complete with a small vineyard for exclusive house-made wines. 

Maybe because you share the city with a very wealthy and powerful agent of the table. Marquis Vincent de Gramont was a thorn in your side. While never made explicit you felt like he had a hand in making you manager. 

Whether it was him wanting fresh blood running and influencing the Continental or your previous weapon (swords, often French by some weird coincidence) when you were still doing hits for the high table pulling on some patriotic thread in him.  The not knowing gave you small comfort.

You liked the concierge though, a woman named Camielle. You were given the option to fire her but declined wanting to make sure someone understood the hotel, at least during your few years running it. 

The gentle buzzing of your desk phone took you out of the work you were doing. Using the back end of your pen you punched the answer button. 

“Marquis de Gramont asked if you're free for dinner tonight. I said yes.” Camielle told her, her French accent coming across even on the phone. 

You bite back a whine. The threat of Marquis visiting always buzzed in the back of your head and you were sure that while not a member of the high table, he had enough power (in many senses of the word) to fully shut down your hotel. You also never spent time with him alone. You would occultly see him at some “business” even that was far and few between.  

You nod your head, before realizing that she couldn't see you. 

“What time? Did he say where?”

“Huit. Eight. He said the rooftop.” 

You thank her before she hung up, probably to help a guest.

Of course, he did. The location was formal, secluded and your favourite. Should you bring a guard? He won’t kill you, business is forbidden in Continental grounds you thought stabbing your pen against the notepad in front of you. 

While replaying the conversation in your head, the realization that he didn’t specify why he wanted to go to dinner hit. 

The rooftop was your favourite place in the hotel. Seeing other parts of Paris made the hotel feel small, like a normal business other than a safe haven for the criminal underworld as well as regular tourists alike. 

You went up early, earlier than the expected time. You could brainstorm what he wanted to talk about. New ideas that you decided to implement to various levels of success? You're planning on something to do with a section of the Catacombs, but no solid ideas yet.

You kept one security guard by the door, to the roof, while Chidi was someone skulking around somewhere. You talked to the chef before and arranged a menu for the evening. If the Marquis didn't like it you were sure that he would implore you to make changes.

His arrival was heard of before you saw him. A small nod from one of your guards alerted you that he was on his way up. You feel your nerves clawing in your stomach, back to fixating on why he wants this meeting.

While you hate to give him credit, he looks good. A suit that only seems to accentuate his long legs, a stunning red suit jacket, with a black tie and vest all over a white dress shirt. The chains across his vest and ring glinted in the light. He wouldn't be Vincent if not for dressing up like this. You slightly deflated realizing this was probably what he was wearing and not something special to see you. 

Bottle of champagne set in the ice bucket, stamped with the Continental embossing. He didn't change your menu so you assumed that he was content with it. Hoping you only had to so small talk with him until the food arrived or he decided to drop some sort of bomb on you.

“The view is beautiful,” he said, gaze burning into you. Wonderful. You have to make small talk before whatever he is here for is here.

You turned your head to see the Elifle tower situated against the evening sky. 

“It is.” you agree as you turn your face back to him, realizing that he never looked at the surroundings, but was looking at you. 

“C’est la ville du lumier”. Maybe the conversation would go faster if it was in french. 

“'La ville lumière'” he corrects you before switching back to English. “You do not use the 'du'”. 

Heat rises to your face after making a small mistake in French. 

“Sorry. My French is primarily used for business.” You let the last word hang in the air, both knowing what you meant. 

“How you do anything is how you do everything, Mademoiselle,” He says changing the subject. 

Like being annoying you think in reference to him choosing to call you mademoiselle, most show you respect by calling you The Manager, keeping with the sister hotels. You take a slow sip of your drink, stalling for anything to say. 

He places his hand on yours. 

“You approached dinner with me like you approach your hotel. Cautious yet optimistic Gracefully.” 

You sit in stunned silence. He gives your hand a small squeeze bringing your attention back to him,

“That is a compliment.” he continues. “It is good to see fresh ideas in the Continental.” 

You thank him quietly, thoughts racing as you try to pull everything together. He likes your ideas? All of the compliments, his hand on yours, the romantic location. Is he flirting with you? Does his speech about the way you do anything apply to him in the bedroom? What would that even be? Still annoying?

He takes a sip of his wine, the movement snapping you out of your perverted thoughts, finally, you find an opening for actual conversation. 

“I was thinking of something underground. With the catacombs? Or something inspired by them.”

You think he mumbled ‘tourist” under his breath but decided to let it slide. He tilts his head indicating you to keep going. 

“And something maybe like a speakeasy?” You saw him about to correct you but you kept speaking “Even though France only banned absinthe.” 

You expected him to be annoyed and you were only half right. Part of him was irritated, the other part proud that you are learning history. 

A slight clearing of the throat grabbed your attention. The food.

“Marquis de Gramont. Manager.” The server nodded toward you both before setting down the plates and leaving.  

The dinner a few weeks ago was the first time you spent time with him one on one (as long as you didn't include his guards). However, a quick mutual liking based on annoying each other took place. Almost like childish flirting, if you thought that he would date. Does he have an arranged marriage? You forbid yourself from googling Marquis traditions and rules. 

And maybe on the side of your friendship, you had a small crush. You tried to avoid it and push your feelings down to nothing, but a flash of his long legs in his exquisite style, or his voice pulls your feelings back to yourself.  

He could just be lonely. You didn't know his exact age but you guessed early 30s. Given the years of practice and training, those successful in your business were older. You were somewhat close to him in age, closer to him than some of the big names. 

Giving in you picked up your phone and punched in one of his numbers. While the phone rang you picture one of his staff bringing him the phone, probably on some kind of silver platter. On the few times you called him before one of his staff answered, asking you why you were calling. 

“Bonjour Mademoiselle. What do you need?” 

Oh shit. That's not his butler. That’s him. 

“Do you know much about wine? And are you free tomorrow night?” You try not to sound nervous and unsure on the phone, but his answering threw off your game. 

“Oui, and oui.”

Taglist: @heartrot666 (it will not let me tag you :-( )

#Marquis de gramont x reader #john wick movie x reader #Vincent de Gramont x reader #ITS DONE!!!!!!!!! wooohooooo #pls be nice the J/ohn W/ick fandom seems to be bigger than my normal 3 people for r/ed

[walrus150915]

The most random out-of-order Nimona headcanons I've scrambled out of my mind and put in my notes as coherent as I could bc there's a LOTTTT

• I don't think Nimona uses specific names to label her sexuality/gender. Was she in love with Gloreth? Maybe she was. Maybe she was not. Does she like boys? Who knows, she sure doesn't. What's her gender? Nimona. That's it

• I think Ballister did try to be the cis ally™ and figure out the label Nimona would use but she'd just shrug her shoulders and say "I don't know, boss, it seems like you care about it more than I do"

• And even though she's NOT a girl, she uses she/her pronouns because 💥YOUR PRONOUNS DON'T DEFINE YOUR GENDER💥 you may use she/her and not be a girl, he/him and not be a boy, I even saw cis people use they/them simply bc they're comfortable. And that's okay!

• Although she's comfortable with people calling her he/they/neopronouns you name it. Just. Not it/its. You know the reasons😬

• Nimona is left-handed and it's CANON actually I am SO HAPPY as a left-handed person she's just like me fr💥💥

• Nimona isn't a big fan of domestic bliss Ambrosius and Ballister spend most of their time in (plus they're very sappy and very much disgustingly in love, Nimona's stoic organism can't handle their mushiness for the dear life), she's like an independent cat I think: comes to hang out, eats, spends time with her father-not-really figures and goes away for weeks only to come back again. She travels the world my dudes✨

• I think she has a bunch of photos from the places she'd been to and talks about her adventures a lot!

• Nimona also is the best cook of the fam I'm afraid. Ballister cooks, like, the bare minimum to serve himself as a functioning adult (rice, salad, pasta, some meat like you know the deal) but nothing too complicated. Ambrosius is a nepo baby who's probably lived in palaces and mansions with dozens of servants do you really think he's good at cooking😭 as he distanced himself from the Institute and moved in with Bal I think he learnt to cook, still not great at it.

• Nimona though? SHE CAN DO *ANYTHING* like she's madly good at cooking. It might look like she's burning the kitchen down only to reveal that she was putting Gordon Ramsay to shame!

Speaking of BallBros

• Ballister's experience is close to a second gen immigrant. Ambrosius's experience is close to a third gen immigrant. They can't be immigrants bc of the context of the story?? I DON'T CARE☺

• Ambrosius doesn't speak his mother tongue except for like a few words or phrases he's heard at home. His older relatives probably make fun of him for it on family gatherings. His parents didn't teach him because they didn't want him to stick out (totally not self projecting here - yeah I'm a third gen immigrant hiii)

• Ballister tho? I think Urdu was his first language but he learned English along the way

• And it kinda mixes in his head so he forgets the words from both languages sometimes and replaces them with the word from the other one (HA my experience again)

• When he's experiencing hard emotions, be it anger, happiness, sadness, or is overwhelmed, he drops English entirely and just starts bantering in Urdu

• Ambrosius didn't know Ballister was bilingual but when he learnt it? He was amazed and I think... Kinda jealous because he didn't get to learn Korean himself (self projection yeahhhhhh)

• "You know your mother tongue? Damn! I wish I did too!"

• That said, Ballister has no idea how to shorten Ambrosius's name (WHAT THE HECK IS THIS NAME BRO WHAT ARE YOU, GOD'S FOOD???), so he sticks to Urdu endearments, "luv" (in the most British accent possible) and "darling"

People who say French/Spanish are the romantic languages are wrong LISTEN TO URDU OR INDIAN LANGUAGES OR ARABIC. THAT'S WHERE LOVE IS DUDE

• Ambrosius has learnt like a few words in Urdu and tries to rizz up Ballister by saying some basic words like "jaan", "mohabbat" and just😭😭😭 fails😭😭😭 because he's a cringefail man😭😭😭

I remember trying to ask out my (NOW EX😔) gf who's Italian by writing "will you be my girlfriend?" in Italian and I used GOOGLE TRANSLATION🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ SHE UNDERSTOOD THAT I USED GOOGLE AND POINTED IT OUT AS A JOKE BUT I CRINGED AT MYSELF SO HARD..... Ambrosius would totally do that too and Ballister would chuckle and pull him in a kiss bc he loves this cringefail man so much

• Ambrosius also serenades like I KNOW DAMN WELL HE DOES. He goes "this one's for you, Bal" with a wink and sings like the sappiest most disgusting love ballad ever and Ballister tries his best not to laugh because that's his beloved boyfriend but also like.... So cringe. So embarrassing😭😭 Nimona has more balls than her boss so she would outright say that it's cringe

• Also. I don't agree with people saying Ambrosius's a jock because have you seen this man?? He's a theatre kid. The worst kind of theatre kid. Even after not being a kid anymore he's still a theatre kid. BRO IS A HAMILTON FAN UNIRONICALLY, OF COURSE HE IS. He makes weirdass references to musicals and giggles like an idiot

• Can we agree that Ambrosius was an awakening for many teenagers because OOOOH BOY he sure would be mine. Some pop news youtube channel probably has a video of him reading the kingdom's equivalent of "thirst tweets", like yknow this type of vids😭😭

While we're on the topic of thirst tweets

• Diego the squire runs a fan page account with edits of Ballister like he's some pop celebrity

• He also may or may not write self-indulgent "Ballister x reader" fanfiction in his off duty time

• Also hc that when Ballister was on the run he saw some "WANTED" poster of him and hang up on the wall like yeah boy's crush is EMBARRASSING (can we blame him? I'm the same with Riz Ahmed)

• Todd would be on the "straight" side of their equivalent to TikTok. You know the ones with shirtless men with the same haircuts who think they're hot when in reality they're not?? That's what Todd and his friends are up to in their free time *throws up*

To wrap it all up NOT with Todd, some super random ones:

• Ballister and Ambrosius force Nimona to take her shoes off ("DO NOT bring your European nonsense in this ethnic household") in their house even though she doesn't even have boots on😭😭 it's just her skin😭😭😭 so she morphs her form to simply be shoeless😭😭😭😭

• Ambrosius knows how to tap dance. Idk don't question it I just think he does

• Nimona plays piano YEAH SHE DOES she's lived for 1000+ years man she can do anything

• Ballister's hair routine is "genetics, coconut oil n some prayers"

Yeah that's it I'll probably make a part 2 because it's not all... These characters have occupied my mind and won't let it go🧍‍♂️

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #thoddeus sureblade #diego the squire #nimona headcanons #i should make a part where i discuss social media of the realm because ITS SO FUN #let me know your thoughts #yeah #also i have school tomorrow and its 4am... #i should go to sleep

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 5) - Date Night

Summary: The reader and Jensen go on their first fancy date together before attending a nanny happy hour the next night. The reader makes a new friend there to Jensen’s dismay but someone from the past will come along and change things between the new couple...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,200ish

Warnings: language, lying, angst, mention of past child abuse/assault, fluff

A/N: This a rough one, not gonna lie. Enjoy!

________

Friday Night

“Y/N, I’m downstairs when you’re ready,” said Jensen through your closed bedroom door.

“I’ll be there in five,” you said.

“See you in fifteen,” he chuckled before he walked away. You walked back into your bathroom, looking over your hair in a bun. It looked like a freaking messy bun actually. You should have done it down and in big flowy waves instead. You pouted and smoothed out your dress. Of course you were bloated and you’d nicked your leg more than once shaving earlier. 

“It’s Jensen,” you said to yourself, taking a deep breath. “He’s never even seen you in makeup before. You’re fine. He’s not gonna say anything.”

You forced yourself out of the bathroom and slipped on your heels, your clutch in your hand. You wobbled for a step or two on the carpet but did better once you were out in the hardwood hall. Ten seconds later you were downstairs, heading over to the foyer area. 

“All set?” you asked, Jensen spinning around. He smiled as he stared, eyes looking you up and down more than once, not even trying to hide it.

“Y/N, you look pretty,” said Arrow as she rushed in from the family room. 

“Yes she does,” said Jensen. “We’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Okie dokie,” she said, wandering off with a little wave.

Half an hour later you were sat at a table in a very nice restaurant, Jensen tugging on his collar. His cheeks were slightly pink but it wasn’t from the cold outside. 

“So...what’s a good wine?” you asked, sliding the drink list over to him. “I’m not really good with the names.”

“You like red or white?” he asked.

“Normally red,” you said. “You?”

“I like a Merlot,” he said. “You like dry?”

“Sure,” you said. 

“We’re not going dutch tonight you know right. This is all on me.”

“We can go dutch, Jensen.”

“I asked you out and this is fancy, even for me. My treat, okay?” he asked.

“Alright,” you said, looking around the restaurant and over in the distance to the bar. “You know I could go for a lemon drop actually.”

He smirked and set the list down, a waiter coming by. He ordered a gin and tonic for himself while you got your cocktail, Jensen breaking off part of a breadstick from the basket. 

“Bread’s good,” he said with his mouth full.

“So. Ackles,” you said, picking up a piece and tearing off a chunk with your teeth. He stared and started to laugh to himself. “Ah, there’s my sweet guy.”

“Thought you were gonna say boyfriend for a second.”

“This is our second official date,” you said. “So. Boyfriend.”

“Yes girlfriend?” he chuckled.

“What’s an appetizer look like in a place like this? Like a tiny cube of cheese with some dressing they’re gonna charge twenty bucks for or something like that?”

“You’re goofy,” he said, a big smile stuck on his face. “Uh, they probably have something like that. There’s normally some kind of bread olive oil bowl option.”

“Fancy people eat like a starving college student apparently,” you said. He tried to hide his laugh as your waiter brought over the drinks and a pair of menus. “Excuse me but can you recommend an appetizer? We’re both new to town and are wondering what you think is a good choice.”

“You can’t go wrong with our sourdough and seasoned oil dipping sauce,” he said. You glanced at Jensen and smiled. “The artichoke spinach dip and tartar crackers are also quite lovely.”

“Do you have anything with a little more substance? We’re quite starving,” said Jensen.

“The fried calamari and crab cake poppers combo is a great option,” he said.

“What’s calamari?” you asked.

“Squid, miss,” said the waiter.

“We’ll have that combo,” said Jensen.

“Perfect. I’ll put that in and be back shortly to get your dinner orders,” he said. He took off and you made a face at Jensen.

“Squid?” you asked.

“It’s fried. Trust me, it’s pretty good,” he said. “I could go for a good steak. You see a filet on here yet?”

“Uh,” you said, eyes scanning the page and seeing most everything was something you’d never heard of. 

“There it is,” he said. “I’m getting that and scalloped potatoes. See anything you want to try?”

“Uh, why does half of this seem like it’s a foreign language to me?” you asked. Jensen looked at his menu and chuckled.

“That would be because it’s in French. We’re in Canada and this is a french restaurant.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. He got up and leaned over the back of your chair, glancing at the page.

“These are soups and salads,” he said, pointing near the top. “Sandwiches. Pasta. Main dishes down here.”

“Uh, maybe pasta?” you said. He knelt down and read off the dishes to you one by one, your waiter returning by the time he was just finishing.

“Anything I can assist you with?” he asked.

“I’ll have the fettuccine alfredo with chicken please,” you said, handing the menu to him, Jensen returning to his seat.

“Face principale?” he asked. You stared at Jensen and he smiled.

“She doesn’t speak French,” said Jensen.

“My apologies miss. What would you like for your main side dish?” asked the waiter. “Steamed vegetables, scalloped potatoes, lobster bisque-”

“I’ll have the vegetables,” you said. Jensen ordered and the waiter went to get your appetizer, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think twice about the French thing.”

“Kinda hot that you know French,” you said. “I should try to learn it if we’re gonna be up here for a few months.”

“I’m an idiot and I learned it so you’ll do just fine picking it up,” he said. 

“So where’d you learn in the first place?”

“I’m stuffed,” you said, plopping your napkin from your lap onto the table awhile later. Jensen took the last bite of the piece of mouse pie, licking his lips as he finished. “This might have been the best alfredo I’ve ever had.”

“I enjoyed it. Mostly I enjoyed listening to you talk,” he said. You blushed and looked away, Jensen letting out a small hum. “It’s funny. Doesn’t really feel like just a second date, does it.”

“No, not really,” you said. “I guess that’s what happens when you’re friends first.”

“Well I definitely like being friends with you,” he said. 

“Me too, Jensen.” 

“Want to get out of here?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, the two of you outside a few minutes later wrapped up in your coats. Your feet were cold in just your heels, Jensen’s arm wrapping around your waist when you almost slipped more than once. It was slow going back to the car, especially when it started to snow lightly.

“You know, that dress would still look hot with winter boots,” he chuckled. 

“Sorry,” you said.

“No apology necessary. I got freaking dress shoes on and my feet are cold. I can’t imagine how you’re holding up,” he said.

“The perils of being a woman,” you said.

“Well, no need to impress me is all I’m saying. I ain’t looking at your feet anyways,” he said.

“Oh well in that case I’ll wear some nice baggy sweats next date.”

“Please do,” he said. 

“You really don’t care, do you.”

“I think you look beautiful tonight. But I think you look beautiful every night. You did your hair and makeup and this is stunning, don’t get me wrong. But she’s not more beautiful than the girl at home with hair tossed up all messy walking around in oversized shirts and leggings. It’s like flowers. Both are pretty but one isn’t more pretty than the other.”

“Where the fuck did I find you?”

“At my house,” he chuckled. You whacked his arm and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Almost back to the car. I’ll blast the heat for us when we’re in there.”

“Thanks Jensen.”

“Thank you for the date, honey. I mean it. We’ll do it again sometime. Promise.”

Saturday Night

“Your boyfriend seems pissed,” said Brandon. You sipped up the last of your beer, glancing over to the bar where Jensen was tapping his finger. 

“He’s fine,” you said. “So any good parks around the west side of town?”

“Center Grove is always my choice. Good playground, nice area, cops routinely are around. Parking can kinda be a bitch sometimes but it’s worth it in my opinion. My kids love it.”

“You’ve been their nanny for five years you said?”

“Mhm,” he said, knocking back the last of his drink. “Shawn’s mom is their mom’s best friend.”

“Oh. So you had an in already.”

“You know long term gigs are the way to go in this job,” he said. “Not too many American girls come up here. Your accent is cute.”

“Is it, eh?” you chuckled.

“Like I’ve never heard that one before,” he said, Jensen walking back with two beers and a clenched jaw. 

“You okay?” you asked as he sat it down in front of you.

“I’m fine,” he said, taking a long sip. Brandon slid off his seat and made a face. 

“I need a refill anyways. Nice meeting you Y/N. We gotta hang some time,” he said as he walked away.

“For sure,” you said, Jensen rolling his eyes behind his back. “Jensen what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Well you obviously have a problem with Brandon.”

“I don’t have a problem with him. I have a problem with my girlfriend flirting with another guy.”

“I was not flirting. I’m trying to make new friends. It was your idea to come to this thing tonight anyways.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed.

“Excuse me?”

“In case I wasn’t clear, I’m not the kind of guy where I’m okay with you dating multiple people at once. I don’t get that not exclusive shit.”

“I’m with you and only you. I was being nice. Geez, let’s just go,” you said. You got up and pulled your coat on, bumping into a guy on the way out. He turned and apologized, staring at you a little long.

“Y/N?” he asked, a big smile on his face. “My Y/N?”

“Dad?” you said, his face much older looking than you remembered but his eyes still the same.

“Dad?” said Jensen. You brushed past your dad and outside, Jensen hot on your heels. 

“Y/N,” your dad said as he left the bar. 

“Stay away from me,” you said. “Jensen I want to go home right now.”

“What-”

“Right fucking now!”

He held up his hands and you walked around the block to the car, getting inside and Jensen taking off.

“So your dad’s alive huh,” he said. You stared out the dark window with crossed arms. “So is everything I know about you bullshit?”

“What?”

“Is literally anything you’ve ever told me true? Your dad obviously didn’t die when you were a kid. All those late night talks about family and shit, you just like to fuck with people or something?”

“I was not flirting with Brandon you asshole. You didn’t need to know my whole life story the second I meet you.”

“Oh. Okay. Just your fake life story then, huh?” he said. You shook your head as he got stuck at a red light. “If I can’t trust you, I can’t employ you let alone date you.”

“Whatever,” you said. He drove in silence until you were out of the city, going along quieter roads. You were close to the house when he suddenly turned right towards the local park and stopped in the lot, putting the car in park. He touched your arm and you turned, Jensen leaning over and kissing you roughly, far more roughly than you thought he was capable of. You blinked when he pulled back, Jensen looking you up and down. 

“He won’t hurt you.”

“What?”

“Did he walk out on you and your mom?” he asked. “You told him to stay away from you. Sort of shouted it at him. Maybe you lied but maybe...I’m sorry I got jealous of Brandon. I’m still scared and I think you’re still scared too and that’s okay. If you lied about your dad, I’m gonna trust you have a good reason for it. I’m sorry for what I said. I trust you and I don’t want to know what my life is like without you in it.”

“It’s okay,” you said quietly. “I forgive you.”

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he said. “We can just go home, okay?”

“Why’d you pull over?”

“Because I knew I didn’t mean it and I knew I overreacted. I said I’d mess up when we started. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I’m 42 with three kids. Brandon is thirty and young and stronger than I am and can go out to the bar whenever he wants. You have options. You don’t have to settle for me.”

“If I’d wanted to settle, I’d have married my ex. What I wanted was the guy that forgives me for not telling him the whole story cause I’m not ready to say it. I want the guy that makes me happy and feel like I have a teenage crush but it’s deeper than that. You’re not the settle for option, Jensen. Why don’t you get that?”

“The last time I felt like this, I married the girl,” he said quietly. “That didn’t turn out so well.”

“You didn’t get the time you deserved with her. It doesn’t mean it ended badly. You loved her and she knew it. She wants you to be happy again, whether it’s me or somebody else.”

“See? That’s the shit that tells me...it tells me to keep falling for you. I’m so sorry for how I acted tonight.”

“I lied about my dad and not a little white one either,” you said with a nod. You turned away and felt his hand on your cheek. “So much of what I told you was a lie.”

“You don’t have to tell me the truth right now, Y/N.” He stroked your cheek and you glanced over, meeting his soft green eyes.

“My mom died giving birth to me,” you said, Jensen nodding. “He hated me for it. Hated me. He would hurt me when I was a toddler. When I was four he started doing...other things.”

“Four?” he breathed out.

“I didn’t know it wasn’t normal. Not until I started school. I was scared though so I never said anything. One of my friends mom’s realized what was going on when I was over playing one day. He went away and lost custody. I went into foster care briefly and got adopted when I was eight. Single mom who’d lost her husband young. That’s my mom. She was a kind person. Ray was always good to her and to me. But I asked him not to adopt me after she was gone and he knew it was because I was still scared of a dad again. Being a nanny, I’ve met fathers that look at me and I just know what was going through their head. I reported him and kinda fucked up their family situation but-”

“That was the right thing to do,” he said.

“I know it was. I’ve just...I’ve had more than one guy and even a woman walk in on me changing or into my bathroom and it’s like, she’s just the help, nobody cares. They don’t touch so it’s like...what can I even do? Then my house before this one, the guy tried getting in my shower with me and I shoved him and he broke his arm and I just don’t understand why so many people think I’m just a piece of meat. Even my ex never got why it bothered me so much. They didn’t touch me so what was wrong with it? He just didn’t get it. He would get mad if I wasn’t in the mood for sex. Nobody ever fucking gets it except you who I lied to and pissed off tonight and without a word of an explanation why, you say you won’t let somebody hurt me. Do you get why you’re the opposite of fucking settling Jensen?”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t Jensen.”

“How?”

“Because you’re a good person. You’re so gentle and kind. I know you’re strong and tough but I see it everyday. You should never be worried about how your kids will turn out. If they are half as good as you are they’ll be fucking great people. Your daughters aren’t gonna put up with shit and your son is gonna be kind to everyone and say fuck you to the toxic guys out there. I can already tell the kind of person you are through them and it’s a good one. A really good one.”

“I’m not the only good person in their lives,” he said. You sniffled and looked down, Jensen’s hand sliding under your chin and tilting it up. “You don’t have to apologize for not telling me all of that. Never apologize for not telling me that. Okay?”

“I never told anyone about…the other stuff,” you said, wanting to look down but Jensen’s hand holding your chin up.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m sorry it took you so long to find people that would protect you.”

“You mean…” He nodded and dropped his hand away, running it over your head. “You’re not gonna like, go back and kick his ass are you?”

“Want me to? I’m very tempted at the moment,” he said.

“I just want to go home. I could use one of those hugs right now.”

“Do you want to stay with me tonight? Just to stay, nothing more.” You nodded and he kissed your forehead, a tiny smile crossing your face. Ten minutes later you were home and the babysitter was gone, Jensen pulling you into his room next to yours. You blew your nose in his bathroom and washed off your face, lifting your head to find a pair of your pajama shorts and one of his shirts on the vanity beside you. He smiled as he ducked out, leaving you to change. You let your hair down and took off your bra before you walked out and saw his blanket on the opposite side of the bed. “Warm enough?”

You spun around as he walked inside and you nodded, Jensen pulling you into a hug. 

“I’m sorry for how I was at the bar,” you said.

“I was the one that overreacted, not you,” he said. You felt goosebumps on your arms and he pulled away to turn up the heat, nodding over to the bed. The covers were flung back and you climbed underneath, Jensen getting in on his side. His arm wrapped over your waist and pulled your chest close to his, face only inches away. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore. No one will hurt you again. I promise.”

You moved closer to him, resting your forehead against his.

“Remember last Saturday when we were on the trampoline and you talked about those safety nets,” you said.

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re a really good net,” you said softly.

“So are you,” he murmured. He kissed the tip of your nose and you shut your eyes. “What’d you want to be when you were little?”

“A princess,” you said. He chuckled and you smiled. “I wanted a prince to come take me away and everything would be just fine.”

“Really?”

“Princesses were always happy at the end of the movie,” you said. “They got the boy and they were happy. Then I grew up and prince charming doesn’t exist.”

“Cause you’re not a damsel in distress. You didn’t need the prince to save you.”

“But the prince would have made life so much easier.”

“I’m partial to badass princesses myself,” he said. You opened your eyes and he was smiling.

“I’ve never noticed your freckles before.”

“They come out more when I spend some time in the sun.” You moved a hand up and traced under his eye, Jensen nuzzling into his pillow. “Make you a deal. If the badass princess saves me, the scared prince will save her too.”

“Okay,” you said. You kissed him lazily, Jensen smiling through it. 

“Do you want to be a nanny forever?”

“Not forever. It’s an easy way to feel like you have a family when you don’t.”

“Now you do,” he said.

“Jensen you don’t know if this will work out.”

“I do and you do and we’ll take it slow anyways,” he said. “Which is why I’m asking do you want to be a nanny forever.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe someday I won’t need one,” he said. 

“I thought about being an elementary school teacher when I was eighteen for a hot second.”

“You did? You’d be amazing.”

“Pay in Texas is crap though. I make more as a nanny.”

“If money wasn’t an issue though, would you want to be a teacher still?”

“Anything at all?” you asked, Jensen nodding, nose brushed against yours. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“You okay?” he asked, reluctantly letting you out of bed.

“I’m good. I want to show you something,” you said. You slipped out of the room and down the hall to the playroom, picking up a book. Jensen was sat up in bed when you returned and crawled under the covers. You handed him the book and he smiled.

“I don’t remember buying this,” he said, flipping it over. “There’s no serial code on it.”

“You can’t buy it. I wrote a children’s book and printed a few copies for myself,” you said.

“You wrote a book?” he asked, flipping through it. “Did you draw this?”

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen staring at you. “I don’t know if it’s any good. I never tried publishing it.”

“You want to write children’s books, don’t you?” he said, starting to read the story.

“I have a number of them written out. I would make up the stories for kids at bedtime and decided to write them down. It’s kinda like whinnie the poo, that age group, you know? Same group of characters but different stories,” you said.

“These are adorable,” he said, turning another page. You were quiet while he read through for a few minutes, Jensen smiling when he shut the book. “I’ve never read a children’s book where they deal with the loss of a parent.”

“The kids really like it,” you said.

“You should publish this. Seriously. It’s cute and I’m a grown ass man and it made me feel better about Dee.”

“It’s just a story,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I make stories for a living. This whole place would fall apart without stories. This is good. You should consider trying to get it published.”

“Maybe if that nanny job doesn’t work out I will,” you said. 

“Do you mind if I keep this?” he asked.

“Not at all. I gave it to JJ in the first place.”

“Thanks. I want to read this to the twins tomorrow,” he said. He set it on the nightstand and slid back down, pulling you with him. “Why’d the mom fox die in the story? I would have expected the dad wolf considering…”

“Wish fulfillment for a nice father,” you said. “Plus I like drawing the wolf.”

“I like him. He’s fluffy,” chuckled Jensen. “Is that why you asked if I carry a picture of my kids when we met?”

“I’m done with asshole parents. If they treat their kids like shit they sure as hell aren’t gonna treat me any better. You seemed like a good guy. Good guys tend to do that kind of thing.”

“I’m not always good.”

“Yeah, you are,” you said. You shut your eyes and nuzzled close to him, Jensen letting out a soft hum. “You okay? With me being here.”

“Very. Feeling better after everything that happened?”

“Mhm,” you said. “I’m still sorry I lied to you.”

“Did you ever lie about your mom?” he asked. “I mean aside from the fact she adopted you, did you lie about her?”

“No.”

“Then you didn’t lie, not really. I’m sorry it came out like that. You should have been able to tell me in your own time.”

“You still would have been angry,” you said. 

“I still would have come to my senses too. I’m not perfect. I never was.”

“I don’t want someone perfect,” you said. Your head rested against his chest and you let out a soft sigh.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said. He kissed the top of your head and tucked it under his chin, adjusting the blankets once before he stilled.

“Goodnight, Jensen.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

[liquid-luck-00]

Where There Is Change

Overprotection

@maribat-bdbwm

First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

One week.

One week without her brother is all it took to break her patience.

No, she didn’t break away from her story with the press release that happened literally two days after she started school.

No, what finally broke her was what the students did to her brother, specifically this group of five that were intentionally seeking out places she was that in order to talk about her family.

Sure, she understood why they talked about Damian, he is Gotham's Ice Prince, the person you do not want to get on the bad side of.

But moments that she wasn’t with him, people spoke awfully about him. And mostly about how he was born as a bastard child.

She pretty much assumes that when she’s not around they speak the same about her.

Both of them were conceived without his knowledge, until years later. Sure, it hurts to hear them talk about her dad like that.

But she also understands it to an extent.

Brucie Wayne, is an act he puts up. Brucie Wayne is a playboy the longer someone plays the playboy people, will come to the conclusion of him having several unknown children.

However, she also knows Brucie Wayne is a cover for her father, in the past twenty years or so since the time he pretty much became Batman, Brucie Wayne has been a cover. So much so that even the media plays into.

But what she can’t stand are the remarks her 'peers' make about her little brother, about all her siblings.

The remarks that, she is technically the older biological child. But that she still deserves a chair in the company. She is so mad that they are dismissing all of Tim's work he's put into the company. That they are dismissing her brothers just because she is the first-born biological child, that she should be the next C.E.O. People talk over him as if he isn’t there.

They talk about Jason, how he is the troubled child. That he ruins their father's name.

That Dick is just a novelty for Bruce. The first child he decide to adopt. That he’s no more than that, Bruce Wayne’s first ward.

She hates that they call Cassandra a basket case because she won’t talk.

Or how Duke is yet another charity case, simply because of his skin color.

They forget about her because she looks so American, so white, so European.

They forget that she is part Chinese, because she has such big blue eyes, fair skin, and dark black hair just like her father.

---

So back to school.

Damian was on assignment with the Teen Titans, so she was going to school alone. They said something about Damian getting an awful constant 103 fever, they didn’t want to risk anyone else to catch what he had.

So, she did what she usually did, she went outside like usual during lunch. When all of a sudden, the group of five kids in her year 'seemed' to be strolling past.

She thinks it’s still hasn’t sunk in that there’s a new Wayne. Or that they know but want to haze her. Because they are openly bashing her little brother.

"I’m sorry, but what did you just say." She stood up and looked at them.

"Well not that it’s any of your business, but Damian is such a menace, he is practically a terrorist." One of the boys started.

"Have you seen how angry he gets, I swear he could blow up the school, and he’ll still get let back in." A girl butt in.

"He’s already been expelled twice, but they keep letting him back in because he’s Bruce Wayne’s son." The final boy spoke rolling his eyes and she lost it.

She grabbed him, pulled him towards her, gave him a quick punch in the nose. Forcing him to reel back stumbling away from her.

"Let’s get one thing straight." She spoke, hands clenched in fists. "My baby brother isn’t a terrorist. He may be a menace, but he’s not a terrorist. Can any of you actually tell me the reasons why he got expelled."

Silence, pure silence was heard from the entire group.

"No, you can’t. Because like you said it’s none of your goddamn fucking business." At this point her French accent was slipping into her words, because she was getting really mad. She had to physically dig her nails into her palms to stop her magic from exploding.

"So why don’t you all just mind your own fucking business and maybe pay attention who you’re talking about, around who."

The entire group turned and ran, their tails between their legs and they scrambled to get away from her. She may have been known as the approachable Wayne between the two twins, but they messed with her brother. And they really didn’t know what they were talking about.

As soon as, the bell rang to end lunch her name came across the intercom. She grabbed her things and walked to the office knowing full well what was about to happen.

What she didn’t expect that out of all the people that would have been called the person who showed up was Jason.

If she had to cover the ever-growing grin on her face, or else the adults may have figured out that this was the wrong brother to call.

"We are so sorry to have called you today Mr. Todd-Wayne, but we have to discuss your sister’s behavior." The principal spoke as both of them sat down.

"Ok I'll hear you out, but after you explain what happened she will. And neither of you guys can interrupt the other got it. So, go." He pointed at the principle.

"Your sister has been accused of physical assault of another student."

"Is this true?" He turned to her.

"Yes." She answered.

"Why?" Jason asked as he rubbed his hands down his face.

She knows he has a shit eating grin that was slowly going to be spreading across his face, because his aura was almost giddy.

"You see they’ve not only been talking shit about Damian but Tim, Duke, Cass, Dick, and even you. If you want, I have several forms of video tape and audio proof if you’d like to see those."

"But let’s get back on point. We believe that you may have broken his nose."

"Okay, but I am not going to apologize, seeing as I was protecting my little brother, who is not here to defend himself."

She looked over to her brother and the ass had a shit eating grin plastered across his face.

"Why don’t I sign my sister out for the rest of the day, you know what, what about the whole

week, because I'm assuming suspension is an option?"

The principal however didn’t know how to react to Jason, so he absentmindedly pushed a stack of papers towards Jason and pointing to where he was to sign and initial. And then allowed them to leave.

"We’re not telling Bruce, are we?" She asked quietly.

"Not unless you want to deal with that right now?"

"No."

"Then let’s see how far we can get from Gotham."

"Yes please." She enthusiastically nodded her head, as they left the city.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[marvelslut16]

Idiots in love

Pairing: William ‘Bill’ Weasley x reader 

Synopsis: (Y/N) has been in love with Bill ever since she met him their first year at Hogwarts. Will she finally tell Bill how she feels, like Mrs. Weasley hopes she will, or will Fleur and Ginny’s assumptions about (Y/N)’s love life get in the way. 

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: Angst. Dumb asses pining after each other. Fleur, if she counts lmao. Brief mentions of death. 

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for months, I wrote it as a self indulgent piece since I can’t date Bill in Hogwarts Mystery and I wasn’t sure if anyone would actually read it. It's cannon divergent. Also, tell me if you want a part 2!

My first fic of the new year! Hopefully I'll be way more consistent and inspired this year. Thank you to everyone reading any of the fics I write, I love you all!

“Molly, he’s happy with her,” you roll your eyes at the older woman who had become like a mother to you over the years. 

You met her at Kings Cross Station the morning of your first year, she helped you cross the barrier, your parents are muggles who are afraid of anything different. You were in Bill’s year, the two of you becoming fast friends on the train ride. Through your years at Hogwarts you two became inseparable, both becoming Head Girl and Head Boy together. You two always studied together, explored the castle together, went to Hogsmeade together, you did everything together. Well, except one thing, you didn’t fall in love together; you fell for him, and he fell for that foul, loathsome Emily Tyler and now Fleur Delacour.

You spent almost every Christmas Holiday under the burrow’s roof, along with most of your summers. The burrow was your real home, and the Weasley’s were your family. After you and Bill had graduated Molly and Arthur insisted you use their first names, both convinced you and Bill would finally get together. But that didn’t happen, you both went separate ways, barely even owling over the years. He went on to be this fantastic cursebreaker for Gringotts, getting sent all the way to Egypt. And you, you became the astronomy professor at Hogwarts, you thrived in the subject and Professor Sinistra transferred to Uagadou.

“But you’re perfect for him,” Molly nags. You loved the women with your whole heart, but she really needed to learn when to drop matters of the heart. Especially when the topic of discussion was set to arrive soon. 

“Not everything works out how we want it to,” you sigh as you hand her a clean dish to dry, you had wanted to clean the dishes the muggle way. “Especially when it involves one's heart.”

The two of you are waiting for everyone to arrive, Arthur is picking the kids up from the train now that it’s summer holiday. You had apparated to the burrow after the students boarded the train, now officially a part of the Order. Dumbledore and Sirius are dead, but that just means that everyone needs to fight harder. 

“I just want you to be happy,” Molly’s eyes are soft and sad as she looks at you. 

“I am,” you smile through the lie. There’s a pop from the living room, assuming it’s just Charlie you continue. “I don’t need a man Molly, my students make me happy.”

“Mum,” the unmistakable voice of William Weasley calls as he walks towards the kitchen. “I have great news, Fleur and I are engaged! We want to get married this summer!”

You accidentally drop the plate you're washing back into the soapy water, causing some to splash your shirt. For a split second you see Molly’s face fall before she puts on a bright fake smile as she turns to her eldest. You refuse to turn and see him, you thought you had enough time to prepare yourself to see him again, but you didn’t. He refused to see you after he got hurt during the battle of the astronomy tower when he was in the hospital wing and ignored you in the few weeks following.  

“Oh, wow,” Molly tries to come up with a response that won’t upset him. “This quickly?”

“I can’t take the chance, not now,” his mood is hard to read from his voice. He almost seems too defensive when he responds. “Not with everything happening.”

Your heart stops its thumping for a second, you didn’t realize it would hurt this much to see him happy. You want more than anything for him to be happy, but you also know that his mother and sister will never approve of Fleur. And he’ll never be fully happy because of that. But maybe you're wrong, maybe you don’t really know him. Maybe you never did. 

“I can’t believe I signed up for bloody astronomy again,” you can hear Ron complain through the open window before Molly can respond.

“You know you love me,” you holler out the window as Ron and Ginny get closer to the house. They’re the only two at Hogwarts now, they’re growing up so fast. 

“Yeah, yeah professor,” he mutters as he walks through the door before grinning widely at you. 

Even though you had seen Ginny hours ago, the younger girl runs up to you and throws her arms around you. You laugh as she pulls back and makes a face as some of the soap suds transferred to her shirt. 

“You just saw (Y/N),” Ron rolls his eyes at Ginny’s actions.

“Yeah but that’s different,” Ginny defends. “At Hogwarts I can’t talk to her about boys, or eat dinner with her, or ask for Quidditch tips.”

“I’m always up for talking about boys,” you grin down at the red headed girl. You laugh and apologize to Molly as Ginny pulls you from the kitchen and up to her room. 

You don’t glance at Bill, you can’t. You’re too scared that all of the feeling you have bottled up will resurface with just one glance. You miss the way his eyes soften at your interaction with his sister, and how they trail after you as you get pulled past him. You sit with Ginny as she fawns over Harry for close to an hour, interjecting occasionally when she asks for your opinion. This is what you always imagined having a younger sister would feel like. 

“What about you?” she asks with a teasing tone in her voice. 

“What about me?” you laugh lightly as your eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

“You and professor Snape,” she’s smirking. 

“Severus?” you laugh before your face pulls into a disgusted look only Ginny can see. “We’re coworkers. Dare I say friends. And he’s a part of the Order, we have to at least tolerate each other.”

“Mhm,” she sounds unconvinced. “He smiled at you the other day! In the Great Hall, where people could see! He never smiles!”

“Ginny, we’re friends,” you try to get through to the stubborn teen. “Plus he’s known me since I was eleven, that would be gross.”

Before Ginny can respond there’s a knock on the open door, you turn around and see Bill for this first time in years. His red hair still falls to his shoulders, and he still has that fang hanging from his ear. There are scars down his cheek now, those and the fang make him look bad ass. Your heart stutters as your eyes meet his, the heartache that disappeared when you were gossiping with Ginny resurfaces with just one look.

“Dinners ready,” he says before turning and walking back down the stairs. 

Dinner is loads of fun, the two eldest Weasley’s joining the group since there’s a small Order meeting afterwards. Dinner is full of Charlie joking with you, something you're happy about since Ginny wouldn’t be able to bring up Severus again. You ignore the giggles and the French accent that poke holes in your heart as Bill only pays attention to Fleur, who showed up at the Burrow when you were upstairs. 

After dinner you agree to show Ron and Ginny some Quidditch moves you had picked up over the years, borrowing an old broom left behind by one of the other boys. Remus and Tonks appear in the front yard, signaling that the meeting would start momentarily. Ron thanks you as he continues to practice the moves as you fly to the ground. Ginny follows you, wanting to get a drink from the kitchen before it's closed off to the youngest two. 

“Are you going to take his last name, or is he going to take yours?” she teases. 

“Ginny, not now,” you sigh, not sure how to get it through her head that you have no feeling for the potions master without revealing that you’re in love with her oldest brother. You aren’t sure who’s worse, her or Molly. 

“Alright, whatever you say Mrs. Snape,” Ginny wiggles her brows in your direction as you head for the kitchen. 

“Mrs. Snape?” Severus’s monotonous voice comes from behind you two. Ginny’s eyes widen before she takes off running, and a strangled sound leaves your lips.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley, that’s a month of detention next year!” you yell after her. You take a breath before turning to stare into Snape’s obsidian eyes. “Ginny saw you laugh at my stupid joke in the Great Hall a few weaks ago and now she’s convinced you have feelings for me.” Severus raises his eyebrows at you before looking in the direction Ginny ran off in. “She’s just a kid Sev, don’t hold her delusions against her.”

“Weasley’s,” he mutters before heading to the kitchen himself. Dumbledore had told a select few in the Order the plans for Severus to kill him so Draco didn’t have to, and since the Headmaster was already dying nobody was as mad as expected. “Don’t you have feelings for the oldest one?”

“Be quiet!” you hiss, as look to make sure no one heard. He smirks before walking into the room where the meeting is to be held, leaving you standing confused in the hallway.

The meeting is small tonight; Remus, Tonks, Charlie, Molly, Arthur, Sev, yourself, Bill, and Fleur. The rest had prior engagements unfortunately, so it was essentially just family and Severus. 

Molly uses her magic to pour you a glass of tea as you sit beside Sev, the only open seat. You smile a quick thanks before lifting the cup to your lips. The warm liquid soothing your tired throat, students liked to talk over you during the last week of school so your throat was a little raw. 

“Do you want a cookie with that, love?” Snape’s monotonous voice is slightly louder than it normally is. The term of endearment comes as such a shock that you spit out the tea that's in your mouth, landing across the table on Fleur. 

There was no denying that Severus’s question was directed at you, he’s holding the plate full of Molly’s cookies right next to your face. The room goes deathly silent as the seconds pass by. Ginny, who was getting herself some pumpkin juice, drops the glass she was holding, it shatters when it hits the ground. Molly, Arthur, and Charlie abruptly stop their conversation to stare at you and Sev in shock. Remus furrows his eyebrows as he looks between you two, Tonks looks like she's holding back a laugh. A flash of pain seems to cross Bill’s face before it goes blank, and horror crosses Fleur’s when your tea lands on her. 

“I’m so sorry!” you cover your mouth, thankful the liquid wasn’t warm enough to burn. Bill doesn’t even turn to look at his fiancee, just stares at you. 

“Are you alright?” Snape has a small smile only you can see. You aren’t sure how to respond, especially as you stare at the amusement dancing in his onyx eyes. 

“I knew it!” Ginny yells, finally breaking the few seconds of silence, seconds that felt like years. You flick Sev’s leg under the table, and he has the audacity to grin larger.

“Thanks honey,” your eyes narrow slightly as you grab a cookie off the plate, passing it to Bill without looking away from the man in all black. 

The rest of the meeting is awkward, and as soon as it’s over you pull Sev out of his chair and outside. The cool night air cools your burning cheeks and he lets out a laugh that he had been holding in.

“What was that?” you pull at the ends of your hair. 

“We made your precious Weasley jealous,” even though he’s smirking, there’s no change in his inflection. 

“And now they all think we’re together!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky. 

“Good luck with that,” he disapparates before you can respond.

“I hate you!” you yell at the spot where Severus was just standing.

“You and Snape, huh?” Charlie’s voice cuts through the silent night. 

“Not bloody likely,” you roll your eyes, before plopping onto the ground. Charlie joins you as you lay and stare up at the stars. “He heard Ginny saying she thought he liked me, and he knows who I like, so he decided to run with it. He’s actually fun when you break through his cold exterior.”

“You still love Bill,” it isn’t a question. No matter how many times you denied it while you three went to school together, Charlie never believed you. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning to look at him. He’s already facing you so you continue, “your mum kept going on about how I should be the one with him this afternoon. She won’t drop it.”

“I love my brother,” Charlie makes sure you keep eye contact with him as he continues. “But he’s being stupid. I agree with mum, you should be the one marrying him.”

“He’s happy without me,” your voice comes out sadder than you thought it would, guard finally down. “We’ve barely talked in years, and he wouldn’t even let me see him after the attack. He doesn’t need me, nor does he want me in his life anymore.”

Charlie just sighs, annoyed that neither you nor Bill could see the truth starring you both in the face. You love each other. Charlie just lies next to you in comforting silence, staring at the night sky until he has to head back to Romania and you off to bed. 

A single tear slips down your cheek as you lay down in the bed that once belonged to Charlie. Ginny enters the room without knocking, and you quickly wipe away the tear. 

“Why didn’t you tell me!” she practically screams. 

“There’s nothing to tell, he was messing with you, Gin,” you look her directly in the eyes so she knows you aren’t lying. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” she sits beside you on the mattress. 

“I’m in love with Bill,” you whisper, finally saying the words out loud. Sure you had agreed with Charlie earlier, but you had never said the five words out loud before. It feels like a weight is lifted off your chest, until a new wave of heartache hits you. “I have been since we were in school, and it hurts Ginny. Fleur, she’s perfect, I couldn’t possibly compete with her.”

“You’re so much better than her, (Y/N),” Ginny grabs your hand, causing you to look up at her. “And he’s a fool if he doesn’t see that.”

“Thanks Gin,” you smile sadly, squeezing her hand before she heads off to her room. 

--

“Zank you,” Fleur’s French accent is the first thing you hear in the morning. Ginny comes up behind you as you stand in the hallway, and puts her hand on your shoulder. Today is the day you forget about all of this foolish childish love you have for Bill. 

Molly watches you closely as you sit down at the breakfast table, Ginny plopping down beside you. As you talk to the young girl about Quidditch over breakfast, a black owl flies through an open window. You roll your eyes as it plops a letter beside you, you give the owl some of your toast before it flies out of the window again. Ginny looks over your shoulder as you open the letter, the rest of the Weasley’s not-so-secretly watch you read it. 

The letter isn’t anything special, just Severus letting you know that you had left a book at Hogwarts. You know full well he’s being his dramatic self, going out of his way to send an owl, just so he can say he was right. He even added a p.s, asking if Bill had gotten jealous yet. You laugh at the ridiculous question, causing Bill to excuse himself and walk outside. Fleur doesn’t move from her seat, causing you and Ginny to make a face at each other.

A few moments pass before you decide to follow your old best friend against your better judgment, but someone should check on him. He’s in the backyard pacing like a madman, running his hands through his long hair and pulling on the tips. 

“Bill?” you ask softly. He whips around and looks at you, once again his face is hard to read. Your eyes, however, soften as soon as they see what Fenrier Greyback did to him. “What’s wrong?”

“You and Snape?” his voice is hard and cold. “He hated us growing up, and you just pretended that never happened and you're with him? He hated you!”

“It’s none of your business William!” your voice is high pitched, you’re angry. He doesn’t talk to you in ages and now all of a sudden he thinks it’s okay to judge your relationships. “We were annoying kids back then, of course he hated us.”

“You could do better than him!” his anger seems to rise at the use of his full first name. 

“We’re just friends!” your voice is shrill, and you're sure everyone inside can hear you two clearly. “Not that it’s any of your business anyway! Severus was letting me know I forgot some of my belongings at Hogwarts. You have no right to judge who I choose to spend my time with and who I befriend, not when you haven’t tried to talk to me in years Bill!”

With that you turn and head away from the burrow, not wanting to face anyone right now. Especially any of the Weasley's, and most of all, Molly. Bill calls your name as you walk away from him, but you don’t turn around. You can’t. William Weasley has broken your heart multiple times since you met him, and you aren’t about to give him the satisfaction of watching himself break your heart all over again.

Part 2

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always​

#bill weasley x reader #bill weasley #bill weasley x y/n #bill weasley x mc #william weasley #william bill weasley #harry potter fanfiction #bill weasley x you #harry potter #harry potter imagine #bill weasley one shot #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley fanfiction

[roonilwazlibimagines]

I've read your fics of Ron and loved them so much. Do you know if you can make one with them eating at the Burrow? She gets jealous of Fleur talking to Ron and is feeling insecure about her looks and concerned her ' muggle' status? Ending with smut and comfort.

Sorry if this is long

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Reader Word Count: 3.3k Blurb: Her jealously of Fleur has been building up since their fourth year, even if she knows Fleur doesn’t mean it and Ron reminds her that she is the only one he loves.  Warnings: There is sex but it is just really soft :(. Like Ron just eats her out and keeps praising her. And it is at the end, the first part is mainly fluff and a little bit of angst.  A/N: honestly fuck canon, I just made this my own, oops. Also I literally don’t know how to write a scene where Ron does something to really make her jealous so this is what you get. Flashbacks are in italics. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she hummed in confusion before realising she had been staring at the ceiling, her fists clenched and jaw tense. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she gave him a half-assed reassuring look before turning back to stare at the ceiling. They were laying in their bed, both on their backs with their heads on the pillow, laying next to each other in the dark room which was only slightly illuminated by the weak flame on Ron’s bedside table. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning his head to look at her. 

“I don’t forget how brave you were at the second task,” her thick French accent was ringing in her ears as she watched the way she grabbed onto Ron’s arm making his whole face turn red. 

“Oh really,” she glared at him as she watched him tense at her touch, “it was nothing,” Fleur removed her hand from him and she so desperately wanted to ask her if she also remembered the time Ron had made a fool of himself asking her to The Yule Ball. 

“Yes Ron,” she didn’t mean to sound so annoyed and she hoped that it was too dark for him to notice the way she rolled her eyes. 

She didn’t mean to act so harsh, it wasn’t Ron’s fault. It wasn’t Fleur’s either. Ron couldn’t help that he was always so pathetically a victim to her veela charm. She probably shouldn’t feel jealous of this ‘veela charm’ and Ron probably didn’t even realise he was doing it, but she couldn’t help the green tinge which plagued her whenever it happened. 

“Ron,” her fourteen-year-old self was hitting his chest, “Ron!” she repeated after his lack of response, “you’re pathetic,” she slapped his chest one more time before folding her arms across her chest and rolling her eyes. 

“Did you say something?” his body turned towards her but his eyes were still on the veela who were dancing in front of them at The Quidditch World Cup. 

“I guess not,” she had grumbled underneath her breath realising that it wouldn’t have mattered if she said it louder because it would only fall on deaf ears. And busy eyes. 

Her first introduction to veela had left a sour taste in her mouth, even if she knew it was nothing personal and she was just overreacting. And besides, her and Ron weren’t even dating then so she really did have nothing to be jealous over. 

But now they were dating and Fleur still seemed to have an effect on him even after the war and all the times he had spoken to her. She couldn’t help but let her fourteen-year-old self’s words ring in her ears, “you’re pathetic.”

“Sorry,” he turned his head so it was again facing the ceiling, “I didn’t mean-”

“I’m sorry,” she cut him off with a sigh, “I shouldn’t have snapped,” and she turned her head to see him nodding slightly. He had moved his arm so that one was resting behind his head, the other resting at his side.

“Do you think she is upset with me?” Ron had asked Harry the night he had asked Fleur to the Yule Ball. 

“Uhm,” Harry wasn’t sure whether to lie to make him feel better or give him the truth, “I don’t know,” he settled for the safe answer. 

“I mean, we were walking and she was talking about the The Yule Ball,” they were in their respective beds and Harry couldn’t see the way Ron nervously bit his lip as he recalled the events of the evening, “she was really excited.”

“Does she have a date to The Yule Ball?” Harry had asked. They both still needed dates. 

“No, I think that was what she was talking about,” it was what she was talking about, hoping that Ron would get the hint, “and then I think I might have cut her off,” there was an awkward pause. 

“Because you asked out Fleur?” Harry had asked, trying to break the awkward silence. 

“Yeah,” it was silent for a moment again as Ron started to question his actions, “and then I did it and Fleur said ‘no’, obviously,” Harry didn’t say anything as there was another pause, “and then when I turned to her she looked kind of angry,” Ron’s heart leapt as he remembered the way her mouth had turned into a thin straight line and how her gaze hardened, “thought I might of embarrassed her.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I made a fool of myself and she wouldn’t want to be associated with me,” Ron said as if it was the most obvious explanation. 

“Okay,” Harry spoke slowly. 

“And then she dragged me to The Common Room,” he shrugged his shoulders, “and she hasn’t spoken to me since,” he sighed, “and she hasn’t stopped glaring either,” he had mumbled that under his breath. 

Harry didn’t know how to comfort his friend. It was obvious to Harry what both of their actions meant, but apparently neither of them could understand it. 

Ron felt exactly like he had that night. He only had a small bed and with his large frame there was no position where they could lie without touching each other. But he felt very far away from her. 

He would do anything to realise what he had done wrong and to make this all better. He bit his lip as he tried to remember the events which could have caused her to stop clinging to his arm and start glaring at him instead. 

“He is so pathetic,” she had screamed in her dorm, slamming the door behind her before sitting on her bed and facing Hermione opposite her. 

“What do you expect?” she waited for a reaction, “Ron has always been a bit daft hasn’t he?” 

“But I was making it so obvious,” her shoulders deflated, “and then she had to come along and ruin everything,” she sneered at the memory. 

“You know just as well as I do that this isn’t Fleur’s fault,” she let out a mix of a sigh and groan in response knowing that Hermione was right, “besides, you could do a lot better than Ron.”

“But I don’t want to do better than Ron,” she had sulked the rest of the night letting the scene play through her mind over and over again until she felt physically sick and couldn’t sleep. 

“You would tell me if something was wrong, right?” Ron had finally built up the courage to address her again. 

“Yes,” she grumbled.

“So what’s wrong?” he really just wanted her to feel better so he swallowed his pride and moved so he was laying on his side and looking at her properly. 

“Nothing,” she refused to look at him, “it’s dumb.”

“Well it can’t be that dumb if it was making you this upset,” he reached out an arm to hold her hand and she squeezed it to let him know that she was upset, but it was still okay. 

“Could you please pass me the salad, Ron?” Fleur had asked Ron that night and it honestly hadn’t even bothered her. 

“Of course,” Ron had spoken and acted so quickly that he had knocked his glass of water down making his ears turn red as Molly shook her head and stood up to clean it. Fleur had laughed it off and told him that he was cute. 

That didn’t really bother her either. She liked Fleur and it was common for Fleur to talk to people that way. It really didn’t bother her. 

“Ron, could you please pass me the chicken?” he wasn’t as enthusiastic and maybe, as foolish as it was, that was what set her off. Or maybe it was because Fleur was sitting across from her and all she could focus on was how pretty she was. Maybe her eyes were tricking her but she couldn’t help but notice Ron stare at her for a little too long. And maybe these feelings had been building up since they were fourteen, but she didn’t really know why all of a sudden a wave of emotions had washed over her. The rest of the night she couldn’t help but steal glances at Fleur, noticing how effortlessly gorgeous she was compared to how average she was.  

“You’ll laugh,” she knew he wouldn’t laugh. 

“I won’t laugh,” he sounded offended. 

“I’m just,” she tried to find the right words, “not feeling well.”

“That’s a lie,” she couldn’t see the way he raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Fleur,” they had finished dinner and were sitting in the living room. Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and George and herself and Ron were the only ones in the house at the moment, “I’m so glad Bill met you,” Molly had gushed as Fleur finished her story about work.. 

She wanted to slap herself in the face when she felt her whole body tense at the words and if she didn’t want Molly’s approval so bad she probably would have done it.

“Me too,” Ron had chimed in making her head snap towards him, “still can’t believe Bill got someone so out of his league,” he smirked as Bill shouted a profanity at him. 

It was harmless, she knew that. It was just to annoy Bill, she knew that. But she couldn’t help the way her teeth began to grind and she instantly let go of Ron. 

“Sometimes I have a lot of emotions,” she began, eyes still on the ceiling. 

“Trust me,” she heard him breath out, “I’ve noticed,” she finally turned to look at him and glare, making his face fall as he mumbled out a few a, ‘sorry, love’.

“And I know I'm being silly,” she turned away again, “but sometimes I get really jealous of Fleur.” 

“Stop looking at her!” she had moved her head so it was in line with Ron’s eyes who were desperately trying to find the Beauxbaton girl who had just stolen their food. 

“I’m not looking at her,” he had tried to defend himself, “I’m trying to find her so I can look at her,” he mumbled it under his breath and into his food but she still heard him and sent a filthy look. 

“You’re pathetic,” she rolled her eyes at him making him sit up again. She didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered behind her. 

“Why do you care so much?” his ears were turning red and she blinked at him a few times realising that she didn’t have an answer.  

“You’re probably making her feel uncomfortable,” she sat up straighter and pushed her shoulders back.

She returned her focus to her food, feeling a little embarrassed and missing the way that Ron’s eyes were now flickering onto her. 

“Why?” she turned to see his reaction. His eyebrows were furrowed and he had a look of utter confusion etched on his face. 

“Because she is really pretty,” she mumbled, “and a veela,” she said that more clearly. 

“And?” 

“And you’ve never been shy of showing off in front of her,” she raised an eyebrow at him and the flame - which had suddenly become stronger - allowed her to see the red tinge which spread upon Ron’s face. 

“It’s her veela charm,” he said quietly, not entirely sounding convinced. She didn’t say anything prompting him to tease, “or maybe I’m just pathetic,” there was a slight grin forming on his face and she couldn’t stop the one forming on hers. 

“I think that’s a better explanation,” she giggled as he let his grin grow wide as well. She moved so that she was on her side as well and Ron reached out his arm so that he could rest it on her hip and bring her closer to him. 

“Get a hold of yourself, Ron,” she rolled her eyes at the red-faced boy standing in front of her, “it was just a peck on the cheek,” he had a blanket around him and he was slightly shivering. 

“That’s not fair,” he gave her an annoyed look, “I just came out of the bloody lake,” he pointed to the lake next to them and glared at her.

“Sure,” she gave him a sarcastic look before mumbling, “he is so pathetic,” under her breath. She crossed her arms over her chest missing the way that Ron’s ears perked up and went a deeper shade of red as he heard the words muttered from her mouth. 

“You have nothing to be jealous about,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead and she let herself relax under his touch. 

“I know,” she looked up at him innocently making him chuckle, “but, I don’t know,” she looked back down, “I think this has just built up since our fourth year and I think something set it off tonight.”

“You’re so stunning,” he pressed another kiss to her nose, “have nothing to be insecure about, yeah?” she looked up at him to be met with a soft gaze which pulled at her heart. 

He pressed another soft kiss to her lips and he pushed himself up so he could continue kissing all over her face. 

“I love you so much,” he had murmured in between kisses, “so beautiful,” he moved so that he was kissing her jawline, “can I show you how much I love you?” he pulled away so he could look at her face and she nodded eagerly making him smile before he continued kissing her. 

Her hands found his hair as he kissed around the sensitive area under her jaw and she tugged at it when he bit down. 

“So everyone knows you’re the only one I love,” she rolled her eyes at his comment but still pulled him closer by his hair so that she could press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you,” she murmured as he continued kissing around the now red area, “I love you so much.”

“Let me see that beautiful body, yeah?” he pushed himself up again so that he could lift her shirt up, pressing another kiss to her lips as soon as it went over her head. He moved down to her pants and pulled them off as well as her underwear. Her body shivered at the cool breeze which hit her hot skin but she hummed in content as Ron started kissing her chest and continued murmuring about how beautiful she was. 

“You’re a goddess,” he commented as he started kissing around her nipple, while one of his hands reached to grab the other. She giggled and he smiled up at her, glad to hear the beautiful noise again. 

“You’re doing a good job at making me feel better,” she sighed in content as he started leaving a trail of kisses on her tummy, pressing soft kisses along her hips before placing a soft kiss on her clit which made her gasp. 

“Gonna make you feel even better,” he smirked up at her before he let his tongue touch her heat. 

“Yes,” she moaned out, “Ron,” her hands reached out to grab onto his hair. She arched her back and Ron moved his arm so that it was over her hips and holding her down. She moved one hand from his hair and put it over the one on her hips. He turned it around and she held onto it, giving it a small squeeze. 

With his other hand he pressed his thumb to her clit, placing pressure on it and making her cry out his name. 

“Better be quiet love, don’t want anyone to hear us,” he pulled himself away and gave her a cheeky grin before going back to devour her again. She felt a heat rise to her cheeks as she remembered where she was. 

“Sorry,” she moaned, “can’t help it when - ah,” she squeezed his hand as he started rubbing her clit and she let out a big breath, “when you make me feel so good,” her breathing was uneven and soon she was trying to whisper to let Ron know that she was going to cum. 

His fingers moved faster and his tongue was going deeper and soon her back was arching and she was trying to squirm under Ron’s grip, but his tongue followed her movements and she let go moaning out his name. 

“Feeling better, sweetheart?” he asked as he pushed himself up and started taking his pants off. 

“Yes,” her eyes were still shut in her post-orgasm bliss and Ron pressed a soft kiss to her nose, once again reminding her how beautiful she was. 

“So wet for me,” he commented as he let his fingers move between her folds. 

“Hurry up,” she bucked her hips towards him, making him tsk. 

“Be patient, sweetheart,” usually she would never get away with such a demand but she only smirked at him before replying, “I thought you were trying to make me feel better?” she pouted and he shook his head before aligning his cock at her entrance. 

“Going to be the death of me, love,” he thrusted his hips into her making her gasp, “be quiet,” he grabbed onto her thighs and pulled her legs up so that they were resting on his shoulders. 

“Ron,” she moaned out as he started thrusting at a much quicker pace, “ah-” she had cried out when he found the spongy spot which made her scrunch her eyes up and receive a shushing from Ron.

“I told you to be quiet,” but he thrusted harshly between each word making her mouth fall open as she reached her hand down to rub at her clit. Normally he would have smacked her hand away, but instead he took the opportunity to put his fingers in her mouth. 

“Since your fingers are doing my job,” he grunted, “and because you can’t keep quiet,” he smirked as she instantly began sucking on his fingers, “good girl.”

Her other hand went to grab onto the one in her mouth when she was about to cum and Ron told her to cum on his cock, coaxing her and praising her, telling her he wanted to see her pretty body come undone on his cock. Her legs were shaking and she was lazily sucking on Ron’s fingers now as her breath got caught in her throat and she thrashed her hips, trying to moan out Ron’s name as his thrusts became sloppier. 

He replaced his cock with his fingers so he could let her ride out her orgasm while he let his cum fall onto her tummy. 

She took a deep breath and smiled in satisfaction as Ron removed his fingers and left to go to the bathroom so he could clean her up. 

“Thank you,” she smiled in content as he started cleaning her up, “I feel much better about myself now,” she sat up as he began to dress her and she started pressing soft kisses on his face. 

He laid onto the mattress, resting on his back as he lifted an arm up so that she could rest her head on his bare chest as he traced patterns on her shoulder. 

“I love you so much, you know?” his voice was soft and she let her eyes begin to close, “so in love with you,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “so beautiful,” another kiss, “so good to me,” she hummed. 

“I am,” she felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled. 

“So lucky to have you,” she was starting to get tired now, “don’t ever want you to question that,” he was still kissing her head, “don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he started playing with the ends of her hair, instantly making her body relax. 

“I love you, Ron,” she mumbled sleepily. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” he pressed a long and gentle kiss onto her forehead before blowing out the candle which was now illuminating the whole room. He continued to whisper how much he loved her and what she meant to him as she fell asleep in his arms, the green tinge gone from her face and Ron’s mind happy that he could go to sleep confident she knew how much he loved her. 

#ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley blurb #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley smut #rw #rwi #rwf #rws #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter blurb #harry potter smut #harry potter fluff #hp #hp imagine #hp blurb #hp smut #hp fluff #smut

[allthingsfangirl101]

Rehearsal Dinner Disaster–Zac Efron

I was too busy fixing the flower arrangements to notice Zac walk up behind me. I gasped as he wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned his chin on my shoulder.

"They look beautiful, babe," he whispered.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Do the colors clash? Are they too out of season? They match the bouquets perfectly but. . . "

Zac laughed as he unwrapped his arms from around me, spun me around, and pressed his lips to mine. I sighed before starting to kiss him back.

I broke the kiss and leaned back, wrapping my arms around his neck. I bit my lip and glanced over my shoulder at the flowers.

"Are you sure they look okay?"

"Babe," he chuckled. "The only thing more beautiful than the flower arrangements is you."

I blushed as I giggled and shook my head. I wrapped my arms tighter around him, pulling him closer to me.

"Just a few more days and I get to call you my wife," he smirked.

"Just a few more days and I get to call you my. . ."

"Y/N!"

Zac and I both jumped as my sister came running into the room. "Your caterer is on the phone. It sounds like there is a problem with getting the food here for the rehearsal dinner or maybe it was the reception. I can't remember what he said. You have to handle it. I don't know what you want and his French accent is really hard to understand."

"It's okay," I soothed her. "Just give me the phone."

I sent Zac a look as my sister walked out of the room, mumbling about never getting married. He laughed as he walked over and kissed my cheek.

"The joys of wedding planning," he whispered.

Things only got crazier from there. My mother was frantically running around before the rehearsal dinner and didn't stop the entire night. I couldn't enjoy the dinner because my mom was worried about the plans for the ceremony, my dad was focused on trying to threaten Zac, my sisters were complaining about the bridesmaid dresses, and the groomsmen were rating my friends.

I had just calmed my mother down after she found out that the caterer called to cancel the steak and replace it with salmon. I walked around the corner, trying to hide from everyone.

"There you are."

I looked up to see Zac walking towards me. His smile fell when he saw the look on my face. He jogged over, gently grabbing my arms.

"What's wrong?" He asked, lowering his voice.

"I can't. . . There's so much to. . . And everyone. . . This is supposed to be our weekend and everyone wants something and I just. . ."

When my voice broke, Zac pulled me into his chest. He rubbed my back and kissed my temple.

"Have you had anything to eat?" He whispered.

"I haven't had the chance," I stuttered. "Whenever I go to the food, something comes up and I need to fix it."

"Let's get you something to eat," he smiled down at me. "I'll cover you."

Zac and I finally got peace as we ate. Whenever someone tried to come and ask me a question or talk about tomorrow, Zac politely turned them away.

"Are weddings always this crazy?" I sighed after Zac turned away my frantic mother for the tenth time since we sat down.

"Wouldn't know," he shrugged. "This is my first wedding."

I sent him a playful glare making him laugh. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"It's okay," he sighed. "I know things are crazy and I wish I could tell you that they'll calm down but they won't. What I can tell you is that I will be right here with you. If you ever need a break or need to find somewhere to hide so you can catch your breath, I'll help you escape."

I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. I felt him smirk as he started to kiss me back.

"Y/N. Oh! Sorry."

We pulled apart when we saw my sister blushing. "I just came to tell you that mom was looking for you. Something about matching her new shoes to her dress for tomorrow."

"Okay," I laughed. "I'll go find her. Thanks."

She nodded before turning on her heel and walking away. I sighed as I looked back at Zac.

"It never ends."

                         * * * * *

By the time the rehearsal dinner was over, I was exhausted. I walked into my hotel room, instantly kicking off my heels. I collapsed onto the couch, my eyes watering.

"You okay?"

I looked up to see Zac walking into my room. He sat next to me, pulling me into his chest.

"I'm so tired, baby," I whispered, my voice getting caught in my throat.

"I know," he whispered. He held me close to his chest, slightly rubbing my arm. "We just have to get through tomorrow then it's you and me the rest of our lives."

"Just tomorrow?" I sighed, sitting up and pulling out of his embrace. "Zac, ever since we got engaged, it's been one thing after another. We haven't even been able to enjoy being engaged. At our engagement party, my mother wanted to plan everything. I mean, have we even been alone since the night we got engaged?"

"Well, I guess not," he stuttered as I stood up.

"See?" I said. I started to pace back and forth as I rambled. "I feel like we can't enjoy being engaged and planning our wedding because every time we turn around, something is wrong. My parents want input, my sisters want to choose their dresses, your parents aren't getting enough input and. . ."

Zac jumped up and caught me when my legs gave out. He led me to the couch and sat next to me.

"Y/N," Zac said gently. "Babe, just breathe."

"This is too much," I whispered. "Everyone is driving me crazy. My sisters hate the dresses, my cousin is bothering me about her vegan meal, our groomsmen and bridesmaids seem to either be trying to kill each other or sleep together."

Zac shushed me as he ran his fingers through my hair, playing with it. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against his chest.

"I can't do this," I said under my breath.

"You can't marry me?" He asked softly.

"No," I said quickly as I pulled out of his embrace. "That's not what I can't do, baby. I can't get married with all of this crap going on, all this drama. It's too much."

"Hey," he whispered, gently cutting me off. "I love you, Y/N. And I'm sorry that our wedding is crazy, but that's not what matters. What matters is that this time tomorrow, we will be husband and wife. What matters is that we love each other and are going to spend the rest of our lives together."

"I love you," I whispered. He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. When he pulled away, he leaned us both back into the couch.

I sighed as I leaned my head on his shoulder. Zac chuckled as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. We sat in silence, enjoying this moment of peace before the chaos to come tomorrow.

"Why don't we just get married tonight?" Zac said suddenly.

"What?" I asked as I sat up and looked at him.

"Let's do it," he smirked. "The courthouse isn't that far away and we already have our marriage license."

"You're serious," I mumbled under my breath.

"I am," Zac said eagerly. "Let's go. Right now. That way we can have our perfect private wedding tonight and then whatever happens tomorrow happens, but we won't care because we already had our private wedding the night before."

I started nervously chewing my bottom lip as I waited to see if he was kidding. He wasn't.

"I'm in," I said with a nervous giggle.

                         * * * * *

I smoothed out my wedding dress before walking out of the bathroom. I walked over to the front door where Zac was waiting for me. I cleared my throat, making him turn around. His eyes instantly filled with tears as he smiled widely. He chuckled as he covered his mouth.

"Wow," he said under his breath, his voice breaking. "You look. . ."

I nervously tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as Zac walked over to me. He took my hands in his, still looking at me in my dress.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss, his face still inches from mine.

"Let's go get married, baby."

We snuck out of the hotel without anyone from the wedding party seeing us. The whole way to the courthouse, Zac held my hand. Every once in a while, he'd bring our intertwined hands up to his lips and kiss my knuckles.

As we pulled up to the courthouse, parked the car, and headed inside, I wasn't nervous at all. I didn't have an ounce of doubt in my mind as we waited our turn.

"Efron wedding?"

Zac and I looked at each other, our smiles widening when he reached over and grabbed my hand. He stood up, pulling me with him. He didn't look away as he pulled out a small bouquet of flowers.

"Where did you get those?" I giggled.

"Gift shop," he shrugged. "I went in while you were in the bathroom."

"Zac," I said, happy tears coming to my eyes.

"Every bride deserves a bouquet on her wedding day."

I grabbed the flowers, my hand on top of his. I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his. I instantly broke the kiss, lowering off my toes.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too," he smiled. "Now, let's go get married."

                         * * * * *

After Zac and I got married at the courthouse, we headed back to the hotel. Without a word, Zac escorted me back to my hotel room. When we got there, I hesitated outside the door. I turned towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I don't want to go in there," I whispered.

"Y/N," he chuckled.

"At least not alone."

My innocent smile turned into a knowing smirk. Zac chuckled as he pulled me closer into his chest. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I smiled as our lips started moving in sync. We managed to get my hotel room open without breaking the kiss.

We laughed as we walked into the room, Zac kicking the door shut behind us. He finally broke the kiss, his smirk slowly fading.

"I love you so much," he whispered. "And I am so excited to start our life together."

"I love you too, baby."

                         * * * * *

"Oh my!"

Zac and I jolted awake when we heard my mother gasp. I quickly grabbed the hotel blanket and made sure my mom didn't see me naked in bed with my husband.

"Good morning, Mrs. Y/L/N," Zac said with a goofy smile on his face.

"What are you doing in here, mom?" I asked, slightly clearing my throat.

"We were supposed to have breakfast before we started getting you ready," she said slowly.

"Right," I laughed awkwardly. "Give me ten minutes and I'll meet you in the lobby."

Mom glanced over at Zac and clearing her throat. She nodded quickly before turning on her heel and leaving. I let out a sigh of relief as I heard the door open and close.

"Well," I said as I cleared my throat. "That was embarrassing."

"Ehh," Zac shrugged as he snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me back into his chest. I let out a little giggle as he kissed my neck, nibbling on my skin.

He bit my neck before whispering in my ear, "Your mom seeing us in bed together will most likely be a footnote to the chaos that is yet to ensue."

#zac efron #zac efron imagines #zac efron x reader #wedding imagine

[plus-size-reader]

Hidden Away

Erik x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2184 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader is getting picked on and Erik helps make her feel better.

——————————————————————————————————

Everyone had heard the rumors of the angel of music, the guardian of this place but you had never believed them before.

You had never had any kind of encounter and aside from frightened whispers from the dancers and stories from Madame Giry, you didn’t think you ever would.

In fact, if you had never gotten that letter, you may not have ever learned the truth about this place.

The Opera Populaire had gotten similar letters before, from someone signing as ‘Opera Ghost’ but you had no idea who that was. All you knew was that there was a letter just like it, resting upon your nightstand.

It may have been easier to pass off as a prank, but you didn’t think so. The performers in this place often thought you a joke, and wouldn’t waste their time doing something so elaborate.

Rather, they would just torment you during your rehearsal. You could never have hoped to be a ballerina, though you often wished you could have been.

You just weren’t built for that sort of thing, but what you did have was a voice that not even the most cruel among them could refute.

Madame Giry often said that if you had been built like the other girls were, you would have been the most popular performer the opera would’ve ever had.

You should have known better than to think that living in a place like this would be gentle toward your insecurities. The dancers alone were all in such a physical condition that they were almost always in pain.

...Not to mention, rail thin.

That being said though, you knew that it wasn’t their fault that you weren’t but that didn’t make their cruel comments any less harmful.

Not every one of the ballerinas was nasty to you, or made snide remarks about how pretty you’d be if you weren’t ‘built like that’. It was just that the ones that did sort of took up all your attention.

For example, today, you had been doing your best to perform your rendition of Hannibal that Carlotta was going to be doing tonight at the show.

It was just something you’d been trying to perfect since she began doing it. It was easy to get that song stuck in your head, and as a singer, it was only a matter of time before you attempted it for yourself.

You thought you sounded alright, though not as good as the headliner always did, but right on schedule, Bernadette came round the corner.

She wasn’t the most skilled among the dancers, as she couldn’t hold a candle to Christine or Meg but she was talented for sure. More importantly than all that though, was the fact that she hated you.

Treating you poorly was arguably her favorite thing to do.

“Come now Y/N, there is no use in practicing. They are never going to let you up on stage. I doubt they could even fit you into any of Carlotta’s costumes” she hummed, her thick french accent attacking your senses.

It was a tone you were comfortable with, and if she had been any more kind, it would have even been beautiful but with the way she chose to use it, that all faded away.

Perhaps you could have argued with her or defended yourself some but you knew from experience that it wouldn’t lessen her attack. So, instead, you removed yourself from the situation completely.

Of course, doing so only made her more wicked, a cackle leaving her lips when you left the stage. You didn’t even want to know what she was saying to her friends, but it didn’t matter.

Having heard it or not, it hurt all the same.

You were just so tired of your appearance having anything to do with your talent, as if a couple extra pounds affected your ability to sing.

...And you began to cry.

Luckily, you were far enough away from anyone to know about it, but you couldn’t help yourself even if they were around. It just hurt to never feel good enough, no matter how strong you tried to act.

Sometimes you just had to let it out.

Now, you didn’t know from where you were sitting, curled up in the corner of the room with your head in your hands but there was a witness to the entire thing.

A witness that had been paying attention to you for quite some time.

The opera ghost was the focus of so many people’s attention in the opera currently but the focus of the entity himself...was you.

He couldn’t help himself.

Erik could hear your voice through the walls, even when you were singing alone in your room and by this point, he found himself completely enamored by everything you were.

In some ways, maybe he even found himself developing feelings for you, in his own special way.

In any case, watching those girls speak so cruelly to you filled the man with rage. The only thing that softened that anger was seeing you there, kneeling down with tears in your eyes.

That was enough to stop him in his tracks completely.

That was when he sat down and wrote that letter, requesting that you allow him to meet you in person, provided that you wanted to do so. That way, if he needed to whisk you away in the future, he could do so without alarming you.

Perhaps it was awkward, or strange, but in his defense, Erik had lived most of his life within the walls and dungeon of this place. He wasn’t really the most up to date on social graces.

If nothing else, it was his attempt at not startling you with his presence.

...And thankfully for him, it worked.

You read his letter that next morning, having found it laid gently on your nightstand, stamped perfectly with blood red wax.

It didn’t make any sense, and it seemed rather foolish to answer the calls of some invisible man that you’d never seen before but you couldn't help yourself.

They said that curiosity killed that cat, but in your case, it may have skinned it well first. You didn’t bother to let anyone know you were going, and you didn't care too.

All you knew was when Erik appeared, having pushed through the floor length mirror in your bedroom, you followed him into what could have been another world.

It was both grotesque and beautiful, the dark hallways smelling of musk and soot. You had lived in the dormitories all your life, but you never knew this was hidden just below.

It was clear that this was the most well guarded secret of all that the opera had to offer, and you had to consider yourself lucky to be standing where you were.

Even if maybe you weren’t quite sure why you were doing it.

“What is your name Monsieur? What do you want from me?” you asked, following behind him a quiet tone, having just stepped from the boat.

Where you were now was no more than a built up rock quarry under the opera, but it was decorated as a house would have been. Clearly, he had been living here.

For how long, you had no idea.

Erik didn’t speak at first, doing his best to think this whole thing out before he could ruin it. He had been watching you for so long, dreaming of how you would speak to him, and now that it was here, he was at a loss.

“I hate the way those other little creatures speak of you” he commented finally, not even bothering to introduce himself. It was probably best that you didn’t know who he was right away.

You knew what he was referring to almost immediately, taking it upon yourself to set down on the satin sheet of the bed now. You had no idea how he knew, but he must have been talking about Bernadette.

No one else spoke viley of you more than she did, and if that was why he’d chosen to speak to you, there had to be a reason.

Why would he care?

“She isn’t wrong in what she says, though it hurts” you shrugged, deciding that having someone to talk to was worth all the danger you’d put yourself in to get here.

There were so many unanswered questions but you couldn’t bother with them right now. All you could think about was this strange man, sitting in front of you now.

Half of his face was hidden from your view, those you focused mainly on his crystal blue eyes. They shone even in the darkness of the pit you were sitting in, and you wondered briefly what they would look like in the midmorning sun.

You assumed it would be like staring deep into a sparkling bay at the peak of summer, and that idea delighted you slightly.

“Don’t ever speak like that” he spat, a bit more upset than he meant to. It was just that it was bad enough to have to listen to them make up rude things about you.

The last thing Erik wasn’t was for you to start feeling them yourself.

“Why do you hide away? Why do you hide your face from me now?” you wondered, not letting the slip of his tongue frighten you, though maybe it should have.

For whatever reason, you felt safe here. Frankly, you were more comfortable sitting here, under the watchful gaze of a stranger, than you had ever been anywhere else.

It just didn’t make any sense that he would stay down here when all of Paris was right outside these walls.

“The world would not be kind to me, as it is unkind to you, and I hide from you so that you will not be afraid” he allowed, knowing that you were starting to feel more comfortable in this odd situation.

Had circumstances allowed it, he would have loved to meet you up there, in attendance of one of your shows. He would have loved to hear your voice in all its glory, but what he said was true.

The world had reared its ugly head to Erik before, and he wasn’t willing to go through that again.

“I will not be afraid” you promised, though when the male mentioned it no more, moving instead to talk about what he’d seen last night, you took that as your hint to do the same.

You didn't know this stranger, after all, and you didn't want to go too far.

“Why do you let them treat you so poorly. Surely you must know that you possess more talent than the lot of them combined” He wondered, almost reaching out to take your hand in his own before he stopped himself.

Erik yearned to feel your skin against this own, it was true, but he didn’t want to risk scaring you away before he even really got to know you.

He had to remember that while he felt like he knew you fully, you had only just met him.

It was a strange question, but all things considered, it was probably the most tame thing you had done all day so you answered him. “I can’t dance nearly as well as they can, besides, there is truth to what Bernadette said. I will never be a real opera singer, not the way I am”

There was a sadness in your voice, like you had already accepted it to be the only truth there was, and that was because you had. In your eyes, there was no room for a woman like you, a big woman.

You had heard everything there was.

That if you were to lose weight, you would be on stage every night. That you were wasting time on a dream with no future when you should be looking for a husband. That you would never find a husband unless you stopped eating.

It was never ending, but you had never admitted that to anyone before.

Maybe it was the odd comfort that you found in the presence of this stranger, or maybe it was because you were hidden away from the world, but you had said it out loud.

...And now Erik understood.

You had never understood what a beauty you were because no one would let you be true to it. No one would let you embrace the obvious beauty you had and instead forced it down within you.

They made you think that the problem with the world was you, when in reality, they were making up lies to keep you beneath them.

“You will never say those things again. You will be on stage, a night all to yourself, I’ll make sure of it” Erik decided, and while you had no idea what he was talking about or how that was going to happen, you nodded.

Anything seemed possible, sitting with a handsome stranger in the darkness and even if it was all a lie, you could bask in it for a little while.

#Phantom of the opera #poto #erik #the phantom #phantom of the opera x reader #phantom of the opera x ps reader #phantom of the opera x plus size reader #phantom of the opera imagine #poto x reader #poto x ps reader #poto x plus size reader #poto imagine #erik x reader #erik x ps reader #erik x plus size reader #erik imagine #the phantom x reader #the phantom x ps reader #the phantom x plus size reader #the phantom imagine

[wasabito]

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true. 

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer. 

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once. 

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance. 

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture. 

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment. 

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly. 

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more. 

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too. 

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit. 

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up. 

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!" 

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?" 

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori #satori tendou #satori tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #sabi.writes

[joezworld]

Any headcanons about Ever Ace and the other new A-class Evergreen ships? This totally isn’t just because I love your version of Ever Given and want more of her and her family XD

The following is an excerpt from How to Avoid Huge Ships, Or: I Never Met a Ship I Liked by Capt. John W. Trimmer (National Writers Press, 1982)

Chapter 14: The Emotional State of Ships

For most captains, the emotional state of a seagoing vessel (other than your own, of course) is often seen as irrelevant - after all, who cares if the seven hundred foot tanker about to run over you and your ketch is a nice person or not?

However, like many common beliefs in the marine industry, this is an incorrect one. The mental state of vessels is vital to continued safe navigation.

First, we must mention the obvious: An unhappy ship is a dangerous ship. Think about the last time you drove to the store while upset. Now pretend you weighed several thousand tons and required a mile and a half to stop in an emergency. I imagine your car insurance premiums might be a bit higher, no?

Then we must mention Fleets.

Allow me to explain: While this may be seen as a massively reductive statement, most large vessels (and most living machines for that matter, including commercial aircraft, railway locomotives, and even large dragline cranes) are best viewed as pack animals. When left alone to their own devices (and the growing economic benefits of 'machine autonomy' have meant that more shipping lines are allowing ships to go off by themselves!) vessels will often form a "fleet", as they call them, which substitutes for what we humans would call a joint family.

A fleet may include any number of vessels and relationship combinations, ranging from a number of single vessels who consider themselves siblings, to sets of separate married couples, and even groups of non-monogamous vessels whose conduct would make a Mormon blush. That being said, regardless of type, bonds formed in this manner are extremely strong, and will often overcome any difference between vessels - see the growing trend of former US Pacific Fleet vessels and their former Imperial Japanese Navy spouses!

Now, what does any of this have to do with the continued safety of marine navigation, I hear you ask? Well, let me put it to you in the simplest terms possible:

If you were to wrong me in some way, I might decide to take legal action against you, or I might lick my wounds and walk away. I might even go to the police if the offense were serious enough.

If you were to wrong a ship, and the offense were serious enough, they wouldn't lick their wounds, they wouldn't pursue legal action, and they most certainly would not go to the police. Most ships believe quite strongly in the merits of what could be charitably called 'extrajudicial punishment'. Most ships, if they are in such a relationship, would bring this to the attention of their fleet-mates, at which point you would not have one, but several, maybe even a dozen, extremely large and extremely angry ships going after you.

-

Of course, any discussion of the often-overlooked subject of Fleets is incomplete without at least a brief mention of the US/Canadian Great Lakes Fleet, which has managed to continuously add to their numbers through a process they call 'Lake-napping'...

-----

April, 2021 - Great Bitter Lake, Suez, Egypt

The Egyptians were insane, Given concluded. Aside from the obvious - where in the name of all that floated was she going to get nine hundred million US Dollars? - they'd actually called their Navy on her, like some kind of Triad enforcer making sure a mark didn't get away without paying.

He was a tiny ship, really - some old design that made its priorities clear, judging from his open-air flying bridge and thick hull, but the massive anti-ship missile pods on his aft deck showed he could punch well above his weight.

She'd tried speaking to him, but they didn't have a language in common - and that was impressive all on its own. From the short, clipped sentences, and badly accented Arabic, he seemed both Eastern European and decidedly unfriendly.

As the sun set on the end of the first week of what might be a very long stay in Egypt, she wondered if the line might abandon her here. The cheap fucks had already been making noise about replacing her with another, bigger ship, but Ace - still in the shipyard, but already proving herself to be just as loud and annoying as any proper 20,000+ TEU ship, bless her - had made enough noise about "not being a rebound date" that their hand had been forced.

Of course, that was all before the Egyptians decided that they wanted nine hundred million dollars, so who knows?

Another ship went by - the backlog still wasn't through, and convoys continued at all hours. This one was one from CMA CGM, and while she couldn't quite catch his name in the dark, she could absolutely catch the scathing French insults being hurled her way as he passed by.

"Je parle français, toi voilier sans hélice." She sniped at him, relishing in the startled yelp that trailed him into the night. The tugboats pulling him along laughed, and he growled at them as he moved further into the lake.

The missile boat looked at her with what might have been admiration, but it didn't stop him from keeping his guns trained on her as he changed his watch position to a spot off of her stern.

She honestly considered running - the mockery she'd get once she left Egypt might be too much.

As the next ship in line approached, she got a ping on one of the company radio frequencies.

Tuning in, her brow furrowed in confusion - now that everyone had satellite internet downlinks, internet chatrooms had become the primary communication method across the fleet. Evergreen Lines ships had all gravitated towards Discord instead of WeChat or Line, but their server had been strangely silent for most of the last week.

Opening the channel, she caught a flash of a call sign - What was Elpida doing out here? Wasn't she on the Australia run?

"Don't say a word, we've got it under control."

"You what? Who's we?"

Elpida swept past , literally - she was breaking the speed limit for this part of the lake, and had probably been doing so in the Canal too - the ropes to her tugs were taut, and judging by the Arabic screaming, they were trying to get her to slow down or at least let go. She was high in the water - her decks empty of containers - what the hell was going on?

Given was too big for the swells to affect her, but the Egyptian Navy ship wasn't, and he yelped in whatever his native language was as he rocked and rolled in Elpida's wake.

Behind her, a distant cry that sounded suspiciously like the word "Now!" rang out, followed by a deafening cacophony of foghorns.

She'd shut down her radar - because what really was the point? - and it took a worrying few seconds for the Furuno system to spin to life and return a clear result.

Or... what might be a clear result.

All hell seemed to be breaking out behind her - the convoy had broken formation and was going in what seemed like every direction possible. At least ten ships were now going berserk behind her.

The Navy ship, by far the smallest vessel out there, (except the tugs, who were fleeing for their lives, it seemed) spun around towards the main shipping lane.

Collision alarms immediately started wailing on the Canal's common channel as a very large blip on the radar screen (Who turned off their AIS transponders in the Canal?) slowly swung towards him.

The Egyptian seemed stunned for a moment - he'd drifted back into Given's range of vision, and his expression ranged between sheer horror and mildly poleaxed - before he calmed himself and stood down the ship bearing down on him.

That calm look lasted for a few minutes, but as the blip got closer and closer his confidence faded. The doors to his missile pods swung open, but his nerve broke before he could fire them, and the water around his stern frothed up into a roiling tempest as he set off at full astern.

It wasn't enough. He'd held his ground for just long enough for the other ship to reach him.

Slowly - this whole event was playing out in breathless slow motion, because nobody was actually that speedy - a bulbous bow, riding high out of the water without a load of containers, ploughed towards him. It was followed by a bowsprit, one that was so huge it looked like it could have been Given's own.

Then came the name: EVER ACE.

Then came the collision.

Ace (?!) didn't so much collide with the Egyptian ship as she drove over him. His low freeboard meant that the impact with her bulbous bow had his far side dipping into the water. Once his deck hit the swells, it acted like a giant scoop, and his keel was to the night sky within a few seconds. He'd been hit at an angle, so once he'd been pushed free, he slowly rolled back up, a much more traumatized and injured vessel than he had been a minute ago. More importantly, the water gushing out of his missile tubes meant that he was no longer a problem.

"Hey!" Ace boomed as her pilothouse drew even with Given. "Best Sea Trials Ever!"

Behind her, another ship - this one laden and looking a lot like Golden - steamed by. "Stop hanging around and get her out of here!"

"That would be my cue." Another voice called from behind her.

"Tex?" He was in Manila!

"Who else would it be?" Texas Triumph, thick Texan accent and all, steamed up. "now let's jus' get you settled up here and we'll blow this joint."

"This is a rescue?!"

"For sure pardner! We've been planning this since those highwaymen said they was keepin' ya here."

"Stop talking and get her out of here!" Golden bellowed from further up the river. It seemed like she was now intimidating some other tugboats from intervening.

"Well, ya heard 'er." Tex said. "Les' go!"

Given had been so distracted by the appearance of so many members of her family that she hadn't even noticed Tex slipping lines through her hawseholes until they went taut and she was yanked from her moorings by Tex steaming out in pursuit of Ace's retreating form.

She just barely managed to get her anchors retracted before Tex really put some power on, and began to pull her across the lake entirely.

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

Later...

The War Zone

Ever Given Escapes Custody Suez Canal Authority claims no responsibility, Egyptian Navy vessel possibly damaged. BY TYLER ROGOWAY April 17, 2021 THE WAR ZONE

📷@mahmou10_ships VIA @SUEZWATCH_EGY

SHARE TYLER ROGOWAY View Tyler Rogoway's Articles @Aviation_Intel Details remain limited at this time, but there was an incident in the Great Bitter Lake. At least one Egyptian Navy vessel has been severely damaged, and MV Ever Given, who had been held in the Great Bitter Lake by the Suez Canal Authority, has now fled the Canal into the Mediterranean Sea.

Again, details are extremely limited, but based on social media reports, marine tracking data, and radio reports, at approximately 11:47 PM Egypt Standard Time (EGY) a disturbance was reported by the Egyptian Navy craft - their identity is still unconfirmed, but images posted to social media seem to indicate that the vessel is a former Soviet Osa-class missile craft. The vessel reported that "A convoy has gone mad" and he was "under attack from multiple vessels".

While a convoy had transited the canal at that time, it is unclear if they were involved in the attack, or if one occurred at all.

We've reached out to Evergreen Lines, The Suez Canal Authority, the Egyptian Navy, and the individual ships believed to be involved, including Ever Given.

We will update this piece as more information comes available.

Contact the author: [email protected]

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#fic #ask response #ever given #the evergreen discord chat is going buck wild with this article #background info #sentient boats #sentient boat headcanon #sentient vehicle headcanon #having sentient boats messes with so many historical events #sentient vehicles

[slygirl666]

lack of self control pt. 1 (F.W)

A/N my first Fred x reader, technically a Slytherin reader agin but they are adults in this. Fred lives after  the war in this, because he shouldn't have died. 100% inspired by the song strawberry lipstick by YUNGBLUD was suposed to be a one shot but now it’s split into like 2 parts sorry

warnings: language really that should be it for this part, Smut in the next part can be a one shot

word count: 3,383

*

*

*

Fred and George spent the day interviewing witches and wizards to work at the shop. George was going to be on his honeymoon soon, him and Angielina planned on spending two months in Italy. The boys had been meaning to hire help for a while so it just made sense.  

George sat back with a sigh looking at the clock above Fred’s head. “Angie’s gonna kill me if i'm not back for dinner, can you take the last one on your own?” “Of course mate,” Fred smiled tiredly at George who packed up and left. It had only been two years since the war but to Fred, who nearly died it was like yesterday. His life felt like it's hardly moved since then, George would be getting married in two weeks, Ron was already married, Ginny was engaged. Maybe He’d be like Charlie and grow up alone doing what he loved.

Or not the man yearn for something new and exciting.

There was a knock on his office door, and that when you walked into his life...again

* * *

It was Fred's sixth year when he had first noticed you. You were just outside of Honeydukes with a group of giggling girls by your side. Someone had handed you a bright red lolli. He watched carefully as your face twisted into one of complete innocence before placing it on your tongue and pulling it into your mouth, then pulled it out of your puckered lips with an exaggerated ‘pop.’ after that he entered the store as you drowned in a fit of giggles handing the candy off to the girl next to you.

At that point Fred hadn't even known your name. What he did know was that you were enticing and he wanted to see more of you.

* * *

“Hello, Y/N Y/L/N.” you stuck out a hand.

“I remember we went to Hogwarts together.” Fred Gladly took your hand shaking it.

“I’m surprised the famous Fred Weasley remembers me. “ you  let out a laugh as she said his name.

“How could I not? I was a part of that little stunt you had pulled on Umbridge,” he laughed watching your face go red. “Although that was just as much as a surprise to me.”

  You hid behind your hand embarrassed. “Merlin, I can’t believe you remember that, I was so Bold back then.”

“No i think you really just wanted her to shut up.” he let out a laugh.

* * *

The First time Fred spoke to you was in detention, with Dolores Umbridge. You had been sitting at a desk writing your lines when she pulled the lanky ginger boy in by the ear. She had started him on his lines before she was called away for another ‘emergency.’

He remembered you from that Hogsmeade trip last year. “What are you in for?”

You took a second before turning to him, “she said my uniform was against regulations.”

He took her in noticing the silver and green tie around her neck. “There's nothing wrong with it.”

“Exactly.” you rolled your eyes annoyed. “I told her it’s not my fault I'm a little shapely, then she screamed out ‘detention’. And the last time I wore my pants to class, she said it wasn’t ladylike to wear trousers.”

Fred laughed, “I’m Fred Weasley by the way.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you shook his hand.

It took another week before he saw you again, he was entering his DADA class as sixth years exited. Umbridge was calmly talking to you about how a young lady shouldn’t paint her face like a tart and she didn't want to see that in her class.

“You have no right to say that to a student,” your voice was scary and even. “You do not know me.”

“Maybe not miss Y/L/N,” she giggled. “But I do know of your reputation with the boys.”

Fred was a little concerned he went to put a hand on your shoulder fully intending to drag you out of that horrid women's classroom. You looked at him, eyes glimmering with mischief as you bit your lip.

“Right,” you nodded, voice turning sweet. “And my reputation says everything about me.”

Without a moment's hesitation you had pulled Fred by the tie for a fiery kiss. Fred couldn’t tell if it had been ten second or ten minutes when you pulled away. You licked your lips dragging the pad of your thumb across him bottom lip. “I got some of my lipstick on you.”

You pulled your thumb into your mouth walking away from a shouting Umbridge, laughing class and a dazed Fred.

* * *

You had gotten through the interview quickly. “Well Y/N, I’ll be talking with George tomorrow, if you get the job expect an owl in the next week or so.”

“Thank you,” you had gotten up going for another hand shake. “It was good to see you again Fred, hopefully it won't be the last time.”

Fred watched as you walked down the stairs to the front door, he mentally scolded himself feeling like a sixteen year old boy again. You hadn’t changed one bit. You still held yourself as though you knew you were desirable and you wanted to show it.

Fred mentally scolded himself, as far as he knew you were married or in a serious relationship. He sighed, closing up the shop.

It had taken two days for you to get an owl saying you got the job. You were ecstatic, you found a job, it didn’t hurt that you were working for the man of your school girl dreams as well.

You were called to the joke shop the day after for training, the twins were going to show you how to handle products and where everything went.

You had spent all day in the back room memorizing most of the products, when the crowd died down George had led you to the front of the shop where he showed you how to work the displays and demonstrations. It had been a long day and worse for the twins because they spent the day between you and their customers.

“I say you join us for a drink at the pub.” George smiled at her, “my Fiancé is meeting us there tonight.”

“George she just spent the entire day here i dont think she wan-”

“That would be lovely, I have no reason to be home so soon.” you raised your eyebrows at fred, “i could really use a drink too.”

“We’ll lead the way,” George smiled at her. The three of them went down the stairs where George locked the doors. He walked ahead of you and Fred, leading you to the exit of Digon Alley.

“Is it a muggle pub?” you whispered up to Fred who nodded at you.

“Muggle London is awfully busy on weekends.” he offered his arm. You linked your hesitantly through him. “We go here every few weeks for a few drinks, some of our family will most likely be joining us.”

You nodded at him, slightly intimidated by the idea of meeting a family full of famous people. By the time you three got to the pub there was already a rather large table with a generous amount of redheads.

They greeted Fred and George before noticing you.

“I never knew you had a girlfriend, Fred,” a thick French accent cut through the silence. Fred shook his head at her.

“Sweetheart, i think that's their new employee.” A man she recognized as Bill Weasley, give or take a few years since the last time she saw him, wrapped his arm around the pretty french woman.

“That is correct, im Y/N Y/L/N.” you waved rather awkwardly.

“Bloody hell aren’t you the girl who shagged someone on Umbridge’s desk before dropping out?” Ron went slack jawed as Hermione slapped his arm crying ‘Ronald.’

You snorted the Slytherin in you coming out, “is that really what they said? I just snogged your brother in front of the entire seventh year before entering private lessons.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. Angelina laughed, “Merlin, I remember that, we made fun of Freddie boy here for a whole month.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, then turned to Fred. “did I ever apologise for that?”

“No need to,” George chuckled. “Freddie thought about that day for years.”

“Then i'm not sorry,” you smirked at the amused crowd. Who started talking among themselves. They asked you questions about the time you spent out of Hogwarts and the brief time you were in the healer program.

You got along with the weasley family just fine. They eventually moved on to talking about family affairs. You got up feeling a bit awkward now. “I should get going.” some of the family playfully booed. “Sorry someone has to feed the cats at home.”

Fred got up letting you slide out of your seat, “see you tomorrow, Y/L/N.”

You nodded going to the bathroom to apparate out.

* * *

It was another week that went by fairly uneventfully, the Twins had given you a simple uniform guideline, of a pencil skirt or slacks, a plum button up and a dusty orange bowtie, colores both of them seemed to favor.

You were in the shop ringing up the last customer of the day when you heard laughter and yelling.

“George this isn’t funny,” you walked up the stairs curiously. “Mum s’ gone mad I swear. I’ve told her so many times, she doesn't have to set me up. I'm a grown man.”

“Fred, George,” you knocked softly on the door before opening it. “We're done downstairs, I wanted to be sure you two were fine.”

“Why don't you just bring Y/N.” George’s face lit up. “It would shut mum up.”

“George, don’t drag her into-”

“Into what?” you looked at the twins amused.

“Mum wants to set Fred up with her friend's daughter for my wedding,” George laughed. “Lovely girl, but exceptionally clingy and loud.”

“I’ve been ‘set up’ with her for most family events,” Fred groaned, “would you go?”

“Sure your family is lovely.” you shrugged. George laughed, “now I’m going home now, George just send me the details.”

You winked at the boys and walked out of the store.

“Freddy you’re drooling,” George let out another laugh.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have made the skirt an option.” Fred grumbled to his brother.

“Well look at the bright side, you have a date with one of the prettiest witches you know.”

Fred shoved his brother diving into paper work to distract his thoughts of you.

But you made sure to make that difficult for him wearing that skirt every day you could, it was hard not to notice his stare that traced every curve of your body when he thought you weren’t looking.

The wedding was tomorrow meaning the shop would be closed for the rest of the weekend. George being busy ment you and Fred were stuck at the shop alone. You sat on the counter cross legged as you and Fred looked at the store layout next to you, you two were preparing for the back to school rush that was sure to happen.

“Well if the Pygmy puff sells a lot with the female crowd, what if we put a love potion display across from it. You know just a little push.” you leaned closer to the paper then looked to Fred.

“That is a wicked idea.” he looked up at you, “where have you been! Georgie and i always wonder where to put the love potions this time of the year.”

“You boys just needed a womens’ touch.” you giggled catching a red painted lip between your teeth.

Fred looked up at you, you were only inches away from each other, he audibly swallowed eyes moving from your lips to eyes. “Yeah I think we found it.” he got close, you could feel his breath on you before muttering a “to hell with it.”

Just then he kissed you. It was a soft gentle kiss so you would have the s[ace to move away, but you didn’t want to. Bringing your arms up to his neck pulling him closer. He tasted like sweet coffee.

Eventually you needed air. The separation seemed  to bring the two of you back to reality. You giggled at him, his eyes were half lidded, lips smeared with the vivid red you had on your own. You took your thumb whipping it across his lips, showing him the red. “I got some of my lipstick on you.”

He laughed, “it wouldn't be the first time.”

“Uh yes,” You smiled at him getting off the counter. “I should get going, I'll see you tomorrow Fred.”

You walked out realizing that tomorrow would be a very interesting day.

* * *

You paced in your apartment in muggle London. You were dressed in a pale green sundress, you looked in the mirror adjusting it, the dress fell just above your knees but the neckline was rather daring considering your chest size was generous. You had given your hair a light curl making sure it covered your back to hide your battle scars. With some shimmery eye makeup and that same red lipstick you wore when you wanted to feel confident you were ready for George’s wedding. That you were going to, with Fred. Your boss, who you kissed last night.

“Merlin,” you muttered, going for a shot of firewhiskey to calm your nerves. There was a rhythmic knock at your door.

Fred was at your doorstep ready to escort you to the Burrow for the wedding, you agreed to go early so his mother believed he had a date. Plus he was the best man he needed to be there early.  

“You look rather dashing,” you gave him a once over he was wearing a button down, rolled up to his elbow and a black vest and bowtie.

“And you look exceptionally pretty today,” he smiled at you. Holding a hand out for you. You didn't hesitate to grab it, he pulled you close. He took his wand out then there was a familiar nauseous pull in your stomach.

You and Fred  landed outside of the tallest most spectacular building you’ve ever seen. “It’s not much but it's home.” he smirked at the look of awe on your face.

Not letting go of your hand he guided you inside.

A plump redhead woman with grey streaks in her hair excitedly walked towards you. “You must be Freddies date.” she pulled you in for a hug.

“yes , Ma’am, Y/N Y/L/N.” you went a bit rigged at the sudden hug.

“Oh, none of that. Call me Molly,” she let you go eyes searching every inch of you. “You’re a pretty thing aren’t you. I almost thought Georgie was lying when he said Fred had a plus one.”

She laughed, you stifled a giggle as Fred whined at his mother. The woman turned to fuss over him, it was funny he was a giant compared to her, yet he still managed to look like a disgruntled five year old as his mother fixed his tie.

The ceremony was short and sweet, something you were thankful for, it took all of thirty minutes for the bride and groom to say ‘I do.’ the thing you weren't expecting was to sit at the family table. They served appetizers as guests mingled. You looked in awe as all the weasleys talked and laughed together all around you.

“They are really something else, aren’t they,” Harry potter sat next to you looking amused. “I had that same look on my face the first time I came here, about ten years ago.”

“They're all so close,” you smiled fondly. “Im Y/N Y/L/N, by the way. It's nice to officially meet you.” He smiled, shaking your hand.

Soon Fred was called to give as Speech as dinner was being served, “Hello, I am Fred Weasley the handsomer of the Weasley twins. But we aren't here to discuss that were here to congratulate Angelina and George. So George has known Angelina since first year and was completely in love with her by fourth year, not that he'd admit it. So i tried to push him during our school days, i even asked her on a date at some point, which caused a row but he was to dence to say anything.” Fred took a deep breath, “it only took ‘round twelve years but were here now, and that's what matters.”

People clapped, Fred held up a hand, “by the way we switched suits before the wedding, Angelina you are now legally Mrs. Fred Weasley.”

“He’s missing an ear you dumbass,” Angelina laughed, the crowd of people joining her.

You were amused when you had talked to your own family; they were rather cold, always talking about how the marriage will bring a long line of great purebloods to come. This was about family though. It was rather charming.

The rest of the wedding went on with warmth and adoration soon everyone was joining the newlyweds on the makeshift dance floor. Fred held a hand out for you, taking a large gulp of wine, you gladly took it to join the rest.

“So, are you enjoying yourself?” Fred playfully spun you around before pulling you back to him to resume swaying dramatically.

“yeah , everyone is lovely,” you smiled up at him. You couldn't help but laugh at his exaggerated movements.

The two of you playfully danced to a song you had never heard before, Fred continued hid goofy slow dancing. Eventually he dipped you causing another fit of laughter. When the song ended he led you to a table. “I’ll go get you another drink.” he winked and walked towards were they served the drinks.

Ginny Weasley sat at the table, her heels in front of her on the table as she looked you up and down. “So, a girl can finally keep up with Freddie,” she smirked as your face heated up.

“Were just friends,” you protested.

“Sure, sure.” She shook her head as Harry came and sat next to her.

“Gin, stop teasing,” he rubbed her shoulders affectionately.

“You can’t tell me what to do harry,” she gave him a playful look. “Plus he deserves it. Do you know how many years he gave me grief about you.”

Fred returned with two glasses of wine. “Hope they aren’t giving you a hard time.”

“I told you no need to worry,” you rolled your eyes. “Seriously, your family is absolutely lovely.”

The rest of the night went by with a few more glasses of wine, and more silly dances. By the end of the night you were a bit more than tipsy.

“We have extra room here, Freddie,” Molly smiled at her son as he talked about flueing you home.

“Mum, we’re going to go,” Fred groaned at her. “Comon, we’ll flu to my flat then get you home.”

Fred led you to the fireplace.

You got to his flat above the Joke shop, he didn’t want you apperateing drunk.

“You can take the bed, I think I have some sweats or something you could borrow.” he scratched his head walking over to the dresser.

“It’s fine Fred I can take the couch,” he handed you a pair of sweats and a plain shirt. You put the sweats on, they hugged your hips a bit because Merlin, this man is skinny. You struggled reaching for the zipper. “Can you help with the dress?”

You heard his footsteps get closer to you. He gently pushed your hair over your shoulder, slowly trailing the zipper down. His eyes followed the skin that was exposed. You could feel them on the large gash scar across your back.

“I got it during the battle,” his hand traced it. “That was the day I was officially deemed a blood traitor.”

You turned to look at him,  his eyes met yours, hands finding his way to your hips, turning you to face him. “I have my fair share of scars from it too, want to see?”

He licked his lips, eyes shining as you nodded at him. That's when he broke pulling you in for a searing kiss.

#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #weasley twins #harry potter fan fiction #harry potter #alternate universe

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Two

a/n: enjoy part two I hope! any feedback will make me fall in love with you 12 times. this one features much hijinks!!

Part Two

Immediately after you hopped on your bike, you began to regret your most recent conversation, your tendency towards flights of spontaneity. It hit you that you had not only turned down drinks with Cabot and Novak's important friends, you had invited them to watch you get your boogie on with all of your airhead dance friends at a somewhat raggedy club in Brooklyn.

What. Had. You. Done.

With any luck, Alex would not mention anything to Casey and the two of them would go to whatever wine bar the other senior ADAs and fancy defense attorneys hung out at with Gillian Hardwicke and whoever else, tell them how weird you were being, and never look you in the eyes again. You tumbled into your apartment, raining papers, carabiners, chapsticks, and hair ties as you hung up your bag and helmet. You made especially sure to hang up the key to your bike lock because four times in the last month had seen you frantically biking back to your apartment for it and countless more had featured you searching through the jungle of tiny bowls full of coins and wires and keychains before you left. When you made it into your living room, two little hands wrapped around your leg, tripping you. Your fall was cushioned by your fluffy area rug, but you were startled enough to yell "fuck."

Leaving no time to spare, you heard a high-pitched voice behind you yell, "Auntie, that's a bad word!" You got up and scooped the little home invader into your arms.

"Léa," you said, "how did you get into my apartment?" The six-year-old giggled as you tickled her.

"I left Mr. Cuddles on your couch. Papa gave me the key."

"Well, did you find Mr. Cuddles?" You asked, and Léa held the teddy bear out for you.

"Yeah, I did, but then I heard you and I got so happy because Auntie is home!" You melted at that, grateful to have the girls in your life, without having children of your own.

"OK, sweet girl. Thank you for the welcome. Why don't we go surprise Papa?" You picked up the laughing kid and slung her over your shoulder, walking down the stairs to your best friend's apartment.

"Ash," you said as you opened the door. "I think I found an alien in my apartment. I don't know what it is but it's very silly." Léa protested, saying she was a girl and not an alien. You plopped the pile of giggles on the couch and greeted Ashley with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Are we still going out tonight? The babysitter's still coming?" Ashley was juggling the two-year-old and a pot of spaghetti at once, trying to get the girls fed so he could have a rare fun night out with you and the others.

"Yep, Emma is on her way right now. And we," he said as he took your hand, "are going to dance all night long." He turned you around in the kitchen, causing Yasmin to coo in his arms. "And you, my Meena-Beena, are going to be the best little dance prodigy in the world, aren't you?"

You took her from his arms and spun her around again, saying, "If I have anything to do with it, though, you're still going to college."

"Natch," Ashley agreed with you. The doorbell rang and Ophélie, the 12-year-old, raced to let the high school girl Ashley had hired to watch them in. Ashley explained where everything was to be found, then the two of you practically flew out of the door. You changed into more appropriate clothing at your place, then caught the subway. As you traveled, you broke the news to your best friend.

"Hey. So. I may have invited a couple newbies," you told him.

"Shouldn't be an issue, it's open night and there are going to be like, 20 teachers there."

"Right. Um. Yes. But."

"What, do you have a crush or something?" You hit him.

"No. But they are my supervisors."

"Both of them?" you nodded. "Well, it's a good way for them to get to know you I guess?" You laughed nervously.

"Hopefully, they don't even come," you said wishfully. Ashley changed the topic and the two of you rode the rest of the way without discussing Casey and Alex-- but they stayed in the back of your mind.

---

Casey walked into the darkened room first, holding Alex's pinky with her own, pulling her in behind. Casey had been reluctant at first, but now that the decision was made, she wasn't going to be bashful about the experience. Besides, she had danced before, unlike her wife. Alex's upbringing had been so very proper and protestant, about the only dancing she'd ever experienced was the waltz that she and her fellow wealthy little kids had been taught in cotillion, then told never to do again outside of a ballroom. Casey, on the other hand, had been raised around all types, and had gone to her fair share of swing nights as a kid. Still, nothing like the way everyone was moving in the little club. The band was on a small stage towards the back of the space, and the room was filled bursting with beautiful women wearing flowing sequined dresses and handsome men in crisp button-downs.

Standing just inside the doorway, Alex caught your form first. You were wearing your favorite dance outfit, a simple red crop top with a silver circle skirt. Your hair was secured in a casual bun. Your tall (and, curiously, male) partner's hand sat firmly pressed between your top and your skirt. She watched, transfixed (like many others there tonight, you were often the center of attention), as he lifted and spun you around, quickly and masterfully. What was most beautiful, though, was the unreserved grin that seemed stuck in its place, except when you lifted your head back and laughed after your partner whispered something in your ear. Alex and Casey made their way over to the bar and sat down with two mojitos (neither of their usual drinks, but half the people at the bar had them. It seemed fitting), and watched you whirl around with ease and clear pleasure. Casey thought she'd never seen you look so beautiful than right then, in your element, moving as naturally as anything.

"So," Casey remarked to her wife, "Either Ashley is a man or Haley's dancing with another partner."

"Or I heard it wrong," Alex offered.

"She's stunning, isn't she?" Casey said, a dreamy, captivated tone in her voice. Alex replied with a sigh and a hum.

The two women didn't get all too long to discuss you, though, before you saw them and came bouncing (Rita Calhoun doesn’t lie) to the bar, Ashley following close behind you.

"You two made it! Alex, Casey, meet my partner, Ashley Laurent. Ash, this is Casey Cabot Novak and Alexandra Novak Cabot, my esteemed supervisors from the DA's office." Alex reached out for a handshake, but Ashley made a "tsk" noise and pulled her in for two kisses on the cheek.

"We kiss on the cheek," he said, the smallest hint of his accent (French, Alex thought) showing through, then did the same for Casey. The way Casey comfortably returned it was adorable to you, as was how Alex tried her best despite her stiffness. You saw Casey rub her thumb along the back of Alex's hand in a calming motion, and without meaning to, you traced your left thumb over your right hand. "I've heard so much about you both," Ashley continued.

"All good things," you interjected with urgency, knowing Ashley's talent for embarrassing you in front of important people.

"Pleased to hear it," Casey said. You could tell that Alex was getting nervous, she had the same look on her face as she did before a difficult case. You felt a pang of guilt for having invited them, worried that you'd maybe pressured them into doing something they didn't want to do, or worse, that they'd come out of pity.

Ashley could tell you were overthinking and wanted to make it either worse (for his entertainment) or better (for your benefit). He took Casey's hand and told her, "You know, my partner here is one of the best dancers in the state. I'm sure she'd love to show you some of the ropes."

"Oh, Ash," you said, then turned to Casey, "Only if you want to. And he exaggerates my talents."

Alex spoke up, then, to say, "Not if what we saw earlier was any indication." You couldn't help but scrunch up your eyes and nose, flattered and flustered and a little embarrassed.

"I'd be happy to dance, Caroline, but I don't want to steal your partner, Ashley," said Casey.

"Nonsense," Ashley said, "besides, I need a break, the kids exhausted me today. I'll stay, keep this one company." You couldn't argue with him any longer, and as the band started up the next song, you took Casey's hand and led her onto the outer corner of the floor.

Your heart sped up when you noticed Casey's subtle signs of nervousness. "No need to worry, half the people in here have no idea what they're doing," you said. You placed your hand around her waist and put hers on your shoulder, keeping a friendly distance between the two of you. "The trick is pretending like you're confident, and people will think you are." Casey noticed the way your voice went up as you said it, like you knew how she was feeling quite well. "And I usually follow, not lead. So, I'm out of my comfort zone too."

You had no need to say the last thing, Casey thought, as you showed her the basic steps. "It's also, really, quite simple. When I step forward, you step back." She followed your lead. "Good! Yeah, that's exactly right," you told her. "I wouldn't even believe you were a beginner," you flattered her. It was a little choppy, but that didn't matter. As you felt her get into the groove of the movement, you let go of her waist and spun her under your other arm. She gasped, quietly.

"Now, the real key here is remembering to move your hips," you said, when you took her waist back in your arms. "You gotta let them guide you. You head should barely move up or down."

"I think you lost me there," Casey said.

"Here, feel," you replied, moving her free hand to your own hips. "Notice how I let them swing every time I move my feet?"

That seemed to work (though you saw a quick moment of an emotion you couldn't quite place wash over Casey), and she was soon dancing with relative ease for a newcomer. Of course, she was in good hands with you.

Alex watched the two of you as you led Casey along the floor. From work, Alex knew you were dedicated and thoughtful, but she'd always thought of you as shy and high-strung, despite your unguarded countenance. You had no problems in court, but outside of it, you would trip over your words, avert your glance at praise; you wore your insecurities on your sleeve. You were always vulnerable, too. More than once, she'd seen you get teary in your office or when speaking with a victim. You were never the first person to leave, and you took some of the most detailed (yet nearly illegible) notes she'd ever seen.

There was nothing shy about the way you moved, the way you showed Casey how to move herself. She found herself paying attention to the way your hips rolled to the music, how you never let Casey know when she stepped wrong. It put her at ease, knowing her wife was in good hands. Everything about you looked natural, comfortable, free.

"How long have you two been together?" she asked Ashley, sipping her drink (it was very minty). Part of her didn't want to know, but that part was overpowered by her curiosity.

"Ten years this fall. We met her first year at Stanford, at a ballroom rehearsal. She was so cute," Ashley said.

"Oh yeah?"

Ashley nodded emphatically, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "She grew up in a really intense studio. She was so strict about rules, and like, crazy competitive. I used to wind her up on purpose, messing with my technique to get a rise out of her."

"I really wouldn't've taken her for a big rule follower."

"It doesn't come naturally to her, but she got good at it," Ashley said. Alex thought he sounded proud of you, like something about you had come a long way. "She's so much more chilled out than she was at 17. But aren't we all?"

Alex was amused at the idea that anybody would call you “chill” and attempted to imagine what you would've been like at that age with little success. Then again, you kept surprising her. The way you seemed as you danced was very different to how you were at work.

"Now, tell me, Alex. Does she really have to put in all those hours? You don't seem like the kind of supervisor who completely disregards work-life balance."

She thought of how to reply to that, not wanting to get you in any hot water at home. Ashley was right. Now that she was older, married, and caretaker of a sizeable plant collection, Alex took a healthier approach to hours. She also remembered being your age and working every second that she could, every moment that it took to be as thorough as she could.

"No, she doesn't have to work so much," Alex ventured. "In fact, I'm not even technically in charge of her schedule. Everyone can choose how much they work, as long as they're meeting targets. Which, unfortunately, means that we sometimes get people who just do the bare minimum."

"I'm sure Caroline isn't one of those people," Ashley said.

"She's not. She's one of the most productive and successful in the office. With the younger ones, for the first few years, they either take a while to get acclimated to the work and need babysitting, or they work too hard and need someone there to remind them to breathe." Alex felt bad that Ashley had clearly seen some element of stress in you that she failed to pick up on. She tucked that away as a conversation to have later. "I was like her. So was Casey. We both calmed down a little, but it took some quite, uh, extreme events."

Ashley, for all his disregard for the norms of conversation, knew when not to push people, and could see that Alex was feeling a bit on edge. "Would you like to dance the next one with me?" he asked, but Alex's eyes widened as she adamantly refused.

"I'm happy to just watch, you don't want to see me try."

Ashley wanted to push more, but he didn't want to risk alienating your boss, so he filled the space by telling embarrassing stories about you in college. When the band began winding down for their first break, the bartender played some pop over the stereo as the dancing crowd made their way to the bar to rehydrate. You and Casey returned to the booth where Ashley and Alex were sitting.

Casey slid in beside Alex, giving her a quick kiss. You sat next to Ashley, leaning your head on his shoulder. You let out a sigh.

"It's been a minute since you taught a newbie, Bug," Ashley said to you.

"Hardly," you replied, shooting him a glare for using your nickname from your college team. "Casey's very capable." You couldn't resist complimenting her, the way she smiled at you was too precious. "You were great," you directed at Casey.

"Please," she said, waving a hand at you and taking a sip of her mojito, watered down slightly by the melting ice. The four of you managed a very engaging conversation (thanks to your partner's valiant efforts) for the next couple minutes, until Ashley's phone rang.

"That is the babysitter. I'm so sorry ladies, I gotta take this." Everyone at the table took the opportunity to check their phones.

"Hi, Emma. Is everything ok? What happened? Is she running a fever? The thermometer is in the bathroom cabinet, can you check?"

You pushed your glass away and rubbed Ashley's shoulder, knowing how upset he got when any of his kids were in trouble.

"No, 99 isn't technically a fever, but you said she threw up? On Yasmin? Well, that's certainly gross. Um, no I wouldn't make you deal with that, here," his brow furrowed, and you started to pack up your things and his, surely you, too, would be going home to help. "Emma, I'm coming home now, should be 20 minutes or so. Léa's lovey is on her bed, if you get her that and wrap her up in a blanket on the couch, she should be OK. Ask Ophélie to entertain Yasmin and stay with Léa for me, can you? You're a gem, kid. OK, I'm leaving now, see you in 20." You started to get up with him, Casey and Alex looked concerned.

"Casey, Alex, I am so sorry to leave, but it was great to meet you two," he said.

"Léa was fine two hours ago when she attacked me," you said, addressing Ashley. "Alex, Casey, I'm sorry I got you two out here and have to leave so soon."

"What? No, you stay here, love." You opened your mouth to argue, but he insisted. "You have guests, and I'll be fine alone. Léa's always sick, and Phélie can watch the baby for me." You tried to help him again, but he wouldn't let you. You gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek goodbye, and he waved kindly to Alex and Casey as he hurriedly walked out the door.

When he was gone, you said to the other women, "I think he does too much. I work all the time. I wish I was there more to help." You played around with a straw wrapper as you talked (Alex noted, you seemed to fidget when you felt guilty).

"He seems like he's OK," Alex said, remembering how Ashley had expressed a similar sentiment to her earlier.

"Do you need to work fewer hours?" Casey asked, "because you're doing more than well."

You sighed as you thought of what to say. "Ashley's a wonderful father. No questions there. But I do think he puts too much pressure on himself."

"There's one thing you two have in common," said Alex. You only nodded in response, looking around the room. This was your happy place, and Casey and Alex somehow fit perfectly in it.

---

You all left the club right before the crowd started to die down. You were tired, and you knew Ashley would need a hug once the girls were in bed; plus, you could tell Alex and Casey were wearing out (you couldn't get Alex to dance, but you and Casey were on the floor together about half the night-- an old student of yours pulled you away from your table as the band began again, but you found Casey another partner for a few songs). As you rode home, your nerves were completely calmed. You realized that you had nothing to worry about in the first place and felt pleased at how the evening had turned out.

As soon as they reached their apartment, Alex took Casey's hands and kissed her, lightly at first, deepening when Casey parted her lips. Casey moaned, muffled, as Alex threaded her fingers through her hair and gave it the gentlest of tugs.

"We have a bed, Lex," Casey said, pulling away slightly.

Alex hummed against Casey's jaw. "You just look so beautiful tonight."

"I don't always?"

"Oh, you do. I just kind of can't believe how perfect you looked dancing."

"Well, you really have Caroline to thank for that one."

Alex made a sound that landed somewhere between a whimper and a squeak.

"Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right," Alex said. "That's the thing."

"I know," Casey replied. "Too bad she's apparently both straight and taken."

Alex giggled. "I mean, how would that conversation even go."

Casey nodded in agreement, turned on her heels, and pulled Alex down the hall, pushing her onto their very fluffy bed.

"'Hey, I know I’m 15 years older than you, married to Casey, and we’re kind of your bosses, but do you want to have a threesome?'" Alex continued in a low tone of voice, comically seductive, running her hands under the hem of Casey's tank top, pulling her closer with the fabric.

Casey laughed into her collarbone, welcoming Alex's lips as she kissed down her chest.

---

The next week passed quietly. It was a two-case week for you, one of which ended in a plea bargain, giving you more free time than usual. Alex kept bringing you coffee, and you kept running with Casey, though the weather was beginning to be too hot to do so outside (Casey, who was raised spending summers with her grandmother in Georgia, didn't believe there was such a thing; but your poor bay-area body was not suited to temperatures much above 75°). Wednesday evening around 8:00, when you were working late, tying up the details of a sexual harassment case at Manhattan Arts High School, you knocked on Alex's office door, hoping she was still in and would be willing to give you some feedback.

You heard a noise from inside, an "mm-hmm" that you took to mean "come in." You didn't wait to open the door, thanks, again, to your already limited inhibitions and the focus you had when you got deep into a case like this.

It was slightly too soon.

You quickly turned around and all but ran away, apologizing with what felt like every word in the dictionary. That was it, you decided, you had to quit. It was a good run, you thought, but you now had no choice but to leave, change your identity, and move to Spain.

Or something. Why wasn't the door locked?

You made it back to your office, just down the hall. As you fretfully packed papers into your backpack, you heard the click of high heels approaching you, caught a glimpse of blonde hair through the window. Part of you wanted to hide under your desk, but you stayed standing, hoping that if you didn't move, she wouldn't see you (not unlike a child attempting to avoid a bee sting).

Alex tapped her knuckles on the glass in the door, not waiting for you to respond before she opened it and came in. You started to apologize again, but Alex held her hand (her distractingly pretty hand) up at you.

"I am very sorry," she said, "that you saw that. In our defense, we were only kissing, and you usually keep to yourself after about 6."

You had trouble making words come out of your head.

"Anyway, Casey feels horrible. So, I came to apologize and see what you needed."

You continued petrified, wondering how Alex wasn't livid. You noticed a deep red mark on her neck--You noticed her neck.

"Oh God, did we freak you out that much, Haley? It's ok, you didn't do anything wrong. We were the ones making out at work," she said, trying and failing to resist a smirk.

At that, you were able to break out of your overwhelmed silence.

"Uhm," you began, almost whispering. "It's the Manhattan Arts case."

Alex nodded. "That one's tough. That's why I gave it to you."

You nodded, suppressing a squeak.

"It is. I don't know what to do because the complainant is also a co-conspirator with the perpetrator in another case."

"Right. Why don't you come to my office, and we'll all look over it together?" Alex saw your expression fill with fear again, the same kitten-ish look she'd come to know and love. It was painfully cute. "You don't have to. But we do have leftover pad Thai." That was enough to convince you, though you were still taken aback and shaken up.

You went to Ashley's apartment first when you went home that night. He and Ramin (home from his business trip) were cuddled up together on the couch watching The Bachelor, the girls were long asleep. You greeted the men, slipped your shoes off, and padded into the living room, sliding onto the couch beside them. Ramin turned down the TV and slipped his free arm around your shoulders. Ten years of friendship between you and Ashley had made you more than comfortable with his husband, though you'd only known Ramin for four. You three didn't need words anymore, they could both tell when you were having a hard time. You were glad Ramin hadn't seen everything Ashley had-- while you weren't very skittish about sharing your personal life with the people close to you, you and Ashley had been there for one another's darkest moments.

Ramin patted your head, mussing your frizzy hair. "Wanna talk about it?" Ashley asked you, but you shook your head.

"Tea," you said.

"Fair enough," Ramin replied, amused, rising to put the kettle on. Ashley scooted over to give you a hug.

You were in a far better mood after a few pots of chamomile and a few episodes of The Bachelor when you went to bed that night (well, Thursday morning). You were still confused, though. Something in your core warmed up every time you closed your eyes, the image of Casey sitting in Alex's lap, her hair messy, their lips pressed against one another, was stuck in your head. You were still mortified, that was all.

---

Alex made good on her promise of drinks that Saturday. Things had smoothed over since Wednesday; she'd left a cookie and a note beside your coffee on Thursday morning that read: Consider this biscotti your olive branch, and, well, who could stay uncomfortable after that. As they left their apartment, Alex sent a text to their friends reminding them that they had a guest that night.

Alex: Everyone, Haley's coming out with us tonight.

Casey: That means best behavior. No being cruel.

Sophie: ...Rita.

Sophie: We were all thinking it.

Serena: ^

Rita: I'm a very sweet person!

Pippa: You made Gillian cry last week.

Rita: That sounds like a her problem.

Gillian: It kind of was.

Pippa: 💖

Casey: Just, be nice to her. Please?

Serena: We will!

Rita: Fine.

Satisfied, they walked the short distance to their regular bar. As they approached, they saw you standing outside, looking up the other direction of the sidewalk and fidgeting with your keys. Casey noticed what you were wearing first, a black A-line wrap dress that showed off your shoulders. Alex, on the other hand, noticed you were wearing your hair in its natural loopy curls when you usually straightened it.

The way the setting sunlight hit your face as you turned your head in their direction caused Alex's breath to hitch in her throat. The way you idly brushed your fingers along your neck as you tucked a curl behind your ear made Casey's mouth go dry. They shared a quick glance, their eyes talking for them, saying: we're in deep, aren't we?

The second you saw them coming towards you, you grinned wide and waved both hands, bouncing on your toes.

"Rita was right," Casey whispered to Alex, still out of earshot of you, "she's exactly like a bunny."

Alex squeezed Casey's hand tightly. You greeted them excitedly, resisting the urge to hug them both (where did that come from?) by holding your hands behind your back after you waved. They returned your greetings gracefully and led the way into their haunt, Casey, then Alex, then you.

Everyone else was already there, you were sure they must've gotten there before you. The bar wasn't quite what you expected; it had much more of a homey vibe than you thought it would. A mostly 30-something, professional-looking, crowd populated the place's tables, drinking mostly wine and whisky, talking over candlelit tables. You felt more at ease, now that you knew what you were getting into.

You were even more at ease when you realized that sat around the table you were approaching were all familiar faces. Honestly, if you had to pick which defense attorneys to spend an evening with, you could do much worse than Rita Calhoun and Sophie Devere. You knew Gillian would be there, and you were pleased to see Serena Southerlyn and Pippa Cox as well (you always admired the field of legal advocacy, you might've gone into it if the money wasn't even worse than prosecution. Pippa and Serena both clearly came from some amount of wealth-- you most certainly did not, and student loans called).

Pleasant hugs and hellos were shared around the table. Casey introduced you.

"Gillian, of course, you know ADA Haley, but for you others... Pippa, Serena, Rita, Sophie, this is Caroline Haley." Gillian raised her glass to you; Pippa gave a warm smile and a wave. Serena pulled out a chair for you, and you took it.

"Lovely to meet you, officially," said Sophie.

"We could use someone interesting," Rita added.

You had expected to feel anxious. You always did in social situations, and you had the Zoloft in your cabinet to prove it. And you did feel the familiar buzzing of worry in the back of your head. But something about the way Casey and Alex looked at one another and then at you made you feel safer than usual. It was a cozy, pleasant feeling.

Wait. Is that? Was it? No. Certainly not. Unless?

You let their conversations go on without chiming in much. Like you usually did when you met new people, you just watched and sipped your drink (gin and soda, your go-to. Serena had insisted on buying you a drink, Rita teased you for going with something so cliché but stopped after one jab. You'd seen Pippa give her a warning glare, thought you'd seen her squeeze her thigh as well, though that could just be your somewhat wonky eyesight). Noticing your anxiety, Alex gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder that made your stomach flip.

Eventually, at a lull in the talking, Alex turned her attention to you: "What's Ashley doing tonight, Caroline?"

Your expression lit up; you were always excited to brag about your best friend. "He's at the studio; he runs rehearsal on Saturday nights. His company is one of the best in the city." You could've said more, but you didn't want to ramble like you tended to when you were nervous.

"Oh. When do you teach? You're always at the office late." Alex asked.

You sighed. "I wish I had far more time than I do. I teach mostly workshops right now, one or two weekends a month." You saw everyone around the table react with some surprise.

"And you two didn't scare away the babysitter last week?" Casey added.

You chuckled in response. "I hope we didn't. The girls are usually very well-behaved, but poor Léa's always getting sick."

"How old are they, Caroline?" Pippa asked.

The only thing you loved more than bragging about Ashley was bragging about your nieces.

"Ophélie is 12, Léa is 6, and Yasmin is 2. I'm biased, but they're the brightest children on the planet."

The way you sounded when you spoke about the girls spun Casey's head. Alex had never wanted kids, and Casey had always been on the fence. But your clear pride had her feeling very drawn to you in that moment.

"Forgive me for saying," Sophie began, "But aren't you a little young to have a 12-year-old?"

"Or a 6-year-old, really," Gillian added. Alex wanted to say something, remind her well-meaning friends that, sometimes, people didn't want to discuss every detail of their personal lives with them, but she held back, knowing how composed you could be when you wanted. You paled, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"Oh, um," you said, "They aren't my kids, technically. Ophélie is Ashley's youngest sister, and Léa is Ramin's from his first marriage. Yasmin is Ashley and Ramin's only child together, but they have full custody of all three. But I've been in their lives since Ophélie was 4." You saw the confusion build on Casey's face, her brow furrowing like how it did when she was focused in on her notes.

"Who's Ramin?" She asked you.

"Ashley's husband?" You replied, "he didn't mention him to you? He usually can't wait to talk about him."

The subtle confusion turned to true befuddlement on the part of Alex and Casey, both.

"He didn't mention a husband," Alex said. "I actually assumed you two were together?" Casey nodded.The other attorneys watched with varying degrees of curiosity and chaotic joy. You swore you saw Rita cover a smile with her napkin.

You realized the place where things had gone wrong. "Oh, oh my gosh, I can absolutely see where you would get that impression if he didn't bring up Ramin. He was pretty out of it the other night."

"You said you'd meet him at home when he left, called him your partner, kissed him," Casey listed.

"He told me about your first date," Alex added. Their tones were humorously incredulous, teasing. You could feel your cheeks heating up. This hadn't happened in quite a while.

"Dance partner. We live on the first and second floors of the same building. And well, you know someone ten years, you build up affection?" you paused. "It's an easy mistake to make. Besides, did he tell you how said first date ended?"

"No, actually. You and Casey got back from the dance floor before he finished the story."

You hid your head in your hands for a moment. "Well, I'm glad he didn't, because I'm not sure I could've handled the mortification." Everyone at the table kept looking at you, expectantly. "It ended with me coming out to him, then crying into his shoulder about it. So, no second date."

"It's all good, Caroline," Serena said, helping your nerves. "I'm sure Alex just wasn't paying attention. She's like that."

Alex shot her a playful frown. You felt at ease, more comfortable and wanted to share more with the group.

"When Ophélie was in preschool, I used to take her to music class on the weekends. I was still a junior in college, so I would show up to these fancy Palo Alto mommy and me classes with my backpack full of textbooks," you told, reminiscing on your younger years with your niece. "I swear, every new session, I'd walk in and another one of my professors would be there with their kids, the looks on their faces were just so priceless." Nobody seemed bored of you yet, so you kept going. "That little girl is the reason I became a lawyer," you said, in a more serious tone.

"What do you mean by that?" Pippa asked, her passion for protecting kids showing through.

You took a deep breath, not having meant to get so deep tonight-- but you opened up whenever Casey or Alex was around.

"When Ashley sued for custody, he had just graduated and was working in the ensemble of a dance company. I was a couple years behind him, but we were super close, and I was there for every meeting and hearing." You tested the waters, looking around the table to see if anybody looked bored. Seeing no signs, you continued. "And I remember just thinking the attorney was just the coolest person on earth. She convinced a court that this 22-year-old contemporary dancer was more fit to raise a child than that child's wealthy mother. She would work on everything seemingly tirelessly... she eventually found a way to prove that emotional abuse was occurring in the birth mother's home and that Ophélie would be better off Ashley's. When he got custody of Ophélie, I knew I wanted to be like that attorney, prove the supposedly unprovable."

"Wow," Gillian said when you finished talking.

Rita gave you a raise of her eyebrows, said, "Well, you certainly are interesting."

Everyone looked at you like they were trying to figure you out. Casey seemed to be on the verge of tears, and you were holding back some of your own. You sipped your drink, still thinking about how proud you were of Ophélie and the other girls, how lucky you were to have them in your life. You knew it was time to change the subject.

"So, Serena," you said, "Casey told me you two used to play softball together back in the day?" The whole table erupted in laughter, apparently at Serena for being a terrible pitcher.

---

That night, while Casey and Alex dozed off holding one another, Casey murmured softly to Alex, "Baby, you know you'll always be enough for me, right?

"Of course," Alex replied, her voice sleepier than her wife's. "I love you, Case."

---

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[nyctophilin]

I Was a Fool | I

sweet anon: May I request a forced marriage with Mafia!Changbin, please? Where like he's cold at first, but then they fall in love in the edn? And can there be some smut as well,,, sorry if this is too much lol.

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III

Description: She has been in love with her best friend for as long as she can remember. However, life doesn’t always like to play in your favour. Forced into a marriage she didn’t want to happen she lives her days lonely and unhappy the only thing bringing her joy being the occasional hangouts with her best friend. At some point, her husband starts to get bothered by the said hangouts.

All rights reserved © nyctophilin 2020. Re-posting, copying and translating any of my works is prohibited.

Pairing: Changbin x fem!Reader, Lee Know x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Genre: Mafia!AU, Forced Marriage!AU, Angst, Fluff, eventual Smut

Warnings: heartbreak, rude Changbin, spelling/grammar mistakes

A/N: Anon, I know Minho is not part of the request but it just felt right to put it in. I felt like I can create more drama if he was there and who doesn’t love drama? I hope you don’t mind.^^ I have so many ideas for this mini series. I’m so excited for it. I hope you all like it. Feedback is very much apreciated. 

      She stretched slowly, the sun bathing her in its rays. Although it was pretty hot outside a breeze will start occasionally making the bottom of her dress fly up ever so slightly and cooling her heated body. They were close to the bank of a river, settled on a soft blanket, a few dished making it impossible for them to be as close as they wanted to be to each other.

      She stole a glance at her best friend who was propping himself on his palms while looking at the few ducks that were populating the river. She has known Minho since her sophomore year of high school. He was a transfer student from another city. At the time his dad had got a new job in her city and they had to move.

      He intimidated her at first. He was quiet when he wasn’t with people from his class that he befriended and he constantly had a resting bitch face on. They actually started talking because of a...let’s call it a cliché accident. She can still remember it so vividly.

      She was walking towards the school’s cafeteria with her friends after their French class. Oh, how much she hated French. Not only was the grammar complicated but they also had an awful teacher. He didn't know how to explain things and he was very demanding.

      “Class, today we will talk about something sophisticated and I expect all of you to already know about it because how dare you not know everything about France?” She heard one of her friends mock the teacher and she giggled lightly. 

      “You did it wrong. You have to add a French accent and more spitting to it. This man went to France once for a week and suddenly he forgot where he is from.” Her other friend rolled her eyes when she remembered the teacher’s antics.

      “Oh come on. You guys are so mean!” She finally spoke just a tiny bit of sarcasm present in her voice.

      “Oh please! You are the one that hates him the most.” Her friend challenged her with a raised eyebrow.

      “Hate is a strong word. I just don’t have the same vision as him on most things.” She felt one of them nudge her in the back with her elbow and she adopted an offended frown. “Stop, I am serious!”  She nudged her back and they started pushing each other. A particularly hard push from one of her friends had her bolting forward and knocking down the person in front of her, falling over them.

      When she lifted her head and noticed who she hit she was up in a second. The second he spent getting up from the floor she was thinking of all sorts of excuses she could say. When he turned towards her she opened her mouth ready to let all her thoughts spill but she was cut off.

      “Are you ok? Did you get hurt?” He placed his hand on her arms crouching down just a bit to inspect her face. His hands were really warm.

      She felt a faint pink dust her cheeks. “I am fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I was the one who made you fall.” She looked into his mesmerizing eyes and gulped as discreetly as she could.

      “I am okay but we can’t allow such a fragile lady like you to get hurt.” A smirk tugged at his lips and made her rosy cheeks to go into a deep red.

      “Hey! I’m not fragile. I still put you down, didn’t I?” The most pleasant laugh she ever heard left his lips and he patted her head lightly.

      “Yeah, sure you did, sweetheart. Be more careful next time!” His hands left her body and he turned on his heels joining his friends again and continuing his way to wherever he had to be.

      After that incident, they started greeting each other on the hallway and making small talk every time they would sit at neighboring tables in the cafeteria becoming good friends eventually. The time she has spent with him was never boring and she ended up having some of her best experiences because of him. However, somewhere in that period of time, she fell for him. And how could she not? He was caring and gentle and funny and always made sure that she was comfortable before dragging her into another one of his crazy adventures.

      She was also aware of his feelings for her. She didn’t know if it was love but she knew he cared for her more than a friend cares for another friend. But none of them ever confessed. Maybe they were waiting for the right moment and maybe they made a mistake by doing that because from now on there were no more right moments.

      “I will be getting married.” Her whisper got lost in the breeze but he still managed to hear her. His head shoot in her direction, watching her side profile with blown pupils. With quick moves, he pushed the food out of the way and stood in front of her. Even though he was on his knees his body was standing tall, her calves trapped between his legs.

      “What do you mean? Please tell me you are talking about that giant stuffed bear in your room.” Minho tried to bring some humour into the situation hoping that any second she will push him, make him fall on the fresh grass and start laughing. His voice was strained when he spoke, however, because these were the first words she said to him since they met twenty minutes ago.

      Y/N bit her lip while avoiding his eyes. That was the hardest thing she ever had to do. Finally looking at his face she felt something tugging at her heart when she remarked his pained expression. “No Minho, I’m not talking about Honey. He’s way too good for me. If he ever decides to marry me I’ll be the luckiest woman alive.” Minho didn't appreciate her joke. If it was true then it was no joking matter.

      “Y/N, please!” She bit the inside of her cheek at his slightly annoyed tone. She knows she shouldn’t joke about this but it’s easier than telling him the truth. She wished there was a better, less painful way than that.

      “I’m getting married, Minho. In a month.” Y/N felt tears stinging at her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

      “With who? Did you have a boyfriend all this time?” The thought of her with someone else left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

      “I don’t know who.” She said under her breath focusing on the abandoned food on the blanket.

      “What do you mean you don’t know who?” She moved her face even further away from him wanting to avoid the conversation as well as she could. His unusually cold hand cupped her face making her watch him in the eyes and bringing her closer to him but still keeping a decent distance between their faces. “What do you mean you don’t know who, Y/N?”

      She felt so intimidated by his demeanour. She knew she owed him an explanation. Actually, no. She didn’t. They were just friends and she can do whatever she wants. But she needed to give it to him for her own sanity. “It’s an arranged marriage. My parents made this deal a long time ago with a rival in business. If I am not in any relationship when he prepares to step down from his position and hand the legacy to his son, I have to marry him. I don’t know why there is such rivalry between flower shops but if that helps my parents from losing the family business I have to do it.” 

      “Y/N, this is crazy. We have to do something. You can’t just marry a complete stranger.” His hands descended from her face to her shoulders, shaking her slowly hoping that maybe they both can wake up from this nightmare if he does.

      Tears pricked in her eyes as she took a deep breath. “If I was in a relationship I wouldn’t have to do it, but I am not. Everything is already decided on and I can’t do anything more about it.”

      Minho collapsed on her legs but didn’t fully let his weight on them. He brought her face close to his only a few centimetres apart. “Yes, we can. Listen Y/N, I…” She placed her hands over his, making him stop in the middle of his sentence.

      “Please, don’t do this to me. Not now. Please!” Tears started pouring down her cheeks as her vision of him became unclear.

      “But…”

      “Please!” She let her head fall into his chest and started crying uncontrollably. He felt his heart break at the sight of her crying and he never thought that his love could hurt her like that. He knew what he was about to do wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair for her. He understood that she can’t do anything anymore but he was selfish. He was too selfish when it came to her.

      “I love you!” 

      Her whimpers became even louder and she wrapped her hands around his torso burying her head more into his chest. He embraced her as well, a hand rubbing up and down her back in a calming way. He was silently crying trying not to disturb her, hoping that maybe, just maybe he is actually dreaming.

      From afar they may have looked like two insane people. Crying on a picnic on such a nice day. But it wasn’t a nice day for them. On that day their hearts have been broken by one another even though they still loved each other.

      Y/N was fidgeting on the wooden chair looking around frantically. Her father placed his rough hand on her delicate one in an attempt to calm her down. She looked him in the eyes and he gave her a smile trying to hide his sorrow from her. She smiled back and finally stopped her moving, realising that nothing is going to change even if she wastes her energy like that.

      Tomorrow was her wedding day and a few days prior they received a phone call from the father of the groom saying that they should meet before the wedding. Originally they weren’t supposed to meet because her soon to be in-laws were busy with the whole stepping down thing. She didn’t know why but she felt relieved that she gets to meet her husband before the ceremony. Even though her father assured her that he is a “young handsome man just right for my baby girl” she needed to see it with her eyes. No one wanted any weird reactions from her in the middle of the ceremony.

      She will finally get married. Is something she has wanted to do since she was young. Being with the one you love forever and absolutely nothing being able to separate you. She always dreamed of completing this one desire of hers. Dressing up in the most beautiful dress she has ever seen and having her hair done beautifully. It was going to be a beach wedding sometime in spring. Everything was going to be perfect and in the end, her loved ones were going to witness the love of her life and her vowing eternal love for one another.

      But she wasn’t getting her beach wedding and she wasn’t marrying the love of her life. She realised some time ago that life can be cruel. You get everything you want and then, all of a sudden it stops. You are left broken and have to live an unfulfilling life just because you can’t die yet.

      She was woken from her slumber by the screeching of her father’s chair. When she looked forward she was met with two masculine forms looking down at her. She hurriedly got up and bowed deeply as an apology for not noticing them sooner.

      “There’s no need for something like that. I can imagine how nervous you must be.” His voice was deep, shaking her from inside out. It was the older male that spoke. His shoulders were really broad and he was fairly tall, his imposing presence giving her a claustrophobic feeling. He had a fake smile plastered on his face and he extended his hands which she shook hurriedly. “I’m Mr Seo but you can start calling me father.” He laughed and she forced a laugh as well, uneasiness settling inside her.

      She looked at the other man from the corner of her eye. He was very well built, his black T-shirt stretching over the muscle of his arms. “I’m Y/N.” She extended her arm and let a smile paint her lips in an attempt to be nice.

      The man rolled his eyes and slapped his hand over her’s, shaking it violently before letting go. “I’m Changbin.” Immediately after, he sat down disinterested in that whole meeting.

      A bored expression was adorning his face. All he could think about was the moment he could go home. His eyes travelled down her body trying to take her figure in. He had seen so much better. She wasn’t crazy beautiful and even though her body was presenting some appetizing curves her shy and reserved demeanour was a big turn off for him. He couldn’t understand why he had to marry her. Did they really have to form a pact with the District 9 Mafia? They were clearly stronger than them so why not just eliminate them.

      He took another look at her. The way she sat, that forced smile, the fear in her eyes. Everything about her annoyed him. Maybe he was influenced by the fact that he had to marry her against his will but she was sparking something inside him. Filling him with rage until he had to stop to breathe in order to calm down.

      “Do you go to college Y/N?” Mr Seo’s question surprised her.

      “I did. I majored in Chemistry. I wanted to become a perfumer.” Excitement overtook her at the mention of her dream job.

      Surprise settled on Mr Seo’s face. “Oh, is that so? How come?” 

      “Well, since we have a flower shop as a family business I grew up around nicely smelling flowers. I thought that maybe we could sell perfume as well. That way people would buy more things when they come by and maybe we would be able to beat you.” She giggled lightly and she had both men in front of her raising their brows.

      “Oh yeah. Your father’s and my rivalry when it comes to our flower shops.” Mr Seo smirked at the other man and he averted his head, too embarrassed to make eye contact.

      On the other end of the table, Changbin was both dumbfounded and angry. Not only was she not aware of her father’s real job but she was also naive enough to believe the flower shop story. He doubts that he and his father looked like they could work in a flower shop. He hated this marriage already.

      The rest of the afternoon went smoothly with her, her father and Mr Seo making conversation. Changbin didn’t say anything unless spoken to and for the entire afternoon, he looked like he would rather be thrown out of a moving train than be there. Y/N tried striking a conversation with him a few times but he would either answer drily or would straight up ignore her so she gave up. 

      When they finally parted ways a few hours later she felt like she could breathe again. She was going to have a long and lonely life if this is how their marriage was going to proceed.

      Y/N looked at the lights coming from the city. Everything looked so small from up there. So small that she could pick them up and do whatever she wanted with them. Wrapping her jacket better around her body she leaned against the hood of the car making herself comfortable.

      “How is he?” Minho was looking at her expectantly.

      “He is okay, I guess.” She let out a sigh turning her head to look at his eyes.

      The older man made a clicking sound with his tongue before tilting his head to one side. “Okay? You guess? What am I supposed to understand from this?” He sounded annoyed.

      “He didn’t really talk. He ignored me for almost the entire period we were there. He did say ‘Good for you.’ when I said that I am a good cook, though. In conclusion, okay, I guess.” She was sick of him honestly. The few hours she spent with him today were enough for a lifetime. He wasn’t okay, he was a complete unmannered pig. But she couldn’t say that to Minho. She couldn't tell him about all the dirty looks he gave her or how many times he rolled his eyes whenever she excitedly spoke about her interests. She knew how he would react and that would only make her fall for him even harder. She needed to get over him.

      Minho felt his blood boil at her words. He gave her up, he respected her wish of not going to her father and fighting for her, only for her to end up with someone like him. Wasn’t life a bitch? He could make her so much happier. They could have a carefree life where the only thing they’ll be thinking about was how much they loved each other. But they won’t. Y/N is Changbin’s and as much as he hates it, if she is fine with it he will respect her decision.

      He wrapped a hand around her shoulders and dragged her closer to him. “Maybe you just got the wrong impression. I’m sure it will be ok.” He said that to her but it was more for him. A reassurance and a reason not to start a fight. He wanted to tell her to go against her father. Tell her to think again. Tell her that he was ready and if she spelt the words he would jump in the car and run away with her. Go to a place where no one could find them and they could live a happy life. But he almost lost her once and he can’t risk that again.

      After their picnic “date” Y/N avoided him for a few days and he thought that he ruined their friendship. But then, thanks to someone that probably loves him, she called him. Told him how scared she was of the whole situation and how she’s trying to stay strong for her family. That night she confessed to him many things that got him worried and he agreed to stay by her side because she needed him. He even agreed to walk her down the aisle. Walk with her on arguably the most important day of her life and then hand her over to someone else.

      “Maybe you are right. I hope you are right.” She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. The last few moments she can spend with him like that before it becomes wrong. And she is going to enjoy them.

      They sat like that for a good period of time in comfortable silence. None of them wanted to go home afraid of tomorrow. But they did because this was not a teenage rom-com where the protagonists end up together. This was the real world and they had to confront it.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #changbin #changbin x reader #changbin smut #changbin angst #changbin fluff #lee know #lee minho #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know angst #lee minho angst #skz #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst

[ynscrazylife]

The Champions | Chap. 2

Series Summary: Y/N, who transferred to Beauxbâtons in her fifth year, is the Triwizard Champion, not Fleur Delacour. What will happen when Cedric Diggory and her fall for each other? (I’m making Y/N a transfer student because not all readers will be French!)

Chapter Summary: Ever since Y/N was chosen as the Triwizard Champion for Beauxbatons, some Beaxubatons students have been bullying her, upset that she’s their Champion since she’s a transfer student, not a “real” student. Cedric comforts her and their friendship develops. 

Tag List: @truly-insatiable @pixieflutter​

Note: I’m French but I won’t be writing the French accent of the Beauxbatons students into this, I’m sorry.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | The Champions Masterlist

“Why is she the champion anyway? She's a transfer student.”

“I’ve been here since year 1 and she’s been year since year 5! Why wasn’t I chosen?” 

“She’ll probably fail the first task and ruin our chances for the Cup.” 

“I bet Dumbledore had that stupid goblet charmed to pick the worst person so Hogwarts would win.” 

“She doesn’t even go here!” 

“Yes, she does. You’ve just never seen her because she’s so quiet.” 

“She’ll screw everything up!” 

Those words swarmed Y/N’s mind as she sat in the Hogwarts courtyard, after getting lost and going the wrong way about 5 times. She had heard snippets of conversation from the Beauxbatons students for the past couple days in the common rooms that they were staying in. They didn’t even bother to quiet down when she was near. In fact, Y/N suspected that they wanted her to hear with how they looked at her.

She sighed, and couldn’t help but think that maybe they were right. She wasn’t a ‘true’ Beauxbaton student, and odds are she would fail at the tasks. Her confidence that she had been filled with was suddenly dwindled by all the comments, and with Hogwarts having two champions, it made her feel even worse.

Speaking of those two Champions, one of them was on their way to the courtyard now. Cedric ran a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh, needing some fresh air. He had just dipped from an argument with his friends. He had asked them to stop with the badgers and posters like ‘Potter Stinks’ and ‘Cedric Diggory - the REAL Champion’ but they defended themselves, saying “it wasn’t fair that Harry stole the Hufflepuff’s thunder”.

He looked up as he finally rounded the corner and stepped into the courtyard. Despite the number of students lingering, Cedric’s eye immediately caught sight of one in particular - Y/N. His fellow Champion and friend he had met just days ago. Truth to be told, ever since Dumbledore announced the Champions, he had become enchanted by her. There was something about Y/N that struck Cedric, something different and unique, and he found himself wanting to engage and interact with her. He couldn’t help his frown when he observed the gloomy look on her face, as she stared at the ground, hunched over. 

“Hey - are you alright?” 

Y/N had drowned out all of the other voices, but this one sliced through the sounds of her wallowing thoughts. Once she looked up and saw who was standing over her, offering her a kind smile that nearly made her swoon, she straightened up. This was the teenager she had begun to have a crush on. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, attempting to be convincing but her words were anything but. 

Cedric didn't seem to buy it, not that she expected he would. “May I sit?” He asked, and when Y/N nodded, he sat down next to her. 

The two observed the world around them, until Y/N figured that she should probably say something. He had gone out of his way to check on her - his competitor - and let her lie and say she was fine. She owed it to him to at least say something in response. 

“How are you doing?” Y/N asked, turning her head to look at him.

Cedric let out another small sigh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands together. “I’m okay. Got into an argument with my friends earlier, but I’m sure it’ll work out,” he said. 

Y/N nodded. “You’re not the only one who’s been having trouble with classmates,” she said with a small and quiet chuckle.

Cedric raised his eyebrows, prompting her to continue.

Y/N leaned back. “Some of my classmates don’t think I can do this. They keep making comments about how I’m not a real Beauxbâtons students because I transferred there in my fifth year, and how I’ll fail and cost them all the Triwizard Cup. Part of me wants to get mad but the other part of me feels like they’re right, that I can’t blame them,” she admitted.

Cedric stayed quiet for a moment, thinking. “That’s horrible,” he murmured, and Y/N was a little surprised at how sincere and serious he was taking her words. “Don’t listen to them, okay? You’ll do great, I’m sure. You’ve got a fire in you, a fierceness.”

Y/N smiled, touched by his encouragement. “Thank you,” she said.

“No need to thank me,” Cedric said, and after a moment, added, “With both our set of friends being crappy, I say we become each other’s friend!” He bumped her shoulder lightly.

Y/N giggled. “I’d love that,” she said, her spirits lifted. For the rest of the day they talked about their lives, about the competition, about anything, really, and Y/N felt herself falling even more for her golden-haired Hufflepuff friend.

#cedric diggory #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter fic #harry potter x y/n #hogwarts #beauxbatons #harry potter and the goblet of fire #hpgof #gof #harry potter books

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 31

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: we’re going back to y/n’s 18th. so sorry for the 2 day delay. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N felt dizzy whenever she was surrounded by too many people, it almost felt unsafe, as if people could hurt her better if she was surrounded by others. After all, it was a sea of people with extensive knowledge in hurting someone or making them disappear without ever being known and despite living in that environment, she had a paranoid unconscious fear of being in the middle of so many people belonging to the mob, specially higher up members. 

She had managed to find herself a spot in the thousand of chairs speckled around the room, watching from afar as Gwen dazzled everyone in her new Ted Baker baby pink dress meanwhile Y/N was dressed in her high school dress uniform, not really having many dresses in her wardrobe that would suit the event or that would suit her. She continued with her nose stuck in her favourite book, her brain filtering out the loud partying sounds and focusing only on the sharp words of her pages. She would’ve continued this way had it not been for a strong coughing that came close to her. Y/N lowered her book to find the source landing on a man dressed like dandy, probably in his mid 60s, holding himself up on a dark walking stick and coughing onto a monogrammed handkerchief. 

     - Would you like to sit? - Y/N called out for his attention, immediately getting up from the chair. 

     - Please, darling, don’t bother. - he replied in an accent Y/N could maybe pin point to France or maybe Belgium. Nevertheless, she moved the chair closer to where he was, a small smile on her lips. - Are you sure you don’t want to sit?

     - I have good legs, I can stand. - Y/N leaned against the wall, hand gesturing towards the chair. 

     - What’s your name? - he questioned as he took a seat on the cushioned chair, too tired to argue with the girl telling him to sit down. She was probably right, he probably should.

     - Y/N. 

     - Michael. I’m Genevieve’s grandfather. Mother’s side. 

     - I’m Genevieve’s handmaid ... Or at least in training, Daniel says my true test will come up when we go to university. 

     - I’m assuming you got into Cambridge too then. - he admitted and Y/N nodded, very proud of her perfect scores and the letter that had come with the mail just a few days ago. - What are you taking?

    - English Literature. 

    - My daughter used to love to read. Would devour a whole library if she could. French, English, German, Greek ... languages didn’t really stop her. 

    - It must be hard for you. - his eyes seemed to focus on her eyes hidden by some mascara she had put on for the ceremony but still couldn’t completely hide the sheer beauty they seemed to hold. - Are you alright?

     - Yes, you just have some very familiar eyes. It’s uncanny. 

     - I just got told that today. - she played with her hair, a shy smile on her berry painted lips. - They’re not very remarkable really. 

     - They’re remarkable enough.

To say she had spent the rest of whatever was left of the morning in the bathroom either throwing up or urinating and whenever she wasn’t in the bathroom seemingly detoxing from whatever she had consumed last night which hadn’t sat well with her, she was exhausted, sleeping in her bed and swearing to herself never to eat anything from this hotel ever again.

She swore she didn’t remember seeing anyone this sick ever since Dan’s girlfriend became pregnant. Pregnant. That thought hit her like a freight train and as quickly as she had laid down to rest, she bolted from her bed and into her suitcase, reaching for her necessaire which showed her a full pack of pads. She was certain she had gotten the pack right after her last period which she was sure had been in November. She bite on her nails, getting up, eyes glued to the pack wishing that once she blinked it would be half empty. 

Shivering, she rushed over to her door, opening it to see if Elias was around and luckily he was. She was probably overreacting, she convinced herself, yet it was better to be safe than sorry. 

    - Are you alright, miss? - he questioned, noticing her uncharacteristic unresting look which seemed to haunt all her features. 

    - We need to go to a pharmacy. - she almost whispered the last word, afraid someone would connect the dots despite the pharmacy having several other things which would cater towards her. - The furthest pharmacy you know. Outside the Upper East Side. 

    - That wouldn’t be safe, miss.

    - Please. 

The bodyguard could do little to nothing to convince the young woman to stay within the city. Instead of fighting with her, both of them just got inside the car and started to drive as far away from the watchful gaze of the Upper East. Her mind was going over her biology lessons. Nausea could be related to anything such as food poisoning, flu, migraines and so on. It was probably just food poisoning or maybe a very very bad case of PMS. Nevertheless she couldn’t help but panic as she saw the safe environment of the Upper East disappear. Y/N didn’t want anyone to even dream of her buying a pregnancy test and as she reached the furthest pharmacy a car could take her to, she rushed like a bullet to the pregnancy aisle pulling one of every single brand into her shopping trolley. After a few minutes, she had at least 10 in her trolley and after avoiding several dirty looks from the people standing with her in line and the employee serving her, the handmaid returned to the car, clutching to the paper bag like a precious gem. 

Once she was back in her hotel suite, she dropped the bag on her bathroom floor, going through several and several tests, placing them away from her gaze as she convinced herself that this could be almost everything other than pregnancy. She wasn’t pregnant, she couldn’t be pregnant, she tried to convince herself once more as she looked at the first pregnancy test. Two lines. Well, it could be a faulty test. Another one, two lines and the same pattern applied to all of those following the one/two line system. The other ones all showed the word pregnant and as she read the last one, she could feel whatever resolve and structure she had within her slowly erode.

Pregnant. She was pregnant. Either that or more than twenty tests were giving her false positives which she found it to be not plausible. She slide down her bathroom wall, legs folded as she stared at the wall in front of her. She was pregnant from a soon to be married man. Mr. Williams words rang in her mind, mistress. She was the mistress pregnant with the bastard. At that thought, tears started to cloud her eyes and like a scared child, she hide her face in the middle of her thighs, hoping everything would go away, hoping all her mistakes and lack of judgments were nothing but a really, really bad dream. 

     - Angel? - she could hear his voice followed by knocking on her door. She cleaned her eyes with the back of her hand, grabbing every single stick and stuffing them in one of the bathroom doors. Elias had probably heard her crying and warned Sebastian about it. - Angel? Y/N? Open the door, please. 

     - I’m going. - Y/N turned on the tap, slapping her face with cold water hoping she would look less like a mess and more presentable. Raising her face to stare into the mirror, she told herself to calm down, she told herself to forget about the tests which were hiding in one of the bathroom drawers. She was fine, she was gonna be fine and as she convinced herself once more that she was fine, another knock took her off her mind.

With a strong will, Y/N gripped the knob of her bathroom, opening the door very slowly. Sebastian was standing behind it, dressed as poshly as he normally did however a bit more relaxed with the jacket being off and his dress shirt first buttons unbuttoned. A tense look seemed to dissipate as she held the door close to her collarbone, not having it fully opened.  

    - Are you still sick? - his hand raised to rest against her warm cheek, caressing it with her thumb. - Elias said he heard you crying. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?

    - I hate hospitals. - she lied, wishing nothing more than to go to the place which would confirm what she already knew. There was a great deal of worry and care in his baby blues, and she found herself avoiding them, afraid she would blurt out she was pregnant. - I’m fine, Sebastian, I really am. 

    - Okay, angel then look into my eyes and tell me you’re okay. - he picked her chin, softly pulling it up so her eyes looked into his. Even with that, she still managed to dodge his gaze. - Angel, what’s wrong?

    - Nothing’s wrong, I’m just ... I’m just stressed. - she smiled tightly, hands moving from his shoulders to his elbows, letting out a breathe that seemed to have been held within her for ages. However, it came out shaky, one that made her want to return to her self wallowing state yet before she could, he had already wrapped his arms around her figure, holding her as if he was his whole entire universe which, in some way, she was. - You really needn’t worry. I’m sure you have other more important things to deal with.

    - Wedding preparations will never be more important than you. - he kissed the crown of her head, getting lost in the scent of roses and lilies of her perfume. - Come on, lovely, whatever it is, it can be solved. 

    - No, I don’t think it can. - she mumbled against his crisp white cotton shirt, wondering if she closed her eyes tightly enough, things would seem to exist and she would wake up from the hell she had started to live in just a few minutes ago. 

   - Angel ... - he cupped her face. - It’s gonna be okay.

   - It’s not. - she could feel her eyes water as her mind rushed through all they could do which was nothing. She was now just another pregnant mistress, the other woman. - It’s really not. 

   - Listen to me, angel. - he tried to remain calm but his resolve was quickly faltering as he stared at the tear tracks on her bountiful cheeks, so far from her soft and luminous smile. - We’re gonna be okay. Y/N, I ...

   - Y/N! - Y/N took a step back, her head turning to the door where Gwen was standing, her gaze more on her phone than the two of them. With a sigh of relief, the handmaid let a small yes slip her lips. - Bridesmaids dress try out, come on. You’re late. 

    - I’m really sick today, Gwen. Can’t we just postpone it? - Y/N still was unsure if her stomach could hold anything and being forced inside a dress sounded more like modern torture than every other thing she had her do. 

   - You’re on your feet, clearly not sick enough besides we need to get it done today. 

   - Gwen, don’t be cruel. - Sebastian added.

   - Shouldn’t you be trying your tux? - she fired back, almost like the whole conversation was a script only her had memorised and could now easily manipulate. - Or do you intend to look like a mess on my wedding day.

   - Our wedding day. - he corrected which greatly upset Gwen. - I’m sure a few days delay won’t ruin it. 

   - She’s my handmaid, not yours. - Gwen gave him a sarcastic tight smile, shooting Y/N a look which made her immediately walk to her side. - Your tux better not be loose. 

Y/N followed Gwen, head looking down but not before sharing an apologetic look with Sebastian. Instinctively, Y/N placed her hand in on her stomach as the two women walked into Gwen’s bedroom which seemed to have turned into an atelier with several women taking measurements and dressing other women in periwinkle dresses. 

An older woman grabbed Y/N, shoving her the same periwinkle dress in her arms, ordering her to try it on. However, as Y/N pulled the zipper past her waist she found it didn’t completely zipped up. Oh no. She tried to bring both parts of the dress together so it would zip up but nothing. Her dress fit everywhere but her bust which was bigger than before.

   - What’s wrong? - Gwen noticed Y/N struggling to pull the zipper up. - God, Y/N, I told you not to gain weight. 

   - It’s just my chest ... probably PMSing. - she lied, of course it wasn’t because she was PMSing. She wished she were, that would mean she had one less problem on her. - It’ll be fine in a week. 

   - It better be or you’re not attending. 

Joke or no joke, she’d rather not attend it. 

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan AU #mob!sebastian stan #mobster!sebastian stan #mafia boss!sebastian stan #mafia!sebastian stan #mob boss!sebastian stan

[etoileholland]

Seeing Double

Anonymous asked: Hello, my dear, got a fun ask! Tom meets up with reader except it’s actually reader’s twin cousin, maybe aunt (some people get the good genes) and they react defensively when he tries to be affectionate which confuses him at first thinking he did something wrong and tries to win her back over but it gets cleared up in the end

Pairing: Tom x female reader

Warnings: none :) 

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m so sorry this request is a while overdue, but it’s better late than never I suppose. Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist :)

“I cannot believe this.” You muttered to yourself as you hung up the phone with your aunt, Manon. She had just called to say that her and her daughter, Chloé, have come up from France to visit via train. It wouldn’t have been a problem, except for the fact that they had once again shown up unannounced. 

You walked into the living room of yours and Tom’s shared home to see Tom sitting on the couch, laptop on his lap. He was typing away vigorously at the keyboard, and you knew that when he’s this focused, you shouldn’t bother him. 

“Babe,” you said, hoping to try to get Tom’s attention for a second. 

“Hmm?” He hummed, not looking up from the laptop. 

“I just got off the phone with my aunt. She called to say that she’s at St. Pancras and they’ve dropped by for an unexpected visit.” 

“Oh.” Tom replied. 

“Yeah, oh indeed.” You answered. “I don’t want them taking an Uber so I’m gonna pick them up, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay love, drive carefully.” He didn’t bother looking up from the laptop, eyes fixed to the screen. 

Walking over to the front door and letting yourself out, you went outside to your car in the driveway. After starting it, you drove to the station to greet your family. 

You loved when your aunt and cousin visited, but you wished that they had called you before so that you would’ve had time to prepare. You desperately needed groceries and the guest room could’ve been spruced up a bit, but luckily they weren’t too pretentious. Still though, a call before they left France would’ve been nice. 

You hadn’t seen them in a long time, and you wondered if you and your cousin Chloé still looked nearly identical to each other. The resemblance was uncanny, so much in fact that your own parents had a hard time telling each other apart. Everything was nearly identical, even down to fashion choices and mannerisms. It was all fun and games until you were almost always the one about to go back to France, and not your cousin. 

When you were both children, it was easier to tell you both apart because of the accents. She definitely had a French accent while you didn’t. Well at least, until  you taught the other how to speak each other’s language without an accent; her English being spoken without a French accent and your French being spoken like a native.

You two were the same age, same height, your body shapes were similar, and you both even had the exact same birthmark on your arm. So really, you two were more like twins than you were cousins. 

Upon arriving at the train station, you easily spotted your cousin and aunt, luggage in tow. Even after not seeing each other for a few years, and not knowing what the other was wearing, you and your cousin still managed to even dress the same-both of you wearing a pink hoodie and black leggings, with white sneakers. How odd. 

“Mon ange, t’es très belle.” Your aunt cooed, running to you to give you a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. 

“Merci.” You replied, hugging her tightly. She was more of like a mother figure to you than she was to your cousin Chloé, since Chloé tended to be a bit less affectionate. That was another way that your parents could tell you apart, which was by how affectionate you were, and how unaffectionate Chloé was. She was stereotypically French in many ways, except she wasn’t affectionate. If you tried to hug her, she would stand there stiffly, while you loved being hugged. 

With that in mind, all you did was wave to Chloé, which was her favourite way of greeting people. 

“I still can’t believe you actually live here.” She remarked. 

“What, as in England? You know I love it here.”

“But everything is weird here. The food, the accents, the culture…” she trailed off, while you laughed lightly. 

“I don’t think so, personally I love it.” You said as you grabbed her luggage and began to walk to the car. 

“My love,” your aunt interjected, “don’t be rude. We’ve talked about this, yeah?” 

“Yeah, whatever.” Chloé replied as she got into the car. 

“Ignore her.” Manon whispered to you, “she’s just French” which got a laugh out of the both of you. 

—

About an hour or so later, you had arrived back to your home with Manon and Chloé, luggage in hand. Tom wasn’t where you had last seen him before you left for the station, but maybe he had gone to clean the guest room. Or at least, you hoped he did. 

“Chloé, since I’m pretty sure the guest room needs to be tidied, you can just put your luggage in my bedroom instead.” You pointed at the door that was slightly ajar. 

“Merci.” She grabbed their luggage and walked towards the door of your bedroom, opening it to see your boyfriend sat on the bed. 

“Hey baby.” He looked up from the laptop screen and gave a smile, all while Chloé looked at him funny. She completely ignored what he had said and walked to the closet to set the bags down. 

“I said, hello baby.” He pouted, but Chloé stared at him, silent as she walked out of the room.

“Well, that was odd.” Tom remarked under his breath, but didn’t think twice about it as he went back to typing. 

—

After settling in a bit, you and your aunt Manon had tidied up the guest room, all while Chloé had a snack in the kitchen. 

After rummaging through the nearly bare cabinets, and scoffing at the English snacks in the cabinets, Chloé settled on a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee to help combat the jet lag. 

Just then, you and Manon entered the room, jackets and purses in hand. 

“Hey, we’re gonna go get some groceries for the household, do you wanna come with?” You asked Chloé, but she shook her head no. 

“You know I hate grocery shopping.” She remarked, scrunching her nose at the thought of going to the shops. 

“Right, just wanted to ask.” You hesitated, taking a step back. “If there’s anything you want though from the store, just text me. And can you let Tom know that I’m heading out? He’s busy working so I haven’t seen him since we arrived, but I presume he’s in our bedroom.” 

“Alright.” She replied flatly.

“Great. See you in about an hour or so.” And with that, you and your aunt had left the house, leaving Chloé alone. 

The house felt eerily empty, and she was beginning to regret not tagging along with you and her mom. She disregarded the thought as she went to take a sip of her coffee, nearly letting out a scream when she burnt her tongue on the hot liquid. She quickly spit out the drink, but the drops got on her shirt.

“Putain,” Chloé muttered under her breath, “fuck.” She walked over to the kitchen sink, hoping to get the stain out of the shirt. It somewhat worked, but now the shirt was soaked, and she hated the sensation of wearing wet clothing. 

“Now I’ve gotta change.” She said to herself, walking out of the kitchen and back into your bedroom. 

Remembering that she had last seen Tom in your bedroom, she knocked first before waiting a second to make sure the room was empty. She heard nothing, so she cracked the door open to take a peek inside. Tom must’ve moved to another part of the house, so she walked in there to change. She stopped in her tracks as she noticed your closet door open, all while one shirt caught her eye. She grabbed it off the rack and walked over to the mirror to see if it looked good on her. 

It was Tom’s white Saint Laurent shirt with the name of the brand embroidered in cursive on the front. Chloé held it up to her, noticing that it would fit her perfectly.

That shirt happened to be one of your favourites to borrow from Tom, and you wore it so much that he gave it to you. He always said that shirt looked better on you anyway.

She pulled the shirt over her head, admiring in the mirror how good the shirt looked on her. The shirt was a little long, but it was extremely comfortable. She heard a little knock on the door and looked back to see Tom standing in the doorway.

“Darling, you know I love that shirt on you.” He walked towards Chloé, and she took a step back. Tom looked at her puzzled, while she gave him the same confused look back.

“Listen, I know you’re stressed that your family showed up unannounced, but there’s no reason to be mad at me.” He said as he tried to put his arms around her waist. Chloé then shimmied out of his grasp and held his arms away from her.

“I am not Y/N.” She stated, and Tom laughed.

“Sure you’re not, like I’m not Tom.” He smirked and she shook her head.

“I promise I’m not Y/N.” She said again, but he looked at her like she said that the sun didn’t exist.

“God you are acting weird today.” He tried to pull her into an embrace but she shoved lightly at his chest.

“Get off of me, you idiot. I am not your lover!” She exclaimed, while Tom just was silent.

He backed up, walked out of the room and stood in the hallway. There was no way that wasn’t Y/N, he knows his girlfriend and that clearly is her.

I know she’s just stressed, so I’ll order her some fish and chips from the shop down the way, he thought to himself.

—

While at Tesco, you and your aunt shopped for an hour, easily losing track of the time while you wandered the aisles. 

“Mon ange, you know I love spending time with you.” Manon stated as she browsed the aisles of pasta. 

“And I love spending time with you.” You added, lightly touching her arm. “I wonder how Chloé is handling it at home.” You remarked as you shared a glance, shrugging your shoulders while continuing to shop.

—

“What the hell is this?” Chloé picked at the food on her plate, scrunching her nose as she picked at the food.

“Okay you’ve gotta quit this, you know you love it when I order fish and chips for you.”

“This looks like shit, and I have no idea why you Brits think this is...how do I say, edible.” She seethed, not wincing when she saw Tom’s face contort into a frown.

“Okay, that does it! I thought you would like it.” 

“Why would you think I would like this? I can think of many other things I would rather eat, even dog food would be more appetizing than this.” She pushed the plate away, and stood up from the table. 

Tom sat there, in shock of what to do. You were never this rude to him, and you loved when he ordered from the fish and chips shop from down the way. But yet, he didn’t think of the fact that maybe, just maybe, that she wasn’t you. Then again why would he? He still hadn’t met your family since he’s been busy all day, so of course the thought never crossed his mind.

“Listen, why are you making this so difficult? I’m trying to do something nice for you since I know you’re stressed out, and what do I get? A defensive girlfriend who keeps insisting that we’re not together and god that hurts.” He sat down, defeated. He placed his face in his hands and let out a sigh. 

Tom was so upset that he didn’t even hear you and your aunt walk in through the front door. Upon walking in, you both were silent as you were trying to figure out what was upsetting Tom. So, you two stood in the hallway near the kitchen so you could hear the conversation without being seen. 

“Is this some kind of sick joke? Or do you genuinely not love me anymore?” He whispered, not looking up at her face.

Chloé looked at him, remorse written all over her face. She didn’t say anything, but just sat across from him at the kitchen table.

“Y/N, please answer me.” He pleaded. She looked at him confused, now finally making the connection that he really did think she was Y/N. She figured he was joking before, but upon seeing his reaction now, she knew she had taken it too far. 

You stood by the entrance way shocked, as you wondered why he thought Chloé was you, but then you realised that Tom hadn’t seen the both of you together in the same room. He’d been busy all day, and you’ve been gone for most of the day as well.  And if your own parents couldn’t tell you apart, what made you think your boyfriend could? Once you realised that he mixed the two of you up, you and Manon looked at each other, signaling that you both should walk into the kitchen. He was hunched over the table, head in his hands as a tear rolled down his face. 

“Baby?” You walked over to him, hugging him as he pressed his head to your stomach. His eyes were closed and you could feel the tears staining your shirt. You looked over at Chloé, while she looked at you sympathetically.

“Why are you being so sweet all of the sudden?” He asked and you looked at him bewildered.

“Darling, what are you talking about?” You tried to step back, but he held you closer to him.

“You’ve been mean to me all day, ignoring me,” sniffle “and not appreciating when I did something nice for you.” He sobbed. You didn’t know that Chloé was being rude to him, but it’s something you should’ve expected. 

“Baby, I’ve been busy all day cleaning up the guest room, and I went to the store with my aunt.” You said and he shot his head up.

“What?” He asked as he looked at the both of you, nearly jumping out of his seat when he realised that you both looked identical.

“Chloé, I told you to tell him that I went grocery shopping, why didn’t you do that?” 

She just shrugged her shoulders and said, “Je sais pas, j’ai oublié.” 

“I know you didn’t forget.” You retorted, translating what she said so Tom would understand.

“Okay, maybe I didn’t, but you gotta admit it was pretty hilarious to have him think I was you all this time.” She smirked. 

“You’re terrible.” You laughed, although it was a little bit funny. 

“I know.” 

“Also, why are you wearing his, well, my shirt?” You asked, and Chloé looked down while she tugged at the bottom hem. 

“Oh, I spilled coffee on my shirt and needed something to change into. And I saw this shirt and I liked it, so now I’m wearing it.” She replied matter of factly.

“Now I can see why there’s been some confusion, I always wear that shirt.” 

“Which is why I thought it was you when I saw you wearing it, but now I feel stupid.” Tom replied, face still buried at your stomach. You ran your fingers through his hair and felt him relax against your touch.

“You’re not stupid darling, I can see why you got us both mixed up. Even our own parents could hardly tell us apart.” You said while Chloé agreed with you. 

“It’s true, you don’t know how many times we’ve both almost ended up in the wrong country.” She replied. 

“But now it makes a lot of sense why she kept saying I wasn’t her lover.” Tom muttered while your eyes widened.

“So wait, even after she denied it, you still thought she was me?” You questioned. 

“Yes,” Chloé chimed in, “I told him I wasn’t his lover but he didn’t believe me.” 

“You can’t really blame me though, you failed to mention that you and your cousin are nearly identical. How was I supposed to know?” Tom asked, eyes flickering back and forth to look at you and Chloé. 

“It’s okay darling, now you know.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head while he held onto your waist. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He laughed and pulled you closer to him, all while Chloé and Manon laughed. 

——

mes petits anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow​ @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @taciturnspidey​ @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @quaksonhehe​ @halfblood-princess-505​

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